Chapter Text
The sweet aroma of rotting fruit wafts from the small crack.
It’s almost sickening.
Only a sliver of light still emits from the lid of the chest, partly latched down by the unanswered code. Whatever is inside seems to strain against the metal sides, pulsating. Ochako grits her teeth, her eyes adjusting as the light blinds and then dies around them. Katsuki glares at her, then at the chest, and then at her again.
Soon enough, all of the Dynamight Pirates corral around.
Except Denki, who leans over the rail of the crow’s nest.
He chuckles awkwardly, attracting their attention, hooting slightly. “To clarify for those of you who are just joining us now, Ochako broke into the chest, but only kinda’, cause look, it’s still locked, but like we just need the code now. So… a round of applause.” A hollow silence is only cut short as Shouto and Hanta clap. “But then I think, and totally correct me if I’m wrong, cause I usually am, but whatever is inside that chest is…special. It’s magical. There was a stupidly bright light and then Captain Katsuki came out of nowhere like a superhero, like a real bro, and he heard Ochako.”
Both Ochako and Katsuki turn their stares upward to give Denki a layered look.
“We all know what’s in that chest,” Momo clips from the far side of the deck. She refuses to get closer. The dark night sky acts as a backdrop, with her arms crossed and hardened expression. An uneasy feeling passes through all the pirates, and Ochako. “I can’t believe Tengai would do this. I…just...I just can’t, I don’t understand why anyone would do this.”
Yui kneels in front of the chest and fumbles with the sliding secret password. Her small hands fumble at the ancient letters, holding her breath as she tries and tries again. She focuses, trying to remember a lost language and only allows Eijirou to get near with a lantern.
“Take her to the infirmary,” Katsuki says to the crew, and Hanta reacts. Ochako allows the pseudo-doctor to lift her, her exhaustion suddenly more tangible, to guide her down the stairs and into the belly of the KEM.
Lights had been switched on in the hurried meeting, igniting the halls with a dull orange glow. It almost feels warm but Ochako knows it’s truly just suffocating. Specks of dust float like stars in the dry air. Hanta helps her keep balance but she already knows the way – Yui had pointed it out during their halfhearted tour, and now Yui was trying to find her worth overhead.
“You need to rest.”
The infirmary is basic, plain. The doctor is equally unassuming.
A sturdy bed is nailed to one wall and cupboards were all proofed shut in case of bad weather. There’s a sink and a laundry basket and a single light hanging by a single wire above. It swings even though the ship isn’t swaying. It, surprisingly, smells like nothing more than sterilization and perhaps the Dynamight Pirates. It doesn’t smell like death.
Hanta opens a cupboard on the far side and pulls out a clean blanket. He gets the bed ready, fluffing the pillow and untucking the sheets. Under the bed, Ochako spots a few dozen textbooks. They belong in the library but Hanta finds comfort in having them nearby when things start to sink, metaphorically, of course.
His family’s last name is typed out in a neat font along the spines.
“Mine didn’t smell like that when it found me.”
He looks back at her, visible concern etching into his face.
She hadn’t moved from the entryway. The hallway’s glow encompasses her statue-like fear. He goes to another cupboard and finds an unlabelled jar. It’s full of flaking leaves, ones that Ochako doesn’t recognize in the dim light. With restrained practice, Hanta uses a pedestal to crush the plant in a small mortar.
Ochako, on the verge of breaking, welcomes the understanding that she knows what is in that chest.
People don’t find their Devil Fruit. Their Devil Fruit finds them.
Hers was fresh the day it found her, when she was only seven years old.
“I was almost fifteen. A late bloomer.” Hanta offers, eyes trained on the job in front of him. “I think I was last on the crew. I met Katsuki before I ate it. Shouto was there, too. But then I ate it and everything changed.”
“How did it find you?”
“After my first failed surgery…my patient died on the table and my parents were talking about where they had gone wrong, and the rest of my surgical team was trying to defend me, but my family couldn’t take the risk of–”
“You were a child.”
“Seros have steady hands and high expectations.” Hanta raises the pedestal and gives it a shake, good-naturedly. Ochako takes one single step into the infirmary. “I was training and when it came to proving myself, under that judgement, on that table, I didn’t make the cut. I’ve never been interested in being a doctor. I’ve always just wanted to, you know, help people. My family made that very hard to do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were a child, too.” Hanta adds a splash of water into the mortar to make the process smoother. “You said it. A kid’ll eat anything when they’re hungry enough.” He opens another cupboard, and without checking, grabs a handful of dark purple berries to toss into the mixture. “Who were you when you changed?” She tastes bile. “Were you hungry?”
“Starving.” She steps toward the open window, letting the cool ocean breeze fold through her ringing hands. She starts to count backwards, “I was seven.”
Quietly, Hanta cleans up his station and scoops the blend of leaves and berries and water into a spoon. Her confession settles before he motions for her to join him at the counter. She opens her mouth instinctively,
“My Devil Fruit found me as I was walking towards the KEM. Captain Katsuki had already invited me to join, powers or not. Momo convinced him. I saved Shouto’s life when they first arrived at the settlement.” The medicine is flavourless and thick on her tongue. He lets it drip, achingly slow. “It was just sitting there, on the dock, and so I ate it, and then left everything I knew behind.”
The world is flavourless and time is thick on her tongue. But she manages to answer him, “I had been alone…for a very long time.”
Hanta may not be a good Sero, but he is good at what he does. Sleep seeks her, sending her forward and away from the window, promptly. Ochako digs her hands into the counter and tries to control how her thoughts start to slip. Someone cuts in behind Ochako, turning off the overhead light as her eyes close. Strong arms carry her to the bed and a blanket is tucked around her drifting form.
She knew this was coming – wanted it thoroughly – yet, like with every part of her life, she fights back. Sleep doesn’t come easy, even when medicated.
“...you heard her?”
“I was listening to the sea, and she–” The doctor and captain shuffle in the small infirmary. Ochako relaxes further at the sound of Hanta laughing; he hits his captain good-naturedly. Katsuki hesitates. “You don’t get it. You can’t hear it.”
“The sea?” Hanta knocks on the wall of the ship and chuckles. “The sound is crystal clear. It’s a trap. Listening, drowning. It’s all the same.”
“You don’t get it. None of you ever fuckin’ get it. You want me to talk about it, but then I talk about it, and you don’t get it. And then you call me crazy, but I’m right .”
“It’s not my fault you sound crazy. None of us can hear the voices, Cap. The sea doesn’t speak to us.” There’s more shuffling and a candle is lit. Katsuki snaps his fingers, bringing a spark to life. “You are right, though. It’s a real bitch to accept, but when the one thing that can kill you gives you advice on how to survive, you end up being right.”
They’re both silent for a long time and Ochako wonders if she fell asleep.
“That’s my burden. I’m cursed.”
Ochako barely registers how sincere they sound.
“You took something that didn’t belong to you.” Even below deck, the wafting scent of a rotting Devil Fruit sinks between the wooden boards. It had found its person, but the power was never eaten. “Lots of kids learn that lesson, now you’re dealing with the consequences.”
She dreams of being five, of orange slices dipped in cane sugar.
Of being six, and everything changing.
Time, for an ocean, lingers. The watts of the global seas travel around in seemingly eternal cycles from the equator to the poles, from the deepest trench to the wave tops, and they do it slowly . Ochako, however, doesn’t stop moving. She is lively and loud and even as a little girl, she acts as a leader for her village.
She dreams of her grandmother. She dreams of sunrises, dashing through the orchard. Long grass and shade from the surrounding trees, her face is red and her arms full of freshly picked oranges. She can still picture how Bachan used to look at her with such wonderment – every day was a new day for Ochako, even if every day was the same.
The elderly woman, who had taken Ochako in as a favour for her parents while they worked hard, pats the ground next to her at the edge of the farmer’s property. Which farmer, she isn’t sure – the village shares. Everything belongs to everyone, as isolation from the rest of the world forces one to be kind rather than cruel. It’s a good place to raise a child.
Ochako plops down with a huff, oranges spilling from her grasp. She gasps and tries to recollect them before they roll too far, and the action makes Bachan chuckle. With certainty, she picks the best one and eagerly hands it to her sitter. She can open her own oranges, but the sentiment remains, and she much prefers slipping her finger into the plate of sugar between them for a quick taste.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like a log.”
Ochako takes a deep breath, her nose scrunching in concentration. Over the years, the village has come to recognize this cute motion as one of relaxation. Her nose scrunches when walking through the market, curling up on the bench by the docks, and dancing around the centre fire.
Together, they eat the orange in relative silence.
Ochako sprinkles the sugar onto each slice. It’s sweet and sour and simple.
“The boats are going to be out longer today. It’s fishin’ season.” Ochako muses, looking out the sea, squinting, hoping to see her parents amongst the bobbing boats. She can’t, even though they aren’t that far. They never go far , after all. “Will it be enough?”
“We always make it enough.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just…” Ochako waves a juice-covered hand toward the water. She makes a slurping sound and opens a second orange on her own, not satisfied with just one. “Once the fish leave, we barely have enough. The same thing happens every year.”
“You’re too young to know what happens every year.” Bachan extends her hand and Ochako instinctively places a slice into it. They eat quietly again, until Bachan clears her throat. “We don’t leave the bay, Ochako.”
“I know, I know. The bay is built for us.” Ochako flicks her shoes off and digs her heels into the sandy cliffside. “What we need, finds us.”
“And what we want, doesn’t wait.” Bachan completes the proverb.
Ochako dreams of being seven and being ever so hungry.
She dreams of being alone.
‘You’re rotten if you take what isn’t yours.’
“It’d be a waste if you didn’t!”
Breakfast is a jaunty experience.
The dining hall is bursting with energy as food is piled onto Ochako’s plate and a pot of coffee slides up and down the table recklessly. Katsuki has his back turned to his crew as he serves up another round of bacon and pancakes and Denki cheerfully announces that they are celebrating.
But when aren’t they?
“We have it. You might as well eat it.” Shouto agrees with Yosetsu, sharing the same bench. The shipwright bangs his fist on the table and the bottle of syrup at the centre threatens to fall over. “You’re the only one without powers.”
Yaoyorozu grimaces, “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”
“You don’t find Devil Fruit, Devil Fruit finds you.” Sero quotes the ancient phrase with a wiggle of his finger before sliding the syrup onto the safer side of the table. He sits between Eijirou and Yui, tugging the latter one back to his seat when he sees Ochako stumbling into the room.
“That Fruit found its person, though. And because it wasn’t eaten, it’s rotting. It was stolen from its person.” Yaoyorozu snaps, lacking her usual etiquette and grace. “It’s not right to take that chance from someone else!” She flinches at her own words, an apology about to slip about before she’s overruled.
“Come on, Cap! Tell her that it’ll be okay! Everything worked out for you, didn’t it?” Denki shouts at Katsuki who visibly shudders at the sound of his most annoying crewmate. He doesn’t bother turning around, simply whipping an egg across the room toward Denki’s head. It hits. “What the fuck , dude?”
Eijirou proceeds to hit Denki from the other side, equally mad. “Dude! Don’t be disrespectful.”
“Am I wrong? Captain ate someone else’s Devil Fruit. He’s got powers, he’s fine. So, let her eat the Fruit, too! More power onboard wouldn’t be the worst thing for us as we get ready to leave the–”
“Are you hungry?” Hanta waves Ochako over, halting the chaos expertly. She knows that they all know about Katsuki, about what she didn’t hear the night before. Before she can press her curiosity further, Hanta’s teasing strikes her. Her eyes narrow, and he laughs. “Come take a seat. Did we wake you?”
He’s well aware that the tonic he gave her knocked her out for the entire night. Even now, she finds herself unsteady on her feet – and only partly because of the rocking waves. It’s been ages since she last stepped properly on a boat.
The rest of the crew seems wired with coffee and the usual morning shenanigans. Neito is the only one missing, but someone has to keep an eye on the sea from the nest. Yui pulls out a spare mismatched pillow from under the benches and Momo pats an open space, inviting Ochako to join them. Yosetsu pours another mug of coffee and Eijirou slams a stack of pancakes down onto two spare plates. He slides one down to Ochako and picks up the other with a mocking salute as he heads up indicating that it was time to feed Neito, too.
The conversation continues around her. She catches bits and pieces and the food helps settle the uncertainty in the pit of her stomach. Katsuki sits across from her and picks at his own plate, albeit less interested in the rising volume than the rest. Eijirou stomps back down later – she loses track of how much time has passed – and clears her plate, along with Neito’s empty one.
“How long will it take to reach the next port?” Ochako finally asks, voice still hoarse from unrest.
The pirates share a look of confusion, glancing between Katsuki and Momo. As the only one to appear somewhat put together clarifies, she pouts. “By my calculations, less than three days.”
Ochako takes a long sip of her now cool coffee, directing her gaze to the leading blond. “Are we still being pursued?” Katsuki grunts in a response. “I only ask because why else would you be sailing in circles?” The shared look of confusion melts into concern. “That’s what woke me up. I felt off-centred.”
“We have to be cautious,” Eijirou explains as the second in command, and leans forward to top up her drink. Yui quietly offers her a dash of rum, which she refuses. “Precious cargo, and all that.”
“Toss it overboard. Like Momo said, no one here is going to eat the spare Devil Fruit. If you get it into the ocean, the currents will lead it back to who is destined to have it. You won’t be chased anymore.” Ochako takes another thankful drink and eyes around the kitchen. She wouldn’t be waiting three days. “Problem solved.”
She had been wrong about Neito. He enters from the hall rather than the staircase leading up to the top deck. Several scrolls are rolled under his arm, except for one which he tosses toward her. Ochako catches it but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of opening it hurriedly, even though she is desperate to do so.
“While you were getting your beauty rest,” – clinically unconscious – “we received mail.” Each crewmate catches their assigned scroll expertly. “New bounties are out. Deku sent ours ASAP.” Another hollar of excitement rolls from the pirates seated around her. “I was busy responding to their terms, and thanking Deku, so Eijirou brought me breakfast.” Ochako’s hands shake nervously, unwilling to accept her fate. “Speaking of which, Cap, more cinnamon next time.”
Katsuki tears his new bounty poster in half, letting the pieces drift to the ground.
Neito unfurls a spare copy of the poster, predicting that destruction, and shows it off to the table – out of reach of Katsuki’s angry form.
Only a few days ago, Captain Bakugou Katsuki was worth one hundred million berries. He had gotten what he wanted with Ochako on board: 300, 000, 000 berries.
Kirishima Eijirou: 71, 000, 000 to 96, 000, 000
Sero Hanta: 69, 000, 000 to 74, 000, 000.
Kaminari Denki: 69, 000, 000 to 83, 000, 000
Kodai Yui: 53, 000, 000 to 74, 000, 000
Awase Yosetsu: 53, 000, 000 to 65, 000, 000
Monoma Neito: 72, 000, 000 to 85, 000, 000
Yaoyorozu Momo: 94, 000, 000 to 120, 000, 000
Todoroki Shouto: 85, 000, 000 to 102, 000, 000
“That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“As long as no other conflicts occured, yeah!”
“You don’t think others were rewritten?”
“What about those Seiai shits?”
“As if Intelli could ever one-up us.”
“This means that…”
“Wow, congratulations!” Denki, with egg whites glistening in his blond hair, cheers loudly in support of their flushing captain. A round of clapping and shouting echo his sentiment as the good news sinks in. “You finally breached Super Rookie status!”
Neito confirms their suspicions, flipping his own bounty poster over to double-check the status of the top ten rising pirates. Anyone with a bounty over 100, 000, 000 berries was considered a Super Rookie . Katsuki had been one when they first met, and a pirate's impressiveness and first-impression strength are usually dictated by the bounty the pirate earns. Therefore, the higher the number, the more fame and respect the said pirates receive. Any rookie pirates who manage to receive a bounty of over 100,000,000 before they enter the New World are considered to be impressive, as it marks that said rookie has committed criminal acts of catastrophic degrees.
However, once crossed over to “uncharted” routes, even bounties of around 100,000,000 are considered common and even weak.
This is why Katsuki had been so determined to be better .
And now he’s got two other Super Rookies on his crew. Momo and Shouto would be real threats in the eyes of the Marines.
Momo doesn’t even have a Devil Fruit Power. Shouto has two.
The scent of the rotting Devil Fruit sweeps in from down the hall, trailing after Neito.
Dead or Alive. Dead or Alive. Dead or Alive.
Rumour has it though that deductions can be, and often are, made if the criminal is dead upon arrival. Only Momo’s doesn’t hold this sentiment. She looks slightly ticked as her eyes study the poster.
Hers, Ochako realizes, explicitly states that she is only wanted alive. Momo is only worth something with a heartbeat, while Shouto’s is…
“No son of mine.” Shouto laughs bitterly, comparing his to hers with a roll of his eyes. “Might as well change mine to ‘only dead’ at this point. As if my father would ever let me survive in a jail cell, ruining the family’s name even further.”
He’s not wrong. Ochako knows that there are orders to kill on sight for the youngest Todoroki. Enji wasn’t going to go easy on his son, as he didn’t go easy on her.
“Those are big jumps. All you did was break into a party and steal Fruit. It seems almost unreasonable.” She’s spent years watching the rise and fall of bounties, memorizing the networth of each pirate that she crossed paths with. Not that high bounties meant high reward, as the Dynamight Pirates were an excellent example of this. While their names were worth something, their lifestyle didn’t mean much. “You must have really pissed off some of the–”
“We didn’t just run into you. We’ve been building up to leave the East Blue, to go far. We’ve been…” Katsuki’s glare burrows into the scroll in her hand. If she’s not careful, he’ll burn a hole through it. “...busy. But…you have been busy, too? Haven’t you?”
With a confident flick of her wrist, she reveals her very first bounty.
1, 000, 000 berries. Dead or Alive.
No one stirs. No one makes a noise. No one pretends to be her friend.
From nothing to something , Ochako officially signs her fate.
This is what they were waiting for – the Marines, the League of Villians.
She’s been busy and this has been building up.
It's nowhere near the Dynamight Pirate's collection, but they know that she's worth more than she's willing to admit.
Ochako is seven and starving but she’s not hungry.
They were all at Three Tails, a hole-in-the-wall that was close to almost all of their places. It tolerated Rumi’s yelling whenever she won a game of darts (which was always), Yu’s habit of getting belligerent off of only three and a half beers, and had enough of a mix between the cheap stuff to not break Shinji’s bank, but a fair amount of the craft selection that Shinya drank exclusively. Despite the many other things about it that made it less than desirable, it was perfect.
Tonight, though, Rumi is silent, Yu is sober, Shinji has paid for a top-shelf bottle, and Shinya leads them expertly as their captain.
“We can’t let those punks make it to the New World before us.” Rumi drags a discarded dart along the tabletop, scratching the surface. The bartenders opt to not take notice of her decidedly dangerous behaviour.
“This so isn’t fair. We’ve been working way longer than them!” Yu moans for the umpteenth time, tapping her perfectly polished nails on her cheek. She pouts, but her cute appearance doesn’t make her crewmates waver. “Now our bounties are basically the same.”
“They must have pulled off some serious stunts. Last time we ran into them, they were just kids.” Shinji notes contemplatively. They all recall how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the adorable Dynamight Pirates had been a few months ago. The potential was there, of course, but…as they take in the new bounties, it seems unbelievable. His eyes harden at the tenth scroll. “And who’s that? I recognize her.”
Shinya holds out Uraraka Ocako’s premiere bounty flat against the table, prompting Rumi to stab the dart into the side to hold the curl down. All four of them stand out in the same watering hole – Devil Fruit users are often hard to ignore. Prior to meeting the Dynamight Pirates, they were a unique crew to reckon with, but now they were certainly losing some of their prestige.
The young woman etched into the poster looks, well, young. A friendly smile spreads across her chubby cheeks and her eyes sparkle as she looks the camera straight-on.
She is recognizable to everyone who sees the poster. Some met her in a different life. As a child, on board a Marine ship. She wielded a sword that was too heavy, yet she swung like it weighed nothing. Some met her with a different name. Uravity. Marine protege turned pirate. She took her training as a Todoroki and studied under All for One. Some met her on land. Burned by her stealthy ways and unpredictable methods. She picked wallets and broke hearts without ever facing consequences.
She was never remembered, always forgotten, until now. A friendly smile spreads across her chubby cheeks and her eyes sparkle as she looks the camera straight-on, and her whole story is stitched together by enemies. For those who don’t know – the picture had been snapped mid-getaway with the Dynamight Pirates, her hand clasped around the captain like her life depended on it.
“It’s been too long since we last set sail.” Shinya’s smile thins and he stretches his arm back toward the barkeeper and retrieves yet another top-quality bottle. This time Yu cracks it open and Rumi rumbles loudly. Shinji taps his glass twice on the countertop. “We can’t let these kids get to All Might’s crown first.”
They all raise a fist. A hollow glory.
Here’s to finding the One Piece. Here’s to becoming King of the Pirates.
Yui is the one to convince her to stay. Just a little longer.
She doesn’t have to say anything, she needs to rest. Aside from the turbulent getaway and sleepless windsurfing journey, Hanta did in fact drug her into a dreamless coast.
They can sit on the sundeck together. Momo would join them.
No one would say anything .
Or, well, that’s what Ochako assumed Yui was going to say. Yui didn’t say much.
With dark shoulder-length hair, swept to the side, the shortest member of the crew never disappeared amongst the crowd, but certainly didn’t step up to be in the center. Fair skin, an athletic build, and cerulean eyes; Yui remains neutral during most discussions and hardly ever threads a full sentence together.
She does, however, expand an umbrella with her Devil Fruit power to cover the three of them as they settle onto the sundeck. Five lounge chairs face the back of the boat, away from the boys’ ongoings below. As the hours creep by, Ochako wakes to find the shadow hasn’t slipped and Yui’s carefully tilting the umbrella – her power has domestic twists.
By noon, Ochako feels more like herself. Someone – Eijirou – moved her windsurfer and bag to the foot of her chair. Someone else – Yosetsu – dropped a blanket over her despite the warm breeze. Yui sits cross-legged on her own chair and stares intently at the locked chest while Momo adds more details to the book of maps. Behind them, Katsuki argues with Denki, and Hanta berates Shouto for overusing his power once again.
“The saltwater drains him.” Neito stands alone at the ledge of the ship, head hanging to watch the fish drifting in the entrails. Ochako shifts to see the doctor gently lay packs of ice on one side of his patient’s body and a heating pad on the other. “It draws on the water in the air, and since the ocean is a massive source to tap into, he gets lots between the sea and the sky.”
He doesn’t need to explain why Shouto doesn’t often use his fire-power. It’s the same reason Katsuki doesn’t: wooden ships are just waiting to burn.
“So…I know no one wants to talk about it, but like…” Neito pivots toward the relaxing trio. His hands stretch out above his head, ever so casually, and he expertly dismisses Momo’s targetted gaze. Yui makes an uncomfortable sound. “One million berries, hey? Aren’t you a little nobody?”
And there goes her hope that no one would say anything .
When they first met, they had played a few rounds of cards: he taught her and she pretended to learn.
“Don’t be rude, Neito. She’s our guest.”
“She’s a thief, at best.” Neito counters the taller woman. He doesn’t peel his stare away from Ochako, watching her hands as she taps the arm of her lounger. “And at worst?”
“Don’t worry! I’ll be long gone before you figure it out.” Ochako smiles politely.
Yui shoves her empty cup in his direction. Neito’s top lip furls in frustration, before accepting it, and the rest of their drinks. A refill is in order, and Ochako is a guest, after all.
“I’m sure our captain already knows,” Neito adds, holding all three cups awkwardly, nodding toward the louder blond.
“He’s shit when it comes to women.” Hanta joins them, tossing a limp Shouto into the spare chair.
“He knows about power, though, and she’s got tons of it.” Neito purposefully salutes them, mocking his past marine experience. Returning the motion used to be instinctual for Ochako – now it’s a strain. She does, though, to meet his energy. She’d rather come face to face with a sea beast than let Monoma Neito think that he’s got her going. “If you’re on our ship, you might as well share your secrets.”
Ochako rolls her eyes. “I don’t exactly want to be here. The ocean and I aren’t friends. And neither are we.” She motions between the pair of them, though the sentiment reaches the whole crew. “In fact, I feel fine. I’ve rested enough. I’ll head out now while there’s a strong wind heading East."
“With a bounty of one million on your head?” Katsuki grunts, Eijirou at his side as they take two stairs at a time to join the growing group under the expanded umbrella. “You won’t make it two miles without hunters on your ass.”
“I was hunted before the bounty. Just because a number wasn’t attached to my name doesn’t mean I wasn’t worth something.” Ochako notes, spinning past them, swooping between them. Eijirou tries to reach for her, but she’s too quick, leaping onto the main floor in search of her bag. “I was fine then, I’ll be fine now.”
Momo is the one to scurry after her, blocking Ochako from setting up her windsurfer. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be fine…with us?”
“Why are you guys pushing this? I don’t belong on this boat. You don’t belong on any boat. The ocean is not your friend.” Ochako reminds them, clucking her tongue childishly at the taller girl.
She leans down, grinning. “I can swim.”
“They can’t.” Ochako shoves the bag over her shoulder and tilts her chin up definitely. “You can’t save them all.”
“I can try.” Momo counters, hands behind her back. Her smile splits across her lips, eyes grazing past Ochako’s shoulder. “Besides, we’re only pushing it because our captain told us to. Keep her on board , those were his orders.” Her eyes slowly trail back to Ochako’s. “That’s what the ocean told him.”
“And as his navigator, you have to do what he says?” Ochako attempts to shift past her, her windsurfer just inches away, but to no avail.
“As his navigator, I come up with the plans.” Momo raises her finger and pokes at Ochako’s nose, who promptly turns and bumps into Eijirou. “His first mate will make sure my plans work.”
The redhead pouts – Ochako bumps off his chest with a small oof .
“Without a bounty, what were you worth?”
Scooting between the navigator and first mate, Ochako weaves to the edge of the ship and grips the edge.
She had waited a year. She had survived for a month.
Wave crests appear and disappear from view with abandon, throwing points of light haphazardly into the air. The very reflection of the sky from the warm water is blinding, and the shoreline, some kilometres off, is scarcely visible. All around, small white birds plunge from the sky, throwing up enormous splashes every time they enter the sea. After each splash, there is a pause of a moment or two, before a needle-toothed smile emerges from the depths with a fish between its beak.
The water may speak to Katsuki, but it yells at her. Screams, shouts. It’s loud.
Deafening.
The birds rise and fall with the waves, blurs of white brush-like flags in the distance.
She grinds her teeth until blood floods her mouth.
She knocks her foot against the floorboards.
She quells her stomach as it flips.
The birds rise and fall with the waves, blurs of white brush-like flags in the distance, deafened, until the white flags in the distance turn into real flags.
Black flags, with sparkling skull.
“We’ve got company.” Ochako clears her throat, pivoting to address the crew.
But they are ready, running into their positions and preparing for a fight that she doesn’t quite predict. Weaponry is handed out, Katsuki gives orders, and a thrill replaces the sinking feeling in her gut.
“Allies! Uh, enthusiastic allies.” Denki pats her back as he starts to climb the ropes leading up to the series of planks above. “His name is Aoyama. He’s usually pretty cool. But…we like to be vigilant.”
“His antics are totally weird.” Hanta agrees, sending pieces of tape from his elbow to secure a few flaps on their sails. “Love the dude, but some of the shit he says is unhinged.”
“He’s nice! We promise!” Momo holds her compass out and turns the wheel partly, laughing politely. “Now is not the time to engage. Not with rotting Fruit on board.”
Katsuki’s warmth hits her before she can avoid it.
“And now with you on board, either.”
They lock eyes – he doesn’t show fear.
“If that Twinkling Piece of Shit sees you, he’ll know your bounty. Sparkling Bastard is the first to know any gossip. He probably knew about our updates before we did.”
Katsuki places a hand on his belt. Two swords hang on his side, one more well-loved than the other. He rubs his thumb over the shaft, slowly. He takes a step closer before grasping it, unsheaving it. Wielding it above his side, Katsuki barely nods before tossing it in her direction.
She catches it, the heavy metal unfamiliar in her hand as she detracts its gravity.
It feels better to let it balance, slicing through the air once before letting it drop by her side.
He continues to watch her – he doesn’t show fear.
He looks at her like she’s a lost constellation.