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On these laughing adventurous days, nightmares were not so familiar to Robin anymore. So when she feels eight again, with the whole world, cruel and real and overwhelming, running after her and a burden sorrowfully consuming her young heart, she guesses the best to do would simply be to join Sunny’s comforting upper deck.
She can hear Nami’s smooth snores beside her -the tangerine girl usually felt quickly asleep more often than not, now that they were finally back home lively and victorious after a certain major fight including supposedly untouchable world powers and nakama to save- and she leaves their quarters with little more than a comfy flowered quilt around her shoulders, quiet assassin footsteps and a soft smile for her sleeping friend.
That old scratched purple thing had in fact been the navigator’s affair for a little while before being handed out to a confused, carelessly sleeveless Robin, one obnoxious freezing shared watch’s night.
“No need to be cold anymore, stupid. You may be damn quiet but I know you well enough to see you’re freezing.”, the youngest woman happily claims that stardust evening, lazily leaning against the crow’s nest mast, stare lost in between the moon’s light and the int of a blush threatening to taint her freckled cheeks.
She later reveals this is a theft (a gift-) from a much loved but left behind older sister and Robin insists to give the remembrance back. It’s worn tissue but it smells love and the last thing the archaeologist wants is to steal one of the last bits of home from the navigator’s heart.
But Nami insists and when she does so everyone, be it stubborn pirate captains, undefeated evils or simple innocent merchants, lets her have her way and Robin is hopelessly no exception.
“We all kinda of skipped your birthday this year so I might as well give you something to keep you warm during those little insomniac adventures of yours, don’t you agree Robin?”
Some days drift on, rhythmed by Grand Line’s unpredictable winds, before she finally finds out there are small white lily’s patterns in the purple ragged cloth, sewed by the careful hand of a caring friend. She vaguely remembers an old conversation about favourite flowers and other equally silly normal things they had once had during a drunken party night and she almost cries.
Night’s freezing outside Sunny’s cosy walls now, just like that bright bonding starlight time and Robin wraps herself tighter in the beloved quilt, stare focused in the pitchy dark ocean’s sky. She is alone there, shivering as she strives to run from past demons, but weighed down by the wrecked heart beating too fast against her chest. It’s also late and she is pretty sure no one will be joining her tonight, exhausted as they all must be from their jolly evening feast.
It’s better that way, or at least she assumes so. As much as she craves the affection she knew her crewmates -her family- would always give her she would rather have them rest than deal with her in that mournful state. She isn’t so sure poor Ussop will be in the right mood to appreciate her “special nightmare aftermath” sinister humour. Some coffee and a little read may just help and she will make sure to return bed before Nami notices her little silent escapade.
(For some reason, the tangerine girl seems always madly worried when Robin is late to tell her something is not so fine.)
She’s quick to prepare the hot, sharply bitter drink and grab a book from the library -a famous eastern tale she had always warmly found comfort in- before finally getting to the beloved ship’s wooden upper deck, mellowly sitting on the very personal reading chair Franky had once built for her. A small table filled with lovely, diverse historical reads and the remnants of drinks delivered with the blazing love of a gentleman cook; a halfway consumed candle after uncountable reading sleepless night hours; a chair done in measure with the catching energy of a very special electrical blue haired shipwright; and a colourful parasol brought on a sun burning afternoon by a thoughtful long-nosed friend. Such is the little spot of the Strawhats archaeologist who won’t exchange it for any other golden room in the world, ever.
There’s an encouragement word left by the rubber hand of a carefree sunlight captain too. It wasn’t written by him, obviously; she is pretty convinced the hoofed handwriting to still be the sweet reindeer doctor’s signature. And knowing of Luffy’s blunt and loud being she wonders if the idea wasn’t previously whispered to his ear by a much quietly gentler navigator or cook.
But -solid scholar education obliges- final results have always mattered way more to Robin anyway and the “I love you more than meat!” childish phrased cheer is dearly treasured.
Loneliness here brings back memories -it always does- but more than anything, there’s something in the queer demeanour of the ship that soothes her.
It’s the noise, she understands. Robin has got assassin shaped ears through desperate years of seek and hiding from tremendous monsters, alive in the very real shape of money-hungry human beings. Silence had first been welcomed and much appreciated as a peaceful rest after dull, exhausting days of crime, thefts and murders. She had soon come to be weary of it though; because pirates were either loud or drunk and the dreadful quietness surrounding her was usually just another sign the time had once again come for her to run far, far away into deepest hollow abysses.
She had early realized it was a new vital necessity to become part of a shadow, an outcast speck of dust. And a shadow should neither be seen or heard in order to not be spotted, so she had also learnt to keep shut unless directly addressed too.
They said she was a quick learner, a smart brat and Robin understood soon enough they claimed those words with no sincere respect. They were interested pirates not poets and at this point, any naive moron could have grasped “smart brat” was just another synonym for useful tool, a role she had the best interest to fill well in order to not be pushed outside the gloomy, seemingly protective shadow.
Since the demon child could belong to the light no more.
Finally, after simultaneously enjoying and dreading the thing, Robin had quite cruelly turned into silence herself. Mute, she would respond in condescending jokes if she ever felt confident enough otherwise go with cold threats alone. She liked to act like no one could mess with her when quite obviously everyone already did.
Listening to everything, every sound, footstep and rumour but never, ever saying anything was a habit she had picked on along the years. An awfully familiar habit utterly crushed by a lighthearted pirate crew in a matter of smiles and shared adventures.
Scars remain and she still listens to almost every crack of course. But little by little she also lets go of the silent masquerade she had put on during so long. Talking feels much more natural and so does joking or just being. And silence…it feels nice too.
Here, on the cheerful lion-headed boat, quietness is way different from what she had been so used to; it means home and it means waves crashing against the dream ship’s wooden hull, chill crewmates’ laughs and a bossy navigator’s scolds.
Noisy quietness as she likes to call it.
Luffy had early promised himself -promised Ace and Sabo too- to do whatever he pleased in whatever bizarre way he wanted and sleep was quite obviously no exception to that. Like some unwelcomed sluggish snores or dozy eyes could stop him from adventuring, playing with Ussop’s new cannon balls, messing up with a hilariously grumpy Zoro or even worse eating. If any sleeping schedules had once applied to him then he had Gum Gum No punched that bullshit long ago.
Tonight, it’s his own empty stomach’s roar that shakes him awake and during a brief second of man’s honour inadvertence he almost considers blaming Chopper for that; after all if his blue-nosed friend hadn’t eagerly insisted to show him the new grimaces Franky had help him perfectionate (and well hmm maybe if he hadn’t as excitedly agreed) then he is pretty confident he would have had managed the time to take off some more delicious fried rice from Zoro’s plate before the napping swordsman could even have had recover the awareness to notice his captain’s sneaky feeding stratagems. And, despite his by now well-known inherent rivalry for the “shitty moss-head”, Sanji would have probably still yelled at him anyway because “you eat too much, provisions don’t last forever, go wash the dishes for once or I am kicking your stupid ass overboard someday” but quite honestly Luffy preferred to face the cook’s wrath at dinner time when at least one of the girls - ideally Robin- was still around to help him escape with a charming little giggle for the crew’s gentleman, rather than meeting his stealthy gaze during another eventful refrigerator night-time excursion of his. Encountering a groggy Sanji had revealed itself to be a particularly deadly and really stupid thing to do. And Luffy does know a few things about being stupid. Well, he for sure isn’t nearly as dumb as Zoro, and certainly not as hopelessly directionless, but still.
Something lowkey tells him Nami would probably disagree with this last one but whatever.
Luffy is not one for “ifs”, and his regret for the missed opportunity of admiring the swordsman’s face decompose at the realisation his dinner had once again been stolen by a smirking dumbass does not last long. Hunger is unsurprisingly quick to win him over and he sprawls out Chopper’s warm fur and Franky’s super arms in seconds, slipping from his shared nakama hammock with a clumsy and too much audible thumb, violently crushing in the process Ussop’s nose to the ground. The sniper mumbles in pain and a thrilled Luffy laughs in cheer.
His night-time snack adventures can now begin.
Oddly enough, the trade marker captain’s boisterous turmoil does not seem to disturb any of his roommates’ rest. But, well, it isn’t in Luffy’s carefree nature to bother worrying about such things either. Merry as the crew’s banquet had been tonight he assumes the incredulous amount of empty sake bottles were only now doing its affair and if anything it makes him chuckle- considering the ridiculous state they had found the little raccoon in, he seriously doubts Chopper would ever consider joining Zoro’s and Nami’s drinking competitions ever again.
Which doesn’t mean a small part of his brat’s schemes soul isn’t slightly disappointed; he was at the very least expecting an irritated groan from his swordsman or Franky’s snoozing suuuupers. Messing around with nakama -were they moody, snoring or just doing their thing - was certainly the best part of being the strawhats captain. Besides, both Chopper and Ussop were excellent mates for that kind of escapade and things were always way funnier when the two of them were around.
Going eat alone won’t be that amusing but it was always better than not eating at all, his stomach… urgh -his brain- concludes.
(Besides, that monstrous groan Chopper gives him as he tries to wake the little raccoon with promises of sweets definitely dissuades him from trying any further.)
And for Luffy is an optimistic being, he sees the light in every unwanted dusky sand grain; so he guesses the enjoyable part of this is he won’t have to share a piece of his meat tonight. The only thing that truly remains annoying though, is that for whatever silly reason Sanji’s food just tasted much better when the room was filled with laughter, joy and a cheerful crew of disquiet.
Speaking of the latter, the cook doesn’t look to be around. Years of daily sunrise morn awakenings to feed starving mouths with thoughtful breakfasts had also shaped his chivalrously kind spirit into a light sleeper one and it was mostly certain he would have woken up by now, drunken sleep or not.
Devil lucked him, it seems to be the blonde’s watch turn right now and if he remembers well the shift changes every two hours or so… More than enough time to quietly punch the locked refrigerator. The strawhatted boy certainly doesn’t regret the human-sized rat traps but oh man were they easier to dodge without making much sound, he sometimes still sighs to his crew. Which Nami in particular considers to be both a poor and pointless lament for the former “anti-hungry morons system” as he had always fatefully walked into them, and that no matter the circumstances, ruining his fridge excursions with a beloved cook’s yells in the process.
But what she seems to ignore is habit had at least made him capable to pitifully crawl towards the sacred fridge in that strange underwear to stuff his drooling mouth with the much needed meat. He honestly had once cursed Franky for having let Sanji’s dream refrigerator come true, that’s how much he hated the thing.
(A small altercation quickly forgotten though, the moment the energetic shipwright had gifted him with that absolutely incredible meat distributor of his. It might have only lasted a few days, but still.)
And, really, not like anyone could attempt to stop him be it locked fridges or angry chiefs so he thinks no longer. Monkey D. Luffy was hungry and when his stomach guided his course, the world - and the shitheads he had sent flying through the journey into Grand Line’s depths - perfectly knew the consequences by now.
His rubber ass too since Sanji would eventually discover the missing food but that was a story for tomorrow.
He’ll see how to do when he gets there, that’s how he has always done things and probably forever would, so his stride is determined and his confident smile unfading as he leaves the man’s quarters. Yet, it almost falters in sudden panic when he abruptly strips over three very familiar swords and is met by an even more familiar smirk:
“Be careful captain. Bastard ero-eyebrow is gonna go wild if he finds you near his precious provisions once again.”
The swordsman’s tone is amused and Luffy responds with a satisfied bounce:
“Oh, you know I was actually counting on you to hide me in the crow’s nest tomorrow!”
“…”
“I will borrow some sake just for you promise!”, the stubborn puppy eyed man declares in resolve and the other tiredly sighs, remnant words of protest downright squashed by the blind determination of the very particular sunlight captain he had chosen to follow -and die for- so long ago.
“I hope that booze you mumble about will be good then, idiot…”
The wooden deck is hollow silent that night. So silent it feels rather dull, or so Robin thinks.
Usually, she would just lazily lay there, on her chair, letting her dazed spirits be lulled by the squashed sound of the seagulls and other sea’s chanties before blacking out, falling almost dead to the world.
(Almost being the key word. Because light sleepers be like that and even the tiniest of the footsteps shakes her back into reality, always and maybe forever. The number of times her friends -usually Chopper and sometimes, quite surprisingly, Luffy- had uttered a soft “Sorry, I scared you Robin.” whenever she goes Deus Fleur in her sleep as they try to take her back to the warmth of the women’s quarters, was really astonishing.)
(But, truth to be told, it had also become a comfort. To sleep there, and occasionally let herself be picked up to bed again by another sleepless crewmate only to be scolded in the morning by a much worried yet so fluffy doctor.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold!”)
But tonight, Robin doesn’t do so. There had been some disquiet earlier on, the noisy quietness she craves for, but it’s hours past midnight and the ship’s usual nocturne sounds are since long gone. She supposes they are approaching some winter island, or whatever other bizarre climate quirkiness the Grand Line held still deep secret to them. Well, at least, it seems to be the most likely reason for the birds’ aching silence, the greyish clouds and the waves’ stillness. Because air is not freezing here; the air is frozen, sea flows’ silently angry and the wind’s cursing whoever dares to be out there.
So there will be no sea shanties nor noisy quietness for her to fall asleep, not this one time.
And while noise might have fade long ago, her nightmares’ remnants have certainly not. Those were often longer to drift away. Specially the nasty ones.
It had been a nasty one. So returning to sleep is not quite a possibility; not when her mother’s final screams and the blazing oharan library were still so fresh to her memory. Instead, the weary woman opens the book lying on her still shaking knees and holds on tighter to Nami’s former cloth.
Its pages are old and used from numerous rereads but not that worn for she had always cared the thing. It shouldn’t be that special to her, really. It is a silly, cliché, horribly written tale and most likely not a thing she would even enjoy in normal times.
Only that book in particular does not come from normal times. It comes from older ones, from times she was not such a picky reader who could not read badly-researched historical fiction for the love of her life, and special safe times where devouring the entirety of Ohara’s readable content was a daily, never-ending source of happiness.
It was the first book Professor Clover had ever read out loud to her, too. Some easy, funny read he had picked up to give her a good cheer laugh, after one particular rough day at her aunt’s house.
And she had laughed, soft and teasing. Because the simple perspective of some random rat falling in love with a smug ladybug only to then accidently die, boiled alive on their very jolly marriage day, seemed both a ridiculous yet terribly hilarious idea to her.
“It’s a folkloric tale parents sooth their children with, out there in the east Robin!” Professor Clover had later told her, eager grin enlightening his aging face as he fatherly stroked her hair, “It may seem a little bit peculiar for us, but do not forget that a capable historian is supposed to analyse even cultural stories like this one! When correctly analysed and put into perspective, it can sometimes be good material for a better understanding of other cultures and THAT will be your job as a scholar, my dear.”
She had agreed with a smile and so they had kept on brushing up the volume, even years after Robin had become a much more historical-only type of reader. It was their own comfort, their shared moment of carelessness and cheer.
She had always refused to know the deep significance of the book and never once had she asked the scholars to tell her about its analysis or whatever cultural meaning it had. It was her childish tale and she wanted to keep it that way. In her heart, it should forever remain the absurd romance of Mr. Rat and Mrs. Ladybug, the same story that had her laughing to tears for the longest time, in days where she thought the best would simply be to end it all.
She does not know if the volume had ever survived Ohara’s flares and ashes, that day. But one of the very first things she had done in the years of calvary, has been to buy (steal-) a new one from the nearest bookshop, and keep it close, very close.
And it still soothes her, even tonight.
She is on her second reread, breath smoother and heart a little lighter, when she overhears the chaos at the galley. She does not bother to truly worry though; at such hours and with such obvious noise the sole possible intruder to Sunny’s kitchen well-being came naturally in the name of her much beloved captain, Monkey D. Luffy.
Noisy quietness has returned. And far more noisy than quiet, it seems.
Bowls spinning to the ground, along with what seems to be the entire eatable content of their fridge, plates going to war against broken glasses and even the crack of some chairs falling sprawled next to the kitchen’s door. It looks her captain has cheerfully won this one round against the locked fridge, she concludes with a soft chuckle.
However, she also knows of a certain someone who will not be so merry at the sight of such apparent disaster. And so, out of care for her captain’s ass, she bothers to check on Sanji’s being, and a quick Hana Hana no mi eye move has her relieved for it seems the gentle cook is himself asleep on the crow’s nest and has not noticed a thing. Which is quite abnormal in itself- Sanji has never been one to fall asleep while on duty. She wonders if this has anything to do with how much he had been outdoing himself lately in between the crew’s meals and daily ship protection, and silently promises herself to have Chopper touch him a word about it.
But for now, it appears the cook would only discover the consequences of his little nap by the time morn hits, as his desperate yells replace the daily loving words for his “beautiful Nami-san” and “lovely Robin-chan”, he usually hummers while getting the crew’s breakfast ready.
So she lets Luffy be. She always does.
He joins her later, that night. Which is both unexpected yet not quite. It seems, her captain handles being alone just as bad as her.
It usually isn’t that big of a deal. Robin feels sad and lonely sometimes, that’s how she has always lived life, and for she is used to it she is also deeply grateful those times were coming far, and far more in-between. She knows well how to address the rough days without making a fuss; only now she is also aware there are people here, people who will always make her cheer, as well as enough room for a tight embrace whenever she needs it to be.
However, she would never, ever consider waking up any of them when the jagged feelings struck her at night, because oh boy were they cute with their sleeping grins and soft snores. Which, at the same time, obviously didn’t mean she would ever say no to some surprise, but gladly welcome, company.
And quite honestly, she truly wasn’t waiting for any of them to show up after such a sake-full feast and she is already feeling a tiny bit better so…this is nice, she supposes. Really nice.
She had peacefully dozed off for some minutes, coffee half-drunk and book mid-open left in her knees, when he comes in, mouth meat-stuffed and some sake bottles stuck between his rubber arms. For Zoro, she presumes.
“Oh, Robin y’ awake too?”, he asks and his voice is cheer.
She nods with a giggle, quickly makes place on her chair for two and he immediately jumps next to her, chill smile enlightening the coldness of Grand Line’s winds, taking another bite of flesh as he beams :
“I am sooo glad you’re here!!!!! I was super hungry ‘cause I didn’t eat enough at dinner y’ know?”, he mopes for a second there and Robin gives him a sympathetic look, hand mellowly resting against her cheek as she listens, “ I went there so it would be more fun, I feel less alone when I watch the sea but like ahhh it’s so cool to see you! Chopper and Ussop are dumb so they didn’t come…Also I think I might have broken something in the kitchen but that was just because I had to take some booze for Zoro, ‘cause he’s grumpy and a meanie! But he’s always like that so who cares!?”
“Well, I am very glad you are here too.” Robin smoothly agrees
Some waves crush violently against the hull and it is Luffy’s turn to mutter, voice deep, strangely dazed and a little rust:
“Y’ re sad or something?”
His dark eyes breathe innocent concern and she stirs a little on the chair, “I am not.”
“ ‘kay.” He picks his nose then, “But you were.”
He does not insist any further, perhaps aware of his crewmate’s care for privacy and secrets, and Robin loves him for it.
There’s a slight awkward silence shortly after he utters those words, and Luffy glances back at the sea, look free but thoughtful. Harder to read than any ancient language she had ever encountered.
“I can give you some of my meat if that makes you happy,” he finally lights up, “Just one piece or two though.”
She giggles, both amused and assured:
“That’s fine. How did you know anyway?”
“I dunno… but you always go here when you are feeling bad, don’t you?” He simply shrugs as he takes another generous chunk of beef, “You are crying sometimes when I bring you back to bed after you sleep there, and Chopper told me once you get nightmares too. But you have Nakama so you don’t have to be sad or lonely, okay? We are always here if you need. Whenever.”
“Everyone gets a little upset sometimes, Luffy. It’s not that big of a deal, you shouldn’t worry much.”
The boy’s jaw drops wild and he looks back at her with incredulous eyes:
“It IS that big of a deal, silly. And I never worry I just don’t like to see you sad,” he eventually spits out with a much lighter, carefree and sincere tone, “ ‘cause you are sooo good and cool and smart!”
She resists, hard, very hard the urge to pat his pouting adorable face with a blooming hand. Basic human decency really didn’t apply in this ship anymore, urgh?
(Had it ever applied, for real?)
“It’s okay now, isn’t it? I know you and the others are here.” she smiles back with an honest laugh, dusky heart moved and eyes a little bit watery.
And with those words, the King’s sunbeam grin returns:
“Yeah, sure!”
The hug comes soon enough, and she flinches for a dwarf second before returning the rubbery, full of love and care, embrace in full force. Meat and flower’s breaths bump into each other and she feels good.
A comfort.
They stay like that for long, and if anything Luffy’s warm arms only tighten around her chest a little closer, each second more. Like he is subconsciously afraid to let something go. Like he has let something or someone go, in the past. Robin wonders who.
“I can stay with you tonight, right? Eating alone sucks.”
“Yeah…I think you can and, if I may add, will do whatever you want captain.”
Luffy’s little spot on their ship -their home- is very different from hers. For starters, it is way too close to the sea and her inner cautious self would never risk chilling in a place it was this easy to fall over, becoming bread to the waves’ hungry depths in no time, and that no matter how confident she is in herself, and in her comrades. But Luffy is thrill, smells danger, and so he dares. It makes him happy.
It is a dangerous thing, to dare the sea. Ocean’s flows are a dreadful opponent and they always win.
(That’s quite a cruel fate, she can’t help but think sometimes. For someone who loved the ocean and its sweet freedom perfume as much as Luffy did, to be so profoundly, devilishly, hated by it. He may not care much -probably not at all- but she had always found such a coincidence to be bleak.)
Still, he really is fierce joy whenever he stands there. Sunny’s lion figurehead, gleeful and warm and protective, is a bed just fine for his mischievous soul to rest as he defies the vicious wind blows with a fearless grin, holding on tight to the worn-out strawhat crowning his head. Another thing that differs from her own spot may be this; the way Luffy kept it so personal yet so seemingly empty. The same way his only needed possessions to feel at ease were his hat (his crown-), some food, a smell of piracy and a friend by his side.
His own wealth.
He had fallen asleep on her shoulder earlier on, warm and comfy, and Robin had been enjoying the noisy quietness once again. There was something peaceful in listening to his rhythmic, affectionate and heavy heartbeats while turning the pages of her old book and she had herself snoozed, though not for long. Keeping a careful eye on her sleepy captain -her friend- seemed a much more enjoyable activity. He had shivered, sometimes, and so Robin had sprawled the purple quilt across his rubber skin cautious to not awake him. She no longer felt that cold, anyway.
He eventually does wake up though. And when he does, first thing he eagerly asks is if she is okay to let him go to his own spot for a little while, have some fun watching the wave’s splashes and yelling at the wind’s angry shouts, and if she can keep an eye to prevent him from falling over. She is a little startled by the request; dawn is coming soon and she would have expected him to want return sleep in the boy’s room by now. But yeah…
She smiles, softly declines the invitation to join in -she knows Sunny’s sunflower head is his- and obviously lets him go. One simply does not stop a boundless and unpredictable being such as Monkey D. Luffy.
She would eventually stick closer to him, hours later, taking her quilt and book as she makes herself a place in the balustrade behind the ship’s lion cross-boned figurehead. It felt better, that way.
“Hey, Robin?” the boy suddenly exclaims from his tawny seat as his bright, enthusiastic eyes flicker from the sneaky waves he had been watching for hours to the crewmate sleepily standing at the railing next to him, “I know that book you are reading!”
And like a lot of things coming from Luffy, this one remark comes out of nowhere.
Robin blinks in confusion, “You do?”
Not that she ever doubts his intellectual; Luffy might be nowhere near a scholar’s brain but he was emotional smart, and that to a point it could almost become frightening. He knew people and how to deal with them – and though he probably only did that stuff out of instinct, fact is that it worked. Only, he really wasn’t the reading type of person and as far as she was concerned he had never shown any slight interest in the matter too and so, she is quite intrigued.
Professor Clover’s warm words come whistle at the back of her ears. It’s a folkloric tale parents sooth their children with, out there in the east.
“Oh…” and then, “You are from East Blue, aren’t you?”
“I am! It’s kinda of complicated and boring stuff but yeah I lived in Goa,” he scowls there and Robin frowns a little before his beam returns, “It was cooler when I lived in Foosha but Mont Columbo was so fun too! Dadan is still an asshole though…”
She has many questions running through her head and for the very first time in her life she considers it is safe to conclude this is too much information. Robin does not talk much, even now, let alone personal stuff. She had never had that much of a conversation too, not even with Luffy, not really. Robin is all giggles and calm and dark jokes; he is loud and stubborn and free. So when they talk it is about adventures, idiocies and dreams. Past is rarely -never- brought up to any of their daily exchanges.
“I assume that’s why you do know it,” and just because he has already shared so much with her tonight, and she trusts him and can, she also adds, “ My teacher told me once it is a popular tale from where you come from.”
Luffy repplies with a nostalgic laugh, “I don’t know how to read well, y’ know? So I don’t care about those things but your book seemed familiar and it was bothering me because I couldn’t point my finger on what! But I remember now. My brother would sometimes read this one to me before bed and it was fun!”
She also chuckles, but in her teasing mum fashion that is:
“I mean, who wouldn’t find Mr. Rat and Mrs. Ladybug romance lovely?”
And in the way he looks so terribly confused at her, she fears he might as well fall over the boat for real:
“What are y’ talking about? Mr. Rat was a robot! And there was no ladybug, but A CYBORG! Robin you’re getting it all wrongggg…” his sigh is tired and he folds his arms in disappointment
She responds in an amused snicker, “Whatever you say, captain. Pardon me, now that I remember well I believe your version happens to be the correct one!”
“Of course it is! Sabo told me so and he’s never wrong!” and he bounces his legs back and forth, eyes bright with pride and remembrance, “He was awesome like that!”
He is using the past tense here and so, Robin wonders again but does not ask. Does not dare to. She knows, he most likely wouldn’t even care and just answer in that incredibly simple and honest manner of his but it scarcely feels like the right time here and as far as the sea’s tide keeps them going and alive, maybe it never fully would. And, well, it’s none of her business too. Her everlasting scholar’s curiosity should go for the bewilderment of ancient civilisations, certainly not for her friend’s hidden pasts. They all had their fair share of ruthless stories, even here, and the right to keep it to themselves as they sail towards tomorrow.
Still, that name -Goa Kingdom- tilts something in the back of her head and sinks deep in her brain. She remembers reading long paragraphs about jewel buildings, stainless alleys and a clean wall to protect from the evil. The most beautiful kingdom in all of East Blue. It seemed curious, for a boy as feral as Luffy to come from such a fancy region:
“I have read about your hometown before, I think. It seems to be a gorgeous place!”
Yet Luffy’s face only seems to twist in a quite horrendous grimace, “Nahhh…. it just sucks. Like really sucks.”
She has no trouble believing him. World was filled up with sweet lies, always has been, and even books were no exception to it. Propaganda was an ugly thing.
“We talked about it with Vivi once too, because she loves Alabasta so much. But yeah, Goa stinks a lot.”
She retorts with a soulless scoff, “I kind of find it sad. It would normally feel pretty natural for someone to be able to love and miss their home country, wouldn’t it?”
She knows she is getting morbid and maybe even over-dramatic, but she is tired and so is him so it doesn’t even matter that much. She could be true and free, he would never mind.
“I am much happier at sea.” he gleefully squeezes with a yawn, glancing at the shimmering waves crushing against the hull, “ ’feels nice.”
A simple, uncaring but sincere response to her fretting and she only reflects a little, thinks of Ohara’s wild flares and the pain she had felt there, before agreeing with a giggle, “I think I am too.”
And Robin wouldn’t fully understand the depth of his declaration until years later, by the time she meets another boy, a boy who was so like her captain in too many ways to be truly expressed. A boy she would meet by another sleepless freezing night, only this time in a much lesser cosy place than Sunny was. And there would be no noisy quietness either.
Because, see- this boy was just as loud as Luffy, and he had things to share.
A tale of freedom to tell.
"We should hang out more often. It's fun!" Luffy says as the first rays of sun hit the deck and Sanji's yells become apparent.
They share a look, and then a matching smile when she beams:
"We will."