Fic post: Absence, chapter 8 (part one)
Sep. 26th, 2010 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rainsometimesChapter 8 of my longest (and slowest, and saddest) fic is finished now. Here's the first part of two.
As noted when chapter 7 was posted, this is now a Divergence AU. Events happened differently at Marineford (for details see chapter 7, part 1, with spoilers for the real Marineford arc).
This chapter has been betaed bytonko, to whom I am very much obliged for her much-needed efforts. Any remaining errors are my responsibility alone. Nitpicks and other forms of concrit are much appreciated! ♥
I believe I'm finally ready to crosspost this fic to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
one_piece. While I still haven't ironed out all the wrinkles in the plot yet, now it feels as if the ending is at least in sight, if still a few chapters away. I know... famous last words... *knocks on wood*
Title: Absence, chapter 8, part 1
Previous chapters: Chapter One here, fic tag here; the whole fic on AO3 here
Rating: PG for language and dark themes
Warning For major angst and sadness
Summary: The crew copes with loss. Luffy doesn’t take it well (for more, see the ‘What has gone before’ section right behind the cut).
Characters: Strawhats
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: In a battle where seakings fought alongside Marines against the ambushed Strawhats, Nami witnessed Usopp being killed or lethally wounded by an extremely large and fierce seaking, subsequently slain by Luffy. The Strawhats, in shock and outnumbered, retreated from the island where it happened before they had a chance to find the body.
Ever since waking up after the battle, Luffy seems to have completely forgotten Usopp ever existed, not even reacting to his name when spoken. (He has also forgotten Going Merry in a similar way.) However, as time goes on he has taken on some of Usopp’s traits as his own, and has also become extremely protective of the rest of the crew, to the point where he insists on taking on all the fighting himself. The crew wants Luffy sane again, and decided in council to turn back to the island where the death occurred, hoping both to give Usopp a real funeral and that the return will trigger Luffy’s memories. They kept this decision secret from Luffy for days.
In the chapter 6, the crew came upon a tiny remnant of the very Marine force they last faced – now deserters severely down on their luck. After some extremely tense moments, Nami decided to trade with them, among other things giving them the crew’s log pose and instead receiving an Eternal Pose set for the island they’re heading for. When Luffy woke up and confronted Nami about this, she came clear about their current destination. He didn't like this, but Nami persisted, and the rest of the crew helped make it clear to Luffy he couldn't make them turn around and change course. He reacted by retreating into his shell until the ex-Marines were out of sight, then fell into heavy sleep. He had a long, vivid dream in which he faced an enemy he'd forgotten and saw the Going Merry. He slept past breakfast and noon the next day in Usopp's bed.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of One Piece were created by Eiichiro Oda - surely one of the most brilliant makers of boys' adventure comics in existence - and are owned by him and Shueisha Inc. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fanfic will not be used for profit and may not be reproduced anywhere without the author's approval.
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Absence chapter 8, part one
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Now that they had an Eternal pose to guide them, there was no longer any need for night-time sailing by the stars. The crew went back to their regular schedule, only keeping a night watch as usual. In spite of this, Nami was only more tired, not less. Her earlier nervous energy was gone, replaced by a great listlessness. She checked the course and the weather regularly, but spent most of her time indoors, reading through the Marine commander’s log book and other sources when she wasn’t taking short, uneasy naps. Robin took over some of her normal tasks, trying to help her relax.
Zoro was still having some trouble sleeping, though that had lessened. Now, it was training that had become harder to do, the familiar routines failing to be reassuring. There was a persistent sense of futility he found hard to shake off.
The crew kept on doing their daily tasks as usual, but something had changed, irrevocably. Later, many of them would find it hard to remember these last few days of the return journey clearly. Their memories were irregular and fragmentary, few things standing out amongst a thick, sad, overwhelming grayness.
Luffy kept away from the rest of the crew, hardly speaking a word to anyone. Even his mumbling to himself had all but stopped. Most of the time he didn't look grim and stonefaced, but rather had a blank expression, his eyes not fixing themselves on anything much.
He avoided the usual mealtimes, but would trudge over to the galley now and then, when no-one was there. As the refrigerator was locked, at first he could only nick unappetising, unprepared food from the cupboard.
After noticing a lot of flour, raw potatoes, pickled cucumbers and the like had gone missing, Sanji had a brief struggle with his pride and then started leaving a big pile of food on the counter twice a day – things like sausages, chicken, broiled fish, meatball sandwiches, potatoes and fruits, but not as much as Luffy might normally eat. Even so, sometimes there were actually some bits left on the counter when Sanji returned.
The weather shifted but mostly stayed hot, dry and overcast, southern and eastern winds rising and receding. There was no storm. In Robin’s flowerbed, the tiny, hardy Grand Line bumblebees, who could nest on any ship that carried plant life, were buzzing a lot more than normal.
***
Luffy was sitting on Sunny’s figurehead with his knees up and his hands clasped over them, now and then unclasping them to tug his hat around, then clasping them once more. The weather was calm at the moment, only a mild breeze tickling his toes. At times he made a move as if to pull up the loose shoulder-strap of a bag, always letting the hand fall when it didn’t find any, his expression unchanged as if he hardly noticed what he was doing.
In his mind, he could see the same image as in his dream: that other, smaller ship, with the head of a ram instead of a lion, bobbing up and down on sunlit waves. A smaller figurehead, but one which was just as nice to sit on. He almost knew its name, almost felt he could just reach out and touch that ship, but he shied away from pushing. But he understood it must be their old ship, the one they sailed on before Water 7.
There were other images that had turned up in his mind after that one dream. A rather vague, fuzzy image of someone else who looked like a sheep, but this one was a human. There was a girl, too, blonde, thin and pale, but he couldn't see her face very well. Clearer than the other two were these three little kids. He also got an image of some weird-looking guy with a hat and a striped chin and hearty glasses who was walking backwards.
The people in the images gave him a feeling they all came from the same place the ship did - and from the man with the glasses that he'd seen in that dream. It must have been the same island, then, he thought. An island that felt similar to the Fuusha Village part of Luffy’s home island mountains – similar, but not the same. He understood that now.
He didn’t think he really liked understanding that. But he couldn't push the knowing away.
He climbed down from the figurehead slowly, hands in pockets, then ambled further down to the Lawn Deck. He blinked, seeing a big, round hole in the lawn, before he remembered this led to the Docking System below. It had been ages since he last saw the Docking System in use. In fact, he couldn’t even recall being below deck at all for a long time now. Not that he’d tried to keep away on purpose – it just hadn’t seemed all that interesting, down there. Sure, Franky had some kind of room there where he repaired stuff and drew up plans for building new things, but it wasn't like Franky was there all the time. Luffy would rather wait for him to come up on the top decks instead.
He sat there on the lawn for a while, frowning and peering into the hatch, pulling up blades of grass and tossing them into it. No. He still didn’t know how the Docking System worked – or if he did once, he’d forgotten it. And he wasn't sure he wanted to take another look at that small boat down there, the Mini-something which looked like the ship in his head.
What use would that be, anyway? None of this was even really important, unless it could make the crew start listening to him again. So he could keep them away from that place.
He felt tired and pointless again. There was nothing to do: they didn’t want to be cheered up. He rolled over onto one side, soon falling asleep in the grass.
***
After bringing Nami a nice pot of hot black tea and a nourishing sandwich as an afternoon snack, Sanji lingered on in the observatory-library for a bit.
Nami thanked him, breathing in the smell of the tea, her finger trailing the outline of the decoration on the cup absent-mindedly. Then she looked up at him attentively. “Are we still okay with supplies?”
Sanji nodded, leaning back against the door-frame. He wasn’t about to remark that she was asking him this a lot lately. Normally she wouldn't raise the issue too often, trusting him to keep an eye on things. “We’re not low on anything important that we can’t stock up on once we’ve landed – and even if we’d have to leave the island right away, we still wouldn’t starve,” he asserted. “Even meat is okay – mostly big sea mammal meat, lately, but that works, too. Water’s fine, we've got more than enough filtered rain water for a while.”
Nami sighed and leaned back, rubbing her forehead. She took a deep drink from the cup, her serious expression softening into a lovely smile at the taste which couldn't help but make Sanji smile briefly as well.
But the moment passed. Sanji nodded to the book in her hands and her notes beside it. “Any luck reading that shitty Marine bastard’s log?” he asked.
“Mm, some,” she hummed. “His handwriting isn’t that bad, so far – I’ve seen a lot worse. A lot of the things he puts down are hard to figure out, but I think they're mostly shorthand for internal Marine affairs and his personal life.” She made a face at the last bit. “I have to say,” she continued, “he goes on about discipline and being in control of your men an awful lot.”
“Well… it was a penal battalion,” said Sanji, blowing out smoke and putting his hands in his pockets. “Guess when you’re a heartless shithead Marine commander, that kinda shit comes with the territory.”
“I wonder where they dug him up from,” said Nami, her lips twisting in distaste. “Anyway… there’s more, of course. He writes about the seakings around the island quite a bit.” Her tone was flat and businesslike. “Apparently he had a zoan fruit – I didn’t know that, did you?”
Sanji nodded. “Saw it at a distance, when he fought Luffy.” It hadn’t seemed like an important matter to mention, back then. “Some kind of great lizard, I gather.”
“Well,” said Nami, “that helped him communicate with the leader of the seakings, apparently – though it was that weird bone whistle he had that really did the trick, when they struck some kind of deal together. He claims the leader kept a hard regime himself, making the other seakings jump when he told them to. Guess those two would sympathise.” A sharp tang to that last remark, but then she swallowed, and quickly moved on.
“So, eh…” She flipped through her notes, avoiding Sanji’s eyes. “The island… it’s been called by two names, Seaweed Island because there’s unusually many types of seaweed on its beaches – many of them are rare and very good for your health, apparently – and Turnaway Isle, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you get there. Some even combine the names and call it Turnweed Isle.”
“It really has that bad a reputation?”
“Looks like it.” Taking another sip of the tea, Nami adjusted her seat as she went on, telling him what else she and Robin had pieced together. Only parts of it were from the log book, the rest coming from their conversation with the Marines deserters and even from some of their other books in the library. Once they had the name of the place, it was easier to find references to it.
Nobody actually lived on Turnweed Isle any more. There seemed to be plenty of reasons for that. There were the seakings, of course – less numerous in some years than others, but always apt to make fishing a dangerous hazard, and the amphibious ones often ventured up on land, where they attacked people and livestock. The soil was good for spices and rare medicinal plants, but grains and vegetables often failed. And then there were the numerous diseases carried by insects - it seemed as if the medicine herbs weren’t enough to take care of them.
“Or none of the settlers had a doctor who really knew their stuff,” noted Sanji. “Huh. So that part with the herbs wasn’t a lie, either.” He remembered the haunted-looking man they’d come across in a row boat before they first arrived in the island, who had claimed to be looking for the island as well - he'd gone on about those herbs a fair bit... Since he’d disappeared once the fighting started, they’d subsequently assumed he was a Marine plant sent to further lure them in, but maybe he’d been genuine, after all. What was his name again? Tolis, Tomasso, something like that...? Well, not that it really mattered now, anyway.
“He still showed up rather suspiciously,” she said, “and it wasn’t like he mentioned most of this stuff. Though I suppose there wasn’t much time…” She shrugged, then continued her summation. By now, she looked and sounded a lot tenser than at the start, and she was mostly looking down on her notes.
These days, those who did brave seakings and diseases to travel to Turnweed Isle tended not to be ambitious spice merchants, but rather adventurous slavers. Along with the seakings, the waters around the island were also home to an unusually shy and retiring tribe of mermaids and mermen. These merfolk were much sought after, less for beauty than for their reputation of having great medical skills - even the mermen fetched high prices for this reason. Their amazing healing talents rivalled the cream of the crop of human doctors. And they never turned a patient away.
“Ho-however” – Nami stuttered briefly, her voice unsteady – “this may well be a thing of the past, because no-one’s seen mermaids around here in several decades... S-so, they might all have left for some other place – or, or already been captured earlier.”
She finished, putting her notes aside, her hands trembling lightly. She put them in her lap, making an effort to keep them still.
“Healers, huh…” said Sanji slowly. Abruptly, he sank down on the nearest chair, feeling faint.
“That’s what it says,” said Nami in a low tone, without looking up.
Sanji gripped his right knee, barely able to keep the leg from shaking. “F-fancy that,” he mumbled weakly.
“Yeah,” said Nami simply, heavily. “And now that I’ve read it, I just can’t – stop thinking. You know. If he fell into the water. If there were merfolk right there. If. If.”
“Yeah.” Sanji’s voice was hollow. He sat, staring blankly into space.
She took a deep breath – then, all at once, the words came tumbling out. “I – I know it’s just – there’s no way” – she sniffled – “it even says they haven’t been seen in years, it –” She let out just the one sob, but suppressed the rest, then went on unsteadily, “I don’t. I don’t...” She grit her teeth. “…Shit.”
Sanji gave her a look of weak surprise. Nami rarely swore.
Holding one hand over her face, elbow on table, she muttered, “I did it again.” There was a pause.
Then she went on, roughly, “I keep doing this, you know. I keep thinking these things… like “I want to talk about this with Usopp”, or, “…if only he were here, if only I could talk to him, then maybe I could get through this – so stupid !!” she spat out vehemently, her face twisted with loathing and pain. Voice turning rawer and more furious, she burst out, “If he were here, there’d be nothing to talk about! Nothing to get through!”
Then she abruptly stopped, burying her face in both hands.
Very softly, very quietly, Sanji stood up and carried his chair to her table, where he put it down right next to her. Then he sat down and, without looking at her half-hidden face, put a hand around her shoulders gently and carefully, leaned his head against hers.
He felt her body sag, accepting his touch and leaning into him in return. Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then Sanji cleared his throat, but his voice still felt hoarse and unsteady in his own ears as he talked.
“I know,” he said. “I know. That’s not stupid.”
“...But,” said Nami after another pause, her voice still thick, “It is kind of dumb.”
“Well... maybe a tiny bit,” he murmured. “But it’s not stupid.” There was a distinction there, in his mind, though it was hard to put it into words. “It’s not – it’s not wrong, Nami.” We’re crippled, he thought, there’s a hole in us. And the one they lost – he was no sage any more than the rest of them. He wouldn’t have known what to say either, if, if they’d lost someone else. But he’d have kept trying. He’d have tried again and again to fill the silence in the right way. And maybe the silence wouldn’t have been so gray and frightening.
Or so it seemed to Sanji right then.
There was no need to say any of that out loud. It was nothing new to her.
They sat together like that for some time, saying little, until it was time to start dinner.
***
“Okay. Okay, then,” mumbled Franky.
Standing in the corridor below deck, he raised one hesitant hand towards the doorknob. “Guess we’re going in…” But rather than doing so right away, he first looked over his shoulder at Robin and Chopper who had come there with him. They both nodded back in silence.
They’d come down to his study simultaneously just a few minutes previous, but not for the same reason. Robin was there to convey a warning from Nami that the ship would likely hit considerable turbulence in a couple of hours. Chopper had lost two of the tiny screws holding his microscope together and couldn’t find them, so he needed new ones. Franky had mumbled “yeah, yeah” absentmindedly to both of them. He had something else on his mind.
Then he remembered. “Oh, right – sorry, bro. I’m all out of those screws,” he told Chopper.
“Oh,” said Chopper, disappointed. “I guess it can wait..." he mumbled. "I don't really need it right now..."
“Eh, nah, if I have to I can make them for ya, but–” Franky chewed his lower lip, back to thinking of the same thing he'd had on his mind for days. “See, I’m all out of a bunch of things, but…” He paused, then added in a lower tone, “I’m out. But we’re not.”
Robin’s eyes widened slightly, understanding clear in them; but Chopper only blinked and said, “Huh?”
“He means there should be more of those things in the Factory, I believe,” said Robin. She waved delicately in the direction of that room.
“Yeah. Probably. Maybe,” muttered Franky, looking down at the drawing board and the design sketch he'd been half-heartedly working on.
“Oh.” Chopper’s voice sank down to a whisper. He sounded sorry that he asked.
Robin was silent. Drumming his pencil on the board, Franky was expecting her to say something like Do you think he would want it to go to waste? or Is there any use procrastinating it?. –Or maybe just a simple I see before leaving him to continue his wishy-washy fretting.
Instead she said, “I could come with you. If you want me to.”
He looked over at her in surprise. “Really?” Starting to feel better, he brightened up even more when Chopper added, “Me, too,” in a determined way.
“Man, you guys are just way too super!” he exclaimed with a big smile. He struck a pose meant to indicate gratefulness and good cheer, then straightened up and sobered again. “Right,” he nodded. “It ain’t locked, so… guess we’ll just, uh, go there right now.” Then he grabbed two baskets to stuff things in, handed one of them to Chopper, set his jaw and led them out of there. The party didn't have far to go; there were less than twenty strides between his study and the empty workshop on the other side of the Docking System.
So. Here he was now, standing outside the door, while his two companions were patiently waiting for him to man up and open the friggin' place.
He tugged on the doorknob slowly, let it go for a moment; then finally opened the door and stepped inside quickly so he wouldn't give himself more time for hesitation. Even so, he still stopped as soon as he'd crossed the threshold.
Chopper slunk past him and changed into Heavy Point to reach the lamp in the ceiling and light it. Realising he was blocking Robin’s entrance, Franky took a step to the left to let her through. But he stayed near the door as he looked the room over, taking in the view.
There was dust, but not too much of it – it really hadn’t been all that long, he thought, with another sharp twinge. The familiar mix of relative order and functional clutter reigned everywhere, on shelves and floor, on the work bench and the little work dais and even on the wall, where artistic sketches and drawings hung side by side with various idea sketches and more rare careful designs. The pile of scraps and rags to the left was the most disorderly place, but even there was a certain system evident if you looked at it. On the shelves lay dials and rubber bands, nails and tacks, pieces of string, caltrops and shuriken, and plenty of other little things. There were two steady boxes on the floor for the more dangerous items – the flammables and explosives. The jars and flasks inside were separated and kept in place with old leaves, grass, rags and pieces of paper, so they’d still be safe even in fierce storms.
The dais and the work bench both seemed to be taken up with interrupted projects, minus any potentially explosive parts: there were small rags intended to become ammunition pouches, lead bullets, coloured paints and items even Franky could only guess at. Next to the half-open toolbox there was a sack of jute with a peculiar smell and the legend “Jungle Biz” scrawled onto it.
“It looks pretty much like I thought,” he muttered after a while, when the silence got a bit too much. “'S close to how it looked when I last saw it, back when... back before. Knew it would be.” So why did he still feel surprised, then? he wondered. After all, he’d expected this familiar view –and it was what he got.
“It does, but I didn’t...” Chopper, moving diffidently around the room, trailed off while he kept looking at this and that with his hands behind his back, basket still empty under his arm. He’d changed back to Brain Point already. “...I wonder what he was working on,” he mumbled, a little curiosity in his voice as he glanced at the dais.
“Ammo stuff, looks like, an’ something else I’m not sure ‘bout,” said Franky. He was picking at a piece of wire jutting out from one of the barrels. Meanwhile, Robin was bending down to look at one of the shelves, then turned without straightening, holding up something small and metallic towards Chopper.
“Would this be what you were looking for?” she asked.
Chopper stepped closer. “No, that one’s too big... b-but...” He got up on his toes to see the shelves better, “...I think these ones over here are the right size. Franky?” He looked over at Franky uncertainly.
“Huh? Oh yeah, right.” Franky raised an eyebrow at his li’l reindeer-bro. “Hey, don’t ask me ‘bout it. It’s not mine anymore than it’s yours,” he said. But he strolled over to the shelf anyway. “Put ‘em in the basket if you think they’ll do. An’ take some of these bigger ones as well – I’m running pretty low on them.”
“Oh-okay.” Chopper nodded attentively, but only scooped up half of the screws on the shelf, leaving the rest. Franky didn't comment. Instead, he took the string of wire from the barrel, coiled it into a ball and dropped it in the basket.
“Better take some grease too..." he muttered to himself, as he continued going through the room. "And I do need gunpowder... ain’t got no tear gas left, either...” Filling up both baskets at a brisk pace, he tried to be businesslike and matter-of-fact, staving off the uneasy feeling of trespassing.
Once he’d found the most essential things he needed, he stopped collecting. It didn’t feel right to stock up on material just in case. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe after the funeral.
He made no move to leave yet, though. Neither did Robin and Chopper. Instead, they all sat down at the same time, Franky cross-legged and the other two with their knees pulled up.
Chopper whispered, “It’s not different from the rest of the ship. I, I thought it would be, but it’s not.” His voice sank lower. “It’s the same emptiness.”
“...Yeah,” mumbled Franky, his voice pretty thick. “Yeah, it is. Fuck.” A flash of fierce, caged anger ran through him, and he blinked hard, feeling something hot and wet in his eyes just waiting to be set loose.
“Fuck, shit, hell,” he kept swearing, still keeping his voice down. “Stupid... bloody stupid fucking bastard, just... he coulda...” Words dried up, all useless: he focused on just wiping his face from snot and silent tears. How are we supposed to forgive something like that? he wanted to say, but he couldn’t push the words through, didn’t want to.
Once his face was dry, he looked over at the others again. Only now did he notice that Chopper had rings around his eyes like he’d slept badly. But the little doctor wasn’t crying, and he didn’t look angry or even grim, either. There was a blank, distant look to his face that Franky found very un-Chopperlike.
Robin, who had remained quiet, looked even more distant and shut-off than the reindeer. It was more familiar on her, though it still sucked to see it.
“When my old master died,” Franky found himself saying, surprised both at the impulse to speak and how steady his voice sounded, “and, uh, after lots of stuff happened” – he scratched his metal nose – “I went back to where his headquarters had been. I mean, our HQ, for all of us in the work team. It was our home, way back when. First, I just boarded it up so no-one else could move in or wreck or steal what little stuff there was left. Didn’t even enter it myself, not then. But eventually I started to use the place as a secret hideout, sometimes. Just getting away from things, y'know.”
“Oh.” Chopper’s voice was thoughtful. He tilted his head as he looked up at Franky, blankness gone for now. “Was – was that hard? To be there again, only not like before... I never went back to Doctor’s cave,” he said, the last bit so low Franky almost didn’t catch it.
Franky moved back towards the wall and put his hands behind his head, leaning on them and looking up. “Mm-hm. Nah, I'm guessin' that... it kinda would’ve been harder not to go there, on those days when I wanted to. But that don’t mean it was always too super, bein' there.”
Sighing, he drew a hand through his hair, which he noted had started to lose its shape. He needed to recharge on cola soon. “Feh. I dunno why I’m going on ‘bout that now, anyway. ‘S not the same kind of thing at all,” he said gruffly.
They were silent for a while.
*
Chopper's thoughts went straying back to their captain again, remembering some of the things he’d heard him mumble recently, or little gestures he'd seen. Like pulling at the invisible strap of a bag.
I wonder if it’s all really in Luffy’s mind. Or. Or if there is such a thing as ghosts. And if there is, what should we do about it?
He shook his head, then cleared his throat to bring up something else. “We’ll get there soon, right?” he said. “Nami said it wouldn’t take long. But – maybe Luffy will try to stop us from getting off the boat.”
“If it comes to that,” Robin said, “we should be equipped to deal with it. We know his weaknesses. The easiest way would likely be to ask Brook to make his Lullaby Flan move so Luffy will fall asleep.”
“I don’t like that,” said Chopper, frowning. “It feels mean. If he can’t stop us, he’s gonna want to come along, to protect us. And he can’t do that if he’s sleeping.”
Robin shrugged, then smiled bleakly. “It was just a suggestion. In case we can’t think of anything else.”
“That stuff’s not the problem, anyway,” said Franky. “That’s just something we’ll deal with, if it happens. He looked all calm again, the anger gone. “Don’t think it’s remnant Marines or seakings we really have to worry about either – long as our guard is up,” he went on. “It’s this shit. In here.” He pointed with a thumb to his still non-cybernetic heart, then reached out and poked Chopper in the forehead. “And here, too.” Chopper flinched.
“There may be nothing to bury.” Robin’s voice was unusually curt, even harsh, though her expression remained distant. She had pulled her legs up further and dropped her head lower, picking aimlessly at the floor while staring at nothing. Shocked, Chopper and Franky both turned to look at her.
“I can do nothing to help.” Robin’s voice was thin and fragile, almost a whisper, as she hugged her knees and looked at the floor boards.
“Ro-Robin?” Chopper stared at her with worry.
“You – Are you –” Franky began, but stopped before finishing. But Robin was already nodding indifferently.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Then she looked up, meeting their eyes for a few moment. “But you two... Nami... all of you...” She sighed, leaning back towards the wall, spreading two empty hands out. “I don’t know how to help any of you,” she went on in a low, even tone. And I don’t have a single idea of what to say to Luffy.” She shifted position, bringing her knees down and to the side instead, no longer looking at them but not so distant anymore, either. “I’m not like Brook. He knows how to grieve. And I honour him for it.”
Franky swallowed audibly, but his voice was still thicker than normal as he said, “I kinda... think Skeleton-Bro went more than a li’l bit mad, back then... Not that I blame him.”
“Perhaps that was still the right way to act, in the circumstances,” Robin said slowly. “I never learned how to grieve. All I know is how to freeze up inside, all the way down. And to go on like that. Surviving. But in a frozen state.”
A bitter smile. “That is not something I wish to teach any of you.” Then she lost the smile, just looked small and tired. She added in a whisper that sank down to almost inaudible, “He’d hate me for it. So ungrateful.”
Timidly, Chopper scuttled a little closer, enough so he could reach out one front hoof and put it on Robin’s left hand, cautiously. The hand felt cold. She gave him a look of faint surprise.
“Robin,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Robin – and Franky,too–” he turned and looked at the cyborg hopefully; Franky raised another eyebrow but reached out his own large hand. It easily swallowed both Chopper’s and Robin’s in its careful grip.
“Let’s just keep trying,” he said, trying to sound firm. “All of us. Okay?”
After a few long seconds, Robin smiled, just a little bit but without any bitterness. She met Chopper’s gaze and nodded. “Let’s do that. Agreed,” she said quietly.
“Of-of course we will,” muttered Franky, wiping his eyes with the knuckles of his other hand and grousing something Chopper didn’t catch.
Chopper felt something chafing inside him, a thought that was almost a resolve. Large and heavy, it moved like the beating of the wings of the giant birds. His chest was still too tight, still hurt too much for the thought to break through and be put into words. But the warmth of their hands together made it all seem easier, right now.
--
Chapter continues in Part 2
As noted when chapter 7 was posted, this is now a Divergence AU. Events happened differently at Marineford (for details see chapter 7, part 1, with spoilers for the real Marineford arc).
This chapter has been betaed by
tonko, to whom I am very much obliged for her much-needed efforts. Any remaining errors are my responsibility alone. Nitpicks and other forms of concrit are much appreciated! ♥I believe I'm finally ready to crosspost this fic to
one_piece. While I still haven't ironed out all the wrinkles in the plot yet, now it feels as if the ending is at least in sight, if still a few chapters away. I know... famous last words... *knocks on wood*Title: Absence, chapter 8, part 1
Previous chapters: Chapter One here, fic tag here; the whole fic on AO3 here
Rating: PG for language and dark themes
Warning For major angst and sadness
Summary: The crew copes with loss. Luffy doesn’t take it well (for more, see the ‘What has gone before’ section right behind the cut).
Characters: Strawhats
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: In a battle where seakings fought alongside Marines against the ambushed Strawhats, Nami witnessed Usopp being killed or lethally wounded by an extremely large and fierce seaking, subsequently slain by Luffy. The Strawhats, in shock and outnumbered, retreated from the island where it happened before they had a chance to find the body.
Ever since waking up after the battle, Luffy seems to have completely forgotten Usopp ever existed, not even reacting to his name when spoken. (He has also forgotten Going Merry in a similar way.) However, as time goes on he has taken on some of Usopp’s traits as his own, and has also become extremely protective of the rest of the crew, to the point where he insists on taking on all the fighting himself. The crew wants Luffy sane again, and decided in council to turn back to the island where the death occurred, hoping both to give Usopp a real funeral and that the return will trigger Luffy’s memories. They kept this decision secret from Luffy for days.
In the chapter 6, the crew came upon a tiny remnant of the very Marine force they last faced – now deserters severely down on their luck. After some extremely tense moments, Nami decided to trade with them, among other things giving them the crew’s log pose and instead receiving an Eternal Pose set for the island they’re heading for. When Luffy woke up and confronted Nami about this, she came clear about their current destination. He didn't like this, but Nami persisted, and the rest of the crew helped make it clear to Luffy he couldn't make them turn around and change course. He reacted by retreating into his shell until the ex-Marines were out of sight, then fell into heavy sleep. He had a long, vivid dream in which he faced an enemy he'd forgotten and saw the Going Merry. He slept past breakfast and noon the next day in Usopp's bed.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of One Piece were created by Eiichiro Oda - surely one of the most brilliant makers of boys' adventure comics in existence - and are owned by him and Shueisha Inc. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fanfic will not be used for profit and may not be reproduced anywhere without the author's approval.
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Absence chapter 8, part one
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Now that they had an Eternal pose to guide them, there was no longer any need for night-time sailing by the stars. The crew went back to their regular schedule, only keeping a night watch as usual. In spite of this, Nami was only more tired, not less. Her earlier nervous energy was gone, replaced by a great listlessness. She checked the course and the weather regularly, but spent most of her time indoors, reading through the Marine commander’s log book and other sources when she wasn’t taking short, uneasy naps. Robin took over some of her normal tasks, trying to help her relax.
Zoro was still having some trouble sleeping, though that had lessened. Now, it was training that had become harder to do, the familiar routines failing to be reassuring. There was a persistent sense of futility he found hard to shake off.
The crew kept on doing their daily tasks as usual, but something had changed, irrevocably. Later, many of them would find it hard to remember these last few days of the return journey clearly. Their memories were irregular and fragmentary, few things standing out amongst a thick, sad, overwhelming grayness.
Luffy kept away from the rest of the crew, hardly speaking a word to anyone. Even his mumbling to himself had all but stopped. Most of the time he didn't look grim and stonefaced, but rather had a blank expression, his eyes not fixing themselves on anything much.
He avoided the usual mealtimes, but would trudge over to the galley now and then, when no-one was there. As the refrigerator was locked, at first he could only nick unappetising, unprepared food from the cupboard.
After noticing a lot of flour, raw potatoes, pickled cucumbers and the like had gone missing, Sanji had a brief struggle with his pride and then started leaving a big pile of food on the counter twice a day – things like sausages, chicken, broiled fish, meatball sandwiches, potatoes and fruits, but not as much as Luffy might normally eat. Even so, sometimes there were actually some bits left on the counter when Sanji returned.
The weather shifted but mostly stayed hot, dry and overcast, southern and eastern winds rising and receding. There was no storm. In Robin’s flowerbed, the tiny, hardy Grand Line bumblebees, who could nest on any ship that carried plant life, were buzzing a lot more than normal.
***
Luffy was sitting on Sunny’s figurehead with his knees up and his hands clasped over them, now and then unclasping them to tug his hat around, then clasping them once more. The weather was calm at the moment, only a mild breeze tickling his toes. At times he made a move as if to pull up the loose shoulder-strap of a bag, always letting the hand fall when it didn’t find any, his expression unchanged as if he hardly noticed what he was doing.
In his mind, he could see the same image as in his dream: that other, smaller ship, with the head of a ram instead of a lion, bobbing up and down on sunlit waves. A smaller figurehead, but one which was just as nice to sit on. He almost knew its name, almost felt he could just reach out and touch that ship, but he shied away from pushing. But he understood it must be their old ship, the one they sailed on before Water 7.
There were other images that had turned up in his mind after that one dream. A rather vague, fuzzy image of someone else who looked like a sheep, but this one was a human. There was a girl, too, blonde, thin and pale, but he couldn't see her face very well. Clearer than the other two were these three little kids. He also got an image of some weird-looking guy with a hat and a striped chin and hearty glasses who was walking backwards.
The people in the images gave him a feeling they all came from the same place the ship did - and from the man with the glasses that he'd seen in that dream. It must have been the same island, then, he thought. An island that felt similar to the Fuusha Village part of Luffy’s home island mountains – similar, but not the same. He understood that now.
He didn’t think he really liked understanding that. But he couldn't push the knowing away.
He climbed down from the figurehead slowly, hands in pockets, then ambled further down to the Lawn Deck. He blinked, seeing a big, round hole in the lawn, before he remembered this led to the Docking System below. It had been ages since he last saw the Docking System in use. In fact, he couldn’t even recall being below deck at all for a long time now. Not that he’d tried to keep away on purpose – it just hadn’t seemed all that interesting, down there. Sure, Franky had some kind of room there where he repaired stuff and drew up plans for building new things, but it wasn't like Franky was there all the time. Luffy would rather wait for him to come up on the top decks instead.
He sat there on the lawn for a while, frowning and peering into the hatch, pulling up blades of grass and tossing them into it. No. He still didn’t know how the Docking System worked – or if he did once, he’d forgotten it. And he wasn't sure he wanted to take another look at that small boat down there, the Mini-something which looked like the ship in his head.
What use would that be, anyway? None of this was even really important, unless it could make the crew start listening to him again. So he could keep them away from that place.
He felt tired and pointless again. There was nothing to do: they didn’t want to be cheered up. He rolled over onto one side, soon falling asleep in the grass.
***
After bringing Nami a nice pot of hot black tea and a nourishing sandwich as an afternoon snack, Sanji lingered on in the observatory-library for a bit.
Nami thanked him, breathing in the smell of the tea, her finger trailing the outline of the decoration on the cup absent-mindedly. Then she looked up at him attentively. “Are we still okay with supplies?”
Sanji nodded, leaning back against the door-frame. He wasn’t about to remark that she was asking him this a lot lately. Normally she wouldn't raise the issue too often, trusting him to keep an eye on things. “We’re not low on anything important that we can’t stock up on once we’ve landed – and even if we’d have to leave the island right away, we still wouldn’t starve,” he asserted. “Even meat is okay – mostly big sea mammal meat, lately, but that works, too. Water’s fine, we've got more than enough filtered rain water for a while.”
Nami sighed and leaned back, rubbing her forehead. She took a deep drink from the cup, her serious expression softening into a lovely smile at the taste which couldn't help but make Sanji smile briefly as well.
But the moment passed. Sanji nodded to the book in her hands and her notes beside it. “Any luck reading that shitty Marine bastard’s log?” he asked.
“Mm, some,” she hummed. “His handwriting isn’t that bad, so far – I’ve seen a lot worse. A lot of the things he puts down are hard to figure out, but I think they're mostly shorthand for internal Marine affairs and his personal life.” She made a face at the last bit. “I have to say,” she continued, “he goes on about discipline and being in control of your men an awful lot.”
“Well… it was a penal battalion,” said Sanji, blowing out smoke and putting his hands in his pockets. “Guess when you’re a heartless shithead Marine commander, that kinda shit comes with the territory.”
“I wonder where they dug him up from,” said Nami, her lips twisting in distaste. “Anyway… there’s more, of course. He writes about the seakings around the island quite a bit.” Her tone was flat and businesslike. “Apparently he had a zoan fruit – I didn’t know that, did you?”
Sanji nodded. “Saw it at a distance, when he fought Luffy.” It hadn’t seemed like an important matter to mention, back then. “Some kind of great lizard, I gather.”
“Well,” said Nami, “that helped him communicate with the leader of the seakings, apparently – though it was that weird bone whistle he had that really did the trick, when they struck some kind of deal together. He claims the leader kept a hard regime himself, making the other seakings jump when he told them to. Guess those two would sympathise.” A sharp tang to that last remark, but then she swallowed, and quickly moved on.
“So, eh…” She flipped through her notes, avoiding Sanji’s eyes. “The island… it’s been called by two names, Seaweed Island because there’s unusually many types of seaweed on its beaches – many of them are rare and very good for your health, apparently – and Turnaway Isle, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you get there. Some even combine the names and call it Turnweed Isle.”
“It really has that bad a reputation?”
“Looks like it.” Taking another sip of the tea, Nami adjusted her seat as she went on, telling him what else she and Robin had pieced together. Only parts of it were from the log book, the rest coming from their conversation with the Marines deserters and even from some of their other books in the library. Once they had the name of the place, it was easier to find references to it.
Nobody actually lived on Turnweed Isle any more. There seemed to be plenty of reasons for that. There were the seakings, of course – less numerous in some years than others, but always apt to make fishing a dangerous hazard, and the amphibious ones often ventured up on land, where they attacked people and livestock. The soil was good for spices and rare medicinal plants, but grains and vegetables often failed. And then there were the numerous diseases carried by insects - it seemed as if the medicine herbs weren’t enough to take care of them.
“Or none of the settlers had a doctor who really knew their stuff,” noted Sanji. “Huh. So that part with the herbs wasn’t a lie, either.” He remembered the haunted-looking man they’d come across in a row boat before they first arrived in the island, who had claimed to be looking for the island as well - he'd gone on about those herbs a fair bit... Since he’d disappeared once the fighting started, they’d subsequently assumed he was a Marine plant sent to further lure them in, but maybe he’d been genuine, after all. What was his name again? Tolis, Tomasso, something like that...? Well, not that it really mattered now, anyway.
“He still showed up rather suspiciously,” she said, “and it wasn’t like he mentioned most of this stuff. Though I suppose there wasn’t much time…” She shrugged, then continued her summation. By now, she looked and sounded a lot tenser than at the start, and she was mostly looking down on her notes.
These days, those who did brave seakings and diseases to travel to Turnweed Isle tended not to be ambitious spice merchants, but rather adventurous slavers. Along with the seakings, the waters around the island were also home to an unusually shy and retiring tribe of mermaids and mermen. These merfolk were much sought after, less for beauty than for their reputation of having great medical skills - even the mermen fetched high prices for this reason. Their amazing healing talents rivalled the cream of the crop of human doctors. And they never turned a patient away.
“Ho-however” – Nami stuttered briefly, her voice unsteady – “this may well be a thing of the past, because no-one’s seen mermaids around here in several decades... S-so, they might all have left for some other place – or, or already been captured earlier.”
She finished, putting her notes aside, her hands trembling lightly. She put them in her lap, making an effort to keep them still.
“Healers, huh…” said Sanji slowly. Abruptly, he sank down on the nearest chair, feeling faint.
“That’s what it says,” said Nami in a low tone, without looking up.
Sanji gripped his right knee, barely able to keep the leg from shaking. “F-fancy that,” he mumbled weakly.
“Yeah,” said Nami simply, heavily. “And now that I’ve read it, I just can’t – stop thinking. You know. If he fell into the water. If there were merfolk right there. If. If.”
“Yeah.” Sanji’s voice was hollow. He sat, staring blankly into space.
She took a deep breath – then, all at once, the words came tumbling out. “I – I know it’s just – there’s no way” – she sniffled – “it even says they haven’t been seen in years, it –” She let out just the one sob, but suppressed the rest, then went on unsteadily, “I don’t. I don’t...” She grit her teeth. “…Shit.”
Sanji gave her a look of weak surprise. Nami rarely swore.
Holding one hand over her face, elbow on table, she muttered, “I did it again.” There was a pause.
Then she went on, roughly, “I keep doing this, you know. I keep thinking these things… like “I want to talk about this with Usopp”, or, “…if only he were here, if only I could talk to him, then maybe I could get through this – so stupid !!” she spat out vehemently, her face twisted with loathing and pain. Voice turning rawer and more furious, she burst out, “If he were here, there’d be nothing to talk about! Nothing to get through!”
Then she abruptly stopped, burying her face in both hands.
Very softly, very quietly, Sanji stood up and carried his chair to her table, where he put it down right next to her. Then he sat down and, without looking at her half-hidden face, put a hand around her shoulders gently and carefully, leaned his head against hers.
He felt her body sag, accepting his touch and leaning into him in return. Neither of them spoke for a while.
Then Sanji cleared his throat, but his voice still felt hoarse and unsteady in his own ears as he talked.
“I know,” he said. “I know. That’s not stupid.”
“...But,” said Nami after another pause, her voice still thick, “It is kind of dumb.”
“Well... maybe a tiny bit,” he murmured. “But it’s not stupid.” There was a distinction there, in his mind, though it was hard to put it into words. “It’s not – it’s not wrong, Nami.” We’re crippled, he thought, there’s a hole in us. And the one they lost – he was no sage any more than the rest of them. He wouldn’t have known what to say either, if, if they’d lost someone else. But he’d have kept trying. He’d have tried again and again to fill the silence in the right way. And maybe the silence wouldn’t have been so gray and frightening.
Or so it seemed to Sanji right then.
There was no need to say any of that out loud. It was nothing new to her.
They sat together like that for some time, saying little, until it was time to start dinner.
***
“Okay. Okay, then,” mumbled Franky.
Standing in the corridor below deck, he raised one hesitant hand towards the doorknob. “Guess we’re going in…” But rather than doing so right away, he first looked over his shoulder at Robin and Chopper who had come there with him. They both nodded back in silence.
They’d come down to his study simultaneously just a few minutes previous, but not for the same reason. Robin was there to convey a warning from Nami that the ship would likely hit considerable turbulence in a couple of hours. Chopper had lost two of the tiny screws holding his microscope together and couldn’t find them, so he needed new ones. Franky had mumbled “yeah, yeah” absentmindedly to both of them. He had something else on his mind.
Then he remembered. “Oh, right – sorry, bro. I’m all out of those screws,” he told Chopper.
“Oh,” said Chopper, disappointed. “I guess it can wait..." he mumbled. "I don't really need it right now..."
“Eh, nah, if I have to I can make them for ya, but–” Franky chewed his lower lip, back to thinking of the same thing he'd had on his mind for days. “See, I’m all out of a bunch of things, but…” He paused, then added in a lower tone, “I’m out. But we’re not.”
Robin’s eyes widened slightly, understanding clear in them; but Chopper only blinked and said, “Huh?”
“He means there should be more of those things in the Factory, I believe,” said Robin. She waved delicately in the direction of that room.
“Yeah. Probably. Maybe,” muttered Franky, looking down at the drawing board and the design sketch he'd been half-heartedly working on.
“Oh.” Chopper’s voice sank down to a whisper. He sounded sorry that he asked.
Robin was silent. Drumming his pencil on the board, Franky was expecting her to say something like Do you think he would want it to go to waste? or Is there any use procrastinating it?. –Or maybe just a simple I see before leaving him to continue his wishy-washy fretting.
Instead she said, “I could come with you. If you want me to.”
He looked over at her in surprise. “Really?” Starting to feel better, he brightened up even more when Chopper added, “Me, too,” in a determined way.
“Man, you guys are just way too super!” he exclaimed with a big smile. He struck a pose meant to indicate gratefulness and good cheer, then straightened up and sobered again. “Right,” he nodded. “It ain’t locked, so… guess we’ll just, uh, go there right now.” Then he grabbed two baskets to stuff things in, handed one of them to Chopper, set his jaw and led them out of there. The party didn't have far to go; there were less than twenty strides between his study and the empty workshop on the other side of the Docking System.
So. Here he was now, standing outside the door, while his two companions were patiently waiting for him to man up and open the friggin' place.
He tugged on the doorknob slowly, let it go for a moment; then finally opened the door and stepped inside quickly so he wouldn't give himself more time for hesitation. Even so, he still stopped as soon as he'd crossed the threshold.
Chopper slunk past him and changed into Heavy Point to reach the lamp in the ceiling and light it. Realising he was blocking Robin’s entrance, Franky took a step to the left to let her through. But he stayed near the door as he looked the room over, taking in the view.
There was dust, but not too much of it – it really hadn’t been all that long, he thought, with another sharp twinge. The familiar mix of relative order and functional clutter reigned everywhere, on shelves and floor, on the work bench and the little work dais and even on the wall, where artistic sketches and drawings hung side by side with various idea sketches and more rare careful designs. The pile of scraps and rags to the left was the most disorderly place, but even there was a certain system evident if you looked at it. On the shelves lay dials and rubber bands, nails and tacks, pieces of string, caltrops and shuriken, and plenty of other little things. There were two steady boxes on the floor for the more dangerous items – the flammables and explosives. The jars and flasks inside were separated and kept in place with old leaves, grass, rags and pieces of paper, so they’d still be safe even in fierce storms.
The dais and the work bench both seemed to be taken up with interrupted projects, minus any potentially explosive parts: there were small rags intended to become ammunition pouches, lead bullets, coloured paints and items even Franky could only guess at. Next to the half-open toolbox there was a sack of jute with a peculiar smell and the legend “Jungle Biz” scrawled onto it.
“It looks pretty much like I thought,” he muttered after a while, when the silence got a bit too much. “'S close to how it looked when I last saw it, back when... back before. Knew it would be.” So why did he still feel surprised, then? he wondered. After all, he’d expected this familiar view –and it was what he got.
“It does, but I didn’t...” Chopper, moving diffidently around the room, trailed off while he kept looking at this and that with his hands behind his back, basket still empty under his arm. He’d changed back to Brain Point already. “...I wonder what he was working on,” he mumbled, a little curiosity in his voice as he glanced at the dais.
“Ammo stuff, looks like, an’ something else I’m not sure ‘bout,” said Franky. He was picking at a piece of wire jutting out from one of the barrels. Meanwhile, Robin was bending down to look at one of the shelves, then turned without straightening, holding up something small and metallic towards Chopper.
“Would this be what you were looking for?” she asked.
Chopper stepped closer. “No, that one’s too big... b-but...” He got up on his toes to see the shelves better, “...I think these ones over here are the right size. Franky?” He looked over at Franky uncertainly.
“Huh? Oh yeah, right.” Franky raised an eyebrow at his li’l reindeer-bro. “Hey, don’t ask me ‘bout it. It’s not mine anymore than it’s yours,” he said. But he strolled over to the shelf anyway. “Put ‘em in the basket if you think they’ll do. An’ take some of these bigger ones as well – I’m running pretty low on them.”
“Oh-okay.” Chopper nodded attentively, but only scooped up half of the screws on the shelf, leaving the rest. Franky didn't comment. Instead, he took the string of wire from the barrel, coiled it into a ball and dropped it in the basket.
“Better take some grease too..." he muttered to himself, as he continued going through the room. "And I do need gunpowder... ain’t got no tear gas left, either...” Filling up both baskets at a brisk pace, he tried to be businesslike and matter-of-fact, staving off the uneasy feeling of trespassing.
Once he’d found the most essential things he needed, he stopped collecting. It didn’t feel right to stock up on material just in case. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe after the funeral.
He made no move to leave yet, though. Neither did Robin and Chopper. Instead, they all sat down at the same time, Franky cross-legged and the other two with their knees pulled up.
Chopper whispered, “It’s not different from the rest of the ship. I, I thought it would be, but it’s not.” His voice sank lower. “It’s the same emptiness.”
“...Yeah,” mumbled Franky, his voice pretty thick. “Yeah, it is. Fuck.” A flash of fierce, caged anger ran through him, and he blinked hard, feeling something hot and wet in his eyes just waiting to be set loose.
“Fuck, shit, hell,” he kept swearing, still keeping his voice down. “Stupid... bloody stupid fucking bastard, just... he coulda...” Words dried up, all useless: he focused on just wiping his face from snot and silent tears. How are we supposed to forgive something like that? he wanted to say, but he couldn’t push the words through, didn’t want to.
Once his face was dry, he looked over at the others again. Only now did he notice that Chopper had rings around his eyes like he’d slept badly. But the little doctor wasn’t crying, and he didn’t look angry or even grim, either. There was a blank, distant look to his face that Franky found very un-Chopperlike.
Robin, who had remained quiet, looked even more distant and shut-off than the reindeer. It was more familiar on her, though it still sucked to see it.
“When my old master died,” Franky found himself saying, surprised both at the impulse to speak and how steady his voice sounded, “and, uh, after lots of stuff happened” – he scratched his metal nose – “I went back to where his headquarters had been. I mean, our HQ, for all of us in the work team. It was our home, way back when. First, I just boarded it up so no-one else could move in or wreck or steal what little stuff there was left. Didn’t even enter it myself, not then. But eventually I started to use the place as a secret hideout, sometimes. Just getting away from things, y'know.”
“Oh.” Chopper’s voice was thoughtful. He tilted his head as he looked up at Franky, blankness gone for now. “Was – was that hard? To be there again, only not like before... I never went back to Doctor’s cave,” he said, the last bit so low Franky almost didn’t catch it.
Franky moved back towards the wall and put his hands behind his head, leaning on them and looking up. “Mm-hm. Nah, I'm guessin' that... it kinda would’ve been harder not to go there, on those days when I wanted to. But that don’t mean it was always too super, bein' there.”
Sighing, he drew a hand through his hair, which he noted had started to lose its shape. He needed to recharge on cola soon. “Feh. I dunno why I’m going on ‘bout that now, anyway. ‘S not the same kind of thing at all,” he said gruffly.
They were silent for a while.
*
Chopper's thoughts went straying back to their captain again, remembering some of the things he’d heard him mumble recently, or little gestures he'd seen. Like pulling at the invisible strap of a bag.
I wonder if it’s all really in Luffy’s mind. Or. Or if there is such a thing as ghosts. And if there is, what should we do about it?
He shook his head, then cleared his throat to bring up something else. “We’ll get there soon, right?” he said. “Nami said it wouldn’t take long. But – maybe Luffy will try to stop us from getting off the boat.”
“If it comes to that,” Robin said, “we should be equipped to deal with it. We know his weaknesses. The easiest way would likely be to ask Brook to make his Lullaby Flan move so Luffy will fall asleep.”
“I don’t like that,” said Chopper, frowning. “It feels mean. If he can’t stop us, he’s gonna want to come along, to protect us. And he can’t do that if he’s sleeping.”
Robin shrugged, then smiled bleakly. “It was just a suggestion. In case we can’t think of anything else.”
“That stuff’s not the problem, anyway,” said Franky. “That’s just something we’ll deal with, if it happens. He looked all calm again, the anger gone. “Don’t think it’s remnant Marines or seakings we really have to worry about either – long as our guard is up,” he went on. “It’s this shit. In here.” He pointed with a thumb to his still non-cybernetic heart, then reached out and poked Chopper in the forehead. “And here, too.” Chopper flinched.
“There may be nothing to bury.” Robin’s voice was unusually curt, even harsh, though her expression remained distant. She had pulled her legs up further and dropped her head lower, picking aimlessly at the floor while staring at nothing. Shocked, Chopper and Franky both turned to look at her.
“I can do nothing to help.” Robin’s voice was thin and fragile, almost a whisper, as she hugged her knees and looked at the floor boards.
“Ro-Robin?” Chopper stared at her with worry.
“You – Are you –” Franky began, but stopped before finishing. But Robin was already nodding indifferently.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Then she looked up, meeting their eyes for a few moment. “But you two... Nami... all of you...” She sighed, leaning back towards the wall, spreading two empty hands out. “I don’t know how to help any of you,” she went on in a low, even tone. And I don’t have a single idea of what to say to Luffy.” She shifted position, bringing her knees down and to the side instead, no longer looking at them but not so distant anymore, either. “I’m not like Brook. He knows how to grieve. And I honour him for it.”
Franky swallowed audibly, but his voice was still thicker than normal as he said, “I kinda... think Skeleton-Bro went more than a li’l bit mad, back then... Not that I blame him.”
“Perhaps that was still the right way to act, in the circumstances,” Robin said slowly. “I never learned how to grieve. All I know is how to freeze up inside, all the way down. And to go on like that. Surviving. But in a frozen state.”
A bitter smile. “That is not something I wish to teach any of you.” Then she lost the smile, just looked small and tired. She added in a whisper that sank down to almost inaudible, “He’d hate me for it. So ungrateful.”
Timidly, Chopper scuttled a little closer, enough so he could reach out one front hoof and put it on Robin’s left hand, cautiously. The hand felt cold. She gave him a look of faint surprise.
“Robin,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Robin – and Franky,too–” he turned and looked at the cyborg hopefully; Franky raised another eyebrow but reached out his own large hand. It easily swallowed both Chopper’s and Robin’s in its careful grip.
“Let’s just keep trying,” he said, trying to sound firm. “All of us. Okay?”
After a few long seconds, Robin smiled, just a little bit but without any bitterness. She met Chopper’s gaze and nodded. “Let’s do that. Agreed,” she said quietly.
“Of-of course we will,” muttered Franky, wiping his eyes with the knuckles of his other hand and grousing something Chopper didn’t catch.
Chopper felt something chafing inside him, a thought that was almost a resolve. Large and heavy, it moved like the beating of the wings of the giant birds. His chest was still too tight, still hurt too much for the thought to break through and be put into words. But the warmth of their hands together made it all seem easier, right now.
--
Chapter continues in Part 2