One Piece Fan Fiction ❯ Drawn ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

One Piece, it's characters and settings, belongs to Oda Eiichirou and Shonen Jump, and are being used here without permission. Rated PG-13 for language and violence, nothing more than One Piece usually has. C&C welcomed and greatly appreciated.

 

Notes: I wanna apologize in advance for what some might consider an overabundance of original characters in this chapter and the next ^^;;. Also, `Divinity' is not the canon name for Seastone. I made that part up.

 

 

 

Dawn

Chapter 2

 

 

Zoro was sure he was grinning like a little boy as he tied his bandanna around his head. He hadn't really expected the master of the dojo himself to accept a challenge so readily; he'd been prepared to face at least one or two students first. But the man before him, strange as he might have looked, could be nothing but Master Ohtori himself. He was a tall man despite his obviously gaining age, and he carried himself with a mature confidence that captured the attention and respect of every student in the room. Even Zoro had to admit he was somewhat impressed by the man's calm, yet powerful demeanor. His appearance wasn't nearly as awe-inspiring; his gi was pale and simple, and his thick, grayed mustache and beard had been pulled up past his ears to arrange in a bizarre, turban-like mass on his head. Still, his eyes were as clear and sharp as any swordsman Zoro had ever seen, and he knew to be on his guard.

 

“Tahatsu,” the man spoke, and immediately one of the older students stepped forward. “Fetch Mugenzora.” The boy blinked in mild surprise, but offered no complaint as he glanced at Zoro and hurried off.

 

“I'm glad to see you're taking this so seriously,” Zoro remarked wryly. “Your prized sword, is it?”

 

“I can give only my finest,” he replied. “I am Ohtori Matsuhisa, master of this dojo and head magistrate for Ohtori City. I take all my challenges seriously.”

 

“Well then, that'll make things easier.” Zoro didn't draw his swords yet out of respect for his opponent until his weapon was also brought. In the meantime, he asked, “So how about telling me how this whole city knows me?”

 

“We've been waiting for you. All worthy swordsmen find their way to Oyomi eventually.” The boy he'd sent returned with a pair of cloth-wrapped bundles, and Ohtori continued to speak as a he removed the weapons. “Oyomi is home to some of the greatest sword schools in the world, and our disciples have spread to all the four seas. We make all swordsmen our business; whenever our followers come across new talent they report back to us, thus increasing our knowledge and influence. We first heard of you after your work at Whisky Peak.”

 

Zoro smirked. “That wasn't much.”

 

Ohtori raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. It wasn't until just recently, with your victory over Daz Borneth, that Oyomi took real interest in you.”

 

“Daz Borneth…?” He frowned as Ohtori's weapons were revealed at last: a long, traditional katana and a wide, flat blade resembling a machete. He had a feeling he was about to see some interesting sword work.

 

“No matter,” Ohtori went on, nodding only slightly to the boy, who retook his place among his peers along with his master's sheaths. He then returned to Zoro. “There will be time for talk later. I'm sure you are eager to begin.”

 

Zoro grinned easily as he unsheathed his own swords and took up a readied stance. “I like you, old man. You know how to get down to it.”

 

Ohtori smiled back, for a moment looking much younger than his years. “I'm looking forward to a good match, Rolonoah.”

 

“I won't disappoint you.”

 

The match began without signal as the pair charged in a flurry of light against steel. The echo of their clashing swords easily filled the large room; it had been a long time since Zoro fought at a dojo, and the familiar ring of metal and the tension of silently anxious students only fueled his adrenaline. It became clear early on that he was fighting a master on the Grand Line: Ohtori never wavered in his stance, not even to tilt his head, and his technique was flawless. The flat sword seemed to absorb all of Zoro's attacks with little effort at all, and the katana kept him enough on the defensive that he wouldn't be able to use most of his more impressive techniques.

 

“Not bad, old man,” Zoro complimented across their crossed blades. He twisted his grip, swinging Ghost the Third in a wide arch that almost clipped his opponent's throat.

 

Ohtori's eyes narrowed. “That's some weapon you bear. You're a brave man.”

 

Zoro was still grinning as he reflected a few of the man's attempted jabs and dodged to the side. “We do all right.”

 

“To think that I would see it again…”

 

Momentarily puzzled, Zoro almost didn't defend against a sudden attack on his right shoulder—Ohtori had switched his machete into an offensive strike. Cursing, he was forced several steps back to avoid any follow up attacks. “Tricky bastard.” And before Ohtori could laud over his brief success the battle had resumed.

 

---

 

Luffy wasn't easily caught off guard, but he never expected that the three other venders had been watching him the entire time. As soon as the knife peddler's hand slipped within his case the attack came from all sides. He turned just in time to doge the first two knives thrown at him, and back away from the swinging sword of the third—until he was backed into the original knife stand. By then he could go only up, and with a laugh he jumped high into the air, already preparing a heavy punch for when he came back down. “Usopp! Chopper! Get out of the way!” he called, not even bothering to extend his arm just yet. He wouldn't need to for these runts.

 

The click of metal that warned him came a moment too late; Luffy glanced over his shoulder, but by then the projectile was almost on him. He saw the boy who had fired it—a twelve year old with a crossbow, perched atop the knife vender's stand—a second later. He managed only a muttered “Uh-oh” and then the arrow struck his shoulder, its barbed tip burying deep into the flesh just above his armpit.

 

“You little—” Luffy turned in midair, almost catlike, intending to stretch his arm and snatch the little brat on his way down. But the strength went abruptly out of him, and with an ungraceful squawk he crashed to the street.

 

“Luffy!” Usopp and Chopper crowded around, watching the surrounding four men—and one kid—warily. “What the hell's the matter with you?” Usopp demanded, trying to help him up. But Luffy's hand wouldn't close fully around his, making it difficult. “Hey, what's wrong?”

 

“It's…damn dart,” Luffy hissed, trying to claw his way onto his knees with little success. His entire body had grown suddenly weak, as if he were exhausted. When he realized he couldn't get far this way he reached for the dart, but it had been placed so well he couldn't get a good grip on it. “Grr, you cheaters…”

 

“I wouldn't try pulling it out, if I were you,” the knife peddler warned with a laugh. Everyone on the street was watching as he and his accomplices formed a circle around the fallen pirate. “Those darts are designed to break apart with only slight pressure. Even if you remove the end, the metal tip will still be lodged in your skin.”

 

“You bastards!” Usopp pushed to his feet as Chopper took up a defensive stance over Luffy. “What did you do to him?”

 

“He's been struck with Divinity,” he easily explained. “A metal you can only mine next to the sea—it has certain powers that can cancel out those of Devil Fruits.” The man's face twisted in sudden bitterness. “Damn pirates with no strength on their own, depending on ridiculous abilities. Take that away and they have nothing!”

 

Chopper growled, and looked ready to transform until Luffy grabbed his leg. “Don't,” he hissed under his breath. “If you transform, they'll know we both—”

 

“But Luffy,” Chopper started to protest.

 

“You coward!” Luffy shouted suddenly at the surrounding men, cutting Chopper off before his secret was given away as well. “That's not fair! If you're so great fight me—I'll fight you all without my power, but this is cheap!”

 

“Shut up!” one of the other men retorted. “It's your fault for coming here! You—”

 

“Enough,” the apparent ringleader snapped. “Let's just finish this already and collect our reward.”

 

Luffy growled in frustration as the men advanced on them. By now most of his right side was growing numb, except that he could still feel the barbs twisting in his skin. Gathering his strength he reached up with his good hand, snatching Chopper's antler. “You're gonna have to help me,” he said lowly, his eyes on Usopp as the other boy did his best to stall their attackers. “Run back to the ship—don't stop for anything.”

 

“What about you?” Chopper whispered back urgently.

 

“Don't worry about me.” Luffy grinned. “I'll be right on your back.” His hand tightened around Chopper's antler. “Usopp!”

 

Having been prepared to take flight all along Usopp launched a quick projectile at the nearest man—a simple smoke bomb, but it was enough for the trio to escape. With Luffy clinging to Chopper's back and Usopp bringing up the rear they raced down the street, back the way they'd come.

 

---

 

Zoro forced the muscles in his jaw to relax a little when he realized how tightly they were clenched; they hadn't been fighting long, but the intensity of their match was beginning to take a toll on him. Ohtori looked just as worn though he still had yet to break his impeccable posture. Zoro knew he was doing well, however, by the strained faces of the students. So far neither had drawn blood, but a small portion of Ohtori's beard now hung away from the strict bundle on his head, which seemed to distress him more than it ought to have.

 

“You're better than I expected,” Master Ohtori conceded as he idly flicked his sword—the kind of gesture that would have normally cleaned blood from its edge. “I'm surprised we hadn't heard of you until so recently.”

 

“I guess that's what happens when you come from East Blue,” Zoro chuckled. “Can you still fight, old man?”

 

“You're the challenger—you tell me.”

 

He smirked; he was beginning to like the old guy. This was what real sword fighting was all about. He answered Ohtori with another charge, swords slashing in Oni-Giri; the old master twisted his flat blade so that it was braced against his forearm as he absorbed the blow. He was forced several steps backwards—seemed to allow it in order to keep his perfectly upright stance—and attacked in kind, blocking two of Zoro's swords with one of his and crossing with the third. They spun, parted, and met again. It was clear Zoro was the stronger of the two if by his youth alone, but Ohtori always managed to deflect his attacks. He was anticipating him, a testimony to his experience.

 

Zoro's chance came suddenly; he caught his opponent with a lateral strike he hadn't expected, and he fell back, planting his foot firmly against the wood to stay upright. Zoro pursued with full strength and all his weight as he forced Ohtori, step by step, toward the far wall. He swung Snowrunner about, intending in one final strike to fell the old master and guarantee his victory, but as he brought the weapon about he realized suddenly that one of the man's swords—the one that should be taking his impending blade—was gone from his hand.

 

“Stop!”

 

Zoro halted; there shouldn't have been enough time to combat his momentum, and he was fearful that he was about to sever the man's neck, but Snowrunner obeyed him perfectly. All around the students gasped as both combatants froze, Zoro in mid-motion, their master standing perfectly still with both weapons lowered. Though at Zoro's mercy the old man returned his heavy gaze without falter. “I yield.”

 

Zoro's eyes thinned, and he hesitated before backing down with a snort. “Giving up? I didn't expect you to disappoint your students like that.” He sheathed his swords and grinned openly at his success.

 

“The match was yours,” Master Ohtori replied crisply. He signaled to a pair of students on his right, who retrieved his swords from him and replaced them in their sheathes. “I could not have defended properly, and given that knowledge I would prefer not to be knocked down.”

 

“Huh. Still arrogant, old man?” Zoro paused when he heard a shrill chirp overhead, and could only watch, dumbfounded, as a large bird with blue and white feathers sailed across the main hall to perch atop Ohtori's head. When it dipped its head into the mess of gray hair several tiny beaks peeked out, gaping hungrily.

 

Zoro snorted incredulously. “It's…a nest.”

 

Ohtori reached into a pocket in his gi, taking a small handful of seed, which the mother of the birds took from his hand and dutifully fed to her offspring. “It is. While meditating one particularly cold morning during their nesting season, one happened to lay an egg on my head. That was over twenty years ago, and every year they return.”

 

Zoro lifted an eyebrow, surprised to be sure but also somewhat unimpressed. “How environmental of you.”

 

The old master regarded him wisely. “It has become the motto of our school that patience and calm contemplation can give birth to life.”

 

“Doesn't it also mean...your hair's full of bird shit?”

 

The students started to object, but Ohtori only smiled. “It does indeed.”

 

The pair chuckled, mystifying the surrounding boys who had watched their duel in anxious silence. “Well, I won,” Zoro said once they were through. He grinned wickedly. “I guess that means I get to take down your signboard.”

 

Ohtori's manner sobered, but he did not look significantly troubled by the declaration. “I would allow it, Rolonoah Zoro, but I'm afraid our schools no longer follow those traditions.”

 

Zoro was about to ask why—not that he had any intention of dissolving the school—when he was drawn by a commotion outside. He had a feeling he'd heard those voices somewhere before…

 

The dojo's main door burst open with a shout and a flurry, and Zoro quickly found himself the target of several catapulting bodies. “Hey—” It was too late to dodge—he was hit head on, and the four pirates tumbled to the wooden floor in a heap.

 

The response from Ohtori's students was unarguably impressive; before they could even begin to untangle their limbs a dozen of the wooden swords were trained on them, another group covering the five other figures who were just entering, and the rest flanking their master. Someone was yelling already but Zoro ignored it, focusing instead on pushing himself at least into a sitting position. “Luffy?”

 

His captain, half flopped over Chopper and breathing hard, made a pouting face. “I don't like this island.”

 

Zoro shook his head as he stood—of course they'd gotten into trouble. But when he tried to help Luffy up as well the boy couldn't get his feet beneath him. It was then that he noticed. “You're bleeding.”

 

Luffy didn't have time to respond, as the pursuing knife peddler was trying to further enter the dojo despite protests from the students. “You have no right to protect them, Ohtori!” he was shouting at the master. “They're pirates, and more importantly, we outrank you! We're members of Kurakuda, damnit!” He swiped ineffectively at one of the closer boys.

 

“I don't recall protecting anyone,” Master Ohtori replied calmly, having not moved through the incident. “But this is my dojo, and Kurakuda or not you have no rights here.”

 

“What about them? Those filthy, Devil Fruit pirates?” He pointed emphatically at Luffy, who stuck his tongue out at him.

 

Ohtori turned to Zoro. “You know these pirates?” he asked, indicating the three: Luffy flopped on the floor, Chopper—now in his smaller form—and Usopp hiding behind Zoro's legs.

 

Zoro smirked dryly. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted. He nudged Luffy with his toe. “My stupid captain.”

 

“Come on, Zoro, take them out!” the boy encouraged.

 

Master Ohtori considered only a moment before signaling for his students to back down from Zoro's crewmates, turning their attention instead to the Kurakuda men. “There are no pirates here,” he informed them. “Only my four guests. Now leave, before I eject you from my property.”

 

The ringleader looked ready to persist, but he caught Zoro's eye suddenly and thought better of it. “I'm reporting this,” he muttered, and with one last glare at Luffy—which earned him another ridiculous face—he turned and departed with his companions.

 

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Geez, Luffy, didn't take you very long. But couldn't you have handled it?” He crossed his arms and smirked teasingly. “That's not like you.”

 

“It's not my fault!” Luffy whined. He squirmed weakly against the floor. “Ah…this sucks.”

 

“They hit him with a dart of that weird metal,” Usopp explained, coming out of hiding. “The one that Crocodile had, that neutralizes Devil Fruit.”

 

“Divinity,” Master Ohtori said knowingly. He turned, accepting his swords from his students and slipping them in his belt. “Follow me. I'll have him taken care of.”

 

Zoro frowned suspiciously. “That's awfully generous of you.”

 

The master didn't break stride as he headed for a far door. “In older days you would have claimed my school. This is a small compensation.”

 

Zoro couldn't argue with that, and so with a shrug he hefted a rather indignant Luffy over his shoulder. “We can trust him,” he assured his fellows as he followed Ohtori into the adjoining room.

 

“This sucks,” Luffy declared again.

 

Zoro couldn't help but laugh. “Then next time don't get hit.”

 

Several minutes later Master Ohtori and his four guests were seated around a low table enjoying cups of traditional green tea and a few small snacks. The barbs had been removed from Luffy's arm thanks to Chopper, for which he was entirely too pleased, as it left him free to toss bits of crackers up at the striped birds in Ohtori's hair. He and Usopp chuckled over the nest's coolness for some time as Zoro attempted to continue their serious conversation.

 

“Oyomi Island used to welcome pirates, when I was younger,” Master Ohtori explained. “We have over a hundred schools of various techniques, and there was a time when fighters of every kind came through here to study and test their skill.”

 

Zoro sat up a little taller. “Even…Mihawk?”

 

Ohtori returned the boy's even gaze with calm scrutiny. “Yes. He trained here for a while as a boy, by traveling across the island and learning from the different schools.”

 

“So you've met him,” Zoro surmised.

 

“Yes. Many years ago.”

 

Usopp hummed thoughtfully. “But then why are they so strict about pirates now? Those guys wanted to kill us!”

 

Master Ohtori's face grew increasingly grim. “That began when the marines came, about forty years ago.”

 

Luffy's aim fell short, and a cracker crumb bounced lightly off Ohtori's mustache. “The marines? There's a base on this island?”

 

When the man nodded, Zoro snorted irritably. That damn Robin should have warned them if there was a marine base nearby. “They set up the base before I was a master here,” Ohtori continued. “During a time when the Kurakuda family first came back into power. At first they left us to our own affairs, until higher bounties started to be offered for pirates. The Kurakuda began to turn on students around the island, selling them to the marines. Because of it the schools began to fight among themselves, and it was then that the marines became involved to `restore peace.'” He scoffed disdainfully. “Oyomi hasn't been the same since then.”

 

“That have anything to do with the signboard?” Zoro guessed.

 

“Somewhat.” As he talked he lifted a finger, coaxing the mother bird onto it so Chopper could get a better look at her bright feathers. “Our island has a long history of wars. When the Kurakuda took over they did so through trickery, and abolished many of our old, `barbaric' ways.”

 

As if on cue there was a commotion raised outside, and they all glanced up as the entry panel slid open. “Master!” several students called, filtering into the room with another man in tow. He was struggling forcefully against the ropes binding his wrists and arms. “We found this man trying to make it upstairs,” the boys reported.

 

“Ah, very good.” Master Ohtori leaned back from the table and patted the sword at his hip. “Looking for this?”

 

The apparent intruder glared at Ohtori hatefully. “You're not supposed to wear it,” he warned.

 

“Or fight with it, I know.” Ohtori turned back toward his guests. “Throw him out. I have no intention of relinquishing my city today.”

 

Zoro and his crewmates looked on, baffled, as the stranger was carted away. Chopper, who now bore the striped bird on his antler, was the first to question. “What was that all about?”

 

“Our `new tradition,'” Ohtori scoffed. He folded his arms disdainfully. “In each of Oyomi's cities leadership is decided by ownership of a sword—whichever clan obtains it becomes the city's master. In the old days we used to fight for it through duels and warfare. Now we only fend off petty spies and thieves. In some cities, ownership even changes weekly.”

 

Zoro snorted; so that was what the boy at the other dojo had meant by “for now.” “Sounds ridiculous,” he muttered. “So much for the home of the strongest sword fighters on the Grand Line.”

 

Usopp started to admonish him, but Master Ohtori himself was all too quick to accept the harsh words. “You are right, Rolonoah. I only wish that one day I will be able to face you in battle with equal honor, as a worthy samurai.”

 

“Sure, old man.”

 

“Hmm. Sword, huh?” Luffy, still munching on a cracker, lifted his hand out from under the table to reveal an expensive-looking sword. “You mean this one?”

 

His four companions gawked. “L-L-Luffy!” Usopp exclaimed, wide-eyed. “How did you—?”

 

“Huh? It was just sitting there….”

 

Master Ohtori blinked, then only laughed as Usopp tried to wrestle the blade away with Chopper doing his best to separate them. He turned to Zoro. “It seems your crew has won my city twice over.”

 

“Don't worry—we're not interested in staying put here, anyway.” He knocked his captain over the head and snatched the sword away, returning it to its rightful owner. “Though you'd better keep a better eye on this.”

 

Ohtori accepted with a slight smile. “I will indeed.”

 

A little later Master Ohtori was seeing them out of the dojo, Luffy with several more crackers clutched in his hands. “My grandson, Tahatsu, will accompany you,” the man offered. The boy from before stepped obediently forward. “That way no one will bother you as you return to your ship. There are more dangerous Kurakuda about this city than those boys, and most of them carry Divinity with them.”

 

“Don't worry about it,” Zoro assured. “We'll be fine; it's not our style to hide behind children.”

 

“I won't let them get me again,” added Luffy confidently around a mouthful of cracker.

 

Ohtori nodded, as if having expected as much. “Then only one last word of advice—for you, Rolonoah.” His eyes gleamed seriously. “Be careful with that sword of yours. It's been many years since it's seen our shores, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who's recognized it by now.”

 

Zoro's hand went immediately to the hilt of Wadou the First, but Ohtori shook his head. “Not that one. Guard it well.”

 

Zoro frowned only slightly as he considered that warning, his fingers sliding briefly over Ghost the Third. For a moment when he looked at Ohtori something made his fingertips tingle, as if the sword at his hip had suddenly began to hum with energy. He took a short step back, and it gradually faded. “Thanks,” he said at last, and he offered Master Ohtori a short, respectful bow. “I'll be careful. And thanks for the match.”

 

Ohtori bowed as well, though mindful of his delicate headpiece. “It was my honor.”

 

The others bid their own lighthearted goodbyes, and then they were out on the street once more. The attention they had gained earlier returned to them almost immediately, but this time Zoro felt more confident; knowing he had already bested the city's finest warrior there was little for him to worry about, even if they did target Luffy again. Remembering the incident he couldn't help but tease his captain. “So Luffy, still plan on exploring?”

 

Luffy made a disgruntled face. “Not if they're going to cheat.”

 

“Especially since there's a marine base,” Usopp added wisely. “We should get Sanji and Nami and get out of here. Don't you think so? Huh?”

 

“We have to wait for the Logue Pose to record the next island,” Chopper reminded him.

 

“Well, we can work our way over to the other end of the island, at least,” Zoro offered. “It'll be easier to leave, then. But in the meantime, I guess we should find the others. They should at least know there's a marine base here.”

 

“All right!” Luffy declared in his best captainly tone. “To the market to find Sanji and Nami!”

 

----

 

As it was still fairly early in the afternoon when Sanji and Nami arrived, the market place was bustling with people and activity. Fresh fish, rice, fruits, and vegetables of every size and shape were offered for sale, alongside stalls of bizarre weapons and intricate new fashions. Between the two of them there was plenty to gather and gawk at, and for some time they were content to walk up and down the streets, oogling like schoolchildren. Nami purchased a pair of traditional style outfits, much to Sanji's delight, and together they selected an array of new ingredients for the eager cook to test his new Alabastan recipes. Being in a favorable mood, Nami even bought Sanji a new cooking knife, as the people of Oyomi appeared especially skilled in blade work. It earned her more of Sanji's attention than she'd bargained for, but for now she allowed it. It felt like a while since her spirits had been this high.

 

They had just about finished their shopping when Nami detected a pair of eyes on them; she ignored it for a while, expecting it was simply a curious bystander, but when the feeling didn't fade she at last dared a glance over her shoulder. Her gaze fell swiftly on the cause of her apprehension; a young man, apparently in his early twenties and dressed in several layers of less traditional clothing. Though his skin was almost frighteningly pale, his dark eyes were bright and the hair trailing out from under his woolen cap was jet black. He didn't notice Nami watching, as his gaze was fixed on Sanji. She turned casually back to the stand of pickled fruits they'd been poring over. “Sanji.”

 

“Oh, you noticed?” Sanji said easily, indicating one of the jars to the stall owner. “He's been there for a while.”

 

Nami frowned, vaguely concerned that he hadn't mentioned it earlier. “Do you think he knows we're…?”

 

“Madly in love?” Sanji filled in hopefully, earning himself a fist.

 

“Never mind, I'll talk to him myself.” With a snort she crossed the marketplace to plant herself in front of the boy, catching his attention. She knew she should have been more cautious, but after their struggles in Alabasta none of them had been able to shake the feeling that at this point nothing could hurt them. “Hey.”

 

The youth started, jumping away from the corner of the small building that he had been leaning against. He retreated back a step when he realized who was facing him. “Ah…hello.” He bowed a polite greeting.

 

“Don't you `hello' me,” Nami retorted, crossing her arms over his chest as Sanji came up behind her—looking as threatening and bodyguard-like as he could with all their parcels in tow. “You've been watching us, haven't you? Is there something you want?”

 

The youth glanced between them, cautious but not as wary as she'd hoped he'd be. “Well, maybe,” he answered, his face a conflict of restraint and hope. “Your friend there looks strong.”

 

Sanji straightened a little, not sure how to respond to that. His pride kicked in a moment later. “Damn straight.”

 

Nami shot him a glare for being unhelpful before returning to the business at hand. “What's that supposed to mean? You looking to hire?” Her eyes gleamed.

 

“Hire?” the boy echoed, as if the idea had never occurred to him. “I…was just saying, Miss.” He smiled at her shyly. “Or did you mean I could hire y—”

 

Sanji's boot in his face halted that line of questioning quickly enough. “That's no way to talk to a lady,” he warned.

 

The stranger fell back with a nervous chuckle. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. The truth is, I couldn't help but wonder if you were pirates. There haven't been many lately.”

 

Nami frowned slightly—was it really that obvious that they weren't from this island? But when she glanced around at all the other women walking the market, clad either in beautiful, traditional robes or training uniforms, it became painfully obvious even to her. She started to turn back when a crowd of people began to part at the far end of the street.

 

Before she could see what was happening the stranger grabbed her suddenly by the arm, tugging her behind the building corner with him. Sanji would have protested had he not been dragged over soon afterwards. “Shh, it's marines,” the youth explained, crouching down at their feet.

 

“Marines?” Sanji and Nami ducked as well, pushing their parcels behind them. There was no telling anymore how many of them the navy had identified as Luffy's compatriots, and on an island like this it seemed best to side with caution. Nami placed a hand on the youth's shoulder as she peered around him to get a better look, and paused a moment at how cold he felt. She wondered briefly if that was the reason for his layered clothing. “Are those them?” she asked, watching as the crowd split to reveal a tall woman with thin, chin-length black hair that was cut straight across her eyebrows. She was clad in a kimono of black and white that reached only to her knees and was split up the side, almost like evening wear, but there was no mistaking the curve of her limbs for anything other than trained muscle.

 

“Lieutenant Hashiko,” the stranger explained in an urgent whisper. “She's colonel Ginki's daughter, and she's usually in charge of the western cities—she was even trained by the Kurakuda.”

 

“In charge of…?” Nami didn't know any of the names he was throwing around, but it didn't sound right that a naval officer could have such a limited jurisdiction, unless…. She looked to Sanji to catch his eye, but, as she should have known, he was too busy oogling the woman in question. She instead asked their company. “There's a marine base here?”

 

“You didn't know?”

 

Nami pursed her lips as she considered what this meant for them. If there was a marine base on this island so close to Alabasta, chances were they were expecting Luffy—there were only so many routes they could have taken without an Eternal Pose guiding them. And she suddenly had a bad feeling; if Luffy was out wandering the town and didn't realize—

 

“Ah, such a vision of loveliness, my beautiful cherry blossom of the sea!”

 

Nami groaned in exasperation. “Damn that Sanji. I should have kept an eye on him.” As she'd feared her comrade was emoting on about blooming spring flowers and sunset-lit somethings to a startled and unimpressed Lieutenant Hashiko. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the boy beside her by the arm and started to drag him after her. “Come on—you're from here. You can vouch for us.”

 

“What?” He began to struggle, more insistently than she'd expected. “No—wait, I can't. If she spots me—” His eyes widened, and when Nami turned to look she gasped as a dozen men in naval uniform began to fan out around their superior. Sanji didn't appear discouraged in the least. But Hashiko's gaze wasn't on him anyway; her sharp black eyes were sweeping the streets, landing at last on Nami and the youth whose arm she held clutched.

 

Nami froze, as did the other, beneath the woman's harsh gaze. Then Hashiko was indicating the pair to her men, and though she was too far away to hear clearly Nami was sure her lips had formed, “Arrest those two.”

 

Before Nami could act the boy twisted in her grip, taking her hand this time as he began to pull her away. “Come on—run!” he said urgently. “If you're a pirate, they'll kill you!”

 

Nami paled a little, but she still had enough of her sense not to panic. “I'm not leaving without my supplies!” she protested, and she broke away from him long enough to toss half of their parcels to him. He stumbled ungracefully as she scooped up the rest and ran past him. “I'm not letting you waste my money!”

 

“Me!?” he cried, running after her. “I didn't—”

 

“It's your fault they're after us, isn't it?”

 

The boy sputtered on a response, but he couldn't deny it. “You shouldn't have given me away,” he said diffidently.

 

“Whatever—just keep running!”

 

When Sanji awoke to what was happening he was quick to secure the pair's escape: a few quick kicks felled the first of their pursuers, and he positioned himself in front of Hashiko and the rest of her officers. “Hold on there a minute, Beauty,” he said. Everyone at the market was suddenly stopped, watching their showdown. “You're not dumping me already, are you?”

 

“I don't know who you think you are,” Hashiko retorted darkly, “but you're aiding a criminal's escape, which gives me every right to arrest you as well.”

 

Sanji smirked coolly and let his cigarette fall, snuffing it out under his boot. “Being such a lovely lady I might not mind, but this time I think I'll pass.”

 

“Then I won't warn you again.” She glanced to a man on her right. “Go after Bohmer and the woman. I'll handle this.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

The soldiers started to move out once more, and Sanji intercepted them immediately. “As if I'd let you,” he rebuked as he spun in preparation of a kick. But he never connected with the soldier he'd intended; Hashiko was suddenly in front of him, and instinctually he slowed. But his power was still there, making it all the more impressive when she caught and halted his ankle on the inside arch of her foot. He withdrew with an appreciative snort. “You're good.”

 

“You can tell.” Hashiko attacked, twirling in a high roundhouse kick that Sanji ducked beneath, followed by a sweep that nearly took him off his feet. She was fast, and combined with the subtle distraction of the fact that she was a woman Sanji was hard-pressed to dodge each incoming attack. It was giving the soldiers a chance to slip by him.

 

“Shit. I don't want to fight you!” he tried to explain, falling back a step. “We just met that kid—we have nothing to do with him!”

 

The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Then you shouldn't mind coming in to be questioned.”

 

“Sorry—can't help you there.” Sanji blocked another of her attacks against his shin, and managed to break away long enough to take out the last three of her soldiers; if he could even lessen the number against Nami a little, it might help. The distraction cost him—a moment later the lieutenant was barreling down on him, and a swift kick to his gut sent him crashing into a nearby fruit stand. He snorted as he picked himself up, brushing various colored berries off his head and shoulders.

 

“You'll have to pay for those,” the vender advised him.

 

Hashiko watched her target carefully, reaching behind her to pull a pair of sharpened silver weapons from their holsters at her back; they were long, thin like needles with grips at the fatter end for her to hold onto. She held them easily at her sides as she waited for Sanji to right himself. “You're a pirate, aren't you?” she challenged boldly.

 

“What's it to ya?”

 

“It means I don't have to arrest you to kill you.”

 

Sanji blinked, a little surprised by how serious she seemed to be taking this. He should have known well enough to deny her accusations, and normally he would have, but something came over him; he heard himself saying, “That's right, I'm a pirate. But we just got here, and I really don't wanna cause any trouble for a lady.”

 

Hashiko slid into a fighting stance. “All pirates identified on Oyomi Island are executed—it's our law.”

 

Sanji's eyes narrowed. “So much for diplomacy.”