Archive of Our Own

Jaggy isn’t focused.

Jaggy is always focused, eyes never straying from the overall goal, even if it leads him right back into the prison he fought tooth and nail to escape from. And, more often than not, Jaggy’s goal seems to be beating Luffy.

It doesn’t matter the game, whether they’re fighting over physical treasure (Ha! I got one more dumpling than you!) or verbal bragging rights (No way; I'm faster!), Jaggy is always down for a competition between the two, and Luffy hates it when he actually wins because then Luffy never hears the end of it.

So when Jaggy ends up pulling the winning straw (Nooo! I lost at straws; I’m sorry guys!), Luffy already starts gearing up for his endless gloatfest. However, instead of looking at Luffy to rub it in his face, he's looking elsewhere, at Luffy's crewmate, at Luffy's Usopp . And Usopp is looking at Luffy (It doesn’t matter! Just get over here and help us load up!), but his eyes glance over at Jaggy, gives him a small smile, and Jaggy…smiles?

No.

Beams.

Luffy is almost blinded by the grin he shoots back out at him, the way the sun bounces off the glint of his teeth, the sparkle of his eyes. But then Usopp turns back to head towards the Sunny, and Jaggy…frowns?

No.

Shatters.

The balloon of pride Usopp inflated in his chest with that one small gesture deflates with each step he takes, further and further away, and Luffy watches with slowly furrowing brows as Jaggy goes from basking in Usopp’s attention to glowering at the loss of it. The sun in his eyes is now absorbed by a storm cloud and several, if not all, of Luffy’s alarm bells start ringing off in his head.

They’re ringing off in Traffy’s head, too.

When Luffy takes a moment to spare a glance towards him and is met with Traffy also staring intently at Jaggy, with a frown—no; pity—while Kid is still (still!) staring after the reproaching sniper, those alarm bells start screaming.

Jaggy is focused—just not on Luffy, but on Luffy’s Usopp. Luffy doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he gets the feeling that it’s not good.

Yeah. They’re fucked.

That is the only thought going through Zoro’s mind as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. They fucked now they’re fucked, and this whole situation reeks of future and even present conflicts, as less than ten minutes ago Kid was quite literally trying to kill their captain (and apparently not even for the first time). But now their sniper is pouring his heart out into the rival captain’s chest and said captain wraps his arm around him and pulls him in further, with a protective grip on his shoulder daring anyone to even attempt approaching. His eyes, however, are ridden with a hateful glare directed inwards as he punishes himself for the rain in Usopp’s.

Hence: fucked, they are fucked.

Despite how difficult it is to watch this split happen (and Zoro has been divided from his soulmate far too many times for far too long time periods, and it’s a pain he wouldn’t wish even on his worst enemy, much less Usopp), Zoro can’t help the feeling of uneasiness that the whole proclamation stirs up. He takes a moment to take in the surrounding crowd: all the still-present-now-enemy pirate crews, the not-very-well-hidden government agents, and the much-too-eager reporters foaming at the mouth for new intel, and yeah.

They.

Are.

Fucked.

Look: Zoro isn’t all that pressed about who Usopp’s soulmate turned out to be. Shocked, yes, but not pissed like the cook. Usopp is a good judge of character, able to see the good in people that even they don’t know exists yet. Zoro still hasn’t found what criteria he uses to make the judgment, but all it takes is one action, one line, one nonverbal cue for Usopp to deem someone as not just safe, but a safe space, and it’s over from there. Maybe he's actually a creator of good character, challenging others to do better, be better, and smiling in pride when the unsuspecting victim falls for his well-laid trap, and do just that—do better, be better, for him, just him.

No, Zoro is not yet sure if Usopp is a good judge of character or creator of it, but he knows firsthand what it’s like to be grasped by bloodstained hands and dragged into his garden, as if that’s a setting he’s allowed to be in, as if he’s not a pest that can do nothing but damage the carefully cared-for flowers. He’s dragged Zoro into it, and he’s dragged Law into it, and, this time, he’s dragged his newest victim, his soulmate, his Kid.

But even that’s not the issue here, though. No, the problem isn’t that they are soulmates, but that everyone knows.

Eustass Kid, a man of pure strength, has now publicly debuted his biggest weakness: his soulmate, their Usopp. The long list of enemies he’s made over his journey—a list so long it weaves, with the pirates stomped out for not having what it takes to make it in the New World, the marines slain for not upholding their own moral code, the victims of the islands burned whilst demonstrating his power—have now unjustly become enemies of their precious sniper, and yeah.

They're. Fucked.

"Tell me the truth—did he kill him?"

Nami needs to know. She just wanted her bestie to have a good time, with a one-night stand filled with dick good enough to hopefully loosen that annoyingly prudish stick up Usopp's ass. But, suddenly, they're reaching night three, and Usopp is still nowhere to be seen.

Nami needs to know now whether or not it's time for her to retire from the Strawhats, as there is no chance in hell she's going to be the one to break the news to the crew that Usopp bled to death after getting his dick chopped off by Eustass "Captain" Kid in a failed seduction ploy, and that it was her idea to begin with. So. When she spotted a few of the Kid Pirates’ upper-rank crew members out and about in the shopping district of Wano, she did not hesitate to clasp onto them, ambushing them with the fate of her entire pirating career in their hands.

The blue guy with the blue locs looks at her in confused bewilderment, whereas the man of extreme height simply sighs.

“I think he’s trying to, but he just won’t die. They’re still going at it.”

Oh?

OH????

“You better not be lying to me,” Nami says, increasing her grip down on the tall man’s arm. He winces, looking down at the grasp in a bit of disdain, but now that Mr. Blue is clued in, he chuckles.

“Yeah, seems like Cap met his match. They haven’t shut up in days.”

Un.

Fucking.

Believable.

To be honest, Nami truly expected Usopp to be haphazardly tossed back onto Sunny’s deck a wrecked mess within the hour of meeting up with Kid, but, in hindsight, she's surprised this outcome didn't once cross her mind. For a self-proclaimed weakling, Usopp’s endurance was always a bit on the monstrous side, but who could have guessed that would translate so well into sex? Especially against the absolute beast of a man that is Captain Kid?

But. Two days later and he's still keeping up with him. Nami can only stare at the pirates with mouth ajar 'cause wow. They really getting it in. Incredible.

Go bestie, holy shit!

“Is he going to be okay?” Mr. Blue continues, and Nami snorts.

“If he’s still got it after this long, it’s never leaving.”

“No, not about the, uh…” He childishly gestures the finger entering the hole, and the tall one shoots Nami an apologetic look on his behalf. But then the motions stop, and Nami’s good mood comes to a screeching halt when he continues with, “Cap…really likes him.”

Well, duh—it’s Usopp. It’s impossible to be alone in a room with him for more than fourteen minutes without coming out smitten.

And, no offense to the Kid Pirates, but Nami could care less about their captain’s potentially broken heart, whether or not he technically saved her life too.

No, the problem here is that it’s Usopp, a man who can’t spend fourteen minutes alone with someone (something, someplace) without getting horrendously attached. Even after all these years, it’s not uncommon to find Usopp up late at night in tears over feelings of abandoning his village, his crew, his Kaya. Just a few weeks ago Usopp struggled to keep his emotions in check as he retold the story of how they made it to Zou on the back of a dragon. He failed, falling into another pit of tears as he shared how, sadly, Ryonosuke had passed. Nami had tried to empathize but.

A drawing. Usopp was bawling over a drawing.

Heaven help them all when it comes time for him to leave his soulmate.

  ꧁꧂

Heaven abandoned them.

Not only is this separation hard for him, but it’s hard for everyone, as both pirate crews have to bear witness to how deep they’ve fallen in only three days' time. The entire atmosphere is tense, with neither Usopp’s tears nor Kid’s rage being the indicator of the hell that’s to come once the ships set sail. No, what’s alarming everyone the most is the brute’s soft touches and the meek’s starving kisses, and, yeah, this is fucked, this is all fucked.

She just wanted her bestie to have a good time. But watching Usopp now, waving out at the abyss that is the sea while releasing these unhinged, almost manic giggles? With an onslaught of tears evading the binoculars pressed too harshly into his eyes to instead stream down his cheeks, splashing down onto the deck’s floorboards in harsh clashes of reality?

Yeah, no. This doesn’t feel like a good time. Not in the slightest.

Sanji is a bit too familiar with dealing with broken hearts. Particularly his own, never Usopp's, but he is also a bit too familiar with dealing with a sad Usopp, too, and the solution for both is the same:

Company and, of course, food.

Sanji plans to give him just that.

Leaving Nami to the task of keeping their captain from inhaling the feast he prepared until he can receive the sniper of honor, Sanji sets out to the factory he’s locked himself in for the past two days, fully prepared to drag him out kicking and screaming if needed.

Thankfully, it’s not needed as the sound of a drill is the first positive sign—it means Usopp is keeping himself busy instead of wallowing in another pool of self-pity. Sanji smiles to himself, proud, before delivering three sharp raps to the door. It goes unanswered, Sanji frowns, and then he lets himself in.

“Usopp?” The chef announces himself, taking in his surroundings.

The scenario before him is alarmingly normal, another positive sign. Usopp is sitting at his workstation, goggles pulled down low as he uses a screwdriver to tighten three wooden planks together, in a project too early in its development stages for Sanji to even attempt at guessing what it is. The slew of blueprints scattered around him with sticky notes plastered all over them tells Sanji that this project is a big one, and he’s a bit excited about what’s going to come out of it. For now, however, he has bigger matters at hand.

“Hey, Longnose. Get up. It’s time for dinner.”

Usopp jolts at the sudden interruption, carefully placing his work down on the desk before pulling his goggles up to look over at Sanji. He greets him with a smile, another positive sign, one that pleasantly surprises Sanji as he fully expected Usopp to be down in the pits over his recent breakup.

But no. He glances over at the clock hanging on the wall, before sheepishly turning back to Sanji with a “Heh, sorry. Guess I kinda lost track of time down here.”

Sanji rolls his eyes in faux disdain, turning to start heading back up whilst fighting back the fond smile trying to break through. They had nothing to worry about—Usopp is taking this split-up splendidly.

Almost to the point of suspicion.

Sanji whips back around, now alarmingly suspicious, but the feeling comes too late to properly prepare him for what comes next.

“Hey, Roux? I gotta go. It’s time for dinner.”

The entire floor shifts three feet to the left, as Sanji is now bombarded with all the irregularities of his surroundings he missed out on, too busy observing the wellbeing of their sniper. Like the blueprints drawn in a much too mechanical style, with sharp, precise lines opposing the soft, flowing, rather artistic lines Usopp implements into his own creations. How the sounds of metal clanging, of tools drilling continue, despite Usopp long since putting his project away. How the drilling could not have been Usopp to begin with, as Sanji walked in on Usopp using the silent tool that is the screwdriver, and Franky is already waiting with everyone else in the galley, marking him out as a possible candidate.

No, nothing about this scene is normal, and it’s with absolute horror that the shrill drill comes to a halt, and Sanji finally takes in the red-lipped snail sitting on top of the desk just as its mouth parts to speak in that gruff-ass voice.

“M’kay. Just call me back when you’re done.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Usopp simply frowns at the snail, as Sanji stares at the both of them in wide-eyed shock.

“Y’know you should get something to eat, too.” A grunt from the brute.

“I’ll eat when you get back. Then you can finish tellin' me that lie of yours. The one 'bout the serial killer rockstar.” A huff from the longnose.

"Story," he corrects, with a roll of his eyes. "And I said she was a slightly, not-so-slightly deranged popstar that may have accidentally, totally by intention tried to execute a mass murder campaign.”

“Same thing.”

It most definitely is not???

“Yeah, imma go get that dinner now.”

Good! Because Sanji can not stand…stand another moment of this and another moment of HIM.

‘Cause what the fuck! What the fuck?? He thought that they broke up, that they were finished, over, done. That whatever the fuck that kiss he was forced to bear witness to (and, truly, that’s an entirely different can of worms that Sanji is NOT going to get into) was their parting wishes to each other.

But everything about this is suggesting otherwise, as if they’re still together, as if Usopp has managed to rope Kid, Eustass fucking Kid, into doing long distance, and of course, he did because he’s Usopp.

Sanji feels a bit stupid. He should have seen this coming—the longnose has a way of bending people to his will without even lifting a finger, so, of course, his s— (Yeah, no—Sanji isn’t ready to use the s-word in relation to him, so he tries again.) That…that man has fallen prey to him. And, to his great misfortune, he witnesses firsthand just how Usopp has managed to make him bow.

Usopp stands up from his spot on the ground, dusting himself off before reaching to turn the call off. But then he pauses, looking expectantly at the snail, and Sanji watches with bated breath as it releases a tiny sigh, blushes (blushes! The fucking beastly-ass snail blushes ), and responds with:

“Me too.”

It comes out as a whisper, as if the words are meant for Usopp’s ears only and most definitely not the apparently intruding Sanji. And Sanji doesn’t (nor does he want to) know what happened behind closed doors during those three days of Usopp’s absence, but one thing Sanji is painfully experienced in is romance and even more so love confessions.

And this? This is definitely a confession.

So what.

The.

FUCK?!?

While Sanji panics, Usopp merely beams at the admission, replying back a simple “Talk to you later,” in the softest, fondest voice Sanji has yet to have heard from him (and that’s saying something as Sanji has accidentally walked in on him singing actual lullabies to his pop greens on many the occasions.) Kid grunts in acknowledgment, it also somehow sounding soft (which shouldn’t even be possible from the damn neanderthal), and Usopp clicks the line shut. Then he simply spins on his heel, bounding up the stairs with a skip in his step while humming a jolly tune to himself.

Sanji can do nothing but stare after him in bewilderment, trying to wrap his head around what the fuck just happened.

Against his will, Chopper has learned to recognize a hickey when he sees one.

Usopp is covered in them.

Not only that, but his entire body is littered with various bruises, bite marks, and scratches that make it pretty obvious what he’s been up to the past few days.

“I was fighting in a glorious battle, nay, war against an army of…of a THOUSAND murderous chickens!”

Chopper gasps.

“Oh no! Is that where all these marks are from? Did they peck you?!?”

Usopp nods sagely, like the wise mentor he is, and confesses, “Relentlessly so,” but Chopper catches the under-the-breath addition of “Rudely so, the little bastard.” Usopp clears his throat. “But the perilous war lasted for three nights and three days, in which yours truly fought valiantly with no end in sight!”

Chopper’s eyes sparkle in awe. Wow! Such a cool crewmate he has, brave enough to fight such tough battles. On his own, too! No help needed!

However.

“How did you win against all of those chickens???”

One against one thousand seems a bit much, and a doctor experienced with tending to people’s wounds would think that the battle would leave scars much more brutal than peck marks suspiciously close to looking like nail indentations located on (Chopper takes a moment to glance at the physician's notes he wrote) “the right hip bone, shoulder blade, and both ass cheeks.”

So. Chopper is a bit curious to hear the details of how exactly this battle played out.

Usopp delivers.

“Why I found out their secret weakness, of course!”

Chopper gasps again—a weakness?

“What is it??” Chopper begs, in desperate need of the intel. It’s a life-or-death situation—what if the enemy pulls up on him next? “How do I survive against an army of killer chickens?!?” Usopp looks around conspiratorially, making sure they’re not being overheard, and then leans down to confide lowly, in between the two of them.

“Here’s what you do. Gather an even bigger army of their natural enemy, the shrimp, and command those shrimp to put on the best comedy show to ever grace the four seas.”

Chopper…is left confused. Sensing his state, Usopp simply tsks at him, shaking his head in disdain as leans back up to impart special wisdom impudent to every doctor on the field.

“Y’see, my furry little friend: sometimes murderous chickens…have a bad day. And that bad day turns into a bad week. And then bad months. And maybe even a bad life. And they’re stressed so much from all that bad, that they become it. So you just gotta show them a little bit of a good time. That’s all.”

“And…and laughter is the world’s best medicine?”

Usopp nods his head in pride. “Exactly.”

“So…so you made Kid laugh? And that’s why he likes you?”

“Exac-Ack! No! I made the shrimp make the chickens laugh—the chickens! And the chickens repaid me by…well, by not murdering me, obviously.”

“But they’re still murderous at the end of the day, right?”

“…well, technically, yes, they are still murderous chickens.”

“Then what was the point of the battle?”

“To not die, Chopper.”

Oh. That wasn’t quite the ending Chopper was expecting, but he guesses it makes sense—murderous chickens murdering is kind of their thing. Regardless-

“I’m glad that you came back alive,” Chopper shares, focusing back on his notes to check what’s next to perform for the physical. “I wouldn’t know what we would do without you.”

He fails to catch Usopp’s reply, but only because one never came.

“What if I told you…that Kid is actually pretty dang adorable?”

That causes Robin to pause.

“I know, I know! It’s unbelievable isn’t it?”

Not necessarily. Robin thought he looked rather dashing in his Onigashima outfit—the little horns suited him well. However, she’s immensely interested in finding out why Usopp thinks he’s cute, so she slips down into a crouch on the stairs she was on the way up, instead blooming an inconspicuous ear on the pole beside Usopp’s garden to better hear his reasoning. Which just so happens to be-

“Kid likes being called pretty.”

Fascinating. To think Usopp would not only have the courage to impart such a compliment on the violently surly man but that he got away with it without losing a limb.

“And I do it a lot because it makes him blush, and the color red just looks so good on him.”

Oh my. He’s gotten away with it several times, apparently, with all of his limbs still perfectly intact, all of his blood still hopefully within him. Robin is now morbidly curious to know how much space Kid allows Usopp to be…well, Usopp.

“Plus he’s fun to tease. He really loves his nickname even though it’s me quite literally calling him a chicken.”

Interesting. It seems both she and Sanji were wrong, as Sanji believed he was calling him “Roux” and Robin had her bets on “Rue.” Robin sighs silently—Nami surely will be coming to collect her dues any day now.

“Y’know he named the impact wolf pop green I gave him Captain CD? As in… Well, actually, you’re a bit too young to tell the story behind that name.” Ominous. Robin needs to know. “But it’s very endearing! The, uh, notion. Not the name. Kid is a bit of a…well, anyway! He waters and talks to it every day, just like I do to you guys. He even insists that CD is a heavy metal fan! Should I switch up our tuneage around here, too?”

Robin blooms a pair of eyes on the pole as well to watch the plants Usopp has been sharing his soulmate stories with shake in the breeze, as if vehemently trying to convey “Please don’t.” He chuckles, a fond smile curving his lips as he continues tending to his own pop greens.

“Guess his little plant is specially made just for him, huh? His own little soul plant.”

Usopp pauses, setting his watering can to the side as something catches his eye. He distractedly digs at the dirt surrounding one particularly vocal plant that heavily opposed the suggestion of switching from the usually upbeat pop music Usopp likes playing for them to metal. He pulls out a worm that has managed to invade his garden, and simply chuckles, placing it back down in a separate pot to later move into his insect farm. Then he turns back to his garden with a grin on his face and a puff to his chest.

“He also said that he would still love me if I was a worm.”

Robin squints, suspicious. Out of everything Usopp has shared so far about their relationship, somehow that seems the most far-fetched. Usopp sheepishly scratches at his cheek, his gardening gloves transferring soil onto it.

“Well, technically he said he would probably step on me but regret it at least. Same thing.”

That seems more plausible.

Robin waits for the next admission, but it seems to not arrive. Instead, Usopp continues tending to his garden, quietly humming a small tune to himself. Robin wishes to join and hopefully prod some soulmate stories out of him with her as the target audience, but something is off and keeps her stationary. The song he hums is different, foreign to his usual repertoire, but what sets off her alarms is the tone. His muted singing comes from a place of distress instead of its usual entertainment purposes, amplified by how his hands speed up in their actions to cover up for their now uncontrollable shivering. So he hums louder and tends harder, to the point where Robin actually does stand up, motioning to join him and calm him down, when she's beaten by a cessation of all actions.

Robin stares at Usopp as Usopp stares down at the worm, wriggling alone in its pot of containment. And again, but quietly, Usopp shares that-

“He says he loves me.”

The worm finally stills.

“I think I actually believe him.”

Never had an admission so sweet sounded so sad.

A genius. Lil’ bro went and found himself another genius.

When Usopp sidled up to him one morning, eagerly talking about bearing gifts, Franky had no choice but to take a gander, scanning over the blueprints presented in what can be described as nothing other than the word ‘awe’ and maybe a bit 'flattered'.

The kid's soulmate has managed to figure out the mechanics of Franky’s cyborg nature without once witnessing it in person. Enough to understand exactly how his cola-powered fuel system operates. Enough to figure out the mechanics of the flamethrower in his throat. Enough to know Coup de Boo.

Enough to craft a plan to build in armpit speakers.

It's genius, the type of genius only someone as deranged as himself can come up with, or someone as imaginative as Usopp. It’s useless and necessary and startingly easy to implement, save for one, small, tiny little detail.

"Sorry little bro but we gotta figure something else out here,” Franky regretfully shares, handing the plan back over to Usopp. “If we wire it that way the board will disrupt the-"

"Chest hardware, yeah, I know. But Kid said trust him, and I do."

Oh?

Bet.

It was such a bold declaration, one that took Franky by such surprise that he had no choice but to trust him too. And he was right. When he stretches his arms high above his head into his signature pose, grinning loud and proud when his super theme starts blasting loud enough to rattle his armpit hairs, his eyes turn alight when his chest gets in on the action, nipples flickering through a series of brightly colored neon lights in tune the tunes. Usopp chokes on a startled shriek, staring at the light show with wide eyes before recognition flashes across his features.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! Is that why he– Oh my god, the little– That…that dumbass!"

Yet he can barely get the insult out through the delighted peals of laughter he keeps falling into. Franky watches in amused awe as he struggles to get himself in check, eventually giving up and breaking out a few moves of his own, allowing himself to fully enjoy the rave machine his soulmate turned his mentor into. They both fall into a small private party of unspoken coordinated dance moves, only ending when Franky announces needing a cola break to keep fueling the antics and Usopp belatedly feeling the pain in his cheeks from his smile stretching them too wide.

“Oi. Who trained the lad?” Franky finally asks, digging into his compartment for refreshers for the both of them. Usopp halts his rather violent face massage, turning towards Franky with sparkles in his eyes, sparkles that tell Franky he waltzed right into another special interest topic of his, and he has a lot to share about it.

“No one! Kid just…well, he taught himself! Said he grew up in a junkyard with a lot of junk, so he spent a lot of his time making not-junk.”

Franky nods at the info, pushing aside his first round of questions for another day. Franky doesn’t know much about Kid except for all the vibrating, big dick rumors (and something about being a blood-thirsty murderer), but in two innocent little statements, Usopp has already revealed that Kid most likely grew up (not raised, but grew up— survived) in a definitely-dangerous-for-children mechanical wasteland, having to fend for himself. It’s a bit ironic, actually, as those two innocent little statements told Franky that, for a kid named Kid, he was probably never allowed the chance to be one. But, maybe, it’s actually right on the nose, and for a kid named Kid, that’s all he’s ever been.

Franky is starting to see a little bit of why fate put them together.

But again: another topic for another day with another someone. For now, he pulls out two bottles of cola from his fridge, tossing one over to Usopp who mindlessly catches and opens it, before popping open his own to settle in for the dump about all the cool inventions his soulmate has made.

Franky quickly realizes that his bro’s new special interest isn’t the inventions, but the inventor. Because-

“He’s actually a lot smarter than I thought,” Usopp rambles on, fiddling with his cola by absentmindedly swirling a fingertip around the rim while staring at the beverage with a too-fond expression painting his face.

“When he showed me his factory he was just so…excited! He’s the type of guy that’s angry, all the time, even when happy ‘cause he comes off as so damn crass, the bullhead. But in that factory, it was like seeing a whole new side of him! He seemed a bit like me, which is unfair because I’m the cute one in this bond, obviously, but he was so cute then, showing off his little robots and weapons and engineering knowledge and apparent fascination for butterflies ‘cause he’s also a big baby. But like one of the annoying ones that throws temper tantrums all the time and argues back and gives babies a bad name in general until one day you have a bad day and the baby waltzes up and says “I know what that’s like” and offers to share its lollipop with you. And you’re so grateful for the kindness from the little gremlin that you forget to wonder how the hell this infant is talking, y’know?”

“Uh…yeah. Totally know.”

He doesn’t. Franky got a little lost once the baby showed up, but he’s trying to catch back up. Usopp continues with-

“Kid is kind of like that baby, except he has a locked treasure chest full of lollipops and keeps sharing them with me all the time just because. And on the off chance that I ask for one, he up and gives me ten? And if I get a cavity for eating so many lollipops he threatens every single dentist within a hundred-mile radius to fix it and fix it now because apparently this baby is dangerous, of course. And then after the cavity’s gone he goes and gives me another twenty because I offhandedly mentioned being hungry. And sometimes he’ll give me cookies or cakes but really anything I ever want and whenever I ask why, the answer is always a little shrug or annoyed 'Tch' paired with the simple 'Yer my soulmate.' Because the big baby’s my soulmate, and I’m supposed to be his, but I just left him, and, even now, despite everything, he’s still trying to give me lollipops, but it’s really hard to do that through a fucking snail.”

Usopp blinks, the steadily speeding finger still tracing the rim of his bottle coming to a screeching halt. Franky can only look back in surprise, unprepared for the sudden change of direction.

“M’sorry,” Usopp says, deflating in on himself. “I guess I just…miss him is all.”

That…sounds like a lot more than just missing him. That sounds like a whole bundle of deeply rooted emotions Franky doesn’t even know where to begin to start unraveling, but he gets the feeling that he better figure it out, and soon.

Franky glances up. Sure enough, on the wall across the room rests a pair of concerned blue eyes, simultaneously reprimanding him with a silent I told you so paired with a worried DO something! Franky scratches at his head, thinks it over, and tries a-

“You…two are the real deal, huh?”

Usopp gives a tiny nod, pulling his legs up into himself. Franky simply hums and downs his cola, prompting Usopp to take a sip of his. Then he tilts his head, pondering.

“It probably doesn’t feel real, though, doesn’t it? Being put together just to be split apart. Feels a bit like fate is being mean.”

“Feels like fate is being a bitch,” Usopp mutters under his breath, and Franky chuckles.

“Heh. Maybe. But something tells me that you got blessed with a soulmate that’s willing to go toe-to-toe with that bitch to keep the relationship working, and he’s doing a pretty damn good job at it, too.”

The man done turned Franky’s body into a party machine to keep his baby entertained while he’s away, and Franky can’t help but feel that this only scratches the surface of all the long-distance lollipops he has lined up for him. Franky would go as far as to say maybe the stars are on his side for pairing him with someone like that, and if they aren’t, Kid’s already on his way up there to shift them around himself.

He lets Usopp come to this conclusion on his own though, quietly observing him and the visibly shifting cogs in his head. His frown softens into a gentle smile, giving a tiny nod to acknowledge he got the message. Then he gives another tentative sip of his cola, confirmation that he’s better now, and Franky grins, proud as the bright blue eyes blooming away in satisfaction.

“Kid has freckles,” Usopp suddenly shares, voice still small, nails tapping at the glass of the bottle. Franky pulls out another bottle of cola, settling back in for the previously derailed special interest topic of his little bro’s big soulmate. “He covers them up because he thinks they make him look childish, but I think he’s beautiful.”

The topic is immediately derailed once again, this time with only a sniffle. Usopp turns to look at Franky with a horrified expression.

“Franky. No.”

“Y’all are so touching though!” Franky bawls, sobbing openly. “Super cute! Truuue loooovvvee!!”

“What the– Put the damn guitar away!”

“Sorry, bro, but this suuuper romance is lighting up a fire in mah soul, and I just gotta let it out!”

“Franky!”

“This one goes out to you two lovebirds! I call it sweet’n’spicy, ow!”

“Oh my god.”

Another day, another fan, another soul touched by his music. Even in retirement, it’s nice to know that Brook’s spirit still reaches the hearts of newcomers. Because-

“I’m guessing Kid is a fan of Soul King, no?” Brook asks, taking the poster of himself and pen from Usopp’s eagerly awaiting hands. Usopp snickers.

“’Pends on who you ask and when,” he replies, pointing to the free area in the corner he wants Brook to sign. “If you asked him before he found out you were a Strawhat, the answer would be yes and that no one else makes music with real lyrics these days and ages. After finding out Luffy got to you first? The autograph is for another member of his crew who just so also happens to be a huge fan of yours.”

Brook hums, pleased from receiving such high praise from a man who seemingly prefers hogging it for himself than sharing it with others.

“I’ll make sure to make this one grand, then. Anything for our favorite pair of star-crossed lovers.”

Brook realizes his mistake the second it leaves his nonexistent lips. He glances up in horror, finds that tell-tale sheen in his eyes, and oh dear.

Robin is going to kill him.

“Mr. Usopp, I did not mean to cause you any-“

“No, this isn’t— I’m not—!”

Usopp sniffles, haphazardly wiping at his eyes in a rather obvious sign of this being and him doing.

“N-no, you’re fine! I’m just— I—“ A deep sigh. “Sorry. You’re fine, really. It’s fine. Franky said that the stars are assholes, but Kid’s taking them out. It’s fine.”

“That makes sense,” Brook concedes. “Stars can be quite the tease. Humility could serve them well.”

“Exactly! Just a bunch of bullies! Up there twinkling, flickering on and off, popping in and out. Completely unfaithful to the dedication of staying by destiny’s side.”

“Yes,” Brook agrees again, to something, just not completely quite sure of what. He hands him back the flyer, signature now complete. “The night would be brighter if they stayed put.”

“Yup,” Usopp replies, voice clipped, smile strained. They stand there, staring at each other. Brook breaks first.

“Forgive me if I overstep-“

“It’s just that-“

They ramble over each, pause, and this time Usopp breaks next with the glossy sheen in his eyes finally spilling over into tears.

“Sorry!” he bumbles on, haphazardly wiping at his tears in a clumsily pathetic display of trying to keep it together. Which he is very much not. “Sorry. M’sorry. It’s just—“ Another steadying sigh. “Are the stars really at fault if I’m the one that left?”

One thing Brook always admired about Usopp is his funny little way of pulling on people’s heartstrings. But now, with the way his voice cracks, his lip trembles, his tears start to flow freely, it doesn’t seem quite so entertaining with how he’s all but yanking on Brook’s. He wants to console him in any way possible, tell him that separation isn’t all that bad, but the guilt of not following his own soulmate into the afterlife is one that still haunts him, to this very day, this very moment. No, he has no comfort to offer him, and it’s awfully dreary how he knows Usopp knows.

“M'sorry,” Usopp sniffles, forcing shattered glass back together again, wiping away the last of his tears. “M’really sorry. I’m just gonna…gonna go put these up. In a safe space. For when— Yeah…”

And he leaves. And Brook lets him.

Jimbei still has a lot to learn about the Strawhats and the roles everyone plays. The positions he’s well aware of (Luffy is captain, Zoro is swordsman, Nami is navigator, etc, etc.) but roles are different.

Zoro is the protector, both physical and emotional. A boulder to hide behind when overpowered by enemies, or to lean on when the heart becomes too heavy to keep standing tall. Chopper is the physical caretaker, Sanji the emotional—Chopper with the medicine for the broken bones, and Sanji with the meals for the broken spirit. Luffy is motivation, Nami is inspiration. Robin the voice of logic, Franky voice of reason, Brook voice of experience.

And Usopp? He’s everything.

A jack of all trades, willing to take a step forward and assist anyone with their roles when too weak to perform on their own. He guards from afar, he gives the needed speech, he wraps the makeshift bandages and cooks the easy meals. He does enough to keep the crew moving forward, and then he's back to begging for protection, for comfort, for validation. Maybe he’s not everything, only good at pretending to be.

Maybe he's just a really good liar.

He’s honest to a fault now, silent with no words to betray his essence. He sits on the masthead, waves rocking dangerously and threatening to throw him overboard, bundled in only a protective coat a red and a golden straw hat. His hair is disheveled, eyes red and exhausted and focused on only the sea and the endless options of opportunities it offers.

“Do you think he feels abandoned?” he finally asks, voice low, forlorn. “By me?”

Jimbei isn’t a liar so Jimbei doesn’t lie. Instead, he stays quiet and lets the silence speak volumes.

Usopp doesn’t turn away from the sea.