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Wano is free and the celebrations never seem to end.
When Ikkaku first arrived here, she thought such a feat wouldn’t even be possible. The barren outskirts of the Flower Capital were as harsh as the despair that lined the face of every citizen. Trauma always scars, her aunt used to say in between pulls of cigarettes that left behind pungent clouds of smoke, the only luxury the family could afford in their impoverished village in North Blue. Ikkaku had grown up with a keen eye for those kinds of scars and they ran too deep in her village for anyone to recover. She thought they ran deep here in Wano too, but here and now, watching those same citizens sing and dance in the streets under a stream of fireworks that light up the night, she thinks that maybe some things are too great for scars to ruin. Things like hope, like love, like freedom.
Clione elbows her in the side, pulling her from her thoughts and almost sending her sake glass tumbling to the ground. She turns to glare at him. He looks unapologetic and, from the red in his cheeks, three sheets to the wind. That’s not exactly surprise - Clione has always been a lightweight.
“What is it?” she shouts over the din of the bar.
“I said Uni and I are stepping out to look at the fireworks. Wanna come?” he yells back.
Ikkaku shakes her head. “Later.” This bar is serving the best sake she’s ever had and she intends to drink every last drop she can before her liver gives out.
With a dopey nod and sloppy pat on the back, Clione slips away into the crowd, leaving Ikkaku to her own devices. She throws back the rest of her sake and then waves the glass at the bartender.
Three refills later and she finally gets a buzz going, a hazy warmth flowing through her veins that makes her feel like she’s floating on air. It feels good, so much better than the past several weeks of stress, worry, and fear in order to take down two emperors. The reminder of everything the crew has endured threatens that good feeling now, so Ikkaku lifts a hand to catch the bartender’s attention again.
A second later, a glass slides in front of her - but not from the bartender.
Blinking, Ikkaku glances to her left to see Nami taking up the empty space beside her. Her long orange hair is swept up into a bun, tendrils framing her face just right. Tonight she’s wearing a purple yukata tonight, but her smile is the same one Ikkaku has come to remember in the time their crews have mingled, promising fun and mischief. Nami holds up her own glass with a wink. “Need some company?”
If she hadn’t already been buzzed, Ikkaku would have hesitated. Not that she doesn’t like Nami, who’s as beautiful and spirited as the sea itself, who is unapologetically and effortlessly herself and doesn’t let anyone forget it. But seas does she know how to drink everyone and the fates under the table; the hangover Ikkaku woke up with after their party in Zou has to be number one in the hangover hall of fame. Ikkaku swore she’d never have a repeat of the experience.
But a hangover is tomorrow’s problem and that seems worlds away from tonight. So Ikkaku lifts her glass with a teasing grin. “Only if you’re buying.”
Nami laughs, her hand patting Ikkaku’s arm once, twice, then resting in place. Warmth pours into Ikkaku’s skin, slow and thick like honey.
“Oh, dear, sweet Ikkaku,” she says with a sigh. “Trust me, neither of us will be paying a single coin tonight.”
Half the night passes by in a whirlwind of sake, laughter, and the scent of tangerines. Be it the alcohol coursing through her or the spirit that lingers in the air, Ikkaku feels emboldened to chase after that scent, sticking close to Nami’s side. And Nami lets her, with a knowing twinkle in her eye and a curl of her lips that Ikkaku can’t ignore.
Ikkaku takes pride in being a member of the Heart Pirates. She loves her captain and her crew mates, loves the ship that is their home, loves being a part of something bigger than herself, something that North Blue could never offer a girl like her.
But she appreciates these moments too, where she can just be some nobody, searching for that spark of heat and electricity and grabbing onto it when it’s finally within reach. So she does, her fingers slipping through Nami’s and holding on tight as she tilts her head towards the exit. Ikkaku delights in the way that Nami returns the favor, clinging to Ikkaku’s hand but stalling briefly to drink the very last drop of her sake before they leave.
The night air is unseasonably warm, be it the fireworks or the press of people around them or the heat that spreads from the brush of Nami’s lips against Ikkaku’s ear as she says, “This way!” Ikkaku follows her through a labyrinth of streets and alleyways until they reach the palace. The few guards that are duty-bound to man their posts don’t bat an eye as the two of them stumble by, laughing and cheering with every BOOM from the fireworks.
That spark is now a steady flame in Ikkaku’s chest. It’s obvious where this night is going to lead, but Ikkaku finds she’s no longer patient for it, not when another brilliant flash of light from above illuminates Nami’s face, chasing away its shadows and secrets that have always lingered. So Ikkaku stops right in her tracks and tugs on Nami’s hand. Nami nearly trips over her feet, letting out a cry of surprise that Ikkaku easily silences with her lips pressed to Nami’s. Nami melts into the kiss, pressing in close as her free hand moves to Ikkaku’s cheek.
Ikkaku expects the kiss to be like Nami - sly and teasing, never relinquishing the upper hand. Instead, Nami kisses with an openness that is dizzying, displaying a similar urgency racing through Ikkaku’s blood. And when the kiss ends and Nami presses her forehead against Ikkaku’s, Ikkaku feels as if she’s alight. She steals a brief kiss, basking in Nami’s shuddery sigh.
“C’mon,” Nami murmurs. She pulls away as if it pains her to do so, but she still hasn’t let go of Ikkaku’s hand, leading her away from the bright light of fireworks and into her room.
“I like your tattoo,” Ikkaku tells Nami later. Nami is curled up on the rumpled futon, head resting in Ikkaku’s lap as Ikkaku absently combs through her hair. The strands are just as soft as they look.
Nami smiles up at her, infinitely soft in the glow of the lantern light. “Thanks,” is all she says. It isn’t dismissive, but Ikkaku knows there’s a story there that’s not hers to know. Her eyes can trace the smooth and elegant lines of ink now, but her fingers can’t forget the gnarled, jagged skin they traced earlier, hidden underneath.
Trauma always scars. Briefly, Ikkaku wonders what her aunt is doing now, if she’s still in that same broken home with a chill in the air that even summer couldn’t break, if she’s still smoking that same brand of cigarettes, staring across a half-empty village that grows smaller every day.
“You ever thought about getting one?” Nami asks, bringing Ikkaku back to the present. She hums, pursing her lips out.
“It’d be cool, but I dunno…aren’t they supposed mean something?” she muses. Her captain’s do, though Ikkaku doesn’t know the significance of each and every one. Shachi’s are from some superhero he looked up to after his parents died. Jean Bart’s were from the day he turned eighteen, a coming-of-age tradition from his home island.
Ikkaku doesn’t have anything worthy of memorializing on her skin. She’s just some poor girl from a village who, on a whim, took a chance to sail the seas. The only things she owns are a boiler suit, her tools, and a dream to see her captain, crew, and ship all the way through to the edge of the world. It’s not much, but it’s enough for someone who came from nothing.
Nami furrows her brow, her brown eyes studying Ikkaku with a deep intensity. “Who says they have to mean something?”
Ikkaku opens her mouth, then promptly snaps it shut. “People?” she tries. Nami lets out an undignified snort and Ikkaku chuckles, embarrassed. “What? That’s a thing people say!”
“So? You’re a pirate, aren’t you? Why do you need to follow what other people say?”
“I don’t, I guess,” Ikkaku murmurs after a moment of silence, picking absently at the comforter.
Nami watches her for just another moment, then turns her gaze to the ceiling, tapping a finger on her chin. “How about a narwhal?”
Ikkaku stares at her. “What?”
“A narwhal. They’re these - “
“I know - I am from North Blue,” Ikkaku says with a pointed look. “But why a narwhal?”
Nami rolls her eyes. “Didn’t we establish you don’t need a reason why?”
Ikkaku can’t help but laugh. “I know, I know, but it’s just…so random.”
“You don’t know random until you hear Luffy’s ideas for a tattoo,” Nami dismisses with a wave of her hand. It then falls to Ikkaku’s ankle, thumb brushing over the warm skin.
Ikkaku slides a glance at her hand, then back at her. “Let me guess - food-related?”
“And beetles.” Nami arches an eyebrow at her. “Would a beetle be more preferable?”
“Oh hell no,” Ikkaku laughs. “I’ll take the narwhal.”
“Good choice,” Nami agrees. Her fingers are now slowly dancing up Ikkaku’s calf.
Ikkaku licks her lips. "Now just have to think of where to put it.”
The smile on Nami’s face is downright devilish. “I can help with that,” she murmurs, voice low enough to send a shiver up Ikkaku’s spine.
“I’m all ears,” she replies as she bends down to meet Nami halfway for a deep kiss.
Summer might be pervasive in the air on Hachinosu, but that doesn’t stop the chill in Ikkaku’s veins. Maybe it’s the sound of pained shouts and terrible screams, some harrowingly familiar enough to break her heart and twist her soul. Or maybe it’s hearing Blackbeard’s laughter echoing in the halls, even when Penguin swears his haki can’t feel the emperor’s presence on the island.
As she shifts against the damp, stone wall to find some sort of comfortable position, pain spreads like wildfire across her ribs. She winces, fingers pressing to the tattered and bloodied cloth peeking through the tear in her boiler suit. There hadn’t been time to patch up the wound before the Heart Pirates were rounded up and forced to board Blackbeard’s ship. Hakugan had done what he could as they sailed, but with his wrist broken, it wasn’t much - not up to the standards their captain has at least.
It’ll probably scar, she thinks to herself. For some odd reason, the thought makes her chuckle, half-delirious.
Clione stirs beside her. “What’s so funny?” he asks, a slight wheeze in his voice.
Ikkaku closes her eyes, letting her head rest again the wall. “Just thinking about getting a tattoo.”
“Oh?” Clione pauses to cough and there’s the clink of chains as he moves beside her. “What would you get?”
Ikkaku thinks of tangerines and the sweet press of lips. She smiles. “A narwhal.”