Chapter Text
The sun had just risen when the Victoria Punk finally docked. The crew, who hadn't set foot on solid ground in two long and exhausting months at sea, felt the stable ground beneath their feet for the first time since the tense encounter with Red-Haired Shanks. Always fierce and fearless, they now found themselves weakened, with scarce resources and energy for new battles nearly depleted.
The bay beckoned, the salty sea breeze pushing and ruffling their hair. The water began to churn, reflecting the first rays of sunlight. The deep sound of the Victoria Punk's hull slamming against the dock blended with the chatter and laughter of the pirates as they tied the ship securely to the wooden structure, brimming with anticipation.
It was almost as if they were safe from danger, even in unfamiliar lands — it was time to catch their breath after nearly drowning.
It was time to catch the breath and dive into even deeper waters.
“You should have left that on the ship; it’s not good for you to exert yourself,” Killer admonished, casting a concerned glance at his captain’s newly installed mechanical arm.
The crew dispersed into groups, each heading their own way on the island. Killer, as always, stood by the captain’s side, leading them northeast toward the outskirts of the village. Arms and hands brushed against each other with every step, and Kid’s faux fur coat lightly touched Killer’s exposed skin.
“Stop treating me like a damn kid, Killer,” Kid grumbled, scowling.
“You’re right, Captain. If you prefer, I’ll start treating you like the damn cripple you are.”
“Go to hell,” Kid retorted, playfully raising his middle finger, which Killer promptly mirrored
"It's not easy to keep you alive to become the Pirate King if you insist on being so reckless," Killer sighed, his eyes scanning the narrow alleys as they ventured into the dimly lit streets that remained dark despite the clear morning.
“Okay. I want to find a junkyard for some parts. Do you have anything specific in mind?” Killer knew that despite the change of topic, Kid had caught the message. It had always been this way: Kid acted on impulse, but Killer was always there to take control.
“I think I’ll buy a clock from any secondhand store… You dismantled the old one, and now we don’t have one in our room.”
“It was for the sake of the blender, you know,” Kid justified. “When we get to the center, you can look for the clock, and I’ll go after—”
“I thought I made it clear that I’m not leaving your side, Kid.”
“For fuck’s sake…” Kid grumbled. “Killer, you’re being unbearably overprotective.”
Killer stopped abruptly, alert, before considering an appropriate response. His eyes narrowed behind the mask, and he turned his head slightly, scanning the surroundings. He quickened his pace and protectively wrapped his left arm around Kid’s shoulders, coming close enough to whisper, “We have company.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Kid continued at the same pace. “I know. I can feel it. It’s a child.”
“A child?” Killer disentangled himself from the captain, letting him go.
“That’s what I just fucking said.”
“Damn it, Kid. What’s wrong with you today? You’re pissing me o-”
A small, agile shadow lunged at them with surprising speed. Silent footsteps and a form blending into the poorly lit alley. The agility of a feline. A metallic sound. A sudden sprint. A missing piece from Kid’s mechanical arm. It all happened in an instant.
“The fuck?! That brat stole a cog from my-” Kid shouted, but before they could chase the little thief, the captain (with an unusual insight for him) realized that using magnetism to retrieve the piece would be far more effective than a frantic pursuit through unfamiliar alleys.
It was easy to retrieve the metal piece, but what Kid didn’t expect was the unusual bonus of a child hanging onto it.
The little girl, now illuminated by the cargo area’s spotlights, looked wild with her incredibly long, tangled green hair. She shouted with a ferocity that belied her small size: “Let me go! Let me go!” as she kicked into the void, defying gravity and challenging the captain before her. Her determination was palpable, and she didn’t seem like someone willing to let go of her treasure easily.
Kid, with a cruel smile, addressed the child hanging in front of him: “If you think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a brat, you’re sorely mistaken.” His voice was a low growl, almost a roar.
“Kid, it’s just scrap…”
“It’s my fucking arm! No one ever spared me a lesson because I was a kid!” The captain’s voice echoed with the force of past storms, and even though his cruel smile remained, his eyes momentarily lost themselves in a sea of turbulent memories. The child, on the other hand, maintained a defiant, almost mocking gaze, as if she saw Kid as nothing more than a clown in her own private show. “If you want to pull this kind of crap, you better be prepared for—”
Before Kid could finish his warning, he felt a blow strike him between the legs.
“That… little… devil!” He doubled over, clutching the affected area, while the slender silhouette of the girl disappeared down the alley, blended among the shadows.
Fortunately for them (and unfortunately for the little thief), Killer was particularly fast and agile, quickly vanishing from his captain’s sight, the captain who had been defeated by a dirty blow.
* * *
“‘I won’t leave you alone,’ my ass,” grumbled the captain, abandoned and irritable, as his eyes swept through the labyrinthine alleys in search of his first mate. “It’s been 20 minutes. There’s no way he could have gotten lost chasing after that brat.”
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The logical thing to do would be to head to the market and buy what he needed because there was no chance his partner was in danger, of course. This was Killer. Killer, the man who left a trail of blood as naturally as he breathed. Killer, who sliced necks with his scythes as precisely as a clock without a hint of hesitation. Killer, who would crush anyone in loyalty to the captain. Killer, who could probably crush his skull between his thighs without much effort… (Okay, that last thought was probably a bit weird.)
But Kid didn’t care about his first mate’s absence, no, of course not. He wasn’t that dependent. Finally he’d have a little peace, because ever since their defeat at the hands of the redhead’s crew, Killer had become a constant shadow, his partner got overly protective even by his standards. Yes, now he could breathe and find some peace; he was able to take care of himself. But… did he want that?
Killer’s company never bothered him, never. The bond between them was its own language, communicated through subtle glances and gestures. Kid knew that Killer wasn’t there out of pity or because he thought his captain was incapable. It was a silent promise that they would stand side by side no matter what and rise together, because one defeat would never be enough to bring them down or even shake the confidence Killer had in the captain.
“I’ll get stronger, Captain. This won’t happen again, I promise.” The first mate’s voice echoed in Kid’s mind.
They were the Kid Pirates, the crew of the man who would be the Pirate King. If misfortune could topple them, then they weren’t worthy of hoisting their flag.
Moreover, they wouldn’t stay apart for long. The crew’s agreement was to return to the ship by 7 p.m. to discuss possibilities and observations about the island, and then probably find the dirtiest bar, drink until they passed out, or just get ridiculously high and maybe even hook up with some chick there. It had always been a good plan.
With a nod to himself, Kid decided to head back to Victoria Punk earlier. Why not? Without Killer around, he wouldn’t have much else to do anyway. Kid had enough patience (in his own way) for waiting for Kiler before exploring the town.