Chapter Text

Chapter 01: First Wave

The winter dawn found Detective Sakuraba Tashigi staring at her apartment ceiling, watching water stain spread like an incoming tide. Third leak this month, despite her landlord's repeated assurances about "minor maintenance issues." Through her window, low clouds hung heavy over Water 7's skyline, promising more rain to come.

At least her case files were safely arranged on the highest shelves, organized by department protocol—active cases, pending reviews, and completed reports. The rest of her apartment still looked like a storage unit had exploded, boxes everywhere except for three cleared spaces: her practice area, her desk for casework, and the small table where she'd placed her family photo. Inspector Sakuraba's stern expression stared back at her from the frame, her brother's commitment to procedure evident even in a photograph.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down briefly. A notification text popped-up on the bright screen from Luffy: Saw a fish that looked like you! Want a pic? She chuckled, in his way, Luffy was still able to lighten her mood, she answered quickly, Sure, why not!

Another buzz. Sabo says you’d look even better with fins!

As she looked at the picture, the steady drip from the ceiling broke her carelessness moment.

"Not now," she muttered, placing another bucket to catch the water. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, oddly amplified by the morning stillness. Like the building was trying to tell her something.

Her phone buzzed again. Now, it wasn’t a simple text, it was an important call.

"Detective Sakuraba," she answered professionally already grabbing her jacket decorated with the oval-shaped patch of the SCU “Investigation and Justice”.

"Sea-1A at Harbour Grid H7," dispatch reported. "Captain requests SCU primary."

"Copy. Detective Sakuraba responding. ETA twenty minutes."

The harbour’s salt air hit her as she pulled up to Grid H7, department vehicles already establishing a proper perimeter. Officer Coby met her at the cordon line, his tablet displaying the initial incident report.

She arrived to find Hibari already methodically documenting the scene, her years of experience evident in how she'd positioned the evidence markers. Drake had the perimeter secured, his military background showing in the precise positioning of patrol units.

"Detective Sakuraba," she greeted formally. "Body discovered at six hours by dock worker conducting routine checks. Victim tentatively identified as Marcus Chen, former dock supervisor for Grids H7 through K3. Scene secured and CSU notified."

"Time of discovery to our notification?" she asked, signing the scene log.

"Twelve minutes, Detective. First responding officers-maintained scene integrity."

Tashigi noted the proper protocols in place—evidence paths marked, perimeter established, initial photographs taken. She pulled on scene gloves, approaching the body positioned between cargo containers.

"Detective Sakuraba," Forensic Artist Sogeking called as he arrived with the Crime Scene Unit. "Where would you like us to begin?"

"Full spectrum documentation first," she directed. "Prioritize the body position and immediate surroundings. Pay particular attention to any markings on these containers—Harbor Patrol's recent reports indicate increased gang activity in this sector."

The CSU team moved with practiced efficiency, photographing and documenting each element according to department standards. Tashigi noticed marks on a nearby container—fresh gang tags, similar to territory markers she'd documented during her time in Alabasta's Harbour Division.

"Forensic Artist Sogeking," she called. "I need detailed photos of these markings. Standard gang tag protocole."

"Detective," Officer Coby approached with his tablet. "Preliminary victim background compiled. Marcus Chen, age 42, terminated from Harbour Operations three months ago. Was under internal investigation for cargo irregularities."

Tashigi documented the information in her department notebook. "Status of the investigation?"

"Case dropped due to insufficient evidence. However," Officer Coby scrolled through his report, "he was scheduled to meet with Harbor Patrol Intelligence today at 09 hours."

"Tag that meeting time for the case file. Have Records send over the complete investigation documents." She turned back to the scene, watching CSU methodically document each element.

Officer Trafalgar from Harbour Patrol Intelligence arrived as CSU finished their initial documentation. She approached Detective Sakuraba with a department tablet.

"Detective," Officer Trafalgar greeted professionally. "Those shipping manifests you requested flagged several irregularities."

"Walk me through it."

"Three major shipping companies showing discrepancies in Grid H7." Officer Trafalgar pulled up the data. "Small variances, easily overlooked individually, but when mapped together..." She overlaid the data points, revealing a clear pattern of cargo diversions.

"Timeline?" Detective Sakuraba asked, studying the pattern.

"Increased activity started approximately three months ago, coinciding with the victim's termination."

"Detective Sakuraba," Forensic Artist Sogeking called from near the containers. "Depth analysis on these markings is complete."

The enhanced photos revealed what she suspected—recent gang territory markers, freshly carved. Standard practice when criminal organizations pushed for control of shipping routes.

"The deeper grooves are newer," Forensic Artist Sogeking indicated. "Made within the last six hours, based on metal oxidation."

"After the murder," Detective Sakuraba noted. "Document the timing in your report. We'll need it for the gang activity analysis."

Her radio crackled: "All units, suspicious activity reported at Grid K3. Multiple subjects observed."

"Detective Sakuraba to Dispatch. Show me responding to Grid K3. Request additional units for perimeter control."

"Copy, Detective. Two units en route."

"Officer Coby," she called. "Coordinate with CSU to finish scene processing. Officer Trafalgar, I need those shipping manifests forwarded to my department tablet."

Both officers acknowledged their assignments as Detective Sakuraba moved toward her vehicle. Grid K3—part of their victim's former jurisdiction. The timing wasn't coincidental.

Detective Sakuraba arrived at Grid K3 to find two patrol units already establishing containment. The officers had followed proper protocol for suspected gang activity—high-visibility positions, clear escape route coverage.

"Detective," Officer Helmepp reported. "Three dock workers reported suspicious activity near Berth 7. Fresh gang markers found, similar to those at your primary scene."

"Maintain perimeter control. No one enters or exits without proper identification and logging. Where were the new markers found?"

Officer Helmepp led her through the container maze, following proper evidence preservation protocols. The fresh markings confirmed her assessment—this wasn't random gang activity. This was a coordinated push for territory control.

"Detective," Drake approached, keeping his voice low. "I've mapped similar markings in a five-block radius. Pattern matches what Hibari documented in those cargo theft cases last month."

"Detective Sakuraba," Officer Helmepp’s radio call broke through. "Movement detected at North Exit. Subject wearing dock worker credentials."

"All units maintain positions," she responded. "Suspect has authentic ID. Approach with caution. Officer Helmepp, coordinate perimeter units for possible pursuit protocol."

A metallic scrape echoed from deeper in the grid. Following department procedure for unknown suspect contact, Detective Sakuraba drew her weapon, maintaining proper cover position.

"Water 7 Police Department," she announced clearly. "Show yourself and identify."

The suspect appeared at the container intersection—dock worker uniform, proper ID visible, but their movements suggested training beyond typical port personnel. When their eyes met, the suspect bolted deeper into the grid rather than toward exits.

"Detective Sakuraba to all units. Pursuit in progress, Grid K3 inner section. Suspect moving west, wearing port authority uniform."

"Copy, Detective. Units moving to establish containment."

She followed department pursuit protocols, maintaining safe distance while keeping the suspect in sight. Their movement pattern suggested familiarity with the grid layout—likely connected to their victim's former operations.

"Detective," Officer Helmepp's voice came through. "Second suspect identified at Grid K5. Similar dock worker uniform."

"Copy. Maintain visual contact. Units on perimeter maintain position. Do not engage without—" "

The explosion cut off her transmission, the shock wave rocking through Grid K5. Emergency lighting activated automatically as fire alarms blared across multiple grids.

"Detective Sakuraba to Dispatch. Explosion reported Grid K5. Fire Department response needed. Activate AIU protocols. Multiple containers breached."

Following critical incident protocols, she began immediate scene preservation where possible, documenting the gang's apparent attempt to destroy evidence of their operation.

Emergency protocols activated across the harbour as Detective Sakuraba coordinated the immediate response:

"All units clear Grid K5. Establish explosion perimeter. Harbour Patrol, begin water response protocol."

Through her radio came rapid status updates:

• "Fire spreading to adjacent containers, east side compromised—" Drake's precise report reflected his tactical assessment
• "Hazmat warnings on cargo units 7 through 9—" Hibari's steady voice carried years of experience
• "Harbour Patrol reports ships breaking moorings—"

"Detective Sakuraba," a familiar voice called through the chaos. Detective Portgas approached from the fire line, already in his Arson Investigation Unit gear. "Your scene just got a lot more interesting."

"You got here quickly," she noted professionally, though she allowed a slight smile at her cousin's characteristic timing.

"Had to finish my dinner first," Detective Portgas grinned, then shifted to business mode as he studied the flames. "Three-point ignition pattern. Professional work." He nodded toward her department tablet. "What've you got so far?"

She hesitated briefly, then showed him the documented gang markers. Despite their family connection, this was her first major case in Water 7, and professional procedure came first.

Thunder rolled overhead as the drizzle turned to proper rain. Emergency lights flashed across the scene as Harbour Patrol vessels moved into position. Through her radio, she could hear Officer Trafalgar coordinating water response teams.

"Want me to run point on the fire scene?" Detective Portgas offered, his tone shifting to match her professional demeanour. "AIU can handle the origin investigation while you focus on the gang connection."

"Appreciated," she nodded. "I'll need your full analysis."

"You'll have it," he confirmed, then paused before heading to his team. "Oh, and Tash? Nice work on the gang markers. Proper SCU thoroughness."

She allowed herself another small smile at the family acknowledgment before returning to scene coordination. Someone had just escalated from murder to arson, and both SCU and AIU would need to work quickly before the weather compromised their evidence.

As emergency response teams arrived, Detective Sakuraba maintained scene control, coordinating with multiple units:

• Fire Department establishing fire control zones
• Harbour Patrol securing compromised vessels
• AIU beginning preliminary fire investigation
• Patrol units maintaining expanded perimeter

The gang's escalation to arson and explosives matched known patterns—destruction of evidence when criminal operations were compromised. Their victim's scheduled meeting with Harbor Patrol Intelligence had likely forced their hand.

As emergency response teams continued their work, Detective Sakuraba completed her preliminary case notes in her vehicle, the rhythmic sound of rain against metal keeping time with her methodical documentation. The harbour’s emergency lights painted everything in alternating red and blue, reflecting off the wet pavement.

Primary Case Elements:

• Victim: Marcus Chen, former dock supervisor
• Location: Strategic harbor position, Grid H7
• Evidence: Gang territory markers, consistent with organized push for control
• Critical Incident: Grid K5 explosion, likely evidence destruction attempt
• Connected: Victim's scheduled Harbor Patrol Intelligence meeting

She glanced through her windshield at the coordinated emergency response:

• AIU investigators under Detective Portgas documenting the fire scene
• Harbour Patrol vessels maintaining water perimeter
• CSU finishing evidence collection before weather compromised the scene

The gangs had escalated from murder to arson in less than twenty-four hours. Their desperation was showing—making them dangerous, but also more likely to make mistakes.

Detective Sakuraba powered down her department tablet and started her vehicle. Tomorrow would bring lab results, AIU's fire analysis, and Harbour Patrol's complete cargo reports. For now, she had a flooded apartment waiting, and even SCU detectives needed sleep.

As she drove home through Water 7's rain-slicked streets, she mentally prepared for the next day's investigation. The gangs thought they'd destroyed evidence of their operation. Instead, they'd just confirmed SCU was looking in the right direction.

Because that's what made Special Crimes Unit different—they saw patterns where others saw chaos. And tomorrow, those patterns would start leading them to answers.

End of chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 02: Storm Lines

The gym was near silent at dawn, the only sounds the faint hum of an air vent and steady tick of a wall clock. Zoro moved through his warm-up with practiced focus, his breathing even, his mind clear. Each rep was measured, controlled—the same discipline he applied to his investigations.

The radio at the front desk crackled with early morning chatter—increased activity in Harbor Grid H7—but he tuned it out. SCU territory meant SCU problems. His focus was elsewhere: the Red Jackets had been too quiet lately, and that silence set his instincts on edge.

Three weeks of surveillance, watching their movements grow more deliberate, more precise. The gang was planning something big. He could feel it in the same way he felt the weight of each rep—a building tension waiting to break.

"Detective Roronoa," the desk attendant called out. "Call from headquarters."

Zoro finished his set before checking his phone. One missed call from Law, two text messages about suspicious movement near their surveillance point. Nothing about whatever SCU was handling in the harbour. Good. He had enough to deal with.

He finished his last set and stood up, reaching for his water bottle as he noticed the sky through the gym’s windows had darkened. Rain began to patter against the glass, a soft but persistent sound that quickly became a heavy downpour. The weather report had mentioned this storm, saying it could last several days.

“Of course,” he muttered, shaking his head as he gathered his things. His mind drifted to the break-in case, realizing that tracking gang activity around the docks in this weather might become challenging. Rain could compromise visibility, wash away evidence, and make night surveillance trickier. And CRU couldn’t afford to lose their advantage.

After he dressed up in the locker room, he headed out into the crisp morning air, putting his hood up against the downpour outside, feeling the urgency to get to work and track down the Red Jackets before the weather further complicated things.

He should have known better than to trust the city's layout at this hour. Main entrance, two corridors, Zoro thought as he stepped into the drizzling morning. Right turn at the traffic light. CRU office should be straight ahead. Years of muscle memory from patrolling these streets had ingrained the route in his mind—or so he believed.

But as his boots echoed against the wet pavement, the intersections seemed to blur, the landmarks just slightly off. He glanced back toward the gym, its faint glow already a distant memory, and recalibrated. Start over. Count the intersections this time.

When he finally reached CRU headquarters, more units were pulling into the lot, their lights flashing through the rain as they rushed toward the harbor. SCU’s case, no doubt. Not his problem. The Red Jackets were his priority.

The rain drummed against CRU headquarters' windows as Zoro stepped into the briefing room. Law was already bent over his maps, that methodical focus signaling he’d found something. The department radio crackled faintly with harbor chatter—SCU's murder investigation picking up steam.

"Found your way here on the first try?" Law asked without looking up.

Zoro ignored the jab, dropping his bag. "Update on the jewelry store?"

"Fourth break-in since last summer. Red Jackets are expanding their territory." Law's tone shifted to professional concern. "But that's not what's interesting."

Robin appeared with fresh files, her presence adding weight to Law's words. "The harbor victim was found in Red Jacket territory. With markings."

Zoro's jaw tightened. The Red Jackets weren't sloppy—if they wanted someone dead, there wouldn't be a body to find. Unless that was exactly what they wanted.

"Markings?" Zoro frowned. "What kind of markings?"

"Similar to what we've been tracking," Law said, sliding over a file. "But with a pattern we hadn't noticed before."

Robin added, "Not to mention any evidence at the docks could be compromised. SCU flagged a couple of spots near the docks where they think the gang might hit next. Patterns in markings, they say."

Zoro glanced at the carefully annotated symbols in the report. He wanted to dismiss it, but he knew Law and Robin wouldn't bring it up if they didn't see some value in it. "Alright," he muttered, "but if this doesn't give us a clear lead soon, we stick to CRU's intel. Can't afford to waste time on guesswork."

Law smirked. "Never thought I'd hear you say you're short on patience."

Zoro just shrugged, watching the rain streak down the window. "This storm won't let up, and we can't sit around waiting for it to clear. Let's see if SCU's theory holds up in the field."

Zoro flipped through the report again, noting the precise documentation and logical progression. Clean work, tactical-oriented. Exactly what CRU needed for planning.

"She's thorough," Robin observed, that slight smile playing at her lips that meant she was seeing more than she let on.

"Transferred from Alabasta," Law added. "Made quite an impression with the Haven District case last month."

"She knows what she's looking at," Zoro replied simply. "If SCU maintained this standard of work, they might actually be useful in the field."

Robin's smile deepened slightly. "High praise, coming from you."

Zoro ignored her, focusing on the case files. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more to these patterns than random graffiti. "We need eyes on the ground. Now."

"Already coordinated surveillance points," Law said, pulling up the tactical map. "Team's in position near Grid K3."

"Then let's move," Zoro ordered, already heading for the door. The rain had picked up, but they couldn't afford to wait any longer.

The docks had transformed into a maze of shadows and gleaming metal, rain hammering against containers. Through the downpour, Zoro watched the Red Jackets work beneath a flimsy tarp. Their movements were off—rushed, anxious, nothing like their usual precision.

Law's voice barely carried over the rain. "Grid K4 clear. They're bottling themselves in."

That's when the explosion rocked Grid K5.

The blast wave hit them as flames erupted skyward. Through his radio, Zoro barked orders: "Law, north route. Robin, coordinate with Harbor Patrol." Through the chaos, he caught sight of SCU's detective directing evidence preservation. Their eyes met briefly—professional acknowledgment—before each returned to their mission.

But as he tracked suspects through the container maze, those symbols nagged at him. The ones matching SCU's analysis perfectly. Maybe there was more to Detective Sakuraba's theory than he'd wanted to admit. The rain pounded harder as Zoro tracked his suspects through the maze of containers, his mind racing. The explosion wasn't random—it aligned too perfectly with the Red Jackets' pattern. But why here? Why now?

"All units, suspect heading east on Grid K6," Law's voice cut through his thoughts. "Moving to intercept."

But the gang seemed to vanish into the storm, leaving behind only fresh markings that matched SCU's analysis perfectly. Zoro studied the symbols, rain streaming down his face as he committed each detail to memory. His radio crackled with updates about containment positions, but he already knew the Red Jackets were long gone.

"Hell of a way to end a stakeout." Ace's voice carried through the rain as he approached, his AIU jacket already dark with water. He looked almost cheerful despite the weather, which somehow made Zoro's mood worse.

"Wasn't planning on giving you extra work," Zoro muttered, still scanning the area for any signs he might have missed.

"Oh please, you love making my life interesting." Ace pulled out his tablet, somehow keeping it dry despite the downpour. "Got anything for me besides a big boom?"

Zoro gestured to the markings. "Gang tags. Fresh ones. Similar to what we've been tracking."

"Yeah, saw those. Your SCU detective was quite interested in them too." Something in Ace's tone made Zoro look up sharply. "What? Detective Sakuraba's got some solid theories about territory marking patterns. Actually reminds me of your approach—you know, when you're not just charging in."

"I don't charge in," Zoro protested automatically, though his mind caught on the word 'your.' "And she's not our detective."

Ace's grin widened knowingly. "Sure, sure. On both counts. But she's good. Different method, but sharp. Might want to compare notes before this rain washes everything away."

Zoro just grunted, but he filed away the observation. If Ace was impressed—and Ace didn't impress easily when it came to investigative work—maybe there was more to Detective Sakuraba than just meticulous paperwork.

"Need to check the burn patterns," Ace said, already turning toward the smoking containers. "But Zoro? Weather's only getting worse. Might want to consider pooling resources on this one."

Zoro watched him disappear into the smoke, turning those words over in his mind. The rain was coming down even harder now, thundering against the metal containers. Somewhere in this maze, the Red Jackets were probably laughing at them all.

His phone buzzed—a message from Robin about regrouping at headquarters for debrief. But right now, he needed something stronger than coffee.

A half-hour later, Zoro stepped through the door of the Blue Tuna, shaking off his damp coat and scanning the room for familiar faces. The smell of grilled meat and spices hit him immediately, a welcome change from the rain and metal tang of the docks. Spotting his friends at their usual table, he made his way over, the tension from earlier still lingering but easing with every step.

The familiar warmth of the Blue Tuna should have been welcoming, but those harbour symbols kept flashing in Zoro's mind. Even here, surrounded by friends, he couldn't shake the feeling they were missing something crucial.

"Earth to Zoro," Luffy's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're doing that detective thing again."

"What detective thing?"

"That scary face when you're thinking too hard," Luffy grinned, already reaching for another plate.

“Don’t fry the poor two neurons you have left,” snarked Sanji crossing his legs across the table.

“Go back to the kitchen dart-brow!” Zoro snapped, dropping into his seat with a sigh.

Usopp displayed a stunned look.

"Hey, Luffy," Usopp called out, eyeing the mountain of plates. "You ordered half the menu. Who's paying for all this?"

Nami took a sip of her drink, casting a sidelong glance at Luffy. "Well, definitely not me."

Usopp snickered, leaning in. "Not surprising, coming from you, Nami."

Nami raised an eyebrow, flicking a piece of her napkin at him playfully. "Oh, please. I'm saving you all money just by being here."

"Don't know who's gonna pay," Luffy started between bites, suddenly brightening as if remembering something important, "but I know who's gonna live with us, Usopp."

Usopp froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes widening. "What?" he sputtered, looking around the table for support. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Luffy just grinned, unfazed. "My cousin's crashing at our place. Figured you wouldn't mind the company!"

Usopp looked flustered, his gaze darting between his friends as if someone would jump in to clarify. "What?"

A moment of silence fell over the table as everyone absorbed this. Then, Nami raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Wait—Your cousin?"

Sanji's eyebrows shot up. "And this is the first we're hearing about it?"

"Isn't she the one Ace, Sabo and you can't stop bragging about?" Zoro asked, vaguely remembering mentions of their cousin.

"Yeah!" Luffy blinked, then shrugged with a smile. "Guess I forgot to mention it!"

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Zoro's mind kept circling back to the case. Robin caught his eye across the table, her slight nod confirming tomorrow's priorities. Tonight was for unwinding.

The streets of Water 7 were quieter now, each step echoing against wet stone. The cool night air cleared his head, washing away the evening's warmth but leaving the case's urgency intact.

He replayed the day's events: the Red Jackets' rushed movements, those precise symbols, SCU's methodical analysis. The rain fell harder, like the harbor itself was trying to wash away their evidence. One more night of this, and anything useful would be gone.

They needed a breakthrough. And maybe—though he'd never admit it aloud—they needed SCU's approach as much as their own."

End of chapter 2

Chapter Text

Chapter 03: Common ground

The morning light filtered through unfamiliar curtains, casting strange shadows across stacked moving boxes. Tashigi blinked at her phone's alarm, momentarily disoriented before remembering—right, Luffy's apartment. Her apartment now too, at least temporarily. The ceiling didn't leak here, which was already an improvement over her old place.

A crash from the kitchen made her wince. "Sorry!" Luffy's voice carried through the apartment with far too much enthusiasm for this hour. "Don't worry, nothing broke! Well, nothing important!"

Tashigi fumbled for her glasses, wondering if she should investigate. Before she could decide, another voice rose in protest—her new roommate, the forensic artist she'd worked with just yesterday at the harbour scene. The thought made her pause halfway through packing her work clothes into her bag. It was one thing to maintain professional distance at a crime scene. It was another entirely to share a kitchen with someone who'd been documenting blood spatter patterns twelve hours ago.

"Luffy! That was my... never mind." Forensic artist Sogeking's voice carried a note of resigned familiarity with Luffy's morning chaos. "Just... try not to break anything else?"

"But I made coffee!"

"That's... that's not coffee,” Usopp’s voice seemed horrified, offended. “That's just hot water with—whatever this is."

Tashigi pulled on comfortable clothes for her commute, checking her reflection in the mirror propped against one of her boxes. Her work attire was neatly packed in her bag—the precinct locker room would be quiet this early, giving her time to change and prepare before the briefing.

When she emerged from her room, she found Usopp attempting to salvage what appeared to be a coffee-related disaster while Luffy watched with undiminished enthusiasm. Usopp glanced up, then immediately became very interested in cleaning an already spotless counter.

"Detective Sakuraba," he greeted formally. "I, uh, there's coffee, or—"

"Tea, if you have any?"

Usopp’s face brightened. “Oh! Yes, actually…” He rummaged through a cabinet, producing a tea tin. Tashigi accepted the cup with a murmured thanks, suddenly aware of how strange it felt to exchange pleasantries with someone who’d been documenting blood spatter hours ago.

"Thank you, Forensic Artist Sogeking," she replied automatically, then winced at how awkward the formal title sounded here. "I mean..."

"Just Usopp is fine," he offered quickly. "You know, since we're... here." He waved vaguely at the apartment.

"Right." Tashigi accepted the tea he prepared, both of them carefully avoiding eye contact. "And Tashigi is... fine too. Here, I mean. Not at work, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed quickly. They stood in uncomfortable silence, both suddenly fascinated by their drinks.

"You guys are weird!" Luffy announced cheerfully, somehow producing a paper bag from Sora's Diner. "Good thing I got breakfast! Sanji says hi, by the way. And something about making sure you eat properly before the big meeting!"

Tashigi nearly choked on her tea. "How did you—"

"Ace mentioned it! Well, actually he was saying something about... uh... Scu-ku and Cru-ru having to work together?" Luffy tilted his head, clearly mangling the unit names. "Or was it Screw and Crew? Well, you know the special detective people and Zoro's team!"

Before Tashigi could respond, her phone buzzed—a message from Commander Aokiji about arriving early to review evidence. She glanced at the time and grabbed her bag, grateful for the escape.

"I need to go. Thank you for the tea," she managed, then added awkwardly, "Both of you. And... yes. Good to... establish living parameters."

"Parameters," Usopp repeated faintly, still studying his coffee cup.

"Don't forget your lunch!" Luffy called after her with inappropriate cheer, followed by what sounded like another crash. "Oops! Don't worry, that wasn't your stuff!"

Before heading out, Tashigi hesitated at the door, her bag slung over one shoulder. Sharing an apartment with a colleague blurred lines she was used to keeping sharp. Would this living arrangement compromise her focus—or would it teach her something new?

Shaking the thought away, she stepped into the chill morning air.

The Investigation Wing loomed ahead, grey against the overcast sky, pulling her mind back to the job at hand. A few early-shift officers nodded as she passed, their movements carrying that pre-coffee sluggishness. But something else hung in the air today—a tension, an awareness that this wasn't just another morning briefing.

The elevator ride gave her a moment to centre herself. She watched the floor numbers tick up, mentally reviewing her evidence boards, her carefully prepared analysis. Would CRU—would Detective Roronoa—actually consider her findings? Or would this be another exercise in territorial pride?

The third floor was a sanctuary of calm, the faint hum of fluorescent lights punctuating the silence. Tashigi’s evidence boards dominated the room, each meticulously arranged to tell a story she was determined to make undeniable.

She paused in the doorway of the conference room, taking in her meticulously arranged evidence boards. Each photo, each marker, each connecting thread placed with purpose. Professional. Precise. Everything SCU stood for.

"Early as always, Detective Sakuraba." Detective Nico's voice made her turn. The CRU detective held her coffee mug with that knowing smile playing at her lips that always made Tashigi wonder how much Robin really saw.

Across town, Roronoa Zoro was already halfway through his morning workout when his internal clock told him it was time to head to the precinct. The gym was a cavern of quiet at this hour, dim fluorescent lights casting faint shadows on the gleaming floors. It was just how Zoro liked it—no distractions, no small talk, just the steady rhythm of his breathing echoing off the walls.

Zoro moved through his warm-up with practiced focus, his breathing even, his movements precise. Discipline defined him—each rep measured, controlled, just as he approached investigations. Yet even with the calm of the early hour, the nagging thought of Law's message about a morning briefing loomed in the back of his mind.

The front desk radio crackled with chatter. “Increased activity reported in Harbor Grid H7,” someone mumbled. Zoro tuned it out. SCU territory, SCU problems. His focus remained on the Red Jackets. Weeks of surveillance had proven they weren’t lying low out of fear—they were planning something. That silence felt like the tension between reps, the brief pause before the strain hit.

Finishing his routine, he grabbed his bag and stepped into the drizzling morning. “Main entrance, two corridors,” he reminded himself. “Right turn at the traffic light. CRU office straight ahead.” But as his boots tapped against the wet pavement, the intersections blurred, the city slipping into its familiar defiance of his memory.

Two wrong turns later, he was back at the gym. He stood in the rain, muttering under his breath. “Start over. Main entrance. Count the intersections this time.”

He strode onward, picking up his pace as the clock ticked down. But just as the route seemed to make sense again, a familiar voice cut through the morning fog.

"That's the third time you've passed my window," Perona called out from the doorway of Kumashi's Dream, arms crossed. "The precinct’s the other way."
Zoro grunted, adjusting his course without a word.

"Eww! Still in gym clothes. Forgot your uniforms again?" she added, tossing him a garment bag before he could argue.

He muttered something that might have been thanks, adjusted his course according to her directions, and started walking. Behind him, he heard her sigh.

"Other way!"

This time he didn't respond, but he did turn around. The precinct couldn't be that hard to find. He had at least an hour before—his phone buzzed. A message from Law: "Meeting in 20. Don't be late."

Zoro picked up his pace. He had just enough time to change and maybe grab real coffee before facing whatever SCU had planned for this joint briefing. At least he had clean clothes now, even if they came with Perona's particular brand of morning commentary.

He turned right at the next corner, then left, then... was that the same café again?

"OTHER WAY!" Perona's voice carried clearly down the street.

“SHUT UP!” He threw back at her.

Zoro finally located the Investigation Wing entrance, its looming glass doors reflecting the grey drizzle outside. Somehow, the building always seemed to shift overnight, like the city itself enjoyed watching him struggle. He had fifteen minutes before the briefing. Plenty of time.

"You're late." Law's voice greeted him before he'd even opened his locker. His partner leaned against the wall, coffee in hand, looking irritatingly awake.

"The meeting's not for fifteen minutes."

"Meeting's in five. You passed the break room clock three times before finding the stairs."

"...Shit."

"You know, if you mapped your route the way you analyse gang intel, maybe you’d get here on time." A hint of amusement crossed Law's usually impassive face. That particular tone, that way of pointing out his navigation issues—it reminded Zoro so much of someone else who took far too much pleasure in his directional challenges.

"You know," Zoro muttered, changing quickly, "you and—" He caught himself. "You and someone I know would make the perfect pair. Hell was made for people like you."

“Hell? Fine by me”, Law agreed slightly amused. 

Robin appeared in the doorway. "If you two are done discussing Detective Roronoa's navigation skills, Commander Aokiji is waiting. And Zoro—your shirt. It’s... not quite there."

Zoro looked down. “Damn it.”

"Five minutes," Law reminded him, following Robin out.

Four minutes later, Zoro entered the main conference room on the third floor, properly buttoned and only slightly lost. The room was already full—SCU team on one side, his CRU colleagues on the other, Harbour Patrol representatives including Officer Trafalgar Nami near the front. Commander Aokiji and Chief Hina stood at the head of the table, while Detective Portgas from Arsons Investigation Unit lounged near the door. And there was Detective Sakuraba, standing by her meticulously arranged evidence boards, every detail perfectly placed.

This was going to be a long morning.

"Given recent developments," Commander Aokiji began, his typically laid-back tone contrasting with the tension in the room, "this case now requires full inter-unit cooperation." He nodded toward Detective Sakuraba. "SCU, present your findings."

Tashigi stepped forward, clicking the remote to display a map overlaid with photos and pins. "The victim, Marcus Chen, was found in Grid H-7. At first glance, the markings seemed territorial, but deeper analysis reveals smuggling routes."

Tashigi stood at the front of the room, pointing to the evidence board where a map was overlaid with gang tag photos and shipping data. “The altered shipping manifests coincide with these markings. At first glance, they seem territorial, but the timing suggests something more deliberate—planned movement along less-patrolled routes.”

Detective Roronoa leaning against the table with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “Or it’s just sloppy tagging. You think these gangs plan that far ahead?”

“Some do,” she replied, unfazed. “The Red Jackets have a pattern of misdirection. They scatter tags to obscure their movements but look at these intervals.” She circled a cluster of tags with her marker, drawing attention to their placement on the grid. “They align perfectly with Harbour Patrol’s shift changes. That’s not random.”

Detective Roronoa moved closer to the map, studying the connections. Without a word, he grabbed a transparency from the table and laid it over the grid, matching tactical markers to her intervals. The patterns snapped into focus, and the room fell silent as the implications set in.

“Not bad,” the CRU detective muttered, almost to himself.

Tashigi adjusted her glasses, glancing at him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not,” he shot back, though there was no heat in his tone. “Just means you’re not wrong.”

She smiled faintly, turning back to her board. “High praise from CRU, I suppose.”

Zoro studied the screen, arms crossed. "So, these aren’t just gang tags?""No," she replied, highlighting connections between markers and shipping records. "Each marker corresponds to cargo anomalies identified by Harbour Patrol. The gang is marking shipping routes—not territory."

Law leaned forward, his expression serious. "If they’re coordinating at this scale, it’s not just gang activity. It’s a full smuggling network."

"Exactly," Detective Sakuraba said, nodding. The room fell silent again as the full implications sank in. This wasn't just about gang violence or smuggling anymore. This was about a systematic criminal network operating right under their noses, using the Red Jackets as both cover and muscle.

"Well," Ace broke the tension with a slight grin, "guess that makes this officially a joint operation."

Commander Aokiji nodded. "SCU and CRU will take point. Harbour Patrol continues monitoring shipping patterns. AIU coordinates with both units on evidence processing." He fixed both teams with a level look. "I expect full cooperation. Dismissed."

As the teams filed out of the briefing room, Ace caught up to Detective Sakuraba. He draped an arm around her shoulders with his characteristic grin, earning an exasperated but slightly amused look from her. Their conversation seemed easy with a certain familiarity.

"I'm counting on you!" he called out as he headed toward the stairs.

Law raised an eyebrow at the exchange, while Robin studied them thoughtfully. Zoro kept his focus on the tactical plans in his hands.

The evidence processing room hummed with activity as both units worked through their documentation. Tashigi found herself unconsciously tracking Detective Roronoa's movements as he studied the tactical overlay. His approach to evidence was nothing like she'd expected—less brute force, more strategic consideration. She caught herself wondering what else she'd misjudged about CRU's methods.

“The timeline progression," she pointed out, indicating a sequence of markers. "See how the intervals change when—”

Detective Roronoa leaned against the desk, watching as Tashigi adjusted her glasses for the third time in as many minutes. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting until she reached for another marker to realign a detail on the board.

"You do that a lot," he said abruptly.

Tashigi paused mid-motion, glancing over her shoulder. "Do what?"

"The glasses thing. Adjusting them. Every time you're thinking."

She blinked, momentarily thrown. "I do not."

"Sure, you don't," he said with a faint smirk.

Around them, the evidence room grew noticeably quieter. Law paused in his documentation, exchanging a quick look with Robin, while Drake suddenly became very interested in his reports.

Detective Sakuraba turned back to her work. "I suppose it's better than grimacing every time someone speaks, like you."

Zoro's smirk deepened. "That's not grimacing. That's my face."

"Well," she said dryly, "you might want to do something about that."

"Not happening," he replied, unbothered.

A soft cough that sounded suspiciously like hidden laughter came from Robin's direction. Law pretended to be absorbed in his work, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Their banter gave way to a comfortable silence as they returned to analysing the data. When Zoro suddenly tapped the map, she leaned in closer without hesitation - a small but noticeable shift from their earlier careful distance.

"Here," he said, "their patrol routes aren't just about marking territory. They're testing response times."

Detective Sakuraba followed his reasoning immediately, their thoughts aligning with surprising ease. “Which means... they’re monitoring us, too. Every move is calculated to gauge our response speed and blind spots.”

“Clever bastards,” Zoro muttered, studying the grid. His tone shifted slightly, almost as if begrudgingly impressed. “This kind of planning takes more than muscle. It’s coordinated.”

“Exactly,” she replied, highlighting additional markers. “The Red Jackets scatter tags as decoys, but the timing—look here. They’re lining up with Harbour Patrol’s shift changes.”

“Which means their smuggling operations could be built around exploiting those gaps,” Zoro added, stepping back from the board to take in the whole picture.

Tashigi glanced at him, surprised by how naturally their thoughts meshed. “You... read my harbour analysis?” she asked after a pause.

“Read all your case files after the explosion,” he admitted with a shrug. “Figured if we were stuck working together...” His tone was casual, but the unspoken approval was clear.

She adjusted her glasses, masking a flicker of satisfaction. “Your tactical assessments were... helpful too. Especially on movement patterns.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Careful. People might think you like working with CRU.”

She adjusted her glasses, hiding her faint smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

As they pored over the evidence board, Sakuraba traced the gang tags with the tip of her marker, her brow furrowed in concentration. Zoro stepped closer, the faint scrape of his boots breaking the quiet.

“You missed this,” he said, grabbing a transparency from the table and layering it over the map. The overlay highlighted a timing gap she hadn’t addressed yet.

Her head snapped toward him. “I didn’t miss it. I was going to get to that.”

“Sure you were,” he replied, his faint smirk maddening.

She shot him a withering look. “For someone who charges in without a plan, you’re surprisingly good at spotting patterns.”

“Charging in works when you know what you’re doing,” he shot back.

Then he leaned over the board again, tapping a new sequence. “If they’re this deliberate about patrols, there’s no way this stops at marking territory.”

Tashigi straightened, her gaze sharpening. “That’s it.” She quickly turned to the central table, flipping through a pile of manifests. “Every time we document Red Jacket activity, there’s a corresponding anomaly in shipping records.”

Detective Roronoa followed her movements as she spread the documents across the table, his focus sharpening. “You’re saying these tags are marking more than patrol routes.”

“They’re mapping shipment paths,” Tashigi replied, tapping on key entries. “See here? Cargo irregularities. Small enough to miss individually, but they form a pattern.”

Detective Trafalgar leaned in, his sharp gaze catching the implication. “Cargo diversions. Coordinated smuggling routes.”

“Professional operation,” Drake added. “Using gang activity as a cover.”

“That’s why the Red Jackets’ movements seemed too precise,” Detective Roronoa muttered, his brow furrowing as he traced the grid. “They’re masking something bigger.”

Detective Nico, already cross-referencing manifests with surveillance data, nodded thoughtfully. “Every movement is deliberate. They’re not just avoiding detection; they’re creating it.”

“Then we use their precision against them,” Tashigi said firmly. “We predict their next move and intercept.”

As the others dispersed to coordinate their findings, Tashigi and Detective Roronoa remained at the evidence board, refining the tactical overlay. She adjusted a marker, her fingers hovering briefly before realigning it.

“You do that a lot,” the other Detective said.

Tashigi turned, exasperated. “If this is about my glasses again—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I mean the overthinking thing. You check every marker three times.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Better than charging in blind and hoping for the best.”

“Hey,” he shot back, mock offended. “Charging in works.”

“When you’re lucky,” she retorted, adjusting another marker.

They lapsed into silence, the tension replaced by a surprising ease.

“Your attention to detail,” Detective Roronoa said after a pause, “it’s not bad.”

Tashigi stilled for a moment, then smirked faintly. “Coming from someone who reads manifests for fun, it sounds like a compliment.”

“Wasn’t a compliment,” Zoro replied, though the slight shift in his tone betrayed him.

“Figures,” Tashigi replied, her smirk widening as she turned back to the board.

“The briefing starts in five,” Detective Trafalgar called from across the room.

The green-haired man straightened, grabbing a transparency. “CRU’s tactical assessment will be ready,” he said.

“And SCU’s analysis will complement it,” Tashigi replied, a note of respect creeping into her tone.

They walked to the briefing room side by side, their unspoken synergy finally starting to settle into something productive. For the first time, Tashigi wondered if their collaboration might actually work.

The room was already buzzing when they arrived, Harbour Patrol officers seated alongside members of SCU and CRU. Commander Aokiji leaned casually against the head of the table, but his sharp gaze swept the room as they entered.

Tashigi made a beeline for her prepared evidence boards, double-checking every detail before stepping aside to allow Detective Roronoa to place his tactical overlays. He was uncharacteristically focused, his usual scowl replaced with something closer to thoughtful concentration.

Usopp sketched rapidly as the discussion began, his artistry transforming the gang markers into shipping routes. Each line revealed the hidden network they’d been chasing, a clear map that brought their analysis to life.

“Each marker corresponds to a specific type of cargo movement,” Tashigi explained, stepping forward to highlight the key points. “The victim, Marcus Chen, would have recognized this pattern from his time as dock supervisor. His death wasn’t random—it was about silencing a threat to their operation.”

Detective Trafalgar leaned forward, his sharp gaze scanning the overlay. “This isn’t just gang violence. It’s a professional smuggling operation using the Red Jackets as cover.”

Detective Nico tapped her pen against the table. “And the explosion at Grid K-5?”

“It wasn’t about destroying evidence,” Detective Roronoa said, his voice steady. “It was about creating a distraction while they moved something bigger.”

“Then they’ll try again,” Drake interjected, his military precision evident in his tone. “Same basic strategy, different location.”

Tashigi nodded. “That’s where we come in. SCU’s pattern recognition combined with CRU’s tactical response—we can predict their next move and intercept.”

The room buzzed with focused energy as both units began working in sync.

Around them, Drake and Detective Trafalgar refined tactical positions, Detective Nico and Hibari synchronized surveillance grids, and Usopp’s sketches added clarity to the plan.

This wasn’t just about solving a case. It was about proving that two distinct methods—precision and instinct—could merge into something far more effective.

And somewhere in the harbour, the Red Jackets were about to realize just how dangerous that combination could be.

Zoro smirked faintly, already stepping toward the door. “Guess we’ll see how well SCU’s theories hold up in the field.”

Sakuraba rolled her eyes but refused to rise to the bait. Instead, she adjusted her glasses and addressed the group. “All right. SCU and CRU teams, gear up and deploy. We move in five.”

The comms crackled as teams reported in from their positions. The rain had picked up, streaking down windshields and pooling in the uneven streets near the docks. Sakuraba and Zoro stood under the cover of a transport van, reviewing the final adjustments to their coordinated strategy.

“Movement at Point B,” Law’s voice cut through the static. “Two subjects matching Red Jacket protocol.”

“Timing’s too clean,” Zoro muttered. His sharp gaze met Sakuraba’s across the shared tactical map displayed on her tablet. Her fingers hovered over Grid K-5 before shifting.

“It’s staged,” Drake said from his position in the comms channel. “Diversion to pull us off.”

“The real target is Grid L-3,” Sakuraba added, already recalibrating SCU’s surveillance angles. “Law, confirm activity at L-3.”

“Confirmed,” Law replied after a moment. “Three targets. Carrying… heavy cases. Likely weapons or contraband.”

“All teams, prepare to engage,” Sakuraba ordered, her voice steady despite the rising tension. “CRU, take interception positions. SCU, maintain the diversion.”

“On it,” Zoro said, his voice cool as he adjusted his gear. “Drake, with me. Robin, cover the south approach. Law—watch their fallback route.”

“SCU adjusting surveillance angles,” Hibari confirmed. On her screen, Tashigi watched the recalibrations funnel the suspects deeper into the trap.

Rain slicked the streets as the teams moved into position, water streaking down coats and pooling under their boots. SCU monitored from elevated posts while CRU maneuvered through the narrow maze of shipping containers.

Detective Roronoa’s team moved with practiced precision. Ahead, the suspects paused, their heads swiveling as they scanned their surroundings.

“Five seconds,” Tashigi counted down in his earpiece. “Four... three…”

The suspects broke into a jog toward a waiting vehicle.

“Two... one. Go!”

Detective Roronoa’s command cut through the chaos. “Police! Don’t move!”

Two suspects froze, but the third bolted toward a gap deliberately left in the coverage.

“Runner heading south!” Detective Trafalgar snapped.

“Covering,” Detective Nico responded, already intercepting the target.

The runner darted left, only to find Hibari and Drake blocking his path. “Don’t even think about it,” Drake growled.

Within moments, the third suspect was subdued, his hands restrained.

“All suspects secured,” Detecttive Roronoa reported, his tone calm but edged with satisfaction. “Clear.”

Tashigi exhaled slowly as the last signal blinked on her grid. The operation had gone exactly as planned—a testament to the strength of their combined methods.

"Your team's tactical response was perfect," Tashigi said into her comms, meaning every word. She stepped out from her surveillance post, her presence now visible to the combined teams gathering at the scene.

"Your analysis made it possible," Detective Roronoa returned, meeting her gaze with something close to approval.

By evening, the evidence was processed and preliminary reports filed. Both teams had proved their methods could work together, even if neither would openly admit it.

Sakuraba stood near her desk, reviewing the final annotations on her case file. Despite the exhaustion tugging at her focus, there was a sense of quiet accomplishment.

Zoro approached, his steps unhurried but purposeful. He paused beside her desk, glancing at the files she was arranging. “That timing call you made,” he said, breaking the silence, “helped pin them in the alley. Clean operation.”

Tashigi looked up, surprised by the acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone even. “Your team’s tactical sweep cut off their backup routes. It was well-executed.”

Zoro gave a small nod, his expression almost thoughtful. “Not bad for SCU,” he said, though his tone carried a faint trace of humour.

Tashigi arched an eyebrow, allowing a dry smile. “Not bad for CRU, either. Though maybe next time, you’ll wait until I finish marking the evidence before charging in?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Then move faster.”

She shook her head, but her faint smile remained as she returned to her notes. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

For a moment, neither spoke, the noise of the precinct buzzing softly in the background. Zoro’s gaze flicked to her map, where her earlier analysis had proven instrumental. “You’re thorough,” he said, almost as an afterthought.

“And you’re more strategic than you let on,” she replied, glancing up briefly.

They nodded, newfound respect evident in the maintained eye contact.

“Detective Sakuraba,” Drake called from the evidence room. “Final verification needed.”

“Detective Roronoa,” Robin interrupted whatever Zoro might have said. “Transport team’s waiting.”

This was only the beginning of a partnership that could reshape their approach to every case.

At the end of the day, both teams had proved their methods could work together. SCU’s precision had complemented CRU’s instincts, forming a strategy neither unit could have executed alone.

Tashigi adjusted her evidence boards on the third floor, while Zoro, on the second, reread her pattern analysis. They carried a newfound respect for each other’s strengths, knowing their next operation would build on this collaboration.

End of chapter 3                                                                           

Chapter Text

Chapter 04: When the Cloke Strikes – part I

The joint operation with CRU had been a success, but Tashigi’s thoughts lingered on how close it had come to falling apart during the operation. She wondered if tonight would be the same—a blend of personalities and chaos.

Would the party hold together, or tumble into mayhem, much like that joint operation almost had? The question gnawed at her, even as she followed Luffy through the lively streets toward Sora’s Diner.

The restaurant stood like a beacon against the chill of the winter evening, its windows fogged from the warmth inside.  Sanji was already stacking boxes at the counter, a picture of efficiency in the familiar hum of the diner.

It wasn’t the smells of grilled meat or spiced tea that greeted Tashigi but the sight of tonight’s feast packed and ready to go.

There was something comforting about Sora’s Diner, something grounding. The worn wood floors and mismatched chairs spoke of years of stories, of people coming together and finding a moment of peace amid chaos. It was the kind of place where even strangers felt like family. For Tashigi, it felt like coming home.

She let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, allowing herself to soak in the warmth and light. Here, the weight of her professional mask could slip just a little. Just enough.

“Time for party food!” Luffy declared, making a direct line for the counter, where Sanji was waiting for them.

The blond man raised an eyebrow. “Hello to you too, Luffy. Bonjour, Tashigi,” he added, his tone softening as he turned to her.

“Hi, Sanji,” she greeted back.

“Everything’s ready,” Sanji said, eyeing Luffy with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “And yes, I made extra.”

“You’re the best, Sanji!” Luffy beamed, already reaching for one of the boxes. Before he could grab it, Tashigi intercepted smoothly, years of experience managing family’s antics shining through.

“I’ll carry those,” she said, her tone firm but warm, a side of her that rarely emerged at work. “Thank you, Sanji.”

“You’re welcome, Mademoiselle,” Sanji replied with his usual courteous flair, adding a wink for good measure.

She gave him a faint smile and added as she turned to follow Luffy. “See you tonight.”

She could already feel the shift from the structured world of work to something more relaxed. For a moment, she wondered how the evening ahead would go. Meeting Luffy’s friends was bound to be unpredictable—and perhaps a little all over the place—but maybe that was exactly what she needed after the order and routine of her day-to-day life.

When they arrived at Luffy’s apartment in the University District, Tashigi took in the state of party decorations with barely concealed dismay. Golden streamers hung at uneven angles, balloons clustered in chaotic piles, and the confetti seemed to defy any discernible pattern. Ace and Usopp’s combined effort were... enthusiastic at best.

“Don’t make it too fancy,” Luffy warned, suddenly serious as he noticed her surveying the scene. “We don’t do fancy here.”

“I know that too well,” Tashigi assured him, recalling countless family gatherings. Still, she couldn’t resist straightening a streamer here and repositioning a balloon there as she helped Usopp arrange the food table.

Later, back in her temporarily assigned room, Tashigi faced an unexpected challenge: choosing what to wear. She opted for a white pantsuit with gold details. It’s just a small gathering, she reminded herself. Family and friends.

Still, it was her first social event since moving to Water 7, and she wanted to look nice.

When she stepped out, Luffy immediately protested. “Aaw, I said no fancy!”

“Nami will be, for sure,” Usopp quipped, arching a brow as he adjusted a stack of paper plates. He turned to Tashigi with an encouraging smile. “Do you want me to do your hair?”

Tashigi tilted her head slightly at the mention of “Nami,” the name striking a curious chord. Still, she brushed the thought aside, assuming it was a common name in Water 7.

As Usopp finished braiding small sections of her hair, weaving them into an elegant yet casual style, Tashigi glanced at the clock. Her thoughts drifted. It had been years since she’d attended a gathering like this—a casual evening with friends, no work talk, no tension. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she imagined it would be... normal. Familiar. Something simple for once.

The doorbell rang just as Usopp tied off the last braid. She barely had time to appreciate his handiwork before the door opened, and her carefully constructed sense of calm teetered.

First came Officer Trafalgar Nami, her sleek dark blue dress catching the light as she swept in like she owned the place. Usopp had been right about her being fancy. Then Detective Nico Robin, exuding her usual effortless poise. Behind them, a man with electric blue hair and a floral shirt burst into the room with a laugh that seemed to fill every corner.

And then—“No way,” Tashigi muttered as Detective Trafalgar Law walked in, his sharp CRU professionalism softened by a sweater and jeans. Finally, Detective Roronoa Zoro followed, wearing a dark button-down shirt and fitted pants so different from his work look that she almost didn’t recognize him. He also wore three earings at one of his ears. Which it was quite uncommon.

What were they doing here? Tashigi’s mind raced. Her professional world, in Luffy’s chaotic living room, dressed like—like normal people?

More unfamiliar faces trailed in behind them, but she was too busy grappling with the sheer absurdity of it all.

“Lu,” she said, pulling Luffy aside discreetly, though her voice carried a hint of urgency. “You said you invited your friends.”

“Yep! And here they are!” he replied, beaming.

“They’re also my coworkers!” Tashigi hissed, her tone laced with disbelief.

“I know!” Luffy’s grin only widened, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s gonna be so fun tonight!”

Tashigi pressed her joint hands over her mouth, trying to process the news. How could he be so casual about this? Didn’t he realize what this meant—mixing her carefully kept professional life with the whirlwind of his personal world? She peeked toward the group, her stomach twisting as she caught sight of Detective Roronoa chatting with Detective Trafalgar like they’d known each other for years. How did Luffy even manage to bring everyone together like this?

Before she could unravel the thought, Ace threw an arm around her shoulder with his usual exuberance, nearly knocking her off balance. “C’mon, Tash, don’t look so serious! It’s a party!” he declared, his laugh loud enough to draw attention.

The movement caught the eyes of the others, who paused mid-conversation to glance her way. A few looked amused, others merely curious, but all of them were suddenly focused on her. Heat crept up her neck as she realized she’d become the unintended centre of attention.

Before anyone could say anything, she slipped out from under Ace’s arm and marched toward Luffy, who was already holding a precariously stacked tray of drinks.

“Put that down, Lu!” she ordered, her voice taking on the firm edge of someone used to wrangling chaos.

“No need for introductions, right?” Luffy chimed in, his grin as wide as ever. “Oh! And Tashi's our cousin!”

A collective oooh rippled through the room, carrying a mix of surprise and amusement. Some faces lit up with recognition, others with curiosity, as if they were piecing together a puzzle they didn’t realize needed solving.

“Wait,” Officer Trafalgar Nami said, turning sharply to Usopp, who suddenly became very interested in adjusting a balloon nearby. “Didn’t Luffy say weeks ago that his cousin was moving in with you guys? That cousin?” She pointed at Tashigi, whose ears immediately started to redden.

“Um…” Usopp fidgeted under the weight of everyone’s stares. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?” Nami pressed, her voice rising slightly with a mix of irritation and disbelief. “Like, I don’t know, when we were all working the harbour case together?”

“Remember all those stories about their cousin in Alabasta?” Detective Nico interjected quietly, her tone as composed as ever. “The ones Ace and Luffy kept talking about?”

“For months,” Detective Traflagar muttered, a flicker of realization crossing his face as countless dinner conversations snapped into focus. “‘Our cousin solved another impossible case!’ ‘Our cousin tracked that pattern no one else saw!’”

Nami’s eyes narrowed as the timeline clicked into place. “That was weeks ago—when Luffy told us his cousin was staying here!”

“Well…” Usopp winced, carefully edging closer to the decorations as if they offered protection. “She’s still Detective Sakuraba at work. And after that witness sketch review last month…” He trailed off, vividly recalling how she’d meticulously dissected every flaw in his forensic artwork.

“The details needed to be precise,” Tashigi defended automatically, her tone slipping into the professional sharpness she used at the precinct. She caught herself mid-sentence, exhaling slowly as her fingers brushed the edge of her glasses. “I mean… they were important for the case.”

“He almost moved out!” Luffy chimed in with his typical bluntness, earning an incredulous sputter from Usopp.

“I did not!” Usopp straightened, his tone indignant. “I just… briefly considered a tactical retreat.”

“I’m sorry,” Tashigi said quietly, adjusting her glasses with a nervous touch. “This is going to be awkward. Maybe I should go.”

“Where?” Usopp asked, his tone flat as he crossed his arms. “You live here.”

“I’m trapped here,” she replied, a hint of dry humor in her voice, her usual composure giving way to something more unguarded.

Luffy and Usopp immediately booed her melodramatically, their exaggerated reaction breaking the tension. The sound sparked laughter around the room, the awkwardness starting to dissolve.

“Hey, relax,” Ace said with an encouraging grin, his easy confidence underlined by the protective edge of an older cousin. “They’re your friends too now. No pressure.”

Tashigi sighed softly, her hand drifting to adjust her glasses again. “I’m a shy person,” she murmured under her breath, almost as if she needed to remind herself.

As the group’s laughter rose again, their attention shifting to Luffy’s enthusiastic demonstration of a questionable party game, Tashigi felt a quiet presence beside her.

"You better get used to it," Detective Roronoa murmured, his voice low enough to stay between them. "This is just the start."

She glanced up at him, startled by the comment but also by the realization she wasn't sure how to address him outside work. Detective Roronoa felt too formal for a party, but Roronoa or Zoro felt too familiar. She glanced up at him, startled by the comment but catching the faintest trace of a smirk. His tone was calm, almost reassuring, as if he understood what she wasn’t saying aloud. Before she could think of a reply, he turned back toward the group, leaving her momentarily frozen in place.

The laughter settled into a warm hum of conversation as the party found its rhythm. Nami drifted toward the drink table, efficiently mixing cocktails with practiced ease. Her eyes flicked toward Detective Sakuraba, curiosity glinting in her gaze.

“So,” Nami began casually, handing a drink to Robin, “you probably have a lot of interesting stories about these three idiots. Any embarrassing childhood moments? Weird habits?”

“If only you knew,” Detective Sakuraba replied primly, adjusting her glasses once more, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“No need for that!” Ace and Sabo protested in unison, stepping protectively between Nami and the Detective as if shielding her from interrogation.

“Now I’m curious,” Zoro remarked, his tone sharper than casual interest.

“No, you’re just looking for an excuse to mock them,” Sanji corrected, shooting Zoro a glare before turning to Tashigi with a polite smile. "Can I offer you some tea or anything else to help with all those stories you're about to spill?"

Detecttive Sakuraba chuckled, the sound soft but genuine. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, the tension of the evening starting to ease. 

Something in Zoro’s expression shifted as he watched her laugh—a light, unguarded sound he’d never heard at work. There was a warmth to it, a softness that didn’t belong in the cold precision of a precinct. This wasn’t Detective Sakuraba, all sharp angles and focus. This was someone who had clearly grown-up navigating chaos, who could laugh off Ace’s antics and counter Luffy’s energy without losing her stride. It caught him off guard, the realization that her sharpness wasn’t all she was.

“Who’s up for Pictionary?” Usopp called out, triumphantly producing a well-worn board game from one of Luffy’s overstuffed cabinets.

“Fair warning though—Tashigi’s really competitive,” he added with a sly grin.

Zoro’s brow furrowed slightly. Usopp had said her name, not her title. Tashigi. It sounded strange—too familiar, almost—but she didn’t seem to be bothered by it. She only arched an eyebrow, visibly offended by the accusation.

“I am not!” She protested, crossing her arms. The faint glint in her eye, though, betrayed her amusement.

“So, what are the stakes?” Ace asked, already rolling up his sleeves.

“No stakes,” Detective Sakuraba said firmly, though her competitive streak was starting to show. “It’s just a game.”

“Yeah, she’s totally competitive,” Usopp stage-whispered, earning another laugh from the group as they gathered around the table.

The room settled into a comfortable rhythm. Robin and Lw didn't join them but gravitated to a quieter corner for a chess match, their occasional observations on the chaos adding to the humour. Nami, naturally, claimed the role of scorekeeper, while Franky’s abstract attempts at drawing had everyone squinting and guessing wildly.

“How is that supposed to be a seagull?” Zoro asked, leaning forward to scrutinize Franky’s chaotic scribbles.

“It’s obviously a submarine,” Detective Sakuraba said at the exact same moment.

Their eyes met briefly; mutual scepticism written all over their faces. Neither looked convinced.

“Your turn,” Nami announced, holding the drawing pad out to the brunette woman with a pointed look. “And try not to make this one too technically accurate”

“Accuracy is important,” Tashigi muttered, her ears warming as she took the pad.

“Here we go,” Usopp groaned, throwing up his hands. “You guys don’t even know. I’ve played this with her before—she turns it into an art lesson.”

Detective Sakuraba shot him a sharp look. “I will take that as a compliment”

“Really?” Nami asked, half-incredulous, glancing between the two of them.

“Yes,” Usopp said with exaggerated misery. “I think I still have the sketch somewhere. It was... haunting.”

“I think I’d like to see that,” Robin remarked with a curious tilt of her head, her tone as calm as ever.

“Don’t encourage her,” Usopp pleaded, but Tashigi was already pushing her glasses up, her expression equal parts exasperated and amused.

“You still have to note my sketches, you’re the artist here”, Tashigi reminded him while she was sketching.

Zoro was quite intrigued by how naturally Usopp and “Tashigi” were talking back and forth. Zoro mentally tested the name silently, then immediately felt uncomfortable with the familiarity of it. Sakuraba was better - professional, distant. The way it should be.

As Sakuraba was finishing her drawing, she glanced between Nami and Law and asked casually, “I had a question—you two have the same family name. Are you related in any way?”

“Oh, we’re stepsiblings,” Law replied matter-of-factly, not even looking up from his chess game with Robin.

“Be sorry for me, please,” Nami said to Tashigi with mock exasperation, her tone dripping with dry humour.

 “Oh,” the brunette said simply, nodding as she processed the revelation.

Law’s brow lifted slightly, catching the tone. “Wait, are you actually sorry for her?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

“No, no, no!” Sakuraba blurted, her voice a touch too panicked. She thrust her drawing forward, holding it up as a distraction. “Here—guess what it is!”

The group leaned in, speculating loudly, but Tashigi caught movement in the corner of her eye. She turned just in time to see Detective Roronoa suppressing a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as he leaned against the back of his chair.

She shot him a pointed glare, which only seemed to amuse him further.

Tashigi hands the drawing pad to Officer Trafalgar with a sigh of relief, though her expression softens when Luffy starts guessing wildly, completely missing the point of her sketch. She wasn't sure how to call the red-header woman either. 

“You’re terrible at this,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Franky eagerly takes the pad next, launching into his “masterpiece,” and the room dissolves into chaotic speculation.

“It’s a bridge!” Luffy shouted confidently, throwing his arms in the air.

“It’s a guitar,” Usopp countered, squinting at the jagged lines. “Or maybe a really weird boat?”

“It’s clearly a pineapple,” Officer Trafalgar said with a roll of her eyes.

Detective Roronoa, leaning against the wall nearby, finally spoke up, his voice dry. “It’s suffering. That’s what it is.”

Tashigi blinked, startled by the unexpected comment. A second later, she found herself suppressing a laugh.

Across the room, Franky gasped, clutching at his chest. “How dare you insult my artistic vision!”

“Just calling it like I see it,” the green-haired man muttered, but the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth didn’t go unnoticed by Tashigi. She glanced at him again, her brow furrowing. For someone so reserved, he had a surprisingly sharp sense of humour.

The night continued like this, professional boundaries softening with each round of games and shared stories. Even Zoro found himself relaxing, his usual guarded demeanour slipping in the face of the casual atmosphere—or perhaps it was the sight of Detective Sakuraba thoroughly demolishing everyone at Pictionary, all while stubbornly denying being competitive.

Throughout the evening, the others found themselves readjusting their image of Sakuraba. Robin watched with quiet amusement as the young woman effortlessly intercepted another of Luffy’s snack raids. Law noted how her usual meticulous analysis translated into a ruthless domination of board games, while Nami was thrilled to discover someone who could match her in strategic thinking.

Even Sanji, who had only known her as a reserved and polite customer at Sora’s Diner, caught new glimpses of her personality as she exchanged wry observations with Sabo about their family’s chaotic gatherings.

As midnight approached, the party shifted into smaller clusters scattered around the apartment. Tashigi found herself observing her colleagues in a different light. Detective Roronoa in particular, surprised her—not just with how easily he laughed or bantered, but also how quickly he grew exasperated with Luffy and Nami’s antics. She hadn’t imagined seeing this side of them, the professional edges softened into something much more human.

The noise of the party shifted into scattered conversations and bursts of laughter. Tashigi leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as smaller groups formed around the apartment. It was strange—seeing her colleagues and family so at ease in a way she’d never seen at work.

She sipped her tea, her gaze drifting toward the sofa, where Detective Roronoa and Ace were in the middle of a heated arm-wrestling match.

“C’mon, Zoro, don’t hold back now!” Ace challenged, his grin wide and competitive.

“I don’t know,” Zoro said lazily, tightening his grip on Ace’s hand. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your little cousin.”

Tashigi narrowed her eyes. “I’m not little,” she muttered under her breath, though neither man heard her.

“Big talk for someone who barely beat me last time,” Ace shot back, but the spark of amusement in his eyes said he was enjoying himself.

Their match ended with Detective Roronoa slamming Ace’s hand onto the table in one swift motion, drawing a round of laughter and exaggerated groans from those watching.

“Guess you’re buying the next round,” Detective Zoro said, his smirk widening.

Tashigi tilted her head, studying him. At work, he was direct and gruff—someone who didn’t waste words or time. But here, he seemed almost... at ease. Relaxed. It was a side of him she wasn’t used to see, and it left her wondering how much else she’d missed.

A burst of laughter from the other side of the room pulled her attention back to the broader party. Luffy was balancing a paper plate precariously on his head while Officer Trafalgar tried (and failed) to stop him from adding a second one. The group had settled into their usual rhythm of playful chaos, the buzz of chatter and laughter creating an odd sense of comfort.

Tashigi shifted her stance, leaning against the arm of the sofa just as Sabo plopped down beside her, looking far too relaxed for someone who’d just refereed an impromptu argument between Franky and Usopp.

“So, any updates on your apartment?” Sabo asked, sprawling onto the sofa with a casual air.

“Well…” Tashigi sighed heavily, sinking a bit into the sofa as her frustration seeped into her voice. “The landlord doesn’t even have the proper rights or authorizations to rent those apartments. It’s a mess. So, I guess I’m stuck here for a while.”

She paused, her tone sharpening. “And don’t get me started on the water damage. I almost lost my swords to the humidity.” Her gaze flicked toward Luffy, narrowing slightly. “They’re not exactly safe here either—with you around.”

“I’m precious!” Luffy declared, puffing out his chest indignantly.

“You meant cautious?” Tashigi corrected, deadpan.

“Whatever that means, yes,” Luffy said with a wide grin, as though he’d just won the argument.

“You’re not,” Tashigi retorted flatly, earning a round of laughter from those nearby.

Zoro's head turned sharply at the mention of swords. His usual impassive expression faltered, replaced with something closer to curiosity. He'd never expected Sakuraba to share his interests—and perhaps, he thought, there was more to her than her meticulous professionalism.

“Hey!” Nami piped up, suddenly appearing beside them with the calculating look Tashigi recognized from Harbour Intelligence briefings. “My roommate’s leaving next month. The apartment’s closer to the precinct, no leaky ceilings, and most importantly proper storage for your swords.”

"You have swords?" Detective Roronoa blurted before he could stop himself, his usual detached expression slipping for a moment.

"She's obsessed with them," Ace grinned, leaning back with an air of triumph. "You should see her maintenance routine."

“It’s not an obsession—it’s proper preservation,” Detective Sakuraba corrected automatically, her voice slipping into the same professional tone she used during evidence reviews. Realizing it, she quickly adjusted, adding, “I mean… they’re historical pieces. They need specific care.”

“Oh, yes, like someone else we know,” Robin said quietly from the chess corner, her smile sharp enough to make Zoro glance away, uncomfortable.

“I’m not obsessed either,” Zoro muttered defensively, turning his back on the conversation a little too quickly.

Tashigi raised an eyebrow at his reaction, unable to stop the smile forming on her lips. There was something oddly satisfying about the way he retreated. Shaking it off, she turned her attention back to Officer Trafalgar.

“Why is your roommate moving?” Tashigi asked, steering the conversation into safer territory.

“Let’s see,” Nami began, counting off on her fingers. “Not paying rent on time, never did groceries, don’t even get me started on the chores. Not a good roommate—I asked her to leave.”

“She owns her apartment,” Usopp whispered conspiratorially, pointing a thumb at his friend.

“You’ll never have that kind of problem with me,” Tashigi said quickly, hope creeping into her voice. “I’d be exemplary.”

“Well, if we’re going to be roommates,” Nami said with a sly grin, “we might as well use our first names, Tashigi.”

Tashigi opened her mouth, processing how to respond. The idea felt both foreign and strangely inviting. After a beat, she gave in, offering a small nod. “Sure—Nami.”

The word felt oddly unfamiliar as it left her lips, like a piece of unfamiliar armor she wasn’t sure fit. Names weren’t just names, she realized—they were bridges, steps toward something more personal. And this group didn’t seem to hesitate when crossing them.

“FIVE MINUTES!” Usopp called out, waving his arms like a conductor in a storm. The room’s chaos didn’t so much as wobble in his direction.

Nami’s businesslike smile widened. “The apartment also has a proper ventilation system. Perfect for sword maintenance.”

From his spot by the window, Zoro made a sound that might have been a scoff, though he kept his back turned firmly to the conversation.

“And the rent?” He heard ”Tashigi” asked cautiously. Nah, still wasn’t it.

“We can discuss terms later,” Nami replied with a casual wave, her tone too smooth to be reassuring. Behind her, Usopp winced sympathetically.

“THREE MINUTES!” Ace called out, throwing an arm around Sabo and grinning at Sakurabai’s increasingly flustered expression.

The room shifted into countdown preparation, the energy rising. Sanji expertly handled champagne distribution, weaving through the crowd while dodging Luffy’s enthusiastic attempts to “help.” Robin joined her husband, slipping her delicate hand into Franky's as she quietly observed the chaos. Law lingered near the edge of the group, his posture hinting at a readiness to retreat if things became too loud or chaotic.

Usopp stood ready with a confetti cannon and serpentine streamers, looking almost alarmingly prepared for the impending midnight moment.

“ONE MINUTE!” Luffy’s voice drowned out every other sound, impossibly loud and brimming with excitement.

Tashigi glanced around, realizing she was standing in the middle of the group—surrounded by these people who, she noted with a small start, might actually be becoming her friends. Even Zoro had drifted closer, leaving his usual post by the window to stand at the edge of the group.

"TEN!" Luffy shouted, the countdown beginning with his characteristic volume and enthusiasm.

"NINE!" The others joined in, some with enthusiasm (Ace, Franky), others with restraint (Robin, Law).

"EIGHT!" Tashigi found herself counting along, swept up in the infectious energy.

“SEVEN!” Zoro’s voice joined unexpectedly, low but unmistakable in the chorus.

“SIX!”
“FIVE!”
“FOUR!”

Ace and Luffy were practically vibrating with excitement, their energy a force of nature all its own.

“THREE!”
“TWO!”
“ONE!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The explosion of noise and movement that followed was pure Luffy—loud, joyous, and utterly unstoppable. Laughter and cheers mixed with confetti and streamers, and Tashigi found herself smiling at the chaos. Somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn’t mind.

Looking around at these people—her colleagues, her family—the professional lines that had once seemed so solid now felt softer, blurred by shared laughter and trust. The rigid roles they all played during the day seemed to melt away here, replaced by something warmer, something human. For the first time since moving to Water 7, she didn’t feel like an outsider navigating unfamiliar waters. She felt, finally, like she belonged.

Her attention drifted toward Detective Roronoa, who was leaning against a chair, seemingly detached from the ongoing chatter. But as she watched, she noticed the subtle ways he moved through the room. When Luffy knocked over a stack of chips, Roronoa caught the drink before it could tip, muttering something about “cleaning up after idiots.”

It was so subtle that no one else seemed to notice, but Tashigi did. Her brow furrowed as she watched him from across the room. Roronoa wasn’t just watching the chaos unfold—he was managing it, quietly and instinctively. Adjusting the table, catching a falling drink, making sure Detective Nico’s seat didn’t wobble—it wasn’t the kind of attentiveness she expected from someone so gruff and seemingly detached. Was this the same man who argued over paperwork deadlines and dismissed office pleasantries with a grunt? The contradiction intrigued her, though she couldn’t decide if it made him more infuriating or more fascinating.

She pushed her glasses up, frowning slightly as she continued watching him. How much of that went unnoticed at work, she wondered?

As the party buzzed on, the drink table slowly emptied of beer bottles and cocktail mixers. Amid the chaos of scattered games and laughter, Sanji reappeared with a tray, balancing a teapot and a small assortment of cups.

“For the more refined tastes,” he declared, setting the tray down with a flourish.

Tashigi’s eyes lit up. “Tea?”

“Cherry blossom,” Sanji confirmed. “Figured you might need a break from all this—” he gestured vaguely toward the room, where Luffy was attempting to juggle balloons with little success.

She chuckled softly, reaching for a cup as Sanji poured. The aroma alone was enough to soothe her frayed nerves. “You always know just what’s needed.”

“Natural talent,” Sanji replied smoothly, his grin widening as he turned to offer a cup to Nico Robin.

Across the room, Roronoa gave the scene a sideways glance.

“What?” she asked, catching his look.

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just didn’t think tea was a party drink.”

“It’s not,” Tashigi replied, taking a deliberate sip. 

Roronoa rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Whatever. Just don’t let Sanji talk you into trying those cakes. They’re overloaded with sugar.”

“You don’t like sweets?” Tashigi asked, genuinely curious.

“Nope,” he said flatly. “Never have.”

“Not even chocolate?”

“Especially not chocolate.”

Tashigi raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. “That explains the permanent scowl Roronoa.”

Before Zoro could respond, Sanji cut in with a dramatic sigh. “Such an uncultured palate. It’s a tragedy, really.”

“Some of us don’t need sugar to enjoy life Sakuraba,” Zoro shot back, ignoring the pastry Sanji slid in his direction.

Tashigi took another sip of tea, her smile widening. “A little sweetness can take the edge off, you know.”

For a moment, Zoro seemed caught off guard by the comment. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way she said them, casual and confident, like she wasn’t afraid to call him out. He huffed, unsure whether to be irritated or amused, and turned back toward the chaos with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

End of chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 05: Familiar Tides

Two months had passed since the New Year’s Eve gathering.

Tashigi sat cross-legged on the couch, a case file balanced on her lap, her glasses slipping down her nose. And she had moved in with Nami for almost a month now, and while the apartment was a vast improvement over her previous leaky ceiling, the familiar knot of frustration tightening in her chest had nothing to do with living arrangements. The case—a homicide with little to no solid leads—was becoming an obsession she couldn't quite shake.

Her damp hair clung to her neck, still wet from a hurried shower, and a blue bath towel was wrapped snugly around her. Papers were spread haphazardly across the coffee table, her pen tapping rhythmically against one of them—a steady beat of distraction.

The door clicked open, and Nami stepped inside, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion as she tossed her bag onto the nearby chair. “You should go to sleep,” she said, her voice half a suggestion, half a plea.

“Hmm,” Tashigi murmured without looking up, her eyes still glued to the file. Her mind churned through the details, turning them over like a puzzle missing its most vital piece.

Nami sighed, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. “You know that’s not a real answer. How long have you been at this?”

“Days,” Tashigi admitted, finally glancing up. She exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of her neck. “Maybe you’re right. My head’s totally empty—I’m not coming up with anything.”

Nami sighed sympathetically as she shrugged off her jacket and hung it up. “You should dry your hair properly too.”

Tashigi blinked, startled, and reached up to touch her damp hair. “Oh… yeah. Right.” She gave a weak smile, her exhaustion catching up to her.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Nami said, already heading for the bathroom. “Use the hairdryer first before you fall asleep like that.”

“Got it,” Tashigi mumbled, dragging herself off the couch. Her mind still felt foggy, like gears grinding without traction.

As she reached for her phone on the coffee table, it buzzed with a new message:

Tashigi nodded, finally setting aside the file that had consumed her evening. Her phone buzzed with a message from Luffy: Found cool sword shop for my tour tomorrow! Coming to get you after work! followed immediately by be sure to be free!

"Speaking of work," Nami called from the bathroom, "Law mentioned something about you pulling double shifts this week. You're almost as bad as him with the overtime."

"It's not overtime," Tashigi protested weakly, gathering her scattered papers. "It's just... thorough investigation."

"Right," Nami drawled, her voice carrying clearly over the sound of running water. "And I suppose those bags under your eyes are just thorough exhaustion?"

Tashigi touched her face self-consciously, catching her reflection in the window. She did look tired, the kind of bone-deep weariness that came from too many late nights piecing together patterns that refused to align.

“The victim’s family deserves answers,” Tashigi said quietly, more to herself than Nami.

The water shut off abruptly, and Nami’s head poked around the bathroom door, her expression unexpectedly serious. “They do,” she agreed. “But they deserve a detective who’s sharp enough to find those answers. You can’t help anyone if you burn yourself out.”

The words hit closer to home than Tashigi wanted to admit. She’d seen it happen before, back in Alabasta—good detectives pushing themselves too hard, missing crucial details because exhaustion had dulled their edge.

“You sound like Law,” she said instead, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in Nami’s words.

“Please never say that again,” Nami retorted, disappearing back into the bathroom. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

Despite her fatigue, Tashigi found herself smiling. Living with Nami was… different. Not just from sharing space with Luffy and Usopp, but from any roommate situation she’d experienced. There was a directness to Nami that cut through Tashigi’s tendency to get lost in her own head.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts. Another message from Luffy: Maybe we can invite Zoro! He likes swords too!

Tashigi’s fingers hovered over the screen, uncertain how to respond. She remembered his unexpected interest when she’d mentioned her collection at the party. That brief moment when his usual gruff demeanour had shifted at the mention of historical pieces. It had been a small thing, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but...

“Oh, that’s an interesting expression,” Nami’s voice made her jump. She hadn’t heard her roommate finish her shower. “Something about work?”

“What? No,” Tashigi fumbled with her phone, trying to look casual. “I was just… wondering if Detective Roronoa—I mean, Zoro—really is interested in swords. Luffy just said he likes them, so…”

“Oh?” Nami’s face grew thoughtful. “Well, what can I say? It’s Zoro. He loves swords. He practices, too.”

“He practices?” Tashigi interrupted before catching herself. “Continue,” she added, regaining her composure.

Nami let out a genuine smile. “He also has a collection. My nerdy friend has found another nerdy friend, it seems.”

Tashigi lightly shook her head, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t sure if she and Zoro could be called friends yet, but she had to admit they shared a common interest.

That night, as Tashigi finally closed her case file and let herself sleep, her mind lingered on Nami’s words. It wasn’t just exhaustion clouding her thoughts—it was also the subtle realization that perhaps she had more in common with her CRU colleague than she’d first assumed.

The precinct buzzed with its usual morning energy, a steady hum of voices and ringing phones as officers prepared for their shifts. Tashigi adjusted her glasses, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, as she scanned her morning briefings. The case still loomed heavy in her mind, but a full night’s sleep had cleared some of the mental fog.

"Detective Sakuraba," came a familiar voice behind her. Tashigi turned to find Zoro, his usual relaxed posture somehow fitting even in the chaos of the precinct. He held a tactical report in one hand, his other resting casually on his belt.

"Detective Roronoa," she acknowledged, her tone automatically shifting to professional mode. "Working the Tourist Ghost case?"

He nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the report. "Been tracking a pattern of incidents along the tour routes. Tourists vanishing for hours, then reappearing with no memory of where they've been."

The mention of tour routes sent a jolt through her memory—Luffy's message about the sword shop. As Roronoa scanned the tactical report, her gaze lingered on his calm demeanour. She opened her mouth to mention Luffy's plans, but the rising commotion at dispatch snapped her attention away.

The room's usual background hum of voices spiked into urgent radio chatter. Officers clustered near the central desk as multiple calls flooded in:

"Dispatch to all units. Sea-1D (active hostage situation) in progress, Grid F3. Multiple civilians held. Tide-2 High, suspects armed and present."

"Wave-2A units responding. Wave-1B (officers need immediate assistance) requested for tourist zone containment."

Her heart stopped. Grid F3. Luffy's route.

Tashigi activated her radio, following department protocol: "SCU Detective Sakuraba responding to Sea-1D. Requesting tactical support and Harbour Patrol coverage for water exits."

Behind her, Roronoa's voice cut through with practiced efficiency: "CRU Detective Roronoa, coordinating tactical response. All Wave-2A units establish perimeter points according to Protocol 7."

She glanced back as CRU officers mobilized. Zoro’s focus was sharp, his earlier relaxed demeanour replaced by the intensity of a man who lived for tactical precision. Their gazes met briefly, and though neither spoke, the unspoken acknowledgment was clear: SCU and CRU would both be in the field, operating within their jurisdictions but keeping each other in sight.

Tashigi pushed through the precinct doors, her mind already mapping out tactical priorities. The chatter from dispatch had only grown louder as more details trickled in: a tourist group taken hostage in Grid F3, gang involvement suspected, and civilians reported injured.

She tightened her grip on her radio, her pulse quickening. Luffy. Her cousin’s name echoed in her thoughts, sharp and insistent, but she forced herself to lock it away. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now.

“Team Two, secure the perimeter,” she instructed sharply into the comms as she joined her SCU unit near the transport vans. Her voice was steady, even as her heart raced. Be Detective Sakuraba. Not Luffy’s cousin.

Across the street, she spotted CRU mobilizing. Roronoa stood at the centre of his team, the tactical map projected on a handheld tablet. His posture was casual as ever, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the data with precision. He glanced up briefly as their units moved in tandem, his gaze catching hers for a fraction of a second.

Tashigi didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge him. She had a job to do. But the flicker of something in her expression—tension, worry—didn’t go unnoticed.

She pushed forward with her team, leading the charge to secure the immediate area around the hostages. Tactical markers were placed along the route, and her sharp commands kept her unit moving efficiently despite the chaos.

Through the radio chatter, she caught snatches of CRU’s comms: Roronoa’s measured instructions directing his team to sweep the adjacent alleys, blocking potential escape routes for the gang. She didn’t have time to engage, but she couldn’t deny the relief she felt knowing his team had the perimeter locked down.

"Team Three, cover the southeast corridor," she ordered as her unit advanced. The familiar map of the district filled her mind. Southeast corridor... Luffy.

Then the call came through: "Sea-1D with Sea-1C-civilian confirmed (hostage situation with civilian injury). Injured civilian in southeast sector. Medical requested." Her breath caught, but her training kept her moving.

"Copy," she said, her voice steady despite the storm building in her chest. "Team Three, reroute and assist."

She forced herself to focus. Be Detective Sakuraba. Not Luffy's cousin. Minutes later, as the situation began to de-escalate, she spotted the paramedics arriving. The sight of black hair and a familiar grin stopped her mid-step. Luffy was being loaded onto a stretcher, his carefree expression completely at odds with the blood streaked across his arm.

Her chest tightened. For a brief moment, the edges of her control wavered. This is why I told him to stay away. The thought burned, sharp and unforgiving. She clenched her fists and forced her focus back to her team. She couldn’t afford to fall apart—not now.

CRU’s officers held tight to the alleyways, blocking potential exits while maintaining radio silence to avoid disrupting SCU’s delicate hostage negotiations. Zoro’s measured gaze flicked between his team’s positions and the tactical map, every movement calculated to keep the situation contained without stepping on SCU’s jurisdiction.

From his position in an adjacent alley, Zoro watched SCU move with precision, clearing the area around the hostages. His team had already swept nearby gang hideouts, ensuring none of the suspects escaped. Despite his focus on CRU’s objectives, his gaze occasionally flicked toward the SCU officers.

When paramedics arrived, his attention shifted to the injured civilian they were assisting. The familiar shock of black hair made him frown. Luffy. He glanced back at Sakuraba just in time to see her falter. For a moment, her mask of professionalism slipped. Her expression flickered with something raw—fear, anger, guilt——but then she reset, her next command sharp and controlled.

He didn't comment, but something about the moment stuck with him as CRU continued their sweep.

"Sir?"

"Keep sweeping the sector," he simply replied, turning back to his team. Still, the moment lingered in his mind. He'd seen officers lose their cool under personal pressure, and for a second, he'd thought she might too. But she didn't.

As the situation stabilized, the evidence processing room hummed with activity as both units completed their post-incident documentation. Tashigi focused on her Sea-1D report, noting each tactical decision and response time according to department requirements. The incident would need full documentation - not just for the case file, but for future training scenarios.

"Detective Sakuraba," Drake appeared with a tablet. "Harbor Patrol's confirmed no water exit attempts. Full Wave-2A logs are ready for your review."

As she leaned against the transport van, her gaze drifted to Roronoa. His stance was as steady as always, but the faint nod he gave her carried an understanding she hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, they were starting to see each other for who they really were.

She returned the gesture without hesitation, a flicker of understanding passing between them.

Back at her office, Tashigi sank into her chair, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. The precinct buzzed around her, the usual hum of voices and ringing phones blending into a dull, faraway noise. Everything felt distant, muffled.

She stared blankly at the incident report in front of her, the words blurring together as her mind replayed the day’s events.

Luffy’s grin. The blood. The too-close gunfire.

Her fingers tightened around the pen in her hand until her knuckles turned white. The guilt weighed heavy, pressing down on her chest. I should’ve been faster. He shouldn’t have been there. The thoughts circled endlessly, each one sharper than the last.

“Detective Sakuraba.”

The voice startled her, pulling her abruptly from her spiral. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Detective Roronoa,” she said quietly, forcing her tone to remain even.

“You’re going to snap that pen in half,” Roronoa remarked, leaning casually against the edge of her desk. His posture was relaxed, his sharp gaze was anything but fixed squarely on her.

She let out a shaky breath and set the pen down, though her hands still trembled slightly. “I’m okay,” she murmured.

“You’re not okay,” he replied bluntly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. “Beating yourself up over something you can’t control doesn’t help anyone.”

Her jaw tightened, her composure cracking at the edges. “If I’d… if I’d planned better—” Her voice wavered despite her best efforts, her eyes locking onto his.

“You can’t plan for everything,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “You did your job. And Luffy’s fine. Let it go.”

She looked away, blinking hard as the sting of tears threatened to spill over. “It’s not that easy,” she said quietly.

“No, it’s not,” Rorona admitted, crossing his arms. “But you don’t get to carry all of it. Not if you want to keep doing this job.”

His words cut through the swirling guilt in her mind. She exhaled shakily, finally meeting his gaze.

“I guess so,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, leaning back in his chair. “Anytime.”

After a beat, Tashigi added, trying to lighten her tone, “Luffy wanted to take us to a sword shop in the area. I guess it can wait.”

“A sword shop?” Roronoa repeated, his mood lifting slightly.

“He said you like swords too,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “And Nami mentioned you practice.”

“Are you leading an investigation on me now?” The green-haired man asked, a flicker of amusement creeping into his voice.

“Not unless you’re using your swords illegally,” she countered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Roronoa snorted, caught off guard by her quick response. “I’m curious, though—what kind of swords do you have?”

“A Shigure replica,” she said, her tone softening with pride. “And a few others. My grandfather was a collector. I’d love to get my hands on a true Shigure one day.”

He leaned forward slightly, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “A Shigure, huh? You keep it polished?”

“Of course,” she replied, her eyes lighting up. “A sword deserves respect, even if it’s not being used.”

He nodded slowly, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Maybe you’re not so bad, Detective.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time all day, the weight on her chest felt just a little lighter.

“What do you have, Detective?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Zoro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Three swords, but they’re not just for display. They’re functional.”

Sakuraba raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Functional? Do you actually use them?”

He smirked. “I practice regularly. Keeps me sharp. Nami told you that.”

“She did,” she admitted, adjusting her glasses. “But she didn’t say much beyond that. What kind are they?”

“They’re unique,” Zoro said, his tone softening slightly. “One’s a Wado Ichimonji.”

Sakuraba gasped, it was quite amusing to see. “That’s so unfair! Do you know how rare a blade like that is? The craftsmanship alone—” She stopped herself, realizing she was starting to ramble, and leaned forward slightly, her interest still genuine. “And the others?”

“Sandai Kitetsu and Shusui,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of pride. “Both forged with precision, though they’re… a little temperamental.”

“Temperamental?”

“Let’s just say they have personalities,” he said cryptically.

Sakuraba chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Sounds like you have your hands full.”

“They’re worth it,” Zoro replied. “A good sword is more than a tool—it’s a partner.”

She smiled faintly at that, her earlier tension easing. “I’d like to see them sometime. Maybe even spar. What do you think?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Think you could keep up?”

“Only one way to find out,” she said, her tone lighter now.

Later that evening, after the precinct had emptied and the hum of the day had faded, Tashigi sat on her couch at home, flipping through a case file. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with an unknown number.

The message was simple:

Unknown: Got your number from Nami. Figured you’d want to see this.

Attached was a photo of a sword, its white hilt and sheath gleaming under the light. The tsuka-ito (hilt wrapping) was pure white, matching the saya (scabbard), with an elegant circular tsuba (hand guard) featuring a cross-like design.

Tashigi stared at the image for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. Of course, it was him.

Tashigi: Wado Ichimonji?

Rorona: Yeah. Thought you’d appreciate it.

Tashigi: I do. It’s… impressive. Thanks for sharing.

After a pause, another message appeared:

Roronoa: If you’re serious about sparring, say when.

Tashigi couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips as she typed back.

Tashigi: Don’t think I’ll forget.

She set the phone down, the weight of the day feeling just a little lighter.

End of chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Shifting Tides

Steam rose from plates of perfectly seared fish and grilled vegetables as Sanji placed them on the worn wooden table at his home. The warm lights glowed behind the fogged windows, casting a cozy glow over the private gathering.

"Try not to inhale it this time, Luffy," Sanji warned, though his tone carried more affection than annoyance. "Some of us actually like to taste our food."

“I like tasting mine too”, Luffy assured with such confidence no one would be able to question it.

Ace rolled his eyes, casually reaching over to stop his brother from grabbing a second roll before anyone else had started eating.

"Oh, by the way!”, Nami started, stirring her drink, "any updates on the Ghost case?"

"This week alone we've had three new cases," Robin noted, setting down her fork with characteristic precision. "All tourists along the harbour routes."

"Yeah," Luffy swallowed his bread, focused on what to eat next. "They’re weird lately, booking and disappearing out of nowhere from the tour.”

"Any ideas about the target?" Law asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Oh, mostly foreigners," Luffy replied, counting on his fingers. "The rich ones. The kind carrying expensive stuff.”

“They might be really prepared,” Zoro added, his thoughts on all the clues he had.

Then suddenly, Usopp gasped. All heads turned to him.

“Where’s Tashigi? She said she gonna show me a book!”

"Meeting someone about the case," Nami revealed, curious now. “What kind of book?”

“About art, you would not understand”.

Nami narrowed dangerously her eyes at him.

“Actually, it isn’t about the case”, A grin spread across Ace's face.

“What did you do?” Sabo sighed and asked, anticipating the answer.

"Well, this new detective from my unit was very interested last time we work on a case together, and he couldn’t shut up about her. He’s nice, so why not” Ace simply shrugged.

“Woah” Sabo started, “she’s going to kill ya”.

“I know”, Ace whispered dramatically.

Zoro's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth, but before he could comment, his phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen, a text from his dad: Sorry, can't make it to the exhibition. Something came up. He stared at the message for a moment, his expression unreadable. Right, something always came up.

He flipped the phone facedown and picked up his drink, his jaw tightening just slightly. Beside him, Nami nudged his arm. "Your face just did something weird. What's wrong?"

Zoro shrugged, his voice steady. "Nothin'. Just replanning my schedule."

As the evening wound down, Sanji began his meticulous cleanup routine while the others gradually dispersed. Nami lingered at the counter, sharing a quiet conversation with Sanji over something that made them both laugh.

Zoro looked at them suspiciously. "Are you talking about me?"

"I would not annoy Nami talking about your ugly face," Sanji retorted.

"You're not the centre of the world," Nami added, then turned to Sanji with a softer expression. "Call me next time, ok?"

"I will, Nami Dear," he assured her.

As she left, Zoro frowned at the departing figure. "Why is she always the one who doesn't clean up?"

"Mind your own business, stupid Marimo!" Sanji declared, falling into their familiar pattern. "And help me dry the dishes!"

"You're really the prince of idiots!"

While they bickered, Sabo turned to Ace with a knowing look. "I know another idiot here."

Ace checked his phone and winced. "Tashigi just sent an angry text."

"Yeah, you searched for that," Sabo replied, unsympathetic to his brother's predicament.

Ace's phone buzzed again, making him sink lower in his chair. "Maybe I should stay at your place tonight..."

“No, I don’t want her to think I’m your “accomplice”.

Tomorrow would bring consequences, but for now, the warm lights of Sora's Diner held them all in this moment of friendship, laughter, and the occasional terrible decision.

Zoro held up the photo under Dr. Syrup Kaya's bright office lights, studying the strange bruising pattern visible in the image. "See how it forms this circular shape? All three victims had similar marks."

Dr. Syrup adjusted her glasses, her usually gentle expression sharpening with professional focus. "And look at the tissue damage here." She traced the edge of the bruise with her pen. "The darkening suggests repeated application of pressure, but the pattern is too precise to be random."

"Like something was attached to them?" Zoro focused on the photo, trying to understand the meaning behind it all.

"Exactly." She pulled up another image on her tablet. "The placement is consistent too - always on pressure points or major blood vessels. Someone knows exactly where to put these... whatever they are."

"Medical knowledge," Zoro mused, his jaw tightening. "Professional."

"I hope you're not admiring their techniques," she said with a slight smile, then added more seriously, "or someone trained by professionals."

Before Zoro could respond, Law appeared in the doorway, his usual calm demeanour slightly off. "Found something in the shipping manifests. You're going to want to see this."

Back at their desks, Law spread out a series of documents. "Medical equipment imports. Small amounts, nothing suspicious on its own. But when you map them against our victim locations..." He overlaid a grid map, red dots marking each incident.

"Perfect alignment," Zoro muttered, seeing the pattern emerge. "They're using legitimate shipments as cover."

"There's more." Law pulled up another file. "Remember that pharmaceutical company that kept coming up in witness statements? They have a research division. Specialized in memory-affecting compounds."

"Doflamingo Pharmaceuticals," Zoro read, his expression darkening. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because they're one of our biggest harbour clients," a new voice cut in. Both detectives turned to find Kidd, the newest CRU transfer, leaning against a desk. His casual posture couldn't quite hide the eager intensity in his eyes. "My uncle mentions them at every council meeting. Major taxpayers, apparently."

Something about this new detective made Zoro suspicious. Something was off.

"Political connections," Law noted, his tone carefully neutral, as if Kidd's presence wasn't unusual. "That could complicate things."

"Only if we let it," Kidd replied with a sharp grin. "Sometimes you need to push through red tape."

Zoro studied the younger detective, not liking the eager glint in his eyes. Something about Kidd's approach felt wrong - not the desire for action, but the reckless edge to it. Like someone who'd throw a punch without reading their opponent first.

"We do this right," Zoro said, his voice carrying a warning. "Or not at all."

Kidd's expression suggested he had other ideas, but before he could voice them, Zoro grabbed the case files. "I need to check something with SCU." He headed for the elevator, not missing how Kidd's hand had tightened into a fist at being dismissed.

The third floor was quieter than CRU's domain, the methodical nature of Special Crimes Unit evident in the carefully organized evidence boards. Tashigi stood at her desk, surrounded by photos and documents, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Kidd had followed, claiming he needed to "review evidence procedures." But his attention seemed more focused on Detective Sakuraba than the case files, his gaze lingering a bit too long as she explained their findings to Drake. Had he never worked with female detectives before?

"Tourist Ghost victims," Tashigi said, addressing Zoro while pointedly ignoring Kidd's obvious staring. "They all reported missing belongings after regaining consciousness. But the items taken don't match typical theft patterns."

"Detective Sakuraba," Kidd cut in, stepping closer. "Maybe we could discuss cross-unit coordination over coffee?"

"We're in the middle of a briefing," she replied coolly with a polite smile, turning back to her evidence board. "Detective Roronoa, about these patterns—"

"Specific targets," Zoro replied, moving closer to study her evidence board. "Like they're looking for something particular."

"Exactly. And look at this." She pointed to a series of photos. "The bruise patterns—"

"Match pressure points," they said simultaneously.

Their eyes met briefly, a flicker of satisfaction at the connection made. Around them, other officers moved through their routines, but for a moment, they were synchronized in more than just their focus.

The moment broke when Drake appeared with a fresh stack of reports. "More witness statements from the harbour district. And heads up - word is the council's taking interest in our investigation."

"Politics," Zoro muttered, his earlier confrontation with Kidd weighing on his mind.

"We follow the evidence," Tashigi said firmly, as if sensing his concern. "Wherever it leads."

He nodded, appreciating her certainty. This was what he'd come to respect about SCU - their unwavering commitment to precision and proof. No shortcuts, no matter who was watching.

"Their research division," he said, handing her the files Law had found. "Could explain the memory loss."

Tashigi's eyes widened slightly as she scanned the documents. "This matches the chemical traces we found..." She was already reaching for her phone. "I need to call our lab. If we can prove they're using their own compounds..."

"We'd have them," Zoro finished. A complete case, built step by methodical step. The kind that would stand up to any political pressure.

As he headed back to CRU's floor, Zoro found himself thinking about different approaches to justice. Kidd's raw aggression versus Tashigi's precise methodology. Sometimes the strongest case wasn't built with force, but with patience. Detail by careful detail.

Later that evening, rain misted the harbour as Tashigi crouched beside the unconscious tourist, checking vital signs while medical personnel prepared a stretcher. The woman was breathing steadily, but her skin felt cold, and those same circular bruises marked her wrists and neck.

"Like the others?" Zoro asked, his voice low as he surveyed the scene.

"Worse." Tashigi pointed to the bruising pattern. "These are deeper. They're escalating." She stood, brushing rain from her coat. "Tourist from Sabaody. Expensive camera, high-end watch - all still here."

"But her phone's missing," Zoro noted. "Just like the others."

"They're not after valuables." Tashigi's glasses caught the flashing lights of nearby patrol cars. "They want information."

Drake approached with preliminary findings. "Warehouse workers found her an hour ago. Security cameras went dark around 2 AM - routine maintenance, supposedly."

"Convenient," Zoro muttered.

"Also," Drake continued. "Lab results from the previous victim's blood work. Traces of experimental compounds, all manufactured by—"

"Doflamingo Pharmaceuticals," Tashigi finished. She shared a look with Zoro. "We need to move on this."

"Politics," Drake warned.

"Evidence first," Tashigi replied firmly. "Build it properly."

Zoro nodded, respect evident in his expression. This was why their units worked well together - SCU's precision backing CRU's action.

"I'll coordinate with Harbor Patrol," Drake said. "See if they caught any unusual ship movements during the blackout."

As Drake left, Tashigi knelt again beside the victim, studying the bruise patterns with renewed focus. "They're testing something. These marks... they're measuring reactions."

"Human trials," Zoro's voice carried cold anger. "Using tourists because they're harder to trace."

"We'll trace them," Tashigi said quietly, her determination matching his rage. "Every single one."

Medical teams loaded the victim into an ambulance as rain continued to fall, washing away whatever evidence the perpetrators might have left. But they'd made a mistake this time - they'd gotten bolder, sloppier.

And two of Water 7's best detectives were watching.

A few days later, Tashigi arrived at the precinct gym earlier than usual, hoping physical activity might help clear her head. The department-wide training session would be a welcome distraction.

Members from all units - SCU, CRU, AIU, Harbor Patrol, and support divisions - spread across the mats as Training Commander Bogard demonstrated the day's techniques. Commander Aokiji observed from the sidelines while Chief Hina made notes on unit coordination.

Bogard moved through the demonstration with military precision. "Today's focus is civilian interaction and restraint. Units face different scenarios - a tourist for Harbor Patrol isn't the same as a suspect for CRU or a witness for SCU. But the core principle remains: control without damage."

Kidd's scoff drew several sharp looks. The new CRU detective stood with arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the methodical approach.

As officers paired off, Tashigi found herself facing Ace. They settled into a familiar rhythm, moving through the forms with practiced ease born from years of family sparring.

"You're still favouring your left," Ace noted as he blocked her strike.

Tashigi smirked, using his momentary opening to sweep his legs. But Ace rolled with the movement, years of AIU training showing in his smooth recovery.

"Nice try, cousin," he grinned, offering a hand to adjust her stance slightly. "Still mad about the other day?"

She used his distraction to execute a perfect throw. Ace hit the mat with a laugh.

"I deserved that," he admitted, rolling to his feet.

"You did."

Commander Bogard called for partner switches. As Ace moved away, Tashigi turned to find Kidd already approaching, that same eager intensity in his eyes she'd noticed at the precinct.

"Detective Sakuraba," he grinned. “Mind if I call you Tashigi?”

“Don’t cross the line”, she warned politely.

"Show me what you've got then,” Kidd was eager to start.

His first move was too fast, too aggressive. Tashigi blocked, but the force of it jarred her wrist. She stepped back, maintaining form despite the throbbing pain.

"Too much?" Kidd asked, but his tone suggested challenge rather than concern.

"Again," she replied coolly, refusing to show weakness.

This time when he moved, she used his momentum against him. But Kidd didn't follow the demonstrated technique. Instead, he grabbed her already-strained wrist, turning what should have been a controlled fall into something much rougher.

Pain shot through her arm as she broke free, her training keeping her upright even as her wrist screamed in protest.

"Enough!" Bogard's voice cut through the gym. "Kidd, you're done."

Kidd's expression darkened for just a moment before he smoothed it into professional neutrality. "Yes, sir." But as he turned to leave, he muttered just loud enough for nearby officers to hear, "Guess some people can't handle real training."

"Medical," the Commander ordered Tashigi.

"Sir…"

"Not a suggestion, Detective."

Later, as she sat at her desk trying to write with her newly splinted wrist, she caught Zoro's reflection in her computer screen. He stood in the doorway, that same contained anger still evident in his stance.

"I'm fine," she said without turning.

"He's reckless."

"I noticed." She finally looked at him. "I can handle myself."

A long pause. Then, "I know."

Something in his tone made her study him more carefully. This wasn't just about Kidd's aggression or her injury. This was about approach, about control, about doing things right.

She adjusted her splint, then reached for a case file. "The ghost case," she said, changing the subject. "I have a theory about those shipping manifests."

He took the shift in conversation for what it was - an acknowledgment that she understood, and a return to their professional foundation.

"Let's hear it," he replied, moving to examine the evidence board while she was smiling to him.

They had work to do. Everything else could wait.

Several hours later, Tashigi adjusted her bag awkwardly with her splinted wrist as she left the precinct. Ace fell into step beside her, his earlier playfulness subdued.

"Let me carry that," he offered, reaching for her bag.

"I've got it." She shifted the bag to her good hand. "Though I should make you carry it, considering this is partially your fault."

"My fault? How is Kidd being a—"

"Not Kidd. The trap you put me in the other day.”

"Ah. That. You’re still on that?" Ace rubbed the back of his neck. "In my defence, he seemed pretty normal at work."

“Define ‘normal’.”

They rounded the corner to find Law, Nami, and Zoro engaged in what appeared to be an argument about dinner plans.

"I'm not eating there again," Law was saying. "The portions are ridiculous."

"That's because you eat like a bird," Nami retorted. "Some of us actually enjoy food."

Zoro noticed them first, his eyes narrowing slightly at Tashigi's splinted wrist.

"It's just a precaution," she said before he could comment.

"Kidd's been suspended from training," Law informed them. "Pending review."

"Good," Ace muttered with a satisfied smile.

"So Tash, what’s your plan for this week-end? The sword exhibition still on your agenda?" Nami asked suddenly, making Tashigi wince.

"Not at all. It was sold out before I could get a ticket."

"The one at the cultural centre?" Zoro's voice carried casual interest.

Zoro hesitated. He'd gotten two tickets, planning to go alone after his father cancelled. But seeing her genuine disappointment... He thought about their conversations about sword maintenance, her understanding of proper preservation techniques. Unlike others who treated historical weapons as mere decorations, she knew their true value.

"I have an extra ticket,” he continued.

The others exchanged knowing looks that neither Zoro nor Tashigi noticed.

"Really?" Her voice carried careful neutrality. "You're going?"

"They're featuring historical pieces." He shrugged, though his decision felt more deliberate than casual. "Could be interesting."

"It will be," she agreed, matching his tone.

Behind them, Nami rolled her eyes at their studied nonchalance.

"Well," Ace broke in, grinning, "since that's settled, who's up for dinner?"

"Not that place Law hates," Nami added quickly, “he will die before the end of it.”

As they debated restaurants, Tashigi caught Zoro studying her splint again.

"Want a closer look?" she said with a wry smile, holding up her splinted wrist.

Zoro couldn't help but smile at her directness. Even injured, she called him out for staring instead of pretending not to notice.

The sword exhibition was still days away, but for the first time in weeks, Tashigi found herself looking forward to something that had nothing to do with case files.