Archive of Our Own ^beta

Following a truly awful start, for the past three years Nojiko’s life had revolved around a fairly set schedule, following the trek of the sun and the seasons. The weather on Cocoyasi was routine, not too tricky, and Nojiko had a know-it-all sister who had chattered her ears off talking about meteorology enough that she knew what to do if it did decide to turn tricky. Nojiko lived around the steady rhythm of the mikan trees.

It wasn’t any more profitable than it had been under Belle-Mere, but Nojiko still remembered the tricks that she’d used to keep them all fed when they were little girls. It was easier now. Feeding one person- sometimes two- was always easier than three.

The mikan were just about ready to be harvested. In the normal state of affairs, Nojiko would need to start dragging around the ladder again, until the next Saturday she went down to the markets in town and had the chance to let everyone know. Normally Mummy Mee would send some of the kids to help her pick everything, and they would bring a bushel back down to the house as payment.

This was not the normal state of affairs.

Normally on nights like these, Nojiko would hang out the red blanket on the branches to dry. It was her sign to Genzo that Nami was home, so he wouldn’t come and check up on her like he was in the habit of doing in the evenings.

Nojiko should put it up now; but she hesitated. Yes, Nami was home, but this wasn’t her sneaking in in the dead of night. Everyone knew about it. And Nojiko had seen the look on Genzo’s face when Nami had arrived at the docks, accompanied by an unfamiliar Fish-Man instead of her usual escort. She wasn’t sure if even his determination to get Nami to abandon her mission would keep him away right now.

Nojiko couldn’t blame him. Her heart had stopped too, when she’d seen Nami, pale with pain and cradled in the arms of the enormous Fish-Man who had walked into their town. She’d been so small in his hands she could have been a doll. The Fish-Man could have broken her just as easily.

Nojiko washed the dishes, glanced at the closed door. Swept up, glanced at the closed door. Finally she blew out the lantern and climbed into bed, putting herself between that closed door and her sister.

Nami was curled up in the center of the mattress. She looked every bit as small as she had in the Fish-Man’s arms. Her mouth was set in a tight grimace. This wasn’t the scheduled time that Nami was allowed to be home, and it was making her antsy, irritable. Nami was good at pretending that everything was fine while she was at home, but Nojiko knew she was afraid of Arlong’s temper. She was the older sister. It was her business to know these things.

Nojiko laid down next to her sister on their mother’s bed, close enough that Nami filled up her whole vision, and her breath tickled her face. She’d been sneaking the mikan already, though Nojiko had had one eye on her the whole evening and her ankle was wrapped up tight. Her little sister had come a long way from getting caught red-handed at the bookstore. It was impressive. It was terrifying.

Nojiko could feel the bed move as Nami experimentally rotated her injured ankle. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from hissing at her to stop. Nami had always been the kind of person who would press directly down on a bruise. She had never been the kind of person to listen. Nami thought she could trick and fight the world into being the shape she wanted. When it didn’t bend, she broke.

Nojiko had more practice with being helpless. She adapted more easily. “Did he do it?” she whispered, trying to speak as quietly as possible. He was far enough away that if he was human he wouldn’t hear, but Nojiko didn’t trust that meant much. She already knew how much stronger Fish-Men were than humans- what if they could hear better too?

In the darkness she felt more than saw Nami shake her head. “It was the pirates I was robbing,” she mumbled. Nojiko resisted the voice in her head screaming for her to beg Nami to stop. Nami was too stubborn. She’d gotten it from their mother. “They were chasing me and he saw. He had the same tattoo as Arlong and Hatchan. He has to be part of his crew. So I ran after him to get him to make the other pirates leave me alone, and someone threw a rock and it hit my foot. But he chased them away.”

There was an odd note in her voice though. Nojiko was close enough in the dark to feel her hand go up to her shoulder, to the tattoo Arlong had put there.

“What’s wrong?”

“I never saw him at Arlong Park before,” she whispered, “And when he saw the tattoo… when he found out I worked for Arlong… he got so mad.” Nami was shivering. Nojiko felt cold too. All she could see was the Fish-Man holding Nami in the palms of his enormous hands. He was so large. He could have crushed her like a bug.

He hadn’t, pointed out part of her in her mind, the contrary part that usually sounded like Nami herself. He’d carried her when she couldn’t walk and brought her home where she belonged.

Nojiko couldn’t trust that. Not after Belle-Mere. Certainly not with her baby sister.

“I don’t think he likes humans. None of them do. I don’t know why he brought me back here,” Nami confessed in a whisper, “I don’t know why he didn’t bring me back to Arlong.”

“I’m glad he brought you here,” Nojiko whispered back fiercely. “This is where you should be when you’re hurt.” The only better place would be Nako’s house, but Nami was still convinced that the rest of the village hated her and would never allow Nojiko to drag her to the island’s doctor. The only way Nojiko could get her in there was if she was dizzy with blood loss, and Nako had already looked over the ankle when Nami had arrived in the village.

Nami didn’t answer for a long time. Then, almost inaudible- “Arlong is gonna be mad. I was supposed to make a map of Goat Island for him and be back by tomorrow.”

If Nojiko could harness the anger inside of her, she would be able to level Arlong Park single-handed. She would be able to call for the marines to come and actually deal with this whole mess for once instead of looking the other way.

But the world wasn’t a fair place, and Nojiko lay next to Nami with anger sitting like stones in her belly.  “You should rest,” she said, because Nami deserved better than promises of safety they both knew Nojiko couldn’t deliver on. “You need to heal.” I’m the big sister, she didn’t say. Let me take care of you this time. “I’ll see if I can get a book of maps from the store tomorrow. I know you saw some of the island, I’m sure you’ll be able to improve on it.”

“It won’t be enough,” Nami mumbled. Nojiko was glad it was dark enough that she wouldn’t be able to see how much that hurt. Nothing she did was good enough to help her sister. “He’ll know. He always finds out.”

But Nami only exhaled in defeat and leaned closer, letting herself doze off as Nojiko ran fingers through her hair gently like Belle-Mere used to do for them when they had nightmares.

Nojiko lay awake with her stone-heavy anger and her attention fixed on the steps outside. It was only after Nami had gone lax and boneless with sleep that she slid out from under the covers again.

The Fish-Man who had brought Nami up the trail was sitting on the ground in front of their house, exactly where he’d been when she’d last checked. He hadn’t even shifted. His broad back was to the house as he sat, head fixed towards the silvery moonlight along the leaves in the orchard.

This might be more effective than the red blanket as a warning to keep Genzo away.

“Jinbe.”

Nojiko jumped and very nearly banged her wrist on the window frame. Another Fish-Man was stepping out from the trees. She knew that one, from Nami’s stories if nothing else.

“Kuroobi,” said the broad one. There was nothing in his voice, not happiness, not cruelty. Just a flatness that made the hairs on Nojiko’s arms stand up. He was angry.

Kuroobi stood there. He looked as at a loss as Nojiko felt. “We weren’t expecting you,” he said finally. So this new Fish-Man did know Arlong.

“I didn’t send word.”

“Arlong’s ordered a room made up for you in the Park,” he offered, voice a low rumble.

“I am comfortable where I am.” The new Fish-Man’s voice was as unyielding as a mountain.

Kuroobi shifted, uncomfortable. His eyes raked over the house; Nojiko ducked before he could see her but could hear the disgust in his voice from where she was crouched out of sight. “They don’t even let you into the house, did they?”

“My decision to stay out here was mine alone,” the one who’d carried Nami said, and while the words were mild, there was a warning in it that was more dangerous than Kuroobi’s growing anger. “I knew he would send someone along. I chose to wait.”

“And when I’m gone? Will they let you in then?”

The Fish-Man- Jinbe- didn’t say anything.

Kuroobi was in front of the moon. When Nojiko risked another look, she could see his whole outline go rigid with anger. “Arlong wants to see you. And the girl-”

“Nami will be recovering with her family.” The Fish-Man’s voice brooked no argument. It would have been like debating a mountain. “She is injured and needs rest.”

“Is her wrist broken?” Arlong’s man said nastily, and Nojiko could have killed him herself. “That’s the only part of her worth anyth-”

“We are not slaves, Kuroobi, but neither are we animals. Refrain from acting like one.”

Kuroobi jerked at that, moonlight glinting off scales as he shifted. Nami had told Nojiko about how he liked to punch holes through the stone walls of Arlong Park when he got drunk, but he didn’t move now. What was stopping him? Was he scared of the larger one? “You can tell Arlong that I’m planning on meeting with him soon. We clearly have much to discuss.”

It was a dismissal. Nojiko had never seen anyone dismiss Kuroobi before. He came sometimes, to collect the seasons’ tribute, or with Nami when she was permitted home. Nojiko differentiated him from Hatchan, the other one of Nami’s supervisors, less by the difference in their appearance and more by the rigidity of Nami’s spine in their presence.

“Are you seriously telling me you would rather be here?” Kuroobi demanded, “With them?”

“That is exactly what I am telling you,” Jinbe said, and without moving he seemed to grow in the space, so that the force of him towered over Kuroobi without him doing so much as breathing differently. “I am exactly where I plan to be, and you are free to tell Arlong that as well.”

Kuroobi stood there, hands fisted up, for so long that Nojiko wondered if he might try hitting the other Fish-Man after all.

But instead, after an eternity, he scoffed and turned away. “We’ll make sure the room is ready for you,” he said, “For when you come back to your family.”

And then he was gone again, leaving Nojiko at the window with her mouth open and the Fish-Man who had brought Nami home- Jinbe- in the exact same position he’d been in before.

Still ignorant of her eavesdropping, Jinbe sighed. One enormous hand went to rub at his temple.

Nojiko stayed where she was for what felt like half the night, but Jinbe the Fish-Man didn’t move from where he sat directly in the path of the door, keeping watch. Eventually exhaustion won out, and Nojiko retreated to bed.

Nojiko woke with the sun, as a farmer did. Nami, who hadn’t worked regularly in the orchard for three years, was still drooling on the pillow, hogging all of the blankets. The Fish-Man who hadn’t hurt Nami was still sitting outside in front of their door when Nojiko checked. He was settled into a meditative pose. His eyes opened the moment her foot hit the first step down.

They don’t even let you into the house, Kuroobi had said. And maybe Jinbe had said that he had made the choice, but she knew he’d seen the way she’d tensed when he’d first put a foot on the steps. The last time a Fish-Man had stepped foot in their house, Nojiko had lost a mother.

Nojiko didn’t want him in the house. But she wanted Kuroobi, who Nami said smacked the back of her head whenever she walked by with the same hands he used to punch holes in stone walls, to be wrong more.

She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her skirt and bowed to him. “Would you like to come inside for breakfast?”

Jinbe the Fish-Man, who was big enough that when he stood he blocked the sun, who could have hurt Nami and didn’t, carefully bowed back. “It would be my honor.”

Nojiko regretted her offer almost immediately.

She kept three bowls in the house. Two small ones, for her and Nami. One that hadn’t been used in three years. When Genzo came to check up on her, he used Nami’s. Now Nojiko carefully took Belle-Mere’s bowl from its place on the shelf and tried not to let it feel like betrayal.

Their family had been poor before the Arlong Pirates came to Cocoyasi. Sometimes it felt like the whole world had changed since then, but poverty was constant, and it was the day before Nojiko visited the markets. Nojiko had enough porridge left over for two young girls.

She looked at the pot for a long time. Fish-Men ate a lot. The Arlong Pirates didn’t show up on Cocoyasi too often anymore- and Nojiko worried endlessly about what Nami had promised their captain to get them to agree to that- but they still popped up occasionally for their tithes. Last summer one of them had broken Ren the chef’s arm because they thought she was shorting them on the meal they’d paid for when they expected more.

Nami would get food. She needed to eat. She needed to keep her strength up. That was not in question.

Nami stirred uneasily in the bed as Nojiko put one of the bowls back. Nojiko tsked at her until she stopped.

Nojiko spooned two-thirds of the porridge into Belle-Mere’s bowl. Nami’s she could put mikan in to bulk it up. Nami didn’t whine about eating them anymore. Now she begged for them when she was home, stained her fingers orange from the peels. She wouldn’t complain. One of the many things Nojiko worried about was how little Nami complained now when she was home.

After a second thought, Nojiko added some wedges to the large bowl as well. It wouldn’t do any good for him to think that she was withholding the good stuff.

The Fish-Man had opted to sit seiza on the rug instead of sitting in any of the chairs. Nojiko was secretly glad; they were old and she wasn’t sure they would support his weight. He had accepted a steaming mug of tea with more gravity than the situation deserved.

As the…guest… she offered him the tray first. He looked at it for a long time. Nojiko could see his eyes go back and forth from the smaller, half-full bowl to the large filled one. A thundercloud passed over his face. When he frowned it pulled at the scar around his eye, turning it into something terrifying. “There must be a mistake,” he said in a low voice that did nothing to hide his anger.

Nojiko’s entire body locked up. Nami needed to eat. She needed to heal. He knew that, he’d told Kuroobi, he-

“This one must be Miss Nami’s,” he said, and placed it back on the tray. He took the smaller one in his enormous hand, like an adult playing with a child’s tea set. “She needs her strength.”

Nojiko was speechless. She glanced at Nami. Nami was staring hard at the Fish-Man, but she looked just as confused as Nojiko felt. “Right,” Nojiko said, because she certainly wasn’t going to argue that. “Here you go, Nami.”

Nami looked at Belle-Mere’s bowl. Her lips pursed. “We can split it,” she said stubbornly.

“You need your strength up,” Nojiko said with a smile that was all teeth. “You heard Jinbe-san.”

Nami scowled and opened her mouth to argue with her. Nojiko took the opportunity to shove a full spoonful in. Nami choked, swatting at her, but swallowed the food. “Do I have to feed you the rest like a baby, or will you eat it yourself?” Nojiko asked her sweetly.

No matter how long Nami was gone, there were some parts of her that were as unchanging as the seasons in the orchard. Nojiko loved that. Nami ate the food. When she glanced back over, the Fish-Man was fighting a smile. It made him seem like a whole different person.

By the time Nami finished with the bowl she looked freshly exhausted. “Get some rest,” Nojiko ordered her, piling the blankets as high as she could. The ankle stayed elevated.

“But,” Nami started to protest and didn’t seem to know where to go from there, eyes going to the Fish-Man in the middle of their house. It was a sign of how off-balance she still was; Nami was quicker with her tongue than anyone else on the island already, and she was only twelve.

“You should listen to your older sister,” the Fish-Man said.

The words were mild, but Nami’s mouth tucked down like she’d heard an order in it. “Arlong will be mad at me for staying,” she told him bluntly.

Jinbe’s face had been politely neutral the whole time he’d been in the house. It stayed that way now, but his eyes hardened at that. The hair on the back of Nojiko’s neck stood all the way up. “I will deal with Arlong,” he said, and didn’t quite manage to keep the shortness out of his words. Nami didn’t stiffen like Nojiko did at the flatness of his tone, but she did pale, just a little. It was harder to tell than it had used to be; Nami’s skin had lost its sun-kissed tan from days spent running barefoot in the orchard after weeks-months-years locked up in Arlong’s map room. And she didn’t flinch when she was scared anymore. It was a change Nojiko had needed to track the same way as she tracked the bruises that bloomed under her skin in the shape of fingers too large and malformed to be human.

But this Fish-Man must have noticed anyway, because he took care to gentle his next words. “Please focus on resting, Miss Nami. Your health is important.”

“Not more important than the maps,” Nami said, because she was a wiseass and it was going to get them all killed.

“The maps?” His eyes caught on the ones that papered the wall. Nami made them for Nojiko to go with the stories she told her- and they helped to patch up the walls, when cracks started to form. “You made these? All of them?”

“Yeah,” Nami said, jutting her chin out a little bit. Her shoulders were creeping towards her ears. The Arlong Pirates tattoo was starkly visible. “Why did you think I was on the crew?”

Nojiko saw his eyes drop to it and go dark with some emotion. She didn’t have time to interpret what it was, because it wasn’t happy and she’d never seen an emotion from a Fish-Man that didn’t mean danger. She shouldered her way in between them. “You said she has to rest!” she said, trying to draw herself up as tall as she could go. It wasn’t quite at his chest level. Nojiko probably looked like she was trying to square up against a boulder. “She shouldn’t be making maps now!”

Nami’s hands jutted into her back, trying to shove at her. “Stay out of this!” Nami snapped at her, but Nojiko wouldn’t be moved.

Jinbe stared down at her for a long moment. Then he did- something. Nojiko didn’t know what it was, but the danger and anger of him seemed to fold up into itself until he just seemed like a large man and not a threat again. “Of course,” he agreed, and if Nojiko didn’t know better she would say the tone was placating, but she did know better and it couldn’t be. There was no reason for him to humor her on anything. Nojiko had learned how human strength measured up to Fish-Man over and over for the last years. “There’s no need for you to make any maps right now.”

Nojiko was between them so she couldn’t see Nami’s face. But she could feel the frustration coming off her in waves. “When are you talking to him?” she asked, shaking off the questions, “To Arlong. When are you going to tell him all this?”

“I will talk to Arlong soon,” he said, “But I want to make sure you are recovering first.”

Nami’s mouth was set in a stubborn frown. Nojiko wished she would just shut up. What was the point of arguing with someone who could slap the scowl off her face so easily? “It’s easy for you to say,” she said, with a hint of fire, “He’s not going to be angry at you.”

Jinbe absorbed this blow with the same quiet contemplation of everything else Nami had said. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, then held up a hand to forestall any protests. “Only because I’ve known Arlong for several years longer than you’ve been alive. And I can say with confidence that he is going to be very angry at me.” He paused a moment, then admitted, “Arlong has always found it very easy to get angry.”

Nami snorted. “Sounds like you do know him.”

Jinbe’s smile was tense at that, but it didn’t feel dangerous. He looked nervous, Nojiko realized. That was absurd. There was no reason for him to be nervous of a slip of a girl who couldn’t even walk at the moment. “I do.”

Nami was just as dissatisfied with this. “When are you going to Arlong Park to say all this to him?” she demanded.

Jinbe did a double-take. “Arlong Park?” he repeated, louder than he’d been before.

This was, evidently, Nami’s breaking point. “Don’t you know anything?” she demanded, throwing her arms wide.

Nojiko’s stomach flipped where she was set between them still, but before she could even start to do damage control Jinbe laughed. The noise seemed to startle himself as much as it did them. “Forgive me,” he said when he’d recovered, “That was inappropriate. You reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago.” He inclined his head to Nami, “It’s clear to me that I don’t know as much as I would hope. But rest assured that I will deal with Arlong.”

Nami was assured by this not at all. With an exhausted exasperation Nojiko could only imagine Belle-Mere must have felt every day, she recognized the mulish glint in Nami’s face as the desire for a fight. “And if he attacks you?” Nojiko had to strangle the urge to take her sister by the shoulder and shake her until her teeth rattled. Why was she antagonizing him? Did she do this all the time at Arlong Park, where Nojiko couldn’t protect her?

“If he attacks me, I would beat him,” Jinbe replied, with such total confidence that even Nami was struck dumb. “And he would lose face in front of all his crew.” Nojiko watched his eyes flit to the tattoo on Nami’s shoulder and then away, as if ashamed. He returned his attention to Nojiko. That was smart, it gave Nami less chances to pick a fight. “I noticed that your orchard looks about ready for the harvest,” he said, still just as polite, “I would be happy to assist you, or if you prefer I can monitor Nami.”

There wasn’t a single question about which of those options Nojiko preferred. She bowed again, just to be safe. “I would appreciate the help. Thank you very much.”

Nami hauled herself half off the bed in one lunge. “I can help too!” she said. She was grinning, but Nojiko recognized the con.

Nojiko briefly considered the merits of throttling her sister. “You’re going to rest, like Jinbe-san said.”

There was a special emphasis on the last three words. Nami’s expression went mutinous. Nojiko didn’t care. When Nami went out into the world, she was Arlong’s tool. She protected the village. Nojiko couldn’t follow her, couldn’t do anything to chase away the shadows that ended up behind Nami’s eyes.

But when Nami was home, Nojiko protected her.

Jinbe made a soft noise, as if figuring something out. For all his manners, and how much she owed him for bringing Nami back home when she was hurt, Nojiko didn’t like the idea of him figuring out anything about her family. “I’ll wait outside,” he said- to Nojiko, which she appreciated- and saw himself out.

Nojiko waited until the door had closed to whirl back around. “I will tie you back to that bed!” she hissed, “Don’t think I won’t!”

“There isn’t a knot you know that I don’t,” retorted Nami, “And I can pick chain locks now too so good luck with that.”

Nojiko wasn’t sure what expression her face made at that, at knowing that while she was away from their home Nami had needed to learn how to pick her way out of chains. But from the way Nami’s stubborn scowl faltered, it had to have been terrible. “You are going to stay on this bed.” The blankets she piled on top of Nami again were not ropes by any means but Nami stayed underneath them. She knew she’d gone too far. “You are going to rest. I am going to go harvest the fruit with Jinbe-san.” Nojiko’s anger was hot and sour in her stomach, all the way up the back of her throat. “Listen to me for once!”

Nami fidgeted with the blankets. Her mouth was still set in a scowl, but the slant of her shoulders told Nojiko that at least she would listen for now. “I don’t want you alone with him,” she muttered.

Nojiko tried to ignore the hypocrisy of that. Failed. “Welcome to my life, sis,” she said and shut the door behind her.

Nojiko watched the Fis- Jinbe- as he ambled down the path between the trees. There was enough space for them to walk side by side. The ground under her feet was unbalanced by the scars pressed into the earth from the times Nojiko had needed to drag the ladder as she’d carried it by herself, unbalanced and ill-fitting in her too-small arms. Even now that her muscles were used to it, it was still hard to carry down the rows. Especially when she had to pull the basket afterwards.

Now Jinbe carried the whole thing under one arm, just as easily as he’d carried Nami in the crook of her arm.

He’d offered to carry the basket as well, but Nojiko had refused. Kuroobi’s words about them treating Jinbe like a slave- or an animal- had stung and stuck. The wicker of it dug into the fabric of her shirt, poking at her collarbone.

She was staring at him. It was rude; she knew that. It was one of the memories of Belle Mere she had that she remembered. But she couldn’t help it. She’d never seen a Fish-Man act like him before. He did have the same tattoo as Arlong. Not the one Nami had, but the one that looked like a sun.

“Is Miss Nami always quite so strong-willed?” Nojiko knew better than to give information away for free, but the noise that burst out of her throat at this, all exasperation, was instinctive. Jinbe chuckled. “I see. It’s a good trait to have.”

“Sometimes,” muttered Nojiko. Sometimes she wished that Nami’s smart brain wasn’t attached to a smart mouth to match. It would be safer for her, when she was out of Nojiko’s line of vision.

“She reminds me a bit of another girl I once knew.” Jinbe’s tone shifted at that, went far-away. Nojiko thought she heard a bit of sadness in it. “I hope she’s learned to be as vocal as your sister.” He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice had gone back to the careful courtesy of before. “Did the doctor say how long it would take for her ankle to heal?”

Jinbe had stayed outside while Nako had come to look over Nami. Nami had endured the touch with a silence that had Nojiko concerned about shock, watching Nako carefully tend to her wounds when he hadn’t spoken to her in months. “They said it shouldn’t be more than two weeks,” she said. No Fish-Man had ever called Nami Miss before. It was the only reason she answered. “She didn’t break her ankle; it’s just a really bad bruise.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.” He even sounded like he meant it. And it wasn’t as if Nojiko was unfamiliar with the concept of a con- she was Nami’s sister after all- but there wasn’t a point to one here. Jinbe held all the power. There was no reason for him to lie to Nami, to Nojiko. There was no benefit at all to him pretending to care about Nami’s health. He could have dumped the injured Nami on her doorstep with a sneer and Nojiko would have had to swallow her bile and thank him for it. What was his angle?

They were at the trees. Jinbe looked to her for direction. “I can use the ladder,” Nojiko said. Jinbe looked between her and the ladder. Just the weight of his gaze practically had it splintering.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He was tall enough that he didn’t need it anyway. Jinbe worked on one tree as she worked the next, and the two of them went down the line that way. They made good time. Maybe Nojiko wouldn’t need have Mummy Mee send people over.

Nojiko weighed the question for three trees before venturing, “Will you need extra water in the sun, Jinbe-san?”

“A hat wouldn’t be remiss, but I’ll be fine otherwise. Thank you for the consideration,” he told her gravely.

Nojiko got him the hat. Nami was asleep inside when she peeked through the window to check on her, mouth open and snoring.

“Do Fish-Men often come to this village?” he asked when she returned.

It was a polite enough question, but the hair still stood up on Nojiko’s arms. “Every six months,” she said, because that was when the tithing was due. Nami was allowed to visit when it was collected. Nojiko hadn’t worked out if it was a reward or a punishment, because if someone didn’t make the quota, she would surely be forced to watch.

The whole village made sure Nami didn’t have to watch.

Jinbe absorbed this. Perhaps he was able to read her hesitance in his tone, because he didn’t ask any more questions as they worked. It was only after the basket had been filled with mikan that he spoke again. “You have a beautiful home,” he said finally. Carefully. “And a beautiful village.”

Part of Nojiko, the part that carried the same burning anger that left Nami crying breathless with rage on the worst visits, wanted to tell him it had been more beautiful before half the town had been burned down by his crewmates. Another part was fiercely proud of it. They rebuilt. They survived. There was beauty in that, and value that not even Arlong could take away from them.

“I do,” she said, and tried not to be wary about it.

“Miss Nojiko,” Jinbe spoke in a carefully measured tone, too careful to be natural. His eyes were still on the branches. “May I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything you want.”

“I would like to ask you about your village, and the Fish-Men who came here a few years ago.”

Nojiko paused with her hand on the rind of one fruit. “You want me to tell you about the Arlong Pirates.” She was unable to hide her unease. It was one thing to send Kuroobi off; Nojiko didn’t have any trouble believing Kuroobi was as unlikable to Fish-Men as he was to humans. She wasn’t sure he’d feel the same about the whole lot of them.

“I would like you to tell me about what they’ve done here.” He grimaced. “I doubt that Arlong will tell me anything resembling the truth.”

Well. The idea of Arlong getting a chance to explain it his way was too much to be borne. Nojiko followed Jinbe to where he had sat down between rows of trees, and started to speak.

Jinbe listened to all of it. He didn’t call her a liar. He didn’t defend Arlong. He didn’t speak at all. He just listened, and looked sad and tired and older than most of the elders.

Anger wasn’t productive. It wouldn’t stop the collections from coming due. It wouldn’t give Nami a safe harbor for the rare days she could return home. Nojiko was the older sister. It was her job to be a shelter for her baby sister. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of anger often. But Nami was safe inside the house, and Nojiko hadn’t let herself truly dwell on it in years. The anger and injustice swelled up her throat like the tide coming in. It spilled out over the basket. Nami nursing bruises ringing her ankle like shackles. Flinching when Kuroobi put a hand on her shoulder. Crying when she thought Nojiko was asleep. Ren’s broken arm. The village scrambling to meet the quota at the end of each season, the endless susurration of ‘how much do you have? Is it enough?’ as everyone tried to spread the money to where it was needed. Belle-Mere. Belle-Mere. On and on, until the rage was streaming down her face and she could barely breathe from how hard she was sobbing with it.

Jinbe sat and bore all of it, hands folded in his lap, head bowed, until the storm of it had passed, until Nojiko was out of words and the fury of it had left her wrung out and empty.

“Thank you for telling me of this,” he said finally, when her words had run dry and she wasn’t panting with the anger of it anymore. Then he shifted so he was sitting on his knees properly.

He bowed to her. Nojiko had never had anyone bow to her, human or Fish-Man.

“Please forgive me, Miss Nojiko.”

Nojiko shifted, uncomfortable. The basket was heavy in sweaty hands. “You didn’t do any of it,” she said. The words came out short. Nojiko didn't want to let go of her anger so quickly. “There’s nothing to forgive you for.”

Nojiko desperately wanted that to be true, she realized. She wanted Jinbe to be as kind and gentle and safe as he’d been for the day he’d been there. She didn’t want to find out that it had been a lie after all.

“I should have kept track of Arlong.” Nojiko went still at that, staring. Jinbe made a face at her expression, than admitted. “We had a falling out, years ago. We haven’t spoken since. I had no idea he was- that he would sink so low as to-” He deflated, rubbing at his face.

“Why would you be responsible for what Arlong did?” she asked numbly after he didn’t go on.

“He’s my brother.” Nojiko’s blood ran cold. “Not by blood, but we were orphans who grew up in the same house together. It was my responsibility to look out for him. This never should have been allowed to happen, and the fault rests with me.”

Nojiko thought of growing up with Nami, her baby sister, all toddler fat, trying to keep up with her. Six, drawing the town roads with sticks in the dirt and yelling at Nojiko for not tracking through blobs that represented the corner store and Mummy Dee’s house. The warmth of her pressed up against Nojiko under the blankets, going heavier as sleep made her boneless, and the way it all made love well up in her rib cage so much there was no room for air. This was her baby sister. Her responsibility.

For a second, she wondered if the love would go away if Nami ended up as evil as Arlong. She had to dismiss it. The idea was preposterous. Nami could never do the things Arlong had done.

Nojiko looked at Jinbe, still bowing to her. The answer was clear enough. The love didn’t go away.

“You’re not responsible for what Arlong chooses to do,” she decided, “Don’t bow like that to me.”

He finally straightened, but he still looked tired. “Miss Nojiko, what would you have me do to fix the situation?”

“What?”

“I can’t trust my judgement on what to do to rectify the situation,” he explained. “Your village was the wronged party. Whatever problems exist between Fish-Men and humans-” and that was something Nojiko had wondered about from asides that Nami had told her of overhearing at Arlong Park, but now wasn’t the time to wonder on them, “- and what Arlong and I have suffered personally- it has nothing to do with your community here. I would like to do what I can to make reparations, but I can’t pretend that I should be the one to decide what that looks like.”

Nojiko could only stare at him, this man who looked like the people who had stolen her mother away from her, this Fish-Man who had brought her sister back.

“Arlong is my brother,” Jinbe repeated slowly, “But Nami is your sister.”

Oh, Nojiko realized. He was asking her because she understood all of it. Everything that had been done to Cocoyasi on her side, and what it meant to have a sibling you couldn’t protect from the world on his.

Jinbe straightened up. He took the ladder and shifted it back onto his shoulder. “You don’t have to make a decision now. Think on it. I’ll wait.” Nojiko didn’t have any problem believing that. Of all the few things she’d observed of Jinbe, she believed that he was patient. That was another difference between him and the Arlong Pirates. “Take as much time as you…” He went still, looking down the path that led into the village.

Nojiko froze, thinking of smoke and fire pouring from the buildings, of Fish-Men storming down the path into her house. Nami was on the other end of the orchard. Nojiko wasn’t fast enough, would never be faster than Arlong, would never be fast enough to-

It wasn’t Arlong. It wasn’t any of the Arlong Pirates. It was Genzo, and the sight of the pinwheel on his hat whirring in the wind made her knees weak with relief.

He was approaching at a run, but he didn’t see Jinbe until he’d nearly reached them. Genzo skidded to a stop, taken aback. “Oh, you’re still here. I was just checking on Nami.” Despite the way he was speaking politely, his eyes were going from Nojiko to the end of the orchard rapid-fire. They were pinched with stress.

Jinbe’s expression cleared. “I see. Miss Nami is recovering well.”

When the Fish-Man came to collect their tithes, Genzo deferred to them. He didn’t argue when the number climbed up, he just figured out how to squeeze blood from the stones to make sure that no one else died. He kept the angrier villagers away, the scared ones. He kept his mouth shut.

Now though, he didn’t defer. He looked to Nojiko doubtfully to see if he was telling the truth, ignoring the Fish-Man entirely. Jinbe didn’t even look annoyed by it. He only looked tired, in the way he had when Nojiko had told him about the money, about the bruises that looked like cuffs that were on Nami’s wrists sometimes when she came back from Arlong Park.

Nojiko nodded. She’s fine, is what Nojiko meant to say. But what came out of her mouth was, “She’s safe,” and no one was more surprised than she was that she meant it. She hadn’t realized until that very moment that it was true. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes all over again. It was true. Nami was safe. “Kuroobi came to take her back last night. Jinbe wouldn’t let him. He sent him away.”

Genzo jerked, but the movement Jinbe made was more of a flinch. She hadn’t known Fish-Men could flinch. She hadn’t known Fish-Men could do a lot of things.

It had been a long time since Nojiko had hoped for anything, but she hoped that she could learn more about them, as long as Jinbe was the one to teach her.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he said in apology.

Like Nojiko was bothered by that. It was the best thing she’d ever heard. She wished she’d heard it three years earlier. “You’re going to protect her,” she said to him, and it was just as startling to realize that Nojiko believed this too. “You’re going to protect all of us. That’s what I want. I don’t need more time to decide.”

She held out her hand to him. Jinbe looked down at it for a long moment and then, tentatively, took it. His hand was every bit as enormous as the rest of him, and every bit as gentle as he’d cradled Nami when he brought her home. “You honor me with your trust,” he told her, “I’ll do my best to be worthy of it.”

Genzo was all but wringing his hands, but Nojiko could do nothing but smile. She had a feeling that his best was very good. “You will,” she said firmly, “Let’s go tell Nami.”