Second Chances

Bogard makes a bet with Garp. As a result, a pirate and a nepo-baby get a second chance. Now to see just how much they both can change, in the month it takes to track down the Strawhat.

Alternatively, Koby is worried that the Marines don't follow their own rules, Helmeppo thinks this is obvious, and they both learn that the real friendship was crushing homophobia with citations all along.

Notes:

This is a bit of an odd fic. This idea has been kicking around my head since the LA came out, and its finally found its way to the page. Never expected it to be quite so steeped in military history. Or, at least, my vague memories of US military law when I was a kid. Don't Ask Don't Tell was a milestone in my lifetime, and I recommend anyone interested in queer history to look up the actual information, rather than the notably rosier (but still vile) interpretation I've put in this text.

As for the tags, yes, there will be frank discussions on underage sex, prostitution, and various forms of queerphobia. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the teenagers are not all that knowledgeable about queer theory and say a lot of wrong things. There is no actual sex in this fic (maybe later, in a sequel when they're both of age). There is a fair amount of righteous smiting of homophobes, though. It was certainly cathartic to write. I hope it's equally fun to read!

Extra notes: I've assigned Bogard the rank of Commodore for this. I also assume that the LA is going to generally follow the manga, lore wise. You don't need to have read the manga to understand this fic, but there are a few references to groups and individuals that have yet to show up in the LA. They should be pretty self-explanatory.

Work Text:

Koby was swabbing the deck.

Back and forth, forth and back, scrubbing salt from warped boards, thin arms moving smoothly with hard-earned familiarity.

Helmeppo watched from his station by the foremast, working through another punishment detail. Bogard had seen him shirk tying a few knots and assigned him ‘remedial’ lessons. Now he was half-way through retying the knot all along an extra halyard, a good three hundred more knots to go, hands chapped from a rope that was thicker around than his wrist.

He wasn’t complaining. Point made. Captain Morgan’s rules no longer applied on Garp’s ship. Helmeppo was just another nameless cadet, and just as easily tossed over the side.

Koby was different. Vice Admiral Garp liked Koby. Something about that quiet, determined set of his shoulders caught Garp’s eyes and convinced him that he was worth personal instruction.

And even then…Koby still swabbed the deck.

He didn’t use his new position as an excuse to hand off duties. He didn’t flaunt his favor. He didn’t even move to a better bunk. He just acted like a regular cadet.

The rest of the recruits were just as baffled by this as Helmeppo himself. Even those who hadn’t spent a year or so under Captain Morgan’s more…volatile training style couldn’t conceptualize leaving an advantage un-realized. It was ridiculous. Foolish. Almost insane.

Survival dictated you took whatever power you could, and exerted it on those below you. That was how the Marines worked. It was how the government worked. It was how the world worked.

And there Koby was, swabbing the deck with the rest of his work crew, acting as if they were all equals.

The other three were still aft, the back-breaking work slowing their movements and making them struggle against both the dirt and the roll of the boat. Koby had no such difficulty, and had finished his share and continued on to aid his colleagues.

More madness. Helmeppo had passed off plenty of ‘equal’ tasks in the past, and now was reaping the results, with each work detail somehow divvied up with him doing twice the work as the other recruits.

Fair enough. That was what happened when the power of his father’s name slipped through his fingers, and all those that had been less than him now had an opportunity for revenge. It was the way of the world.

But that didn’t explain why Koby did more than his share. No one would complain if he clocked off early. They’d just be glad he did his share at all, given his place in Garp’s regard.

If he was showing off, it would have made sense. Rubbing everyone’s noses in how superior he was - but no one did that with cleaning. Posturing was for swordsmanship competitions and tests of strength.

Koby was just good at cleaning the deck. Like he’d been doing it all his life, and could spare a few minutes helping the rest catch up. As if it was easy.

Maybe it was. Helmeppo watched as the younger man flicked the mop, wiry muscle shifting along his arms, not a single wasted movement, expertise in the simplest action.

“Aren’t you done yet?”

Helmeppo jerked from his musing, shifting to look up at Petty Officer Jurgen. He’d arrived with two of his goons. (Helmeppo was still getting used to seeing the other recruits as people. He was working on it.) All three had more than enough reason for the distaste across their faces.

He stood to salute, snappy and with the exact respect a Petty Officer deserved. Jurgen scowled, robbed of the chance to berate him for lack of respect.

Which just proved Jurgen almost as naive as Koby. Anyone raised in the Captain Morgan school of life would know that you didn’t need an excuse to berate a cadet. It wasn’t as if they could talk back. Jurgen’s friends could back whatever story he invented if Helmeppo complained, and no Marine officer worth their salt would believe a mere recruit over an officer.

At least, that had been the case on every ship Helmeppo had ever rode. But this one kept on proving him wrong.

Either way, his father had beat the appropriate respect into him at a young age, so he waited patiently for Jurgen to decide what to do.

The moment stretched long, Jurgen grasping for an appropriate retort, Helmeppo comfortable at attention.

Finally the Petty Officer hissed, “Well?! Get back to work!”

Helmeppo saluted again, and returned to his task. Garp clearly wasn't teaching his officers the necessary skills. Jurgen had come looking for a fight, but hadn’t realized he had the authority to make it happen, no matter the excuse. The salute wasn't sharp enough. The cadet had scowled. The officer didn't like a cadet's face. Helmeppo could summon twenty more excuses easily, and had used most of them. His father had once had a man whipped for bleeding disrespectfully.

Instead, Jurgen and his attendants - Cleff and Krieger - had to make do with the schadenfreude of watching Helmeppo bleed into the rope.

He'd learned these knots when he was five, then perfected them while serving as cabin boy on his father’s ship. (He'd blocked as much of that away as he could. Apparently slightly too much.) Now his hands were too soft for a Seaman. Bogard had proved his point five times over by the time Helmeppo had gotten to the fourth knot.

The Commodore knew how to use his power to both teach and humiliate. Jurgen had a lot to learn.

“Bogard must hate you.” Jurgen said, sneering as Helmeppo tightened a knot and left a bloody handprint behind.

“Yessir.”

Helmeppo agreed easily. It was true enough. Bogard had taken one look at him and seen right through. He was a sniveling little boy hiding in his father's shadow. Only strong enough to terrorize those beneath him. One of a million similar marines. Surviving by kissing ass and hiding when the big boys walked in.

“Yet he let you on the crew.”

Helmeppo shrugged. He was equally surprised he'd escaped the brig. Apparently getting his ass kicked by some pirates was a good enough mark on his resume to forgive his worse sins. He didn't understand it any more than Jurgen.

“Do you think he knew what you were?”

The female cadet on Jurgen’s right, Krieger, snickered. The man on Jurgen’s left, Cleff, sneered.

Helmeppo kept his eyes on the rope, and carefully answered the question.

“The Vice Admiral and Commodore were kind enough to expunge my record.”

Cleff snorted. “Then they are -”

He cut in before Cleff could commit insubordination.

“Ten years of service, gone.”

Krieger’s eyes widened, and she whistled. “Quite the demotion. Bet you’re missing your daddy’s money.”

He shrugged. “Not much to use it on, at sea.” Also true. Back in Shells town the extra pay could go to all kinds of luxuries. Not so much on a Marine ship that looked down on bribery.

“That’s not what we were talking about, and you know it.” Jurgen interrupted, glare at odds with his subordinates’ amusement at Helmeppo’s loss of status.

Krieger and Cleff were recent recruits. They hated him in the vague way everyone hated bullies. But Jurgen had been at the base for four years. Held back for half of it, because Morgan liked to keep the best recruits around to make him look good.

Jurgen had plenty of real reasons to hate the Morgan family.

“You know, Garp gave a whole spiel when he promoted us officers. All about the honor of the marines. Talked about all the things that your father had forgotten.”

Helmeppo didn’t raise his eyes from the rope. If Jurgen thought insults to Morgan would incense him, he was as mad as he was naive. His father was an ass and a bully. Seeing him chained in the yard was every birthday present Morgan had ever forgotten, all delivered at once.

“Also talked all about how officers weren’t supposed to throw their power around.”

Helmeppo didn’t roll his eyes. If hypocrisy had bothered him, he’d have never survived his father’s base.

“And how only degenerates fraternize with cadets.”

Helmeppo’s hands stilled on the rope, all the posturing suddenly making sense. He didn’t laugh, but it was hard. While Cleff and Krieger remained oblivious, Jurgen must be fuming.

“Thank you for the warning, Officer Jurgen.”

He could hear Jurgen’s teeth grind. All that fury, incapable of striking out because of bullshit about honor and dignity.

The man only would need a tiny push, and all those ideals would crumble like sandcastles in the tide.

And if it was going to happen anyways, why waste time playing at small talk?

Helmeppo smiled up at the officer, and said -

“I’ll take you off my dance card, then.”

Jurgen snapped, fist flying. The blow sent Helmeppo to the deck.

Red flecked Jurgen’s white gloves, and Helmeppo spat out blood and spittle.

Cleff and Krieger were hauling Jurgen back, confusion written across their faces, while their friend shouted.

“If Bogard knew what you are, he’d kill you now, before you ruin this ship, just like you ruined your father’s base!”

Helmeppo rolled his eyes, and wiped blood from a split lip, before returning back to the rope.

“I was very honest on my medical records. The Commodore knows exactly what I am.”

“You mean a fucking slu-”

Krieger placed a hand over his mouth, eyes flashing around the deck.

More naivety. They were all standing on the foredeck, as far from hidden as possible. If anyone was going to step in, they’d have done it the moment Jurgen interrupted Helmeppo’s work. The fact that they didn’t proved that the upper officers didn’t give a damn what happened to him, as long as it didn’t interrupt business.

“Excuse me.”

Four pairs of eyes turned, and Koby shivered under the glares. He gripped the mop and swallowed.

“Um. Could you. Uh. Not dirty the deck? I just - just cleaned it.”

Jurgen pulled away from his friends, tugging down his uniform and regaining a semblance of dignity.

“Is that cheek, cadet?”

Koby flinched. “N-no sir!”

“Then get back to work!” Jurgen turned back to Helmeppo, ready to go back to berating him.

But Koby didn’t move.

“Well?” Cleff asked.

“I -uh- I’m already done?”

Helmeppo glanced around. The other teen had, indeed, swabbed the whole foredeck, barring the area directly around his workspace. The rest of the work crew were just finishing up the back half of the deck.

Jurgen turned back to Koby, eyes narrowing.

“You’re rather good at this, aren’t you, cadet?”

“Yessir?” The pink-haired teen flushed under the apparent complement, eyes never leaving the wooden decking.

“But you’re terrible at combat. That’s what Krieger says.”

Koby wilted, shoulders dropping and hunching around the mop. “Yessir.”

“Almost like you served on a ship, but never actually fought.”

It was true enough. Koby handled training rifles like they were glass, and fumbled his sword work. Common enough for fresh recruits, but unusual for anyone who walked across a rolling deck as easy as breathing.

“Almost like…” Jurgen continued.

The mop handle creaked under Koby’s tensing hands.

“...you were a slave.”

Krieger gasped in over-played horror, but Helmeppo watched as the tension went out of the teen’s shoulders so fast he nearly dropped the mop.

But the others were coming up, drawn by Jurgen’s voice and the way he towered over the younger man.

“Is that right?” The officer asked, looming over Koby, effectively ruining the cadet’s reputation with one easy insinuation that the youth clearly didn’t even understand. “Were you some worthless slave - “

“Are you stupid?”

Eyes jerked back to Helmeppo, where they should be.

He leaned back and crossed his legs.

“I mean. Anyone who’s been in the showers with him knows he doesn’t have a slave mark. You know that, Cleff.”

Jurgen blanched, accusation unraveling just as the other cadets finally arrived.

“Like a slave, I said. Obviously slavery is illegal across the seas - “

“Have you finished your work, cadets?” A Lieutenant appeared, hovering over the cadets like a mother hen, and suddenly Jurgen was all business, demanding Helmeppo move the rope to clear the way for the cleaning team.

Helmeppo snapped a salute that made the Petty Officer grind his teeth again, then hefted the rope over a shoulder and moved it the five feet Koby needed to finish the whole deck.

Jurgen beat a hasty retreat with his goons, disappearing below decks to whatever duty he was supposed to be doing. The Lieutenant reminded Helmeppo to work faster, even as she corralled the various deck-swabbers and harried them off to lunch.

Then they were gone. The deck was clear, and Helmeppo was left with a split lip, two hundred and fifty more knots to go, and proof enough that Koby really was in Garp’s good graces. Enough that an officer would step in to prevent a beat down.

He had no such protection. He’d have proof of that, later, when Jurgen and his goons found him after hours and stuffed him into a rope locker.

But for now, he went back to work.

Behind the helm, Bogard shifted in his chair, and pulled his hat down further over his eyes.

---

Losing his father’s protection meant more than just a few back-alley beatdowns. But there was no surprise in that.

The moment Garp arrived at Base 153, Helmeppo knew what he was in for. He was used to being his father’s scapegoat, and knew what happened to anyone who had fallen out of Morgan’s favor.

The fact that the abuse continued after Morgan was arrested and the whole cohort of recruits was dragged aboard Garp’s ship was also not a surprise. Helmeppo had yet to walk down an aisle in the mess hall, or in the bunk rooms, without tripping over ‘accidental’ legs. He’d been shoved half a dozen times when at the rails, and had to smile when newly promoted officers spat in his drink. Sparring sessions were hellish, years of one-sided bullying returning to him with interest, no one pulling punches in ‘friendly’ sessions and ‘accidentally’ going for incapacitating strikes in demonstrations. He’d been kicked in the nuts twice, and his black eye had been ‘freshened up’ four times now.

Former ‘friends’ disappeared like morning mist, either not wishing to get caught up in the inevitable revenge or dealing with their own returning karma. Helmeppo never expected otherwise. Friends were people who could get something from association with him, whether an excuse for violence or a hand up the ranks, and as soon as he could no longer provide, of course they would find a better sponsor. That was life.

Koby was different. Koby didn’t shy away from him, following the unspoken warning even the recruits from other bases picked up on. Instead, the pink-haired boy acted completely oblivious, sitting at any open table in the mess hall, even if that meant sharing with Helmeppo. He followed all instructions with exacting precision, never hitting harder than he intended. He even bunked above Helmeppo, accepting the weird smells from whatever interesting new fish somehow made their way into the lower bunk.

All of which should have made Helmeppo view him as a saint compared to the rest. But Koby was also weird.

Not nice weird. Despite all of Garp’s interest, Koby was still a shy wallflower, nervous when other recruits spoke to him, even the ones who were generally interested in him, rather than his connection to Garp.

He had the whole Marine code memorized, but couldn’t hold a gun. He practiced for hours after the other cadets had gone to bed. He stumbled over his words, and had to be reminded to stand straight. He shrank when officers reprimanded him, as if he was scared they’d strike him, and said nothing when the other cadets teased him. He aced every exam. He did twice the work of anyone else, and never bragged about it.

He was basically the opposite of Helmeppo in every way.

Which was why it was odd that they were consistently assigned the same work crews.

Then again, despite it being erased from the record, Helmeppo had spent three years as a cabin boy on his father’s ship. Unlike the rest, he did know how to keep a Marine vessel clean and floating. He just needed a reminder to do his portion of the work.

He now had callouses on his hands from said reminder. Koby still was faster.

But there was no speed to night watch on the main sail. Just the two of them, assigned to their lookout positions, bundled up against the breeze and trying to stay awake.

Someone must hate Koby as much as they hated Helmeppo, because there was no other explanation to both getting the midnight to four shift every night for the whole month, while the other recruits were cycled through the different watches.

Helmeppo fell asleep twice, was reprimanded by Bogard in front of the whole cohort, before giving up and talking through the night to keep both of them awake. He only half expected Koby to answer.

“So how long were you a cabin boy?”

No answer, but Helmeppo didn’t mind. More excuses to talk about himself.

“I served for three years.”

There was a sound of surprise, and he glanced from his position to find Koby’s eyes on him for a mere moment, before the boy snapped his eyes back to his watch.

“You were a cabin boy?” Koby asked, sounding incredulous.

Helmeppo shrugged, knowing the other wouldn’t see it. He’d maintained his image very carefully, once back on land, so no one would treat him like that again.

“Dad wanted me on his ship. ‘If you float, you work’ he said.”

“How…how old were you?”

“Ten.”

He’d been so eager to get out of Shells town. Out on the sea. With his father.

It had been before Morgan had been made Captain, but that hadn’t mattered. His father had been everything, for all that the man never came to see him unless he was visiting his mother.

If Helmeppo had known she’d be gone when he came back, washing her hands of the both of them, he would have stayed. He was selfish like that.

“What’s it like, on a Marine ship?”

“Not much different from whatever you did, I suppose.”

Koby flinched. “I very much doubt that.”

There was genuine pain in his voice, but Helmeppo wasn’t about to be outdone.

“Up at all hours, running meals to officers and crew before you got fed, dodging shrapnel to bring gunpowder to the cannons, taking on any task the crew could push off on you, smiling at the worst bullies so they wouldn’t choose you for their new kickball?” He listed off.

Koby remained silent for a moment. Then he tried, “...at least you didn’t have to paint toenails.”

Helmeppo snickered at the image. He could just picture the little frown of concentration on the pink-haired teen’s face, tiny brush on rocking seas, desperately wanting to do things right even if it was humiliating.

“I suppose that is worse than shining silver. How long did you serve?”

Koby’s eyes were glued to the horizon, but even a glance proved he wasn’t seeing anything.

“...two years. I’d booked passage to the closest Marine base but…they never went close.”

Press ganged. Or was it called something else, when someone other than the Marines did it? Helmeppo had met others with similar stories, sailors dragged from their homes to fill a needed position on a floundering Marine ship. Navigators, mostly. Or regular seamen, dragged aboard to fill out the necessary hands. Never a chore boy.

Cabin boys were extra. A position for the children of sailors or ships that wanted a bit of prestige. There was little a child could do that an experienced seamen couldn’t do better. At least, in the Marines.

“Good thing you met that pirate, then.” He said.

Koby jerked, catching sight of Helmeppo’s wry smile, but said nothing. Finally learning to keep his mouth shut.

“You must have been the only one.” Helmeppo continued. “Me? I was one of four. Only one to last the whole voyage.”

Koby made a sound of surprise, and Helmeppo took it as reason to continue.

“Jack and Hans ‘disappeared’ at port, three months apart. My father said they couldn’t cut it. I think they got wasted, and no one noticed they weren’t aboard before we left.”

He leaned back against the mast, eyes flicking to the stars. “I saw Hans years later. He’d made it to Master Chief. So he must have re-enlisted somewhere. Or caught the next ship out.”

More silence, as both considered what might happen if they were left behind now. Garp didn’t seem the type to forgive drunken seamen anymore than corrupt ones.

“What happened to the third one?”

Helmeppo blinked, drawing his mind away from the image of what would happen to him if Bogard every found him fucking up that badly.

“Sorry?”

“You said there were four of you. What happened to the third one?”

If Koby hadn’t been so diligent, he might have caught the full-body wince from Helmeppo.

Then again, no one else would have noticed a missing cabin boy in the first place.

“Ah. It’s not important.”

Koby sounded doubtful. “You said your father’s ship was worse than Alvida’s. Leaving people behind is bad, not evil. So something more must have happened.”

Helmeppo’s feigned nonchalance flickered, hands tightening where he’d crossed them over his arms. Damn the other boy. He couldn’t even concentrate on Koby’s admission of serving under a pirate, instead remembering -

Blood, tears, the rasp of the deck, sandpaper on his cheek, where his father held him down but kept his face turned, salt in his eyes, red of rope burns on thin wrists…

“He was court martialed. And flogged. Until he couldn’t stand. They left him at Base 16 to finish his sentence.”

“You said he was ten?”Koby stuttered.

Helmeppo forced a shrug. “Twelve, then. My father said he should have been executed.”

“For what?”

Helmeppo remained silent, nails cutting divots into the skin of his arms.

“...’meppo?”

He breathed out, slow and tense, and put on the smile he’d perfected by practicing, over and over, in the mirror.

His mother once told him he had a face begging for a punch. Smiling only made it worse, but at least then there was a reason for it.

“Oh, it’s just like Garp said. Fraternization is highly looked down on in the marines. Wouldn’t want to be like those libertine Revolutionaries, right?”

Koby looked blank, and Helmeppo remembered that the government kept word of those kind of people out of the news sheets.

He could lie. He could make something up, invent a world where people like him weren’t hated by the world, and maybe Koby would believe it enough to take the lie all the way up to whatever heights Garp had set for him.

But that world was a fantasy, just as much as the one where little kids didn’t get kidnapped by pirates just for following their dreams. And if Koby was going to hate him, it might as well be for the same thing as everyone else.

“...he kissed me. I liked it. Then someone told my father.”

—--------

Helmeppo had shut his mouth and turned away, refusing to look at Koby the rest of the night. After a few, pathetic, attempts to raise a different subject Koby shut up too, watching the dark horizon with bleak determination.

It was just adding insult to injury, when that morning Petty Officer Jurgen announced their watch would be lectured on ‘proper conduct’ for the day's classwork. Another place for Koby to shine, and for Helmeppo to bite his tongue while Jurgen listed off the sins that could get a cadet thrown in the brig.

He hung a skein of rope counterclockwise during the morning watch, eyes on Bogard as he did it, and was rewarded with his afternoon watch being reassigned to rope storage, where he cut and coiled lengths of rope for four hours under a dour Marine with leather for hands.

Which meant he wasn't there when Koby stuck up a shaking hand, and asked about ‘buggery’.

---

To be more precise, Koby corrected the record on buggery.

The half of the cadet crew assigned classwork was stuffed in the aft classroom, a space normally used to store hammocks when the ship was at full capacity. Now the hammocks were shoved aside and fifteen odd cadets were crammed next to each other on benches, balancing notebooks on knees while Petty Officer Jurgen went through the conduct portion of the Marine handbook. Bogard watched from the back of the room, more to assess Jurgen’s teaching strategies than interface with the cadets.

It wasn't meant to be a detailed study session. They'd already seen first hand how twisting the rules lead to harsh punishments. But there were edge cases and fuzziness in the rules, if you knew where to look, and Garp was intent upon stomping out that idea lest it ruin the whole cohort.

“Sub-section C deals with relations between crewmates. These are strictly prohibited.” Jurgen read out, then glanced around the class and added, “That means no buggery, you lot.”

Bogard didn't curse, but it was a near thing. The Marine handbook was quite specific, and had some rather pointed labels for certain activities. Understandable, given the need to control hundreds of hormonal teenagers for months at sea. No commander wanted to spend their time holding counseling sessions over the bruised feelings of children. Or worse.

But the snickers that went around the room were not those of teens giggling at the use of a naughty word. They were pointed, sharing an unspoken joke with the Petty Officer.

He was about to speak up, when Koby raised his hand.

Jurgen did not roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “Yes, Cadet?”

“Um. What you just said…”

He swallowed heavily, but barreled on.

“The Marine Code handbooks we have were published ten years ago. In the newer editions, it's written as fornication.”

Now there were the expected giggles. Jurgen glanced around the class, catching the eyes of the worst offenders and silencing them with a glare.

Then he brushed aside Koby’s statement. “The exact words don't matter. The point is -”

“They do!” Koby snapped, then flushed at the insubordination. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he whispered more to himself, “The words do matter.”

Jurgen scoffed, but Bogard interrupted from the back of the class.

“Elucidate, cadet.”

“Um. It's a bit…”

Bogard waved away the boy’s hesitance. “I will, temporarily, allow you to speak candidly.”

Koby nodded, clearly relieved. He took a moment to center himself, then said, “The Marine code defined buggery as sexual encounters between two men. By changing the term to ‘fornication’ it expands the prohibition to female cadets and mixed gender partners as well.”

There were more titters at this pronouncement. But he barreled on.

“Vice Admiral Tsuru had it updated four years ago. She said it was important to be precise. Otherwise the rules weren't fair.”

Koby ducked his head when he finished. Bogard glanced around the class. Jurgen was glaring, but there were thoughtful looks on the faces of the other cadets.

“What do you think, cadets?” He prompted. “Is the difference important?”

He avoided the raised hands of those with sneers on their faces, and instead chose a girl with a thoughtful frown.

“Yes, Cadet Hana?”

“I think…I wouldn't want to see two girls snogging in the bunks, any more than I'd want to see the boys doing it.”

Jurgen snorted. “It’s a bit more than that.”

“You raise a good point, cadet.” Bogard smoothly spoke over the Petty Officer. “Our standards exist for morality, true, but also for practical reasons. We sleep and eat where we work. It would be good for you all to remember that privacy is something reserved for shore leave.”

No one wanted to walk in on their officers en déshabillé, any more than those officers wanted to mediate love triangles. Everything just went smoother when everyone kept their clothes on where everyone could see.

Bogard gestured for Jurgen to continue, and the Petty Officer moved on, after a glare at Koby for the interruption.

The Commodore leaned back and considered the group.

Jurgen would make a fine Marine one day. But his rigidity when dealing with even minor infractions - the kind of things that were in the rules precisely because they were everyday temptations - would eternally brand him as a disciplinary figure, rather than a leader who could be trusted when the seamen beneath them had questions or concerns. They’d go to his second or whine to a cook, rather than see him as any kind of confidant.

The man had learned from Morgan that rules could be used as a cudgel, blindly followed and used to force misbehaving recruits into perfect lines. Morgan’s fall had only proven that his morality was hollow, while Jurgen’s remained solid.

When he dismissed the cadets, it was with instructions to read over their handbooks and return the next day with one thing they needed to change about themselves to better fit the mold. It wasn’t a kind question, nor was it one a bunch of teens would wish to answer out loud before their peers. Bogard hoped one of the more relaxed cadets would ease the tension by admitting to a silly infraction, like trading for more soup or miss-stowing their hammock. Such a cadet would be well-loved by their peers, unlike the Petty Officer.

Jurgen shoulder-checked Helmeppo on the way out, sending the tall cadet into the wall of the passageway. The teen had been waiting for the class to finish, falling in with Koby as the whole watch moved on to their afternoon duties. Jurgen didn’t even glance back to see if Bogard noticed the shove. He was that certain of approval from his superiors and the morality of his action.

The Commodore sighed, wondering if the Petty Officer was aware of the hypocrisy, or Morgan’s standards had stripped him of the ability. Certainly neither Jurgen nor Helmeppo acted as if the shove was a surprise, with the blond doing little more than huffing and rubbing his shoulder after the push.

The world would eat Jurgen alive, if he didn’t learn some flexibility.

It would similarly eat the two cadets if they didn’t grow some backbone. Helmeppo smiled ruefully and Koby said nothing, even as he glanced at the red mark left by Jurgen’s shove. They both were plenty flexible in their thinking, easily able to stomach the unfairness of the world. Koby thought the Marines were better, Helmeppo thought them worse, but both accepted there was little to be done about it.

They saw the rules as a tool, only different in the way they used them - Helmeppo like a corkscrew, Koby like a bible, and they were both wrong.

No different than Garp, really, who saw rules much the same as Jurgen, but gnawed at the injustice he saw when the standards were applied wrong, oblivious to the contradiction in the statement.

Bogard thought of rules as a stair, providing structure to young men and women, supporting them as they rose. As reliable as a hand-rail, something to fall back on when stumbling.

Yet even he would have never considered looking for changes. But Koby had, worrying at a problem, searching out the reasons, and then citing a Marine beyond reproach when pushing against outdated wording.

That was something more than mere flexibility. Something held back by cowardice and teenage uncertainty, but bubbling beneath the surface, liable to erupt and shift the whole philosophy of the Marines.

Bogard could see why Garp had his eye on the boy. The Marines were teeming with starry-eyed idealists, by-the-book rule followers, and arrogant powerhouses.

To be terrified yet still stand up to injustice was something different. Garp had chosen well for his apprentice.

Pity Bogard had a bet riding on the other one.

---

Helmeppo didn’t see Koby for the rest of the day, managing to eat quickly and leave before Koby joined the dinner crowd. So he didn’t see their newest recruit being besieged by the others, curious about his research and eager to learn from a much kinder taskmaster than Jurgen. Which meant he was asleep before Koby even reached the bunks, out like a light and nuzzled into his stuffed bear, his regular pillow still in the laundry having puffer-fish goo bleached out.

Koby paused for a moment when he finally got down to the bunks, stowing his notes, having been pulled into an impromptu study session with the other cadets. Working together eased the nerves when admitting to even minor infractions, and it was much easier to have a solid plan for corrections before telling Jurgen their sins.

It would be a pity that Koby wouldn’t be there with the rest for the discussion, but his and ‘meppo’s odd watch schedule meant that every day switched them between cadet classes. Tomorrow they’d be with Petty Officer Katsup, and she was a much lighter hand, even if she was a stickler for grammar and ready with the red ink.

He climbed over Helmeppo into his own bunk, falling asleep to the sound of the First Watch clearing their hammocks away and getting ready for their Night work. The dozens of passages of the Marine Appendixes he’d read blurred in his mind, and he was asleep in seconds.

They both woke at the toll for midnight, and Koby went through the normal routine of shuffling out of the way of the incoming watch and stowing his hammock, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. For once Helmeppo was on deck before he was, mustering with their watch and waiting for their assignment.

Who knew why they were the only cadets to always get the zero to four am watch, but it meant their duty rotations were different from the rest. Koby didn’t really care - four consistent hours of sleep was leagues better than being up whenever called on Alvida’s crew. Helmeppo kept his mouth shut, more than well aware that his grousing at the early rising time of 6 am was embarrassingly soft. But he certainly did better on days when they got a full six hours of sleep, even split up as it was. And on days when Garp woke up the whole crew to do night drills at least everyone was equally tired the next day.

Either way, it was a day of freedom away from Jurgen for the both of them, and Voby privately was grateful that he needn’t spend the early morning hours watching his back near the rails lest Jurgen get him alone.

Not that a Marine Officer would ever make the same threats that Alvida’s crew did. But the memories of being held over the dark water, with no one to care if you went over, beyond Alvida’s ire at needing to find another whipping boy…there was a lesson there that Koby was not eager to repeat, no matter how unlikely.

Officer Katsup chose four cadets to stay at the helm with her, learning how to navigate by the stars, and the rest were spread out over the deck, assigned to help various seamen at their jobs. Koby and Helmeppo were sent aft to the mizenmast, assigned to the sail with four well-worn seamen who took one look at the young cadets and sent them up the rigging to balance on the ropes and await commands from the helm.

There was the flick of a lighter and the sound of laughter below them as both cadets climbed into the rigging. Twenty feet up and they were at their station, balancing on a footrope with their hands to the sail, ready to move if either heard a call.

But the wind hadn’t shifted all day, and the ship was cutting smoothly through the water. Another long watch, no one but themselves as company, with dark all around and nothing but the creak of ropes and whistle of the wind to break the silence.

They balanced there, in the dark, until Koby spoke up.

“Your father shouldn’t have done that to your friend.”

Helmeppo shifted to look at him, and barked a laugh. “And what should he have done instead?”

Koby straightened like he always did when reciting some rule he'd memorized. Helmeppo was quickly growing tired of the stance.

“Punishments for chore boys are not to exceed one strike with the whip or withholding food for more than three days. For lesser infractions wages may be garnered or extra duties assigned.”

At Helmeppo’s incredulous expression he added, “Page 472, Appendix C of the Marine Code : Punishment for Differing Ranks.”

“Really.”

Koby nodded rapidly.

Helmeppo stared at him, then said, “Appendix C, Page 117. Captains retain the right to discipline their crews as they see fit.”

At Koby’s shocked expression he added, “What? I can read. Doesn't mean I like to.”

Koby took in this new information, but only set his jaw and added, “Same page. Paragraph 4. “Punishments not to exceed the following restrictions…”

“Except in the case of unusual exceptions, wherein a Captain may use his discretion to discipline crewmen who go beyond the pale and risk the lives, honor and morals of a crew.”

Koby’s brow twisted. “But in such a case the offense will be brought to a panel of the Captain, First Mate and Ship's doctor…”

Helmeppo rolled his eyes, “Koby, it's the same passage. One paragraph down, ‘unless in instances of ongoing battle, dire insubordination, or imminent risk of death or equal danger.’ Never mind that Dorian was court martialed and all three commanding officers agreed on the punishment.”

“How?!” Koby demanded. “It’s a minor infraction.”

“Committed against a juvenile officer - page 230 - affecting the property of a senior officer - page 379 - posing an immediate danger to the morality of the crew - that's Appendix F in full.”

(“Are they having an argument about the manual?” One of the senior seamen asked.
“No one even reads that thing.” Another replied.
“Officers” a third said, rolling her eyes.)

Koby took a moment to parse the citations, doing in a moment what had taken Helmeppo a month to compile (under his father's careful watch, ensuring no deviance had rubbed on his boy. And letting him know what would happen if it had.)

“What property?” He asked.

“That would be me.” Helmeppo said.

“And the immediate danger to morality?”

“If the cabin boys had been tempted to buggery, then the rot was already deep set and needed immediate correction.”

“And the mitigating factors of age and severity of offense?”

Helmeppo smiled, a bit too wide, “They cancel themselves out, don't they? Crimes of morality are worse against children. Everyone agrees on that. That it was perpetuated by another child only means that the perversion is deep indeed, since no normal child would have such urges.”

“And the nature of the offense was not…consensual?”

Helmeppo paused, and Koby caught the momentary hesitation, unreadable expression on the other teen’s face.

But Helmeppo waved it off. “Children can't consent to anything. Certainly not depravity. They're unshaped clay, molded to the hand that guides them.”

He paused and added, “And that is from the introduction of the Chore Boy's manual.”

“I remember.” Koby’s voice was quiet, and Helmeppo had a moment of regret at marring the rosy memory the other must have had of the text.

Better truth than a lie, though. Right?

“So. Because you were kids, it was worse. Because you were an officer's son, it was worse. Fine. But why depravity not fraternization?”

Helmeppo stared at him.

“...what?”

“Because we were boys.”

Koby stared back, utterly lost.

“Koby. Please tell me you didn't read the whole Marine manual on buggery without knowing what sex is.”

“I know what sex is!” Koby snapped, flushing as pink as his hair. “But if it was just a kiss…”

“Marine rules suggest depravity in any relation other than between a man and a woman.”

The younger teen looked confused. “It wasn't like that on my ship…”

“That's because they were pirates. They are inherently degenerate.”

“I thought it was the murder and theft.”

“And the buggery is proof of it.”

Koby’s brow knit. “That…doesn't seem to relate at all.”

“Don't tell that to Jurgen. He'll have you on the next ship to Momoiro Island.”

“...where?”

Right. He had no clue about Revolutionaries.

“It’s a place where…people go against the normal way of doing things.”

“Like Pirates?”

“Right. Like pirates. But you can't be a pirate and a Marine.”

“But what does that have to do with sex?”

Helmeppo couldn't believe he had to explain this. Garp would be so proud he was telling his little protégé the right way to do things.

“Sex between a man and a woman can grow the ranks of the Marines. So anything else is wrong.”

Koby turned this over in his mind.

“Even…even sex by yourself?”

“That would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

“But…none of it is allowed on a ship.”

“Well, yes. But buggery is worse than simple fornication. Hence the whipping.”

Koby’s brow was still twisted. As a call went up from the helm, and they shifted the sail, he still had a frown on his face.

Half an hour later, after all the adjustments had been made and the sail fully caught the breeze, he was still frowning.

When they had settled back against the sail, he finally asked.

“If that's true…why not just stick with girls?”

“Because I'm gay, Koby.”

“No you're not.”

Helmeppo sputtered.

Koby continued, “You're not lazy or slow, or part of a pirate crew.”

“Koby, what do you think gay means?”

He considered. “Um. On my last ship it was…everyone? Though Alvida used a different word. But the Appendix said it meant the same thing.”

Helmeppo had the sudden urge to put his head in his hands and scream. He wasn't paid enough for this.

“Koby, your Captain was a bitch, and just liked using the worst word she could think of to rally her crew. You'll hear the same thing from half the training commanders. It doesn't mean everyone is gay. Just that it's bad to be called that.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Gay just means you like other men.”

“And…since there are pirates like that…that's bad?”

“Sure. Fine. Let's go with that.”

“But…everyone is like that. Marines just choose to stay with girls.”

Helmeppo exploded. “No, no, no! You don't choose anything!”

“Oi! You lads doing okay up there?”

Helmeppo coughed, and lowered his voice, apologizing to the seamen below.

Instead, he hissed to Koby. “Do I look like the kind of person to choose the hard path?”

Koby frowned, still perplexed.

“Alright. Let's try it this way. Your pirate friend. Can you imagine him ever kissing anyone?”

Koby considered. “To be…nice?”

“...and mean it.”

The younger man flinched even thinking about it. “Noooo. Never.”

“I'm like that with girls.”

Koby stared. Opened his mouth, then closed it. Looked away, and thought some more.

All the way through another sail shift, then back when the wind shifted again.

Helmeppo left him to it, hauling rope while his partner re-evaluated half a lifetime of memories.

Finally, as they were securing a portion of the sail, Koby said, “That’s…possible?”

“Yep.”

Another half hour. Shifting sail, calling up and down, until their watch was almost done.

Finally, Koby asked, “Is…is that why Jurgen hates you?”

Helmeppo burst out laughing. “Ah, no. Jurgen hates me because I'm a slut, and he lost his shot at me when Garp stopped Officers from fucking cadets.”

It was just light enough that he got a clear view of Koby’s face, as the poor boy went through twenty emotions at once, setting on the same vague horror that the intake nurse had a month prior, when Helmeppo had given her a perfectly accurate description of his sexual history.

It left him feeling all warm and fuzzy, all the way through the 4am bell and back into his bunk, cuddling up to the bear left behind by his third ex, when the man finally got promoted and escaped.

Koby didn't get any sleep that watch. He just stared at the ceiling, and re-evaluated everything he thought he knew.

---

Koby was quiet over the next few days, obediently following along with the rest of the recruits, swabbing decks and listening to the thinly veiled disdain Jurgen threw at both himself and Helmeppo.

It made perfect sense to the older recruit. He’d come out to a few people before, beyond the Officers he’d pursued, and it generally ended the same way. Confusion, then - like Koby - research, then disappointment and revulsion. He was pretty sure having a ‘queen’ on base actually kept the rest of the recruits more in line, as they all made sure to loudly proclaim their devotion to the straight -hah- and narrow. It had been a relief when word got round, along with the warning that anyone mentioning it within Morgan’s earshot would earn a stint in the yard.

Koby hadn’t known any of that. But he would have found out sooner or later. If just because the other recruits would take pity on him and warn him away from his berth-mate.

It still stung. Worse, somehow, when Koby requested a private meeting with Jurgen, asking for clarification on some of the words used in the manual, and Helmeppo knew what that meant. He wasn’t sure why he’d assumed Koby was any different. The boy had seen where the worst debauchery could lead, and of course he’d want to get as far from it as possible. It wasn’t a surprise.

He kept telling himself that, even as he watched Koby follow Jurgen out of the room, and looked down to find his pencil snapped in half.

---

“What can I help you with, Koby?” Jurgen sat behind the desk shared by all the Petty Officers, trying to look as if he owned the whole room.

Koby sat down across from him. The room was barely more than a closet, and his hands itched to organize the chaos around him. Jurgen didn’t seem to notice.

“You’ve been lecturing us about morality, sir. I had some follow up questions?”

“And you chose to ask them after class...because?”

He looked down. “You didn’t seem happy with the last question I asked.”

“I didn’t like your cheek, cadet. Just because Garp likes you doesn’t mean you can talk back to officers.”

“Yessir.”

“...so?”

Koby pulled out a list from his notebook. “On my old ship the captain had rather…colorful language. All words that aren’t allowed. But…the way she said them doesn’t match how they’re used in the book. ‘meppo said -”

Jurgen jerked the list from his hands, “Whatever that reprobate said isn’t worth listening to.”

“Sir.” It wasn’t a yes or no, but Jurgen didn’t notice the wooden expression, just skimming through the list.

A moment later, he leaned back.

“You know, I think you’re the only cadet who could have used some more time with Morgan.”

“Sir?”

He gestured to the list. “You’d have found out real quick what these meant back at the 153rd. All worth a beating, they are.”

Koby bit his tongue, not pointing out that half explicitly didn’t, according to the rules. At least, if done on one’s own time or in private quarters.

“As for the meaning, why don’t you look at your senior, and go from there.”

“...Helmeppo?”

“Right. Though how you can stand to be around - never mind. The point is, these are all related to buggery. Copulating between two men. Vile stuff.”

“Even this one?” Koby pointed at a word at the end of the alphabetized list.

Jurgen glanced down. “Hah. When he does it- well. Let’s say your friend worked his way through half the officers that stopped by. It might be the best word to describe him. Certainly described his mother.”

Koby carefully slotted that piece of information away. “So…if I’m calling the recruits, I shouldn’t yell ‘Wake up you lazy sluts’?”

Jurgen sputtered, the filth falling far too easily from the sweet little recruit’s mouth.

“Or - ‘Zip up your pricks, we’ve got work to do’?”

“Now -"

“And not 'Take the cocks out of your ass and haul!'?”

“Koby!”

The teen jerked out of the memories and looked up to find Jurgen’s exasperated face.

“Sir?”

“Look. You need to understand the rules mean far less than who’s in charge, y’hear?”

Koby frowned, and Jurgen sighed.

He tapped the list. “Whatever your commander says, you just say yessir. Don’t think, don’t question, just do. Unless you think you’re better than your officers?”

“No sir!” Koby was quick to say.

“That’s right. Just do your job, and Garp might make a decent seaman out of you.”

The Petty Officer didn’t see the tightness in Koby’s eyes as he nodded.

Koby didn’t say, ‘Garp told me not to overthink things, not never think at all.’
He didn’t say, ‘I wouldn’t be here if I only ever obeyed orders.’
He didn’t say, ‘You’ve broken fifteen rules just now, just by saying you should ignore the rules.’

He just nodded, and made to leave.

He was half way to the door when Jurgen added, “And Koby?

“Yessir?” Koby paused, face away from the Officer.

“They say Garp has the most honor among all the Marines. That kind of honor doesn’t abide degeneracy.”

“Sir?”

“I doubt he’d appreciate it if all his work went to waste, should his protege fall in with the wrong sort.”

Koby stared at the door. Felt it creak under his hands. Waited almost too long before spitting out,

“Yessir.”

And felt like just as much of a coward as he’d always been, back on Alvida’s ship.

---

Helmeppo expected Koby would avoid him as much as possible, after talking to Jurgen. The other teen would probably ask to be reassigned – different bunk, different watch, different ship, just to get away from him.

Instead, walking back to the bunks after dinner, Koby yanked him into a spare store room and slammed the door behind the both of them.

“Koby, what the hell -”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“You are wrong. You, and Jurgen, and your father…you’re all wrong.”

Helmeppo stood back, tugging his shirt down. Instinct had him looking for Koby’s backup, but there was no room in the space, and he hated how much that made him relax. It wasn’t like Koby had a posse to send after him. Though Jurgen would have probably lent him one, if this was going where he expected.

“Look, I told you. The rules really don’t matter- “

“I don’t need rules to know what’s right.” Koby snapped.

When Helmeppo stared at him, he clenched his hands and continued.

“I don’t need rules. To know that whipping a little kid is wrong. Or stealing. Or punching an old lady. It’s obvious. The rules…they’re just words around what we already know. What I already know.”

‘meppo barked a laugh. “Really. And now you know that I’m the scary monster in the woods?”

“No. I know that you’re not.”

Koby looked up at him.

“Everything he said. All that - that bullshit about evil and degeneracy and morality. It’s wrong. Not because the rules say so. Because I say so. And maybe that doesn’t matter to anyone else. But it matters to me.”

He took a breath and continued.

“I won’t let you, or Jurgen, or even Garp tell me what is and isn’t wrong. I believe in the rules. But I don’t need them to tell me what happened to your friend wasn’t right. I don’t need them to tell me that an officer fucking over a cadet for who he sleeps with is wrong. And I don’t need rules to know that telling the whole ship a cadet is a whore isn’t good.”

Helmeppo looked down. How much courage had the younger man martialed, just to say this?

What did it even matter?

“What if I am a whore? If everything he said about me is absolutely true?”

Koby set his jaw. “Then you still deserve the same treatment as anyone else.”

“Hah. As if you’re not scared to - ”

He was interrupted by Koby kissing him.

All things equal, it was an absolutely terrible kiss. Close-mouthed, too much force, angle wrong so they bumped noses. Koby needed to pull Helmeppo down a good foot to meet his lips, tangling his hand in the other teen’s lapels. There were sure to be smears all over Koby’s glasses, and Helmeppo was too shocked to realize what was happening, until the younger teen drew back, thumping back onto his heels and panting.

He drew the back of his hand across his mouth.

“You can be a slut. Or a whore. Or…or any of the other horrible things he called you. It won’t make me hate you.”

He shoved a finger in Helmeppo’s chest.

“If I hate you, it’ll be for being a lazy ass with stupid hair, not for who you love or how many people you’ve slept with. And none of their bullshit is going to change that. That is my justice.”

He dropped his hand and strode out of the room, leaving Helmeppo staring at the swinging door, stunned to his core.

It almost made him wish Koby would still believe all of it, when he finally figured out what all those words actually meant.

---

If the whole thing had been a ploy to ensure that Helmeppo lost just as much sleep as Koby, it was a revenge well served. He stared at the bottom of Koby’s bunk the entire four hours of the watch, and wasn’t even tired at the end of it.

Koby didn’t say anything as the bell rang and they switched out. But he didn’t shy away either, so perhaps he really meant everything he said.

But Helmeppo wasn’t exactly sorry that they were assigned different ends of the ship for the night watch. Koby was at the front, reading maps with the navigator and learning the helm. Helmeppo aft, serving lookout with another cadet.

The seaman supposedly overseeing them was perched against rail, smoking, the ember at the end of his cigarette the only light behind them. Helmeppo was happy to stand in the silence, mind too busy to speak.

Until Cadet Hana sidled up to him.

“You’re assigned with Koby, right?”

He didn’t close his eyes, but it was a near thing.

“Yes, Hana. He is now the senior cadet.”

“And you act as runner for most of the day watch.”

“...carrying messages is part of our duties, yes.”

“So do you know what he does with Garp?”

He glanced quickly at their supervisor, but the man was still watching the sea, seemingly oblivious to anything but the water behind them.

Technically they weren’t supposed to talk during a sentry watch. But if their babysitter didn’t even flinch at Garp’s name, then it was probably fine.

“He plays Go, mostly.”

“You’re joking.”

He shook his head. “Wins at it too. Not sure how a Vice Admiral could lose to a cadet, but…”

A laugh, and both looked to the sentry. “That does sound like our Garp.”

“But…he’s a Vice Admiral.” Hana said.

“Doesn’t mean he’s good at games. The Mad Dog doesn’t really go in for strategy, see?”

Both shook their heads, and the sentry shifted, eyes never leaving the waters, but opening his space to them.

“Our Captain didn’t get where he did by sitting back and thinking. Oh, some of the others did. Tsuru and the rest, they took all the tests and aced all the exams. But our Captain just punched any pirate he could see, all the way up to Gol D. Roger himself.”

There was a fierce pride in the man’s voice, and it wasn’t hard to be drawn in by the tale.

“And then, after he got all the way up to Vice Admiral, they said he had to stop. Stop punching pirates. Let the Warlords go. Sit back and train recruits and do paperwork. And he’d have to answer to a higher power.”

He gestured, way out east, and both cadets shivered.

“An’ he said no. No to being an Admiral. Chose to stay here with us, sailing the seas and fighting for justice. His justice. Not something someone on some mountain says is justice.”

His eyes shone in the dark, ember bit between his teeth and fire reflected on his face.

“An’ that’s why he’s the best damn Marine in the whole of the ocean. And can’t play Go worth a damn.”

Hana burst out laughing, hands shoved over her mouth to muffle the sound. And the sailor smiled at them both, and pointed out a few more things to watch for in the dark.

He seemed content tying his sails to another man’s destiny. Helmeppo wasn’t sure he could do the same.

Captain Morgan wasn’t any better at Go than Garp. Probably worse. But the tutors he’d hired for his son were very careful when they taught Helmeppo to play. He had to be good. But not too good. None of that fancy strategy that Koby used. The difficulty came in letting his father win without it seeming easy. There were days when Helmeppo would place a piece wrong, and flinch, only to be clapped on the back and praised for being clever, while on other days the same move would have him scrubbing plates with a black eye.

He could imagine Garp throwing the board. He couldn’t imagine Morgan picking it up after.

But he knew how to deal with men like his father. How to shower them with compliments and hide behind their power, then tie them back to him with so many little secrets that they’d never betray him. He’d thought Koby was the same, playing some angle that Helmeppo couldn’t grasp, but for the same purpose.

Instead Garp liked the teen more when he won. When he talked back, or questioned a decision.

Or doubted a rule.

Helmeppo shifted, looking out into the night, while Hana and the sentry chatted quietly. He wondered what the hell he’d signed up for. And if Koby was just as mad as Garp.

---

Whatever awkwardness there was between them disappeared half way through morning drill, when Helmeppo hissed under his breath,

“Koby, If we have to repeat this just because you are scared of your own sword, I will strangle you with your own hammock.”

The words had Koby stumbling, but he corrected his stance on the next move, straightening his back and slashing down with something approximating strength.

“I’ve never used a sword before!” He hissed back.

“But you’ve got the whole drill memorized. Don’t say otherwise.”

They went through two more motions, called out by Bogard, Helmeppo itching to move through the whole drill and trying not to snap at the fresh faces who kept holding them back.

Koby included.

He must have learned the drill through a book. That was the only way he could know all the steps, but still stumbled over his own feet. The boy held his sword like it was made of glass rather than steel, and flinched at every command to strike.

“Stop looking at your feet!” Helmeppo snapped.

“But-”

“Look at the cadet in front of you, if you need it.”

Koby’s chin came up, and that did wonders for his form. They made it through three blocks and one parry before he was stumbling again.

“Head up. Thrust as if you’re trying to stab through your captain's ugly mug.”

The next motion was almost passable. Enough that Bogard didn’t call for them to repeat the move. Koby still looked like he was punching with his sword, but it was better.

When they broke for lunch, there was a pleasant burn in Helmeppo’s shoulders, and Koby’s hands were shaking. The rest of the recruits groaned and fled to the showers before the swordmaster called them back for more.

Koby slumped against the rail, massaging feeling back into his wrists.

“How did you manage to floor me, if you can’t even hit straight?” Helmeppo asked, leaning over him.

Koby flushed. “What d’you-”

“There were three pirates in the boat. Someone hit me from behind.”

He seemed surprisingly…calm for suggesting Koby not only struck him but also allowed the pirates to get away.

“What was that, anyway? An oar?”

Koby mumbled something into his shirt.

“Hmm?”

“I said…I just punched you. Easier than finding an oar.”

Helmeppo stood back. “...huh.”

“Bogard says you’ve got a glass jaw.”

“Oi!”

“And you two should be below decks.” The man himself interrupted.

Both cadets drew to attention.

“At ease, cadets.”

The Commodore looked over the two. “Helmeppo isn’t wrong, Koby. You should put more strength into your strikes. As for you…”

He turned to Helmeppo. “Koby is right. You do have a glass jaw. You’ve spent too long fighting opponents more scared of your father than you. No wonder you were easily bested by a bounty hunter.”

Helmeppo flushed, and bowed his head.

“But your advice was good. You may join the next watch if you want more practice.”

Another four hours of drill. With the actual seamen. Only a mad-man would volunteer for that.

Koby just nodded and went to retrieve his sword. With a momentary longing look towards the mess hall, Helmeppo followed after, not to be outdone.

Petty Officer Katsup came up, following Bogard’s eyes to the boys’ retreating backs.

“Sir?”

“Extra practice. Koby’s dropping his sword. The other favors his right. See if you can get them to correct it.”

She snapped a salute, and Bogard returned to the quarterdeck. Supposedly they had a lead on the Strawhat’s next whereabouts.

---

Their next work shift had them cleaning the bilge, stuffed together in small, dank spaces, scrubbing moldy, algae encrusted walls with lye, their arms still sore from the extra training. It was miserable work, far from the light above decks, every creak above them echoing into the dark.

It felt like the ship was a living, breathing thing around them, and it sent shivers down Helmeppo’s spine. He grasped for anything to distract him.

“So…you’ve never kissed anyone before. Clearly.”

Koby paused his work, wondering why the hell Helmeppo was bringing it up now, rather than at lunch.

Except that would have meant talking about it around others. Of course.

“I never had the opportunity. Or the inclination.”

“Huh. Well, you’re shit at it.”

Koby sputtered. “That wasn’t the point.”

“Oh, I got your point. But still.”

Koby was grateful for the low light. He could feel his ears flush.

“Probably means you're a virgin, too.”

“ ‘meppo!” He said, scandalized, despite all their prior conversations.

But it got Helmeppo to laugh, and something eased between the two of them.

Koby coughed, and went back to scrubbing. “I saw plenty of it on my last ship.”

“But never participated?”

He’d been kidnapped at sixteen, by pirates twice his age. The idea that they’d want him in such a way was preposterous.

“No. They treated me like part of the furniture. Didn’t even notice me half the time. But once they were -y’know- it was hard to leave.”

He paused, scrubbing at a particularly vicious stain.

“I hated it.”

Helmeppo glanced at him, shadowed by the wan light. “You weren’t interested?”

“Honestly? It made me feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

Koby stared at the creaking steel, a hundred leagues of ocean between him and the smoldering wreck of Alvida’s ship.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come now. I’ve told you my secrets. Open up a bit.” Helmeppo said, lightly teasing, pretending the conversation was nothing important, despite the nightmare scenarios that the thought of a kid on a pirate ship brought.

“It was just weird, okay? I never felt…disgusted, like Jurgen seems to. We had all types on the ship. I saw ‘buggery’ in more forms than that man could dream of. And fornication too.”

He paused, then barreled forward, feeling like he was admitting something he shouldn’t.

“They made me watch, sometimes. And clean up afterward. It was a game to them. They could see how uncomfortable it made me, and it made them laugh. Worse if I…y’know.”

“Got hard?”

Koby flushed and dropped his head, breathing in the sharp scent of lye making his eyes burn, preferable to how the rest of the conversation was making him feel.

“That's awful.”

Koby wilted into the keel. “I know.”

“They’re sick fucks, for doing that to you.”

He jerked up, eyes wide, private shame exposed and inexplicably absolved.

“So many people get off on that kind of power.” Helmeppo continued, scrubbing hard at a crust of salt. “Half my mother’s clients loved to rub it in my face, if they knew who I was, just like that.”

Koby’s brow twisted, and he must have made a sound of confusion.

“She was a whore.” Helmeppo said, easily. “Her Johns thought it was funny if I got mad when they said they’d hit her. It was all a power game. Look what we can do, and you can’t.” His voice pitched into a nasal whine, clearly imitating a specific customer. “It made them feel big, making someone else feel small. Or gross.”

It was a close description to everything Alvida’s pirates had done. Raiding ships, terrorizing merchants, making him clean the blood…they loved it. Imposing their will on the world, by taking it from others.

“It was better than some of the other things they did.” Koby said, trying to argue against his own memories. “It wasn’t like being flogged, or worked till I puked. It just…made me feel wrong inside.”

“Things can hurt even if they don’t leave bruises.” Helmeppo said, utter certainty bringing all kinds of questions Koby didn’t know how to ask.

“Was it like that for you?” He said instead. “Feeling wrong inside?”

Helmeppo remained silent for a long moment.

“Sex is great.” He finally said. “I enjoy it. Wouldn’t have started so early otherwise.”

“What’s it feel like?”

Helmeppo breathed out, eyes locked on the steel before him. All of those rules, and Koby had no idea what prompted people to seek it out. He'd never had the opportunity to consider how he felt about any of it, in a space where there weren't voyeurs around every corner. How could he act so certain, so critical of Jurgen’s ideas, when he couldn’t conceive of the pull that dragged them all to madness?

“Like a warm bed and a good meal wrapped into one, combined with that feeling you get climbing to the top of the sail and seeing the whole ocean before you. Burning muscles and the rush of success and finally not being alone.”

“You don’t need sex for any of that.” Koby said.

Helmeppo dropped his head to the steel, feeling the whole ship thrum through his temples. “No. But it’s the easiest way. And only takes five minutes.”

“But there are rules about that.”

“Eh.” Helmeppo shrugged. “I figure there wouldn’t be so many rules if recruits weren’t making themselves stupid to get it.”

Koby considered. Certainly plenty of pirates on Alvida’s ship were indeed stupid about it. Distracted from their work and libel to irritate other crew members. All things that would be the same on a Marine ship, doubled with the size of the crew and worse for the upset to the order of the place.

“No commander wants to deal with drama when the crew should be fighting pirates.” The older teen continued.

“When you say it like that, it makes so much sense.” Koby said. “No morality necessary.”

“Hah. Don’t let Jurgen hear you say that.”

“I’m not sure Jurgen understands the rules.”

That startled a real laugh out of Helmeppo. “Oh, he understands the rules far better than you do, Koby.”

“But -”

“How about this.” He turned to the younger teen. “Before you decide Jurgen’s wrong, take some time to think about what you’d want. Just you, without all of Alvida’s bullshit weighing you down. Can you imagine fucking anyone? Looking at Officer Katsup’s ass, and feeling hot under the collar? Or dreaming about how warm Navigator Cress would be in bed?”

“I don’t want to think of people like that. It’s rude to the officers. And the other recruits.”

Helmeppo tched, finishing his work and dropping the fouled sponge into its bucket. “And you’re the moral paragon of the age. Then think of some hypothetical lady who doesn’t mind you looking, but isn’t making you, either.”

Koby stared at the wall. “...even if I did that, I wouldn’t want to do it here.”

Helmeppo glanced around the space. Dank. Dark. Dirty. He’d had trysts in worse places. But a man like Koby probably deserved better. And was speaking metaphorically anyways.

“Well, we are on shift. There are plenty of rules about that. But either way, maybe you should stop lecturing me about all this, when you haven’t figured yourself out yet. Give it a thought, then get back to me if Jurgen’s hate makes more sense.”

---

Koby did as he suggested, thinking about it as they shifted sails and drilled, two days tracking the Strawhat across the sea, spent listening to the other recruits at dinner and thinking back to what he’d seen, reimagining it if he hadn’t been scared and miserable. Imagining if he’d been the one making a partner smile, or feeling the way the pirates looked in the throes of passion.

It still felt weird. And he did take a few cold showers, after waking from dreams he couldn’t quite remember. But as he pushed aside the ugly memories, told himself that what he felt had been normal, if forced - nothing shifted. He didn’t suddenly find Jurgen’s words more sensible. Just the opposite. And he still felt as if there was something wrong with the way Helmeppo spoke.

Not with who he was. As odd as it seemed to be interested in only one gender of person, clearly the other Marines assumed that was the norm, only in the opposite direction. But Koby couldn’t find it in himself to hate Helmeppo for being different something so minor. So…unimportant to their work and their goals.

But Jurgen hated Helmeppo for it. And it made no sense. It just left him with more questions.

---

Syrup Town did not go well for Helmeppo. Puked on by the Strawhat. Once again knocked on his ass by Zorro. And Koby let them walk away. Again.

Worse was the reveal that the Black Cat Pirates had apparently conned his father and his promotion to Captain had been based on nothing more than sand.

So Helmeppo would have to deal with that once they got back to Shells Town. Payback whatever was left of the bounty and figure out how to find the rest. Maybe there was a way for them to garnish his wages? Certainly Morgan wouldn’t be able to pay, stuck in prison.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised his father left him with another mess to deal with. The man would probably find some way to blame Helmeppo for it all before he got done.

As they waited for the pirates to surface, he forced himself to find dinner, dreading the rumors Jurgen would have started.

“Okay, but how did he fake it?” Cadet Hana was saying, when he slipped through the door and wound his way to the counter.

“Well, it’s not like we can trust Morgan.” Skaven, one of the older cadets, said.

There were nods around the table.

“...when Zorro claimed his bounty, he had to bring in the body.” Hana pointed out.

“So?” Hart was one of Hana’s friends, a promising navigator.

“So Morgan couldn’t just say he defeated Kuro. He had to have proof.” Hana said, oblivious to the way Helmeppo’s back tensed while waiting in line.

Instead, she looked around the table. “Ignoring the Captain, the bounty office would have needed to get approval for such a big payout, right?”

“Unless they had another reason for promoting him.” Cleff said, from the table behind them. His cadre of friends chuckled.

“Maybe his ship wanted to get rid of him.” Suggested one. “What trouble could he make in East Blue?”

“Or they wanted a hero, and didn’t care how they made one.” Krieger said. “To make the civvies feel safe.”

Cleff nodded along. “They probably just found a pirate captain that hadn’t been active for a while and pretended Morgan dealt with him.”

“You really have a poor opinion of Central.” Helmeppo said, dropping his tray on Hana’s table with a bang.

The whole mess flinched, sound silencing even the experienced seamen, sensing the tension in the air, as Jurgen's friends glared at Helmeppo. Two seconds from a fight.

Instead, Helmeppo simply sat down and began eating. When everyone stared, he glanced around.

“What? It’s obvious what happened, isn’t it?”

“Elucidate.” Krieger said, crossing her arms in a parody of their Commodore.

Helmeppo set down his fork.

“My father did fight the Black Cat pirates. Under his Captain. They chased them across East Blue for months. That is public record.”

“But he was only a Lieutenant. If Central wanted a hero, they could have chosen half a dozen men higher than him. But you’re forgetting who the Black Cat pirates were.”

“A bunch of scum, just like any other pirate.” Cleff said.

“They were smart. Smart enough to hide for three years after whatever happened. Kuro found a nice little town to retire to, and would have stayed dead had that Strawhat not shown up.”

“...so?”

“So there’s no benefit to Central saying he’s dead. There’s all the benefits to Kuro.”

Hana sounded it out. “So…Kuro fooled Morgan. And the rest of the Marines. Somehow.”

No one looked convinced. Helmeppo stared back at them.

“Are you really that blind?”

The tables bristled, but Koby asked, “To what?”

Helmeppo huffed. “Everyone is always so focused on the Captains. Always forget about the rest of them.”

He waved a hand. “Kuro’s second was a mentalist. Famous for hypnotism. Had a bounty all of his own. The body they dragged back to base was too damaged to identify, but with fifty Marines swearing what they saw, no one doubted it. Leaving the rest of the Black Cats to go on their merry way, and Kuro to slink off and retire.”

He returned to his meal, ignoring the conversation that sprung up around him.

There were half a dozen holes in his theory. Koby could probably have pointed each one out in detail. But Koby wasn’t there. He’d disappeared until their evening work, and then moped the whole time.

Not because he’d let the pirates go. Oh no. It was because he just found out about the Warlords.

So maybe the Marines didn’t like being reminded that there were Pirates out there with government sanction. Maybe they kept the fact from the wider public. But surely the pirates spoke of the pinnacle of their kind, whispering stories of becoming so great the World Government listened.

But apparently Alvida was so small scale she didn’t even warn her crew away from the actual dangers. Koby admitted that she thought she was the best pirate in East Blue. While not being important enough to even register on Zorro’s radar. Who knew if she was even aware of the Warlords?

So Koby was moping, and maybe Helmeppo teased him a bit about it. After all that bluster earlier, he was rocked to his core the minute Garp admitted to the less savory parts of the Marines.

Who knew what he’d do if he found out about the Revolutionaries. Or where - and what - was collected as tax to the World Government. Or all of the thousands of little cruelties the Marines allowed because it was simply easier than the un-glamourous work of rooting out buried evil.

Which was why it was hardly a surprise when Koby cornered him in the records room the next evening. The night’s watch had them running logs back and forth, preparing maps for the day and stowing old logs, along with whatever information the Quarterdeck had used the previous day. Both were overloaded with paper, searching the unfamiliar room for filing cabinets and shelf labels.

“Is there other stuff they don’t tell us about?” Koby wasn’t looking at the other cadet, staring fixedly at the book in his hands. “Other rules that some people get to break?”

“Of course.” Helmeppo reached past him and slotted a weather log into the appropriate place. “Have enough money, have enough influence, and even the Marines will bend.”

“That’s wrong.”

Helmeppo shrugged. Wrong or right didn’t really matter to him. There were people out there doing every vile thing in the book. Half of them were pirates, taking their pleasures under the banner of freedom. The other half were normal people. Marines and Kings, using privilege as their excuse. Peasants hiding their little evils amid the veil of unimportance. Everyone had a sin to their name, if you knew where to look.

“Garp asked me if I could live with it. Just…letting some pirates go. It’s not like I have a choice. I couldn’t stand up to Alvida, how could I stand up to the best swordsman in the world?”

Helmeppo rolled his eyes, but let Koby drone on, speaking out his concerns to the one person who, frankly, didn’t give a damn.

Every decent Marine had this problem, eventually. And all had a different answer. Follow all the rules, only break the ones you thought were silly, allow one pirate to go, and instead pursue another…some Marines broke under the dissonance. Others twisted the rules until they justified whatever they wanted, and called it moral.

The reality was that it didn’t matter. The Marines had the backing of the World Government, and that gave them the authority to do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted, and answer only to their superiors.

Helmeppo learned that face-down on the deck, watching a boy he might have loved flogged half to death. Justice was whatever the most powerful person around said it was. And the only thing that changed that was someone with more power taking over.

But Koby still had stars in his eyes, and was desperately trying to rebuild his foundation.

“But what if they ask me to do something else? Hurt people I know are innocent? If Luffy hadn’t stolen that map…would Garp still go after him? Just for saying he’s a pirate? Can you be a pirate without doing anything at all? How would I even know?”

The micro-breakdown continued on, allowing Helmeppo to - for once - go faster than Koby in a test of book-smarts.

He was only half listening, when he uncovered a small volume, easily overlooked in the reams of paper a naval ship generated every day. The title was meaningless, just noting the dates of the log, spanning a lengthy twenty five years. And it was only half filled.

He flipped it open as Koby continued.

“What if it’s something small? Like a little village not paying tax, because of a bad harvest. Will I have to go after them, rather than the pirates raiding the seas, just because it’s easier? Because they can’t run away? What about ignoring bad things, just because my superiors do them? Jurgen said I should just follow orders, but that’s what made people like -”

Koby paused, feeling a sudden stillness in the room. When he looked up he found Helmeppo frozen, staring at a page in the tiny book, face blank but whole body brittle around the edges, as if he was a moment away from shattering.

“...’meppo?”

The other cadet jerked back to awareness, snapping the book closed.

“Right then. What was that again? Something about life being unfair?”

The smirk was an ever-present expression on Helmeppo’s face, but Koby had never seen it so fake. As if it was what he always turned back to, when he didn’t know how else he was supposed to look.

“...what’s wrong?”

Helmeppo had turned away, shoving more books into shelves, a small volume abandoned on the desk behind him.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

The older cadet looked down, to where his hand quivered on the cover of another book. He tightened the hand, knuckles going white, and the tremor stopped.

“Forget it, Koby. Go back to your breakdown. You’ve earned it.”

Helmeppo turned away. When he was suitably distracted, Koby snagged the little book that had shaken his fellow.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a log of pension allotments along with the reason for any change. Marriages and divorces, mostly. A few deaths, resulting in a spouse being struck from the record and replaced with a child or relation.

Near the middle of the book, where a bookmark denoted the altered page, Koby recognized Bogard’s neat hand.

He’d made updates to his own file.

05/13/1524 - Next of kin - updated to Second Lieutenant Ilsa Bogard
06/19/1527 - Confirmation of Change of Name - Lt. Rick Bogard corrected to Ilsa Bogard
09/25/1536 - Notice of termination. Ilsa Bogard dishonorably discharged.*
* Re: Incident 1759, theft of World Government Property.
* Last known destination: Momoiro Island

Koby looked up, confused. It was such a simple list. Sad. But simple. Some of Alvida’s pirates had once been Marines. Before they snapped and decided bashing heads and terrorizing the seas was more fun. He couldn’t see why it bothered Helmeppo so much.

The other teen had nearly finished his stack of documents, prowling around like a particularly nervous housecat.

When Koby opened his mouth to ask about the book, Helmeppo took one look at his face, flinched, and grabbed half of Koby’s remaining work.

“That book is above our paygrade. Put it in the desk, then forget about it.” He said. Then he stalked away, focusing on anything but Koby and the red book in his hands.

He opened his mouth to ask more, then remembered the look on Helmeppo’s face. Sad. Resigned. Scared.

What about a notice like that could scare someone?

---

From the snail room, Bogard was thinking the same thing. He’d handed his file to Helmeppo hoping the boy would see a path through the Marines that didn’t include whoring himself out to whichever officer would protect him, accepting snide comments and bottling down the shame rather than prove himself as equal to the rest, sexuality completely unimportant to the work he did.

Instead, Ilsa’s ‘betrayal’ had sent the exact opposite message.

Damn the boys. They were too obedient to go and read the rest of the file. Koby wouldn’t know what he was reading, but Helmeppo would. All he had to do was read and see what Bogard actually meant.

His Ilsa had absconded with a cargo ship headed to Marie Geoise. The ‘government property’ was seventy five people, ages four to thirty five, set to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. A vile act the Marines could do nothing about, as long as it benefited their masters.

A ship of that size could not be steered by one woman. The fact that it evaded all pursuit, disappeared over the horizon, and weeks later the Marine crew was found enjoying a comfortable vacation on a deserted isle with more than enough supplies to last the month, hinted that the act of inexplicable sabotage had been a more…planned affair.

None of the marines had been court martialed. But they also were never again used on transport duty. Better not to test their loyalty, or so their superiors thought.

Bogard had never been so proud of his wife, in all their fifteen years of marriage.

And if one pissant little boy thought that Bogard was ashamed of that, or her…

Well, that begged the question of where he’d gotten that idea.

---

Helmeppo grew up in the red light district, in a tiny little apartment above the bar where his mother worked. Well, ‘worked’ in the way that all the other ladies who frequented the bar ‘worked’. It didn’t involve waiting tables or cleaning spills.

That was Helmeppo’s job. It earned him a place at the bar, under the ancient barkeeper’s eyes, for as long as his mother needed him out of their rooms. He’d been bussing tables since he was old enough to reach, and handed back and forth between the other ladies before that.

All the ladies knew him. Ruffled his hair and snuck him treats, fancy things that the sailors thought might win a hooker’s attention. He kept away from the clients, hiding who, exactly, he was attached to, lest his existence harm his mother’s career. No chance of advancement for a whore with baggage, as she frequently told him.

But the other ladies were nice. Two weren’t quite ladies, exactly, with scratchy stubble on their chins and falsetto voices. Cookie and Fran. But they were nice too.

Being a whore’s son meant he was used to rather intimate details of female anatomy, discussed frankly with clients and fellows, near where little ears could hear. So he knew that he looked more like Cookie and Fran below the belt than he looked like his mother. And since the clients bragged about how large their packages were, and he was - well - seven, he had questions that most children only arrive at after hitting puberty.

“Am I going to look like you when I grow up?” He asked, eyes wide, in a lull between customers.

Cookie looked over their horn-rimmed glasses at the boy. “Do you want to look like us?”

Helmeppo blanched, then felt bad, then thought about covering it up with bluster.

But Cookie was faster. When they spoke next, it was without the normal flirtatious tone.

“Let me guess. You don’t know, but you don’t want to be treated like this?”

Fran kicked their friend beneath the table, but Cookie dodged with familiar practice.

Helmeppo’s face fell, and he glanced over to the cadre of Marines around his mother.

“They don’t let you into the front of the shops at market. Sailors beat you up, and everyone else just laughs. And no one calls you pretty, like they do with mum.”

Fran snorted and whispered beneath their breath. “Yet they keep coming back.”

But Helmeppo was still looking at Cookie, searching their lined, chiseled face for answers.

The two Okama exchanged glances.

Then, carefully, Cookie said, “Do you know the difference between boys and girls, ‘meppo?”

The boy nodded. Being a whore’s son came with knowledge far beyond his peers, and a certain frankness that his teachers did not appreciate.

“Boys have dicks and girls have pussies.”

Language like that had gotten him slapped over the face by one teacher, and a call to his mother, who did the same for endangering his place at school. The other boys loved it, though. A secret to be shared in whispers and giggles. A worthy risk, just for their esteem.

“Mmm.” Cookie agreed, swirling the suds in their drink. “But did you know that some people can come out wrong?”

He shook his head.

“Oh yes. Some people feel like girls, but look like boys.”

“Like you?”

There was another kick beneath the table, but Cookie had no intention of explaining all of queer theory to a child. Just the basics.

“They say I have the soul of a woman. And the body of a man. Terribly sad. But we Okama find our place.”

Helmeppo’s brow crossed and nose scrunched.

“So…if I look like a girl, I am one?”

“Do you want to be a girl?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, hands clenched in his shorts, shame across his face.

Another long look between the two Okama.

“Who ever said that?” Fran carefully asked.

Helmeppo did not look at the Marines. He studiously avoided them so subtly that both not-exactly women rolled their eyes.

“What did the big nasty Marines say?” Cookie prompted.

“That my hair was so pretty that I must be training to be just like my mama.”

Indulgent smiles fell like lead weights from two faces.

“What.”

“ ‘an that my pussy was probably real tight, since I was so small.”

“Really.” Blood red nails tapped on the table, watching the Marines he’d avoided.

“And that I must be a girl, ‘cus I keep making eyes at real men.”

He was staring at the floor, uncertain why the words from that Marine’s mouth had made him feel so…so wrong.

“Helmeppo -” Fran started.

“Mum said I shouldn’t mind it. Since he’s a good customer. He pays better than most. An’ she said he was only saying the truth, and it was my fault for staring when I should be working.”

“He’s seven.” Hissed Cookie, the glass beneath their hands creaking.

“That woman.” Fran grimaced.

But both Okama forced on nice smiles when the men glanced their way, winking and blowing kisses, even as their eyes narrowed at Helmeppo’s mother.

“See?” The boy said. “It doesn’t bother you. And they say way worse things to you.”

“We’re different, honey.” Cookie said, the moment having shifted into something ugly and wriggling in their hands.

“We have jobs like your mama.” Explained Fran.

“You’re whores.” He said, frankly.

Both had long ago abandoned shame for their work, so Cookie simply said, “Yes. But not all Okama are whores.”

“Miss Edith at the Salon can’t shop in the markets at all. And they make Miss Carol go through the back door at her office, even though she’s the best acc- act- number person at the firm.”

Tears welled in his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt his friends by saying he didn’t like that. Didn’t like the way men looked at them, any more than he liked the way that certain sailors looked at him.

“I don’t…I don’t want to be like you. I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Oh ‘meppo.” Cookie picked him up and set him on their lap. “Some things aren’t fair. But you don’t have to be like us if you don’t want to.”

Fran ran a long-nailed finger across his brow, brushing hair from his eyes.

“Sweetheart, we choose to be like this. Because we like it better than pretending to be something we’re not. But that doesn’t have to be your choice.”

Cookie bounced him lightly, tucking him into their ample, if slightly padded, chest.

“Some day, you might find something worth living your truth for. But you don’t have to listen to those nasty Marines. You’re only a girl if you want to be.”

He wrapped slim arms around them, and hid his sobs with expert practice.

It was an ugly compromise. Fran and Cookie weren’t going to lie to him about that. Always living on the edge, simply because they didn’t fit into polite society.

Given how much of polite society ended up at the bars in the redlight district every weekend, more than paying their rent and doctors’ bills, polite society was as much of an act as the long nails and flirtatious winks. Those oh-so-holy Marines, spewing filth to their peers and acting proper before their Officers, ensured there were whores in every port, and a place for Okama within those whores. What was there to respect about men who lied like that?

But a child who couldn’t understand that the words shouted at them in the streets were anything more than apt descriptions, yet felt revulsion in his soul at what sailors could get away with in the red light district…

If he found out something different about himself, and chose to hide it, they certainly wouldn’t blame him. His Aunties would be there for him when he was old enough to ask better questions.

But seven years later, when Helmeppo came home with his seabag slung across his back, asking himself some of those questions, his Aunties were gone, along with his mother.

She had left on the next ship out, after his father came for him, the old bar-keeper said. Washing her hands of the both of them, and never once looking back.

Fran had been arrested in one of the Marine crackdowns. They were long gone, off to some frigid prison to work off their ‘debt’ to humanity.

Cookie was in jail, nursing a broken jaw, from a customer who had left them there, the man fully admitting the crime but pointing out that the Okama committed a far worse crime by forcing themself on the world.

Helmeppo was three steps into checking on them when his father caught up, slapped him hard across the face for endangering their reputation, and dragged him back to base, all his questions answered in one, ugly, moment.

Whether or not those were the right answers was left to be seen.

---

Koby had a lot on his mind. The Warlords. Garp’s irrational behavior towards Luffy. The fact that Garp was apparently Luffy’s grandfather.

But part of his mind was occupied with his friend. Acquaintance. Berth-mate. Whatever.

He hadn’t thought shoving Helmeppo out of the way of a falling sail would have been a big deal. Helmeppo hadn’t said anything about it. But the other cadets did.

Jergen’s friends, mostly. Hisses of “why’d you save him” and “we could have left him at the last port” followed him to the mess. Even the newer cadets like him seemed surprised he’d take two seconds to make sure a person he’d been living with wasn’t killed.

Maybe ‘meppo was a jerk. But not that much of one.

He’d thought Helmeppo was taking it in stride. Assuming it as his due, maybe. Instead Koby felt his eyes on him throughout the two days of repairs. When Koby would look up, in the moment before Helmeppo looked away and pretended disinterest, there was a perplexed knot in his brow.

And he asked about why Koby was glum. That…didn’t match the other cadet at all.

It was a nice change. And it made it obvious that whatever was in that red book had deeply bothered him. Enough that he was acting the perfect cadet, mouth zipped shut and obedient, for the entire day after. He’d even taken on extra work. Maybe just to get away from Koby faster, but still.

Only Jurgen seemed able to get him out of his funk. The man could pull sass from a stone, just by being himself.

“So that was the Warlord Mihawk.” Jurgen said, staring out at the tiny vessel as it bobbed away. “He’s the world’s best swordsman?”

The other cadets were all trying not to look as awed as they all were. See how good we’re being half their backs said not looking at one of the most powerful men in the world. Look at us working and not staring.

“And Garp’s almost as powerful as an Admiral.” Cleff reminded him.

But Garp didn’t feel like that. Like the air sizzled when he walked by, reality warping around him just from the sheer power of the man. Maybe Garp didn’t need to, or could turn it on and off like a light. Or maybe Mihawk was showing off, making the raw recruits go wobbly at the knees just by feeling him pass.

At least two cadets had fainted. The rest remained awed. But Jurgen blustered. He had no intention of respecting a pirate. Even a comparatively well-regarded one.

“That what you want to be, cadet?” He called out, picking out Helmeppo from the crew by the helm. “A pirate with a sword?”

Koby watched as Helmeppo forced on a smile. “Not a pirate, sir. But a sword master, yes.”

“Think if you sucked him off he’d train you up?”

Helmeppo kept copying down the wind logs, eyes firmly on the book before him. “There are four sword masters on this ship alone, sir. I would much prefer training with a Marine to a Pirate.”

“But he wouldn’t kick you out for buggery.” Jurgen said.

At the wheel, the helmsman raised a brow. He caught Bogard’s eye from across the deck, and spoke with raised eyes and a subtle jerk of his chin towards the Petty Officer. The Commodore answered in kind, a small shake of his head. The helmsman shrugged, and privately wondered how long it would take for the Petty Officer to realize just how many men he insulted, every time he bullied the young recruit. No matter what the boy had done, the rest of them didn’t need to hear this filth.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I’ve never heard of the Warlord’s preferences.”

Another cadet hid a chuckle, and Jurgen jerked around to look for the culprit. Unfortunately for him, the whole crew was hard at work, buzzing through their afternoon cleaning duties. Whoever had giggled was well hidden by the hum of activity.

The Petty Officer was a decent enough teacher, as long as he had a target for his ire. The rest were grateful that he’d chosen Helmeppo, and carefully didn’t speak up, lest they be tarred with the same brush. They even let up on their own bullying, watching as he got his just desserts.

It itched at Koby, a little cruelty going unpunished. But he couldn’t do anything about it unless he understood, and Helmeppo and Jurgen’s explanations not only contrasted, they made no sense on their own.

But he wasn’t a little kid stuck on a pirate ship anymore. Their ship had a full library, a full time doctor, even a photographer. And most useful in his search, they had a half dozen years of archived newspapers, from all over East Blue and beyond.

If he was going to untangle this strange thread that tied Jurgen and Helmeppo together, there was an obvious place to start.

And if it distracted him from thinking too hard on the wider injustices his feeble hands couldn’t fight…well, no one would blame him for focusing on something small for a change.

---

He arrived at Jurgen’s office hours a day later with a new list of phrases and a determined look on his face. The Training Officer hid a grimace. Garp seemed content with the Cadet bothering him with every minor question, so he really couldn’t shove off the responsibility.

“Yes, Cadet?”

“I have some follow up questions.”

“I can see that. What on?”

“I’ve found several words that I believe could aid in precision when speaking with the other cadets.”

“What.”

The boy straightened his back, and gained four inches in height. Somehow, Jurgen knew he was about to hate what the cadet was about to say. The kid even took the implied dismissal as an actual question.

“I understand that a busy officer such as yourself has more important things to do than stay updated on terminology beyond our profession. As such, I took it upon myself to compile a more modern set of words for you to use when addressing the cadets.”

He continued, staring over Jurgen’s head and apparently missing the Petty Officer’s incredulous look.

“Rather than refer to queer cadets as ‘fags engaged in buggery’, you could acknowledge that there are both gay and lesbian crewmates, who may engage in same-gender intercourse with their partners, as long as they do so on shore leave and refrain from dirtying the bunks.”

“Excuse me?”

“Furthermore, there is consistent conflation between crewmen who may be gay, transgender, or part of the Okama subculture. If you wish to be more specific, you could use the term ‘transwomen’ to refer to crewmates who have - or intend - to transition from a masculine presentation to a feminine one. Should the crewmate in question require medical assistance, that is something that only the crewmate and their doctor need knowledge of, and for more general discussions of presentation, the crewmates stated gender can be used.”

Koby took in a breath, and Jurgen took it as his moment to cut in.

“What the hell are you talking about, cadet?!”

The young man lowered his eyes, from the portrait behind the Petty Officers desk to the man currently seated in it.

“You seemed to be conflating several different identities when referring to queer crewmates. I thought you might want to know.”

“What the fuck does it matter?!”

“Wouldn’t it be incorrect to refer to crewmates with imprecise terminology?”

“Calling them fags is supposed to be incorrect!”

Koby’s brow twisted. “But…some of them are gay. Or lesbian. Or Queer in other ways.”

“The hell they are! That is not allowed on this ship. Or any Marine ship!”

“You’re wrong.”

There was a waver in the boy’s voice, but he still said it. Jurgen’s eyes widened.

“What did you say, cadet?”

“You’re wrong. The Marine code forbids any crewmate from engaging in sexual congress while on duty or in a public area. When they are in private or on their own time, said restrictions are lifted, barring the standard moral restrictions against fornication with those under age or the use of force.”

Jurgen stared at the boy, face beginning to go red.

“Get out of here.” He hissed beneath his breath.

“Sir?”

“Get. OUT.” He bellowed, standing fast enough to send his chair clattering to the floor.

Koby took a step back. “Um - “

“You. Report for punishment at First Bell. I will not have you corrupting your peers.”

Koby backed up, confusion on his face.

“But…those are just the rules.”

Jurgen grabbed his collar. “Rules? Like hell those are the rules. Get those lies out of your head, boy! I’m reporting this to the Chief, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t see the brig!”

He shoved the boy out of his room, and slammed the door behind him.

Koby was left staring at the door.

He’d been beaten before. Flogged, even. And everything else Alvida’s crew could come up with, when they were drunk or bored and Alvida wanted a show.

Somehow, he doubted Jurgen would be as creative as a crew of pirates.

But a flogging…Helmeppo had said it himself. That had to be approved by the Captain and the First Mate, along with the ship’s doctor. And even if Garp and Bogard did not take on those roles on the ship, men who answered to them did. Jurgen would have to ask them to approve the punishment.

Koby didn’t smile at the thought. He was familiar enough with Captains who bent the rules for their own enjoyment or to bolster the authority of their officers. Maybe the Marines would prefer to teach their cadets respect over justice.

But if that was the case, he’d rather take a beating to find that out now, rather than dedicate his life to a hollow ideal.

---

Jurgen stood at attention, vibrating with holy fury, waiting for the Master Chief before him to finish reading his memo.

Chief Bluegill, the man who oversaw the various Petty Officers and their work on the ship, placed the paper down on his desk.

He was a huge man, nicotine stained teeth and a glass eye from a long-ago fight. Two fingers were replaced with prosthetics, one on each hand, and his self-commissioned rifle leaned against his desk, loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Petty Officer Katsup, the other training lead, was acting as his aide at the moment. She hovered over his shoulder, attentive but clearly doubtful of whatever issue Jurgen had brought to their superior.

“Well, you’ve certainly brought me a problem, Officer Jurgen.”

“Yessir!” Jurgen snapped to attention. “The senior cadet has clearly been corrupted by - “

“I wasn’t talking about him.” Bluegill growled.

Jurgen paused, belatedly realizing that the two were not acting as a normal officer might, when informed that a mere cadet had disobeyed orders and earned himself a lashing.

“...sir?”

“When was the last time we had a flogging, Claire?”

Katsup easily answered. “Two years ago, Captain. When Navigator Windlass stole Seaman Sherri’s ring.”

“Right.” The Chief nodded, thick fingers tapping the paper before him. “We’re a close crew, here. Don’t see much fool behavior. Or insubordination. We knows the rules, and follows ‘em.”

“And the cadet -”

“Seems to me, our senior cadet had to tell you of the rules.” Claire Katsup said.

Jurgen gaped. “Wh- what?”

Claire leaned over her superior’s shoulder to look at the paper Jurgen had offered up as ‘proof’ of Koby’s corruption. “Wow. He even gave you citations. Needs to get his nose out of a book and start punching things, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

She stood, and jerked her head towards a smaller table in the room. “Jurgen. A word.”

“You can’t be serious.” Jurgen spoke as he followed, “He was advocating for -”

“He didn’t seem to be advocating for anything except clarity of language.” She continued, when seated.

“This ship does not allow…allow filth to serve!”

“True.” She said, “But that is partially because we don’t ask.”

“Wh-”

“Do you know how many recruits we would have to turn away if we hewed that close to your ‘morality’?”

Jurgen’s brow twisted. “Eh?”

“Roughly a fifth of the recruits we get could fit somewhere on the spectrum your Cadet detailed.”

Jurgen balked. “Surely not. Those…those degenerates would bring down the honor of the Marines!”

Katsup closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, feeling the incoming headache.

“People join the Marines for all kinds of reasons, Officer Jurgen. One of them is to get away from small towns full of people who don’t understand them.”

“But -”

“Oh, Morgan wasn’t unusual about the way he ran his base. Kept to the old ways, he did. Where you’d beat the queer out of any recruit you so much as suspected, and kept anyone weak off the ships.”

She opened her eyes. “But about a decade ago, Central started wondering why we should give perfectly good Seamen over to the Revolutionaries, simply because their personal life went against the norm.”

“You didn’t - “

“It was hard for women joining then, much less anyone who was openly ‘deviant’ - your words, not mine. All these recruits, dedicated to the ideals of the Marines, justice pounding in their hearts, and they were being swallowed up by our enemies, simply because we beat them for something they hid inside.”

“The rules -”

“Rules can be changed, Jurgen. Or, in this case, shifted.” She gestured towards Koby’s list. “That boy gave you the citations.”

She leaned back in the chair, eyes raking the stained wood of the ceiling. “No punishment for those who had followed earlier rules. No big declaration that the Marines were changing. Just a…suggestion. Don’t ask.”

“Don’t…ask?”

She nodded. “Don’t ask. About who a seaman was married to. About what they did in their free time. Who they spent it with. Don’t Ask. And all of a sudden, there was a space for those who wanted to join, but couldn’t before.”

“But then…”

“Of course, the punishments were still on the books. Bring it to the attention of your captain by being too…overt with your interests, and the beatings would continue. But that was something beyond gender. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep crewmates hands off each other on long journeys? Five years at sea, and you’ll start to find even the straightest seaman looking a bit thoughtful at holes around hip height. That is what the punishments are for. And for Officers taking advantage of their command.”

Jurgen flinched, and Claire sighed. Bogard’s guess had been correct. Not that she’d mention the other Petty Officer’s clear bias.

“And now you’ve caused us all some problems. Not just by suggesting you’d have Garp’s protegee flogged. That was damn foolish. But your words keep reminding people.”

She leveled a narrow-eyed glare at him. “I’ve had complaints from the Crew about how you speak to the cadets. There have been some bruised feelings among staff Senior enough to make me nervous.”

Jurgen swallowed heavily, but made to dig himself deeper into his pit. “I wouldn’t need to mention it, if it weren’t for that damned recruit.”

Her brows raised. “Koby seems an exemplary seaman.”

“No. His bastard shadow. Helmeppo.”

“Ah.”

“He’s the one corrupting the other recruits. Dragging Koby into this…whatever this is.”

“Do you have proof?”

“What?”

“Proof of this… ‘deviance’ in action.”

“He was infamous back in Shells.” Jurgen said, as if that was excuse enough.

“Be that as it may, his prior record within the Marines has been expunged. So unless you have a specific instance of public immorality, you will leave it alone. I can’t imagine what Garp will do, if you threaten a cadet he has his eye on for something so…inconsequential.”

Jurgen gaped. Inconsequential. She thought this was inconsequential. The idea was preposterous. Everyone had seen the games Helmeppo had played with the officers back in Shells Town, dangling them like live bait before his father, balancing the whole base on a knife edge, knowing what would happen to all of them should Morgan discover his son’s depravity. It had corrupted the whole base. And she thought his words poisoning Garp’s protegee was inconsequential.

“Either way, I doubt any of us will have time for deviance when word of this gets back to Garp. He thinks this kind of thing distracts from the actual work of the Marines. A sentiment I normally would agree with, if not for what he does about it. So thank you for that, Jurgen.”

“Thank you for…what?”

Officer Katsup stared over her glasses at him.

“Oh, you’re all about to learn.”

---

Garp’s revenge was enacted upon all of them the next morning. Bright and early, just as the sun was breaching the horizon and Koby and Helmeppo were half way through their two hour nap, the whole crew was roused by the bell.

Groggily they dashed to don their uniforms and race to the deck.

Garp stood proud at the quarterdeck.

“All right you dogs. I’ve heard you lot have too much time on your hands. So we’re running drills until we reach the Strawhat. Starting…now.”

Koby thought he knew what drills meant. Follow the formation. Prepare the cannons. Receive correction from command. Four hours on, four hours off, going to bed pleasantly tired after.

He’d never had a drill like this.

They ran through every battle scenario in the book, starting at the beginning and switching to the next, straight through, pausing only when something went wrong or a recruit passed out. And even then it was only to fix the problem, remove the body, then run the simulation from the top again.

Garp was a big fan of hands on training. So the full seamen had live steel and loaded canons. Twice he lit the deck on fire, just to ensure the recruits knew the fire drills correctly.

Around them, the rest of the crew function as normal, as if having a mad dash around them was nothing surprising. The only members excused from the exercise were those needed to man the helm and sails, and even they easily moved around the drills, clearly having long ago memorized each action.

It was exhilarating. It was also exhausting. Meals were nothing more than a rice ball and a mouthful of water, then they were back at work. No stopping for dinner. Double-time cleaning. Mops and buckets sending recruits slipping in their foot work, shouted at for poor form all the way.

They didn’t stop for the night, rerunning the drills they’d just learned in daylight with a quarter of the light, then none at all when Garp called for the lights to be snuffed and for them to do the whole thing by moonlight.

Recruits fell like rain, but the hardened seamen of Garp’s crew took it in stride. As 24 hours stretched to 48, they smiled with manic grins, calling on reserves Koby didn’t realized one could have. And they joked at how easy this was, compared to real battle.

Koby didn’t remember any battles like this on Alvida’s ship. She mostly went after merchant vessels. And had no fear of turning tail if a navy vessel showed its colors. The merchants fought like madmen, knowing what would happen were they captured, but they weren’t trained. Garp expected his recruits to be able to fight hardened warriors, pirates who terrorized whole oceans rather than a few piddling sea-lanes.

And if the Marines needed to go up against men like Mihawk, then they couldn’t rely on individual excellent fighters like Pirates did. They needed to be able to martial whole crews, turning them into violent clockwork, dozens of men sent against single overpowered opponents.

The fainting recruits took the place of dying crewmates, stepped over and replaced as fast as they fell. Grim training, but soon enough it became part of the routine, orders shouted so fast Koby couldn’t even think beyond obedience and action.

On the second day, Garp split the crew, and had them fight each other. The experienced crew acted like this was completely normal, even complaining that one of the Petty Officers had insisted the recruits keep their practice rifles and swords. And the experienced seamen were encouraged to change up their attacks, playing the mock battle for real, personal vendettas and rivalries exposed with sudden eager cheers when a new move went particularly well, or vengeance was served for some earlier slight. In the sails and at the helm, those on more traditional duties looked longingly at the chaos, as if it was more fun in the fray.

Koby couldn’t count how many times his glasses were slapped from his face, and he had to fight blind. He dropped his sword sometime around noon of the second day, and never bothered to pick it up, earning cheers of his own when he felled a seaman twice his size with a good right hook. At one point Helmeppo must have picked up a second sword, dual-wielding like his idol, swearing when the Marines with live steel cut through his training swords like butter. He didn’t think when he stole a sword from an ‘enemy’ Marine, balancing it with another training sword kicked up from a fallen ally, the commanders saying nothing as long as he didn’t hurt any of his fellows.

Sometime during the third day, Koby broke through. The lack of sleep, the constant movement, the vague hunger sapping his mental faculties…all his angst faded away in the fray. And a strange kind of clarity set in. His body was working like an automaton, responding to orders and dangers on instinct, while his mind floated, looking at the scrum as nothing more than a scurry of ants, tiny on a toy battleship, little dots moving in tandem.

And if he just looked…

“Hana’s about to go down!” He shouted at Helmeppo, who was currently at his back, holding off a Lieutenant that was merely toying with them.

“What?!” Helmeppo ducked as the officer leveled her pistol at him, the rubber bullet whizzing over his shoulder.

“8 o’clock port. She’s got four on her!”

“There’s no path -”

“I’ll clear one.” Koby called behind him.

Helmeppo sputtered, glancing over his shoulder to see five full seamen between them and their fellow.

“Oh-kay…?”

Koby ducked another bullet from the Lieutenant, and lunged for a rope, abandoned across the deck. Helmeppo grinned when he realized Koby’s plan, and dispatched the Lieutenant with a kick that normally wouldn’t have floored her, but she also wanted to see what would happen.

“Now!” Koby put all his weight into shifting the rope, dragging it along the deck and fouling the footwork of the five seamen.

Helmeppo dashed past him, eyes flashing, prepared to dodge flailing limbs as the rope shifted beneath each seaman in turn, arriving just in time to yank Hana out of the way of three different attacks. She caught her breath behind him, then returned the favor by vaulting over him and dispensing with two of the seamen with a double kick.

“Hault!” Bogard called.

The teams dropped their weapons, panting hard.

“Hana. Koby. Excellent use of the terrain.” Garp called out.

“Since when am I ‘terrain’?” Helmeppo hissed, wiping sweat from his eyes.

“Two minute break, then back in formation five. You need to be able to fall in with anyone, not just the ones you know. Koby, Helmeppo, stow that rope. You won’t be doing that again.”

“Fuck.” Helmeppo complained, more to himself than anyone else. It didn’t matter. They were all humming on adrenaline and lack of sleep. The rope took half the length of time to stow than it normally would, even with only two of them on the line.

Then they were back in formation, fighting against each other now, Garp unwilling to let any recruit learn to rely on any advantage, even for a moment.

---

Seventy two hours was a long time. By the time Garp finally let them go, the seamen were punch-drunk and the recruits were unsteady on their feet. While the sailors proper went right back to their watch, the recruits were divvied up and sent either to the mess or their bunks, the four hours of rest now seeming like a luxury rather than torture.

The recruits sent to sleep tromped to the showers, exhaustion warring with a desperate desire to be clean. Perhaps it was no surprise that Koby was the first in his berth to finish - he had more experience than most bathing as fast as he could. He was also feeling it hardest, his smaller body draining of the adrenaline that had kept him going for three days and leaving him wrung out emotionally as well as physically.

Which meant that Helmeppo was still toweling his hair dry when he ran into Koby, standing before their berth in shocked silence.

Sleep-deprived and barely sentient, it took Helmeppo a full thirty seconds before he understood what he was seeing.

Someone had dropped a bucket of tar on Koby’s hammock. Unusable, and worth a punishment detail for damaging Marine property. Black splashed across the boy’s chance at a hard-earned rest.

A single glance showed the younger cadet teetering on a breakdown, staring at the black tar staining his bed.

Koby had done twice the work as the rest of them, physically behind but mentally leagues ahead, reading the mock battles like a book, diagramming them out in his mind, shouting out warnings and suggestions to other cadets, easily proving what Garp had already known: The boy was a natural born leader, even if his fighting was not yet up to snuff.

But in the moment, that only meant he’d exhausted all his mental fortitude, and couldn’t quite move his mind to more problem solving.

Their other berth mates tromped in behind them, and similarly looked lost.

Helmeppo swore to himself. Then took charge.

“Right. Someone get the extra hammock.”

Skaven jerked into motion as he heard the tone of an order, too sleep-deprived to do anything but obey. But he fumbled when he opened the cabinet holding the extra hammock.

It, too, was covered in tar.

Ice spread through the room. It was one thing to prank a seaman’s bunk. It happened to Helmeppo all the time.

But to inconvenience all of them? After they worked their asses off on drill? Whoever had done this had earned the enmity of the whole room. And half-dead seamen tended to reach for violence to solve their problems.

Or burst into tears, which Koby was about four seconds from.

“Fuck.” Helmeppo said, drawing everyone’s attention. “I can’t deal with this now.”

He pointed to the others. “You get to sleep. Koby can bunk with me. We’ll deal with this later.”

The ice and violence melted, and all seven of them grabbed ahold of the simple order with the desperation of drowning men. The other cadets breathed a sigh of relief at the thought that, whatever the consequences, they wouldn’t be blamed for it.

Koby just stood, blearily staring at Helmeppo until the older teen handed over his teddy bear and clambered into the hammock himself.

Technically, Koby could sleep on the floor beneath the hammock. Helmeppo didn’t mention it, and none of the other cadets were conscious enough to have thought of it. They were breaking all kinds of rules.

But Koby was two seconds away from crying, Helmeppo was just as exhausted, and it was hardly the first time either had shared a hammock. Koby climbed in and collapsed, almost as fast as his head hit the canvas.

If Helmeppo’s shoulder was a bit damp, he didn’t mention it.

It was the best sleep he’d had all month.

---

For the two hours that it lasted.

If he’d taken a moment to think, Helmeppo could have predicted Jurgen would conduct a ‘surprise’ inspection the first watch after three days of drill. Instead, he hit the deck to the sound of a screaming Petty Officer carrying on about damage of Marine equipment and sodomy.

Koby whimpered and buried his head in Helmeppo’s shoulder, wincing from the light. Which only served to give Jurgen a better handle to drag the boy up by his collar, hollering at him for impropriety and rudeness in the presence of an officer.

Helmeppo climbed off of the floor, out of the remains of the hammock Jurgen had cut down. Normally that was reserved for recruits late for watch. He’d forgotten how much it hurt.

Their berth mates were all blearily waking, roused by the noise and light, but Helmeppo waved them off, knowing they were uninvolved. He stared at Jurgen, waiting for things to start making sense.

So they were both dragged before Senior Petty Officer Katsup, still in their sleepwear, trying and failing to rouse themselves enough to hear whatever punishment Jurgen had decided upon.

---

Ensign Mackintosh looked at Jurgen.

She looked at the two cadets, shivering in their skivvies, feet still bare from the bunks. The shorter one was at least awake, but squinting to see without his glasses. The taller seemed to have fallen asleep standing up. She glanced at Officer Katsup, who had followed the other Petty Officer in, guilt warring with irritation on her face.

She looked back at Jurgen.

“Say that again, Petty Officer?”

“These two degenerates were caught fornicating!”

The boys in question were barely standing. Mackintosh was, frankly, impressed with their stamina if Jurgen was correct.

“Did their berth-mates complain?”

“What? No. I found them during an inspection!”

“...they were somewhere other than their bunk?”

“No. They were sharing a hammock.”

“Which one wet the bed?”

“Eh?”

She looked at the two recruits who - according to the paperwork - were seventeen and eighteen, respectively. Blinking owlishly shaved four years off their ages, easily, reducing them to fresh-faced babes. Vaguely, she wondered if either even had to shave.

“They’re kids, Jurgen. They fuck up their hammocks all the time. What happened? Someone steal your teddy? Room-mate need an extra blanket? Or did the big scary Cap’n follow you into your dreams?”

Jurgen’s nostrils flared, furious at her complete disregard for the crime.

“Well?” He hissed at them.

Koby blinked and stood slightly straighter when he realized he was being spoken to.

“Um. Someone tarred my hammock. And the extra. ‘Meppo said-”

“See?!” Jurgen interrupted. “I knew he was dragging the poor boy into-”

“-said we’d deal with it in the morning.”

“A likely story. They probably tarred it themselves. Look, the boy has black beneath his nails.” Jurgen said.

Koby glanced down, but Jurgen was pointing to Helmeppo.

They both had sticky hands. From clearing away the damaged hammocks, and piling them in a corner where the next watch wouldn’t stumble on them.

“That is a serious problem.” Katsup said.

“Ha! I knew you’d see- “

“Why aren’t you looking for the culprit, Jurgen?”

The man stopped, and looked back to his fellow. “Eh?”

“Someone sabotaged this recruit’s bunk, and pulled them from their rest. Clearly a malicious act.”

Ensign Mackintosh hid a smile at the over-acted horror from the female Petty Officer. Katsup had served aboard the ship for almost as long as Mackintosh herself, so it was no difficulty to route this problem right back into her hands. Why Jurgen bothered going above Katsup and Bluegill in the first place…

“Officer Katsup is right. This isn’t an issue that requires my involvement. Unless you are coming to the Quartermaster to request additional supplies?”

“No sir.”

“Then this seems to be something Officer Katsup can deal with. Dismissed, seamen.”

The two cadets roused themselves enough for a passable salute. Jurgen and Katsup were more precise. Then Katsup directed the three seamen back to her office, only barely not slamming the door behind her.

Mackintosh wondered what she’d have to do to convince Claire to spill all the details. Probably not much, given that they bunked together. And the way Katsup mouthed drinks, with desperation in her eyes before she slammed the door, and went to deal with the problem.

---

Back in the Petty Office, Katsup directed the cadets to stand outside, and turned to Jurgen. She didn’t bother lowering her volume, knowing that the cadets would be asleep in moments.

“When I asked for evidence, I didn’t mean fake it, Jurgen.”

“Sir?” Jurgen looked confused, but the perplexed expression was just wooden enough to act as confirmation. Jurgen would need to practice more, if he ever planned to go undercover. Not that he would be trusted to ever hide the stick up his ass long enough to be taken in by enemies.

Katsup sighed. “I’m not going to ask how you did it, or who else you dragged in. Just know that I do not appreciate being pulled from actual work to mediate your vendetta against Morgan’s boy.”

“I don’t…”

“Can it, Jurgen.” She leaned back in her chair, watching as Jurgen fidgeted in a room he probably already thought of as his own.

“Petty Officer, I think you’ve misunderstood something here.”

“Sir?”

She leaned on her desk, resting her head on her fist. She was senior to Jurgen in both years and experience, but he’d spent all his time with Morgan. He could run recruits through drills upside down and blindfolded, but all the little things that made each unique were unnecessary to the practical man.

He’d have a comfortable home on most Marine ships.

But not this one.

Jurgen took her pause as asking for an excuse.

“It is our duty as Training Officers to punish deviance- ”

Internally, Claire groaned. It was very, very lucky that she’d dragged Jurgen away from her superior. Mackintosh would have ripped his head off, just hearing about the bullshit he was about to spew. But she had better things to do with her time.

“Your duty is to teach them the ways of the Marines. Which you apparently do not understand to the same depth as a Cadet who has been with us less than a month. But that is secondary to the actual issue.

“You seem to think that your continued punishment of Morgan’s boy is acceptable because he might be gay.”

Jurgen blinked, his brow twisting in confusion. “...yes?”

“No.” She shut him down completely. “Garp specifically instructed us to allow whatever ‘retributive justice’ his fellows wished to enact upon him. That does not mean the ship approves of any abuse striking other cadets.”

“I…don’t understand.”

That much was obvious.

“The boy was a cruel brat who hid beneath his father’s shadow. He abused you, and all the other cadets with his privilege and position. So. Now he’s lost it, and is reaping the results.”

Past the door, Helmeppo flinched, eyes darting to where Koby sat, snoring, against the wall. It stung, a bit, to hear everything confirmed, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. But he wasn’t sure how Koby would have taken it, learning that his superiors condoned singling out a cadet for abuse.

Then again, Koby had seen him bully a child, and the eventual result was knocking him out to save a pirate. So perhaps he’d be fine with it.

“What does that have to do with this?” Jurgen asked, proving his inability to follow the thread.

“The officers have not corrected your behavior with regards to Morgan’s boy, specifically because he earned it.” Katsup explained, as if to a child. Then she confused both listeners. “But you push the line when your bigotry extends to other recruits, or the crew as a whole. Especially when to drag the rest of us into it, by wishing to punish Garp’s protegee.”

Jurgen’s mouth dropped. “But- ”

“You saw what happened, when you reprimanded the boy for a mere quip. What do you think he’d do if he learned the boy was being targeted by other recruits? Or officers? You seem to think you’re immune, simply because Garp took you with us. Do not presume that implies he agrees with your idiocy. He gave you the grace to pull yourself away from Morgan’s poison. Not revel in it.”

“Morgan was a monster.” Jurgen snapped, affronted at the suggestion he was anything like the man.

“True enough.” She agreed easily. “But we seem to have a difference of opinion on why.”

Jurgen stared at her, brow twisted and eyes flicking, trying and failing to see where they could differ.

“Let me make this clear. Morgan mistreated those beneath his command, lying to his superiors and abusing recruits and seamen alike. He let pirates escape with a map, and hid his failures with excuses.”

Jurgen nodded.

“How, exactly, does that imply that you should abuse his son over something he cannot control?”

Jurgen’s mouth dropped open. “The boy is-”

“Deviant. You’ve said. And I have told you that doesn’t matter on this ship, as long as it doesn’t cause problems. You seemed to take that as impetus to cause said problems, and blame them on the boy. Ironically, the same lie that Morgan told, if reports are to be believed.”

“That isn’t -”

“But it is. And if you hadn’t dragged Garp’s protegee in on this, I wouldn’t care. But you did. And now I’m getting complaints from other seamen about your comments on deck. Men and women who have served with me far longer than you have. And I’m getting idiotic questions from half the recruits about things that have no business in our curriculum. We exist to fight pirates, Jurgen, not waste time litigating morality.”

“But - “

She held up a hand, and he bit his tongue.

“Look. Jurgen. You’re a fine seaman, and a good officer. But this has made me question whether you have the temperament to teach. I’m going to recommend you be reassigned to the quartermaster.”

He sputtered, and she wryly added, “You’re more capable with numbers than people, that’s for sure. Don’t think I’m any more happy about this than you are. Now I’m responsible for all of them, rather than half. Send the recruits in, and report to Officer Ravel.”

He ground his teeth, but saluted and stormed out the door. Helmeppo glanced around the frame when he left, and at Katsup’s gesture nudged Koby awake and slipped through the door.

Both boys stared at her.

She sighed.

“How much of that did you hear?”

Koby shook his head, and Helmeppo looked woodenly over her. So between the two of them, they probably heard everything, but didn’t understand a damn thing. Children.

Officer Katsup was a veteran sailor, twenty years at sea and fifteen overseeing the training of new staff. To her eyes, the two were infants, fresh-faced and barely able to tie their laces. But as their training commander, Katsup noted things that Jurgen might have missed.

Koby had fallen asleep the moment it was safe for him to do so, but bounced right back up to awareness the instant he was called upon. He looked nervous, as if he really would be punished for some minor infraction after such a good showing in his first real drill.

Helmeppo had never fallen asleep. At least not completely. He listened, hiding it behind exacting propriety towards superiors and arrogant disregard to his fellows. But he was just as skittish as Koby in his way, relaxing only when Jurgen had left and he wasn’t about to be beaten senseless at a moment’s notice.

Katsup almost regretted not being the one to find them herself. They probably looked like a pair of otter pups, cuddled up and holding onto each other so as to not float away into the sea, wide wet eyes and ruffled fur.

Unfortunately for them, Officer Katsup’s maternal instinct tended towards the same school as Garp’s grandfatherly one. Said otters could drown in the cold dark sea, if they didn’t learn to dunk under water and get to work.

She clapped her hands, loud enough to jolt them both to full awareness.

“Right. I don’t have to tell you not to listen at doors, do I?”

Both shook their heads.

“Well then. Technically, I should re-assign you to a punishment watch. But according to the schedule, Commodore Bogard has had you on one since you boarded.”

The two cadets glanced at each other. Was that what their consistent zero to four shift had been?

“So I’ll just keep you to that, and leave it there. As for today…”

She dashed off a note. “Garp has instructed all the cadets get a full eight hours. You two included. Stop by storage to pick up two new hammocks, and get back to it.”

They saluted, and began to turn.

“And cadets?”

They looked back.

“No skivvies on deck, right?”

Flushing, Koby glanced down, then dragged Helmeppo back to their bunks.

Katsup leaned back. Who knew what Garp saw in those two. But he’d been right before. Might as well see if those otters could swim.

---

A full eight hours of sleep. What Helmeppo had once thought was standard seemed like an impossible luxury. Maybe his arms were pleasantly sore. Maybe Jurgen wouldn't take his censure standing down. But for the remaining day it took to reach the Strawhat’s last sighting, things were gloriously simple.

Maybe not for Koby. The younger teen had been pulled back into his angst, now that he was awake and aware enough to remember it. The thing with the Warlords still itched at him, while Jurgen’s cruelty just brought home his doubts. And he kept glancing at Garp, as if the man had put a grain of sand beneath his tongue, and Koby couldn’t work it loose.

When they finally reached the Baratie, Helmeppo found out a few things in short succession.

One was that Koby could drink like a fish. The second was that the Strawhat was Garp's grandson.

Both seemed equally preposterous. Koby was tiny, slim in a way that spoke of malnutrition only recently easing. He fell in on himself, shrinking his already small height even more with a slouch and a look of fear that at any moment someone might haul off and hit him.

They ended up needing to buy half the bottle from the barkeep to get him to open up. And Koby didn’t even hiccup.

Had ‘meppo not seen Koby two seconds from tears the day before, he might have almost found it hot.

More importantly, Luffy was Garp’s grandson. Amazing, a man who could disappoint their guardian more than Helmeppo had. And with unerring insight Koby had called him on it, pointing out the similarity with his sweet, innocent smile.

On their way back to their berth, when they should have been reveling in the feeling of earning Garp’s praise, Koby asked,

“So why do you even want to be a Marine?”

Helmeppo considered, weaving across the various gang-planks and docks on their way back to the ship.

“As a boy, all I wanted to be was a Marine like my father. And after he came for me, I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Koby hmm-ed as they climbed the gangplank and saluted the watching officer.

“What about you? Spend all your time with the pirates dreaming of Marine revenge?”

Koby shook his head. “No, I’ve always wanted to be a Marine. Alvida just made me understand why we need their protection.”

Helmeppo shot him an odd look. “But Marines didn’t save you. A pirate did.”

“He shouldn’t have needed to. If there were no pirates, the seas would be safe. Kids wouldn’t have to fear being stolen away, and sailors could just worry about storms and sea beasts. The Marines could do all of that.”

“But they don’t.”

“Maybe I can fix that.”

Helmeppo barked a laugh, impossible idealism in his friend’s voice. He changed the topic, before he was too tempted to puncture Koby’s bubble with a hint of reality.

“So Garp wanted Luffy to be a Marine? I can’t imagine it.”

Given the free-spirited, battle-mad man, combined with a cavalier treatment of death, Helmeppo really couldn’t imagine it. He’d seen the man for all of ten minutes, and every fiber in his being screamed to get the hell away from the embodiment of pure chaos.

According to Koby, Luffy had upended three separate towns in the single month he’d been on the Marines radar. A force that could do such a thing was frankly impressive. If terrifying. The fact that he’d resisted Garp since childhood was all the more impossible.

“He won’t escape Garp.” Helmeppo continued. “They say the Bulldog of the Marines never lets a pirate go, once they’re in his sights.”

“If he just gave the map back, Garp would have no reason to keep him.”

“You’re joking.”

Koby shook his head. “You heard that Chef. He was protecting them. Said Luffy ‘did him a good turn’. Same thing in Syrup Village and Orange Town.” He rubbed his arms, despite the warmth in the passageways. “Same thing he did for me. And you.”

“I owe nothing to that pirate.”

He looked at Helmeppo. “You’d rather be back at your father’s base?”

Helmeppo looked away, unable to answer, and Koby took that as response enough.

At least, that was what Helmeppo assumed from the silence. But when he looked back, he realized that Koby was gone. Which was all the warning he got, before rough hands yanked him backwards, and a bag went over his head.

---

They didn’t throw him overboard. Given just how much Helmeppo had antagonized Jurgen by existing, that was a bit of a surprise.

Maybe it was simply because they were still too close to the Baratie, and he might have survived the ocean. For all his flaws, Helmeppo was a strong swimmer. Even with a bag over his head. And a live cadet could report back to the Marines. Who might actually care if Jurgen made them lose a recruit, rather than just having a vaguely bruised one. So he didn’t go overboard.

Instead, he hit rusted steel, the thud echoing in a wide space, and heard the sound of a door slam. A moment later he had the bag off, but it was no help.

The bastards had locked him in the bilge.

Fuck Jurgen and his cronies.

But they had grabbed Koby first. Somehow, that was more worrying.

---

Koby blinked. When he’d been grabbed, he’d been expecting to get kicked down the stairs. Or dangled overboard. Or trapped in an oven. All things Alvida’s pirates did when they got bored.

Instead, when the bag over his head was removed, he found himself back in the classroom.

It was such an odd sight - set up exactly as it was every day, lit by oil lamps with other students all around him - that he briefly wondered if he was hallucinating.

But Jurgen was at the front of the desk, and Koby knew he’d been moved out of teaching.

And, at a second glance, the handful of other students were all Jurgen’s friends. Older recruits, the ones Helmeppo had pointed out having been held back by Morgan. All men, too, and something about that worried Koby. Jurgen knew plenty of female recruits. But Krieger was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the others.

“Koby. How good of you to join us.”

Now that sounded far more threatening than it should. Koby glanced behind him, noted that the door was unlocked, but that Cleff was standing before it.

“What is this about, sir? I’m due for my rest watch…”

“I thought it time to teach you recruits about the…unwritten rules of the Marines.”

Koby thought of debating him, suggesting that all the rules of the Marines were written down. But he couldn’t lie. There were plenty of things you did, without quite knowing why, with no explanation anywhere he could find. Things like how fast to haul rope, or how many seamen went on investigative missions, or why he’d been given a punishment shift for the last month, when Helmeppo was supposed to be the one in trouble.

“Your reading for this evening is an excerpt from Rum and the Lash, by Admiral Akainu.”

Behind him, another man started writing on the board, skittery with the chalk, as of a man who was unused to writing with the roll of the ship. Another young seaman, hailing from Shells base, promoted and brought on as an apology for the abuse they’d suffered under Morgan.

Certain habits of sailors remain true, across time and sea.
Men listen most to their animal hearts,
Lusting for drink and women,
Driven by base desires that the Marines must tame.
Rot comes from Libertines, who betray Order for Deviance…

Koby drew his eyes away from the board, nervous as to where the lesson was going.

“Men at sea can go mad, they say.” Jurgen continued. “Turning to perversions too long from shore. Which is why certain…exceptions are made. A lapse in morality, for the sake of naval harmony.

“Of course, some of those exceptions are more…acceptable than others. There are laws against prostitution on half the islands of East Blue, yet Marines are not punished when sating their desires, as long as they don’t cause trouble.”

“ - and do their medical checks.” Koby broke in.

Heads turned to him, and Jurgen lowered the folder he was reading from.

“What was that, cadet?”

“As you said. The, um, literature suggests that meeting with prostitutes is discouraged, but in the event of a liaison, sailors should make sure to attend another medical screening.”

This, apparently, was not what Jurgen had expected. But Koby was plenty familiar with the dangers of unwise trysts. There was a reason Alvida’s pirates always grabbed the medical chest along with the rest of the loot. Scurvy was nasty, but syphilis was worse.

“You do not waste your superior’s time with personal business.” Jurgen said, wrestling attention back to himself.

“But the ship’s doctor is there for -”

“Silence, cadet.”

Koby bit his tongue.

“The point is that there are not always whores available on long missions. There are few women recruits, and most know better than risk their commission by engaging with other sailors. But men still have needs.”

Koby bit down harder, the alcohol dulling the pain.

“Every ship has places for men to have some privacy. A moment to themselves, as it were. But when even that isn’t enough…”

Jurgen trailed off, and turned his gaze to Koby.

“Tell me, cadet. Do you know what a ship’s whore is?”

A shiver went up his spine. He didn’t care if his fellow recruits spent a bit longer in the showers or slipped away for a few minutes with their magazines. When he wasn’t worked to exhaustion and running on too little sleep, he might even need it himself.

But what Jurgen was speaking of made him gag. The derision in the man’s voice, and the ease at which the words fell from his mouth. The assumption that everyone was just a moment away from madness, and that needs excused vile things.

He shook his head, eyes going to the deep scars in the wood of the bench, hacked by bored sailors for generations, anything to keep his mind off the words coming from the man’s mouth.

“Some men are born deviant. Some men don’t need ladies at home. They turn their eyes to their own gender, and join the Marines because they know they won’t be accepted on shore.”

Koby’s hands were numb, from where he clenched them in his lap, knuckles going white, eyes kept down.

“And when normal men are desperate, months away from proper women and lonely, that’s when you need a ship’s whore. Someone who can pretend to be a woman, for whichever man needs it. A hole, when nothing else will do.”

He leaned over Koby, thick hands resting on a wide belt, forcing his world into Koby’s square of intentional, desperate naivety.

“Of course, good Marines are better than that. And they know better than to associate with that. And anyone hoping to climb the ranks knows better than to even allow such a thing to cross their minds.”

“Yes, Officer Jurgen.”

Koby grasped for a justification, mind spinning, pretending that this was all about rules and order, about keeping up the smooth functioning of the Marines. Of course there shouldn’t be an individual man, or type of man, singled out and pushed into such a role. It would be cruel. Monstrous, even. The entitlement to another’s body, taking what should be offered, and deriding those who would share it willingly…it was vile. Surely Jurgen was arguing that no man should be subjected to that.

Jurgen tore the illusion from Koby’s hands.

“Your friend. Helmeppo. He’s a ship’s whore. A fag, who will open his legs for anyone desperate enough to look for him. Knowing he’ll never get anything better.

“You’re better than that, Koby. Don’t let him drag you down.”

Koby felt his hands shake, but he looked up at Jurgen.

“That can’t be right.”

“Oh?” Jurgen’s eyes narrowed. The other ‘students’ shifted.

He forced himself to nod.

“All I’ve heard. Over and over. From you. From him. From the rest. Helmeppo only dates officers.”

“So?” Officer Jurgen asked.

This was going to hurt.

He had to say it anyways. Koby closed his eyes, and remembered the look on Helmeppo’s face, when he taunted Jurgen all those weeks ago, knowing exactly what would happen.

“So. He’ll never be interested in any of you.”

The slap sent his glasses across the room. With blurry eyes he could barely see the anger in Jurgen’s face, but he heard the sucked-in breath of the other men, furious at his arrogance.

All of the amused, secret camaraderie in the room snapped into ice cold anger, the whole space humming like a drawn blade.

Would it hurt more, or less, than when Alvida instructed her thugs to beat him? Koby squeezed his eyes tight, readying himself to curl and protect his head…

“That’s enough.” Bogard’s voice rang across the room.

Cadets and seamen alike froze. Koby turned and squinted, seeing the familiar white of the Commodore's coat and a shock of yellow behind it.

‘meppo had gone for help.

“All sailors should be in their bunks, or on night duties.” The Commodore continued. “Extra lessons have not been authorized. As such, all in this room will be reporting to Chief Bluegill tomorrow morning.”

There was a rush of men towards the door, but Bogard blocked it with his presence alone.

“Oh-six hundred.” He instructed. “All of you.”

Only then did he move, and the shamed sailors filed out. Koby went to collect his glasses, only to have them handed over by Helmeppo.

The other cadet looked pale, normal bluster replaced with a fixed smile. He wouldn’t meet Koby’s eyes.

“Officer Jurgen. I believe you were assigned to the Quartermaster.” Bogard was saying.

“Yessir.”

“So this…?”

“The last lesson, sir. For recruits to follow the honor of the Marines.”

Bogard glanced at the board. “And that honor included excerpts of a book only approved for Captain’s classes?”

“We have to nip deviance in the bud early, sir.” In spite of it all, Jurgen held fast to his belief.

“I see. Then you’d best do the same for yourself.”

Jurgen’s brow twisted. “Sir?”

“What are Admiral Akainu’s recommendations for dealing with disobedience, Officer?”

The man went pale.

“Sir…”

“You are lucky, perhaps, that the Admiral’s rules are not followed by the rest of the fleet. We haven’t drawn and quartered a man in decades.”

Jurgen swallowed.

“Instead, you will be confined to your bunk until we return to the 153. You will be assigned a new crew there. If I see a hair of you above decks, you’ll wait in the brig instead.”

The former officer snapped a salute and nearly ran from the room.

Only then did Bogard turn to the remaining cadets.

“Are you injured?”

“No sir.” They both responded.

“Very well. Go about your duties.”

He turned and strode away, without a backward glance.

---

Only when he was gone did Helmeppo turn back to Koby.

“Are you insane?!” The taller boy hissed.

“Um?”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He continued.

“But-” Koby started.

“No. Never do that again. If a group of senior officers corners you, you agree with everything they say. How did you not learn this on a pirate ship?!”

“We’re not on a pirate ship.” Koby said, slightly petulantly. He wasn’t sure why he expected Helmeppo to thank him. The other cadet wasn’t like that.

But Helmeppo’s hands were still on Koby’s shoulders, and his eyes were raking the younger boy’s form, looking for hidden damage, a wildness in his eyes belying the fixed smile.

“No. We’re in a place where you can be flogged for stepping out of line. You are so lucky Jurgen has never been at sea.”

Koby’s brow twisted.

“They stuck me in the bilge.” Helmeppo explained, dragging the both of them upright and patting down Koby’s uniform. “The whole thing echoes like a bell. I was out half a minute after they locked me in. And at Bogard’s door the minute after.”

He doused the lights, and pulled Koby back towards their bunks, explaining as he went.

“I knew you would put your foot in your mouth. And over something stupid.”

His arm yanked back, and he looked back to find Koby dragging his heels until he stopped.

“Stupid? Jurgen said -”

“He was right.”

Koby baulked. “What?”

“Everything he said. It’s right. I told you. I've been telling you.”

Helmeppo dropped Koby’s arm, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Back on base, everyone but my father knew what I was. A piece of arm candy for the officers. Something to flaunt Morgan’s rule. They got the prestige, I got the protection. A whore just like my mother.”

He poked a finger into Koby’s chest.

“So next time. You say what Dorian did, when they sent him to the 16th. I made you do that.

‘It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know, and you just listened to the wrong person.

‘You play nice, keep your mouth shut, and live till tomorrow.”

He drew his hand back, and turned back down the passageway, leaving Koby gaping behind him.

Only to be brought up short, when Koby grabbed his arm.

“ ‘meppo.”

“What.”

“...sorry.”

The older teen looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. “Don’t. You…you don’t have to say sorry. You tried to do a good thing. I’m sure you impressed Bogard. Just…don’t do that for me. Protect something worth it. Innocent civilians and little kids. All those people the Marines are supposed to stand up for.”

“But…who will protect you, then?”

Helmeppo barked a laugh. “Me. I’ll protect me. Why do you think I slept with all those officers?”

Koby shook his head, but began moving again.

“I’m like those fish that latch onto sharks.” ‘meppo quipped.

“...Remora?” Koby said, cold despite the tepid temperature below decks.

Helmeppo nodded. “Right. Same reason I joined the Marines.”

“...because your father made you?”

“He gave me a choice, though he never knew it. Be a Marine, never good enough for him but with a roof over my head and a future career, or be sent right back to the red light district to serve men just like him with none of the protections.

“I realized, if you aren’t the strongest around, you might as well latch on to the strongest thing. Marines. Officers. The powerful.”

He paused for a moment, catching sight of Koby’s reflected face in a lamp. The younger teen’s face was twisted up, disgusted by the thought.

“You know this. Keep your mouth shut and kiss ass. That’s how you survive this world of monsters and demons. Keep your head down and hope they don’t notice.”

He clapped Koby on the shoulder. “Not all of us can be Pirates, Koby. You have to be strong to even taste freedom.”

“But isn’t that what the Marines are for?” Koby asked, face tight and sad. “Protecting people, so they don’t have to hide, and can just…live their lives?”

“Hah. If you believe that I’ve got a bridge to nowhere to sell you. No one helps anyone else for free.”

“...Bogard did.”

“Eh?”

“Bogard did. He listened when you came to him. Even if he hates you. Just because you asked for help.”

Helmeppo flinched, Koby’s words cutting right through his cynical disaffection. He hadn’t even thought of going to anyone else. Koby was in trouble, and Bogard was on duty and could be trusted not to side with Jurgen and his friends.

The Commodore hadn’t even balked at being interrupted in the middle of his work by a bilge-soaked cadet begging him to intervene in a private crew matter. Hadn’t shouted for Helmeppo going around the chain of command, hadn’t extracted some promise of good behavior, hadn’t even criticized him for potentially outing the one man onboard Helmeppo knew to also be gay.

He had the power to help, and he did. Without thought or question. Against all prior indicators of distaste for Helmeppo personally.

“Well…”

“And don’t say it’s because I’m ‘special’. He’d have done it for any other cadet, and you know it.”

Helmeppo couldn’t deny that either. Bogard would probably have been faster had one of the weaker recruits been at Jurgen’s mercy.

“Garp is the same way, you know. He wouldn’t have dragged us out of Base 153 otherwise. And we wouldn’t be haring across the whole ocean if he didn’t care about his grandson. They try. As does everyone on this boat.” He set his heels and continued, “Have you ever watched the experienced seamen when Jurgen talks to you? I’ve seen Bogard stop someone twice from intervening. The other cadets think you deserve it, but these sailors don’t know what you were like, and have to be stopped from stepping in.”

He looked up at Helmeppo, who was warring with himself, grasping for his cynicism as hard as Koby had been reaching for his optimism a minute before.

“They’re all like that. I think they get it from Garp. It’s not just that he’s strong. He inspires them all to be better. They’ll do anything for him, because they believe in his justice. Even when he isn’t there. Even for a punk kid who no one likes.”

Koby clenched his hands, frustrated at his friend’s complete inability to see what was going on around him. How everyone knew what they were - a pirate cabin boy and a queer bully - and still gave them a chance, in spite of it all. Or maybe because of it.

Offering a hand to those who couldn’t get up alone. And it angered him that Helmeppo couldn’t see it, and might ignore the help just because he couldn’t believe it to be real.

His friend was still staring at him, paused at the door to the showers. They’d reached the changing room as they were arguing, the action of stripping back to skivvies already automatic. Koby was left shirtless and prickling in the cold under Helmeppo’s eyes.

Finally, the other boy looked away.

“I suppose, if you can still believe in the Marines, then it must mean something.”

Koby touched his shoulder, where ‘meppo’s eyes had fallen. The scar wasn’t obvious - Alvida never liked her whipping boy to get too damaged to work - but the strike of the lash had been deep and no healing spared on a chore boy. He’d torn the stitches half a dozen times, that one mark the last remaining from the one time he’d tried to escape.

He understood where Helmeppo was coming from. God did he. The one time he’d been allowed on shore of course he tried to escape, only for the terrified townsfolk to hand him right back to Alvida.

He didn’t blame them. They had lives and homes and families, and he was some child no one knew.

Had the Marines been there, would he have been saved? For every second of those two awful years, he believed it whole heartedly. If only they heard of Alvida, if only she didn’t hide so well, then they’d be there at an instant and he’d be free.

Instead, it had been a pirate who’d saved him. For no real reason, just because he could. And the Marines had the kind of people who’d yell at children and lie about their mistakes and bully anyone who dared to be different.

Horrible in their own, special way. Sacrificing the freedom of the pirates for the seal of approval of the World Government.

It was messy and ugly and imperfect.

But he still believed. If there was no Marine there to save him, then he could be that Marine for all the other little boys trapped by pirates. And maybe he’d need help - a lot of it - to get to where Garp was. To have the power to do better than the world offered now. And maybe he’d have to sit on his heels and let some evil go by, either because of his own weakness or an order from above. But if he could do anything to fight the tide of chaos and cruelty, then he had to do it.

For the little boy in the hold. And maybe for the little boy in the brothel, learning all the wrong lessons from the worst the Marines had to offer.

On the other side of the door, Helmeppo groaned and rubbed his eyes.

How could Koby say that, when he had the marks of pirates all over his body? Pirates who wouldn’t exist if every Marine was as dedicated as Koby thought they were.

Morgan had never beaten him hard enough to leave a scar. Not a physical one, at least. None of his partners had either, nor any of the seamen who caught him alone after he’d done something particularly cruel. Jurgen hadn’t even gone so far, and the man had more reason than most.

But there Koby stood, believing in the same institution that had never done anything for him. Whose apathy had been carved into his body. Thinking he could make it better.

It was so ridiculously naive. It was idiotic and optimistic and hopeful.

It was an ideal that had led him to shove a man he’d only seen the worst of out of the way of a falling sail, without a second thought.

Fuck.

The Marines had always been a gilded cage for Helmeppo. One he was comfortable in, and had no desire to leave.

They were just as self-interested as the average pirate, in their way. Not a single seaman or cadet in Shells Town would have stopped Zorro, had Helmeppo not bribed his way into their protection. Not a one would have lifted a finger to save him from a bullet, or the noose, unless it benefited them.

But Koby had.

That shouldn’t change anything. Just a single exception, in a list of thousands.

It did anyways.

---

The next day they had light duty, classwork as a respite from the endless drill, in preparation for pulling out all the stops against the Strawhat.

Privately, Helmeppo thought that a kid who could ricochet cannon balls and take down an entire Marine base might be a bit much for a class of green recruits, but Garp had finally called in help, bringing the 77th in and pointing them towards the Conomi islands. They’d find and capture the Strawhat soon enough.

Which left them writing essays, with Officer Katsup overseeing the watch of recruits off sail duty as they struggled with the topic.

Unlike Jurgen, Katsup had been impressed with Koby’s correction to the textbook. So she now had them attempting to argue for their own changes in the rules. No rule was too obscure, to be discussed and bolstered with a detailed list of pros and cons and references to why the Marines had instituted the rule in the first place. All with proper citations.

It made Helmeppo’s head spin. And he wasn’t so foolish as to question any of the rules that actually affected him. No matter the promises to the contrary, the idea that the essay might get back to Central and threaten his career was too possible. So he chose a regulation on the amount of ammunition permitted each recruit, and went from there.

At the other end of the classroom Koby was deep in a stack of books, but kept glancing up at Helmeppo, tense expression on his face.

“What’s got you frowning?” Skaven asked. He was a big man, friendly with the younger recruits, having joined up to support two little girls of his own. He snored terribly, but beyond that was a solid addition to the little coalition of the recruits Koby felt comfortable around. He was at the end of his six month training course, and knew everyone on board and back at base.

“Just worried about Helmeppo.” Koby answered truthfully.

Skaven looked towards the tall cadet.

“Hah. Don’t be. Boy like that can bounce back from anything. Like a cockroach.”

“That’s mean.” Koby argued.

“Don’t make it wrong.” He sat down next to Koby, cracking the spine of his Marine manual. “People like that - little bullies - the world is full of them. Every time the big players crush ‘em down, they scuttle for the dark, then are back to normal once the dust settles.”

“He’s trying to be better.” Koby said, pushing down the frustration that prickled the back of his neck every time another wrote off the cadet, and forced himself to listen.

Skaven was a practical man, and often spoke similar sentiments to the majority of Garp's older crew.

“Eh. Reprieve for us. But let him off his leash - away from people who scare him like Bogard and Garp - and he’ll be back to normal. Acting the braggart and lording it over the ones weaker than him. Knowing no one would like him, even if he was any different.”

“Why do you say that? He could be nice.” Koby said, though the words felt like a lie on his tongue. Nice wasn’t a word that described Helmeppo. Charming, maybe. Handsome, in that slightly predatory way of a man who knew he was pretty and wanted something out of it. Clever, but eyes never reaching above the ground beneath his feet.

A remora, Koby remembered his friend saying. Something small, hiding in the shadow of a shark.

“No point to it, even if he was.” Skaven continued, “He’d still be a kiss-ass. Doesn’t have much choice, does he?”

“What do you mean?’

Skaven looked over his nose at Koby, brows raised.

“That boy is swishier than a cut sail in a gale. If he can’t hide that, he’d best find some friends powerful enough that it doesn’t matter.”

“But it doesn’t.” Koby said.

Skaven shrugged. “No to you and me, maybe. But to the brass? Half of ‘em could be queer as a screw, but still wouldn’t stand up to the rest for a cadet. Boy like that needs protection, and no one likes a kiss up, no matter how nice they act. So why bother?”

Koby opened his mouth, but couldn’t find a retort. Everything Skaven said was true, with a practical spin that pierced right through all of Koby’s hope for a better option.

Skaven patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright though. Your friend knows what to expect. It’s why he’s survived as long as he has, even with his father like that. Smart, and knows when to run. A survivor. Like a cockroach.”

“A remora.” Koby said, eyes going to the texts in front of him.

“What was that?”

“A remora. Not a cockroach. He said it himself.”

“Huh.” Skaven considered. “Not a bad comparison. What rule are you choosing?”

Koby looked down at the notes he’d taken, about the twisting idea that had been occupying the back of his mind over the last month.

Then he looked back up at Skaven.

“I’m not sure yet. You were on base longer than the rest of us, right?”

“Sure. I’m set to be a full seaman in a month. Assuming I don’t fall overboard.”

Skaven would probably have left basic earlier, had he not gotten seasick in heavy gales. He’d fallen off the sails twice, and had a tendency of hauling too hard on delicate equipment. He was a boon when moving the canons, though.

Koby glanced one last time at his friend, whose head was in a book while two other cadets argued over the top of him about the best kinds of armor for combat.

“So you know what base life is really like.”

Skaven nodded. “I’d say so, yes.”

“Then can you tell me more about…”

---

Koby exceeded the word count. And didn't hide when he turned it in, even when Katsup raised a brow at the title.

Maybe he’d have changed his topic if they’d caught up to the Strawhat. If the Marines finally shattered his hope and ignored actual evil for petty revenge. Then he’d have plenty to write on.

If not…well, there was one rule he’d really like changed. Just not for him.

Ironically, it was the one thing he agreed with Jurgen over.

---

There was a knock on the corner of Bogard’s door, and he looked up from his desk.

Officer Katsup leaned on the doorframe, a sheaf of papers beneath her arm.

“Yes?”

She smiled. “Thought you might want to see this, Commodore.”

She pushed off the frame and strode into the room, closing the door behind her and passing over the papers.

He looked down.

“A cadet essay?”

“Koby’s.”

He raised a brow, and he flicked through to the first page.

An Argument Against 1332: Why Ignorance is not Enough

His eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at Katsup. She was still smiling, despite the pang in Bogard’s chest every time the rule in question was mentioned. A near instinctive fear, a reminder of his precarious place in the Marines, and how quickly it could change, should that one rule be removed.

And now Koby was against it?

“You should read his argument.” She prompted. “The boy has a point.”

That seemed highly unlikely. 1332 was what gave both Bogard and Katsup the freedom to remain with their partners, as long as they didn’t bother the rest of the Marines with their deviance.

Still, he skimmed the pages.

Then he went back and read again, slower.

Finally, he looked up. “This should be burned.”

“Probably.” Katsup agreed. “Central would not like it.”

“Garp wouldn’t like it.” Bogard continued, fingers tapping on the page, where the boy so eloquently laid out his rather scathing opinion.

“That would be because it reminds the Vice Admiral that he can’t rip half the base commanders apart with his bare hands. Even if some of them deserve it.” Katsup said.

“But you brought it to me.”

She nodded. “I thought I might circulate it. With the name removed, of course. There are a few of our…cohort who might be interested in his take.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed a thumb across his brow. Koby was learning quickly where to turn his ire. They'd best get him on the front lines, else he'd start turning over all the ugly rocks he could get his hands on.

“Ilsa would be laughing her ass off at this.”

Katsup grinned. “She’d have the essay printed and paper Central with it.” She looked away for a moment. Ilsa had been her friend too. “That woman never stood down from a fight. And she won more than she should.”

It was true. How many arguments had she had, before finally giving up on the Marines? Raving against injustice, standing on the side of right rather than rule, championing the push to protect over punish as the true ideal of the Marines.

The work of her and advocates like her had gotten 1332 on the books. It had seen to it that she could live as Ilsa, rather than the Rick she was born as, when Marine command couldn’t come up with a rule to prevent it. It had allowed the rules to bend just enough to find space for sailors like Bogard and Katsup to remain with their partners, even as they followed their higher calling.

Koby reminded him quite a bit of her.

“Do what you wish. Just don’t let Garp see the essay. You know what he does when he’s reminded of…all this.”

The last time someone spoke down to Bogard for his sexuality, Garp had bloodied the man’s nose. Then had to be prevented from fighting the rest of that Captain’s crew. And spit in another Vice Admiral’s face, for daring to defend the man.

Luckily, Garp thought quibbling over little rules to be idiotic, and didn’t read essays like these unless forced. Else Koby would be stuck scrubbing decks for a month, while Bogard was left explaining that the boy was right, really, to a trigger-happy grandfather who was a bit too eager to defend his friends and didn’t quite understand the fine print.

“Oh. But leave me a copy. There’s another recruit that might benefit from Koby’s insight.”

Katsup gave an idle salute, and paced away, returning to her watch and her wife.

---

There were pirates out there that could buy off whole Marine bases.

Pirates that were monsters, terrorizing whole islands, while their terrified populace flinched at the sight of Marine whites.

It made Koby sick.

Worse was when Garp ordered his cadets to arrest the one group that had stepped in to help the frightened villagers. Just because he was personally insulted by his grandson’s choice.

Of course Koby couldn’t follow such an order. He didn’t expect anyone else to agree. They hadn’t met Luffy. They didn’t know - in their soul - that he’d never abide by this kind of cruelty.

So it was strange that the one cadet who had actual reason to hate Luffy was the one that stood behind him.

Sure, Helmeppo sighed about it, rueful smile on his face, as if he was being dragged kicking to the right choice.

As the other cadets left, as Garp let his grandson go, Koby felt the fight go out of him with some relief, and hurried to catch up to the rest.

Helmeppo caught Koby as he stumbled. It still wasn’t easy standing up to the powerful. To a Vice Admiral. But Garp had seen reason. Or never intended to stop Luffy in the first place. That whole family was insane.

And maybe it was rubbing off on Koby, because if he had to choose between standing by justice or biting his tongue just to save his career…then there was no choice at all, really.

“You’re a damn fool.” Helmeppo said, supporting him until he found his feet again.

“Yeah.” Koby agreed. “And you’re one too.”

The older teen laughed and ruffled Koby’s hair. “What are they going to do, send me back home?”

Koby frowned a moment. “Yes.”

Helmeppo paused, tick in his jaw acknowledging that such punishment would indeed be the worst that could happen. But he waved it off. “They wish they could have me back. The base is probably falling apart without me.”

The impossibility of that statement drew a smile back on Koby’s face.

In the week they spent in the Conomi Islands, cleaning up after Arlong and untangling Nezumi’s corruption, Koby’s choice was proven right, time and again.

The town’s folk wouldn’t hear a word of slander towards the Strawhats. Apparently the whole crew had earned their regard, from their home-town thief who’d actually been robbing pirates to free them all, to the chef who cobbled together scraps to feed everyone the best meal in their lives, to the swordsman who fought while barely able to stand. Even the madman from Syrup Village had his fans, young children and old grannies alike recounting the tale he wove of Strawhat heroics.

And Luffy…

Luffy had fought the highest-bounty Pirate in the East Blue and won. Just because his friend was hurting.

It was inspiring. An ideal Koby could strive for, even as he set aside freedom to pursue justice instead. It might eventually bring them into conflict. But just maybe, they could both change the world for the better, each in their own way.

He handed over Luffy’s bounty poster, still fresh from the printers, and wished the Strawhat goodbye. And found he wasn’t so disillusioned with the Marines anymore. Maybe their justice wasn’t perfect, but it was a system that could change and be made better by even small words, spoken by nothing more than a rookie cadet. A reminder to do better. And if they could work with pirates on the side of good, bringing down the world’s evils in the process, then maybe there was a future after all.

He grinned, and turned back to the ship, falling in easily by Helmeppo’s side.

---

“Well?”

Back in the quarterdeck, Garp uncorked a bottle of whiskey, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. His grandson would be a good pirate. But a pirate nonetheless. Hard not to mourn what could have been.

But Bogard wasn’t letting him mope.

The man stood easy, hand resting on his sword hilt, waiting for his Captain.

“What.” Garp said.

Bogard raised his brows.

“The pink-haired boy performed well.”

Garp sighed, reminded of the determined look in his protegee’s eyes. “Yes, yes. Very heroic, standing up for justice against a senile old man.”

“Both boys performed well.”

Garp paused, parsing his Second’s words.

Morgan’s boy had been right there, backing up Koby against every other Marine. No way of knowing the punishment he could receive. Believing in Koby’s justice.

“Fine.” He growled. He stomped over to a cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of wine.

“I don’t see how you can stand this stuff.”

Bogard took the bottle, examining the label with a critical eye. “Which is exactly why I asked for it. You would not appreciate it. But I will.”

“Hah!” Garp returned to his chair, and passed over a glass. “More of your impossible gambles.”

They both poured their respective drinks.

Bogard sipped, and closed his eyes to enjoy the flavor. Acrid and deep, with just a note of floral hidden beneath dark red. Grown on the south side of the valley, then. In a land long tilled under the march of progress.

“You’re just as mad as the rest of us.” Garp said, leaning back and draining his glass. An insult to the whiskey, but Monkey D. Garp was not a man known for his subtlety.

“Perhaps.” Bogard sipped again.

“Don’t even know how to make a proper bet. What’s the point of a game if no one loses?”

“Winning against a friend is no game.” Especially one as straight forward as you, Bogard didn’t say. “I prefer a real challenge.”

“Hah. Like what?”

“Like fighting fate. To play a game where everyone wins.”

He raised his glass in demonstration. “A bottle to a man who can enjoy it, a protegee to a man searching for one, a place for some lost children…a better world for all involved.”

Garp shook his head. “They won’t thank you for it. My grandson never did.”

“You pushed him to be something he wasn’t. Of course he fought you. It is far easier to give them what they think they want.”

“That’s easy. All Koby wants is to be a Marine.”

“And he is. But you taught him what that means.”

“Then what about your boy? He doesn’t believe in the Marines.”

Bogard swirled the wine in his glass. Red blood in clear crystal. Memories caught in ice, of a world that never would be again.

A bottle from the same hill where he’d married his wife. Every year, fewer and fewer remaining, as the memories of a better time faded, leaving only bitterness behind.

But he could still taste the flowers.

“He doesn’t need to. He has something easier to believe in.”

“What?”

Bogard looked over his glass, one brow raised.

Garp stared at his second for a moment. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

“You’re a cruel man, Bogard. Making more men like you.”

Bogard sipped again, memories of laughter and bright sunlight disappearing in the sea air.

“We are only as cruel as our masters make us, Vice Admiral.”

---

As the Strawhats turned to the Grand Line, Garp’s Marines turned back towards Shells Town. They’d return to the base with every recruit ready to serve on other ships, or go on to further training.

First, they had to corral the fishmen and clean out the rot at the 16th, which Garp undertook with a kind of grim determination that suggested the reason The Mad Dog of the Marines was wasting time in the peaceful East Blue was specifically to root out corruption and look for spies.

No surprise, then, that he’d initially suspected Koby of being a pirate informant. If a Base Captain could be bribed by Pirates, who knew what the rank and file were capable of.

In the meantime, the cadets were assigned as backup for the full Marines, corralling and arresting the pirate Fishmen. That was almost as much of a lesson as the rest of Garp’s training combined.

A single fishman could easily overwhelm ten humans. So all their deck training working as teams immediately came into use, capturing as many of the fleeing pirates as possible with iron nets and tranquilizing rounds. Any one that escaped would be in the sea in a second, impossible to track until they made more trouble.

Everyone recognized that there was no way they’d have captured as many as they did without the Strawhats incapacitating the majority of the fishman army. It only buffed their image more to the cadets, who saw even experienced sailors thrown around like toothpicks by the furious captives. All told the Marines arrested fifty seven fishmen, with an equal number fleeing as soon as they realized their leader had been defeated. A whole caravan of ships was needed to send them on to prison; specially designed prison convoys that didn’t normally see much use in the peaceful East Blue.

Of course, it also made every cadet swell with pride every time the regular sailors of the 16th struggled with a prisoner, only for one of Garp’s crew to walk up and easily handle the problem. The young recruits gaped as Bluegill fired a bollo from his blunderbuss, felling a giant fishman with a single shot. Officer Katsup caught a chain when a cohort of fishmen made a break for it, ripped out of the hands of five Marine seamen, wiry muscles on her arms tightening and bringing all ten fishmen to their knees. Mackintosh slapped down a puffer-fish fishman that had poisoned half a dozen seamen with an expertly aimed blow. How could the cadets not beam, when they got to brag to full seamen that they’d trained with these heroes?

Starting out, they had no idea how lucky they’d been, to have been given the opportunity to learn under Garp. The man was legendary for taking down Gol D. Roger. But the difference between the average Marine and an elite was never more apparent than the sight before them. Every sailor on Garp’s ship was more than capable of dealing with whole fleets of minor pirates.

Alvida wouldn’t have stood a chance. Even after a month of training, Koby was pretty certain he could have taken a good portion of her crew by himself. Maybe even Alvida on her own. The thought would have been impossible a month before.

But now his once greatest nightmare was relegated to a silly little nobody piddling around the East Blue. No wonder Luffy had so easily defeated her. He’d trained with Garp for years.

And now it was his turn. As they turned the ship back to Shell’s Town, he and Helmeppo got a start on their officer training.

The first portion of which was so ridiculous it briefly made Koby wonder if he’d lost his sanity.

Garp had accepted a bribe. Not of money, oh no. Instead, a grateful bakery in one of the freed villages had gifted the Marines a full hold of baked goods.

Most went to the cook, to be worked into dishes and stored for long voyages.

But there was an entire room of donuts. So Garp bet his entire crew that he could match them, donut for donut, for the entire journey back to Shells Town.

And Koby and Helmeppo were responsible for the tally.

Which meant watching their mentor hole up in the mess, commandeering a whole table, working through his most hated paperwork, while gobbling plate after plate of sweets.

Koby had thought Garp restricted his appetite to meat. Instead, the Vice Admiral proved that he could easily match his whole crew at consuming just about anything.

Apparently, this was something of a tradition on the ship. After any big mission, Garp would ‘check in’ with the crew, performing some ridiculous feat, like dragging about whole battleships or juggling anchors, to the cheers of the whole crew. A way for the ship to blow off steam before returning to regular duties.

For the first time, Koby and Helmeppo had to split shifts, each taking four hours with Garp in the mess, while the other went about their regular duties. Four hours on, four hours off, trying not to laugh as their leader challenged any sailor within sight to silly contests.

If Garp slept at all, the entire two weeks it took for them to return to Shells Town, he didn’t show it.

In the meantime, Koby was given back his essay, graded and corrected, with a warning not to rock the boat too much with his suggestions. But Officer Katsup had looked him in the eye when she said it, smiling just a bit.

Helmeppo would have shook him till his brains rattled if he knew what Koby had written, but Koby was certain that the Petty Officer graded him fairly, and not just because he got near perfect marks, no matter how heretical his argument. If his guess about her relationship with Ensign Mackintosh was correct, she might have understood it better than most. So forcing himself outside his comfort zone, looking an ugly reality in the eye, and telling at least one other person what he thought of it actually worked out in the end.

A small bit of courage. But one that made him proud nonetheless.

Two months in, Koby had decided his worst trait was his cowardice. It had kept him alive, but he couldn’t look back at his time with the pirates without feeling shame. More than justice, courage to stand up to what was wrong helped people. It was what Luffy did. And Zorro. The courage to stand by their convictions and fight those they saw as monsters, even if that meant standing up to the impossible.

Standing up to Garp, calling out his mistakes and his irrational actions, that had taken more courage than Koby knew he had. Writing a dangerous essay seemed tiny in comparison. But to the people it mattered to, even a tiny change could mean so much, so much.

---

If there was any proof they needed of Garp’s regard, the fact that both Koby and Helmeppo were told to report to the armory would have cinched it.

Regular seamen were assigned the standard weaponry. Saber, pistol, short knife. Officers were allowed to vary their weapons.

Bogard was conversing with the quartermaster while they wandered the stacks, weighing different weapons in their hands with the other officer candidates. Officer Katsup oversaw their experiments and made suggestions based on her own observation of their skills.

“Go for something lighter, Hana.” She called out, as the girl hefted a heavy gun, unbalancing the cadet’s slight frame.

Koby frowned as he ran a hand down an engraved pistol, feeling oddly out of place among the rows and rows of weapons. None of these would be his; a custom weapon was hand-made for each officer upon earning their commission. Yet they were beautiful pieces. But none felt quite right.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering.” Helmeppo said, looking down the sights of a small pistol. “You won’t use any of these.”

Koby cocked his head. “Why do you -”

“Koby! Try the knuckle dusters.” Katsup called out.

Helmeppo raised his brow, gesturing down another row, as if Katsup had proven his point.

“How -” He started.

“You’re Garp’s favorite. And he said he’d train you personally.” ‘meppo said.

“So?”

“So Garp doesn’t use a sword. He fights bare-handed. As do you.”

Helmeppo tapped his cheek, a reminder of the faded bruise, and Koby sighed with a bit of relief.

It was true he was the worst at sword work, but could punch with precision any target set in front of him. It didn’t come as easy as Helmeppo’s comfort with any sword that came to his hand, but Koby also hadn’t been training for half his life. Katsup had assured him that power and confidence would come with time and practice.

And if said practice didn’t involve clunky steel getting in his way, all the better.

Helmeppo had the opposite problem. Each sword he picked up was familiar, but none felt right.

“And you said your inspiration was Zorro.”

Both jerked, spinning to find Bogard looking over them. He’d moved without a sound to come behind them.

“Yessir?” Helmeppo said, uncomfortable under the dark eyes.

“So try double wielding. It would fix your balance.”

And the Commodore was gone just as fast as he came.

The first of the double swords had too much weight in the hilt, the second too long and unwieldy in the close quarters of the armory.

Koby handed over a pair of kukri, and Helmeppo’s eyes widened. They were shorter than he was used to, vicious blades perfect for both ship work and deck combat. Thick steel, unlikely to break no matter how heavy a larger sword. The weight was felt right, settling on his hip like they belonged, the sheath holding the curve of the weapons while doing exactly as Bogard had said - balancing his stance, letting him switch his lead just as easily as Koby could. They were perfect.

“Hoi! If you’ve all chosen, let's test these bad boys out!” Katsup called, and there were grins on every cadet’s face as they gathered for their first officer drill.

Bogard watched as they left, amused look on his face, as Helmeppo fell in easily right behind Koby.

---

They were a day out from Shells Town, Koby and Helmeppo still working opposing shifts, when the younger cadet had another night in the record room.

He’d gathered reports from every office and Garp’s makeshift desk, filed everything, then did a last loop before switching off with Helmeppo at midnight.

Bogard stopped him in a hall.

“Here. Have Helmeppo file these.”

Koby reached out a hand, then stopped. He recognized the title on one of the papers.

Bogard was left hanging, papers outstretched.

He looked down. “Cadet?”

Koby shook himself, and spoke.

“Begging your pardon, sir. But I think you should give them to him yourself.”

Bogard dropped his hand. “Excuse me?”

The teen met the Commodore’s eyes, still wavering but forcing himself forward. “You should give him them yourself. He…he thinks you hate him. But I don’t think that’s true.”

Bogard coughed. “I hardly see how my opinion on his character matters.”

Koby wrung his hands.

“He thinks you hate him for the same reason everyone else does. That he’s a promiscuous kiss-ass not worthy of a real relationship.”

He paused and added, “Which is kind of worse, because you’re the first person he’s met like him.”

Bogard raised a brow. “I highly doubt that. He was very open on his intake paperwork.”

“It was the only way he knew how to be. If you read my essay…”

He looked down, but kept speaking.

“If you read it, you know that most Marines agree with that sentiment. That the only place for queerness is as sluts available for any man too lonely to be bothered by who they sleep with.

“And that isn’t true. There are people like you and Officer Katsup, who keep your preferences quiet and act the perfect Marine. So that no one knows.”

Koby looked up, and Bogard found himself taking a step back.

There was anger in the boy’s eyes. Not determination, or grit, or courage in the face of danger. No. Simple, righteous, anger.

“The ones that aren’t quiet are the kind that proposition children and hide their crimes beneath the blanket ban on all queer acts. Relying upon the fact that both victim and abuser are equally culpable in our system.”

His hands clenched at his sides.

“Everyone acts like his past is a joke. Something to tease him about, or shame him for his promiscuity. He acts like it doesn’t bother him.”

“But I can do basic math. I haven’t seen a single officer under twenty in the Marines. And Helmeppo had his first partner at fourteen.”

Bogard looked away. He’d done the same math, and said nothing, because the boy in question acted like it had all been a lark.

Koby wasn’t willing to brush it off so easily.

“Do you know that he still won’t say their names? Because they protected him from his father. He called it a game. Butter up the officers that hated Morgan, and get their protection from him, while hiding behind his father if someone ever went too far.

“He said being underage was the point. Leverage. A pact, him knowing something that could hang them, just as they could do the same by telling his father. He acts like it was all his idea, and the other recruits believe him.”

His eyes never left Bogard’s as he continued.

“But he told me the first officer who bedded him was transferred from the 16th. Came to the 153rd knowing what Helmeppo was, because he and the boy who Morgan nearly beat to death came up with a scheme to keep them both safe. Dorian told everyone at the 16th that it was Helmeppo’s fault he’d been beaten for buggery, and Helmeppo didn’t say anything to disprove it. Because a Lieutenant’s son was safe, but a chore boy wasn’t.

“Except that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Because that unnamed officer came right to him, knowing more about him than he did himself, and told ‘meppo that no one would ever love him as he was, so he might as well make Morgan a laughing stock in the process. And no one has ever told him any different. Until we came on this ship.”

Koby glared at Bogard.

“That is why it matters what you think of him. Because he believes he has one place in the Marines, and it’s beneath a powerful man. And the first gay man who isn’t like that, who doesn’t see him as a tool or a toy, looks at him like it’s shameful that at fourteen he didn’t know how better to hide!”

Bogard was no coward, but he struggled to hold Koby’s eyes, as the boy hissed,

“If you want him to stay in the Marines, tell him otherwise.”

---

Koby turn and fled towards the bunks, leaving Bogard staring at his back.

Damn.

The boy really did have what it took to be a Captain.

Garp believed it, and was proven right when the boy stood up to authority to defend what was right.

But it was easy to forget that a Captain’s job was also to protect their crew.

Even ones that acted like they didn’t need it.

Bogard adjusted his fedora, tipping his hat to the absent boy.

He was utterly wrong, of course. Koby thought Helmeppo remained in the Marines to race after Zorro’s tails, growing stronger and serving justice as an afterthought. He feared that the abuse and cruelty would some day push Helmeppo over the line, and the blond teen would break as surely as he himself had, crumbling into a mindless automaton, following monstrous orders out of fear of what might happen.

Men like that were a dime a dozen in the Marines, especially on the ships run by Captains like Morgan. Fear guiding their steps and forcing down anything special about them. Living no different than beasts, chained to an anchor rather than a plow.

Men like that didn’t stand up to Ronoa Zorro after being humiliated twice. Nor did they stand back up the third, or forth, or fifth time they were knocked down. They certainly didn’t grab onto the same weapon that had failed them and keep trying.

Helmeppo didn’t give a damn about what Bogard thought of him.

He didn’t care about the Marines, or morality, or the higher calling of justice. He didn’t believe in the hollow ethics of Central or the snide acceptance of his superiors. One month ago, had he been asked, he’d have said the only thing worth believing in was the reality of power. Might made right, and anything less was idiotic idealism.

Yesterday, he had looked a Vice Admiral in the eye, and told that overwhelming power that what he was doing was wrong.

He hadn’t looked to Bogard before making that statement. He hadn’t looked to the rules, or the pirates, or deep within himself for unsung courage.

He had looked to Koby.

Then stood by his friend, his superior, his Captain. Against the whole world, if need be.

Garp owed Bogard more than just a bottle of wine.

And maybe he owed Helmeppo an admission.

---

Helmeppo wasn’t quite sure what he expected, when Bogard called him to his office the next day.

Perhaps a new set of documents to file. Perhaps an added punishment detail, because even if Koby got off, it wasn’t necessary that he would too. Helmeppo had just barely made it into Garp’s good graces. It wasn’t as if his second had to agree. Especially when insubordination was on the table.

The latter possibility seemed more and more likely when Bogard instructed him to close the door behind himself and take a seat before the Commodore's desk.

Bogard remained standing, hands on the back of his chair, staring at Helmeppo for a moment.

“Sir?”

Bogard sighed. “Forgive me. I’ve never…done this before. As odd as that sounds.”

Helmeppo blinked. Bogard certainly had punished cadets. So that wasn’t on the table. The next thought was that he was being propositioned, but that was laughable, as strait-laced as the man was.

Odd, that this was the first man Helmeppo knew, for certain, would never abuse his command like that. Even knowing all he did about the man.

“I’m…I’m gay.” Bogard admitted.

Helmeppo didn’t laugh. But it was a near thing.

“Uh…yeah?”

Bogard huffed, and finally sat.

“Of course you knew.”

“I read your file.”

“You read part of my file. And then made some very incorrect assumptions. I nearly threw the den den mushi across the room when I heard that.”

Helmeppo blanched. “What?!”

The Commodore reached in his desk, and placed an odd colored snail on the top.

“A…wide receiver snail?”

“Keyed to the various portions of the ship, where we’ve placed listening snails. Recruits practice without them, lest the network go down during battle, but they’re installed across the ship, so you don’t have to run to alert command.”

Helmeppo carefully considered this new information, closing down the portion of his brain that was screaming at what this meant. There was a clear yellow x on the snail, similar to xes he’d seen painted on the deck in corridors or painted on woodwork. They were atop the masts, across the deck at every watch station, and in the corner of every room on the quarterdeck. None in the bunks, though there was one outside each door.

How many conversations had he had with Koby, over the last month? He’d never assumed privacy, but had thought any bit of gossip would need to be relayed by a sailor.

Instead, the little snails could listen in to almost any conversation, almost anywhere, with no indication they were in use.

“H-how many lashes have I earned?”

Bogard huffed, removing his hat and placing it on the desk beside the snail. His hair was gelled back, impervious and perfect.

“I admitted something damning about myself, and now tell you I know something similar about you. Mutually assured destruction, to use the strategic term. How you ensured your officer friends couldn’t hurt you.”

“But no one here would believe me…”

“No one here would care, Helmeppo. For the first time in your life, you are on a ship where no one gives a damn where you came from or who you love, and you keep -”

Bogard silenced himself, pulling back on a lecture that clearly had been pushing at his lips for a month.

Instead, he said, “Your friend chided me for letting you believe I hated you.”

Helmeppo leaned back, chin going up and defiance growing in his eyes.

“I don’t care what you think of me. Just let me do my job, and you do - “

“I don’t hate you for being gay. Or a whore, or whatever Jurgen called you.”

Helmeppo shut his mouth, genuinely surprised. And that…stung, actually. Bogard had forced himself to agree with Koby before, on logic alone. But now, seeing the genuine shock on the young man’s face, Bogard could fully concede the point.

“When you suggested that I was ashamed of my wife, I was furious.” Bogard admitted. “I gave you that file to show that there was another way for men like us through the Marines. For you to think that…”

“That what, I wanted to just survive until I finally did something that gave them an excuse to can me?” Helmeppo snapped.

“That…that isn’t what happened at all.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Bogard sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging wisps from his careful coif, making him look far more human.

Tired, but human.

“Helmeppo, my wife fought for her entire career for people like you and me. It was work from activists like her that first allowed women into the Marines, put rules on the books to prevent officers from sexually exploiting their crews, and finally eased the ban on queerness.”

“And yet here we are. Sharing a closet.” Helmeppo pointed out.

“Your friend said much the same. You have no memory of what it was like before. The fear. The beatings. Having to turn away from the abuse of fellows, because it might reveal you.”

Helmeppo stared at him, then laughed in his face.

He sneered, “Oh. I'm sure I don't know anything about that.”

Bogard sighed.

“I heard your story. Koby made it very clear when he shouted at me. But you must understand that your experience was what everyone faced twenty years ago.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to thank you for only one base hating me?”

This was becoming more of a fight than Bogard wanted. He should have known that any pressure would make Helmeppo curl in like a hedgehog, all spines and impotent aggression.

“I’m trying to explain. How things were different. And how we - perhaps - failed you with our solutions.”

“What solution? My father would still kill me if he knew. And every seaman at Shells could gut me if I didn’t run for his protection.”

“I know. We failed you. But at the time, our greatest accomplishment for freedom was 1332.”

Helmeppo blinked, racking his mind for the reference. It wasn’t anything he’d seen, in that hellish study session his father forced on him seven years ago.

“Regulation 1332 didn’t change any rules. It didn’t strike anything from the books.” Bogard explained. “It simply suggested that Marines stop asking about the private lives of their companions. Don’t ask. And for their gay crewmates, don’t tell. As long as no one overstepped their bounds, Captains had no reason to dismiss or punish crewmembers who stepped outside the norm in their personal lives.

“You must understand. For us, this was a boon. Not the solution any of us dreamed of. But one that allowed us to live. To not be constantly looking over our shoulders, terrified of Marine informants or pirate blackmail.

“At the time, it was the best we could get. My Ilsa worked for years to achieve it.”

“And the first chance she got, she fucked off to Momoiro Island and left it all behind.” Helmeppo said.

Bogard didn’t slap him. But it was a near thing. With gritted teeth he said, “She stayed until they asked her to transport a cargo of children to the slave markets.”

Helmeppo had nothing to say to that.

Bogard huffed, and returned to the point.

“You aren’t the first Marine I’ve seen, climbing the ranks through the bedroom. But Ilsa and I had hoped it would decrease, with 1332 opening up other possibilities.”

He pulled out a sheaf of papers from his desk, and passed them over.

“Your friend Koby pointed out that the opposite might be true. He said we should strike 1332 from the books.”

Helmeppo took the essay and raised a brow.

“And you didn’t punish him for it?”

“Officer Katsup thought it should be framed.”

Helmeppo snorted, then skimmed his friend’s words.

A moment later, his smirk fell, and he swallowed hard.

Over and over again, the regulations cite protection of morality, children, and the lower ranks as reason for a ban on buggery. But what we see is the exact opposite. In a world where any queer act is viewed as equally vile as the worst offenses, those worst offenses can be visited upon openly queer sailors, with no fear of reprisal, for both participants have violated an equal tenet.

If a child fears the lash when admitting to receiving a kiss from an officer, they will not admit to their own abuse. If a recruit is a known homosexual, their rape is taken as deserved, equal to their inherent sin, and thus any admission will result in naught but more abuse.

By merely sidestepping the issue, rule 1332 empowers those abusers already in the ranks to continue their vile vices, while those comfortable in their place remain silent, invisible to those youngsters that could use their guidance. Before the rule was in place, there was a brotherhood, of sorts, between all queer seamen. Moving in the same spaces as abusers, noting and warning off fellow those more open to abuse, hiding their protection beneath the guise of morality.

For some that might be worse, a “festering rot eating at the heart of the Marines” (Akainu, 1518). But when only those who speak up are punished, something worse can form.

A world where the knowledgeable, the powerful, and the well-placed need not concern themselves with the fate of their fellows without the same advantages. An admiral need not fear his personal life coming to light, because of the injunction on asking. But a new recruit still cannot bring their abuse to their superior, lest the same punishment fall, no different than before, but for the fact that their abuser can sail through the world with less fear.

If the Marines wish to ban buggery, they should do so. If they wish to allow it, to destigmatize the act of sodomy and admit that a sexual act occurring in the privacy of shore leave is acceptable, then they should change the rules. Not hide from the ugly reality that commanders long gone claimed as excuse for violent suppression.

One only need to look to…

Helmeppo looked up, mouth dry.

“He…he wrote this?”

Bogard nodded.

“It was our dream, for so long, just to be left alone for our sexuality. That alone was an uphill battle. We weren’t ignorant of the edge cases. But we believed them rare. Unlikely. Forgetting that, anywhere power flows, there are those who will use that power for evil.”

He saw Helmeppo’s incredulous expression.

And he acknowledged it.

“We were wrong, in many ways. At bases like Shells, the old ways continued, not a second of change after all our work. So too are there ships like this one, where no one cares as long as we work for our greater purpose. But it can be easy, living in a place of safety, to block away the memories of the alternative.”

“Until you have a brat rub your nose in it.”

Bogard coughed a laugh. “Quite so.”

“So?” Helmeppo asked.

“So your friend shouted at me, and he is right. You should know that I don’t hate you for what you deemed necessary to survive your home.”

He paused, then added, “If I do, it’s because you’re a punk kid with a bad attitude who doesn’t know how to properly tie a bowline knot.”

Helmeppo laughed, hard. “Fair enough. Commodore. I’ll try harder to earn your esteem.”

“And maybe stop chasing after pirates as your ideal.” Bogard added, just to see the moment of baffled confusion flash across the young man’s face, before it was smoothed over with instinctive bravado.

“Show me something better, then, sir.” He smirked.

Bogard raised a careful brow, and set his hat back on his head.

“Are you sure you wish to challenge me, cadet?”

Helmeppo’s face fell, a far more typical fear of all the punishment details a commanding officer could give overtaking any more existential worries.

“No sir!”

“Then you’d best get back to work, correct?”

“Yessir!” And he was gone, door swinging shut behind him, while Bogard tried not to let the amusement show on his face.

---

After two months away, Shells Town seemed so much smaller than it had been.

To Helmeppo, the 153rd had been his whole world. A toy castle, to use and abuse how he willed, as long as he could balance the fickle moods of his father and lovers off each other.

It was Koby’s first Marine base, but it was Helmeppo’s home, and one he couldn’t wait to leave behind. Had Garp chosen to take the whole class of recruits straight to Marine Headquarters instead, and send them to their ships from there, Helmeppo wouldn’t have cared at all. Leave his father to see to their affairs from prison, and the swine to pick over the things in his room. He’d even let the recruits use his portrait for target practice, as long as he never had to see the damn place again.

Instead, he had to look the men who hated him in the eye as they returned, and he was not looking forward to it. Two months away from Morgan’s rule, and the base was surely learning just how bad they’d had it, and similarly who to blame for half of the pain. And he was the one still accessible, outside of a nice safe jail cell.

Get in, grab his clothes, and get out. An easy plan.

Unfortunately, Garp had taken one step off the gangplank, finishing his bet against his crew, and declared he was taking a nap for the foreseeable future.

He’d passed out halfway through the second step, and Bogard had caught him on the third, hoisting the Vice Admiral over his shoulder and striding off, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The rest of the crew acted like it was.

The end result of which was Koby and Helmeppo being directed to carry a chest of documents back to the auditors in the records room, so the accountants could be prepared for their next take over of a corrupt base.

The chest weighed what felt like a ton, but was more unwieldy than anything else, especially when they had to carry it from the docks all the way to the base, dodging civilians the whole way, then up around the regular scrum of working Marines and into the base proper.

They chatted on the way back. It took from the harbor to the base to convince Koby to agree to let Helmeppo take him shopping, with the goal to buy anything beyond the standard Marine uniform with their first paycheck. Apparently Koby didn’t trust his fashion sense.

The topic turned serious as they passed the gate, guard sneering down at Helmeppo and hissing a half-heard insult to their backs.

“Would you want that?” Koby was asking.

“I might hate the man, but no, I don’t want him to be executed.” Helmeppo responded, when they both heard the explosion.

They were half way to the records office. A mere corridor away from the cells. Any warning would have been to late.

“Axe-hand escaped!”

The words came in time with the familiar feeling of steel against Helmeppo’s neck.

He eased the chest down, eyes caught in the terrified blue of Koby’s, as his father screamed at the rest of the base.

“Move, and the boy gets it!” Morgan shouted.

Then they were moving, Helmeppo dragged backwards, through a yard of gawping Marines, back towards the stairs which would take them down to the gate. Not a one moved to stop them, the rank and file still terrified of their former commander.

“Halt!”

Morgan stilled as a brace of armed guards rushed the scene from the gate, pistols aimed at the escaping captive.

The former Captain swung so Helmeppo was between him and the guns, and his back was towards the wall. Carefully, the big man eased up the steps.

Helmeppo could see exactly where this fight would go. Marines tried not to shoot civilians. The same courtesy wasn’t extended to fellows. Certainly not to the hated Captain’s bastard son. As soon as they realized, they’d start shooting.

He would be riddled with bullets, while his father would shrug them off and cut a swath through his former command to escape.

He felt a breeze on the back of his ankles, Morgan finally reaching the parapet. Four stories to the ground, and his father still shouting demands right in his ear.

“A boat, and none of you bastards come after-”

It wasn’t much of a choice. Everyone dead, or just him. A single push, and they both went over the wall.

---

Pain. Helmeppo groaned and tried to push himself up.

His father had twisted on the way down, landing on top of him. Proving how little he cared for his son. Morgan would have taken no damage at all.

Helmeppo was left with a broken collar bone. Broken arm. A few snapped ribs. Who knew what more.

Beside him, Morgan dusted off his sleeves.

“What the hell, boy?”

“Seemed.” Helmeppo panted. “Faster.”

“Garp has made you into a fool.” But he grabbed ‘meppo by the scruff of his shirt, and dragged them both back down, toward the harbor.

Helmeppo tried - failed - catching his breath the whole way, sharp pain coming at each step.

His father was ranting the whole time, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to catch more than a few words, forcing his bruised legs to keep up with his father’s long strides.

“Those mutinous rats…”
“won’t know what hit them…”
“should be thanking me…”

“And what I heard of you -”

That caught Helmeppo’s attention. His foot hit the wood of the pier, and he felt his blood turn cold.

“Father?”

“I don’t want to hear that word out of your mouth, boy.” A hand snapped out, wrapping around ‘meppo’s broken arm and squeezing. “Not until you and I have a long talk. If any of what I heard is true-”

“Oh, I’m sure it all is.”

The last voice Helmeppo wanted to hear rung out.

Jurgen. Coming from behind, holding a rifle up and a manic grin on his face.

Morgan brought his human shield back up, and Helmeppo winced. Now it was just a race to who would kill him first.

“Did you know your son was a whore, Morgan?”

The man growled, axe running along ‘meppo’s neck, sharp enough to draw blood with a mere whisper. Jurgen watched with a barely concealed joy.

Helmeppo couldn’t even swallow, chin up and hair fisted in his father’s hand.

“Shut your mouth.” Morgan hissed. “Those bullets will do nothing to me.”

“I could just kill the boy. Do us all a favor.”

“Not before I hear it from him.” Morgan said.

“Why trust a fag? I could tell you everything you want. Then wait for the rest to arrest you again.”

“Or I could kill you both. It would be easy.”

“No one is killing anyone.”

Koby. Why the hell was Koby here? There was sweat on his brow, from where he'd run from the base, damp fringe falling in his eyes, behind the sights of a pistol he’d aimed at Jurgen.

Helmeppo felt the scrape of the trigger in his bones as Koby pulled back the flint-cock.

“Koby.” He said, as loud as he could speak without slicing his own throat. “Forget about me. Go get Garp.”

“No.” Koby wasn’t hesitating. “Drop your weapon, Jurgen, and we can all walk out of here alive.”

“Why the fuck would I do that, Cadet? One shot, and we could fix this.”

Koby ignored Jurgen, speaking instead to Morgan.

“In five minutes, word will get back to the ship. We’ll have twenty canons on us and no way out. Let your son go, and you can take any boat you want. Everyone’s happy.”

Morgan tightened his grip on Helmeppo’s hair. Helmeppo whimpered.

“He comes with me. I beat him back into line. Then we’ll be happy. And you’ll put down your guns, and I won’t kill you where you stand. Then you’ll be happy.”

“Hah! If you knew-”

They were running out of time. Koby was running out of time, because he was an idiot who involved himself.

But he was lowering the pistol, and Helmeppo breathed easier, because Morgan would go after him last.

Stupid, stupid man.

Helmeppo squeezed his eyes tight.

This was going to hurt like hell.

With as much force as he could muster, Helmeppo slammed his head back, driving Morgan’s chin up. Metal tore from skin on Morgan’s jaw.

The big man swore, surprised enough that he loosened his arm. The axe still sliced through the skin on ‘meppo’s throat, but it was harder than one might think to hit an artery. He twisted and dropped. Then dove for Koby, throwing the younger teen to the ground as Jurgen fired.

The bullet ricocheted off of the axe, and then there was a sickening splatter. Jurgen dropped to the ground with a wet thud. Helmeppo shoved Koby behind him, and came back up with one hand clenched on his neck and the other making sure Koby stayed down.

“Go.” He said.

Morgan looked at him as if a pet monkey had done an unexpected trick.

“Hah. I knew you weren’t -”

“I am. I’m gay, the whole base knows it, as does every Marine on Garp’s ship. Your reputation has already been ruined. So you can kill me now and lose your chance to escape. Or you can go.”

Morgan’s features twisted into a scowl. But then there was a shout from behind them. Morgan swore, and turned, fleeing back into town and toward freedom.

Only when he was gone did Helmeppo slump back to the ground. Which was where the other Marines found them, a minute later. Both on the ground, Helmeppo lying heavily on Koby, Koby holding his kerchief to Helmeppo’s neck, stemming the bleeding.

“Wh- what did i say about saving me?” ‘meppo coughed.

“Not gonna stop.” Koby said, tightening his arm around ‘meppo’s shoulder.

“really should.” he said, drifting to the sound of pounding boots. “nearly got yourself killed.”

“Jurgen would have shot you.”

“an da would’a killed you. fair trade.”

“You impossible -”

But he couldn’t hear anything more.

---

Helmeppo woke in his room. That he woke up at all was a bit of a surprise. That his room was in more or less the same shape he’d left it was also strange. Garp must have ordered no one to touch it until they got back.

Everything hurt. One arm was in a cast, there were bandages from his neck to sternum, and pain pounded through his head.

“You fell four stories, broke an arm, your collar bone, three ribs, and sliced your own throat.”

Bogard was leaning against one wall, looking as if he would have been comfortable doing so for hours. There was a half-burnt cigarette on an ashtray next to him, on Helmeppo’s desk.

“You’ve been out five hours, and we’ve had to chase Koby out twice. You’ll see worse injuries under Garp. So if you wish to run now…”

Helmeppo coughed, testing his limits. “Why do you care, old man?”

“Because you’re a fellow Marine.”

“Pull the other one. That’s bullshit and you know it. If I died there your job would be leagues easier.”

Bogard paused for a moment, then said, “You won me a bet.”

Helmeppo threw back his head and laughed. Even if it made his ribs hurt, and Bogard looked at him like he was mad.

“You’ll have to tell me about it.”

“Not now. Ask me again in, oh, five years. If you last.”

“Fine.” Helmeppo pushed himself up. It hurt, but in that vague way that indicated he was on the good painkillers. “Your orders, sir?”

“Pack your things and report back to the ship. You and Koby both. You’ll get your shore leave back at our base. Where you won’t hare off and do something stupid.”

“And where half the base won’t hate us for letting Morgan go?”

“Is that what happened?” Bogard raised a brow. “I saw a man throw himself off a building to save a whole base, and another de-escalate a hostage situation.”

“Somehow, I doubt Jurgen’s story agrees.”

“He lost an arm and two pints of blood. He won’t be telling anyone until we’re long gone. If you don’t intend to return home -”

“Hell no.”

“- then I hardly see it matters. You have five hours to collect your effects. Dismissed.”

Helmeppo saluted with his unbroken arm, and Bogard turned heel and left the room.

Maybe the man wasn’t an ass. He was just bad with expressing his thoughts. A perfect balance to Garp, who said everything he thought and punched first and asked questions later.

Helmeppo preferred to chase after Zorro’s ideal, but Bogard wasn’t a -hah- bad Second.

---

Koby peaked into the room half an hour later, and found Helmeppo sorting through his socks.

The hideous red suit was nowhere to be seen, so that was a blessing at least.

He looked around the room. Surprisingly little had changed from two hours before, despite Helmeppo needing to pack up the remainder of his life and leave the rest behind.

The older teen followed Koby’s eyes to the book cases.

“None of that is mine. Dad kept his books here, so they wouldn’t clutter his office.”

He’d taken some pens and notebooks, but left behind the correspondences. He’d mentioned burning most letters he’d received from past lovers, lest even the carefully worded missives give something away. Anything left was something he expected to be public. But it was rather…sad seeing all the opulence be ignored in favor of good socks and as many pairs of underwear would fit in the seabag.

Koby’s snooping was interrupted by something soft hitting his face.

Helmeppo had pelted him with a pair of heavy woolen socks, followed by a thick scarf.

“If I can’t take you shopping, at least grab what you can use. My kid stuff should fit you fine.”

Koby would have blustered at the implication, but he followed a gesture to one of Helmeppo’s drawers. He didn’t have much clothing past the two uniforms provided by the Marines. Anything Helmeppo gave him now translated to more money for books and ink.

The drawer was filled with clothes Helmeppo had grown out of. Soft undershirts, well worn but also carefully repaired, from a time when the older teen had been less certain of his place at the base. Thick socks and gloves, which Helmeppo demanded he take, since Koby had never ventured to a winter island. And a heavy coat, too tight in the shoulders for Helmeppo’s adult span, but perfect for Koby’s smaller frame.

He stowed the gloves in a pocket, and touched crumpled paper.

“Who’s Cookie?” He asked, drawing out the note.

Helmeppo paused, and looked at the page.

“Oh. A friend of my mother’s. Someone a bit like me.”

Good luck on your adventure, cutie~

“It was too small by the time I received it. But it’s good quality. Well worth the cost.”

Koby ran a finger along a seam. “It’s hand made.”

Helmeppo smiled, a bit sad that he’d never had a chance to wear it. He’d only found the coat last year, stuffed into a corner of the mail room with the address cleanly torn off. His father, surely.

“Worth more than the cost, then. It’s nice that someone will get to wear it.”

Koby searched Helmeppo’s face, sensing the odd note in the air.

“I’ll take good care of it, then. Since it came from a friend.”

Helmeppo ducked his head, and nodded.

“And let me take your bag. You shouldn’t be carrying stuff with that arm.”

“Fine, fine. We’re done here anyways.”

Koby draped the coat over Helmeppo’s duffle, and flicked the strap over his shoulder.

“Ready?”

Helmeppo glanced around. Rumbled covers, unused clothing, fake books and broken swords.

Good riddance.

“Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

---

They walked back through the base, Koby asking dozens of questions about areas he’d never seen, in his single day as a base recruit. Helmeppo indulged him as best he could, while avoiding the looks from other seamen and wincing whenever a step jostled his sling.

“No, but really, you’ve got to stop going out of your way to help me.” He was saying, as they passed from the officers’ quarters into the base proper.

“Jurgen would have shot you if I hadn’t shown up.” Koby retorted. They had climbed down from the upper floors, and now skirted the yards, walking beneath the arcade.

“But now I owe you more.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’d have saved anyone else too.”

“Would you have dashed all the way through Shell’s town for Cleff?”

Koby’s silence was all the answer he needed.

“But you really don’t need to -”

“No. I’ll pay you back. Ideally in a way that stops you from being a damn fool in the…future…”

Helmeppo trailed off, eye catching on an alcove off the main path.

“Oh. I know. I can do one better than merely saving your life.”

Koby sputtered, familiar with the over-confident, arrogant lilt in his friend’s voice.

He didn’t expect Helmeppo to shove him.

He tumbled back, hitting the brick wall of the alcove, yelp muted by the ivy coating the walls.

With his good hand, Helmeppo caged Koby in. The younger teen’s head came up, confusion across his face, lips parted in another interminable question.

Helmeppo kissed him.

Not one of those chaste, nose-knocking beginner attempts. He had practiced this. He licked his way past chapped lips, risking the stab of pain to catch Koby’s hip with his free hand and pull him tight, closing his eyes and tasting as Koby’s mouth watered.

The younger teen wavered on his feet, back against the wall and panting hard, eyes wide as something deep within him unspooled. He whimpered in the exact opposite of pain, warm and soft in Helmeppo’s arms, going loose and boneless as the older teen finally drew away.

“And that’s how you kiss someone.” Helmeppo said, smirk on his face belying the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh.” Koby said, struggling to find his feet.

He was flushed from his chest to his ears, pink hair mussed and long lashes blinking rapidly.

“Told you it felt nice.” Helmeppo said, catching his bag before it fell from Koby’s grip, locking the way the younger teen looked in his mind. A memory shared, even when Koby went on to bigger and better things.

“You didn’t say it felt like that.” The younger teen sputtered, finally bringing himself together enough to follow the other out of the alcove.

“Chalk that up to part of the pay-back.” Helmeppo said. “I just gave you a whole world to explore. Or not, if you hated it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, good.”

“But…” Koby reached out, hooking a hand around Helmeppo's

The blond turned to him, cocking his head.

“...a new world needs a guide.”

Now it was Helmeppo’s turn to sputter, shocked at the audacity.

“Koby. That’s - that’s against the rules.”

Koby grinned, easily catching up to Helmeppo’s long stride, finally putting Shell’s Base behind them. “You said it yourself. If it wasn’t a temptation, they wouldn’t need a rule against it.”

“Koby!” Helmeppo laughed, and followed his Captain out into the sun.

—- Five Years Later —-

Helmeppo pushed his shades up to rest on his forehead, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes.

Another month. Another fight.

Another week, sitting in the hospital, while his damned idiot Captain recovered from wounds that would have killed a lesser man.

This time was the worst. This time they’d nearly lost him.

And Koby would just keep doing it. To save innocents, to fight corruption, to follow his justice.

“They said you’d be here.”

He glanced behind him, and found Bogard wandering through the empty hospital beds.

Five years hadn’t done much to dull the man’s stiff posture, or stern expression. Helmeppo didn’t bother to look for sympathy in his eyes. Or censure - but the latter because Helmeppo wouldn’t give a damn that the Commodore might want him away from his friend’s sick bed.

The older man came to stand at the foot of the cot. Koby was sleeping off a brutal beating, bandaged from head to toe with splints on one arm and metal screws up and down a leg. Punctured lung, shattered hand, bruising deep beneath his eyes only now easing. He’d probably been awake for days, starved the whole time. He’d earned his sleep.

Helmeppo almost looked worse. He wasn’t sleeping peacefully. The bags beneath his eyes were growing, exhaustion dogging his steps. He hadn’t changed his clothes since getting Koby back, or left for more than a bite to eat. Dust from the fight was still ground in his hair, and there was a smudge on his face. He’d slept in the hospital room every night, training his ears to the pings of the heart monitor.

Bogard stared for a moment, then said,

“They say that Ronoa Zorro once took all the pain from his Captain, after the man fought two warlords in succession. It nearly killed him.”

“I heard.”

“Do you think you could do the same?”

Helmeppo started, clutching Koby’s unresponsive hand.

Bogard didn’t smile, too soul-sick from his own loss, but noted how his apprentice’s hand fell next to the swords at his hip, reminded of the idol he still chased after.

But he went to Koby first.

But he was still Helmeppo, so he covered the vulnerable moment with bluster. “They’d never lend me Kuma for long enough. What’s the point, when Koby will just run into the fire again?”

“I imagine the warlord thought the same, when he had to banish Zorro from Luffy’s side.”

Helmeppo sighed, turning back to his friend, searching for a shift in the younger man’s breathing, listening for the first hint of pain.

“Even then.” Bogard pressed, “Would you?”

“Of course.” Helmeppo snapped. “Even just once. He’s hurting.”

“But you wouldn’t take him away from it?”

The blond paused, looking back to his mentor with rueful shrug.

“And take him from his dream? He wouldn’t be Koby if he could look away from someone in danger.”

Bogard nodded, hand resting on his own sword.

“You know, it’s been five years.”

“Has it?” Helmeppo turned back to Koby’s face.

“Mmm. I told you to ask me again, in five years, about the bet I made over you.”

Helmeppo glanced aside. “I’d forgotten.”

“You’re one of the few. Most never forget, when the reality sets in.”

The young man’s brow twisted. “Then what…”

“Garp thought he could make Koby an Captain. I thought that too easy.”

That cracked a small smile across Helmeppo’s face, even as he patted his friend's hand. “You’ve both seen men like him before. It was an easy bet.”

“Indeed. I said I could do one better. I bet I could make you into his Second.”

Helmeppo stopped. Just…stopped. Moving, breathing. Being.

Bogard continued, “That was an easy bet, too, though Garp disagreed. But I knew three things about you, and that was all I needed.”

“...I was a monster. What possibly -”

“I knew you were young. Gay. And only fucked officers.”

Helmeppo sputtered, not in embarrassment, but admission to the blunt truth in the statement.

“So?”

“So everyone said you were easy.” Bogard shook his head. “I didn’t need to change a single thing about you. Just put you by an officer worth your time.”

Helmeppo opened his mouth, attempting to refute Bogard’s words.

Then he closed it. It wasn’t as if Bogard was wrong.

"The bet was for two months. I knew I'd won in a week, when he pushed you out of the way of a falling sail. No one had ever done something like that for you, had they?"

Helmeppo shook his head. Koby had been the first real friend he'd had. Friend in the way pirates had friends. Soul-tied, doing anything to make sure the other was safe, their presence alone making the impossible achievable and dreams within reach. Koby had done that for him, and he had found himself drawn into his light like a moth to a flame.

"Most men don't fall in love with their Captains, but you were young. Hormonal. And lonely. I could have bet my sword, and had no fear of losing."

He was right, damn him. Helmeppo was just the first of dozens saved by that damned pink hair and eager hope. And even if they'd been drummed out of the Marines that first month, after standing up to Garp, he'd have still followed behind, believing that Koby would find another path.

“This is the point when men usually scream.” Bogard added, tensing in anticipation.

But Helmeppo just asked, “...what did you win?”

“Five Berry. And a bottle of wine from my home island.”

“Then…I’m the one who actually won.”

“Oh?” Bogard shifted. “Most Seconds hate me for tying them to idealists. Making them care about men who burn themselves for the world. For setting them up for this.” He gestured towards the bed, the broken captain, the silence.

“I…” He started again. “I understand that. But…” He looked to the silent figure on the bed. Pink hair, shallow breaths, a love wide enough to hold the whole world.

“...but you gave me him. How could I ever, ever hate you for that?” His voice broke, and he scrubbed the sleeve of his officer’s coat over his eyes.

“He’s so good. Better than I could ever be. And you took a chance, believing that I could change. I could have dragged him down with me.”

“Garp’s protegees don’t break so easily. Instead he pulled you both up. Into something better.” Bogard put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s a good Captain. And you are a Second worthy of him.”

Helmeppo gave a watery smile, heart beating in time with his Captain, and Bogard left, opening the door to the rest of their cohort, the whole future of the Marines, piling through with enough noise to wake the dead, and certainly an idealist Captain who couldn’t sit still when there were more people to rescue.

Koby stirred, and Helmeppo turned from his mentor to his Captain.

~ End ~

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Second Chances

karakael

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