Chapter Text
Tags of this OS : Fluff, pre-relationship.
Note : The Reader's passion mentionned in this OS is intentionally vague in order to keep it a X Reader style.
Vista / Reader: Showing interest
Part I
For two months, you had been dying of impatience to finally arrive on this island.
Two months earlier, one fine morning, while the Moby Dick was still calm, one of the crew's navigators had whispered some information to the Emperor. Ace was asleep, Thatch was working silently in the galleys, Marco was tidying the sickbay, and Pops was sitting in his chair on the main deck, gazing at the endless ocean, enjoying the cool morning breeze while you ate your breakfast beside him, absentmindedly reading the newspaper that had just arrived. Newgate had nodded gently, thanked his son, and started drinking his coffee (black with four sugars despite Marco's protests about the old man's diabetes).
And it was precisely at that moment, when your brain finally registered the information it had just heard, as the navigator had already disappeared and Pops was taking his first sip, that you shouted with joy. The captain was so surprised that he shook his coffee cup, spilling the hot liquid onto his right thigh and staining his immaculate white mustache. But since you weren't the type to shout for no reason (unlike Ace) and you were an intelligent and thoughtful woman (unlike Ace), Newgate didn't get angry but was simply surprised to hear you shout like that, especially so early in the morning. Thinking of some disastrous article in the newspaper and praying that it didn't concern one of his beloved children, Newgate leaned on the edge of his chair to pull himself up and started to come over to you quickly. Which he didn't need to do, since you appeared a second later, a huge smile on your face.
“Are we really going to Devane?” you asked, barely suppressing the urge to jump up and down, a sure sign of your overflowing excitement.
Stunned, the Emperor froze for a few seconds, trying to understand why this news seemed to fill you with such joy. You weren’t from that island, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard you mention it for some reason… And the island was painfully unremarkable; the few times the Moby Dick had docked there years ago, he’d rushed the entire crew to leave as quickly as possible to avoid dying of boredom. Yet here you were, practically jumping for joy, as if you’d just received the best news of your life.
Having heard your unusual scream, Vista arrived quickly, gently opening the door connecting the main deck to the cabins, poking his head through the opening to try to understand what was happening. When he saw you, smiling and excitedly talking to Pops, he smiled gently in return. But he didn't close the door; on the contrary, he hid a little further behind it, enough not to be seen but not so far as to be able to hear your conversation.
It was wrong to eavesdrop, especially on Pop's conversations, yet Vista couldn't help himself when it came to you. Since you joined the crew, you'd been like a hummingbird: far too quick to catch, far too discreet to be noticed in a crowd. Yet, all Vista wanted was to see you, to talk to you, to be close to you. And while he was usually a jovial man who loved to chat, a strange feeling took hold of him and froze him whenever you were involved. He had made a real effort to get closer to you, but he felt as if an invisible wall separated you, preventing him from truly talking to you, from truly getting to know you. It wasn't your fault; you treated him like all the other crew members, with respect and kindness, yet Vista couldn't find his place beside you, for obscure reasons he couldn't understand. Defeated, he had even mentioned it to Izou, your commander, asking with feigned disinterest how your integration into the crew was going. But the commander wasn't fooled; he immediately saw his brother's cheeks flush, his gaze averted, and his hands play with the hem of his jacket. Yet, polite and respectful, Izou made no comment, simply answering his brother's questions and hiding behind his fan to smile mischievously. It was a story he would follow from afar...
"Indeed, after docking at Portia, we will set sail for Devane," the captain replied simply, settling back into his seat and casually wiping the still-warm coffee stain from his trousers.
Delighted to have confirmation, your smile nonetheless faded somewhat. It meant waiting almost two months before being able to visit the island... It would be a long time, but if that was the price to pay to finally go, so be it.
“Why all this excitement over this tiny island?” Newgate continued, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“The Master lives there!” Newgate raised an eyebrow; the name meant nothing to him. “He’s certainly the most talentuous man in the world. I’ve dreamed of meeting him ever since I started learning!”
Newgate seemed to finally understand. Indeed, how many hours had he watched you train so meticulously? Certainly entire days. This passion had driven you long before you joined the crew. And while not all the crew members truly understood why you were so interested in it, they all respected it and, at best, asked you a few questions to show polite interest, at worst, simply let you work in peace.
“Then I hope you’ll be able to meet him,” Newgate replied with a smile.
One of the large sails unfurled silently, accelerating the ship. The sail's shadow spread across the entire deck, cooling the pirates who were already feeling the heat of the early morning.
"I hope I can take a lesson with him, that would be fantastic!"
In the distance, still hidden behind the door and unintentionally blocking the passage for his brothers who needed to get to the deck, Vista listened to the entire conversation, already formulating a plan in his mind. This was it, the key to finally getting closer to you, he knew it! Behind him, silently waiting for the coast to clear, Izou watched his brother hidden like a child behind the door, calmly sipping his tea. This would be a story he would follow from afar...
Part II
The wait was long, very long. And even though Portia had been a very pleasant island, especially thanks to its tiny restaurants and hot springs in the mountains, you were only waiting for one thing: to get back on board the Moby Dick and set sail for Devane. Since your conversation with Pops, you had locked yourself in your room, working tirelessly to be able to show The Master a reasonably decent piece of work if you were ever lucky enough to meet him. You were so invested in this meeting, convinced that it would be the one and only chance of your life to meet him, that a part of you was slightly afraid of not being up to the task, or worse, of not meeting him at all. So few people had had the chance to meet him that you would have needed a tremendous amount of luck, but nothing was impossible; it was something you had learned long ago thanks to Whitebeard's crew.
"A skewer?"
The crew hadn't really seen you during the two weeks it took the ship to reach Portia, since you were working so hard. The pirates were delighted to see you strolling through the island's streets, dressed in local attire and testing every local dish in the restaurants. It was Izou who had dragged you out of your cabin and advised you to eat before the glutton, who also served as commander of the second division, devoured all the island's food. As usual, a vicious tactic had been put in place upon arrival: Thatch had kidnapped Ace, claiming he had to clean the thousand dirty plates piled up in the sink, on Pops' orders. This gave the rest of the crew a little time to eat in peace on the island, and then the beast would be unleashed. So everything was relatively calm for the moment.
"Yes, thank you." You replied, glancing at the skewer that had entered your field of vision. Turning your head, you saw the commander of the Fifth Division, a huge smile behind his black mustache.
The beef skewer was covered with a thin layer of cheese, a local specialty. Your fingers brushed as you picked it up, and you continued on your way, Vista following you like your shadow. The sun was setting, dispelling the soft orange light that bathed the island, giving way to the darkness of night. But the sky was clear, and the first stars were already visible.
“Nice to see you again,” Vista said jokingly. It was true that some pirates joked that you “lived in your cave,” and even though it was completely unintentional since you simply lost track of time when you were working, there was a grain of truth to it.
You grimaced in embarrassment, making the commander burst out laughing. Together, you left the village, walking leisurely towards the mountain’s hot springs. Well, you walked leisurely while Vista tried to keep up without stopping, since he was so much taller than you; it would have been impolite to do so. In the distance, you heard the first shouts from the villagers. Thatch had just freed Ace. Vista had anticipated this and had bought some skewer for you, just in case.
The swordsman changed the subject so as not to make you feel any more uncomfortable.
“Izou told me you were eagerly awaiting your visit to Devane.”
You nodded, before eating the last beef piece of the skewer. Vista handed you a napkin, which he almost magically took from his pocket, and offered you a tiny bottle of water. He really had thought of everything.
You nodded and thanked him.
“Yes, that’s where The Master lives. I hope I can meet him and learn more; it would be very interesting.”
Instinctively, you kept it brief. You were so passionate that you could have talked about it for hours without ever repeating yourself, but you also knew that most people only brought it up out of politeness and weren’t truly interested. So, not wanting to seem “too much,” you kept your answer short.
“Interesting, tell me more!” Vista replied, pushing aside a branch of the fir tree that was in your path.
Taken aback, you remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about how to respond. It was the first time someone who didn't share your passion had wanted to learn more, and you weren't sure how much you could talk about without going too far. How many times had you been criticized for talking too much about this subject? Far too much to be able to discuss it freely now, even with your crew.
Don't bother anyone, especially don't bother them.
So you answered, a little more precisely, without getting into technical details incomprehensible to the average person. And since Vista seemed genuinely interested, asking you many questions in return, you continued talking like this for the entire journey, even though you had this awful feeling of monopolizing the conversation. But Vista's smile reassured you. How good it felt to be able to talk to someone like this...
"Oh, it's closed."
The sign on the front door, hastily handwritten, was unequivocal: "Hot springs closed, gone for my granddaughter's wedding."
You sighed in despair. A bath would have been so pleasant. Vista, on the other hand, struggled to hide his satisfaction, having so dreaded arriving and ending this moment spent together. The hot springs weren't mix, and you would have had no choice but to part ways.
"Do you want to go to the hot springs at the top of the mountain?" Vista asked.
The island had three hot springs: the one at the foot of the mountain, just outside the village; the one at the summit, much purer but often overrun with mountain macaques; and the one on the opposite side of the island. And even if there was no guarantee that all the hot spring owners on the island wouldn't be invited to the granddaughter's wedding and therefore also closed, you really didn't want to cross the entire mountain or the whole island just for a few hot springs. Oh well, you'd go back to the village to watch Ace stuff himself, his face covered in food; at least it would be entertaining.
"No thanks, I don't really feel like crossing the mountain."
Happy than ever, understanding that your paths wouldn't diverge now, Vista took, once again as if by magic, a piece of paper folded in eight from his jacket.
"I heard the tulips are in bloom at this time of year." He then handed you the paper, and indeed, it was an invitation to the villagers to come and visit the tulip fields.
Before you could reply, Vista continued.
“It’s a little further south of here, about a twenty-minute walk.”
You weren’t sure if you wanted to please Vista, who was eager to visit the tulip fields since he’d been kind enough to show such genuine interest in you for so long, or if you yourself wanted to spend more time in his pleasant company. In any case, you agreed, and together you headed back towards the tulip fields.
Part III
The bar was tastefully decorated: candles hung from the ceiling to pleasantly illuminate the main room, the silk curtains were drawn back to let in the moonlight in and allow the slightly tipsy pirates to gaze at the sparkling starry sky, each wooden table was covered with a fine embroidered tablecloth, and in the center sat a vase filled with tulips. The tavern keeper's wife was also the village florist and, during tulip season, took great pride in decorating the bar. She could be seen occasionally moving between the tables, serving drinks to the customers and refilling the water carafe for the tiny band consisting of a guitarist, a pianist, and a trumpeter. The husband, busy behind the bar, had abandoned the kitchen two hours earlier, having run out of supplies. A certain Portgas D. Ace had depleted the stocks of the three bars/restaurants of the island, and the crew could only enjoy now the alcoholic beverages for the rest of the night.
Even though three-quarters of the pirates were now lying on the bar floor, completely drunk and asleep, with silly grins on their faces, some of them remained seated at tables, continuing to enjoy the music. Marco, the first commander, kept a watchful eye on his brothers on the floor, looking for any sign of vomiting or alcohol poisoning, personally placing them in the recovery position to prevent the evening from turning into a disaster. Thatch was busy flirting with the two young women at the back of the room who had only shown interest in him since he told them he was a commander of the Emperor. Jozu and Blamenco were among the men on the floor, while Izou and Pops were calmly discussing about the magnificent land of Wano.
The commander of the Sixteenth Division was, as usual, dressed in a magnificent kimono cinched with a thin belt around his hips and was deep in conversation with Pops when, turning his head absently as he saw Marco get up to help one of his brothers groaning on the floor, his gaze drifted through the window left open to let the night breeze cool the crowded room. He then saw, unnoticed by anyone else, the commander of the Fifth Division walk past the bar without stopping or even glancing at it, despite the lively music of the band, far too engrossed in his conversation. Beside him, you walked calmly, your gaze locked on his, oblivious to the beauty of the moon and stars above, you too focused on the pirate's gentle face and your seemingly endless conversation. In your arms, you held a magnificent bouquet of multicolored tulips. But it was the tulip, delicately placed in your hair by your right ear, that caught the attention of the commander of the Sixteenth Division. He easily imagined his brother having personally chosen the most beautiful flower in the field and carefully plucked it to place in your hair. Izou's mischievous smile instantly reappeared, a feeling of pride for his brother, who had finally mustered the courage to approach and speak to you, washing over him, as well as a feeling of pure joy at seeing two people he so cherished sharing such a pleasant moment together. It was when Marco abruptly sat back down beside him on the bench, exhausted, that you disappeared from his sight, vanishing into the distance and returning to the Moby Dick. The Emperor's laughter, who had also witnessed the entire scene but remained silent, also reached Izou, leaving Marco, exhausted and bewildered.
Part IV
Vista was increasingly present, despite his heavy workload as commander. But it all seemed perfectly natural, so no one really noticed. Well, no, the entire crew except for the two of you did. To be honest, since managing such a large crew required meticulous organization, the pirates were initially surprised to see the commander of the fifth division visiting the sixteenth's quarters. Had it been once in a while, to chat with his brothers and exchange information with Izou about various instructions from Pops, it wouldn't have surprised anyone. It wasn't uncommon to see Ace invade the fourth division for hours, begging Thatch for a scrap of meat. Marco also enjoyed going to Izou's quarters to escape the noise and chaos caused by Ace, or when he got angry that Pops wasn't following his medical advice. Yet, generally speaking, the divisions remained relatively close together.
So, when two mornings a week, then three, then four, then every morning, the commander of the Fifth Division was seen crossing the entire ship to go to the Sixteenth Division's mess hall (a room of only forty square meters, but in a space as cramped as a pirate ship was, it was a veritable palace), so he could chat with you, the gossip spread quickly throughout the ship. Also, when Vista was seen training in the Sixteenth Division's combat room—which was, after all, a division of marksmen—practicing with his sword at the same times as you, there was no doubt whatsoever. Of course, no one dared to make a direct comment, either to you or to Vista, simply because the scenes were both hilarious and endearing to the pirates. A discreet agreement (relatively orchestrated by Izou, nonetheless) was reached: no one was to bother you; Vista had a heart to win, and he had to be left to fight for his life.
Of course, this was without taking into account the commander of the second division, who was as subtle and discreet as an elephant, though his brain seemed to be about the size of a mouse's.
Then, one fine day, came the blunder. Not just any blunder, no. THE blunder. The kind of blunder only Portgas D. Ace, son of the Pirate King, was capable of making.
Part V
It all started several hours before the blunder.
The day before, at 8:00 PM, while you were once again locked in your room, working hard now that you were heading for Devane, one of the crew's navigators used the main loudspeaker—the one connected to all the small den den mushis on the ship—to warn the pirates of the impending storm. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and certainly wouldn't be the last, but if the navigator had taken the trouble to warn everyone over the loudspeaker, it meant the storm would be quite intense. This didn't alarm you too much; the Moby Dick's protocol in such conditions was very clear: no pirates other than the navigators were allowed to leave their quarters during the storm, especially not Devil Fruit users, except in the event of an enemy attack at the same time. Your role was clear: stay in your cabin so as not to bother anyone and wait for it all to stop. You weren't the rebellious type, quite the opposite, especially when it came to the crew's well-being, and the idea of hindering or even endangering your crewmates because you refused to follow a simple order was frankly stupid. Besides, you knew perfectly well that in these situations, Namur, the commander of the eighth division, constantly patrolled to ensure no pirate fell overboard. Being a fishman himself, this kind of storm didn't bother him in the slightest.
The Moby Dick then became very quiet, each pirate obediently following orders, and about twenty minutes later, there was no more noise in the corridors.
The rain began gently, a simple, barely unpleasant mist, inaudible at the porthole. Yet, your room darkened rapidly, even though it was barely 4 p.m., forcing you to leave your desk to light the candle by your bed. The temperature dropped sharply by at least five degrees, forcing you to wrap yourself in a thick blanket, and the pirate ship began to slowly roll, which, for a vessel of that size, meant the swell must be quite significant. The pencils on your desk began to roll across the wood in time with the swell, and just as you dove to prevent them from falling on the floor (they were exceptionally expensive but of very high quality and very hard to find in the New World), someone knocked on the door.
Startled, you jumped up, assuming it was surely an emergency given the situation, your head hitting the edge of your desk as you did so, and you carefully placed your precious pencils in your hand. You grumbled, quickly put the pencils away in one of the drawers, and massaged your scalp with your other hand. At that moment, having heard no reply and fearing you'd been knocked hard by the swell and lost consciousness (that was the official version), Vista burst into the room, nearly losing his balance himself as a huge wave rocked the ship sideways. Used to these kinds of conditions (Vista couldn't even remember how long he'd been at sea; he only recalled that back then, Pops had long, golden hair), he quickly regained his balance and focused much more on your aching face and your hand frantically rubbing the bump that was forming in your hair. Luckily, you weren't bleeding, otherwise he would have taken you away without a word of protest and put you on one of the beds in Marco's infirmary until the pineapple gave you permission to leave.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
Only then did you notice that he was holding two covered plates in his right hand, his left still gripping the handle of the open door.
“Yes, I just bumped my head on the desk… Anyway, it’s nothing,” you explained, hastily tidying the last few things on your desk. The swell was growing stronger and making the ship pitch and roll more violently. Yet Vista seemed at ease and closed the door behind him, turning the inner lock to ensure that gravity wouldn’t force the door open again and slam it shut (the carpenters on the crew could yell whenever they heard a door slam or someone sit abruptly down in one of the dining room chairs). A sweet smell of tomato and meat slowly filled the room as the tiny flame of the candle seemed to be battling the swell as well, dripping hot wax all over the bedside table.
Seeing you struggling to keep your balance, clinging to the desk like a monkey to a banana tree, Vista smiled gently and placed the two plates on the desk, strategically wedging them in place with several of your books after asking your permission. His movements were swift, calculated, and strangely fluid in this context.
“How do you manage to be so comfortable? I feel like I’m at Sabaody amusement park!” you said as the ship began to roll to the other side.
Outside, you could hear the sailors shouting orders despite the rain that was getting heavier and heavier against the porthole. The wind had also picked up, and in the distance, thunder rumbled darkly.
“For years, madam! For years I’ve been living like this. You’ll see, one day you’ll be as comfortable as I am and you won’t even realize it.” Vista chuckled softly.
You didn't dare reply that it seemed highly improbable that even an experienced pirate wouldn't notice a swell like this one, but the fact that he could imagine you still by his side in the distant future, or at least with the crew, made you feel a certain warmth in your chest. Yes, you too wanted to stay with them for years, no doubt about it. A whole decade alongside Vista, or at least with Whitebeard's pirates, seemed like one of the most wonderful futures possible.
"Here's an old pirate's technique for getting comfortable," Vista began, twitching a few of your pillows.
Your cabin was relatively small (you were already quite happy to have a private cabin and thus avoid the communal dormitories), your single bed was pushed against the wall in one of the corners of the room. Next to it was the wardrobe, and at the foot of the bed, the desk with the chair. A tiny bookcase occupied the remaining space; it was small but incredibly pleasant and comfortable, a real "cave," as Izou liked to call it.
"You put this there, and that here, and..." He piled the pillows and the blanket in the corner. "And that's perfect!" he said triumphantly.
But seeing your perplexed expression, not really understanding what he had just done other than almost completely unmake your bed, he burst out laughing.
"Here, sit in the corner, I'll show you." Gently, his hand rested in the small of your back to help you keep your balance in the only two steps you had to take, but given the storm, that was already quite difficult enough. You then climbed into bed, moving away from Vista who had gone back to get the two plates from the desk which had not moved thanks to the book, looking at him perplexed.
“Sit with your back against the corner of the wall, your legs like this, and rest your feet here…” His free hand, the one not holding the two plates as Thatch usually did to serve several at once, danced gently along your body, over your clothes, helping you settle. It felt like a warm caress... You were then almost trapped in this comfortable cocoon, and as you finally understood the full benefit of it, feeling much less the swell created by this arrangement, Vista smiled at you again.
“May I?” he asked politely, his gaze fixed on your bed.
You nodded, and immediately the swordsman sat down beside you, bracing your body against the corner of the wall and the cushions. Now you no longer felt the swell at all; your body was perfectly immobilized, yet strangely comfortable. Vista's subtle yet discreet scent quickly reached your nose, mingling with the aroma of the still-warm plates. His legs brushed against yours, but you didn’t mind at all. It was certainly the first time you'd been so close to Vista, and it felt strangely pleasant...
"Apparently, this storm is going to last all night." Vista handed you one of the plates, gently lifting the lid. "And Thatch told me you missed lunch again today, engrossed in your books..." he continued, his voice slightly reproachful.
You didn't reply; he was right, and you weren't exactly proud of it, but you were so determined to work until you arrived in Devane that you lost track of time.
"So I thought you'd need this to handle the storm!"
And triumphantly, he handed you the plate, revealing a huge plate of tomato ramen. It was undoubtedly Thatch himself who had cooked this; the aroma was divine. Five thin slices of beef floated beside the tomato-infused ramen, and a perfectly cooked egg (almost hard-boiled, slightly fluid) sat in the center of the plate. The portion was enormous for you, even without having eaten lunch, but enough for Vista, and quite meager for Portgas D. Ace's demonic stomach.
"Enjoy your meal!" Vista said, savoring the still-warm dish, sighing with pleasure as he always did when he tasted something from Thatch. You quickly joined him, also enjoying the dish whose mere aroma had awakened your empty stomach. The meal passed in complete silence, each of you savoring your plate, listening distractedly to the rumble of thunder and shivering whenever a flash of lightning illuminated the room for a quarter of a second. Vista gently placed your blanket over your legs as the temperature continued to drop. And since, undoubtedly out of politeness, he didn't dare cover himself with your blanket, you did it yourself, sharing it with a gentle smile, surprised by your own boldness.
And once the meal was finished, Vista got up to clear the plates, leaving you comfortably settled on your bunk in the corner.
“You're not going to leave in this rain, are you? You'll go overboard!” you asked, worried.
It was true that the storm didn't seem to have calmed down; on the contrary, it was still raging outside, and according to the sailors who occasionally gave updates over the main loudspeaker, it wasn't likely to end before sunrise.
Vista knew he wasn't risking to go overboard. To be honest, he wouldn't even need to go out on deck since the cabins were directly connected to the galley by internal corridors, and his own captain's quarters weren't far away. The path would be safe, and no one would reprimand him for being seen in the corridors—he was a commander, after all. Yet, he'd be dying to stay by your side. So, if a little white lie was needed...
“You’re right, it’s not very responsible.” He placed the dirty dishes back on the desk, carefully rearranging them with your books.
“Stay here until the storm calms down. Perhaps the sailors are being alarmist, and it will all be over in an hour or two.”
The sailors weren’t being alarmist. They were very competent and had never once been wrong, not even in the New World. So, if an antoher little white lie was needed…
“You’re right, it should calm down quickly,” he replied, smiling triumphantly.
He then joined you on the bed, in the same position as during the meal, allowing you to avoid too much seasickness after that enormous feast.
And you talked. For hours, without even realizing it, without even paying attention to the storm raging outside. And it was only when the candle went out on its own that you finally fell asleep on Vista's shoulder. He then gently pulled the blanket up to cover you, never mind his legs, it wasn't that cold for him. And delicately, his head rested against yours and he fell asleep beside you.
Part VI
Portgas D. Ace's blunder occurred the very next morning, at the crack of dawn, when the storm finally subsided. It was already eight o'clock in the morning, and for Ace, who hadn't anticipated the storm at all, asleep as he was in his bed, he had therefore missed the afternoon tea, dinner, his midnight snack, and, at this very moment, he might even miss the first breakfast if he didn't hurry. He then stepped out onto the main deck, his face sleepy, to enjoy the sea air and admire the much calmer ocean. The sun made the ocean sparkle, and not a single cloud graced the sky—a blessing after such a storm. He could have chosen to take the corridors to get to the galley as quickly as possible, but since becoming a commander, Ace never started his day, and certainly not his first breakfast, without making a detour to the main deck to greet Pops, who, at this hour, was drinking his coffee in his seat. The Emperor liked to get up and immediately go admire the ocean, regardless of the weather, and watch his children wake up one by one and come to greet him.
“No messing around today, Ace, okay? I’m counting on you!” Newgate made him promise, as he did every morning, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
And as he did every morning, Ace raised his hand in the air, as if swearing an oath in court before a jury, grinned foolishly, and promised to behave himself.
Newgate knew that, despite all the goodwill in the world, Ace wouldn’t be able to avoid making a blunder; he just hoped it wouldn’t be too serious, like the time he’d almost set half the Moby Dick on fire in the middle of the ocean (his biggest blunder so far).
After his daily routine with Pops, Ace returned to the corridors of the Moby Dick, a thin smile on his lips after chatting with the Emperor and anticipating the first flamboyant breakfast he was about to enjoy (or “devour like a starving pig,” in Thatch’s words).
He ran into Izou in the corridors, whom he greeted politely, complimenting the kimono he had chosen that morning.
He then encountered Namur, thanking him again for rescuing him the previous evening after he had fallen overboard, even though the navigators had announced THREE times over the loudspeaker that no one was allowed to leave their cabin (Ace had tried to take advantage of the cooks' absence to empty one of the enormous refrigerators but had been swallowed by huge waves because he had the stupid idea of going through the main deck to "admire the storm, which isn't so bad after all").
Next, he ran into Marco, whom he also thanked for his care, since, upon falling into the ocean, his head had struck the hull of the Moby Dick, creating a cut on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. Namur had pulled him out and taken him directly to the infirmary so Marco could treat him. The first commander, knowing full well what was going to happen, as always, had already prepared his entire kit to stitch up the pirate. Then, after punching him in the face, he used his Devil Fruit to erase all traces of that infamous night.
Just a few meters from the kitchen entrance, he ran into three of the navigators who simply wanted to enjoy a good breakfast before going to bed after their exhausting night. He greeted them as well, but none of them responded, not even the one who had reported to Namur, "The idiot is overboard again, what's he doing here?!"
Usually, each pirate would serve themself to breakfast from the buffet set up by Thatch and the other cooks at the back of the dining room, just before the kitchen. However, since his official arrival on the crew, Ace was no longer allowed to serve himself when they were at sea, and food was therefore rationed. Thatch himself came to serve him several plates, and he was forbidden to approach the buffet within five meters. Ace, a good student and not wanting to get hit again with a hot pan coated in Armament Haki, listened obediently and went to sit in one of the few available chairs.
At the same time, you and Vista arrived, your plates full, and sat down next to the commander, whom you greeted respectfully. His face was covered in food, and he looked ready to choke, yet he raised his head when he heard his name, bewildered, and looked at you, then Vista, and you again, with blank, hamster-like eyes.
“Oh, Vista! Last week she was a redhead!”
Immediate silence fell over the entire room.
Izou, who had been watching the scene from afar, sat with his men from the Sixteenth Division, glared at Ace, who, behind him, didn't see him. Marco, who had sat down next to him after being served, immediately stood up without a word and disappeared to the other side of the room. Thatch, who was approaching to serve Ace the second plate, grabbed a knife and threatened to throw it at the commander, but Haruta stopped him at the last moment. Vista, whose heart had stopped beating for a second, completely unprepared by this remark, spat out the coffee he had just drunk. He then gave you a frightened look, immediately understanding Ace's implication and praying to all the gods that you wouldn't believe this fool. But you had heard perfectly well and, with your eyes fixed on your plate, you said nothing, seemingly hypnotized by your breakfast.
“What do you mean, Ace?”
If the second commander hadn't been so completely oblivious to the reactions around him, mesmerized by the piece of meat on his plate, he also didn’t noticed Vista's dark look and cold voice.
"Well, last week, when you left Portia, I saw you leaving a redhead's house and you were putting your trousers back on. I waved to you, but you didn't answer. You must have been drunk," replied the pirate in a silly voice, having simultaneously devoured his last piece of meat and turned around as he spoke to look for Thatch who was holding his second plate and, strangely, was late. The fourth commander was dragged away by three of the cooks to prevent him from throwing a knife in Portgas D. Ace's face, vowing to make that fool pay.
Utterly mortified, you hesitated for a moment, considering pretending you weren't hungry anymore so you could escape, but Vista was quicker.
“I've never set foot in a single house on this island, I've never taken my pants off in front of any woman on this island, and I wasn't drunk either, so I don't know what you're making up, Ace, but you'd better think about your next words because they might very well be your last.”
The entire room was still silent. It was extremely rare to see Vista in such anger. But everyone knew he was determined to get closer to you, and the way he looked at you was enough to understand his intentions. So the whole crew had rallied together to subtly help him win your heart, and Ace was ruining everything.
“Ah, okay! I thought it was strange too, you weren’t wearing your hat and you had on a pink shirt, it was funny.”
Was he born with fewer brain cells, or had he been rocked too close to a wall by Monkey D. Garp to be so stupid? No one will ever truly know.
But now that the situation was clear, everyone resumed their meal in peace. A strange feeling of relief arose within you, yet you still didn’t dare look up from your plate, and as soon as you had finished, you disappeared into the room without a sound, under the despairing gaze of Vista.
Part VII
Devane had a… tropical climate? At least, that’s what the mayor told you as soon as the Moby Dick docked. He was an old but polite man, quite short but incessantly talking. This island wasn’t part of the Emperor’s territory, but the inhabitants were peaceful towards every new visitor, hoping not to encounter looters or brigands. The Emperor, in any case, maintained the same policy towards his crew: never harm civilians, except in self-defense. Hidden under his umbrella, the mayor introduced himself, and as the pirates calmly descended onto the harbor to listen to him speak, he recited his presentation of the island for a good twenty minutes. It rained there three-quarters of the year, but the waters were particularly warm, making it a heaven for strange fish, much to Thatch’s delight. Marco wasn't particularly interested in his speech, but, polite and a proud representative of the crew, he listened without saying a word and thanked the mayor at the end. Ace, for his part, had mysteriously disappeared, but the refrigerators and stores were sealed with a massive chain and therefore in no danger. Vista, on deck with the others, was only half-listening, far too busy watching you discreetly make your way through the crowd at the port. Armed with your raincoat, you hadn't been able to wait for the end of that interminable and boring speech and had almost jumped off the ship the moment the anchor was dropped. You knew perfectly well where The Master's house was and hoped that with this unpleasant rain, he had locked himself in his workshop.
Part VIII
When you closed the door behind you two hours later, your face pale, the rain had stopped. The thick layer of cloud hadn't disappeared, but occasional breaks in the clouds allowed the sun to filter through, warming your skin and drying your raincoat. The Master lived at the far end of the village, the one past the harbor, on a large property enclosed by a small white gate. You passed through the gate, your legs trembling slightly, your bag on your back. Then you walked back down the street, slowly, staring into space, without saying a word. Your mind seemed to shut down, and your legs seemed to walk of their own accord, straight toward the Moby Dick, straight toward home.
“Well?”
You didn't even heard the voice to your left as you passed the small, damp wooden shelter. The shelter contained about thirty mailboxes, each carefully labeled, allowing the postman to deliver letters more quickly and thus complete the entire circuit of the island in a single day. The man who had called out to you was leaning against the wall inside the shelter, his back bent; he was far too tall to fit entirely inside. He held a closed umbrella in his left hand and, with his right, absently played with his mustache. His clothes and umbrella were dry, a sign that he had certainly spent some time in the shelter.
Receiving no response and seeing your pale face, the commander immediately left the shelter to join you. In just two steps, he was at your side as you continued walking, like a Vegapunk’s robot on autopilot. He immediately unfurled the umbrella over you; a few drops had begun to fall again.
“Are you all right?” His voice betrayed his concern.
And since you still didn’t answer and continued walking without even seeming to see him, he gently grasped your wrist to make you stop. The sensation of his fingers on your skin made you shiver, and finally, you snapped out of your daze, your gaze meeting his. Vista began to get agitated as he saw your eyes fill with tears. He glanced quickly at the house you had just left, hesitating to let go of you to grab his sword and make the man who had put you in this state pay. Yet, when a faint smile appeared on your lips, his anger vanished instantly.
And when you murmured, “Vista, I think I’ve just fulfilled one of my oldest dreams,” the swordsman sighed with relief and nearly lost his balance. It was the first time he'd seen you cry, and his heart seemed to have given way.
"So everything's alright then?" he asked again, his thumb gently caressing your skin, hoping for an answer as soon as possible.
"It was amazing," you replied, your smile widening as your brain slowly processed everything that had just happened.
Those two hours with The Master were incredible, a crowning achievement for someone as passionate as you.
Your smile was contagious, and happy for you, he bombarded you with questions: "What did you do?", "Did he explain why you were having trouble with that?", "Did he give you any tips to improve?"
You nodded enthusiastically, realizing you'd gotten all your questions answered, and much more.
“Tell me everything then!”
Part IX
It had been almost two hours since Izou, glaring at Portgas D. Ace’s every move, had held him hostage in the island’s magnificent kimono shop. The commander had the time to circle the shop at least three times, try on several outfits, and have two adjust to fit him perfectly. But if he was taking so much time, it wasn’t to add some pieces to his already substantial wardrobe, no. It was simply a hostage situation for Whitebeard’s second commander. And the latter, despite his foolish appearance, understood this perfectly. But since his infamous blunder at breakfast, he had suffered reprisals from his brothers, who had cursed his stupidity. Thus, no one had volunteered to kidnap Ace at Devane. But it was necessary nonetheless: the crew wanted to ensure you could finally meet The Master in peace, and everyone knew this was Vista's fateful moment. Despite Ace's foolishness, it hadn't driven you apart; on the contrary, you'd been able to talk even more with Vista after the swordman apologized profusely and got to know each other better. Yet, this meeting with The Master occupied your thoughts so much that, subconsciously, you weren't allowing Vista to fully enter your life. The swordsman, patient and already happy to be so close to you (and that Ace hadn't messed everything up...), handled his situation with patience, being mostly happy for you.
“You’ve already tried it on three times, Izou.” Ace grumbled, who, like a child, was sitting in one of the store’s armchairs (slouching was a more accurate term) and dying of boredom while waiting to finally be allowed to leave.
“And I’ll try it on again if necessary, Ace,” Izou replied slowly, without even glancing at him, meticulously examining every detail of the finely embroidered kimono.
“They’re back!” Ace screamed abruptly, jumping up from the armchair like a watchdog who had just seen a stranger pass by his window.
Immediately, Izou rushed over and gestured to Ace, forcing him to remain seated until he would allow him to stand. Impatient and sensing the end of his ordeal approaching, the man could not remain peacefully seated in the armchair despite all his efforts. The commander of the Sixteenth Division, dressed in his magnificent kimono, leaned over the armchair to get a better look at the scene.
And indeed, in the middle of the busy street, you and Vista were chatting, hand in hand, fingers intertwined, beaming smiles on your faces.
“Finally…” Izou murmured, relieved by the way you were looking at the swordsman. Finally…
Ace, fidgeting, gave the commander a pitying look, and he sighed.
“It’s alright, you can go, but I don’t want to see you—”
Izou couldn’t finish his sentence; the second commander vanished just as quickly, accidentally setting off tiny flames behind him in his haste, nearly setting the shop on fire. Izou extinguished the tiny flames without too much difficulty, having grown quite accustomed to such situations by now.
He then opened the window to clear the smell of burning, and when he heard the second commander yell from the street, “BRING LOTS OF MEAT FOR THE WEDDING!”, the whole street heard Izou yell back, “ACE, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”
The end.