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He watched as Blackbeard raged, inky vitriol spitting from his lips as easily as from his hands. It would only be a few more moments before he noticed Penguin laying prone in the dirt like the flightless bird he was, a wounded fledgling waiting for the petrel’s merciless talons, face pressed to the ground and dust forcing itself into his throat.
Winner island is quiet aside from the wrath-filled bellows of a predator failing to capture its prey. A gust of wind blows across the shore, stirring the grass and turning spatters of violence into shimmering rubies. If Penguin had a bit more blood in him, a bit more time, he might have felt cold. As it were, the wind merely ruffled the hair, the feathers, on his head like a playful sibling and brought the scent of the sea.
It was so quiet.
He’s pretty sure he’s the only one left, the rest of the members of his ramshackle family having already fallen, cut down quickly in the heat of battle. He knows Ikkaku was gone. He was the one to deal the finishing blow, spear flying true and nestling between the white bars of her ribcage into the bleeding prisoner behind them. Had weaved through Blackbeard’s crew members and kicked her body into the sea where they couldn’t touch her, barely staying to watch her foam.
He was glad that Hakugan had been in the Tang during the battle. Penguin had seen the explosion, then heard it. They had been close to the surface so his crew members deaths may not have been as instantaneous as any of them would have liked, but from the brief flash of fire and pieces of debris left floating in the water, Penguin was pretty sure the torpedos were triggered. Even if they could get to him, whatever was left of the selkie wouldn’t tempt them.
He was the only one left of their little death pact. He was the only one left of their crew.
The ire of a rival captain losing his treasure will fall like a guillotine solely on Penguin.
He’s so relieved.
He wished he could say he had no regrets, but he was a hungry thing, with the sharp teeth and pointy bones to prove it. He wanted and wanted and wanted and every spot of blood and viscera was proof of his inability to get it.
He regretted not being next to the water; he would’ve liked to see it one last time, maybe feel it if he was lucky. He regretted not being able to see the rest of the world and go on more adventures with the crew; he regretted that Law told him that he didn’t need to be strong because Law would fight all their battles, and Penguin let him. He regretted that he wasn’t closer to Shachi’s body.
He regretted that he left Law curled against the white hide of their youngest, battling the foaming hands of a mistress they had only ever known from below, without their older brothers there beside them. He hoped that someday they would forgive him. He hoped that someday they would forgive themselves.
He huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh or a sob but ended with a warble and a few more flecks of blood on the ground.
Law in particular would probably struggle with that; it was the only thing his sharp mind could never fully grasp. He regretted being another person his little brother didn’t get the chance to save. It was a good thing Bepo was the one with him; he’d get through eventually, always did. Law would probably be a little bitch about it though, with his running off and brooding stints. And Bepo would let him, for a little while, let him gather his thoughts and hope that eventually Law would come to him first, even if he never had before. And then, eventually, Bepo would get fed up, kick open the submarine door, trap Law in a hug and demand he tell him what was wrong, wearing his biggest, wettest, bear eyes possible. And Law would, because the only person those puppy-dog eyes didn’t affect was Penguin.
He smiled at the thought of his two youngest brothers, his cubs, his mementos, the parts of himself he left with them like the feathers he’s molted or the hair strands they left in each other’s beds. They’d be alright. As much as they didn’t want to, they’d be alright.
Blackbeard and his crew were in front of him now.
His hat had been thrown off at some point and, now that the chaos was over, the crew took their time inspecting his face. There was disgust and confusion, most likely from his eyes, pitch black like the night of a new moon. He expected that the same way he could expect Uni to light up when somebody asked him about toxins or Ikkaku to chirp and whistle as she worked.
There was also interest.
He’d heard from old folktales and stories that merfolk turn into sea foam when they die. Penguin had wondered, maybe a little obsessively, if the same was true for sirens. There hadn’t been anything left behind of his family when he and Shachi’s village had been wiped out. He hoped that maybe that was how it was supposed to be. That maybe, when he died, his body would return to the shore, his black and white feathers turned to sand, his talons into sea shells.
Seas, he hoped.
The commanders were speaking above him, their tones mocking and words cliff-face rough. Penguin found himself glad for his head injury; the blood in his eyes made it easy to disregard the shapes in front of him and the fuzz in his brain made vile words unintelligible.
It made the hand in his hair hurt a little less, claws scrambling for purchase in the dirt and a weak bray escaping his blood-coated throat as he was lifted.
Everything hurt; lacerations, fractures, and punctures made up what was left of the man they had called ‘Peng’. Everything hurt, but the broad grins and jeers of his executioners hurt more.
‘Blackbeard wins again; the Heart Pirates have been defeated!’
A gun barrel is leveled at his head, the checkered smile of the man who took everything from him behind it. Penguin tries not to let the salt fall from his eyes, tries to feel relieved that it would probably be quick. Tries not to remember how much he wanted to be there when Law achieved his dreams.
The gun clicks as it is shifted. Penguin closes his eyes.
He wants this to be over.
He wants to see Shachi.
He wants.
And he wants.
“How would you wanna die, Peng?” Law asked suddenly from his desk chair. The man in question glanced toward his friend, an eyebrow raised in bemusement. Lounging sideways like a cat, legs thrown over the armrest, and a small sketchbook in his lap, the image of the cold Captain of the Hearts seemed to slough off the man revealing just Law, at ease and smirking at the confusion of his brother.
They were in his quarters, Law drawing at his desk, Shachi laying prone on the floor looking over some X-ray images, and Penguin reading one of his Sora comics on Law’s bed and humming a soft tune that made the room feel cozy. They were all off-shift except for Bepo which is probably why Law decided to be a nuisance now. Morbid talk made their youngest brother sad and his shining eyes had them all scramble to say the most absurd thing they could think of to get him to laugh.
“Uhh. Gun?” Penguin finally replied, mind still half in his book.
“Do you mean to use on yourself?” Law questioned smoothly, head tilting to side as clawed fingers tapped idly on his paper, “Or by a firing squad or— oh, a duel-?”
“No— wait, hang on. I wasn’t ready for the question,” Penguin hushed, sitting up a little straighter. “I needa think on it.”
Law frowned slightly, like he was disappointed Penguin didn’t regularly contemplate his own death and have an answer ready to go for his abrupt interrogation. “Mm, fine,” he sighed, “Shach?”
“Oh, well y’know me,” Shachi chirped from his place on the floor, some of his energy returning now that Penguin had stopped humming, “I’ll go down swingin’. Big fight.”
Penguin snorted, looking down at his brother from his lofty two foot high throne. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh, yeah!” Shachi’s thick orca tail smacked the metal floor in mock offense as he opened his mouth to quip back.
“Alright, sure,” Law chuffed, cutting into the beginnings of an argument with the ease of a surgeon and the experience of a sibling, “Are you fighting off— what? Another pirate crew or something?”
“Nah, I don’t wanna die by some men,” he answered, a little too quickly to be a joke. He glanced lazily off to the side at his scans. He wasn’t wearing his glasses so Penguin could see exactly how his U-shaped pupils traced the white shapes of a spine.
“Some kind of animal, then?” Law continued, tossing his sketchbook to the desk so he could lean forward in his seat, “What are you thinking?”
“I mean I’d take on anything, I guess.” Shachi shrugged, dark gaze finding bright amber. “Big ass moose. Maybe even a kraken or some shit.”
“A shark?”
“A shark?”
“A pack of sharks,” Law amended.
“A school of sharks,” Penguin corrected, entirely for his own amusement.
“What— no! I’m not dying to a pack of sharks. Gimme a seaking at least!” Shachi groused at Law who waved him off like an annoying fly.
“But if you were to meet your untimely demise via shark attack, would that be acceptable?” He placed his head in his palm and sent the redhead a sharp grin. “This is purely theoretical, after all. No need to be defensive.”
“They’re probably getting revenge for all the ones you’ve eaten in life anyway. I think it’s a fitting end,” Penguin snickered.
Shachi rolled his eyes hard enough for his pink-white sclera to show, a groan edged with whale song rumbling out of his throat. “Fuckin’ fine. I’ll go die by shark. Whatever.” He rolled up into a sitting position, attention locked on Penguin. “And what about you, hm? How’re you dyin’ Pen Pen?”
Oh, he forgot he was supposed to be thinking. “Oh, uh,” he glanced at his brother’s expectant faces, talons picking at the comforter covered in bear fur, “By the sea?”
Shachi, because Seas forbid the man be anything but extra, tosses a hand into the air and gives Law a ‘are you hearing this?’ kind of look before Penguin throws one of Law’s pillows at his face.
“Well, you’ve got the where down,” Law muses, a soft downturned smile spreading across his face as he watches their brother be defeated by some fabric and feathers.
“Oh shut up, Cub,” Penguin shot back, a fond grin splitting his face in two as he stared at his brothers hard enough to commit to memory, “Just gimme a sec, alright? That’s all I’m asking for, just a little more time.”
Just a little more time.