Chapter Text
The sun is warm when she wakes. It’s a stark difference from the chilling wind and freezing sea she remembers from her dream. It had been colder than anything she’d ever experienced. It’s something she hopes to never feel in actuality.
It had been odd, finding herself surrounded by people who love her for all her faults, who helped her regain her village without asking for anything, not having any malicious motivation or hidden agenda. They ask her to be their navigator, yes, but they want her for her friendship before her skills, follow her direction without questioning. She’s the weakest, physically, but they don’t doubt her smarts, her strength. They value her. They love her.
A cook, strong and chivalrous and more than a little perverted, but he’s lovable and caring and kind to a fault, able to forgive almost anything and willing to destroy himself for the one’s he loves, a prince with a dark past and a bright future who fights to the end and beyond for the crew.
A swordsman, three swords and the most stubborn idiocy she can imagine, but he’s the quiet foundation that never crumbles and she finds herself leaning on him more than once when she needs the support, following behind as he cuts through enemies and gets lost and causes the most unnecessary chaos.
An archeologist, smart and strong and calm, a woman with the oddest, darkest humor that freaks out the crew and makes her laugh and is the most refreshing person to spend time with because she doesn’t care about how the world perceives her, searches further and further for the truth, meeting her goals head first and heart strong.
A doctor, the cutest reindeer in the world with a bright blue nose, who sits with her on the deck as she watches the sky and tracks the pressure and wonders about the newest wonder they’ll find at the next island, who runs around the ship and plays with the others and is an absolute cuddle monster when the mood strikes.
A shipwright, a super cyborg with the strength and wisdom of age, who claims to be a pervert despite all acts to the contrary, who is the older brother to the crew, who sits and listens and entertains them when they just need someone to be there so they don’t go crazy with worry or fear when something new and insane takes them into the most unpredictable path.
A sniper, lies and posturing and stories that fill the imagination with the most wonderful images, the one who will always be at her back and keeping her safe no matter the shaking of his knees and the trembling of his arms, who pushes until the whole crew is smiling and happy, who is the last on the boat, always watching and protecting them with every trick in his bag so he doesn’t have to lose another important person to the passage of time.
A musician, the tallest skeleton to sing sea chanties and dance about the deck, hair big and waving in the sea air, fingerbones playing a staccato rhythm along the strings of a violin as he brightens their voyage, who always has a kind word and a soft heart and a unjudging mind that knows how to calm the darkest oceans of emotion when their waves become overwhelming under the pressure of time and fear.
A helmsman, big and broad and all around more gentle than any man she’s ever met, quiet humor and a deep laugh that rolls through her with the heat of happiness instead of the cold fear Fishmen meant for so long, and duty to the world as much as a duty to the crew that had him trailing behind for so long but still always present.
And a Captain, stretchy limbs and a giant smile and the heart that brings them all together, who never lets them down, who fights for each of them without fail, the dumbest idiot and the smartest kid, a little brother who leads them all into the weirdest adventures and the strongest companion any of them could have wished for.
The boy, kid, man with the Straw Hat who would do anything for the family he’s built. The Captain they would lay their lives down for.
And they do.
It hurts, thinking of Jinbe, their newest member and someone she’d thought impossible to befriend in the beginning. The first lost, missing from the action only in that he must have been the first killed. Taken down before he could warn them of the approaching fleet, or worse, missing the fleet and meeting them later only to find their bodies on that damned island.
Thinking of Robin, the woman she looked up to, the strongest woman she’d known since Bellemere’s death. She’d died in an instant, before they knew what was happening, what was coming out of the odd fog surrounding the freezing island.
Thinking of Chopper, body plump with the power of his kung-fu point, bleeding bright from a massive hole in his neck as he stumbles back. Shrinking arms coming up to clutch at his wound. Faltering hooves backing away from the encroaching marines. Crumbling rock breaking away from the cliff they’re standing on. Crashing waves swallowing the body of her dear friend as she runs, calling out, crying out for the little reindeer as the deadly sea tries to take its prize.
Thinking of the pain that slammed into her head, swirling the world into a miasma of sound and color. The sharp gravel digging into her knees. The crunch of boots as they approach. The shouts and yelling that mumble through her brain as arms lift her. The rush of wind. The sharp impact. The cloying, freeze surrounding her as she sank and sank and sank.
Even her dreams can’t end happy, can they.
She sighs and looks around her desk. The light from the high window is growing and the air smells fresh with the morning breeze. Maps cover the surface, drafts and notes and completed charts all mixed in an organized mess. It’s a complicated system, but none of the Fishmen have figured it out so she keeps it up. It keeps her awake long into the night, making everything as coded as possible and mixed to the point where they have to keep her around long enough to buy the village’s freedom. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s fallen asleep across her desk. In fact—
And, yep, there’s the drool. Luckily, it’s on the edge of her newest map. And the ink must have dried before she rolled her face through it. No smudges today, ain’t she just the luckiest.
Sitting back, she rolls her shoulders before stretching her arms above her head. She stops for a moment before grabbing her left shoulder. It feels different, like something missing. A quick glance and no, the damn tattoo is still there. But, it looks…wrong? This is her shoulder, the same one she sees in the mirror all the time but it feels alien. Everything feels alien.
(Tingles burn across her tattoo, but she puts it down to the dream. If it’s affecting her this badly, of course she’ll feel the phantom pull of the knife scars there.)
The dream is still heavy on her mind, a future so damn hopeful that there’s no way it’s real. She’s never been so lucky. And yet…
She shakes her head and mentally locks it away. She has no time for dreaming
Nami has no time for hope.
A knock at her door, a purely performative act, before a Fishman pokes their head in.
“Good, you’re awake. Come,” and they turn away.
She scrambles to her feet and follows.
The same wrong feeling follows her through the day, through reporting her progress to Arlong, through a tense conversation with Genzo, through working on her recent notes.
Her hand keeps rubbing her the phantom marks on her shoulder, her eyes keep straying toward the horizon, her mind keeps opening that locked drawer and thinking about that wonderful dream.
And if she spends the rest of the day fidgeting with a pen, spinning it between her fingers in an uncanny mirror of her skills from the dream, well, it’s something that could help her in the future. She’s still collecting money to buy back her village and she’ll take any help she can to make it a faster task.
~*~
They’ve been in the mouth of a Sea King for over a day.
Clione and Hokkyo had rigged the air filter in the first hour, but the air is already starting to get stale. They will be okay for a while longer, but it isn’t an indefinite fix.
With nothing to do and the impending doom looming over them, most of the crew has migrated back to the infirmary, once again crowding around Law’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. Waiting for direction. Waiting for a miracle.
Law isn’t doing well. The strain of his powers and the youth of his body not matching the strength of his mind stressed his system to the point that they’re still keeping careful watch on the fluids and oxygen, attentive to the slightest change. His heart only stabilized a couple hours ago and only after more than a few terrifying drops.
Bepo gets up to check the monitors for the fifth time in as many minutes, then shakes his head and forces himself to leave the room instead. Sitting around worrying is doing nothing for his nerves and will just make him more and more antsy until he’s a quivering mess, shaking in a corner and panicking when he should be taking care of the crew. He’s First Mate for a reason, damnit.
He’s walking toward the bridge when he hears…something. He can’t quite tell what it is and a spike of terror sends his heart racing before his mind has the chance to rationalize it.
Later, he will think he’s lucky there was no one else in the halls to see him break out into a panicked run. Later, he will laugh at how stupid he must have looked, hands shaking and feet stumbling as he raced toward a sound too quiet for the lesser-minks to hear. Later, he will reflect on just how shaken he was after everything and wonder just how he managed to keep it together this long.
Now, Bepo sprints, stumbling and shaking and terrified toward an odd sound coming from the other side of the sub.
Was the Sea King finally swallowing them? Playing with them by slowly pulverizing the metal around them and waiting to hear their agonized screams before dealing the final blows? Opening its mouth and letting them out into waters too far down, too crushing for the sub to do anything but crumple in on them and drown the crew? Or—
Bepo pulls to an abrupt stop and stares.
Penguin is pressed in between the hull and one of the large, supporting beams. His eyes are wide, staring unseeing into the distance. His hat skewed to the side and his hands are pressed, white-knuckled, over his mouth as he tries to sink into the metal around him. Tears are pouring down his face and barely muffled sobs are shaking his shoulders.
Bepo doesn’t think he can deal with this.
(Not another crisis. Not now. He needs Penguin up and helping, not quiet and lost in his head like they’re kids again.)
(He’s not the Captain for a reason damnit!)
Something must register for Penguin, pulling him back to reality because his eyes slowly drift up, following the line of Bepo’s body, pausing on the edges of the boiler suit before darting up to meet Bepo’s eyes.
“Bepo!” Penguin pushes away from the wall lightening quick, launching himself toward the startled mink, “Bepo! You’re alive! Oh gods, you’re alive!”
It’s automatic to wrap his arms around Penguin, pulling the man into his chest for the second time since this nightmare started. Penguin responds startingly fast. Even if this were the Penguin of his time he’d—
…he’d be wondering how they were alive?
Bepo’s voice is low and rumbling as he asks, “What happened, Pen?”
Voice hitching, Penguin answers, “Everyone died and—the Marines! They just—and Shachi and then you had the Captain and they were everywhere and I—” is all he gets out before he dissolves back into heaving sobs and holds on to Bepo like the mink is the only thing keeping him on his feet..
It’s horrifyingly out of place, but Bepo wants to laugh and cry in pure joy. Penguin, his Penguin, is back too. It isn’t just him and a unconscious Law. It could be the rest of the Crew too, at some point. He’s so happy for just a moment that it almost hurts, and he squeezes Penguin to his chest, mirroring the man’s clutching grip.
“We’re alive, Pen. It’s alright, just breathe.”
It takes a few minutes, in which Bepo slowly moves them out of the hallway and into the closest room, for Penguin to sober enough to pull away. They’re in a storage closet full of the most random cleaning and medical supplies that make a mess Law will be disappointed in, but it’s empty of other crew members, which is all they need right now.
Penguin is finally calm, sobbing replaced with slow, shaking breaths. Bepo keeps a paw on his shoulder, needing the contact as much as he knows his crewmate does as they sit in silence for a few moments.
Penguin is the first to break, voice a quiet murmur as he asks, “Beps…what happened?”
And isn’t that the question of the decade. Bepo could chicken out, just explain what was currently happening, what with the time travel via Law’s devil fruit and the insanity that surround the D. Clan, but that’s not all there is. How did the Marines find them? How did they destroy two of the strongest crews in the New World without a single admiral backing them? How did they all die so damn fast that all they could do was run and hope their Captain survived to avenge them?
“I’ve got no fucking idea,” Bepo’s voice breaks as tears start to well in his eyes, “Captain’s powers brought us back, gave us another chance but nothing from before makes sense.”
Reaching out, Penguin wraps an arm around Bepo’s shoulders and shifts to sit next to his friend, leaning against the wall of the closet and pulling his friend close again, “Then we’ll just have to figure it out, huh. We’ve got the time now, right?”
It pulls a watery laugh out of both of them before they settle back. Bepo is content to just sit, but he knows Penguin will have more to say. He turns and watches his crewmate, waiting for the other man to begin. It doesn’t take long.
“So, Captain’s out for a while?” At Bepo’s nods he continues, “I’ve got two sets of memories bouncing around. I don’t quite remember what we were doing the first time around but sitting in the mouth of a Sea King was definitely not it.”
“No, that’s...new,” Bepo shakes his head. Then, an old habit, “I’m sorry.”
Penguin tips his head back and chuckles, hoarse and breathy, “And just when we got you to stop. This is so fucked up.”
All Bepo can do is lay his head on Penguin’s, curling closer to his crewmate in silent apology and solidarity.
And then the entire sub abruptly tilts on its side.
~*~
Talking with Kaya hurts.
She’s exactly the person he remembers, the person he knows almost better than he knows himself, and it aches to think about how much change he’ll miss when he leaves. She was always the person he thought back to, considered sending letters to before they became too infamous for him to reach out. He never did. He couldn’t give her hope of more or ask her to wait for him. If he came back, if he could make it safe for her, he’d all the way sail back to Syrup and see if they still felt as meant for each other as they had when he left. But not before, not when he was the most dangerous thing in her life.
(He refuses to turn out like Roger, leaving the ones he loves behind to take the blame for his actions. Refuses to be Yasopp, for all that he looks up to the man. He won’t be leaving a life and family behind for the call of the sea, no matter how tantalizing.)
Which leads to the other dangerous thing in her life.
Kuro is already her butler and a trusted member of the household. Usopp remembers well just how it went last time. He doesn’t have the back up of his crew, but he’s stronger now. Maybe not strong enough to take Kuro head on, but at least fast enough to dodge with his Observation Haki working overtime to give him an edge.
He’s trying to train his Armament Haki as a defense, which makes almost no sense from what he pried out of Zoro and patched together from Luffy and Jinbe’s explanations.
(And it’s extremely unfair that some Fishmen just know how to use their Haki when they’re born. Jinbe’s natural talent made his help even worse than Luffy’s scatterbrained comments and Zoro’s nonsensical analogies.)
It’s hard because nothing on in Syrup is truly dangerous to him. There’s some local wildlife that would be a problem if he really was the untrained teenager from before becoming a pirate. Hell, he’s not even sure it was that much of a danger before, considering the few bears and mountain lions that don’t run the moment he hears them can’t even scratch him.
(There are days when he wonders at just how skewed his idea of strength and speed is thanks to the monsters he lived with. Now, among regular people, Usopp wonders if he’s not a monster himself. He feels weak in comparison to the others, yet he finds himself not tiring despite an entire day of running with the kids and training in the forest and pushing himself until his arms are shaking. Yes, he gets winded, but he finds himself recovering so quickly it’s almost supernatural.)
So, Armament is out for the foreseeable future, but talking to Kaya is still an option. She was pissed last time he tried to convince her that “Klahadore” was a pirate, but he was never quite as subtle as he wanted to be. For all that Kuro was an extreme danger, he made Kaya happy and was a cornerstone of her life. Thus, Usopp needed to be careful.
He’d start slow, with stories of pirates acting more dastardly and sneaky than just showing up and looting an island. Then he’d move into pirates with long cons, maybe basing a few of the stories off CP9 and the events of Water 7 and Enies Lobby. From there, he wasn’t sure where to progress. Getting too close to the truth could clue Kaya into what he was doing and upset her, but he wanted her to come to the conclusion on her own. He couldn’t have her hate him like last time.
(It had hurt, to have Kaya throw everything back in his face. He’d been so scared, terrified that he was losing a friend forever only to find her even more hurt when he was right. This could not be a repeat of old mistakes.)
It’s the day after reuniting with his tiny crew of wannabe child pirates when he puts his plan into action. He’s sitting in Kaya’s tree early in the morning, watching the sunrise over the ocean when the window opens.
Her hair is mussed and she’s still in her nightgown and her eyes are hazy and half-lidded with sleep. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in all his grand adventures, both real and imagined.
It’s like a dream come true.
He smiles wide and gestures broad and tries not to cry as she settles in for his next wonderous tale. He will save her, stop Kuro, find his crew and make sure to write to the woman who owns his heart.
(It’s not until the next day, when a knock comes at his door and he find Kuro standing on the stoop that he realizes that his first story was thoroughly peppered with traitorous, black cats and their fast, sharp claws.)
(He always was the type to get carried away when things were going well.)