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The Krieg Pirates are in dire straits, and the longer time stretches on before Gin sees another member of his crew, the longer he has to hold onto a piece of aimless driftwood and hope for land, a ship, anything, the more convinced he becomes that he is the last Krieg Pirate.
He would ask what their crew had been thinking entering the Grand Line so willingly, except he knows exactly what was on their minds. Big fish in the little pond of East Blue would surely flourish in the rich waters just beyond the Calm Belt. None of them could have predicted that a set of blazing yellow eyes would appear out of the fog, and a single man would cleave their ships in two just because he could.
But that did transpire, and now Gin is alone, dehydrated, and starving. After he had been knocked overboard in the wake of the destruction caused by a single swing of a master swordsman’s blade, his only choice was to tread water and hope for another miracle of the Grand Line, just one that would break his way this time.
The beating sun is baking his skin, his brain, and he sees mirages on the horizon, constantly shifting out of reach as he draws closer. He knows he cannot trust his eyes, and has no idea if the patch of thick fog he drifts into is real or just his brain shutting down. They say not to go into the light, but it would make far more sense for a pirate who has committed the many crimes of his profession to fade into the darkness.
Convinced that this is either a brief purgatory before the end or a hallucination, Gin does appreciate the reprieve of the cooler air. He has been at sea for days now, and every stretch of uncovered skin burns from the sun and sea water, salt coated into his clothes, his hair, his skin. He is terribly weak from dehydration but somehow the hunger is even worse. It gnaws and twists, ensuring he still feels a deep, inescapable pain even in this haven from the sun.
“Wave goodbye, but don’t you cry. Our memories remain…”
Gin is so deep in an internal fog that he doesn’t even question the voice suddenly echoing around him. It’s certainly beautiful, and despite the upbeat nature of the song, it sounds oddly mournful. There is also no one else clearly visible, only himself, the waves, and a few jagged rocks he drifts past.
Perhaps there actually is a light at the end of the tunnel for dying pirates, and this beautiful voice is it.
The waves pull him past yet more rocky outcroppings, these nestled closer together like a line of broken teeth. As such a small form, he shifts through easily, though in his daze, he imagines the Krieg Pirates’ ship having its hull torn to shreds against them. But it’s hard to think about because even in his half-conscious state, even comforted by the lovely voice, he is so, so hungry and the pain still will not leave him alone.
Then, his driftwood eventually washes up against the base of a particularly large rocky outcropping, and a miracle happens.
The song suddenly cuts off, and above him on the rocks, a figure with golden hair and sky blue eyes peers down at him. The beautiful song must have been coming from them, and Gin, in his dazed state, can only mutter, “Are you an angel?”
His throat is so dry that he can barely speak, but he wants to say more. When he tries to, his stomach cries out and he winces.
The angel seems baffled by his presence but only for a moment. It lifts from its perch to dive gracefully into the water. When it reemerges almost immediately, Gin notes that the angel’s skin is tinged blue around its neck, the sides of its face, and anywhere else a fin or scales protrudes from. This does not change Gin’s assumption that he must be in the presence of an angel when the creature nears.
Its movements disturb the waves, and Gin has to cling a bit tighter to the driftwood, cringing in pain at the effort the action requires. He has so little energy left as his stomach growls again, shrinking even further in on itself.
The angel casts its one visible eye over him, chewing on its lip with strangely sharp teeth. “You’re hungry…” it says, and its melodic voice almost makes Gin weep as he nods that yes, he is so hungry, he has been lost for days.
The angel does not hesitate. It pulls Gin from the driftwood, his hands still stuck in stiff claw-like formations, and holds him securely to its chest. Then they are moving, they’re moving so fast that Gin assumes that he must actually be dead, and the angel is taking him away. Given the smoothness of their movement and the cool touch of the angel’s skin, he is comforted by the thought and lets himself drift off to the sound of the angel’s lullaby.
Gin does not die and instead awakens in a bed. There is an old man next to him giving him a stink eye. He introduces himself as Crocus, a doctor, and explains that he’s not too big on strangers bothering him, but he’ll treat him nonetheless, given he agrees to respect a few rules.
Gin takes several days to recover, and he does his best to relay his story to Crocus who only nods grimly when he describes the sea-angel that saved him. He focuses primarily on trying to convey just how amazing, hypnotic even, its voice was, how its otherworldly song was a sign of something divine. To this, Crocus grimaces.
“You’re well enough to come outside,” Crocus says, letting out a grunt as he heaves himself to his feet. “There’s something you should hear.”
Crocus leads him out to the lighthouse’s beach. The island whale is there, head bleeding from a new self-inflicted wound, but otherwise the horizon is clear. “Laboon,” Crocus says, “Sing any songs you’ve heard recently.”
To Gin’s absolute shock, the whale appears to understand. It’s deep, of course, and wholly of the sea, but also familiar. “Curious, hmm?” Crocus says. “Laboon knows a lot of songs. This one he knows the best since it’s the siren’s favorite.”
“Siren?”
“He comes by sometimes, sings to Laboon when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Then goes back to wherever he hides out. Probably kills a few sailors, then shows up again to dump any truly unfortunates he takes pity on and sing songs to Laboon.”
Gin swivels to take in the rest of the scene before him as if he would suddenly see the supposed siren ducking its head underwater at the last moment. As the whale continues, Gin realizes with mounting dread that the old doctor is absolutely right. It’s unorthodox hearing it come from a whale, but it’s undoubtedly what he had heard in the fog.
Gin frowns, feeling the strangest need to defend his savior. Insist that, no, of course it wasn’t a siren. Sirens are vicious, duplicitous creatures, and his angel was anything but. But Crocus also has no reason to lie to him. “It couldn’t have been a siren,” he insists. “It saved me. Why would a siren do something like that?”
Crocus shrugs. “Don’t know. I’ve given up trying to understand that creature. I just take care of any patients he delivers.” His words sound dismissive, but then he casts his gaze towards the whale. “Appreciate that he keeps Laboon company sometimes, though.”
Crocus returns to his hunt, but Gin feels compelled to stay, to listen at least to the end of the whale’s song. It sounds quite sad, and Gin tries to recall if the original song was also sad, if that was the way the siren had sung it. But the memory is so foggy now, when just minutes ago, it had been so clear.
Gin needs to get back to his crew, presuming at least a few are still alive, and with their numbers, a few have to be. But he also cannot abandon the mystery of his savior so easily. He has always been like that—too eager to be too loyal. When Laboon finishes, Gin, feeling very foolish for speaking to a whale, says, “Hey, uh, Laboon. Can you tell me if the… the siren comes back? Just chirp or something?”
The whale only stares, so Gin is left to just hope it can understand him as well as it does Crocus. Gin doesn’t have much faith, though, until one day when he has far overstayed his welcome, Laboon lets out a volley of chirps.
Crocus puts down his paper in confusion and is on Gin’s heels as he rushes out of the cottage, only to see the tips of a fin diving underwater. Gin feels his heart sink, and he runs to the shoreline to shout, “Thank you! Angel, thank you!” into the distance.
The angel then shows him a second kindness by giving off a tiny splash in the distance, letting him know that it heard him. Gin smiles and would have run right off into the ocean after the creature if it wasn’t for Crocus holding him back.
-
There are multiple paths through the Grand Line, but there are some dangers that exist on each. Storms, bounty hunters, monsters. The Heart Pirates submarine is a strong defense against the worst of it, thankfully.
Law, of course, does not use their relative safety as an excuse to relax. Admittedly, his crew are mechanics and doctors first and fighters second, making himself their only real plan if something does discover them.
That’s why when he receives an alert that this stretch of sea is particularly difficult to navigate due to lots of giant rocks coming up from the seabed, all closely spaced together, Law leaves his quarters immediately and takes command in the navigation room.
“It’s the strangest thing, captain,” Bepo says. “We aren’t near any island, as far as I can tell, but it’s just really rocky here!”
Sachi and Penguin start badgering for his poor navigation, leading them into whatever Grand Line death trap this surely is, but Law shushes them. He hears something.
“Our days are but a passing dream, everlasting though they seem…”
The rest of his crew freezes as the haunting voice reverberates around them. There are even a few screams when a shadow passes by one of their port windows. “Captain?” Bepo asks, voice trembling.
“Take us to the surface,” Law says. “And finds some earplugs.”
Law ensures everyone but himself is protected against the siren’s lure as their submarine slowly emerges, and he steps out onto the slippery deck.
There are four ways sirens kill their victims. The first, of course, is simply getting them to run their ships aground and letting the impact do the rest.
Law summons a room and starts to scan for the creature, but then he hears a laugh. On a particularly high outcropping, the siren smiles down at him. “I like your little ship,” it says, voice slightly raspy but still alluring. It reminds Law of the jazz singers in the smoky lounges Dolfamingo would sometimes take the whole family to. Far too many drinks for the adults, orange juice for him and the other children, and a host of seductive men and women trying to get everyone present to let their guards down.
Law shifts the room, and the siren tilts its head curiously as the blue sphere passes over it. “We will pass without issue,” Law says. “And in return, I will let you live.”
“How generous,” the siren says. “Though there really is nothing I can do to you as long as you stay in that shitty tin can. That’s why I was admiring it. It’s clever.”
“Then you will stop tormenting my crew.”
“That’s asking a lot. I have to have a little fun, now and then. Besides, you don’t really think I’m that scary?”
Law scowls. It is a siren’s voice, not their appearance, that lures sailors to their deaths, but they still have appearances meant to look as disarming as possible. This one just looks like a young man, slightly tinged blue thanks to his scales. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem? How about this, your shitty tin can sail wherever you like, and I’ll just provide a bit of music. Keep your crew on their toes.” The siren rests its head upon its hands, fingers gracefully laced together. In a softer, even more seductive voice it says, “I even take requests. Is there anything you’d like to hear, my clever pirate?”
Law raises his hands, twisting his middle and pointer finger around each other. The siren only has the opportunity to gasp before it switches places with a bit of flotsam and drops into the water.
Of course, the creature can swim, so it immediately pops its head out of the water to screech obscenities at him. And screech obscenities it does. “You shitty, motherfucking, mushroom-looking bastard!” it shouts. “Oh, I was going to let you live, but now it’s on.”
The siren begins to claw at the Polar Tang’s hull, its talons leaving impressively deep gouges. Law hears a few distant screams from his crew below, but he isn’t worried. He takes a pebble he keeps in his pocket for easy teleporting, tosses it overboard, and quickly switches it with the siren. The creature yelps, suddenly shifting into the air before smacking against the water’s surface.
It pops its head back up to hiss at him, baring its impressively sharp teeth. To Law, though, it reminds him of an angry wet cat. He smirks. “I’ll take that song request now.”
Of Law’s numerous personality flaws, the one he refuses to acknowledge is that he has a habit of getting cocky when he’s in control. It’s hard not to, though, given how thoroughly his devil fruit allows him to outclass the many dangers of the first half of the Grand Line. And it’s hardly a crime to have a bit of fun in a fight, especially as a pirate.
Law whistles the melody of a popular North Blue folk song. It was one Jora loved and would hum the melody to at random when consumed in a task. But Law’s strongest memories of it were of those jazz clubs and how the song took on a completely different light when it dripped from the lips of a person professionally trained in seduction.
And perhaps Law should have thought of that before he made the choice to offer the tune to a creature that used that very lure to kill.
His taunting whistle bleeds seamlessly into the siren’s first echoing notes of the same song, picking up exactly where Law had been in the refrain. At first, it feels like a push and pull, but then Law realizes at a foggy distance that he is being pulled along deeper into the song somehow. His voice has dropped away, absolutely consumed by the siren’s voice which feels as if it’s physically pressing against him, flushing into his ears and eyes and mouth like water.
Law’s legs begin to weaken under him, and for just half a second, he is in one of those lounges again. There is smoke everywhere, carrying the songs and noises of the club along their fumes, and he can’t see Dolfamingo’s face but he is there somehow, a figure obscured and silenced by the haze but unquestionably looming close enough that Law could reach out and touch the gaudy but soft feathers of his coat, close enough that he could snap his own hand around Law’s neck and squeeze and squeeze.
Then there is silence, and Law gasps and comes back to himself. His eyes were already open, but the images that had been conjured vanish and he is left staring at the siren’s face. Law flinches at its nearness, scrambling back, which makes him realize he fell to his hands and knees at some point.
Law touches his neck, expecting to feel abrasions from the siren’s claws, sure that the creature had been the actual source of his sudden strangulation. But there are none, which is contrary to a siren’s nature, as is the pitying look on its face.
“I’ve never seen anyone react that way,” it says, voice low. “You’re from the North Blue.”
Given Law’s impromptu song choice, it’s not a difficult deduction to make, so he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have much to say to the siren, anyway.
“I suppose it makes sense, though,” the siren says. “It’s a shitty place.”
Law is still choked, and his voice comes out as a rasp. “I don’t need your pity.”
“No,” the siren says. “I suppose you don’t. But you do have it.”
Then, without another word, the creature slips back over the Polar Tang’s railguard and back into the sea. It cuts a perfect arc through the air, making as tiny a splash as possible when it dips under the waves.
Law hears his crew’s scrambling feet behind him as soon as the siren disappears, their worried shouts of “Captain!” sound as if they’re underwater.
-
Nami had not intended to ever venture out of East Blue in her quest for gold. Or, really, Arlong’s quest for gold. She had simply slipped aboard the pirate ship and bided her time, waiting for them to reach another port and leave their treasure unguarded.
She just had been expecting the truly reckless group of pirates to wander their way over Reverse Mountain between stops. And wander was the right word because this group of perpetually drunk sailors didn’t seem to know what they were doing, even while in the middle of doing it. Their incompetence did fortunately make it easy for Nami to grab what little gold they did have and snag one of their lifeboats undetected.
Currently, however, she is alone in the Grand Line in a dinghy with not nearly enough treasure to make the danger worth it.
Her quest for berri had landed her in many perilous situations before, and while Nami’s knowledge of the Grand Line is limited, she is aware that she is currently pretty fucked.
Her little boat has a sail and oars, and Nami is thankful she took good enough notes of the pirates’ route to backtrack. How she’ll get back over the mountain or through the Calm Belt is a challenge she’ll figure out after surviving the trip there.
And Nami is a good navigator, a really good one, which means it must be the Grand Line that fucked up and brought her little boat somewhere completely different. The pirates she had snuck aboard had sailed only through bright open waters, and Nami is currently rowing through a patch of thick fog with jagged rocks snaking up from the bottom of the sea.
When she hears a song in the distance, Nami’s first response it to freeze and mutter, “Oh fuck,” under her breath, especially when she realizes it’s getting closer.
Nami grips an oar in both hands, readying it like a ballet to swing at the first monster that dares to pop its head out of the fog. She hears the faintest splashing of water behind her and jumps. Whatever monster is there only has time to let out a surprised, “Oh!” before Nami whacks it upside the head.
The creature reels back, and Nami readies the oar for another strike. “You stay back, whatever you are!”
The creature cradles its bleeding mouth, lip split from Nami’s attack, and stares up at her with oddly pleading eyes. “I’m sorry!”
The apology takes Nami aback only for a moment. “Y-Yeah!” she shouts, still wielding the oar. “You better be!”
With the creature still, Nami realizes it’s a mermaid… except its fingers touching its jaw are tipped with talons and its teeth are nearly just as long and sharp. Nami feels another rush of terror run up her spine as she surveys her surroundings. There is a small ring of ragged rocks surrounding her tiny boat, and Nami knows enough about sirens to understand that the second way they like to kill their victims is by taking survivors of crashed ships up to a rock so they can smash their skulls against the hard surface.
Nami’s arms and voice are both trembling but she gives her oar another little warning thrust. “You—you better stay back! I mean it!”
The siren nods hurriedly. “Yes, of course! I’m so sorry to have frightened you.”
Nami thinks that that odd response should be the end of this, but the siren swishes back and forth as if it’s anxious. A deadly creature being anxious starts to make Nami anxious, and she yells, “If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out!”
The siren wilts at her shout, and Nami has a brief heart attack when she realizes what she just did. But instead of attacking, it stammers, “Um, I was just wondering if you needed help?”
Nami narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Really!” the creature protests, waving its hand in the air in surrender, though all that does is show off its claws. “I promise I would never hurt you. If I had known you were a woman when I, then I definitely would not have lured you here.”
Nami feels a flash of rage, “So it’s your fault I’m lost!”
“I’m sorry!”
Nami scowls but the creature honestly looks on the brink of tears, wringing its hands in distress. “Ugh, fine. I just need to get back to East Blue.”
“I can help with that!” The siren puffs out its chest. “My song is mostly used for luring shitting men to their deaths, but it can also be used to ward off Sea Kings. Pretty impressive, don’t you think, Miss…?”
He trails off, obviously expecting Nami to share her name. “None of your business.”
Its face crumples. “Okay, that’s fair.” Then brightens again. “I’m Sanji, in case you ever need to call for me. We’ll need to stick pretty close together to make it through the Calm Belt, so if we get separated, just give me a shout and, I’ll come as fast as I can like your prince charm—”
“Okay, got it.”
Despite her brusque attitude, the siren seems quite happy, babbling to her about dangers to look out for and her courage and cleverness in venturing into the Grand Line with equal reverence. “What brings you out here anyway, my angel?”
Nami taps the top of his head with her oar at the term of endearment. He pouts at the treatment, looking up at her apologetically. For such a renowned, deadly creature, it’s shockingly pathetic. And that’s probably what moves Nami to honesty. “I’m looking for treasure. The pirates I followed here barely had anything on them.” She looks back at her meager horde, barely filling out a small bulge in the sack she brought.
The siren follows her gaze. “I know where some more treasure is if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Ships crash here all the time, so the ocean floor here is littered with whatever they were carrying. I’m sure I could find some gold for you.”
The siren is practically wagging the end of his tail back and forth like an excited dog. This might be one of the strangest moments of Nami’s life. “Okay?”
His eyes light up. “I’ll be back really soon! Just wait here a second, my dear!”
The siren slips under the waves, and Nami feels a sudden temptation to make a break for it. The siren had gone on and on about how he exclusively kills men and would never even dream of harming a woman, but Nami can’t shake the feeling this is all an elaborate trap. After all, why would this strange, deadly creature she just met have any interest in helping her?
Her hand absently drifts to her tattoo. It’s covered by her sleeve, but she can always feel it as if it’s pulsating.
The siren returns with a triumphant smile and a chest in his arms. “I found something!” The siren eagerly extends it towards her, keeping a respectable distance but still close enough that Nami won’t need to lean out of her boat to accept its offerings.
The chest is heavy and makes her boat sway when she plunks it onto the floorboards. The siren nears, resting his arms on her boat’s railing, eagerly waiting for her to open the chest. And then what? Nami thinks. Praise him for his find? What a bizarre creature.
Nami eyes him warily and ensures her back isn’t to the siren when she picks the lock open. She hoists the heavy lid off and frowns in disappointment. Just a bunch of waterlogged clothes. Before Nami can say anything, the siren immediately chirps, “Let me try again! I promise I’ll find something better this time!”
He dives down again before Nami can respond. She waits only a second before taking up her oars and paddling a few strides back, experimenting with just how far she can get before his return. When the siren does re-emerge a few moments later, he looks around confused for a second before smiling brightly and swimming back over to her.
Nami smiles coyly and doesn’t even need to make an excuse about the waves causing her to drift. Instead, the siren merely presents her with a new prize without a single question.
He’s more successful this time, and Nami hears his tail splashing excitedly when she clicks up the lid of the small box to reveal a few pieces of jewelry. The chains are a bit rusted, but Nami’s already calculating how much she can sell the gemstone for when the siren asks, “Are these good? Do you like them?”
“I love them,” Nami says. She smiles down at the siren and his awed expression at her praise. “Are there any more like this?”
“I-I’m sure I could find some!”
“That’d be just great, but all that diving back and forth must be making you tired. How about this? Go down and find me at least five more boxes like this before coming up again, okay?” The siren already looks completely wrapped around her finger, but Nami can’t help but push just a little more. “And as thanks for helping me so much, if you do a really good job, I might even tell you my name.”
The siren nods, practically vibrating with excitement. “You will!? This whole day has been so amazing! I don’t think I’ve talked to anyone for this long in years—I mean, why would I when all I meet out here are shitty men—but now I’ve met a beautiful girl like you, and I even get to learn your lovely name! Once I do, then I can die happy!”
With a squeal, the siren dives back down, and Nami immediately takes off. The siren had already guided her close to the edge of the fog, and without any subconscious, mystic lures messing with her brain, she’s able to row herself with confidence towards the entrance of the Grand Line.
After an hour or two, a familiar mountain range comes into view, and Nami could practically weep with joy at the sight. She’s still not back in East Blue but at least there’s an end in sight to this madness.
Nami is exhausted when she finally reaches a lighthouse at the base of the mountain. She had felt a rush of relief when she spied the bright tower against the gray of the mountain, promising at least a moment of reprieve before she had to try and figure out how to make the final leg of her journey home.
After hours of rowing, her arms shake just with the effort of hauling herself out of her boat. She practically collapses onto the beach, and only then does she notice an old man sitting on a lawn chair a few yards from her. He doesn’t move to help her, and Nami scrambles to look a little less pathetic in front of this stranger.
“Hello there!” she says with a wave. “Are you the, uh, lighthouse keeper?”
The old man nods. “I am.” He nudges a pile of old wooden boxes at his feet, drawing Nami’s attention to them. “I assume these are for you.”
Nami’s composure cracks slightly in her confusion, and the old man huffs. “He said they were for a princess, but that creature only exaggerates.”
Nami’s suspicious but her curiosity lures her close enough to pry open the first box. Gold jewelry spills out, and in her new fortune, Nami feels her heart sink.
The old man flips his newspaper. “There was a message for you, too. What was it? Something about wishing he caught your name. Bunch of apologies, too.”
Nami bites her lip. She realizes, then, that the siren told her his name, and she can’t remember what it was. Didn’t even try and made a promise she had no intention of keeping just because. No, because there had been an opportunity to be on top—to manipulate a creature that thrived on manipulating others. It hadn’t mattered that the one she meant had no ill intentions.
Nami reasons that she had just been protecting herself as she runs her fingers through the gold and thinks just how happy the siren had looked when he babbled aimlessly to her. It had just been the perfect opportunity to punch down at something that had no intention to ever hit back.
Her hand drifts to her tattoo. How pathetic, she thinks.
-
“Gather up a bunch of people, it’s time to go drink a lot,” Luffy sings to himself. He’s been drifting for a few hours now, and things are getting dire. He’s all out of meat.
There’s a groan behind him. “You know those aren’t the right words.”
Luffy beams and flings himself to the other side of his tiny boat, making the whole thing rock. “Sanji! Can you help me again?”
Sanji scowls, swimming back a few paces, and Luffy leans forward as if he plans to reach out and touch him. And given their last few interactions, he just might. “Didn’t I say something about tearing your shitty throat out if I saw you around here again?”
Luffy grins. The third way a siren can kill is to simply rip the throat out of any fleeing survivors with their teeth or claws. Of course, he trusts Sanji. “Yeah, and the time before that, too!”
It turned out that being a pirate and sailing the Grand Line was actually really hard if you didn’t know anything about sailing. Luffy had been in roughly this stretch of water for a few weeks now and had drifted into Sanji’s territory enough times that they were now on a first name basis.
“You need to get a log pose,” Sanji says.
“A long nose?”
“A log pose,” Sanji repeats. “You use it to navigate. I told you to ask the old man at the shitty lighthouse for one.”
“Oh, I forgot.”
Sanji groans.
“Well, I don’t think I need one of those,” Luffy says.
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do, you idiot.”
“No, ‘cause if I ever get lost, you’ll just help me!”
“I’m not going to guide you around the entire fucking Grand Line!”
“Boo! Just join my crew already!”
Their first meeting had been rather tense, if not outright chaotic. Sanji had been singing an interesting song, and he reached a long fingered hand out to Luffy as if to coax him into the water. Luffy had reached back out, marveling at his strange scaly, cool skin.
“You seem so happy,” Sanji had said, voice soft and beckoning. “What are you doing out here on these dangerous waters, my happy pirate?”
“I’m on an adventure,” Luffy said. “I’m going to be the king of the pirates!”
“Is that so?”
“Yup! It’s been really hard, though, so far. I think I need a bigger crew. Hey, hey, fish-guy! Do you want to join my crew?”
Sanji titled his head and gave a wry chuckle. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw, why not?”
“This is my home. I have no intention to leave.”
“Why? This place seems pretty boring. Don’t you want to go out and explore?”
Sanji smiled and caressed Luffy’s hand. “Why would I want to do that when so many interesting people come to me?”
Whatever gesture Sanji was attempting was lost on Luffy, who pulled away to gesture excitedly, flinging his arms out to the sides. “Because there’s a bunch of fun stuff out there! I’m gonna find the One Piece! I bet it’s hidden somewhere really cool with a bunch of meat!”
“I… don’t think I’ve ever heard that rumor about the One Piece.”
“Really? I just hear people say it’s an awesome treasure, and what could be more awesome than a bunch of meat?”
“Quite a few things, I think.”
“Oh yeah, like what?” Luffy gasped as a sudden thought hit him. “Do you not like meat, fish-guy?”
“Meat is perfectly—fish-guy!?”
Throughout their entire conversation, Sanji had kept a rather placid, cool exterior. At Luffy’s comment, his voice had pitched and suddenly his eyebrow was twitching in irritation.
“Yeah, fish-guy! Ooh, ooh, do you want to go to a place where there’s lots of fish, instead? Like all kinds of tasty fish from all over!”
Sanji froze. “You… know of a place like that?”
“No, but doesn’t it sound awesome?”
Sanji had been drawing nearer and nearer towards Luffy’s boat since he first appeared, but now he swept back a few paces. “It sounds impossible. Good luck becoming the shitty pirate king or whatever.”
Sanji was about to dive underwater, when Luffy reached out to him, stretching his arm to grab Sanji’s shoulder. “Hey wait, come back!”
Sanji shrieked at the touch and flailed wildly when he saw just how inhumanly far Luffy’s arm had stretched. The force of his sudden movements, sent Luffy’s arm snapping back into place, the impact of which then causing him to lose his balance and topple out of his boat altogether.
It took a few seconds for Sanji to process what had even happened before he realized that Luffy wasn’t coming back up for air. With a curse, he dove down to rescue perhaps the oddest pirate he had ever met.
When they broke the surface, Luffy started gasping for breath before grinning. “Hey, thanks, fish-guy! Aw, wait! My hat! You have to get my hat!”
“Your hat? You just nearly drowned—”
“I need my hat!”
“Do you have any idea how deep the fucking water here is?”
Then, in a rather bold act for a pirate who could not swim, Luffy tried to tear himself out of Sanji’s arms to retrieve it himself. Sanji grappled with him, for the second odd time in his life trying to save a pirate from drowning. “You ate a shitty devil fruit—you can’t swim!”
“I need my hat!”
“You can get a new shitty hat!”
“I can’t!” Luffy looked him right in the eyes, his childish enthusiasm replaced with unquestioning conviction. “That hat is my treasure. I need it.”
Sanji cursed, practically threw Luffy back into his dinghy and dived nearly to the ocean floor, himself, to retrieve a truly battered and ratty straw hat.
When he gave it back to him, Luffy bounced with joy. “Thanks, fish-guy! Hey, you’re really nice! You should join my crew!”
Sanji had sighed, settling himself on a nearby rock. “You already asked me that.”
“I did? What did you say?”
“No.”
“Oh, well you should say yes this time, instead.”
Sanji guided him out of his territory and set the would-be future king of the pirates on his path forward… only for him to show back up in Sanji’s stretch of sea again three days later.
Their current meeting is their seventh, and Sanji catches himself thinking he may even miss the weird little rubbery pirate once he finally does find his way to the next island. Though there’s also a good chance that will never happen given their history.
Luffy whines and drapes himself over the edge of his boat, one of his hands trailing in the water. “This sucks, and I’m hungry. It was fun the first few times but going in circles is getting boring.”
“No shit.”
“I don’t get why you think you have to stay here. There’s nothing but fog and rocks and sad people.” Luffy reaches out to touch a few of the scales sliding down Sanji’s arm. “I feel sorry for you.”
Sanji bristles but he doesn’t push Luffy’s wandering hand away. He knows it’s futile at this point as pushing him away only invites more curiosity, more wonder. “Well, don’t, shithead. This is just where I live.”
“Don’t you want to live somewhere else?”
“And don’t you want me to help you get the hell out of this shitty fog?”
“Fine,” Luffy whines, dragging out the word.
Keeping a hand on the boat’s railing to ensure Luffy doesn't get distracted and start rowing elsewhere, Sanji takes him on the well swum path out of his maze of ship death traps.
“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy says. “Do you like being a fish-guy?”
“Siren.”
“That’s what I said.”
Sanji sighs. “I don’t know. Do you like being a shitty human?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I got legs and stuff. And there’s lots of fun stuff I can eat! But you just eat people. What’s that like?”
“Are you asking me what human tastes like?”
“Yeah.”
“How about we don’t talk for a little while?”
“Aww…”
When they reach the edge of the fog, Sanji stops Luffy’s boat with a steady hand. “Okay, now tell me your plan so you don’t fucking end up back here again.”
“Uh, go to a place and ask a man about a thing.”
Sanji presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Alright, new idea. I’m taking you back through the Calm Belt. You’ll find an actual damn ship and actual fucking navigator before coming back here.”
“But I don’t want to go backwards,” Luffy says. “And you can be my navigator!”
“I told you—I’m not a shitty navigator.”
“But you could be!”
“No, I fucking couldn’t. Now repeat after me—you’re going back to East Blue, and finding your own shitty navigator before coming back here.”
“And then I’ll pick you up!”
“No. Wrong.”
“But you’ll be sad if I leave you here. You always seem so sad whenever I have to leave.”
Sanji didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so he took hold of Luffy’s boat and began dragging him towards the Calm Belt. “Yeah, well, some people are meant to be sad.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’m a monster that pretends to be something else and then eats people, Luffy. If I was happy, that’d mean something really shitty happened to someone else.”
Luffy goes silent for a moment, which Sanji takes to mean he’s finally convinced him before he feels a smack on the back of his head. “Ow! What the hell?”
Luffy’s leaning over him, poised to strike again. “Don’t say things like that about yourself. You’re my friend, and I don’t like it when people say bad things about my friends.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“Yes, you are. You wouldn’t have saved me all those times if you weren’t.”
“That wasn’t me being your shitty friend,” Sanji says. “That was me feeling sorry for you.”
Luffy smacks him again. Sanji whirls around to bear his teeth and thrust one claw tipped finger in Luffy’s face. “I swear if you fucking hit me when we’re in the Calm Belt, I’m leaving you for dead.”
“You won’t, though ‘cause we’re friends even if you’re afraid to have friends.”
It’s a quiet trip through most of the Calm Belt with the exception of Sanji’s soft song, warding off Sea Kings. It almost seems to radiate off him, as if the gentle notes seep through his skin.
“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy says. “I know you just want to live in your sad home, but if you could go somewhere else, where would you go?”
“I can’t talk right now, Luffy,” Sanji says quickly before returning to his song.
“Then sing about it. I promise I’ll listen.”
Sanji doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to expose that side of himself, doesn’t want to leave the fog, doesn’t want to give up the protective guise of being a monster even if he wears it so poorly.
Then, he softly sings a song he learned from a book of fairytales to a half-baked pathetic pirate who somehow has a dream as silly as his.
-
Sanji has been alone for a few days since he ferried Luffy back to East Blue to give him a second start at actually being a pirate. He hopes the others have made it back safely, too, usually leaving it up to Crocus to figure out. But Luffy was stubborn, so Sanji had to see to it himself. That’s why he received a personal escort, and no other reason.
Sanji is lazing on a rock, singing idly to himself, and he recalls that the last time he did this, a random half-starved sailor had just shown up on his doorstep. The man had clearly been miserable and delirious, but it was a sweet memory, being looked at with adoration and called an angel.
But that made him think of the nervous red-haired girl who had been too scared to trust him even when Sanji tried his hardest to prove that he wasn’t a monster. She never believed him though, and Sanji figures she was probably right. She seemed awfully smart.
Then there was the smart pirate, the one Sanji almost killed until he couldn’t. Sanji exclusively killed cocky, brash men because as far as he was concerned they deserved to be taken down a peg. Deserved to be lured into a false sense of security, immersed in a trance and then have the floor dropped out from under them. But the cocky, clever pirate’s memories held so much pain that just Sanji’s song was enough to bring him to his knees. He couldn’t kill someone who was already in that much pain, take away their light at the end of whatever tunnel they had crawled through.
Sanji had emerged through his own tunnel, not cold enough to be a monster but not gentle enough to not be alone.
Not for the first time, Sanji has to muse if there’s something wrong with him, and the words of his song spill out of his lips languidly. He also muses that he ought to stop feeling so sorry for himself one of these days.
Then, a presence at the edge of senses appears. Another wayward sailor by themselves, and by the way things have been going recently, Sanji has to assume it’s yet another wayward soul he’ll let slip through his grasp. Still, though, he has to put on a good show, so he raises his voice, deepening the intensity of the haunting if not slightly morbid lullaby.
A small boat shifts through the waves, pulled in subconsciously by its captain to the center of Sanji’s web. A man is sitting idly, letting his boat drift as it will while he… naps from the look of it.
Sanji abruptly stops singing. Before him is a rough, chiseled-looking man who has the audacity to take a nap while manning an easily capsized boat by himself on the waters of the Grand Line. It’s so absurd that Sanji can’t help but give the man who dares to snore a rude wakeup call.
He dives from his perch, being sure that his tail splashes against the water’s surface when he does and spills over the boat and its occupant. He hears a few confused spluttering noises, then the telltale groans of a rudely awoken man surveying his surroundings. Sanji takes this as an opportunity to silently rise from the water and casually fold his arms upon the boat’s railing.
The man looks, sounds, and behaves like a caveman, yawning and grossly scratching at his armpit as he adjusts to wakefulness. Sanji gives him a second to fiddle with a rather dirty looking piece of paper he fishes out of the green belly warmer wrapped around his middle. The man unfolds it and scratches his scalp, muttering something about the damn map being useless.
Sanji rolls his eyes but it is a useful opening. “Are you lost, sailor?”
The man whips around, hand flying to the swords hilted at his side. “The hell did you come from?”
“I could ask you the same,” Sanji says, keeping his voice low and seductive even as he feels a twitch of irritation. “Are you all by your lonesome?”
“Who’s asking?”
Sanji’s hands involuntarily tighten into fists, but he otherwise keeps his composure. “I was just wondering if you needed help—directions or perhaps someone to sing you a lullaby to go back to sleep.”
The man narrows his eyes. “You a mermaid or something?”
“That’s right,” Sanji says.
The man seems to accept this with a shrug. “Grand Line’s full of weird crap,” he mutters to himself before saying to Sanji, “Anyone ever told you there’s something wrong with your face?”
“What.”
“Your eyebrow,” the man gestures to his own as if Sanji doesn’t know where his own damn eyebrows are on his face. “There’s something wrong with it. All curly and shit.”
“I’m aware.”
“It always been like that? That sucks.”
Sanji feels said eyebrow start to twitch, which means he is quickly losing control over the situation. “You’re sailing the Grand Line by yourself, are you?” he asks, changing the subject. “That’s rather bold of you.”
“I guess. Didn’t really put much thought into it.”
“You… didn’t put much thought into sailing the Grand Line alone?”
“Not really. You ask everyone who comes by here this many questions? You lonely or something?”
It’s remarkable, really, how every single thing this man does manages to worm its way under Sanji’s skin. But that’s all the more incentive to keep up the facade and lure him closer to the water’s edge.
“Actually,” Sanji purrs. “I have been awful alone lately, and I’ve been hoping some sailor would show up and keep me company for a few moments. You’re not in a rush or anything, are you?”
“I am, actually,” the man says. “There’s a man I’m looking for. I’m going to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman. I just need to beat the current one first.”
Sanji had been mildly enchanted by Luffy’s sky-high ambitions, but on this man, the declarations feel arrogant rather than wondrous. “That’s quite the goal.”
The man nods. “So I gotta keep moving. I’ll be on my way and leave you to… whatever the hell you’re doing here.”
“Oh, I just swim around, sing. Would you like to hear a song, my strong pirate?”
“Nah. I already told you I have to head out.”
“Then I’ll accompany you, provide a bit of entertainment.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“And why not?”
The man thumbs the hilt of his sword again. “Quite frankly, I don’t trust you. This whole place was weird before some freaky fish monster showed up.”
Sanji barely resists the urge to snarl. “You’re quite rude. Many admire my looks, you know. I’ve even been called an angel before.”
The man snorts.
“I have!” Sanji insists. “Hell, just the other day, I had a pirate practically begging me to join his crew.”
“You probably should have gone with him. Doubt anyone else’ll want a freaky fish thing around.”
Sanji’s claws dig into the boat’s wooden railing. “Excuse me?”
“Anyway, I’ve got stuff to do. Wouldn’t want to hang around here forever.” He glances around again as if taking in the environment for the first time. “Is this really where you live? Sounds like you missed your chance not leaving with that pirate guy you were going on about.”
Sanji does snarl then, baring his fangs. “You shitty piece of—”
“Ha! Knew it was all an act.” The man leans back in his boat with a self-satisfied grin. “All that sweet talk was obviously garbage.”
Sanji normally tries to reel things back when he loses his composure, but his anger is too far gone at this point, building and building with each brash word singing out of the other man’s mouth.
This, he thinks, is the exact kind of man he hates. The kind that is too arrogant, too prideful, to feel any pity for when their time came.
“I think I’ve heard about monsters like you—you manipulate and prey on people by pretending to be all nice and crap. Though honestly,” his eyes are hard as he stares at Sanji’s face burning red with fury. “I almost feel sorry for you. It’s pretty pathetic fighting that way, tricking people so you can stab them in the back—”
Sanji lunges right at the center of the man’s chest, the force of which topples them over and straight into the water.
The fourth way a siren kills their victims is to take hold of those who truly prove to be a challenge and forcibly drown them by diving deep under the waves.
There is a fight, there is a victor, and when it is over, Sanji hauls himself back up to one of his most comforting perches to watch the black sky. The fog is too thick to see the stars in these waters, and Sanji feels too sorry for himself to look for a brighter stretch of sea.