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It wasn't the first time Kaido had brought a prisoner here instead of sending them to Udon or simply getting rid of them. Usually, that was only a prelude to them turning coat and joining the Beast Pirates or somebody in the crew having their fun with the prisoner until there was nothing left. This place didn't lack for people who considered torture more of a hobby than a necessary evil, after all.
Yamato could've asked about this one from someone after the first time he’d stumbled on the man. At the time, he’d been sprawled among the remnants of what seemed to have been a party except every guest had fled, leaving behind only empty bottles, other assorted junk, and one poor soul too sick to stand on their own feet and follow the others.
He could've asked if you really needed to shackle someone like this to the wall—with sea stone no less—or what fun could be had with a person too weak to lift their head.
He could've, but he never would, because that would've been the worst thing for both him and this stranger. Showing even an inkling of interest would've been playing into the enemy's hands, giving them something to hold over him when they didn't need any more leverage, not when they'd already trapped him for good.
Yamato shook his head. Not for good. He'd get out and see the rest of the sea and everything beyond it. One day. But it wouldn't hurt to make allies in the meantime, or at least friends, because as he was this one wouldn't make much of an ally.
"You alive?" he asked, crouching next to the unmoving body and poking it gently.
He hadn't expected a reply and thus almost lost his balance when the person moved with unexpected swiftness, his teeth snapping shut around the hem of Yamato's hakama.
"Hey! Don't bite me! I didn't do anything to you," Yamato barked but made no move to back down.
The figure on the floor stared at him with piercing scarlet eyes full of anger and growled, the sound rising deep from his throat and only slightly less intimidating because his mouth was still full of red cloth.
"Look," Yamato said, lifting one arm. "I'm a prisoner too."
The other man's eyes zeroed in on the shackle around Yamato's wrist, the piece of chain still dangling from it. And then, for a fraction of a second, they climbed further where his pose was making his rather impressive bicep stand out, before dropping to the floor. Finally, he spat Yamato's pants out of his mouth, cursing under his breath.
"What's that?" Yamato asked, lowering himself further on the floor next to the man in order to hear better.
"I said I'm fucking sick of this place," the man ground out from between bloody teeth.
"That makes two of us. You got a name?"
The question earned Yamato a suspicious look, but apparently, the prisoner decided there was no point in keeping that information to himself since most of the island probably knew it already.
"It's Kid."
"I'm Oden," Yamato offered in return.
"Like I care."
Yamato leaned in close, curious enough to ignore the fact he could smell Kid hadn't bathed in weeks. "What are you?"
"Huh?"
"Like… are you a pirate? Or something else?" His frame of reference for the outside world wasn't the best, but Ace had been a pirate, and so were many of the regular visitors who had dealings with Kaido.
"Yeah, I'm a pirate," Kid said with a humorless grin. "Got a problem with that?"
Yamato tilted his head to the side. "A problem? Why would it be a problem?"
If anybody asked him—not that people usually cared about his opinion—there wasn't much that was better than being a pirate. To have the freedom to go wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted? To live with a family you'd chosen, rather than one that had been thrust upon you? Sounded like a dream to him.
Kid let out a harsh laugh that soon turned into a painful-sounding cough. Once he'd recovered enough to catch his breath, he asked, "You don't get out much, do you?"
"Nah, as I said." Yamato shook his wrist for effect.
He may not have been restrained to one room like Kid but he wasn't free to go as he wished, and he could never trust anyone to not report back to Kaido on his whereabouts.
There was a moment of silence during which Kid closed his eyes.
"Are you going to sleep?" Yamato inquired.
"As if anybody could with you prattling on." Kid sighed. "Just say what you came here to say."
"Maybe I came to check if you're alive?"
"Well, you've checked now."
Yamato hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Can you tell me what it's like? Outside. Where you come from?"
Kid stared at him. "You really don't know? Fine. On one condition."
"Anything," he agreed eagerly.
"You'll help me escape."
Neither of them said anything about a definite date for the escape plan. It was clear as day to Yamato that in his current condition Kid would be of no help and even Kid seemed to grudgingly come to the same conclusion, not bothering to mention the whole thing the next time they met.
He was fully capable of talking, however, and Yamato was determined to butter him up with some bribes to make him tell stories about the world beyond Wano. Ace's had been great, but even he hadn't seen everything.
"I brought a lantern," Yamato said, waving it in front of Kid, making shadows dance on the walls.
"Damn, get that away from me," Kid cursed, shielding his eyes.
"Can't let you get too used to the dark," Yamato said, dumping a bagful of assorted goods on the floor.
"Whatever," Kid replied but didn't hesitate to start rummaging through the wares.
"I brought food and stuff to drink!" Yamato chirped as Kid dug deeper into the bag. "Oh, and some first aid supplies."
He wouldn't call himself an expert, but he'd patched up his own scrapes and bruises enough times that he had passing medical knowledge. It didn't appear to be Kid's priority though, as he was already absorbed in the bento Yamato had snatched from the kitchen.
Well, no matter. His injuries had already gone untreated for days, a small delay would hardly make a difference. Plus it gave Yamato a chance to assess Kid's condition—and maybe his looks too—in peace.
It had been too dark before to decipher all the details beyond that Kid was big and, despite being hurt, a force to be reckoned with. But with the warm light from the lantern, he could see everything—it was almost too much, since whoever was responsible for keeping him imprisoned and alive hadn't left him much to wear. Something to keep in mind for his next visit.
Some of his scars were visibly old, messy looking but long healed, at least as much as they ever would. One arm was missing, but somehow Yamato had the feeling it wouldn't pay to underestimate Kid in a fight just because of that. His hair was a brilliant crimson, lying limply over Kid's forehead, making Yamato's hand itch to brush it back.
His hand was raised and halfway across the small gap that separated them before he caught himself and pulled it back. The movement drew Kid's attention, his eyes boring into Yamato in warning.
"I was just—" he drifted off before finishing his sentence, eyes focused on Kid's chest.
It was wide and flawless like he'd noted in passing already but before he'd missed the two faded scars right under his chest muscles. Unlike his other scars, these looked neat and deliberate, as if done by someone who knew their business, and they'd healed well enough that they were easily overlooked. Yet he couldn't tear his gaze off of them.
"What? Never seen tits before?" Kid barked at him.
Yamato jerked his head up, his face feeling hot. "It's not that! I didn't mean to stare!"
Kid gave him a dubious look, but eventually shrugged and went back to his meal.
"You wanted to hear about South Blue?" he asked, mouth still half full of inarizushi.
"South Blue, North Blue, anything but Wano!" Yamato nodded, eyes glittering and practically vibrating with enthusiasm.
"Well, I ain't been to North Blue but I know somebody from there. Been told I'm shit at telling stories so don't go complaining since you were the one begging for it."
"I won't complain, I promise."
"Right," Kid said, wiping his mouth. "Guess I'll start at the beginning… "
They fell into a rhythm of meeting when Yamato knew they'd most likely be left alone; not that Kid had much say in the matter, forced to simply sit there and wait.
Yamato would bring him food and drink, careful not to leave any proof of his visits behind. He even brought a blanket, an old ratty thing, easily explained away as something forgotten in the corner years ago, but it was better than nothing on cold nights.
Kid never asked for anything, not even for news of his crew, although Yamato had gathered enough from rumors and drunken boasting of the men that they were held somewhere on the island too. Regardless, he didn't hesitate to regale Yamato with stories of his childhood, and later, as his tales grew bolder and more elaborate, the adventures he'd had on Grand Line.
In the past, Yamato had had trouble sitting still and concentrating on one task, yet this never seemed to be a problem when listening to the stories from the outside world. Kid's stories were just as gripping as Oden's diary and just as exhilarating as Ace's.
What Kid may have lacked in storytelling abilities, he more than made up for with the passion he put into telling them. Afterward, Yamato often felt like he'd been there himself and had already seen the sun beaming down on some distant South Blue beach where orphan children could spend a whole day swimming with stray dogs and digging for treasure that had washed up on the shore with the tide.
He learned things too, about the customs of distant places, about unfair laws and the best ways to cook dishes made of ingredients he didn't recognize. And whether Kid realized it or not, he revealed things about himself as well. Tidbits of information that Yamato safely tucked inside his mind without mention, not for any nefarious purposes but because he didn't want to say anything that might've made Kid stop talking.
A few weeks into their companionship—Yamato hesitated to call it friendship, if only because he couldn't speak for how Kid felt about the whole thing—Kid was already waiting for Yamato when he arrived. He was standing up, looking stronger than before and Yamato was just about to open his mouth to comment on it when he was tackled to the ground without warning.
His head connected with the floor painfully, dazing him enough to make him momentarily lose track of everything around him—something that probably would've cost him his life had Kid not hesitated to land another blow, his hand hovering in the air long enough to allow Yamato a chance to roll them around and get the upper hand.
Yamato wasn't afraid of a fight, but he wasn't about to engage without at least hearing the reason for this sudden hostility. Moreover, Kid was hardly in full fighting condition, though Yamato knew better than to say that out loud.
He did his best to shake Kid off but the man was too stubborn for his own good, clinging to Yamato's arm and attempting to headbutt him into submission. Yamato dug his fingers into a wound he'd stitched only the day before and regretted it almost immediately as warm blood seeped past his fingers. Kid growled at him, but curled his body away from Yamato eventually to escape the pain.
Yamato took the opportunity to jump back, rather ungracefully, stumbling across the floor till he was sure to be out of Kid's reach. He stood there panting, staring back at Kid who was pulling at his chains to get to him, as if he hadn't already tested their strength on multiple occasions before.
"Come back here!" he spat at Yamato, out of breath and blood trickling down his side in an almost hypnotic manner.
"What's going on?" Yamato asked, still as confused as before.
He'd let his guard down, he'd trusted Kid that much without even realizing. Maybe he should've been angry about this turn of events, but more than anything he felt hurt by the attack.
Kid glared at him. "You lied to me."
"What about?"
"Your name isn't Oden. You're Kaido's daughter."
Where had Kid heard that from? Yamato knew he wasn't the only one visiting Kid, somebody checked up on him, provided him with just enough water and food to survive. And they did other things too, unspeakable things that left Kid bleeding and hurt, undoing whatever rest he'd managed to get.
"You shouldn't listen to them," Yamato said slowly. "They'd say anything to hurt me. And you."
"Tell me it's not true, then."
"I'm not Kaido's daughter. I'm his son. Not like you can choose your family."
He'd had an inkling that Kid might understand his situation better than most and Yamato's words seemed to at least work to calm him down for now. He stopped his futile attempts to get closer and chose instead just to sit there and stare at Yamato for a long time before talking.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked flatly.
"Because," Yamato started, not quite meeting Kid's eyes, "I know you're here because of Kaido... I didn't want you to think I'm like him. 'Cause I'm not!"
"He the one keeping you prisoner?"
Yamato nodded, loathe as he was to let more people know how he was treated by his own father.
"Guess I've had my fair share of shitty parents, probably should've talked to you before attacking," Kid said looking pained, like admitting fault didn't come naturally to him. "Killer always says I've got anger management issues."
"Killer?" Was that someone from his crew?
"Yeah." Kid didn't elaborate further, and Yamato deemed it best to drop the subject.
The silence that fell between them was awkward in a way it had never been before. Yamato wracked his brain for something to say, but he wasn't going to apologize for being born into the wrong family. Finally, his gaze settled on Kid's pale skin as if drawn by a magnet. It was caked with dried blood and he felt a stab of regret.
"Will you let me look at your wound?"
Kid looked down as if only now remembering the whole thing. "You're the one who did that."
"But it was your fault," Yamato insisted.
If neither of them apologized they'd be even. Kind of.
Yamato didn't wait for permission but shuffled closer to check the damage. Kid eyed him suspiciously but didn't make a move to attack or to withdraw from his touch. The damage wasn't serious, Yamato had been consciously aiming for a distraction rather than any real harm after all. The best he could do was wipe off the blood and redo a couple of the stitches.
Once he was done, he took a moment to make sure his work wasn't sloppy. Still, even focused on that, he wasn't careless enough to let his guard down twice, so when Kid moved Yamato was well aware of it happening. He simply chose to wait and let it happen.
He'd half expected another attack but instead, Kid curled his hand around Yamato's wrist, pulling it upwards till his hand was touching Kid’s chest, the rough edges of a scar tangible against his palm.
"You were looking earlier, right?" Kid asked, all hostility gone from his voice and replaced by something else, something hard to define.
Yamato didn't say anything, there was no point denying the truth. He lifted his gaze to meet Kid's and then, without asking for further permission, traced his finger gently along the scar, astonished.
"You can do this?" he asked, never having considered the possibility.
"Well, I sure can't. But yeah, it can be done."
"You're like me," Yamato announced, surging up till he was nose to nose with Kid, breathing the same air.
He was no longer paying attention to his hand and, as he moved, it slid upwards, his nail catching at Kid's nipple and making him hiss at the sensation.
"Sor—“ Yamato started to apologize but was cut short by Kid crossing the non-existent distance between them and catching his mouth in a kiss.
He made a surprised sound that Kid swallowed, his tongue pushing boldly past Yamato's teeth, exploring. One strong hand twisted itself into his long, fine hair as if to make sure he couldn't escape.
Of course, Yamato could've gotten away had he wanted to—he was the bigger and stronger of them. But he didn't want to. He'd never been kissed like this, never been kissed at all unless you counted innocent games between children, and this was far from innocent.
Eventually, Yamato had to pull back in order to catch his breath. He withdrew but only a few inches, hesitant to have the moment end. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced and he was hungry for more.
"Wow," he panted, incapable of anything more coherent.
"That's one word for it," Kid said, sounding smug.
His fingers had slid from Yamato's hair to the back of his neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the skin and sending shivers down his spine. It took hardly any encouragement for Yamato to lean in again, lips already touching Kid's when his brain caught up with him.
"Wait, how'd anybody know to tell you about me?"
"You're asking that now?" Kid scoffed, frustrated.
Granted, the timing could've been better—Yamato wasn't sure which of them was more eager to get back to kissing. But this was important, potentially life-or-death important.
"If they know I've been visiting you there could be trouble," Yamato pointed out.
In fact, there almost certainly would be trouble, and nothing either of them could do about it.
"Well, I didn't tell them. But they noticed my stitches." Kid shrugged. "Guess you were the most likely suspect."
Yamato frowned. Had he been too shortsighted, thinking nobody would pay such close attention to a prisoner? The first aid he'd given had been rudimentary at best and he'd taken care to leave no other evidence of his visits behind.
"Should I have—" he started, unsure how to continue. Should I have left you alone? Should I stay away from now on?
Selfish as it may have been, he couldn't find it in himself to regret getting closer to Kid. And even without Yamato's interference, his time was limited.
"Should've told me the truth from the beginning," Kid supplied for him. "But I forgive you."
Any further comments Yamato might've had were chased out of his mind by Kid's mouth and the perfect way their bodies slotted together as Kid pulled him close.
Yamato had left Kid with a mix of bliss and trepidation, neither of which had waned a bit as the hours ticked by, turning into days as Kaido sent him on multiple inane errands that he didn't dare to protest. Not now when they could use Kid's well-being as leverage if they realized how much Yamato actually cared.
When he finally had a chance to sneak in to see Kid, he immediately knew he'd made the wrong choice obeying his father. Instead of protecting Kid, he'd left him open to whatever retaliation Kaido had seen fit to administer—he'd always been big on corporal punishment.
Kid lay on the floor, his back facing the door, and for a few agonizing seconds Yamato was sure he'd been beaten to death and that King, or whoever was responsible for fulfilling Kaido's orders, had left the body there for him to discover.
He hurried to Kid's side, dropping to his knees and running his hands all over him, looking for any sign of life. Only when he saw Kid's chest rise and felt the steady beat of a pulse under his fingers did Yamato let himself relax.
Sluggishly, Kid opened his eyes, alerted by Yamato's presence. He made a small, hurt sound as he attempted to sit up and Yamato shot out his arms to support him.
"Thought they'd got you too," Kid said, words slurring together enough that it took Yamato a moment to understand him.
He hadn't meant it as a jab, Yamato was almost sure, but still, the comment made him painfully aware of his own state, almost immaculate compared to Kid. There were no visible wounds on Yamato and the only dirt on his clothes was from the puddle he'd stepped in that morning, in stark contrast to Kid who looked like he'd been to hell.
"I'll get you out of here," Yamato hissed, holding back the anger he felt.
He had no plan, hadn't made much progress in freeing even himself (a fact Kid was kind enough not to point out) but what other promise would hold any meaning in a situation like this? Plus he'd made the promise already, the first time they met. Now he simply meant it more than ever.
Kid chuckled weakly. "That'd be something to see."
"I'll make it happen," Yamato assured him, putting as much conviction into his vow as he could.
There had been nothing he could do for Ace—he'd only helplessly watched the vivre card in his hands turn to ash and had known it was already too late. But Kid was right here, his warm skin pressed against Yamato's arm as if to remind him there was still a chance, however small, that they might make it out of this alive.
"You'll need help," Kid said.
He wasn't wrong but who could be trusted enough with plans like these?
"I don't know anybody who'd be up for treason," Yamato replied.
"It's not—" Kid paused for a moment to cough. "Not treason if it ain't your country."
"Good point. I guess it isn't mine either, not by right."
Kaido wouldn't see it that way but could you call it a crime, going against a man who had taken what he had by force? He'd never had much regard for the well-being of the people of Wano, nor his own flesh and blood. He deserved to pay.
"Do you know what they did to my crew?" Kid asked, doing a poor job of masking how much he'd wanted to ask the question for weeks.
"No," Yamato admitted. "But I think they're alive."
"They better fucking be," Kid gritted through clenched teeth.
"Will they help me?" If they were alive, he'd find them. But they were bound to have the same suspicions as Kid, especially if they found out about Yamato's true identity. "They might think it's some kinda trap."
"You find Killer," Kid said, clasping Yamato's arm in a tight grip. "He'll do anything to make those traitors pay."
If he's any friend at all, he'll be more likely to worry about you than revenge, Yamato thought.
"He won't believe me. You only listened to me because you had no choice," Yamato said petulantly.
Kid sighed, his expression softening. "Yeah? Killer's smarter than me though, better at reading people."
"If he doesn't kill me first. Not that he could beat me!"
Kid chuckled, his fingers fiddling with a strand of Yamato's hair. "You never lost a fight?"
"Sure I have, in the past. But it won't happen again," Yamato said, confident that he was right. Winning depended on your mental strength just as much as physical strength.
"At least we're on the same page on that."'
Yamato nodded and made to get up. The sooner he'd start inquiring into Kid's crew, the sooner they'd get things moving along.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kid asked, pulling him back down by the hair, though gently enough that it only stung a little.
"Uh, to save your ass?"
"It's the middle of the night. At least I think so," Kid said with a slight frown, probably wondering just how messed up his sense of time had become in this windowless room.
"Well, yeah." Not that most of Kaido's people followed any regular schedule, there'd always be opportunities to find someone who could provide him with relevant information.
"You better wait till morning then."
Yamato was about to protest, to point out that time was of the essence, but there was a hint of desperation in the way Kid was looking at him. Like this might be the last chance they had to be together—and who could blame him? In this place, things could change in the blink of an eye even for those who were in Kaido's favor, and both of them were hardly considered worthier than trash. Strong as he was, even Kid wasn't immune to the effects of isolation and torture.
"I see what you mean," Yamato said, inclining his head till his forehead was resting against Kid's.
"And when you go," Kid said, voice choked up with emotion, "don't you dare not come back."