Masked Deuce X Oc : Hiraeth - A Pencil And A Dream
Requests are open, by the way! Feel free to ask for a one-shot. (I would be especially delighted to write for Pell, Kamakiri, X Drake, Killer, Law, Deuce, and Marco.) But feel free to ask away, even if it's not for one of them!
— FANART
Silly doodles : ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Bartolomeo Illustration "The only one to blame" ; Portrait practice
I know I said somewhere that I would be drawing more Dispatch fanart (especially mechabat), but I fear my Dispatch hyperfixation has faded, and I can't find the motivation to finish what I wanted to draw. (I feel the need to say it since I figured some people might be following me from my mechabat fanart, hoping for more.)
All of this to say that I'll probably go back to my roots and draw One Piece fanarts again, or original D&D characters.
Started making this when I started to play the Cut Sonar route to cope with what I was putting myself through. I needed to draw them both happy. Glad I finally finished it.
It's not perfect, but here's my first contribution to the mechabat fandom. 🌻
«Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.» - No Man is an Island
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Soundtrack : ❝ Eyes Wide Open ❞ - Tony Anderson
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❝This mask was the conditio sine qua non for existing as I am.❞
— Deuce, One Piece Novel A
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❝ A Pencil and a Dream ❞
MASKED DEUCE
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WHILE DEUCE HAD A PARTICULAR TALENT for writing, she excelled in the arts. She was so attractive when she painted and drew, that it was difficult to take your eyes away from her.
It was for her particular talents that Arlys embarked on the Piece of Spadille after meeting two odd pirates on Sabaody island; a flamboyant young man and a masked writer.
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Sitting on the deck of the Peace of Spadille, Arlys found herself painting a new pirate flag. The previous one had been accidentally incinerated by one of their captain's overly powerful attacks.
As the crew's artist, Arlys was ideally suited for the task. Although she preferred to paint freely, she didn't mind tracing the symbol of their crew. She was able to memorise it with her fingertips, so that she could redraw it later on the pages of her sketchbook. She applied herself diligently to the task she had been given, taking only a few breaks to stretch and admire the island they were moored at.
A little further out on deck, a familiar figure was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Deuce was about to join his comrades on the shore, but was interrupted when he saw the young woman busying herself.
As the weeks went by, he had quickly noticed her homebody nature. Arlys liked to stay on the boat most of the time, and was often on watch during stopovers.
Recently, however, he had noticed her hesitancy when the crew disembarked on an island. Over the last few days, the idea of leaving the boat had seemed to tempt her, and today was no exception.
Deuce stepped towards her.
- “Arlys?”
The latter looked up from the flag in her hands and met the young writer's eyes. Curious, she gave him her undivided attention.
- “Deuce?”
- “I'm going to explore the island too, do you want to join me?”
She remained undecided for a few moments, returning her gaze to the flag with the Jolly Roger almost finished, then to Deuce, then to the flag... Before finally deciding to follow him. Spending time with Deuce was a pleasant prospect after all.
She stood up, and laid the banner next to Kotatsu, who was asleep, lazily stretched out on the deck, enjoying the sun.
- “Keep an eye on this for me, Kotatsu.”
After a final pat on the head, and a questioning, sleepy meow from the animal, Arlys joined her comrade, taking with her a satchel that Deuce guessed was filled with her drawing supplies.
- “Let's go.”
She smiled at him, and Deuce's cheeks turned a light crimson.
He smiled back and they headed for the heart of the island.
While Arlys loved the peace and quiet of the ship, walking outside and discovering new islands was also a great source of inspiration for her.
They strolled around the city for several hours. So much so that the afternoon was drawing to a close. So they decided to visit the festival in the city centre.
After passing some of their companions, most of whom were busy eating their fill, Arlys soon noticed that Deuce seemed rather interested in the Ferris wheel. Of course, she was unaware that his last memories of the attraction were not the best, and in fact dated back to his and Ace's last visit to Sabaody.
- “Do you want to get in?”
Hearing the woman's voice surprised him. It was true that she didn't normally talk much. But before he had a chance to protest, Arlys gently pulled him by the arm, in the direction of the attraction.
She simply nodded in response to the ride steward, who greeted them, and climbed into the cabin without delay, dragging Deuce with her.
The atmosphere was much calmer and more pleasant than Deuce remembered; the last time he'd been on a Ferris wheel had been at Sabaody, in the presence of Ace and Iska, and the tension between them had been so heavy that all he'd thought about during the ride was getting out. For his part, Ace had seemed totally oblivious of the heavy gaze the young marine had been giving them all along.
This time, however, Arlys' presence made the atmosphere more comfortable. She had dropped his sleeve and sat down on one of the crimson seats. Deuce sat directly opposite to her.
Before the ride had even started, Arlys had already taken her sketchbook out of her satchel and, pencil in hand, was already sketching whatever had caught her eye.
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What Deuce didn't know was that she hadn't just immortalised the panoramic view from the top of the Ferris wheel. She had also sketched the writer's pensive profile, capturing every expression. Transcribing with the tip of her pencil the emotions of wonder that seemed to gleam in his eyes. This side of the pirate was refreshing, and Arlys had to make do with quick glances to detail his face. But as soon as she had more or less finished, she allowed herself to look at him without hiding behind her sketchbook, also occasionally casting her attention to the outside of the cabin.
No longer hearing the steady scratching of the graphite on the paper, which he found somehow soothing, Deuce looked away from the window to meet the pensive gaze of the artist, who was still watching him wordlessly.
- ‘’You stopped drawing? Did you finish your work?”
Caught off guard, Arlys kept her composure and nodded quietly. Rummaging for a moment through her numerous sheets of paper stamped with sketches, she hid the freshly sketched portrait by putting her drawing of the view from the Ferris Wheel, which she had done earlier, back on top.
Deuce didn't seem to notice that the woman's gaze had lingered on him for several minutes. ‘Good,’ she thought.
She then held out her illustration. Deuce picked it up delicately, and carefully observed the meticulous details of the pencil sketch.
He remained fascinated by her technique for a moment.
- “It's very well done.”
The landscape she had depicted seemed to pulse with life, and Deuce didn't even know what compliment to use. He was happy that Arlys was showing him some of her work. Although he would have liked to see a few more.
At last he took his eyes off the sketch and handed it back to her. Quite unconcerned by the simplicity of his comment, she thanked him for his compliment.
- “Is there a reason you joined the crew?”
Keen to seize the opportunity to have a conversation with the young artist, Deuce had asked the first question that came to his mind.
Although he had been there when Arlys had joined the crew, he had never really known her motives. For a long time, he had thought that it had been a matter of circumstances. When Ace was around, things sometimes happened in a very strange way. Perhaps it was their captain's radiant energy that had brought her to their side.
Arlys remained pensive for a short while, allowing herself a moment of reflection as she put her sketch back with the others, flat on her lap.
- "I'm an orphan, but I grew up with several other children back at Sabaody. Most of them were younger than me.”
Sensing that she was about to tell him something she had never told anyone before, Deuce listened attentively, interested and moved by her willingness to confide in him a little.
- “I'd like to help them out of their misery one day, and show them the world.” She said, thoughtfully. “When I saw you and Ace that day, I knew I wanted to set sail. And I think that's when I decided to seize the opportunity to pursue my dream.”
She clutched her pouch full of sketches and paintings between her fingers.
- “When I'll return to see them, I want to offer them a glimpse of what's beyond the sea. And tell them about the wonderful people I've met on my travels.”
She paused, and added;
- “You gave me the courage to start.”
This was the first time Arlys had told him about her life in Sabaody. And it was also the first time he had seen her shine so brightly, a gentle smile on her lips and eyes gleaming. He was so surprised by this side of her that he said nothing more until the attraction came to a halt, signalling the end of their ride.
When they emerged from the Ferris Wheel, both of them felt like they understood each other a little better than they did before.
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Night would soon fall, and as they walked in soothing silence through the festival's market aisles, lit by numerous lanterns, Arlys turned her gaze towards him.
- “Say, Deuce. Could I take a look at your diary one of these days?”
Deuce winced. After hearing the taunts of his comrades when they had secretly read his notes, Deuce wasn't really comfortable with the idea of letting anyone read his writings.
But he couldn't resist Arlys' gaze, shining with genuine curiosity.
- “Only if you show me your sketches.”
She grimaced, now as uncomfortable as he was. But her curiosity was stronger than her embarrassment, and she ended up smiling shyly at him.
- “All right, we have a deal.”
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When Deuce returned to his cabin that night, he wrote in his notebook about Arlys.
“I asked Arlys about her dreams today. Perhaps I should have asked her sooner, but then, her answer might have been different.
She said I gave her the courage to start, but I think that she would have left Sabaody earlier or later. She would have left to immortalise, with her pencils and paint brushes, landscapes and faces from all over the world. Meeting Ace and me only gave her an opportunity to start, but she already had the courage she needed, she always had. Because she is doing this for them, her siblings, waiting for her to return and to tell them all about her adventures. Ace was only the one that showed her the way, without even realizing it, just like he did for me.
Now I understand why she shines in her art, it's her dream that she traces, piece by piece, every day.
Arlys, too, has the soul of a true adventurer, a very kind one.”
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While Deuce was horrified when his comrades dared to read his notes over his shoulder, especially after their recent mockery, Arlys, for her part, was quick to get flustered and hide her sketches if one of her companions happened to glance indiscreetly at her drawings. Especially when she was working on a portrait. Suffice to say that the members of the Spade's took malicious delight in tormenting the two artists.
This time, however, it was Mihal who startled the young woman, as she felt a presence attentively observing the portrait of Deuce she was working on. It was the one she had started on the Ferris wheel, and was now busy perfecting it.
- “Mihal?!” She yelped, covering it immediately with her hands.
- “From what I've had time to see, it's very pretty.”
Mihal was very much a homebody, and often guarded the boat with her, but he was not insensitive to art. It may have been due to his profession as a teacher. Regardless, he was always curious and appreciative of the young woman's creations.
Arlys wasn't sure what to say at first, but finally thanked him, adopting a slightly more relaxed posture as she loosened her grip on the edges of her sketchbook.
Mihal wasn't the most talkative person on the ship, so Arlys naively assumed that he wouldn't point out what he had just seen. However, she was soon disillusioned when she saw the former teacher sit down opposite her, looking up to the person about to sneak up behind her.
- “Deuce, hm?”
Skull had just peered over the woman's shoulder, giving the portrait and then Arlys an inquisitive look.
His snide comment, full of insinuations, made her blush.
As a good informer, and often working in tandem with Arlys, Skull had more than once had the opportunity to rummage through the young woman's drawings. And although Arlys would be the first to deny it, Skull, and the other crew members who had secretly looked at her work, had noticed the higher number of portraits of Deuce in her sketchbook. Similarly, while she sometimes shared her other portraits without too much reluctance, she seemed to keep those of the young writer well hidden.
Of course, among the crew, no one had escaped Arlys' observant gaze, and everyone had had their portraits painted. Sometimes as individuals, sometimes as a group. Arlys had immortalised many moments of life on the Peace of Spadille. But the way she captured Deuce's gestures and expressions, his smiles, his gaze, the sparkle in his eyes… was very special.
She looked at him like a painter enamoured by his muse.
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Arlys appeared a lot in his notes, too much in fact.
Of course, her name had its place in his novel, Arlys was one of his comrades after all, and often stayed by his side. She was a pleasant, almost comforting presence, and he always enjoyed the discussions they had together. He had got into the habit of writing down some of his thoughts - which had no place in his adventure novel - in another notebook which he usually kept with him.
According to his deductions, it was life in the slums that had most influenced Arlys. Firstly in terms of her physical abilities: Arlys had built herself up on agility and speed, and was more suited to pickpocketing - although she seemed too honest to have given in to pilfering -. She had once told him that she used to spend a lot of time on rooftops. Firstly for her own safety, but also to keep an eye on the other street kids and to observe, out of sight, what was going on below. It was also where she drew.
While Arlys was not generally a very expressive person, Deuce had noticed that she was quite different when she was drawing portraits. She had a funny habit of unconsciously mimicking the expression she was trying to draw, thus reflecting the expression of the portrait itself. These scenes remained almost comical but also endearing in the eyes of the writer.
This thought prompted him to look around for the artist, and he found her sitting on a crate on the other side of the deck. Once again, she was drawing. Her expression was calm, almost pensive. Deuce wondered what she was sketching to look so peaceful.
He smiled, and began to scribble in his notebook the thoughts that were running through his mind.
When Deuce looked up from his notepad again, Arlys was now accompanied by Mihal, Skull and Banshee. The discussion seemed lively, and Arlys was visibly embarrassed. The scene was not very different from the usual moments of life on the Peace of Spadille. If Arlys had been out of the picture, she would surely have immortalised it with the tip of her pencil.
- “What are you admiring like that?”
Ace had just peeked his head over the shoulder of the writer, who gasped at the sudden appearance of his captain. The latter squinted his eyes to find what Deuce had been observing with a smile, until his gaze fell on the artist at the other end of the deck.
- “I see.” Ace's mischievous expression made Deuce freeze, as he tried desperately to maintain a detached attitude.
- “What?”
Ace raised an eyebrow. Deuce was trying to play it cool now? It wouldn't work on him.
He leaned against the rail of the upper deck, watching the lively conversation the four pirates below seemed to be having. He smiled at the sight.
Deuce was perplexed by his captain's change of attitude, but waited for his next comment.
- “She likes you too, you know.” He said, calmly.
Deuce turned his head towards him, speechless and visibly taken aback by his comment.
Ace considered his reaction out of the corner of his eye.
- “You didn't know that?”
Then he remembered that Deuce had never delved into Arlys' drawings like the rest of the crew had. And of course, he didn't realise the way she looked at him.
- “It's not-” Deuce tried, ready to deny what the young man was insinuating. His relationship with Arlys wasn't like that, was it?
Ace sighed.
- “Ahh, whatever, it's not my problem!” he said, placing his hands on his comrade's shoulder. “You'll find out eventually!” With that, Ace left, hands behind his head.
Deuce remained motionless for several long seconds, bewildered by this brief discussion. His gaze drifted back to Arlys, gently teased by Skull, under the amused gaze of Mihal and Banshee.
And for a brief moment, he met her gaze. She smiled shyly, before turning her head towards Banshee, who was addressing her.
The writer leaned against the railing, his eyes thoughtfully turned towards the sky as he remembered her words.
“You gave me the courage to start”...
Did she really view him differently?
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Arlys and Deuce met up on the upper deck in the late afternoon, as the sun was ending its journey across the sky, leaving in its wake only a warm, comforting, golden glow.
The artist had her sketchbook in her arms, and Deuce was holding his notebook in his hand.
Arlys had fallen back against the ship's rail, sitting on the deck. Deuce joined her without further thought. Sitting side by side, the atmosphere was peaceful, with only the sound of the waves and the distant conversations of their comrades filling the air.
Both of their minds were busy. Deuce was thinking about Ace's words, while in Arlys' mind, it was the conversation she had had earlier with her friends that was tormenting her.
Chasing away all distracting thoughts, Arlys chose to enjoy the present moment. After giving Deuce a sidelong glance, she handed him her sketchbook, which he took gently. And he in turn gave her his notebook.
Deuce took a moment to contemplate the sketchbook in his hands. In a way, Arlys' sketches were precious. Not only because they immortalised so many moments in their lives, but also because she had enough trust in him to show him the very crystallisation of her dream. The thought warmed his heart.
Arlys, for her part, had a similar moment of reflection. She too was touched by Deuce's faith in her. But curiosity soon got the better of her, and she began to read his work.
From the very first lines, Arlys smiled fondly; Deuce's writing was like him; simple yet imbued with his personality. She loved the way he thought and handled words, and was quickly absorbed in her reading, happy to catch a glimpse of Deuce's inner world, and discover another side of him.
Deuce couldn't help but study the young woman's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Seeing her smile so sincerely and kindly, Deuce could only blush with surprise. There didn't seem to be any mockery in her gaze. She really seemed to enjoy every word.
Embarrassed, Deuce returned his attention to the sketchbook on his lap, and finally decided to open it.
The first sketches he looked at were representations of Sabaody's landscapes; the merchant streets, the docks, the pirate ships moored around the island, the tall trees surrounded by the many characteristic bubbles... These illustrations reminded him of their last visit to Sabaody, and his first meeting with Arlys.
This was followed by numerous sketches and paintings of classic scenes of life aboard the Peace of Spadille; meals shared in the refectory, Ace’s antics, and even battles and training carried out aboard the ship. Arlys had sketched the expressions of each crew member with remarkable accuracy, immortalising their laughter, their facial expressions and their smiles. At this sight, Deuce could only give a gentle smile of his own, an expression that mirrored the one Arlys gave when she drew these scenes; a peaceful, tender expression. They both shared a mutual affection for their comrades, their true family.
The next paintings depicted various landscapes; Deuce recognised them as the islands they had visited during their travels, and portraits of the inhabitants were attached to the paintings. Once again, Arlys had succeeded in capturing insignificant moments and making them special. These people and landscapes, eternalized between the pages of this sketchbook, would never be forgotten.
He remembered what she had said to him one day, when she was painting a portrait of Ace and Kotatsu, both asleep on the deck. He couldn't remember the question he'd asked her, but remembered her answer clearly.
“One day, my hands will be so bruised that I won't be able to paint like I used to. When that day comes, I want to be able to open that sketchbook again, and relive every moment of this journey. I'll rediscover the faces of the companions who have changed my life and accompanied me for all these years.
Whatever awaits us in the future, I want to be able to remember each and every second.”
That was what she was planning to do once her dream would be fulfilled.
Arlys paused her reading to glance back at Deuce, who was pensively admiring her sketches. He seemed genuinely nostalgic.
When he turned another page and suddenly froze, Arlys couldn't help but look at him expectantly. She had hesitated to put those sketches and paintings at the end of her sketchbook. But she bravely left them there, encouraged by Skull and Banshee.
Portraits of him.
For a long time, Deuce stood speechless before his own portrait, sketched during their ride on the Ferris Wheel. His figure was bathed in the warm lights of the festival, cascading through the windows of the cabin, illuminating his peaceful face with bright red glows. The precision and colours of the painting were striking. Deuce had never seen another portrait as detailed as this one in Arlys' sketches. He felt like he was looking through a mirror, when in reality, he was looking through Arlys’ lenses.
- “I really like this one.”
He flinched at her comment. Turning his head towards her, he could see that she had been observing his reaction for a while, hiding her embarrassed face behind the pages of his notebook.
The ambiguity of her remark caught him off guard.
- “I... it's really well done.” He managed to stammer, moved by what was in front of him.
His expression of wonder, although slightly troubled, was sincere. When he met her shy, sparkling gaze, he couldn't help but ask her the question related to Ace's words, which he was beginning to understand.
- “Is that really how you see me?”
- “To me, this is simply who you are.”
Deuce's heart missed a beat.
Arlys returned her attention to the diary in her hands, which she closed gently, before holding it out to him, ready to give it back, a smile on her face.
- “I felt it when I read your work too, you're a talented writer and an admirable adventurer, Deuce.”
And for the first time, Deuce could see in her eyes the whole depth of her affection and admiration. The emotions that danced in her eyes when she saw him, her tenderness... all reflected in the way she smiled and portrayed him.
Without taking his eyes off her, he picked up the sketchbook and handed it back to her, brushing her fingers with his own.
- “You're wonderful too, Arlys!” he exclaimed ardently, a little louder than he would have liked, face flushed.
A laugh escaped the young painter. It was rare to see Deuce lose his composure, but she found herself wanting to immortalise this side of him too. Dropping her sketchbook onto her lap, Arlys placed her hands on either side of his face, and rested her forehead against his.
- “Let's promise to make our dreams come true together.”
Deuce admired her face, so close to his, lit by the last rays of the sun, about to fade over the horizon. The determination in her eyes sent a shiver down his spine.
He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers, eyes closed, to whisper his oath.
- “I promise.”
Her warm hands, which until then had framed his face, slid up his back, drawing him into a warm embrace. Arlys buried her face in the hollow of his neck.
- “Thank you, Deuce.”
He simply hugged her back, letting her snuggle up against him.
This time, they were sure, after tonight, that they understood each other far more. And undoubtedly realised the tender affection they shared for each other.
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- “Why are you drawing us so much?”
The sudden presence of Ace, leaning over her shoulder, startled her.
The page she was drawing on was filled with portraits of the crew members, Ace, Deuce, Kotatsu, Banshee, Mihal, Skull, Wallace, Kukai, Cornelia... No one had been left out.
- “So as not to forget you.”
Ace raised his eyebrow.
- “Are you planning to leave us?”
- “No, no! I just want to be able to remember your faces, if our paths ever part.”
- “We're not going anywhere, you know?”
Ace flashed her a big smile, which warmed the artist's heart. She now understood more and more why Deuce compared Ace to the sun. His presence was warm and reassuring.
She could only smile warmly back at him.
- “I know, thank you Captain.”
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Arlys stood perfectly still in front of the large tombstone. The long cloak of one of the four Emperors fluttered in the wind beneath his flag, but she could not look away from the hat placed on their captain's grave.
Next to her, Deuce was as silent as she was.
Arlys took a few steps forward and placed one of her carefully framed paintings among the swords and flowers, at the foot of the grave. Swallowing back her tears, she bowed and whispered her thanks to the two men who were resting here, for all they had done for them.
- “We won't forget you, Ace.”
Arlys gently took Deuce's hand in hers, communicating her support with the little warmth she offered.
In this frame, among blossoms and steel, a painting similar to a photograph; the crew of the Spade reunited, celebrating the arrival of their new recruit. At its centre, a captain and his first mate, locked arm in arm, mugs raised to the sky.
And if you looked long enough, you could almost hear the cheerful laughter and radiant chatter again.
The end of their adventure had been marked by the disappearance of a man akin to the sun, at the centre of everything and everyone.
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A year after the events at Marineford and the disbanding of Whitebeard's crew, Masked Deuce became a journalist for Big News Morgans newspaper.
Arlys followed and worked alongside him as an illustrator and photographer.
They both specialised in articles about the crew of the Straw Hat and the Revolutionary Army.
Despite Morgans' protests, Deuce refused to publish his writings on Ace. Arlys, for her part, kept her portraits from that period to herself. Sharing them only with Deuce, the crew members with whom she was still in contact, and the children who had grown up with her on Sabaody.
Time had passed, yet they still dreamt.
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Deuce Nation, how are we feeling?
On a serious note, I wrote this a while ago (in french) and recently decided to translate it, as I know there isn't much Masked Deuce content out there, especially one-shots. I'm not particularly proud of this one, but I enjoyed writing it. The romance is corny and maybe a bit awkward, but I hope it wasn't too bad overall and that Deuce didn't feel too OOC. Kinda tragic towards the end, as I often do.
I really love Masked Deuce as a character, and I'm happy to write about him. I hope you liked Arlys too.
I won't post for a while after that, since exams are gonna kick my ass, but I'll be back when I can indulge in my hobbies again.
Just a quick update about my writings projects (fanfictions/os/...)
I saw the asks in my inbox! So every suggestion is taken into account for my future OS.
BUT I have exams this week, so I gotta study. I also draw a lot to try to improve, and I work on many OS at the same time because I have a lot of inspiration recently (wich is amazing, it makes me feel so happy).
BUT I HAVE SO MUCH SHIT TO DO.
So, I don't have the time to write something for X Drake's birthday, nor finish the illustration of him I started in time. But I will post it someday! I'm also writing a lot about him actually, you just see none of it because I can't finish anything with my poor organisational skills. But again, it'll see the light...someday.
- About the two asks related to X Drake:
I'll post the silly one (with Trafalgar) (you know who you are 🫵) soon. It'll be short, but I hope you'll appreciate it. ♡
And for the one related to his birthday, like I said, I can't write it in time. But! It made me think about it, and I got a few ideas for an OS. But since it is birthday-related, I'll post it next year. (I'M SO SORRY) (I did think about posting the headcanon-thingy I wrote, but it's so short it makes me sad. Give me a year, and I'll make something great out of it. 😔)
About Part 2 for "Engraved by Thunder"
I'm so happy someone liked part 1! I'm really fond of all the characters depicted in this OS, whether it's the Shandians or my Ocs. So I'm really excited about a part 2 focused on Wiper and Esha! It's taking me quite some time to write, but I really wanna do my best for this one!
Additional information:
- I started to write about the elder brother in One Piece Fan Letter. Which I will probably give a name for the sake of the OS. (I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM).
- I will probably write for other characters of OP Fan Letter, but for now, I gotta write about him. It's a need.
- I'm writing a bunch of OS in french too, I'll see which one I'll translate and share with you ♡
- Don't hesitate to ask or suggest me anything! I love receiving your messages and reading your suggestions!
Thank you for reading all that. Have a great day/night ♡
Your Kamakiri and OC story was a delight to read, and I would absolutely LOVE a story between Wyper and Esha! I always get happy when I see people give smaller side-characters more love :)
(Here's the link to the OS in question)
I'm so glad! Thank you so much!
I didn't get much feedback on this specific One Shot (because of how niche it is), and it makes me so happy to know you appreciated it. 🥹
I'm still not really satisfied with how I translated it, so I wasn't expecting anyone to like this OS, especially the English version. But I guess it isn't so bad after all! (I will probably still work on it again to make sure the translation is satisfying).
I love writing about side-characters!
I will gladly write a bonus focused on Esha and Wiper ! (With some more interactions between Hǣlan and Kamakiri, as a treat. 🤭)
It may take a while for me to write it because of the number of other projects I'm currently working on, but I will write it!
«Scars are not signs of weakness, they are signs of survival and endurance.»
― Rodney A. Winters.
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Soundtrack:
❝Wounds❞ by Tony Anderson
❝The Legend of Ashitaka❞ by Joe Hisaishi
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KAMAKIRI x OC
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The sheer extent of the battle taking place on Upper Yard was ineffable. Lightning rained down relentlessly, rendering its absolute judgement on all corners of the land, turned into an arena. The echo of detonations, scorching blasts and cracks of thunder, overshadowed almost completely the screams of men and the calls of the South Birds that flew above the canopy. The greatest sacrilege was to damage these lands and the ruins of the ancient city lying dormant in the depths of the island. But of course, the war took precedence over everything else. The anger of men and gods was almost palpable, weighing heavily on the atmosphere.
Hǣlan moved stealthily between the roots of the centuries-old trees. Her alert gaze darted around, aware that hostile members of the Divine Guard and the Guerilla were nearby.
Now certain that the coast was clear, she signalled to the figures behind her that there was no danger for the moment. A pack of celestial wolves emerged from the lush vegetation and joined her. Leading them, a young woman, ally of Hǣlan, leaned over the neck of her steed to discuss the situation.
The aforementioned nodded, and guided the pack forward, moving as one, before scattering into the forest, assisting the injured.
‘There are wounded further on.’ The red-head whispered, her gaze set on the unconscious bodies a few metres away. Following her elder's gaze, the wolf rider saw them too.
‘Esha, disperse the pack and get the wounded to safety.’
Hǣlan, in turn, moved towards the area where the main strike seemed to have occurred.
───────---───────
Celestial sharks were floating on the surface of the nearby Milky Road, all fried by lightning. She approached a motionless Shandian, lying on his back among the roots, severely burnt. ‘Sek'is.’ she called as she examined the man. A celestial wolf who had remained by her side stepped forward, and in turn laid eyes on the unconscious warrior.
She made sure that the young man's heart was still beating, then hoisted him onto her back, having secured his belongings on the back of the wolf accompanying her. Within minutes, Hǣlan, Esha and the rest of the pack had disappeared in the forest with the wounded.
When Kamakiri regained consciousness, it took him some time to recall the events leading up to his black-out. His defeat at the hands of Enel was the first memory that crossed his mind. A dull pain followed, numbing his already weakened body.
Kamakiri stiffened as he realised that he had never seen this woman before, and he couldn't work out which group she belonged to.
He could hear the distant rumble of thunder strikes and the tremors caused by the clashes raging across Upper Yard. When he opened his eyes, all he could see at first was a vast expanse of clouds, with only a glimpse of visible sky. He soon realised that he was between two layers of clouds covering the Vearth, close to the Giant Jack.
Turning his head to the side, his eyes fell on a woman with vermilion hair, sitting cross-legged against the roots of a tree, a mortar in her hands. Beside her laid a seemingly docile celestial wolf, with a deep scar across his right eye and two of his paws wrapped in thick strips of gauze.
The wings on her back revealed that she was not an inhabitant of the blue sea, and her tanned skin made her look similar to a Shandian. But Kamakiri was almost certain that she was not one of them. Her wings looked a bit too similar to those of the Birkans, associated with Enel.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his board and spear by his side. If he could reach out, he should be able to grab his weapon. She didn't seem to have noticed that he had woken up, so that was his chance.
His hand trembled with effort as he tried to move his fingers, reaching for his belongings with difficulty. But before he could even brush against the spear, he was interrupted.
‘You shouldn't move.’
The young woman's voice was calm and her tone impassive. Kamakiri froze, well aware that she knew he was awake. The healer got up from where she was previously sitting, and came to kneel down beside him. The celestial wolf, who had been asleep until then, opened one eye to watch them for a few moments, then returned to his nap.
Lying beside a campfire, Kamakiri was covered from head to toe in bandages. His pink jacket, neatly folded and tucked under the back of his neck, served to elevate his head. His tinted glasses, with their broken lenses, laid next to his makeshift pillow.
'You are lucky to be alive."
Kamakiri's gaze returned to her. The healer had been careful not to make a move in his direction, even though it was clear that the cataplasm she had prepared was for him. She placed the mortar by his side and looked into his eyes.
‘You're from the same clan as Aisa, I presume.’
Kamakiri hadn't expected her to know the girl. He remained wary, but relaxed slightly at the mention of a familiar name. Besides, she looked like a healer, not a fighter.
‘How do you know Aisa?’
She smiled at the reminiscences of the temperament of the little girl, whom she had helped some time earlier.
"I met her on Upper Yard. I treated her cuts after she had hurt herself. Since then, I've seen her a few times collecting vearth."
Kamakiri nodded, not at all surprised by the situation. He knew about Aisa's expeditions. The fact that she'd met someone on her outings wasn't all that surprising.
‘What about the others?’ He asked, remembering that the rest of his group had also been affected by Enel's attack.
"An ally brought them to safety not far from here. They should be safe for now, and so should we. The Divine Guard seem to have scattered across the island, so it's best to lay low for a while."
The wry smile she gave him showed that she already had an idea of the answer.
As she explained the current state of affairs, she worked on undoing the bandages firmly tied around her right hand. Kamakiri guessed that she was removing an impact dial. She glanced at him, catching his gaze.
‘I don't need this, do I?’
Kamakiri thought that maybe she wasn't just a healer after all. He simply whispered in reply. ‘I doubt that will be necessary.’
She gently placed the impact dial on the pile of carefully folded bandages next to Kamakiri's glasses. Then she picked up the wooden mortar again.
Kamakiri, having regained some of his strength, lifted his arm slightly in response, tacitly allowing her to administer treatment.
Reaching out to the Shandian's partially bandaged arm, she glanced at him.
‘May I?’
She carefully applied the balm to his lightning-burnt skin, marked by bruises and erythemas. A wave of relief washed over Kamakiri's body, as he felt the coolness of the ointment immediately alleviated the pain caused by his burns.
While she busied herself with this task, Kamakiri looked at her again, and took the time to observe her. Her wings were wide and neatly folded behind her back, unlike those of the Shandians, which were smaller and spread out. Aside from her crimson hair, the first thing that caught his eye were the pale fractals running across her tanned skin, starting at the hollow of her shoulder and spreading down her left arm, up her neck and grazing the edge of her jaw.
She seemed to wear her scar like a most prized ornament.
‘We match.’
Caught staring again, he saw the sidelong glance she gave him. He didn't immediately understand what she was referring to. Until she briefly pointed to her mark. ‘You have the same scar on your back.’ Kamakiri couldn't see the Lichtenberg figures left by Enel, but given the attack he had sustained, he wasn't surprised that it had badly scarred his flesh.
‘I survived too.’ She added thoughtfully, her gaze resting on her patient's arm, which she was now bandaging carefully. Kamakiri realised that she too had been the victim of one of Enel's attacks in the past.
"Yours will eventually wear off. Mine is still there because I had it tattooed before it disappeared."
She didn't seem to see her scar as a mark of Enel's utter victory over her, but as proof, etched into her flesh, that she had survived. In fact, she even seemed to be proud of it. Kamakiri saw, in the way she spoke and acted, the same resilience and state of mind as one of a warrior.
When she had finished treating him, she stepped back and sat cross-legged on the soft ground.
It was the first time since the start of the battle that she had allowed herself a little rest. Her fatigue was palpable. As Kamakiri watched her step back, he noticed for the first time that she too was injured. Her right shoulder was firmly wrapped in a white bandage stained with blood. He saw her lift her top slightly, to take a look at the state of the large gauze patch fixed to her side.
Noticing his stare, curious but silent, she commented as she arranged her bandages: "Three divine soldiers attacked us in the forest. Sek'is took care of them, but they left me a little souvenir." The aforementioned raised his head, giving the healer a curious look, before yawning and going back to sleep. A few hours earlier, one of the sacred guards had hit her directly with an impact dial, the brutality of the shock had taken her breath away. She was left with bruised skin and a diffuse pain in her abdomen. The guards, for their part, had been put out by Sek'is and the rest of the pack before she had time to use her own dial.
‘As for my shoulder, though, I have to say there are some good archers in your ranks.’ Kamakiri winced, feeling a little guilty about the situation. A guerrilla must have spotted her and, thinking she was on Enel's side, shot her in the shoulder with an arrow. She seemed to have escaped rather unscathed, given the circumstances.
───────---───────
Kamakiri had fallen asleep a few times, giving himself the rest his body desperately needed. Hǣlan, for her part, had remained seated by his side, at a comfortable distance, preparing new bandages and ointments, also dozing off a little. When Kamakiri woke up, he would glance in her direction and notice that she hadn't moved. They would talk quietly to fill the silence and learn a little more about each other, until one of them fell asleep again.
‘What was life like here, before Enel?’ She had asked, turning her attention back to the sky. Kamakiri had seemed to ponder the question for a moment, before explaining to her that even before Enel’s arrival, the Shandians were fighting tooth and nail for their lands. Hǣlan understood that for them, whether it was Enel, Gan Fall or the Skypians, they were all enemies who had stolen their land. Although Enel had risen above all the rest over the years.
Hǣlan had listened to him in silence. What Kamakiri was telling her corresponded rather well with what Gan Fall had told her. ‘You seem to know Gan Fall well,’ Kamakiri noted, after a few minutes of conversation. "Where are you from if you're not affiliated with Enel?" This question had been nagging at him for some time. He was certain that she wasn't a Skypian; she didn't have the shape of their wings or their odd hairstyles. And no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't work out where she was from. She seemed to know Gan Fall, but was living with wolves and wandering around Upper Yard? He wasn't sure he quite understood.
A thoughtful smile stretched the young woman's lips. 'I know Gan Fall, yes, he's the one who sheltered me here." Kamakiri listened attentively, while Hǣlan seemed to be delving into her memories. "I am from Birka, the sky island that was destroyed by Enel, a few years ago. However, some of my ancestors were Shandians. So, when Birka got destroyed, I travelled for a few years until I ended up here." She took a deep breath, more thoughtful than moved.
"I thought that I could find my place here. But Enel was here too. I received divine punishment, and it was Gan Fall who saved me. I've been living with him, outside Enel's area of influence, for the last 4 years."
There was a small silence as she finished telling him the main lines of her story. Hǣlan thought for a moment that it might not be wise to reveal her links with the former god to a member of the Guerrilla, who clearly did not hold the old man in their hearts. But after everything the Knight of the Sky had done for her, it was inconceivable for her to deny that she knew him.
When she met Kamakiri's gaze, she saw no more hostility in his eyes than before. He had simply nodded thoughtfully.
‘So that's why you looked so familiar.’ He smiled at her, ‘You're one of us.’
Hǣlan's heart grew warm. She, who had wandered for years without being able to find a home, had perhaps just found a place amongst her people. ‘If you'll have me.’ She said, clearly moved by his words.
Even if she wasn't recognised by the rest of the Shandians, Hǣlan was simply happy to be accepted by someone who shared the same roots as her. She was, after all, only partly Shandian.
───────---───────
'It would probably take Wiper some convincing, but I think he would get used to it." He said, perplexed but almost certain of his analysis. ‘If we win this battle, none of this will matter.’
The healer perceived a certain bitterness in the young man's gaze.
The lightning had stopped striking the forest, although the thunder still echoed in the distance. The fighting had not yet ceased, but the lessening of the lightning strikes gave them some hope about the outcome of this whole affair. Kamakiri had whispered that Enel could not be defeated. It was this certainty that made him hesitant about the outcome of this battle. But Hǣlan had replied with a smile that the Merbleusians might just turn the tide in their favour. She had only seen their captain from a distance, but he had the aura of a thaumaturge capable of turning the world upside down. Hǣlan was somewhat cynical by nature, but she was hopeful that these pirates would stand up to Enel and prevail.
Eventually they fell asleep again, unsure of what the future held.
---
Then came the Armageddon: the thunderstorm increased in intensity and began to destroy one cloud-island after another. The Ark Maxim, real warship, was on the move.
Where they were, hidden in the clouds, they couldn't see clearly what was happening, but the Vearth was shaking from the impact of the lightning strikes and the movements of the ark. They could feel the vibrations in their bones. There was nowhere left on Skypiea where they could be safe.
At this sight, Hǣlan smiled wistfully. If this was the end that awaited them, then she was willing to accept it. It was too late to flee, in view of their injuries, they would not be able to leave in time. A glance at the Shandian beside her was enough to confirm that he was thinking the same thing. The Shandians had spent four hundred years fighting to reclaim their land. If this nation was destined to disappear, then they were ready to die with it. What's more, Wiper and the other guerrillas were still there, in the heart of the battle. Kamakiri would not have been willing to leave without his people.
‘I'm glad I met you’. She said, her tone even but sincere, eyes focused on the sky. She didn't know his name and he didn't know hers, but she was sure that if they'd had a little more time, they could have become good friends.
Sek'is came to lie beside them in a protective but resigned gesture. Hǣlan thought one last time of Gan Fall and Esha, hoping that they would survive. Then she laid down beside the young man, taking his hand in hers.
If they were going to be no more, they might as well share the warmth of one last embrace.
Kamakiri had simply smiled. It wasn't so bad to die with a beautiful woman by his side. He thought that despite their differences, they might have gotten along well in another life.
After letting out a long howl, echoed by the rest of the pack scattered in the distance, Sek'is snuggled closer to them, letting them rest against him, while he rested his muzzle against the young woman's arm. The three of them enjoyed this last embosom, snuggled up together.
Hǣlan thought about how tragic it was to see her second homeland ruined. By the same man who had destroyed the first. But at least this time, she could disappear with it, curled up in the arms of someone whose fate she shared.
It was a pleasant feeling.
The flame of Shandora was burning again.
And as they closed their eyes, ready to accept their fate, a melody, that seemed to come from another world, echoed through Upper Yard. A tune that had not been heard for almost four hundred years. The ball of the angels had stopped, and in its place rang the bell of liberation. The Vearth sang.
It had announced the start of a celestial conflict four hundred years ago, and was now declaring the end of it.
Hǣlan sat up. Upper Yard had held out, the Merbleusians had triumphed over Enel.
At the same time, the pack, called earlier by Sek'is, Esha still leading them, appeared between the clouds. Some of the wounded guerrilleros were secured on the backs of the celestial wolves, while those able to stand walked alongside them.
Kamakiri also got to his feet, assisted by the healer, who helped him up. He was reassured to see his comrades alive. Hǣlan, too, sighed with relief upon seeing that Esha and the pack were alright.
Hǣlan encouraged Kamakiri to put one of his arms around the back of her neck, so that she could help him walk. He leaned lightly against her even though he could barely stand.
After a brief reunion, and a conversation with Laki and the other lieutenants, they all headed to the forest, and spent a few minutes together, listening attentively to the symphony played by the flame of Shandora.
Laki left to join Aisa, whom she had seen near the Giant Jack. Kamakiri smiled at the sight of their reunion. Hǣlan decided to give him some space, and walked towards Esha, who came up to her. ‘I'm off to find Gan Fall.’ Hǣlan nodded. ‘Be careful.’ She nodded and broke away from the pack, heading off in the direction of the Giant Jack, letting her mount speed through the forest.
A short time later, the men that were able to stand had been rounded up by Kamakiri and Laki, to go and banish the Priests off the island, while Braham and Genbo had stayed behind with the wounded. Hǣlan, on the back of Sek'is, rode forward alongside Kamakiri and Laki. ‘Hop on, the pack will help you look for Enel’s vassals in the forest.’ Kamakiri grasped Hǣlan’s outstretched hand and sat down behind her, while Laki climbed onto the back of the other celestial wolf who had obediently stopped beside her.
Hǣlan felt Kamakiri leaning against her back as they rode through the undergrowth. They were all doing their best to put on a brave face, but the whole group was exhausted, physically and mentally, although their spirits had been alleviated by their victory.
The Miresse, clinging to the fur of her steed, spoke to the Shandian leaning against her.
‘What is your name? she asked.
‘Kamakiri.’ He replied.
‘Hǣlan.’ She said in return. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Kamakiri laughed at the late and unconventional introductions, but continued the conversation as he taught her the names of the rest of the Shandians who were with them.
A warm feeling invaded Hǣlan's heart and mind. She felt like she was where she belonged.
───────---───────
After banishing the Priests from the island, everyone had gathered in safety to tend to their wounds and rest. Shandians and Skypians alike cohabited without difficulty and dutifully helped each other.
When Wiper awoke, he learned that his comrades had been helped by a Birkan healer, and a Merbleussian. In other circumstances, such an association with foreigners would certainly have angered him. But a climate of peace and cohesion had prevailed since the defeat of Enel and his vassals.
It no longer mattered.
Esha, the Merbleussian, had watched over him while he slept, and relayed Conis. The Birkan, for her part, had stayed by Kamakiri's side, reprimanding him for worsening his wounds by moving too much.
‘Hǣlan.’
The festivities that followed marked the definitive end of the conflicts.
Hǣlan spent the evening with Kamakiri. They both quietly watched the bonfire burn brightly in the dark night, surrounded by their companions who were joyfully celebrating their victory.
‘Hm?’
‘I'm thinking of getting that scar tattooed, too.’
‘We'll definitely be a match then.’
He smiled at the thought, then turned his head towards her, to see her smile, her gaze focused on the bonfire that burned proudly in the heart of the clearing. The flames reflected on the surface of her amber eyes, her expressions only enhanced by the glow of the embers.
Kamakiri found himself unable to look away.
Hǣlan had finally found her place, and Kamakiri, who’s scars she shared, made her feel legitimate in her desire to stand by their side.
‘Kamakiri?’
‘Mh?’
‘Thank you.’
───────•••───────
This OS was pretty much inspired by Princess Mononoke, in terms of vibes and in relation to the wolf pack and Esha (similar to San in many ways). (By the way, if you want an OS about Esha and a certain Shandian, I might just write something about them 👀).
I've been meaning to write about Kamakiri for a while, after recently rewatching the Skypiea arc.
I'm sure this OS won't get a lot of attention, given that Kamakiri is a background character, but that's the risk of writing about characters who weren't very prominent in the original story.
Regardless, I want to keep writing about underrated and/or forgotten characters, because I know how frustrating it can be not to be able to find fanarts or fanfictions about your current favourite character (no matter how anecdotic).
As for Kamakiri and the Lichtenberg figures, the idea came to me after seeing a fanart by @mequetrefis (@mqtrfs on Twitter), who illustrated Laki, Kamakiri and Wiper with those types of scars, left by Enel's lightning. Their fanart was just magnificent!
(English is not my first language, so dont expect too much)
Warninngs: A bit of angst, and lots of comfort?
Tag list: @celesticvoid
(Don't hesitate to ask if you'd like to be tagged for any of my Pell-related posts.)
───────•••───────
Playlist: Sweetest Rain - Abilene
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───────•••───────
And when she ran out of stories, it was Vivi's turn to tell her what had happened at the palace while she was away. What she had learnt and done, from her mischiefs to her adventures with Khoza and the other children. Khu always listened attentively, with a smile on her face and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, watching the grand gestures that accompanied Vivi's stories.
Every time she returned to the palace, Khu had got into the habit of recounting her adventures to the young Vivi. This tradition had grown naturally over the years, due to the princess's systematic requests. Seeing the child's expressions of wonder as she recounted her travels each time she returned from a mission often brought a smile to her face.
The princess would also ask her questions sometimes, curious to learn more about the adult who had looked after her for so long.
‘What's your favorite color?’
Khu gave an amused chuckle at this pure and childish question. She had never really thought about it, but after a few seconds of reflexion, she whispered, in a tone of confidence:
‘Purple.’
Vivi nodded and looked at her as if this was the greatest secret she had ever entrusted to her. That day, they talked for a long time in the palace gardens, in the company of Pell and Chaka, who had joined them at the end of the day. Igaram and the King kept a watchful but not too discreet eye on them.
Khu didn't think about it at the time, but later, with a little hindsight, she remembered why it was the first answer that came to her mind, even though she'd never been asked.
When she'd thought of something she loved, she'd thought of Pell.
Purple. Because that was the color that adorned his eyes.
───────•••───────
8 years later, Sandora Desert.
Since leaving the port of Tamarisk, Khu had been traveling at a good pace across the Sandora desert. Senbi, her mount, seemed delighted to be reunited with his owner, and was particularly docile.
The woman had left the island two years prior, and was delighted to be returning home at last. Her excursions outside the kingdom were usual, but this was the first time she had been away for more than a year.
Thinking ahead, she had left Senbi with an acquaintance, in a hamlet just a mile away from Tamarisk. She still remembered the animal's incessant screaming when he saw her off. The camel had a similar reaction to seeing her again, although at first he was rather resentful. He hadn't liked being abandoned like that at all. Even if he hadn't been left alone.
Khu took the time to appreciate the warmth of the sun's rays on her skin and the soft wind rushing through the folds of her clothes. She grew up in these arid lands, and only here did she feel truly at home. The distant rolling of the sand inevitably soothed her spirit.
She smiled as she caught sight of Alubarna behind the dunes. But no sooner had she laid eyes on the distant silhouette of the city, than a bright glow lit up the sky like a second sun.
The blast was colossal, and despite the miles that separated her from the city, she felt the vibration of the explosion and the ensuing gust sweep across the desert, raising a cloud of dust that blinded her for a moment. Senbi stood still and stumbled on the spot, frightened by the magnitude of the explosion.
A shiver of fear ran down her spine. What was going on in the capital?
Khu tightened her grip on the reins and struggled to stay in the saddle, calming the animal as best as she could. She squinted, returning her flavescent gaze to the sky, where the energy of the explosion was slowly dissipating. She could have sworn that something was in freefall, there in one of the rays of light.
Khu did not take her eyes off what she was sure she recognised, hurrying her mount in the direction of the likely impact zone. There was only one master of the winds, only one ruler of the skies in these lands.
This bird, which she had seen a moment before the explosion, could only be him.
Khu was convinced of it. It was Pell who was falling, like a meteor passing through the sky.
Just as the sun burned Icarus' wings, the blast had burnt Pell's. But it was neither an excess of hubris nor a beginner's mistake that had led to Pell's downfall. On the contrary, it was his unwavering devotion that made him shine high in the sky and then burn out.
•••
Pell's inert body crashed into the sand, raising a cloud of dust from the force of the impact. Khu slid off the back of her mount to run to the sand crater into which Pell had sunk. Blinded by the dust, Khu knelt down and began searching frantically around her until she brushed against Pell's robe. The steel claws on her fingers dug into the fabric, giving her a firm grip to free him from the sand. She slipped her hands under his arms to pull him up towards her. As she dragged his body and hers across the sand, she could feel her hands becoming soaked with blood. Khu gritted her teeth, and didn't release her grip until they were both in the shadow of nearby ruins. There, she took the time to assess the extent of the damages.
Pell had lost his form in the fall and had taken on his human form. His body was studded with bruises and burns. Khu leaned over so that her head was level with his heart, paying attention to his pulse, which was very weak, but there. A wave of relief passed through her as she confirmed that he was breathing, albeit with difficulty.
She straightened up, scanning the desert in search of a solution. She couldn't leave Pell here, not in his condition. The creatures that lived in the desert were dangerous, especially after dark. She had to move Pell to safety, even if it was a bad idea in view of his injuries. She had no other choice.
She whistled to Senbi, who seemed to have disappeared, probably frightened by the explosion and the royal guard's impressive fall. Appearing behind a dune, he trotted over to Khu and stopped beside her, looking worriedly at his mistress and at Pell's body, pressed against her.
‘It's all right, Senbi.’ she breathed, turning her attention back to Alubarna. She could hear the distant echo of conflict. The sound of screams and clattering swords seemed to be carried by the wind. Whatever was happening in the capital, it had to be something serious. It was not wise to head there with a wounded man.
‘Senbi,’ she called, glancing at him. ‘I'm gonna need your help.’
───────•••───────
Surprisingly, in his unconscious state, Pell dreamt.
Well, he wasn't sure it was a dream. Wasn't it more like his memories flashing before his eyes, like a movie coming to an end?
He lay in her arms, his back pressed against her as she leaned forward and gently touched his cheek. A pleasant breeze caressed his skin, along with gentle touches of sunlight warming his body. Strands of her hair, ochre and charcoal, lightly brushed the top of his forehead. He could feel her chest rising gently with each breath. All was quiet in the garden.
‘Pell.’
There was an almost helpless intonation in the way she pronounced his name. An emotion he couldn't quite understand in this situation. Her distress was palpable, and he remained unable to understand its origin.
A sharp heat seemed to spread from the hollow of his chest to the rest of his body. He felt hot. The hand that caressed his cheek was sticky and clung to him as if afraid he would disappear. The metal ornaments on her fingers looked as if they had been carved from red jasper. The bandages on her wrists were soaked with blood, and he knew it wasn't Khu's.
Oh.
‘I'm sorry, Khu.’
He remembered now. The countdown, the bomb...
On the verge of oblivion, he had almost felt her presence by his side. Was she really there, nearby?
Pell felt his strength leave him and his consciousness dwindle again. He didn't have much time left. But he didn't want to leave the reassuring warmth that surrounded him. He wanted to bathe in the glow of her presence for a little while longer.
‘Pell!’
───────•••───────
Pell was lying on a makeshift stretcher pulled by Senbi. Khu was walking alongside the camel, regularly checking that Pell's condition was stable. The three of them had been traveling at a slow pace through the desert for almost an hour, and Khu and her companion were beginning to feel rather tired. They had already traveled for several days and needed a rest. Khu soon realized that Pell had landed near a hamlet she knew well, a little further north, near the mountains. They immediately set off in the direction of the familiar place. Khu hoped to find shelter there, and help, to treat her companion.
Without care or a doctor, Pell wouldn't survive long.
•••
When they entered the garden, Khu could only notice that the place had suffered from the drought. Not as much as the rest of the country, but this remote hamlet, tucked away between the rocks, was less luxuriant than she remembered. However, because of its shaded nature, embedded in the mountain, it was cooler than the ruins.
In this enclave, apart from an ancient sanctuary, there were only two partially troglodyte dwellings, carved out of stone and sandstone. Khu hurried towards the first and knocked on the door. There was no answer; the old man who lived there was not home. She beckoned Senbi to follow her to the second house, which Khu knew to be empty; the cane that usually hung next to the door was not there; its owner had obviously gone out.
As she had expected, the door was open. She untied the stretcher from Senbi's saddle and dragged it inside, placing Pell in the first room she could reach.
She was familiar with the place and got all the equipment she needed to administer first aid to the lieutenant in record time. Khu would not let him die on her watch. He was going to live.
───────•••───────
The first time Pell opened his eyes, Khu was sitting above him, wrapping his torso in thick bandages. In the darkness, he could barely make out her silhouette. He felt sluggish, overwhelmed by a diffuse pain that was so oppressive that he was unable to stand up straight on his own. The front of his body rested against her, who carefully held him in place. His head, which felt so heavy, was resting in the hollow of his comrade's shoulder.
He had fallen back asleep in her arms before he knew what was happening.
The second time, it was night, and Khu was asleep at his bedside, her head buried in her arms, crossed on the edge of the bed. One of his hands rested next to hers.
Motionless, Pell watched her out of the corner of his eye. In the moonlight filtering through the curtains dancing at her back, she looked quite peaceful. Her ochre hair, the tips of which seemed to have been tinted with black ink, seemed a little longer than he remembered. But it was obvious that Khu had kept her hair short, even the strands that framed her face did not touch her shoulders.
His fingers twitched briefly with the exertion as he tried to move his hand; he managed to idly touch the back of hers, but didn't dare grasp it. Again, he fell back asleep shortly afterwards, reassured by the warm touch of her hand against his.
Khu accompanied his dreams that night. She was chatting excitedly at his side as they both walked towards the Palace. The next moment, she was sword training with him, under the admirative gaze of the young Vivi. When they finished their training, they sat on the ramparts and talked, gazing at the twilight on the horizon.
The third time, when Pell opened his eyes, a sharp pain pulsed from his shoulder to the rest of his body. His skin felt unnaturally hot and a high-pitched ringing sound pierced his eardrums.
Khu was still there, sitting beside the bed. Needle in hand, she was carefully patching his black and white tunic, which had been badly damaged. He realized that his torso was bare, covered only by thick bandages.
His vision was blurred, and he could only see from one eye. He could feel the gauze bandage draped around his head and the left side of his face.
Despite his condition, he could recognise her from a mile away.
He just couldn't work out what she was doing there.
‘ Is this a dream...?’
Khu looked up from his work at the sound of his hoarse, almost extinct voice, made hoarse by sleep and thirst.
The idea of teasing him had crossed her mind. She could already see herself asking him if he was used to dreaming of her. In other circumstances, she wouldn't have hesitated to embarrass him, innocently mentioning the fact that she had woken up with her hand tightly clutched in his.
But in his current state, Khu preferred not to accentuate his confusion.
‘’Good morning Pell, how are you feeling?’
Honestly, Pell had probably never felt worse in her life. Khu must have guessed.
He hissed hoarsely as he tried to sit up. Khu rose from her seat and left Pell's tunic on the back of the chair. With a hand gently resting against his sternum, she urged him to lie still. Grimacing in pain, Pell didn't insist. He was finding it hard to breathe, and the effort alone had already left him breathless.
There was a brief silence as Pell closed his eyes, hoping that his vision would return to normal and his breathing would calm down.
‘What are you doing here? Where are we?’ he managed to huff out, his eyes still closed.
Khu watched him thoughtfully, reassured to see him conscious.
‘I returned to Alabasta three days ago. I was on my way to the Palace when I found you after the explosion.’
After glancing around the rest of the sparsely furnished room, she added: ‘We're at my sword master's house, Aqen, in the north-east of Alubarna. This is my room.’
Pell took a moment to assimilate the information. Khu had not warned them of her return. But that was usual. She usually didn't inform them until a few days before her arrival, and sometimes not at all.
‘What happened?’ she finally asked. The question had been burning in her mind ever since she witnessed the explosion.
Pell took a deep breath and began to explain the latest events.
He told her how the situation in the country had worsened over the last few years. The rebel movement, which had continued to spread, the drought that had lasted for three years, the presence of one of the Seven Warlord Crocodile, and his involvement in this affair. The Baroque Works organization, Vivi's actions, Igaram's death and the events leading up to the explosion. He also mentioned a strange crew and its peculiar captain. Khu smiled at the mention of the friendship that seemed to bind Vivi to these pirates.
But as she listened to what had happened in the capital before the explosion; the fight between the soldiers, the rebels and Baroque Works, her expression grew somber.
‘I should have been there, Pell. I'm sorry.’
Pell slightly opened his one good eye, he still couldn't make out her face clearly, but he could guess her overwhelmed expression without difficulty. ‘You're here now, Khu, that's what really matters.’
She reached out to clasp his hand tightly, then whispered; ‘Thank you.’
•••
‘Have you heard anything from the capital?’
Mortar in hand, Khu shook her head as she continued to grind a selection of bluish-hued lotus flowers.
Focused on her work, she replied, ‘Aqen has gone to the neighboring village to gather information.’ Pell nodded in response.
‘I have no way of informing Chaka of our situation,’ she added, her brow slightly furrowed in annoyance.
At the mention of the commander's name, Pell's expression soured.
‘Semat's not with you?’ He asked, noticing for the first time that he had indeed not seen the bird at his comrade's side.
‘I had already sent Semat to the Palace to warn you of my arrival, before I reached the city. It's been a long journey and I doubt she'll be back for me any time soon. With everything that's happened, I'm not even sure she's reached the Palace at all.’
There was a short silence, during which Khu studied Pell's face. Uncertainty could be discerned in the way he looked away. He could never hide anything from her when she looked into his eyes.
‘Has something happened to Chaka?’ She was sure his reaction had something to do with their older friend.
Used to Khu being able to read his mind like an open book, he resigned himself to answering her, his gaze still fixed on the sheets. ‘When I was flying over the city, looking for the bomb, I didn't see him anywhere.’
Khu knew that nothing escaped Pell's sharp gaze; if he hadn't seen Chaka alongside the soldiers, it was because he wasn't there. The three of them had practically grown up together, and although Khu had spent the least time with them, they cared a great deal for each other. The death of one of them could only be devastating news.
‘He's probably still alive, Pell. If he got hurt, he probably got taken to safety.’
‘I hope you're right.’
Khu gave him an encouraging smile.
‘We'll head back to the city when you're recovered, and then we'll go and find him.’
───────•••───────
During the next two days, Pell received regular treatment from the old Yosef, a competent doctor and long-standing friend of Aqen. He took care of the diagnostics and medication, as well as an operation to remove the bullet and several pieces of shrapnel from the bomb lodged in Pell's abdomen. Khu, for her part, was changing his bandages and bringing him what he needed. She was also helping the old man to prepare some ointments.
That evening, Khu had fallen asleep in front of the half-open bedroom window, sitting in the alcove made of stone.
It was only the second time since they had been here that Pell had seen her sleeping. Embraced by the pale moonlight, she seemed even more peaceful than usual. Now that his sight was fully restored, he could see how exhausted she was too. She looked as if she hadn't slept for several days.
He didn't take his eyes off her until Yosef entered the room. He too noticed the young woman's slumbering figure and remained particularly silent.
‘I told her to get some rest, but she's refused to leave your side since the two of you arrived.’ He said in a low voice, as usual making small talk with his patient as he glanced at the state of the latter's wounds.
‘She's as willful as her mother, and as devoted as her father.’ Pell listened to the doctor mumbling in silence, curious in spite of himself to learn more about his partner. He had known her mother from afar; she had been an important and renowned combatant before her death. He had always noticed the striking resemblance between Khu and her mother. They looked exactly alike. Khu had never really spoken to him about her. Perhaps because she had nothing to say about her. But she had mentioned her father a few times, saying that she visited him regularly. Pell knew that he was a military doctor who had also served in the Royal Army. But he had retired shortly after the death of his wife. Pell had never seen him, and didn't know much more about him, apart from the fact that Khu seemed to have a good relationship with him.
‘Time flies..." breathed Yosef, as he finished his examination.
Mentioning Khu's parents seemed to make the old man nostalgic.
‘What are you mumbling about, Pepi?’ Khu's voice had surprised the two men, who turned their attention to her. Pepi's comments had apparently woken the woman up.
' Doctor's confidentiality, kid. And give me a break with that nickname, Mau!" Khu flashed a tired smile; she seemed amused by the elder's reaction, although she winced when she herself was addressed by her nickname. Pell watched their interaction curiously, entertained, but feeling as though he was intruding on a special and private moment in Khu's life.
‘So, any progress?’ Khu quickly shifted the conversation back to Pell's medical condition.
‘That's all you care about, isn't it?’ Yosef's snide remark was barely audible, but after a sigh he turned to Pell and delivered his verdict. "It's a miracle you're doing so well. Your wounds are healing properly. You must have noticed the improvement in your eyesight and breathing, I suppose." Pell nodded. "But you're going to need several more weeks of rest, understand? No more fighting in your condition, is that clear?" Pell nodded again, while Khu seemed to be carefully gauging his reaction.
The old man, visibly satisfied, headed for the door. "I'll leave you youngsters alone for now. Good night."
When he had left, and the room fell silent again, Khu got up and went to sit on the edge of the bed. She turned her gaze back to Pell, who returned her questioning glare. ‘So, when do you want to go back?’ Pell winced. She'd guessed. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Pepi will end you himself if you try to run off that early.’ Pell had a feeling that Khu would try to negotiate.
She soon noticed his expression. "I'm not going to stop you if you want to go back to the Palace. But let's stay another day, just to make sure everything's all right."
There was a short silence, during which Khu finally gave him an intense look, waiting for him to agree. He finally gave in. ‘Agreed.’
She smiled at him and finally lay down beside him, staring at the ceiling.
Pell remained embarrassed by her touch for a few moments, then finally relaxed, enjoying her presence.
'What were you two talking about earlier?"
‘Doctor-patient confidentiality, Mau.’ The smirk he gave her drew a slight laugh. He was obviously well enough to tease her.
‘ About my parents, right?’ Faced with Khu's pensive intonation, Pell abandoned all pleasantries, and nodded.
"Pepi is a good friend of Aqen's, but he was also very close to my father. I think he always saw him as his son." Khu closed his eyes. ‘He can't help but feel nostalgic when he sees me.’ Pell's gaze was on her. Peering at the softness of her features, lulled by the tranquility of the moment. Her steady breathing was soothing. He would surely have closed his eyes and fallen asleep, if he didn't want so fervently to engrave her image in his mind.
And when his fuliginous gaze met hers, he thought he would lose himself in the golden light of her eyes.
‘I'm glad you're alive, Pell.’
The sincerity of her words could be read on every inch of her face, bathed in Selene's light. From her radiant face, to her sparkling eyes, to her lips curved into a gentle smile. Her genuine honesty, shining like the sun in the middle of the desert, almost blinded him again.
‘Me too.’ he admitted, giving her a beckoning smile of his own.
In the peacefulness of the evening, they fell asleep snuggled up together, lulled by the singing of the dunes in the distance.
───────•••───────
‘Vivi!’ Chaka's voice echoed through the corridors of the Palace. ‘A letter from Khu has arrived!’
‘Khu?!’ The princess exclaimed in surprise.
‘Semat was lost in the chaos of the battle, but I found her this morning.’ As if to confirm his words, the aforementioned crossed the corridor and flew to rest elegantly on the shoulder of the commander and chirp to his attention. ‘Khu is on her way to the Palace.’ He said, gently petting the bird's head, clearly pleased with the attention.
Surprise and joy followed one another in the princess's heart. Followed by a much more conflicting emotion.
A certain sorrow stained the depths of her eyes.
‘How am I going to tell her about Pell...?’
On spotting Vivi, Semat glided over to her and, perched on the young woman's shoulder, rubbed her head affectionately through her hair, as if to comfort her.
Chaka gave Vivi a sympathetic look.
‘I'll be here, if you can't find the words.’
───────•••───────
The wind blew across the plains as they both stood before the expanse of memorials and steles. The losses had been heavy, and both had wanted to pay their respects before returning to the palace.
Pell's gaze never wavered from the inscription on the cenotaph in front of him.
‘My...grave?’
Pell realized that in the eyes of everyone else, he had died in the explosion. And to them, all that remained of Alabasta's guardian was this stele and their memories of him. He was just another victim of the devastating conflict that had taken place a few days earlier. Only a hero in their memories.
Khu was the only one who knew he was alive.
She said nothing, and gave him time to digest this information. She did, however, move to stand beside him.
"Thank you for everything you've done, Pell. You're the bravest man I've ever known." She said solemnly, after bowing briefly before the tombstone.
‘I'm still here, Khu.’ he remarked, puzzled.
She straightened up and smiled at him, in a way that was both sincere and tinged with a hint of cleverness.
"I know. It's not every day I get to pay you my respects."
Pell knew that Khu was not naturally mischievous. He could easily guess that her repeated facetiousness was only intended to distract him and brighten his thoughts. He was moved by this gesture, and blushed with embarrassment when he realized that she was sincere when she praised his bravery. The admiration in her eyes was genuine. It had never been otherwise.
‘I'll go on ahead, take your time.’
Giving him one last smile, she headed for the palace gardens, leaving Pell to his own thoughts.
Had she always looked at him like that?
───────•••───────
"Vivi! Khu's back!"
On hearing the news, Vivi ran to the large gate leading to the gardens, closely followed by Chaka. And there she was, in the alleyway, gazing absent-mindedly at the damaged buildings and the city on the other side of the walls. Reminiscing about her years spent in this place.
When she spotted Vivi, frozen in the doorway, she smiled warmly. Vivi threw herself into her arms and Khu embraced her heartily, also nodding to Chaka, who greeted her in return.
‘It's been a long time, Vivi, Chaka.’
Undoing her embrace, Khu took a moment to observe Vivi. Although Khu was still a head taller, Vivi had grown a lot in two years. She seemed to have learnt and experienced a lot. She could see a certain determination in her eyes.
"You've changed so much, Vivi. She said tenderly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "A lot must have happened while I was away. Would you like to tell me all about it?"
Vivi smiled and nodded. Khu, unlike her, had not changed at all. She was behaving as she always had.
But Vivi's smile soon faded as she looked away, lips tightly sealed.
Khu watched her, sensing her discomfort and sorrow. She encouraged her with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder to share with her what was tormenting her. ‘Is there something you need to tell me?’
At her lack of response, Khu glanced at Chaka, whose expression also seemed glum.
‘What happened, Vivi?’
With a constricted throat, the princess finally whispered: "It's Pell, he-" a muffled sob interrupted her. ‘He sacrificed himself to save us... Khu, I'm so sorry!’
When Vivi finally dared to meet Khu's gaze, which was searching for her own, a hand resting gently against her cheek, she froze in incomprehension. Khu was smiling tenderly at her, compassionate, but clearly unaffected by the news. No tears, no despair in her eyes, just a reassuring gentleness.
How could she smile upon learning of Pell's death? The man she cared so much about? Of all of them, it was probably Vivi who best understood the extent of Khu's affection and devotion towards him. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always noticed the way Khu watched Pell. The way her eyes shone with tenderness when she thought of him, and the way her expression softened when his name was mentioned. And she could see in Pell's eyes time and time again that the feeling was mutual.
Khu, Pell and Chaka had spent key moments of their lives together. During training, missions, and even during simple, innocuous moments of their lives, they had spent these moments side by side.
The idea that Khu would feel nothing at the mention of this news was absolutely inconceivable to the young woman.
"Vivi.’ The sound of her name snapped the young princess out of her torpor. Khu never took her eyes off hers. ‘Follow me.’
Khu took her by the hand and walked through the gardens towards the vast cemetery. Vivi followed, clasping her hand firmly in her own, uncertain, yet reassured by the presence of the woman who had looked after her since she was a child.
───────•••───────
There he was, standing among the rows of graves, on the very same spot where Chaka had paid his respects a few days ago. His tunic billowed in the wind, while his thoughtful gaze never left the flowery stele in front of him.
Stunned, Vivi could only stare at him, frozen, tears welling up in her eyes, while Chaka, beside her, had also stilled. None of them could believe their eyes. Khu gave them time to assimilate the information, and walked down the path to join him.
Before she could reach him, she heard Vivi's cry.
‘PELL!’ she shouted, dashing towards him. He barely had time to turn around before Vivi had her arms around him, hugging him as if to make sure he was real.
‘’Easy-‘’
Pell barely had time to grimace in pain, and return her embrace, before Chaka swung an arm over his shoulder and took him in his arms too.
‘You scared us, you idiot.’"
Khu smiled tenderly at the scene; Chaka barely holding back his tears, and Vivi sobbing against Pell's chest. Pell was torn between relief at seeing them safe and sound and the pain they were causing him by crushing him in their embrace. As Khu met Pell's gaze, seeming to ask her for help, she finally spoke up.
‘Be careful, his wounds aren't healed yet.’
They eventually released Pell, whom Khu came to support, letting him rest a hand on her shoulder. Knowing that it was undoubtedly painful and difficult for him to stay on his feet for too long.
Their reunion lasted well into the night, while the murmur of their discussions was swept away by the wind of renewal blowing across the Kingdom of Alabasta.
───────•••───────
If you wanna take a look at Khu's concept art : here
