Memento
Frobin Month 2019 @frobinfandays Week 5: Ink
Robin set her shirt aside and settled down in the chair, stomach against the back of it and legs on either side. “You can look now,” she said, glancing back. “You didn’t have to cover your eyes in the first place, you know.”
“I’m a proud pervert, just not that kind,” Franky said, lowering his hands. He turned on the light in the workshop and went over to Robin, picking up a razor. “I’m gonna shave the spot first, just in case. You sure you want it here?”
“Yes. In the middle of my left shoulderblade.” She pointed out the spot.
“I know where that is, I’m not some swordsman.” Robin laughed as Franky applied shaving cream and scraped away at the spot with the razor, using a towel to wipe down as soon as he’d finished. “And you’re absolutely sure about the design?”
“Positive.”
“Just making sure you won’t be mad later. It’s a great choice. Maybe I should get one.”
“That’s up to you.”
Franky picked up the ink he needed, making sure everything was in order. “What prompted all this?”
“I wanted . . .” Robin closed her eyes and shivered as Franky sterilized the spot with some kind of liquid, and then ointment.
“You wanted?” Franky prompted, picking up his handmade stencil and getting the black ink ready.
“I wanted something to remind me, and the world, that I’m . . . part of this crew now. And I always will be.”
Robin looked back when Franky did and said nothing, and found him crying.
“Stop that,” she said, smiling. “What in the world are you crying for?”
“I’m not!” he exclaimed, wiping his eyes. “But if I was---it’d be for you, and this great crew. I love you, and I love being here, too, damn it.”
He steadied his hands and placed the stencil on Robin’s back. “Uh, lemme know if it hurts. We can go as slow as you need.”
“Right.” Robin winced when he began, but otherwise was still.
“Gonna color it now,” he announced soon, picking up the stencil and examining his work. “You want any shading done?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She lay still, closing her eyes as Franky colored in the yellow part. “Franky?”
“Mm?”
“You have tattoos. Did you do those yourself?”
“Sure did.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Not really.” He changed to the red ink, leaning in as he colored. “They’re over the metal parts of my body, and I don’t have much feeling there anymore. They’re more like paint than anything else.”
“Hmm.”
Franky changed colors to white. “Almost done.”
“Hmmm.” She shifted, giving Franky pause, and settled into a more comfortable position.
That night, in her room, Robin removed her shirt and faced the mirror, turning around. She smiled, brushing her fingers over the Strawhat jolly roger now sewn into her skin, and made a mental note to thank Franky in one way or another later.
