Heat-Seeking (Izou x Reader)
One Piece | Izou | 3.4k | Masterlist
On a ship as busy as the Moby Dick, the night watch offered a peace you would give up for very little. You loved the cool night air against your skin, adored the quiet offered in the later hours, and often spent the time alone with your thoughts.
The brisk winds brought with them a different consequence and you wandered into breakfast each morning with aching hands and fingers stiff. The warmth below deck always hit your skin in waves after hours spent above in the sea air but it never seemed to reach your hands quickly enough.
You drifted to your usual spot next to Izou, holding your hands in front of you and blowing gently over your skin. “Night watch is starting to get really cold now that we’re approaching a winter island,” you complained. “My hands have turned to ice. I think they’ll actually snap off if I move too fast.”
Izou hummed over his cup of tea, steam still drifting off the drink. “It’s hardly that cold,” he said.
You gave him a slightly unimpressed look. Then you reached out and rested your hand over one of his own. He flinched on instinct, the liquid in his cup swishing dangerously close to the rim.
“See,” you said, taking your hand back. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Do you not take a blanket or a coat with you?” he asked. “Gloves, at least?”
You smiled and rubbed your palms together. “Don’t have any good enough for the sea air. And dragging a blanket around is far too much work. But don’t worry too much about me, I’ll probably survive.”
He shook his head. “You have questionable survival skills.”
“At times,” you acknowledged.
The next morning when you joined him at breakfast, a second cup of tea waited by your usual seat. You smiled warmly at him as you picked it up, the heat seeping into your sore joints. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head toward you. “It’ll be the most effective way to keep you warm in the morning. Maybe your hands will defrost.”
You teasingly wrapped your hand around his wrist and he startled at the temperature. “We can hope.”
His eyes dropped briefly to where your fingers circled his wrist before he took another measured sip of tea as though nothing had happened at all.
It turned into a fun little game; resting your hand against him every time you returned from your night watches. He stopped startling eventually but he still gave you a look that made you laugh every time. He even started shifting his sleeve out of the way before you reached for him, subtle enough that you almost thought you imagined it the first few times.
He wasn’t the warmest person on the ship by any means. There were plenty amongst the crew who carried enough heat to chase the cold from your hands instantly. Somehow though, resting your fingers against Izou’s wrist or forearm always worked better than the tea he slid toward you every morning.
“I’m starting to believe you crawl down the side of the ship and sit with your hands in the ocean for hours,” he muttered.
“I think it’s the wind,” you said. “It’s been a little chilled.”
“I’m going to ask Marco to remove you from the night watch at this rate,” he warned. “Although you may enjoy the air, I think you’ll be far less useful once frostbite finishes claiming your limbs.”
“If I lose an arm, I’m sure he could reattach it.”
Izou gave you a firm look. “That’s decidedly not how his powers work.”
“Maybe he couldn’t with his phoenix fire but I trust that he’s a good enough doctor.”
Izou shook his head slightly. You snuck a hand under his sleeve, pressing your fingers into the warmth of his forearm. If nothing else, he was rapidly learning how to function at breakfast with one hand.
Days passed with the same routine until one morning when you wandered into breakfast and found a fine black box sitting neatly beside your cup. Dark silk ribbon had been wrapped carefully around it, the knot pristine enough that you immediately looked toward Izou.
He nudged it toward you once you approached. “For you. Seeing as you insist upon inflicting pain onto yourself.”
You frowned but lightly pulled on the ribbon. Inside the box lay a pair of perfect leather gloves, stitched in a fine, strong thread. Their rich colour was mesmerising. They were the most beautiful gloves you’d seen and you had no idea where Izou could have even gotten them from.
“These are beautiful,” you breathed out, gently lifting them from the box. “Where did you get them?”
“I commissioned them for collection prior to our arrival on the last island,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “They should fit.”
And they did. They were warm and elegant but flexible too. You ran your fingers over the back of one after you put it on, rolling your hand around to test them.
“How did you get it so perfect?” you asked.
He inclined his head, smile faint but proud. “They’ll take some time to break in but at least now you should keep all your fingers.”
You placed them carefully back into the box. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
“Try not to ascribe too much selflessness to it. This is an act of self-preservation.”
You laughed and reached for your cup of tea. The warm ceramic was a welcome balm against your still chilled fingers. It was impressive that Izou always managed to have it at perfect drinking temperature by the time you arrived.
You were halfway through breakfast when Izou glanced over at you. “Are you not cold this morning?”
“Hm?”
He nodded to your hands. “You only received the gloves now. I imagined my suffering might still last until tomorrow.”
You held your tea up for him to see. “As a thank you, I’ll give you a break from your torment,” you teased. “I did see something pretty interesting last night though. A young sea king or… at least a very small one.”
For a second, something strange flickered across Izou’s face; a slight displeasure that was smoothed away back into perfect composure immediately. He adjusted the sleeves of his kimono and nodded to you to continue.
“That’s quite unusual.”
You nodded, not quite sure what to make of his momentary unhappiness. When it didn’t come back, you brushed it off as nothing. If it truly bothered him, you assumed he would mention it eventually.
The gloves quickly became part of your usual wardrobe. The leather softened more with every wear until they fit like they had been made with your hands in mind from the start. Even on warmer days, when the sea breeze carried no bite at all, you still found yourself reaching for them before leaving your room. They were fashionable enough to suit just about any outfit and they provided a nice talking point.
Mainly because of you. You wouldn’t stop talking about them.
Everybody on the ship had heard at least one explanation about how amazing the gloves were and how much you appreciated Izou for the gift. By the third day, several members of the crew had started finishing your sentences for you whenever the subject came up.
It got to the point where, when you joined Izou and Thatch for dinner, the chef pointed a spoon at you the second you approached the table. “I don’t want to hear about the gloves. I know they’re nice but I’ve heard it enough.”
“I haven’t even said hello yet,” you protested softly.
“Because you were about to start talking about the gloves.”
Haruta snorted loudly from further down the table. “He’s right. You’ve talked about nothing else for days.”
Izou looked toward the gloves with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Not pleased but not exactly annoyed either.
Thatch noticed immediately. “Oh, now that’s interesting,” he muttered into his drink.
“Be quiet,” Izou said without missing a beat. “It’s warm enough that you don’t need gloves right now.”
“I know but they’re so soft and lovely,” you said, holding them up for him to see. “It’s not a problem, is it?”
“No, I just didn’t anticipate such enthusiasm for them.”
You smiled fondly. “They’re such a lovely gift. I appreciate them a lot.”
“They’re only gloves.”
You frowned, not having expected the sharp dismissal. You were far from the only person giving him strange looks; even Thatch had paused in his conversation with Jozu, his brows furrowed in Izou’s general direction.
“Only gloves?” he repeated.
Izou ignored him.
“But they’re so thoughtful and well-crafted,” you protested.
“You might be overstating their features. You praise them so much you would think I forged them from gold.”
“They’re the nicest thing I own.”
“I think that says a great deal more about the quality of your wardrobe then,” he said. “I should consider getting you some more articles then.”
You smiled, tension somewhat broken by his dry comment. You nudged him with your elbow gently. “Izou, they’re my favourite because you gave them to me. I would love them no matter what they were.”
Something softened briefly in Izou’s expression before he lowered his gaze toward his drink again. He hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing else about the subject.
Two days later, the gloves disappeared.
There was no way you could have lost them. You’d worn them for the first portion of the night before you went to bed. And whenever you did that, you’d always take them off and delicately put them into their box which sat atop your dresser.
But when you went to get them before breakfast, they were gone.
The box still sat where you had left it but when you pulled it open, the folded paper inside rustled empty beneath your hands. No leather. No gloves. A strange cold panic settled in your stomach almost instantly and within minutes you were dragging through your room hard enough to rattle furniture against the walls.
You went through every other person’s hammock or bunk in case it had been moved. You stuck your head into the dustiest parts of the room and got rewarded with nothing but several sneezing fits.
Your next stop was the crow’s nest where you almost gave Haruta, who was half-asleep on his watch, a heart attack. He insisted there were no gloves up there and you almost landed on Fossa when you clambered back down.
You moved across the deck with enough frantic speed that crew members had to step aside before you collided with them. Boots hammered against the wood as you cut between groups, your eyes catching desperately on every dark corner and unattended surface.
Vista caught you as you rushed out of the dining room, already planning on making your way toward the galley. You were never in there but maybe somebody else had seen it.
“Missing something?”
“My gloves,” you said. “You know, the leather ones that – ”
“I know your gloves,” he interrupted. “The ones that Izou had specifically made for you. The same pair he spent weeks planning for.”
“I mean, I don’t know about him spending weeks on them…”
“I do,” Vista reassured. “Thatch wouldn’t stop complaining about Izou hovering around the galley while organising it.”
That made it so much worse… You rubbed your arms and gave him a desperate expression. He shook his head with a slight chuckle.
“Alright, let’s see if we can find them then. I remember you wearing them last night.”
“I was,” you said with a nod. “I remember taking them to my room but I’ve looked there twice now and found nothing.”
On Vista’s instruction, more than half of the fifth division found time between their daily duties to search the entire ship for your gloves. You helped where you could, buzzing about between the group as they checked every barrel and table.
Enough people climbed into the crow’s nest that Haruta eventually leaned over the railing with murderous intent in his eyes.
“There are no gloves up here!” he shouted across the deck.
“Check again!” somebody yelled back immediately.
“I will start kicking people off this ship!”
You winced when he did so, looking around to see if Izou was anywhere to be seen.
You weren’t sure you were ready to tell him yet.
“I know you’ve lost your gloves,” Marco said when you made your way to the infirmary before you even started explaining yourself. “I don’t understand why half the ship needs to come to a halt because of it though.”
“It’s only the fifth division,” you defended.
Marco gave you a flat look. “It’s not only the fifth,” he muttered. “I’ve caught about a third of my division looking around the medical bays. Fossa just checked my office for gloves.”
“Maybe they ended up there.”
“Why would they end up there?”
“They’re really important to me, Marco. If I’ve lost them, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Have you checked the rooms?”
“Twice. Just not the commander’s quarters aside from Vista’s.”
“Why would they be there?”
“They wouldn’t but I’m leaving nowhere unchecked. Speaking of…”
Marco sighed and still allowed you to go through both his office and personal quarters despite you never having been in either before. You were also needing to avoid Izou as best you could, ducking away when you spotted him on the storage deck.
You convinced some of the other commanders to let you look through their quarters too but eventually ended up pacing empty-handed next to Vista.
“I have an idea,” he said. “But I don’t know if you actually lost them.”
“Do you think somebody could have stolen them?”
He tapped a rhythm against the hilt of a blade, his gaze scanning over the deck. “I don’t think anybody would steal them but if they were truly lost, my men should have found it by now. Did Izou simply give them to you because your hands were cold?”
“That’s what he said,” you acknowledged quietly. “Though I think he was getting tired of freezing every morning. I have watch again tonight and I’m not used to this weather anymore.”
Vista hummed, clearly thinking. “I think I know where they might be. I’ll check and keep you updated.”
Unfortunately, whatever his plan, it didn’t result in your gloves returning before evening came along. The only reprieve you got was that Izou didn’t arrive at dinner and that both reassured and panicked you in equal measure. The guilt you had about him knowing that you’d lost his precious gift weighed heavily on you.
And your night watch started out even more miserable.
Marco offered to switch your schedule for the evening but you rejected it, planning to spend your free time searching over the deck. Again.
Instead, you ended up leaning uselessly against the railing, accomplishing very little beyond staring out across the dark ocean. The wind curled relentlessly around your fingers and knuckles, cold enough now that every flex of your hands felt tight and uncomfortable without the gloves.
It was far from the coldest temperature you’d sat through but it felt all the worse.
And you were kind of missing Izou too. You weren’t used to avoiding him.
You didn’t know how long you stood, watching the ocean pass instead of actually doing what was required of you, but your mourning was interrupted by a smooth voice.
“Are you plotting the best way to get frostbite again?”
You startled; turning to find Izou standing far closer than he should have been able to get without you noticing. You must have been completely lost in your thoughts to not notice his approach – as quiet as he moved, it was still with a steady enough pace that you normally recognised his approach.
The wind shifted strands of dark hair loose across his face, silk catching briefly in the moonlight as he waited for your answer. The lantern glow from further down the deck softened the sharpness of his expression but did little to hide the quiet attention in his eyes. You smiled, a shaky and uncertain thing.
“It’s a nice evening for it,” you answered.
You wrung your hands together, joints slightly stiff from the cold. Izou’s gaze dropped to them for a second before he met your eyes.
“You look cold.”
“I am,” you admitted, slipping them behind your back on instinct. “But nothing too bad… I… I lost the gloves. I’m so sorry Izou. I searched everywhere for them and they’re nowhere. They must have gone overboard because I checked every corner of the ship.”
“I know,” he said. “I noticed how many on the ship were looking for them today.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologised again. “I tried my hardest to keep them safe.”
“Don’t apologise. There’s nothing to be so upset over. They’re only gloves.”
You brought your hands back around to breathe on them, pressing your palms together. “I know but I appreciated how warm they kept me. And they saved your arms too.”
Izou sighed, stepping closer smoothly. “I hardly complained about it though I fear on a night like this, my sleeves may not provide you with enough warmth at all.”
“It’s really okay,” you said with a small laugh. “I’m not losing fingers yet.”
His gaze lingered on your hands for a moment too long and then he held out his hand. “I’m not certain we should take that chance. After all, you clearly have poor circulation.”
You almost laughed but rested your palm carefully against his. His hand was far warmer than the night air, heat sinking quickly into your stiff fingers. Before you could pull away again, Izou stepped closer and guided your hand toward his waist, settling it lightly against the overlapping silk of his kimono.
Your heart stuttered almost to a stop, breath catching.
“Unless I’ve misunderstood your interest?”
His words were softer now, not quite unsure but still testing. As though he was waiting on you for an answer you’d yet to give.
“No,” you said, a little too fast and a little too honest. “I mean… that’s… thank you.”
You hesitated for a second before moving your hand properly. Your fingertips dragged lightly over the cool silk first, testing, before slipping beneath the edge of the fabric. The warmth of his skin startled you almost as much as the quiet breath Izou drew in. You immediately tried to move back but he caught your wrist before you could do so.
“Sorry,” you said. “I know it’s cold.”
“That’s why we’re doing this in the first place,” he said. “You already reach under my clothing all the time to touch my arms. I’m surprised this embarrasses you.”
A nervous chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “This is very different to that.”
“Is it?”
You unfurled your fingers, pressing your hand gratefully against his warm side. You could feel his breathing beneath your palm, the steady rise and fall of his very well-muscled chest moving softly. Your heart stuttered dangerously hard in your chest but you managed to get yourself to breathe.
Izou leaned closer until his forehead rested lightly against yours. The gesture was so careful it made your chest ache. At some point, his free hand had found your other one too, fingers threading slowly through yours despite the cold still clinging to your skin.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The ship creaked softly around you and somewhere higher above, the sails shifted against the wind. Izou’s fingers remained loosely threaded with yours, steady and warm.
“I made a mistake,” he admitted. “Two, if only one that I truly regret.”
“What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have given you those gloves,” he said. “I thought they would help you stay warm but failed to realise you would seek me out less in return.”
You smiled at that. “They were very nice gloves though. I liked them a lot.”
“I noticed that today. I’m considering returning them but I’ll only do so if you promise that you’ll continue to come to me when you’re cold.”
“Wait, you took them?”
“I thought that would be obvious.”
You huffed, unable to find space in your heart for any emotion other than relief. “Izou, that’s terrible. I was worried sick.”
“And I’m sorry for that but I don’t regret this outcome. Do you?” You laughed and tilted your chin a little closer to him. “Not at all.”
Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase
