One Piece Rare Pair Week 2025 - Pride Edition - Part 1 of 7
Someone said it was Rare Pair Week so you know that I, a mod in a Discord server dedicated to exactly that, was on it.
832 words; I love Yamato bc he is such a himbo it’s delightful; this is one of the cutest and fluffiest pieces I’ve done in a bit; if anyone is here to argue about Yamabro’s pronouns they will get jettisoned into space okay thanks
[FFN]/[AO3]
Day One: Stargazing | Rain - YamatoHiyori [832 words; G]
It was after twilight as Yamato found himself spreading a blanket out on the grass, Hiyori holding a picnic basket and lantern next to him. He wondered why they were there as they slipped out of their geta and sat down.
“Isn’t it a bit late for a picnic?” he asked. Hiyori put the lantern down on the blanket and gave him a soft smile.
“Not entirely,” she replied, a light chuckle on her lips that put him at-ease. “There are wonders to be had at night as well as the daytime.”
“People from the Flower Capitol sure like to do things different,” he shrugged. Yamato leaned back, looking up at the stars. “I don’t think I’ve had a picnic this late before.”
“Not even to see fireworks?”
“Ha—you know who my dad is—fireworks weren’t exactly when I was having fun.”
“I see.” Hiyori began to occupy herself with the contents of the basket, pulling out a pair of cups and the thermal flask gifted by one of their foreign allies before their departure. Once the tea was poured, she laid out the bentos before taking one for herself and beginning to eat it. “Well, then let me warn you: while you are Wano’s guardian deity, my brother and I shall expect you conduct yourself accordingly. You are truly of Wano now, and her people enjoy dates under the stars.”
“What did you think this was?” she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
“I dunno; I’ve never done this before.” He opened his bento and saw the carefully-filled compartments filled with tasty things that made his mouth water. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I learned during my time in hiding; the ability to make one’s own food is invaluable when it comes to both blending in and avoiding poisons.”
“Oh… never thought about it like that; thanks for the meal.” Yamato ate some of the food and it sent a shiver up his spine—it was so yummy! “I don’t know if I ever stole stuff this good when I lived on Onigashima!”
“I know the feeling.”
Feeling even more out-of-place than before, Yamato picked at his tempura. He was really awkward, wasn’t he? Kaido had tried to set him up with people since he was eighteen, but between him trying to run away and how boring or weird they were, nothing stuck. He would have never considered them dates, and yet now… he was on a date! Oh, he was on a date and they were having homemade bento under the stars… he was stupid for not piecing it together beforehand! Stupid, stupid, stupid…! He went to reach for his tea, only for Hiyori to place her hand on his so that they both held the cup. She took advantage of the fact it froze him and leaned forward, pressing a light, chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Oh! Uh… you are bold, Hiyori-san.” He took his tea and drank some, leaning back out of her reach. “Isn’t this awkward?”
“Now why would it be awkward?”
“I dunno… maybe that I’m Kozuki Oden…? You know… your father…?”
“You might have inherited my father’s will, but you are not him, and that is a good thing.”
“…but, I want to become like Oden some day!”
“I’m sure you will, but do remember that Oden was made to boil; like any good dish, it needs to be prepped as well.”
“Huh…?” Yamato blinked. “What do you mean…?”
“Oden is comprised of many things to make the dish,” Hiyori explained. She smirked as he gaped at her, unsure where the metaphor was going. “That was my father’s secret: he wasn’t Oden because of anything he did, but was only truly Oden when he filled his life with kind and loyal friends, like a chef making oden out of the finest master stock and ingredients.”
“I already have amazing friends—how could I possibly improve on that?”
“Let’s just call it a woman’s intuition.” She kissed him again, this time pressing their lips together. Yamato’s face flushed deep in blush—oh, it made his stomach flutter—and he tried to act cool, only to fail miserably and freeze up again as he mentally processed it. “Great things are in your future; I can feel it.”
“Y-Yeah…?”
“Of course.” Hiyori turned her face up towards the sky, taking in the stars above them. “Only someone great can inherit my father’s will, and my brother is not yet ready for it. That leaves only you, Yamato, and you have done an excellent job thus far.”
“I, uh, guess so…” Yamato looked up to see what Hiyori did and saw the heavens stretched out above them, stars scattered amongst the cosmic dust that stretched from one horizon to the next. “Maybe this was a good idea.”
“No maybe about it,” she smirked. Hiyori opened her bento and began to eat; it was a picnic, after all.
I’m not sure where I was going with this, but it turned out pretty cute.
Hiyori-as-Komurasaki, and the morning after her first night with Yamato.
-
“Do you want me to help you do your hair?”
Hiyori looked up from the mirror, kanzashi held between her teeth. Yamato was sitting up from his futon, clothes in disarray, hair an unruly mane. The way it caught on his horns looked almost like a spiderweb.
“I appreciate the thought,” she said, delicately removing the hair ornament and stabbing it into a likely-looking part of her bun. “But not even I can do my hair. It takes training, and wax, and most of the morning.”
“Oh,” Yamato said.
He tilted his head, hair falling away from one horn and tangling on the other.
“Is it bad if you go out like that? Because-”
He was going to compliment her, she was sure. Tell her she looked prettier with it down, or younger, or something about how she “didn't need” makeup. She'd gotten it from every client who managed to get this far.
“It's not acceptable for an oiran,” she said. “I have to look a certain way, or it ruins my image.” Hiyori tucked another strand of hair in place with a comb. “I'm advertising myself, after all.”
They'd spent the night in the pleasure hall on Onigashima, not Yamato's bedroom, wherever that was. In theory, there could be women here who knew how to fix her hair. In fact one of the entertainers had offered to assist “Komurasaki” in the morning, and from the jealous glances of the others she'd beaten them out as most qualified.
But Hiyori said no. She already knew she wouldn't want this peaceful morning disrupted by an outsider.
Yamato was frowning in the mirror. “What will you do about getting home, then?”
“I've brought a veil,” she said.
“Don't people know, if a woman gets brought out of a man's home wearing a veil, that-”
Hiyori raised one finger, and Yamato fell silent.
“You're special, Young Master. I do not make house calls for any other clients.”
“Oh.”
She saw his eyes fall on the manacles on his wrists. She'd been a bit surprised that they didn't come off, not even for sex, yet when she'd made an attempt to take control Yamato had playfully turned it back around on her.
She didn't know the details, but she could guess. The manacles were not something Yamato chose.
“My dad-” When Yamato was upset, he slurred his words slightly. She'd seen his teeth. It took concentration to speak clearly around those. “-must be paying you well.”
“Standard,” she said, adding another comb and the last kanzashi.
“Then, you-”
“An oiran can reject clients, Young Master,” Hiyori said. “If this were a hardship, or I did not want to come, I wouldn't be here.”
The hair was done. Makeup was doable alone, but there wasn't much point. She'd be bustled into her private rooms to be bathed and properly attired as soon as she arrived at the pleasure hall, so it would be washed off.
She stood, wearing only her thinnest inner robe, and spread her arms slightly.
“You could help me dress, though, Young Master. If you wished.”
Yamato's eyebrows rose and he hopped to his feet, so quickly that Hiyori could feel the impact even across the room. His big body bent over hers, soft chest and sweet face, everywhere else taut with muscle. “What do I do?” he asked, voice gentle.
“Just hold the robes for me, mostly.”
“Okay,” Yamato said.
If his fingers brushed her body more than they needed to, if his gaze seemed to linger more and more on the parts of her skin that stayed uncovered, if he definitely leaned in and sniffed her hair while she tied her obi, Hiyori said nothing.
“Last thing.” Hiyori held up the veil. It was thick, she'd barely be able to see out of it. But that was why Boss Kyoshiro was coming to pick her up himself.
(And if Denjiro happened to scout out some handy exits and unguarded doorways, that was just a bonus.)
“Like this?” Yamato draped it over her head and shoulders, the fabric covering more than just her hair. She was hidden away, like a secret.
“Just like that,” Hiyori confirmed.
She heard the floor creak, and saw the shape of Yamato crouch down in front of her. Without thinking, Hiyori reached out with both hands and lifted the veil to look at him.
He smiled, open and unguarded. She'd gotten that smile from him by the end of their first meeting, but she could tell it wasn't an expression he was used to. She could tell he wasn't often allowed to be himself.
“Do I walk you out?” Yamato asked.
“You're not dressed.”
“I haven't got anything the ladies here haven't seen before.”
Despite how un-ladylike it was, Hiyori couldn't help but chuckle. To be so free, and yet...
And yet.
There was a light tapping on the door. “My apologies, Young Master Yamato. Lady Komurasaki's attendant has arrived.”
Had Denjiro not identified himself? Perhaps not. He was known to be uncouth, so no one would question it if they did recognize him, but pretending to be a servant afforded him more license to wander around.
“I'm ready,” Hiyori said. She left the veil up for a moment, and smiled down at Yamato. “Well?” she said softly.
“What?” he asked.
“Don't I get a kiss?”
Yamato beamed, and obliged.
Denjiro was waiting for her, as expected. A few of the entertainers had gathered around him – some transplants from the city who knew him already, others merely currying favor with a man who had connections. Hiyori had memorized a few of the voices that stood out, and made a mental note of who worshiped Kaido and who spoke respectfully but fearfully.
It was only his height and the shape of his hair that helped Hiyori find Denjiro among the other shadows past her veil. He took her arm and led her down toward the dock. Hiyori couldn't tell if they were still being watched, but Denjiro didn't speak until they were safely seated in the back of the ferry, far from the crew. There were no other passengers. It simply wouldn’t do for the oiran Komurasaki to share a mode of transportation with the little people.
“How was it?” Denjiro asked, eventually.
Hiyori smiled under her veil. “Do you really want to know?”
“You know what I mean.”
“How the son of Kaido made love to me like a beast?”
Denjiro snorted.
“His big paws on my white skin, his-”
“Okay, okay!” he laughed and nudged her with his elbow. “Be nice to me, I have a hangover.”
“You smell like you're still drunk.”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But really, how was it?”
“Good,” Hiyori said, seriously. “He's a bit naive, but he hates his father.”
“That's something.”
“The only problem is I'm not sure he's useful enough to put the work in to free him.”
“Mm.” Denjiro leaned back, crossing his arms in thought. “Do you want to?”
The boat swayed beneath them. The waters were so rough, it was remarkable to feel only this much motion, but Hiyori had been born on a ship and choppy seas never bothered her. The smell of salt and hemp and oil brought up emotions with no memories attached.
Except now, she traveled by boat to and from seeing Yamato. The visits before, to vet him as a client, and finally last night...
“I do,” Hiyori said. “If it's possible.”
“I'll keep it in mind,” Denjiro said. He sighed, which turned into a yawn, and Hiyori saw his head droop.
“Take a nap,” Hiyori said softly. “I'll wake you when we're close.”
“Mm.” He tucked his chin down into his chest. Over the waves, Hiyori just barely heard him mumble, “If he hurts you, not even his father can protect him...”
She giggled, though she knew Denjiro was already out cold. “If anyone's getting hurt here,” she said to herself, “it's him.”
