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One PIece Re-Read Volume 4 Drabbles
Title: Veracity
Rating: G/PG for canon violence
Pairing: None/Gen
Word Count: 1190
Her head hurt, a throbbing pain behind her eyes. The dream still lingered; Kaya trailed her fingers over her wrist, wincing at the slight bruising. It was only the third or fourth time Usopp had ever touched her. They’d shaken hands, once, in the early days when she’d finally decided she was open to his presence and his incessant attempts at raising her mood. And she’d offered him refreshments several times in the past, their fingers brushing as they passed tea cups or delicately bland cucumber sandwiches that were all her stomach could bear. He’d gripped her so tightly, had treated her as anything but fragile even as he’d spouted those terrible, awful lies about trying to save her life.
Dream Usopp, blood running down his temple and his eyes wild and fierce, hadn’t tried to save her at all. He’d wanted to kill her instead, a sword in his hands that looked like what she imagined a pirate’s cutlass to be. Her breathing went shallow, her chest too tight and her stomach aching, as Kaya poked at the fading remnants of her nightmare. A part of her burned, a sort of shame that her subconscious would ever think such things, but her rational mind couldn’t help but remember how he’d reacted to Klahadore’s words about his father. Klahadore had been wrong but those were just words…words that Usopp had stopped with his fist. The world she had known, the one that had righted itself and finally stabilized thanks in part to Usopp’s relentless cheer and to the unwavering care of her guardian servants, had gone askew again, threatening to topple back into the broken and twisted landscape of her parents’ death.
It was too much, all at once, and Kaya had to escape the prison of her room and its memories, find reassurance. It was nothing to shrug into her coat, a barrier against the early morning chill and protection of her modesty, and step out into the hall to seek Klahadore’s quarters. Her loyal butler did not respond to her timid knocking but it was, as she told herself, probably because he was already awake and seeing to breakfast and assigning the staff their tasks for the day. She made her way to her father’s old study. It was frequently where Klahadore spent his days, working behind a table he’d had brought in so as to leave the antique oak desk pristine and laid out as it had been when her father had sat behind it. The house was quiet as she moved through it, an eerie stillness that she attributed to the hour. And the door to the study was ajar, heartening her resolve to discuss her dream with Klahadore and figure out what to do.
Blood streaked the floor, stained Merry’s curly white head, and the scream it wrenched from her left her throat raw. For half a second she thought it had been Usopp, the nightmare Usopp with his pirate blade and his enraged eyes. It would be revenge for the gun, for the blood she thought she had caught dripping down his arm as he had fled from her window and the mob of villagers at her gate. But Merry, poor loyal Merry, turned her veins to ice as he gazed up at her with his terrible wounds. It had been Klahadore and, from the extent of Merry’s wounds, he’d intended to kill.
Less than a day ago, she’d sat next to her butler, her rock for the last three years, and listened as he told her he was sorry for insulting Usopp, for always trying to drive the young man away. He’d told her then that letting her befriend Usopp would have been a betrayal of her father’s trust and make him a failure to both her father’s memory and to her. Kaya had been sympathetic. It wasn’t right, exactly, and she was old enough to choose her own friends. But it explained Klahadore’s outburst, the hurtful things he’d said. He had a prejudice, didn’t really understand Usopp, but it was still something she could understand. Looking at Merry as he sagged against the wall, at the open wounds trickling blood and the drying brownish red stains on her father’s imported carpet, Kaya felt something inside of her crack and start to fracture. Her heart throbbed and suddenly it was the only thing that she could feel.
Merry proclaimed Usopp’s truth, his voice cracking as his own guilt tore through his frightened and broken body, and Kaya nodded as she listened to his words. Klahadore was a pirate, was the very thing he’d accused Usopp of being but worse. A vile and dastardly man who’d lied to hurt rather than to heal, who’d meant to take and take and take instead of giving selflessly. He’d fooled them all except for Usopp and it was all her fault for failing to believe her friend. She could give up her fortune, her life of privilege. Merry was right; it meant nothing if she was dead or if any of the townspeople were killed in this plot. Usopp had wanted to save them all and instead they’d driven him out and damned themselves. Klahadore wanted her money. That was fine. He could have it.
She had been afraid yesterday when Usopp and Klahadore had shouted, alarmed by the violence in Usopp’s temper and in the terrible needling pettiness and gleeful malice in Klahadore’s insulting words. She had been frightened by the volume of Usopp’s voice that afternoon, the clench of his rough fingers around her wrist and the slander of his accusations against Klahadore. The guards’ malicious intent and Merry’s gun, the wrath of the mob and the blood staining a blue and white arm band, her strength had failed. She was terrified now, the weight of her failure and the lives of Syrup village on her shoulders. It had been a year since Kaya had passed through the gate to her house under her own power and her legs wobbled from more than fear as she headed for the town. Sweat beaded on her brow and soaked through her nightgown, cooling in the early morning air and making her draw her coat tightly across her chest, her fingers too fumbling now to manage the buttons.
Klahadore came first. She had to confront him, get him to give up his plans and just take her money and leave. There was so much she wanted to say, to know. Above all she wanted to know why. How much was real and how much was fake and how stupid was she for not knowing? And after Klahadore, after he’d gotten his money and was sent on his way, she had to find Usopp. She had to apologize and she had to make sure he knew how much she valued him and she had to show him how grateful she was for everything. Her lungs struggled against her illness, her weakness, and the tight bands of fear around her chest. Kaya fought her way down the road in the pale light of dawn towards the stark torment of truth.
Title: Integrity
Rating: G
Pairing: None/Gen or the barest hint of ZoSopp
Word Count: 100
Blood soaked the back of his head, covered an eye, stained a striped armband with streaks of rusty brown. Watching the kick from the sadistic butler pirate made Zoro’s teeth grind into the hilt of his white blade and the whimper of pain from its target found his fingers clenching and pushing back against the fat cat fighter. There was no honor in Kuro, no nobleness of purpose. He was selfishness personified and it was clear who the real liar was. That would be Kuro's undoing; it was the generosity and courage in Usopp that would bring him the win.
Rating: G/PG for canon violence
Pairing: None/Gen
Word Count: 1190
Her head hurt, a throbbing pain behind her eyes. The dream still lingered; Kaya trailed her fingers over her wrist, wincing at the slight bruising. It was only the third or fourth time Usopp had ever touched her. They’d shaken hands, once, in the early days when she’d finally decided she was open to his presence and his incessant attempts at raising her mood. And she’d offered him refreshments several times in the past, their fingers brushing as they passed tea cups or delicately bland cucumber sandwiches that were all her stomach could bear. He’d gripped her so tightly, had treated her as anything but fragile even as he’d spouted those terrible, awful lies about trying to save her life.
Dream Usopp, blood running down his temple and his eyes wild and fierce, hadn’t tried to save her at all. He’d wanted to kill her instead, a sword in his hands that looked like what she imagined a pirate’s cutlass to be. Her breathing went shallow, her chest too tight and her stomach aching, as Kaya poked at the fading remnants of her nightmare. A part of her burned, a sort of shame that her subconscious would ever think such things, but her rational mind couldn’t help but remember how he’d reacted to Klahadore’s words about his father. Klahadore had been wrong but those were just words…words that Usopp had stopped with his fist. The world she had known, the one that had righted itself and finally stabilized thanks in part to Usopp’s relentless cheer and to the unwavering care of her guardian servants, had gone askew again, threatening to topple back into the broken and twisted landscape of her parents’ death.
It was too much, all at once, and Kaya had to escape the prison of her room and its memories, find reassurance. It was nothing to shrug into her coat, a barrier against the early morning chill and protection of her modesty, and step out into the hall to seek Klahadore’s quarters. Her loyal butler did not respond to her timid knocking but it was, as she told herself, probably because he was already awake and seeing to breakfast and assigning the staff their tasks for the day. She made her way to her father’s old study. It was frequently where Klahadore spent his days, working behind a table he’d had brought in so as to leave the antique oak desk pristine and laid out as it had been when her father had sat behind it. The house was quiet as she moved through it, an eerie stillness that she attributed to the hour. And the door to the study was ajar, heartening her resolve to discuss her dream with Klahadore and figure out what to do.
Blood streaked the floor, stained Merry’s curly white head, and the scream it wrenched from her left her throat raw. For half a second she thought it had been Usopp, the nightmare Usopp with his pirate blade and his enraged eyes. It would be revenge for the gun, for the blood she thought she had caught dripping down his arm as he had fled from her window and the mob of villagers at her gate. But Merry, poor loyal Merry, turned her veins to ice as he gazed up at her with his terrible wounds. It had been Klahadore and, from the extent of Merry’s wounds, he’d intended to kill.
Less than a day ago, she’d sat next to her butler, her rock for the last three years, and listened as he told her he was sorry for insulting Usopp, for always trying to drive the young man away. He’d told her then that letting her befriend Usopp would have been a betrayal of her father’s trust and make him a failure to both her father’s memory and to her. Kaya had been sympathetic. It wasn’t right, exactly, and she was old enough to choose her own friends. But it explained Klahadore’s outburst, the hurtful things he’d said. He had a prejudice, didn’t really understand Usopp, but it was still something she could understand. Looking at Merry as he sagged against the wall, at the open wounds trickling blood and the drying brownish red stains on her father’s imported carpet, Kaya felt something inside of her crack and start to fracture. Her heart throbbed and suddenly it was the only thing that she could feel.
Merry proclaimed Usopp’s truth, his voice cracking as his own guilt tore through his frightened and broken body, and Kaya nodded as she listened to his words. Klahadore was a pirate, was the very thing he’d accused Usopp of being but worse. A vile and dastardly man who’d lied to hurt rather than to heal, who’d meant to take and take and take instead of giving selflessly. He’d fooled them all except for Usopp and it was all her fault for failing to believe her friend. She could give up her fortune, her life of privilege. Merry was right; it meant nothing if she was dead or if any of the townspeople were killed in this plot. Usopp had wanted to save them all and instead they’d driven him out and damned themselves. Klahadore wanted her money. That was fine. He could have it.
She had been afraid yesterday when Usopp and Klahadore had shouted, alarmed by the violence in Usopp’s temper and in the terrible needling pettiness and gleeful malice in Klahadore’s insulting words. She had been frightened by the volume of Usopp’s voice that afternoon, the clench of his rough fingers around her wrist and the slander of his accusations against Klahadore. The guards’ malicious intent and Merry’s gun, the wrath of the mob and the blood staining a blue and white arm band, her strength had failed. She was terrified now, the weight of her failure and the lives of Syrup village on her shoulders. It had been a year since Kaya had passed through the gate to her house under her own power and her legs wobbled from more than fear as she headed for the town. Sweat beaded on her brow and soaked through her nightgown, cooling in the early morning air and making her draw her coat tightly across her chest, her fingers too fumbling now to manage the buttons.
Klahadore came first. She had to confront him, get him to give up his plans and just take her money and leave. There was so much she wanted to say, to know. Above all she wanted to know why. How much was real and how much was fake and how stupid was she for not knowing? And after Klahadore, after he’d gotten his money and was sent on his way, she had to find Usopp. She had to apologize and she had to make sure he knew how much she valued him and she had to show him how grateful she was for everything. Her lungs struggled against her illness, her weakness, and the tight bands of fear around her chest. Kaya fought her way down the road in the pale light of dawn towards the stark torment of truth.
Title: Integrity
Rating: G
Pairing: None/Gen or the barest hint of ZoSopp
Word Count: 100
Blood soaked the back of his head, covered an eye, stained a striped armband with streaks of rusty brown. Watching the kick from the sadistic butler pirate made Zoro’s teeth grind into the hilt of his white blade and the whimper of pain from its target found his fingers clenching and pushing back against the fat cat fighter. There was no honor in Kuro, no nobleness of purpose. He was selfishness personified and it was clear who the real liar was. That would be Kuro's undoing; it was the generosity and courage in Usopp that would bring him the win.