One Piece -- The Going Express
Luffy was on his way home from a match. The adrenaline was still rushing through his body, blood pulsing hard in the veins of his hands. He loved boxing. Nothing else could electrify him, could keep him so pumped up when it’s been over for minutes, hours, days, even.
It was his fifth match in the city. He’d been training for years in seedy backwoods bars and after two hundred wins, he’d decided to move on and move up. He was still working toward making a name for himself, but he was doing pretty good.
Pretty good. Hell, he was kicking ass.
[-]
Zoro desperately needed to arrest someone. He hadn’t brought anyone into the precinct since he’d busted up the drug ring of the ever-elusive dealer duo team, Django and Fullbody. Perhaps he’d gotten a bit cocky after that, but, really, things had slowed down considerably in the crime world after that, so it wasn’t exactly his fault that he kept falling asleep on the job. There’d been an attempted jewelry robbery earlier that day, but it had fallen apart by the time he’d gotten there; the chief had really railed on him for that.
He was bored. Constantly. Bored at home and bored at work. He needed something to happen. A crime, anything. He needed a hobby. He needed a good book to read, a new band to hate. He needed to start swimming laps in the public pool, to start jogging every morning before the sunrise.
He needed something to change his world.
[-]
Nami always felt that she looked more suspicious when she was trying not to be than when she wasn’t giving it much thought. She’d spotted the green-haired cop when he first walked onto the platform and was doing her best to stay as far away from him as possible. She recognized him from her unsuccessful heist at the jeweler’s, but she didn’t think he’d gotten a good look at her then. With her rotten luck, though, she didn’t want to chance it.
“Why don’t you just get a job?” Her sister had asked her that morning over breakfast. “You don’t need to keep doing this all your life.”
“I’m not going to,” had been her reply. “I’m going to marry rich.”
“And is that really all you want for yourself?”
Nami wasn’t sure. But she knew she didn’t want to be arrested, so she pulled her hood down further over her face and tapped her foot impatiently as the Going Express drew nearer.
[-]
Usopp had the same conversation with the Going Express station workers every night. Or perhaps it was more of an argument. It depended on who was asked.
“Hey, I told you before; you can’t bring that dog on the train!”
“I’M BLIND, you insensitive villains! He’s my seeing-eye dog, I NEED him!”
“You aren’t blind, you idiot!”
“YES. Yes, I am. Do you not see these shades?”
“Look, buddy-”
“Ooh, what’s that over there?”
“Where? …GODAMMIT, he got away again. Blind my ass!”
Chuckling, Usopp scratched Chopper behind the ears before unnecessarily adjusting his tinted glasses. Regulations be damned, the dog was his friend and he would do whatever it took-feigned blindness or running away-to make certain they were constantly together. Some might’ve found that pathetic, but Usopp paid them no mind.
Because, really, they were practically all each other had.
[-]
Sanji hated his job. He’d thought that working at The Floating Fish restaurant would really get him somewhere, really get him started. He hadn’t thought, even after a year, he’d still be a delivery boy. It was stupid; his boss knew he could cook, so why wouldn’t he let him? He’d come in early that morning, had the kitchen to himself, and had cooked up a goddamn storm. And the old man had ignored it completely-wouldn’t taste it, wouldn’t serve it, wouldn’t even look at it.
And now it was cold, all his hard work stuffed into Styrofoam take-out boxes that were stacked in two plastic bags that bumped against his legs as he paced up and down the Going Express platform. He sucked moodily at a cigarette, trying to get as much out of it as he could before the train pulled in. He didn’t understand what the old man’s problem was.
After all, it couldn’t be him with the problem, could it?
[-]
Robin didn’t want to go home. She loved the library where she worked more than she loved any human being. The library was warm and safe, and books were solace. With a book in her lap, Robin could immerse herself in another world, another life, and forget about anything and everything else. She could forget about the winds outside. She could forget about how empty her house was. She could forget about the ex she’d left several hundred miles behind when she’d moved, and the way his big fingers held his cigars.
He still called her, sometimes, but she wouldn’t answer. He left threatening messages-his way of showing he cared. But she didn’t want to be cared about that way. Not by him. Not after she found out what his casino workers did in their spare time. No, a life with him would’ve been a bloody one, and Robin only liked blood in movies. And books.
She could’ve made a bed of books, slept on the pages-Dickens, Keats, and Frost protecting her dreams.
[-]
They all sat in the same car: six strangers and a dog. They didn’t speak to each other-and why should they? They simply took their seats and settled in for the ride. The ride which lasted for all of five minutes.
The Going Express had never just stopped before, at least not in the sudden, screeching way it did on that night. They did nothing, at first, assuming that whatever the problem was, it would soon be fixed. They got restless after ten minutes, resigned themselves to their fate after fifteen, and after twenty, they began to speak.
[-]
“So, you’re a cop?”
Zoro looked at the boy stretched out on the row of seats across from him and frowned slightly.
“What was your first clue?” Rudeness wasn’t his first instinct, but he was irritated and couldn’t help it.
“I dunno.” Luffy seemed unfazed by his brusqueness. He shrugged and said, “The uniform, I guess.”
“You guess?” Zoro made a humorless noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “What, you think I’d wear it for fun?”
A couple of rows behind him, a blond man muttered, “Hey, whatever floats your boat…”
Zoro turned around in his seat and glared daggers.
“You got something to say?”
Sanji glared back. He hated cops. He thought they were power-abusing sonsofbitches and every time he delivered to the precinct, he wanted to poison their meal. But he had too much respect for food.
“No. But if I did, I would say it, believe me. Your badge doesn’t scare me.”
Usopp bent down and mock-whispered to Chopper (quiet enough so that the other men wouldn’t hear had they been paying attention, but loud enough to reach the ears of the pretty girl with brown eyes sitting behind him), “His badge doesn’t scare me either, but his gun is another story!”
Nami would have laughed at his remark-or chuckled or giggled or something-but she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She did smile, faintly, when she noticed him glancing back at her. And she’d thought he was blind.
Zoro shifted in his seat to get a better look at the other man. He sneered when he took his uniform and the logos on the plastic bags that sat at his feet.
“You work at that Floating Fish joint, huh? You seem like the type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say we’re pretty familiar with that neighborhood.” This verbal sparring he was used to. He often traded shameless insults when he made arrests. It was a guilty pleasure. “If you just stay out of trouble, you won’t have to worry about it.”
“Are you threatening me?” Sanji sat up straighter in his seat, his scowl deepening. This guy was pissing him off. “And how dare you imply things about the Floating Fish? I oughta-”
“Please.”
The single word cut through their feud like a knife, and everyone looked back at the black-haired woman. Her gaze was set on the book in her lap, unwavering, as she said, “Could you not argue? I’m trying to read.”
Sanji, after apologizing a couple times more than necessary, shared one last, lingering glare with Zoro before they both crossed their arms over their chests and turned their heads to stare out of their respective windows. Luffy laughed; these guys were pretty funny. He sat up and looked at the guy with sunglasses and a dog.
“What do you do?”
“Me?” Usopp sounded surprised, but recovered quickly, his chest swelling with pride. “Why, I’m a street artist!”
“Oh,” Luffy said, nodding. “Does that mean you’re not very good?”
Chopper jumped, startled, when Usopp sputtered angrily.
“I’ll have you know that I’m very good! In fact, I’m the best there is!”
Nami kicked lightly at the back of his seat and asked, a bit of a laugh in her voice, “Then why are you a street artist?”
Usopp, though he thought she was rather pretty and was pleased to hear her speak to him, chose to ignore what she said and continued with an indignant sniff, “I have a lady friend whose family owns a museum, and one day, she’s going to get my work in an exhibition.”
“Wow, cool!” Luffy sounded genuinely impressed and Usopp was satisfied. “Can I come see your paintings some time?”
“Of course.”
“And then you can come to one of my matches!”
“Matches?”
“Yeah. I’m a boxer.”
A stunned silence fell over the car as everyone stared at him, incredulous. Even Robin looked up from her book, eyebrows arched.
“You’re a boxer?” Sanji asked.
“Yep!”
“You?”
“Yep!”
“Really?”
“Yep!”
They grew quiet again and then Zoro laughed. He leaned into his seat, head thrown back, eyes closed and close to watering as he laughed and laughed and laughed. It was actually a little frightening to hear, and everyone but Luffy felt shivers go down their spines. When he finally calmed, he looked over at Luffy, amusement written clear on his face.
“A scrawny little guy like you? A boxer? I don’t buy it.” He stood up from his seat, a challenge in his eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Right here?” Luffy asked, making sure, even as he couldn’t fight the grin that started to spread over his face.
“Right now.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and pretended not to watch. Chopper perked up, sensing some sort of excitement. Nami and Usopp sat up in their seats, her hand going to his shoulder instinctively as she leaned forward. Robin watched, vaguely interested, over the pages of her book. Luffy jumped out of his seat, rolled up his sleeves, and stretched.
“Okay,” he said. “Ready?”
“Bring it on.”
Less than a minute later, Luffy’s fist hit Zoro squarely in the jaw.
The cop found himself lying on his back on the floor, blinking up at Luffy, who smiled and laughed, “Oops. Sorry about that!”
[-]
Sanji’s desire to be a chef was never stronger than when he was watching someone eat his food. A smile tugged at his lips as the take-out boxers were passed around, the food disappearing into the mouths of hungry strangers.
“Thith ith so-” Luffy paused to swallow, “-good!”
Agreement, food-muffled, sounded from the others, except for Zoro, who was pretending not to eat anything.
“Thanks,” Sanji tried to sound nonchalant as he accepted the praise. He shrugged. “It isn’t that great. I mean, it’s cold and I was pretty rushed when I made it…”
“No, no, it’s good!” Luffy insisted.
“Really good!” Usopp agreed.
“Where is it you work again?” Nami asked.
“The Floating Fish.” He glanced at Zoro, ready for some remark, but the cop didn’t say anything. “But I-” He cringed slightly. “I don’t cook there. I just deliver.”
“Oh?” Luffy looked at him curiously as he slurped some more food into his mouth. “How come?”
“Because-” He stopped and hung his head slightly. What could he say? Because the old man’s a shithead who won’t give him a chance? Because he wasn’t good enough? Because he’d been a street urchin for most of his life and wasn’t worth anything more than a delivery boy’s uniform?
“You have to start somewhere.”
Sanji looked up, eyes widening, at the gruff sound of Zoro’s voice. The cop wouldn’t look at him, and didn’t say anything more, but Sanji almost smiled anyway.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
[-]
Normally, Chopper was incredibly shy. Whenever some well-meaning dog lover approached to pet him, he would hide behind his owner and peek out from between his legs, shaking and whimpering.
But there was something about the black-haired boy, something approachable, something in his face and his voice when he called, “C’mere, boy, c’mere!” Still, he went to him slowly, cautious, occasionally looking back at his owner to make sure he was still there and it was all right.
Within mere minutes, his tail was wagging happily, tongue hanging out contentedly, paw thumping the floor as Luffy rubbed and tickled at his stomach. Luffy laughed delightfully, “What a funny dog!” And Usopp watched, awed and amazed, speechless. This Luffy was an interesting guy.
Zoro watched too, thinking much the same thing. He lifted his hand and rubbed his palm idly over his jaw. It was with great self-restraint that he kept from starting when Sanji slid into the seat next to him.
“So tell me,” he said in a teasing tone, “once we’re out of here, are you gonna arrest him for assaulting a cop?”
“No.” Zoro cut his eyes at the blond. “He doesn’t annoy me like you do.”
Sanji chuckled, a smirk playing on his face.
“Well…I’m flattered.”
[-]
Nami decided she wasn’t going to steal their wallets. It’d been her original intention, although she’d planned to keep away from the cop. The others, though, she wasn’t afraid of. It would’ve been so simple, really. And they never would’ve seen each other again.
But she couldn’t. Not after seeing Luffy knock the cop down flat on his back. Not after having Sanji feed her. Not after having Chopper lick her hand. Not after hearing Usopp tell her in a kind voice she didn’t often get from men, “If you’d like to come visit me sometime, I could paint you. I got this new brown color the other day that could capture the shade of your eyes better than anything in the world!”
No, she couldn’t do anything to them. She wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t completely blinded by greed.
And besides, if she started going to Luffy’s matches, she could start up some bets and make some pretty good money.
[-]
“What are you reading?”
Robin looked up from her book to meet Luffy’s curious eyes.
“Poetry,” she said, and after a moment’s hesitation, “Would you like me to read some to you?”
And soon she had an audience. This was familiar, reminiscent of circle time at the library when children sat around her, eager and attentive. Allowing a small smile, she read:
“If strangers meet
life begins-
not poor not rich
(only aware)
kind neither
nor cruel
(only complete)
i not not you
not possible;
only truthful
-truthfully, once
if strangers(who
deep our most are
selves)touch:
forever”
[-]
None of them could really say for sure when the train started moving again. They hadn’t noticed at first and when they did there was little celebration. Instead, they passed around one another’s phones, adding their numbers to each other’s contacts lists.
When they arrived at their stops, the night wind outside didn’t seem quite as cold, their hearts didn’t feel quite as heavy, their lives didn’t feel quite as empty. And the Going Express continued on its merry way without anymore problems.
After all, its work was done.
It was his fifth match in the city. He’d been training for years in seedy backwoods bars and after two hundred wins, he’d decided to move on and move up. He was still working toward making a name for himself, but he was doing pretty good.
Pretty good. Hell, he was kicking ass.
[-]
Zoro desperately needed to arrest someone. He hadn’t brought anyone into the precinct since he’d busted up the drug ring of the ever-elusive dealer duo team, Django and Fullbody. Perhaps he’d gotten a bit cocky after that, but, really, things had slowed down considerably in the crime world after that, so it wasn’t exactly his fault that he kept falling asleep on the job. There’d been an attempted jewelry robbery earlier that day, but it had fallen apart by the time he’d gotten there; the chief had really railed on him for that.
He was bored. Constantly. Bored at home and bored at work. He needed something to happen. A crime, anything. He needed a hobby. He needed a good book to read, a new band to hate. He needed to start swimming laps in the public pool, to start jogging every morning before the sunrise.
He needed something to change his world.
[-]
Nami always felt that she looked more suspicious when she was trying not to be than when she wasn’t giving it much thought. She’d spotted the green-haired cop when he first walked onto the platform and was doing her best to stay as far away from him as possible. She recognized him from her unsuccessful heist at the jeweler’s, but she didn’t think he’d gotten a good look at her then. With her rotten luck, though, she didn’t want to chance it.
“Why don’t you just get a job?” Her sister had asked her that morning over breakfast. “You don’t need to keep doing this all your life.”
“I’m not going to,” had been her reply. “I’m going to marry rich.”
“And is that really all you want for yourself?”
Nami wasn’t sure. But she knew she didn’t want to be arrested, so she pulled her hood down further over her face and tapped her foot impatiently as the Going Express drew nearer.
[-]
Usopp had the same conversation with the Going Express station workers every night. Or perhaps it was more of an argument. It depended on who was asked.
“Hey, I told you before; you can’t bring that dog on the train!”
“I’M BLIND, you insensitive villains! He’s my seeing-eye dog, I NEED him!”
“You aren’t blind, you idiot!”
“YES. Yes, I am. Do you not see these shades?”
“Look, buddy-”
“Ooh, what’s that over there?”
“Where? …GODAMMIT, he got away again. Blind my ass!”
Chuckling, Usopp scratched Chopper behind the ears before unnecessarily adjusting his tinted glasses. Regulations be damned, the dog was his friend and he would do whatever it took-feigned blindness or running away-to make certain they were constantly together. Some might’ve found that pathetic, but Usopp paid them no mind.
Because, really, they were practically all each other had.
[-]
Sanji hated his job. He’d thought that working at The Floating Fish restaurant would really get him somewhere, really get him started. He hadn’t thought, even after a year, he’d still be a delivery boy. It was stupid; his boss knew he could cook, so why wouldn’t he let him? He’d come in early that morning, had the kitchen to himself, and had cooked up a goddamn storm. And the old man had ignored it completely-wouldn’t taste it, wouldn’t serve it, wouldn’t even look at it.
And now it was cold, all his hard work stuffed into Styrofoam take-out boxes that were stacked in two plastic bags that bumped against his legs as he paced up and down the Going Express platform. He sucked moodily at a cigarette, trying to get as much out of it as he could before the train pulled in. He didn’t understand what the old man’s problem was.
After all, it couldn’t be him with the problem, could it?
[-]
Robin didn’t want to go home. She loved the library where she worked more than she loved any human being. The library was warm and safe, and books were solace. With a book in her lap, Robin could immerse herself in another world, another life, and forget about anything and everything else. She could forget about the winds outside. She could forget about how empty her house was. She could forget about the ex she’d left several hundred miles behind when she’d moved, and the way his big fingers held his cigars.
He still called her, sometimes, but she wouldn’t answer. He left threatening messages-his way of showing he cared. But she didn’t want to be cared about that way. Not by him. Not after she found out what his casino workers did in their spare time. No, a life with him would’ve been a bloody one, and Robin only liked blood in movies. And books.
She could’ve made a bed of books, slept on the pages-Dickens, Keats, and Frost protecting her dreams.
[-]
They all sat in the same car: six strangers and a dog. They didn’t speak to each other-and why should they? They simply took their seats and settled in for the ride. The ride which lasted for all of five minutes.
The Going Express had never just stopped before, at least not in the sudden, screeching way it did on that night. They did nothing, at first, assuming that whatever the problem was, it would soon be fixed. They got restless after ten minutes, resigned themselves to their fate after fifteen, and after twenty, they began to speak.
[-]
“So, you’re a cop?”
Zoro looked at the boy stretched out on the row of seats across from him and frowned slightly.
“What was your first clue?” Rudeness wasn’t his first instinct, but he was irritated and couldn’t help it.
“I dunno.” Luffy seemed unfazed by his brusqueness. He shrugged and said, “The uniform, I guess.”
“You guess?” Zoro made a humorless noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “What, you think I’d wear it for fun?”
A couple of rows behind him, a blond man muttered, “Hey, whatever floats your boat…”
Zoro turned around in his seat and glared daggers.
“You got something to say?”
Sanji glared back. He hated cops. He thought they were power-abusing sonsofbitches and every time he delivered to the precinct, he wanted to poison their meal. But he had too much respect for food.
“No. But if I did, I would say it, believe me. Your badge doesn’t scare me.”
Usopp bent down and mock-whispered to Chopper (quiet enough so that the other men wouldn’t hear had they been paying attention, but loud enough to reach the ears of the pretty girl with brown eyes sitting behind him), “His badge doesn’t scare me either, but his gun is another story!”
Nami would have laughed at his remark-or chuckled or giggled or something-but she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She did smile, faintly, when she noticed him glancing back at her. And she’d thought he was blind.
Zoro shifted in his seat to get a better look at the other man. He sneered when he took his uniform and the logos on the plastic bags that sat at his feet.
“You work at that Floating Fish joint, huh? You seem like the type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say we’re pretty familiar with that neighborhood.” This verbal sparring he was used to. He often traded shameless insults when he made arrests. It was a guilty pleasure. “If you just stay out of trouble, you won’t have to worry about it.”
“Are you threatening me?” Sanji sat up straighter in his seat, his scowl deepening. This guy was pissing him off. “And how dare you imply things about the Floating Fish? I oughta-”
“Please.”
The single word cut through their feud like a knife, and everyone looked back at the black-haired woman. Her gaze was set on the book in her lap, unwavering, as she said, “Could you not argue? I’m trying to read.”
Sanji, after apologizing a couple times more than necessary, shared one last, lingering glare with Zoro before they both crossed their arms over their chests and turned their heads to stare out of their respective windows. Luffy laughed; these guys were pretty funny. He sat up and looked at the guy with sunglasses and a dog.
“What do you do?”
“Me?” Usopp sounded surprised, but recovered quickly, his chest swelling with pride. “Why, I’m a street artist!”
“Oh,” Luffy said, nodding. “Does that mean you’re not very good?”
Chopper jumped, startled, when Usopp sputtered angrily.
“I’ll have you know that I’m very good! In fact, I’m the best there is!”
Nami kicked lightly at the back of his seat and asked, a bit of a laugh in her voice, “Then why are you a street artist?”
Usopp, though he thought she was rather pretty and was pleased to hear her speak to him, chose to ignore what she said and continued with an indignant sniff, “I have a lady friend whose family owns a museum, and one day, she’s going to get my work in an exhibition.”
“Wow, cool!” Luffy sounded genuinely impressed and Usopp was satisfied. “Can I come see your paintings some time?”
“Of course.”
“And then you can come to one of my matches!”
“Matches?”
“Yeah. I’m a boxer.”
A stunned silence fell over the car as everyone stared at him, incredulous. Even Robin looked up from her book, eyebrows arched.
“You’re a boxer?” Sanji asked.
“Yep!”
“You?”
“Yep!”
“Really?”
“Yep!”
They grew quiet again and then Zoro laughed. He leaned into his seat, head thrown back, eyes closed and close to watering as he laughed and laughed and laughed. It was actually a little frightening to hear, and everyone but Luffy felt shivers go down their spines. When he finally calmed, he looked over at Luffy, amusement written clear on his face.
“A scrawny little guy like you? A boxer? I don’t buy it.” He stood up from his seat, a challenge in his eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Right here?” Luffy asked, making sure, even as he couldn’t fight the grin that started to spread over his face.
“Right now.”
Sanji rolled his eyes and pretended not to watch. Chopper perked up, sensing some sort of excitement. Nami and Usopp sat up in their seats, her hand going to his shoulder instinctively as she leaned forward. Robin watched, vaguely interested, over the pages of her book. Luffy jumped out of his seat, rolled up his sleeves, and stretched.
“Okay,” he said. “Ready?”
“Bring it on.”
Less than a minute later, Luffy’s fist hit Zoro squarely in the jaw.
The cop found himself lying on his back on the floor, blinking up at Luffy, who smiled and laughed, “Oops. Sorry about that!”
[-]
Sanji’s desire to be a chef was never stronger than when he was watching someone eat his food. A smile tugged at his lips as the take-out boxers were passed around, the food disappearing into the mouths of hungry strangers.
“Thith ith so-” Luffy paused to swallow, “-good!”
Agreement, food-muffled, sounded from the others, except for Zoro, who was pretending not to eat anything.
“Thanks,” Sanji tried to sound nonchalant as he accepted the praise. He shrugged. “It isn’t that great. I mean, it’s cold and I was pretty rushed when I made it…”
“No, no, it’s good!” Luffy insisted.
“Really good!” Usopp agreed.
“Where is it you work again?” Nami asked.
“The Floating Fish.” He glanced at Zoro, ready for some remark, but the cop didn’t say anything. “But I-” He cringed slightly. “I don’t cook there. I just deliver.”
“Oh?” Luffy looked at him curiously as he slurped some more food into his mouth. “How come?”
“Because-” He stopped and hung his head slightly. What could he say? Because the old man’s a shithead who won’t give him a chance? Because he wasn’t good enough? Because he’d been a street urchin for most of his life and wasn’t worth anything more than a delivery boy’s uniform?
“You have to start somewhere.”
Sanji looked up, eyes widening, at the gruff sound of Zoro’s voice. The cop wouldn’t look at him, and didn’t say anything more, but Sanji almost smiled anyway.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
[-]
Normally, Chopper was incredibly shy. Whenever some well-meaning dog lover approached to pet him, he would hide behind his owner and peek out from between his legs, shaking and whimpering.
But there was something about the black-haired boy, something approachable, something in his face and his voice when he called, “C’mere, boy, c’mere!” Still, he went to him slowly, cautious, occasionally looking back at his owner to make sure he was still there and it was all right.
Within mere minutes, his tail was wagging happily, tongue hanging out contentedly, paw thumping the floor as Luffy rubbed and tickled at his stomach. Luffy laughed delightfully, “What a funny dog!” And Usopp watched, awed and amazed, speechless. This Luffy was an interesting guy.
Zoro watched too, thinking much the same thing. He lifted his hand and rubbed his palm idly over his jaw. It was with great self-restraint that he kept from starting when Sanji slid into the seat next to him.
“So tell me,” he said in a teasing tone, “once we’re out of here, are you gonna arrest him for assaulting a cop?”
“No.” Zoro cut his eyes at the blond. “He doesn’t annoy me like you do.”
Sanji chuckled, a smirk playing on his face.
“Well…I’m flattered.”
[-]
Nami decided she wasn’t going to steal their wallets. It’d been her original intention, although she’d planned to keep away from the cop. The others, though, she wasn’t afraid of. It would’ve been so simple, really. And they never would’ve seen each other again.
But she couldn’t. Not after seeing Luffy knock the cop down flat on his back. Not after having Sanji feed her. Not after having Chopper lick her hand. Not after hearing Usopp tell her in a kind voice she didn’t often get from men, “If you’d like to come visit me sometime, I could paint you. I got this new brown color the other day that could capture the shade of your eyes better than anything in the world!”
No, she couldn’t do anything to them. She wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t completely blinded by greed.
And besides, if she started going to Luffy’s matches, she could start up some bets and make some pretty good money.
[-]
“What are you reading?”
Robin looked up from her book to meet Luffy’s curious eyes.
“Poetry,” she said, and after a moment’s hesitation, “Would you like me to read some to you?”
And soon she had an audience. This was familiar, reminiscent of circle time at the library when children sat around her, eager and attentive. Allowing a small smile, she read:
“If strangers meet
life begins-
not poor not rich
(only aware)
kind neither
nor cruel
(only complete)
i not not you
not possible;
only truthful
-truthfully, once
if strangers(who
deep our most are
selves)touch:
forever”
[-]
None of them could really say for sure when the train started moving again. They hadn’t noticed at first and when they did there was little celebration. Instead, they passed around one another’s phones, adding their numbers to each other’s contacts lists.
When they arrived at their stops, the night wind outside didn’t seem quite as cold, their hearts didn’t feel quite as heavy, their lives didn’t feel quite as empty. And the Going Express continued on its merry way without anymore problems.
After all, its work was done.