One Piece fic-PoSM, Chapter 7
Title: The Psychology of a Shattered Mind
Chapter Title: Apparent Wind
Rating: PG-13 / T
Characters: Usopp, Robin, Zoro, a little Luffy and Chopper
Word Count: About 3.7k
Warnings: Disturbing imagery, implications of non-con/dub-con, and violence. Potential spoilers for entire series. Angsty Usopp and blatant excuse for nakama comfort. This will be intense. Possible spoilers for entire series. AU from Usopp being stuck on the Bowin Islands.
Can also be found at FF.net here. Comments very appreciated. Con Crit loved also.
Chapter links (on LJ): Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15
Chopper snorts awake, having dozed off before he even realized it. In that brief moment of disorientation, he's not sure where he is and his heart pounds harder, until the sharp smell of smoke that hangs on Sanji's things and the more salty tinge of sweat on Zoro's registers-along with Luffy's distinctively loud snores-and he realizes he is in the boy's cabin.
Own room. Safe.
Earlier-the snowballs, Usopp with a little grin, Luffy's boisterous laughter-comes rushing back, and he looks over in the direction of the snores with widening eyes-or, rather, tries to do so. He can't move his head very well. There is some sort of weight on it. So, instead, he slides his gaze over as far as he can, discovering that Usopp's legs are sprawled out next to him, with Luffy's head pillowed on the leg on the far side. Presumably then, it's Usopp's upper body, slouched over, that is weighing down on Chopper and making it hard to move.
Uncomfortable, he wiggles a little and hisses out, "Usopp?"
Getting no reply, he twitches an ear and, by listening hard past Luffy's snoring, determines that Usopp's breathing is too even for anything but sleep. This relieves and distresses Chopper at the same time. Usopp needs more solid, undisturbed sleep than he's been getting, but it means that Chopper's stuck this way unless he decides to disturb said needed sleep.
He won't do it. There's no way to tell how long he could be stuck like this...but when Usopp shifts a little, sighs, then settles back down, Chopper lets out a breath and supposes there could be worse situations. And Usopp's still wearing his coat, so he won't get cold-
Luffy's snoring cuts off with a throaty hurk and he turns over, muttering about wanting "more meatballs."
After exactly three seconds of blissful silence, there is a whiny "stingy..." and the snoring starts up again, only louder. Chopper groans inwardly. This could end up being a very grating time with nothing to do, even if it is for Usopp.
Then the cabin door opens and he feels hope rise. Zoro takes one step into the room and grimaces, then starts to back out again. Chopper immediately tears up and looks pleadingly at Zoro, who cringes.
"What?" hisses the swordsman, now hidden behind the ajar door-except for his head.
"Help..."
Usopp wakes slowly, mind curiously calm and body only a little sore-the good kind of sore. He drifts in and out, each time registering Luffy snoring and muttering before disregarding him and letting awareness slip away again. If Luffy's nearby, and secure, then it's safe here. ...Has to be safe. He has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that there is something he should be doing, but there's no edge to it, no definition, and for once he is resting peacefully so he shoves the thought away.
When the haze of sleep finally begins to lift, he is puzzled to find the ceiling closer than he is used to. Then he blinks again and realizes that the thing above him is not a ceiling, but the bottom of another bed. He sits up, blanket sliding down and piling in his lap.
There's Chopper in one bunk, with Franky below him-and Luffy is still snoring somewhere that he can't see. Throwing one leg off the bed, he leans half-in, half-off, and checks the rest of the room. No swordsman, no skeleton. And the cook isn't here, either-
Shuddering with a strange chill, he draws the blanket around his shoulders as he steps fully off the bunk, then puts it back when he spots his coat draped over the end. He shrugs it back on, a little troubled at finding himself tucked away in a bed so neatly when he doesn't remember going to sleep in it. Being moved would have woken him, surely. No way he could have slept that hard.
…Then again, he's been known to forget a lot more than a detail that small, so maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it's simply another thing that's slipped away. Maybe it should matter. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe Chopper or Luffy can explain it all.
Maybe. Such scattered thoughts can't settle him, and he's troubled. He needs out of this room.
Stepping out onto the deck again after finding his shoes by the door, he's surprised to find all trace of that earlier…how to put it…silliness, insanity with Luffy and Chopper already erased by more snow. As if maybe it never happened.
But he wants to believe it did.
There are tracks in the snow, to be sure, but they look newer than the ones from the snowball fight should be. There are pathways cleared, too, and a shovel leaned up against a wall-two things which definitely weren't there before. The layer on the parts of the deck that remain unshoveled is so thick now it nearly reaches his knees. His mind whirls at the sheer possibilities of all this snow, and he's not even certain where to begin. He still hasn't gotten to build something, after all, and now might be his best chance.
He's made his way to the middle of the lower deck and begun mounding snow when a bird's cry draws his eyes upward. It's hard to make out, since it's mostly white, but the blue stripe running down its belly gives it away. He watches the bird battle wind and snow a moment before looking back to his mound. They must be close to land. He better hurry up and make this, lest he get interrupted by a landfall.
He's working a few minutes more, still listening the bird's cry. A rumbling boom rips through the air and the boat shudders, rocking to one side and throwing him to his hands and knees. Eyes wide, he looks to the side of the ship the blast came from-into the wind. Blowing snowflakes cling to his lashes and make him blink rapidly.
Where…?
There!
Emerging from the snow-swept edges of visibility, so faint he'd miss it unless his eye weren't so sharp, is a large ship. The snow-dulled rumbles of cannon fire come to him from across the water, along with half a dozen more cannonballs.
He's not told to attend Iddis right away when they board the ship which, he assumes, will take them to Mariejoa. Instead, he's whisked off below deck for something called "processing and preparation" by other attendants of the Celestial Dragons. The last he sees of Iddis is the boy waving with a wide grin, as if Usopp were going on holiday or something. He'd probably give the kid a sarcastic wave back and mutter an insult if, one: he felt suicidal, and, two: the whole situation didn't still have him reeling.
Stupid kid getting his stupid kicks out of this stupid situation.
His need to get out, to get away grows as they go lower, but there's nowhere to run, so he feels like he's suffocating under a mound of pillows instead. People are staring, and he can hear hissing whispers in the wake of his presence.
It's the nose, he tells himself as a young kid carrying a stack of clean white towels pauses in the hall to stare, his gaze tracking him. His eyes are glassy, which actually bothers Usopp more than the fact that he's being stared at, seeing as that's what everyone else is doing right now.
Definitely gotta be the nose...yeah.
He's led deep into the ship, until tight, sparsely decorated corridors give way to a wide hall lined with a floor of creamy marble that he can see himself in when he looks down. His eyes are little more than pinhead-sized glints behind the mask, which is as rough-hewn as he remembers before he put it on. He's starting to feel like the person called "Usopp" is being smothered under the thing.
Then again, the stares might be about more than my nose.
The Celestial Dragon he has been brought all this way to see is old and fat, his face wrinkled with a myriad of frown lines but not a single set of crow's feet. Of course, all of them are a little rotund with those ridiculous-looking bodysuits they like to wear, perfectly impractical for doing anything useful. However, this one is definitely suffering from a lack of physical employment in ways that the others he's seen were not.
Which reminds him of a story, actually. One that went something like… hm… like-
Once, there was a big old bear, a very mean one, who ate and ate and ate-
"This is your grandson's purchase, my lord."
"This thing? Children always like the gimmicks, don't they? It looks ridiculous…"
The conversation, consisting mostly of snide comments, goes on without him. He's busy thinking about the bear, and how it got so fat it was stuck inside its hibernation cave long before winter. No one helped the bear because it was never nice to anyone. That was, until this one incredibly generous and noble deer came along…
…He misses Chopper.
Concentration broken, he hears a scoffing: "…that nose, is it really attached?"
At that, he's a bit indignant, but tries not to show it too much. So he ignores the Celestial Dragon and focuses on a mental defense of his nose instead. There are very good reasons for it, after all.
The Great Captain Usopp's nose is quite incredible and completely authentic, thank-you-very-much. A nose this long is good for more than just cool looks. Like that one time I used it to detect the ultra-small "No-stink Bug," critical to the pollination of a small, isolated island's crop. Now this island's name was Lesnel, as I recall, and-
Smack!
"Are you deaf, slave? Are you dumb? I was asking a question, and that's the first and last time you won't get a beating for not paying attention."
Unexpected. That had come completely unexpected. Usopp stares up at the Celestial Dragon, his train of thought snapping apart into a swarm of nonsensical words reeling around in his head. He really hadn't been listening anymore; the Celestial Dragon hadn't been directing any of the conversation at him. Now he's left with a smarting cheek and a shock he can't voice.
"I'll repeat this only one more time," the Celestial Dragon says, each word succinct and separated by sharp pauses: condescending, as to a small child. "For the record-though don't expect the privilege of being called by it-what is your name?"
"U-ah…" he licks his lips, somehow gone dry under the mask. "…name?"
It buys him more time to think.
"Yes. Name, imbecile. I swear, the boy bought the skinniest meat sack for brains he could find, didn't he?"
He flushes hot with anger, but that doesn't quite push out the shock and fear. "I-it's …I… Warrior… The Warrior…Booga-Shaka."
No. No, he decides, they can have any name the want if it matters so little, but they can't have Usopp. He realizes what they will do. This Celestial Dragon will write it in his book, and close it, and then they'll do everything they can to make him forget that Usopp was a real person and not some thing that was made a note of in someone's ledger.
I am the Great Captain Usopp.
No, he won't give them Usopp. For them, Usopp is not here. To them, there is only this Booga-Shaka, a mere imitation of everything Usopp is. Usopp slinks past their grasp, with a grim frown, watching and waiting in the shadows.
I have a crew of eight-thousand followers.
The Celestial Dragon closes his book and he feels a small bit of dark satisfaction at one small victory in a host of terrifying losses.
"Now then, I have the brand here, waiting in the fire. Somewhere nice and easy will be most appropriate, I think-the chest, perhaps?"
His stare widens as the Celestial Dragon strides forward with an iron glowing red-hot. Then the relationship between him, the iron, and the Celestial Dragon clicks.
Carrot looks up at him from the ground, grinning. His spiky purple hair hides his eyes but their glimmer is palpable in that smile. "Your men, Usopp, what are they like?"
Usopp smirks, confident. "All of my men are very brave and loyal. And with them I, the Great Captain Usopp, will one day roam the seas…"
His knee bent, he leans into the breeze. Carrot's trying to climb up the tree, along with Pepper, now arguing about who is the first mate. It's Syrup's best-kept secret, Usopp thinks, that tree branches actually make the best napping spots in the summer. He squints, trying to spot the ships that he knows are out there, just past the ocean's horizon-maybe even the one he'll captain someday. It's different-better-every time he imagines it.
He aches a little to be out on a grand adventure, but the familiarity, the comfort of the daily life here and the eager, honest companionship of Carrot, Pepper and Onion still blanket him and lessen the temptation. He may be shunned by most, but no one can really tell him to do anything or go anywhere or be anything he doesn't want to, and there is something in that fact which puts his heart at ease. Drawing in a breath of ocean-tinged air, he sighs, and waits for his chance-just a little bit longer-and grins at Carrot and Pepper as they settle on the branch.
"Hold him! Hold him down, idiots!"
"…we'll roam the seas free."
Robin lifts an eyebrow when Zoro comes stomping into the library with a frown on his face and a flask in his hand. The swordsman has several different types of frowns, ranging from disinterest to hard concentration to anger, but this frown is definitely of the "I'm pissed" category.
Not that his appearance in the library hadn't clued her in on this possibility. Zoro does have something of a routine, after all, and he likes to stick to it.
Except…ever since Usopp's been out and about, Zoro's routine, even if it always has been a rather a loose one, has been in pieces. She wonders if he thinks anyone's noticed or even cares if they have. She certainly has, simply by being the one keeping a constant eye on the sniper. She's seen the multiple times the swordsman has been lounging on a favored spot on the deck when Usopp is about hobble his way into view, and there's barely a moment between one eye cracking open and the deck being empty.
Zoro drops down onto a window seat, tipping his head back to take a few chugs from the flask. Then he turns to the window and looks out, expression softening to one a little more contemplative, to one which Robin knows could be mistaken for a myriad of less complimentary things by anyone who doesn't know he's not a mere sword-for-brains.
Robin regards him for a few more moments, under the pretense of continuing to read. He probably can't see Usopp from here, but she suspects his thoughts by the direction he's looking, as well as by the flickers of emotion that tinge his frown. Robin puts a marker in her book, but doesn't close it. "He's never realized you had the flat of the blade to his neck and not the edge. I'm certain of it."
Zoro doesn't turn his gaze to her. If her seemingly unprompted comment has surprised him, he doesn't show it for a moment. "I don't regret anything," he says, tone steel, "He could've stabbed Luffy more than once otherwise. We're just lucky he hasn't freaked out like that again."
Robin's lips quirk up. "I believe our captain can handle anything Usopp can dish out."
Zoro replies with a scoffing huff. "That's not my point. What if it had been Chopper at that door? Or Nami?" He finally turns to her with narrowed eyes. "He twisted the blade. And not only that-" his eyes narrow further, until little more than dark shadows, "-no, not only that-he swept it across as he pulled it out. Imagine if that had been a dagger and not just a scalpel-or if for some reason he'd gotten ahold one of curlicue's kitchen knives." Another swig, and he gestures with a finger and the flask. "That's the kind of slash that you gut people with, Robin. Wasn't straight-up panic. Wasn't mere self-defense." Zoro leans forward, elbows on his knees, still wagging his finger. "One point let's have very clear. That wasn't any kind of move he'd've done with a knife before. No, that's an instinct he learned, whatever those bastards put him through. Are you suggesting that I shouldn't have a problem with it?"
"I'm not suggesting anything of the sort," Robin says, fingering a page of her book idly and pondering Zoro's sudden loquaciousness, as well as his comments on the subject. "But the decision for him to stay has been made, and there's little to be done now."
"The safety of the rest of this crew is still an issue. There're too many dangerous objects lying around this ship."
She lifts an eyebrow. "I'm watching him more carefully now. But you do raise an interesting point."
"Interesting?" Zoro pauses, staring at her, then flops down onto his back, tucking his hands-and the flask-behind his head and closing his eyes. "I never said I thought that he should stay," he mutters. Whether it's to himself alone or to her also, she's not sure.
Nor did you openly oppose, Robin is tempted to say, but instead, remains silent.
Zoro's point about the danger Usopp may present is probably more important than other possible directions of the conversation. If he is a danger to this crew, how would his home village fare? There are fewer dangerous objects lying around there, she supposes, but about their ability to handle an incident, she can't say. It is a point she didn't consider at the time she proposed the idea. Perhaps keeping him here was best after all….
It'll all work out, Robin hopes.
Somehow.
Zoro shifts one way then the other and looks uncomfortable on the bench. The way it curves with the wall makes his position awkward. Eventually he gets back to his feet, growling and glaring at the bench. "Can't a guy even find a-"
Then Zoro is there, no pause in between the cutting off of words and the beginning of movement. He slams into her, shoving her from her seat, and the very memory of the complaint is drowned out as pain explodes in her shoulder to the peal of shattering glass. She barely has time to sprout more arms to cushion her fall. Rolling a little with the momentum, she feels glass shards slicing at her bare shoulder.
Something else shatters to the far left.
She breathes. Painful, catching, but not impossible-the wind is knocked out of her only-and Zoro is there, where the dust and the snow from the shattered window swirls the thickest, one of his swords drawn and his cursing filling the odd silence in the wake of all that explosive noise.
One half of a cannonball has buried itself in the full shelf on the far right wall. There's more snow and a chill wind coming in from the left side of the room, where a second window is shattered.
"How could they even-and without our noticing-! Robin?"
How, indeed, she thinks, putting an arm to her shoulder, feeling out the area where Zoro slammed into her. She's lucky-it'll be a bad bruise only, but Sanji will be pissed at Zoro if-or perhaps when-he finds out Robin's bruised and who's "at fault." Her lips quirk up.
A biting chill from the window, and shouting voices floating in on it, draws her from her self-checkup. Slowly, cautious of the glass scattered underfoot, she stands. "I'm all right. Yet-" She gives the newly shelved one half cannonball a side glance and a frown before returning her attentions to a bemused Zoro. "I am mildly upset that a few important volumes of mine may well be ruined." Another pause to glance at the windows. "Glass is expensive. Nami and Franky won't be pleased either."
He stares at her for a beat before breaking into a roguish grin. "People should be more careful about ticking off our shipwright and navigator, besides destroying important literature, eh? After all, disregard for any of them comes with consequences."
She barely has the time for amusement as she hears faint booms, and she searches the white-grey sky, trying to decide the cannonballs' precise direction of approach. "Zoro-more of them."
"Hn," he grunts around the sword now in his mouth and nods, disregarding the existence of the door leading to the upper deck and leaping out the ragged hole in the library window instead. Robin, her hand on the doorknob, pauses with a troubled frown. In all the confusion, she's lost sight of Usopp, who is now nowhere to be seen by the eyes she has sprouted on the mast.
A brief moment of concentration and she's sprouted eyes all over the ship instead. It's relieving-and a little comical, somehow. He hasn't gone far, only to a no doubt safer-feeling spot behind the door to the aquarium bar-the opposite side of where she had her eyes on the mast. He's watching the activity on the deck, his eyes scanning the rest of the crew shouting hurried theories about the attackers to each other and fielding cannonballs that seem to be coming out of nowhere.
There's a boom and the ship shudders. Something off about it, however-it shouldn't have impacted there-
We're under attack from multiple directions.
Usopp, on trembling legs, has shut the door and begun backing away from it. Robin narrows her eyes as he turns and flees to the ladder down to the energy room. Determining that the best thing she can probably do is follow him and make sure he doesn't get into trouble, she takes a breath and turns the doorknob.
Something behind her explodes-a confusing impossibility, it would seem, because there's no shattering glass and the sound is all wrong. Then she realizes it's the half-cannonball on the bookshelf that-
She barely has the chance to shield her face as large chunks of something dark fly at her and impact, hard. One heavy blow to her head and she's out cold before she even hits the floor.
Continued in Chapter 8: St. Elmo's Fire