Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos.

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘ yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

Chapter Text

To say you quite liked laundry duty was an understatement.

Always the first to sign up, taking the worst shifts or the day with the heaviest load, never a complaint coming from you except for the crew to take care of their clothes more.

As often as you could, you’d swap laundry duty with anyone willing on the crew. It had gotten bad enough at a certain point until Law had banned anybody from swapping laundry duty with you for a month until the redness on your hands died down. After that, he had imposed a strict limitation of how many times a certain chore could be done until the rota refreshed.

The rest of the crew never quite understood your fervor for this particular chore, as to many, this was down at the bottom of the list on how much they wanted to do it, alongside dish duty. Shachi had—the third time you asked to swap with him—grabbed you by the shoulders and peered deep into your eyes through his shades to ask if you were okay. He couldn’t believe that you simply just wanted to.

But the reason was simple.

Your passion as a tailor did not just simply end at making and fixing clothes. It extended into their care and upkeep. You knew the best way to cut linen, the specific direction it needed to reduce shrinkage in the long run. You knew how to remove all manner of stains, and you meant it. Not even the discolorations on Shachi’s hat stood a chance when you got your hands on it. 

It was the first thing you chose to learn after he died, the world opening up at your fingertips without the pressure of what you had to do. Your experience with a gun meant blood often found itself at home on your things and he didn’t care enough about appearances to bother keeping things stain-free. So as an act of rebellion, the first thing you did was to learn about clothes. The seamstresses and launderers at your old village were thrilled to have a fresh face so interested in their trade, and wasted no time in teaching you everything they knew. What that man forced you to be, and what those ladies taught you, were the only relic you had of your childhood.

And laundry duty was the one chance where you got to stretch out this knowledge and allow yourself a chance to shine.

Though, that passion tended to be a bit overbearing for those who worked with you. 

“Shachi, you don’t crank it all the way up to hot for those!”

Crossing the space, you shoved yourself into the redhead’s space as you fiddled with the controls on the machines.

“You’re lucky that I caught this in time, you idiot!”

“But doesn’t turning it up make them dry faster??”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Your screech echoed through the room. “We have fragile polyester-based stuff in there! You’re going to melt them!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?!?”

“HOW ABOUT I MELT YOUR SHADES FOR YOU TO FIND OUT?!?”

The screaming echoed through even the halls, those lucky enough to escape laundry duty with you chuckling at Shachi’s misfortune. You ran laundry day with a militant fist, hunting down those who forgot their clothes with a dogged focus. It was terrifying to get in your way, and even more terrifying to be stuck working the shift with you. No matter how much you begged, Law refused to let you shoulder the burden of washing everything by yourself. It was a well-known fact by now that your standards were hellish to meet, and you did not go gentle on those who failed (save Bepo and Law).

But at the end of the day, when the Heart Pirates received their laundry back, delightfully warm and cleaner than they’ve ever been before you arrived, they were glad that their beloved tailor cared so much.

Chapter Text

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their— your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud , you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right! ”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “ Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy .

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak . Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas .”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

Chapter Text

Rapid-fire knocking—no, pounding at your door made you scowl and throw down the pair of pants in your hands. What was the point of telling the crew to knock so they wouldn’t disturb your work if they’d go ahead and slam on your door like the world was ending?

Yanking the door open, you greeted the perpetrator with a curt, “What?”

Hakugan swayed on his feet, as if he didn’t almost bring your door down. Uncaring of your irritation, he leaned closer to you. “Are you free? Can I come in?”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside. “What do you need, Hakugan?”

“Do you have any of that sticky fabric thing?”

“What?”

Hakugan brought his hand together and pulled them apart, mimicking some sort of ripping, peeling sound.

“... Do you mean velcro?”

“Yes! Do you have any more of that.”

“I do, why?”

He leaned closer to you, excitement in his body language. “I have an idea.”

Seeing the man nearly vibrating in unrestrained glee, you held your composure for a few seconds before ultimately caving. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Hakugan let out a little cheer, leaning closer as he rapid-fired off his idea to you. A slow smile cracked over your face as you envisioned the visual laid out. “Okay. I’ll do it. Do you have a spare?”

Hakugan whipped out a mask from the recesses of his boiler suits, and you twitched at the fact he already prepared for your involvement with it. You shook your head, disappointed with yourself that you were using such precious materials on something so silly. The only saving grace (and reason that you were doing it in the first place) was that there were some scraps left over from when you made the attachable pockets for the boiler suits.

As you laid out everything on your work table and turned your light on, you could feel the helmsman hovering behind you, peering over your shoulders. You got through the first half of your task, used to the man’s antics. It wasn’t a bother until your elbow began knocking into Hakugan. You stopped your work and looked back at him, and he tilted his face up to you, cocking his head silently.

Before you could regret it, you gingerly offered him your sewing needle. “Do you want to try?”

Hakugan perked up, and you could almost imagine an imaginary tail wagging behind him. “Are you sure?”

“Yos. I’ll walk you through it.”

He was a surprisingly good student, attentive and focused despite what his general demeanor might’ve shown him to be. There were a few learning curves and adjustments where you had to help him hold and position the fabric, but soon he was merrily finishing it up on his own.

Hakugan held up the mask, letting out a victorious cheer. “Alright! Thank you so much!”

You let out an affirmative ‘yos’ . “Don’t think much about it.”

The two of you remained holed up in your workshop until it was time to switch off the navigation teams, heading there together with the others who would be navigating the Tang through this turbulent part of the waters.

Morsa pulled the door open for the lot of you, and Tanaka sighed at seeing the relief shift coming to take over. “Glad you guys are here!”

“Hm,” Hakugan said as he left your side, and walked up next to the taller topographer, falling back into his role as helmsman easily. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss as he made sure that his mask was obscured for the most part. “What’s the update?”

“Well, it seems like we’ve moved out of the enclosed space so far,” Tanaka said. “We—”

His words cut off in a choke as he glanced at Hakugan.

“Hm, what was that, Tanaka?” Ikkaku asked as she squinted at the sonar system.

“Guys!” The bespectacled man grabbed Hakugan by the shoulders and spun him around to face everyone.

The navigation room fell silent as they saw Hakugan’s mask. The man tilted his head innocently, hands coming up to the mask. “What?”

Loud ripping noises echoed in the room as he peeled off the thick, dark eyebrows and slapped them on to make a confused frown. 

“Hakugan,” Ikkaku began. “What the fuck.”

Said helmsman shot a thumbs up to the crew.

Chapter Text

The seasoned members of the crew knew better enough than to hang around the wet room or the surrounding areas when Penguin and Shachi came back from thor dives.

You, however, were not a seasoned member of the crew. You were never around when the pair headed into the waters, or came back, so you thought nothing of it when you stuck your head into a room upon earring splashing sounds coming from it. Your eyes widened when you saw the strangely structured room and the two equally drenched crew members. 

“Well, that was a good patrol, Peng!” Shachi said, muscles staining as he closed the door and sealed it shut with the hand wheel.  “ And we got fish for dinner, too!”

Water poured from them both—and the net of writhing fish at Penguin’s feet—running in rivulets to the drains set throughout the room.

“Oh, hey!” Penguin grinned, catching sign of you. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” you began. “I just heard water splashing and got curious. What’s this room?”

Penguin let out an ‘ah’. “That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet, huh?”

Before you could even blink, Shachi was right next to you. To your horror, one soaking-wet arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into an equally wet side. You shrieked, hands coming up to push him away. The redhead clung to you like a limpet, however, dragging you into the room in question.

“This is the wet room!” Shachi explained, throwing an arm out as if to showcase it. In the background, Penguin made little jazz hands. 

“Cool,” you said simply. It didn’t explain why they were dripping wet, though. 

Penguin’s hat-–still on his head—squelched as he wrung out the flaps. “You have no idea what we’re talking around, do you?”

You shook your head as Shachi wilted in disappointment.

“The island we come from is a North Blue island,” Penguin explained. “For ours specifically, we have especially cold harbors, but a high percentage of the population boast fishman ancestry.”

You squinted. “So you and Shachi are part fishmen, then?”

“Yep!” Shachi said, popping the ‘p’. He leaned closer and grinned, pulling at his mouth to show you his teeth. A veritable row of canines gleamed at you, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.

“Huh,” you said eloquently. Your uniform dripped onto the floor.

Penguin lifted the ears of his hat when you looked over, giving you a peek of the short, dark hair by the side of his head. On his temple was a scattering of smooth, pale-blue scales, glinting prettily in the light. They littered his hairline in small patches down to his neck, peeking through the dark strands of hair there.

“Pretty…”

Shachi groaned. “‘Pretty’, is that all you have to say??? Seriously?? I have fangs! We have gills!”

“Back to the point,” Penguin redirected. “This is the room Shachi and I use to get in and out of the sub underwater. The inventor who made this submarine built it especially for us, but it’s good for the crew to know how it works too.”

Shachi finally left your side to slap the door he was closing earlier. “This bad boy is fitted with a two-door system, both with built-in seals. The first one is on the outside and opens slowly to let water and us in from the outside. It closes and a system drains and pumps it back out. Once done, this inner door unseals and Penguin and can enter the sub.”

“The two-door system helps control the water pressure, so there’s less chance of a leak,” Penguin said.

“Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya are you guys still in here—” Law stopped and stared at you, a pitying look on his face. “Ah, you got poor Tailor-ya…”

You sputtered at that statement and his all too knowing look at your state, trying to straighten out your clothes. “W-What do you mean? Is this like something common?”

“Well…” Penguin began.

Shachi began whistling innocently.

“The crew always avoid them when they come back because they always latch on to the nearest person before changing out,” Law said. “Everyone’s been a victim of them at least once.”

“Well, at least I’m not all the way wet,” you grumbled, pulling at your shirt.

“I’m surprised about that, too,” Law drawled, shifting his sword on his shoulder. “Usually both of them go for their victim at once.”

That was the wrong thing to say as both men stilled, head turning to look at you before at each other.

“Hug time!” They exclaimed.

Your eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey, NO—”

Two bodies slammed into either side of you, pinning you in between them with a wet squish.

At seeing your distraught expression, Law grimaced in sympathy. 

Both men had to unstick themselves from you, attention going to Law as they dragged you along. “Let’s get Cap!”

He quickly pulled up his Devil Fruit Powers to Shamble away, a scrap of paper fluttering to the ground where he was.

Chapter Text

The Polar Tang’s halls could be scary, if you weren’t used to her.

That wasn’t an exaggeration, but an undisputable fact. Every single crew member whom you’ve talked to about it, admitted that they were initially put off at being in the Tang’s hall when they first joined the crew.

(Save for Ikkaku and Law, but the former was a whole different beast in her own category and the latter never let slip a single peep when you asked.)

Hell, even Bepo admitted that he and the Swallow Island duo were terrified the first few weeks they took ownership of the submarine, though Penguin and Shachi would deny it to the best of their abilities.

Though Law was no-nonsense with stuff like this, he wasn’t always around to curb the rumors the senior members liked to tell the newer recruits.

Penguin leaned closer to one of the new recruits, tanned and his brown-hair in soft spikes. “You know, you’ve had quite a few night shifts already. How do you feel?”

“It’s kind of eerie at night,” Boost admitted. “Not that I’m complaining! It’s just very… different from what I’m used to…”

“You don’t have to lie to make us feel better,” the other man said. “Everyone knows it’s scary in the halls at night. Especially down the area where the Tailor’s workshop is.”

Clione joined in, ever the shit stirrer. “Yeah! If you’re by yourself there, sometimes you can feel a presence following behind you!”

You sighed as expectant gazes turned to you, raising your hands up. “I don’t know, don’t look at me. I’m usually not in the halls late. I’m either in my bunk early or I stay in my workshop the whole night.”

Another voice scoffed, and you scooted over to let the lanky figure of the other recruit sit down next to you on the bench. “Yeah, right! What’s gonna be with us? Ghosts? Spirits? What are you five?”

“Hey!” Penguin yelled. “It’s true!”

Slick chuckled, glancing at the senior members over his meal. “Sure, sure.”

***

Much later on that day, as the hours were turning into night, you were visited by two men who really had too much time on their hands despite being first mates.

“Tailorrrrr!” Penguin whined dramatically. The couch creaked as he draped himself over it, partially laying in Shachi’s lap, who sat on one end. “The new recruits don’t believe us! They think we’re idiots!”

“Probably because you’re acting like it,” you responded dryly, adjusting the measurements on your template as you calculated the changes you’d have to make for the new boiler suits.

“Well, how am I supposed to earn their respect as their superior if they treat me like that?”

“Act like the full-grown man you are,” you suggested.

“Orrrr you can scare them,” Shachi suggested, shark-like smirk on his face. “Make them eat their words.”

You shot the redhead a scathing look that warned him not to go any further. But all too late, as the damage was already done, and the seed planted as the moping man was revitalized.

“We should totally use your workshop to scare the newbies,” Penguin said, a fit of determination making him jerk up and nearly nailing Shachi in the gut.

“No, the fuck we’re not,” you said immediately.

Shachi didn’t say anything, only grinning wider when you looked at him for help. He opened his mouth, and you immediately knew that nothing good would come out of it. “You know, we should spook them first. Mess around with them a little bit.”

“Yeah! And we won’t mess with anything! We’ll just need a space to hide at most.”

You sighed in exasperation, not even bothering to ask for an elaboration at the two’s jumps in conversations, as they would eventually tell you. You had higher expectations for Penguin, as he was usually the more responsible one who reigned in Shachi and the more mischievous members of the crew when Law was not around, but when it was him who got an idea, there was no hope of deterring him as he had Shachi to egg him on.

“I have some old scare masks from the festivals on my old island if you want to use it,” you grumbled, giving in far too easily. As much as you tried to deny it, you did have a soft spot and a tendency for chaos that led you to lend your services too often to them.

Penguin perked up. “Really?!? Are you sure?”

“If you can find it and put everything back the way it was after, then go ahead. But,” You stopped and raised the pencil in your hand threateningly at them like a blade, “if you guys leave my shelves messy, I’ll kill you.”

He sweated nervously. “Got it.”

 ***

It started off normally, for the most part. The days passing by without you noticing anything much. Though that could have been because you were holed up in your workshop when not out doing your assigned duties. But you did notice that out of the pair of newbies, Boost looked increasingly nervous as the time passed. Once or twice, passing by the sleeping quarters’ hall, you did spy Penguin skulking around, sometimes by himself, sometimes with either Clione or Shachi or any other person he managed to rope into. You always made sure to look straight ahead and walk a little faster to pass it.

(Supplying them with a few items didn’t mean that you wanted to participate—and, more importantly, be caught up when Law came through and cracked down upon the antics.)

(You did not want to spend another day finding bits of your body scattered around the Tang by Law’s fruit, thank you very much. You were perfectly content to sit back and watch the chaos that was your nakama unfold around you.)

Tonight’s night shift included the daily navigation lookout duties, and additional maintenance things in the engines that you couldn’t get to while the Tang’s machinery was hot and active during the day. It was you, Uni, and Penguin, alongside the pair of newbies. One senior officer to a junior to show them the ropes, plus an extra pair of eyes on the ocean. Penguin was there to fetch you from your workshop, and the little smirk on his face was the only warning you got to prepare yourself for a night of mess as you met up with Slick and Boost

You were glad, though, that even though the first mate was mischievous, he still took his duties seriously. The first half of the time spent in the engines room passed by dutifully, with the two younger members learning what they needed to manage any emergency issues that might pop up. If they got assigned to a specific role, then they’d have more in-depth training later. But tonight was just a quick rundown for them to prepare for night shifts.

(You pretended not to notice the way Boost had a queasy look on his face and that Slick’s shoulders twitched every time something creaked or clanked. Law should give you an award for the best actor on the crew.)

“Now that you two’ve got the hang of it,” Penguin announced with a grin on his face. “Tailor’ll will watch over for a little bit. I’ve gotta go to the shitter!” 

You groaned, sending him a nasty look. “You’re filthy, Peng.”

He stuck his thumb on his nose and waggled his fingers at you before turning and leaving.

“Feel free to ask me anything if you need,” you said before wandering over to your area and opening the borrowed maintenance kit and extracted a screwdriver. “Remember, don’t overtighten anything, or you might crack the casing. Check for rust or leaks or any missing screws. This area tends to rattle a lot.”

“Got it!”

While Boost and Slick settled down in their quadrant. You unscrewed the panel of one of the deactivated filter tubes and stuck your head in, checking for clogs or debris. Not many others liked doing this particular task, especially after that one time Uni found a whole horde of spiders that stowed away from a previous docking, and the next month was spent battling eight-legged terrors. It took you hours to dust out and clear your workshop once you surfaced.

You shuddered and pulled yourself out, replacing the panels and making sure they were screwed on tight. There was a clank and a curse from the corner the newbies were working.

“You alright?”

“Where did my wrench go?!” Slick stuck his head out from behind the pipes, an aggravated look on his face. “Tailor, do you have an extra?”

“Let me see…” You rummaged through the mechanic's toolbox by your leg, grimacing as you pulled out an old, rusty one that Ikkaku swore up and down to have thrown away already. “Ugh… This is the only one…”

“It’s fine, I’ll take it.” Slick accepted it with a valiant grimace on his face and returned to his work.

Your attention was piqued after that, half-focused on the newbies in case anything else happened, and the other half keeping an eye out for the missing wrench. The lights flickered, and you frowned, casting a look overhead. You were halfway through putting a mental pin into notifying Ikkaku of the malfunction when the room plunged into darkness. There was a split second of surprise before your instincts kicked in, as you stilled, listening to the noises of the Tang around you. Electricity still hummed through the floors, and there was the very distant thrum of gears in action. That meant that the lights weren’t broken. Someone turned it off.

Steady footsteps approached you and through a weak trace of your Observation Haki you identified the familiar presence before you socked them.

Penguin tapped the back of your hand teasingly as he brushed by, aimed towards where the cursing newbies were, before his steps fell silent. Wise enough to expect the upcoming trouble, all the tools were packed up before they could become a tripping hazard in the dark.

Then it began. 

Due to its nature, sound tended to echo in the Tang, the metal walls and features bouncing and warping noises until it was night incomprehensible. Within the confines of the mechanical rooms, that fact doubled tenfold as a veritable din rang in your ears.

You were calm in the chaos as their footsteps and screaming approached you, chased along by ominous clanking and the frankly ridiculously scary laughter Penguin could produce. Hands grabbed onto either side of your shoulders, jostling you a bit, but you didn’t move even as the noises got nearer. Just when it sounded like it was right in front of you, everything cut off. The three of you were left in silence for a few moments, fingers digging into your shoulders and two forms that were too tall trying to huddle behind you. When the lights turned back on, you had two oversized males clinging to your back and a pair of wrenches sitting innocuously in front of your boots.

“I’m gonna piss my pants,” Slick muttered. He shook your shoulders a little bit. “H-Hey you didn't say that the sub’s got electrical problems at night. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’ll let the head mechanic know,” you drawled, nudging the wrenches with a boot. Raising your hands, you patted the hands on your shoulders conformtingly. “Anyway, your wrench’s back, Slick. Get back to work, you two. The faster we finish, the more time we can spend with Uni in navs. Don’t you worry, I’ll kick the ass of any other ghosts here.”

It was a blessing that you finished up the mechanical work easily, so that you could let Slick and Boost run back to the navigation room to huddle with Uni. Though, as punishment for letting you shoulder most of the work, you forced Penguin to stay back and double check everything.

***

“How do I look?” Penguin asked, turning to you, the borrowed mask secured on his face. It looked a little silly with his hat poking up behind it, but you were more focused on your work table.

You gave a long-suffering sigh as you rubbed the bridge of your nose, eyes not straying to him as you doubled checked the two boiler suits for any last-minute errors. “You asked me that already.”

“But you didn’t answer before!”

And you didn’t bother to answer this time, either. Huffing, you folded up the suits neatly, making crisp lines even though you knew that they would be unfolded soon. With that ready for Slick and Boost, you turned to drag out an old bedsheet from the infirmary that laid in your reuse bin.

“They’ll be here soon to pick up their boiler suits,” you informed the first-mate in a tired tone, handing him the fabric. 

“Thanks!” Penguin chirped, grabbing it. The dark cloth finally covered his hat when he threw it on, concealing his identity completely with the mask. The man then shuffled behind your couch, tucking himself behind there just in time as knocking announced the arrival of your guests.

Making sure that there wasn’t an errant corner of the sheet showing, you went to open the door to let the two newest members in.

“No ghosts outside!” Slick announced, chest puffed up. “So you don’t have to worry! If you’re still scared, I can walk you at night.”

After the night shift where you bore witness to them getting scared, Slick seemed to try and double down on his previous statement denouncing his fears, hiding his increasing nervousness behind false bravado.

“Right,” you said simply, a small smile on your face as you stepped aside to reveal the new uniforms on your desk. “Well, if you want to stop talking about ghosts and start looking at your boiler suits, they’re ready.”

Both males eagerly went for their uniforms.

“Damn, you made these?!?” Slick marvelled, picking up the suit and unfolded it.

“W-Wow it’s perfect,” Boost said.

You grinned at the pair’s awe, pride puffing out your chest a little. “I’m responsible for the crew’s uniforms. Or anything clothes related. If you need something, come to me.”

Caught up in the ego of praise, your spirits were high enough that you only smirked as you saw Clione and Uni peeking into the open doorway of your workshop, the former with a smirk and a wrench in his hands and the latter reaching for the lights. Your workshop was plunged into darkness at the same time that Clione slammed his wrench into something, creating a reverberating crash in the small space that elicited shrieks from the two in front of you. It got even more chaotic as your couch screeched, moving from its spot as Penguin crawled over the back of it. In the dimness, the mask and sheet truly did look ghastly, like an eerie apparition. Coupled with the shrieking noise you had no idea he could produce, you had to say that it was quite a good act.

Slick and Boost ran screaming out the door. Penguin turned around to give you a jaunty little salute before shooting out after them. “See ya!”

Sticking your head out the door, you yelled after them, “You better bring that back clean!”

Behind you, the drawl of your captain brought heat to your ears and cheeks. “Tailor-ya. Quite lively here.”

Stepping aside, you let Law into your workshop as you turned on the lights.

“Captain,” you greeted him. “Here to tell me off? Or Penguin to stop?”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, I don’t care what you do,” he drawled. “And isn’t this ‘good for raising team morale’?”

“The only thing it’s raising is my blood pressure,” you sighed.

“Sounds serious,” he deadpanned. “You know that too much salt in your diet tends to lead to hypertension.”

Your expression flattened as a distant scream echoed down the hall.

Though it was all in jest, none of you realized how close to home the story of a roaming spirit hit. In the corner of the ceiling, above the din and noise of all your antics, a transparent, ephemeral apparition looked on, the Polar Tang quietly rejoicing as her nakama expanding in numbers.

Chapter Text

You snorted awake as a frightened yelp of your name roused from your slumber. A hand around your ankle was all the warning you had before you were tugged out of the comfortable darkness you were under.

“What were you doing? ” Slick asked, his and Boost staring down at you.

Head full of sleepy cotton, you sat up with a yawn. “Napping.”

“Holy shit, what if those things collapse with you underneath?” he wheezed, an arm thrown out to the bolts of fabric leaned up against each other in a shoddy tent.

You wisely chose not to mention how many times you’ve had to wiggle out of that exact situation. And the bruises that would inevitably form after being pinned by rolls of unyielding fabrics.

“That’s so dumb…” Slick sighed, ignoring your affronted ‘hey!’

It was also a good way to de-stress, the sound and light dampening effects helping you cut off from the world. And you told him so.

“You should just build a pillow fort, then!” Slick harangued. “Instead of scaring us half to death!”

You blinked. “What’s a pillow fort?”

They stared at you like you grew a second head. “You… don’t know what a pillow fort is…?” Boost asked.

Their strange reactions made you defensive as you stood up and crossed your arms. “If you guys are going to be weird about it, then just go away.”

Boost quickly shook his head, denying that. “No! No! It’s not that. We’re just surprised, that’s all!”

Shrugging, you waved them off. “I’m not sure what the importance of this ‘pillow fort’ is. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to sleep.”

You caught onto Slick the moment an idea went off in his head, resigning yourself to your fate as the dark-haired male grabbed your wrist and dragged you with him. “No! I have a better idea that won’t risk you being suffocated.”

Boost shot you an apologetic look as he went along with his best friend, shutting your workshop door behind him.

The three of you tromped through the Tang’s halls, with the tallest in the lead, looking for something specific. Slick didn’t stop until he saw Law passing by, absorbed in his documents.

“Cap’n!” he called, halting the man in his tracks.

Law stopped, humming to show that you all had his attention, but never lifting his eyes from the files in his hands. “What is it?”

You were presented in front of him like a guilty party, your name uttered out by Slick. “—doesn’t know what a pillow fort is.”

Law glanced at you and slowly raised a single, dark eyebrow. “And? What is the reason for telling me this?”

Slick’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “The common room’s free for a while, right?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the crew duties?”

“Well…” Law drawled, pretending to ponder over a schedule that you all knew he had memorized. He shuffled the paper in his hands a bit, like a teasing bastard. “Nothing out of the ordinary for today. It’s actually a lighter day, so night shift should be done early.”

Slick’s wide grin grew even wider. “Perfect… Captain…”

Law held up a tattooed hand. “Do as you want. Don’t let it get in the way of your duties, don’t mess anything up, and put things back the way they were.”

The arm in Slick’s hold was yanked up along as he threw his up in victory. “Yes! Thanks, Cap’n! C’mon, we gotta start it early.”

“Start what early?” The plaintive voice of your navigation officer asked.

Slick turned his excited grin on Bepo, tugging you forward. And finally releasing your wrist to put his hands on your shoulders. He shook you back and forth, as if you were a rattle and not a senior officer twice his experience. “We’re going to build a pillow fort!”

 Bepo tilted his head. “Oh, is this a team-building exercise? Can I help?”

“The more, the merrier,” Boost said, with the knowledge of someone who’d spent years accompanying Slick in his antics. “Slick usually makes them pretty big, so it’d be nice to have some help if we don’t want to spend all night on it.”

Bepo’s eyes glittered at that, and you knew it was inevitable that most if not all the crew would get wind of this as the mink sped off. And it was true, the air of the Polar Tang taking on a fervent energy at the thought of a new, exciting event. You had to admit, there wasn’t much to do outside of chores on the submarine, and when the underwater stints were weeks long, it really exhausted all sources of entertainment available. So you couldn’t blame everyone for being worked up at the Captain’s go-ahead.

“Yo.” Shachi popped into the workshop, the redhead stepping in to lift one of the bolts of fabric that you could spare (at Slick’s insistence and the promise to roll them all up later). He paused as he passed by you, leaving space for Uni as he too moved about in your workshop. The redhead’s gaze felt sharp and assessing beneath his glasses, and you blinked, relying on your old, hated training not to shift nervously and give anything away. “You alright with all of this? 

The unexpected kindness threw you for a loop, and you broke your composure, eyes widening. “I—Uh…”

“If it’s too much, let me know right now, and Peng and I will tell everyone to pack it up.”

His concern warmed your heart even after so long with the crew, and you gave him a close-lipped smile. “It’s fine, Shach’. I’m just… It’s kind of exciting.”

It embarrassed you to say that, but it was true.

Shachi’s face broke into a broad grin at that admission, shooting you a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, then. We’ll make sure this is the best blanket fort you’ll ever have.”

Somehow, miraculously through the power of very careful maneuvering, lots of squabbling, and two unrolled bolts of the largest fabrics and what you think was all the blankets and pillows possibly on the Tang, the recreational space became a massive fabric structure that every single one of your nakama could fit under in comfort. Even the tallest ones, should they choose to partake, had a space for them. It wasn’t surprising that the thing got built (not with those like Ikkaku and Morsa helping), more so that everyone wanted to participate and wanted to join in on this silly little escapade that only happened because you had revealed an embarrassing facet about your childhood (or lack of). Of course, not everyone was present, as there were those who still had to go through their shifts. But they would come when their shift ended and someone else’s began. But not you for tonight.

Because tonight, you’d get the joy of experiencing your first ‘pillow fort’.

You couldn’t believe it. Full-grown pirates, led by the most fearsome surgeon of the seas. And there you all were, piled into a pillow fort of all things.

“So?” Slick prompted in a whisper, picking his head up to look at you from where he was. “How’s your first pillow fort?”

You hummed, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Bepo’s bulk behind you. Uni, already in his sleep, tossed a leg over you, the long limb pinning both you and Clione down under it. “It’s nice,” you said simply.

Law’s gravelly brogue rumbled over the space, a little grumpy after Bepo corralled him into the space. “Go to sleep, you two.”

In the dark, you smile gently up at the canopy above you.

Slick had a satisfied look on his face as he shot you a final smile before lying down. Unbeknownst to you, he exchanged a victorious fist bump with Boost for giving their dear tailor one more experience to cherish.

Chapter Text

Being the shortest came with its fair share of trouble with life on the Polar Tang.

For a submarine, the Polar Tang was built almost luxuriously. But the caveat was that it was built with height in mind. It was a blessing for many of your crew, those like Jean Bart and Shosai being able to navigate the halls comfortably for the most part (though the size of the navigation seats couldn’t be helped). It was a curse for shorter members like you , especially when you needed to get something from the kitchen cabinets.

‘ Sugar’ glinted mockingly down at you in blocky letters, the container somehow set atop the uppermost shelf. Grumbling, you glanced around to make sure nobody was there before gingerly climbing atop the counter. Your fingers trembled as they fell a few scant inches short of the container.

How Risso managed to navigate the kitchen despite only being taller than you by a bit always stumped you.

Before you could do something drastic, a weight pressed into your back, pressing all the air out of you as someone invaded your space. Red strands of hair fluttered into your vision, and you muttered a curse as Shachi’s familiar voice rang in your ears. “Aw, does our wittol Taiwor need some help to get something from up high?” 

“Shut up!” You barked, trying to shake off the redhead’s bulk, lunging for the sugar, but too late as tanned fingers swooped them from the shelf. 

The man stepped back for you to hop down, and you did, whirling around to face him. Though he was the shortest of the Swallow Island quartet, he was still tall enough to easily keep the tin out of your reach as you reached.

“I just wanted some goddamn tea!”

“What’s the magic word?”

Incensed, you jumped at him, making sure your boots landed on his toes. “I’ll make a pincushion out of your ass, Shachi!”

***

Being the shortest did really come with its fair share of teasing. 

You ducked, avoiding the arm that Hakugan was throwing over you, ready to use you as an armrest. “Oi!”

The helmsman yipped, toppling over as he couldn’t correct himself in time. “Hey!”

His arm latched onto the back of your suit, bringing you down with him. You both landed on the navigation room floor with a thud, immediately breaking into a half-hearted squabble as the two of you wrestled on the floor.

“You idiot! Why’d you pull me down!”

“I was falling!”

Your fist bonked onto the forehead of his mask, not enough to damage anything, but strong enough for him to feel your ire. “I told you that you needed to stop putting your arm on my head!”

“But you’re so convenient as a table! Just the right height!”

“Shut up, Hakugan!” You gritted, one hand pushing back his own as you fought him from palming your face. “You’re not even that much taller than me!” 

You were ready to grapple him until a winner emerged, but a metaphorical rope was thrown your way when you saw the wobbly top point of a familiar hood. Muscles straining, you froze, pushing back Hakugan’s hands as you quickly hatched up a plan.

“Helmsman on the floor!” You yelled, scrambling off of him as some of the crew honed in on the sight.

It had the exact result you wanted.

“Dogpile Hakugan!” Clione yelled, diving on top of the already downed pirate.

That prompted a chain reaction for some of the other members present, Ikkaku and Shachi following suit. The masked man let out a weak wheeze underneath everyone that quickly turned to terror as thumping footsteps approached. The crew screamed as Bepo’s shadow fell over them.

“Bepo, no!”

“Please stop!”

“I’m gonna die!!!” 

You scuttled away before the navigator could turn on you.

***

Being the shortest meant that Bepo’s hugs enveloped you completely, even more so than any of your other crew members. There were many a time when you’d startled someone hidden in the depths of Bepo’s fur by responding to something. You often used that to your advantage, hiding within the safe confines of his bulk to de-stress

A questioning call of your name roused you from where you lay, swallowed up by Bepo’s fluff. After a moment of contemplation, you poked your head up. “Yeah?”

Tanaka screamed, a high-pitched note that rivaled Mozart’s, startling Bepo beneath you. He pushed his glasses up nervously and cleared his throat as you two leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Ahem. Sorry. Can you help fix my cap?”

A second look showed that he was wringing said brown cap in his hands, his jaw-length locks swaying free. From where you were, you could see the frayed threads, something that would most likely mean a painstaking session bent over your table. But despite your aching back, duty called. You sighed and began to struggle up from where you were lying. “Alright, let me s—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by a yelp as Bepo’s arms latched around your midriff, pulling you back. He rolled to the side, locking you underneath hid arms. “No, sorry. Rest time.”

“B-But I’m the ship’s tailor!” You protested. 

“Captain’s orders. If it’s not major, then you’re not working,” Bepo murmured, nuzzling his head atop of yours. “Tanaka repair your own things. Sorry.”

***

Sometimes your height was useful to the crew in more serious ways.

Law handed you a slip of paper, a rough map drawn on it. A bar’s name was written and marked on top of everything, and you already knew what to expect. “Tailor-ya, think you can scout out this place for me?”

“Sure thing. The usual?”

“Yes. Dress down, and try not to interact with anything too much.”

You took the paper, scanning over the map before pocketing it for disposal later. “Got it, Captain.”

“Uni and some of the younger crew members will be on the island for supplies restocking, but they might not be around when you set out, so expect to be on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the crew prepared their pre-docking procedures, you made your way back into your workshop, digging out an outfit in preparation for those going onto the island. It was during times like these that Law’s strict modus operandi came in handy. No unnecessary, garish, attention-seeking skirmishes, uniforms to blend in with each other as much as possible, and a fair amount of time being underwater ensured that the Heart Pirates’ individual identity still remained in a gray area. That, along with your height, made you especially unnoticeable compared to the other members. So once you took off the distinctive uniform and the more distinctive sunhat you wore out, you were the perfect person to move about unnoticed.

You were rummaging for a shirt when the overhead intercom system crackled to life, Law’s low voice filtering through. “Everyone, we’ve arrived.”

Ditching your current task, you followed your nakama up the metal stairs to the entrance doors. Uni, Clione, and the newer members (though not too new, since they’ve been with you all for a few months already) were readying to leave, the hooded man jumping and rushing over when he saw you.

The blonde shoved a small dagger into your hand, patting the appendage. “I heard you’re going out later. It’s nothing big but just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, squeezing Clione’s hand before he pulled away to vault over the railing to the dock below (to Law’s loud chastising for him to ‘stop doing that goddamnit you’re gonna break your ankle!’).

You and Law watched the merry band head off, you waving, while Law was as stoic as ever. When the group disappeared around the corner, the man turned to head back into the submarine, and you followed suit.

“Do you need anything before you head out later, Tailor-ya?”

“No. I’ve got everything prepared. Should I join the crew to help with our post-docking procedures?”

Law exhaled through his nose. “I told you already. You don’t have to do that whenever I send you out for surveillance. Just rest up. I need you to be sharp for tonight.”

You gave him a joking salute and split off to head to your workshop. “Got it, Cap’n!”

Your workspace did need some tidying, so you puttered around in the little room until the sky outside the porthole got dark, shucking off your boiler suit and pulling on your outfit for the night. Something nondescript, darker to blend into the area, but not so that you’d look suspicious. One final glance at the map Law gave you confirmed where you were going before you shredded the paper and left.

Ikkaku poked her head out to say a quick goodbye as you breezed past, Risso following suit with a reminder to come back in time for dinner.

“I’m making the Captain’s favorite tonight!”

The thought of his warm food got you drooling. “Got it!”

The night air was gentle on your face as you stepped out of the submarine. Law was already on deck, and he turned to greet you. “Do you have everything?”

You nodded, patting your waistband where you hid Clione’s knife. “I have the dagger Clione left me.”

“Good.” Law tossed a rope ladder over the submarine side, and you began climbing down. “Don’t be reckless.”

Your boots hit the wood below you. “I won’t.”

The map was burned into your mind’s eye as you navigated deeper into the little island town. Even with the encroaching night, a few establishments remained lit. However, the number of souls on the street decreased as you headed closer to the bar of interest.

Noise slammed into you the moment you opened the doors, a disorienting contrast from the quiet outside. However, the chaos was an advantage as you slipped in without drawing any attention, eyes skimming over the area. Your ears caught the murmuring of a familiar moniker.

Bingo. Law’s information was true as always.

You slipped into the bar seat nearest to your target, ordering a lighter drink and settling down.

There were always a few things you kept a lookout for. Movements of other powerhouses, mentions, and bounties relating to the Heart Pirates. But the main one was anything relating to Doflamingo. It was a given, with your Captain’s past hanging over the crew. There was no one other than that man who everyone kept such vigilant eyes and ears out for, anything picked up relayed back to Law with haste. Depending on the nature of the information, it would set the course of your trip for the next few weeks, whether it be submerged deep below water or sailing at a breakneck speed to another place.

Their organizations, as well as any and all names the Donquixote leader went by, were long-memorized by you so that you could catch any and all information.

Your skin crawled at the mentions of slaves passed offhandedly between the men at the table. An auction, generously funded by Joker, on an island north of here. A rare commodity considering he never liked to dabble in this part of the Blue, so far away from his normal base of operations.

You stuck around for as long as you could, picking up the date and location passing between booze-loosened lips. Hearing enough, you paid for your drink and slid out of your seat, making your way to the bar exit. As you rounded the corners of the streets, you thought that everything went well enough, until the shuffle of footsteps fell in line behind you.

“Going somewhere so quickly? I’m surprised you didn’t stay for longer.”

You stilled, slowly pivoting to face the man behind you, feeling the way your body broke into a cold sweat. Though you didn’t show anything as you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a little rat listening to us. I just wanted to see what tidbits were swiped by greedy hands while my friends were discussing business.”

Resisting the urge to scoff at his cheesy words, you backed up, hand clasping over the hidden blade Clione forced into your hands earlier. Its handle was sturdy under your hands, but you didn’t have a chance to use it. Faster than you could react, he was in front of you. Pain exploded in your gut as he slammed a foot into it, sending you flying and hitting the wall of the opposing building and falling to the ground. You retched, stomach acid and spit coming up as you curled in to cradle your stomach. A shadow fell over your curled-over form, and you tensed, hand clenching the handle in your grip. Scuffed boots appeared at in your vision, and you struck, forcing battered muscles into overdrive as you swiped the dagger up, hoping it’d land.

The blade glanced harmlessly off him and the man slammed into you, vision exploding into stars before your air was cut off. You were dragged up, feet leaving the ground.

Oh no.

Though you haven’t been doing this for too long, you’d gotten careless at the ease in which the previous mission went.

You clawed at the vice-like grip around your neck, your borrowed dagger clattering to the ground as the man choking you out wretched your dominant hand to the side. The tips of your boots scrapped the ground beneath, barely making contact with the dirt. A glimpse of gleaming black on the limb holding you made you curse your luck.

Haki.

Damn him, you thought, baring your teeth in a desperate, animal display, ignoring the throbbing that came from the left side of your face. Even if you still had the knife in your grasp, you wouldn’t have escaped anyway. Someone with Uni’s stature or Moose’s strength could’ve handled it. But not you.

Jeering laughter echoed around you as you aimed weak kicks at the one holding you up.

“Who do you work for? Or are you just some nosy brat?” He asked, shaking you around like a rag doll.

Your eye bulged out of your head as he squeezed. The bones of your neck creaked like fragile butterfly wings within his hold. Against his size and abilities, you were helpless. A toy for the larger dogs to chew up. Your skin prickled as you felt eyes raking down your form, and you felt exposed without your usual thick, baggy boiler suit.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

Law was going to be upset.

“Hm, I could make you squeak. I’ll just have to take you back to my boys—”

“Let go of my nakama!”

The rest of his words were cut off by a grunt as something slammed into him. The world went sideways as you slipped from the man’s grasp, landing with a rough tumble as rocks and pebbles dug into your unprotected skin. Taking a few moments, you drew in wheezy gasps before trying to stand up. 

Hands caught you as your legs crumpled, and you were scooped up into warm arms.

“H-Hang on,” Bowser’s voice reassured you. “Don’t worry! Uni and Penguin’s got it covered, and we’re going to bring you to the captain!”

You tried to speak, but all that sounded was a hoarse rattle, the ring of fire around your neck aching like a brand. Breathing was equally difficult, and you relented to force wheezing, whistling breaths through your windpipe, limp in your nakama’s hold all the way until you were laid out on the infirmary bed, back in the Polar Tang again.

Through the haze of pain, you forced a smile at the figures hovering above you, unable to discern anybody due to the light shining down. You knew it must’ve been an unpleasant sight, the blood vessels in your eyes no doubt ruptured from the trauma.

Your name was said alongside Law’s familiar honorific. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

That was all the reassurance you needed as Law’s Room flickered on. The feeling of his fruit sectioning you apart was familiar at this point, and you closed your eyes. Your full trust laid in your captain’s abilities as you fell into darkness.

For others, it would’ve been terrifying to be on the receiving end of Law’s powers, but you and the Heart Pirates have never been led wrong by him. 

By the time you awoke, you could breathe again. The deep inhale you did came with a dull ache, but nothing of the caliber that you felt before. Shuffling came from the side of your bed, and you glanced over to see your captain standing up from his chair.

“Don’t speak,” Law said brusquely, interrupting you before you could even begin. “You have two fractured ribs and severe bruising surrounding your neck and the facilities there. Luckily, nothing was broken. I did the best I could to realign everything, but there was not much I could do about the ruptured blood vessels. You’re on bed rest until you heal.”

You exhaled, the motion coming with a dull pain as the muscles around your jaws ached. Your captain didn’t meet your eyes, fussing with the various equipment on the bedside table next to you. A common sign of his guilt as he tried to act busy.

Reaching out, you grabbed the edge of his shirt sleeve and tugged, halting the man in his actions. You lifted a hand to mime writing something, which he understood right away. A pencil and paper were thrust into your hands, and you quickly got writing. When done, you shoved the pad at him.

‘Not your fault.’

Law huffed, passing the pad to you. He pressed a hand onto your head, pushing you down. “You’re literally in the infirmary bed right now. Because of a mission, I sent you on.”

‘I chose to go, I’m the best at it. It’s not like our lives are only full of sunshine and rainbows as pirates. And you fixed me up now, yeah?’

“You know better than to over-rely on me,” he scolded.

‘But you take care of us so well, Captain!’

Law scowled, tugging on his hat as he averted his gaze. You squinted, seeing a bit of pink flushing over his skin. “Whatever. Did you manage to gather anything important?”

At that reminder, you brightened, pencil flying across the paper. You wrote down all the information you heard from those men, ripping out the page and presenting it to Law with a flourish. He took it, scanning everything. Gold eyes widened as he comprehended the information written on it. He gingerly folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

“Ah. I see. Thank you.”

Knocking echoed on the infirmary door, drawing your attention away. “Captain?” Bepo’s voice questioned through the door.

Law let out an aggrieved sigh. “The lot of you can come in. Tailor-ya’s awake.”

The door slammed open, and you jolted as a veritable pile of crewmates spilled in, with Bepo’s orange-bright suit in front. Law gave a final word of warning for them to be gentle before the group skidded to a stop in front of you. You smiled at them, ignoring the slight ache that bloomed where you got hit. You could see their hesitation and tilted your head.

“You had pretty bad bruising,” Law told you. “I removed most of the blood from the broken vessels, but the ones in your eyes are too delicate for me right now.”

He gritted his teeth, and you could see his silent decision being made. You could already see him looking for more medical texts the next time the Tang docked at an island.

“Are hugs allowed?” Somebody asked tentatively.

Law exhaled a sigh, lifting an arm to flap his hand dismissively. “Do whatever. It’s mostly cosmetic and very minor injuries left. But don’t be too rough, either way.”

That was all the approval you needed, and you opened your arms.

Bepo’s wrapped around you first, and you relaxed into the Mink, letting out a soft sigh as Law stepped back for more space. A hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair. Uni’s hand, based on the length of the fingers. More arms wormed beneath Bepo, over Bepo, but all of them wrapped around you. An offended squawk from the side signaled that even Law was roped into the mix.

Being the shortest in the crew had its drawbacks, sometimes serious ones. But you didn’t mind. You knew your nakama was there to support you.

Chapter Text

There were many things you noticed about the new individuals you now spent your time with. On a basic, bystander level, they all had their quirks that made them stand out from one another, even if their uniform tried to identify them as a unit. But as a tailor, you also noticed another habit of theirs too.

This crew loved to wear their blasted uniform.

While you could’ve attributed it as a mark of your good work—the new and improved boiler suits being so impressive that the crew wanted to show it off—but the heart Pirates already had a habit of wearing their suits (and only their suits) even before the new ones were made.

(You’d thought that, during the one-week duration of their stay on your island, that they had multiple suits per person. But no, each person had one. Ill-fitted and ripping at the seams.)

When you’d asked Law if it was strictly mandatory to wear the boiler suit at all times, he denied it, stating that it should at least be on during chores and skirmishes. And that made sense, to either be protection against the machinery or to mark you as friendly amongst the fray. But when it would get steamingly hot in the bowels of the Tang, you didn’t understand why some still insisted on wearing their suits.

Wanting to get to the root of it, you’d asked the various members who were the main culprits of this phenomenon.

It was on a sweltering day on an island that you popped that question to Uni and Clione, who were on food supply duty with you. You had on a breezy linen shirt, while the two still wore the normal pirate ensemble. Your sharp eyes spied the way Clione fanned himself, and the flush on Uni’s face beneath his mask. “Why didn’t you guys change into something lighter? I know I improved the suits to deal with the Tang’s heat, but they’re definitely not comfortable in direct sunlight like this.”

“Oh, my clothes are all in the wash,” Clione said.

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

You frowned, wondering who was on laundry duty this turn and if you could ask to take over for them and get it done sooner. “I see. What about you, Uni?”

He shrugged. “My clothes are a little tight on me. Not good to move around in, so I prefer to be in my suit.”

Clione leaned closer to you, whispering conspiratorially, “One time we were fleeing from the Marines and his pants split right down the middle.”

Your eyes boggled open and the man of the subject shifted uncomfortably, the tanned skin above his bandana turning ruddy with embarrassment.

“It’s so hard to get him to go get new clothes too,” Clione sighed.

“Ah,” you said, tailor instincts kicking in as you sized up the tallest of your trio. “I actually think there’s a reason for that.”

Uni tilted his head. “Hm?”

Mistaking his interest as permission to go on, you launched into an explanation. “If you’ve been shopping at mass-production shops, most of them use the same overall patterns. And there are three general main patterns.” 

You stopped to motion to Clione and yourself.

  “The ‘average’ human proportions, which roughly covers the most common heights and builds meant for the everyday person. Then, depending on the region, you have those for larger non-humans. This could arguably be broken down into different sub categories depending on which race you’re dealing with, like the Fishmen, the Minks, and so on. And finally, we have those for the ‘giant’ classifications. Not actual giants necessarily, but like—say someone like Whitebeard. And, of course, the female equivalent. It’s ridiculous, but companies want to cut costs, so they simply scare up or down in between sizes and call it a day. That covers the general populace enough that they don’t complain, or they’re rich enough to specialty order their clothes. But of course, we have such a wide diversity of bodies that, inevitably, some folks just can’t find a good fit.”

Not noticing the slack-jawed expression of Clione, you stepped closer to Uni, but mindful not to invade his space as you motioned to his shoulders, running the measurements in your head.

“See, Uni, you kind of fall in between. You’re really tall, taller than the average human. Yet you lack the barrel chest and the broad shoulders to try to fit into something in the middle categories. And it looks like your wingspan is pretty long, too.” 

You were off in dreamland as you turned back around, one finger raised up in emphasis.

“I’m assuming that, when you tried clothes, you always had a problem with the rise of the pants and the width of the shoulders for shirts, right?”

Silence met your question, and you stopped walking, glancing back at the two men with you.

“What?” You asked, dropping your hand.

“That was… a lot,” Clione said.

You flinched as that comment struck you. Unpleasant memories of displeased reactions from the past when you did that came back, and you curled into yourself. “Sorry…”

Uni resumed his pace, long legs catching up to you. His gloved hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair.

“Don’t apologize.” 

You glanced up at him, seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle up in a smile.

“You’re right, anyway.”

His vote of confidence was all you need, as you grinned sharply at his, puffing out your chest. “Well, don’t you worry! I’ve got all the skills you need to make you something nice!”

“What about me?”

“Wash your own clothes, first.”

“Hey!”

***

It was Hakugan who revealed more to you next, during laundry day, when you were doing rounds to collect your crew’s boiler suits. It was their first wash, and you wanted to make sure that they held up well through a batch rinse. Everyone had relinquished their suit to you for the day, with the sole exception of one person.

“Hakugan.” You tapped the helmsman calmly on the shoulder, finally managing to corner him in the mess hall after looking all around the sub. “Please hand me your suit. I need to wash it.”

Hakugan froze in place, panic in his body language. “I can’t.”

Tilting your head, you asked him, “How come? Is the zipper stuck or something?”

He squirmed, and you practically felt the embarrassment radiating off of him. For once, the usually forward crew member was struggling to find words to say. Your little interaction was not unnoticed by the other members of the team, and they immediately pounced upon Hakugan’s misfortune.

“He’s in his skivvies !” Shachi howled as he caught on, cackling at the poor man’s embarrassment.

You blinked at the helmsman. “What.”

(“Underwear,” Bepo helpfully supplied in the background.)

“Yeah,” Ikkaku said, popping her gum and stepping up beside you with a sharp look at the helmsman. “I think he practically lives in the suit, we’re lucky that he doesn’t go naked underneath.”

Grimacing at the image that was planted into your head, deciding to swallow the loss as you turned away with a bitter sigh. “That’s gross. It’s not optimal to just toss one suit into the heavy-duty washer, but I guess if you really need your suit now, you can just wash it by yourself later, alright?”

“About that…” Hakugan began.

You turned back to him, feeling a vein of frustration popping up in your temple. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to use it…”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“He doesn’t,” Ikkaku said anyway.

Sighing, you resisted the urge to drag a hand down your face. You didn’t want to cause any problems with the crew so soon in your journey with them, so you resigned to just having to do more laundry later. Maybe you could toss the gloves and rags in if there were any. “You know what, I’m just going to wash the ones I have right now. Hakugan, just hand me your suit later whenever you have the chance.”

“Nope,” Shachi denied. “Law wants you to wash everything now, Captain’s orders.”

“Well, Hakugan’s not taking off his clothes, and I’m not going to do it for him!” You protested.

Shachi waved you off. “Don’t worry, Newbie. I’ve got it handled. Just go to the laundry room and get everything set up. I know the washer takes a while to start.”

You didn’t understand what he meant when he dismissed you, but Hakugan did, the man trying to inch past you two. “Oh, come on, Shachi…”

“Your fault Hakugan. Cap warned all of us to have the uniforms ready for the Newbie to collect.”

Shachi’s knuckles cracked ominously as he took a step forward, startling Hakugan enough that he finally took the leap and bolted past you two. You looked at where the man had ran off to and back to Shachi, a helpless look on your face.

“Don’t worry, Newbie. Just go set stuff up like I said.” The other man didn’t look back as he briskly walked after where the helmsman bolted off to. “Uni! Come help me!”

You were thankful that it was Uni who dropped off the final boiler suit later, hoping that Hakugan wasn’t running around in his underwear.

***

With all your data gathered, you came to a concerning conclusion: The Heart Pirates severely lacked a functional wardrobe. And a majority of them also severely lacked a good sense of fashion.

Good thing Law brought you on for your tailoring skills.

A fire of determination lit up from under you at that revelation. Sure, their unified appearance as Heart Pirates was now leagues more polished with the new suits, but with you here, there was no need for the Heart Pirates to lack good apparel outside of it. That would create a stain on your reputation, and you had way more pride than that.

So the night after you realized their dilemma, you’d snuck into the room that the Heart Pirates had set up for the time being to be your workshop and dug through everything you’d brought onboard.

There was already a generous catalog of items you’d made previously, and a quick check showed that they were good enough for wear if anybody wanted to pick them. So you set that aside and then ran through the collection of fabrics you have. There were leftovers of the boiler suit fabrics, but you left them out in case you needed to make new ones. That still left enough for the things you wanted to make. 

The first order of business was creating things for the larger and taller members of the crew. Then, you’d look into making something for Hakugan and Uni, and finally, items for the free-for-all pile if you could. It would take a lot of time, but you felt confident enough to be able to manage it on top of your crew duties. You’d just have to shave down all your time outside your workshop to zero. But that was fine, you were no stranger to completing projects in a rushed manner.

So that was what became of you in the following days, weeks. Your world narrowed down to the repetitive slog of submarine maintenance, work, and the occasional night shift. Sleep and food were pushed back in favor of straight-stitched hems and running stitches, the lights in your workshop on long after the night shifts changed from one group to another. It was something that you didn’t put much thought into, as you’ve done it many times before. But your new captain thought otherwise.

“Newbie-ya.”

You twitched, back cracking fiercely as you sat up, pulling a discarded sheet over your workstation. Turning around, you blinked at the sight of one Trafalgar Law hovering by you, a frown on his face with his arms crossed a much as the plate of food he was holding in a hand allowed.

The old, ingrained itch to scramble up and snap into a ramrod-straight salute resurfaced, but something told you Law would be more likely to toss you out the hatch than appreciate the gesture.

“Captain Law,” you greeted, the title still strange on your tongue. “Do you need me to fix something?”

“Yes,” he said, and you went to make space for his request. “Your eating habits.”

Your hands froze from where they were tucking a pair of unfinished pants (meant to be Uni’s) away as you glanced back at him. “I-I’m sorry?”

Law’s stern expression furrowed into a stronger scowl. “You’ve been skipping meals and Risso’s been on my ass about it. Once or twice is whatever, but you’ve been doing this too frequently. You either make it to more meal times or I’m going to start having someone drag you out. And I know neither of us want that.”

“Ah.” You adverted your eyes, the awkwardness of being called out like a child catching up to you. “Sorry. It’s a force of habit, I guess.”

In all honesty, mingling with the pirates still scared you a little, so unused to such noise and such life from such a close-knit crew.

“Well.” A plate of food was placed on your table and Law stepped back. “The Heart Pirates doesn’t work like that. I refuse to become a joke to other crews because a member of mine collapsed from bad habits because they’re incapable of taking care of themselves.”

His words would’ve been harsh if they weren’t followed by silverware shoved into your face and the smell of the food that he brought you. The aromas of the chef’s–Risso’s—cooking awakened the dormant hunger in your stomach, and you wasted no time in digging in. Law took a seat on the couch, somehow making the action dignified, despite it sinking down upon him, as he crossed his leg and rested his sword by his side. Sensing that he wouldn’t move until you ate, you set yourself upon the food despite the lingering awkwardness.

“You know, you should make sure your working environment has enough illumination,” Law said after a few minutes of silence. “Someone of your profession should know of the importance of good lighting.”

You exhaled slowly, not wanting to full-on sigh in front of the man. “I know. I didn’t want to leave so much light on this late in the night because I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

You thought that would’ve been a good enough answer for him to stop his questioning, based on the way he stayed silent up until near the end of your meal. But your hopes were quickly dashed as Law asked, “What are you doing that would require you to stay up so late?”

“It’s… a bunch of different projects,” you said, setting down your fork as you brushed over the details of it. “I tend to work on multiple things at once. Is there a problem with it, Captain Law?”

He waved a heavily tattooed hand. “No. Nothing like that. I don’t care what you do in your free time, as long as you don’t bring danger to yourself or the crew. I have enough as it is trying to take care of some of the idiots when they hurt themselves over a dare. I don’t need another one of them. Understood?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

His face scrunched at that title. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’. I’m not that old.”

“Okay, Captain.”

That was the better choice as he extended a hand. “Here, give me your plate. I’ll take it back.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He was already leaving, tone dismissive as he said, “Yeah, yeah. Remember that if you don’t nourish yourself and sleep enough, I will force you to. And it won’t be pretty.”

While the secrecy from a new member would’ve rankled Law, he let you be with your poorly evaded answers. He didn’t mention how your notes were still tacked onto the walls behind you, nor the fact that he’d spot the trunk of clothes of various sizes tucked beneath your desk, content to not push and let you do your thing.

***

The sound of your scissors snipping away at the last thread was victorious.

Now, you’d normally let them sit for a few days, sometimes lander them, but at this point, you were fed up with looking at all of these again and again. Now, the hard part was gathering everyone in one place and transporting everything there.

Thankfully, the first part was solved, for the most part, as you’d already asked Law if you could gather the crew for a meeting on your behalf. The pirate was surprisingly agreeably, instructing you to let him know what you wanted it to happen, granted that it was within a sane time slot. And based on the level of lighting in the halls, it was still daytime above the surface. You were likely to find Law in one of two places: the infirmary or the captain’s quarter-slash-office. If you remembered correctly, Law wanted to do a supplies check before you all docked in a few days. So it was much more likely he’d be where the medication was.

So infirmary it was.

And, indeed, your hunch was correct as you opened the door to find him elbow-deep in one of the cabinets, various supplies around him. He didn’t look away from his work when you stopped near him, prompting you, “Something you need, Newbie-ya?”

Straightening up, you gathered the steel in your spine. “I’m finally done with what I was doing. Is it possible to gather everyone for that meeting I asked you about?”

“Hn.” That finally got him to retreat from the bowels of the cabinets, leaning back as he considered the request. “I can call it in an hour, after I’m done with this.”

That was sooner than you expected, but you were thankful nonetheless that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “That’s fine. Thank you, Captain!”

He grunted a noncommittal reply and waved you off.

With that set up, you had the next part of your plan to execute. There was one person–or Mink–who you had to ask for help, but with Law’s timeline, that was plenty of time for Bepo to finish up his duties before you need his help. All you had to do was wait.

So wait, you did, sitting at the edge of the couch until you head the heavier, muffled footstep of the furry navigator pass just outside your workshop door. The speed at which you opened the door made Bepo—and Penguin—jump in surprise.

You grinned, knowing full well it had too many teeth to be friendly. The more adjusted side of you would’ve normally been mortified to be acting like this in front of people you’ve only known for so long, but that part was tampered by the lack of sleep and the elation of finally finishing everything. “Bepo, you’re just the person I’m looking for. Can you help me with something?”

Penguin, sent you a curious look, but you quickly waved him away, already pulling Bepo into the bowels of your workshop. The gentle Mink followed, allowing himself to be dragged in as you shut the door in Penguin’s face.

Turning back to Bepo, you put your hands on your hips and said, “You probably heard Captain Law’s announcement, right?”

“Yes.” Bepo wrung his paws together, and a part of you felt bad for ambushing him so suddenly. “Peng and I were heading down to the galley for the meeting. You should too, Tailor-chan. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Cap.”

“Actually, I asked Captain to call the meeting on my behalf,” you admitted, walking over to your desk and dragging out a trunk you’d shoved under it. “I have a bunch of things, and I was wondering if you could help me carry it to the galley?”

“Of course!”

The ease at which he picked up the trunk made you envious, but you were more focused on picking up your own items, oversized bundles of clothing meant for specific members. The two of you quickly made your way to the galley, with you leading the way as Bepo followed. 

Already, the murmur of conversations escaping from the galley could be heard from the halls, and by the time you finally reached the double doors, you were practically vibrating with excitement. Using a booted foot, you pushed the door open with a bang. Everyone went quiet upon your bombastic entrance, but you didn’t see any of the eyes on you over the pile of clothes that you set down on the nearest bench top. One Bepo set down his trunk right next to it, you thanked him, and finally turned around to face the rest of the crew. Mustering up the quickly depleting courage that you barely had, you straightened up.

“Over the little bit of time here, I’ve noticed that some—”

An incriminating finger pointed vaguely at the entire crew and swept around.

“—of you seem to be inadequate in the clothing department. Don’t try to argue with me Hakugan, seeing you in your briefs that one time was traumatic enough. So…”

You leaned forward and slammed a victorious hand down on the trunk.

“I’ve brought it upon myself to fix that. I made some member-specific clothing, but in this trunk are also outfits I’ve pulled out or made. Feel free to check them out. I’ll be using this trunk as a free clothing resource for the crew in the future.”

Pushing it forward for everyone to dig through the clothes, you turned your attentions to the items you were carrying earlier, separating them by the name you’d put on the label over the strings. A lithe form draped over you, accompanied by wispy black curls that tickled your face.

“Hey, you’ve got my stuff, right?” Ikkaku asked you.

“Yep.” You handed her the one with her name. “Multiple beanies in the requested fabric pattern and material, better-fitting gloves, and everything else.”

“Sweet!”

The arm around your shoulders turned iron, and you choked as she practically clotheslined you as you were pulled closer to her. Your face burned as Ikkaku smacked a loud, obnoxious kiss onto your temple before flouncing off

“Thank you so much, sweetheart!”

You wobbled as she released you, a little shell-shocked at the sudden display of affection. “I uh… yeah.”

A throat clearing made you snap back to attention, seeing Uni and Hakugan standing in front of you.

“First time she did that to you?” Hakugan asked.

Uni simply had an amused look in his eyes as you scrambled to grab their stuff, shoving it into their chests. “This is for you guys!”

Both their expressions turned into surprise as their hands came up to catch it.

“Uni, those clothes might be a little bit off in terms of measurements, but I based them off the uniform measurements and fixed them a little. And Hakugan, since you and I have pretty similar builds, I just tweaked the patterns I had to hopefully fit you.”

Hakugan held up his package like a lifeline. “Oh hell yeah! Thanks, Tailor!”

“I guess we’ll have to change your nickname to Tailor, now,” Uni said as the other man bolted off to an empty bench to take off the paper you wrapped everything in, fending of Clione and Shachi when they got curious.

You exhaled strongly at the mention of the second nickname that was slowly overtaking the title you were labeled with. At this point, you were resigned to the fact that they wouldn’t bother with your name. “At least it isn’t ‘Fresh Meat’...”

The issue was solved for the time being, but your tailor instincts told you there’d be more to come. More people, or new growths requiring more clothes. Once you’d amass more and better supplies, you'd make better ones. Ones that would make you worthy of being the Heart Pirates’ Tailor. 

It was a promise that you silently took upon yourself to make as the months passed and as more members joined.

Though not all of the Heart Pirates came from bad backgrounds, there were a few members who, for one reason or another, needed the extra clothes. And they knew that they could come to you if they wanted to. A trunk always sat next to your couch, articles of clothing large and small filling it up as they waited for a recipient.

Eventually, you’d make a tradition of your own. Alongside the obligatory new boiler suit, recruits would eventually receive an article of handmade clothing or accessories, welcoming them into the fold.

Chapter Text

Your profession required you to have a good eye for color. But before meeting the Heart Pirates, you didn’t put much thought into it, more focused on relearning how to live in a world free of the heavy hand that governed you. Then it was the race to establish your reputation, no thought into the colors taking up the world around you.

But like they did for all the other aspects of your life, the Heart Pirates made you think differently.

Red was not a good color you liked as a kid. It meant blood, it meant more stains on your hands, in your clothes, and the smell of iron that never washed out.

Yet, red now meant the crimson sunset and even more crimson strands of Shachi’s hair when the sunlight glinted off of them. The reliable, jovial counterpart to Penguin, one-half of the first mate position. Fierce in his own right, when you caught the flash of red hair fighting by your side, you knew that he’d have your back. One of your least favorite colors now rewritten.

Orange was the color of rare, fresh fruits. Unripe persimmons with their stringent flesh and the fuzzy stone fruits found in the warmer Blues. But in the corridors of the Tang, a flash of orange meant the presence of Bepo. When not found by Law’s side, he was often in the navigation room or the library. Quiet and soothing, he was the best person to be by when you were sick of the monotony of your workshop walls and needed the presence of another soul.

The color yellow belonged to the sun. Warmth pervading life that seeped into your pores and bones. The colors of flower pollen that came with the spring breeze. But soon, you also thought that the color yellow belonged to the Heart Pirates. Your crew quite liked yellow, from Ikkaku’s bandana, to Risso’s cap, and Law’s hoodie, your fingers all danced over those items with a reverence and care reserved for no other. The Jolly Roger over your breastbones also smiled a warm-golden yellow. Even when it faded, or the fabrics wore thin, you were there to fix it all. To darn the holes in the bandana, and stitch the seams that were coming loose. 

The more intense, vivid golds brought to mind Law’s eyes. The flash of sadistic satisfaction against an enemy, the sharp metallic pinpoint of focus in surgery, or—if you were lucky enough to catch it—the depthless softness of contentment as he watched over his nakama. While his expression might remain still, his eyes told all in those molten aureate pools.

 Though the Heart Pirates had no official color, you would say that they favored the color yellow. After all, it was the color of the Polar Tang, of the very vessel that housed their hearts and souls.

Green was the color of life. Whereas red brought violence and danger to the forefront of your mind, green always meant peace. As a child, green forests filled your nose with the sharp scent of dirt and heavy sap in the air. Though green was a color hard to come by within the submarine, deep below the pressure of the ocean, it was most often found in Risso’s domain. Green made up the weight of the produce in the crates, nourishment of your family held in your arms. The greens in a well-balanced meal, the greens of a poultice, carefully made to heal. Risso did it all.

Blue.

Blue that was bluer than the ocean of skies, found in the flashes of your black-haired first mate’s eyes beneath the brim of his hat. And when things seemed dire, the flashing, glowing blue of Law’s Room meant that he would take care of everyone. Safety to the Heart Pirates and a certain defeat for all your enemies, even when it sparked fear in the hearts of your opponents, it only revitalized your spirits. That shade of blue enveloped you all, his silent protection and promise as the Captain.

When purple bloomed, it was the color of bruises, ones that Law couldn’t get to in time, but always offered to heal if he saw that they were causing you pain. It littered your skin a lot when you were younger and still did now, but their presence was soothed by the care and concern your nakama gave to you. Furthermore, it was the purple of all the animals and plants that you’ve gotten to see with your crew. Of the five-pointed stars below sea and the vibrant aster flowers in the summer islands. And it was Uni’s favorite color, the tint of his bandana gifted from his sister. Uni, who spoke few words, but his actions said it all in the way he looked out for the crew. The stabilizing presence in your first few chaotic weeks with the crew. 

Your eyes flickered over the swathes of fabrics stacked up on your shelves, mind adrift in the silence that was soon shattered.

“Yo. Tailor-chan!” Shachi sang, sticking his head into your workshop with Clione in town. “Come onto the deck! The sun’s coming out!”

Humming, you thought over the mid-progress projects on your desk. Now that your nakama was larger, and you were all in the Grand Line, there was always something to be patched up. Yet, the invitation to have some much-needed fresh air was too good to pass up after such a long time underwater, the violent storm making it too dangerous to surface.

“Are you coming or not?” Clione prompted. 

“Don’t make me come in there and drag you out,” Shachi threatened.

“Coming, coming,” you said, turning to follow them. Based on the quietness in the halls, it seemed like most of the crew as already on deck. “And if you try to drag me, I’ll break those scrawny arms of yours.”

The redhead bonked the back of your head with a gentle fist. “We both know who’s the scrawny one, and it’s not me.”

“Maybe,” you hedged as the three of you climbed up the stairs. “Maybe it’s Clione.”

Said man turned an affronted look your way. “What did I do?!?”

“It’s more the matter of what you didn’t do,” Shachi said as he pushed open the hatch to the outside. True to your suspicions, quite literally everyone was outside.

Very fine, light droplets were still coming down, but the temperature was a relieving moderate between the Tang’s extremes of sweltering heat and frozen cold. 

Ikkaku sidled up to your side, droplets of water suspended in the coils of her hair like little gems. “Glad you could join us! Thought those two fools died on the way.”

Clione threw up his hands in exasperation. “Why is everyone so mean to me today?”

He shuffled away to join Uni and Morsa, muttering something about scapegoats and unfair insults. Ikkaku reached to pluck something from your hair and smoothed down flyaways, and you let her before she finished and dragged you closer to the railing. Law nodded a greeting when the two of you slotted in place next to him, Bepo waving from his other side. After greeting them both, you turned your eyes out to the reason you were dragged out in the first place.

The sun was out, not low enough to change the sight of the brilliant blue of a post-storm sky. However, it was at a perfect angle for a rainbow to form. Its glittering facade hung over the cheery yellow submarine, a sight so rarely seen in this part of the Blue.

“Quick, does anybody have a photo snail? Snap a picture!”

“Oi, oi don’t shove me! I almost fell overboard!”

“Jean Bart, put me on your shoulders!”

“You’re all responsible for getting yourselves back on the Tang if you end up in the water.”

“Aye, aye!”

“I think a lot of other islands have the same sentiments,” Ikkaku began softly, “but on mine, we say that a rainbow brings good luck.”

Yes, you had to agree. The Heart Pirates were your rainbows, after that stormy d ay, and every day that you spent with them was like good fortune coming your way.

Chapter Text

You were nervous about interacting with the Heart Pirates’ chef.

Truthfully, you were nervous around most of the Heart Pirates, especially Law (but that was more the fault of his role within the crew), but in this crew of boisterous personalities, it was the more reserved ones that stood out. While Uni was also similarly silent, he was remarkably evasive, and you haven’t had the chance to spend much time in his presence yet. 

But since the mess hall chores were one of the easiest, you ended up being paired with Risso during one of your first official shifts.

The other man was already bustling about when you braved into the kitchen, barely giving you a greeting before he pointed over to an assortment of vegetables by a cutting board and peeler.

“Over there,” Risso grunted, braids swinging as he reached up to grab something from the top cabinets. “Save the peels.”

You marched over there like a man on a mission, picking up the first carrot and weighing it in your hand. It was surprisingly big, and you wondered what he was going to make.

“What’s wrong?”

Jumping, you turned around to see Risso staring at you, momentum not changing despite his attention not being on the stove. You quickly shook your head and turned back to your task, picking up the peeler and getting to work. Your fingers were quickly stained orange, curls of peels slumped into the bowl set aside for them. Soon, all the peeled vegetables were laid out on the board, and you picked up the knife. Risso’s presence warmed your back, and you tensed, shoulders drawing up in preparations of a reprimand, but it was only him brushing past to grab a ladle from the rack on the wall.

“Slice them 1-inch thick.”

Your shoulders flinched, not expecting the sudden words so close to you. The movement jolted the knife in your hand, scoring a long red line that began to bleed. Removing your hands with practiced calmness, you looked up to see Risso holding up his hands, thumb, and pointer finger one inch apart. He tilted his head when he saw your wide-eyed gaze.

“S-Sure,” you replied, waiting for him to turn his focus back to his station before rinsing out your hand with the sink next to you and slapping a shoddy bandage over it.

And that was how it went for the rest of your painfully awkward shift, all the way up until the pair of you dragged out the pots to set them up into the serving counter, the crew swarming the food immediately.

“Not bad,” Risso said, stepping back as he watched Sachi and Clione squabble over a specific piece of spud. “Go eat.”

The thought of sitting down amongst the rowdy crew made you queasy. Despite being with them for a few days already, you still haven’t adjusted to mealtimes with such boisterous individuals. You’d managed to dodge the brunt of it through slipping in at the tail end of meal hours, or not eating at all. Combined with the adjustment to being underwater that made your sensitive system out of wack, you didn’t have the appetite to join them.

Glancing down at the dirtied fabric of the boiler suit (seriously, you had to find a better material for these things), you quickly fired off an excuse, “I have to go clean up and do a few things. I’ll eat when I’m done.”

Seeing the corner of the chef’s lips turn down, you quickly spun around and marched out of the mess hall before he could say anything. In all honesty, being in such close quarters with so many of the crew at once still made you nervous. And there were still plenty of things for you to do to turn the room they’d so graciously given into a proper workshop that could handle the workload expected of you. Working on the boiler suit by lamplight and stool could only get you so far, and your back was crying for a good work table. So the sooner you could get everything done, the better your back would feel in the long run.

Opening the workshop revealed how much still needed to be done, boxes and boxes of stuff to unpack and put away, projects to sort. You sighed, rolling your shoulders a bit before delving into the bulk of everything.

Time passed by you indeterminately in the unchanging lights of the submarine, but it must’ve been hours by the time you finished, the cut on your hand stinging from the aggravation of overworking. The porthole only showed the never-ending dimness outside, so you poked your head out into the hallway to gauge the time. Blinking at the dimness, it took your eyes a moment to adjust. Whatever time it may be up top, it was late enough for the night-cycle lights to kick in. To top it all off, your stomach rumbled, angry at missing a meal.

With a sigh, you quietly shut the door behind you, padding down the monotonous hallways to where you remembered the mess hall to be. It was one of two locations you’ve memorized going from your workshop, the other being the route to your bunk.

Even if the halls looked a bit different in the dark, you thankfully found your way to the hall. However, the lights to the kitchens were on, and you tentatively stuck your head in to check who was there.

The hunched over form of Risso greeted you, his yellow cap at his side on the kitchen island, twin braids mussed up from the time. You made no sound, but the man glanced up anyway, sharp enough to pinpoint you through the bangs that obscured his face. The frown on his mouth deepened as he beckoned you over.

Great. Your first time helping with chores, and you already messed something up enough for a berating.

He pointed at the stool near him, and you took a seat, resigned to the upcoming lecture. But to your surprise, Risso stood up and went over to the large industrial fridge, withdrawing a covered plate from it before unwrapping and heating up the contents. You didn’t register the fact that it was meant for you until he placed the plate right in front of you. The steam of fresh curry wafted up into your face, utensils practically shoved into your hands.

“Eat.” 

“T-Thank you,” you said, still a little startled. A small part of you, the part that would never outgrow that man’s shadows, was still used to a harsher hand. If the Heart Pirates would’ve operated anything like that, then your absence should’ve meant that you wouldn’t have had any food for you. That was the way it was with him, after all.

But they were nothing like that, and as you dug into the food, you were infinitely grateful. Risso returned to whatever he was doing beforehand (making a list, by the looks of it), and you tried your best to not look like a half-starved, lawless cretin as you made your way through the meal. When you were almost done, Risso got up again, this time pulling out two mugs from the overhead cupboard and a carton from the fridge.

“Honey or plain?”

You paused, staring in confusion at his back. “Uh… honey?”

His head bobbed in a nod as he went into action. But you couldn’t see what the man was doing, as his body covered everything. However, you soon got your answer when you finished eating, the man placing a steaming mug that smelled faintly of honey and vanilla in front of you. He swiftly took away your plate and utensils before you could do it yourself, pushing the mug closer.

With carefully fingers, you took it, eyeing the pale liquid inside. “What is it?”

He sat back down across from you, and you felt the weight of his hidden stare as he brought his own mug to his lips. “Hot milk with vanilla and honey. Drink.”

Blowing across the surface, you took a tentative sip, resisting the childish urge to hum in delight at the indulgent taste of sweetness. Warmth bloomed as you took a second, longer sip, sighing in contentment.

You barely caught it due to the angle of his head, but there was a satisfied tilt to his lips as he drank from his own mug. Despite yours being one drink, his seemed to hold the deep, rich color of coffee. The two of you spent more time in silence with your respective mug, but in contrast to earlier, you were much more calm around him.

When you got to the last dregs, heaviness was pulling at your eyelids, and you were resisting the urge to yawn every few seconds. Risso cleared his throat to catch your attention, flapping his hands to dismiss you.

You got up, pushing the stool in. “Are you going to sleep, now, too?”

He shook his head, placing his cap back on as he got up, collecting the mugs. “I’m prepping for breakfast. But you go back and sleep. Now.”

There was no heat in his commands, and you found yourself relenting. “Thank you for the food and the drink.”

Risso grunted. “‘M always here around this time.”

Though left, unspoken, you still caught the invitation he laid out for you. You really were too hasty in judging him. There was no doubt that you’d share many more nights like this with him, too.