Yeah… I know you guys were expecting me to update my other One Piece fic. Well, in moment of self-discovery, I realized that I need to get on a roll to have any hope of writing decently. I can blaze through three or four chapters of a fic, and then I die out. So, I have decided to test if random one shots will serve to keep my creative juices flowing. So, here is the unashamedly flat One Shot of AWESOMENESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!... Damn, I need a girlfriend or something.
The New World was unquestionably the most interesting part of the world. Daily dealings with death, islands beyond a child's most fantastic dreams, and being unable to swing a stick without hitting a 100 million plus bounty were certainly factors. Of course, one poor, poor island about halfway through this stretch of the Grand Line could argue that all the hype was solely due to the presence of the Mugiwara Pirate Crew.
In the ruins of what was once the best tavern in town, nine figures laid about in various positions and states of consciousness. Looking at them, you wouldn't guess that their combined bounties reached into the billions: you'd think they were a professional circus. Seriously, what else explained the official 'Cutest Animal' on the Grand Line within punching distance of an animate skeleton, or a half-naked cyborg covered in hickies, or the man in a tacky superhero get-up mumbling something about 'Parade of Awesome Sea Warriors'? The answer: the strongest pirate crew on the planet had their biweekly party.
The crew showed no sign of stirring as the Marines entered the bar. Commodore Prong surveyed the crew with barely masked disdain as his small tangent of soldiers lined up in perfect rank. The man, as was typical for all those above the rank of Lieutenant, had some odd, incredibly noticeable quirk. Almost as if mocking his name, his long, white mustache grew in whisker-like clumps, giving him the appearance of some bottom-feeder. In all other aspects, he looked like a fit man in his sixties.
"This is the crew of the Pirate King?" the elderly man muttered under his breath, though he was clearly audible to everyone in the room. "I find it very hard to believe that just a year ago, these ruffians managed to get the World Government's personal attention before they even crossed the Red Line. They are either arrogant enough to think they are invincible, or stupid enough to leave themselves so vulnerable when we were in the area." The good Commodore's second, a meek Lieutenant named Taz, shifted from foot to foot nervously. While he had every faith in his commander, this crew had made it all the way to Raftel as rookies.
"It's neither, actually," said the green-haired man in the corner, not even opening his eyes as the Marines faced him with mild terror. The man was leaning against the wall in what looked like an uncomfortable position. However, it seemed the man didn't mind. Prong read his opponent with an experienced eye. The man had not changed his appearance much from the time his first poster had been taken. He still wore a puffy white shirt, with a green haramaki and black pants. Two changes were apparent in his attire, however. The first was the pair of fingerless gloves the man wore over calloused hands. Prong noticed that the fabric seemed… special. Considering the resources this crew had access to, Perry wouldn't have been surprised if they were entirely unique and had some hidden function. The second was the black trench coat he wore over the whole. The inside of the coat was red with flowing designs. If Prong squinted, he could just make out the bloodstains around the heart area, evidence of the battle when the coat had changed hands. All in all, the man wasn't that exceptional in looks: sure, the hair was somewhat noticeable, and the rugged tanned look must have gotten him some attention of the female variety, but Prong doubted he would have picked him as the most noticeable out of a crowd of hundreds.
Lying beside the man were three swords, all of obvious quality. The first had a simple white sheath and grip. The blade had a battered yet determined character to it, like a man a tad past his prime who continued to do the heavy work to bring the meals home. The second was another matter entirely. The scabbard was covered in jagged purple designs, and Prong could have sworn the blade oozed bloodlust. Prong's old senses also noted that the bloodlust was not aimed at the swordsman, like an attack dog leashed to his master. The third one was unmistakably regal. The sheath was as black as the blade underneath, with three pink peace signs along its length. The hand-guard resembled a flower, and a serene dignity clung to it like a second skin. The three blades were all worth millions individually, but Prong was more concerned with their destructive power: he wasn't foolish enough to completely disregard this man's strength just because he was this outnumbered.
The man opened one grey-white eye, the iris almost the same color as the rest of the eye. They were the eyes of a tranquil beast deciding if the latest prey was worth his effort. The man rubbed his eyes, continuing his statement as he did so. "We have this all down to a science. We invade the bar, we party like we've just beaten an Admiral, the villagers run away the instant they recognize us, the couples dissolve into x-rated stuff while the rest of us due our own thing, we pass out drunk to high heaven, and then we take out the Marine saps whilst hung-over. We've literally put a clock to it."
The man stood and worked some kinks out of his shoulder, apparently unconcerned with the guns trained on him. He surveyed his crew for himself. "Looks like Brook got into the cream; he's out of it. And the ero-cook actually got some last night, so he's no help. Chopper and Usopp though… who am I kidding?" The man turned to face the Marines, looking almost bored. "You guys don't even look like you're worth one sword. Very well, I wanted to train with this some more anyway." So saying, the man settled into a stance, his hands obviously lacking any swords.
Prong scoffed his haughty demeanor back full force. "You must still be drunk, Pirate-san. Godslayer Zoro you may be, but you're still up against two dozen marines and their commanding officer without any weapons. In the name of Justice, you are hereby under-" Whatever Prong was about to say died in his throat as Zoro brought his right arm down in a slashing motion with a cry of "Mutouryu: San-Juu-Roku Pondo Hou!"
A whirlwind flew towards Prong, knocking him back with enough force to smash him into the wall behind him. The Commodore fell to the ground soundlessly, out like a light. Taz, now the highest-ranking man there, gulped. He couldn't believe it. This man, this monster, had just sent a trained Marine flying, using nothing more than the air moved by his bare hands. The fun didn't end, as Zoro swung both arms in great arcs, yelling "Taka Nami!" Just like that, Taz and his men were blown violently off their feet. Taz shook his head, gathering his senses, before looking up into the face of Judgment. Zoro was looking down at him, with such power and bearing that Taz knew, without a doubt, that his life had been in this creature's hands the instant he entered the bar.
Zoro held his eyes for what felt like an eternity, before flicking his head toward the door. "Leave. Now." Taz was all too happy to oblige. The group of Marines fled like kids running for their mommies, one of the men retrieving Prong. Zoro watched as they disappeared into the distance. He sighed. While his insane alcohol tolerance prevented him from actually suffering a hangover, it was still very annoying to deal with Marines first thing in the morning.
"Okay guys. Time to wake up!" Zoro turned to his crew, only half of whom seemed to be reacting. Brook started moving, indicating he was awake, holding his head in obvious discomfort. "Oh! My stomach feels terrible. Except I have no stomach. Skull Joke, yohohohoho!" A leg shot toward Brook's head with the speed of sound. Said musician fell back unconscious once more. "Shut up, you shitty musician! I am trying to hold onto last night as long as possible!" The speaker who had just knocked out Screeching Skeleton Brook was none other than Death Leg Sanji, the unquestioned Greatest Cook in the World. The blond had kept his bowl haircut, but had recently attempted to grow out a beard, perhaps to honor his mentor. He had replaced his customary suit for an aqua vest and white slacks and loafers. In short, he was the world's perviest straight guy pretending to be an okama.
A certain human-reindeer's nose twitched, indicating he was awake. Standing up with half-lidded eyes, Miracle Chopper made his way towards his bag. For reasons that were still being argued about to this day, Chopper had grown a good two feet, his body becoming leaner and distinctively more muscled, while his antlers had fully matured. The leading theory was Ivankov had accidentally induced the puberty that Chopper's body had never gone through, due to the unique nature of his physiology. He now resembled a tween boy in a costume rather than some stuffed animal. Rummaging through his trusty bag, Chopper found a purple pill: the Rumble was far from his only personal drug. Crushing the hangover cure between his teeth, Chopper made his way to the tavern's pantry, feeling more alive with each step, as he looked for the ingredients to coffee, a New World beverage he had become quite taken with.
Usopp turned onto his back, before stretching his arms out and yawning. The liar had decided to add more Sogeking to his attire, so the Marines actually recognized him. He had dropped the mask, and had made the cape much more flowing and added some baubles to his clothes in compensation. Using Kabuto as a support, the marksman got to his feet, bleary eyes regarding Zoro. "So, how did those gloves work, Zoro? I hope you appreciate all the work I put into them." The closet evil genius was referring to the fact that Zoro's gloves were actually imbued with the power of a Breath Dial. Exactly how was a secret that Usopp wasn't going to reveal anytime soon. In sheer creative ingenuity, the man easily matched Vegapunk himself.
Zoro turned his eyes to the couples, mercifully clothed or at least covered. Robin wore her customary 'smooth jazz cowgirl' look, her hat currently on Franky's head. The Demon Blossom and the Super Cyborg had hooked up purely by accident. When the crew had finally reached Raftel, Franky had been so overcome with emotion that he had literally swept Robin up in his arms and smooched her. He hadn't fully realized what he'd done until Sanji had kicked his ass in sheer outrage. When Franky had tried to apologize, Robin had wordlessly repeated their previous activity. From there, the two had grown very close. However, it was quite obvious who wore the pants in their relationship: who needs fights when the gal can geld the guy without lifting a finger? The two were picking themselves up, Franky squashing the head back on his girl's head. The Ohara survivor responded with another disembodied bite to Franky's shoulder bone. Zoro briefly wondered if Franky was a masochist, cause he couldn't understand how else he could enjoy being with a woman who could easily cause so much injury.
In their own corner, surrounded by meat bones, the Pirate King and Weather Goddess laid in each other's arms, Luffy's admiral's jacket he had found on Raftel acting as a blanket. Their story was much more romantic than the other pair's. Luffy had sunk into a terrible depression after Ace's death, and Nami had been the one to comfort him. The progress had been slow, what with Nami's sour disposition and Luffy's idiocy, but you'd be hard pressed to find a happier couple. The fact that Luffy had given the entirety of One Piece, the greatest treasure in the world, to Nami, the most money-obsessed woman on the oceans, probably helped with that. Seriously, there was a pot among the rest of the crew on how long it would take until Nami wound up pregnant.
Zoro picked up his swords and strapped them back onto his hip. Even after he defeated Mihawk, Zoro had continued training relentlessly. He was determined not only to be the best, but to STAY the best. Zoro refused to let himself reach a plateau. In the brief amount of time Zoro had spent inspecting the rest of the crew; Sanji had already assembled a five-star breakfast. If there was one thing being on the Mugiwara crew had taught the man, it was how to make lots of high-quality food in tiny amounts of time, in order to sate the captain's insatiable appetite.
Surprisingly, Sanji had been very accepting of the couples. It seemed that under all his attraction to the two women, he honestly cared for them. So, instead of crying to himself on losing out on such beauty, he settled on taking the 'overprotective brother' persona to a whole new level. The latest example of this was when Franky had goosed Robin in full view of everyone else. Franky had found out the hard way how easy it was for a cook to torture someone. His food that night had been literally taken out of the garbage; his cola was replaced with extra-spicy barbeque sauce, and let's just says that Sanji moved his legs a lot in his sleep that night.
Sanji surveyed the entangled Pirate King. Considering his recent luck, Sanji decided against setting Luffy's head on fire with Diable Jambe for his compromising position. Instead, Luffy would unknowingly cause his own destruction. With his curly eyebrow laughing maniacally to itself, which caused Chopper with his sensitive hearing to take a few hesitant steps away, Sanji yelled "Luffy! Breakfast is ready!"
The response was immediate. Luffy was up and moving before anyone could blink. He reached the bar of the tavern, grabbed a fork and knife, and started banging them on the wood yelling "FOOD! FOOD! COME ON, SANJI, WHERE'S MY FOOD?" The insanely strong nitwit remained unaware of three things until his time came prematurely: first, he was stark naked. Second: in his mad rush to the counter, he had left Nami sprawled, bare to the world, on the hard wood floor. Third: said girlfriend was creeping up behind him, an outline of a demon hovering behind her, as she pulled her Perfect Clima Tact from god-knows-where, and she was charging up the cool ball.
With an ear-splitting yell of "BAKA!" Nami turned Luffy around on his stool and swung her ice-cold staff at… well, she's pissed off. You guess where it went. With the cry of a dying animal, Luffy was propelled into the wall, where he collapsed in a heap. Nami tightened the coat around her with one hand while she used her Clima Tact as a cane, showing how drowsy and consequentially temperamental she was. She slowly moved her head to look at Chopper, who was resisting the impulse to repeat what happened at Jaya: Nami was currently scarier than Zoro in Kyuutouryu. "Fix it. He'll need it to make it up to me."
Had Chopper not been afraid for his life, he would have marveled at humans' blatant use of sex for all purposes. As it was, he silently thanked he had a set time each year so he could plan ahead and started the work of salvaging Luffy's unmentionables. Sure, the guy was all but immune to blunt trauma, but temperature extremes still caused damage. Luckily, Luffy bounced back as always and was conscious and fully functional within minutes.
The breakfast featured, but was not limited to, three attempted murders, eight breakings of the sound barrier, twenty-two pounds of food consumed in as many seconds, and a skeleton with a hangover: in short, your average morning. Once everyone was awake and fed, they left the bar, leaving a ruby the size of Nami's fist to pay for the damages. Nami literally refused to leave Raftel until as much treasure as was possible was stored on the ship. When she had seen they'd barely made a dent in One Piece after withdrawing billions in Beli, she had literally fainted. Nami's nirvana aside, the crew now never had to worry about money.
The Sunny Go had appeared unchanged since the crew had first gotten it, which was a miracle in and of itself after all the punishment the sloop had gone through. Luffy asked "Where we going?" Nami shook her head; why had she fallen for such an idiot? "Have you forgotten already? We're going back to Water 7 to get our ship outfitted with sea-stone! That way we can sail out through the Calm Belt and head back to Reverse Mountain!"
Brook was beside himself in joy. "Yes, I will finally be reunited with Laboon! I'm so happy I could sing! So I will. Yohohoho, yohohoho! " The crew rolled their eyes, continuing with the work of casting off. Luffy sat in his special spot on the lion's head, and pointed in a random direction. "Let's go!" he yelled. Nami barked out orders, checking the Eternal Pose Franky had kept on him. The men filled out their orders as Chopper and Robin watched the proceedings. As they pulled out, Luffy had one thought. 'I love being Pirate King!'
There. It's done. You can go use the mind soap now. Buh-bye.