Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from One Piece.

Author's Note: This'll probably be about 5 chapters, as I'm planning it at the moment. Enjoy!

Effort

How should he have known that he was not as invulnerable as he had thought? He had gone his entire life without ever being attracted to a woman (or a man, for that matter). He had lived two decades of life that way. He had rebuffed young ladies who, he knew, looked at him with those droopy, silly eyes when they thought he wasn't looking. He had avoided womenfolk altogether—except Laki, but she was a warrior.

Hell, he had practically overturned the cottage on the day that Laki's aunt had gently suggested to him that it was time to settle down, and since he obviously wasn't interested in other women in the village, why didn't he consider Laki? That had been the last time he had ever visited Laki and Aisa's home.

So, given his history with other people's attempts to force romance on him and his own utter, total indifference to said romance, he didn't think that he could be blamed for assuming that that state would continue forever.

Perhaps because he had been so certain that he would never experience attraction, it had hit him much harder than he had believed possible. One day, arguing as he always did with the Skypeian girl who attended to him at the health center, it suddenly occurred to him that she was beautiful.

The way her blond hair shone white where rays of light hit it from the cracks in the curtains; the way her small mouth curved faintly down at the corners, as if she was trying desperately not to scowl at him; the way her brow furrowed in the worry that she tried to hide for his sake; the way she worked so hard for him despite every attempt he made to antagonize her.

It was like the observation of her beauty had broken a barrier that he hadn't known existed. Out poured a torrent of suppressed thoughts and desires that he hadn't even realized he was capable of having.

He wanted to undo those buns at the top of her head and the braids that hung down her back, and watch the golden hair spill forth, covering her neck and shoulders like a loose, half-hearted curtain in a doorway that beckoned a newly wedded man into the bedroom of his wife. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair and feel if it was actually as silky as it looked. He wanted to brush his thumb across her small, pink lips, and feel if they were really as soft as they looked. He wanted to press his own lips into the curve of her neck beneath her ear, right above her high collar and see her tilt her neck just a little further, trusting him with all of her. He wanted to see her white cheeks turn red as she wrapped her own arms around his neck and buried her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He wanted to be able to nuzzle her hair with his nose as she held him, and hold her to him in turn with his arms around her waist, knowing that he never had to let go.

And suddenly, Wiper was overcome with the knowledge that he wanted—needed—Conis.

It also struck him that he had been staring at her, and she was peering into his face curiously, a small furrow between her brows the only thing about her demeanor that indicated that she was concerned. Her face was close—too close.

He dove under the covers, growled, "I'm sleeping. Leave!" and hoped that the feeling would be gone tomorrow. He remained under the covers until he heard the reluctant sigh, footsteps and closing door that meant that Conis had finally gone.

Then he threw off the covers and went to the window. Conis had turned off the light when she left, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see the faint lights in the distance that he knew was his village's new abode among the ruins of their ancestors.

The sight calmed him, and he soon went back to bed and closed his eyes. It was lust, that was all—a natural phenomenon that would soon pass. His good sense would soon catch up to his body, and his affections would direct themselves to some nice Shandian girl.

Wiper lay on the bed, straightened the blanket and closed his eyes, confident in his prediction. He dreamed of white-golden hair and the music of a harp and a smile that he wanted to gaze upon forever.