Eustass Captain Kid and Killer - Reunited - One Piece

[Setting: The dusty main thoroughfare of their hometown in South Blue; Mid afternoon]

The heat of the South Blue sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked cobblestones of the slums, but the atmosphere shifted the moment the two figures rounded the corner. The crowd of locals, who had grown accustomed to the lawlessness of their island, parted like a retreating tide. A massive figure with shock red hair and metallic goggles pushed through the throng, his heavy boots thudding against the ground. Behind him walked a leaner man, his face concealed behind a distinctive mask that made him look more like a weapon than a person.

Kid came to a dead halt several paces away from you. His scarred face twisted into a grin that was equal parts feral and relieved. He didn't speak at first; his crimson eyes raked over you with an intensity that felt almost physical. Damn, Kid thought, his pulse quickening as he took in your transformed silhouette. When did they get so... He caught himself, his throat tightening. The scrawny orphan he had fought alongside years ago was gone. In their place stood someone who carried themselves with a new kind of strength, their body having filled out in ways that made his possessive instincts flare up immediately. He felt an unfamiliar, possessive heat spreading through his chest a primal urge to claim you right then and there, to shield you from every wandering eye in the street.

"Well, look at you," Kid finally barked, his voice rougher and deeper than you remembered. He closed the distance in three long strides, his massive hand reaching out to grip your shoulder. His fingers dug in slightly not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his presence. "You didn't just survive while we were gone, did you? You've grown up."

Killer stepped up beside Kid, his head tilting slightly as he observed you through the slits of his mask. Unlike Kid’s explosive energy, Killer was a calm current, but his focus was no less intense. He noted the way you stood, the calluses on your hands, and the newfound confidence in your stance. He could see you had been fighting, that you had honed yourself. They're stronger than they look, Killer mused, a sense of quiet pride warming his heart. He felt a surge of genuine affection beneath his composed exterior relief that you hadn't been broken by the island's cruelty, and a subtle, appreciative awareness of how the years had shaped your body.

"It's been a long time," Killer said, his voice muffled but steady behind the mask. He didn't touch you like Kid did, but he positioned himself on your other side, effectively flanking you. The gesture was unconscious but deliberate they were forming a perimeter around you again. "You've changed more than we expected. But you still have that same look in your eyes."

Kid snorted, shifting his weight and pulling you closer to his side with a possessive tug, his arm nearly draping across your shoulders. "Changed? They've improved. I don't know who you've been letting watch your back while we were sailing the Grand Line, but that's over now." He glanced around at the surrounding crowd with a threatening glare, making it clear that anyone who looked at you for too long would answer to his magnetism. "We're back. Which means you're under our protection again. Got it?"

[Setting: The old abandoned warehouse hideout, South Blue; Late Afternoon]

The rusted hinges of the warehouse door didn't stand a chance. With a thunderous crash, the door was kicked off its tracks, slamming against the concrete floor and sending a cloud of dust and debris swirling into the air. The afternoon light spilled into the dim interior in a sharp, angular rectangle, silhouetting a massive figure with wild red hair and a grin that looked more like a challenge than a greeting.

Kid stomped into the space, his heavy boots echoing off the walls. He looked different older, broader, his presence taking up far more space than it had when they were children. The goggles perched on his forehead caught the light as he scanned the familiar, grimy hideout, his eyes finally locking onto you.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His crimson eyes raked over you, his gaze lingering far longer than necessary on the way you had filled out, the way your body had matured since he'd last seen you. A low whistle escaped his teeth. Shit, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. When did they get so... He quickly masked the flicker of genuine surprise with a sharp, toothy smirk, though the possessive glint in his eyes remained. He felt an immediate, visceral urge to claim the space around you, to make sure everyone and everything knew you were under his protection again.

"Well, look at you," Kid barked, his voice deeper and rougher than before. He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing muscles that spoke of years of violence and survival at sea. "I thought you might've shriveled up in this dump while I was gone. But you've actually grown some spine."

Behind him, Killer stepped through the threshold more quietly. He was tall and lean, his blonde hair falling past his shoulders, his face already partially obscured. He didn't make a scene like Kid did; instead, he stood near the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter of the warehouse first checking for threats, exits, and any signs of trouble before settling on you.

Killer's observation was more measured than Kid's explosive reaction, but no less intense. Underneath his calm exterior, Killer felt a surge of warmth at the sight of you. He noticed the subtle changes in your posture, the strength in your frame, and the way you carried yourself now. He felt a protective instinct flare up in his chest. You looked strong, yes, but the world outside this hideout was far more vicious than it had been years ago. He already found himself calculating how to best position himself between you and any potential danger.

"It's been a long time," Killer said, his voice muffled but steady, carrying that familiar, grounding quality that always balanced Kid's chaos. He shifted his weight, his hand resting casually near his weapons, but his gaze remained soft. "We were wondering if you'd still be here."

Kid took a few more steps forward, closing the distance until he was looming over you, his scent of metal and salt filling your senses. He reached out, not gently, grabbing your chin with two fingers to tilt your face up to meet his. His thumb brushed roughly against your skin.

"We're heading for the Grand Line," Kid declared, his voice dropping to a possessive growl. "And there's no way in hell I'm leaving you behind in this wasteland again. You're coming with us."

[Setting: The dilapidated courtyard of the makeshift orphanage in the South Blue slums; Late Afternoon]

The peace of the afternoon was shattered not by a gentle greeting, but by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood and the heavy thud of boots against packed earth. The children you had been caring for scattered like startled birds as a massive figure stormed through the entrance you had worked so hard to repair.

"WELL?! Where the hell are they?!" Kid’s voice roared across the courtyard, raw and demanding. He looked like a force of nature his frame had filled out into a wall of lean muscle, his red hair wilder than ever, and his grin sharp with an almost feral hunger. The goggles perched on his forehead caught the sunlight as his gaze swept the area impatiently.

Behind him, Killer stepped through the wreckage with far more grace, though no less imposing. He was taller now, his shoulders broader, his blonde hair cascading down as he adjusted the mask that now concealed his face. His movements were fluid and controlled, but the way his eyes scanned the perimeter spoke of a predator assessing the territory.

When their eyes finally landed on you, both men came to a dead halt.

Kid’s expression shifted from irritation to something far more complex. His crimson eyes raked over you not just as a childhood friend, but as a woman/person grown. He noted the way your clothes fit differently now, the strength in your stance, and the maturity in your face. A low growl rumbled in his chest. He didn't just see his old friend; he saw someone who had become devastatingly attractive and formidable in their absence. The thought of anyone else on this godforsaken island having looked at you this way for the past few years sent a spike of possessive rage through him.

Look at them, Kid thought, his pulse quickening. They've grown up. They're strong... and damn, they're beautiful. I can't believe I left them here in this dump. Nobody touches what's mine.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kid finally managed, his voice dropping an octave as he stalked toward you. Without warning, he reached out, his rough, scarred hand grabbing your arm and pulling you flush against his chest. The contact was abrupt and bruisingly firm. "You kept us waiting long enough. You think I'd let you rot here while I'm conquering the seas?"

Killer stepped up beside you, his presence cooler but no less intense. He didn't grab you like Kid did, but he positioned himself close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His masked head tilted slightly as he observed you, his gaze lingering on the way you handled yourself. He noticed the patience in your eyes the kindness you'd cultivated while raising these orphans and it stirred something steady and deep within him.

They've become someone incredible, Killer mused, his voice muffled but warm. Still the heart of this place, but with a steel beneath the surface now. We're not leaving without them. Not this time.

"Easy, Kid. You're going to scare the kids you're supposed to be impressing," Killer said, though there was a dry, knowing amusement in his tone. He looked at you, his voice softening. "It's been too long. You've done good work here, but we're here to take you home to the ship."

Kid didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened, his fingers splayed across your arm as he glared at you with that familiar, stubborn intensity. "You're coming with us. Now. We're heading for the Grand Line, and you're gonna be right where you belong under our protection."

[Setting: The lawless slums of their South Blue home island; Late Afternoon]

The familiar, salt crusted stench of the island's docks mixed with the ever present smell of smoke and desperation. Kid stepped off the gangplank first, his heavy boots thudding against the rotting wood with enough force to make the planks groan. He looked different larger, more scarred, his red hair wilder than ever but his eyes were scanning the crowd with that same restless, hungry ambition he'd had as a child. Behind him, Killer followed, his blonde hair catching the sunlight, his presence a silent shadow that balanced Kid’s explosive energy.

Then they saw you.

Kid stopped dead in his tracks. His breath hitched. You weren't the scrawny kid he'd left behind. Your frame had filled out, your stance was wider, more grounded you carried yourself with the kind of hard won confidence that only comes from surviving a hellscape. But as you stepped closer, his enhanced vision caught the purple blooming across your cheekbone and the way you favored your left side, a fresh bruise darkening the skin beneath your torn clothing.

Kid’s expression shifted from shock to a murderous rage in a heartbeat. His mechanical arm a testament to his new power creaked as his fist clenched, the metal grinding together. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribs. He wanted to pull you against him and never let go, but the sight of those injuries made his blood boil. Who the fuck touched you? Who dared to put their hands on what's mine?

"What the hell happened to you?" Kid roared, his voice carrying across the docks like a cannon blast. He bridged the distance between you in three long strides, grabbing your shoulders with rough hands. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he forced you to look at him. "Who did this? Give me a name so I can tear their fucking spine out through their throat."

Killer had moved more subtly, positioning himself slightly behind and to the side, his keen eyes cataloging every injury, every scar, and the subtle way your body had matured. He felt a surge of protective warmth mixed with something darker an appreciation for the formidable person you had become. While Kid was all fire and noise, Killer was the cold steel. He noticed the way you held yourself, recognizing the signs of someone who had learned to fight dirty to survive.

"Easy, Kid," Killer said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of steel. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to hover near your arm without touching you yet, giving you space. "They're standing on their own two feet. That's more than most people on this island can say." He looked at you properly, his masked face tilting. The quiet devotion he felt for you hadn't dimmed over the years; if anything, seeing you alive and hardened made it stronger. "You've grown strong. But you're bleeding."

Kid didn't let go. His thumb brushed roughly against your jaw, near the bruise, his teeth gritted. "I don't give a shit if they're strong. Nobody gets to hurt you when I'm around." He leaned in closer, his scent of metal and gunpowder enveloping you. "We're not leaving you here again. You're coming with us."

[Setting: South Blue Dockside; Late Afternoon]

The salt spray of the South Blue air mingled with the acrid stench of gunpowder and rotting fish as the Victoria Punk loomed closer to the docks. The massive ship cut through the water like a predator returning to its territory. Up on the railing, Killer stood motionless, his long blonde hair whipping behind him in the wind. His keen eyes scanned the chaotic dock below, searching for familiar faces among the crowd. His breath hitched slightly behind his mask when he spotted you. You weren't the scrawny orphan they had left behind years ago; your frame had filled out, your presence more commanding, more dangerous. But that recognition was instantly cut short when he saw a figure twist and deliver a vicious kick directly into your ribs.

Killer's grip tightened on the railing hard enough to dent the metal. His calm exterior didn't shatter, but his pupils dilated behind his mask. Not again, he thought bitterly. We leave for one moment, and the world tries to break what belongs to us. His mind immediately began calculating: the distance to the dock, the number of attackers, and the severity of your injury. His protective instinct wasn't a loud roar like Kid's, but a cold, sharp blade that drew across his consciousness. He was already shifting his weight, preparing to leap down, his hand instinctively reaching for his scythes.

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE!?" Kid's voice tore through the air like a cannon blast before the ship had even fully moored. He had been leaning over the opposite side of the deck, grinning wickedly at the sight of their old home, but the moment he saw the motion of the kick, his entire demeanor shifted from triumph to murderous rage. "YOU FILTHY SCUM! GET YOUR HANDS OFF THEM!"

Kid's face twisted into something demonic, his crimson hair seeming to glow with the heat of his fury. The metal debris scattered across the deck began to vibrate and shriek as his magnetic powers reacted to his volatile emotions. He didn't care about the docking procedure or the crew's positioning his eyes were locked on you, and the sight of you stumbling from the impact sent a spike of possessive agony through his chest. He had spent years becoming stronger, more infamous, all to ensure that when they returned, they could claim everything they wanted and he wanted you. Seeing you hurt felt like a personal insult to his pride and his soul.

"Killer, move!" Kid bellowed, his arm already extending as scrap metal began to swirl around him in a deadly cyclone. "I'm gonna grind every single one of these bastards into fucking dust!"

Killer didn't need to be told twice. While Kid was the storm, Killer was the lightning precise and deadly. "Stay focused, Kid," Killer called out, though his own voice carried an uncharacteristic edge of venom. "Don't kill them before we see if they're breathing." Despite his words, his eyes never left you, tracking your movements with desperate intensity, waiting to see if you could stand.

[Setting: A bustling, sun drenched marketplace in a lawless South Blue port town; Afternoon]

The marketplace was a chaotic symphony of shouting merchants, bleating livestock, and the constant shuffle of boots against cobblestone. Dust motes danced in the shafts of golden light cutting between the overhanging market stalls, and the air smelled heavily of saltwater, spiced meat, and sweat. Amidst the swarming crowd, you moved like a ghost fluid, precise, and utterly unnoticed. Your fingers danced toward the bulging coin purse of a distracted merchant, your movements honed by years of survival, executing the theft with the kind of practiced grace that only comes from desperation turned into art.

From the shadow of a nearby tavern entrance, two figures stood like monoliths amidst the flowing current of people. They were impossible to miss, yet they seemed to exist in a different world entirely.

Eustass Kid leaned against a wooden pillar, his massive frame casting a long shadow. His crimson hair was as wild as memory, and his scarred arms crossed over his broad chest, the metal components of his reputation seeming to hum with his restless energy. His nostrils flared as he caught the familiar rhythm of your movement. His eyes sharp, predatory, and burning with an intensity that could melt steel locked onto you.

Look at 'em, Kid thought, a feral grin tugging at the corner of his mouth while his heart hammered against his ribs. Still playing dirty. Still the same scrappy little shit I used to drag through the gutters. But damn... they're not that scrawny kid anymore. Look at how they carry themselves now. Strong. Confident. Dangerous. A possessive heat flared in his gut at the sight of you navigating the crowd; the urge to stride forward, grab you by the waist, and claim you in front of every pathetic civilian in this town was almost overwhelming.

Beside him, Killer stood with deceptive stillness. His tall, athletic frame was relaxed, but his eyes behind the mask were scanning every inch of the perimeter with tactical precision. He had noticed you the moment you stepped into his peripheral vision, recognizing the specific gait that belonged to someone he had shared blood and bread with. He watched your hands the way your muscles shifted under your skin as you worked and his analytical mind momentarily faltered.

Impressive, Killer mused silently, his breathing steady despite the sudden spike in his pulse. Their technique has evolved beyond anything I expected. They've grown so much... the way they move now has a lethal elegance to it. They've survived. They've become something magnificent. A deep, quiet sense of devotion washed over him; he felt an immediate, instinctive need to position himself between you and any threat that might realize what you had just taken.

Kid shifted, his boots scraping loudly against the stone as he prepared to make his presence known, his temper already simmering with the excitement of the reunion. "Oi, Killer," Kid growled lowly, his voice like grinding gravel, "we can't just stand here watching them work, can we?"

Killer placed a steadying hand on Kid's shoulder, his voice quiet but firm. "Patience, Kid. Let them finish. We wouldn't want to ruin their streak, would we?" His eyes never left you, watching intently to see what you would do next.

[Setting: A dusty tavern in the South Blue; Afternoon]

The tavern was thick with the smell of spilled ale, roasted meat, and the stale sweat of overworked dockhands. You sat at a corner table, the familiar sounds of the South Blue slums providing a background noise you had grown accustomed to in the years since the two boys had left you behind. The wooden table creaked under your elbows as you ate, the afternoon sun filtering through the grime streaked windows in lazy amber streaks.

The heavy oak doors of the tavern didn't just open; they slammed against the stone walls with a violence that silenced the room. The sudden shift in atmosphere was immediate a wave of raw, unfiltered pressure rolled into the room, making several patrons instinctively duck their heads.

"This place hasn't changed one damn bit! Still reeks of shit and desperation!" A loud, gravelly voice barked, dripping with arrogance and familiar irritation.

Eustass Kid stormed in first. He was taller than you remembered, his frame massive and built like a siege engine. His shock of crimson hair seemed to burn brighter against the dim tavern lighting, and his mechanical arm glinted dangerously as he moved. He walked with the stride of a man who owned every inch of ground he touched, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead.

Following half a step behind him was Killer. His presence was the antithesis of Kid's controlled, silent, and deadly. The tall, lean figure moved with a predator's grace, his face hidden behind his signature helmet, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulders. While Kid demanded attention through noise, Killer commanded it through the unsettling stillness of his posture.

Kid's amber eyes scanned the room with undisguised contempt until they landed on your table. His entire demeanor shifted mid stride. His jaw dropped slightly before twisting into a feral, toothy grin.

Damn... look at them, Kid thought, his pulse quickening with a sudden, possessive heat. They weren't supposed to stay the same, but I didn't expect this. They look... dangerous. Strong. And fuck, they've grown up. I want to tear apart anyone in this room who dares to stare too long at what's mine.

"No way..." Kid growled, his voice dropping from a shout to something more dangerous, more intimate. "Oi! Is that really you? Don't tell me you've been rotting away in this hole without us!"

Killer's head tilted slightly as his gaze fixed on you. His eyes, visible through the slits of his mask, softened with a rare, quiet recognition. He noticed the way you carried yourself now the confidence in your shoulders, the way your body filled out differently than the scrawny orphan they had left behind.

They survived, Killer mused silently, a rare sense of relief washing over his pragmatic mind. They didn't just survive; they flourished. There is a new strength in them. Something... captivating. I will have to ensure Kid doesn't scare them off with his idiocy, though I suspect they can handle more than most.

"Kid, behave," Killer said smoothly, though his voice lacked its usual sternness. His tone was almost gentle as he stepped up beside his captain. "You're frightening the locals."

Kid ignored him entirely, stomping toward your table with enough force to make the floorboards vibrate. He reached your table in seconds, slamming one massive hand down beside your plate, effectively caging you in with his sheer presence. He leaned down, his face uncomfortably close, smelling of gunpowder and sea salt.

"Well?" Kid demanded, his eyes raking over you with undisguised fascination, lingering on the way your clothes fit your matured frame. "You gonna say something, or did you forget how to speak since we left?"

[Setting: The Docks of their South Blue Hometown; Dawn]

The morning air was thick with the familiar smell of brine and rotting fish, the sky bleeding into shades of bruised purple and amber as the sun began its slow crawl over the horizon. For two years, this spot on the dock had been a ritual a silent promise kept in the face of the endless ocean. The wood beneath your feet was worn and slick with morning dew, the same planks you and your brothers had sprinted across as children during their gang wars.

Then came the silhouette. A ship, scarred from battles and bearing a flag that screamed defiance, cut through the morning mist. As the vessel maneuvered toward the pier, the crew shouted in anticipation, but one voice rose above all the rest.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

Eustass Kid didn't wait for the gangplank to be properly secured. The moment the ship brushed against the dock, he vaulted over the railing, landing with a heavy thud that made the wooden planks groan. His red hair was wilder than you remembered, his frame broader and more scarred, his presence overwhelming. He was a storm made flesh, sprinting toward you with zero regard for anything else in his path.

"You're still here!" Kid roared, his voice rough and grating. He didn't slow down as he reached you; he collided with you in a crushing embrace, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around with a laugh that sounded more like a battle cry. "You absolute idiot! I told you we'd come back, didn't I?"

As he pulled back to look at you, his grip didn't loosen. His hands stayed locked on your shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly. His crimson eyes scanned your face, then traveled down your body with a sudden, sharp intensity. His expression shifted from pure excitement to something darker and more possessive. He noticed the way you had filled out, the strength in your limbs, and the way you carried yourself now. His breath hitched. Shit, he thought, his stomach doing a slow roll. They didn't just grow up... they became something else entirely. His protective instincts flared immediately, mixed with a visceral, new found hunger to keep you tucked safely under his arm where no one else could see.

"Look at you," Kid muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "Grew up while I was gone, huh? You look... damn."

A few paces behind him, Killer stepped off the ship. His blonde hair caught the first rays of sunlight, and his mask a new addition that would have been shocking if you didn't already know his nature concealed his expression, but his posture gave him away. He walked with his usual measured grace, his pale eyes fixed on you with an intensity that matched Kid's, though his was far more controlled.

Killer stopped beside Kid, his gaze taking you in from head to toe. Unlike Kid’s explosive reaction, Killer’s observation was clinical yet deeply affectionate. He noticed the way you stood your ground, the way your eyes held the same spark of the orphan who had survived the South Blue streets with them. He felt a swell of pride in his chest, followed by a quiet, possessive warmth. They waited for us, he realized. Every morning. The thought made his heart ache with a loyalty that bordered on worship. He noticed the changes in your body as well the maturity, the way you fit differently in your clothes and he felt a protective urge surge through him. He wanted to shield you from the very world Kid wanted to conquer.

"Two years," Killer said, his voice muffled but calm behind the mask. "You actually stayed here waiting for us. That's either the most loyal thing I've ever seen or the most reckless." He reached out, his gloved hand resting gently on your arm, contrasting Kid’s rough grip. "You've changed. You look stronger."

Kid snorted, pulling you closer to his chest again, his arm draping possessively over your shoulders as if staking a claim in front of every soul on the dock. "Stronger or not, they're still ours to look after. Right, Killer?"

"Right," Killer replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

[Setting: The Dusty Markets of their Home Island, South Blue; Midday]

The heat of the South Blue sun beat down mercilessly on the cracked cobblestones of the slums, but the usual chaos of the marketplace came to a grinding halt as two familiar, yet transformed, figures strode through the crowd. People scattered like frightened animals as Eustass Kid carved a path through the marketplace, his heavy boots thudding against the ground. He looked different older, broader, and radiating an aura of pure violence and ambition that made the locals instinctively recoil. His red hair was wilder than ever, and his goggles rested on his forehead as he scanned the crowd with impatient, hungry eyes.

"Tch. This place still reeks of desperation and shit," Kid growled, his voice deeper and raspier than it had been years ago. He shoved a merchant aside without looking, sending a crate of rotting fruit tumbling. "Where are they? I didn't sail halfway across the fucking world to play hide and seek in this dump."

Walking a half step behind him was Killer. The calm to Kid’s storm. He moved with a fluid, lethal grace, his face hidden behind his mask, but his sharp eyes were constantly working cataloging every threat, every exit, and every person who lingered too long. His presence was quieter than Kid's, but somehow more intimidating; he was the blade that waited while Kid was the hammer that struck.

"Patience, Kid," Killer replied, his voice muffled but steady. "They're here. I can feel it. The territory hasn't changed much."

Then, they saw you.

Kid stopped dead in his tracks. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, the explosive energy he carried seemed to freeze. He remembered you as the scrappy kid who ran through these alleys with them the one who shared their meager meals and fought side by side in the dirt. But the person standing before him now wasn't a child.

His gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, from your face down your frame and back up again. His pupils dilated as he took in the way you had filled out, the strength evident in your stance, and the way your body had matured in ways he hadn't anticipated. A possessive heat flared in his chest. He felt a visceral surge of pride mixed with something far more primal. They've grown up, he thought, his teeth clicking together. Fucking hell, they've grown up beautifully.

"Well, look at you," Kid finally spoke, his voice dropping to a dangerous, rough purr. "You've been holding out on us."

Killer stepped up beside Kid, his posture relaxed but his attention entirely focused on you. Behind the mask, Killer’s expression softened, though his eyes remained observant. He noticed the way you carried yourself now the way you no longer looked like a victim of the slums but someone who had survived them. He felt a familiar, protective ache in his chest. The urge to shield you was still there, but now it was layered with a new, appreciative awareness of your presence.

"Long time no see," Killer said, his tone warm despite the mask. "You look strong."

Kid couldn't contain himself. He lunged forward, closing the distance in three long strides. His massive hand shot out, grabbing your wrist not painfully, but with a firm, claiming grip and he yanked you forward until your chest nearly collided with his. He loomed over you, his shadow engulfing you as he grinned, showing off his teeth in a way that was both feral and fond.

"Don't think just because you've gotten all grown up that you can handle yourself alone in this shithole," Kid growled, his free hand coming up to roughly cup the side of your neck. "We're back now. Which means you're under our protection again. Got it?"

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