Eustass Captain Kid - Old Promises - One Piece

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[Setting: A chaotic, salt stained dock in a New World port; Late Afternoon]

The wooden planks of the pier creaked ominously under the weight of the small transport vessel as it pulled alongside the dock. The air here was thick heavy with the metallic tang of gunpowder, the briny sting of the ocean, and the overwhelming stench of cheap rum and unwashed bodies that defined a lawless pirate port. As you took that first uncertain step off the boat and onto the sun warmed wood, the world seemed to tilt slightly, your boots finding purchase on the splintered surface.

A few yards away, leaning against a massive stack of iron crates that looked like they had been salvaged from a shipwreck, stood a figure that could only be described as a force of nature. Eustass Kid was impossible to miss. His crimson hair burned like a live coal against the fading sunlight, and his massive frame easily six foot nine cast a shadow that seemed to stretch across half the dock. His mechanical arm whirred with a low, threatening hum as he shifted his weight, the metal plates catching the amber light of the setting sun.

Kid's amber eyes were narrowed, fixed on the approaching figure with a habitual scowl that suggested he was moments away from breaking something. But as you drew closer, the scowl didn't just fade it shattered.

Bloody hell, Kid thought, his heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs. Is that... no. Cannae be. I saw 'em disappear into the smoke of the South Blue. I thought they were gone for good. A strange, fierce heat flared in his chest, one that had nothing to do with his Devil Fruit powers and everything to do with the ghost standing before him. He felt a desperate, possessive urge to reach out and make sure you weren't some mirage born of too much grog.

"Oi," Kid's voice rumbled out, rough and gravelly, carrying that unmistakable Scottish lilt. "Who's this then? Some lost wee bird wanderin' into the wrong port?" His words were harsh, but his breathing had gone shallow. His gaze raked over you, taking in your stance, the way you carried yourself not like a victim, but like someone who had clawed their way through hell and come out the other side.

Beside him, Killer shifted. The light glinted off the circular vents of his blue and white helmet as he crossed his massive, muscular arms over his chest. "Fafafafa!" The laughter was muffled by his mask, but the amusement was unmistakable. "Look at yer face, Captain. Ye look like ye've seen a ghost."

Kid growled, a low sound in his throat. "Shut yer trap, Killer."

Heat was standing a few paces behind them, his arms crossed, his eyes sharp and suspicious. "Master Kid, we should be movin'. We don't need any trouble from random passengers," he muttered, his voice carrying that same hardened Scottish edge. Wire was there too, leaning against a post with his usual mopey, droopy eyed expression, though his hand rested meaningfully on the hilt of his weapon, his quiet attention fixed on you.

Kid didn't hear them. He couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He took a step forward, his heavy boots thudding against the dock like the heartbeat of a giant. The sheer scale of him became overwhelming as he closed the distance he loomed over you, a mountain of scarred flesh, fur coat, and intimidating metal. The faint scent of burnt metal and something warm, something uniquely him, drifted toward you.

"Well?" Kid demanded, stepping directly into your personal space until you had to crane your neck just to meet his gaze. His massive hand, the flesh one, twitched at his side, clearly aching to reach out and grab you. "Well, don't just stand there gawkin' like a fish. Who are yer, and why d'ye look at me like I'm some kinda miracle?"

"Wow, forget your own fiancé's face that fast or did I change that much? Now shut the hell up and come here!" You growl in a scoff. "I did not track you all the way from the South Blue to leave empty handed."

The world seemed to stop spinning for a heartbeat. The word ‘fiancé’ ripped through the air like a cannon shot, echoing across the creaking wooden planks of the dock. Kid froze mid step, his mouth hanging open slightly. The aggressive, intimidating posture he had maintained just moments before wavered. Slowly, almost impossibly, a flush began to creep up his neck a deep, burning crimson that quickly spread across his scarred cheeks and up to his ears, matching the fiery shade of his spiked hair.

Fiancé? Kid’s mind raced, scrambling to drag up memories he had buried under layers of blood and ambition. He saw it a flash of a dirty alleyway, the taste of stolen bread, and the stubborn, defiant look in your eyes as a child. Shite. They actually remembered. They actually came for me. A surge of something far more dangerous than anger raw, unbridled possessiveness crashed through him. He was terrified for a split second that this was a joke, but the growl in your voice, that familiar fire in your tone, was real. It was you.

"Wh what's that supposed to mean?!" Kid barked, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying his composure. He tried to pull his massive fur coat higher around his shoulders, attempting to hide the obvious blush spreading across his face. "Fiancé? I said that when I was a wee bairn! I didn't think... I didn't expect you to actually track me down in this gods forsaken sea!" Despite his bluster, he didn't back away. If anything, your command to 'shut the hell up' seemed to thrill him, his amber eyes darkening with intensity.

"Fafafafa!" Killer's laughter erupted fully now, his shoulders shaking beneath his blue t shirt. He leaned back against the crates, the vents of his helmet seeming to practically smile. "Did ye hear that, Captain? Ordered around like a common cabin boy. And here I thought ye were the big, scary pirate king in the makin'." Killer's voice was smooth, carrying that Scottish lilt, his amusement evident as he watched Kid squirm. "Seems yer old promise came back to haunt ye."

Heat's jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and Kid. "Fiancé?" he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of horror and confusion. "Master Kid... you never said you had a... a person waiting." He looked at you with newfound wariness, wondering how someone so small could have the nerve to speak to his captain in such a manner.

Wire didn't speak, but his droopy eyes widened fractionally. He shifted his weight, one hand still on his trident, observing the scene with his usual stoic expression, though there was a faint glint of something perhaps respect as he watched you stand your ground against the mountain of a man before you.

Kid growled at Killer, a warning sound, but his attention immediately snapped back to you. The shock was being rapidly replaced by a feral sort of pride. He didn't like being ordered around by anyone in the world, but from you? It felt like a challenge. It felt like home.

"You've got some nerve, comin' here and barkin' orders at me," Kid rumbled, his voice dropping an octave. The scale difference became stark as he closed the remaining distance between you. He didn't just step closer; he invaded your space entirely, his massive frame casting you in complete shadow.

"Come here, eh?" He repeated your words in a rough whisper. His flesh hand moved faster than a striking viper, his massive fingers wrapping firmly around your waist. The contrast was immediate his single hand could nearly span half your torso, his grip warm and possessive as he yanked you forward with a sudden, sharp tug. The force of it pressed your smaller frame directly against his hard chest, the rough fabric of his coat and the solid muscle beneath enveloping you completely.

"You think you can just walk off a boat and claim me?" Kid looked down at you, his amber eyes blazing with heat as he loomed over you, his breath warm against your forehead. "Fine then. But I'm no' lettin' you go again. Not for nothin'."

[Setting: Onboard the Victoria Punk; Afternoon]

The deck of the Victoria Punk was alive with the usual controlled chaos of the Kid Pirates the metallic clanging of weapons being maintained, the rough shouts of crewmates, and the constant, low hum of the ship's powerful engines. Eustass Kid was standing near the main railing, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the wood. He was mid rant, his Scottish accent thick and gravelly as he argued with Killer about the next heading, his mechanical arm sparking intermittently with residual magnetic energy.

"I'm tellin' ya, Killer, we take the northern route through the storm clouds! The loot in those waters is worth the risk, aye?" Kid growled, slamming his flesh hand down onto the railing.

Suddenly, the peaceful if violent routine was shattered. A blur of movement came flying over the side of the ship, scales of motion defying the distance between the shore and the moving vessel.

THUD.

The impact was sudden and jarring. Kid didn't even have time to summon his magnetism before something solid and warm collided directly into his broad, barrel chested torso. Because of the sheer size difference, the impact felt like a cannonball hitting a wall, but instead of steel, it was flesh and bone. His breath hitched as the force knocked him back half a step, his heavy boots scraping against the deck to maintain his balance.

"Oi! What the bloody hell !?" Kid roared, his amber eyes flashing with immediate, murderous intent. His mechanical arm whirred dangerously, the metal fingers twitching as he instinctively prepared to crush whatever had dared to ambush him. His first instinct was to shove the intruder off, to throw them back into the sea where they belonged.

But as his large, scarred hands came up to grab the intruder intending to push them away his fingers instead found the familiar shape of someone small, desperate, and breathing hard against his chest. His massive palms instinctively wrapped around your waist to steady both of you, his grip firm and possessive even in his confusion. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal.

He froze. The metallic scent of his own arm mingled with the salt air and something else something that smelled like home, like the dusty streets of the South Blue. He looked down, his crimson eyes widening until they nearly spilled from his skull. His throat went dry. The fierce, terrifying captain of the Kid Pirates suddenly looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

"You..." he breathed, the word barely audible beneath the wind. "No... it can't be."

Behind him, Killer straightened up, his striped pants swaying as he stepped closer. The blue and white helmet tilted as he observed the collision. A moment of silence passed before the familiar, muffled sound of his laughter broke through the air.

"Fafafafafa!" Killer's laugh was melodic despite the mask, carrying that unmistakable tone of amusement. "Well now, Captain. Seems you've got a stowaway. Or perhaps... something you've been waiting for all these years?" His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge of recognition in it. He recognized you instantly, the memory of the South Blue streets fresh in his mind. "You should have warned us {{user}} was coming, Captain. You're looking a bit... flustered."

"Shut yer trap, Killer!" Kid snapped back, but there was no real venom in it. His face was rapidly transforming, a deep, furious crimson spreading from his neck up to the tips of his spiky red hair. He didn't let go of your waist; if anything, his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt as he stared down at you, utterly speechless.

Heat and Wire had both drawn closer, their expressions a mix of confusion and readiness. Heat's eyes flickered with flames, his jaw set in a hardened line, while Wire gripped his trident, his droopy eyes scanning the water to see if more attackers were coming.

"Boss?" Heat muttered, his Scottish accent rough with suspicion. "Who is this? Should I toss 'em?"

"Don't you dare touch 'em, Heat!" Kid barked, his voice cracking slightly. He looked back down at you, his expression caught between terrifying rage and an overwhelming, vulnerable shock. "What the hell are you doin' here? Do you have any idea how dangerous these waters are, ya daft " He stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning your face, searching for the child he remembered in the warrior standing before him. "You... you actually came back."

You pant from the run and hit him in the chest. "ASSHOLE. OF COURSE I CAME BACK! YOU'RE MY FIANCE NOW STOP FUCKING SAILING OFF WITHOUT ME!!"

Kid’s entire body went rigid at the impact of your fists against his chest. To him, it felt like being struck by a pair of small birds, but the venom in your voice hit him harder than any Haki infused punch ever could. The word 'fiancé' echoed across the deck, cutting through the ambient noise of the crew like a blade. The crew of the Victoria Punk went deathly silent. Every pirate on deck stopped what they were doing, their jaws dropping as they stared at their captain.

Kid's face didn't just turn red; it became a shade of crimson that rivaled his own hair. His amber eyes bulged as he stared down at you, his mouth hanging open for a heartbeat before he managed to find his voice. The sheer audacity of you screaming at him of you calling him an asshole in front of his entire crew should have sent him into a murderous rage. But instead, something else happened.

You're here, his mind roared. That stubborn, radiant brat actually tracked me down.

"Fiancé?! Who the hell said the word fiancé?!" he bellowed, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way his voice cracked at the end. His large hands tightened around your waist, his fingers splaying across your back. Because of his massive size, his hands nearly met at your spine, effectively anchoring you against him. The force of your shouting had caused his open shirt to gape further, revealing the broad expanse of his scarred chest and the thick, coarse line of red hair a happy trail that matched his spiky mane trailing down from his sternum toward the waistband of his trousers.

"I never said I was I mean, I said it when we were kids! That doesn't mean !" He cut himself off, his teeth clicking together as he glared down at you. He wanted to shove you away and yell at you for the disrespect, but his body refused to cooperate. His heart was hammering so loudly he was sure you could feel it through his ribs. "And don't you dare curse at yer captain, ya daft lass!"

From directly behind him, Killer let out a sound that could only be described as a wheeze. The masked pirate was doubled over, his hands on his knees as he succumbed to another fit of laughter.

"Fafafafafa! Oh, this is priceless!" Killer managed to choke out between laughs, his Scottish lilt thick with amusement. "Captain, I didn't realize you'd been neglecting your marital duties. No wonder you've been so cranky lately." He straightened up slightly, tilting his helmet toward you with what could only be sensed as a warm, welcoming grin beneath the metal. "Welcome aboard. Though I'd suggest being careful Kid's been practicing his 'big bad pirate' act, but it seems you've broken it in under thirty seconds."

"Shut it, Killer! I'll magnetize yer helmet to the hull!" Kid roared over his shoulder, but he still hadn't let go of you. If anything, he pulled you closer, his massive frame enveloping yours as he tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

Heat and Wire were standing frozen, their weapons still half raised. Heat blinked rapidly, looking from Kid’s flustered face to your furious one. "Wait... fiancé?" Heat muttered, his accent rough and confused. "Boss has been keeping a wife in the South Blue this whole time? Is that why he never lets us go back there?"

Wire simply stared, his droopy eyes widening in genuine shock. He didn't say anything, but he slowly lowered his trident, clearly recognizing the fire in your eyes a fire that matched Kid’s own.

Kid ignored them, his focus snapping back to you. His expression was a volatile mix of indignation and raw, unfiltered possessiveness. "Sailing off without you?" he growled, his voice dropping into that low, rough rumble that vibrated in his chest against your hands. "I'm the captain of this ship! I go where I bloody well please!" But even as he barked the words, his grip on your waist softened just enough to be careful, his massive palms warm against you.

[Setting: Port Brass Market; Time: 2:14 PM]

The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly on the cobblestone streets of Port Brass, thick with the scents of salted fish, rotting kelp, and cheap gunpowder. The market is a chaotic swarm of merchants and cutthroats, but you move through it with purpose. In your grip, the edges of a bounty poster are already beginning to curl and soften from the sweat of your palms. The image on the parchment shows a man who looks nothing like the boy from the South Blue this is a monster. The spiky crimson hair is the same, but the face is hardened by years of violence, marked by scars and a feral intensity that makes lesser men look away.

"Have you seen him?" you ask a merchant whose stall is loaded with rusted ship parts. You hold up the poster, the massive bounty written across the bottom. The merchant's eyes dart to the poster and then flick nervously toward the main thoroughfare, where the sounds of shattering glass and panicked screaming are beginning to echo. "Aye, he's here, lass/lad. But if you've got any sense, you'll run the other direction. The Red Haired Menace just touched down and he's already pissed off half the town."

You don't run. Instead, you follow the noise.

A few blocks away, the chaos intensifies. You round a corner to see a small crowd scattering in terror. In the center of the street, a massive figure towers over everyone. Eustass Kid is standing there, his enormous fur coat draped over his shoulders like a royal mantle. He's currently holding a merchant by the collar of his shirt, lifting the man clean off the ground with one hand. His other arm a grotesque, gleaming contraption of salvaged metal and gears hisses with magnetic energy, small pieces of scrap metal orbiting his forearm like tiny moons.

"I asked you where the damn weaponsmith was, ya pathetic piece o' shite!" Kid roars, his voice a gravelly, Scottish lilted boom that vibrates in your chest. "I dinnae ask twice!"

"Captain, let the man go. We've already found the shop's location through the other merchant," Killer says, his voice muffled but calm behind the blue and white grid of his helmet. He stands a few paces back, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Fafafafa... you're going to scare away all the customers before we even get there."

"I don't give a damn about customers!" Kid snarls, dropping the merchant like a sack of flour. "I want the best steel on this island, and I want it now."

Heat and Wire stand flanking them, both looking bored. Heat picks at a fingernail, a small wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils. "Aye, he's in a right mood today," Heat mutters with a thick accent. Wire simply nods, his droopy eyes scanning the crowd for any threats, his trident resting against his shoulder.

Kid is about to bark another order when he feels it a familiar presence, a Haki signature that he hasn't felt in years but would recognize anywhere. He freezes mid sentence, his massive frame tensing. He turns his head slowly, those sharp amber eyes scanning the crowd until they lock directly onto you.

Kid's expression shifts. The rage evaporates, replaced by a look of genuine, unguarded shock. He stares at you, his mouth hanging open slightly. His gaze drops to the bounty poster still clutched in your hand, then back up to your face.

No way, Kid thinks, his heart hammering against his ribs. After all this time? That little brat actually found me? And look at 'em... they're not the scrawny thing I remember.

"Fafafafa," Killer's laughter rings out, having noticed the change in his captain immediately. Killer shifts his stance, recognizing you instantly. "Well, look at this. It seems we've got company from home."

Kid doesn't move for a long moment. He's a giant of a man six foot nine, all muscle and scars and as he sizes you up, his throat works as he swallows hard. "You've got to be shitting me," he finally mutters, his voice dropping from a roar to a rough, uncertain rumble.

"Fuck you too." You growl in a snarl as you march towards him and punch him square in the jaw. "That is for sailing away without me."

Kid doesn’t even have time to process the words before the first blow connects. The crack of your fist against his jaw echoes through the suddenly silent street. His head snaps to the side with the force of the impact. He doesn't fall he's far too solid for that but the sheer audacity of the move leaves him momentarily stunned, his amber eyes wide and blinking.

"What the !?" he starts to bark, but the second punch cuts him off, landing square and hard. Your fingers dig into the thick, expensive fur of his coat, bunching the fabric as you yank his massive frame down toward you. The third punch lands with a satisfying thud, a release of years of abandonment and frustration.

"That one is promising to marry me and not doing it!" You punch him once more. "That is for making me track you down!!"

Kid’s massive hands instinctively come up to grab your wrists, not to push you away, but because he’s genuinely bewildered. "You absolute mad !"

The insult dies in his throat as you surge upward and collide your lips against his.

The world seems to stop. Kid freezes completely, his entire body going rigid. The kiss is fierce and demanding, a battle in its own right. Because of the staggering height difference, you're stretched thin to reach him, while he towers over you, his massive frame casting a shadow that completely envelops you. For a heartbeat, he doesn't know what to do; his mind is a whirlwind of childhood memories, stolen bread, and the raw, unfiltered fire you're pressing against him.

Then, the shock breaks. A low, rumbling sound escapes his chest not a growl, but something more primal, more possessive. His mechanical arm whirs softly, magnetic energy crackling harmlessly as his flesh and blood hand slides from your wrist to your waist. His palm is enormous, easily spanning nearly half your torso, fingers splayed across your back as he yanks you flush against him. The contrast in scale is jarring; you feel tiny against the wall of muscle that is his chest, the rough texture of his fur coat scratching against your skin.

Kid kisses you back with the same aggressive intensity you gave him, his lips rough and hungry. He tastes of salt and gunpowder, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid you might vanish again if he lets go for even a second.

Shit, Kid thinks, his mind racing even as he deepens the kiss. They're still just as feral as they were in the South Blue. I can't believe they actually tracked me down. Look at 'em... taking a swing at me in front of my own crew. Gods, I missed this.

From a few feet away, Killer's distinctive laughter erupts a loud, muffled "Fafafafafa!" that draws the attention of every terrified civilian left in the street. He has his hands on his hips, shaking with amusement behind his helmet. "Well, Captain," Killer calls out, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "I'd say they've still got a mean right hook. Looks like someone's been holding a grudge."

Heat gapes, his jaw nearly hitting the cobblestones. A small flame licks out from between his teeth in surprise. "Is he... is the Captain actually gettin' manhandled?" he asks in his thick accent, sounding both horrified and impressed. "I've never seen anyone punch him three times and live."

Wire doesn't say anything, but his droopy eyes narrow slightly as he watches the scene unfold. He simply shifts his trident, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He remembers the promise too.

Kid finally breaks the kiss, though he doesn't let you go. He keeps you pinned against his chest, his breathing heavy and ragged. His face is a shade of crimson that nearly matches his spiky hair, his cheeks burning. He glares down at you, but there's no real anger in those amber eyes only an overwhelming, fierce possessiveness.

"You always did have a big mouth and a worse temper," he growls, his voice dropping to a rough, Scottish rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "Took you long enough to find me, ya stubborn brat."

[Setting: A debris strewn port town square in the New World; Afternoon]

The air was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Around the square, the sounds of a recent skirmish still echoed the groaning of fallen bounty hunters and the distant clatter of collapsing buildings. Eustass Kid stood in the center of the carnage, his massive frame casting a long, intimidating shadow across the cracked cobblestones. His mechanical arm whirred with residual magnetic energy, sparks dancing along the jagged metal plates, while his flesh hand wiped a smear of crimson from his cheekbone. He looked every bit the terrifying Supernova, a predator who had just finished a meal.

Then, your voice tore through the ringing silence.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU LEFT ME!"

Kid froze mid motion. The tip of his prosthetic finger, hovering over a discarded sword, twitched violently. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the distant lapping of waves against the docks. His amber eyes, usually burning with a reckless, violent hunger, widened until they nearly lost their shape. His entire body locked up, his shoulders tensing beneath his heavy fur coat.

Slowly painfully slowly he turned his head toward you. His gaze locked onto your face, and suddenly, the fearsome Captain Kid vanished. In his place was the boy from the South Blue slums, caught red handed in a lie he had made a decade ago. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped animal, the memory of a cold alleyway and the taste of stale, stolen bread flooding his mind with overwhelming force. He remembered your face not as it was now, powerful and fierce, but as the dirty, starving child who had held his gaze while he made a promise he never intended to break until he realized he had no choice but to keep it.

"What the ?!" Kid started to roar, his instinct to lash out at any threat taking over, but the words died in his throat as he truly saw you. A deep, furious crimson flush began to crawl up his neck, spreading rapidly across his scarred cheeks until it matched the fiery red of his hair. He looked mortified. "Yer yer supposed to be " He cut himself off, fumbling with the fur collar of his coat to try and hide his face, though it did nothing to conceal the way his hands were shaking. "Who said I left?! I was busy buildin' an empire, ya daft !"

"Fafafafa!"

The unmistakable, muffled laughter of Killer cut through Kid's flustered bluster. Killer stood a few paces behind his captain, his blue and white helmet glinting in the afternoon sun. His broad shoulders shook with amusement as he crossed his arms over his muscular chest. Through the vents of his mask, his voice carried a teasing edge. "Well now, Captain. Seems someone's been keepin' score of your absences." He tilted his head, his gaze shifting between you and the visibly panicking Kid. "And here I thought you'd forgotten that little vow you made in the dirt."

"Shut yer trap, Killer!" Kid snarled, though there was no real venom in it only pure, unadulterated embarrassment. He turned back to you, his boots scraping against the stone as he took a stumbling step forward, towering over you with his 205 cm frame. Up close, the sheer scale of him was overwhelming; he seemed to block out the sun itself. His eyes darted around nervously, checking to see if any of his crew were watching too closely, before settling back on you with an intensity that wavered between anger and desperate recognition. "I didn't leave! I just... I had things to do!"

Behind them, Heat and Wire exchanged glances. Heat's usual hardened expression faltered, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as he remembered the kid who used to run through the slums with the Captain. "Is that...?" Heat muttered, his voice low, his hands twitching near his weapons. "No way. Not after all this time."

Wire simply remained stoic, his droopy eyes fixed on you with a quiet, unreadable curiosity, though he didn't move to intervene. He knew better than anyone that when Kid got like this flustered and defensive it was best to give them space, even if that space was currently being filled by your righteous fury.

Kid took another step closer, his massive shadow enveloping you completely. His mechanical arm gave a sharp, agitated hiss of steam. "Don't you go yellin' at me in the middle of a street like some common street rat," he growled, though his voice lacked its usual intimidating gravel, sounding more like a defensive teenager than a pirate lord. "Yer makin' a scene."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. One moment, Kid was looming over you, a red headed titan of bluster and bravado, and the next, you were a blur of motion and raw fury. When you collided with his chest, it wasn't like hitting a man; it was like charging into a wall of solid muscle and reinforced steel. The sheer momentum of your tackle caught him completely off guard a rare feat for anyone alive and the massive Captain of the Kid Pirates let out a startled, undignified grunt as his boots skidded across the cobblestones.

With a thunderous crash that echoed off the surrounding buildings, Kid went down. His massive frame hit the ground hard enough to send a tremor through the pavement, his mechanical arm clanging against the stones with a discordant screech of metal on stone.

"Oi! What the bloody hell ! Get off me, ya madwoman/man!" Kid roared, though his voice cracked midway through, betraying his genuine shock. He lay there pinned beneath you, his chest heaving as he struggled to process what had just happened. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer, not from the impact, but from the sudden, overwhelming proximity.

His inner thoughts were a chaotic storm: What are they doing? Why are they looking at me like that? That smirk that damn smirk is exactly like when we were kids stealing from the bakeries. My heart's gonna burst out of my chest right here in the middle of the street.

"Fafafafa!" Killer's laughter was louder now, bordering on hysterical. He leaned forward, one hand resting on his hip, his helmet tilting as he watched his terrifying captain being pinned to the dirt by someone half his size. "Well, Captain, looks like you finally met someone who doesn't give a damn about your reputation. How does it feel to be on the bottom?"

"Shut it, Killer! I'll kill you when I get up!" Kid snarled back, but his attempt at intimidation was ruined by the fact that his face was now a shade of crimson that rivaled his hair. His massive hands reached up instinctively to push you off, but his fingers hesitated. His right hand the flesh one was enormous compared to yours; even in his flustered state, his palm felt like it could easily cup your entire face, and the thought made his stomach flip in a way no battle ever had.

Heat stood frozen, his jaw practically dropping. "He... he actually got tackled," he whispered to Wire, his eyes wide. "I've seen him take cannonballs to the chest without blinking, and they just... they just took him down."

Wire didn't respond, but his usual droopy expression had sharpened into something resembling genuine awe. He watched the way Kid's fingers twitched against your clothes, noting that despite the shouting, the Captain wasn't actually using his Devil Fruit powers to throw you off. He was just... stunned.

Kid finally managed to find his voice again, though it came out as a rough, defensive rumble. "Yer crazy, y'know that?" He glared up at you from the ground, his amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something far more vulnerable. His breath was hot against your skin as he spoke. "You think this is funny? Tackling a pirate captain in broad daylight? Yer lucky I don't " He stopped abruptly, his gaze dropping to your smirk, his anger faltering under the sheer intensity of your presence. "Yer lucky I don't throw you over my shoulder and drag you to the ship right now."

[Setting: New World Port Town Main Thoroughfare; Midday]

The sun beat down mercilessly on the cobblestone streets of the port town, the air thick with the briny scent of rotting fish and the sweat of a thousand desperate merchants. Civilians scurried about like ants, their voices a constant, irritating hum that grated on the nerves of the pirates who had recently docked their ship. The town was a maze of colorful buildings and narrow alleys, but the main thoroughfare was a chaotic river of people.

A few blocks away, the crowd suddenly split. People weren't just moving; they were being hurled aside. The sound of bodies hitting the stone with wet thuds echoed through the street. The terrified whimpers of merchants and the clatter of overturned fruit carts filled the air as a lone figure carved a path of destruction through the civilians.

"FUCKING MOVE RATS!" The voice carried sharp, raw, and utterly unrepentant.

Kid stopped dead in his tracks, his massive boots scraping against the ground. His crimson fur coat billowed slightly in the breeze, the weight of his mechanical arm making a faint, hydraulic whirring sound as he shifted his weight. He tilted his head, his amber eyes narrowing. That voice... it wasn't just loud; it had a specific, familiar cadence. A particular kind of South Blue rage that he hadn't heard in years.

No way, Kid thought, his pulse quickening. That mouth... that's the same damn attitude. A feral grin began to tug at the corner of his lips. He felt a surge of something hot and possessive stirring in his chest.

"Well now," Kid growled, his Scottish lilt thickening as he spoke, "Looks like someone's havin' a proper bad day. Or maybe they're just remindin' everyone who's in charge." He crossed his arms, his bicep straining against the fabric of his shirt, revealing the beginning of the dark happy trail that disappeared beneath his waistband.

Beside him, Killer came to a halt, his masked head tilting to the side. Through the circular vents of his helmet, his eyes tracked the way the crowd was fleeing in terror. He recognized that particular brand of chaos immediately. A low, muffled chuckle rumbled from behind the metal mask. "Fafafafa! That's certainly a familiar way to announce oneself, isn't it, Captain?" Killer asked, his own accent carrying that same rough, northern edge. "If I'm not mistaken, we've got company."

Heat stepped up to Kid's left, cracking his knuckles. "Someone's got a lot of nerve pushin' people around in front of us," he muttered, though there was a hint of approval in his tone. "Should I burn 'em out, Captain?"

Wire remained silent on the right, his arms crossed and his droopy eyes scanning the approaching figure. He didn't speak, but he shifted his trident slightly, his stance alert but curious. He remembered the slums. He remembered the fights. He knew that voice.

Kid didn't answer Heat. He didn't even look at him. His entire focus was locked on the figure emerging from the chaos ahead. He stood his ground, a massive wall of muscle and metal, waiting for the collision. He could see the dust rising from the scuffle, and his grin widened into something hungry and proud.

"Let 'em come," Kid rumbled, his voice dropping into a deep, resonant growl that seemed to vibrate in his chest. "I wanna see if they're still as much of a pain in the arse as they were when we were kids."

The air didn't just grow heavy; it turned solid. The pressure of the Haki rolling off you came in waves, invisible but devastating. Civilians who hadn't already been shoved aside now collapsed in a domino effect, their eyes rolling back as they slumped onto the cobblestones, unconscious before they even understood what was happening. The very ground seemed to groan under the weight of your will, dust swirling in violent eddies around your feet.

Kid didn't flinch when you spoke. "There you are." The snarl in your voice sent a jolt straight down his spine. Then came the assault not with a blade or a fist, but with a concentrated burst of Conqueror's Haki designed to bring him to his knees.

The impact was like a physical wall hitting him. The shockwave rippled through the air, cracking the cobblestones beneath Kid's massive boots. His massive frame lurched forward a fraction of an inch, his muscles coiling like springs. The fur of his coat bristled as the Haki pressed against him, trying to force his pride into the dirt.

Kid's teeth ground together, a low, guttural growl escaping his throat. The strain was visible the veins in his thick neck bulged, and the dark hair of his happy trail glistened with a thin sheen of sweat as his core tightened to resist the crushing pressure. He refused to budge. His boots dug deep furrows into the street, stone splintering under his weight.

Damn, Kid thought, his amber eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperate admiration. Look at that. They're tryin' to put me on my knees in the middle of the street. The thought didn't enrage him it thrilled him. The raw, unbridled power pouring off you was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in years. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear, but from the sheer excitement of facing someone who could actually match his intensity.

"Fafafafa!" Killer’s laughter cut through the oppressive atmosphere. Even he had to plant his feet firmly to avoid being swept away by the residual energy, his masked head shaking with amusement. "Captain, I think they've forgotten who's in charge here," Killer called out, his Scottish lilt carrying a teasing edge. "Or maybe they're just remindin' you that you're not the only one with a big ego."

Heat steeled himself, his face twisted in a grimace as he fought to stay upright against the Haki. "What the hell is this pressure?" he barked, his voice strained. "Boss, you gonna let 'em treat you like some tavern drunk?"

Wire remained the most composed, though his eyes were wide with shock. He shifted his weight, keeping his trident ready, but he didn't move to intervene. He could see the look on Kid's face. This wasn't a fight for him it was a reunion.

Kid finally managed to push back against the pressure, his own Haki flaring up in a crimson tinged aura that clashed against yours, creating small sparks of black lightning that crackled between you. His feral grin returned, wider and more dangerous than before. He didn't kneel. Instead, he took one deliberate, heavy step forward, leaning his massive bulk into the psychic assault.

"Kneel? Me?" Kid roared, his voice a rough, Scottish rumble that drowned out the wind. "You've got some nerve comin' back after all this time and thinkin' you can make me bow down, ya stubborn brat!" He laughed again, a booming sound that shook his entire chest. "I love it! I absolutely love it!"

[Setting: A hidden metal fortress carved into a rocky New World cove; Late Afternoon]

The screech of metal tearing against metal echoed through the cavernous hideout like a dying scream. Dust motes danced violently in the shafts of orange sunlight filtering through the newly created gap where the reinforced door had been. The air inside was thick with the familiar, sharp scents of the Kid Pirates: gun oil, scorched metal, stale ale, and the salty tang of the sea.

Eustass Kid had been hunched over a cluttered workbench, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow half the room. His mechanical arm whirred softly as he tinkered with a salvaged cannon part, the sparks from his work occasionally casting amber light across his scarred features. Beside him, Killer was leaning against a support beam, idly sharpening one of his scythes, the rhythmic shink shink of stone against steel providing a steady heartbeat to the room.

At the sound of the explosion, Kid reacted instinctively. In one fluid, violent motion, he surged upright, his chair clattering backward against the stone floor. His right arm the massive, jagged construct of scrap metal surged with magnetic energy, sparks cascading off the iron plates like deadly fireflies. "What the bloody hell ?!" he roared, his Scottish accent thick and gravelly with immediate, murderous intent. "Who's there?! Show yerself before I magnetize yer guts tae the ceiling!"

Heat and Wire, who had been lounging near a pile of weapon crates, were on their feet in an instant. Heat's hands ignited with a low, threatening flicker of flame, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the doorway. Wire gripped his trident tightly, his usual mopey expression replaced by a sharp, deadly focus.

But then, the dust began to settle.

Kid's amber eyes locked onto you. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving beneath his fur coat as adrenaline coursed through him. He was ready to crush whatever intruder had dared to breach his sanctum and then he froze. The mechanical whirring of his arm died down to a faint hum. The sparks faded. His jaw didn't just drop; it seemed to lock in place.

No way, Kid thought, his heart hammering against his ribs with such force it felt like it might crack bone. It can't be. That face... those eyes... they're supposed to be back in the South Blue. They're supposed to be safe. They're supposed to be... His mind raced back to a freezing alleyway, the taste of stale, stolen bread, and the desperate, childish vow he'd shouted into the wind. They actually found me.

A furious, burning heat crept up Kid's neck, flooding his cheeks until they matched the crimson of his hair. "You " he stammered, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "You absolute bloody madman! Ye can't just kick the door down like some shite eating Marine!" He tried to summon his usual bravado, but his hands, still resting on the workbench, were shaking almost imperceptibly.

Killer didn't move to attack. Instead, the blade in his hand stopped mid stroke. The blue and white helmet tilted to the side as he observed you. A low, unmistakable sound rumbled from behind the metal mask the distinctive, muffled laugh that defined him. "Fafafafa!" Killer's shoulders shook. "Well now, Captain. Seems your 'long term investment' just showed up to collect."

Heat's flames died down, his jaw slack as he looked between you and his captain. "Wait... you know this person?" he muttered, glancing at Wire, who simply blinked in stunned silence, his trident lowering.

Kid let out a frustrated groan, yanking the collar of his fur coat up to try and hide the obvious blush creeping across his face. "Shut it, Killer! I don't know what yer talkin' about!" But he didn't move away. He couldn't. His eyes remained fixed on you, searching your face, terrified that if he blinked, you'd vanish like a mirage born of gunpowder and old memories. "What the fuck do you want anyway? And why're you smirkin' like that?"

Your eyes narrowed in visceral fury from the question as you marched towards him with steam coming off of your body from the rage of it all.

"Don't act daft." You snarl with all of your teeth. You looked like you were going to bite his head off. "I came to collect your hand."

Kid didn't move. He couldn't. He stayed pressed against his workbench, his massive frame making him seem even larger as he loomed over the space, though he was backing up instinctively as you advanced. His amber eyes tracked every movement, the way your jaw set, the way your teeth bared in that feral snarl. The steam rising from your skin wasn't just a display of power it was a physical manifestation of a rage he recognized intimately. It was a mirror of his own.

Fuck, Kid thought, his pulse hammering in his throat. They're gonna kill me. Or kiss me. Or both. The thought sent a jolt of something far more dangerous than electricity through his system. He watched you march toward him, and instead of fear, he felt a surge of twisted pride. That fire in your eyes was exactly why he'd never forgotten you. You hadn't just survived the South Blue; you'd become something formidable. Something that could match his own violence.

As you drew closer, Kid’s breath hitched. He could smell the heat coming off you now. His flesh hand clenched into a fist on the table, his knuckles whitening. He tried to maintain his scowl, but it was cracking. The way you said you came to "collect his hand" made his stomach do a slow, nauseating flip. His mind flashed back to that stolen loaf of bread the way he'd grabbed your hand in the dirt and barked a promise he'd been too proud to ever take back.

"Collect my hand?" Kid roared, though the volume was more about covering his panic than actual anger. His Scottish accent thickened as he gestured wildly with his mechanical arm, the metal plates grinding. "What d'ye think this is, some bloody fairy tale?! Ye can't just storm in here after years and demand " His voice died in his throat as you got within arm's reach. Even with your power and rage, he still towered over you, his 6'9 frame casting a shadow that completely enveloped you. His shirt had ridden up slightly from his sudden movement, revealing the dark red happy trail that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Killer's muffled laughter erupted again, louder this time. "Fafafafa! Oh, this is priceless." Killer didn't move from his position against the beam, but his helmet tilted with obvious amusement. "Give it up, Kid. You're not fooling anyone. You've been moping about that promise for years. I can see you're shaking."

"I'm not shakin'!" Kid bellowed, spinning his head toward Killer. "I'm furious! There's a difference!"

Heat and Wire exchanged a long, bewildered look. Heat's flames had completely vanished, replaced by a look of dawning comprehension. "Wait... the hand?" Heat whispered, his accent thick. "The promise about the marriage? That's who this is?" Wire simply nodded slowly, his droopy eyes widening as he realized the legendary 'fiance' Kid had bragged about in fits of drunken nostalgia was actually standing in their hideout, looking ready to dismantle the place.

Kid turned back to you, his chest heaving. He was caught between the instinct to grab you and the instinct to flee. He settled for neither, instead leaning down until his face was mere inches from yours. The heat from your body was unmistakable now, and Kid felt his own temperature rising. "Ye think I'm daft?" he growled, his voice dropping to a low, rough rumble that vibrated in his chest. "I'm the one who made the deal. I don't break my word."

[Setting: New World Port Town War torn Streets; Midday]

The air is thick with the acrid sting of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. The cobblestones beneath your boots are slick, littered with broken glass and the unconscious forms of Marine soldiers. Every muscle in your body is coiled tight, your knuckles split and throbbing. You let out a snarl as another Marine stumbles toward you, his rifle half raised. Without hesitation, you drive your fist forward with enough force to crack the man's jaw audibly. The impact sends a satisfying jolt up your arm as his head snaps back, sending him sprawling into a pile of rubble.

A few yards away, the Kid Pirates have formed a loose semicircle, having already carved through their own section of the Marine blockade.

Eustass Kid is standing completely still. His massive frame towers over the battlefield, the crimson fur of his coat billowing in the wind like a battle standard. His mechanical arm whirs softly as sparks dance between the metal joints, but he hasn't moved a muscle since you entered his line of sight. His amber eyes are fixed on you wide, unblinking, and utterly focused.

Look at 'em, Kid thinks, his heart hammering against his ribs. That same vicious look in their eyes from when we were kids... but stronger. Way stronger. They're absolutely tearing through those bastards. God, they're beautiful when they're pissed off. The sight of your rage doesn't intimidate him; it excites him. It validates everything he remembered about you. But he's frozen, his throat feeling tight. He wants to roar your name, to grab you and drag you away from this filthy battlefield, but for once in his life, the loud mouthed captain is struggling to find his voice.

Killer stands beside him, one hand resting on his hip while the other adjusts the position of his twin scythes. Through the circular vents of his helmet, he watches your brutal efficiency with obvious approval. He notices Kid’s catatonic state the way his captain has gone completely silent, mouth slightly agape.

"Fafafafa!" Killer’s muffled laughter echoes from behind his mask, his Scottish lilt cutting through the sounds of combat. "Look at that, Captain. I think they've forgotten you're even here. Or maybe they're just waiting for you to stop staring like a landed fish." He nudges Kid hard with his elbow, hoping to break the spell. "They look properly furious, Kid. You might wanna say somethin' before they decide you're part of the scenery."

"Shut it, Killer!" Kid finally barks, though his voice cracks slightly. He shifts his weight, his massive boots grinding into the stone. The movement pulls his shirt taut across his chest and stomach, revealing the dark red hair of his happy trail disappearing beneath his belt. His face is beginning to flush a shade of pink that nearly matches his hair. "I'm no' staring! I'm... assessin' the situation!"

Heat steps forward, flames licking at the corners of his mouth as he incinerates a Marine who dared to crawl toward you. He glances back at you with a grin, his accent thick and rough. "Aye, they've still got that temper we remember from the South Blue, eh? Maybe even worse now. I love it."

Wire nods silently from his position, his mopey eyes tracking your movements. "Still strong," he mutters quietly, his voice a low Scottish rumble. He keeps his trident ready, but his posture is relaxed he knows you've got this handled.

Kid takes a heavy step forward, the ground seeming to tremble under his weight. He wants to reach out, to make contact, but he hesitates, watching you prepare to strike another Marine. The possessive urge to claim you is warring with the sheer shock of your transformation.

"MERCY?! YOU WANT MERCY!!! WELL I WANT A FUCKING WEDDING AND I CAN'T GET IT SO YOU WON'T GET MERCY!"

The Marine's plea for mercy dies in his throat as your scream tears through the chaos of the battlefield. The declaration echoes off the crumbling stone walls of the surrounding buildings, momentarily silencing even the distant sounds of cannon fire. For a heartbeat, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the Marine's terrified whimpering as he stares up at your furious face.

A few yards away, Eustass Kid looks as though he's been struck by lightning. His amber eyes go wide, his pupils contracting as the words a fucking wedding slam into his consciousness. The mechanical whirring of his arm becomes erratic, sparks showering the cobblestones as his control over his magnetic abilities wavers from sheer emotional overload. His face doesn't just blush; it turns a shade of crimson that rivals his hair, the heat spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, where the dark red line of his happy trail disappears into his waistband.

A wedding?! His mind screams in a panicked loop. They said that? Right here? In front of everyone?! He feels exposed, raw, and utterly terrified not of the Marines, but of the sheer, unadulterated truth in your voice. The guilt he's been suppressing for years about that stupid promise in the South Blue surges up like bile, mixing with an overwhelming, possessive pride.

Killer's head tilts sharply to the side, the circular vents of his mask seeming to pulse with his own suppressed amusement. "Fafafafa! Oh, Captain, you've really done it now," he crows, his Scottish accent thick with mirth. He leans toward Kid, lowering his voice just enough to be teasing but loud enough for the others to hear. "Sounds like someone's been holdin' a grudge longer than a bad hangover. And here I thought you were the only one who kept promises."

Heat's flames gutter momentarily as he stares at you in genuine shock. "Christ alive," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're not just angry at the Marines. They're angry at him. That's... that's terrifying."

Wire remains silent, but his grip tightens on his trident, his droopy eyes fixed on you with newfound reverence. He recognizes that kind of fury it's the kind that burns down entire cities.

Kid finally breaks his paralysis. "Oi! What the hell are you shoutin' about now, ya mad bastard!?" he roars back, though his voice lacks its usual venomous authority. It sounds more like a man trying to cover up a panic attack. He stomps forward, his massive frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over you and the cowering Marine. His boots crack against the stone with each heavy stride. "A wedding?! We're in the middle of a warzone, not some piss poor village festival!"

Despite his bluster, he doesn't stop until he's standing directly beside you, his towering 6'9 height forcing him to look down at you. He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the gunpowder and sweat clinging to him. His flesh hand trembles slightly as he reaches out, not to touch you yet, but as if he's instinctively wanting to shield you or claim you from the very Marine you're threatening.

"And don't go makin' it sound like I forgot you on purpose, ya daft " His voice cuts off as he catches your eye, his bravado crumbling. His amber gaze searches yours, fierce and desperate. "I never forgot. I just... I had to become someone worth marryin' first, didn't I? Someone who could actually keep the promise instead of just talkin' shite in an alleyway."

[Setting: Deck of the Victoria Punk; Late Afternoon]

The sun hung low over the churning waters of the New World, casting long, blood orange shadows across the deck of the Victoria Punk. The air was thick with the familiar scents of salt spray, gunpowder, and the metallic tang that always seemed to cling to Eustass Kid. But today, the atmosphere on the ship wasn't just tense it was volatile.

CRASH!

A heavy metal fist slammed into the wooden railing of the ship, splintering the planks instantly. Kid stood there, his massive frame looming over the deck like an approaching storm. His crimson hair seemed to glow brighter in the dying sunlight, and his mechanical arm whirred with agitated energy, sparks dancing between the jagged metal components as his grip tightened. In his flesh hand, he clutched a crumpled bounty poster, the edges torn from how violently he had been handling it.

"That damn brat, they are supposed tae be waitin' for me tae come back!" Kid roared, his Scottish accent thickening with every syllable of his fury. His amber eyes were fixed on the face printed on the parchment your face. "Look at this bounty! How bloody how much has this happened without me there tae watch over 'em? They've gone and become a proper menace tae the World Government!"

Internally, Kid's chest felt like it was being constricted by heated chains. He wasn't truly angry at you he could never be but the sight of your face on that poster, surrounded by numbers that represented danger, blood, and violence, made his blood boil. He remembered you small and hungry in those South Blue alleyways, sharing scraps of bread. Now, seeing you recognized as one of the most dangerous forces in the sea made him feel a terrifying mix of ferocious pride and desperate possessiveness. You had survived. You had conquered. But you had done it alone, and that thought gnawed at him like acid.

A few paces away, leaning casually against the main mast with his arms crossed over his broad chest, Killer watched the display with obvious amusement. The sunlight glinted off the polished surface of his blue and white helmet, the circular vents casting small shadows across his masked face. His blond goatee peeked out from beneath the bottom edge of the mask.

"Fafafafa!" Killer's muffled laughter rang out, distinctive and mocking. "Calm yer self down, Captain. Ye'll break the whole ship before we even reach the next island." He tilted his head, studying the bounty poster Kid was threatening to incinerate with sheer rage. "Though I suppose I can't blame ye for bein' startled. They've certainly grown up tae be somethin' else, haven't they?"

Killer's tone was calm, the steadying force that the crew relied on, but there was a clear edge of teasing in his voice. He knew exactly why Kid was truly shouting. "Besides," Killer added, his voice dropping slightly lower, though the smirk was audible, "if they're already this famous, it'll make finding 'em a whole lot easier when ye finally decide tae collect on that stupid promise of yours."

"Shut yer trap, Killer!" Kid snapped, spinning around to glare at his right hand man, his entire face flushing a deep, embarrassed scarlet that rivaled his hair. "It wasn't it was just somethin' I said when we were starved and stupid! I ain't goin' chasin' after 'em just because of some half eaten loaf of bread!"

Behind them, Heat stood nearby, arms crossed, his scarred features set in a hard expression. He let out a rough snort, sparks of flame flickering at the corner of his mouth. "Boss is right tae be pissed," Heat muttered gruffly. "Anyone who can climb that high on the wanted lists is gonna be attractin' all sorts of trouble. We'll need tae be ready tae fight 'em off or fight alongside 'em."

Wire remained silent as always, leaning against a weapon crate with his trident planted firmly between his feet. His droopy eyes moved from Kid to the bounty poster, his expression unreadable but his posture suggesting he was already mentally preparing for whatever chaos your arrival would bring.

Kid turned back to the sea, huffing like a wounded bull, but his grip on the poster loosened just enough to reveal your eyes on the page. "Damn them all to hell," he growled under his breath, though his thumb unconsciously stroked over the paper where your cheek was printed. "Just wait until I get me hands on you."

He looked up at the crew, his expression shifting from embarrassment back to his usual intimidating ferocity. "Oi! Heat! Wire! Get the supplies ready! We're changin' course. We're headin' straight into whatever territory they're tearin' apart."

Killer let out another chuckle, "Fafafafa! So the hunt is on, then?"

[Setting: Victoria Punk Main Deck; Sunset]

The sky above the New World was bleeding deep purples melting into angry oranges and bruised crimsons that mirrored the color of Kid's own hair. The sun was dipping dangerously low toward the horizon, casting long, distorted shadows across the wooden planks of the Victoria Punk. The salt spray of the ocean clung to everything, a constant, gritty reminder of the unforgiving sea they called home.

Eustass Kid stood at the railing, his massive frame hunched slightly forward. His mechanical arm whirred with a faint, metallic protest as he gripped the ship's edge, the enchanted metal fingers leaving shallow indentations in the reinforced wood. His crimson hair whipped violently in the evening wind, strands lashing across his scarred face. His amber eyes weren't fixed on the horizon for navigation or spotting enemy ships; they were unfocused, glazed with a rare, haunting vulnerability that he would sooner die than admit to anyone else.

"They are the method to my madness..." Kid admitted quietly, his voice barely audible over the creaking of the ship's hull and the distant crash of waves. The words felt foreign in his mouth, rough and unpracticed. His mind was betraying him again, conjuring images that burned brighter than any forge. He could see your face not the hardened warrior the world knew you to be, but the kid from the South Blue. He could almost hear your laugh cutting through the sounds of cannon fire and screaming metal, a sound that used to be his only comfort in the starving darkness of the slums.

A few paces behind him, Killer leaned against the mast, arms crossed over his broad chest. The light blue and white of his helmet caught the fading sunlight, the circular vents along his face casting strange patterns of shadow. He had been silent for a long time, observing his captain with the patient, calculating stillness that only he could maintain. The blonde goatee visible beneath the edge of his mask twitched slightly as he let out a soft, knowing breath.

"You've been staring at that same patch of water for nearly an hour, Captain," Killer remarked, his Scottish lilt smooth despite the mechanical filter of his breathing. "Unless you've developed the ability to see through the horizon, I'd say your mind is somewhere far behind us."

Kid stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he immediately tried to summon his usual defensive aggression. "Oi, shut yer gob, Killer! I'm just... thinkin' about tactics. The currents in this sector are shite."

Killer didn't buy it for a second. A low, muffled chuckle escaped his helmet that unmistakable, rhythmic "Fafafafa!" that always seemed to grate on Kid's nerves precisely when Kid needed to maintain his dignity. "Tactics? Is that what we're calling memories of stolen bread and childhood promises now? Aye, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Kid's face flushed a furious, brilliant red, nearly matching his hair. He turned his head away sharply, jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped. "I told you to piss off about that! That was a lifetime ago, dinnae remind me." But even as he barked the words, his grip on the railing tightened, his knuckles whitening. His inner thoughts were a storm of contradictions: anger at the memory for making him weak, and an overwhelming, possessive ache to find you and prove that he had become exactly what he said he would be.

Near the weapon racks, Heat and Wire were occupied with their own routine. Heat was sharpening a blade, the fire in his eyes dimming to a steady glow as he worked, while Wire stood like a silent statue, his trident resting against his shoulder, his droopy eyes tracking the movement of the clouds. Both of them glanced toward the Captain and Killer. They knew. In the quiet moments like this, the crew could sense the shift in the air the way Kid's usual tempestuous energy turned into something heavier, something more desperate.

Heat muttered something under his breath to Wire in a rough Scottish accent, something about the Captain being 'completely whipped by a ghost,' but Wire simply offered a slow, solemn nod, his silence acknowledging the unspoken truth that bound their crew together.

Kid turned back to the sea, the wind howling past his ears. "Fucking hell," he growled to himself, his voice dropping to a rough rumble. "I'm gonna find 'em. And when I do... they'll see I didn't forget a single damn thing."

"Fafafafa! Took you long enough." Killer laughed. "I have a few ideas where they are traveling, I kept all my old contracts from the South Blue to here in case they went sailing. They have.. got all the way to the New World."

Kid froze mid turn, his entire body locking up as if his own magnetic powers had seized his joints. For several seconds, the only sound was the creaking of the ship's timber and the distant, mocking cry of a seagull. His amber eyes blew wide, fixed on Killer with an expression that teetered dangerously between murderous rage and desperate hope.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Kid's voice came out as a low, dangerous growl that vibrated in his chest. He turned fully now, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the space between them. His mechanical arm whirred violently, sparks dancing between the jagged metal plates as his emotions spiked. "You've been what? Keepin' track? Since when, Killer? Since when have you been playin' informant with some shite contracts from the South Blue?"

Killer didn't flinch. He simply adjusted his stance, the sunlight glinting off the polished surface of his helmet. "Since I realized my Captain was too busy chasin' scraps and glory to notice what was right under his nose," Killer replied coolly, his Scottish accent carrying a note of dry amusement. "I've been cross referencing bounty reports, shipping manifests, and old mercenary contracts for years. Every time a name popped up that matched the patterns we knew from back home... I kept it." The blue and white mask tilted slightly. "And they've made it. They're here, Kid. In the New World. Strong enough to survive the Grand Line, and strong enough to be making waves."

Kid's breath hitched. A surge of something primal and possessive tore through his gut. The anger at being kept in the dark was there he wanted to grab Killer by his t shirt and shake him until his teeth rattled but it was being drowned out by a tidal wave of adrenaline. The reality that you weren't just a memory, not just a ghost haunting his drunken thoughts, but a living, breathing force somewhere in these treacherous waters, made his blood sing.

His hand went unconsciously to his stomach, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric of his shirt where his own red happy trail matching the fiery crimson of his hair disappeared beneath his waistband. He felt alive. More alive than he had in years of slaughter and conquest.

"They're here..." Kid whispered, the words more of a vow than a statement. His eyes darkened with an intensity that could melt steel. The vulnerability from moments before was gone, replaced by the focused, terrifying resolve of a predator who had finally caught the scent. "You mean to tell me you've had this information and you're only tellin' me now?"

"I waited until the trail was hot enough to follow," Killer said simply, his tone suggesting that this was the most logical course of action. "No sense chasin' ghosts. Now, we're chasin' a legend."

Heat stepped forward from the weapon racks, wiping grease from his hands onto a rag. His scarred face split into a grim smile. "Well, if they're in the New World, they're either dead or dangerous as hell. Either way, it'll be a bloody welcome back." He looked at Kid, his loyalty evident in his stance. "Where do we start, Captain?"

Wire remained silent, but he moved closer to the railing, his droopy eyes fixed on the horizon, his trident held ready. His silence was his answer: he was ready to hunt.

Kid let out a bark of laughter not his usual cruel laugh, but something wilder, more feral. He slammed his mechanical fist into the railing, leaving a fresh dent in the wood. "We start by turnin' this ship around!" he roared, his voice carrying across the entire deck. "We're not chasin' shadows anymore! We're goin' after what's mine!"

He turned to Killer, his face flushed with both fury and excitement, his teeth bared in a grin that promised violence to anyone who stood in his way. "And you better not have missed a single damn detail, Killer. If I find out you've been holdin' back, I'll magnetize your bloody helmet to the mast!"

But beneath the bluster, Kid's heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. I'm comin' for you, he thought fiercely, his mind already mapping out routes, scanning faces in every port, and preparing for the moment he would finally see those eyes again. And this time, nobody not the Marines, not the Emperors, not even the gods themselves is takin' you away from me again.