#Conis x Wyper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nehswritesstuffs · 7 months ago

Text

Over

So I’ve been going through the series again (this time doing a thorough watch of the anime, as my anime intake has been spotty until now, making me a majorly manga-only) and I was reminded of a niche ship I really enjoy the concept of but hardly ever see, and since I’m now a member of the One Piece Rare Pears Discord server I would be absolutely remiss if I didn’t dust these two off for the first time since… erm… *checks notes* …oh… 2007. Before the English names were solidified by releasing the official manga translations. Well… fuck.

1827 words; Skypiea is one of the best arcs/sagas in the series and you can fight me (and probably also Vegapunk) on this; just a shippy minor rewrite; contains mild descriptions of wounds so if you ain’t cool with that then hey you were warned; I am very excited for when this arc/saga is going to whip back around in the mainline series because it’s high time it does considering most everything else has lol; one of these days I’ll write something big and AUish for them but for now have this; this month also marks twenty years for me on FFN, which is when I started posting fan fiction online, and dang I’ve come a long way lol

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He truly doesn’t remember much when he first wakes up. It’s mostly bits and pieces, but enough to parse together what happened in Upper Yard with the Blue Sea dwellers and Gan Fall. Enough to even be confused when he wakes up to find the former Skypiean god sitting with the chief and an Angel Islander with her arm stretched out towards him, as though readying to change his compress.

“Oh!” the Angel Islander gasped, her hand jerking back. “You’re awake!”

“We were worried,” Gan Fall said. “The Reject Dial did a number on your body…”

“That’s my business, old man,” Wyper spat. He tried to sit up, only for the Angel Islander to push his shoulders back down. “Don’t touch me.”

“You can’t get up now,” she said, her voice softer than her words required. “If you don’t, then you won’t get better.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“You are not,” the chief corrected. “If she can keep you pinned like that, you’re nowhere near fine.” Wyper watched as blush crept across the Angel Islander’s cheeks. “Keep your head, Wyper. It’s over.”

Over.

“Stay there until I send for you,” the chief ordered. “These old men need more pumpkin juice. We will be back soon.” Wyper could barely see as the chief left, the former god headed with him. From what he could tell, neither man was walking steadily, which meant that neither of them were getting just pumpkin juice in those mugs.

Over.

How was it over? Why share drinks with the man they fought against for so long that Wyper couldn’t remember? It couldn’t be over… not like this...

Part of him didn’t know what to think; none of them knew anything else. All any of the warriors, the elders and knowledge-keepers, the children… war was the only thing they knew. How could it just be over? Like that? So simply? He did not believe it…

He reached his goals, and yet he felt so empty.

It was over.

“Thank you.” He glanced over and saw the Angel Islander staring at him. Her entire face was red in embarrassment; good. He felt no empathy for her shame. “You freed us.”

“I freed my people,” he scoffed. “You benefited from us. Again.”

“That is why I must thank you, and apologize,” the Angel Islander replied. “You’ve suffered so much due to us. If we had only learned to cooperate from the beginning…”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“We’ve done enough ignoring one another, don’t you think?” she snapped back. There was a ferocity in her voice that took Wyper by surprise—he didn’t take her as one with guts. She then realized what her tone must have been and shrank back again. “I think… I think we need to get on the right foot now, or else we will regret it later.”

“I don’t even know which foot is the right one if this is supposed to be done with,” he admitted sourly. “All I want to do is take my revenge for my people’s suffering by yours.”

“…and if you feel that way when you’re better, then go ahead,” the Angel Islander said, “but until then, I’m the one who is going to help take care of you. I insist.”

Wyper didn’t like it—not one bit. He didn’t like it any more than he liked working alongside the Blue Seas pirates. Even with all that, he couldn’t deny how much he ached from every muscle in his body. Not a single training session or skirmish with Eneru’s forces had prepared him for this type of pain or how deep it went. Part of him believed that Calgara himself felt it, his ancestor’s spirit finally able to rest.

Silently, the Angel Islander went back to her duties while Wyper watched. She took the now-fallen compress from the floor and wet it in a basin and placed it back on his forehead. It was cool to the touch and helped soothe at least the throbbing of his head. After she checked the bandages on his torso and arms to make sure they weren’t disturbed, she moved down towards his legs. He felt the bandages on his left leg get gently pulled away and the air hit his skin. Flexing his muscles brought a stinging sensation as varied scabs and cuts threatened to break open.

“Don’t do that; you’ll make it worse,” the Angel Islander chided, no force behind her words. She procured another cloth from the basin and used it to wipe off the fresh blood from his leg. Once that was done, she began to place a cool salve over the wounds, one that he recognized soon as he could smell it.

“Where did you get that?” he wondered. She looked at him and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Raki made it for me,” she replied. “She was here until about an hour ago… they needed her help making a stew.”

That sounded about right, Wyper thought. Although Raki was as proud and strong a warrior as any of them, she had a gift for cooking. Braham too, if his fuzzy brain was remembering things correctly… but Raki was the only one of them who was ever really encouraged. With the medicine going straight to his head, he wondered why that was… hmm…

“What am I going to do?” he wondered aloud. “This has been going on for so long…”

“We’re all going to need to figure that out,” the Angel Islander said. Did she sound… sad…? “There is nothing left but the vearth.”

He furrowed his brow. “Then… who survived…?”

“Everyone,” she claimed. “I was able to warn Angel Island in time, and they were able to get the word to the Shandians. The only ones who died were the ones who g—Eneru and his priests killed directly.”

“You saved your own people first?”

“They were the ones who needed more convincing.”

That much he could not argue—trying to change an Angel Islander’s mind was like trying to change the weather. It was why he had never trusted Gan Fall’s acts of supposed peace, as they had all been burned before. The Angel Islander in front of him, however, seemed… there was an air about her that had been unlike the old god back then. What was it?

“Where did you learn to dress wounds?” he wondered. She shrugged.

“We learn it in school.” She held up a small jar that Wyper immediately recognized—it contained the salve she was using. “This medicine is a lot like something we have on Angel Island…” Blush crossed her face and she looked away again. “Had; we had medicine like this. Do your people have any records of someone sharing information between us when the vearth was first brought here?”

“No—far as I know, it is a Shandian medicine going back to before the war.” He then turned his head and saw two Burn Bazookas sitting along the wall. One was his and the other… “Where did that come from?”

“Hmm…?” The Angel Islander turned away from replacing his other leg’s bandages to see where his attention was. “Yours; the other one I found.”

“You do not look like a warrior.”

“…which is why I brought it with me when I went to convince Angel Island to evacuate. They knew I wasn’t joking when I showed up with it, though it did take a bit to realize that it was not because I went insane.”

“I see.”

Not a warrior? Yet she used a Burn Bazooka to convince her people to flee. She knew how to care for wounds and knew of a traditional medicine, seemingly holding it in at least some regard. He had never thought in his wildest dreams that he would ever be having this kind of conversation with an Angel Islander… let alone one like her… as she cared for his wounds…

Now it was Wyper’s turn to blush, glad his tanned skin hid it well. He never would have let this woman near him under normal circumstances… she never would have approached him under normal circumstances…

Maybe… it truly was over.

“What will we do now…?” he wondered. The Angel Islander took the compress and replaced it again, this one feeling colder.

“Your chief told me that all the warriors have had reasons for fighting until now,” she replied, “but maybe it might be time to think about what else you want to do? What did you never have time for because you were so busy training and practicing?”

He thought about that for a moment before replying, “I had been hoping that one day I could become a knowledge-keeper.”

“…a… historian…?”

“No, much more than that.” Wyper lifted his hand towards the sky, staring at the bandages covering his skin. “I never thought I’d live to see that day before now. Children that haven’t been born need to learn the stories of their people… need to know why we grow pumpkins and go to war…”

“…then it’s a good thing that no one here wants war anymore,” the Angel Islander said. She took the compress off his forehead and sat him up. “Do you think you can stand?” He nodded and allowed her to help him to his feet. She slung his arm over her shoulders and he accepted her help as she led him wobbling through the forest.

Eventually, Wyper heard far-off shouting and could see a distant glow. The Angel Islander brought him through the ruins of Old Shandora to where a large bonfire was taking place. Other Angel Islanders were there dancing and drinking with the others from his village. The pirates from the Blue Seas were there as well, enjoying a party so infectious that even the animals were dancing.

“We can build a new nation together, one where we both have vearth beneath our feet,” the Angel Islander said. “Eneru is gone. His priests are gone. We are free to do as we wish.” The sight of the former god and the village chief sharing spiked pumpkin juice caught the injured warrior’s attention; it was almost like a dream. “My name is Conis, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Uh… I…” He cleared his throat, having forgotten how they were standing. “I am Wyper, Heir of Calgara.”

“Wyper…” she repeated, trying out the name on her tongue. Was it still the medicinal salve, or did her saying his name truly sound that wonderful? “It’s nice to meet you. I wish the circumstances were better.”

“Better than this?”

“Something that involved a lot fewer near-death experiences.” She offered him a smile that was bright against the light of both the moon and bonfire. “I hope we can at least be friends after all this.”

Friends. Yeah. He thought that he could possibly be friends.

Now that it was all over.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #Conis #Conis (One Piece)#Wyper #Wyper (One Piece)#Wyper x Conis #Conis x Wyper #they're cute alright just fucking sue me #I knew back in the day I was doomed for a weird life when I shipped these two based on two panels of interaction #I apparently work with the school administrator from hell so sorry that's why I've been so silent lately #I'm trying to get done some gay stuff for Pride Month so watch this space

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