#kidd's like no i like the feeling of the wind in my hairs and law just quietly sinks into the ground like why. why am i dating... this

[schwazombie]

ModAU Kidd & Killer participating in their local Highland Games. Kidd's kilt accidentally gets Marilyn Monroed. He's not embarrassed he thinks everyone else owes him money for the show. Killer on the other hand is facepalming to the next dimension like I swear I did try to raise him better than this

[cebwrites]

I wanna know more about Kirin and Law

Kirin looks so cool, too! I like his long white hair! :)

waaaa i'm flattered thank you!! kirin's my favorite silly goofy guy ;w;

i have way too much lore for him but sdkfshg ig to start things off!

Kirin is a pirate captain and his crew is allied with the Hearts (they're more or less the same crew but just split off into two, the Hearts and Hiraishin are family ) - Kirin doesn't have a devil fruit but his mother is from a sky island of people who have electricity and/or wind abilities (his is electricity), a lot of people from that island have wings but since Kirin was born on the blue sea he doesn't (the wings are actually a kind of creature that attaches to a person's back and their people have done it when a kid reaches a certain age for generations, it's a whole thing)

He has a vague interest in finding the One Piece but wants to take his time instead of rushing like Luffy or Kidd, he also wants to help find the truth for his dad's sake - if it was up to Kirin he would lay low and get by in the shadows of bigger figures but he's been made a "big name" as well after Marineford and it's been hard to pretend like he's a nobody since then lol

Timeline-wise he appears on Sabaody with all the other Worst Gen for the first time and then on level 5.5 in Impel Down (he was captured on Sabaody to help his own crew escape from the admirals and then taken to 5.5 by the people there) From there he follows the prison break to Marineford, fights Hina and Mihawk briefly and then gets his leg severed by Doflamingo

The next time he shows up is post-Dressrosa climbing up the side of Barto's boat because Law went no contact for 6 months (because they didn't want Kirin and co to get involved with their thing with Law's Dressrosa plans/getting hurt because of them) and when Kirin saw them in the papers with Luffy's alliance he had to track them down - there's angst during Zou when Kirin doesn't talk to them/the Heart pirates and spends time around the Mugiwara crew instead because he's hurt, but by the end of that arc he reconciles with the Hearts and does so with Law on their way to Wano where Kirin's crew is waiting

The story I have now is that one of Kirin's crew members used to work in a tattoo shop with one of Law's crew members and was the one to give Law his bigger tats, something happened to their workplace and Law offered to take them both in (Izzy agreed to travel with them for a while because Hake was his friend but not to join the crew) Kirin's crew runs into them and Izzy joins him instead because they're all childhood friends and grew up on the same ship, Law is fine with that but doesn't really trust Kirin because it's another pirate crew even if they seem friendly

From there the crews keep running into each other even though Law insists they shouldn't get too buddy-buddy (the crews end up befriending each other quickly while Law remained grumpy about it) and with lots of shared hardship and helping each other when trouble appeared (Law said that whenever their crew helped it was only to 'pay the debt back' to Kirin's but it just kept on happening lol) And eventually before Law realized it they were all close friends, two years after meeting Kirin as well they also realized that they might have caught feelings for him and were NOT happy about it (falling in love, the vulnerability of it all, uuuu 🥺) Kirin was already dating his other partner Reijiat that time but they end up as a polycule anyway because he has two hands They met each other for the first time five years ago from the present! When Kirin was 22 and just having left Baroque

[kbstories]

Entangled

en·tan·gled (adj.) Twisted together; interconnected.

Eustass Kidd joins the Flying Six. The Kidd Pirates go to war.

(Or: Welcome to the worst timeline.)

Tags: Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, References to Brainwashing, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort (It’s a solid 80% hurt you have been warned)

Set in Wano, Act Three. Spoiler warning for all of Wano. This is an AU where Kidd is imprisoned on Onigashima and Killer doesn’t eat SMILE.

Content warning for some torture, some blood and references to brainwashing.

***

They’re dead, they said.

Wiping blood from his mouth, Kidd had laughed. “My crew? Dying to cock-faced cunts like you? Never.”

They fought to get to you and they died, they said as cruel hands dug into Kidd’s hair and put him under, over and over.

“They didn’t”, Kidd bit back. “They’re alive”, words fractured by the water in his throat, his lungs. Again – they will come – and again – they’re fine – and again – they’ll come for me. By then he couldn’t catch enough breath to speak but it was there, conviction burning bright in his chest.

They said, he’s dead, and even though his eyes could barely see and his ears were ringing, Kidd recognized blue and white and Killer. Kidd’s veins ached with whatever they pumped into him, his brain struggling to tell truth from lie, dream from reality.

The mask is there, real. The seams Kidd worked a full day and night on to get them just right, cracked apart and caked with blood where Killer’s temple would be–

They’re dead, they say and Eustass Kidd’s world shatters apart.

***

The Victoria Punk strains against the raging of the sea, waves mighty as mountains crashing against her skull and bursting into a thousand pieces. Killer doesn’t turn his head away from the spray, lets the ocean sting every inch of exposed skin.

Under his mask, his eyes stare straight into Onigashima’s soulless gaze.

“Hey, you there! Spikey’s friend!”

Strawhat’s voice rings true through the winds and the rain. Killer keeps his arms crossed and nods, the gesture over-articulated to carry despite the storm. “Stick to the plan, Strawhat! We’ll catch up to you on the other side!”

A smile and a thumbs-up from Strawhat to his right, a sardonic laugh from Law to his left. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for an optimist, Massacre Soldier.”

All Killer gives him is the bird. Kidd would’ve laughed at that, he thinks.

Wire is at the helm, hands steadfast and solid. “Keep course”, Killer tells him as he hops down on deck. “There’s a spot at the bottom of the bay. The Punk should be safe there.” Heat flanks him as the rest of the crew gathers, every face around him retaining that grim sort of tenacity that carried them through the past month.

There’s exhaustion there too, so keen Killer can sense it: None of them can quite shake that phantom presence permeating the Punk, the constellation of their very being-together fundamentally incomplete.

To sail into battle without Kidd is… wrong, inconceivable, almost. Killer has endured all magnitudes of that feeling while they scoured every corner of Wano Country in search for that element that will make them whole again, that unique gravitational pull that makes their individual parts click into each other like carefully-crafted machinery.

(It doesn’t get easier, being without him. Missing him. Killer can’t tell why he ever expected it to.)

“Stay low”, Killer reminds his crewmates, his voice as steady as it’s been since this nightmare started. “Find the Flying Six, that’s our priority. We have to get to Kidd before the raid starts, or things will get messy.”

For years, Killer’s mask has been a comfort; the immediate “Aye, Captain” he gets in return makes him wince where the crew can’t see it. It’s a necessity, for them to remain in the dark about his weakness – about the visceral fear that shot through Killer when he realized Kidd is gone and all eyes fell on him to make the next step.

(This has been a possibility since the very beginning yet Killer never expected to live long enough for it to become reality. Always together, even in death, that was the plan.)

*

From the moment their boots touch land, all Killer can think of is Kidd. Find Kidd, save Kidd, a near-obsessive mantra playing in his head on an endless loop as they leave the Punk behind.

For weeks he lived as Kamazo the Manslayer, every scrap of intel extracted in crimson splatters under moonlit skies. Alliances made and information combined for one purpose alone, and it’s worth it to pass by hordes of drunks and people-soon-to-be-drunks unnoticed. Every step the Kidd Pirates make on Onigashima is accounted for, their approach methodical sans the perpetual chaos Kidd’s mere existence brings.

Killer hates how easy it is, to become something other than themselves. There is no time to waste on regret, not here. They have to keep going.

Finally: There is the fortress, there are the Flying Six – and among them, a flash of red Killer would recognize anywhere, anytime. His vision narrows down to the shape of Kidd perched on the parapet, dressed black-on-black like the rest of them, and a murmur goes through the crew behind him. By some animal instinct, Kidd’s head turns and he stares right at them, too.

And for the first time in a month Killer inhales and feels his lungs unfold, his chest swell with a full breath. Kidd is there. He’s right there, and Killer’s too far away to pick up any details but Kidd is alive and now he knows they’re here, too. All that’s left is to get him out of here and regroup and–

“Soldier, watch out!”

–the shout is almost drowned out by Killer’s instincts. He tears his scythes up in the last second to deflect the little bits of something raining down on them. Shrapnel, the ground littered with it in moments.

What the…?

The thunderclap of Conqueror’s Haki precedes a furious roar he has heard a hundred times, a hundred battles over. Killer catches sight of Kidd, and how scrap gathers and swirls around him, the eye of a silver-tinged hurricane about to hit, and his mind stalls as that murderous glare locks on him.

Then Kidd is upon them.

Metal screeches against metal, the air turning sharp and heavy with Kidd’s will as his fists clash against Killer’s scythes. There’s not a shred of hesitance to the strike: A fraction of a second is all Killer gets to seek out Kidd’s eyes, glowing with the sparks exploding in all directions between them, and Killer’s gut drops at the cold fury he finds there.

That, and bloodlust so strong he can taste it. Oh fuck.

The force of the attack has Killer’s heels skidding back a few feet – motherfucker, Kidd isn’t holding anything back, is he? – before Kidd’s gaze flicks to the side and he scoffs, a pissed-off tch.

A breath, drawing deep. Flames engulf them both, then, the fire throwing up a wall that gives Killer some room to breathe.

“Heat”, he gasps, and they motion for him to move. Wire isn’t far behind, grabbing Killer by the elbow and dragging him away from the inferno swallowing the person they came to save. “You okay? Killer. Did he–?”

Killer can barely look elsewhere. “No. I’m fine, Wire, let me– What the hell did they do to him?” The last part is little more than a snarl, something venomous and ugly within him stirring. Just a glimpse of it sends Killer’s heart on a warpath, beating hard enough to throb even in his fingertips.

Wire’s expression is drawn, lips a tense line. “I don’t know but this is bad. There’s too much metal on all of us.” Which is by design, to help Kidd get around in a fight and– Fuck. Fuck.

A handful of seconds, that’s all Heat can buy them. Fire can’t hold Kidd, not for long, the man himself forged in heat and pressure just as the metal he commands. Killer grits his teeth to see Kidd emerge from plumes of smoke wiping soot off that same look on his face, lethal and so cold, and he pulls both Heat and Wire behind himself.

“Leave him to me. Take the others and–”

Wire’s hand goes bruise-tight on Killer’s arm. Heat hisses, “Killer–”

“Listen to me. Kaido’s forces will follow him here any minute. Keep them off our backs. Buy us time. Whatever this is, Kidd will fight it. I just have to make him listen.”

Two little words stick to Killer’s tongue, almost making it out of his mouth. Captain’s orders. He doesn’t have to say them, though, the tense sigh Wire exhales an answer in and of itself.

“Fine, just– Stay sharp. Let’s go, Heat.”

“Yeah”, Heat says with a final glance Kidd’s way, and they’re gone. Disappearing from Killer’s limited field of vision, and Killer trusts they will keep the crew safe. It’s not like he can turn and check, not with Kidd stalking ever-closer.

Coming for him, not the crew. Just him. A joyless smile stretches Killer’s lips wide. Good.

“Care to explain what game you’re playing, Kidd? We’re here to take you home.”

Kidd snaps at him, “Shut the fuck up”, teeth big and white against the backdrop of black leather Kidd is wearing. His face is bare for the first time in years, his hair slicked back like he couldn’t give any less of a damn how it looks. Killer’s gaze falls on the symbol of the Beast Pirates on the thick belts crossing over his chest and his heart lurches, skips out of rhythm–

“I don’t care who you are. I’ll fucking kill you for wearing that mask.”

Killer stares.

“Who I…? The mask is mine. It’s mine, Kidd, you made it for me. I’m–”

Oh shit, the earth itself shakes from the pulse of magnetism Kidd draws in every last bit of metal with, Killer’s arms threatening to snap out of their sockets as his scythes are pulled in, too. “Don’t you dare”, the words are a growl more than anything. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name”, and the pressure drops to be replaced by brute physical force as Kidd lunges.

Killer doesn’t stand a chance against Kidd, he knows that. There’s his Devil Fruit, his natural strength, his skill with damn-near every weapon he’s collected – ever since he unlocked the Haki to match, Kidd has shrugged off any and all limits imposed on him. Killer knows what Kidd can do, knows his body better than his own, some days, knows every emotion that flashes in that rust-red gaze of his.

And, with Kidd hellbent on ripping him apart, Killer knows he’s but one misstep away from a very violent death.

Countless times they’ve fought yet this is an entirely different beast: The only advantage Killer has is speed, and even that is rendered meaningless in the face of Kidd’s powers turning the metal on his body into anchors, his wrists and neck aching trying to withstand that particular gravity. Time and time again they collide, a spray of sparks and panted breath as Killer stares into the hate-filled eyes of the man he loves and doesn’t back down.

As he tells him, “It’s me, Killer, it’s me, I came back for you”, and Kidd snarls, beyond words.

Something has to give and for a moment there, Killer thinks it might not be him. Kidd is panting, growing pale and covered in sweat. This close, Killer can see the fresh wounds left to scar, dotting his chest with sickening precision, and the mottled bruises blooming on his neck, right over his pulse point.

Whatever they put him through, it’s recent enough for Kidd to look like he’s on the verge of collapse once he’s burned through his rage, and Killer despises himself for drawing hope from that.

Then Kidd stumbles, Killer hesitates – and Kidd nails him in the side, a punch too swift for Killer to block, and the taste of copper spills on Killer’s tongue as he feels his ribs give before he twists. The second fist is inches from connecting when Killer slips his hand out of the metal guard slowing him down and elbows Kidd in the face, stomach turning at the immediate gush of blood that clearly spells broken nose.

They fall apart, Killer holding the scratched-and-bruised mess of his midriff and Kidd groaning with his face tucked into his elbow. Struggling to breathe through the pain, Killer fumbles for his second scythe, throwing it to the side where it lands with a dull thud, unseen. Kidd is staring at him, mouth open and painted crimson.

Then Killer’s fingers hook into the back of his mask and he pulls it off, the world suddenly too-bright, too-loud, overwhelming – it all pales against the fear choking him, smothering any ounce of reason Killer clung to without Kidd there to guide him.

“Kidd, it’s me”, he says, the words small between them, on the brink of vanishing altogether. Well and truly lost, for the first time since they met. “Your partner. Please. I don’t know what to do. Please come back to me.”

And Kidd– He staggers towards him, like he can’t help it. “You’re dead”, he whispers, helplessly hoarse. “You died. You’re dead, Kil.”

Killer’s eyes sting as tears well up; he bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. Thinks, oh, and his mind puts together the puzzle pieces even if all he feels is his heart break.

“I’m right here. Right here, Kidd.”

Step by step Kidd’s fists lose their substance, metal falling to the ground in chunks and pieces and loose gears. Kidd asks, “…Killer?”, and it sounds so painfully uncertain, so threadbare and fragile that Killer throws caution to the wind.

Kidd’s knees give the moment Killer reaches for him. He doesn’t manage to catch the fall but it doesn’t matter, the feeling of Kidd’s arm sliding around his neck like breaking the water’s surface, like coming home at long last. His stump is left bare, bandaged and sore-looking, lacking the mechanics that have become Kidd as much any other part of him. Killer holds that shoulder before he does anything else, the tension there beyond unbearable to watch.

“Killer”, Kidd rasps, and Killer kneels so he doesn’t have to strain himself so much. “K-Kil, fuck, I didn’t– I thought–”

Half-realized words turning to heaving gasps, and Killer wraps himself around him as his shirt grows wet where Kidd’s head is tucked against his neck, equal parts blood and tears with how fucked up Kidd’s nose is. Murmurs against his hair, “It’s okay”, rubs a hand up and down the groove of his spine.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. We’re all here, Kidd. Not leaving you behind, ever, got it?”

It’s there, with Kidd in his arms, that Killer becomes aware of their surroundings once more: There’s distant cannon fire, and battlecries cut short; the cracking of rifles and ringing of blades being drawn and crossed; bit by bit, the world reshapes itself into the beginnings of a war around them. The first thing Killer sees is a loose circle of backs turned towards them. Dead ahead, the signature woosh of Heat’s breath-turned-fire illuminates the silhouette of each and every member of their crew fighting tooth and nail to uphold the perimeter.

Closest to them, Wire’s trident blurs with motion as he smashes a volley of arrows out of the air, aimed directly at Kidd’s vulnerable back. A glance over his shoulder, and Wire’s eyes widen as they meet Killer’s.

Properly catching his gaze, for the very first time. Killer nods at him, mouths, we gotta get outta here. Wire reads his lips and smiles, unwavering.

Kidd is stirring as well, eyes red-rimmed and weirdly naked without the heavy black around them. He wipes at the blood that hasn’t quite stopped dripping down his chin before he looks up. Stares at Killer like he can’t quite believe he’s there, and then:

“Shit. Fuck, Killer, your mask”, Kidd mumbles urgently, an exhausted motion of his hand pulling closer the scattered remnants of their fight. “Where’s– Ah.”

And something in Killer breaks a little more at the gentleness with which Kidd handles his mask, his fingers unsteady as they wipe dirt and blood off the blue-white stripes before offering it to Killer, those red eyes tender with unspoken emotion.

Kidd doesn’t do apologies, mostly because there aren’t many actions he deems truly reprehensible, but... If apologies were Kidd’s thing this would be it.

Killer exhales a soft breath and presses a kiss to the line between Kidd’s shaved brows. “C’mon”, he says, and he hides his face before hoisting Kidd up to his feet, a breath shuddering out of him as his ribs shift in his chest. Kidd’s hand brushes over the furrows he left on Killer’s skin, frown deepening yet he doesn’t speak.

Piece by piece, they put themselves back together until they’re Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd and Massacre Soldier Killer once more. There is hell to pay, a war to win and an Emperor to kill – when Kidd steps forward to rejoin their crew, he doesn’t waver and neither does Killer, following close behind.

[kbstories]

Ontological

on·to·log·i·cal (adj.) Existing as such; metaphysical.

Eustass Kidd and Killer, during and afterwards.

(Or: Alliances are made. Killer and Zoro take care of some unfinished business.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Violence (and SMILE), Worst Gen Reunion Pre-Party

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. No additional warnings apply. Read Chapter 4 here.

***

The Kidd Pirates arrive as one: Kidd up front, grim-faced and radiating Haki, with Killer to his right and Heat to his left and Wire trailing behind, eyes on their backs. Ahead, a handful of houses cluster around the slow trickle of a stream and cherry trees that dot the ground in gentle patterns. Everything about it whispers sweet promises of harmony, of a place to rest their weary heads and heal wounds barely starting to scar.

Kidd doesn’t trust any of it one fucking bit.

People are gathered in a loose group, conversations hushed and hard to make out from afar. A Marine’s wet dream, really, with how many bounties Kidd recognizes at a glance – or their worst nightmare, given Monkey D. Luffy is one of them.

That straw-hatted head turns and keeps turning into an angle that would snap any neck not made of rubber. A smile, bright with surprise.

“Oh? Spikey! And Spikey’s friend!”

Completely unaffected by the wave of tangible will Kidd pushes on them all, and after days of sharing a prison cell it just makes Kidd’s mouth tug into a grin. “Strawhat.”

(Through his mask Killer mutters, “Spikey’s friend”, like he’s contemplating if he likes it or not. Not that Strawhat would change a thing about it either way.)

Both Strawhat’s and Trafalgar’s crews are there, at least partially. Kidd spots the polar bear and those two idiots staring right at him – one of which jumps to his feet and runs inside – while that blonde guy with the kicks and Zoro flank their captain with little subtlety.

So they’re alive after all. Seems like Strawhat is not the only one capable of surviving an encounter with Kaido.

Still, Kidd isn’t here for handshakes and kisses. This is business and the way Strawhat’s expression turns a little pensive proves the brat has some braincells rattling in the attic, dusty as it must be up there.

“Where’s Trafalgar? We gotta talk.”

Strawhat just groans. “Another meeting? It’s lunch time! Sanji, you promised lunch.”

“That I did”, says Blondie around a mouthful of smoke. He nods at Kidd, curly brow raised. “You. Spikey. Any of you got a problem with eel? We’re having unagi.”

One more annoying than the other. Heat oohs behind Kidd, however, quiet enough it stays between them. That una-stuff must be good, then.

Kidd gives Killer a look; Killer tilts his head. Your choice. Kidd sighs.

“Fine, whatever. Hurry it up, we’re not staying.”

“Hey!”, the bear pipes up from the sidelines. The very moment Kidd’s eyes land on him, his frowned ferocity turns bashful and he looks to his feet, ears folded. “Sorry, um. I think we should wait for Captain.”

Strawhat makes an indistinct noise around the something-on-a-skewer he just shoved in his mouth. Once done, he uses the stick to point in Kidd’s general direction. “Nah, they’re okay. Right, Spikey?”

Before Kidd can utter the fuck you already on his lips, the swordsman to Strawhat’s right hums. “Luffy”, Zoro murmurs in that serious voice of his, one that demands to be heard without much effort. “Bepo’s right.”

And his gaze is focused on Killer, not Kidd, an arm casually coming to rest on his swords – there’s a similar tension in the way Killer holds himself, on his guard despite the lack of aggression in the air. (Breathing shallowly like he does when he’s trying to maintain the little control he has these days, like it’s better to go without altogether than laugh in company like this.)

Kidd glares. The metal around him starts to tremble.

“Eustass.”

Only one person says his name like that. The snarl on Kidd’s lips doesn’t go anywhere, especially with the indifferent glance Trafalgar Law acknowledges him with as he steps out of the shadows. All disgruntled like Kidd disturbed his beauty sleep or crashed a particularly boring match of chess or… any other thing a guy with that long a stick up his ass might do in his downtime.

 Eugh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

“Trafalgar. Sure took your sweet time.”

The guy’s eyes narrow a little; Kidd smirks. The gears are already in motion under that ridiculously fluffy hat of his and well, Kidd did promise Killer he’d be civil. For the most part.

“You’re the one trespassing.” Trafalgar’s voice is all smooth disdain, no nonsense. “What do you want?”

Straight to the point. There are some qualities to be appreciated about him, arrogant prick or not. Kidd spits on the ground.

“Alright, listen up. Strawhat, you too.”

Strawhat actually does, giving him a curious look over the bowl of sauce-drenched rice he’s currently tearing into. Lunch time, right. Trafalgar merely blinks, unimpressed.

Rolling his shoulders, Kidd lets himself feel the ache of metal on scars, familiar, anchoring him in his body. The presence of his crew around him settles his senses, solid and always there in the periphery.

For days he’s breathed around the wrath in his lungs, spoken every word with the thrumming of his pulse in his throat. When Kidd smiles, it’s with lips red as blood and teeth bared like fangs.

There was a decision to make, and Kidd has made it.

“That war of yours? We want in.”

*

Later, much later, Kidd turns his back and Killer follows.

Heat and Wire are long gone, sent back to let the others know and prepare the Punk for battle. There’s much to be done still and little time to do it – Kidd thinks of the hell that will rain upon those who dared cross them and knows it will be worth it. This time, there will be no retreat. No mercy. Whatever the outcome, be it victory or death, it will be painted in shades of red.

Tomorrow, they sail for Onigashima.

Killer is next to him until he isn’t. Kidd blinks, stops, glances over his shoulder to see Killer's hand fall to the swords at his side.

“You.”

Amidst the sprawling fields between them and the hideout stands Zoro. The wind makes the grass surge like waves; it touches upon a face that has lost the guise of civility to reveal the demon underneath. This isn’t happening, shoots through Kidd’s mind, not again, and he growls as Haki gathers within him, ready to burst–

“Wait.”

Killer’s hand is on his chest, big and strong over the war drum of Kidd’s heart. “Wait”, Killer repeats and the calm of his voice cracks apart on a chuckle. Kidd’s gaze moves from the tension in Killer’s arm to Zoro’s eye and the recognition that sparks there.

Kidd remembers: Cuts across Killer’s chest, overlapping, all three of them deep and guaranteed to scar. Killer’s tightlipped silence over who did it, who hurt him–

“Come closer and I’ll tear you apart”, a venomous hiss more than strained with how hard Kidd’s jaw is clenched but he listens to Killer, always has when Killer’s this serious about something.

All Zoro does is stare at Killer’s mask, a gaze sharp enough to pierce layers of paint and welded metal. He says: “Those swords aren’t yours to wield. You should give them back.”

Killer huffs out an amused breath and for once, it’s genuine. “It can’t be helped. Someone took my scythes.”

An amusement that Zoro seems to share with the slightest uptilt of his mouth, “Is that so”, idle yet the threat in his stance goes nowhere. “What was it again? ‘Don’t talk down to the shogun’… or something along those lines.”

Killer’s fingers clench where they’re tangled in Kidd’s shirt. Zoro looks from that up to Kidd, smile growing all the more lethal.

“You didn’t tell him?”

Worded like a question when it’s not even close to one, and Kidd tries not to bristle, he really does. As if Zoro knows shit about anything, about them, about the living nightmare Killer’s been stuck in since–

Half a step and Killer shifts between them, sword half-way out of its sheath. Hisses, “Leave him out of this”, and Killer laughs despite the anger begging to be heard in there somewhere.

“Orochi means nothing to me. Nothing. He’ll die a dog’s death just like the rest of them.”

Kidd might not get what the hell they’re going on about but there’s real hurt in it, too, and suddenly all he wants is for Zoro to laugh. To mock Killer so Kidd can make good on the promise he gave his partner the day they went to sea and slaughter him like all the bastards that came before him.

Then… Zoro hums and that aura is gone, snuffed out with a blink and a scratch to bright green hair. “I kept the scythes, y’know. Would be a waste not to let them taste a fair battle.”

Killer doesn’t relax as much as he exhales a tired sigh. His sword is sheathed; a moment later his hold on Kidd drops and Kidd almost stumbles, only now realizing how hard he was pushing against the immovable line of Killer’s arm.

With steady hands, Killer unties the two shortswords from his waist and crosses the distance to hand them over. “A bit far to go for some stolen blades”, Killer tells him, an edge of annoyance there that Zoro shrugs off casually.

Kidd watches the interaction with narrow-eyed focus, waiting for the step out of line that never comes. Zoro meets his gaze only briefly, the eyebrow over his blind eye twitching upwards. As cocky and infuriating as his captain, Kidd’s mouth opens before he can stop himself.

“Try a stunt like that again and you’re dead, Pirate Hunter.”

The swordsman smirks, “I’ll take my chances”, before he turns to leave. Damn-near strolling back to his crew with a jaw-cracking yawn, and Kidd grinds his teeth and lets him.

Fucking Strawhats. 

Yet Killer is still staring after him, still hesitating. “The girl”, he calls after Zoro. “The one who laughed. Is she alive?”

Zoro stops, glances over his shoulder, a little puzzled. “Toko? Yeah, she’s safe.” A pause. “They executed her father. A good man.”

Killer’s head lowers. “What a shame”, he agrees, too quiet for the other to understand him. Zoro walks on and so does Killer, a step or two ahead before he tilts his mask at Kidd, waiting.

“You coming, Captain?”

Kidd banishes all thoughts of their rivals – allies, for now – out of his head and joins Killer.

And Kidd stays close, perhaps too close; their hands brush every few steps. With a fond huff, Killer’s fingers hook around Kidd’s and doesn't let go all the way to the Punk.

>>Chapter 4.