Carina launched herself from the stairway with the grace of a circus act and the force of a cannonball. Her arms locked around my shoulders, nearly knocking me off balance. My heel slipped for a half-second. I caught myself against the banister, exhaling sharply as her legs coiled around my waist like she was claiming a prize.
"Carina." I muttered.
She didn't answer. Just nuzzled in like a smug cat.
The kids, standing near the parlor door, were barely holding back laughter. Ninjin elbowed Tamanegi in the ribs, and Piiman snorted through his nose. Their grins stretched too wide to be innocent.
Usopp, on the other hand, wasn't even looking.
His eyes were locked on the stairs.
On her.
Kaya descended slowly, each step measured, the hem of her long dress brushing gently across the polished wood. Her pale hand rested lightly on the railing. Nami, ever careful, guided her from one side, hovering like a guardian angel with orange hair and a sharp tongue. But Kaya's focus was elsewhere.
So was Usopp's.
I watched them both, quietly, a smirk tugging at the edge of my lips.
For Usopp, this moment was sacred. He wasn't just looking at a girl—he was witnessing something divine. Her silhouette against the morning light, her shy smile, the hesitant rhythm of her footsteps—she had become something untouchable in his eyes.
And for Kaya?
She was doing her best not to trip over her own heart.
She barely noticed Carina clinging to me like a velvet scarf. Didn't notice the kids trying to hide their laughter. Her gaze was fixed on Usopp—soft, searching, brimming with something both young and painfully pure.
I smiled.
Then I pushed Carina off me.
She pouted as she landed on her feet, but I didn't indulge her. Instead, I dusted my shoulder and looked at the kids. "Gochisō." I said with a half-laugh.
"Gochisō!" they shouted back, in perfect unison.
The sudden burst of volume snapped Kaya out of her daze. She blinked, cheeks flushing as she realized how long she'd been staring. Embarrassed, she turned quickly toward the kids, reaching out to ruffle Ninjin's hair. He beamed and held up his bowl of sashimi like a sacred offering.
Before she could accept, Merry intervened, stepping between them with quiet but firm precision.
'No.' his eyes said.
Kaya froze mid-reach, her fingers curling slowly back. She looked up at him, her expression falling—not in anger, but in disappointment. A small, sad frown. She understood. She didn't argue. But it still hurt to be protected from everything, even kindness.
Still, her voice was gentle as she nodded.
Merry sighed as I threw him a cheeky grin behind her back. He returned it with a look of worn patience.
Usopp and Kaya stood just a few feet apart now, saying nothing, but speaking volumes with their eyes. They weren't ready to talk yet—not about feelings. Yet they were. They looked ready to talk all night about their feelings.
Both Nami and Carina looked at me now, their expressions a blend of amusement and curiosity. They'd heard about the feast, sure, but they hadn't expected the undercurrents in the mansion. They hadn't expected this—a house brimming with drama and gossips.
Merry reappeared moments later with the wheelchair. He carried blankets, a small bundle of medicine, and a folded shawl for Kaya's lap. The girls helped him gently lower her into the chair. She didn't resist. Her frailty didn't embarrass her anymore, but I could see her fingers tighten slightly around the arms of the chair.
Before we wheeled out, I gave everyone a slow glance—habit, mostly.
That's when I noticed it.
Or rather, noticed what wasn't there.
Her neck was bare.
No necklace.
No delicate string of carved bone—handmade, imperfect, and priceless in meaning.
Usopp's necklace.
The one he'd made for her before he left, when he was still a boy clinging to courage through stories and wire and seashells. It had hung there like a promise.
Gone.
I frowned, my voice dropping low as I asked, "Usoppu no nekkuresu?"
Usopp's necklace?
Silence fell.
Merry's face shifted first. Just a flicker. His brows drew tight for half a breath before he schooled himself into neutrality.
Kaya… her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. Her eyes darted away. Her shoulders tensed. There was sadness—but something else. Something closer to anger.
Usopp flinched like someone had slapped him. His fingers twitched at his side. He wouldn't look up.
I didn't need a full explanation.
I already knew.
"Klahadore!" I roared.
The name cracked the peace like thunder splitting the sky.
Every head turned.
And from the corner of the hall, from behind a long curtain of silk, the bastard appeared.
He walked into the light like a man stepping into a stage he thought he owned. His posture was perfect, his clothes crumpled, but the facade didn't fool me.
He tried to wear the expression of someone who had just been woken—but there was alertness in his eyes. He had been watching.
Of course he had.
The bastard never missed a thing.
"Usoppu no nekkuresu." I said coldly. "Motte ki nasai."
Usopp's gift. Bring it.
Klahadore paused. His smile faltered. It was an act, I could tell that.
The entire room froze.
This wasn't like the other times. We had kept our battles quiet—cold wars fought in silence, in words sharpened like needles. But now? Now, I was done pretending.
"Motte ki nasai." I repeated.
Bring it.
His nostrils flared. His pride had been bruised, and now his temper simmered just under the surface. But he knew he couldn't refuse—not with Merry watching, not with the kids staring, not with Kaya looking heartbroken and Usopp ready to shatter.
Merry shifted slightly, hands folding tighter in front of him. He wanted to step in. I knew it. But he remembered my warning from earlier. He decided it was better to just observe for the time being.
Kaya looked between us in confusion, her hands curling around the arms of her wheelchair.
Why? She wanted to ask.
Usopp looked ready to crumble, but when I met his eyes. I saw something change. He stood straighter. His mouth thinned into a line. His shoulders squared.
He was afraid.
But he stayed.
Klahadore finally bowed—barely.
Then turned and disappeared into his room.
He returned moments later holding something in his gloved hand.
The necklace.
Bone carved, strung on faded twine.
Cracked, just slightly, down the edge of one piece. Fresh damage.
Deliberate.
Klahadore extended it—no apology, no guilt.
Before he could throw it or drop it, I snatched it from his hand and turned my back to him.
I walked straight to Usopp and held it out.
He hesitated only for a second.
Then took it.
His hands closed over it gently.
I didn't need to say anything. I trusted him to know what to do next.
Carina leaned against the railing, arms crossed, smirking like she was watching a play. Nami was more subdued—her eyes sharp, reading the tension, understanding its weight. They knew by now: I didn't lash out for fun. I didn't provoke for entertainment.
Klahadore had crossed a line.
The girls knew me enough to know. Klahadore hid a secret. A dark secret.
And they would make sure he stayed away from kaya.
---------------
We walked down the path in silence.
Kaya sat bundled in her wheelchair, a soft blanket drawn over her knees. The fabric shifted slightly with each bump in the path, but her posture didn't waver—upright, if a little tense. Her eyes flicked between me and the spot Klahadore had stood not moments before. Worry painted her face with pale strokes.
She was trying to hide it, but it showed in the corners of her mouth, in the little wrinkles forming between her brows. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers gently curled, twitching now and then as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the courage.
I caught her glance, then flicked my eyes toward Carina and Nami.
They understood without a word.
Both slid in closer to Kaya's side, one on each end of the chair, and began weaving a web of casual small talk—silly, breezy things: the outrageous prices of silk in Water 7 compared to the East Blue, girly talk. They laughed easily with soft tones only meant for her.
Kaya's shoulders loosened, and slowly, she allowed herself to smile.
Merry walked behind us with the air of a man holding back questions, a quiet storm building behind his eyes. His hands were folded, knuckles pale from tension. He kept glancing at me—wanting to ask, maybe even protest—but he remembered the look I had given him earlier. He said nothing.
Usopp trailed a few paces behind, trying not to draw attention to himself but failing completely. Every time Kaya looked his way, he'd straighten like someone had hit a reset switch in his spine. His eyes were locked on her the way a sailor watches the stars after a long voyage—steady, reverent, almost fearful that the light might blink out.
The kids, surprisingly, stuck close to me.
They'd never seen me lose my temper like that. It had rattled them. Ninjin, usually the first to run ahead and scout, now hovered near my elbow, asking if I was okay. Tamanegi muttered dark things about Klahadore's "cat face," and Piiman whispered plans for building a trap under his bedroom floor. I let them talk. They needed to let it out.
I didn't answer.
I was too focused on keeping our little march steady.
Then, ahead of us, we began to hear the celebration. The pulse of it.
Singing.
High and clean, delicate but powerful, cutting through the fading warmth of the afternoon sun.
"Dōshite ano hi asonda umi no nioi wa…"
It was Uta's song. One I hadn't heard in months. Her voice carried through the trees, lifted by the voices of the village women. The wind seemed to bend for it.
"Dōshite sugiru kisetsu ni kiete shimau no…"
Carina and Nami froze for a breath, eyes meeting with a flash of memory. Then, without needing a cue, they began to hum. The tune wrapped around us like silk—gentle, wistful. The village ahead quieted to listen.
Even Kaya hummed, softly at first, then with a little more voice. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly in her chair. The tension in her expression began to melt, washed away by music and sun and the rhythm of people who hadn't forgotten how to live.
I let out a slow breath, the knot in my chest loosening.
Good.
I didn't want her to carry that argument into the night. I didn't want her joy to be shadowed by a man who wore gloves to hide his claws.
I glanced at Nami and Carina.
Nami smirked, then made the universal sign of a cash grab—rubbing fingers together with a sideways grin.
I nodded.
Carina leaned close, gave a sultry wink, and copied the gesture.
I rolled my eyes.
They were going to bleed me dry.
And I would let them.
Because in this moment—Kaya humming, the kids smiling, Usopp floating somewhere between dreams and disbelief—it was worth every damn berry.
Their humming turned to singing. They stepped in front of Kaya, twirling slowly to the melody.
"Mata on'naji uta utau tabi… anata o izanau deshō…"
Their hands wove into the air like ribbons, their feet tapping softly against the earth. Kaya watched them, wide-eyed. Nami reached out, beckoning gently. Carina gave her a wink of encouragement.
And Kaya—still pale, still fragile—rose.
Not fully. Not alone.
But with both of them guiding her, one on each side, she let go of the chair and took a step.
Then another.
She mimicked their movement, awkward but determined. Her arms moved, just slightly, her fingers tracing the rhythm. Her smile grew brighter with each step, her breath coming quicker but lighter.
Merry tried to stop it.
He took a step forward to stop her—but I caught his sleeve.
Let her have this.
Let them have this.
The kids stopped running around and began clapping. Usopp's eyes were wide, mouth parted. He looked like he was watching something holy unfold.
I leaned in and gave him a light shove. Go. You are the main star.
He stumbled forward, unsure, caught off guard.
He turned to me like I had shoved him toward a battlefield.
He looked back.
Then, slowly, one hesitant step at a time, he approached.
Carina and Nami moved away, almost theatrically, leaving a small circle of space for them.
The music shifted.
"Hitori bocchi ni wa aki akina no…"
Kaya looked up.
Her eyes met Usopp's.
Her hands trembled.
But she didn't pull back.
"Tsunagatte itai no…"
They reached out at the same time, fingers grazing, then intertwining.
His thumb brushed over the back of her hand.
Their eyes locked—unblinking, unflinching—tethered by something unsaid.
Their feet moved slowly, awkwardly at first, then with growing confidence. Just a sway, a lean, a shared breath.
"Junshin, mukuna, omoi no mama…"
They stepped closer.
Usopp whispered something.
Kaya blushed.
Then nodded.
"Listen up, baby, kienai shimi no yōna hapinesu…"
The world around them faded.
They were the only dancers left.
The villagers watched in silence, their earlier celebration paused to make room for something quieter—something more sacred.
"Kimi no mimi no oku e hōmingu, nigecha dame yo, abite…"
They leaned in.
And kissed.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't polished.
It was tender.
Usopp's hand cradled her cheek, and Kaya's fingers curled into his shirt.
A murmur swept the crowd, followed by warm, spontaneous applause.
Kaya flushed deep red, burying her face in Usopp's chest as if she could disappear inside him.
Merry nearly stumbled backward. His hand gripped the edge of a table, trying to process the absolute chaos he had just witnessed.
I stood off to the side, arms crossed, a quiet, satisfied smile tugging at the edge of my lips.
The kids groaned and covered their eyes, pretending to be mortally wounded by romance.
Carina and Nami strutted over with matching grins, circling Kaya like sharks who had just scented blood.
They teased her relentlessly, their voices high and teasing, their laughter wrapping around her like ribbons.
Kaya, still flushed, let them spin her chair in circles, hiding her face in her hands as they teased.
But she was smiling.
Beaming.
Usopp stayed close, hands hovering near her shoulders, awkwardly protective.
And I?
I watched it all unfold with the peace of a man who knew—without a doubt—that this ship wasn't going down today.
Klahadore might have thought he could sever old ties in silence.
But I was here now.
And no slimy, gloved snake was going to snap this ship.
Not on my watch.