One Piece fic-PoSM, Chapter 4
Title: The Psychology of a Shattered Mind
Chapter Title: Landfall
Rating: PG-13 / T
Characters: Mostly Usopp
Word Count: About 3.3k
Warnings: Disturbing imagery, implications of non-con/dub-con, and violence. Potential spoilers for entire series. Angsty Usopp and blatant excuse for nakama comfort. This will be intense. Possible spoilers for entire series. AU from Usopp being stuck on the Bowin Islands.
Can also be found at FF.net here. Comments very appreciated. Con Crit loved also.
Chapter links (on LJ): Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15
The Great Captain Usopp has been captured by his most hated enemies, the Smelly Hairy Armpit Slavers, for two weeks now, but he has not given up hope. Instead, he has concocted approximately four thousand, six hundred and thirty-one brilliant plans for escape, of which he has attempted to execute the best two.
Both of these have failed, one through sheer bad luck, the other through both bad luck and the fact that the boat was in the middle of the ocean…and that a few members of the crew were better swimmers than he gave them credit for.
It was after plan number two, the one ruined by only bad luck, that that they brought an exploding collar and put it on him-the only reason, of course, that he hasn't attempted a third time, even if all his plans are brilliant. Those, and a couple of good kicks to the gut, are…persuasive.
That doesn't mean he's stopped planning. It simply makes things a lot more complicated, because now, in addition to escaping without getting caught a third time, he also has to get the key back or figure out how to take the exploding collar off. He really wants to keep his head.
He wishes he was Nami, who could probably figure it out given the time. Or, even better, Rayleigh, who already knows. He wonders how everyone is doing, if they've gotten back to the Thousand Sunny, if they've run into any trouble as bad as this. Maybe they've already learned of his plight, and even as he sits here they're coming, steaming mad and ready punch some evil slaver pirate lights out!
Hope springs eternal…
The situation is not exactly pleasant. There's nothing in the way of bathrooms other than a hole in one corner, so personal hygiene is quickly out the window whether anyone likes it or not. He swears he'll never complain about how long anyone takes in the bathroom again, so long as there actually is one. That, and the silence covered by the sad creaking of the ship, is disheartening and isolating. Most of the people in the hold don't even look at him, not after his first escape attempt. No one talks, but the captors are in and out more often than they were at the beginning and especially suspicious of Usopp, so he can understand if no one feels like taking the risk now more than ever.
He tries to think of ways he can help everyone escape along with him. No one deserves this.
Maybe…maybe his best chance for escape will come at the auction block…or wherever they're going. Maybe everyone will show up and bust the auction a new one. Maybe he'll get sold off to someone nice. As some kind of…indoor entertainer, or household servant…or something. It's not like they know he's actually a pirate, thank the stars above. He's not anything special to speak of. He doesn't have muscle, a sexy body or a mysterious power.
And now, he's glad for that. Heh. First time for everything.
He starts working on ideas for when they get where they're going. If he's being taken back to Sabaody, he only has to get away. Getting back to the Thousand Sunny will keep him safe. Some of the other must have made it back by now, too. Once he gets to them, this'll become his most daring story of adventure…he can see Chopper and Luffy's shocked faces already as he tells them all about these Smelly Hairy Armpit Slavers and their dastardly ways...
He's awoken from a doze by the sense that the boat has stopped, and by the fact that the air in the hold has taken on a nervous, tangy quality. There is fear on many of the surrounding faces now, rather than the unresponsive masks of the previous weeks. Under heavily armed guard, they're all hustled up into the sunlight, blinking.
He looks for the shimmering, iridescent bubbles of Sabaody and feels his hope falter when he doesn't recognize the place. There are no bubbles, and not nearly enough trees.
The gang will find him anyway. Moving location won't help these guys when Luffy figures them out!
For the first time in two weeks he and a shower head spurting water are face-to-face. He never imagined he'd be so glad even when it's cold. There's soap too. He could kiss it despite the nasty taste. He is not presented with his old clothes upon finishing. Instead, what the attending slaver shoves into his hands is something in pure blues and greens that appears to be a bodysuit. Usopp looks at it, repulsed, then looks at the slaver…then it…then slaver…it…slaver…
"Put it on already and don't ask questions! You don't have a say here!" The slaver shoves a rifle into his chest.
He jumps back a little. "Haha, whe-when you put it that way, y'know, I really wanna wear this thing!" he stammers, then hurries into the strange piece of clothing.
Next he is handed a grass skirt dyed in blue, along with smaller "mini-skirts" to go on his wrists and ankles. By this point he is beginning to understand what the slavers are thinking, and groans inwardly.
They're gonna make me out to be an exotic island native? Jeez…
The final addition to the outfit is a painted mask that looks like something out of a bad voodoo show. It reminds him vaguely of what Sogeking wears, except with more green, more tribal-ness, and a lot less cool factor.
Gotta be kidding me.
He's so appalled by the whole get-up that he can't keep from running off at the mouth. "You really think anyone's gonna believe this?" he says to the slaver, who is looking him up and down with a critical eye.
The slaver gives him an icy glare, which seems to be the only expression available to these guys, but it still sends his knees quaking. The man grunts. "They will if you shut up and do what you're told."
Thinking of the exploding collar and the guns-practical thoughts, of course, very practical-he grins nervously behind the mask. "Heh, w-well then, just call me, uh, Booga-shaka, the mysterious native f-from the f-f-forest of Man Eating Plants!"
He means this as a joke, even strikes a goofy pose, but the slaver doesn't seem very amused. "Let's go, Mr. Island Native," he says, giving Usopp a shove with the rifle.
Sweat has already soaked into the underside of the mask and made his face itchy as the auction gets underway. He's still thinking overtime about how to get away but is not seeing very many options.
Usopp reminds himself that even if they've tried to make him exotic, he's still not nearly as interesting as some of the pirates they've also got on the block. There's someone who's got his very own wanted poster with a bounty of about twenty thousand; he's short and stout and hopping mad, yelling-until they gag him-about how the three crews he commands are going to rip the slavers to pieces when they get here. There are a number of strong men with large bodies and plenty of muscle-one of them looks like he put up a heck of a fight, even if it was a loosing one. There are also a couple of downcast girls, all dressed like the sex objects they'll probably be sold as. All in all, only some of the people who were on the boat are here now, mixed in with others he doesn't recognize. He tries not to let his imagination run too wild with what might have happened to those not here.
He's hoping, hoping, hoping that his crew will show up. He's gonna be a slave if someone doesn't do something.
Thinking too much about that is making him really twitchy, so he starts looking around again for any escape possibilities, even the slimmest ones. One of the girls on the block still holds her chin up, and for a moment their gazes meet. There's lightning in her eyes, a determination that makes him straighten his spine and lift his own chin, jolting him out of his panic. He'll go home the second he gets out of this situation if he lets himself be out prided by a non-warrior.
When she realizes he's looking at her she blinks, then smirks crookedly, nodding. The look in her eyes tells him that she understands-that this is scary, that events are out of their control and it's hard to hold one's head high in all this-but she understands a little of pride and dignity and won't yet let those things be taken away. He shouldn't, either.
They'll probably be sold off to different people and never see each other again, but for this one brief moment in time, he doesn't feel so alone.
The girl he met eyes with is gone sometime before the slavers come to bring him out to the block. He keeps his chin up, but since he's a firm believer in the fact that discretion is the better part of valor, he tries not to be too confrontational about it.
Although the decorations of the auction stage are less classy than the ones at Sabaody and the room seems smaller overall, it's hard to see the audience with all the light that's shining at him. He ponders at the sick nervousness that's making his legs tremble and tries not to think about whether this is how Camie felt. Setting his feet wide, he swallows and hopes he looks…boring.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," says the auctioneer in a booming voice-do all these kinds of guys sound the same? "We have a rare treat today: a native straight from forest of man eating plants. The proud warrior-Booga-shaka!"
He almost falls over. Really? Seriously?
"We'll start with a base price of six hundred thousand berries for this man from the rarely seen natives of the Bowin Islands. Do I have any opening offers?"
Usopp's stomach does a flip. He can see only a little motion in the audience because of the light shining into his face-is that a paddle going up?
"Thank you, customer twenty four," says the auctioneer, and his heart starts skipping beats. "Minimum increases of one thousand berries, please. Remember-this exotic man comes from the dangerous forest of Glinston!"
The silence is long, although faint murmuring has risen up at the mention of Glinston. His skin crawling with nervous sweat, he watches the dark form of the audience, hoping to catch someone going flying with a rubbery fist in their face.
More movement, and a voice calls out. "Six hundred ten berries for the mysterious native."
"Six hundred fifteen," cries another.
Look boring, boring, boring…where are you guys?
"He looks interesting. Six hundred thirty!"
"Thank you number fifty six. Do we have anyone else wishing to raise this lady?"
Another silence, then-
"One million berries!"
One-!
"Ah-ah-hem. Well. Well, well. What a pleasure," the auctioneer stutters. "A bid from the noble Saint Gathram-"
"No! I made the bid. I, Saint Iddis!" says a high, sharp voice.
He thinks he might be about to faint, because the world is getting dark and spinning at the edges. One million? Saint Gathram? Saint Iddis? He can only stand numb as words and implications echo around him. Absolutely the one thing that should not happen-the absolute worst thing that could happen, is-
"Saint Iddis?" the auctioneer's tone is cowering, ameliorating. "Forgive the mistake, my good lord. I-I would not have imagined one of your tastes to take interest in…such merchandise… Very well then! One…" the auctioneer seems to be choking on the word, "…one million berries for the Bowin Island man, Booga-shaka."
He leans on the crutch and, eyes closed, lets the cool breeze rake over his face and through his tangled hair. The sky is gray but the sea under it retains a striking, almost defiant, shade of blue. Nami the navigator is a little worried about the clouds, but she says she will let them know in plenty of time if anything dangerous is coming their way. Due to the coldness of the breeze, she also comments that she won't be surprised if they are coming upon another winter island.
After reporting the weather, she asks him with a grin if he would be glad to play in some snow, in these first few days he's allowed back on his feet and out on deck.
To this, he can only shrug and mumble, since he knows what snow is, but doesn't recall ever having played in it. He thinks this might have been the wrong response-he must have enjoyed snow at one time-because the normally snappy woman walks away from him without reply, shoulders set and fists clenched.
After that she beats up the cook Sanji. Usopp is under the impression, based on what he's overheard, that it was simply for looking at her. A little afraid at this point, he moves as far away from her last known location as he can get while still being on the lower deck.
It's not his fault he can't remember. There was this Devil Fruit user or something, who used his power to "wipe useful memories clean," as it was put to him at the time. He does remember that much, if only fuzzily.
After he told them that, this gang of pirates explained to him that he was a member of their crew, that was why they came to rescue him, and was he sure he didn't recognize who any of them were?
He feels ashamed at being the cause of the disappointment in their faces because he had to say that, no, he didn't-not unless they had already introduced themselves. He can't say what part of the world they are from, or when he first met them, or what kind of person any of them are.
It might be true that he once knew them. There is a funny tickle in the back of his mind sometimes when they say something, or when he looks at one of them. He might have known them, before-
He tightens his grip on the crutch and forces himself to open his eyes, even with the breeze blowing.
"Oi, you okay bro? You shouldn't be standing out here so long."
Usopp looks back, and in a matter of seconds Franky has a lounge chair assembled, complete with a special leg rest and side table. Usopp blinks at him and the new chair, after glancing down at the crutch. "Another miracle one-second build," he mutters to himself.
Franky grins. Jutting out one hip, he sticks a hand in the air. "That's because I'm supah!"
Usopp gets the impression of an explosion and streamers going off behind Franky. He blinks again and then plops down onto the chair, propping the crutch up against it. It is true that his legs were beginning to get tired. Leaning back, he looks out to the sea again. Franky's strange, and even if the man's helpful Usopp really doesn't want to get into another question and answer session about things he doesn't remember.
Franky's energy seems to disperse, and he drops his pose. He tips up his sunglasses to look down at him. "Well, if you need anything else handy assembled…just call me. Alright, Usopp?"
"Uh, sure," Usopp says.
The cyborg walks away after that, looking a little deflated. Usopp forces himself to keep looking at the sea, his face into the breeze. After a moment he wipes at the moisture that's collected in the corners of his eyes thanks to the chill wind.
He's been staring out to sea for a while longer when someone throws a blanket over him. He's surprised to find a stern Chopper standing with one hoof still grasping the cloth. "You shouldn't be out in the cold, but as long as you've got this, you'll be fine. Don't stay out here past dark. Doctor's orders."
"O-okay."
Chopper nods at the response and then leaves. As Usopp adjusts the blanket, he realizes he's shivering, although they fade once he's wrapped up well enough. His thoughts wander. After a while he's staring out at the sea, but not really looking at it.
"Are you bored? I brought you your sketch pad and pencils," offers a soft, almost dazed sounding voice. Seeing the skeleton Brook standing beside him, he nearly tumbles off the chair. He has to chant inwardly it's all because of the Devil's Fruit, it's all because of the Devil's Fruit… to keep himself from running away screaming.
"N-n-no-t-t-t r-r-real-l-ly," he says, stuttering so badly it's a wonder the skeleton can even understand.
"Ah. Very well. Perhaps I shall simply leave them here, just in case," Brook says, setting the pad and pencils down on the side table. It's impossible to tell if Brook is disappointed by being turned down, because Usopp keeps his eyes on the flat line where sky meets sea while Brook withdraws. Once the skeleton has gone and he feels a little more at ease, he picks the pad up, staring down at the white page.
He almost takes up the pencil and touches it to the paper, simply to see where such an action would take him, to see if he's really as good at drawing as they all claim he is. But, after a moment, he puts the pencil aside and flips to the front of the pad instead.
There's a sketch of Luffy and a sleeping Zoro, Luffy grinning like mad as he takes a marker to the swordsman's face. It's a funny picture but he flips by it quickly, nervous about looking at such an image. The swordsman is not someone he feels a lot of trust for yet. There's a very dangerous air about the man, and Usopp simply can't trust someone he believes could cut him down in a second if he got the notion. And Zoro might, since Usopp-that one time with Luffy-
He forces himself to concentrate on the next page.
"Usopp, it's kinda chilly out here. I'm gonna-"
The pad goes flying; he nearly falls off the chair trying to catch it and press it against his chest.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," Sanji says, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm gonna make some hot cocoa for the ladies. You want some?"
He's starting to see a pattern. Closing the sketch pad and tucking it atop his cast, he turns away so that Sanji can't see his eyes watering. He doesn't remember the last time anyone did so much for him-
"No, that's fine…I'm gonna go inside," he mumbles. Gathering the blanket that Chopper gave him around his shoulders, he reaches for the crutch that Franky made. Sanji jumps to put it into his hand. Usopp keeps his head down and hobbles to the stairs as quickly as possible. The tears are turning hot and he doesn't want Sanji to see.
Getting up the stairs, however, is another, more awkward matter. Trying to maneuver the leg in a cast throws off his balance. Tipping backward, his one free arm pinwheeling, his panic spikes just as firm hands halt his backwards lean.
"Let's not kill ourselves on the stairs, hm?" Sanji says. He draws Usopp's arm across his shoulders and half pulls, half supports him the rest of the trip up.
Usopp can't look at Sanji for fear he'll start bawling and fold on the spot. However, if the cook notices the tears and sniffling, he doesn't comment.
Continued in Chapter 5: Buoy