Chapter 5: In the Company of Dead Men 1/2

Thank you's to these mmm~ lovely candies, mmm~: Girl-luvs-manga, Perpetual Concern, Katharonie, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, camierose, butterflyfreak, Mai Kusakabe, Guest 13, xXxWolvesInTheNightxXx, LaraLuvKakashi, Alkitty, Shiningheart of Thunderclan, Daniella, Blue, Yougram, Sheep, Portgas D. Paula, CameronEmma, annaADDICTED, and KittyWillCutYou.

—

methyl nitrate pineapples

hypothesis #5

in the company of dead men

—

Death stared up at her, black and gaping, jaws wide open.

The pain in her hands had frozen over and her lungs throbbed, like a heavy weight being slowly, methodically jammed into her chest. Something brushed her leg. She jolted, unable to stop swimming but instinctively searching for the glowing yellow eyes of a Sea King or a shar—

Her ankle jerked back and whirled Sophie around, bubbles bursting from her nose. A viselike grip clutched at her waist. She swallowed down a frantic scream, no, no, I'd rather drown, he said they'd find my body, at the very least I'd be with sensei again—

Her feet kicked out, glanced off the side of something, and it attacked, hauling her through the water—

And then Sophie was flung unceremoniously onto the sand.

She immediately rolled on all fours and retched seawater. Her hands fisted, sand squeezing out of the spaces between her fingers, the raw, burned flesh angry and throbbing. Pain was good, pain meant she was still alive.

Inhaling rapidly, Sophie peeled away the clumps of hair plastered across her face and gazed up at her savior. The man was setting his hat back on his head and wore a familiar, smiley-faced insignia on his chest. She wanted to both laugh and cry at the same time.

Instead, she clambered to her feet and stammered, "W-w-why did y-you s-s-save me?"

"You have my captain's favorite scalpel," Penguin Hat responded, pulling on his boots. "He'd bitch at me for days if I'd let it get away."

On the pretext of wringing out her shirt, she did a quick, inconspicuous check on her satchel. Though soaking wet, the book and scalpel were still there. She kicked off her own boots and dumped out the water and flopping fish. At least all the swamp mulch had been washed away, a small consolation.

Penguin Hat lingered just behind her. "What were you trying to do, escape by swimming?"

"No! As if I'd actually try to drown myself! It was that horrible Shichibukai—Donquixote Doflamingo!"

His jaw dropped. "You—what—wait… what?"

"I thought he was sent to help put out the fire! And next thing you know, he's making townspeople dance and sending me off to drown!" Sophie threw her hands up. "Honestly, I have no idea what's going on."

"Damn, this is getting troublesome," Penguin muttered.

Sophie didn't hear him, too focused on the fire still blazing through Gator Town. It had blackened over half the town and was encroaching quickly upon Nellie's inn, nearing the swamp where all the trees were awaiting destruction. Dread unfurled in her stomach.

"The methane," she whispered.

"Methane?"

"The methane! CH4 c-combined with heat, it's diluted but not d-d-diluted enough, there's t-t-too m-much methane, the fire will—five p-point one percent atmospheric amount—"

"Slow down! I can't tell what you're—"

"People are still back there, we have to w-warn them!" Sophie rammed on her boots and scrambled over the beach. "Gator Town's going to e-explode!"

"Oi! You're not serious!"

"Decayed matter in th-the swamp generates methane!" she bellowed over her shoulder, "It's a h-h-huge pit of natural gas! If the swamp starts t-to burn, the whole thing will—"

Sophie saw the explosion before she heard it. Massive flames erupted from the swamp, shooting high into the air, swallowing trees in a burning blue coffin (no no no no) taste of fire dripped like honey into her throat (this can't be happening this can't) will-o'-the-wisps and foxfire and alligators and Nellie—

She turned around and screamed, "COVER YOUR EARS!"

A rush of heat blasted through the cold ocean breeze, followed by the thundering clap of the explosion. Broken tree branches and pieces of timber littered the ground. The pirate had just barely heard her—he, too, laid on the ground with his hands over his head.

Curled up on the sand, Sophie shakily lowered her arms and listened to the flames crackle.

It was too late.

Natural gas fires could not be put out by water. They had to wait for it to burn out completely, and on an island like this… it might take hours… or days…

After a beat of silence, he hastily scrambled to his feet. Sophie sat up at a much slower pace; she was numb with shock, the same dry-eyed, deadened numbness that seized her all those weeks.

And then she was blinking at Penguin Hat's proffered hand. Hesitant, Sophie held out hers, smeared with red as they were, and he grimaced. He grabbed her wrist instead and hauled her upright. She could still feel the firm, scarred toughness of his skin after he let go.

"How did you know that was going to happen?" he asked, a bit uncertainly.

"I'm a chemist." It sounded strange and heavy on her tongue. How often had she'd said those words, and how often had they proved to be even remotely useful?

"Right. Well. There's not much time left." He stepped closer, silhouette outlined in blue. "Give me the scalpel."

A thought crossed her mind: what if the pirate killed her after he got what he wanted? Knowing his captain… And even if he didn't, she'd be stuck on an island that was being razed down by an explosive wildfire. What could do Sophie do? Relinquish the scalpel and let him leave her to die? She'd been poisoned, threatened, bombed at, and had nearly drowned twice all in the one week she'd been on her own in the Grand Line. And now, after all of that, she'd willingly accept this death? No. Not a chance in hell.

Sophie felt lightheaded, like she was floating slightly out of her body. She was a World Government scientist. She was always, constantly in control. She had to be, because one little slip up could destroy an entire experiment… for years and years, she had suffered under the pressure of talent, bled and burned for the sake… for the sake of…

For your job? For Hippo-sensei? the voice in her head whispered. Look at how much those two have helped. Ever since the war, her tightly-held grip on life had been slowly wrangled away, piece by piece… and now, for the time in her life, Sophie was the subject of the experiment and could do nothing but watch the world collapse around her.

She raised her eyes to Penguin Hat. There was no time for self-pity. No time for hesitation.

"I'll give you the scalpel on one condition. Take me with you to the next island. All of Crawfish is a ticking time bomb. I'm not going to survive if I stay."

"What makes you think I won't just take the scalpel from you right now?"

"Because there's an ocean fifteen feet away, and I'm a fast runner."

He didn't look impressed. "I'll tackle you again."

"You'd do so with the chance that I'll toss your captain's favorite scalpel into the ocean. Besides, you caught me by surprise the first time—now I'm expecting it. Me onboard your submarine, or you losing the scalpel. Which bet are you willing to take?"

He crossed his arms, a bit affronted. "Are you seriously threatening me? I saved your life."

"I'm a scientist," Sophie retorted, "not a saint."

The blue flames stretched their shadows across the sand. Penguin Hat was the first to look away.

"Right," he conceded with a reluctant sigh. "The Heart Pirates have ourselves a hitchhiker. Shachi is going to love this…"

With a relieved smile, she returned the scalpel. "Thank you."

Two spots of pink appeared on his cheeks and he abruptly turned around, muttering under his breath. Sophie took one last glance back at Gator Town. It was engulfed by a blaze of cerulean, flames licking at the underbelly of the night sky. There would be nothing left come morning. Gator Town was gone. Romarin the bike was gone. Maybe the whole island would be gone.

She turned her back on the burning town and caught up to Penguin Hat.

"Before you get any ideas, my captain'll decide what's to do with you," he warned. "Don't blame me if he tries to dissect you again."

"He won't," Sophie replied in a voice more confident than she felt. "Because I know a way into Cat's Eye Island." After another brief silence, she turned to him and said, "By the way, I'm Sophie."

"Penguin."

"…Really?"

"You got a problem with that?"

Yes, because 'Penguin' was much too cute a name for what she'd imagined as Trafalgar Law's burly, pox-ridden crewmates. Sophie thought about it for a second and shrugged.

"Nah. Nice to meet you, Penguin-san."

—

The deck of the submarine was bustling with movement when Sophie and Penguin arrived. It was docked in a tiny bay on the western shore of the beach, floating beside a long, crooked pier. Sophie kept to Penguin's shadow and swallowed nervously. Be cool. Cool like an Aokiji ice cube. Cool like an Aokiji snowman. I've never actually built a snowman before… NO STOP THIS IS TOTALLY NOT THE TIME.

One of the men noticed Penguin. "You're late! We're on a tight schedule here!"

"Shut up, Shachi!" another shouted. "I smell her on him. You bastard, Penguin, you've been with a woman!"

Penguin blushed. "Well…"

She nearly tripped over a broken plank. "Don't agree!"

Law froze as he was about to descend the sub. Shachi paused, brow furrowing in recognition.

Mangoes. There was nothing else for it.

Steeling herself, Sophie stepped forward. The pirates stared down at her.

"Um. Hello. It's me again. But you probably already know that… look, I'm just as surprised as you are—that I'm here, I mean. Trust me, I'd rather be anywhere than here! No, Sophie, that's too far. Uh. Pineapples. Okay." She sucked in a very deep breath, as if trying to inflate her embarrassment away. "I kind of—I mean, I really need a f-f-favor. The port is burning, ships are on fire, and I have no other way of leaving. So… um… I—it's just—oh, screw it—TRAFALGAR LAW! PLEASE GIVE ME A LIFT TO THE NEXT ISLAND YOU'RE SAILING TO!"

She sagged over her knees, wheezing. Penguin's shoulders quivered.

"Are you laughing."

"No," Penguin choked out and had to tug the ear flaps of his hat lower.

"Can you step a bit closer to the light?" one pirate called.

Sophie blinked. "Light?"

The lamps on the sub flickered on, half-blinding her. Sophie cringed and stumbled back a few steps, her vision swimming. Rotten mangos, of all the times to see her… she was a horrendous, sandy mess with drenched clothes clinging to her skin. But she couldn't back down now.

"In r-return, I'll tell you about the secret of Cat's Eye Island."

To her enormous surprise, loud cheers erupted from the crew. "Captain, pleaaaase!"

Sophie almost took a step back. The pirates really seemed to want to get to that island, though for what reason she had no idea.

Law evaluated her. "From what I've gathered, you're of no physical danger to us." Well, ouch. "However… the moment—the moment—you cause trouble… you'll wish I'd killed you at the swamp." He turned to his men. "Anchors up! We're leaving now!"

"CAPTAAAAIINN!"

Sophie released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Penguin beckoned her over. The pirates were alarmingly eager to help Sophie onboard, but they didn't seem like they were about to stage a violent bloodbath—in fact, they didn't seem like crewmates of Trafalgar Law's at all (actually, she had suspicions the Heart Pirates were a brigade of sociopaths in evil white lab coats). All the smiles were rather… perplexing.

"Those are some awful burns!" one pirate in a grey cap exclaimed. "You should have the captain inspect that."

She hit her hands behind her back. "Uh—it's nothing."

He curled his mustache. "If you say so, little lady! I am Pescado Manta! It is an honor to be in your presence!"

"Yes, of course—ah, wait! I mean! Th-th-thank you!" Manners, Sophie, manners…

"Hai Xing," a dark-haired pirate wearing a newsboy cap muttered. "Don't expect you to remember it, though, no one ever does…"

Sunglasses popped up. "Sophie-chan, right? I'm Shachi! Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. The situation was, you know, kind of weird."

Sophie hastily bowed. "Don't worry about it. It's, um, nice to finally meet you… sort of…"

A voice roared from the bass tube. "Get to your stations, lazy punkasses! We're setting sail!"

"Watch your mouth! We have a lady onboard!"

Sophie's weak, stammering protests went unheard.

"I-i-i-is that so? H-hello, my name is Anko, age twenty-three, helmsman, blood type X. I like to eat seaweed noodles, and my hobbies are—"

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to be setting sail!? Don't mind him, Anko has that speech prepared for every woman he meets." Shachi smiled winningly and ignored the plethora of angry spluttering. "Come on, Sophie-chan."

They ushered her inside. "Careful, careful, those stairs can be slippery, stop smelling her, dummy, you'll get sand all over your nose…" She went along, chuckling with a rather fixed smile, completely bewildered by the attention and unsure if she should be watching out for a saw to come swinging at her out of nowhere.

The pirates dispersed down the hallway and ladders, shouting their goodbyes to Sophie. Only Shachi lingered behind.

Anko's voice echoed through the submarine. "Navigation sensors are on. Air tanks are full. Temperature is stable. All systems are go."

There was a clicking sound from the door, like a lock snapping in place. The metal under her feet shifted slightly and Sophie braced herself against cold steel pipes. Water climbed above the portholes, and as she watched the ocean rise, she had a sudden impulse to hold her breath. Fish flicked past the window and then the submarine's lamps switched off.

Crushing black.

Body won't stop, oh god someone please help, need air can't breathe don't want to die—

Her breath hitched. An cold, unnatural chill seeped down her neck. It's over, Sophie reminded herself, because her hands wouldn't stop shaking, it's over, it's—

"Pretty cool, right?"

She glanced at Shachi and nodded. "Amazing, actually. To think only a wall of steel separates us and the ocean…"

"This wall of steel is pretty solid." He rapped the metal with his knuckles. "It won't break so easily. Anyway, I'm supposed to be in the engine room. Sophie-chan—"

"Chemist-ya."

Those two words sent prickles of fear up her spine. Ugh, that weird 'Chemist-ya' again… Sophie glanced over her shoulder. On the other side of the hallway, Law jerked his head, motioning her over. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed around his nodachi.

"See ya around," Shachi said with an amiable grin and a wave.

Hopefully.

With a reluctant sigh, she dragged her feet over to Law—his entire crew was running around the sub; didn't he have anything to do? Was bullying helpless chemists the only thing on his agenda?

Sophie didn't bother forcing a smile. "How may I help the captain?" she asked dully.

"The captain would like to show you to your room."

She stepped away. "Would that be code for 'torture chamber'?"

"It's code for 'the place you'll be sleeping in'. Unless you'd prefer my men's cabin?"

"I'll go with the first choice," Sophie said quickly.

"Smart of you, Miss."

Discomfited, she focused on counting the steps as they walked down the hallway. Her satchel was a reassuring weight on her shoulder; worse comes to worse, she could always threaten the book's livelihood. Hopefully she didn't overestimate how desperate these pirates were for some answers… Sophie looked down at her boots, searching for something to break the uncomfortable silence.

Deciding she couldn't stand the heavy tension anymore, Sophie coughed to get his attention. "This really is… um, nice of you, Law-san. I'm grateful. Truly."

"That's good to hear. I enjoy having others indebted to me," he replied with an even smile. Something drew his gaze downward… right at her burned hands she held gingerly at her side. Law assessed that with disturbing calm. "You're wounded."

She hid her hands behind her back. "No, I'm not."

Quick as a snake, he grabbed her wrist and held them to the light. From palm to finger, shiny red welts covered almost the entirety of her hand.

"Oh," Sophie said in a tiny voice, "those wounds."

"You shouldn't lie to a doctor," Law told her, carefully examining the burns. "Your hands will be infected soon. There will be discoloration and discharge, and the burn may extend deep into the skin. You also might be stricken with sudden shock… potentially fatal, due to dehydration."

"If you try to help me, I am c-c-c-confident two or three fingers will disappear in the process," she snarled, trying to tug back her hand.

He laughed softly. "It's better than all ten."

Horror curled in the pit of her stomach. "W-w-wait… you w-wouldn't… you wouldn't…"

"Aren't you taking this too lightly? You don't seem to care about your body at all. You don't mind losing one or two hands, is that it?"

"Th-that's… that's not…" Sophie pressed flush against the wall and had a horrible flashback to the swamp, the operating table, parathion. "D-d-don't c-c-come n-near me," she gasped, cringing away as far as she could. Anymore and she was likely to fall right through the wall. "Please, please, d-don't—"

"Relax, Chemist-ya. It'll all be over soon."

His hand lashed out. There was a prickle of pain on her neck and Sophie fell into a haze of nothingness.

Pineapples, not again…

—

Sophie woke up to a blurry IV drip and a strange sense of déjà vu.

A machine beeped repeatedly next to her. The respirator attached over her mouth misted as she breathed in time to the heart machine. Hesitant, Sophie tried to move her stiff fingers and pain laced through her bones.

Oh god, no.

She shot upright. Her arms were bound with bandages up to her elbows. Onetwothreefourfivesixsevene ightnineten. She still had ten fingers. Sophie wiggled her toes. Yes, and ten toes, too. She felt her face. It all seemed to be in order. No eyes taken, no mouth carved up, no nose stitched onto her forehead…

"Yo," Law greeted.

Sophie nearly jumped out of her skin. The pirate lounged in a swivel chair, a stethoscope hanging from his neck, twirling a quill around his thumb. He hadn't stuck her in the operating room again; that was a relief (though with the current circumstances, it didn't exactly count for much). The sick bay was larger, hospital beds lining the walls and a desk situated in the corner, beside Sophie; it was strewn with stacks of books, ink-stained quills, and papers. Her forehead creased. Unclean. Way, way too unclean…

"You suffered minor carbon monoxide poisoning," he informed, breaking her inner diatribe against the poor desk. "I treated the burns on your hands—along with many of your older wounds that had opened. It should all heal within the week, Chemist-ya."

Her skin prickled. With some difficulty, Sophie pulled the respirator mask off. "I suppose I should thank you for not taking any of my fingers," she said stiffly.

"I suppose you should. I like others feeling indebted towards me, remember?"

"Well, when you put it like that," she rolled her eyes, "thank you for forcibly knocking me unconscious and treating my wounds under my explicit disapproval."

Law rested his cheek on his knuckles and said, after a beat, "Do you bitch at everyone who saves your life?"

Sophie turned beet-red and began stammering nonsensically at very loud volume.

"You won't be harmed unless you go out of your way to ask for it. You're my guest, after all." His voice was quiet in the assurance. Too intelligent, this pirate, all controlled calculations and relaxed refinement. Was there anything about him that was... human? He looked like a man who could make no mistake.

But he did make a mistake, Sophie reminded herself. He failed to kill me. I escaped. And I'm alive. What must he feel, to look at me and see his own errors?

Calming herself, she replied, "Guest is such a malleable word."

The caution did not seem to be lost on him. "I swear it." He tilted his head and added, "Upon any honor you think me of having."

Which was none. Hm. Wonderful.

"There's food." He indicated toward a small bowl of soup next to the bed. "You've slept about fifteen hours. You need your nutrients, Chemist-ya."

"Just call me Sophie," she burst out, before she could think about regretting it. "Just Sophie is fine. Even at work people just called me 'brat' or 'kid' or 'hey, you'."

"…Since you asked so nicely, Sophie." She flinched and colored a sickening shade of green, clearly realizing the gaffe she unwittingly made. Law wheeled over to her, smiling mildly. "Your bosses really should have better manners."

"Oh—they were my subordinates, actuaaugh!"

He stuck a tongue depressor in her mouth. Law shone a light down Sophie's throat, ignoring her warbled choke. Just when she was about to do something violent and hysterical, he replaced the tongue depressor with a spoonful of soup. Sophie swallowed… and holy mangoes, it might've been the three months of military rations talking, but that was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

"So… so yummy…" She made little grabby motions, but Law set the bowl out of her reach. "But whyyyy? I'm injured. I need my nutrients."

"Stay still and don't blink," he ordered, and shone the light in her eyes. Sophie let him, jiggling her leg restlessly, even when he was pulling on her face and feeling up her throat with the perfect grip for strangulation. After he was done with that, Law set the stethoscope in his ears. "Breathe in."

Her hospital gown wrinkled as Law listened to her heartbeat. A part of her was mildly anxious at where his hands were moving towards, the other part pointed out that it wasn't like he was seeing anything new (that part was quickly murdered and stuffed into a dark closet), and a third part was focused on the stethoscope… Sophie remembered when she accidentally almost ruptured Hippo's eardrums when she was a kid… she needed to flick the black diaphragm really hard—

("The moment—the moment—you cause trouble… you'll wish I'd killed you at the swamp.")

Sophie swallowed and pressed her hands together.

"Respiratory and circulatory signs are good. Heart rate normal, and your lungs are healing from the smoke damage." He eased the IV needle out of the crook of her elbow and quickly wrapped on a bandage strip.

"Right. Thank you." She was determined to show she was not 'bitching'. Sophie returned to the soup and muttered in-between gulps, "Actually, I suppose I have that Shichibukai to thank for my new scars."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "…You really saw Doflamingo?"

"Hey, I have nothing to gain by making this up." But to be fair, it sounded absolutely crazy. With a sigh, Sophie set the bowl down. "I know what I saw. It was him, it was definitely—but I just… can't comprehend it. How is setting a peaceful island on fire profitable? Crawfish only has three things of notable importance: swamp, mud, and houses that are barely managing to stay upright. There are no valuables, no gold… so what's the point?"

Law kicked his feet on the desk. "Senseless destruction doesn't need a point. They'll cover the fire up by blaming it on my crew. Anyone who knows of the Shichibukai's involvement is already dead—except you, of course. Doflamingo was careless." There was something… odd in his small smile. Something like satisfaction.

Sophie's head ached. "But—but the Shichibukai are… they're supposed to be righteous. Soldiers of justice."

"Justice," he scoffed. "Justice is written by the conquerors. The World Government has been fortunate enough to be on the winning side of all wars in recent history—that's where your justice stems from. It's a fabricated web of lies used by weaklings to rationalize each other's actions. This world is ruled by strength and influence. If you keep on thinking like an idealist, you'll follow Crawfish Island to the grave."

She stared down at her hands. She didn't know why his words stung so much, but it did.

"I'm not an idealist."

"Oh?"

"It's different for you," Sophie spat, "you're a pirate, you don't have anything to believe in. But me, I've grown up with the World Government. if I don't trust in this, this fundamental thing, then what did I fight for? What was Vira? They have a good reason. They must have a good reason. I've—" she swallowed and said in a voice painfully small, "…a lot of people gave up their lives for them."

There was a small, peculiar sound, like a… scoff, almost. Law's hat had fallen over his eyes and his mouth was unsmiling.

"The World Government isn't horrible, you know," Sophie said with an angry twist of her lips. "They protect people—innocent people—from those who would do them harm. Those such as yourself."

"And Doflamingo," he interjected. "You work for hypocrites and I doubt I'd find many marines who share the same pure sentiments."

"First! I am not a marine. And second, be that as it may they are still working for justice. You wanna talk hypocrisy? A doctor's duty is to save lives, and yet as a pirate you kill people—nearly killed me. Go ahead and explain that one, Law-san."

"It's dangerous to label others based on your preconceived notions." He pulled his hat back to stare her down. "Doesn't matter what I am—I do what I want. I don't bear the burdens of society. I don't have a duty to uphold. I bow down to no one."

She glared. "Doesn't that just make you irresponsible?"

"It makes me free, Sophie-ya," Law replied sharply. "Perhaps freer than you will ever be."

"…Yeah," Sophie murmured, because all things considered, "I think so, too." She raised her chin. "But I chose this path of my own will and no one, not even the famous Surgeon of Death, can look down on me for that."

There was no trace of surprise in his expression, no amazement or incredulity. But then the side of his mouth crooked up in that slick half-smile, and when he looked at her Sophie balled her fists tight against her stomach but didn't glance away.

"Good answer," Law said, and she had a few seconds to contemplate how weird this guy was before he continued, "The Tale of Apolleon. I read it."

He nodded at a thin, mustard-yellow storybook lay on his desk.

"Wha—hey, wait—you looked through my satchel!"

Law had the audacity to ignore her as he held up The Tale of Apolleon in all its torn and brittle unglory. "You know how you spoke of the secret of Cat's Eye?"

"Yeah?"

"It's from a fairytale."

"…Yeah."

He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. "This is the part where I listen to your reasoning and then decide whether I want to butcher you or not."

Sophie's eye twitched. Law… sounded serious.

"Apolleon could be Cat's Eye if you think of it as a moving island. Not unheard of. Or perhaps Crawfish and Cat's Eye were once one island, and then broke apart later due to geological forces… it would explain the close relationship they had before Khanwari took over. They would've had to drift here from South Blue—but why not? Stranger things have happened in this world." Yes, like the doctor from Pantano Town had told her. "Regardless, the tale says the way into the island is from beneath. 'In the dead of night, the king and his troops—'"

"—'carved an opening in the belly of the cat.'"

"Yes. Most legends are simply exaggerated history, aggrandized by time. There really may be an entrance underneath the island. And because of Khanwari's defenses, it's most likely the only way. Don't waste time doubting. This is the Grand Line; common sense is never enough to survive."

He appraised her with a hooded gaze. Sophie had been subject to scrutiny many times before… it was stifling, but nothing new. This time, however, she couldn't read anything from Law's expression.

All he said was, "I'll save the butchering for another day. We'll steer a course for Cat's Eye."

The door crashed open. "Captain! This was the forty-eighth time Shachi asked me to—"

Penguin stopped short. Sophie waved a little, but he looked away.

"Uh… never mind… it was something stupid."

"This is good timing, actually." Law nodded at Sophie. "Your clothes are in your bag. Penguin, show our guest to…" he smiled grimly and lightning flashed in the background, "the storeroom."

She sighed. That sounded menacing.

Nevertheless, Sophie swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her satchel was lying against the wall; she picked it up and, just in case, searched through its contents. Clothes, boots, and… oh no he didn't… She swung around. "Where's my lighter?"

He tilted his hat over his eyes. "As if I'm going to give you a weapon. Nice try."

Sophie was promptly reminded of the seventy-five reasons why she hated Trafalgar Law.

"But that's—that's my favorite… look, I'd have to be completely deranged to harm anyone—"

"I'll return it when we reach land. Besides, as a doctor, I am inclined to warn you about the hazardous effects of smoking." Law held up a familiar silver instrument. "Turnabout's fair play, isn't it?"

"I don't even have a cig—" She stopped abruptly; her eyes widened, breath catching in her throat. Of course it hadn't just been about payback, how could she not have seen? "You followed me across an island, had two of your men tail me, and attacked me in the swamp… all for a scalpel?"

"It's a good scalpel."

And she was left gaping at the closed door. "You—you're positively infuriating, you know that!?"

"This way," Penguin said, nodding down the corridor.

"How the—I can't believe you'd—for a scalpel, honestly—!"

"Come on."

He sounded exasperated. It took all of Sophie's strength to tear her gaze away from the door and trudge after him. She gave up the issue—pirates could think whatever they wanted, it didn't matter to her because they were all wrong and weird and some—she side-eyed Penguin, admitting silently to herself—and some were half-decent people.

But that certainly didn't apply to their captain.

They walked in silence. Sophie was grateful she didn't meet any of the other pirates along the way. She was tired, her hands stung, and she just wanted to have a nice, comfy corner where she could curl up and sleep and try not to dream.

Soon enough, they reached a bland-looking door which Penguin opened with a slow creak. Sophie perked up.

She stopped breathing.

Dusty jars filled with dismembered organs, severed limbs, and bones rested on cobwebbed shelves. Her lungs began working again and Sophie inhaled a sickly sweet stench—as sweet as death. Formaldehyde. Her eyes watered. She stumbled back, clutching her nose and trying not to gag.

"Captain wants you to clean this room."

Her eyes bugged. "C-CLEAN?"

"He says you gotta make yourself useful if you want to stay onboard. Sorry about this." Penguin picked up a paper bag lying against the wall. "Here are the towels, gloves, and the mop, the bucket of water is over there, and the bag is for—"

Sophie grabbed the bag and vomited soup.

"Yeah," Penguin said. "That."

—

Trafalgar Law had planned everything, Sophie knew. He'd said all that nonsense about 'nutrients' and whatnot, but it was only so he could bask in the knowledge of her miserable state of misery. It didn't help matters that once Sophie began something, she couldn't stop. Especially if it meant cleaning. She'd already sorted out half of the storeroom's… occupants.

"Why the mangoes am I even doing this?" She threw the mop down. Water and soap splattered over the floor.

Sophie stared at the mess.

Muttering all the fruits she could think of, she set to wiping it over with a towel. Trafalgar Law never gave away anything, and even if he did, it was masked behind a devil-may-care smile Sophie just wasn't able to pick apart, not like any of her molecular formulas. She bit the inside of her cheek.

Sophie couldn't tell if Trafalgar Law was a mad genius, a murderer with a bizarre MO, or just a lazy bum.

Grumbling, she got to her feet and squeezed out the towel over the bucket. The door was kept open to air out the stink of decayed flesh and cleaning detergent.

Sophie wondered how all these people had died; she could only recognize a few organs that had possibly been poisoned, some maybe corroded by acid, the burned eyeballs… and even then… Sophie stared at one intestine as it drifted almost lazily in the formaldehyde, like a shiny blue eel.

She licked her lips. "What a sadistic pineapple."

Law leaned against the door. "Is that right?"

Sophie shrieked hysterically, flailed, and would've smashed into a row of kidneys had not Law's arm snaked around her waist just in time. That only made her panic even more. She was torn between ripping herself away and curling up in a fetal position or staying very, very still and hoping he wouldn't notice her. Except, well.

Law looked over her trembling head, inspecting the rows of sparkling glass containers filled with body parts.

"Nice job cleaning."