Chapter 3
Yamato couldn't be happier.
The boy, Midoriya Izuku if that card was to be believed, was awake. He was breathing slowly but regularly, mostly through his nose thanks to the bandage, and watching her through wide, curious eyes.
He seemed at ease, which was very good. She had half-expected him to panic, and thrash around or try to escape; only hurting himself more in the process. But he seemed content to lie where he was, and let her take care of him.
She felt…very glad about that. It was as if something had changed, for the better.
"I apologise for stripping you of your clothes," she went on. "I found you on the beach. You were soaking wet and in a very bad shape. I had to take them off to apply the medicines."
An unfortunate necessity. Izuku lay on a tatami mat, his legs in a brace, the rest of his body salved and bandaged. He had been in quite good physical condition, but his injuries had been overwhelming.
All the same, she bowed respectfully, in the way Oden had described in his logbook. It was proper to show respect at all times, and to all persons; especially when she had been forced to commit an impropriety.
"I've got them over here." She pointed to his clothes; which she had carefully folded and arranged. That was another thing Oden had mentioned; being respectful to another's property.
Izuku craned his neck to look, then winced in pain, and laid back down. He seemed satisfied.
"I can't believe someone as young as you has so many injuries," Yamato said. "Oh, oden fought as a child too! But…you don't seem like a samurai."
Indeed he did not. His clothes were wondrous, but unlike anything she had ever seen. And he did not carry a sword.
Did that mean…?
"You must be a pirate then? Or an adventurer?" She beamed at him, delighted at the notion. But Izuku just looked puzzled, and actually managed to shake his head.
She frowned, pouting, as she tried to make sense of it.
"Hmmm... then how did you get onto Onigashima's shore? Curious..."
How indeed? The island was protected by whirlpools; whirlpools that could swallow any ship, and which even the greatest navigators could not evade. The only safe route was guarded by the great Tori gate, and well-manned by her father's minions. Onigashima was as secure a base as any pirate could ask for.
A low grumble disturbed her thoughts. She looked down, and realised it was coming from Izuku's stomach.
"Oh! I'm sure you must be hungry."
She trotted over to her pantry, and took a quick look inside.
"Hmmm... I only have hard edibles... not fitting for a broken jaw."
She glanced at him. He was still watching her.
"I shall fetch you some suitable food!" she declared, smiling. "And some water too!"
Then she paused, as a thought occurred. To get food, she would have to go down to the mess. They would hand over anything she asked for, without question. But what if someone were to come to her room while she was away? What if they saw Izuku?
"But…first things first." She moved a few boxes, then pulled the changing curtain across.
"Now, no one will see you from the doorway," she said. "They won't dare come inside without my say-so."
She squatted down beside him, and laid her hand on his head.
"Don't worry, I won't be long. Stay put and keep quiet, okay?"
She patted his head gently. The boy looked confused, but nodded. Yamato got up, slid on her sandals, and gave Izuku one last smile before slipping through the curtain, through the doors, and out into the corridor; pausing only long enough to grab her kanabo.
Her mind raced as she jogged along the corridor. Midoriya Izuku, neither a samurai, nor a pirate, nor an adventurer. So what was he then? What manner of person could he be?
She wanted to know. In all her life, she had never been quite so curious about a person; especially not one she had literally just met. There was Kozuki Oden, true, but she had known him only by the manner of his death, and the words of his logbook. That was the only Oden she would ever know, and the only Oden she needed to know.
But she did want to know Izuku. She wanted to know who he was, and where he had come from. She wanted to know what his homeland was called, and where it was. Did he come from Wano? Or from somewhere else, far away? Did was his home on the Grand Line, under the sway of the so-called World Government? Or somewhere else entirely?
And what was his homeland like? She wanted to know. She wanted to know about his family, and his friends. She wanted to know about their food, and their stories, and their music. What sort of clothes did they wear? What kind of fighting techniques did they use? Were there great warriors there? And if so, how did they fight?
Of course, she would have to get off the island in order to experience any of it. But that was something she was working on anyway. One thing at a time.
After a few minutes, she finally reached the nearest of the fortress' many mess halls. There was a long queue already, the rank-and-file of the Beast Pirates, waiting for their evening meal. She strode past them, showing them not a moment's consideration, and none of them offering a challenge. They knew who she was, and what she would do if they so much as grumbled.
And they probably knew just what she thought of them.
She reached the side door and pushed it open, the smell of food hitting her full on the face and making her stomach growl. .
"O-Oh! Young Master!" exclaimed one of the cooks; a pufferfish-man of some sort. "Forgive my impertinence, but it is proper to stand in line and…"
"I want food!" Yamato barked, sending the kitchen staff scurrying for cover. She tried to think of something to ask for, something that Izuku could manage with his broken jaw.
"Uh, food?" One of the familiar chefs, a woman with tattoos and piercings replied. "Not just meat and rice this time?"
Porridge? No, it may as well turn into gruel.
Oshiruko? No, that was always popular and running out fast.
She glanced around, following the scent of the bean soup. But the pot was empty, the cowering chef having been cooking up a fresh batch.
She sniffed the air, and marched through the kitchen, the lesser cooks scurrying out of her way. Her nose drew her to a large pot, in which something with a meaty smell was bubbling merrily.
"This!" she declared, pointing at the pot. She cursed inwardly as she tried to remember its name. She had lived in Wano all her life, or so it seemed, yet she knew next to nothing about its food. She only ordered what Oden had described in his travels on the seas! Seafood, meat, and rice with ale and sake!
"Tonjiru Soup, young master? whimpered the pufferfish-man. "That's…new."
"Yes! I want Tonjiru!" Yamato nodded, hands on her hips. "I want a large bowl to go!"
"Ummm, a dish like this is h-hard to carry out y-young master," stammered the one with the piercings. "Are you…?"
She trailed off as Yamato rounded on her with a glare, tapping her kanabo on her shoulder.
"I want one to go. As fast as possible." Lightning crackled on the kanabo. "Got that?"
She had destroyed plenty of kitchens in her time. She had ambushed her father in the upper mess hall by the East Horn, their battle leaving the whole place in ruins. And there was that time in the South Horn, when she had encountered that wretch Ulti and that brother of hers, Page One. Their battle had taken them out onto the roof of the Skull Dome, and had ended in a most satisfactory manner; with that blue-haired cur's face thoroughly smashed in.
"R-Right away Young Master! Quick! Someone get a bowl and cover!"
The cooks began running around like headless chickens. The rank and file feared her, and were always so pathetically desperate to please her. It might have been endearing, if not for what they were, and what they did.
Yamato smirked, crossing her arms over her bust. This would do nicely!
(X)
It took her only a little time to collect the bowl of Tonjiru, and a water skin, and make her way back to her room. Izuku's eyes had been closed, but they fluttered open as she approached.
"There you are," she said, smiling. "Are you familiar with Tonjiru? It's a pork soup."
She knelt down beside the boy, lifting the lid off the pot to let him smell it. She fluffed his pillows to lift up his head a little, then took the spoon the cooks had provided.
The boy took a sniff, and nodded. Yamato's heart leapt. He did know it!
"Well, it was the only soup they seemed to have," she said, laying a napkin over his chest. "I would have liked to get some Oshiruko, but they had none left. It always runs out."
She suddenly felt uncertain. Did Oden ever do something like this? He had mentioned something like it, when his wife was in labor with his children, but his description had been panicked, frenetic even.
Yamato didn't feel that way at all. It felt…peaceful somehow.
She undid his chin bandage, and took a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently.
"There, if it's too hot, let me know, ok?"
She brought it carefully to his chin. The boy opened his mouth, just enough to let her pour it in. He coughed, some of the soup bubbling out.
"Oh! Was I too fast!? I apologise!"
Yamato frowned, taking a cloth and dapping his chin and lips.
"Go slow... nice and easy," she admonished herself as she grabbed another spoonful. She cupped the back of Izuku's head with her free hand, as she blew on her spoon and brought it to his lips.
He gulped it down perfectly, and the girl nodded.
"Okay... now then, let's continue."
And so it went, spoonful after spoonful. After a little while, she lifted the waterskin to his lips, and let him drink. He drank it down fast, his arms shifting as if to reach for the waterskin.
"Easy there, you were out for several days..." Yamato assured, and Izuku's eyes widened. "Wouldn't want you to choke and gag."
The boy took it to heart, slowing his drinking, until the skin was empty.
As he laid back, she looked him over once again. He had been mighty once, that much was clear. She could see hard, well-developed muscle, and more than a few old scars.
She was wrong. It couldn't have been his first battle. This boy was clearly a veteran, as much so as many of her father's best.
"I can see that you've fought in many battles," she mused; using the sppon to mash down the porkbelly, noodles, and vegetables in the bowl, making a paste he could swallow. "Yet you are not a pirate or adventurer. So then you are…a hero?"
Izuku's eyebrow quirked, and he managed an uh-huh through his broken jaw.
"This fell out of your pocket," she went on, holding up the card she had found on the beach. "Midoriya Izuku. I'm very glad to meet you, but I wonder what this card means by hero?"
Izuku didn't reply. But he did look rather confused, as if he didn't understand the question. Perhaps he did come from a faraway land after all; a land where heroes such as himself were well-known.
Were they the samurai of his country, perhaps?
"I shall give you a herb to help you heal," she said. "But it must be taken with food, like this." She showed him the paste in the bowl.
"Thank…you…" Izuku croaked, wincing as he forced his jaw to move.
"Easy there!" Yamato put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you have many things to tell. But they must wait until that jaw heals. It won't be long."
His eyes softened, and he nodded, seemingly content. Yamato added the herb to the paste, carefully stirred it in, then began spooning it into his mouth.
It was…pleasant to do so. She felt at peace somehow, feeding him like that. She had never done anything like it before.
She shivered. She had never shown it, nor could she remember ever experiencing it. It was not how things were done on Onigashima. It was not the Beast Pirate way.
It was not her father's way. He respected only strength, and loved only power. All his merit lay in victory, and all his desire was for conquest. Honour was hypocrisy, mercy was foolish, and kindness was weakness. To be honourable was to be destroyed, to be merciful was to be betrayed, and to be kind was to be crushed.
And his minions were no better. The bulk of them were no threat; for they knew her power, and feared it too much to challenge her in any way. But what of the All-Stars, or the Flying Six, or the Headliners? They hadn't gotten where they did by fearing anything, or anyone. No one capable of fear could stand near her father for long.
Fear…or compassion.
What chance did Izuku have in this place? What would her father make of him? What would the others do to him?
Perhaps he would be strong. Strong enough to catch her father's eye, and earn a place for himself. Her father respected only strength, and cared nothing for race or creed or heritage; one of his few, ironic virtues.
But then, what would become of his heart? What would this place do to one such as him?
She looked again at Izuku. His eyelids were drooping. He looked about ready to sleep.
"I will protect you," she whispered, laying a hand on his head one last time. "I swear it. I'll protect you from them."
The sleepy eyes regarded her, and then slid shut. Yamato drew a sheet over him, then sat back, watching him sleep.
She would protect him. She knew it, in a way she only felt once before. She would protect him from her father and his pirates, at least until he was strong enough to protect himself.
And that meant taking care of herself, too. No more picking fights with her father, or anyone, until he was healed.
It was what Oden would have done.
It was the least she could do.
Chapter 4
It was in the middle of the night when she heard it.
The sound of a rumbling stomach. Her own that is.
Yamato stirred, getting up from her bed and rubbing her eyes.
"Hungry..." she murmured as she rolled out of bed, and pulled her robes. She reached over for the candle, and the box of matches beside it. She lit the candle, and made her way to the pantry. After collecting some bread to munch on, she headed back to her bed.
She paused, blinking. Was she seeing things?
She turned, and looked more closely. Midoriya Izuku was still there, lying on the tatami mat But his eyes were open, staring out at the night sky, and the bright, beaming moon.
In the days since his arrival, she had settled into a routine. Feeding him, changing his bandages, applying more medicine, at times cleaning his body with wet rags. The rags had been rough, and the water only lukewarm, but they had served their purpose.
She had ignored the looks and murmurs of the Beast Pirates. She had even taken to meditating on the beach, so as to deceive them as to the cause of her absences. Oden had said that the samurai of Wano had honed their minds with meditation as they had honed their bodies with training; so no one should have been surprised.
Except Oden couldn't stand it, or so he had written in his logbook. Too much sitting still for far too long.
"Izuku?" she murmed, stepping closer. Izuku turned from the window to stare at her. In the light of the moon, she could see his face clearly.
His eyes were wet.
"Something troubles you, doesn't it?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. The boy nodded lightly, eyes fixed on her. Yamato winced, as she saw the rest of his body, still festooned with braces and covered with bandages.
"I'm sorry…I changed your bandages and applied fresh salve earlier…here." She loosened the bandages around his chin, then took up the waterskin and put it to his lips, cradling his head to let him drink. He drank fast and thirstily, but Yamato could see the gleaming lines running down his cheeks.
"Are you in any pain at all? Is that what causing it?" she asked. "Just nod or shake your head." Izuku finished drinking, breathing through his mouth lightly as he looked up at her.
He shrugged. Yamato did not know what to make of that.
"Then why won't you sleep?" she asked. "You need your rest."
She set his head back down on the pillow. His eyes were sombre, full of a sorrow that tugged at her soul.
"Just…thinking…" he croaked.
"What about?" Yamato asked, perking up.
"My…family…friends…"
Yamato's heart ached for him. He was alone in this place, friendless but for her. He had a family and friends somewhere. Did they know of his fate? Were they worried sick about him? Or did they mourn him, thinking him lost forever?
And there was something in his eyes, something she had seen before.
The eyes of the people of Wano. The people who could only watch, helpless, as Oden boiled alive in a pot of oil.
Grief. Desolation. Despair. Loneliness.
She couldn't blame him for crying. Oden said a man should not cry, but he was so young, so vulnerable. The sight of him made her feel something, a feeling she could not name.
In her mind's eye she saw Oden, boiling alive, his retainers upon his back. She saw the ruins of Oden Castle, where the mortal remains of Oden's family lay; discarded and untended. The samurai she met in that cave, the day she swore to become Oden.
She knew what it was to be alone. She knew what it was to be friendless. The nearest thing she had ever had was those samurai; who had broken their chains and defied Kaido together, chosing death before dishonour. She didn't even know their names.
"Did you…lose them?" she asked, unable to contain herself.
The boy nodded, and winced as she laid a hand on his forehead. It was the only way she could think of to show him how she felt, how she understood his pain.
"I'm sorry. Will you at least drink some more? Are you hungry?"
He shook his head. Yamato took a rag from a bowl nearby, and dabbed at his forehead. She didn't now what else to do.
"If you need anything, let me know, okay?"
The boy nodded. She felt something touch her other hand, and she jumped; only to realise that it was his hand. It was so small compared to hers; but then again, most hands were.
There was just the slightest grip. A grip, and a light in his eyes that had not been there before.
Yamato could not stop herself from smiling. She yearned to talk with him some more, but she knew she could not. It would have to wait until he was properly healed; or at least his jaw was healed.
He nodded. And she could have sworn he was smiling.
"In the meantime, let's take a look at those bandages!"
Chapter 5
Onigashima's docks were a scene of barely-organised chaos.
Ships were coming in, making their way along the tall, rocky tunnel that served as the stone skull's throat. Those at the docks were being unloaded, mighty derricks lugging heavy crates from the ship's decks. Countless pirates were working too, swarming on and off the ships like so many ants, lugging boxes, barrels, and sacks. Off the ships, across the docks, and down the dark tunnels to the countless storage chambers, to be sorted and stored in their proper places. Then back again for more.
From his vantage point, in a vaulted gallery carved into the cave wall, Spytand Malice watched it all.
He had seen such scenes many times, back when he was in the Marines. But never on such a scale, or in a place like this. There was no pirate fleet like the Beast Pirates, not in the whole world. He had seen pirates and ships of all shapes and sizes, and fleets that terrorized the Grand Line from one end to the next. But he had never seen pirate ships so large or so powerful, or so well-kept, or so many. Nor had he seen pirates so many, and so well-ordered, under a single Jolly Roger.
One might have thought it impossible, unless one had actually seen their master. For a creature like Kaido, nothing seemed impossible.
How unlike his former superiors; for all their great strength and ability. How unlike the Marine admirals, who for all their greatness, did the bidding of the Celestial Dragons.
His teeth gritted, as the old hate resurfaced, unbidden. He clenched his hands so hard they hurt. His skin itched, as it remembered the uniform he had once worn.
Those disgusting creatures, who lived in indolence on Mariejois, never noticing the slaves to toiled beneath their feet, except perhaps to spit on them. Decadent, spoiled, indolent; incapable of the least endeavour, the smallest deed, or the slightest compassion.
All but one. One, who had paid a terrible price for it.
Yet the Marines did their bidding. The admirals did their bidding, leaping to their sides at the mere snap of gloved fingers. They who were so mighty, yipped like lapdogs for the amusement of the worthless, and demanded that all below them do the same.
And he so very nearly been one of them. He had worked so hard, given every deed and day his all and everything. He had served, and suffered, endured everything that instructors, superiors, pirates, and even his own comrades had thrown at him. All so that he could prove himself, all so that he could rise; all the way to Vice Admiral.
And then he had seen. And then he had understood.
He looked down at his hands, the hands that had ached and bled in their service. They were covered now, by heavy black gloves and spiked bracers. The white uniform was gone, replaced with baggy red trousers tucked into tall black boots, and covered by a heavy black trenchcoat.
He shook his head, forcing down his rage. There was no need for it, not now. He had found a better berth, a better outlet for his abilities. Sure they were pirates, but at least their villainy was honest. Kaido did not justify his power by some supposed innate superiority, nor clothe his fury in the garb of absolute justice. When he wanted something, he took it. When something displeased him, he destroyed it.
That, at least, was honest. Not false law, but lawlessness. Not false justice, but true freedom. That was where he had chosen to be, and where he had found a place.
He looked down at the docks again, at the barely-managed madness. The annual Fire Festival was coming up, and the Beast Pirates were going all-out. Tributes were being gathered in from all across Wano, and every combat-ready ship and crew were out on the high seas, bringing in plunder and captives. The former would fill the vaults of Onigashima, to provide for the festival in truly magnificent style. The latter would be processed, their fates decided by their strength, their skills, or simply their appearance.
His eyes fell on a coffle being led off one of the ships; one of Ulti's from the look of it. They were a miserable sight even from that distance; roped together at neck and waist and hands, driven on with kicks and blows, and cruel laughter.
Perhaps one or two of them might catch someone's eye, and be selected for better duties. Or maybe, if they had heart, and strength, and more than a little luck, they might impress someone sufficiently to be allowed into the ranks of the pirates.
For the rest, it was off to Wano, and the foundries. They would spend the rest of their short lives toiling in the darkness, lugging coal and iron ore for the furnaces.. They would toil, and die, so that the Beast Pirates could have warships and weapons. Swords and muskets, cannons and cannonballs, and the thousand-odd metal widgets and gadgets that kept a ship from falling apart on the ocean wave.
And that was that. The strong took what they wanted, and the weak survived as best they could. At least this way there was no hypocrisy. At least this way, the truly strong ruled.
Then he saw something else, something that should not have been down there.
He leant over the parapet, focussing on the figure striding across the docks; the pirates scattering before it.
Her.
He watched, tight-lipped, as Yamato strode along a line of pirates, eyes fixed on the foodstuffs they were carrying. As she moved, the ones behind her scurried away, glad to be out of her sight.
To Spytand Malice, Yamato had always been a mystery. Kaido's only daughter and sole heir, yet she despised him and all he stood for. Her only hero was Kozuki Oden, the former ruler of Wano, whom Kaido had boiled alive in a pot of oil. Rather than enjoy the glorious freedom her father offered, and the inheritance that awaited her, she would rather imitate that dead fool of a samurai. She spent all her days training her body, challenging her father, and healing herself after she invariably lost.
So then…what was she doing down there?
Malice watched, mystified, as she stopped suddenly, and ordered one of the pirates to hand over his burden; a very large, fresh tuna. Yamato took it from him, turned on his heel, and strode out the way she had come.
Tuna. She had come down there, among the pirates she despised, to bully one of them into handing over a tuna.
A tuna?
Except she had been doing stuff like that recently. People had seen her dashing through the corridors carrying food. The cooks he had asked about it had told him – amid much whimpering and cowering – told him that she normally ate rice or meat, washed down with ale or local wine. But now she was asking for bowls of soup. Any kind would do, but always lots of it. This she would lug back to her room, and the bowls would come back licked clean.
That she ate in her room was not in itself suspicious. He had never seen her do otherwise, in the months since he had joined the Beast Pirates. It was well known that she despised the Beast Pirates, and scorned their fellowship. But what did she need all that food for?
Now that he thought about it, that wasn't the only strange thing. Normally she fought her father once a week; and from time to time crushed someone for annoying or offending her. But she hadn't, not for many days. She had left her room only to get food, or to meditate on the beach.
And since when did she meditate? Training yes, but meditation?
What was going on?
"So this is where you've been hiding."
Malice jumped, then glowered. He had let himself be snuck up upon; a mistake that in this place could be costly.
"I was just watching the ships come in," he said. Not the most impressive turn of phrase, not one worthy of one such as her. But he had never been one for poetry or oratory.
"Busy, busy, busy," mused the young woman who had joined him in the gallery. She was quite a sight, her shapely body clad in a black kimono lined in red, her blonde hair done up in the local style, her beauty in no way marred by the narrow red horns curving up from her temples.
Or the fact that she was eight metres tall. Survive for any length of time on Onigashima, and such things ceased to be particularly frightening.
She stepped up to the parapet, gazing down at the ships with supercilious eyes.
"So much treasure, so little time," she mused. "I trust your own foray was fruitful, Malice?"
She shot him a smirk that would have reduced any man to a warm puddle on the floor. Her charms did nothing for him; not because she was unattractive, but because he knew what became of men who fell into the clutches of Black Maria.
"Very fruitful," he replied, tersely. And it had been. Enough so that his place in the Flying Six, would not be questioned; at least not until after the Fire Festival.
"Very good," she purred, in a tone that would have left him hot under the collar, had he not known of the shadows whence that voice might lead him. "But…do you have time to hang around here? Kaido has high expectations of you, as he does of all of us."
That was a joke. For all her high standing, and her dreaded power, Black Maria rarely left Onigashima if she could at all avoid it. Her adoring captains, all female, had brought in her share of the spoils. It was enough to make him wonder, sometimes, just how much of her status relied on Kaido's good graces.
Except, he had seen what she was capable of. They all had.
"My ships need maintenance," he replied, curtly. "They can't go out again until morning at the earliest, and Lord Kaido will probably call a halt before then."
He had run his ships hard, as he had always done. It might not have been so bad, had he gone around that storm instead of through it, but what was done was done. Fortunately for him, Kaido hadn't seemed at all bothered.
"Ah, ever the admirable vice-admiral, working everyone hard" quipped Maria, her eyes twinkling at her own joke. "Is it because they're pirates? Or were you like that in the Marines?"
His lip curled. Yes, he had run his ships and crews hard. He had always done so, even back in the Marines. His subordinates had hated him for it, but the job got done, and that was all that mattered.
"I will fulfil Lord Kaido's expectations, as I have always done" he replied, in as dignified a tone as his temper would allow. "And I will surpass them, as I will surpass my current station."
Yes, he would. There was only rank above him; the three All-Stars, who answered to no one but Kaido himself. One day, he would challenge one of them, before Kaido, and take their place.
"Oh, so driven."
Black Maria drew on the opium pipe she was rarely without.
"But what was that you were staring at a moment ago?" she asked, her tone sultry. "You seemed quite confused."
Malice paused. He wondered if he dared confide in her. She was an equal, and maybe even a comrade; but knew, only too well, how little that could count for when the chips were down.
Then again, what was the harm? What possible gain could Maria get out of it?
"Yamato was down there," he said. "She took a tuna, and left with it."
"A tuna…" Maria rolled the word over her tongue. "Yes, she seems to be fond of her food recently. I thought she might have let herself go, but there's no sign of it."
Yes, indeed. After all the food she had taken, she should have at least put some weight on; had she eaten it all herself.
Herself…
"And she hasn't challenged Lord Kaido over these past days," he went on. "Something has changed."
"Indeed…" Maria drew on her pipe. "Perhaps she has finally learned her lesson. Or…maybe she got hurt worse than usual."
She seemed to find the whole thing quite amusing. Malice did not, though he was not quite sure why it bothered him so much. Did she have someone or something in her room? If so, who or what was it? Was she keeping a pet? Or…
A shiver of anticipation ran through him. Was it possible that she had a boy in there? He supposed it would have to happen sooner or later, but there was no telling how Kaido would react.
His lips twisted into a smirk. Whatever it was, it would serve him well to find out, and to be the one who brought the news to Kaido. It rarely hurt to suck up to the boss, no matter where one was working.
Now…how to go about it?