Chapter 86 — While They're Dating, We're Dying
(POV: Zoro)
I've faced Mihawk. I've survived the East Blue's greatest terrors. I've cut through steel and stared down death without blinking.
But I have never known fear like the grip Nami has on her budget, or the look in Nojiko's eyes when she's "curating" a man.
"Zoro," Sunny had said earlier, looking like a Prince out of a storybook in that indigo vest, his face glowing with that weird, ethereal light. "Just keep an eye on the rear. Don't let anyone crowd us. We'll meet up at the Spice Clock in an hour."
"Easy," I'd grunted, adjusting the three swords at my hip. "I'll be right behind you."
That was ten minutes ago.
I was currently standing in the middle of a street that looked exactly like the one we had just left, except the lanterns were slightly more orange. Or maybe they were more yellow.
The bags in my hands—filled with things called "hydrating tonics" and "silk-care kits"—felt heavier than a sea stone. I looked around. The crowd was a pulsing, shifting mass of desert robes and merchant stalls.
"Sunny?" I called out.
Silence. Well, not silence. The roar of the market. But no Sunny. No Nami. No blue-haired princess or scary archaeologist.
I took a sharp left, certain I'd seen a flash of indigo silk.
"They went this way," I muttered to myself, adjusting my stride. "I'm the anchor. I don't lose people. People lose me."
I walked through a stone archway. Then another. Then I took a right because the left looked suspiciously like a dead end.
I wasn't lost. I was just taking the tactical route.
(POV: Usopp)
We are going to die.
I watched Zoro's green head vanish into an alleyway that I was 90% sure led to the harbor, not the Spice Clock. I looked at Ace, who was currently staring at a shop window filled with "Sunny-Sama" plush dolls with an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.
"Ace," I whispered, my voice trembling. "They're gone. Sunny is gone. The girls are gone. And Zoro just entered a different zip code."
Ace blinked, his flames flickering slightly at the tips of his hair. "Wait. Lucy was right here. I could smell the meat on her breath."
"She's gone, Ace! They all are! We're alone in a city that treats our crewmate like a religious icon!" I gripped my slingshot, my eyes darting back and forth.
The atmosphere in the market had shifted. The moment the 'Prince' and his 'Valkyries' had vanished, the crowd had turned their attention to the leftovers. Namely, us.
"Look," a woman whispered nearby, pointing at us. "That's the long-nosed one. The one from the magazine. He's the 'Voice of the Abyss'."
"And the one next to him... is that Fire Fist? Why is he hanging out with Sunny's crew?"
"Maybe he's Sunny's bodyguard?"
I felt the sweat begin to pour down my back. "Ace... we need to move. Now."
"Why?" Ace asked, oblivious. "I want to see if these dolls are fireproof. They look... soft."
"Because," I hissed, "we aren't the main attraction. We're the merch. And fans love merch."
(POV: Ace)
I should have listened to the long-nose.
Within thirty seconds, the "curious" whispers turned into a full-blown containment breach. We were surrounded. Not by pirates. Not by Marines. But by women. Dozens of them. Old women, young women, women in armor, women with shopping baskets.
"Is it true?" a girl with pigtails asked, shoving a notebook into my face. "Does Sunny-sama really sleep on a bed made of clouds?"
"I... what? No, he sleeps on a bed. Usually while drooling," I said.
The girl's eyes welled with tears. "He drools? How... how relatable! He's so human!"
"Wait!" another woman yelled, grabbing my arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "You're his brother, right? Or his cousin? You have the same... intense energy."
"I'm Lucy's brother," I corrected, feeling a vein throb in my temple. "Sunny is just... the guy who manages her."
"Angry Sunny!" someone shouted from the back.
"He's like a spicy version of the Prince!"
"Discount Sunny!"
I froze. My fire didn't just flicker; it roared. The air around me began to shimmer with heat. "Who... who said 'Discount'?"
"Ace, don't!" Usopp pleaded, currently being hoisted into the air by two merchant wives who wanted to know if his nose was "anatomically accurate for a shadow-herald." "Don't burn the civilians! Sunny will double our debt!"
"I am not a discount anything!" I barked, my hat nearly singeing.
"Oh, look! He pouts just like the posters!"
I realized then that there was no winning. I couldn't fight them. I couldn't burn them. I was being treated like a secondary character in my own brother's—wait, Sunny isn't my brother. But why does it feel like I'm the one being babysat?!
(POV: Sanji)
"Nami-swaaaaan! Robin-chwaaaan!"
I ran through the textile district like a man possessed. I had been distracted for one second by a spice merchant offering me a rare blend of desert saffron, and when I turned back, the world had been robbed of its beauty.
They were gone. My ladies. My stars. And that lucky, glowing bastard of a mascot.
I skidded to a halt at a four-way intersection.
I saw Marines. A lot of them.
Not just the rank-and-file grunts, either. I recognized the silhouettes. Tall, imposing, and carrying an aura of absolute boredom or terrifying enthusiasm.
"Vice Admirals," I muttered, ducking behind a rack of hanging rugs.
I saw Momousagi—Gion. She was holding a wanted poster of Sunny, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw with a focus that was definitely not professional. Next to her was Hina, looking sharp and lethal, and the older one, Bluegrass.
"He went toward the harbor," Gion said, her voice melodic but carrying the weight of a fleet. "I want to see if the 'scar' really glows in person. For... research purposes."
"Hina is curious," the pink-haired woman said, adjusting her gloves. "Hina wants to see if her black cages can hold a miracle."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. If they found Sunny and the girls, the date was over. And if the date was over, Nami would be in a bad mood. And if Nami was in a bad mood, the world would end.
"I have to find them first," I whispered. "I have to be the shield! I have to—"
"There!" a Marine scout yelled, pointing right at my rug. "That's the cook! The Black Leg! He's always near the girls!"
"Target spotted! Pursuit initiated!"
I didn't think. I kicked. A Premier Haché sent a gust of wind that knocked over the rug rack, creating a screen of dust.
"I'm coming, Nami-swan!" I screamed, launching myself over a rooftop.
(POV: Aokiji)
I leaned against a sandstone wall, my sleep mask pushed up just enough to see the chaos unfolding in the plaza below.
I'd seen a lot of things in my time as an Admiral. I'd seen wars. I'd seen the fall of kingdoms. I'd seen Akainu try to smile.
But watching a division of Marine Vice Admirals chase a pirate cook through a bazaar because they were "curious" about his captain's skin-care routine?
"Arara," I sighed, exhaling a puff of frost into the desert heat. "Why does every vacation turn into a sociology experiment?"
My Transponder Snail rang.
"Kuzan!" Sengoku's voice was so loud the snail's eyes nearly popped out. "Report! Have you secured the cu... Sunny?!"
"He's... busy," I said, watching Gion leap onto a rooftop with the grace of a hunting cat. "He's currently on a date, Fleet Admiral. It's very high-stakes. Lots of silk involved."
"A DATE?! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE RECONNAISSANCE!"
"I am recon-ing," I replied, closing my eyes. "I am recognizing that if I interfere, Nami will probably find a way to tax my pension. I'm staying out of this one. It's too hot."
"KUZAN—"
I clicked the snail off.
The air was filled with the sounds of screaming fangirls, Marine orders, and the distant, rhythmic thumping of Aqua's water-pole-dance music coming from The Velvet Oasis.
"That kid," I muttered, a small, sleepy smirk touching my lips. "He bends gravity socially. It's a pain."
(POV: Momousagi — Gion)
He's here. I can feel it.
The air in Nanohana has this... hum. It's the same resonance that hit the harbor when he stepped off the ship. It's not just Haki; it's something older. Something magnetic.
"Gion," Bluegrass said, walking beside me with the steady gait of a veteran. "You're blushing. It's unbecoming of a Vice Admiral."
"I am not blushing, I am overheated," I lied, clutching Sunny's wanted poster. "I simply wish to verify if the 'Lord of Determination' skill has a visual tell. For the archives."
[A/N: Wait, how does she know the skill name?! First Zoro breaks into my office, now Gion is quoting the stat-sheet? I am losing control of this document! Someone lock the margins!]
"Hina is skeptical," Hina said, trailing behind us. "Hina thinks you want an autograph."
"And if I do?" I challenged. "The boy is a global phenomenon. Capturing him is one thing. Understanding him is another."
We rounded a corner and saw a group of men being swarmed by a mob of civilians.
A green-haired swordsman was currently trying to "cut" his way through a crowd of women who were demanding to know if Sunny preferred cats or dogs.
"There," I said, drawing my blade, Kinpira. "The crew. If we find the crew, we find the Prince."
"Marine pursuit!" the long-nosed one screamed, pointing at us. "THEY HAVE SWORDS! THEY HAVE JUSTICE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
"Don't let them escape!" I commanded. "I have questions about his hair products!"
(POV: Zoro)
Everything was white. Then it was blue. Now it was... laundry?
I had run through a district where everyone was hanging white sheets. I'd cut through them, only to find myself in a district that smelled like fish. Then I took a left, and now I was in a place that was suspiciously quiet.
Usopp and Ace were behind me, panting.
"Zoro... stop..." Usopp wheezed. "We've been running for twenty minutes. We're in the... the Temple District?"
"No," I said, looking at a door made of dark, heavy wood. It didn't look like Alabasta architecture. It looked... wrong. "The girls went through here. I can feel Nami's greed."
"That's just the smell of Ace's singed wallet," Usopp goaned.
I pushed the door open.
"Hey! Sunny!" I barked.
We stepped through.
The heat of Alabasta vanished. The smell of sand and spice was gone.
Instead, it was cool. The floor was covered in something soft and grey—carpet? The walls weren't sandstone; they were covered in posters. Not posters of Sunny. Posters of... us?
I saw a poster of myself. I looked... cooler. More muscular.
"What the..." Ace whispered.
The room was small. There was a glowing screen on a desk, covered in lines of text. There was a bed with a rumpled duvet. And there was a man sitting in a chair, staring at us with a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand.
He was wearing a t-shirt that said WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.
"Zoro?" the man whispered, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "Usopp? Ace?"
"Who are you?" I demanded, reaching for Wado Ichimonji. "Where is Sunny? Is this a Marine trap?!"
Usopp was staring at the screen. "Wait... that's... that's my dialogue. That's what I said three minutes ago!"
He looked at a notebook on the desk. It was labeled SUNNY POV: CHAPTER 86 DRAFT.
"This isn't canon-safe," Usopp whispered, his face turning pale. "Ace... we're in the Source."
"The what?" Ace asked, sniffing a stack of instant noodle cups. "Does this guy have any meat?"
The man in the chair stood up, looking panicked. "You guys shouldn't be here! Zoro, you took a wrong turn at the conceptual boundary! You're breaking the word count!"
"I don't care about your count!" I roared. "Where is the Spice Clock?!"
"Get out!" the man yelled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at us. "Wrong chapter! Get back to the suffering! I haven't finished the ending yet!"
He pushed us toward the door.
"Wait!" Usopp screamed, grabbing a pen. "Tell me! Do I get a giant robot?!"
"NO!"
SLAM.
We were back in the Temple District. The sun was setting. The heat hit us like a physical weight.
Zoro blinked. "Well. That was a weird alleyway."
"We were in the Author's bedroom, Zoro!" Usopp shrieked, clutching his head. "You got so lost you broke reality! We saw the drafts! We saw the spicy notes!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I grunted, turning around. "Let's go. The Spice Clock is this way."
"IT'S THE OTHER WAY!"
(POV: Bluegrass)
I watched from a distance as the three pirates emerged from a temple, looking profoundly confused. The swordsman was arguing with the sniper, and Fire Fist Ace was staring at a piece of pepperoni he had somehow brought back from another dimension.
"Fascinating," I murmured into my snail. "It seems the proximity to the cute one causes localized reality shifts. Or perhaps they've just suffered heatstroke."
"Bluegrass!" Gion's voice crackled. "We lost the cook! He's too fast when he's motivated by romance!"
"Don't worry," I said, watching the trio stumble toward the harbor. "I've gathered enough data. The Prince isn't just a pirate. He's a glitch in the world's narrative. We need to report this to the Team Sunny."
"And the autograph?"
"I got one from the sniper," I lied, looking at my notebook where Usopp had signed Sunny's Best Friend (Please Don't Kill Me). "It'll suffice."
(POV: Usopp)
I have never been so happy to see a sheep's head in my life.
We collapsed onto the deck of the Going Merry like sacks of grain. I was hoarse from screaming. Ace was covered in soot and glitter from a group of "Sunny-Stans" who had cornered him in a fabric shop. Zoro was... well, Zoro was just brooding, pretending he hadn't just teleported into a different reality.
"We survived," I wheezed, lying flat on the wood. "We actually survived."
"I signed three autographs as 'The Man Who Once Smelled Sunny's Vest'," Ace muttered, staring at the stars. "My bounty is going to be embarrassing."
"At least you didn't see the drafts," I whispered. "The things that guy was planning for the Alabasta palace... the slow-burn tension... the descriptors for Sunny's abs..."
"Shut up, Usopp," Zoro grunted, closing his eyes.
(POV: Sanji)
I found them.
I was perched on a balcony overlooking a small, private café near the harbor. The air was filled with the scent of jasmine and expensive sugar.
There they were.
Sunny was sitting at a small marble table, looking absolutely radiant in the moonlight. He was laughing—a real, genuine laugh—as he fed a piece of honey-cake to Lucy. Nami was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder, counting a stack of berries with a peaceful smile. Nojiko was on his other side, her hand resting on his thigh, looking at him with a gaze so heavy with affection it made my heart ache.
Vivi and Robin were across from them, sharing a pot of tea, their faces lit by the soft glow of the table's candle.
They looked happy. They looked like they were in a different world. A world without Marines, without fangirls, without the weight of the Grand Line.
I felt the rage and the exhaustion drain out of me.
"Nami-swan is happy," I whispered, a tear of pure, simping joy rolling down my cheek. "Robin-chwan is relaxed. The mascot... the mascot did his job."
I adjusted my tie, smoothed my hair, and hopped down from the balcony.
"HEEEEEY!" I yelled, waving my arms. "NAMI-SWAAAAAN! I FOUND YOU! THE DESSERT COURSE HAS ARRIVED!"
Sunny looked up, his face lighting up with that goofy, brilliant smile. "Sanji! You're just in time! We saved you some baklava!"
I skidded to the table, collapsing into the empty chair next to Vivi. My legs felt like jelly. My lungs were on fire. But as Nami handed me a fork and smiled, I knew I'd do it all over again.
"Rough afternoon, Sanji?" Sunny asked, leaning in.
"You have no idea, you beautiful, glowing brat," I panted. "No idea at all."
"Well," Sunny said, raising his glass of mint tea. "To Alabasta. And to the most beautiful crew on the sea."
"To us!" they all cheered.
And as the moon rose over the harbor, the chaos of the day faded into a memory. Tomorrow, the world would change. Tomorrow, the song would begin.
But for tonight, there was only silk, spice, and the soft, lingering warmth of a crew that had finally found its heart.
[A/N: I told you it was going to be chaos! Zoro literally broke the fourth wall. I'm still cleaning the pizza sauce off my keyboard. Next chapter: The Performance. The world is watching. Get your glow-sticks ready.]