Chapter Text
Abendrot was an island adrift in the East Blue, known less for its wealth than its rare gift to sailors: an unyielding barrier reef that shielded ships on their way through the Calm Belt. This place was no grand port, but to the right crew, it was a godsend.
Truly such a thing would be priceless, if not for its location.
While the island itself creates an oasis within the Calm Belt for ships with its barrier reef, many in the Marines bemoaned that the island was located in East Blue and not somewhere more fortunate like the perpetually turbulent North Blue or even West Blue to create a port to come and go from the second half of the Grand Line.
But where the Marines saw a missed opportunity, others looked at Abendrot for what it is.
A fortunately placed harbor. And sailors know you don’t get to pick your harbor in a storm.
“Ya take what the sea offers you and ya don’t give nothin’ back.”
Ol’ Robins Benny is as native as one gets on Abendrot, a ‘Castaway Island’ of salt and storm. Most can’t remember a time without him. To the dockhands he was a grouch and a half, but they’d never seen a tide or sunrise he hadn’t outlasted.
Point is he’s been there a long time.
Knows things, has seen things, and has even done some things. There's not much out there that can surprise him anymore. While his dock hands and fellow shipwrights will gawk and goggle at any new shiny thing come flopp’n up, ol’ Ben takes it in stride without even a hiccup.
A steady presence, with steadier hands even with the missing fingers. Complaints poured from his lips about any little thing under the sun and even sometimes about the sun, though what the complaints were about baffled most. A red dawn, horses and fish scales in the sky, too many nets set out, whistling in the wind—each one put him in a grumbling tizzy. With a glare that could even scare away Sea Kings as one young dock hand claimed at the local skug hole.
But nothing could rile up the old man more than a re-named ship could. Didn’t matter who you were or affiliated with. The old man had a mouth on him and would rip into anyone and everyone even remotely connected to the ship if he found out.
He would rumble and grumble out loud, “Renamed ships, bah! Might as well nail bad luck to the mast,” would start his tirade. And like the storms on their banks one would just have to weather him till he ran out of wind.
Old man Ben was a grouchy old codger but a steady beacon for the island. Nothing slipped past him, least of all the new bit o’ jetsam on the docks.
He’d spotted her washed up one dawn, a kid with saltwater in her veins and sharper eyes than any gull’s.
Little Anna was a castaway, like all the others, presumably from the salt in her jib. A smart whip of a thing too. Steady eyes that watched and took in every little thing, with even stickier fingers. He’s seen those small sandy hands reach into unsuspecting pockets with not a grit left behind.
He could respect that if nothing else about ‘er. But he could see the intelligence there, and oh wasn’t that something ta watch. Never took from those who would notice, always watching, always stealing—a coin here, a scrap there, never too greedy. Smart, that one.
If he was a betting man again, he’d say the lass got ‘er own little nest eggs hidden away somewhere, he’d wager. Not a clue where she hid ‘em though, and that was what tipped him off really.
Well, that and the way she moved, like sea-foam on a breeze, slipping coins from pockets as though the ocean whispered the rhythm ta her. Old Ben had seen a lot, but this one… this one had something else, something beyond just quick fingers.
He smiled into his drink as he watched the scamp rustle up beside him. Keen little shit, she was. Figured out something about him no doubt. He doubted she knew all of it or even half but considering the rest of the shoal hadn’t a clue.
Well... she’d grow up into something no doubt. He mused as he sang shanties aplenty and tossed coins into the sea. And if a whispered prayer or two was perhaps a bit louder than normal.
Who was he ta temper this new generation of theirs? Not this ol’ seadog certainly and at least this way some of ‘em would have some semblance of manners. Not a lot of ‘em did nowadays, the youngest he’d ever seen so far was that loud sneak that’s been coasting the Blue. Bugger has a good head on his shoulders for a Grand Line brat, no matter what the idiot tried to pass off as. Ben knew his shit, and if that upstart wasn’t a Grand Line brat he’d quit drink’n. Hell, he’d have bet the clever shit made it out a Paradise ta boot too.
Bah, regardless, someone on this spit of sand and docks had to teach the bratlings something. So he drew in a crowd with the recount’ns of his crew, fair winds to them, not that these drunkards and yellow-bellied scullery believed a word. But he wasn’t tellin it ta them now, was he?
No, it was for the salt-stained girl, sea claimed as she was with that hair and those eyes. A true daughter of the sea for sure, and she should know ‘er mother. Little thief didn’t steal just coin after all. He watched her, selling off clams and oysters she scraped off the docks and scooped outta the sand, her ocean eyes would flicker back an forth when people talked. Little sea sponge that she was, gathing any and all that she could.
She and that other brat, Kas, he thinks, always managed to feel out the crews that docked here. Idiots were always open to spilling their guts in front of the minnows after all. Blathering drunkards the lot of ‘em. They forgot that sharks swam in reefs too. Like he said, idiots.
Not much ta do anymore now, not with Stede taking over the docks, proud of that one he was, came a long way from the thin snot-nosed jetsam ol’ Ben found one day. But Stede was good, responsible with a good ‘ead on his shoulders and he had Loe ta watch his back, and Ben was old now, knees and joints creaked more than the teak wood he worked with now adays.
But he kept an eye out and senses stretched and sharp as ever. Ya don’t learn the lessons he has just to drop ‘em, retirement or no retirement. The sea is a temperamental mistress and even more turbulent teacher. The Grand Line herself can attest.
Old man Ben was too old to go stirring waters, but his minnows didn’t need much. A few cut throats here and there, nothing he wouldn’t have done for any of the other dock rats really. Chains weren’t something you brought to Abendrot, not without paying the toll for it.
Scum like that don’t make it off his docks after all.
Miss Nydia was a staple. The owner of O’ Castaway Bar was also the owner of a hefty amount of common sense. More than the unaverage person let alone the average patron in her establishment. The average patrons in attendance were the locals, sandy children, dock hands, sailors, and pirates. Though very rarely, as most had the brains not to admit it, a marine recruit.
Miss Nydia was a local in how most were ‘local’ to Abendrot. Washed away people, items, and ships either flotsam or jetsam. It hardly mattered they washed ashore one way or the other.
The youngish woman finds that there are two kinds of people on Abendrot. The true castaways who live and find these webbing of docks and ports a place to settle and rest, and the wayfarers who find this a safe harbor or just a harbor in a storm.
Abendrot is either in the ending or the middle in the stories of people’s lives. Rarely is it the beginning. One did not normally start at sunset after all. But normal is a relative term she has found.
It's the children, Nydia realized one day cleaning up after the lunch rush. Soapy rag still in hand as she watched the minnows bob and weave through sailors and pirates alike. The children here, those who started at sunset and didn’t stop at dawn, continued onwards till something or someone made ‘em.
They set off, on crews more often than not, wayfarers through and through. But that makes them, marks them in a way. This oasis in the sea is a nesting ground, for all that the Neptunians can’t enter the reef, for sailors, marines, and pirates alike.
Cut from the same sail and all that, truly what a picture they made. With light feet and lighter fingers, Abendrot doesn’t have much and offered less than that often enough. But her children are priceless. Sea-borne brats the school of them.
Salt in their veins and sand on their skin. These children of the ocean and her tides. A new one shows up every other month, commonly soon after one has set sail for the horizon. Abendrot didn’t forget her shoal, those that seek safe harbor will find it here. After they pay the toll of course. Nydia has seen more ships come to port than leave it after all.
Miss Nydia was a local, a common sight to those who call Abendrot home.
As the sun sank, Abendrot’s docks stirred to life—the clatter of nets, the squawks of gulls scrapping for fish bits, and the low murmur of sailors’ tales drifting from the Ol’ Castaway Bar.
Miss Nydia moved through her bar a sure ship in a familiar port—silent but all– encompassing, gathering gossip, stray coins, and dock rats under her watch like merchants their wares. There was more than one way to pay for things: toll, bar tab, or otherwise.
Nydia found that her schedule matched more and more with the tides of people than not. What was low tide for others was high tide for her.
Like the moon pulling on the sea, she compares with a small smirk as she wipes down a glass as another dock hand strolls on in. Gave him a nod and purposefully didn’t glance at the small body that slipped in behind Stede’s shadow. The spry young man woulda put the minnow off if he truly minded.
Not that any local ever truly minded any of their minnows. And the smart brats knew it and what to look for. The others followed them. It was a system.
But not an infallible one, she reflected, as she did a sweep of her bar and caught little Hiroka with her pale hand deep in a pocket of one of Gordon’s crew. How the little thing stayed so pale is beyond Nydia and didn’t matter.
Not drawing attention to the ongoing theft, Nydia kept serving as she waited to give the stupid girl a good scare. Those were not the usual targets and for a damn good reason, by the winds brat! Maybe this time it would sink in, and Hiroka would finally learn a clue or two… or three. But before she could, and what was becoming a common thing nowadays, clever little Anna swooped in first.
Nydia watched the ongoings with a keen eye, even keener senses, and had to stop herself from chuckling. The brute at the table would take offense, skin as thin as paper that one. Anna managed to somehow, with more grace than seabirds on the wing, get a sloshed crew mate of the brute; to tip into the pig of a captain’s lap and pour rum all over the fucker.
In the chaos and mayhem, little Anna grabbed Hiroka by the back of her shirt, hauled the clueless gawking idiot outta the line of fire, and out the door without anyone bein’ none the wiser. Well, anyone other than Nydia herself and the locals at the bar. Of course.
Hell! Ol’ man Ben was even chuckling! Into his beer mind you, the codger was the most hard-ass man Nydia has ever had the displeasure of meetin’. But still laughter from a grouchy codger like Benny! Nydia would’ve bet good money on the old windbag not being able to laugh much less chuckle.
Not that exactly stopped Anna from watchin’ and pestering the old seadog. The girl was made from sea salt and audacity if ya asked her. Not that anyone ever did. Still didn’t stop Nydia from throwin’ her two cents in regardless.
“Sunset’s children,” she murmured fondly to herself, “always makin’ their own dawn.”
The bar stools gave a familiar creek as Stede and Loe shifted off to put a stop to the brewing brawl before the idiots did any more damage to her establishment. The old girl could take a lot, but as much as it pained her to admit it, Grand Line grade pirates she could not.
“Dawn, she says, HA! Like those minnows even look past the shallows these days much,” A raspy drawl came from her left.
Nydia set down the mug she’d been absentmindedly washing with a soapy wet thunk. Old hag, she thought waspishly.
“Oh, don’t be such a rocky port ya bitch,” Was a steady if stinging reply over the hootin’ and hollerin’ from the kicked out brawlers. Idiots.
The old hag, Briar, gave a disdainful sneezy huff, like one of her spoiled mangy fleabag cats, and nursed her whiskey like it was all she had left in the world. It was actually. The old quartermaster was about as happy a buzzard on a good day, let alone when the reef had that ugly thing churning up the waters.
The aforementioned storm was a dark turbulent emerald green. Flashes could be seen within the clouds now and then. Hell, wind could actually be felt from the damned thing. They didn’t get much weather here, or at all, but if ships wanted to set sail, they did so during high tide and clear weather.
This was anything but.
“Bah- like anyone with a scrap of lint between their ears would set out. And I doubt the thing will have blown past come mornin neither,” Was the weathered grumbling reply. Sharply followed by a quick jab of a gnarled old finger. “Someone’s been whistlin I tell you.”
“And who on this bloody patch of docks and sand would be doing that exactly?” Nydia asked, fed up with this line of superstition, it had been repeated for five days straight now and her patience was worn thin.
And before the crone could even open her mouth again Nydia interjected with a slammed hand and a tone that would broker no nonsense. “And don’t you bring up that girl again. Anna is many things but a fool—” A hard glare pierced the old woman across the bar— “ain’t one of ‘em. Not to mention the other minnows wouldn’t stand for her or anyone whistl’n about neither.”
Old Briar glared back and spoke not a word, Nydia didn’t back down or falter even when a sizable glass chip came sailing by. That would come outta their bar tab. Glass is expensive here by Jove. Her main offshore contact was a greedy bastard for gold, let alone for information. And he might be a loud screechy son of a bitch, but he had an eye for valuables.
The brawl had started up in earnest now. Thankfully the roughest were being taken in hand and booted out. Some more literally than others from the sound of the occasional splash that made its way in.
A beat or two of silence before the old witch slumped forward with an illegible mumble and slid her glass Nydia’s way. A surrender in the matter for now. But by the look in Briar’s eye it would be brought up again. Tomorrow most likely.
Nydia would take it, the disagreement ended quicker this time than yesterday's hashing, seas bless her. And as much as Nydia loathed it, the old bitch had a point. Storms weren’t a frequent thing to be found in Abendrot. Not with their proximity to the Calm Belt. A patch of sea dead in the water with not a breath of wind to aid ships. Occasionally they’d get storms at the border but that was more of a every other week thing. Not these back to back squalls and tempests.
Something was happening to throw everything off like this but by damned if Nydia knew what. It was only poor luck that Anna was the last minnow fished out before all this hit. And sailors were a superstitious lot. She knew she was one of ‘em, but that didn’t mean she let ‘em take hold of her senses.
Filling up the hag’s glass with her usual whiskey and rum, Nydia pondered the predicament as she mixed the drink. Cause while often the storms keep crews landlocked this was gettin ridiculous. All the crews, not just that pig, Gordon’s crew, were getting antsy. And it was getting rough, not that Nydia could blame- well no she could and would actually. But it was going to come to head soon if something wasn’t done.
There’s a meaning for everything. Nydia told herself as she set Briar’s glass down in front of her. So either it’s to keep someone out or to keep ‘em in. But what—
Nydia overheard it when she went to clean up the table that Stede and Loe had cleared out. It wasn’t obvious but if you knew, it didn’t need to be. It never needed to be chains could be silent. But truly she faintly wondered if they thought they werebeing subtle? I mean really, what else was “Catch a couple o’ songbirds?” supposed to mean. Ain’t no songbirds here after all; just gulls, fish, minnows and sharks.
Ah, so it’s this simple hmmm. Nydia thought. Looks like the crews ain't in here with us, rather it’s we in there with ‘em. She had to be blank or they would know. Blood was in the water now and Nydia would be damned if she didn’t get to participate in it. It had been a while that the good folks of Abendrot got to stretch their muscles like this.
Nydia put away the dirty dishes and glasses and then grabbed a pitcher of water and went round the tables. Nothing notable changed at the ones she passed by, refilling a glass here and there. But the old sharks of Abendrot knew better than to let the chum know before the frenzy.
It was a small message, one that could easily be overlooked, but any sailor worth his salt knew what the phrase “We got a couple of crimps in the mooring line” ment.
And Old Ben summed it up good one day at the docs, “We spill ‘nough blood as is, be it broken skin or teeth. But we don’t do chains ‘ere. I catch any of ya dogs at it, well we got plenty of sharks ta keep happy as is.” Slavery doesn’t happen in Abendrot, never has and never will, after all more ships come into port than they leave it.
Ronen was what the adults on this patch of land and docks called a ‘minnow’. Why? Ronen didn’t know. He could guess of course he wasn’t an idiot. Not like Hiroka and Kas were.
Though that was a bit unfair to Kas, they were plenty alright, except when it came to anything having to do with fighting. They sucked at it. A lot. They were worse than Anna was and she was new. A baby in Abendrot terms. But then again, fighting didn’t matter too much to Kas, they wanted to be a chronologicer or whatever. A storyteller title would fit them better with the amount they share daily.
Ronen wasn’t jealous of their ability to soothe the others and make them smile. Nope. Not one bit.
Besides he was too busy wrangling most of the more reckless ones to think too much on it. Like seriously? Really Liam, hiding in the cargo hold is a good way to get tossed overboard, nobody likes stowaways unless they got other intentions and in that case ya don’t want to around them anyways.
Honestly, Ronen has no idea how he was the one who ended up being the wrangler for everyone. Like how? It’s not like he’s the most responsible, that’s Thala. She’s not necessarily the eldest but the most mature or “The one with the most common sense outta the lot of ya” as Miss Nydia would put it. Not the point, but Ronen is at the very least so glad Anna washed up those weeks ago. He can leave most of the younger ones with her. Like Hadoka. Poor Hadoka, though truly the girl brings it onto herself, most of the time.
But there are days when Ronen just, he just wonders okay. It’s just a dream, really, nothing special. Ronen just wonders sometimes what it would be like to not have to worry like he does all the damn time.
What if Hiroka got caught this time. What if Anna got snagged. What if the adults didn’t notice a crimp in time. What if Kas got in over their head. What if Noel lost a finger or-or a hand. What if Max got banned from the docks permanently this time. What if the Pirates had enough of them hanging around.
What if?
What if?
What if?
It was a constant here. Ronen was made up of what ifs and worries that he’s not quite sure what he’ll do when he doesn’t have them anymore. Cause he’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here, not like this. Ronen would burn out before long if he continued at this. But persists, cause he has to, cause he needs to. If he doesn’t have this? What else does he have?
Well, that’s not entirely true. Ronen has a well he wouldn’t call it a dream exactly, more of a hope. Yeah that sounds better, Ronen has a hope. Of sailing. Of helping others. Of being the one that others look to for things. Like how everyone looked to Thala. How some of the little ones have started looking at Anna.
Ronen wants to be that person. And he can’t do that here, can’t be that guy, not with the way everyone is. Always keeping to themselves, unless poked in the eye. Ronen hates it. Despises how people turn a blind eye, pirates and sailors alike. If it ain’t their business they don’t care. But Ronen does, he sees it really, and it bugs him but he can’t do anything yet cause if he does anything it would drag everyone into it. And he can’t do that, not to the younger ones who didn’t sign up for that kind of bullshit. He won’t put them in that position.
He’s nearing the age to set out soon. Crews watch him now, like they watch Tala and Cate, not exactly like them, he decks anyone who does. Tala and Cate can handle themselves and they got plans together he knows. But Ronen is waiting for the… right kind of ship. The old cogder would have a heart attack no doubt, the fucker probably knew already to be fair but as long as Ronen didn’t bring it up the old bastard would go on and on about the “seabitches” of the World Government.
Look, Ronen wasn’t blind yeah? He knew the white and blue bastards were crooked most of the time. But if it got him what he wanted he couldn’t give less of a damn. Ronen wanted to help people, he wanted people to look to him, he- he wanted to be the hero that was in all of Kas’s stories. And if that meant falling in with the Marines then so be it, he was pirate enough to take what he wanted from them and not care about the rest of it.
Not that he didn’t imagine what would happen if he met any of the others on the seas. Of what he can do or what he can’t do. What they would do in return. Just another thing to add to his list of worries.
But well, as much as Ronen wanted to be the hero, he was a selfish shit head, and no oath would stop him from helping any of the others out. Ronen was a minnow after all.
The soft yet distinctive bare feet patter and sandals slap across wooden boards told Ronen who approached. What was a surprise was the annoyed tone that accompanied the arrival of Anna and Hiroka. More interestingly was the fact that it was Anna that was the one who was talking while Hiroka was quiet.
That more than anything told Ronen and a few of the others, who lounged around their patch of docks, that something had happened or almost happened. Hiroka was a chatterbox any day mind you, and the girl had about as much self-preservation as a stoned lemming.
Tala, who had been reclining on a hammock of an old fishing net, had now sat forward and focused on the makeshift door of an old jib sail as the two minnows walked in. Anna had a firm hold on Hiroka’s upper arm, regardless that she was the smaller and younger of the two, but Hiroka.
Hiroka was paler than normal, which was impressive. The girl was pasty on a good day, but she looked like a corpse now. He narrowed his eyes at the way Anna was on edge, she was hyper-whats-it again, Cate would know, he thought. Regardless, something happened and spooked them at the very least. Make sure they’re alright and then deal with everything else.
Ronen nodded to Cate, which jolted the older girl, not really a girl anymore but schematics, into untangling herself from Tala’s form to get a better look to see if anyone was hurt. And he glanced over to Jace who thankfully took his cue from Cate’s movements and was already halfway over unearthing their slapdash medical supplies.
“Enough. What happened Blue?” Was the clear demand from Tala. Anna immediately focused on Tala’s figure and paused and took a few breaths, to calm down he assumed. She let go of Hiroka, who just stood there in shock probably, and clenched and unclenched her small fists while she worked up what she wanted to say.
“We were at the bar. Nothing happened. But I overheard some things at the docks, I went to tell Benny.” Anna talked and slowly as she continued, she began to gesture around, good, being so still didn’t suit her, “When I went to the bar Hiroka-” And that was enough to trigger the still girl that Jace was looking over into irate motion.
“I was FINE!”
“NO! You Weren’t! You Have No IDEA! How fucking close-!” Was a hissed response head whipping around and light blue-green hair going everywhere, Anna’s bandana slips- Ronen felt his heart in his throat. He can’t help right-
“You don’t KNOW that!” Was the immediate vindictive retort as amber eyes almost glowed with reflected lantern light from Hiroka’s pale face.
“NEITHER DO YOU!” A roared response. And Ronen could barely focus on the row happening in front of him because Anna’s fucking bandana was still creeping upwards!
“YES, I DO!”
“NO! YOU DON-”
“THEY WERE CLINCHERS YOU FUCKING IDIOT! CLINCHERS HIROKA!”
“ENOUGH!” The shout was followed by a bang that had a few of the others, who had steadily crept closer at the commotion the two were stirring, flinching back, Max had actually toppled off his crate from the noise as Tala’s hand broke through a makeshift table. “Both of you, that is enough.” A hard stare and Tala standing up had Hiroka backing off as she looked away, Anna of course stared back without a hint of shame. Tala didn’t blink as she continued, “What’s this about clinchers, Blue?”
Anna finally blinks and looks to Hiroka, who huffed and eventually let Jace bandage up a few scrapes. Anna starts up again where she left off before the row. “It was something that one of the marks mentioned. One of the ones that Kas said we should stay away from.”
A nodded head over to Kas in the corner, book abandoned for once, Kas’s expression had a dawning look of comprehension which twisted quickly. He’ll talk to them after, Tala would too by the look of it, Kas didn’t say anything to her either. Damn. Must have been a recent thing then. They were normally better at keeping everyone up to date on this shit. Was an errant observation, keeping an eye on Anna as she continued her tale.
“I was pick’n at some oysters under the docks and-” Ronen’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the crack in Anna’s voice. She was pretty composed for a five-year-old so this was surprising, then again, she was their youngest and newest, so having heard about clinchers and interacting with them are two very different things. As she gathered herself up again, he shifted his weight enough for the boards to creak underneath him, drawing not just Anna’s attention to himself as he rubbed a circle between his eyes. An abrupt blink and fingers flinch, good.
“And?” Was Cate’s soothing voice as she shifted her focus away from Ronen to resettle around Anna’s small freckled shoulders. Which had steadily crept up around her ears, they slowly lowered themselves as Anna relaxed, she saw them as safe then, that was progress he could work with, later. In the morning maybe. He mused.
A deep breath in and Anna plowed onward “And there was this comment one of them made. It was about songbirds and just birds in general it was-” As Anna struggled to find a fitting description. Ronen glanced over at Tala, whose hand was in a white-knuckled fist. “- off. The way they talked about it, it wasn’t about actual birds. And I don’t know, they felt wrong?” She shrugged and hugged herself.
Hiroka, who had been quiet so far, broke out of Jace’s arms and hugged Anna. Ronen couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but considering the blubbering and shaking shoulders from the pale brunette it wasn’t hard to guess. Ronen used this opportunity as Cate waved everyone deeper into the shipwreck, turned home, and Jace packed away everything else, having looked over Anna as she talked, to walk over to Tala.
She wasn’t happy that was for sure, the older teen looked about ready to bite out someone’s throat, wouldn’t have been a first for her honestly. “You go over to Nydia then? I can hold down things here.” An olive branch, unnecessary but needed at the moment. Tala, Cate, and Jace too now that he thought about it, were close to snapping and they couldn't do that here. “Max and Noel can help me out.” He continued when he saw her waver, Tala nodded, hand clasped his shoulder as she turned and walked back to Cate to make a plan probably.
Ronen doubted they would get to do much, unless by some chance Nydia hadn’t already figured it out none of the old geezers would let them participate til the fucks were well and truly down for the count. Ronen walked over to the two girls, who were now cuddling each other on the floor. He crouched down and ruffled Hiroka’s hair and tugged Anna’s bandana down. She’ll need a new one soon. This one’s getting threadbare. He contemplated them both and sighed.
Younger siblings, really, terrifying little things truly. What the seas had in store for them? Well, he’d wonder and worry about it later, like always. But for now, the future isn’t here just yet. It was coming, it crept closer every day with every passing ship. He’d make sure they were alright first, then he’d deal with everything else.