𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

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───── TO SAY THAT TENSIONS HAD BEEN HIGH ever since Eniya was (rather unceremoniously) dragged into the search for the map of the Grand Line would be a disgusting understatement

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───── TO SAY THAT TENSIONS HAD BEEN HIGH ever since Eniya was (rather unceremoniously) dragged into the search for the map of the Grand Line would be a disgusting understatement.

Cabaji and Eniya had never gotten along. Unlike Buggy's mystery reasons for scooping her up and forcing a dagger in her hand, Eniya knew why.

He had been there all those years ago. Cabaji had been watching as she was plucked from the sea of damned faces, tossed headfirst into the life of piracy, and had actively fought against the idea of bringing her back with them. She was barely fifteen, couldn't throw a punch, and still had the nerve to bite one of the pirates who held her to the wooden floor of the ship when they tried to cover her mouth.

She should have died. Buggy should have been furious at how she demeaned him in front of his crew. She should have had her hands cut off and her ankles in irons at the worst.

Instead, he wrapped her in crunchy velvet coats, slapped a blade in her hand, and effectively told her, 'Go wild.'

If she had to say why the clown chose her out of all those grown men and women who begged for clemency and offered servitude to the pirate troupe in exchange for their lives, she could never give the real reason. Eniya could only assume it was because Buggy thought it was funny. There she was, a fifteen-year-old girl raising her chin, curling her lip, and playing pirate for her survival. Like the world's most twisted game of charades—or pretend.

The same could not be said for Cabaji.

In fact, the frequency of their arguments was a testament to how much they hated each other's guts, seeing as they had only been at sea for three days, with the sun now going down to give way to the fourth.

Cabaji didn't like her because he recognized Eniya's survival as the fluke it was.

He didn't see the novelty in keeping her alive as Buggy had—and he still doesn't.

Similarly, Eniya found the man's behavior disgusting, and she didn't understand why he'd want to garner Buggy's favor for any reason beyond survival. All she knew was that his need for Buggy's praise often came with the stipulation of making it so that she was in the dog house when he received it.

It was likely why he'd been needling her so much. And, like a fool, just that morning, Eniya had fallen for his bait.

Eniya had stormed up the stairs to the quarterdeck with purpose, her clenched fists and her boots pounding on the wooden stairs, giving away her approach. She hadn't searched for him long, but it had been frantically. Seeing Cabaji standing at the wheel, speaking with two friends so nonchalantly, did nothing but further fuel her irritation.

How he still had those, she would never know. Perhaps that was what the universe had done with what was supposed to be her good luck: instead of making it so she wasn't at the beck and call of a clown with a murderous streak, it ensured that Cabaji's misery never lacked company.

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