-Broadcast-
Kaya tried three more times before she stopped.
Each attempt produced the same result: the diagnostic ninjutsu entered Chopper and was absorbed completely, returning nothing. No resistance, no information, no signal that anything was receiving it. It was like sending a message into a space that had no walls to echo from.
She sat back on her heels and looked at him for a moment.
"My level isn't sufficient for this." She said it cleanly, without apology or extended qualification. A doctor who couldn't identify what she was seeing was the same as a doctor who knew they needed a better tool. "But my master can. There is no condition I've seen her fail to diagnose, and very few she's failed to treat. If she decides a patient is beyond her, it means she's decided not to try."
Nami was quiet. She had been quiet for a while at this stage of the search. Eight specialists over six months had given her a thorough education in the particular silence of someone who has heard too many versions of I don't know and has learned not to spend too much hope in advance.
"I hope so," she said.
"You've been let down," Kaya acknowledged. "I understand. But come to the island first. I'll introduce you."
Luffy had been listening from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, which was as close as he came to a waiting posture.
"We keep going until we find what works," he said. His voice was simply matter-of-fact. "That's all there is to it. If this stop doesn't do it, the next one will. I'm not leaving Chopper behind."
Nobody in the room had expected him to say anything else. The fact that he said it anyway was its own kind of thing.
The vehicles emerged from the Thousand Sunny's docking bay under Franky's supervision — a small fleet of modified personal transports powered by cola energy, each one tuned to whoever typically drove it. The crew sorted themselves into the available configurations with the automatic efficiency of people who had been doing this long enough to have preferences.
Kaya was in the process of selecting something suitable when she stopped.
Near the base of the dock ramp, parked between a cola-powered roadster and what appeared to be a modified motorcycle chassis, sat a vehicle with an alpaca carved into the fuel cap. The design was simple. The craftsmanship was exact. She'd seen that alpaca ten thousand times, on the bow of a ship she'd given to a boy who'd needed a way out of a port.
She put her hand on it without thinking.
"You didn't lose her," she said, half to Usopp and half to herself. "When you told me you'd changed ships, I thought — "
"We didn't lose her." Usopp was beside her. He had the expression of someone who has been waiting to show someone something and is trying to contain how much he wants to see their face when they see it. "It's not the same as what she was. But she's still here."
After Dressrosa, when the Thousand Sunny was under repair and the crew had time for projects that weren't survival, Usopp and Franky had done what engineers do when they care about something: they had rebuilt the Going Merry into what the sea she could no longer sail had prevented her from being. On water she became a skiff — narrow, quick, capable of the kind of close-quarters navigation the Thousand Sunny was too large for. On land she was a motorcycle, and she ran, as Usopp would explain at length if asked and at moderate length if not asked, better than anything else on the ship.
He loaded Kaya onto the front of the seat, settled in behind her, and told her to point the way.
The Merry launched.
Sanji, who had drawn the assignment of driving the vehicle containing Luffy, Zoro, and the problem of Zoro's directional awareness, attempted to match pace for approximately forty seconds before accepting that this was not a competition he was going to win. Four wheels against two, mechanically modified modern vehicle against an antique rebuilt by two craftsmen who had treated it as a personal obligation — the performance gap was not what engineering logic would have predicted.
"It's alive," Zoro said, watching the motorcycle pull further ahead.
"It's not alive," Sanji said.
"It's running like it's alive."
"Usopp put a lot of work into it."
"There's a difference," Luffy said, from the back seat, with the certainty of someone who had spent two years on the Going Merry and knew what her movement felt like.
Neither of the other two argued with him. They followed the Merry's exhaust trail around the island's coastline for twenty minutes, the unfamiliar terrain giving way eventually to the island's interior, and the interior to something none of them had been expecting.
Cherry trees. Hundreds of them, dense enough to form a canopy, the petals moving in the wind with the soft constancy of something that had been doing this for a long time. The light came through in filtered pieces. Small animals moved through the upper branches. The air smelled like spring had decided to concentrate.
Usopp braked gently, and both of them sat on the stationary motorcycle looking at it.
"The last time I saw cherry blossoms," Usopp said, "was Drum Island. In the snow." He paused. "Chopper would love this."
"He'll see it," Kaya said. "My master planted one tree for every person she saved. The island grew around them."
The Sakura Island had named itself by accumulation rather than declaration. Most people who came here had tried every other option first. The ones who arrived were the ones who had nothing left to lose by trying, and the master had apparently never turned any of them away.
Kaya climbed off the motorcycle.
Usopp did not immediately follow. He was looking at the Merry with the expression he got when something mattered more than he usually let show.
"Keep your eyes open," he said. "Here's the part I wanted you to see."
He didn't touch anything. He just waited.
A sound came from the motorcycle's frame — not engine noise, something internal, the sequence of a mechanism engaging in a particular order. The body of the motorcycle began to change. The metal moved with a fluency that machinery shouldn't have and material memory shouldn't explain: wheels retracting, frame extending, the proportions shifting as components folded into new configurations with the relaxed certainty of something that had done this many times and knew exactly where each piece belonged.
When it stopped, a robot stood in the cherry-blossom light on four steady legs. Sheep-headed, compact, the engineering visible in every joint — and the eyes, which were not the blank optical units of a standard mechanical construct, held something that didn't have a name in the vocabulary of machines.
"Kaya." The voice was electronic and warm simultaneously, which shouldn't have worked but did. "Thank you for your family's gift. You gave me the conditions for life. I owe you more than I can repay."
Kaya stood very still for a moment.
Then she reached out and put her hand on the sheep-shaped head, and the Merry bent forward slightly — just enough to make the gesture easier.
The crew stood in the cherry blossoms and didn't say anything. Some things don't need annotation. The Going Merry had found the sea too rough and the hull too tired, and she had been given new shape instead of being left behind, and here she was in a garden that had grown from years of saved lives, introducing herself to the woman who had started the whole chain.
That was enough of a story to stand quietly inside for a moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~