Hurts.

Hurts, hurts, hurts.

What the hell... did I do to myself again...?

Words - words spoken in a timbre not my own - float in and out of range, slipping through my thoughts like water through spread fingers.

"...She's... don't know if I can..."

"Suck it up!... Not like she..."

"But I... And we just.... Left... others..."

Light sears through the blackness of sleep, fishing for my attention, and I wearily blink open my eyes. Unfamiliar warmth presses against my chest, seeping out from a slender back whose contours I don't recognize. It's not Zoro; I've clung to his back enough times to for my pathetic self to map out his muscles. No, but it's definitely masculine, even if I've seen more muscle mass on a package of week-old hams.

Licking my cracked lips (and cringing as the crusted blood flakes off like rust onto my tongue), I succeed in lifting my head, my eyes fluttering on the border between conscious and comatose. "Usopp?" I ask, a smidgen of surprise tainting my voice. C'mon. It's not everyday one gets to witness the bony sniper perform any sort of strenuous physical activity.

He turns his head and, despite the mask, I swear he's smiling. "You're awake!" he exclaims, though he's quick to add, "Good thing, too! I'm about to c-collapse...!"

Tempted as I am to curl my flames through his mess of black hair for the blatantly whining comment, I content myself with the sight of Nami lashing her Climatact across his bare arm with stinging accuracy. He yelps, backpedals a bit, skips to the side, and - of course - whips around so that it's my head cracking into the wall. For the second time.

Still waiting for that damn medal of mine... This amount of bad luck must be record-breaking at least.

All feelings of gratitude and amity drain from my system as fresh, feverish blood seeps through the knot of crimson hair my bangs have become in recent hours. The state of bandana worries me; it's survived bouts of bloody idiocy before, but something's telling me a simple bath of bleach won't cut it this time.

A brooding scowl tugs at my lips as I unhook my arms from Usopp's neck, landing a bit awkwardly on my heels, teetering until I feel the reassuring pressure of the soles of my boots on solid ground. I grimace, pressing the heel of one hand into my temple. This dizzy, disoriented feeling is... different than usual. Chopper's mentioned his concerns to me before, about how often I seem to take in head wounds when fighting, and I'm starting to agree with him. I'm just a magnet for misfortune, aren't I?

"Alright!" I clap my hands together, startling both Nami and Usopp, who were otherwise occupied with their intensive bickering (apparently on my behalf, from the incredulous glare Nami levels at me). "Someone fill me in, please?"

Again it's Nami who weaves the story, a rather humiliating tale about a young girl by the name of Flynn D. Raya, who by sheer coincidence shares my name. By Nami's account, she tried her darnedest to provide support for the dashing hero (we'll call him "Sanjii") while he played a game of kill-or-murder with the Big Bad Wolf. She failed. Miserably. Only a few seconds in and she was down, her body jolting as though struck by a blow, then crumpling altogether. She caused quite the commotion, having to be whisked off to relative safety like that by a cowardly sniper and his busty companion. Maybe even turned the head of that thick-skulled swordsman she's always chasing after?

Nope, nope, nope. Stop that train of thought right there. I am not an obsessive girlfriend, nor was I an obsessive admirer of his. I don't think, anyway. Kami, that was a long time ago...

"...ya. Raya!"

"Oops?" I laugh, scratching sheepishly at my cheek - only to recoil, my fingers curling automatically into my palm as blood oozes from four distinct gashes striping my cheek, each bristling now with sudden, intense pain. Jabra's claws sure did a fancy number on me; these might even scar. Aware of how worriedly Usopp and Nami are staring at me, I offer a coy shrug and a half-smile that probably does more harm than good. "Sorry, you wanted me for something, Nami?"

She looks as though she's about to argue, her face hardened into a dour mask; but it breaks just as quickly, falling away to reveal the stagnant concern that's lingered in her bright eyes since Robin's initial disappearance. "You were staring off into space like an idiot, and I just wanted you to focus." With a touch more grace, she asks, "Are you alright? Can you walk? Because" - here, she pinches Usopp's ear between two fingers and jerks him closer as an invitation - "would be more than happy to carry you for as long as you need it."

"I'm fine," I assure them, fighting the indignant smirk twitching at the corner of my mouth, "well, fine-ish, anyway. Which is good enough, believe me. Though..." I finger the tattered remains of the once-white bandages wrapped around my head. I'd nearly forgotten them, too involved with all the chaos to remember my earlier injuries. My fingers come away wet and scarlet. "Anyone got any spare gauze?"

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Third Person POV

A short, resigned sigh passes over Zoro's lips as he tugs the bandana from his head. Kaku's limp body lies before him, a marionette cut loose from its strings.

"Sorry about that," Zoro murmurs, watching the still man's haphazard breathing, so different from the steady rhythm of sleep. His mind warped by desperation and the incompariable thrill of battle, he'd gone too far, done too much. Though it was necessary, and the rewards outweigh the risk - the cold kiss of metal in his palm says that much.

"Hey, Marimo! What happened to the key?!"

Zoro turns slightly to see Sanji skidding through a fine dusting of debris, scrubbing uselessly at the layer of blood and grime coating his face. "Ah, I just got it," he replies, flashing the key as evidence.

"But this tower slid down again," Sanji observes, looking around the room. This bastard moss-head... Doesn't he ever think about the consequences when he goes all out like that? What if this place had collapsed while Raya-chan and the others were still in here?!

Zoro, too, takes stock of the room. It's in shambles, a stricken ghost of its former grandeur. Blood paints the walls, the floor, even the crumbling ceiling in nightmarish quantities. Still, unfazed, the swordsman begins picking his way down the sloping floor, pock-marked with craters and jagged chunks of stone alike, towards the doorway throughwhich they all originally entered. "Who cares?" he calls back as Sanji falls into step behind him. "Anyway, now with this key, we've got all of them. Let's hurry to where Robin is."

The pair moves quickly through the tower, silent but for the slap of their feet against the stairs they wind down. But Sanji, his mind abuzz, flickering between thoughts like lightning between clouds, can't help but ask, "Aren't you worried about Raya-chan?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw; his shoulders tighten. "No," Zoro says flatly, in the manner of one subtly suggesting that the offending party shut up.

Sanji disregards this, or perhaps he simply doesn't care for the swordsman's supposed wrath. "What?!" he demands, skirting the edge of a make-shift precipice that seems to drop down into oblivion. He might think it even fell to Hell itself if he weren't aware that Enies Lobby was crafted in the mortal world. "How could you not be worried?! She collapsed during the fight with that lying bastard wolf!"

"She won't die from just that," Zoro says shortly.

"I wanted to rescue her myself, wrap her safely in my arms and clean the blood from her beautiful face" - So he's just going to ignore me? Zoro growls, irate - "but alas, my duty to protect her from further harm forced my hand, and I had to let that idiot sniper carry her off! And to think, if I'd saved her, when she woke up, she would definitely have rewarded me with a kiss--"

The pressure of cold, calculating steel digs into Sanji's throat, driving his back ruthlessly into a pillar. Even the softest of swallows agitates the blade, his skin grating against the finely honed edge. More blood, he thinks as two distinct droplets plop onto the steel, shattering his reflection.

"Shut up." Two words, fractured slightly by the deep rumble vibrating Zoro's throat. Then he pulls back, Wado sheathed and harmless, his fingers hovering over the hilt. And Sanji - hand pressed lightly to his throat to staunch the dripping wound - knows, just this once, he's outdone himself, and not in the charismatic way he'd intended to.

"Keep moving," Zoro snaps, taut and sullen, "the others are waiting, and Luffy's probably done something stupid by now that we'll have to clean up."

And Sanji follows dutifully on his heels.

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Raya's POV

I rub irritably at my eyes, wanting nothing more than to brush the miscellaneous, pulsating dark spots from my vision. They float at the corners, randomly streaking through the space between, blotting out faces and creating a distinctly disconcerting sensation of near-blindness, making me wary of stumbling into either my companions or a wall - because I've done enough of that this damn trip and I'd like to keep from bloodying myself any further if I can help it.

(There's a really nauseating chance that I can't help shit but I'm doggedly ignoring that for the time being)

But as a heads-up, my companions are not exactly my first choice when combating the evils of the World Government and their trusty lapdogs.

Kokoro and Chimney, along with that little rabbit-cat thing of theirs, now flank Nami and I, and I'm starting to wonder if we really made the right decision here, as they've done nothing but complain and degrade us ever since we crash-landed. For the love of Kami, they sold us out to save their own skins a while ago! Nami and the others may have brushed that off as necessary sabotage (or something equally as sketchy) but I tend to not forgive and forget so easily.

Anyway, Usopp split from our little threesome some time back (and as he was leaving it just hit me that he'd actually begun responding to Usopp again, instead of debating the fact of his identity with outlandish claims of kingship), saying that he had a job only he could fulfill (which had to do with something that I'd missed while I was unconscious and Sanji was showcasing his badassery). Nami's speculated that he's headed for the roof of this tower, and it seems plausible, as his sniper skills would be of the most use from such a high vantage point. I only hope he doesn't pull something moronic and slip and fall to his death.

That'd be just what we need.

"Raya, are you sure you're alright?"

I blink, refocusing as best I can on the world around me, and flash a cocky smile for Nami's grave frown. "Totally good here! You patched me up pretty well earlier" - I tap two fingers to my forehead, indicating the fresh bandages skillfully wound 'round my skull - "and I got to rest a bit on Usopp's back. Besides, not like I can afford to take another nap. We've got" - I bite my tongue, pitched forward as the tunnel we tread through shudders violently, the walls heaving, floor going through a convulsing fit; righting myself, I fix another convincing smile into place - "friends out there counting on us. Sounds like the fun's already started without us, too!"

Chimney chooses this exact moment to chant gleefully, "Bombardment! Bombardment~!" and I swear Kokoro is not the only one indulging in her seemingly inexhaustible supply of alcohol. That, or children these days are messed up. And coming from me - a proud psychopath of tragic origins - that's frightening.

In any case, Nami sighs, swatting half-heartedly at my arm. "I've said it before, but our captain has rubbed off on you entirely too much. Only the idiots of this crew would actually want to go out into a war-zone!"

Really, I'm on the verge of cracking some sarcastic remark about her own status among the crew - it's honestly on the tip of tongue, ready to roll out on command - when I suddenly draw to a violent stop, arms pinwheeling to keep me upright as my momentum threatens to send me careening forward. Nami halts, too, looking at me warily; Kokoro and Chimney glance back, eyes glittering curiously (might just be the booze doing its work).

There's a sound I can't place, soft, subtle, but hauntingly familiar. A rushing through the steel walls around us, twisted and distorted by echoes stretching too far ahead. Then comes the crashing, like dozens of bodies slamming against the side of a building, a crescendo of noise, noise, noise. And I realize why I'm simultaneously terrified and exhilarated, the blood pumping through my veins pushing with the vigor of renewed adrenaline.

"Water." My voice, uncharacteristically faint, is too low for Nami to hear, and she touches my arm gently, about to question me. But I whirl around, twisting her with me, and shove hard against her back, forcing her forward, almost tripping her. "Water!" I shout, a frantic pitch lacing the single word. The warning. "This goddamn place is flooding, move!"

"Ohoho, we're below sea-level!" Kokoro croaks, like the frog we all envision her to be.

"I do not need that reminder right now!" I growl, forcing Nami ahead of me as the torrential sound of the ocean chases me down. Just another predator and its prey. Oh man, I don't appreciate that comparison. Dammit, brain, can't you ever give me something nice to think about for once?!

We run, silent, weary - like desert travelers attempting to outrun the blazing sun. In other words, futile. But we run nonetheless, because its instinct and its fear and it feels human to do so.

But really, I'm running because I don't want to die.

It's as simple as that. Raya plus water equals death. There's no other solution to that equation. Just death, death, and - hey, look! - more death.

Can't die here, I've got shit to get down outside of this craptastic island! The thought of Dad never hearing from me again, worried when my name disappears from the paper for months on end; of Ace, always waiting for a cheeky reply to his equally cheeky letter; of dreams and sinful (possibly murderous) desires unfulfilled, it all spurs me on, and I'm sprinting, urging Nami forward, glancing over to make sure we haven't lost Kokoro or Chimney (or even their damn pet, 'cause I'm compassionate like that).

But I can feel the cold, shivering spray across my neck now, drenching my hair, lapping at my ankles, already squelching in my boots. Terror launches my heart into my throat, choking me, drowning out sound with its perpetually racing beat thrumming in my ears. The memory of sinking beneath the waves, alone and afraid, confused as to why lead had coil through my veins and rendered my arms and legs useless, comes back to me in vivid snapshots.

Feels like Aqua Laguna all over again... Even has the same urgency to it. Dammit. Dammit!

Nami's screaming, Kokoro's crowing, maybe Chimney's even in the mix. I don't know. It's all just static buzzing beneath the suffocating waves.

With a muffled curse, I'm swept off my feet, sent tumbling head over heels, my grip on Nami's arm lost in the struggle, and resentment for my Devil Fruit fills my head and heart and dying voice.

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7Panda7 made the outrageously amazing new cover for me, by the way. I'm still marveling at its beauty, like goddamn.