Chapter Text
The sun rose over Dressrosa.
Neko watched it from his spot—the good chimney, the warm one, on the corner building where the monkey-toy and doll-toy lived now. The tiles still held night-cold under his haunches.
A bird. There. Three rooftops over.
His eyes tracked it automatically. Seagull. Too big to catch, too far away. The bird knew it. They always knew.
The rooftops were his. Had been his territory for... many seasons now. The tiles, the chimneys, the clotheslines, the good sleeping spots where sun hit in the afternoon. All his. He stretched because stretching felt right. The motion pulled at muscles, extended claws into tile-gaps.
Below, the streets were filling up. Neko's eyes tracked it all with the lazy attention. The walking-things going to their walking-places. Some were the soft-ones who smelled like food and sweat and fear. Others were the toy-things who didn't smell like anything at all.
The toy-things had appeared during the bad time. The time when the air had tasted wrong and the soft-ones had screamed and then... changed. Neko had watched from the rooftops as they transformed—flesh to wood, skin to porcelain, voices to silence. He'd watched and felt nothing except mild annoyance that the screaming had disturbed his nap.
Their problems weren't his problems.
A toy bear was hanging laundry across the way. Neko watched it clip clothes to the line with wooden paws. The bear moved with the jerky precision of something that had forgotten how to move naturally.
Neko's tail flicked once.
The sun climbed higher. Warm. Neko liked warm. He shifted on his chimney, angling toward the light, feeling it soak into his orange fur.
The streets below were fully awake now. The soft-ones walked to their shops. The toy-things marched and carried and served. Same as every morning since the bad time.
His ears swiveled toward the market district. He held them there, filtering through the noise: fish vendor (too far), bread cart (uninteresting), something metal falling (irrelevant). One ear rotated backward toward the docks while the other stayed forward. Nothing worth investigating. He let both ears relax into their natural position.
A wooden soldier carried a crate toward the docks. Too big. Neko's eyes tracked the movement, calculating weight and balance. The soldier would drop it in approximately fifteen seconds if it didn't—
A mouse.
There. In the alley below. Small. Brown. Moving along the wall.
Neko's mind snapped into focus like a trap closing. Prey. The mouse scurried along the cobblestones, nose twitching, completely unaware it was being watched.
His haunches tensed. His tail went still. Every muscle coiled.
Then he relaxed. Too far to jump. The mouse disappeared into a crack in the wall. His ears flattened against his head.
A commotion below. Neko's attention snapped to it. A toy clown had dropped a basket. The round-food-things were rolling across the stones, and a soft-one woman was helping pick them up.
She handed the apples back to the clown. Patted his painted head. Walked away.
The clown stood very still.
Neko watched. The clown's wooden hands gripped the basket. The clown's painted face showed nothing. But there was something in the way the clown stood. Something in that tiny pause before he started walking again.
Something screaming without sound.
Neko's mind went fuzzy for a moment, like he'd been staring at the sun too long.
When it cleared, he was watching two toy soldiers at the corner. Guards. They watched for escaped toys. Toys that didn't obey.
Not his problem.
The pink palace on the hill caught his eye. The bad-human lived there. The one who'd caused the bad time. The one who ruled with his pack of—
Pirates. Warlord. Doflamingo. Sugar. The Donquixote Family. A kingdom built on forced labor and collective amnesia, painted in bright colors and—
His tail curled tight around his body, and the words faded like smoke. His tail was his. He controlled it. The world became small again. Simple again.
A bird landed on the roof.
Different bird. Smaller. Sparrow. It hopped along the tiles, pecking at something invisible. Neko watched it with mild interest. The bird was small enough to catch if he cared enough to try.
The bird flew away.
There had been a time when he'd cared about the soft-ones, the humans. The girl at the butcher's shop who'd smelled like meat and kindness. She'd given him scraps and scratched behind his ears in the spot that made his back leg kick. She'd called him... something. Not Neko.
Then the bad time came, and she was gone.
He'd gone back to the butcher's shop for days after. Weeks. The shop was still there, but she wasn't. A toy worked there now, a wooden thing that moved meat with mechanical precision and never dropped scraps for the cat waiting in the alley.
Neko had stopped going eventually. He found another human who treated him as he deserved, but Neko would never forget the girl.
He settled back onto his haunches, eyes fixed on the city below, and prepared for another day of watching a world that had forgotten how to make sense.
On this particular day the rooftop about the cafe was the perfect place to bask in the sun. The smells from below were good, and he got to watch the humans and the toys mingle as they drank their foul smelling drinks.
He'd been sitting there for a while when the rhythm broke.
His ears snapped forward before his mind caught up. Not danger-wrong. Just... different-wrong.
A group moving through the crowd below. Many of them. Too many to be normal.
They wore the fancy-cloth that soft-ones wore for important-times. Dark colors, stiff fabric, the kind that rustled. But wrong. All wrong. The cloth didn't fit right and hung strange on their bodies like they'd never worn it before.
And the fur on their faces was fake. Fur that didn't grow or move right.
But one wore a hat. Straw-colored, wide-brimmed, sitting on his head like a crown. That one was loud—happy-sounds carrying up to the rooftops, excited movements, no fear-smell at all.
Neko's ears swiveled forward, locked on the group.
Another one walked like a Metal-toy but wasn't any he'd ever seen. Shiny-hard-surface where skin should be, but he also had skin like a human. Yet he moved with clicks and whirs that Neko's ears caught even through the crowd noise. A toy that moved on its own just as loud as the straw hat human. A toy with no strings, walking free among the soft-ones like it belonged there.
Interesting.
Another one had three swords strapped to his side.
Excessive, someone who fights for a living, a swordsman who—
He shook his head slightly, scattering the too-big thoughts.
But he didn't look away.
The straw hat one stopped at a food cart. Started making happy-sounds at the vendor. The green-haired one scanned the crowd—hunter's habit, looking for threats—and for just a moment, his gaze swept across the rooftops.
Neko froze.
The gaze moved on.
His tail uncurled slowly, deliberately, grounding him back in his body.
Strangers. Outsiders. Pirates. Heroes. People who thought they could change things. People who didn't understand that Dressrosa was a trap that had already—
He shook his head, a sharp jerking motion that scattered the thoughts like mice.
His eyes stayed fixed on the two figures below, watching them disappear into the crowd then his mind drifted off again and he settled in for a nap.
Neko's paws carried him across the rooftops toward the tea-store where the purple-human sat.
The soft-one with the scarred face and the blind-eyes.
Neko dropped from the awning to the street below, landing with barely a sound. His tail held high as he wove between the feet of the soft-ones.
The tea-store smelled like flowers and warmth. Neko's whiskers twitched. Relaxing-scents.
The purple human sat at his usual table by the window, facing the street. His large hands rested on the table. Neko jumped into his lap without hesitation. The hand came down immediately and gentle, knowing exactly where Neko would be.
"Hello Neko, we meet again," His voice was warm like the tea-smell. His fingers found the space between Neko's ears and began to pet, slow and deliberate.
This human understood how to touch a cat.
Neko's purr started immediately, a rumbling that felt good in his chest.
The waitress appeared moments later, her smile bright and soft. "Fujitora-san, would you like to order milk for Neko today as well?"
"Yes, please," Fujitora replied, his scarred face tilting slightly toward the sound of her voice.
Such politeness. Neko's purr deepened, vibrating through his small body as the hand continued its perfect rhythm across his head.
The hours stretched onward peacefully.
Fujitora stayed, sipping his tea with the patience of someone who had nowhere else to be. The hand never stopped moving across his head, a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat.
People approached the table sometimes. Soft-ones drawn by politeness or curiosity, wanting to make conversation with the blind man and his cat. But something about Fujitora made them nervous. Neko could smell it on them. The sharp-scent of wariness, the way their voices got smaller and tighter. They'd ask Fujitora questions, and he'd answer with that same warm voice, that same gentle smile, and they'd leave quickly, relieved to go.
Which meant more petting for Neko.
He'd learned this pattern long ago. Fear made humans generous with attention. They'd scratch behind his ears, stroke his tail, do anything to fill the silence that Fujitora's blindness seemed to create. Neko didn't mind. The extra attention was pleasant. The hand on his head was perfect. He'd drifted into a doze, warm and content.
Then Fujitora shifted.
Neko's eyes opened immediately. The hand stilled. The predator beneath the kindness was waking up, Neko could feel it.
A soft-one approached. Male.
"Excuse me," Fujitora said, his voice still warm but with something sharper underneath now. "Could you tell me where the gambling house is located?"
The soft-one described it—directions, landmarks, the usual things. Fujitora thanked him politely. When the soft-one offered to help him find it, Fujitora declined with a smile that somehow made the man leave even faster.
The hand lifted from his head. Fujitora was standing.
Reluctantly, Neko jumped down from the lap. He sat to the side, ears flattened slightly, and gave Fujitora the look to convey how unacceptable his actions were. Fujitora smiled, his scarred face turning directly toward Neko as if he could see the annoyance.
"I apologize, Neko," he said softly. "I have someone to meet."
Then he was gone, moving through the tea-store with that strange grace, disappearing into the street beyond.
Neko sat for a moment, watching the empty space where Fujitora had been. Then he began to groom his paw. Well. Fujitora would return. And when he did, Neko would grace him with his presence again.
For now, the rooftops were calling.
Neko slipped out of the tea-store and made his way back to his domain, leaping from awning to awning, his tail held high. The afternoon was still young. There were things to watch. Strangers to observe.
He'd settled on a barrel in the plaza by the time the sun reached its peak. A good vantage point, surrounded by the soft-ones and toy-things going about their routines.
Then something moved wrong.
Neko's head snapped toward it before his mind caught up. Bright. Impossibly bright, yellow and shiny, colors that didn't belong in the grey-brown world of Dressrosa's streets. Large.
Moving away.
Prey.
The thought consumed everything else.
Neko's body was already moving, muscles coiling and releasing in one fluid motion. The barrel fell behind him. The plaza exploded into motion, soft-ones scattering, toy-things yelping as he darted between their legs, his whiskers brushing fabric and wood and metal.
He didn't see them. Didn't care. There was only the bright thing, the fast thing, the running thing.
His paws hit the cobblestones, a soft-one woman shrieked as he nearly tangled in her skirts. A toy soldier stumbled backward. Neko flowed around them like water, his tail streaming behind him, his eyes locked on the bright blur ahead.
It was quick. But Neko was faster.
His claws scraped stone. His ears pinned back.
Neko launched himself through the air, all four paws extended, claws out. He landed on the bright thing with the full weight of his body—soft, yielding, cloth. His teeth sank into fabric that tasted of dust and sweat and something metallic underneath.
Something inside squealed.
Prey sounds.
Neko's jaws clenched harder, his back claws scrabbling for purchase, digging into the cloth. The squeal came again, high-pitched, panicked, alive. His pupils dilated. Every instinct screamed bite, hold, kill.
Then the world lurched. The whole thing swung upward, and Neko's stomach dropped as his paws left solid ground.
Neko tried to pull free, but the bag was moving fast now, swinging with each stride of whatever was carrying it. His body swayed, his teeth still locked on cloth, his claws embedded deep. The world became a blur of color, cobblestones and vendor carts flashing passed.
A voice cut through the chaos.
"OI! GET BACK HERE WITH MY SWORD!"
Neko's ears swiveled toward the sound even as his body swung with the bag's momentum. The green-haired one. The one who'd looked at the rooftops with a hunter's eyes.
The bag lurched faster. Whatever was carrying it was very nimble. Neko's claws dug deeper into the fabric, his body pressed flat against the cloth.
"STOP, DAMMIT!"
The voice was closer. Much closer.
Neko twisted his head, still holding the cloth in his teeth, and caught a glimpse of green hair and fury closing the distance behind them. The soft-ones were diving out of the way. A toy-thing toppled over. The green-haired one vaulted over a cart without breaking stride.
Neko's lips pulled back from his teeth in an instinctive hiss.
The creature carrying the bag screamed.
It was a high, terrified sound that made Neko's ears flatten against his skull. The bag swung wildly as the creature changed direction, and suddenly they were rising. Neko's stomach lurched again as the creature leaped, sailing over a vendor's cart laden with fruit. The vendor shouted.
They landed on another cart top. The creature was bounding across the marketplace like a rabbit fleeing a fox, and Neko was just cargo now, his claws still tangled in the cloth.
The rooftops. They were heading for the rooftops.
The creature made one final leap, and suddenly they were airborne, sailing over the gap between street and roof. Neko's body tensed, every muscle rigid. They hit the terracotta tiles hard, the bag skidding, and Neko finally managed to wrench one paw free—
WHAM.
The impact drove all the air from Neko's lungs.
Something massive and heavy slammed into the bag from above, crushing down on cloth and cat and whatever else was wrapped inside. Neko yowled as his body was flattened against the tiles.
"GIVE ME BACK MY SWORD!"
The voice was right there, right on top of him, vibrating through the bag and into Neko's bones.
Neko's claws finally tore free of the fabric. He scrambled backward, his body low, his tail puffed to twice its normal size. His ears were flat against his skull. His pupils were blown wide with shock.
The green-haired one was crouched on the bag, one hand gripping the cloth, his face twisted with anger. He wasn't looking at Neko. Wasn't even seeing him. All his attention was on the bag, on the long weapon attached to it, on the creature that had stolen it.
Neko's heart hammered against his ribs. His mouth tasted of dust and cloth and the metallic tang of fear.
Then the bag moved. The whole thing lurched sideways with violent force, and suddenly the green-haired one was flying. His body sailing through the air, arms windmilling, face twisted in shock.
"WHAT THE—"
The shout cut off as he disappeared over the rooftop's edge.
Neko's ears swiveled forward, tracking the sound. There was a moment of silence.
CRASH.
The sound echoed up from the street below. Wood splintering. Something metal clattering. A groan that was definitely alive.
His tail was still puffed, his body still low, every muscle coiled tight. But the green-haired predator was gone. Thrown off the roof causally.
Curiosity won.
Neko crept forward, belly low against the tiles. His whiskers twitched. His ears stayed forward. He reached the edge and peered over.
The green-haired one lay sprawled in the street below, flat on his back in the wreckage of what used to be a vendor's cart. Broken wood surrounded him. Scattered fruit rolled across the cobblestones. His arms were spread wide, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
A groan drifted up. Low. Pained. But alive.
Neko's head tilted.
Humans didn't land on their feet. That was the problem with them. Soft-ones fell and they broke.**
Stupid.
The green-haired one was trying to sit up now, one hand pressed to his ribs, his face twisted in pain. His green fur—no, hair, Neko's mind corrected uselessly—was covered in splinters and dust.
Neko's attention snapped back. The bag was tipping. Slowly at first, then faster, the weight of whatever was inside pulling it toward the edge. The creature that had been carrying cried out.
Then it went over.
Neko watched it fall, his eyes tracking the bright cloth as it tumbled through the air, end over end.
The green-haired one looked up just in time to see it coming.
His eyes went wide.
THUD.
The bag slammed into his chest with the full force of gravity and whatever weight was wrapped inside. The green-haired one's whole body jerked, his back slamming into the cobblestones again. Another groan—this one higher, more pained, with less air behind it.
Neko winced.
He couldn't help it. Some instinct deeper than thought, some memory of what it felt like to have air driven from lungs, to feel ribs compress under sudden weight. His ears flattened briefly against his skull.
The green-haired one wasn't moving anymore, just lying there with the bag on his chest, staring up at the sky with the glazed expression of someone whose body had just reminded them that gravity was not their friend.
Neko sat back from the edge, his tail curling around his paws.
He should leave. Should slip away into the maze of rooftops and forget this ever happened.
But his paws stayed planted on the tiles, his eyes fixed on the chaos below, watching as the green-haired predator finally managed to shove the bag off his chest and roll onto his side with a string of sounds that were probably words but came out more like growls.
Humans were so fragile.
Neko stood, stretched—front paws first, then back, tail high—and padded to the edge of the rooftop. The drop was nothing. Three body-lengths, maybe four. Easy.
He jumped.
The world blurred for a heartbeat and then his paws touched cobblestone with barely a sound softly. The way bodies were supposed to land.
Neko walked a few yards away and sat, tail curling around his paws. Close enough to watch. Far enough to run if the predator decided cats were worth chasing. His ears swiveled forward. His eyes stayed fixed on the green-haired one.
The man was pushing himself up now, one hand braced against the cobblestones, the other still pressed to his chest. His face was twisted in pain and annoyance.
Neko's whiskers twitched.
Then something else moved.
Small. Blue. Fluttering weakly on top of the human.
Neko's head snapped toward it, ears forward, pupils dilating.
The thing was tiny—smaller than a mouse, but shaped wrong. It had arms and legs like a soft-one, and a tail that was all blue plume, matching the fur on its head. It was struggling to right itself, making sounds that were high and distressed.
Neko's stomach clenched. He couldn't remember the last time he'd caught something worth eating. But this thing was hurt.
His mouth watered.
The green-haired one noticed it too. His head turned, eyes widening as he spotted the small blue creature. He froze, staring at it like he'd never seen anything like it before.
"What the—"
The blue thing let out a wail.
"No, no, no!" The creature's voice was tiny but clear, words tumbling out in a rush of panic. "I'm seen! I'm so dumb! I knew I would fail, I knew it, but I tried anyway and now—"
She was crying. Tears streaming down her tiny face as she kneeled on the humans stomach.
Neko's tail tip twitched.
Neither of them were looking at him. The green-haired one was too focused on the blue thing. The blue thing was too busy crying and flailing.
Perfect.
The green-haired one reached down and scooped the tiny creature up in one massive hand. She fit in his palm, still sobbing.
"Hey, hey, calm down," the man said, his voice rough but not unkind. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I'm failing!" the blue thing wailed, her tiny fists pressing against her face. "I'm supposed to be helping and I can't even carry a sword without getting caught and now you've seen me and everything's ruined—"
"Are you..." The green-haired one tilted his head, squinting at her like she might be a trick of the light. "Are you what they call a fairy?"
Neko crouched lower, his belly nearly touching the cobblestones. His haunches coiled, muscles bunching. His tail lashed once—twice—then went still. His eyes locked on the blue thing in the man's hand.
So small. So soft. He could almost taste her already.
"I'm Wicca," the creature sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of one tiny hand. "And I'm a failure and you're going to tell everyone and—"
The green-haired one set her down.
Gently. Carefully. Right there on the cobblestones, barely three body-lengths from where Neko crouched.
Neko's pupils went wide. Black swallowing gold.
Neko launched.
His body uncoiled like a whip, paws barely touching the ground as he closed the distance in a single explosive burst. The world narrowed to a point—blue wings, blue tail, the tiny body that would fit so perfectly between his jaws—
Wicca turned.
Her eyes went wide.
And she screamed.
"AAAAAAHHHHH! CAT! CAT! THERE'S A CAT—"