A/N: I dunno where the inspiration for this struck me, but it did, and hard. Enjoy this strange little ZoLu, mkay? n.n;;

A Beautiful Thing

The first time I saw him there, I didn't think much of it. He was sitting on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over, leaned back on his arms; he seemed very at home, so high above such treacherous waters. There was nothing odd about his shaggy black hair, his red vest and cut-off shorts; I gave him no mind, and continued on my way to the shrine.

The next week, as I came to pay homage once more to the local deity, I glanced over on a whim and found the boy was sitting in the same fashion, at the same spot, looking the same as I'd left him the week before. I blinked; then figured it was nothing more than coincidence--perhaps he just liked the view and came back every so often.

A day later, I found myself trudging up the beaten path at noon, when my chores were finished and I had time to do what I pleased. This time it was not to pay my respects, but solely to look for the boy--and there he was. I was astounded; how many times did he come here? What did it matter, anyway? So he liked the sea--a lot of people did. It meant nothing; I just happened along the same days he decided to.

At three o'clock the next morning, beating the sun into wakefulness, I scurried back up the mountain, just to lay my suspicions to rest once and for all. I couldn't see well in the dim light, and I crept forward out of the brush, taking a few tentative steps forward and squinting hard to see if--

"What are you doing?"

My hands clasped over my mouth to cover a scream, I stumbled and fell backwards. A silhouette was turned towards me, and I couldn't distinguish it's face--well, any of it, really. Was it a ghost? Was that boy, in fact, a spirit? Had I disturbed it?

I had no idea what to do, and was grasping for words, when it continued, "Don't just lay there like that, you look stupid."

Blushing furiously, I scrambled upright. "Wh...who are you?" I whispered. "What are you doing here?" My hands were clenched on my skirt, and my entire body was tense; I'd never seen a spirit before, and had no clue how to deal with one.

And then he said, "Waiting."

I realized he was answering at least one of my questions. "Waiting?"

"Mm." A light shift, and he was silent again. I figured he'd turned to face me and had now turned back to the sea. After a moment, I took a few steps closer; when the figure didn't move I stretched out my hand and brushed his shoulder with my fingers. His skin, while slightly cold, was soft; this close I could see his breath misting in the air.

"You're not a ghost," I sighed with relief. He laughed; it was a pretty sound, and I couldn't find it in me to be irritated. I shivered suddenly, aware of how dark and cold it was. "Are you here all the time?"

"Mm."

"So I could come back tomorrow?"

"Mm."

I beamed. "O...okay!" I don't know why I was excited as I ran back down the mountain trail; but I'd never seen that boy before (and had yet to see his face) and I wanted to know all about him. He was the type of person...the type of person who just drew people near--even this early, I could tell.

It took forever to fall asleep; and then I rushed through breakfast and my chores, trying to be fast but thorough so my mother didn't scold me, and then raced back to the secluded little cliff in the mountain.

He was there, just like he said he'd be, back to the trees and face to the waters. I hesitated; it seemed so much more intimidating now that I'd see his face. A face says a lot about a person, and I was afraid--of what, I don't know...

But when I cleared my throat, and he turned around, my fears dissipated; his face was a trustworthy one. His face was blank when they assessed me, but his eyes were alive. He didn't smile, nor frown; just gazed up at me from where he sat, as though considering my presence. And then he smiled and said, "You're the girl from this morning, right?"

I nodded.

"What's your name?"

And even though he hadn't given me his, I replied, "Kiki."

"Kiki, huh? What're you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing! You're out here all the time."

"I told you, I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"A boat."

"A boat?"

"Mm." His eyes drifted back over the ocean and became distant; in that moment, he was seeing things I could only imagine. He had the air of a seafarer, though I couldn't say why I thought so. With some people, you can just tell--who belongs at sea, and who'd best stay on land. And this boy--he definitely belonged at sea.

While he was silent, I took in his appearance. He was very thin, his skin was pale, and he had a scar under his left eye; he also wore an old straw hat. His arms and chest were covered in bandages--I'm sure the vest only hid more. His clothes seemed worn, and his face tired. But his eyes, when he watched the horizon, were so faraway and yet filled with a longing and a desire that tore at my heart. I wanted to know this person; I decided that then. I wanted to know what pull the ocean had on him--and I wanted to know why.

I took up visiting him whenever I could; I couldn't do it every day, which was to be expected, but whenever an opportunity presented itself, I seized it. When I could, I'd bring a meal; he never seemed to move, I was a little worried he'd starve. He worshipped me after the first picnic I brought; his eyes were all shimmery with gratitude and appreciation, like I'd saved his dog from a burning building. I learned very quickly that he loved to eat. He also loved to laugh, and I was glad I started these visits--it didn't seem like he laughed too much when he was alone.

I asked him about his family, and he smiled and told me all about his big brother; from the way he spoke of him, this "Ace" person could shoot down the very moon itself. His eyes were big, and shone with pride and adoration as he talked about him, as well as when he talked about his idol, a man named "Shanks." That's all he'd say, though, about his family or his home. When I mentioned "home," his eyes got vague again. I wanted desperately to solve this enigma.

I'd heard of women watching the seas and waiting for long-lost lovers to return to them; I didn't think the boy was so disillusioned. He seemed to know a lot more about stuff than he let on, and I was sure he knew better than to wait and watch the horizon day after day, clinging to the small hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be the day...

When I brought it up, he laughed. "You're smart, Kiki," he said with a smile.

"What?!" I felt like all the work I'd done in trying to get to know him even a little had all been for naught. Was he really so foolish? "You're waiting for your lover?!" His smile softened, all the answer I needed. "You're wasting your life here on this rock, waiting for someone whose probably never going to come back to you?!"

"He's coming back."

I glared at him. "How do you know? How are you so sure he's not found some beautiful woman to whisk away and has forgotten all about you?"

"He promised." His smile never faltered. "He promised me he'd come back for me." The words themselves seemed to give him spirit; he chuckled, looking thrilled. "He's coming back, and I want him to know I was waiting. I want to be the first thing he sees when he gets here."

His words were touching, but I'd heard them so many times, from so many women, that they did nothing for me. I only rolled my eyes and dropped my chin in my palm. It was such a ridiculous waste; the time he spent waiting he would never get back, and before he knew it he'd be all alone in a too-big world. Just like my mother. I was frustrated with him, but nothing I said would change his mind. Finally I gave up, and headed back down to my house in the village, because the skies were darkening.

Before dinner, mother sent me out late to the grocery to grab some vegetables for dinner; on my way there, I came across a man I'd never seen before. This wasn't odd, because our village was next to the ocean, therefore ships docked and sailors--as well as pirates--came and went. This man was walking slowly down the street, though, casting careful glances at random passers-by. I wondered what kind of person he was, fear fluttering quickly through me as I turned on my heel and made to make a quick escape--

"Hey, girl."

I froze; turned. He definitely meant me. "Yes...?"

"I'm looking for someone. Have you seen him?" And he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it to reveal an old Wanted poster, or at least part of it; everything had been clipped away leaving only the weathered picture of an ecstatic boy grinning ear-to-ear...

Shock coursed through my veins. That was him! The boy from the mountain! He was a pirate--or used to be? Now his longing for the ocean made much more sense. I looked up at the green-haired man, wondering if perhaps...maybe he was....Could he be...?

"I know him," I said over my shoulder, starting away, "and I know where he is." Without a word, the man folded the paper and placed it back in his pocket, following me as swiftly and silently as a shadow. I was conscious of his presence behind me on the mountain trail--even though he was scary, something about him told me he was safe. I felt myself relaxing slowly in his presence and I turned to stop him halfway up the mountain.

"He's there," I said, and pointed through the trees at the spot where...I blinked. The boy was fast asleep. I'd never before seen him asleep; he'd always been staring at the waters below and beyond him, the waters just outside his reach.

Footsteps, and the swordsman was walking past me, toward the boy. It occurred to me suddenly that I may have unintentionally put him in danger--if the green-haired guy knew him as a pirate, how did I know he wasn't a bounty hunter?! Oh, gods, I was stupid--

I jumped up, unsure what to do but unwilling to watch that strange boy be killed in front of me, but before I could take even a step, the swordsman was kneeling, sliding his swords out of the way; he was slowly, gently gathering the slumbering boy into his arms, tightly and securely; he said something I couldn't make out, and kissed the boy's forehead.

When those eyes fluttered open and registered the man above him, I felt my heart constrict; such trust and joy in those dark, round eyes--such immeasurable, inexplicable love.

But what got me the most was that he did not gush. He did not weep or make a scene. He simply gazed up at him, never having doubted him, never having questioned his promise of a swift return. I wasn't sure if he'd waited for weeks or months--but the fact was, it didn't matter. He'd have waited until the end of time, with never a complaint; because love wasn't all hugs and kisses. Love was responsibility and devotion; it was sacrifice and surrender. He loved the man who held him, and would give up anything for him. Simply waiting wasn't such a big deal.

The boy didn't seem to like being put down, and when the green-haired man gathered his swords and stood, the boy stood as well. They were walking back towards me, and I felt out of place; I blushed, looking down.

"Thanks for the company," the boy beamed at me. The vacancy in his eyes was gone, and he was whole once again, hand in hand with the man he loved, "but my nakama came back for me." His smile was almost too big for his face; I looked at the bandages concealing his arms and shoulders and wondered if he'd been left behind to heal.

"Let's go," the other man said, already started away, and the boy hurried to catch up with him, waving over his shoulder before disappearing into the trees.

I stood there, long after they'd left. That boy had showed me just how faithless my mother had been--crying every day she was away from my father, before finally giving up on him one day and burning his letters. Was their love really so meaningless? To that boy--waiting was no problem. It'd just make seeing the man he loved that much sweeter.

A few days later the new Wanted posters would arrive in the village--the top two posters being of a green-haired swordsman and a grinning boy in a worn straw hat.

So his name was Luffy.

End.