The music shop had grown strangely quiet after the robbery, the last echoes of Kyoka Jirou's haunting piano melody still lingering like phantom notes in the air. The store clerks were only now starting to recover, shakily emerging from behind counters and displays. A few customers whispered their gratitude to the girl at the piano, but she didn't acknowledge them. Her fingers hovered over the keys as though she were still composing something in her mind, her head lowered slightly so that her purple bangs hid her expression.
Enel opened his mouth to speak again—already planning how he'd convince her to join his crew—but then he felt it.
A presence.
Like a brewing storm, small but furious, closing in fast.
And then she was there.
Tatsumaki floated through the shattered doorway, arms crossed, emerald aura flickering around her like a living flame. Her face was twisted into a look that could only be described as comedic fury, the exact type of expression abrasive women in One Piece wore before either slapping someone or flattening a building.
For a moment, Enel honestly couldn't tell if she was angrier at him for abandoning her during her valuable shopping time, or at the robbery itself for daring to interrupt her spree. Either way, nothing good was going to come of this.
"YOU," she barked, her psychic energy distorting the air around her.
Enel, despite being one of the most dangerous men on the sea, did what all smart men do when faced with such wrath—he panicked.
"Ah, look!" he said hastily, shoving Jirou forward like a human shield. "We found a musician. Isn't that wonderful?"
Kyoka blinked, clearly not expecting to be offered up like some kind of peace treaty.
Tatsumaki's gaze flicked to the girl, her scowl softening only slightly as she hovered closer. "…Musician?"
"Kyoka Jirou," the girl said evenly, straightening her posture. "Kyoka's my first name. Jirou's my family name."
Tatsumaki nodded curtly. "Tatsumaki. Navigator." She gave Jirou a once-over, her green eyes narrowing with curiosity rather than anger now. "What's someone with your abilities doing playing the piano in a clothing store in Alabasta?"
Enel, surprisingly, found himself agreeing. Tatsumaki had a point. Someone who could level three armed robbers in seconds didn't belong as background music in a shoe shop.
Kyoka's smirk faded, replaced by something far heavier.
"…Because this is where I ended up," she said quietly.
The weight of her words settled over the group like a muted chord. Even Tatsumaki, whose patience for sob stories was about as thin as tissue paper, didn't interrupt.
"I used to be part of a merchant family," Kyoka began, her fingers absently tracing the keys of the piano as though grounding herself. "The Jirou family. We weren't rich, but we weren't starving either. My parents traded goods between islands, and I…" Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "I loved music. Begged them to leave me here in Alabasta to study under the musicians in this kingdom. Promised I'd become good enough to make them proud when they came back."
Her voice cracked slightly, though she kept speaking.
"They never came back."
Enel said nothing, but his observation haki—his Mantra—flared softly, tracing the truth behind her words.
Kyoka's fists clenched. "For months I thought they'd abandoned me. That they'd decided I wasn't worth bringing along. But then I found out the truth. Their ship was destroyed at sea. Everyone died." She let out a shaky laugh that wasn't really a laugh at all. "I didn't think I could cry that much in one day."
Her shoulders trembled. Tatsumaki raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak.
Enel stepped forward, resting both hands on her shoulders, grounding her with his quiet but firm presence. "You survived," he said simply, not as pity but as fact.
Tatsumaki, surprisingly, didn't scoff or roll her eyes. Her usual biting aura had dimmed into something softer—though only slightly.
Kyoka sniffed once, then continued. "After that, I had to survive on my own. The money they left behind ran out fast. I played music wherever I could. Taverns, street corners, wandering musician troupes that passed through. I thought… maybe I could still make something of myself."
Her gaze darkened.
"Then I found it."
Her fingers brushed her elongated earlobes, the metal jacks glinting faintly.
"I got lost in the desert one day. Stupid of me, I know. I was starving, dehydrated, convinced I was going to die out there. Then I found a chest half-buried in the sand. Inside was a fruit. Strange, colorful, perfectly preserved despite what looked like centuries underground."
She chuckled humorlessly. "I didn't think twice. Ate it on the spot. Turns out it was the Oto-Oto no Mi. The Sound-Sound Fruit."
Tatsumaki tilted her head, intrigued despite herself.
"It gave me incredible abilities," Kyoka said, her voice regaining a spark of pride despite the heaviness of her story. "My hearing… it's beyond human now. I can pick up sounds from miles away if I focus. I can channel sound through these—" she flicked her earlobe jacks "—and destroy almost anything from the inside out. And when it comes to music…" Her eyes lit faintly, a flicker of who she used to be shining through. "I can feel every song I play. I can understand any music I hear, enhance its emotions, bend it to whatever I want it to be. It's… like breathing now."
"Sounds useful," Tatsumaki said, arms still crossed.
"It is," Kyoka agreed. "But then came the price."
Her voice dipped into something darker.
"The changes scared people. The wandering musicians I thought were my family—the ones who praised my talent—refused to even look at me. Called me unnatural. Said I 'tainted' the music we made. One by one, they turned me away. And suddenly…" She let out another bitter laugh. "The thing that was supposed to make my dreams come true destroyed them instead."
Enel didn't move, but the air around him seemed to hum faintly, like a storm building behind a mountain.
Prejudice was nothing new in this world. Fishmen were still hunted, minks still treated like curiosities, and even among giants of Elbaf there were still those who sneered at others. But for musicians—the ones who were supposed to understand the human heart better than anyone—to reject her for something as shallow as appearance?
It was pathetic.
No. It was infuriating.
He almost laughed, but it wasn't from amusement—it was from the sheer absurdity of it. Musicians, who claimed to capture the beauty of the world in their art, revealed themselves to be as ugly as anyone else.
And yet, as his Mantra extended, he felt something that surprised him.
The owner of this store. A small woman upstairs, trembling from the earlier attack. Her Haki was weak, but her heart radiated kindness like sunlight through glass. She wasn't forcing Kyoka to work here. She'd taken her in. Given her a purpose.
That was why Jirou fought for this place. Out of gratitude, not obligation.
The silence stretched. Kyoka's voice trembled slightly as she added, "I guess this is just what I am now. Someone who plays music in a store and pretends she's fine with it."
And then Tatsumaki cut through her words like a knife.
"Shut up," she said flatly.
Kyoka blinked, startled out of her thoughts. "…What?"
"Stop crying," Tatsumaki said, floating closer, her expression unreadable. "You're not that person anymore."
Even Enel tilted his head slightly. But then he understood.
Tatsumaki's voice was as abrasive as ever, but there was something beneath it—a current of intent.
"You said it yourself," Tatsumaki continued, her green aura flaring faintly. "You found someone you actually care about. Someone who gave you a reason to keep going. So why are you wasting time dripping tears over people who didn't deserve you in the first place?"
Kyoka stared at her, stunned.
Tatsumaki's gaze softened only slightly. "If you're going to play music, then play it for someone who deserves to hear it. Otherwise…" She turned her head with a dismissive scoff. "You're just being pathetic."
For a moment, Kyoka didn't respond. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a small, genuine smile—the first real one she'd shown since they met.
"…Thanks," she murmured.
Tatsumaki snorted. "Don't thank me. Just stop being depressing."
Enel chuckled under his breath, placing a hand on Kyoka's shoulder again. "She means it in her own way," he said.
"I know," Kyoka replied, her voice steadier now. "And she's right."
For the first time since the robbery, the air around them didn't feel heavy. It felt… hopeful.