A BLEEDING HEART WITH A BLOOD ALLERGIE... OR: THE END OF A BAD JOKE

... I'm so screwed.

Here he was laying flat on his back with two walls of armed muscles towering over him. His only hope was that, by some miracle, one of them was a devil fruit user creating a mirage or a perfect duplicate of himself. Echo's gaze pierced through each bandit while he squirmed away from their blades. Unfortunately, there was nothing mystical about his assailants' resemblance.

The twins wore identical expressions of victory. They had him cornered. He knew it, they knew it, and Cleo's anguished scream only confirmed it.

He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear the weight of her fear and disappointment as he aimed fruitless kicks at the bandits' knees, but right as they were about to sink their swords through his chest, a blond blur with haki-coated arms knocked their heads together.

The crack of splintered skulls mingled with Echo's pants.

"That was close," Sabo said.

Echo's head lolled in the sand, and in a quiet exhale, he said, "Thank you."

"You okay there, wolfy?"

Echo glared.

"Bleeding heart?"

"Fuck off."

Top hat barked a short laugh and jogged toward choke-man's passed out form.

"Oh, good. He's alive." Sabo palmed the back of his neck, and with a sheepish grin, he added, "I have some questions for him."

Echo hummed in reply.

He didn't kill. Ever. Yet even this golden rule didn't prevent a sea of blood from tainting him. His little speech on Grena had led to immeasurable bloodshed and now, coupled with this whole Sharif debacle, he was starting to question the desert wolf's existence. He wasn't a revolutionary, had never nurtured the idea beyond his dream for equality, and even if he had, his last days in the South would have eviscerated the thought. Too many heads had rolled, nobles' heads impaled on miners' crowbars. His empty stomach rolled at the memory until a frenetic Cleo landed on his chest. His arms flew up, fingers clutching the fabric of her makeshift blanket as she coiled her arms around his neck.

Sea-stone pressed against his already tired body and turned him into a wet noodle, yet he refused to loosen his tight hold.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, mouth pressed to her tangled hair, "I-I'll stop... We'll be simple explorers." He swallowed. "No more helping people, it's too danger—" Cleo cut him with an angry growl, but he pressed on. This wasn't about him, it wasn't about his redemption or his desires. It was about Cleo and his responsibility to her. "It's too dangerous," he insisted, only for the girl to slap both palms down on his chest.

"Cleo..."

She shook her head no and brought her hands up to mimic the shape of his goggles, then pointed at him.

Yes, I'm the desert wolf... and an irresponsible parent.

Echo dropped his head back with a sigh. "Fine," he said, "But—" Cleo's widening smile froze. "—You have to learn to aim."

Her carefree giggles invited a pleasant warmth in his chest. Did her resilience know no bounds? He had to wonder when neither the circus nor the slave-traders had managed to break her malnourished form. And to think he'd nearly lost her... Goosebumps erupted the length of his arms, his nap tingling with the uncomfortable thought of what could have been, of what could have happened, and his lips curled down, temper boiled to a simmer, at the intrusive memory of Sharif's contrite face. If he ever saw that bastard—

"What is it?" he asked, brows creasing in concern when a frowning Cleo leaned down.

"Aw!" He swatted the index poking at his cheek and replacing it with the much softer caress of his palm. The area was swollen, like a quail had laid an egg on his cheekbone. He prayed it wasn't broken or he'd need to find a doctor, one shady enough to not care about his bounty, yet not as shady as to mess up his face. "It's nothing," he said in a reassuring voice.

The timing sucked. Echo already needed to restock on raw materials to build the device he'd spent half of his life working on. Plus, now he had to make a new set of taser disks, and with their vault entertaining more cobwebs than berries, he could feel the birth of a new headache.

His gaze strayed to where hippo-lady laid sprawled in a heap of elongated limbs. Her eyes were rolled back, holstered guns hanging down her deflated waist.

That must be worth something... Come to think of it, the entire band of wanna-be bounty hunters must have some valuables on them. But first...

"Alright, princess, what do you say we find the key to these horrid bracelets?"

Cleo nodded vigorously before she jumped to her feet and trotted back to the carriage. Bewildered by her high spirits, Echo followed her at a more sedate pace and found two duffle bags and a familiar backpack bundled inside the cargo holder. Chest tight with apprehension, he unconsciously held his breath as he dug through his rucksack and released a deep sigh when his fingers brushed against his confiscated gear. A weight lifted off his chest at the comforting feel of his cat-ears shaped goggles weighting on his head, their slim branches hugging his temples, and his shoulders relaxed even further when he slid his cream-colored gloves on. He took a second to bask in the feeling of right and whole, before he carelessly emptied the bandits' duffle bags inside the carriage's cage. Cloths, provisions, two more slave collars, a small pouch of coins he tucked inside his pant pocket, and a worn blade sharpener... but no key.

Well then, time to pick some pockets. Thankfully, all the bandits were either unconscious or a weeping mess. Echo tsked as guilt reared its ugly head in answer to blue-eyes' sobs, and with an exasperated eye-roll, he walked over to the broken-armed man.

"The claws inside my gloves are coated with a potent anesthetic. One slash and you'll be out for an hour... If you tell me where the key to the manacles is, I'll make the cut near your elbow. With some luck, the area will still be numb when you wake up."

"H-He has it," the bandit said with a pained nod at choke-man. "There's a hidden po-pocket inside his waistband."

Echo nodded and marched over to the still passed out bandit leader. Lips curled in distaste, he patted the man's leg-hugging pants and retrieved the key.

"Got it!" he called to an excited Cleo who came rushing over as if she wasn't wearing any sea-stone at all. It put his own weakness to shame, for the simple clench of the key had his fingers shake. Fuck.

"Need some help?" Sabo asked.

Echo hesitated for just a second, his usual suspicion dampened by shared misfortune and a pesky feeling of gratitude.

"Please."

As soon as she was free of the restraints, Cleo slid back into her furry form, her makeshift blanket landing in a heap over her fennec body. She weaseled out of the black garment and rubbed her head against Sabo's calf.

The man crouched down and gently patted the soft space between her ears. "You're welcome, little one."

"Her name's Cleo."

"Then you're welcome, Cleo," the blond repeated before he grabbed the manacles and jacket off the grainy ground and clasped the former around choke-man's wrists. "So, does this mean I've earned some trust points? Cause I'm dying to know," he said, eyes sparkling with mirth, "Do your goggles shoot lasers?"

Top-hat's easygoing attitude was contagious, and despite his better instincts, Echo relaxed and snorted at the ludicrous image.

"They're fancy binoculars is all," he said, only to crumble under the weight of the other's child-like pout. "... And they have night vision."

"Cool! Can I try them?"

Echo swatted grabby hands away. "No."

Sabo's laughter was cut by the screech of a baby-snail, the muffled chirp rising from choke-man's crotch.

Echo's nose curled. There was no way he was putting his hands near the unconscious man's junk again, but a suspiciously nervous Sabo rushed to do so.

Catcha.

"Koa—"

"Do not Koala me, you egotistical piece of... of... Where the heck have you been?!" the puffy-cheeked snail asked. "Why didn't you check in? This is just like you, always doing whatever you want without a thought for others' feelings!"

"Koala, I—"

"Hack and I've been worried sick. I swear, at this rate, I'll turn bald before my thirties!"

Happy to put some space back between himself and a man who, by all accounts, was a perfect stranger, Echo returned to the only conscious bandit and nicked the weeping man's elbow with the tip of a dark claw.

"I was ambushed!" Top-hat cut in as soon as the snail paused for air. "It wasn't my fault this time," he added, and proceeded to depict an epic battle against choke-man and hippo-lady. Top-hat's embellished tale was worthy of South Blue's greatest storytellers. More so, it rivaled the memory of his mother when, in the late hours, she'd filled his head with wondrous depictions of people and places that could only ever exist in fairytales. Still, even as he rounded up the bandits' valuables, the blond's voice, decidedly foreign yet strangely familiar, lulled Echo's into a dangerous sense of safety.

"Whach yu act on I?"

Ah, looks like choke-man's regained consciousness.

The snail sighed. "I'll forgive you this—"

"I'll call you back." Sabo disconnected the call and frowned at the fumbling man. "What's his deal? Did you hit his head or something?"

"Or something," Echo answered absentmindedly, his mind lost in calculations as he evaluated the value of the silver chain he'd torn off tall-man's wrist. At least a thousand berries, just enough to make a new taser disk. It was still better than nothing, and on that thought, he returned to his pile of stolen goods and started loading them onto a large horse until an abrupt shift in top-hat's emotions called for his attention. Echo looked over and followed the trail of his gaze. The blond was staring at his loot.

Echo froze mid-motion, grip tightening on the sword he'd been about to slide inside the white mare's saddlebag. "What?" Did he expect them to share?... Then again, he did take hippo-lady and the mountain twins down so...

"Nothing… I didn't peg you as a thief."

"I doubt any of it was theirs to begin with," Echo said with a shrug. "Do you want some?"

Sabo chuckled. "Nah, have at it. I've already got my price," he said with a nod at the blabbering choke-man. "... If he ever speaks sense again..."

"He will." I did. "Just give it a few hours," Echo said before he hefted Cleo onto the horse.

"Wait, are you leaving? We've barely had time to talk! Let me reintroduce myself. I'm Sabo, chief of staff of the revolutionary army."

The revolutionary— shit. Way to keep a low profile. Echo's throat clammed around a boulder-sized knot.

"I heard about Grena. Well, I guess everyone has," Sabo continued with a smile that withered when Echo failed to reciprocate.

Mister chief of staff of the freaking revolutionary army cleared his throat. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, you know, see if you'd be interested to join."

"Interested to join?" Echo parroted to win some time as he collected his thoughts.

"The revolutionary army! What you did, back in the south, it was all anyone could talk about for days. And your devil fruit power looks pretty interesting."

Echo recalled top-hat's earlier words. 'I like my head where it is,' he'd said, and in that moment, Echo very much shared the sentiment.

"My involvement's been greatly exaggerated. I gave a speech is all."

"Sometimes, words are all it takes to stir a revolution."

"Then maybe I should cut my tongue off," Echo mumbled, mind once again swarmed with the memory of dead-eyed stares and impaled heads.

A chill fell over the desert.

"So what? You'd have preferred Grena's rulers continue to exploit their subjects?" Sabo asked with frost in his eyes.

Echo's jaw clicked shut, teeth grinding at the other's accusation. "I'd have preferred they didn't slaughter everyone involved."

"It's the price of change."

"Slaughter?"

"Death. It's a revolution, people die. It's naïve to hope otherwise."

"Then I guess I'm a naïve fool," Echo whispered, shoulders dropping in defeat as he tucked a loose strand behind his ear. "I'm not cut out for this." He turned around, shaky fingers closing the saddlebag. "But I respect your cause. Our world needs to change, and it's good to know there are men and women out there who have the strength to make it... I'm just not one of them." He settled on the horse and toyed with the reins for a few seconds before he sought Sabo's troubled gaze. "Thank you."

"... Guess I'll see you around, Puppy."

I hope not. Revolutionaries were bad news for noble-born. He sometimes wondered what they'd do to him if they found out who he was, but didn't allow the thoughts to stray too far less they chase all sleep away. Would they lapidate him like those villagers had tried with the Donquixotes? Would they riddle him in bullets like Celestial Dragons did their misbehaving slaves?

"In your dreams, Top-hat," Echo said with a shaky smirk.

With a press of his heels, he urged his mount into a trot.