Chapter Text
Jinbe: God Of Honor, Deep Sea, Travels, Family Bonds; Warrior Of Unity; Guardian Of The Oppressed; Patron Of The Fish-Men And Helmsmen
Honored Jinbe, allow us to come together and weather anything that tries to tear us apart.
Mort knelt before the shrine of his people’s most beloved and honored Patron. He bowed his head in prayer, leaving the offering of a swordfish that he caught himself before the stone effigy of Jinbe of the Pantheon of the Straw.
“Please,” he said, eyes shut tightly. “Please, allow me to join the people who want me. Allow me to leave Hurst’s service with minimal injury and casualty.”
His voice shook as he thought of his Elektra (his true captain). Brilliant and passionate Elektra was bloodied and beaten because she tried to free Mort from Hurst’s control. She was still with her ship’s doctor, recovering. Her beloved medallion of the God of Freedom, Luffy, was gone.
(The thing was, as with every tragedy, Hurst was good once. He was kind to Mort. He remembered their time together on Fish Men Island, swimming through the seas, and exploring all there was to be explored.
But then Hurst’s mother had died while on land for business. She had been murdered because, for all that there was no more slavery of their people, there was still hate. She had been in the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time of day and paid the price of just existing. It was unfair and unjust.
Hurst lost his kindness after that, but he was charismatic and bold. People followed others for less. He promised them forever and protection to be free on the seas.
No one ever really thought about the catch. Until it was too late.)
Mort was tired.
That was the feeling that had sunk into his bones. Ever since Roe had caught him alone to tell him what happened, their eyes were dull with their captain so injured.
“She tried to free you from him,” they said. “Because she loves you. Now she’s hurt. So what are you going to do now?”
Pray to a god, apparently.
“I have been a fool,” he confessed to his god. “I have been such a fool. And I don’t know how to help the one person who had promised me salvation. Who had wanted to save me from a deal with the devil. And I don’t know what to do.”
Unity is hard.
As a mortal, Jinbe saw his brethren free from the shackles of their oppression. He had seen them no longer in bondage, but the issue was that centuries of hate don’t disappear. Even with Imu on top of the throne of the world dead, even with the World Nobles in shambles…some things just don’t break as easily.
But sometimes, people are just tired of hate. Sometimes, people just don’t want to carry on such an anger when they don’t even know how it started. And they turn to Jinbe and ask for honor, to be shown down the path for Unity.
Because Unity is hard, but people can be good at their core. People can see what they have been taught and learned to reject it. People can get angry at how the world treats others who were oppressed by their ancestors, and they can try to be good allies. They can listen and they can help and they can work toward something better together if they are shown the way.
Jinbe ascended to godhood before he could see his dream fully realized.
But he saw it with every person who worked together to try to create a better world.
Mort knew he was probably going to die.
He wasn’t a powerful fighter like Hurst. He was barely a fighter, more of a cross between a doctor and a shipwright. But he was useful to Hurst, and they had known each other since they were kids; that was enough to keep him in the captain’s orbit.
It was too late; he realized that Hurst’s little “compliments” were more backhanded than not. It was too late; he realized that Hurst never really let anyone go once they joined the crew. And if anyone did try to leave, well, they left in a body bag instead of on another ship. They were controlled through fear: their own and the fear of Hurst’s everyone leaving him.
But then he met Elektra, and she wanted him on her crew.
She thought he was fun and nice, and everything she said was so genuine out of her mouth. Her eyes were so bright, bright like the god that she worshipped. Bright like how she said that he should be allowed to leave the ship without reprisal.
Her beating was Hurst’s reprisal, though.
Mort wasn’t a master of Fishman Karate. He was barely good at it.
But he had to come to his freedom even if it meant death. Because he wasn’t Hurst’s anymore. He was hers.
(“We should have a glass of sake together,” Elektra said with her eyes bright. Her lavender hair fell over one shoulder, and her grin was as sharp as broken glass. “It’s an old ritual between people of the sea. We drink it together and we are each other’s. You’ll be crew and I’ll be captain and we’ll be together.”
She walked toward the bar as if it had already been decided.
Mort followed her like someone would follow the sun.
It was the best drink he ever had.)
Hurst beat Mort as mercilessly as he beat Elektra. Maybe even more so, considering that she was a better fighter than he was. Hurst, however, wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
“You were always so fucking pathetic,” he spat out with his needle-sharp teeth. “Now look at what you’re making me do.”
Mort hoped that if he died, then Hurst would be satisfied.
He didn’t know if it was an honorable death, but it was all he could do. Elektra and the others would be safe. He refused to cry out, though. Mort refused to give Hurst that satisfaction.
And then everything got quiet.
All Mort could hear was the lapping of the waves.
“That,” said a powerful voice as a wave of divinity pressed down around them all, “is enough.”
He cracked open the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
And he saw before him a large shape, shining like the deepest blues of the ocean. So blue that it was almost black. He stood so fiercely before him, so proudly. Mort knew, in his heart, who it was.
His god had come to save him.
“If you require an opponent,” Jinbe said, the power of his words crackling in the air. “Then I will have to suffice.”
His god dropped into a fighting stance, and Mort felt safe to pass out from the pain.
Mort woke aboard the Twilit Dream.
He knew it was Elektra’s ship because she was sleeping in the bed next to him. Her medallion was back on her neck, and she looked further along in the healing process than she should have been.
“You both are lucky fucking bastards and have the gods watching over you,” Roe said, looking fully ready to be off duty to have a drink or five. “And I went through two packs of cigarettes in the past week because you two are the same kind of stupid and reckless. Never fucking do that again.”
“Wha…”
Mort coughed.
Roe held a glass of water to his lips. Once he finished the whole glass, they sat next to him on the bed.
“Jinbe destroyed Hurst and those loyal to him,” they said. “And then he carried you here. Said that you shared a cup of sake with the captain and that you were ours now.”
Mort nodded.
Roe shook their head, but they looked at Elektra fondly.
“Fuckin' moron."
It was fond, and Mort wasn't sure who it was directed at. Honestly, Roe kind of scared him in like a fun way, but still scared him so he wasn't planning on asking.
"How did she get her medallion back?" he asked.
Roe blew out a breath and shook their head in exasperation.
“I think fucking Luffy showed up to give it back to her, but you know what? I don't need to know more. I already had a taste of the divine. I don’t need anymore. I’m going to bed.”
Mort laughed at that, creaky but happy.
He felt part of something good, despite all of the pain.
He felt free.