– Bellamy –

The Payback War had been significant-not just globally, but also on a more personal level. In a way, it had been the first venture I had embarked upon since I'd woken up in this world which hadn't been a success. Honestly, it had been like a bucket of cold water being poured onto my somewhat swollen head, reminding me that the world was a dangerous place. That just because I'd been slowly catching up to Izou didn't mean I was anywhere close to reaching my stated goal of becoming the strongest man alive.

Now, my response to that dose of reality could have been one of two things. One, I could have fallen into depression, bemoaning the futility of all my efforts and letting myself be dragged along the currents of an existential crisis.

Or I could accept my loss against Lafitte, get off my ass and do something about it. Complaining about cheap shots and cheating bastards wasn't going to make me feel any better, meaning that there wasn't any need to waste valuable emotions and time making myself miserable. Furthermore, it wasn't as if the entire war had been nothing but a continuous sequence of failures.

Regardless of whether we could have beaten him in a fair fight – that is, for a certain definition of fair – there was no denying that we had caused one of Blackbeard's titanic captains to reconsider facing my crew. On top of that, we had been well on our way to actually slaying one of them before Boa Hancock intervened in a textbook example of kill stealing. Considering what I had started with less than two years ago all the way back on Jaya, calling our progress astounding was probably the understatement of the century.

On top of that, my interference in the Summit War and beyond had arguably resulted in a (slightly) better outcome than in canon. True, most of Whitebeard's commanders and allies were either dead or otherwise out of commission, as that unfortunately hadn't changed. Unlike canon, however, the Whitebeards had not been forced to hide underground or go their separate ways. They hadn't given up the fight either, though they would need at least another year to recover and rebuild. As tragic as the aftermath of the Payback War may have been for those involved, for me it had been another piece of evidence that change was possible.

Admittedly, the dimensions of said change were quite modest so far, but the rest was just a matter of gathering enough strength until I could influence events to my liking. Coincidentally enough, my musings on how I was going to fix Kuma had provided me with a bit of an epiphany.

I had long since learned that the abilities of a devil fruit were conceptual in nature. This, in and of itself, was nothing new nor was it groundbreaking by any measure. However, the question of exactly what my understanding of this concept was had been left unanswered until now. But if I wanted to move forward, that would have to change. Put simply, I needed to ask myself the following question:

What was a spring in its purest form? What was the essence of a spring?

A spring was a device consisting of an elastic, but largely rigid material, bent or molded into a form capable of returning to its original shape after being compressed or extended. If memory served, such or something similar was probably the Wikipedia definition. This was also technically true, but it was also a limited view bound by the restrictions of my past life. Not to mention that this portrayal of a spring was nothing more than an observation of its outward form.

If one dug a little deeper, moving past the exterior and into its underlying functions, one might say that their purpose was the storage and release of energy. Characterized by Hooke's Law, there was an elegant simplicity in how every interaction and every change a spring underwent eventually returned to this primary principle. Both were aspects I'd used to great effect so far and were the ideas that formed the foundation of my power.

I could have stopped here. It would even have been perfectly logical. Considering my earlier thoughts that all of creation was composed of tiny little springs called atoms, I may have unlocked the ability to cause destruction and mayhem with the snap of my fingers. After all, what was an explosion if not a rapid expansion of volume due to a sudden discharge of energy?

Though, if you'd forgive the theoretical, possibly somewhat inaccurate ramblings of a former physicist, there was one last step I wanted to take before I wrapped up my long-winded exposition. What happened to a perfect spring when it released its stored energy? The simple answer? It oscillated. Assuming no loss due to friction and the like, an activated spring would continue to oscillate until the end of time in a periodical manner, which could be perfectly modeled by a waveform graph.

In a way one could claim that reality itself was my oyster, because a wave was a very good analogy for the inner workings of the world and its smallest constituent parts. And when you mixed waves and tiny spring-like atoms together in a pot with a generous helping of imagination and insanity, you began to approach this wonderful but quirky, little domain we physicists liked to call:

QUANTUM MECAHNICS

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"You are by far the most reckless, foolhardy, insane, rash, halfwit moron of a captain I've ever had the displeasure of serving under."

"Urk!" I groaned, being jerked this way and that as her words stabbed into me like a series of impaling spikes. "To be honest, I'm also the only captain you've ever served under."

"As if you dismembering yourself at every opportunity wasn't enough already! Now you've… you've…raargh!"

"That sort of hurts, you know." I whined, clutching at the fresh bump on my head lest she smack me again. "And it all worked out fine in the end, right?"

"…" Her answer was a glare that promised unimaginable pain and torment.

"Right, shutting up now."

"Frustratingly enough, you're simultaneously also the most brilliant captain I've had the pleasure of serving under."

"Again, I'm the only captain you've ever serv…eh, you were saying?"

"So, despite you having, in essence, ripped your own existence apart at the seams and mashed it back together in a sudden stroke of madness and genius inspiration…"

"Ah… it's not exactly like that, you know? It's more that I took advantage of the fundamentally statistical character inherent in reality…"

"If you try to explain to me how a quantum wave function works…again, I'm going to hurt you. I'd fix you up afterwards, but I can assure you, you wouldn't enjoy the process."

"Didn't you swear an oath to do no harm to those entrusted into your care or something? As far as I can see, I'm a patient lying in your sick bay."

"A healthy dose of nerval stimulation can be a necessary step in the medical diagnostic process and physical recovery."

"That's a fancy way of saying that you don't care."

"I do care, but sometimes the only cure for stupidity happens to be a solid whack to the cranium." Muret sniffed. "If trying to imitate Schroedinger's Cat doesn't qualify as absurdity, I'm not sure what does."

"Ahahaha…ha." My laugh trailed off into awkward nothingness, my hand paused halfway towards scratching the back of my head.

"But then you had to go ahead and be successful, so I can't even berate you properly. I know that genius and madness are two sides of the same coin, but this seriously takes the cake."

"So does that mean…?"

"Yep. As far as I can tell, you've suffered no permanent damage from your little foray into nonexistence. Or any damage, for that matter, apart from a temporary coma and metabolic insufficiency." Muret answered, pulling out the iv drip and cleaning up the remains of her infusions. "Though, unless you want your body to start breaking itself down for nutrients, I'd refrain from using that new ability."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Now that you mention it, I am feeling a tad peckish."

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– Hewitt –

As anyone who'd ever had any experience in the kitchen would attest, preparing a meal was a lot of work. One had to stock up on ingredients, prepare said ingredients fitting whatever recipe one was inclined to use on a particular day, and spend time frying, boiling, steaming, or otherwise preparing those ingredients for the plate. And when that was done, there were still pots, pans and dishes aplenty to be washed, a kitchen to be tidied up, and empty pantries to be filled before the cycle began anew. Doing the same on a larger scale was associated with a correspondingly larger workload.

The point Hewitt was trying to make being, that his position as the only chef aboard the Black Pearl came with a lot of work. Not least because he was apparently a glutton for punishment. How else did he explain voluntarily agreeing to create separate dishes for every individual aboard for every meal? That those personalized recipes were tailored to account for their specific dietary and nutritionary needs to maximize health and training benefits didn't make this task any less taxing.

In the beginning, when he'd first embarked upon this venture, Hewitt had been seriously tempted to recruit help. If only to help wash and peel the ungodly mass of fruits and vegetables that his friends gobbled down in a single sitting. Unfortunately, reality had quickly convinced Hewitt that unless he wanted bloody food, this was going to be a very, very, VERY bad idea.

His friends were hopeless in the kitchen. Every. Single. One of them. Oh, they were certainly enthusiastic enough. Perhaps too enthusiastic. While their exploits were numerous enough to fill a duke's library, at least according to Lily, Hewitt had to ban them from his domain for the crew's safety, let alone for the sake of his own sanity. He hadn't even known it was possible to burn water before Mani showed him evidence to the contrary. And did you know what made it even worse? Hewitt still didn't have a single clue as to what they were doing wrong. One moment everything would be all fine and dandy, but the moment he stopped supervising them to work on something else, all hell would break loose. It had been a maddening experience.

Arguably, Ross had been the least destructive of the lot. For one, he didn't cause irreparable damage to Hewitt's cooking implements. Nevertheless, the state he'd left the potatoes in, after his visit to the Bloody Countess' castle, had forced Hewitt to throw his carefully designed meal plans out the window and mash the root vegetables' sorry remains into purée. In the end, Hewitt accepted his fate.

"I see you've gotten used to your new Devil Fruit rather quickly."

"By necessity, I assure you Captain. By necessity." Hewitt replied, carefully inspecting a glass for smudges. "It's great having a few extra helping hands around. Or claws. I'm not terribly picky, and if they can hold a knife I don't care."

"Well, there are certainly a lot of them, that's for sure." Bellamy mumbled, his eyes wandering across the many tentacle-like limbs diligently washing the dishes.

It had taken a while before Hewitt could pick up porcelain with the claws topping his new chain limbs, but desperation fueled success. Honestly, Hewitt wasn't sure why Bellamy seemed surprised. The idea had originally been his, though his captain had admitted to pinching the idea from either a Mr. Stan Lee or one Dr. Otto Octavius. Regardless, his ramblings had certainly provided a lot of inspiration when Hewitt had been trying to figure out how to use the new Devil Fruit the crew found in the hold after the Payback War.

"Food doesn't prepare itself; you know. By the way, here's the energy drink Muret asked me to prepare for you. Gotta finish it all, Captain. Doctor's orders."

"This looks…unique." Bellamy commented, before making a face. "It's not squid, is it?"

"It is, actually. Oh, don't make that face, I've left out the peanut butter this time!"

"But what is this brown stuff?"

"Quit stalling and drink, captain."

"Why does it feel like the longer we travel together, the less respect I get?" Nevertheless, the Captain downed the contents of his glass with a resigned look. Lots of funny facial contortions followed.

"I'm sure you're just imagining it." Hewitt grinned, stroking one chain like one would a beloved pet. "Why, I am absolutely brimming with respect and gratitude for giving me that Devil Fruit. It changed my life!"

"Aren't you being a little overdramatic?"

"Are you kidding? Thanks to these babies, I've had more free time than I've had in years! I wasn't sure what to do with all of it, but I've decided to start studying."

"Exploring new cuisines, are we?"

"Nope, though it is marginally related." Hewitt shook his head. "I'm having a hard time believing it myself, but Lily convinced me to give accounting a go."

"I'm guessing it's preparation for when you have your own restaurant to run in the future, right?"

"Yep. It would be rather embarrassing to go bankrupt after everything I've been through."

"With your share of the treasury, I think bankruptcy is going to be the least of your worries…"

"I guess, when compared to Doflamingo having found us, keeping my non-existent restaurant financially afloat seems a more distant issue. Bit of bad luck running into his agents before the war, but what can you do?" Hewitt sighed, staring at the ceiling. A spider was draining a fly dry. He'd swat it, but the spider was just doing its job and he didn't want to stain a limb with its corpse… Perhaps the spider could help clear the kitchen of further undesirables?

"It wouldn't have mattered all that much. Disco's promised one-year grace period was coming to an end, anyway. Considering the reach Doffy has, it's a small miracle that we have yet to hear anything from him."

"Funny how things turned out, isn't it? If we'd told our younger selves that we would be gunning for Doflamingo's head instead of trying to join his crew, they'd have called us lunatics."

"It's not that long ago, if you think about it. It's been what, a little less than two years?"

"Feels a lot longer if I'm being honest." Hewitt remarked, scratching his chin. "Do you think we're ready?"

"To face the Warlord?"

"Not that. My flaw is envy not delusion. I'm referring to whatever else he's going to throw at us."

"I don't know. It really depends on how many resources he's willing to burn to catch us." Bellamy mused. "Though considering the jabs we've given him since the Summit War, I'm going to guess it's a lot."

"I guess it's a good thing you've awakened your devil fruit, isn't it? Not to mention the new fruits Mani and I've picked up before and after the Payback War. That makes what, a total of six devil fruit users on this crew? Seven if you count Funkfreed."

"To be honest with you, I don't think that I've fully awakened mine yet. What I have done is crack open the door and shove one boot into the opening."

"Better than nothing I suppose. I still need to learn how to use mine. Seriously, I'm getting a whole new appreciation for how much of a beast Mad Treasure used to be. Material manipulation is no joke."

"I think you'll do just fine, Hewitt. Have some faith in yourself."

"Same to you, captain. Though, seeing as Doflamingo hasn't caught us yet, maybe we were being a little too paranoid?"

"You think?"

"Don't know. But things have been exceedingly peaceful since the War."

"Don't jinx it."

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