Cat Owners, Cat Lovers
The walls of Ohara Institute of Historic Investigations stood tall and proud, tall enough to let giants room comfortably through its halls; the base was made of coral reef, which lets the building always stay fresh; the decor and furniture were made of polished marble or the finest woods, requiring regular maintenance, usually provided by students doing their internships under watchful ete of an expert restorer, or two.
You could smell the age of the well-kept building; its creation was closer to the invention of the internet and survey cameras they installed decades ago, than to the creation of the many texts and other precious objects they kept safely for record and study.
And to the current Director, Nico Robin, it was home.
She had spent more time with the last Director, Professor Clover, studying all that the Institute had to offer than in her own house.
She knows every crook and cranny, every secret of the building that made the Ohara Institute of Historic Investigations.
Its doors were always open to visitors, including the general public and curious students and investigators seeking help or inspiration. They even have a wing with a small gallery and exhibition centre. But the base team had been handpicked by both her and Professor Clover, from the cleaning and security personnel to their specialised archivists, restorers and investigators.
Inuarashi was the head of their field investigators, an old man with a peg leg and over a decade of experience working in digs, ruins and restoration efforts. His right-hand man was the pompous Shishilean, who, although younger, put equal care into the digs and the safety of the team. To his left was Wyper, a new but precious addition; not only was he an expert in Shandian history, but he was one himself, and, given that most if not all of the ruins surrounding Ohara are Shandian in origin, well, his expertise and point of view are very treasured.
The manager of their library and archive systems was the same person that Professor Clover appointed years before Robin officially joined the team with her internship: Saul was a cheery man with a thick accent and a speciality for making newbies feel welcome; he had appointed Fukaboshi as the head of their library and Skull as the head of their archive, for as Fukaboshi was better at organising, Skull had a knack for finding interesting to bring back to the institute.
Although the branches were always well-marked and divided, there was a lot of mingling and working together, and Robin enjoyed promoting teamwork by rotating the staff so they never got too bored doing the same type of work all the time, and it also helped her identify everyone’s weaknesses and strengths.
Deuce and Hiyori always worked best in the library or the archive, Viola had a knack for restoration, Vivi and Coniss had the most fun doing field work, and Ichiji seemed to flourish everywhere she put him, although he seemed especially keen on working with their many, many books and other texts.
Robin loved her team, she loved the Laughtale National Park where her beloved Ohara and the sites they studied were located, and she loved the Ohara Institute of Historic Investigations, but she wasn’t naive, she was well-aware of the mysterious dangers that haunted both the park grounds as well as the institute itself; the dark of the night might be more dangerous than the light of the day but the sun didn’t promise much safety either, and although no one liked to talk about it — which was fine by Robin, given how few incidents ever ocurred — she wasn’t keen on anything happening to her dear staff.
She sighs and puts down her pen.
Looking out the window, she finds the stoic strawberry-blonde that is Vinsmoke Ichiji, blushing as his favourite park ranger, one Portgaz D Ace, leans over the fence to talk.
She giggles at the cute sight.
Heaves, does she love Ohara and her team.
And, heavens, is she going to protect them with her life.
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Ace’s history with Laughtale National Park was long and charged.
He first heard about it from Dadan; he had been around seven or eight years old when he finally dared to ask the bulky woman why his father had abandoned him and his long-ago deceased mother. Dadan had sat them both down, and settled a warm hand on his back — both her preferred show of comfort and a rare act of tender love — as she explained that it wasn’t that his father had abandoned him, rather, his father had worked in one of the country’s biggest and most important national parks and just… went missing one day, no clue or body left for them to find.
It had been a relief to learn that his father hadn’t abandoned him of his own will, and his child brain had decided to declare the vague notion of the park’s woods to be one of his greatest enemies.
He had thrown that notion away by the age of ten, both aware of the silliness of such a thought as well as busy with his new role as an older brother.
He stepped onto the park grounds for the first time that same year, after Dadan finally gave in to his many pleadings and arguments for her to take them there, insisting that it was something he had to do, as if he were the protagonist of a novel that would be unable to go on with his life unless he confronted the wild trap of nature that left him fatherless.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but his surprising fascination for the park as well as the warm welcome of those who had known his father had not been it. In any case, it had been a worthwhile visit.
He visited a couple of items after that, always accompanied by his brothers.
And when he was seventeen — and officially a member of Whitebeard Corporation’s team — he came back to the park not as a guest but as a worker; it had been a summer gig for him to get acquainted with the terrain and the responsibilities of the rangers.
It was also then that he met Vinsmoke Ichiji, who was visiting with his siblings during a small open-house event; the man was a year younger than Ace, with a cold fire burning behind his ice blue eyes. He hadn’t known then that not only would they be connected by their little brother’s friendship — and their cats — but he would become the person that Ace would refer to as “the love of my life”.
Sometimes, he had the delusional thought that, while the park had taken his father, he had given him Ichiji.
He tried many different jobs after that, everything that Whitebeard Corps had to offer, he did.
But he couldn’t stay away from Laughtale National Park forever.
He came back to stay when he was twenty-one, and despite all the dangers that he knew the park promised, there was nowhere else he would rather be.
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Ichiji wouldn’t describe working at Ohara Institute of Historic Investigations as a dream come true exactly; it had been a carefully made decision that involved a lot of analysis of the pros and cons of the different institutes that had caught his eye, Ohara simplu had the most pros: from its beautiful location, not too far away from his childhood home, to it’s rich and ever expanding library, as well as the fact that it had many important sites closeby — the detail that it was also the best excuse to move in with his boyfriend, who worked in the premises, was a plus that had not plated a part in his decision making, not at all, shut up Niji —.
His boss, Nico Robin, was a well-known and respected archaeologist whom Ichiji admired deeply, and his workmates were both equally intelligent and friendly people.
Ichiji hated to admit that it hadn’t taken him long to make himself at home at Ohara.
It didn’t help that Ace worked close enough to visit him whenever he felt like it. At least he never did more than flirt a little.
“Well, hello there, pretty boy”
Ace leaned over the fence that marked the territory of the institute itself, a nothing piece of land compared to the park Ace roamed in daily.
“What a wondrous coincidence meeting today,” his roughish smile made Ichiji snort a laugh.
“A serendipitous meeting, indeed,” he played along.
Ane nodded sagely and stretched, invading more of Ichiji’s space.
“What brings you here today?”
Ichiji pushed his glasses up his nose “Oh, you know, the usual,”
“Work” they said in unison.
And they laughed together.
Ace’s walkie-talkie cracked to life, and they heard a familiar, if grainy, voice.
“Yo, Ace, are you done flirting with your boyfriend? I need you back so we can go down to Post 5, remember?” said Yamato on the radio. He sounded good-humoured “We gotta take these supplies to Pedro, over”
Ace took the radio out of his utility belt and up to his mouth “Here Ace, daily mission ‘seduce the pretty historian’ has been completed successfully once more, and I’m on my way back, over.” he winked at Ichiji before walking to his four-wheeler and driving away.
Yamato might have replied something, but Ichiji wasn’t able to make out the words.
The daily mission “Seduce the pretty historian” had certainly been a success.
