Spending months stuck on a boat, living off scraps and whatever passed as food, didn’t exactly leave room for proper hair care. So yeah, your braids were a disaster. They were loosening at the scalp, fraying at the ends, some of them in the back barely holding on like they were one bad breeze away from giving up completely. You tried to ignore it for a while. Really, you did. But after enough time spent overthinking it, running your fingers over the mess and sighing every five seconds, you finally gave in and asked the one person who’d get it. Usopp. The only other black person on the ship. The only one who understood the struggle without you having to explain a thing. Now he sat behind you on a chair, while you stayed on the ground between his knees, back straight, trying not to flinch as he worked. His fingers moved quick and careful, undoing each braid one by one, separating your real hair from the kanekalon and setting it aside in neat little piles. And somehow, it didn’t even hurt. Which was honestly kind of impressive. He talked the whole time, of course. He always did. Another one of his stories, voice animated, hands somehow still steady as he worked through the knots like it was nothing. He was actually pretty good at this.

"And then, goddamn Sanji had to try and use one of my peppers bombs as spice on some stew of his. I swear. And Luffy, that guy still ate it and said '"yum". What do you mean, yum?"