They use up all the iodine and gauze in the second kit once Killer wakes back up, repurpose a few menstrual pads when blood threatens to seep too quick though this afternoon's wrappings. Killer seems more alert and calmer now, even if she's pale and still looks exhausted.
There's no running water right now, and Kidd promises her the world's best bath once this is all over, running the fingers of his right hand through her hair in attempt to brush it out. He's probably only making it worse, but they both need this, a grounding soothing action. She makes no attempt to stop him, soft touches rare for the both of them these last months.
Depending on how the night goes, it might be the last they get for a while.
Really, the only hiccup is when its time to get dressed again, and Killer goes to fetch her robes from where they'd been left in the galley.
Kidd nearly throws a conniption, hating how uncomfortable she looks in the get up; the way her hands shake as she goes to tie the robe closed again, the way she fumbles and has to undo it. He can see her mentally trying to remember how it goes, like he does the few times he's attempted a necktie. "Stop stop stop," he growled, trying to take the garments away from her, only for her to growl right back.
"You are not leaving me behind, jackass," she hissed.
He looked at her like she's slapped him; the though never having crossed his mind, "What? No! I mean, you not wearing that crap -"
"I'm not going naked!"
"No, wear mine," he said, shoving his own clothes at her, his vest and slacks at least.
He wasn't often able to stun Killer in to silence. Her face was blank and she was just blinking rapidly, trying to find the tracks Kidd's mental train of thoughts had taken.
"The fuck are you going to wear?" she settled on finally.
"My kilt."
She erupted into laughter at that, more manic than usual because of the fruit, but honest laughter, the kind saved for his particularly stupidest moments.
"I'm serious," Kidd got her to drop the robes, and held his slacks open for her to step into.
"You're going to stick out- "
"I was always going to stick out."
"Well, now we're both going to stick out."
"That has never stopped us before."
She 'tched' at him, but stepped into the pants. As wide as her hips were, Kidd's waist was thicker, and she had to hold them up as he worked one of the belts off his kilt for her to use.
His vest was just as awkward fitting, a bit too tight in the bust but otherwise formless as it hung down off her. A strange look crossed Kidd's face when he looked at her, before he knelt down to tie the pant legs up at her knees to keep her from tripping on them.
"Please do not start to be weird about my feet or something," she worried at him when he didn't get back up again, hand resting on her calf.
"I.. I was going to have you wear my boots, but your feet are so fucking small."
She pulled her leg away, frowning at him, "I'll wear the geta, I've gotten decent enough at walking in them. What were you going to do, go barefoot?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she smacked him upside the head, "Dumbass. Put your boots on and stop being weird."
Her time spent as Kamazo had been well spent, Kidd came to find out. When she was allowed to slip her handlers to go assassinate whoever Orochi was cross with at the time, she took as long as she could get away with, scouting and mapping out ever part of Wano she could.
Killer knew where everyone was - had known where he was - in her time as Orochi's puppet, and had spent what sanity she'd had left getting their crew moved around and taken care of.
The indiscriminate killing had never been the hard part; she'd do it all over again for her crew without batting an eye. On the surface, it wasn't even the favours she'd done that bothered her, although they'd shaken her more than she'd admit. No, it was that her ability to compartmentalize and cope had been completely screwed once she'd eaten that fruit, and with how lost she'd been when Kidd had first found her, he knew the lucidly she had now was held in place by the barest of tethers.
She'd taken him to Wire first, their tallest commander spotting them before the guards did, and immediately turning on his captors. It seemed what Orochi had forgotten was the Kidd Pirates where only placid because they believed he held their captain's life in his hands. The sight of Kidd walking free meant all shackles were thrown down, and Kidd walked out of there with not just some of his crew but a good number of forced-laborer locals there to help.
He was... not sure how to take that turn.
Wire got them weapons, and freeing Heat was next.
While Wire had been quick, efficient and clean in his killings, Heat took one look at his crew come to free him, and turned on Kaido's men with all the fury he'd been forcing down since they'd been subdued on their own turf. He'd been the last of the four standing against Kaido, and Apoo, the one the watch Hawkins take a knee as he himself was beaten down.
Wire had fallen first, taken out by Kaido before they'd understood they where under attack. Killer had been next, that bastard Apoo having moved like he'd watch her back, to uphold an alliance they'd just sworn to, only to step aside to let her take Kaido's club full force to the head. Heat had been frozen in place, uncomprehending as her helmet cracked and splintered in a single blow. Kidd had fallen next, blindsided by rage, even his fury no match for an emperor. Hawkins had knelt then, surrendered. Heat felt all eyes to him, both his enemies and crew alike, and had answered the only way he'd known how; he'd spit a fireball at the monster, and then knew no more.
Since waking up, he'd been with a few surviving crew mates, forced to work. He didn't know if Wire or Killer had survived, only being told Kidd lived. And would only continue to live only so long as they didn't cause Kaido's people any trouble. So against every fiber of his being, Heat had kept his mouth shut and head down. He'd tolerated their abuse and horded supplies and weapons, and waited. and waited. and waited.
And then a wild man stood at the gates, dressed only in boots and kilt and the red of fresh spilt blood. Heat did not freeze up this time. He was not even sorry to have left so few for his captain to get to fight.
Seeing Wire dressed in the same drab prison garb as himself was disheartening, but the blood splatter on them both livened it up pretty well. Heat then broke one of the biggest rules the crew had, and pulled Killer into a hug without warning. He'd not seen her face when her mask had broken, but the fact she was still bare broke his heart, and the only way to keep from staring was to put her out of his line of sight.
She gave an uncomfortable giggle, a sound so strange to him he didn't place it as her making the noise at first, as he cupped the back of her head in his hand. Solid bone, whole and unbroken, unlike his nightmares. Frighteningly more, was she allowed the embrace at all, only Kidd ever granted the privilege of being tactile because of the long history between the two. Her own hands warm against his back as she tucked in under his chin, returning the gesture.
In his panic, Heat looked to Kidd, demanding answers to what their vice-captain had been forced to endure. Kidd's face was carefully blank; Wire's pinching as he drew his own conclusions.
Kaido's men here had died too fast. Heat would be sure to make it last longer at the next camp, grinding his jaw as he rested his head against Killer's for a brief moment longer before pulling away. He kept his gaze lowered, frowning as he took in her getup.
"Boss Killer, you really do not have to indulge Captain's atrocious taste in patterns, you know." Although, she at least wore the shirt better than he did, even if it was poorly fitted for different reasons.
"You know a place I can get a good pair of jeans?" she asked dryly.
"All leather here I'm afraid. But," he nudged the wooden sandals she was balancing on, "that does include shoes. Lets find you something better?"
All the prisoners raided the supplies, trading out ragged linen for furs and leathers, and even if it wasn't quite their style, Heat and Wire made it work for them. Killer also got boots, but - with Kidd's blessing and don't think Heat didn't catch that look he gave her - stayed with the clothes she had. Kidd also passed on clothes, and admittedly, he looked fearsome enough as is, so it worked for him too.
"I do have one last thing," Heat admitted, as they made ready to hit the next camp. Some of the locals would march with them, but most had gone their own way already. As long as it caused chaos and a headache for what passed as authority on this island, Kidd didn't care either way.
This camp had been mostly responsible for metal work, and that was both the ore being mined on the island, and the melting down the scrap from other projects. Or other ships.
Heat and the few crew mates that had been assigned here and been slowly salvaging little bits that they knew had been taken from the Punk. Enough for Kidd to build a respectable new prosthetic. For Wire to have a trident that would work for his taller frame. Older punishers that had been retired; not because they were broken but because Kidd and Killer had perfected a new design. Still perfectly functional, and between Kidd, the weapons on hand, and the camps tools, new blades had been procured and affixed easily. The strange new smile that never seemed to waver on Killer's face seemed genuine the first time as the machine spun to life in her hand.
"Don't say thank you yet," Moai grinned, before hoisting up a wooden crate that had clearly been buried in the ground until recently.
Most of the crew had never heard Killer laugh before, something she'd stopped doing long before they'd stopped trying to kill each other instead of turning their ire to bigger targets. So it took them by surprise to hear her burst into both tears and cachinnations. Kidd's look to them was a clear and present warning not to react, as he took the helmet from Moai, who looked at him to make sure he'd not done something wrong.
Kidd loosened the latches on the spare helmet, before holding it up for Killer. Heat could see in his eyes he was furious about the situation, but was doing an admirable job in acting like nothing was amiss. Killer lowered her head to let him put it on, the Captain pausing only to ask, "Bangs?"
"Don't care right now," she laughed back, little mirth in her voice despite all. And despite the laughter and tears, the moment the metal was carefully latched back into place, her whole body eased just a bit, relaxing enough for all to see just how tense she'd been up to that point.
All told, they hit eight different labor camps that night, before all that was left was the most delicate extraction, getting the last members of their ranks from the pleasure district.
