Renegade Queen

by Hazel_Athena

Summary:

He’s presented to her in the centre of the court.

Notes:

Right, so, I know this is going to sound bizzare given that I’m dropping 76+k out of nowhere, but I have no idea how this happened. One day I was casually postulating on how different Reiju and 124ji might have turned out if Sora had lived and gotten them away from Judge, and the next thing I know here we are.

One thing I will say, while there is certainly romance in this story it is, more than anything, a love letter to Vinsmoke Sora and who she could have been if circumstances were different. I really have no idea how this fic is going to go over for most people, but I hope you all enjoy it nevertheless.

Chapter 1

He’s presented to her in the centre of the court, an imposing figure who towers over her even without the armour he arrives decked out in. His shaggy blond hair partially obscures his face, but does nothing to hide the cold, cold eyes that stare down her from his much higher vantage point.

As she’d always expected she would, Sora dislikes him immediately. Everything she’s heard about this man - the stories of his drive, his ambition, his ruthlessness - had been as much of a turnoff for her as they had been a source of intrigue for her father.

He’s brilliant, she’d been told. His cunning knows no bounds and he won’t let anything stop him from reaching his goals. He’ll put Germa back on the map.

Unlike you, had been the unspoken addendum to those statements. She’s always been thought to be weak by those around her; the only child of a previously sickly queen, and therefore the lone heir to the Vinsmoke name and Germa’s desperate hopes of retaining its former glory. They’ve always aimed to pair her with someone who’d be her opposite, someone strong where she was not.

Well, Judge certainly fits that bill on paper, she thinks sardonically. She gazes up at him, frankly unimpressed by what she sees, and has to bite back the urge to sigh. In her heart of hearts she’d known not to expect anything better, but that doesn’t stop her from being disappointed all the same. 

Nevertheless, every member of Germa’s dwindling nobility is watching her right now, meaning this isn’t the time to let her ever present facade drop. Offering up a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, she stretches her hand out towards her future husband, watching as he dwarfs it with his much larger one.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says, easily catching the way he promptly dismisses her outright. “I’ve no doubt we’re going to be very happy together.”

*****

In the beginning, it’s not so bad. Judge shows little interest in her overall, which she prefers, and is at least polite and attentive whenever circumstances require them to be together. 

He stays by her side when her father dies in yet another of the foolish, petty skirmishes Germa’s become so famous for over the years, offering up his support even though she’s not really in mourning. Harsh though it may sound, she and her father had never been close, and his policies had made him as much a danger to the kingdom’s people as the enemies he’d fought.

With her father gone, she assumes the throne as queen, and Judge takes his place as king right alongside her. The issue of an heir is brought up within days, and it’s all she can do not to roll her eyes as she thinks about the fact that her father’s body hasn’t yet had enough time to settle in the ground.

Still, she knows the risk of presenting a weak image to the world better than most, and therefore Reiju enters the world barely ten months after her grandfather had exited, a brilliant blue eyed baby with fuzzy blonde curls covering her head.

She’s a happy child, imminently delighted by the world around her, and Sora falls in love the second they lay her in her arms. Even Judge seems pleased, accepting the congratulations of the medical staff as if they’re his due and noting how she looks both strong and healthy. 

Sora ignores his comments about strength, knowing full well that it comes in all kinds of different forms. What matters is that Reiju knows she’s loved, and that her family will support her in whatever she might choose to do with her life.

Two years later, when Reiju comes back from a visit to her father’s lab with hair a vibrant pink and eyes no longer as warm as they once were, she’ll realize her mistake.

*****

“Absolutely not,” she says, the words punched out of her before she can stop herself.

Judge blinks, his bushy black eyebrows disappearing beneath the bottom of his war helmet as he stares at her in open surprise. Inwardly, she curses for not catching her gut reaction in time, while outwardly, she rubs a hand over the swell of her belly, pretending that the gesture is meant to sooth a kicking baby.

“I’m sorry,” Judge says, his voice flat as he processes what he’s just heard. “Can you repeat that?”

Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound, as they say. Squaring her shoulders, Sora glares up at her husband, trying to calm her beating heart and hoping that none of the children she’s carrying can feel her sudden tension.

“I said,” she replies, “absolutely. Not. You are not using these babies as test subjects for whatever horrors you have going on down in those labs of yours. Especially when they’re not even born yet!”

He stares at her, and she feels a brief flare of satisfaction as seeming him caught off guard for once. In nearly ten years together, she’s never so much as raised her voice around him, and it’s clear he’d never considered the possibility that she would.

Then his eyes narrow, and he matches her glare with one of his own, his massive hands clenching into fists as if he’s giving serious thought to grabbing her and shaking her. “You,” he says, in a voice that’s as cold as his eyes, “don’t have a choice in the matter.”

She barely resists the urge to stomp her foot like a petulant child. “They’re my children too,” she hisses. “I won’t have you do to them what you’ve already done to their sister.”

He snorts at this. “My plans for these ones are nothing like what we used on Reiju. She’s a success in her own right, but there’s still too much humanity in her. This batch will be far superior.”

“This batch?” She echoes in horror. “They’re children,” she hisses with a level of venom she hasn’t felt in years. “Innocent babies, not - not vegetables grown in a garden. I won’t have it, Judge. I will not let you do this.”

“As I said,” he replies coolly. “You don’t have a choice.”

In a sense, she supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when he snaps his fingers and a number of guards arrive to grab her by the arms, yet even after all this time, with all this evidence, she’d still thought there were levels too low for even him to stoop to. What a terrible time to be proven wrong.

And yet, perhaps it was time for him to learn he’d underestimated her as well.

*****

She knows from the moment her boys come into the world that they’re different. They don’t cry, they don’t fuss, and they don’t cuddle close to her when she holds them. They simply stare back at her with a flat affect that is so much worse than whatever had been done to Reiju.

All of them but one, that is. Sanji, the third baby, wails whenever he wants to be picked up, his sharp cries echoing around the otherwise silent nursery, and he burbles happily the moment she gathers him in her arms. His brilliantly blue eyes sparkle when she looks at him, and he kicks his feet in glee when she strokes a finger over his downy soft, bright blond curls.

Judge can see it the second he lays eyes on the boy, noting the way he’s louder and smaller, oh so much smaller, than the rest of his siblings. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he all but spits, glaring at the baby where he’s tucked up close to her chest, thoroughly content in his mother’s arms. “Was nearly killing yourself really worth producing three specimens like I wanted and a runt that will never amount to anything?”

Her eyes flash, and Sanji makes a disgruntled noise when she reflexively holds him tighter. She’s weak physically now, the poison that runs through her veins already having a terrible effect, but she raises her head up high to glare at her husband.

“Get out,” she says, giving him no room for argument despite the way he opens his mouth to protest. “You’ve made your point and I’ve made mine, so leave.”

He stays where he is in the doorway for what feels like hours but is in reality only a few seconds. Then he shakes his head, his massive shoulders hunching in annoyance as he jabs a finger first towards her and then towards the cradles holding the three other babies.

“This was only the beginning,” he snarls. “I’m just getting started with those three, and I have every intention of seeing if I can’t find a way to have that one catch up. I won’t let you ruin him if there’s anything I can do about it.”

“I said get out!” She barks. Outside she can hear the sudden sound of running feet, no doubt a flurry of nurses coming to tell her not to exert herself in her condition, while inside Sanji starts to actively wail his displeasure at the raised voices.

Judge holds her eye through it all, but in the end he’s the one who breaks first. Turning away with a deliberate scoffing sound, he stomps off down the hallway, his footsteps only fading when he passes through the swinging doors at the entrance to the medical wing.

No longer interested now that he’s gone, Sora focuses the entirety of her attention on her fussing baby, shooing away the nurse who offers to take him so she can rest.

“It’s fine,” she insists, her voice sharper than she likes thanks to the way her blood is still boiling from Judge’s brief visit. “I’m perfectly capable of getting him to settle,” she continues on, rocking the baby gently. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

The nurses share a look that suggests they’re not sure if they should be following her orders or not, but Sanji’s already starting to calm as she soothes him, and none of his brothers had gotten agitated to begin with. Left with nothing to do, the women depart with repeated assurances that they’re available whenever she wishes.

Sora waves them off absently, her attention now solely locked on her tiny son. “It’s alright,” she coos, holding him close with one hand while the other strokes a careful finger over the curve of one delicate cheek. “You’re fine, little one. Mama’s here.”

Sanji’s face, previously scrunched up with displeasure, begins to smooth out, and his cries quiet down to a dull murmur. He kicks his feet back and forth, and Sora tickles the pad of the left one, grinning when he repeats the motion, but harder this time.

“Your father doesn’t think you have it in you to be strong,” she tells him, feeling another spike of anger at the notion that one could possibly write off a newborn baby, only hours old. “I think he’s wrong, though,” she confides. “I think you’re going to be the strongest one of all.”

Of course, Sanji has nothing to say to this, he merely keeps kicking as she keeps up her gentle teasing, but Sora nevertheless feels better. She knows this is only the beginning, knows that she’s going to have to fight harder than ever to protect not only him but the rest of her children, but right now, in this moment, she feels like anything is possible.

She’s going to help them, all of them, and Judge is going to rue the day he tried to turn her babies into weapons.

*****

It’s the raid suits that finally make her act. 

She’s seated at the table for one of the rare meals where she has enough energy to leave her rooms, all five of the children thankfully finished and gone, when Judge presents the designs with a flourish. He drops them in the centre of the table, his eyes aglow as he lays out the operations that will be conducted to bond each suit to its respective child. 

“Of course,” he adds snidely, “we have no idea if the plans for Sanji will work, and there’s a very good chance that he’ll remain just as much of a failure as ever. Reiju and the other boys, however, should be no trouble.”

“What?” He asks in the face of her continued silence. “Don’t you have anything to add?”

Sora has an entire lifetime’s worth of experience in keeping her emotions from showing on her face, but over the past eight years she’s turned that skill into an art form. There’s not so much a crack in her cool facade as she picks up the closest design, assuming this one must be for Ichiji if the red colouring is anything to go by.

Setting the schematic back down, she doesn’t bother glancing at the others, and instead returns her attention to the soup in front of her. The doctors are always telling her how she needs to eat to keep her strength up, and she’s going to need what little she has left now more than ever.

“What could I possibly have to add?” She asks, marvelling at how she can see her reflection in the meal laid out before her. Taking a sip, she makes a mental note to advise the cook to use less salt if she has time. 

“We both know you’re going to do whatever you want, regardless of what I say.” She notes once she’s swallowed and patted her lips dry with a napkin. She hasn’t coughed up blood in a while, so at least she doesn’t wind up staining the folded linen with anything else. “You always do.”

And she always keeps her mouth shut, she thinks but doesn’t say aloud. She’s sat quietly through every rumoured training exercise, every military plot, and every medical examination. For almost a decade she’s been lulling him into a false sense of security, and she’ll be damned if she trips now at the finish line.

Judge scowls, his irritation at his inability to get a rise out of her as plain as the nose on his face. If the stakes weren’t so high, she’d almost be inclined to find his childish petulance amusing. Unfortunately, the situation is far too dire for that.

“At least you understand that much,” he grunts finally, always needing to have the last word even when she’s refusing to play his games. “I’m going to see to it that those children grow strong enough to restore Germa to its former glory.”

Sora scoffs inwardly. Germa’s past was nothing to be proud of, and as the actual Vinsmoke heir she knows that better than anyone. In her youth she’d had dreams of trying to turn things in a completely different direction once her own father was gone, and sometimes she wonders if the old bastard hadn’t saddled her with Judge to avoid that very thing.

Either way, there’s no use crying about it now. She can’t save Germa. Certainly not now, and quite possibly not ever. If she’s very, very lucky, however, she might just be able to save her children, and that will be a crushing victory in and of itself.

Dredging up a faint smile from somewhere, she takes another sip of her soup.

*****

Opportunity comes knocking only a few weeks after she’s made up her mind to act. 

Always wanting to test his latest terrible creations and show off his military might, Judge has sailed the entire fleet into the East Blue in order to raze an innocent country to the ground. Although she feels deeply sorry for its people, Sora still breathes a sigh of relief when she learns of their intended destination.

In some ways the East wasn’t her first choice. It has a harsher climate than the South and is less populated than the West - meaning it will be more dangerous and harder to hide. On the other hand, it’s the poorest of the three other Blues, so the funds she’s been secreting away will get them further here than they would anywhere else.

She listens closely to Judge’s campaign plans, nodding along to feign interest in his barbarism, when in reality all she cares about is how his absence will be of benefit to her. Part of her feels ashamed of that cynical attitude, but the rest of her has been planning her escape for too long to let it stop her.

Over the years, she’s created a pattern. Whenever Judge is off Germa, she spends her time all alone with the children. They eat with her, spend time with her, and it’s the only time when it’s just all six of them together.

It’s therefore no surprise to anyone when Judge leaves and she gathers all five of them in her small sitting room for supper. The table is already laid out with a meal placed in each child’s specific seat, and she’s careful to ensure that no one winds up in the wrong spot.

Judge has always enjoyed regaling her with tales of what the children are capable of, of how difficult it is even at this young age to bring them down or stop them once they’ve been given in order. She knows he does it to be cruel, but he’s still stupid enough to fall right into her hands in doing so.

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji are not yet the finely honed weapons that Judge plans for them to be. The potential is there, but they’re still small enough that they can be controlled by normal means. She may have hated every second of listening to Judge’s stories of what it takes to anesthetize them for operations in the labs, but at least she knows exactly which substances are needed to put them under.

Yonji starts sagging first. His larger size corresponds directly to a larger appetite, and he’s through almost half his meal before most of the others have even started. The cup next to his plate rattles as his hand smacks the table awkwardly, his brow furrowing in confusion as he wonders what’s happening to him.

Sora hates seeing him struggle, especially knowing she’s the cause of it, but she forces herself to remain calm as his head dips forward, narrowly avoiding the remains of his meal as his eyes slip shut.

“It’s alright,” she says softly, well aware that this was always going to be a particularly tricky part. Sanji’s eyes are wide with horror as he watches his brother fall, while Reiju looks mildly concerned as well.

On the opposite side of the table, Ichiji lunges to his feet, his red hair swaying as he jerks his head around, clearly searching for enemies. “Are we under attack?” He demands. “Is it the people father is trying to - trying to - unh.”

No doubt having put more strain on his system with his movements, the drugs get him next. He sinks back into his chair with a quiet thump, his hair falling into his eyes and hiding his face from sight.

Sora bites her lip, hating seeing him look so vulnerable, but there’s no time to focus on that now. Shifting her attention to Niji, she’s reluctantly pleased to see that he’s nodded off without any fuss at all. 

“Mom, what’s going on?” Sanji demands. He’s standing now, contorting his smaller form over Yonji’s as he tries to shake his brother awake. “Something’s wrong with them. We have to get help!”

“Nothing’s wrong with them,” she assures, as amazed as ever that he can care so much for people who’ve done nothing but try to hurt him. “They’ll be just fine once they’ve had a little rest.”

“But - !”

“Mom’s the one who made them fall asleep, Sanji.” Reiju pipes up. Her cool blues eyes are calculating as she casts an assessing gaze in Sora’s direction, looking suddenly so much older than her mere eleven years. “Aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” Sora agrees, knowing that this is yet another make or break moment in her plan. “Are you going to help me get them all to safety, sweetheart?”

Banking on Reiju’s humanity was never something she’d wanted to do, but there’s no way of getting all four boys out without her assistance. The only other option would have been to drug her as well and leave some of the children behind, which, of course, was no option at all.

She holds her breath as she watches Reiju consider her options, genuinely horrified that so much is now riding on the willingness of one little girl to go against everything she knows. Sora doubts she’ll ever be able to forgive herself for putting such a burden on her daughter.

Finally, Reiju reaches a decision. Shrugging her skinny shoulders, she flicks her hair and blinks at Sora. “Which one do you want me to carry?”

It takes all her years of honing a carefully crafted image to stop Sora from weeping in relief. “Take Yonji, please. I can handle the other two.”

Judging by Reiju’s dubious expression, it’s clear she has her doubts as to the veracity of this claim. It’s understandable, given how little time Sora spends outside of the medical wing these days, but even that had been part of the act.

Somewhat, anyway. Right now she’s as much fueled by adrenaline as she is anything else.

Allowing herself one heavy sigh, she climbs to her feet and turns to Sanji, who’s staring at her with eyes containing a mixture of terror and hope. He’s figured out what she’s trying to do then, and she gives him the most reassuring smile she can muster.

“You’re going to have to walk on your own, darling.” She says. “And you’re going to have to keep up. Do you think you can do that?”

He nods jerkily, his tiny fists clenched at his sides and his mouth set in a determined line. Next to him, Reiju’s already gathered Yonji in her arms, the two of them presenting an image that would be comical if it weren’t for the very real danger they’re in.

Or that some of them are in, she supposes. There’s no doubt in her mind what kind of retribution she’ll face if Judge catches them, and poor little Sanji will likely meet it right along with her. The other boys and Reiju are less of a guarantee.

On the other hand, if Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji fall back into Judge’s hands then it’ll be more experiments and eventually those godawful suits for the three of them. Any chance they’ll have had at normal lives will be gone, and that would be its own kind of death in and of itself.

Letting that thought strengthen her resolve, she picks up first Niji and then Ichiji, nearly staggering under their combined weight. Taking a moment to adjust, she nods at Sanji, who runs for the closed door without having to be asked.

“Thank you,” she says, wishing she could ruffle his hair or give him any other kind of reassurance. “Now, head towards the back exit, please.”

Since Sanji’s spent more time in her quarters than any of the other children, he immediately knows what way to go. He darts on ahead of them, looking furtively over his shoulder all the while, like he’s expecting some of the guards to fall on them at any moment.

That much is probably an unlikely fear. There are minimal guards near this area at the best of times, and over the years she’s made it clear that her time alone with her children is to be taken very seriously . No one should be around to see them, at least not until they’re farther out, anyway.

Luckily, she’s timed everything perfectly, and Germa’s full scale assault is already underway as they exit this section of the castle. Explosions sound off in the distance, indicating that Judge’s might is concentrated elsewhere for the time being.

Sanji flinches as one such explosion booms overhead, and he can’t quite hide his trembling when he turns to look at her. “Mom?” He asks, voice catching as their eyes meet.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” she assures him, pausing briefly to adjust her grip on Niji when he starts to slip. “Now, I need you to head towards the docking ports, okay?”

“But that’ll put us closer to the fighting!” He protests, the fingers of one hand coming up reflexively to clutch at his hair. “Why would we want to go there?”

“Where else would we go?” Reiju asks. “Think about it,” she continues on when he turns to stare at her. “We can’t take one of the snail ships. They’re too distinct and they’re full of dad’s soldiers. We have to get out another way.”

“That’s right,” Sora confirms, not sure if she should be pleased or horrified by how quickly Reiju’s figured out her strategy. “We need to get into the other side’s territory, and, if we’re very lucky, find a ship that will let us onboard.”

“There will probably be lots of people who are trying to flee ahead of father,” Reiju agrees. Sora can’t be sure, but she thinks the girl might be the slightest bit surprised at how thoroughly she’s thought this through. “If someone will give us passage, we might be able to get lost in the chaos.”

“Exactly,” Sora agrees. “So both of you keep your eyes open for a likely looking ship, alright?”

Sanji squares his shoulders. “Okay!” He says, eyes flashing with a kind of grim determination that she’s not used to seeing from him. His gaze quickly sweeps over his brothers and he nods, seemingly to himself, before turning on his heel and marching forward.

They move for long enough that Sora’s almost about to give up hope when Sanji, still out front in the lead, points excitedly. “What about that one?” He demands, his finger shaking as it stabs in the direction of a passenger liner that’s speedily getting ready to set sail. “Do you think we can make it?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she replies, urging him forward as best as she’s able with both her arms full. “Mind how you step.”

He ignores her with what she’s going to consider to be the ignorance of youth and takes off running. “Come on!” He calls, when he glances back to find Reiju keeping pace with him but Sora struggling to follow suit. “Hurry! Hurry!”

His voice gets lost in a series of ringing explosions, their travels having taken her far closer to the fighting than she might have hoped. In the distance, she can see other people streaming towards the waterline, some of them with packs thrown over their shoulders, but most with only the clothes on their back.

They converge on the gathering crowd, getting boxed in by other panicked bodies, all of whom have the same goal in mind. For a few harrowing seconds she loses sight of Sanji, but then he pops back up at Reiju’s side, his hand fisted in the back of his sister’s dress in an attempt to not get separated again.

There’s a woman in a captain’s uniform standing at the top of the gangplank, her arms gesturing wildly as she barks orders at the crew around her. Yet even as she’s fighting to get her ship underway, she’s waving more and more civilians towards her, clearly intent on taking as many as possible onboard before she’s due to leave.

“Oh gods, you poor thing,” she says when Sora reaches her. Her eyes rake over the two unconscious children in her arms and then the three clustered around her feet. “Their father?”

“Didn’t make it.” Sora lies, hoping her lack of emotion will be blamed on the stress of the situation. “If money’s an issue - ” She starts, her thoughts straying to the pouch that’s strapped to her waist beneath her dress.

“Don’t worry about it.” The woman cuts her off, ushering them further onboard. “It’ll all sort itself out in the wash. Step lively now! There’s others waiting behind you.”

“Cato!” She barks then, catching the attention of a young sailor with a sharp jerk of her head. “Get these poor little ones tucked away in one of the passenger rooms and send the doctor along to look at the injured boys.”

“Doc’s already up to his elbows in some poor man’s guts,” the sailor replies, wincing when he notices the ages of most of his audience. “I can send ‘im up when he’s able, but as for when that’s likely to be?” A pointed shrug sets the boys shoulders tensing. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“It’s alright, it’s not a problem!” Sora insists, balking at the thought of a doctor getting a close look at any of the children. They’re going to have to switch ships as quickly as possible regardless, but that will just expedite the need even further. “I can take care of them.”

The captain starts to say something, but more shouting from the deck quickly grabs her attention. No doubt deciding she needs to pick her battles, she nods at the sailor instead, motioning for him to get going on the task she’s slotted for him.

Looking relieved at the prospect of getting out of the open, the young man gestures for them to follow him, bustling through a heavy wooden door that leads to a short flight of stairs and then a hallway lined with dozens of identical looking doors.

“We’re a passenger liner by trade,” he says, hurrying along, but counting off individual doors as he goes. “About half the cabins were empty, though, so we’re cramming folks in wherever they’ll fit. This one should do for your lot.”

Stopping in front of a door that looks the same as all the others, he shoves it open and proceeds to nod. “Yep, just like I thought. No one’s in this one yet. It’ll be cramped given the size of your family, but you’ll all be able to stay together.”

“Thank you,” Sora breathes, not caring in the slightest about the prospect of her and the children winding up on top of one another. She ducks inside the room, nodding gratefully at Sanji when he closes and latches the door behind them without being asked.

A quick glance around the room reveals two double beds and not much else. Having no idea if this represents typical travel accommodations or not, Sora pays the matter no mind. She lays Ichiji and Niji out on the closest bed, indicating that Reiju should do the same with Yonji. It’ll be cramped, but if the three of them have one bed, Reiju and Sanji are small enough to share the other with her.

It hits her then while she’s watching the three sleeping boys, the magnitude of what she’s done. Her legs weaken without warning - the action for once having nothing to do with her illness - and she finds herself needing to sit abruptly in the room’s lone armchair as Sanji flutters around her anxiously.

“I’m alright,” she murmurs, plastering one of the fake smiles she’s so adept at across her face and patting him on the head. “You have nothing to worry about.”

He stares up at her with wide, trusting eyes, and it’s that which almost makes her break. She’s told many a white lie to her children over the years, all for the sake of protecting them, but that one truly was the worst of all.

Judge will come for them. It might not be today or the next day or even the next, but it will happen. Eventually their absence will be discovered, and even if the sacking of this poor island in the East hasn’t been completed yet, he’ll leave the battlefield to chase her. Regardless of the mercenary contract that had brought them here, he’ll abandon that before he’ll let his most prized weapons slip from his grasp.

She’s turned them into fugitives, alone in a strange land with virtually nothing to call their own and a name they can’t use thanks to the attention it will draw. Just her and her poor babies, reduced to homeless wanderers in the blink of an eye.

That thought is almost enough to make her break down, and she thinks it would if not for the one that follows closely on its heels. Yes, they’re alone and yes, they’re in danger, but no matter how she might look at it, the danger was greater in Germa. Out here the risks are purely physical, but back there they were so much worse. Her children’s very humanity was at stake, and that’s a far higher price to pay than something as simple as creature comforts.

Telling herself to remember that fact and hold on tight to her resolve, she straightens in her seat, fully prepared to meet whatever challenges came next.

*****

The ship they find themselves on is called the Orbit, and it’s unlike any Sora’s ever seen. Having spent her whole life in Germa, she’s used to only the snail ships, and frankly finds this traditional sailing vessel fascinating.

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for most of her children. Having awoken mere hours after they’d made their escape, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji have asked her repeatedly why they’re here and when they’ll be going back to their father. They seem particularly confused by the lengthy break in their weapons training.

Sora bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood the first time Yonji - the youngest, the baby - asks her if they’re supposed to spar with each other since none of the soldiers are with them. It takes everything she has not to rail and scream about how he’s eight years old and this should be the last thing on his mind.

“No one is sparring with anyone right now,” she says finally. “There’s no room for it with all the people on board and we have to stay out of the sailors’ way so they can work.”

It’s a weak defence, practically paper thin if one stops to examine it even a little, but it’s more than enough to satisfy him. As much as much as it pains her to admit it, the lack of free will that Judge has been systematically customizing into the boys - minus Sanji - is working to her benefit for now. It’s ingrained in them to follow orders from their superiors, and currently that’s her.

She tells herself it won’t be for forever. Once they’re far enough away, once she’s had so much as a moment to breathe, she’ll be able to sit down and come up with a plan of how to handle what’s been done to them. She’s not Judge, she’s no scientist, but she’s listened as he’d described every disgusting experiment he’s performed over the past ten years, so surely there must be something she can do to reverse at least some of the effects.

In the meantime, she needs to concentrate on their current predicament. The Orbit’s captain has been by a couple of times, seemingly pleased to see all five children awake and looking none the worse for wear, and her staff have been doling out simple meals to all the people currently on the ship. None of this, however, can last indefinitely.

The captain’s plan, such as it is, is to cross into the borders of a different kingdom, one that will be receptive to refugees and then let them disembark there. After that, she’ll return to going about her usual business, doing her best to put this whole adventure behind her.

Sora wars within herself over what to do next. They could get off at the next island, but as the closest one to Cozia, that’s bound to be the first place Judge looks for them. Even worse, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to find passage on a new ship quickly. It might be smarter to stay aboard the Orbit for now, until they can put more distance between themselves and Germa.

She tries to put out tentative feelers to assess how receptive the captain would be to this, knowing it won’t be what’s expected of her, but in the end finding herself needing to just ask.

“I can pay you,” she blurts, fidgeting under the weight of the other woman’s incredulous stare. “But we have nowhere to go back to, and …” she trails off, unwilling to verbalize the fact that she has something she’s running from.

The captain stares at her, her dark eyes searching for something, although Sora doesn’t know what. She wonders if the captain remembers how they’d arrived - three children unconscious but without a mark on them and a husband she insisted was dead - and is putting at least some semblance of the issue together in her head.

If she is, she doesn’t say so. Instead, she rolls her shoulders absently, clearly deep in thought as she considers Sora’s offer. 

“Your money would honestly be less useful to me now,” she says finally. “Especially if you’re looking to stay on for a while. It won’t be just passengers we’re losing at our next stop, a bunch of the crew want out after everything they’ve been through, which, can’t say I blame ‘em really. Do you know anything about sailing?”

“Not in the slightest,” Sora confesses. “I’ve been on ships, of course, but I’ve never played a role in their operation.”

“Are you willing to learn?” The captain asks. “You and maybe even some of your little ones, as well? There’s always something that needs cleaning or carrying around here. I’ve no doubt we’d be able to find some way for you to make yourselves useful.”

Sora thinks it over. There’s not much she imagines she’d be useful at on a ship - not with her lack of sailing skills and her health being what it is - and even less she thinks she can do that would enable her to likewise keep an eye on the children. Still, needs must and all that.

“I’m actually quite a decent baker,” she says slowly, her memories flashing back to simpler times in her life, before Judge had come along and so thoroughly upended it. “And Sanji loves being in the kitchens. He’ll do any job you can give him in there.”

“As for the other four,” she shrugs, unsure of what to say. She supposes if it comes down to it, she can probably trust Reiju to keep the boys in line if she absolutely has to. “Tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll let you know how likely it is to work.”

The captain purses her lips, seemingly conflicted. “If they can behave themselves and keep out of the way in your quarters during working hours, we can probably leave it for now,” she says. “I will take you up on your offer of baking, though. We can always use more help in the galley.”

Sora’s shoulders sag with relief, and she gives the woman a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I think that’s very doable.”

She makes a mental note to bring Sanji with her, even though the captain hadn’t said anything about him. She can’t yet trust that the other boys won’t target him if they get bored, Judge’s willingness to let them use him as a punching bag still too ingrained in their heads. It’s yet another thing she’s somehow going to have to work on with them.

But that’s a problem for a later time, she notes. Right now, she has to focus on their immediate survival.

*****

Life on the Orbit is vastly different from anything they’ve ever known. There’s little space for them to call their own, no servants at their beck and call, and no training grounds for the children to be dragged down to on a daily basis. It is, in short, an entirely new world for the former Vinsmokes.

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji don’t like it, and their growing frustrations are becoming more obvious by the day. In a sense, Sora can’t blame them. Not only have they been taken away from the only home they’ve ever had, but they’re stuck in their cramped quarters whenever she’s not around to supervise them. 

On the other hand, the more restless they get, the more concerned she becomes that one or more of them is going to lash out. The odds of her being able to control them if that happens aren’t very high, even if Reiju is willing to help her, which means they’re likely going to have to move on sooner rather than later in order to keep from being discovered.

That thought is on her mind more and more as she works in the kitchens. The chefs had been wary of her at first, confused by this strangely regal woman who was willing to insert herself into their midst, and their alarm had only grown the first time she’d nearly collapsed by the stove, having pushed her body to the point of exhaustion in an attempt to prove herself.

They’d mellowed considerably upon learning from Sanji that she’s been sick for his whole life, taking pity on her and providing what accommodations they could to make life easier for her in the kitchens. She’s sat at a stool someone had provided now, mixing a batter in a bowl with half her attention on that and the other half on where three chefs have Sanji seated at a table with them, telling him extraordinary tales as they show him how to properly peel vegetables.

Unlike his siblings, and even her if she’s being honest, Sanji’s taken to this new life like a duck to water. He’s delighted by life on a sailing vessel, no doubt equally thrilled to be out from beneath Judge’s thumb, and he soaks up everything the chef’s tell him, his face the happiest she’s ever seen it whenever one of them deigns to show him something.

It makes her heart clench at the thought of the life he could - no should - have had. And not just him, either. Judge has robbed their entire family of so much, most nights she dreams of watching him lose everything he holds dear, wishing he could feel even a scrap of the pain he’s caused her.

The bowl in her hands creaks as she grips it too tight, and Sora shakes her head, sternly telling herself to think of other things. Not wanting to dwell on Judge any longer, she tunes back into the conversation Sanji’s excitedly in the middle of.

Oh, of course, she thinks, allowing herself a knowing smile as the words ‘All Blue’ reach her ears. Sanji’s always been fascinated by myths and legends, but the story of that fabled ocean has been his favourite ever since she’d first read it to him. Trust him to have made friends with people who’ve heard of it as well.

He’s still talking about it once they’ve finished for the day, babbling happily to her as they make their way back to the cabin with their arms laden down with dinner plates. He barely even acknowledges Reiju when she opens the door for them, still too caught up in his excitement.

“And they say that because of the way all the other oceans feed into it, you can find every type of fish in the world there, just waiting for you to catch them! Imagine what kind of dishes we could make with every fish in the world, Mom!”

“Ugh, is he going on about that stupid ocean again?” Niji groans as she sets a plate down near him, flopping dramatically back onto the bed he’s sitting on. “Nobody cares about some dumb water that doesn’t exist, Sanji.”

“It does too exist!” Sanji bristles, pausing with a fork halfway to his mouth. “I’ll find it one day, just to prove it to you.”

Niji laughs, a mean little sound that makes Sora’s heart clench, especially when Yonji echoes it. “Yeah right. Even if it’s real, there’s no way a failure like you would be strong enough to get there.”

“That’s enough,” Sora says sharply, the clenching getting worse as Sanji’s eyes well with tears. “Apologize to your brother, Niji.”

“Why?” He asks flatly. “I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.”

“Mom said apologize,” Reiju pipes up. Ever since leaving Germa, she’s become more willing to stand up for what she thinks is right, as opposed to staying quiet in order to avoid the consequences, and her eyes flare momentarily, a spark of some unidentifiable emotion gone between one blink and the next as she stares Niji down. “So do it.”

“Whatever,” Niji grunts. It’s obvious he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, but at least he also doesn’t escalate the situation. That happening is one of Sora’s greatest fears, along with so many other things.

“Sorry, I guess,” he adds, now sounding bored as he returns his attention to his plate.

Sora watches him carefully for a few moments, before switching her attention back to Sanji. The blond boy has his head down now, his gaze focused on his own plate, but that does nothing to hide the way his shoulders are shaking.

Feeling so very tired all of a sudden, she reaches out to curl her thumb and forefinger around his chin, tilting his face up so she can get a good look at it. Meeting his watery-eyed gaze with a faint one of her own, she dredges up a smile from somewhere. 

“Keep going, sweetheart. I want to hear all about your ideas.”

*****

Time passes, and Sora knows their stint on the Orbit will soon be coming to an end. People are starting to ask questions, crew and passengers alike. Her children, with their unnaturally coloured hair and strange, flat affects stand out too much not to attract attention, meaning they need to think about moving on.

She’s pondering their next steps in the kitchen one day, able to do so while she undertakes the repetitive task of kneading dough for bread, when the door is flung open and a distraught sailor bursts into the room.

“Pirates!” The young man bellows. “We’re under attack!”

Sora doesn’t think, merely reacts on instinct. As the sounds of screaming and shattering glass reach her ears, she grabs for Sanji where he’s been in the middle of carrying a load of dirty dishes to the sink, clutching him to her while they wait to be told what to do.

Ultimately they wind up on the main deck, having been herded there by a number of heavily armed men who’ve seemingly been tasked with rounding up all the civilians. Across from them, a massive man with a striped shirt and a thick blond moustache stares back at them, his heavy arms crossed over a barrel chest as the rest of his crew gather around him.

“That’s Red Leg Zeff,” someone hisses nearby, the owner of the voice quaking in terror as he gapes at the imposing finger. “The last I heard, he and his crew were sailing on the Grand Line!”

Sora smothers a wince at this. If this man not only managed to reach the Grand Line, but also made it back alive, then he’s especially dangerous. She tightens her grip on Sanji, even as she’s surreptitiously looking around to try and locate his siblings.

Rain beats down on them, the heavens having opened up and unleashed a powerful storm upon their heads, almost as if Mother Nature herself is reacting to the seriousness of the situation. Then finally, out of the corner of her eye, she catches a flash of pink, not even the weather being able dim the brightness of Reiju’s hair.

Allowing herself a quick sigh of relief, she catches her daughter’s eye, noting with no small degree of worry that Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji are clustered around her, looking like they’re spoiling for a fight. Subtly, Sora shakes her head, hoping desperately that this will be enough to see the children stand down.

When none of the four make to move - although judging by Yonji’s face it’s a very near thing - she switches her attention back to the pirate captain, hard pressed to keep her lip from curling in distaste as she watches him prowl across the deck.

He stops in front of the captain, a demand that he be provided with all the ship’s valuables spilling from his lips. A quick wave of his hand sends a number of his crew milling through the assembled passengers, taking anything of value in their wake.

One such man stops directly in front of her. A black tattoo curls around one eye and his hands rests atop the handle of his cutlass with the air of a man who knows how to use it. She catches sight of a chipped canine when he opens his mouth in a sneer.

“What about you?” He asks, fingers tightening around his blade when all she does is look steadily back at him. “I didn’t see you toss anything into our loot.”

“That’s because I have nothing I can give you,” she replies coolly. This man may think he’s able to frighten her, but she’s spent years surrounded by far more dangerous individuals. As far as nightmares go, she doubts this experience will even make her top ten. “I’m just a simple cook.”

The pirate shifts to reach for her, only to pause as if he’s been pinned by the weight of a far greater force. Then to her surprise, he cranes his neck around, finding himself frozen by a look from his captain.

“Sorry, boss,” the man grunts, his hand falling to rest at his side. “I know the rules.”

The captain doesn’t say anything, but something in his expression nevertheless speaks volumes. Whoever this man is, it seems he has a code he lives by, one where he expects his crew to follow suit.

Feeling a spark of hope that this fact means there’s a chance this encounter won’t end as poorly as it could, she makes the mistake of easing her grip on Sanji. She doesn’t let go, not entirely, but it’s enough for him to break free of her grasp, his mouth open in a furious yell as he charges at the pirate who’d approached them.

“You leave my mom alone!”

The pirate leaps back, startled. The back of his left hand is bleeding where Sanji’s managed to lash out at his knuckles, but it’s clear the damage is cosmetic at best. Once he’s had a moment to register what’s happened, he throws his head back and laughs.

“Well, would you look at this young pup, boys?” He demands, making a show of swiping tears of mirth from the corner of his eyes. “He’s got a pair on him, I’ll give him that much. Pity he’s also got a death wish.”

Sora’s heart leaps into her throat, but before she can do anything Sanji straightens to his full height, his arms visibly shaking from how tightly he has his fists clenched. Undeterred in the face of the much larger man, he holds himself definitely as he spits, “There’s no way I’m dying here! I’m not dying until I find the All Blue!”

His words send the pirates into peels of laughter, all of them, that is, except for the captain. Rather than join in on his crew’s fun, the man stays quiet, his gaze zeroing in on Sanji, who’s now shaking with anger at being dismissed.

Clawing her way forward, Sora slaps at several hands that reach for her in what’s no doubt a misguided attempt to keep her safe. Getting her arms around Sanji’s body, she tugs at his shoulders, intending to pull him away from danger. 

For the first time ever, he doesn’t listen to her. Shaking her off yet again, he darts forward, clearly intent on lashing out at whomever he can reach. 

And Judge thought he was the weakest one, she thinks, the words coming to her unbidden as she watches in horror as her precious son gets further away from her. More of the Orbit ’s crew are surrounding her now, doing their best to keep her from meeting the same fate they so clearly think is about to come for her child.

“Let me go,” she barks, finally losing her composure as she struggles in the grip of now less than three of the ship’s cooks. “That’s my baby, I have to get to him!”

“Damnit, woman!” One of the chefs yelps as she rakes her fingernails over the exposed skin of his neck, desperate to get free. “Can’t you see we’re trying to help you? There’s no saving your boy now, so what good is you joining him going to do?”

She lets out a mindless cry at this, the sound getting lost in the increasing intensity of the storm. Unbidden, she looks around for Reiju, thinking that perhaps, just this once, it’s time to turn the other children loose.

Her eyes find Ichiji first, zeroing in on the face of her eldest son where he’s standing sandwiched between several passengers. He looks frankly bored with everything that’s occurring, and like he couldn’t care less about what might happen.

Wondering if she dares yell for him to step in, and how horribly that might play out if she does, she’s stopped by a thundering crack. Twisting around as one, she and everyone else on the ship turn to where the Orbit’s mast has just given way, the huge wooden structure tilting to the side and sending the ship lurching with it.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the waves start to swell again, rising higher and higher as the wind lashes around them. Then, before the ship has had a chance to level out, a surge of water sweeps over the deck, sending passengers and pirates alike to their knees. 

She hits the deck with a sharp cry, scraping her hands on the wood as she throws them up to catch herself. Around her, many people do the same, but one lone figure isn’t so lucky. 

Sanji screams as the water swirls around him, knocking him off his feet and then flipping him over the edge of the railing, his arms and legs flailing helplessly as his tiny body plunges into the icy depths below.

A blood curdling shriek cuts through the air, only the sudden rawness in her own throat telling Sora that the sound had come from her. Without thinking, she forces herself to her feet, fully intending to fling herself into the ocean in search of her son.

Something heavy bumps into her side, knocking her back to the deck. Wheezing in agony, she fights to get her breath back, looking up just in time to see the pirate captain of all people launch himself over the shattered remains of the railing, his body contorting in a perfect arc as he dives into the water.

Confused shouts ring out from both ships. The pirates, the Orbit’s crew and passengers, even Sora herself - none of them can believe that the man has opted to risk his life for a boy he’d been threatening mere moments ago.

“What’s he doing?”

Niji’s flat voice manages to cut through all the confusion and reach her ears where everybody else’s shouts are simply so much white noise. “He might have been fine if he’s stayed on the ship, and now they’re both probably going to die.”

He sounds so unbothered as he speaks, completely unconcerned with the potential loss of his brother, and maybe even his own life. It’s a terrible place for the realization to strike, but this more than anything makes her know she’d made the right choice in fleeing Germa. Whatever happens, at least they’re away from the place that had turned her children into this.

Now, however, is not the time to dwell on such matters. Clawing her way upright, she grabs for him, her fingers catching on the collar of his shirt as he turns to look in her direction. 

“Can you get them?” She demands, barely resisting the urge to shake him until he shows some spark of emotion. “Can you and the others get them?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand what she means by others. Glancing at his sister and two remaining brothers, all of whom have made their way to her side in the chaos, he shrugs. “Maybe,” he starts, “but there’s no guarantee.”

No guarantee and she’d be risking all five children if she sent the rest of them out there. Regardless of Judge’s modifications, the boys are still only eight years old. The odds of their tiny bodies being able to withstand the writhing ocean were virtually nonexistent, and who was she to send them to their deaths on a wing and a prayer. 

Choking back a harsh sob, she sinks to her knees, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as tears stream down her face. Around her the wind blows, the agonized sound matching the howling in her heart.

“Mom?” For maybe the first time ever, she thinks she hears a note of concern in Niji’s voice. Then she feels his smaller hand press against hers, the action so surprising that she jerks her head up to stare at him. 

His face is as expressionless as ever, but his tiny hand pats hers a second time, and he cocks his head to the side once he’s sure he has her attention. “We’ll go if you tell us to.”

Of course they would, she thinks, nearly mute with horror at the very idea. That was what a lack of free will looked like, after all. To think that for even a moment she’d considered doing exactly as he’s suggesting, it’s enough to make her sick.

“I am not,” she rasps, “trading one child for another. You are, all of you, irreplaceable.”

His eyebrows go up, and she’d marvel at the look of genuine surprise on his face, only there isn’t time. Behind them a number of people start wailing in terror, and a deafening boom rings out as the pirate’s ship collides with the Orbit, the two vessels slamming together under the force of the sea’s wrath.

Then, right when it seems like things can’t possibly get any worse, the ocean surges all around them. A massive wave rises into the sky, easily three times as high as the tangled ships. It hovers there for a moment, almost as if it itself is wondering what to do, until it crashes forward, thousands of gallons of water streaming towards the helpless boats.

“Grab onto Mom!” Someone - maybe Reiju - shouts, and the next thing she knows four pairs of little hands have latched onto her limbs, clamping down tightly right before the water hits.

Their close proximity to the railing means they’re the first ones knocked overboard. Sora opens her mouth to scream as she’s doused in freezing cold water, but all this serves to do is see her choke on the salty brine.

They tumble end over end, unable to breathe as they hit the ocean. The only thing Sora’s certain of, the thing that she clings to as her head starts to swim and her vision wavers, is that she can still feel those four sets of hands on her, all of them accounted for. 

It’s one less set than it should be, that much she knows, but it’s the thought that stays with her as she fights to stay conscious. With luck the children will be able to get her to the surface, after which they can start searching for Sanji.

She knows it’s a faint hope and that the odds aren’t in her favour, yet hope is all she’s had for years now. She’s going to grip it as tightly as she can.

Chapter 2

Notes:

WARNING: This chapter covers the character’s time on The Rock, including the loss of Zeff’s leg. It’s not terribly graphic in my opinion, but enough so that folks might want to be wary.

Sora has no idea how long the water swirls them around. She does know that they rise and fall with the waves’ torrents, but otherwise she loses all sense of time and direction. It’s therefore incredibly jarring when a particularly rough wave drops her not into more water, but onto soaked yet hard packed earth.

“What?” She gasps. Around her the children are in similar states of disarray, although they appear to recover more quickly than she does. 

“It’s an … island?” Yonji says slowly. He’s planted near her left knee, no doubt having been the one who’d been clinging to that leg as the ocean had battered them about, and his words end on a questioning lilt as he glances around to take in their surroundings.

Calling the spot where they’ve found themselves an island is doing a disservice to all islands everywhere. There’s no hint of vegetation or other signs of life, only hard, grey stone as far as the eye can see.

As if he can sense her thoughts, Ichiji grunts. “It’s a rock,” he declares. “Nothing more.”

“Better a rock than the middle of the ocean,” Reiju grumbles. Bringing her hands up, she grips the hem of her dress, twisting the fabric with practiced ease as she starts to wring it out. “Even we would have drowned eventually.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t.” And there’s Niji accounted for. Perched near her right shoulder, he’d technically been out of sight while Sora’d gathered her bearings. Now she turns to look at him, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief when she sees he’s as unharmed as the rest of his siblings.

The rest of his siblings but one, she remembers with a sudden, brutal clarity. Against her will, a vision of Sanji’s fragile body tumbling into the ocean starts dancing before her eyes, and she brings both her hands to her mouth, overcome with a sudden urge to be sick.

“Mom?” Someone asks, one of the boys, she thinks.

Not yet able to speak, Sora shakes her head. She needs to be strong, she tells herself. There’s no time for her to fall apart now, no matter how justified it might be. She still has four children who need her.

“Mom?” A different voice asks this time. Yonji, she’s pretty sure it’s Yonji. “Mom, are you going to - hey! What’s that over there?”

Her hands still clamped over her mouth, Sora follows the direction of his pointing finger, shocked to see another figure pushing itself up off the ground in the distance. It sways briefly, no doubt in a semblance of shock thanks to the event it’s just been through, and immediately hunches over what turns out to be another, much smaller form.

“That’s Sanji,” Reiju says, her eyes locked on the two people in the distance and no room for argument in her voice. “And the big one is that pirate captain.”

“Do you think he’s going to kill Sanji if he’s not already dead?” Niji asks, not sounding particularly concerned one way or the other. “Maybe not since he jumped into the water to save him, I guess.”

“None of that now,” Sora gasps. Her heart pounding, she flails a weak hand in his direction, hoping her intention is plain. “Help me up, darling.”

In the end it takes both Niji and Ichiji to get her on her feet, Reiju and Yonji fluttering around them like a pair of confused birds, their expressions making it clear they don’t know what to do with themselves. She takes a moment to collect herself once she’s standing, then gathers her waterlogged dress in hand so it won’t impede her movements and runs .

It is Sanji, it has to be. There’d been no other children aboard the Orbit besides her own, and the rest are obviously accounted for. Recognizing his familiar blond curls as she tears across the rock, she shouts his name frantically, willing him to be alright.

The pirate - Red Leg - becomes easier to make out the closer she gets. He’s on his knees, bent over Sanji’s alarmingly still body, his hands compressing her baby’s chest with steady, practised movements.

“What are you doing?” She shouts, throwing herself to her knees and grabbing for his closest arm once she’s in reach. “Don’t hurt him!”

He doesn’t so much as flinch at her approach, and he shrugs off her hand as easily as one might swat away a fly. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He retorts, not even bothering to look at her. “Damned brat swallowed too much sea water, and I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t drown on dry land.”

She lets her hand fall to the ground, knowing she’s got no choice but to trust him and his attempts to save her son's life. Around her, the other children form an awkward semi-circle, the four of them silently peering down at their brother.

Each second that passes feels like an eternity until suddenly Sanji lets out a huge gasp, his entire body shaking as he chokes. 

“Alright, alright, not like that,” Red Leg says. His broad hands shift so that he can turn Sanji on his side, making it easier for him to cough up the water he’s inhaled. “Bring it all up then, lad. It’s the only thing that’s going to help.”

Sanji whimpers, no doubt terrified after everything that’s happened, and Red Leg’s quick to let him go the second he’s spat out enough water for his satisfaction. Rocking back on his heels, the pirate leans out of the way so that Sora can move in and snatch up her son.

“Mama?” He says faintly, pawing at her blouse as she rocks him. There’s a wetness on his face that she suspects has nothing to do with the ocean, and simply makes her hold him tighter. 

“I’m right here, baby,” she assures him, stroking a hand through his waterlogged curls. “We’re all fine. Everything’s fine. Don’t you worry one bit.”

Her words pull a snort from Red Leg, but he raises his hands in a peacekeeping gesture when she shoots him the most vicious glare she can muster. “I didn’t say anything,” he grunts. “And I suppose you’ve got at least something of a point. We’re in much better shape than anyone else either of us have been sailing with.”

Confused, Sora looks around, only now realizing that the seven of them are the only living beings she can see for miles. Both the Orbit and the pirate’s ship are nowhere to be found on the now freakishly calm seas, and no one else seems to have washed up on the rock with them.

“Oh - oh my god,” she murmurs, shock the only thing keeping her from falling into a complete screaming meltdown as the full impact of what’s happened sinks in. “All those people …”

“Best not to think about it,” Red Leg advises. His voice is, if not kind, at least much more gentle than one might expect from a fearsome pirate, and he makes no move to attack or do anything of a similar ilk. Rather, his eyes flit over her and her assembled children, no doubt categorizing the many physical similarities shared between them all.

“This lot belongs to you then?” He says, an amused glint in his eye. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen so many different hair colours in one family before.”

“You can thank their father for that,” Sora growls before she can stop herself. “Not that he’d be bothered by it in the slightest.”

Red Leg’s eyebrows go up, no doubt surprised by her tone, but he makes no move to pry any further. Instead, he climbs laboriously to his feet, stretching and cracking several bones in his back once he’s upright. 

“We should take stock of our surroundings,” he says. “I’m sure the little ones are all tired, but we need to focus on our immediate needs for survival.”

“We’re not tired,” Ichiji scoffs, uttering the words without giving her a chance to speak first. “Except for maybe Sanji, and he doesn’t count. He’s always like that.”

Red Leg blinks, clearly taken aback, and Sora decides this isn’t the time to be getting into background details. 

“We’re all fine,” she says simply, noting almost absently how even Sanji nods from within the cocoon of her arms. “What did you have in mind?”

It turns out that what Red Leg has in mind is for them to scour the entirety of the island upon which they now find themselves. Unfortunately, the place winds up being exactly as barren as it had looked at first glance, meaning they’ve got nothing besides their lives and the clothes on their backs.

“Well,” Red Leg says, sighing tiredly after they’ve completed their examination. “This is certainly a right mess we’ve found ourselves in. Not many ships sail this area, so the odds of someone popping by anytime soon aren’t much in our favour. Even worse, we don’t have a lick of supplies to help us wait until a ship arrives.”

“What about down there?” Reiju asks, and as one every other person turns to look at her. “There’s crates and things in the water.”

Much like she had when Yonji had first spied Sanji, Sora does her best to follow where her child is pointing. It takes her a moment, but eventually she’s able to catch sight of a collection of debris that has run up against the base of the rock they’re standing on.

“There might be some useful stuff in that mess,” Red Leg allows, “but we’ve got no way of reaching it. Even if we had proper climbing gear, I doubt any of us would be able to safely scale the cliff to get down. And that’s not even touching on how the hell we’d get it all up here.”

“Hmm.” Tilting her head to the side, Reiju hums thoughtfully under her breath, and glances up at Sora. “Mom?” She asks, her question plain. “Can we?”

Sora pauses, an image of one of Germa’s snail ships coming unbidden to her mind. Those things hadn’t been much less steep than the spot on which they now find themselves, and thanks to Judge the children could scramble around them with ease.

She closes her eyes, hating the very idea of what she’s about to say, yet equally aware there’s no other option. “Do it,” she says softly, “but keep an eye on each other and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Not you, sweetheart,” she says to Sanji, holding him more firmly when she feels him start to shift in her arms. “You stay up here with me.”

She thinks she hears Niji begin snickering as he and the others prepare to start making their way down the cliff, but at this point she doesn’t have the energy to reprimand him. Pretending she hadn’t noticed anything, she kisses the top of Sanji’s head, having to look away when his siblings move to vanish out of sight.

“Are you insane?” Red Leg barks. Beside her, he shifts like he’s about to fling himself after the kids, his impressive moustache bristling indignantly as he leans over to better watch them climb. “They’ll get themselves killed going down there!”

“They won’t,” Sora disagrees. For all his faults, Vinsmoke Judge has been nothing short of brilliant, and the result was that their offspring are nigh on indestructible. Not only would they survive the trek, but they’d likely be back sooner than anticipated. “Not to make light of the situation, but you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

She can feel the weight of his incredulous stare on the side of her face, and she’s hit with an unreasonable urge to laugh when she turns to look at him. “We,” she says flatly, “are not your typical family.”

He stares back at her, his mouth moving soundlessly for several moments until he lets out a rough, hacking cough. “Yeah,” he replies hoarsely. “I’m starting to see that.”

*****

The children come back with various detritus from both ships, enough food to last them for the foreseeable future if they ration it, and, somewhat incongruously, the sack of stolen goods that Red Leg’s crew had gathered while raiding the Orbit.

The pirate captain scoffs when he lays eyes on it. “Fat lot of good that’ll do us out here,” he says, nudging the sack with a booted foot. “Though I suppose it might be useful to bargain our way onto any ships that do sail past.”

“Surely no one would be so cold hearted as to leave us stranded out here just because we couldn’t pay them,” Sora protests, her face flushing when he gives her a flat look. “Not everyone needs to have an ulterior motive.”

His expression gets somehow more exasperated. “I know,” he says tersely. “I’m the one who jumped in after the runt, remember?”

“Don’t you dare call him that!” She snaps, years of hearing Judge use that exact turn of phrase having made her particularly sensitive to it. “It’s not his fault he’s not as strong as the rest of them.”

The pirate captain - or now former pirate captain, she supposes - reels back at the force behind her words. “Apologies,” he says, raising his hands like he half expects to have to fight her off. “I meant no disrespect.”

Sora’s fury vanishes as quickly as it had arrived, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake. “It’s fine. Well, it isn’t,” she amends, “but you don’t have the context. I’ll ask you not to use it again, however.”

Red Leg’s moustache twitches, almost as if he’s fighting the urge to laugh, but his posture remains oddly contrite when he nods. “As you like,” he agrees. “Though I suppose I’ve got to call him something, and the rest of them for that matter. What’s his name again, Sanji?”

“Yes.” Nodding, she moves to point at each of the children in turn. “My daughter’s called Reiju. That’s Ichiji next to her, then Niji, then Yonji. You may call me Sora.”

His brow furrows, and she wonders if he’s putting together the meanings behind each of the names. If he is, he doesn’t say anything, and simply nods instead. “Sora it is then. I’m Zeff.”

Now it’s her turn to frown. “I heard someone call you Red Leg,” she says. “Is that what you prefer?”

He snorts. “Red Leg is a term only my enemies use,” he says dryly. “It’s well earned, but you’re likely to find the connotation … unpleasant. Zeff is fine. Why, have you got another name I should know about?”

“No,” she says, no doubt far, far too quickly. “I’m just Sora.”

“Hmm,” he replies, stroking the ends of his moustache absently. “Well, far be it for me to pry into your personal business. Instead, can I suggest we focus on what we want to do next?”

“What is there to do?” She wonders. “You said it yourself, we have to wait and hope that someone sails close enough to rescue us. I don’t suppose you have any idea of how long that might take?”

His expression turning grim, he casts his eyes over the children before replying. “That might be a conversation best had once the little ones are asleep,” he murmurs, low enough that probably even their advanced hearing won’t pick him up. 

Not liking the sound of that, Sora purses her lips, but nods, willing to defer to his more experienced judgement under the circumstances. “Very well,” she says primly. “In the meantime, let’s see if we can’t rig up some kind of shelter, why don’t we?”

The sun begins to set as they work, eventually dipping down below the horizon as they put the finishing touches on a jury rigged lean-to made from scraps of sailcloth and pieces of driftwood. It doesn’t look like much, but it’ll serve to protect them from the worst of the elements.

All five of the children are practically dead on their feet by the time they’re done, and they crawl under the canvass immediately after they’ve finished eating, collapsing in a collective heap and each of them drifting off the moment they hit the ground. Sora covers them with another torn strip of cloth, hoping that it and their shared body heat combined will be enough to keep them warm. 

“You’ve got quite the batch of fighters there,” Zeff comments when she moves to sit down next to him, having picked her way carefully across the ground with nothing but the stars to light her path. “Even the little one’s got the makings of a hell of a scrapper in him.”

Sora grunts, the sound much different from the usual demure noises she tends to resign herself to. “That’s not what I want for them,” she says flatly. “I brought them out here to try and avoid having them be turned into weapons.”

He hums in response, apparently having seen enough of what her children can do to have realized that they’re far from normal. Rather than begin to interrogate her like she’s half expecting, however, he simply shrugs in the dim light. 

“You wanted to know what the odds are of us being rescued out here,” he reminds her. “Unfortunately, they’re not that high. Both our ships only wound up this far out because they got pushed off course by the storm. Very few people travel this route normally.”

“We’ve got no food aside from the stuff the kids were able to salvage, and this area’s specifically known for a lack of fish or wildlife living nearby. Once what we’ve got is gone, that’s it, we won’t be able to resupply. We’re going to have to start rationing immediately, and even with that I imagine we’ve got enough for a few weeks, maybe a month at most.”

“Honestly,” he says, letting out another one of those dry coughs of his, “we’d have a better shot if fewer of us had washed up here.”

“Should I take that as a threat?” Sora asks, honestly not overly concerned. Regardless of how they’d first been introduced, Zeff doesn’t give off the air of a man who plans to do her harm, and she’s had plenty of opportunity to recognize those who do.

“You know it’s not,” he replies, equally easily. “Only a simple statement of fact. Less mouths to feed would mean the supplies would last longer.”

“Obviously that makes sense, but it’s not the hand we’ve been dealt, so it is what it is.” Tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, Sora does her best to cover as much of her exposed skin with her skirt, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the air. “I can get by with less to ensure the children have full bellies.”

She feels his eyes on her despite the darkness, but isn’t expecting what he says next. “I’m not in the habit of letting a woman sacrifice herself if I can avoid it. That’s not how I was raised.”

Sora snorts. “I’ve been sacrificing myself for those babies since before they were born,” she declares. “And that’s not hyperbole, it’s fact. It’s also something I will continue to do, regardless of whether or not I have your approval. I’m their mother.”

He raises his hands in a quiet show of surrender. “Of course, of course,” he says, “but you might want to stop and consider what that could look like. If you don’t take care of yourself, there won’t be anybody left to take care of them.”

She frowns at this, not liking the logic in the words. “Fine,” she says aloud. “You may have a point, but you should know that not only will I sacrifice myself for them if the time comes, I won’t hesitate to sacrifice you as well.”

Rather than be offended by this, he laughs.

*****

There is virtually nothing to do on the rock besides eating and sleeping - both acts that have to occur under very regimented circumstances - so Zeff suggests stationing themselves as lookouts to try and feel useful. With Sora’s agreement, he dispatches four of the children to each corner of the island every day, taking care to always leave one behind with her.

At first she thinks he’s doing it because there’s no point in having the children double up in one spot, but as time goes by, she begins to suspect he has an ulterior motive. All of the children have a noted tendency to fuss over her, and even though she’s eating as much as everybody else, she’s weakening faster. Zeff’s starting to realize there’s something wrong with her that has nothing to do with their situation. 

He finally calls her on it about two weeks into their stay on the rock. They’re sitting side by side this morning, as they’ve become apt to do in recent days, idly watching the waves pass by while Yonji naps in the lean-to.

“How long have you been sick?”

Sora doesn’t bother pretending she has no idea what he’s talking about. Shrugging shoulders that have begun to peel thanks to harsh, near constant sun exposure, she plays with her hair, noting almost absently how desperately in need of a wash it is.

“A long time,” she admits, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “Since right before the boys were born.”

“Which boys?” He asks. “Some of ‘em, or all of ‘em?”

That makes her laugh. “Well all of them, of course. Didn’t anyone tell you they’re quadruplets?”

He blinks, confusion writ large across his face. “Sanji looks like he’s a good three years younger than the rest, and Yonji’s twice the size of most of them.”

“And yet,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hands. “The four of them all came into this world on the exact same day. The boys are eight. Reiju’s eleven.”

“Huh,” he says then, for lack of anything better, and she lets out a quiet laugh.

“What about you?” She asks, curiosity getting the better of her. “Have you got children of your own back on an island somewhere?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” he says dryly, his grin broadening when she snickers. “But no, I’m afraid that’s one thing I never had time for. I spent my prime sailing and getting into trouble at sea.”

“How did you even wind up as a pirate?” She wonders. “I know it’s not the only thing you’re interested in,” she adds, having quickly picked up on the fact that he has a passion for cooking to rival her own. 

“Becoming a pirate was a means to an end,” he replies. “I wanted to search for the All Blue, and I figured sailing the Grand Line would be my best shot at finding it. Unfortunately, that sea is more than most folks can reckon with.”

She looks at him then, her gaze turning shrewd. “The All Blue,” she repeats. “Sanji’s obsessed with that story.”

“Mhm, I’ve noticed,” he says with a nod, his eyes never straying from the water in front of them. “Maybe if we’re lucky enough to survive this mess, he’ll have a chance to hunt for it on his own someday.”

“Do you really think it’s out there?”

He shrugs, something cracking in his back, no doubt from too long spent in the same seated position. “I was only on the Grand Line for about a year, saw maybe a fraction of what it has to offer, and even in that brief time I saw sights the likes of which you wouldn’t believe. I think nothing is impossible, so who’s to say such an ocean doesn’t exist?”

Sora frowns, wrinkling her nose as she considers this. “I’m not sure I like that idea, to be honest. The thought of my son, or any of my children for that matter, doing something so dangerous is, ugh, not a comfortable one I can tell you that much.”

He does twists to look at her then, his eyes boring into her own. “You’re a good mother,” he says quietly. “Your children are lucky to have you.”

Feeling her face flush, she jerks away, figuring it’s her turn to stare at the water. “I’m the reason they’re in this mess,” she reminds him. “Tell me I’m a good mother once we’ve survived.”

*****

The days keep ticking by, turning into weeks, and eventually they’ve been trapped on the rock for well over a month. Their food stock has gotten dangerously low, even with repeated cutbacks to make the rations last longer, and she knows they’re almost out of time.

She’s the weakest she’s ever been, her skin paper thin and her fingers skeletal when she folds them in her lap, her entire body so frail that a faint breeze might knock her over if she tried to stand up for too long.

Her children have fared no better. Their ragged clothes hang off bony shoulders, and their hair falls lankly over sunken eyes. Not even Judge’s experiments have been able to stand up to weeks of slow starvation, the enhancements he’s given them failing in the face of parched throats and empty stomachs.

It hits her the morning that she doles out the last crusts of bread they have to their name. This is it, there’s nothing left after this, and the odds of a ship passing by between now and when they inevitably start to succumb to their hunger are as poor as they ever were. 

They’re going to die here, all of them, stranded on this godforsaken rock because she’d dared to hope for something better.

She keeps it together for most of the day. Ichiji sits with her, his red hair having gone dull as he lists against her side, his stomach already rumbling despite the fact that she has nothing left to give him, while his siblings stumble off to their appointed spots. Almost idly, she strokes his head as she watches the glittering waves.

Yonji’s the first to ask for supper that night, his face crumpling like the child she’d always wanted him to be when she’s forced to tell him there isn’t anything left. He and his siblings share a series of glances that tell her they know what’s happening, even if none of them dare to say it out loud, and then as one move to retire to the lean-to.

Tears start trickling down her face without her permission, causing her to wander further from the shelter than she usually does at night, not wanting the children to overhear her, and it’s only when a heavy coat drops onto her shoulders that she realizes Zeff has followed her.

“Won’t you be cold?” She asks, dashing at her eyes with fingers that tremble even from such a simple motion.

He answers with a noise that might charitably be called a laugh. “I doubt it matters at this point. What’s a little chill compared to everything else we’re facing?”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” she replies, feeling her lips curve up in a meagre smile. Enough time has passed that she guesses they’re friends now, and she has to admit that he has an inexplicable talent for making her laugh. 

She swipes at her eyes some more, wiping away the last of the wetness with the sleeve of Zeff’s coat. Then she straightens where she sits, wanting to reclaim as much of her dignity as she’s able. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

As always, he doesn’t do her the disservice of pretending he has no idea what she’s talking about. Instead he shrugs one shoulder, quite possibly not having the energy to move both, and sighs. “It depends, but weakened as we all are, I’d say a few days at most. Three, maybe four.”

She gasps then, the words immediately causing her to renege on her promise to maintain her composure. A fresh flood of tears run down her face, honestly impressive given how dehydrated she is, and she buries her face in her hands.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobs. “They’d never have been out here if it wasn’t for me! They wouldn’t have been safe, but at least they’d have been alive!”

The hand he rests on her back is tentative for all that it belies a strength that even a month long starvation couldn’t completely eradicate. At first it simply rests there without moving, but when she doesn’t immediately shrug it off, it starts trailing up and down in comforting sweeps.

“Maybe this isn’t the time,” he says quietly, “but if you want to tell me your story, it’s not like I’m going to be able to spread it around.”

She pauses, considering the offer. “It’s not a pleasant one,” she says slowly. “And I think we can both agree it’s unlikely to have a happy ending.”

“Probably not,” he admits, “but maybe you’ll feel better in getting it off your chest.”

And so she tells him. Trapped on a barren rock in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but the stars in the sky for company, she weaves a tale of a corrupt kingdom and the beast living at its very centre. She paints the night with images of snail ships, laboratories, and a succession of weapons, each more terrible and destructive than the last, speaking until her voice is nothing but a whisper, the strain on her dry throat too much to carry on.

He’s quiet for a long time after she finishes talking, his posture stiff as he digests everything he’s been told. Eventually, however, he shifts, shaking his head like he can’t quite grasp what he’s heard.

“Well,” he says raggedly. “That’s quite the tale, I’ll give you that much.”

“It was a nightmare,” she replies flatly. “And now everything I’ve done to break free is going wind up being for nothing. The fact that Judge won’t be able to use them as weapons is a cold comfort when compared to the fact that my children are all going to die here.”

“Mhm,” he hums thoughtfully. “Of course it is. I suppose then, Your Majesty, it’s time for us to take drastic measures to try and keep that from happening.”

Momentarily thrown by his use of her title, she doesn’t immediately register what he’s saying. When she does, however, she frowns in confusion. “How do you mean? We don’t have any measures left to take.”

He’s quiet for a very long time, before finally asking, “Have you ever heard stories about the lengths some shipwrecked sailors will go to survive? What they might resort to? As much as we might not want to admit it, there’s one source of provisions we haven’t considered yet.”

Sora stares at him blankly, genuinely having no idea what he’s getting at until slowly, oh so slowly, he leans forward and taps two fingers against his own leg. “Absolutely not!” She gasps. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he replies. “I won’t pretend I’m overly keen on the idea, and your little ones are likely to be a bit scarred by the whole thing, but it’ll keep us all going for a while longer.”

Opening her mouth to utter another blanket denial, Sora pauses and forces herself to really think about what he’s saying. It does make sense, in a horribly macabre sort of way, but the thought of him giving up something so monumental isn’t one she can stomach.

“It should be me,” she says, the words nearly sticking in her throat until she successfully manages to push them out. “They’re my children, so I’m the one whose job it is to protect them.”

“You’ve sacrificed enough,” he says flatly, no room for argument in his voice. “It’s time you let someone else help you at least part of the way.”

“And besides,” he’s quick to add, surprising her with a note of honest amusement in his voice. “A little slip of a thing like you would give only a couple bites to each person. We need someone with actual meat on their bones to make this idea worthwhile.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sora chokes. “Not to mention insane. I can’t even count the number of risks you’re taking. The shock could kill you outright given your weakened state, or the wound might get infected. Neither of which is even touching on the fact that you won’t have a leg if we survive this mess.”

“If the injury kills me then you can just eat the rest of me too,” he declares. “It should keep for a while. As for the future, such as it is, being down one limb won’t be the end of the world. Plenty of people out there are missing more than that and still manage to get by. I’ll figure it out.”

“You fight with your feet,” Sora reminds him. “Your entire reputation as a pirate stems from that skill set. How will you keep it up with only one leg?”

This too makes him laugh. “I’m already a pirate without a ship or a crew. I think it’s safe to say those days are behind me with or without a missing leg. Maybe instead I’ll finally open up my own restaurant like I always dreamed about. A chef’s life isn’t nearly as exciting, but I imagine I’d enjoy it.”

She stares at him. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“As the grave,” he replies, his expression sobering. “So, come along then. We’ll want to get things sorted out while the rugrats are still asleep.”

Swallowing heavily, Sora nods.

*****

They build a fire out of the last scraps of scavenged driftwood. For most of their time on the rock they’ve been preserving it, not needing to waste what little they had, but Sora knows Zeff’s best chance of surviving this mad plan is to cauterize the wound right away, and for that they’ll need something to heat the blade.

Zeff snickers when she makes the suggestion, pointing out that they might also want it to cook the meat once they’re done. After all, eating it raw would no doubt taste terrible.

“You are … appalling.” Sora finally settles on, but her grumbling just serves to make him laugh harder.

“It’s my choice, Your Majesty,” he says, again with that silly title. “I can make awful jokes if I want to.”

“I suppose,” Sora acknowledges. Personally, she doesn’t see how it’ll help, but if the ex-pirate finds some comfort in his dark humour, then who is she to tell him no?

They use a sword that had been stashed in among the loot pilfered from the Orbit. Cleaned as best as it can be, it slices through flesh and bone not unlike a hot knife through cheese, which is a horrible comparison that Sora suspects she’ll spend the rest of her life trying to forget.

The amount of blood is terrifying, and Sora barely manages not to retch at the sight. Her hands shake as she wraps a makeshift tourniquet around the charred stump, wishing she could be more gentle while Zeff bites down on a wad of fabric torn from his coat in order to keep from losing his tongue as well.

When morning comes, Zeff lies pale and sweating not far from the lean-to, the remains of his coat pillowed beneath his head, and a torn pad of sailcloth propping up his injured limb. The smell of cooking meat permeates the air.

Eventually the children tumble out of the lean-to, all of them no doubt drawn by the strange sounds and scents. They stare as one, first at Zeff and then at the strips of meat Sora’s stoically slicing with a much smaller knife. 

“What happened?” Reiju asks, and for once her voice is hollow not from a lack of emotion, but from a state of shock.

“Exactly what you think,” Zeff replies, not beating around the bush. His voice is faint and he looks exhausted, but his eyes are as sharp as ever when he gazes at her. “Go let your mother feed you.”

Reiju breaks eye contact first, turning away with a haunted look on her face as she slowly starts to shuffle in Sora’s direction. 

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji, ever a unit, share a series of confused looks, obviously unable to fully process what’s happened, but they’re quick to follow their sister, especially once the prospect of food becomes an option. The same cannot be said for Sanji.

Rather than trailing after his siblings, the blond boy cautiously picks his way over to Zeff, dropping down on his knees beside him. He plants his hands on his own thighs, picking absently at the torn uniform pants he’s been wearing since the Orbit went down.

“Why?” He asks raggedly. “You don’t owe us anything.”

Zeff eyes him for a long moment, and then snorts. “Maybe I was hungry too,” he says, somehow managing to remain glib in the face of what’s no doubt agonizing pain. “And you lot combined aren’t big enough to make a decent meal.”

“This isn’t funny!” Sanji snaps. His shoulders are shaking in a way Sora’s all too familiar with, and she’s not surprised when she sees tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. “Nobody asked you to do this.”

“Then you don’t have anything to feel guilty about, do you?” Zeff counters. He gives Sanji a flat look. “You don’t get to make my choices for me any more than I get to make yours for you. I’m prepared to live with the consequences of my actions.”

“But you won’t be able to sail anymore! Or look for the All Blue!” Sanji protests, unknowingly echoing Sora’s arguments from the night before. “You’re giving up everything for a bunch of people who mean nothing to you.”

“Still my choice,” Zeff replies. Raising a hand then, he flaps it stiffly in the direction of Sora and the rest of the children. “Now, go see your mother. I’m tired and want to rest.”

His face still distraught, Sanji nevertheless nods and scrambles to his feet. Doing as he’s told, he picks his way over to Sora, accepting the piece of meat she hands him without another word.

*****

Several days later, right when the last of the meat is due to run out, a sail appears on the horizon.

*****

The merchant vessel that picks them up is considerably smaller than the Orbit had been. It’s also much faster, and thankfully has a doctor onboard with a fully staffed infirmary. They’re able to get proper medical care, and are assured they’ll be transported to the closest available island to find a space to better recuperate.

Sora nods when the captain tells her this, dredging up a smile from somewhere as she sits propped up in bed by a series of fluffy pillows that feel almost too soft after her sojourn on the rock. Next to her, Zeff’s asleep in a bed of his own, the doctor having given him painkillers that had almost immediately knocked him out.

The captain follows her gaze and shakes his head, a look of admiration crossing his face. “It’s a hell of a man who’d do something like that to save his family,” he says, nodding at the space where Zeff’s blankets lie flat where his leg should be. “That’s one devoted husband and father you’ve got there.”

She’s so taken aback by the captain’s assumption, that she doesn’t have time to correct him before he’s moving on to a new topic. Holding his hat in his hands, he earnestly tells her that they’ve cleared out a room next door to make space for the children, that they’re all resting well, and the doctor expects them to make a full recovery, albeit with time.

Finally finding her voice, she manages to murmur a soft but earnest ‘thank you’ and the captain flushes with embarrassment. 

“We didn’t really do much,” he mumbles, planting his hat back on his head and straightening out of the awkward hunch he’s contorted himself into. Idly, she wonders if he’s not used to receiving praise even when it’s deserved. “Honestly, we just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Nobody imagined there were any survivors from the Orbit, let alone this long after she went down.”

Sora feels her smile tighten at the reminder of all the people who’d lost their lives in the terrible storm, and the captain must notice because his expression quickly becomes apologetic. Before he can say anything, however, a new party joins the conversation.

“We weren’t on the Orbit,” Zeff says, his own voice rough with disuse. 

The captain blinks, his expression morphing into one of confusion. “Well, the only other ship out there was …”

“Yeah,” Zeff grunts when the other man trails off. “The Cooking George.”

“Ah. I, um, see.” The captain says, now actively wringing his hands. “You know, I had, um, thought you looked familiar.”

“Good for you,” Zeff retorts. “I thought the same thing about your ship when they were bringing us aboard.” His moustache twitches as his mouth curves up in a sharp grin. “You’re the McCoy crew, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he adds when the captain’s face goes from flushed to pale. “It’s not like I’ve got any interest in blabbing to folks. I just figured it might do us all good to be on some page.”

The captain’s quiet for a moment until he ultimately lets out a long, low whistle. “You really are Red Leg Zeff, aren’t you?”

Pushing himself carefully into an upright position, Zeff shrugs. “I suspect that name might be a thing of the past, but yeah, that’s me.”

“Huh,” the captain replies. Then he blinks. “I didn’t know you were married. I was just telling your wife here how it takes a certain kind of man to make the sacrifice you did for your family.”

Much like Sora herself, Zeff makes no move to correct the younger man’s assumption. “I did what was necessary,” he says flatly. “Where are the kids?”

“Right next door,” the captain says promptly. “Our doctor says they need to rest, but I’m sure we can figure out some way for you to see them.”

Zeff glances at Sora, clearly deferring to her judgement. “I’ll check on them as soon as I’m sure I can stand without falling over,” she decides. “But for now let’s let them sleep.”

The captain nods, looking relived that he doesn’t yet have to figure out how to cart her into another room. He stays only a few more minutes and then tells them he has tasks that needing doing out on deck but he’ll see them again soon.

Sora waits until the door is safely closed behind him and the sounds of his footsteps have faded into the distance before rounding on Zeff. “What,” she says, a veritable torrent of questions racing through her mind, “was that?”

“What was what?” He asks innocently, quickly shifting into a snicker when she levels him with the most fierce stink eye she can muster. “Oh come on, I didn’t hear you correcting him either.”

“He caught me off guard,” she sniffs. “What’s your excuse?”

“That I’m remarkably quick on my feet, or foot rather.” Ignoring her pointed eye roll, he sinks more firmly back into his pillows. “You told me you figured your husband would eventually figure out what ship you’d fled on, right?”

“Yes,” she agrees, her gut churning at the thought.

“So what better way to get him to give up the chase than to make him think said ship went down with all hands?”

Sora freezes, needing time to fully contemplate what he’s just said. “Oh my god,” she breathes, once the words and the meaning behind them start to sink in. “Oh my god.”

“Just Zeff is fine,” he replies, and it takes everything in her not to give in to the extremely childish urge to brain him with a pillow. “You’re welcome.”

Still reeling from everything, she shakes her head, trying to clear it. “Alright. Yes, you’re right that this will be a big help, but you went and told the captain of this ship you’re a pirate as part of your tale. What good will it do if he summons the navy?”

Zeff snorts. “That’s the last thing he’s going to do,” he says, sounding unconcerned. “Seeing as he’s a sort of pirate himself. The McCoy’s are rum runners,” he explains when all she can do is stare at him. “They pose as honest merchants with a stock of wares out in the open and a bunch of bootleg booze tucked away where you can’t see it. If he turns us in, all he’s going to do is screw himself over, and I suspect he’s bright enough not to do that.”

Now it’s Sora’s turn to blink. “You know,” she says slowly. “I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by politics and intrigue and the kind of schemes that bring entire countries to their knees. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

Zeff gives her a tired smile. “Likewise, Your Majesty. Likewise.”

*****

It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to catch up to her, and Sora soon finds herself fading into a nap without her conscious permission. She has no idea how long she sleeps, but when she wakes, it’s to the sound of a creaking door and familiar voices speaking in hushed whispers.

Forcing her eyes open, she sits up just in time to see a pair of tiny hands wrap around the door frame when Reiju catches sight of her.

“Mom!” The little girl whoops, showing more emotion than she has since she was a baby. Tumbling into the room, she scrambles towards Sora’s bed with all four boys hot on her heels. “You’re awake!”

“I am,” Sora laughs, feeling more alive in this moment than she has in years. “And so are all of you! How are you, my darlings?”

“We’re fine,” Ichiji says, much more stoically than Reiju had. “The sailors gave us food and now we’re almost back to normal. Except for Sanji, that is.”

Sora eyes him critically at this, letting her gaze shift over each child in turn. They certainly look better than they had the last time she’d seen them, but she’d hardly go so far as to say they look actively healthy.

All five have been bathed and given clean clothes, but if anything this only serves to emphasize how much weight they’ve lost. Their eyes are sunken in their faces, while things like their cheekbones, shoulders and ribs are far too prominent. Furthermore, not one of them is moving with the usual athleticism she’s used to seeing from them. 

They’re better, she decides finally, but far from fully recuperated. Luckily it appears they’re going to have ample time to rest while she contemplates their next moves. Hopefully they’ll all be back on their feet by the time she has a plan in place.

Including Sanji. Ichiji’s comment had no doubt been a none too subtle dig at his smallest brother, but it was a valid one nevertheless. The blond looks more tired than the rest of his siblings combined, and while they’ve all lost weight, he’s practically emaciated.

Because he’s Sanji, however, he doesn’t let that slow him down. Exhausted though he may be, he still flashes her a bright grin as soon as he lays eyes on her, and he’s as quick to clamber up into her hospital bed as ever - even if he does need a subtle boost from Reiju via a hand on his back.

“Mama,” he cries, but that single word seems to use up an excessive amount of energy. Visibly trembling, he burrows into her side, tucking his face out of sight as he mumbles about how scared he’d been that she wasn’t going to wake up.

“Of course I was going to wake up,” Sora assures him, cuddling him close and then offering her free hand to Reiju, who surprises her by climbing onto the bed as well. “I couldn’t very well go ahead and leave my babies all alone, now could I?”

“We’re tough,” Yonji says stoutly from where he’s still down on the ground. Sora’s expecting him to follow up this statement with a claim about how they’d have managed to carry on without her, yet he surprises her with a relieved sigh instead. “I’m glad you’re still here though. I … didn’t want you to be gone.”

Touched, she moves the hand holding Reiju to pat the edge of her bed. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She’s half expecting him to refuse, and tells herself it’s alright if he does. He’s already shown more emotion than she’s used to, so perhaps she shouldn’t be pushing her luck. He surprises her a second time, however, by immediately scrambling up onto the mattress.

Stroking a hand through his hair until he shakes off her touch, she turns her smile on Ichiji and Niji. “Well,” she asks brightly. “Don’t you two also want to join?”

Neither of them moves at first, both of them standing pat at the bottom of the bed, their expressions unreadable. Then the faintest of cracks breaks through Ichiji’s implacable facade, and he’s settling down near her knee before she realizes what’s happening. 

Niji’s the last of them to move, and she’s not sure if peer pressure is what finally gets him there, what with the way he frowns in confusion, but in the end he refuses to let himself be left behind. He takes the spot across from Ichiji, his bangs falling into his eyes and obscuring his face.

For her part, Sora’s so caught up in having them all here with her like this, that she momentarily forgets they’re not alone. It’s only when Zeff lets out a quiet snicker from his own bed that she remembers they have a witness to their impromptu family reunion. 

“Reminds me of cotton candy,” he says when she tears her gaze away from the children to give him a reproachful  look. “What? I can’t be the first person to make that comparison.”

“I think you’ll be surprised to find that you are,” she replies with a haughty sniff. “Cotton candy, indeed.”

He answers with a snort. “If you haven’t heard it, it just means no one was willing to say it to your face.”

“What’s cotton candy?” Yonji wants to know.

“It’s a dessert,” Sanji chimes in before she can explain. “It’s fluffy and sweet and can come in all sorts of different colours. It’s usually pink, though.”

The children fall silent, seemingly digesting this, and Sora gives Zeff a look. “If you like the stuff so much, maybe you should serve it at that restaurant of yours.”

“You have a restaurant?!” Showing more life than he has since he’d first entered the room, Sanji straightens where he’s been sitting slumped against her side. “Where is it? Can we go there? Can I see the kitchen?”

“Sanji.” Holding up a hand to calm him before he gets too excited, Sora tucks him back into the crook of her arm, wanting to keep him from overexerting himself. “Zeff doesn’t have a restaurant,” she clarifies. “Or at least not yet. He’s thinking of opening one now that he won’t be able to sail anymore.”

“Oi,” Zeff protests. “I can still sail. Somewhat, anyway. I always figured if I opened up my own place it’d be a floating seafood one. Something I could sail from island to island while experimenting with different fish from different places.”

“That’s so cool,” Sanji insists, his eyes lighting up. “I wish I could help you with it. I’m gonna be a chef one day, you know.”

“Yeah, you strike me as the type,” Zeff acknowledges. “Maybe I’ll even let you come work for me once you’ve learned a thing or two.”

Sanji wriggles in her grasp, clearly delighted by the idea, and Sora goes still as a thought occurs to her.

“You know,” she says slowly. “As awful as this is going to sound, we do still have all that gold that was salvaged from the Orbit.”

“We do,” Zeff agrees, and she can tell by the shrewd look in his eye that he’s following what she’s saying. “It’d be a shame to let it go to waste just because it came about as a result of a tragedy.”

“Mhm.” Sora nods. “I wonder how much it would cost to build a floating restaurant. One that was rarely ever in the same place for long.”

“Meaning it’d be hard to keep track of if someone caught wind of who owned it.” Zeff’s expression has gone from shrewd to outright canny as he’s been speaking. “I imagine it’d cost more than we have, but that loot would definitely make a dent in the expenses.”

“And I’m sure you could use a few extra hands when it comes to getting things started,” she adds, biting her lip on the off chance they’re not on the same page with this specific part of the plan.

Luckily, Zeff merely nods. “Of course. It’s a lot of work, maintaining a business like that. And, if I’m being honest, I’m going to have my hands full relearning how to walk again.”

“I could help!” Sanji cuts in. Sora’s not sure if he’s getting the nuances of what they’re discussing - in fact she’s almost certain he isn’t - but he looks thrilled at the prospect of having anything to do with the so far non-existent restaurant. “I was in our old kitchens all the time. I used to make food for mom too.”

Sora winces at the thought of some of his previous creations, but does her best to keep anything from showing on her face. “I could always count on you to bring me something different,” she says diplomatically.

Clearly hard pressed not to laugh, Zeff does an admirable job of keeping a straight face. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Chapter 3

The Baratie doesn’t come into existence overnight, but rather takes time and hard work to bring together. They begin making inquiries about possible ships to use as soon as they make landfall, but none of them, least of all Zeff, are in any shape to do anything serious until they’ve had a chance to recuperate.

As she’d anticipated, the children bounce back far more quickly than the adults do. Even Sanji’s on his feet with remarkable speed, sometimes making her feel tired just watching him as he zips around their current accommodations, forever curious about the world around him.

Despite this, Zeff’s not far behind the little ones where recovery is concerned. Much to her surprise given the extent of his injury, he’s up and walking far earlier than anyone expects, becoming a quick hand with a crutch as he carefully maneuvers himself so as to not harm the still bandaged stump.

There’s talk of fitting him with a peg once the scar tissue has healed enough, and judging by the way he seems to hate the crutch, Sora imagines he fully endorses this plan.

So much so, it turns out, that this is exactly what happens. In the months that the Baratie is in the process of being outfitted to function like a real restaurant, the ex-pirate ditches the crutch at the first available opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before the sound of him thumping along on his peg leg is as familiar to her as the footsteps of her own family.

And speaking of family, they don’t directly discuss the topics of Judge, Germa, and the Vinsmoke name again, but there’s an unspoken agreement between them to keep up the charade that they’re husband and wife. Sora introduces herself by first name only, and tells the children in no uncertain terms that they’re not to tell anyone where they came from.

Reiju and Sanji look relieved when she gives them these instructions. It’s abundantly clear that neither of them has any desire to return to the life they’ve left behind, and Sanji in particular is the happiest she’s ever seen him.

The other boys don’t look relieved, but that’s simply because they’re indifferent to the news that they won’t be going back. In a way, Judge’s experiments backfire on him because they’ve made it so the three have no real loyalty to him. 

Sora finds that troubling due to the sheer extent of the brainwashing her precious babies have undergone, but once again she finds herself not above using the situation to her advantage. She’s got a whole lifetime ahead of her to try and figure out a way to undo what’s been done, and she’ll focus on that as soon as they’re truly safe.

“You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Startled, Sora whirls around from where she’s been leaning against the balcony railing, idly watching the street below.

They’re renting a unit in the port city where the work on the Baratie is underway. It’s cramped, but not as bad as the Orbit had been, and it comes with a little deck that overlooks the busy town. Sora’s come to love sitting out on it in recent weeks, especially in the evening once the children have been put to bed.

“What look?” She asks, adjusting the shawl she has wrapped around her shoulders as she belatedly catches up to the question she’s just been asked. “I don’t have a look.”

“Mhm,” Zeff says dubiously. Stumping all the way out onto the balcony, he settles in one of the two available chairs, and holds up a bottle of wine he has loosely clutched in one fist. “You very much do have a look. It’s the one that says, ‘I’m thinking about the future and borrowing trouble with regard to all the things that might go wrong’.”

“What an expressive face I must have,” she replies dryly. “To think you got all that from a second long glimpse.”

He shrugs, white teeth flashing as he grins. “You make it so often, it’s not hard for me to notice at this point.”

“Yes, well,” fidgeting slightly, she makes a point of shuffling over and sitting down across from him in the remaining chair. “During the day it’s easy for me to distract myself through managing five rambunctious children. Once they’re asleep, however, I’m afraid it’s harder.”

He salutes her with the bottle in a sort of ‘touché’ kind of gesture. “Can I offer you a relaxing evening drink then? I even brought glasses,” he adds, producing a pair with a flourish from the hand he’d been largely keeping out of sight.

Sora laughs, but nods. “And where did you get this then?” She asks as he uncorks the bottle and begins to pour. “Is it another free sample from a hopeful supplier?”

“Of course, and there’s a few more vintages inside that can be tried if this one doesn’t work for you.” Sliding the first glass over to her, he places the cork back in the bottle and sets it carefully on the little table between them. 

She takes a cautious sip, humming appreciatively when the rich flavour bursts on her tongue. Thanks to her upbringing, she has significant experience with high end cuisine and beverages, so she knows a quality drink when she tastes it.

“Lovely,” she says, and Zeff nods.

“Thought you might like it,” he says, now drumming the fingers of his free hand against the arm of his chair. “It’s similar to that red from the other day.”

“That was also delicious,” she agrees. “Are you going to add this one to the menu, do you think?”

“For now,” he decides, “but menus are ever changing things. We’ll have to see what goes over best with the customers, and then we’ll go from there.”

“So sensible,” she teases, delighting in the way she can see a faint sheen of red start spreading out around his moustache. “You really have put a tremendous amount of thought into this.”

Now he shrugs. “Anything worth doing is worth doing well, and if it’s going to be our livelihood then it’s got to actually work in order to sustain us.”

Sora goes still at this, pretending to be entranced by the wine swirling in her glass as she gathers her thoughts. “You know,” she says softly. “No one’s forcing you to do this. Take us in, I mean,” she clarifies, when he quirks an eyebrow at her. “I understand that fate threw us together on that island, but you’ve already sacrificed so much as it is.”

Zeff’s quiet for a bit, and when he responds, his voice is as gruff as ever, but his expression is far softer than she’s used to. 

“I have a code,” he starts slowly. “I know that might sound silly given my reputation, but I’ve lived by it all my life. Women and children were never to be harmed by my crew, and they were to be protected if circumstances arose.”

Sora wrinkles her nose. “I can’t help but find that somewhat antiquated, but even if it wasn’t,” she stresses when he at least has the decency to nod in acknowledgement of her point. “You fulfilled that duty on the island, and saw us safely out of harm's way. You’ve no need to keep watching over us.”

Now Zeff snorts. “Somebody’s got to. No offence, highness, but you don’t know a damn thing about the real world, and besides, I’ve made my choice. I can’t force you to stay anymore than you can make me do so, but if you want to come with me, you’re more than welcome.”

“Also,” he continues on, his voice hardening. “I consider us partners in this venture, more than anything else. Or are you no longer interested in helping me run the damn place?”

“I am,” she confirms. “And my baking is going to knock your socks off.”

Zeff pointedly knocks his peg leg against the table. “One down, one to go,” he chuckles over her exasperated noises. “I’m looking forward to it.”

*****

The Baratie ends up being more of a hit than either of them had anticipated. Word of the restaurant’s superb menu and unique dining experience spreads inordinately fast, and before they know it they’ve got a reservation list that’s several months long.

“There’s no other option, we’re going to have to hire more staff,” Zeff says, tossing the pen he’s holding down with a beleaguered sigh. “We can’t keep up with the way things are going.”

It’s after closing and they’re tucked away in the small office that sees all of Baratie’s paperwork get done, having retired there after yet another exhausting evening of trying to keep up with the dinner rush. Letting out a sigh of her own, Sora picks up the discarded pen and drags the accounting book over to her.

“At least we know we can afford it,” she murmurs, biting on the back of the pen out of nervous habit. “The amount of money we’re bringing in is frankly obscene.”

“Yeah, well, so’s the cost of some of the fish we serve,” he replies. “But you’re right. We can afford to hire new folks no problem, the issue is going to be finding the right fit. And we need new cooks and waitstaff alike. Otherwise we’re gonna have to start tossing aprons on the rest of the kids.”

Sora has a sudden vision of Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji dressed as miniature waiters and is struck with the urge to simultaneously laugh and shudder. It’s one thing for them to let Sanji lurk around the kitchen when he has a genuine interest in learning the trade, but having the other boys join in would be simply a recipe for disaster. At least at this stage.

“Maybe when they’re a little older,” she declares, well aware that Reiju’s bussed the odd table when they’ve been seriously in a pinch. “Although perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to start assigning them some simple cleaning tasks. It’d probably be good for them.”

“That one’s entirely up to you,” he says, ever deferent when it’s her children they’re discussing. “Though I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll break more dishes than they wash.”

“Regardless,” she says, once again turning her attention to the problem at hand. “You’re right about needing more staff. How do you suppose we go about rectifying this?”

He tilts his head to the side, the motion causing his moustache to jut out at an odd angle as he rubs his chin in thought. “I knew a few boys back in the day who were half decent in the kitchen,” he says. “I might be able to track them down and see if they’d be interested.”

Sora blinks at him. “By back in the day I’m assuming you mean when you were sailing as a pirate,” she says, blinking again when he nods. “You want to hire pirates to work around my children.”

“Well they technically wouldn’t be pirates anymore if they were earning an honest wage now, would they?” He points out reasonably. “Plus, we’re a seafaring, lucrative business. It’s only a matter of time before we attract some actual pirate attention, so it likely won’t hurt to beef up our security.”

She taps her bottom lip with her pen. “You know,” she says, feeling disgruntled. “Sometimes I really hate it when you get all logical on me.”

“I’m aware,” he replies, “but this one I’ll absolutely follow your lead on. If you tell me you’re uncomfortable with the idea, we’ll come up with something else.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s a good plan,” she concedes. Not only can she see the logic in it, but - and this part she’s certainly not yet ready to tell him - over the past several months she’s come to trust him implicitly. If he says the people he has in mind aren’t a threat, then she believes him.

“Do what you have to to track these people down, and let’s find out if they’re interested. If they’re not, then we can start brainstorming something else.”

*****

Patty, Carne, and a half a dozen other chefs whose names she’s yet to learn arrive within a month. They’re a rough and rowdy bunch, but they’re decent hands in the kitchen, and their presence eases the strain that had been steadily growing as business increased.

Those who’d known Zeff in the past seem initially taken aback to learn that he now comes with a ‘wife’ and five children in tow, but a few sharp wallops from his peg leg quickly puts any gossiping to rest. The new chefs defer to her as readily as they do him, and are as well behaved as she could have hoped for under the circumstances.

That’s especially true since she still hasn’t fully recovered from the ordeal on the island. Whereas Zeff and the children have finished recuperating, she’s still often terribly weak, and when combined with her already poor health, she finds herself bedridden more than once in the early days of the restaurant’s functioning.

The children collectively panic the first time she doesn’t make it out of her room to start the morning breakfast rush. It’s subtle in most of their cases, with Sanji and to a lesser extent Reiju being the only ones to let anything show on their faces, but all five of them still come looking for her when she doesn’t appear, tumbling through the door with a concerned looking Zeff trailing after them.

She smiles weakly at them from within the depths of the pillows she’d collapsed back against when she’d tried to get up this morning. Thankfully it’s only fatigue she’s dealing with so far - she hasn’t vomited or coughed up blood as has been known to happen - but their palpable concern still makes her heart ache.

“Don’t look so worried,” she chides before anyone can say anything. “I’m just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.”

Ichiji frowns. “We don’t have a doctor onboard,” he says. “What if you need one?”

“I don’t,” she’s quick to insist. Little does he know, Judge had never had any success in curing the effects from the poison, and the medical care she’d received in Germa had done little to help despite its superior quality. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Are you hungry?” Unsurprisingly, this question comes from Sanji. “We can bring you breakfast in bed if you are.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Zeff says. “Why don’t you lot head downstairs and tell Patty to put together something that’ll be easy on your Ma’s stomach?”

“That won’t take all five of us,” Reiju starts, but she’s soon shushed by the former pirate.

“Consider it a group effort,” he suggests. “Now get out of here, all of you. You’re getting under foot.”

They scramble to get out the door at his urging, twisting around the much larger man as they dart out into the hallway, putting Sora in mind of a flock of colourful baby birds as they flit about.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Zeff mutters, stumping his way into the room. “Just watching them most days is exhausting.”

Sora smiles, reclining further back into her pillows and allowing more of the fatigue to show on her face now that he’s the only one around to witness it. “They are little bundles of energy, I can’t disagree.”

“‘Course you can’t,” he grunts. “You’ve got eyes, don’t you? And speaking of, so do I for that matter. Far be it from me to insult a lady, but you have definitely looked better. Should I look into tracking down a doctor like the Radish suggested?”

Sora rolls her eyes. “What you should do is stop referring to my son as a root vegetable,” she says, perpetually confused by this odd habit of his. “I don’t need a doctor, and even if one was around, it wouldn’t help. Judge said the damage I did to myself was irreversible.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your insane ex-husband’s word at face value,” Zeff replies dryly. 

“He may have been evil, but he was also technically brilliant,” Sora counters. “The only thing that’s going to help is rest. Unfortunately, that means I won’t be able to work in the kitchens today, and probably not for a few days after that either.”

“It’s fine, we have enough staff now.” Zeff says, unconcerned. “You getting better is more important. I’ll keep an eye on things, and the rugrats while I’m at it.”

Sora nods, willing to accept the offer in the spirit it’s intended. “Thank you,” she says aloud. “And if you wouldn’t mind, you can start by making sure none of them put their own special touches on whatever food they’re going to drag up here. I can only put on a brave face for so long.”

Nodding in understanding, Zeff leaves the room with a small wave. He reappears briefly in order to supervise the delivery and unloading of a breakfast tray, but quickly herds the children out again, leaving Sora to eat what she can and then drift off to sleep.

When she wakes, the placement of the light filtering through her window tells her she’s been asleep for many hours. That’s neither surprising nor uncommon given the circumstances, and she feels her stomach start to rumble while she takes stock of her situation. 

Reasonably certain it must be well past supper time, she pushes herself up on the mattress, aiming to test her strength level. Pleased to find that she’s able to sit upright without issue, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and climbs carefully to her feet.

Intellectually, she knows it makes more sense for her to stay in bed and wait for someone to check on her. Especially since the odds are good the children have been periodically doing so all day, what with how they collectively seem to dislike having her out of their sight for too long.

On the other hand, she’s spent enough time being told what to do and how to act. Reckless though it may be, if she can get herself down to the kitchen for a light snack under her own power, she’s going to.

Getting down the stairs to the main deck uses up most of her energy, and she has to stop and take a breath by the time she reaches the kitchen doors. It’s as she’s standing there, inwardly cursing her own ragged pants, that she realizes she can hear a commotion occuring inside.

Assuming it’s Zeff chewing out some of the newer recruits, she doesn’t immediately shove open the doors, wanting to let whatever the matter is get settled before she enters. She does, however, straighten enough that she can peek through the window set in the nearest door.

It’s Zeff alright, but none of the staff are in sight. Instead, he has Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji lined up in front of him, while a distressed looking Sanji is tucked up against his side. Wondering what the hell is going on, she’s just about to push through the doors when Zeff opens his mouth.

“Now, which of you three,” he says, his voice tight, “wants to explain what I just saw?”

The three boys glance back and forth at each other, their expressions suggesting they don’t feel that anything is amiss. Finally, Ichiji shrugs. “We were only teasing him.”

“‘Teasing’ doesn’t cover his split lip and the black eye I suspect he’s going to have,” Zeff snaps, flashing a remarkably sarcastic set of air quotes while Sora feels her stomach clench. “What’s the matter with you three?”

Again, the boys exchange glances, none of them seeming to understand the question. “It’s what we always do,” Ichiji, the apparently elected spokesperson for the trio, says. “Our father said he deserves it because we’re strong and he’s a failure.”

Sanji whimpers at his oldest brother’s words, burying his face in Zeff’s apron, while the man pats his back with a surprisingly gentle hand.

There’s nothing gentle in his face, though, or his voice when he speaks for that matter. “So that’s what you think strength is, is it?” He demands, practically spitting the question through clenched teeth. “Picking on those who’re weaker than you?”

“That’s what our father said.” Ichiji confirms, and Sora finds herself wishing, desperately, for the opportunity to get her hands around Judge’s throat. 

Based on his expression, she suspects it’s a sentiment Zeff shares. “Then your father’s an idiot, among other things,” he snaps. “What an absolute crock of bullshit. The strong are supposed to protect people who can’t protect themselves, not be the reason they need saving.”

“Since when?” Niji wants to know.

“Since always,” Zeff retorts. “Why else do you think I saved you when we were trapped on the rock? Would you rather I have treated you like you treat your brother? And what about your mother, for that matter. Is it okay for someone to hurt her because she’s struggling right now?”

“No!” All three boys bark in a ragged chorus, and Zeff pierces them with a furious look.

“Then what’s the damn difference?”

“That’s right,” he says when his question is met with sullen silence. “There isn’t one, which is a fact you lot had better get through your heads immediately. Don’t you dare let me catch you acting this way again, with your brother or anyone else. Is that clear?”

This time, his question is answered with a series of muttered agreements, causing the man to snort. “Good,” he says flatly. “Now, get your sorry carcasses out of my sight. Not you, Eggplant,” he says, catching Sanji by the arm when he moves to follow suit. “We need to get some ice on that eye to keep it from swelling shut.”

“I’m fine,” Sanji mumbles, his words barely audible over the sound of his brothers fleeing the scene, thankfully exiting through the doors on the opposite side of the ones Sora’s currently spying through. “I can take care of myself.”

“Good for you,” Zeff replies. “But that wasn’t a request. Now, sit.”

Gesturing towards the nearest available prep table, he motions for Sanji to climb onto one of the stools, holding his gaze until he does so. Then he stalks over to one of the freezers, rummaging around until he comes up with a tray of ice cubes. 

“Here,” he says. Popping several cubes out of the tray, he wraps them in a handkerchief pulled from his pocket and offers the whole arrangement to Sanji. “Get that on your face, and it should help.”

There’s a weighted pause wherein Sanji holds his gaze but refuses to take the proffered ice. “I’m not weak,” he says stoutly. “I’m not.”

“Never said you were,” Zeff replies, still holding out the ice. “So stop being stubborn.”

“You did so say I was,” Sanji argues. “You said my brothers are strong and I’m weak, and that’s why they shouldn’t pick on me.”

“Correction,” Zeff informs him. “I said you’re weaker than them, not that you’re actively weak. Both of those things can be true, and are in your case. You’re weaker than the trio right now, but who knows if that’ll always be how things are.”

“Our dad said it will be,” Sanji mumbles, speaking so low Sora has to strain to hear him. “He says that’s why I’m a failure, because I’ll never be as strong as them.”

“Yeah, well, far be it from me to malign a man I’ve never met, but your father sounds like an utter waste of space.” Zeff says. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let his opinion mean jack squat. So, quit being a martyr, and take the damned ice.”

Finally doing as he’s told, Sanji accepts the ice and presses it to his right eye. Hissing at the initial touch he peers up at Zeff through the fringe of his hair. “How long do I keep it on for?”

“I’d say at least fifteen minutes,” Zeff says after a pause to consider it. “But you don’t have to stick around here if you don’t want to. And anyway, I’ve got to go talk to your mother if she’s up to it.”

“Are you gonna rat them out to her?” Sanji asks curiously.

“More so I’m going to rat out myself,” Zeff replies. “Much as I might not want to admit it, I reacted without thinking just now. You’re not my kids to raise, which means I overstepped. Therefore, I need to come clean.”

“Adults are really weird,” Sanji says pointedly, looking confused when Zeff laughs. 

“That we are,” he agrees, ruffling the boy’s hair with a large hand. “But why don’t you get on up to your room, and remember to keep up with ice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Wriggling down out of his seat, Sanji trundles off with said ice in hand. “Thanks, old man.”

“Old -!” Zeff starts, but Sanji’s long gone, having already left with his ice in tow. “Little brat.”

Deciding now is as good a time as any to announce her presence, Sora pushes the doors in front of her open and steps into the room. “Well, that was unexpected,” she says, having to bite down on a grin when he startles. “Do you have any more surprises for me tonight?”

“I wasn’t intending to have even that one,” he says sheepishly. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough,” she says, padding carefully over to the same stool Sanji had just vacated. Her legs feel weak again, and the last thing she wants is to topple over with a witness present.

“You should still be in bed,” Zeff says, watching her shrewdly. “What are you doing up?”

“I’ve been in bed all day,” she points out, “and I was hungry.”

He’s moving before the last word is fully out of her mouth, bustling around the kitchen with the ease of someone who’s worked in it for years, as opposed to only a few months. “Do you think you could handle a soup?” He asks, already pulling out a pot as he does so.

“That sounds fine,” she decides, sitting back to watch him work. “But we should probably talk about what just happened.”

“What just happened is I overstepped, exactly as I said,” he replies without breaking a sweat. “It’s not my job to discipline your kids.”

“No,” she agrees, “but I’m willing to let it rest given that you’ve acknowledged that. Besides,” she adds, now speaking with a tiredness that has nothing to do with her physical ailment, “they absolutely needed to hear what you said.”

“I know the other three pick on him,” she says. “He used to show up in my rooms covered in bruises and mumble excuses about having tripped or something equally far-fetched. Even worse, I know Judge used to encourage them. I just couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You don’t think so?” He asks, continuing on before she has a chance to get offended. “You got away and took all of ‘em with you. Even though that in and of itself was a risk because if those boys tried to fight you, you’d have been doomed. If that’s not doing something about the problem, I don’t know what is.”

“I told you about the raid suits,” she replies. “I reached a breaking point.”

“And look where you are now.” He reminds her. “I understand why you’re worried, and you’re right, they probably won’t ever be entirely normal, but something seemed to click when I pointed out that their own logic says I should have let them die on the rock. They also seem to genuinely care about you. Muted though they may be, their emotions aren’t totally gone. Maybe they’ll even get stronger now that they’re away from their father.”

“Maybe,” Sora allows. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

*****

A few more days of rest find her mostly back on her feet. Her energy levels are still a little lower than she’d like, but she’s going stir crazy without anything to do so she settles herself in the office, figuring she can at least keep a handle on the paperwork, even if she’s not ready to start slogging away in the kitchen again.

She’s just finished sorting through a stack of invoices when she looks up to find Reiju staring at her from the other side of the desk. Blinking in surprise, she jerks in her seat, but otherwise does her best to temper her reaction.

“Hello, sweetie,” she says, offering her daughter a bright smile. “What brings you in here?”

Half expecting a comment about how Reiju’s bored or something to that effect, she’s surprised when the girl’s face morphs into a frown. “Can I talk to you?” She asks, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in a way that’s not at all like her.

“Of course you can,” Sora’s quick to assure her. “You can talk to me about anything you like. Do you want to close the door before you start?”

Looking relieved, Reiju nods and trots away to do exactly that. Then, once the door’s been shut with a soft click, she returns and climbs into the room’s only other unoccupied chair, folding her hands in her lap expectantly, like she expects Sora to know what she’s after.

Unfortunately, Sora hasn’t the faintest idea. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she shuffles a few papers around on the desk, and then nods at Reiju, hoping she seems encouraging. “Whatever you’re here for, Reiju, you can go ahead.”

Drumming the fingers of her left hand on her chair’s armrest, Reiju takes a deep breath. “If we don’t turn out the way you want us to, are you going to send us back to Fa - to where we were before?”

“Of course not,” Sora gasps, appalled by the very idea. “What in the world made you think that?”

Reiju shrugs. “He used to threaten to lock Sanji away for not being what he wanted,” she says, her eyes downcast. “And I know you want us to be something else now that we’re away from him, so I wanted to know if we’d have to go back if we couldn’t turn out that way.”

It takes Sora a minute to parse out this rambling sentence, and when she does she gets quickly to her feet. Rounding the edge of the desk, she kneels down next to Reiju, taking one of her daughter’s much smaller hands in her own.

“Reiju, darling, I didn’t take you and your brothers out of that cesspit because I want you to force you to be something you're not. I did it because I want all of you to have the chance to choose who you want to be.”

“Judge was … misguided,” she says diplomatically. “He saw you all as a means to an end, rather than the children you’re supposed to be. There’s a place for everyone in this world, but each person has the right to determine what that is for themselves. I can’t make that choice for you, and I don’t want anyone else doing it either. Does that make sense?”

Reiju doesn’t reply right away, choosing instead to hum thoughtfully while kicking her heels against the front legs of her chair. She tilts her head from side to side, clearly considering Sora’s words, and then nods. “So I’m not changing too slowly,” she says, sounding relieved.

“There’s no such thing,” Sora assures her, squeezing her hand tightly. “Change is inevitable, but how long it takes or what it might look like isn’t up for anyone to decide.”

“That’s good.” Reiju says, and now she looks as relieved as she sounds. “Because I don’t know how to make the pink go away any faster.”

Sora blinks, promptly losing the thread of the conversation due to this comment. “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

In answer, Reiju slides her headband out of her hair, causing the strands to fall forward. Placing the band on the desk where it won’t get lost, she then grabs at a chunk of hair directly behind her left ear, drawing it backwards until Sora can see another patch underneath.

“I didn’t even notice it at first,” she says, twisting so that she’s at a better angle for Sora to get a look. “But I kind of saw it out of the corner of my eye in the mirror the other day, so I used a compact to help me. I don’t know when it started, but I didn’t put it there.”

Shifting her gaze to the indicated spot, Sora can’t quite keep a gasp from escaping when she catches sight of a patch of brilliantly blonde hair nestled among the pink tresses. It’s small, just a single look no wider than that of her finger, but it’s there.

“Reiju,” she says seriously, unable to tear her eyes away from the lone curl. “I need you to be honest with me, are you sure you didn’t find a way to colour this yourself?”

“Uh uh,” Reiju replies, shaking her head so forcefully the blonde patch briefly becomes invisible again. “I didn’t dye it or anything if that’s what you mean. One day it was just there.”

“I see,” Sora says faintly. Although, in reality, she hasn’t a single idea how this might have happened or what it means. “Is this happening to any of your brothers as well?”

It wouldn’t be noticeable on Sanji. His hair is the same colour as Sora’s own, the same colour Reiju’s had been at birth, and it’s a match for the lock she’s currently staring at. It’d stand out plain as day on the other three boys, though. 

Reiju, however, shrugs in answer. “I dunno,” she says finally. “Not that I’ve seen, anyway. Is that a bad thing?”

“I wouldn’t dare hazard a guess,” honesty forces Sora to admit. Taking one last glance at the swath of blonde, she picks up Reiju’s discarded headband and offers it to her, waiting until the little girl slides it back into place before straightening up out of the crouch she’s been kneeling in. 

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on it, I suppose,” she decides. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Good,” she says, when Reiju quickly shakes her head no. “I want you to let me know right away if it starts, or if anything else changes for that matter, okay?”

This time Reiju nods her head solemnly, her agreement clear.

“Alright then,” she says. “Thank you for telling me, but you should run along for now. I’ve still got a lot of work to catch up on, and it’s not fair that Zeff’s had to pick up my slack while I’ve been sick.”

“I don’t think he minds,” Reiju informs her. “I didn’t hear him complain, not even once. And he told all the cooks to make sure they didn’t cause any trouble so you wouldn’t come back to a mess on your hands.”

“He might not want you telling me that, dear.” Sora says, chuckling slightly at a sudden vision of the blustery chef’s reaction to getting caught making a fuss. “In fact, I’m almost certain he wouldn’t.”

Reiju shrugs, unconcerned, and hops down out of her chair. “He doesn’t like a lot of things, I think. But that’s okay. I’d still rather be here with him than back where we were before.”

Sora twitches, surprised she’d given voice to such a thought, and Reiju turns an intently shrewd gaze her way. “I know you feel the same way,” she says. “Are you going to tell him about my hair?”

“Maybe,” Sora replies, in reality meaning almost definitely. Zeff’s the only person she can talk to about Germa, and she wants to know if his theories will add up to her own.

That can be dealt with later, however. She gives herself a few minutes to let her thoughts run wild after the door has once again closed behind Reiju, but ultimately returns to her invoices.

*****

She does wind up discussing the matter with Zeff as anticipated, but he’s not much help in the end. He agrees with her that it could be a sign that whatever programming Reiju had undergone is being altered as a result of her new experiences, but he’s also quick to note that the change could have come about for umpteen other reasons. His suggestion is to wait and see what happens, which, frankly, is their only real option regardless.

Still, Sora can’t stop herself from checking the other children with baited breath. Sanji’s as blond as ever, not that she’d expected otherwise, and to date there’s been no change in Ichiji, Niji, or Yonji, at least not outwardly.

Inwardly, however, she’s not so sure. They’ve started asking questions lately, nothing substantial, but rather than following along blindly whenever a task is set for them, sometimes they press back and indicate they’re not interested in doing it.

She supposes it’s odd, in a way, to be so excited the first time Yonji complains about being asked to help with the dishes, or when Niji scowls after being told he’s spent enough time fishing out on the deck for one day, but she can’t help it. Judge’s goal had been to ultimately rob them of all free will and hone them into the perfect weapons. She won’t begrudge them their attempts to establish some semblance of self.

Yet it’s when she stumbles over an expression of empathy, that she really starts to believe they may be fighting Judge’s conditioning.

It happens, of all places, in one of the vegetable storage rooms. She’s in the middle of taking inventory so she can place the next shipment order when she hauls the sliding door open and both Ichiji and Sanji jump like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

“What in the world?” She starts, her heart rate speeding up when she catches sight of an open first aid kit resting on a small crate between them. “What are you two doing in here?”

“Nothing!” Sanji says quickly, notably tucking one hand out of sight behind his back. “Everything’s fine.”

Across from him, Ichiji frowns. “No, it isn’t,” he says plaintively. “You burnt yourself on the stove Zeff told you not to use unsupervised, and then you tried to treat it yourself because you didn’t want him to be mad about that and the fact that you’re supposed to be careful with your hands if you want to be a chef.”

Sanji’s face morphs into an hilarious combination of exasperation and betrayal, such that Sora has to stomp down on an extremely inappropriate urge to laugh. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone that,” he screeches. “God!”

Ichiji shrugs, either not understanding or not caring about his brother’s plight. “Whatever,” he says. “I saw him sneaking in here to try and handle it himself, so I came to help.”

“Well, that was very kind of you,” Sora acknowledges, taken aback. “But the best course of action would’ve been to go find an adult.”

Now Ichiji looks smug. “Told you,” he says, smirking at his brother, who rolls his visible eye in response. “I did tell him,” he adds, turning back to her, “but he wouldn’t listen, so I offered to help instead. I figured that would be better than him trying to take care of it alone.”

“I understand the logic, but next time remember what I’ve told you, please,” Sora says. She then proceeds to step further into the room, gesturing for Sanji to pull his arm out of hiding. “You let me take a look at that right now, mister. No arguments.”

“But mooom,” he whines, clearly reluctant. He soon wilts under her heavy stare, though, dragging said limb out with a groan and offering it up for inspection. “Fiiine.”

Curling her own hand gently around his wrist, she raises it up so she can see it better. The damage seems to be concentrated on two of his fingers - the middle one and the pointer - but the dressing Ichiji’s applied is essentially perfect, basically professional looking in its entirety.

“Hmm, I still wish you’d gone and found an adult to help you, but I can’t fault the end result. You did a good job,” she tells Ichiji, marveling when his cheeks flush as brilliantly red as his hair. “This was very well done.”

“It feels a lot better too,” Sanji pipes up, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. “Thanks, Ichiji.”

It’s readily apparent that Ichiji has no idea what to do in the face of gratitude. Ducking his head, he refuses to make eye contact with anyone, and mumbles something about it being ‘just a simple field dressing’.

“Nevertheless, it was very sweet of you to help your brother,” Sora informs him. “I’m proud of you. Just,” she adds, now giving Sanji a stern look, “like I will be proud of him for going and admitting to Zeff that he used the oven without permission.”

Sanji immediately opens his mouth to protest, but closes it with a disgruntled huff when she narrows her eyes at him. “Fiiine,” he grumbles, heaving a put upon sigh that’s almost as big as he is. “But you’re gonna hear me complain for days and days if he grounds me from the kitchen.”

“If you can’t follow the kitchen rules then you shouldn’t be in there,” Sora scolds, waggling a finger at him when he pouts. “And don’t think you’ll be able to come to me and get me to change his mind. I’ve already told him he has my full support to handle your training how he sees fit. He’s your teacher, so you need to listen to him.”

“I know, I know,” he grumbles, but she thinks she sees a flash of genuine contrition in his eyes. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

She leans over and chucks him gently under the chin. “I know you will,” she says firmly, hoping she can convey her faith in him. Then she gives him a pat on the head and points him towards the still open doorway. “Now, go on. Off you get.”

Sanji soon scuttles off like he hasn’t got a care in the world, leaving just her and Ichiji behind in the storeroom. As Sora watches, her eldest son starts cleaning up the medical supplies, meticulously returning anything that hasn’t been used to its proper place.

“You really did do a good thing, Sweetheart,” she says softly, getting the sense that he’s somewhat at war with himself at the moment. “Sanji obviously appreciated it very much.”

Rather than meeting her gaze, Ichiji frowns down at the depleted roll of gauze he has held in his hands. “He was surprised when I offered to help,” he says just as quietly. “He - he thought I was going to make fun of him for being dumb enough to burn himself, or maybe even hurt him worse.”

“I don’t like that he felt that way,” he says suddenly, tossing the gauze back into the medkit with more force than necessary. “But I get why he did. It’s because that’s exactly what I would’ve done before.”

“You can’t know that - ” Sora tries, but he cuts her off with a sharp shake of his head.

“Yeah, I can,” he says, panting slightly. “I can because I have done it before. We all have, and Da - you know who said that was what we were supposed to do, that he deserved it. That’s not what you say, though, and it’s not what Zeff says, so why did he say it?”

“Because he was a bad person,” she says, deciding this isn’t a time to soften a blow. “He was cruel, and he didn’t care about hurting people. In fact, I suspect he enjoyed it.”

“I don’t want to be like that, then,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be like him! If he’d been on the island instead of you and Zeff, he would have let us die. He wouldn’t have risked himself for us. I know he wouldn’t have!”

“You’re right,” she agrees, placing her hands on his shoulders and finding that they’re shaking ever so slightly. “But you’re not like him. The mere fact that we’re even having this conversation proves that much.”

“Really?” He asks, finally glancing up at her. His eyes are wide, almost pleading, and she runs a soothing hand through his hair.

“Of course it does,” she promises. “And do you know how I know that? Because I never would have had it with him,” she explains when he shakes his head. “He would have found it beneath him.”

He holds her gaze for the better part of a minute before finally nodding sombrely. “Okay,” he says. “I believe you, and I’m going to be better than him. You’ll see.”

“You already are,” she promises, hoping he’ll believe her. She then proceeds to sweep her hand through his hair one last time, nearly giving herself whiplash when she jerks her head down to critically examine it.

There, standing out as clear as day among the crimson tresses, is a solitary stripe of brilliant gold.

*****

“So it’s like you thought,” Zeff says when she tells him later. They’re standing side by side, washing dishes in one of the industrial sized sinks while she relays the day’s events, keeping her voice pitched low even though there’s no one in the room to overhear. “They’re fighting the programming.”

“Apparently,” she exclaims, gesturing wildly enough with the dishcloth she’s holding that he has to duck out of the way. “But I’ll be damned if I know how.”

Zeff’s quiet as he runs a dry cloth over a series of plates, stacking them one on top of the other until he has a pile nearly a foot perched on the countertop. “You said that very first experiment wasn’t the only one, right? That there were others that came after it.”

“Yes,” she nods. “The one while I was pregnant was the most important, it’s the one all the others built upon, but there had to be at least a dozen over the years, and I know he had more planned.” Grimly, she thinks of the plans for the raid suits and shudders. “That was why I had to get them out.”

Closing her eyes, she breathes heavily through her nose for a moment, startling when she feels an unexpected touch to her hand. Glancing down, she sees one of his massive hands covering her much smaller one, squeezing gently in an obvious bid at comfort.

Shifting her gaze upwards, she catches his eye and has to smile when his entire face flushes. “I’m alright,” she assures him. “It’s nothing but bad memories now.”

“Bad memories of events you never should have had to go through,” he retorts. “You and the rugrats,” he expands, reminding her of his obvious soft spot for her children, even if he’d like to pretend otherwise. “It’s not right, what he did to you.”

“What an old softie you are,” she teases, laughing when he squawks indignantly. “Who’d have thought I’d have found a knight in shining armour on a pirate ship of all places?”

“Don’t be daft, woman,” he sputters, yanking his hand away and using it to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck where she can see more red blooming. “I’m nothing of the sort.”

“Oh? Have you forgotten that I’m technically still a queen?” She asks, flicking a few droplets of water at him from the sink. “If I say you’re a knight, then a knight you shall be.” 

“Tch!” He exclaims, flapping the dry cloth he’s still holding in a weak attempt to ward her off. “Stop distracting me, would you? I was going somewhere with what I was trying to say.”

“Oh, very well,” she allows. “Do enlighten me with your wisdom.”

“Thanks ever so, your majesty,” he drawls. “But in all seriousness,” he continues on, “what if it works like learning a trade or a particular fighting style? At least in part.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Well, from where I’m standing, it may largely be an exercise in conditioning. You’ve got the procedures as a form of enforcement, and they also provide the unnatural strength and durability, but what if they need to be repeated over and over again to keep them under control? If that’s the case, something as simple as stopping that would have an impact.”

“And potentially let their actual personalities break through,” she says, nodding along to what he’s been saying. “There’s definitely a logic to that, especially when you look at the difference between Reiju and the boys. She’s older, but the experiments started much later for her.”

“And she’s the most normal of the bunch,” he agrees. “After the Eggplant, anyway. She experienced a time before that conditioning was in effect, when she was just a regular, every day kid.”

“It’s true,” Sora replies, easily able to picture the little blonde toddler who’d gleefully taken her first steps right into her arms. “She was a perfectly average baby.”

“There’s no such thing,” he grunts. “They’re all special in their own way.”

“True,” she acknowledges, “but I do wish I’d been able to have access to the actual records of what was done with them. The old bastard always used to tell me it was none of my business.”

“Such language,” he snickers, “but fair enough. Maybe he was afraid of what you might do with the info.”

“Maybe, or maybe he was just a cruel, capricious prick who enjoyed making me suffer,” she declares. “I lived with him for almost twenty years. Much as it pains me to admit, I probably know him better than anyone else alive.”

“Eh, that helped you in the end, though,” he points out. “Being able to predict his moves was what let you get away.”

She shoots him a wry look. “I don’t know where this sudden knack for always finding a silver lining is coming from, but I must say, I kind of like it.”

This time he grunts, but doesn’t let himself be dragged back into the conversation.

Chapter 4

Time passes as it always does, and before she knows it’s been almost a year since they’d fled Germa. The children heal, grow, and start to come into their own in ways she never could have imagined. She doubts they’ll ever entirely behave like most little ones their age, but they’ve already changed so much since getting out from under Judge’s thumb that she could weep at the sight of them.

Sanji’s as kind as ever and throws himself headfirst into every lesson Zeff and the other chefs come up with for him. Reiju no longer hides her innate sweetness and lets her protective streak come out in full force. Meanwhile, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji have all developed varying levels of empathy that Sora never would have thought possible based on the first eight years of their life.

They’re good kids, she knows, and more importantly they’re hers. They’ll never be entirely normal, she suspects they’ll always bear at least some internal scars thanks to what was done to them, but there’s a sense of carefree joy that permeates all five now, and that’s worth everything she sacrificed to get them here.

She imagines some people would never understand the risks she took, what she gave up on the slim chance that she could claw even a shred of her children’s humanity back, but those people don’t know them. They didn’t see the potential that she knew was in there.

Even better, she knows that when (not if) her health deteriorates again, the children will be in good hands should the worst happen and she not be able to recover. Zeff can maintain he’s not the children’s father all he wants, but he’s inadvertently filled the role better than Judge could have ever dreamed of, and she’s certain he’ll continue to look after them if she’s not able to.

Furthermore, the children will listen to him if need be. Sanji worships the ground the ex-pirate walks on, and Reiju loves the way he spoils her, even though she pretends to be indifferent. Even the other three respect him, and follow his lead when given directions. If anything happens to her, they’ll still be fine.

Luckily, she seems to be stable for now. She has her good days and her bad days - which are, unfortunately, very bad when they happen - but so far she’s been able to bounce back after every spell. 

It’s after one such instance that she finds herself sitting out on the deck in the early evening, enjoying the fact that she’d felt well enough to be on her feet again. She’d stayed out of the kitchen for one more day, having been shooed out by a stern looking Zeff when she’d tried to insist that she felt good enough to be back at work, and is now watching the last of their customer’s ships depart for the night.

Much though it pains her to admit it, inwardly she can’t complain about having the day off. She can’t remember the last time she’d spent an entire day just lazing about, and, sitting here with a warm breeze gusting in off the water, she has to admit that she’s quite comfortable.

The final ship has just slipped out of sight when she hears the sound of tiny footsteps behind her. Craning her neck around to see, she’s surprised to find all five children clustered in a heap, all of them looking like they’re about to burst at the seams.

“Now what’s all this then?” She asks, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. They don’t look upset, so she isn’t worried, but she is curious about the excited energy that she can all but feel rolling off of them. “What are you five up to?”

None of them answer immediately, so she focuses her attention solely on Yonji, usually the weakest link when it comes to confessing to their shared antics. “Doesn’t anybody want to tell me what’s going on?”

As expected, Yonji starts squirming. In fact, he’s just about to open his mouth when Reiju treads heavily on his foot. “We can’t!” He yelps instead, shooting his sister a dirty look that she responds to with a pointed eye roll. “But! We can show you if you’ll come with us.”

“Alright,” she says after a beat in which his brothers and sister all nod furiously in agreement. She holds out her hands expectantly. “Would some of you like to help me up then?”

They surge forward as one, but Ichiji and Sanji get there first. The former grabs her right hand, while the latter takes her left, and she has to bite down a giggle at the serious expressions on their faces.

Allowing herself to be hauled up out of her chair, she then lets them tug her in the direction of the main doors of the Baratie. Once there, Niji and Yonji each open one with grave ceremony, and Reiju completes the ensemble by waving her inside.

“ Surprise!”

The raucous shout, bellowed by what appears to be the entire kitchen staff, nearly startles her off her feet, and might have actually done so if Ichiji and Sanji weren’t still holding her hands. Blinking in the sudden light, it dawns on her belatedly that they’ve done up the restaurant with very specific decorations.

“Happy birthday, Mama!” Reiju says, grinning widely while her brothers all shout their own well wishes. “Were you surprised?”

“Very,” Sora confesses, having genuinely not realized the date. “Which one of you told them when my birthday was?”

“Eh, Zeff asked ages ago when you had a party for the four of us,” Sanji says, shrugging in a way that manages to encompass the rest of the quadruplets. “We’ve pretty much been planning it ever since.”

“Oh, have you now?” She asks wryly. Scanning over the crowd of approaching well wishers, she spots the head chef standing near the back of the room, presiding over a small table. Catching his eye, she gives him a pointed look. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Come on,” Niji insists with a wave of his hands. “There’s presents.”

Given that he looks seconds away from getting behind her and starting to push, Sora again lets them start moving her. This time they lead her over to the table where Zeff is, which, upon inspection, is home to a handful of wrapped parcels and what she eventually realizes is a birthday cake.

“Do you like it?” Yonji asks, wriggling in place as he follows her gaze. “We all helped make it!”

“You know,” she says faintly, still staring at the confection in front of her. “I rather thought as much.”

Zeff’s moustache twitches in the way it does when he’s desperately trying not to laugh. Only once he’s regained his composure, does he nod towards the cake himself. “Eggplant did the base, while the rest of ‘em decorated. I supervised the whole thing.”

Meaning no one’s liable to get food poisoning, she mentally translates in her head. Schooling her expression the way she knows best, she eyes the lumpy, misshapen thing until she’s certain she can speak without giggling.

“It’s the best cake I’ve ever seen,” she says, proceeding to hug them all one by one. “And I’m sure it tastes delicious.”

Niji allows the hug for a few seconds until he actively starts to squirm away, and Ichiji bears it stoically, going still as a statue in her arms. Meanwhile, the other three actively throw themselves into her arms when she reaches them.

“Thank you, darlings,” she says around a sudden lump in her throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a lovely birthday.”

“You haven’t even tried the cake yet,” Sanji points out. “And we got you presents too!”

“I don’t need any presents,” she insists, and not only do the children boo this declaration, but the rest of the crew join in as well.

“You deserve all the presents in the world for putting up with us, Miss Sora!” Patty crows, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we all know you’re the only one giving this tub a little class,” Carne pipes up next to him. “It sure as hell isn’t thanks to Chef Zeff.”

Neither of them is fast enough to dodge Zeff’s peg leg. Catching them both right below the knee, he sends the two cooks stumbling backwards, rubbing their shins. “How many times do I have to tell you twerps not to swear in front of the little ones? I’ve already caught Eggplant using some choice words in the kitchens, and I know he didn’t get them from me.”

“Yes, I did,” Sanji announces, and Sora completely fails to hide an inelegant snort behind her hands.

Zeff gives the boy a betrayed look and then huffs. “Regardless,” he stresses, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you brats want to show your mother what you got her?”

Surprisingly, Reiju insists that everyone else go first. This means that the crew present her with a variety of small gifts, mainly the kind of small tokens that won’t take up too much space on a ship. Only once that’s done, does a single rectangular box remain.

“It’s from all of us,” Reiju informs her as she carefully slides off the ribbon and starts to lift the lid. “But I picked it out.”

“Only because you went with Zeff on the supply run,” Ichiji grumbles. “If we’d all gone it would have been suspicious.”

“Still,” Reiju sniffs. 

Zeff hushes them before a fight can break out, and Sora shoots him a grateful look as she rests the lid on the table. She then pulls aside a couple layers of tissue paper and is greeted by the sight of a pale blue, intricately woven shawl when she does so.

The fabric is soft to the touch, obviously of a high quality, and it may as well have been tailor made to fit her when she slides it out of the box to wrap it around her shoulders. It’s warm, she notes, settling over her almost like a hug, and she can easily picture herself using it to ward off an evening chill on the nights when she feels like sitting out on the deck. 

“I love it,” she murmurs, twisting carefully back and forth to show it off. “It’s absolutely wonderful.”

The children whoop in varying levels of delight, Yonji even going so far as to pump a celebratory fist in the air that sends his multi coloured hair fluttering, and there is simply nothing she can do at that point to stop the tears from welling in her eyes.

As astute as ever, Zeff notices immediately. “Oi!” He barks, drawing all five of the children’s attention to him. “We forgot the candles for the cake in the kitchen. You brats go scrounge ‘em up so your mother can have a proper birthday.”

“I imagine it’ll take them all of three minutes before they’re back here,” he says, barely audible under the din of the children dashing for the kitchen. “So you’d best make ‘em count, Your Majesty.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, but she nevertheless takes the handkerchief he pulls from his pocket with a flourish, dabbing at her eyes with it before the tears can make too much of a mess. “I can’t believe you arranged all this.”

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Wasn’t that hard,” he mutters, his face tinting. “The little ones were extremely keen on celebrating you. The hardest part was keeping Eggplant and Cabbage from blabbing.”

She nods, for once not protesting the silly nicknames. Sanji and Yonji are definitely the chattiest of her babies, and it must have taken great effort on their part not to spill the beans.

After handing the handkerchief back to him, she adjusts the shawl she’s still wearing, once again marveling at the quality. “This,” she says, eyeing him pointedly, “must have cost a pretty penny. I can’t help but wonder how the children, who don’t, in fact, have any money, were able to afford it.”

“Chores,” he replies succinctly. “They all worked hard to earn enough to pitch in and get it for you. All I did was take Reiju along with me to that last island to pick it out.”

“Mhmm.” Sora drawls, but before she can expound upon the fact that she highly doubts any amount of chores would have made up the cost, the children are back. Most of them have supplies for the cake - she makes a mental note to get the matches out of Sanji’s hands as quickly as possible thanks to how excited he looks - but Yonji has somehow gotten his hands on a bouquet of flowers that’s almost half as big as he is.

“Oyyy!” He bellows, gesturing at Zeff with them. “You forgot these back there too!”

Zeff mutters something that sounds a lot like an exasperated ‘God as my witness’ under his breath, and reaches out to take them. “Give those here before you ruin ‘em,” he says. “You don’t want your poor mother getting squashed flowers for her birthday now, do you?”

Relinquishing his hold, Yonji nods dutifully. “Nope.”

Taking the bouquet from Yonji’s grasping hands, Zeff takes a moment to smooth out the tissue paper they’re wrapped in before offering them up to Sora. “These are for you, obviously,” he mutters. “Picked ‘em up on the same supply run as the shawl.”

“Calla lilies!” Sora exclaims, taking the flowers and raising them to her face to inhale the familiar scent. “These are - ”

“Your favourite,” Zeff finishes, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand. “Yeah. Reiju, uh, might have mentioned that.”

“They’re just from Zeff.” Reiju says, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle out of her dress when the man in question shoots her an inscrutable look. “He says all ladies deserve flowers on their birthdays.”

“Does he now?” Sora murmurs. “How thoughtful,” she adds, leaning up on her tiptoes so she can plant a quick kiss on the chef’s craggy cheek. “I love them.”

“Glad to hear.” He mumbles, his face flushed and the words barely audible over the sound of the staff’s sudden catcalling. “Shut up, you lot, or it’s my foot up your asses!”

Sora gives him a wry look. “Would you like to tell me again about how it’s not you who’s been teaching Sanji all those colourful new phrases?”  

And speaking of Sanji, she spots him jabbing Ichiji in the side out of the corner of his eye, looking smug. His own face unreadable, his oldest brother nevertheless nods, making Sanji throw his hands up in victory.

Making a mental note to figure out whatever’s going on there when she has a chance, Sora focuses back on Zeff and opts to take pity on the still furiously blushing ex-pirate. “Now then,” she says, adjusting her hold on the bouquet. “I think we should put these in water, and then I’d very much like to try a piece of that cake.”

The crew’s whooping agreement is almost as loud as the children’s.

*****

Even though she feels a little silly about it, the simple birthday celebration has Sora floating on Cloud 9 for days afterwards. Completely different from the pomp and circumstance in Germa, it had been genuine in a way unlike anything else she’d experienced before, and watching all of her children come together to celebrate her will forever be one of her most treasured memories.

It’s also, she’d like to note, probably why it takes her longer than it should to notice when they start behaving strangely. It’s only after the better part of a week has passed that she realizes she’s been seeing all four boys together more and more, clustered in one big pack like a bunch of tiny conspirators. She’s just made up her mind to say something, both curious and concerned, when an entirely new wrench gets thrown in the works.

Reiju asks her about boys.

Well, technically that’s something of a misnomer. What Reiju actually asks her is how to know if a boy likes you, but the question still startles her so much, she’s left staring down at her child, gaping like a fish out of water.

Reiju meets her gaze easily enough, her bright blue eyes curious as she tilts her head slightly to the side, obviously waiting for a response. “Mom?” She finally prompts when several minutes have passed and Sora has yet to find her voice. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“I - sorry, sweetie,” she stumbles. “You just surprised me, is all. Can I ask why you want to know?”

Shrugging casually, Reiju raises her right hand and starts playing with the bangs that cover the side of her face, twisting her pointer finger around the only splotch of pink that remains in the front. “A boy from one of the ships wouldn’t stop looking at me any time I was out in the dining area. Patty said that probably meant he liked me, but I don’t know how he could tell.”

Sora frowns. She’s always been good at reading her children, and they’ve all become more expressive in the past year, therefore making the exercise even easier. As such, while she has no idea why, she’s certain Reiju’s just lied through her teeth to her.

“Is that really what happened?” She asks, deciding it can’t hurt to press.

Letting go of her hair, Reiju blinks guileless eyes up at her and nods. “Mhm,” she says, doubling down on her story. “But, like I said, I don’t know how Patty knew.”  

Since in this instance, Patty likely doesn’t know anything at all, Sora decides to speak in general terms. Unfortunately, her own romantic history isn’t exactly a love story through the ages, so she flounders.

“It’s … complicated,” is what she settles on. “Different people show they care for you in different ways. Some people are more prone to use their words, while others are more reserved and prefer to show rather than tell.”

“That makes sense,” Reiju agrees after taking a moment to digest this. “But if someone fell into the second group, how would they get their point across?”

“I mean, again, it would likely depend on the people involved,” Sora says. “However, I suppose the underlying idea would be that, if someone wanted to show you that they liked you, they would do things that make you happy, and things that prove how well they know you.”

“So liiike … maybe getting you flowers if they knew you liked flowers, but also making sure they got your favourite kind?”

Sora has a sudden vision of the vase full of calla lilies that’s currently perched on the window sill in her room, and can’t quite fight back a smile. “Exactly like that,” she says. “Although,” she’s quick to add, so that no one gets the wrong idea, “sometimes a gesture like that has nothing to do with romance. Friends can do nice things for each other too.”

“Hmm, okay.” Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Reiju taps one foot on the floor, clearly considering something. “But,” she says once she’s worked through whatever’s going on in her head, “if someone were to keep doing things that you liked, things that made you happy, would that be a sign that they didn’t want to be just friends?”

“It could be,” Sora says diplomatically. “Every case is different.”

Reiju wrinkles her nose, looking disgruntled. “So how am I supposed to know what to do?”

She sounds so exasperated, Sora can’t help but laugh. “I suppose I can’t answer that part for you,” she says, hooking an arm around the girl’s shoulders in a loose hug. “But you can always come find me if you have more questions. You know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom.” And with that said, Reiju slips out of her hold and heads out of the office with a quick wave.

Feeling somewhat bemused, Sora watches her go until she’s out of sight, and then turns back to the paperwork she’s been neglecting since the girl’s arrival.

“Well,” she says aloud. “That was certainly unexpected.”

*****

A few days later, Sora’s in the kitchen, busily frosting a dozen cupcakes, when a smell she hasn’t encountered for months reaches her nose. Lifting her head, she sniffs again to make sure she’s not imagining things, and glances over at Zeff’s station.

“Is that chicken orzo?” She asks, even though she’s certain she already knows the answer.

“Mhm,” he replies, without bothering to look up from the pot he’s stirring. “That it is.”

She blinks, confused. “Did you change the menu when I wasn’t looking?” She asks. “This is a seafood restaurant. We serve seafood.”

“It’s not for the guests, it’s for the little ones,” he says, still without looking up. “Turnip and Cabbage both keep telling me it’s their favourite, and that they miss it.”

That, Sora knows, growing more confused by the second, is blatantly untrue. Niji and Yonji like chicken orzo well enough, all of the children do, but if it’s anyone’s favourite, it’s hers. She’d often requested it when her health was especially poor because it’d had a tendency to make her feel better.

“The boys must have had a craving for it,” she decides, sighing wistfully. “None of us have had it in ages. I miss it too.”

Zeff does look up at this. “They might have also mentioned that you had a fondness for it. Good thing I made plenty of it then,” he says with a wink. “There’s enough here for you and those bottomless pits.”

“They’re growing boys,” she says primly. Although, inwardly she’s happy to hear that there’ll be enough for everyone. Of course, she’d have let the boys go first since it was their request, but she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth either.

“It was very sweet of you to go out of your way, though,” she notes, becoming more touched by the notion the longer she thinks about it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “They’re good kids,” he says, giving the pan another stir and then reaching to grab what appears to be parsley. “Besides, it’s not like it’s a hard dish to make.”

“Still,” she says, imagining how Judge would likely react to such an innocent request. Knowing him, he’d be liable to have a completely opposite meal prepared as a way to teach the boys a lesson for speaking out of turn. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it, and I know I do.”

He gives her a funny look then, face contorting like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure that he should. Finally, he sighs, apparently giving into the urge. “We’ve known each other for over a year now, how much longer is it going to take you to realize that I don’t mind doing favors for you? You deserve things that make you happy, Sora. More than most, to be honest.”

“I …” She pauses, genuinely having no idea what to say to that. “Zeff …”

“I know,” he sighs again. “I’m making you uncomfortable, and I apologize for that, but sometimes I can’t stand the way you look so surprised when someone does something nice for you or one of the kids. Most days I think I’d offer up my other leg for just a few minutes with that husband of yours.”

“Ex-husband,” she corrects. “We may not be formally divorced, I suppose, but I think it’s safe to say we’re separated in every way that matters.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his voice now teasingly pitched in a way that she suspects is a deliberate attempt at lightening the mood. “Is that your way of saying you’re putting yourself back on the market?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, feeling her face burn at the very idea. “Even if I had the time or the inclination, who in the world would want me and all the baggage I come with?”

He snorts. “You mean who would want an elegant, beautiful, brilliant woman who’s survived every curveball life’s thrown at her and come back swinging even harder each time? I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Now reasonably certain her face is actually on fire, she swats his shoulder with a conveniently placed dish rag. “Even if all those things were true,” she says sternly, “I’m still a refugee with nothing to my name but poor health and five admittedly wonderful children who most people wouldn’t know how to handle.”

He retaliates by jabbing a mixing spoon in her direction. “One, you’re the co-owner of a wildly successful restaurant that’s been getting rave reviews at every port it stops in, and I’ll thank you to remember that. And two,” he says, raising his voice slightly so it carries over her snickering, “any man who’d turn his back on you and the little ones because of that other stuff isn’t worth the air he breathes.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she retorts. “You rose to the occasion in a way I never could have dreamed of. I don’t imagine I’m going to find that anywhere else.”

“Tch! I hardly acquitted myself well during our first meeting, and I’m nothing but an old sea dog who’s a fair hand at cooking,” he replies. “If you do decide to put yourself back out there, I expect you’ll find far better pickings than the likes of me.”

Unable to believe they’re bickering about such a foolish topic, Sora rolls her eyes and returns her attention to her cupcakes. “I refuse to humour that comment with a response.”

“Technically you just did,” he points out cheekily, and it’s all she can do not to give in to the extremely childish urge to squirt icing sugar all over him. Judging by the look on his face, he knows it too.

Sniffing disdainfully, she picks up said sugar and moves to start frosting the next closest cupcake, fully determined to put any such thoughts of romance, or whatever Zeff had been hinting at, out of her head.

*****

She thinks about it again, of course she does. Between Zeff’s gentle teasing and her earlier conversation with Reiju, her mind starts drifting repeatedly towards the idea of romance and, in particular, the fact that she’s never really gotten to experience it. 

She’d known from a very young age that her lot in life was not one where she’d been destined to choose her own partner. Due to her rank and station, her future had always held a political marriage. If her father hadn’t found Judge, he’d have found someone else, maybe even someone worse - assuming such a thing was possible.

Admittedly, before she’d known who’d been chosen, there had been times when she’d dared to dream that her future husband might be someone she would grow to love and vice versa. A lifetime spent loving fairytale stories and later cheesy romance novels had made her long for the kind of happy ending found only in books.

She’d known such a thing was unlikely from the start, but even that knowledge hadn’t prepared her for the extent of the nightmare she’d find herself in. Yes, she’d gotten her children out of it, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d also give just about anything to see Judge’s head on a spit.

That day was unlikely to ever arrive, but the more she thinks about everything, the more she realizes there’s nothing stopping her from hoping for … more now. 

Unfortunately, following fast on that thought’s heels is a stark reminder of her situation. She hadn’t been lying when she’d pointed out that she’s hardly a catch. As a mother - and especially a mother with some very unique children - she has five people who have to come before her. 

Then there’s her health, just as she’d mentioned. She’d overheard Judge consulting with her doctors more than once throughout the years, and she’s well aware she’s already lived longer than they’d expected her to. That sort of timeline didn’t exactly bode well for future romantic endeavours. 

And to top it all off, she’s not stupid enough to think she’d escaped Germa emotionally unscathed either. The past year has taught her she’s stronger than she’d thought, but she trusts very few people, and can’t see herself being inclined to open up to anyone the way they’d deserve if she were to become … involved. 

Combining all that baggage with the fact that she’s never had to court someone, and frankly doesn’t even know where to begin, and it paints a rather bleak picture. In a way, it’s a good thing that life on the Baratie means she’s unlikely to form long standing relationships outside of the crew. There’s no point in getting her hopes up for something she’s not even entirely sure that she wants.

“Mom? Mooomm? Are you listening to me?”

Startled out of the reverie she’s fallen into, Sora glances down and finds Sanji staring back at her reproachfully. As she watches, he crosses his arms over his skinny chest and blows out a breath heavy enough to send his bangs fluttering.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says, shaking her head. “I got lost in my thoughts for a second there. What were you saying?”

Wrinkling his nose, Sanji holds her gaze for a moment longer, and then size. “It wasn’t important,” he says, surprising her by clambering up onto the other stool posted at her work station. “I had a question about fondant, but it can wait. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing all that special,” she replies. Not wanting to go into details about such a silly topic, she returns her attention to the dough she’d been in the middle of rolling, eyeing it critically to make sure she hadn’t ruined anything while daydreaming. “Can you hand me the cookie cutters, please?”

Sanji dutifully hands them over, grinning when she lines up the ones she wants, but lets him have the honour of pressing them into the dough. “I like the heart shaped ones the best.”

“Do you?” Sora asks absently, only belatedly realizing the theme she’s apparently gone with for this batch. “We’ll have to dig out some of the pink and red icings for them,” she decides. “Those will suit them best.”

“Mhm,” he agrees. “I can go find them if you want?”

At her answering nod, he scrambles down off of his stool, vanishing momentarily as he zips into the proper storeroom and comes back with his arms laden down by an array of colours.

“That looks like a bit more than anticipated,” Sora laughs. Reaching out to take some of the load from him, she lays them out on the table while he reclaims his seat. “It seems we’re in something of a romantic mood today.”

“Is that what you were thinking about earlier?” He wants to know, perking up when she gives a half hearted shrug. “Romance?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She replies glibly, chuckling when he nods his head enthusiastically. “You’re far too young to be worrying about things like that at your age.”

“Says who?” He demands, and part of her has to admit he has a point. After all, she’d been dreaming of fairytale princes at an age that was far younger than he is now. “I’m gonna meet someone someday, and they’ll be my person.”

“Your person, hmm? That sounds like a nice idea,” she says, willing to play along for a bit. “And what qualities will you look for in them?”

“Dunno,” he replies, his expression suggesting this is the first time he’s ever thought of it. “Somebody beautiful, I guess.”

“That’s hardly the be all and end all of something to look for in a partner,” Sora says sternly, wanting to make sure he knows that much. “Beauty’s all well and good, but it doesn’t mean anything if they don’t treat you right. I won’t have you or any of your siblings settling for less than you deserve.”

“Okay,” he says easily. “I’ll look for other things too then. Like, they’ll have to be strong, and enjoy my cooking! And - and they’ll have to be willing to help me find the All Blue.”

“Yes,” she says, her voice still firm. “Don’t you dare stay with someone who won’t support your dreams, darling. I’m not saying they have to be perfect, nobody is, but they have to understand your value and respect you.”

“They will,” he assures her. “And I’ll do the same thing for them.”

“Good,” she decides. “Relationships are a kind of partnership, after all. Each person is meant to give to the other, as well as receive.”

“Is that why you left dad?” He asks quietly. “Because all he ever did was take?”

“I had many, many reasons for leaving your father,” she says. “So many, in fact, that I suspect I’d be hard pressed to name them all. But yes, his refusal to think about anything other than what he wanted certainly played a role.”

“I figured,” he says. “He wasn’t any nicer to you than he was to me, was he?”

Hit with a sudden wave of guilt, she bites her lip until it passes. “That’s not really a conversation for someone your age to be involved in, dear,” she tells him. “All you need to focus on is the fact that those days are behind us and things are better now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Reiju doesn’t pretend to hate me in public anymore, and the others are a lot nicer. Plus, you’re happy and we have the Baratie and the crew and Zeff. I want to keep him for sure.”

“Well, it’s important to understand that you can’t keep people in your life if they don’t want to be there,” she’s quick to point out. “However, luckily in this case, I think Zeff likes having us in his life as much as we like having him in ours.”

“Good,” Sanji says stoutly. “I want him to teach me everything he knows about cooking, but I also just want him around because I like him. You do too, right mom?”

“Of course,” she replies, surprised he’d even asked the question. “I like him very much.”

“Do you like him better than dad?”

Sora feels like she’s starting to get whiplash from this conversation thanks to the number of inquiries she’s being bombarded with. Having said that, there can only be one answer to this latest one.

“I do,” she says simply. “He may be stern and a little on the gruff side, but he’s never cruel. In fact, I think he’s very kind under that tough exterior of his.”

“He’s nice all the time,” Sanji says, “even when he’s pretending not to be. Did you know he was the one who planned your whole birthday?”

“I did not.”

“Mhm. He asked us when it was after you threw a party for ours, and said we should make sure you had a nice one. Your shawl was his idea too, even though he let us pick it out, and the flowers were all him. He said you deserved to have people show you how special you are.”

“Sanji,” she says weakly. “I think Zeff would be quite embarrassed if he knew you were telling me all this. That was probably meant to be a secret.”

“He didn’t say it was,” Sanji singsongs, but she doesn’t miss the way he lets the topic rest.

“I like him better than Dad too, you know,” he says instead. “And I don’t know if the others would admit it, but I don’t think I’m the only one.”

Much though it pains her to hear him say that, she can’t say she’s surprised, or that she blames him. Judge had only ever seen him as a failed experiment, and hadn’t been shy about hiding his feelings. Zeff, on the other hand, saw potential in him that wasn’t overshadowed by his differences from his siblings, and he encouraged that potential in a way Judge would never dream of.

And nor did he stop with Sanji, either. His soft spot for Reiju was a frequent topic of conversation among the crew, and he often went out of his way for the other boys as well - such as taking them on excursions so they didn’t feel like the other two were being favoured ahead of them.

He was a sweet man underneath his blustery exterior, and more importantly he was a good one. His willingness to sacrifice himself to save them had seen him go above and beyond the call of duty, indeed, she doubts she’ll ever find a man who can compare to him in her eyes.

And it’s as that thought enters her brain that Sora realizes she might have a bit of a problem on her hands.

*****

Immediately upon having her little revelation, Sora knows she has to take some time to consider what she wants to do about it. Therefore, one afternoon she carefully weighs all the pros and cons she can think of and decides that the answer is a big, fat nothing. Rather than risk rocking the boat, she wants to do absolutely nothing to act on the feelings she hadn’t known she was harbouring.

Which, it quickly dawns on her, would be a whole lot easier if she didn’t spend nearly every waking day with the subject of her affection.

She adores her children and knows they feel the same way about her, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re all between the ages of twelve and nine respectively. As a grown adult, she also requires interactions with other adults, and living as they do on the Baratie, her options are limited. The staff are all nice enough in their own ways, but they see her as an employer first. Zeff’s the only one ranked at a similar level.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, he’s suddenly around more than usual? They’ve seen each other at least once a day, every day since the rock, but now it’s like she can’t go more than five minutes before he’s in her presence again.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think the children were somehow involved. In the weeks following her birthday they all seem to have pressing matters that can only be dealt with by both her and Zeff together, and none of them have an explanation as to why.

It’s a ridiculous notion, of course. Or at least it is right up until the day Sanji asks her to help him find a special kind of flour in one of the pantries and the door closes behind her with an audible snap before she realizes what’s happening.

“What in the world?” She starts, whirling around only to see that her son is nowhere to be found. Instead, all she’s presented with is the plain facade of the closed door. “Sanji, what are you up to?”

He doesn’t answer, but she swears that if she presses her ear to the door she can make out the faint strains of multiple young voices engaged in conversation. Smacking the door with the side of her fist, she narrows her eyes when it remains stubbornly shut. “I don’t know what game you kids are playing, but I am not amused.”

“I don’t think they care all that much,” a new voice says, and when Sora jerks around, she finds Zeff reclined back against a stack of crates, with his arms folded behind his head and his good leg stretched out in front of him. “Afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“One of these days, I’m going to convince you to stop calling me that,” she grumbles. “Also,” she says flatly, “what do you mean by that? What are you doing in here?”

“Cooling my heels the same as you, or heel, rather,” he says, forever a lover of terrible gallows humour. “In my case it was Reiju who got me, though. Little scamp came at me with her big eyes and a sob story about wanting pecan tarts for a snack. Dragged me all the way down here and then had the nerve to slam the door in my face.”

Sora stares at him. “Why on earth would she do that?”

He shrugs. “For the same reason Eggplant conned you down here however he managed to do that.”

“Which is?” She demands when he makes no move to elaborate. “If you’ve got some inkling as to what’s going on here, I’d appreciate it if you’d share with the class.”

For the briefest of moments a cagey look crosses Zeff’s face, one unlike anything she’s seen throughout all the time she’s known him. It vanishes almost as quickly as it had arrived though, ultimately replaced by a resolute expression. 

“Well,” he says slowly. “If I had to guess, because they’re kids and therefore stupid, I imagine they’re hoping that sticking us in here together might result in us having a conversation about feelings. Particularly those of a romantic nature.”

Staring at him in mute horror, Sora feels her face start to burn, and without thinking clamps her hands over her cheeks, as if that might somehow hide the evidence. “How did they know?” She practically yelps. “I never said anything.”

Both Zeff’s eyebrows rocket towards his hairline and he straightens out of the crotch he’s been sitting in with the air of a man who’s just had a conversation take an unexpected turn. “What do you mean you never said anything? I was talking about me.”

“You? What’ve you got to do with anything?”

He gapes at her incredulously. “Sora,” he says slowly, “a blind man would be able to see I have feelings for you.”

“I mean, I didn’t, not at first.” He’s quick to add. “I admired you from the start, of course, but I don’t want you thinking this whole … becoming business partners idea was some kind of - of scheme. It wasn’t. The rest of it came after.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” she promises. “I know you’d never do something like that.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says. “But could we maybe go back to what you were saying earlier.”

“Oh, well, I mean - that is to say,” she flounders.

“She said she never said anything about how she likes you!” A voice shouts from outside the door, followed by a series of thumping noises and exasperated shouts as the rest of the children start yelling at Yonji for announcing his presence.

“Ooooh,” Sora starts, gearing herself up for battle until Zeff gets to his feet and lumbers over.

Placing a hand briefly on her shoulder to catch her attention, he flashes a sharp grin when she looks at him. “May I?”

At her nod, he thumps his peg leg heavily against the door, the sound reverberating around the room and no doubt into the hallway as well. “Oi! If you brats don’t open up right this second, I’ll kick it down myself and the cost is coming out of your allowance.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “We don’t get an allowance.”

Zeff nods, as if conceding Ichiji’s point even though none of the children can see him. “Then just imagine how long it’ll take you to pay off the debt. I’ll have the lot of you peeling potatoes until you're twice my age.”

Distantly, Sora thinks she can make out the sound of furious whispers, followed by the much more pleasant one of the bolt snapping back. After which, the door slides open with an ominous groan. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Zeff comments idly once the door’s fully open. “Those have got to be the five guiltiest faces I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It was Sanji’s idea,” Niji says, immediately pointing at his brother, who in turn makes a valiant attempt at kicking him in the shin. Ichiji and Yonji quickly spring in to try and separate them, while Reiju shuffles carefully to the side with a pointed eye roll. 

“Boys!” Sora snaps, needing to raise her voice to be heard above the din. “All of you stop it this instant.”

“Now then,” she says, holding up a hand to forestall any commentary once they’ve split apart. “I don’t particularly care who orchestrated things since you all went along with it. It’s not nice to stick your noses into other people’s business and I know you know better.”

“We’re sorry,” Reiju says contritely. Although, Sora can’t help but notice the curious way her eyes flit back and forth between the two adults. “It won’t happen again.”

“If for no other reason than because the cat’s out of the bag, right?” Zeff asks dryly. “I’m onto you, little lady.”

In answer, Reiju shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

“Reiju.” Sora scolds, but it’s no use. Her daughter shrugs again, not looking overly put out, and none of the boys appear all that concerned either. Biting back a frustrated sigh, she motions for them all to start making their way down the hallway. 

“I’m not going to pretend to understand what’s gotten into your heads, and I certainly don’t intend for this to be the last time we all talk about this little stunt, but at the moment I’ve got more important matters to deal with. Get moving, all of you.”

Her instructions are met with a chorus of ‘Yes, Mom’, and the next thing she knows all five children have vanished out of sight. “I can’t believe the nerve of those little imps.”

“Oh aye, can’t imagine where they got the idea of taking matters into their own hands from,” Zeff says, his voice now desert dry. “Though I expect the whole ‘lock ‘em in a closet’ really was Eggplant’s idea. Probably got it out of a book or something.”

“No doubt,” Sora agrees, fully intending to make good on her intention to have a long talk with each of the children later. Before that, however, it seems she has something equally important to do. “The question now is, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He blinks at her. “You mean besides the fact that you expressly told me all of a week ago that you weren’t planning to put yourself out there again any time soon?” He asks, giving her a look that’s just this side of pitying. “I can’t imagine why I’d opt to respect your boundaries like that.”

“You are not as witty as you think you are,” she retorts. “Keep up that smug attitude and I’ll have half a mind to tie your moustache in a knot.”

“Truly a threat for the ages,” he drawls. 

“It is,” she declares. Then, in a fit of either bravery or insanity, she adds, “And I’ll do even worse if the next words out of your mouth aren’t you asking me to dinner. Specifically at a location that isn’t on this boat. I might go so far as to shave the whole thing off under those circumstances.”

He stares at her, clearly suffering as much whiplash from the last few minutes as she is, but then his expression morphs into something much softer. “Well, when you put it like that,” he says quietly. “What else can I do?”

*****

“You can’t wear those ones,” Sanji says from his spot on the bed. “They don’t go with the rest of your outfit.”

Most of her attention focused elsewhere, Sora doesn’t look up from the mirror attached to her vanity. “I’m not exactly flush with jewelry, sweetheart,” she mumbles around the earring she currently has clenched in her teeth while she works its match into her ear. “I only have two pairs.”

“Yeah, but the other ones are white.” He points out. “They’ll go better with your dress than those.”

“He’s right,” Reiju agrees. “They match your hair better too.”

“Is that so?” Sora mutters. Setting the first earring down, she holds up one from the other aforementioned pair, wanting to compare and contrast the two. “Does anyone else have an opinion they’d like to share?”

“I think you should wear whichever ones you like better.” Yonji says stoutly, and Ichiji barely manages to keep Reiju and Sanji from tackling him in tandem. “What, you two are the ones who keep going on about how this whole thing is to make Mom happy. Let her wear what she likes.”

“He’s got a point,” Ichiji says, which earns him a sharp yank of his hair from Reiju. “Ow, Mom!”

“Children,” she scolds, unable to believe that they’ve picked now of all times for a traditional sibling squabble. “Do you mind?”

She hears a series of acquiescing grumbles behind her, and that seems to be the end of the matter.

“Thank you,” she says. “Also, it just so happens that I do like the dark ones better, so they’re what I’m going with.”

Her words are followed by a distinctive snicker she recognizes as Niji’s, but since no one starts arguing again, she elects to ignore it.

“There,” she says, patting her hair gently once her outfit’s complete. Taking a deep breath, she turns around to present herself for inspection, glancing at each child in turn where they’ve all crammed themselves onto her bed. “How do I look?”

The five share a series of overlapping looks, until Niji ultimately breaks the silence. 

“You look pretty,” he says simply, his statement soon echoed by his siblings. 

“Really?” She can’t help but ask. Looking back over her shoulder at the mirror, she sees the same face she always does - pale, like usual, even with makeup and her hair slightly teased. “I think I just look like me.”

“Sanji says that’s part of the point.” Ichiji informs her, and she once again has to cover her mouth with her hand to hide a laugh.

In the three days since the storeroom incident, she’s had her promised chats with all five children, and the common refrain had turned out to be that Sanji was the ringleader, with Reiju as his second in command and the other three following their lead on the basis that the first two understood emotions best. While she supposes she can’t fault the logic, she finds this strange deference from the boys to their smallest brother utterly hilarious.

In particular as - by stint of being nine - he has no more idea of what he’s talking about than the rest of them do.

“Oh, well, if Sanji says it, then it must be true,” she declares, ruffling Sanji’s hair at the same time to show she’s joking.

Ignoring his irritated grumblings and the tittering of his siblings, she grabs the shawl they’d given her for her birthday off the back of a nearby chair and wraps it comfortably around her shoulders. She’s not sure what the island they’re docked at is like at night, so she wants to be prepared.

“Alright,” she says once the shawl is properly adjusted. “I guess I’m off then. You guys be good, and mind you do as Patty and Carne say.”

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving us with those two,” Sanji complains. “I’m pretty sure this counts as child endangerment.”

“Only if I get caught,” she replies solemnly, giggling at his resulting betrayed expression. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Why not?” Someone calls, but she’s already left the room, needing to get moving before she’s hit with another attack of nerves that sees her try and second guess this whole idea yet again.

She walks quickly along the familiar halls of the ship, only slowing her steps when she arrives on the deck to find Zeff waiting for her near the gangplank.

He looks good, she notes. His hair is combed down and his moustache waxed, while he’s sporting a dress shirt and dark trousers, completing the ensemble with a great coat similar to the one he’d lost on the rock thrown over his shoulders.

His eyes light up in a gratifying way when he spots her, and he spares no time in offering her an arm to help her ashore. 

“M’lady,” he says teasingly when her fingers curl around his. 

“Oh stop that,” she says, swatting at his shoulder with her free hand. “You know I hate it when you say such ridiculous things.”

“I know you pretend to hate it,” he replies with a wink, his grin widening when she scoffs. “Shall we?”

At her nod, he tucks her hand carefully into the crook of his elbow, watching her closely for any indication such a move is unwelcome. When she doesn’t give him one, his grin shifts into a genuine smile and he gestures towards the shore.

“There’s a waterfront restaurant just a little bit down that way,” he says pointing at a building with an outdoor patio decked with glowing lanterns. “Surprisingly, it is not seafood themed, but it is within a reasonable walking distance. I thought that might work under the circumstances.”

“It sounds perfect,” she says, squeezing his arm gently. “Although, I hope you warned the crew to find somewhere else to entertain themselves if any of them are going ashore. Otherwise, we’re liable to have about half of them sitting within three feet of us.”

“I’ve made it clear under threat of extremely painful death that they’re to make themselves scarce,” he assures her. “And Patty and Carne specifically know that if they set one foot off the Baratie unless she’s actively on fire that I’m going to feed them to the sea kings.”

“There are no sea kings in the East Blue,” she reminds him, but all he does is shrug.

“I’ll find some regardless,” he promises. “Same goes for if we get back and so much as one of the kids has a hair out of place.”

“That may be a bit much to hope for given how much they like to roughhouse,” Sora muses. Having reached the end of the ramp, they make their way along the wooden dock, and then start strolling down the street once that runs out. “But I can’t lie, part of me is glad that where we’re going is within viewing distance of the water. None of the children have been away from me since - well, basically since Germa.”

“Which, it’s just now occurred to me that you knew,” she says when he makes no move to fill the ensuing silence. 

“The thought might have crossed my mind,” he admits after she prods him in the shoulder with her left pointer finger. “I figured you’d be more comfortable somewhere that you could still keep an eye on things, even if only from a distance.”

“You old softie,” she croons, batting her eyes for effect. “It’s things like that that make me roll my eyes whenever the other chefs start telling stories about how fearsome you were back in the day. I’ve sifted flour that’s harsher than what you’ve got hiding behind that gruff exterior.”

“You know very well that’s not true,” he replies, stepping carefully around a handful of pedestrians who are meandering down the street in the opposite direction. “We both do. I’m hardly a great man, Sora, or even a particularly good one most days. That’s why I was so surprised when you said you were interested in giving … whatever this is a try.”

Affronted, she pinches the soft skin on the inside of his elbow to get his attention. “I think,” she says firmly after he’s shifted to look at her, “that we can both agree I’m something of an expert on poor romantic relationships. I assure you, you’re a step up from the last man I walked arm in arm with. Not that we ever did that for anything outside of a formal event, mind you, but still. I know what I’m talking about.”

He pauses outside the main door of the restaurant and barks out a laugh that would no doubt have people staring at them if they were already inside. “A step up from a genocidal maniac, eh?” He says, pressing down on the nearby door handle. “That’s a hell of an accolade, alright.”

“Like I said,” she says, slipping by him when he gestures her on ahead of him. “We never did something as simple as an evening stroll, and he certainly never held a door open for me that I can recall.”

“Ah, so what you’re telling me is I’m already two for two, is that it?” He asks. “Well, brace yourself then. I booked us a table out on the patio, and when we get there I think I might go so far as to hold your chair out for you.”

Fanning herself theatrically, Sora laughs along with him, thoroughly enjoying how easy this has been so far, while they wait to be seated. Much to her surprise, the manager himself arrives to do so, apparently having been expecting them. 

“I had to introduce myself when I found out who you were,” he says, offering to take Sora’s shawl for her, which she politely declines. “Half the town’s been raving about the Baratie since you docked the day before yesterday, so I wanted to meet you in person.”

“Just so long as it’s not because you want to chew us out as a potential competitor,” Zeff says, and the other man laughs.

“From what I understand you’re strictly a seafood business, so no concerns there. Please, allow me to show you to your seats.”

As promised, Zeff does pull out her chair for her before taking his own, and she laughs at his antics as she sits down. She then accepts a menu and a wine list from the manager, eagerly perusing it while the man rattles off the restaurant’s specials.

They place their orders - Sora finally settling on a steak and potato bowl with a salad on the side - and the manager disappears to inform the chef. “I wonder what made him decide to greet us personally.”

“Professional curiosity?” Zeff suggests. “Wouldn’t surprise me given how he already knew who we were.”

“Maybe,” she agrees. “But, like he said, our two businesses operate on completely different models.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Any chef worth their salt is always interested in learning new tricks of the trade. It might be he’s interested in swapping stories or something of that nature.”

“Do you think so?”

“It’s a possibility,” Zeff replies, right before flashing her a bright grin. “Though, what a pity for him if it is because all my attention is on the most beautiful woman in town.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” Sora squeaks, fidgeting with her hair to try and hide the way she can feel her cheeks burning. “You silly man.”

“That’s a weak comeback,” he retorts. “And it’s hardly silly if it’s true.”

“Still,” she protests, or tries to, rather. The words die in her throat, and she winds up staring at him helplessly, not sure what to say.

His expression immediately sobers, all traces of his teasing vanishing ti be replaced by something much kinder. “Sora if this is too much or too fast, or just simply isn’t something you want to do, it’s alright. It won’t change anything, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s not that,” she insists, her embarrassment ratcheting up even higher as she flounders. “It’s that I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“How do you mean?”

She glances around, wanting to make sure there’s no one sitting close enough to overhear when she hisses, “I’ve never been on a date before!”

He blinks at her in confusion for a moment, until understanding eventually sinks in. “Ah,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Do you know, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Of course it didn’t,” she grumbles. “It’s because I’m older than dirt for someone to be out on their first date.”

“Well, more so it’s because you were married and you have five children,” he replies. “Most people in that situation have been on at least a date or two in their lives, though I get why your case was different.”

He tilts his head slightly and gives her an almost sheepish look. “Would it help if I told you it’s been so long since I’ve been on one that they’ve probably changed how you do it? It’s been a very long time since I’ve had either the inkling or the opportunity for a night like this.”

“Is that your way of telling me I should relax because we're both bound to be equally terrible at this?” She asks.

“If you like.”

Unable to help herself, she laughs. “Would you believe that does actually make me feel better?”

“Good,” he smiles. “It was supposed to.”

And just like that everything is easy again. This isn’t some stranger, this is Zeff, her friend and partner. No matter the bizarre circumstances that had initially thrown them together, he’s one of the most important people in her life - arguably ranked only behind the children at this point - and she trusts him implicitly. If this, whatever this is, doesn’t work, then it won’t be the end of the world. They’ll still get up again the next day and run the Baratie together like usual.

The conversation flows easily after that. She convinces him to tell a few stories about his timeas a sailor, some of which she’s heard before, but many she hasn’t, and he regales her with what she suspects are watered down versions of tales from the Grand Line.

He in turn asks her for stories of her own, but makes it clear she should feel free to refuse him if that’s going to make her uncomfortable. Most of her time in Germa wasn’t worth mentioning, and much of it certainly wasn’t fit for a light dinner conversation, but she dredges up a few early memories to gift him with in turn. He nearly laughs himself sick when she tells him about the first time she’d snuck into the kitchens to bake something all on her own.

“It was burnt to an absolute crisp,” she stresses, waving her food laden fork for emphasis. “Picture the worst experiment you’ve seen Sanji come up with to date and multiply it tenfold. Someone could have used that poor cake as a hammer.”

“And oh,” she says when a new thought strikes her. “That’s not even touching on the time I accidentally substituted salt with sugar while making cookies on my own. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how that turned out.”

“Badly?” He suggests.

She nods. “To say the least. Given some of the messes I made back in the day, I’m lucky you let me anywhere near the oven.”

“It’s your oven,” he reminds her. “Equal partners, remember?”

“Equal partners,” she repeats, liking the sound of that more and more. “What a novel idea.”

They finish the main course, and Zeff convinces her to try dessert, hardly teasing her at all when she accidentally gets chocolate frosting on the tip of her nose. Then they cover their bill and bid the manager good night, stepping back into the street with ease.

“I’m glad I brought my shawl,” Sora notes, already looping her arm back through his like it belongs there. “It feels like there’s a bit of a chill in the air.”

“My coat’s yours if you want it,” he offers. “The last thing I want is to end this night with you getting sick again.”

“It’s fine, I’m not that cold,” she says, waving him off. “And I’ll let you know if I change my mind. Having said that, would you be willing to stay out a little longer? I used to hardly ever get the chance to explore new places up north, and when I did they tended to be frigid wastelands.”

“Saw a couple of those while I was sailing,” Zeff acknowledges. “Albeit thankfully not too many. Say what you will about it, but I’d rather be too hot than too cold.”

“The North had its charms,” Sora informs him, “but I admit, sometimes they were few and far between.”

“Tch, you can’t find things like that in the North,” he replies, pointing at the street up ahead of them, which is lined with baskets of flowers so close she thinks she can almost touch them. In fact, Zeff runs his hand over one as the pass by, plucking a brilliantly red rose free and offering it up to her.

“Oh, you’re good,” Sora giggles, accepting the slight vandalism without complaint. “And still living on the edge, I see.”

“Mhm, that’s me,” he agrees. “A veritable scourge of the East right here.”

Still giggling, Sora plays with the flower as they keep walking, only shifting her attention away from it when the crowd becomes thicker and the noise picks up. “I wonder what that is?”

Using his superior height, Zeff strains upward slightly, peering over the gathering crowd. “Probably some sort of local festival if I had to guess,” he says. “Most islands have a bunch every year.”

“We had a few where I come from, but not many,” Sora says. “Usually just the winter and summer solstices. What do you think this one is for?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replies, nodding at where the crowd seems to be converging. “Shall we?”

Confident he can see the eagerness on her face, Sora nevertheless nods her head in return, and they approach the entrance, which is furnished by an arc of colourful flags, seemingly inviting them in. 

There’s a young woman manning a booth off to the side, and she waves them over while they’re still debating what to do. “First time here?” She asks once they’re within earshot. “Thought as much,” she continues on when they nod. “You’ve both got that look in your eye like you’re not sure what’s going on.”

“You’ve got us pegged,” Sora says with a laugh. “Our ship’s only docked here recently and we wanted to enjoy a night out on the town while we’re around.”

“Well, depending on how long you’re in town you’ll have plenty of time for that,” the other woman replies. “The harvest festival lasts all week and it only just started yesterday. There’s food and shops and games for the little ones if you’ve got any of those running around.”

“Oh, you could say that,” Sora tells her. “But they’re back on the ship tonight, I’m afraid.”

“We could always bring ‘em down tomorrow,” Zeff suggests, cutting smoothly into the conversation. “Between the two of us, I figure we could manage to wrangle them.”

“You think? Not that I don’t love the idea,” she’s quick to add, “but that’s actually quite a lot of wrangling you’re putting forward there.”

Zeff’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is surprisingly serious when he responds. “I know full well what I’m talking about, and I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t mean it. I remember what else you said the other day, and I can handle it just fine.”

It takes her a moment to figure out what he’s getting at, but when she does she feels something warm settle in the pit of her stomach. The children were a lot to handle she’d said, and she hadn’t been lying. On the other hand, if anyone’s proven themselves to be up to the task of late, it’s Zeff. 

“Alright,” she says slowly, and she can tell just from looking at him that he hears everything she’s agreeing to, both on the surface and under it. “Let’s try that then.”

*****

“Mommm, Niji stole mine!”

Caught off guard where she’s examining a tray of bracelets with Reiju, Sora startles and raises her head. Giving the poor woman running the stall a quick smile, she glances around until she spots Sanji and Niji, the latter of whom is currently playing keep away with a swath of cotton candy by holding it above his younger brother’s head.

“Oh for - boys!” She calls sharply, planting her hands on her hips to show she means business. “Niji, you give that back to your brother this minute and you apologize. I don’t want you out here behaving like a pack of wild animals.”

“They’re boys,” Reiju says, rolling her eyes with all the gravitas of someone three years her brothers’ senior. “They don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Helpful, young miss,” Zeff comments from where he’s standing off to the side of the stall. He’s got Yonji perched on his back, having somehow been coaxed into giving the youngest a piggyback ride, and the remainder of his attention is on Ichiji, who seems to be mesmerized by a nearby game event. “Extremely helpful.”

“You know I’m right,” Reiju sniffs. “You were their age once.”

Zeff’s sharp bark of laughter at this declaration echoes throughout the surrounding area, and he makes a sort of touché gesture in Reiju’s direction. “I’ll give you that one, fair enough.”

“Neither of you is being especially helpful if you ask me,” Sora informs them. Flapping an arm to get Niji’s attention, she holds his gaze until he relents and gives Sanji back his stolen treat.

“Thank you,” she says as he wanders over to her, scrubbing a hand through his hair, the majority of which is still as blue as ever. “Just because you finished yours first is no excuse to try and take your brother’s.”

He has the decency to look at least vaguely contrite. “I know,” he mumbles, his shoulders slumping, “but I’m bored.”

“You could always go see what the Radish is up to,” Zeff says, jerking a thumb in Ichiji’s direction. From what Sora can see, it’s some kind of water pool with fish inside, and the objective is to catch a fish in order to win a prize. “He looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“I guess.” Niji says dubiously, but he nevertheless trots over to his oldest brother, who spares him a brief nod in acknowledgement before returning his attention to the game.

“I don’t know why they’re so interested in games when there’s all kinds of food to try,” Yonji pipes up. He’s still clutching his own bag of half eaten cotton candy, and as Sora watches, he pulls a pale blue piece free and shoves it into his mouth. “Sanji was right. This stuff’s really good.”

“Told you,” Sanji says upon arrival, his voice carrying over the sound of Zeff muttering about not wanting sugar in his hair. “I knew you’d like it especially because of your great big sweet tooth.”

“Sweet things are good,” Yonji says, as if daring anyone to comment. When no one does, he happily returns to his munching. 

Satisfied that all five children are now happy and accounted for, Sora finally turns her attention back to the jewelry vendor and her wares. “Sorry about that,” she says sheepishly. “We don’t get to spend much time on islands like this one.”

“No apologies necessary,” the woman says, brushing her worries aside with a casual wave. “With a brood this size, I’m not surprised you don’t have much time to yourself. You and your husband there must have your hands full 24/7.”

Long since having gotten used to people mistaking them for a married couple, Sora can’t help but shoot Zeff a sheepish look in the face of their new relationship status. He raises an eyebrow back at her, looking bemused. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

“I might,” the woman replies with a laugh. “I’ve got four of my own. Close but not quite, I know.”

“I think after a certain point it’s not so much the number of children as it is their combined amount of energy,” Sora decides. “So don’t sell yourself short.”

Still laughing, the woman points at the tray Sora’s been eyeing for the past several minutes without finding anything she feels like getting. “If nothing there is speaking to you, I’ve got some others you can look at.”

“Would you mind?” Sora replies. “I work as a baker most days so anything for my hands or arms is more of a nuisance than anything else.”

“You could get some new earrings,” Reiju suggests. “You were just saying yesterday how you don’t have very many pairs.”

“I was saying that, wasn’t I?” Sora agrees. “Okay, let’s look at earrings then.”

Her smile widening, the vendor slides the tray of bracelets off to the side and pulls over two more that are both littered with pairs of earrings. “I’ve got all these, plus the ones you see on the spinning tower there. Take as long as you like with them.”

“There’s so many,” Sora notes. She’d had multiple jewelry cases back in Germa, but hadn’t bothered trying to take any of it with her aside from what she’d had on her person during their escape. She didn’t exactly miss it all, per se, but it couldn’t hurt to examine the selection.

The earrings come in all shapes and sizes, from tiny studs to massive hoops that dangle and shimmer in the light. Pretty much every colour one could name is likewise on display, and she finds herself being drawn to many of the brighter options.

“What do you think?” She says, holding up a couple pairs for those who are present to see. “It’s a toss up between the blue and the purple, I think. Although, I’ll admit I like the green as well.”

“Couldn’t you just get them all?” Sanji asks, causing Zeff to snort and scruff the back of his hair.

“Money doesn’t grow on trees, Eggplant,” he says over Sanji’s indignant noises. “Even if I’ll be the first to admit your mother deserves as many pretty earrings as she likes. If it’s a vote, though, I say go with the blue. They match your eyes.”

“Do you think?” Sora asks, holding up the pair in question and peering at herself in the mirror the vendor points to. “They are lovely, aren’t they?”

“I like the purple ones,” Reiju pipes up, her tone wistful. “They’re the ones I’d get if it were me.”

“S’not you though, is it,” Yonji says, his interest clearly still on his snack as opposed to the jewelry. “So why do you care?”

“Cuz she wants a pair for herself, duh,” Sanji says, rolling his eyes like he can’t believe how oblivious his brother is. “Girls like those kinds of pretty things.”

“Eggplant, given that you’re developing opinions on suitwear at the ripe old age of nine, I don’t think you get to point fingers at people for liking ‘pretty things’.” Zeff says, flashing a sarcastic set of air quotes. “I’d put solid money on you having the biggest wardrobe out of all of us someday.”

“Sucker bet,” Reiju says grumpily, using a term she’s no doubt picked up from - if not Zeff himself, then likely one of the other cooks.

Above her head, Zeff nods towards the discarded set of purple earrings, waggling his eyebrows in a way that’s no doubt meant to convey they should buy both pairs. Giving him a knowing smirk, Sora hands the two sets to the vendor and asks her to wrap them.

“Huh,” Reiju says, her sharp eyes not missing this. “I thought we didn’t have enough money for them all?”

“We’re not getting them all,” Zeff says. “And I don’t recall ever saying that we didn’t actually have enough.”

Reiju makes a thoughtful humming noise, but there’s no mistaking the happiness in her face when she accepts the package from Sora. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank Zeff too,” Sora instructs, smiling when Reiju obligingly does so. “And please remember that both sets are in there, so take care not to lose them. I’ll get mine from you once we’re back home.”

“Sure,” Reiju chirps, nodding easily.

Feeling a smile of her own tugging at her lips, Sora turns to thank the vendor and finds the other woman watching her fondly. “You have a lovely family,” she says when Sora quirks an eyebrow at her. “Did you know this festival does a fireworks display each night?”

Sora shakes her head, slightly thrown by the change in topic, and the woman points in a direction up ahead of them. “If you keep going that way for a bit, you’ll find a clearing where they set up for folks to watch. There’ll be more places for snacks and drinks, and you can even rent blankets to sit on if you didn’t bring your own.”

“That sounds so cool!” Sanji enthuses, while Yongji perks up at the idea of new treats he hasn’t tried yet. “Mom, can we go?”

She glances at Zeff, who shrugs, the motion causing Yonji to whoop as it sends him rocking. “It sounds like as good a way to end the evening as any to me,” he says.

“Alright,” she agrees. “Let’s grab the other two and head over. And thank you,” she adds with a nod for the vendor. “We appreciate the tip.”

“Not a problem,” the woman replies. “The show should be starting in maybe twenty five minutes or so. I hope you all enjoy.”

They bid her farewell and start moving, pausing only briefly to collect Ichiji and Niji on their way. Both boys are holding colourful toy fishing rods they’d won from the game stall, and are lightly bickering over which of them had grabbed the bigger fish.

Sora lets the noise wash over her as she walks, feeling more content than she has in ages, if not ever. Falling into step beside Zeff, she slides her arm through his the same way as she had before, grinning when he doesn’t so much as bat an eye. 

An unexpected tugging sensation makes her look down to find Sanji slipping his own hand into her free one, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Reiju slotting in on Zeff’s other side, although she makes no move to hold onto him.

Ichiji and Niji are running on up ahead of them, pointing at a sign that offers directions to the fireworks and now arguing over who’d spotted it first. It’s a playful banter, however, just two brothers who’re trying to show off by teasing each other.

It dawns on her then, that she’s succeeded in her goal. Her children are free, they’re safe, and right now they’re gleefully running amok in the middle of a harvest festival, with no bigger worry than who gets to their destination first. They’re happy in a way they never would have dreamed of in Germa, or could have, really, thanks to the way they’d always lived under Judge’s thumb.

Feeling slightly overcome, she tightens her hold on Zeff’s arm, and sends a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening for many more nights like this.

Chapter 5

Years pass. They sail, they see new places, they experiment with new foods, and they expand their customer base. The Baratie grows and the children grow along with it, shooting up like bad weeds at a rate even faster than they add onto the ship.

Reiju blossoms into a beautiful young woman. Quiet and demur, but with an impish streak a mile wide if only you know where to look. She loves and cares for her brothers, but still teases them mercilessly whenever they do something she considers to be stupid, which is often. 

Ichiji never gets any louder. Stoic and stalwart, he appears to go through life with his face as an expressionless facade, seemingly content to pass his time handling the majority of the Baratie’s administrative work, something that he turns out to have a real knack for.

Niji’s almost his exact opposite. Hating anything to do with paperwork, he can often be found throwing himself off the ship to fish in the deeper waters, and when that’s not enough he’ll tag along on supply runs, incapable of sitting still for too long, yet at the same time not interested in straying far from home.

Yonji, despite being the youngest, maintains his hold on being the biggest. His imposing figure towers over the rest of the family, even Ichiji and Niji, but he’s content to use his strength for nothing more than tasks onboard the ship and the occasional sparring match with his siblings.

All told, the four of them have achieved a level of contentedness Sora never could have dreamed of when they were little, and she’s grateful for every day she gets to spend with them, watching them be exactly who they want to be. It will, emphatically, never get old.

But then there’s Sanji.

*****

Sanji … does not turn out like Sora’s expecting. He’s still her sweet, kind, beautiful baby underneath, but he grows up with a chip on his shoulder that she suspects has nothing to do with his early childhood.

Sharp wit with an even sharper tongue, he dotes on every woman that sets foot on the Baratie, and then immediately turns around and starts a brawl with any man who looks at him funny. His cooking skills are second to none - maybe even having surpassed Zeff at this point - but he chafes in his role as the sous chef, grumbling about the state of the kitchen, despite doing nothing to change the situation.

“It’s wanderlust,” Zeff says flatly after she raises the issue one evening when the boys are all of sixteen. “The rest of them are content not to go too far, but it’s not going to be enough for him. That one’s got a fire in him that the others don’t, mark my words.”

“You make him sound like a caged animal,” Sora replies fretfully from where she’s brushing her hair before bed. “What are we supposed to do about that?”

“I suspect there’s only so much we can do,” he says. Crossing the room until he’s standing behind her, he curls his hands over her shoulders, his skilled fingers kneading gently, and then he leans down to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

“We’ll keep an eye on him for as long as we can,” he promises. “I’ll keep teaching him to cook and fight, and hopefully that’ll be enough to get him started when he finally gives in and decides it’s time to leave the nest. The odds of us keeping them all here were always slim to none, though, love, and Sanji more than any of them has big dreams.”

“Big dreams that are going to put grey hairs on my head,” she grumbles, motioning for him to keep up his ministrations on her shoulders as she starts running the brush through said hair again. “You know he’s still sneaking cigarettes off some of the junior chefs, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters, pulling a face that she can see reflected in her mirror. “I tried telling him he’s risking damaging his sense of smell, but all that did was get me called a shitty geezer and then I’m pretty sure he went to sulk in the pantry.”

Sora hums. “I wasn’t nearly this dramatic at his age.”

“All teenagers are dramatic,” he replies with a snort, only to immediately amend his statement. “Or at least I imagine the ones that haven’t had their DNA irrevocably fucked with are. If the others weren’t as different as they are, we might have had four more just like him on our hands.”

“What a silver lining,” she mutters.

Zeff’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again his voice is tentative in a way only someone who knows him as well as she does would recognize. “He’s going to chase that ocean of his, Sora. Maybe not today, tomorrow, or even even next year, but it’s going to happen.”

“I know,” she replies, her stomach clenching at the very idea. “But the thought of him out there all alone, without anyone to protect him … It’s the stuff of nightmares for me.”

“No one’s saying he’ll be alone,” he counters. “I can’t see it coming to that, not for someone as social as he is. He’ll need to find himself a crew to fuss over, otherwise he’ll go out of his damned mind.”

“And how exactly will he do that?” She asks. “That’s always been one of the worst parts of living the way we do for him, for all of them. We never stay in one place for more than a few days, and there’s no one else on the ship their age. How is he supposed to find somewhere to belong thanks to the life we created for him?”

“Do not,” he says, rocking her gently, and making a long suffering face, “start blaming yourself for that again. We made the best of a bad situation, and if it came down to them being either safe or lonely, you know full well which was the right course of action. They got a chance to live thanks to you, don’t you forget that.”

She chews the corner of her lip in obvious frustration. “I know,” she says finally, “but I still can’t help but think about all the drawbacks.”

“Of course you can’t,” he agrees. “Because you’re their mother. Thinking about their children’s futures and wanting what’s best for them is what parents do.”

“Honestly,” he adds, flashing her a teasing smirk in a blatant attempt to break the tension. “It’s one of the many things that makes me so glad I never was one.”

She pinches one of the hands that’s still resting on her shoulder, exactly as he’s anticipating. “Bastard,” she mutters, her eyes glinting dangerously at the notion that the children are any less his than hers at this point.

“Such language,” he chuckles, raising his hands in surrender when she moves to jab him again. “And from such a highborn lady as yourself, at that. What happened to all those etiquette lessons and other fancy crap you were taught as a girl?”

“I’ll show you etiquette,” she retorts, standing up out of her seat. Unfortunately, she rises a little too fast, her body no longer as adaptable as it once was, and she has to grab the back of the chair to catch her balance. “Damnit!”

Zeff’s there before she can do more than stumble, his arms rising in a preventative motion, but knowing better than to outright grab her unless she starts to fall. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” she insists, waving him off. “Just the blood rushing to my head, I’m sure.”

“Mhm.” He grunts dubiously, but doesn’t press, well aware how she’s liable to take that.

Much though it pains her to admit it, Sanji’s come by his fiery temper honestly, and it isn’t a trait he’s inherited from Judge.

“I’m fine,” she reiterates, holding his gaze until he relents with a shrug and takes a step back. “I don’t need anyone fussing over me when there are already more important things to worry about.”

“Such as?” He asks, one bushy eyebrow rising in the face of her attempt to change the subject.

“Such as figuring out an appropriate crew for Sanji to join up with,” she says, deciding to return to her previous topic of concern. “As far as I’m concerned he’s still too young to even think about that, but when the time comes I want him sailing with the right people.”

“Naturally,” Zeff concedes, only partly humouring her. He can bluster as much as he wants. Despite the way he and Sanji butt heads on an almost daily basis now, he loves the boy dearly, and he won’t accept anything but the best for him either. “Yet what, pray tell, do you expect me to do about it?”

“Keep an eye out for anyone who seems like a good candidate, I suppose.” Humming thoughtfully to herself, she moves to finish getting ready for bed. 

“I don’t know why, but something tells me we’re going to recognize the right crew when we see them. Even if it takes them a while to show up.”

*****

A few years later, when a laughing boy in a beat up old straw hat crashes through their ceiling and leaves a path of destruction in his wake, Sora will look back on this conversation and note how right she was.

*****

Waving a hand in front of her face, Sora coughs as the dust and debris settle around them. “Is - is that from a cannonball?” She gasps, staring at the massive hole that’s just taken out a decent chunk of the bedroom. “What in the world?”

“That was definitely a cannonball, yeah.” Zeff grunts, pushing himself up off the floor from where the force of the blast had thrown him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him. The shot had completely missed the bed where she’d been napping, although not by much. Shuddering at the thought of how close it’d been, she glances over at Zeff and blanches when she sees a spot of red blooming on his forehead.

“But you’re not,” she hisses, scrambling out of bed and reaching for him. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“Don’t think so,” he says. Prodding carefully at the wound, he seems relatively unconcerned when his fingers come away bloody. “Probably got nicked by a piece of debris when everything was blowing all over the place. It’s not a big deal. Where’s my hat?”

“I simply couldn’t care less,” she retorts, not bothering to look around for the ridiculous monstrosity he’s taken to wearing in recent years. “We need to get this dealt with first.”

“Tch!” He replies, visibly gearing himself up for an argument.

Whatever he’s about to say, however, gets cut off by a sudden, furious pounding on the bedroom door. “Mom! Old man!” Yonji’s voice has no problem carrying through the thin wood panel. “Are you guys okay?”

“For hell’s sake,” Zeff mutters irritably. “Eleven years I’ve helped you raise that brat and that’s the best epitaph he can come up with in the face of me nearly dying?”

“I thought you weren’t hurt,” Sora mutters right back, not appreciating his resulting eyeroll.

Gathering her wits about her, she stands and motions for him to take a seat at the foot of the bed. “I’m fine, Yonji, but Zeff got hit by some shrapnel. It doesn’t look too bad, but could you please bring me a first aid kit?”

“On it!” He calls back, and she can hear his heavy footfalls as he darts away out of the family’s living area. 

“He should be back soon,” Sora says, more to herself than anybody else. “Until then, use your shirt to put pressure on the wound.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Your Majesty,” he grumbles, thankfully doing as instructed.

“Eleven years I’ve been telling you not to call me that, you think you’d come up with a better epitaph,” she replies, shooting him a winsome smile in response to his ensuing dirty look.

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.” Still snickering, she picks her way carefully over to the hole in the wall, easily able to peer outside thanks to the gaping view. “That’s going to be a bit breezy come nighttime.”

“And then some,” he agrees. “Can you see where the shot came from? I don’t hear any more so it was probably an accident.”

She shrugs, eyeing the water critically. There’s at least a dozen ships clustered around the restaurant, the two most recent additions being a marine vessel and a sweet looking caravel with a sheep for a figurehead, but nothing that looks out of the ordinary.

About to tell him she has no idea, she’s once again cut off by the sound of running feet. Expecting it to be Yonji back with the requested first aid kit, she’s in for yet another surprise when instead Ichiji and Niji burst in, dragging a slightly younger boy with a mop of inky black hair between them.

“This is the guy who shot at us,” Niji growls, shaking the boy roughly. “What do you want us to do with him?”

“You can start by letting him go,” Sora says sternly, while the boy yelps about the incident being both an accident and a misunderstanding. “I’m sure he has a perfectly rational explanation for everything.”

Niji and Ichiji share an exasperated look before unceremoniously dumping the boy on the floor and retreating to an undamaged corner of the room. “He’d better,” Ichiji warns ominously. “The repairs alone are going to cost a fortune.”

“We can worry about that in a bit,” Sora starts. “Right now I’m more concerned about - Yonji, there you are,” she says, as he finally skids into the room with the first aid kit in hand. “Give me that, please.”

He dutifully passes it over, and she walks back to the bed, snapping it open so she can begin pulling out the things she needs. Working quickly, she cleans the wound thoroughly - ignoring Zeff’s grumbling about how the antiseptic stings - and is in the process of winding a bandage around his head when the boy in the straw hat clears his throat.

“Look,” he says, slapping his knee theatrically when the room’s five other occupants turn to glance at him. “I’m really sorry about the mess I made, and I’d pay you back if I could, but there’s one problem with that.”

“Which is?” Ichiji asks, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at the boy where he’s now sitting cross legged on the floor.

“I’m flat broke!”

Unable to help herself, Sora giggles.

*****

The boy’s name turns out to be Monkey D. Luffy, and it takes only a few seconds to realize he’s got big plans and a lofty goal in mind. The moment Zeff threatens to make him work for free for a year to pay for the damages, he insists he can’t do that because he’s heading to the Grand Line to become king of the pirates.

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji all start snickering at this, but Zeff surprises her by not immediately dismissing the notion outright. He seems to see something unexpected in Luffy, and Sora herself senses it too.

There’s something different about the boy, and she feels the hair on the back of her neck rise, as if the air itself knows that change is coming.

On the other hand, Zeff’s not about to let their newest arrival get off scot free. He continues haranguing Luffy about owing them a debt, not only for the state of the roof, but for nearly killing them both, and is sticking to his guns about coercing him into a life of indentured servitude.

She leaves them to their argument about what’s an appropriate amount of time for Luffy to work to pay off his debt, wanting to check and make sure the rest of the Baratie is unscathed. The boys watch her as she goes, but opt to stay where they are, possibly because they’re enjoying the show.

All of the lower levels appear to be intact as she passes through them, but she starts to hear the strains of another disturbance the closer she gets to the dining room. Wondering if some stray debris had landed in there as well, she emerges at the top of the twisting stairwell and groans at what she sees instead.

In what’s become a familiar sight in recent years, Patty, Carne, and a number of other chefs have planted themselves between Sanji and a customer, a tall man in a navy lieutenant’s suit with brass knuckles covering his fingers. Several of the chefs are physically restraining her son, and the customer is glaring daggers at him.

Unfortunately, his glare has nothing on Sanji’s. His teeth clenched around one of his ever-present cigarettes - no matter how many times Zeff bans the things from the ship, he always manages to get his hands on more - he’s staring down at the fallen man with burning eyes.

About to open her mouth to put a stop to whatever’s going on, she freezes when a hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Craning her neck around, she finds Reiju gazing back at her, her expression pinched.

“That man wasted food,” she says simply, and now Sora groans for an entirely different reason. “He was trying to show off for his date, and wound up pitching a fit when it didn’t work.”

Starvation has a lasting impact on a person. The seven of them who’d survived the rock had come out of the ordeal with several lasting impressions, the most prominent of which was a refusal to let food go to waste. Over the years that’s manifested in a number of ways, including a zero tolerance policy for food waste.

Sora glances back at the man on the floor, and feels her upper lip curl without permission. She’s never been particularly fond of organized military groups, and truth be told, the pirates who visit the Baratie tend to be better behaved than the marines. She tries very hard not to condone violence, but in this instance, she feels that the sooner this man vacates their home, the better.

Figuring a cooler head might prevail in these circumstances, she’s stepping forward to say exactly that when a cracking sound rings out, and the next thing she knows part of the ceiling is giving way.

Even though she’s outside of the blast radius, Reiju uses her quick reflexes to yank her out of the way, the two of them backing up towards the main counter, with Sora blowing dust out of her face for the second time in less than an hour. New forms are becoming visible as the debris settles, and she can hear Zeff bellowing about additional property damage.

Her gaze zeroing in on the centre of the room, she spots Zeff, miraculously upright and back in possession of his foolish hat, haranguing a disgruntled looking Luffy. Ichiji is likewise on his feet, while both Niji and Yonji are scrambling to theirs. Luckily, no one appears to be hurt.

The same again goes for the people who’d already been down on the main restaurant floor. All the guests are unscathed, and the collapse had actually come down directly between where Sora and Reiju are standing and where Sanji’s still being restrained by what looks like half the kitchen staff.

Unfortunately, having now finished dressing down Luffy, Zeff chooses this exact moment to notice Sanji, the chefs, and the prostrate marine. His moustache bristling, he glares at their son. “And what’s all this then?” He asks in the voice of a man who knows exactly what all this is.

“Sanji attacked a customer again!” Carne shouts from where he has both arms wrapped around one of Sanji’s legs to try and prevent his own head from getting kicked in. It’s a risky move considering how worked up the younger man is.

“He deserved it!” Sanji barks. “He wasted food and he was rude to his date.”

Ah, a two for one special when it comes to things that are likely to set Sanji off, Sora thinks. He’s so like Zeff sometimes it’s scary.

Based on the look on his face, however, Zeff wouldn’t appreciate that comparison at this time. Completely turning away from Luffy now, he begins lecturing Sanji, who’s expression gets more and more mutinous as the tirade goes on. Suspecting she’s going to have to step in before things escalate even further, Sora freezes yet again when a new disturbance arrives.

It seems the marines have been keeping a pirate prisoner on their ship, and he’s chosen this moment to escape. Looking like little more than skin and bones, the man appears in the doorway, claiming to have nearly died on the Grand Line and pleading for food.

Further commotion breaks out when Patty decides to take matters into his own hands and tosses the man right back out the doors he’d come through. Then the marines are retreating, the chefs are discussing what to do to get the meals moving again, and a trio of teenagers who turn out to be the rest of Luffy’s crew come slinking into the restaurant.

Managing to keep an eye on most of what’s going on, Sora still somehow loses track of Sanji in the process. Once she realizes he’s not here anymore, she shares a thoughtful look with Reiju.

“He’s probably feeding that pirate and then he’s going to go sulk somewhere out of the way,” her daughter surmises, her thoughts falling in line with Sora’s own. “I can stay here and keep an eye on things if you want to go look for him.”

Sora smiles. “If I had a favourite child,” she says, and Reiju waves her off with a faint grin.

Bustling back into the kitchen, Sora finds it empty, but with the detritus of a recently completed meal strewn about one of the prep stations. Letting that serve as a starting point, she trails through the rest of the kitchen, ultimately poking her head out a door that leads to the back deck.

Glancing first to the left and then to the right, she finds Sanji leaning against the railing, casually smoking a cigarette. At his feet, the pirate, Gin, is shovelling food into his mouth fast enough that she’s surprised he hasn’t made himself sick.

She watches long enough to make sure the pirate doesn’t seem inclined to attack, but decides she’s seen enough when all he does is repeatedly profess his thanks. Satisfied he doesn’t present a threat, she ducks back through the door. 

Zeff’s coming up behind her as she turns, and if not for his quick reflexes she’d likely have ended up bouncing off of him. “You okay?” He asks, catching her by the elbow. “Not from this,” he clarifies, “but nothing from the second collapse hit you, did it?”

“No,” she smiles, stretching up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m fine,” she says reassuringly. “If anything, I should be the one worrying about you since you’re two for two at being in the centre of major structural incidents today.”

“I,” he declares theatrically, “am fine. Where’s the brat gone?”

“Oh, he’s off taking pity on those less fortunate, as expected,” she replies. “Please don’t get too grumpy with him, alright? We both know it’s just for show on your part anyway.”

He glowers at her in mock irritation. “I’ll thank you not to go around repeating such blatant falsehoods,” he says stiffly. “And also, I think we might have a bigger conundrum on our hands.”

“And what’s that?” She asks.

Leaning ever so slightly out the door, he tilts his head to the side and points. “That.”

Following his hand, Sora cranes her neck and looks upwards until her gaze lands on a now familiar figure leaning over an upper railing, wearing a battered straw hat and a delighted grin.

*****

Luffy turns out to be an absolute disaster in the kitchen. He doesn’t know the first thing about working in a restaurant, breaks at least half of the dishes he touches, and has an appetite so voracious he may as well be a bottomless pit. After only hours in his presence, Ichiji’s starting to develop a nervous tic and keeps muttering about how they’re actively losing money by employing him.

For her part, Sora finds the whole situation amusing, yet she’s wary of the young pirate’s intentions. He’s taken to following Sanji around at any opportunity, badgering him incessantly about coming to be the cook on his ship. So far Sanji’s turned him down flat each time, but she has to wonder how long that will last, especially given what she’s seen of his interactions with the rest of Luffy’s crew.

In the single afternoon the so-called Strawhats have been docked at the Baratie , Sanji’s done everything shy of propose marriage to the navigator, had multiple discussions with the long nosed boy about exotic spice dishes, and has physically fought with the green haired swordsman no less than four times. Knowing her son the way she does, it’s all too clear to her that he’s oddly taken with this strange group of misfits.

“He wants to go with them,” she tells Zeff fretfully the first evening as she’s checking the bandage still covering his forehead. “I’m certain of it. What I don’t understand is why he’s been telling Luffy no.”

“Guilt,” he replies succinctly, stroking his moustache the way he does when he’s deep in thought. “Reiju heard him tell the brat that he can’t leave here because he’s got a responsibility to help us maintain this place. I think he thinks he owes us.”

“For what? Raising him?” She demands, pressing a little too tight with the gauze if Zeff’s resulting wince is anything to go by. “We’re his parents, raising him was our job.”

“I suspect it’s more to do with what we sacrificed to be able to raise him, or all of them for that matter,” he says, prodding carefully at the bandage. “We’re neither of us as fit as we were in our youth thanks to some fairly desperate decisions we’ve made.”

“Tch,” she says, mimicking one of his favourite exasperated expressions. “I’d poison myself a hundred times over if it meant my children got to grow up free and outside the clutches of a psychotic murderer.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” he says dryly. 

“Good,” she sniffs. “And besides, the idea that I need looking after is a ridiculous notion. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“No. You’re not.” He replies, his voice suddenly taking on a serious cast that makes her flinch. “We both know that’s not true, Sora. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you’ve been getting weaker for years now.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, stepping away to fuss with tidying up the medkit. “So I get tired a little easier these days, so what? That’s not a health issue, it’s just old age.”

“You’re eleven years younger than I am,” he points out. “But it’s not me who needs to nap in between shifts every day because I’m too exhausted to keep going otherwise.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, closing the medkit with hands that she refuses to admit are trembling. “Even if I were bound to die tomorrow, and I’m not, I’ve already lived so much longer than expected. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“You haven’t,” he disagrees. “And I certainly haven’t, to say nothing of the kids. I might be the only one who sees the extent of how bad it is, but they’re not stupid. In fact, most of them are upsettingly bright. They know something’s going on, and I’m sure that’s a factor in why Sanji keeps putting his foot down every time that lunatic tries to convince him to sail with him.”

Sora grimaces. “I don’t want him to go,” she says quietly. “I want all of them to stay right here where I can see them every day and know that they’re safe, but I also know that’s not fair. He’s got a dream to chase, and I won’t have him hold himself back out of some misplaced loyalty to the two of us.”

“I agree,” he says, “and there’s just something about this particular crew that makes me think they’re the right one for him. The straw hat boy has something special lurking under the surface, and the rest of ‘em are more of the same. Have you seen Eggplant around the bounty hunter?”

“Bounty hunter?” She echoes, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What bounty hunter?”

He blinks back at her. “The green haired kid he won’t stop fighting with. Between the hair, the earrings, and the three swords, there’s no way that’s not Roronoa Zoro.”

Now it’s Sora’s turn to blink. She recognizes the name, of course she does, since they get all kinds of gossip from customers who’re passing through, but she’s having a hard time conflating the boy she just met with the title ‘Demon of the East’. 

“He’s a baby,” she says eventually, still trying to process this news. “How could someone his age possibly have a reputation like that?”

Zeff shrugs. “I think the better question is what made someone with such a reputation decide to switch sides and join up with a pirate crew. That, more than anything, makes me suspect there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to our new chore boy.”

Sora rolls her eyes at this. “You know he’s going to be completely useless in the kitchen, don’t you?”

He heaves a long, tired sigh. “I’m telling myself it’ll be worth it if he can convince Sanji to go with him, but I’m already having nightmares over the size of the potential repair bills.”

“Well, just so we’re clear on everything, I suppose.”

*****

Four days pass, and Sanji and Luffy remain in the same stalemate as before. The sound of the younger boy’s flip flops slapping against the deck as he trails after Sanji, loudly complaining, have become a familiar refrain on the ship, echoing even above the noise of the ongoing construction.

Niji and Yonji take on the bulk of that task. The former has a knack for such projects, and the latter’s strength makes him the perfect assistant. They start with the damage done to the living quarters, making Sora breathe a sigh of relief at the thought that she and Zeff won’t be transplanted for long.

While the two of them seem happy enough to have an unexpected project to work on, and Reiju doesn’t let anything phase her from her self-appointed role as the Baratie ’s maitre’d, Ichiji is - to coin a phrase Patty and Carne like to use - fit to be tied. Having long since taken over the bulk of the administrative work from her, he’s been bemoaning the state of their finances since the Strawhats had arrived.

“It’s fine,” Sora assures him, leaning over the desk to ruffle his bicoloured hair. “You know full well we’re not hurting for money, and we’ll be able to cover the cost of the damages.”

“Not if we keep letting that chore boy run around loose,” he grumbles, brushing her hand away and then finger combing the red and blond strands back into their usual cowlicks. “With every hour he’s here, the amount of things we need to replace goes up.”

She has to laugh at his put out expression. “Try not to worry so much,” she suggests. “It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” he sniffs, sounding offended by the very idea. “I’m being practical.”

“You are worried,” she counters. “Although,” she adds with a spark of what she’s going to call Mother’s Intuition. “Perhaps it’s something else about Luffy that has you concerned, hmm?”

He freezes, caught out, but trying not to show it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” She asks innocently. “So your dislike has nothing to do with the fact that he’s trying to lure your brother away?”

For a second she thinks he’s going to keep up the act, not wanting to be seen as letting the emotions he - more than any of the others - tries to pretend he doesn’t have, govern his actions, but then he sighs, his shoulders sagging.

“It’s just,” he says quietly. “It’s always been the five of us. I know we didn’t treat him right when we were younger, but once you and Zeff set us straight on that, we were a unit. Who are we if we’re down to four, and the one who’s missing is the one who needs the most protecting?”

“Also,” he adds ominously, “the one with the swords won’t stop staring at him when he thinks no one else is watching. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.”

“That is nothing to be worried about, I’m sure of it,” Sora promises, having noticed the same thing with no small amount of amusement. Even better, she’s pretty sure Sanji’s been reciprocating the move without meaning to.

“As for the rest,” she says, wanting to steer the conversation back on track, “I think you’re doing your brother a disservice. He doesn’t need a babysitter, Ichiji, let alone a whole pack of them.”

“The amount of times we’ve had to physically pry him off a customer would suggest otherwise,” he replies dryly. “Just think of how much trouble he’ll get himself into out there all alone.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but that for the last four day,” she retorts. “It doesn’t change the fact that we all know this is what he wants, even if he’s not ready to admit it out loud yet. We can’t force him to stay here, darling, and it’ll be the same if any of the rest of you decide you want to leave too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says with a speed that’s honestly flattering. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

If Sora lives to be a hundred, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing her children express their own agency. Suddenly feeling overcome, she leans forward and plants a kiss on the top of his head, momentarily hiding her face in his hair.

“Mom?” He asks tentatively, one hand coming up to pat awkwardly at her arm.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I just - I love you all so much, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, twisting so that he can wrap her in a rare hug. “I know.”

Sora hiccups. He’s so big these days, all her babies are, even Reiju dwarfs her now, and sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who they were with who they’ve become. 

She has to though. And, more importantly, she has to accept they’re adults with the right to make their own decisions and live their own lives. As much as she might wish she could keep them all safely under her watch for the rest of their lives, it won’t work. Sanji’s going to leave. The only question now is how soon it’s going to be.

*****

Gin comes back, and this time he’s not alone. He has the famous Don Krieg, commander of the strongest fleet of pirates in the East Blue, slung over his shoulder and begging for sustenance.

They give it to him, of course they do. Then they spread that same charity to the hundred or so men who are all that remain of the once powerful armada, only to be threatened with death and devastation for their kindness. Don Krieg tells them he wants the Baratie, and that they can either leave willingly or he’ll take it by force.

Zeff refuses. Standing tall and proud in the middle of the restaurant, he tells Krieg he can have as much food as he wants, but he can never have the ship. The rest of the crew surround him, fully intending to fight to protect their home, and so, much to Sora’s horror, do all five of the children.

She knows, intellectually, that things will probably turn out fine. For all that they’re not the emotionless robots Judge wanted them to be, all of the children but Sanji still carry the ‘enhancements’ he worked into their bodies. Each of them can hold their own in a fight, and the Don Krieg Pirates might quickly realize they’ve bitten off more than they can chew.

Except then a new player arrives on the scene. Dracule Mihawk, Warlord of the Sea, has followed Krieg back from the Grand Line, intent on finishing the job he’d started with Krieg’s armada. As they all watch, stunned, he destroys the pirate’s ship with a single blow, cleaving it in two with a swipe of the sword he carries on his back.

Pirates and chefs alike stand frozen all along the Baratie’s deck, no one quite sure what to do with this unexpected turn of events. No one, that is, but a green haired boy with three swords to his name and a fire in his eyes. 

Sora watches as Zoro leaps from the Baratie to the ruins of the pirate ship, bellowing a challenge before he’s even fully landed. Clutching Zeff’s arm with one hand, she makes an aborted step towards him, knowing she can’t stop him, and hating herself for it.

“This guy’s nuts,” Niji mutters, as transfixed by the tableau as the rest of them. “That’s a fucking Warlord he’s going up against there, one who just took out a hundred guys without even breaking a sweat.”

“I don’t think he cares,” Reiju says, her blue eyes locked on the young swordsman. “Didn’t you hear him talking to Sanji earlier?”

“No, why?”

She shrugs, not bothering to shift her gaze away. “He said his life’s goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman, and to do that he has to defeat Mihawk. I don’t think he cares much about the odds in this instance.”

“Yeah, because he’s an idiot,” Sanji snarls, unusually heated for a man who claims he wants nothing to do with any of Luffy’s crew. “He’s going to get his dumb ass killed, and at this point he’s going to deserve it.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Zeff says, giving Sora’s hand a comforting pat where she still has it latched onto his elbow. “I doubt he’ll win, but I also don’t think he’s going to die today.”

“I hope not,” Yonji pipes up. “I like him.”

All four of his siblings blink, seemingly needing a moment to digest this statement. 

“You do,” Sanji says finally. “Why? Because it means you’re not the only green haired dumbass around here?”

“Hey, I’m mostly blond these days!” Yonji barks, pointing furiously at his head.

“I swear - ”

“Quiet!” Zeff snaps, dragging all their attention back to the fight that’s about to commence. “I can’t hear anything over all your prattling.”

For her part, Sora’s alright with that. Never a fan of violence, she especially doesn’t like it in the current context. She’s found herself becoming attached to the Strawhats during their brief stint at the Baratie, and the thought of Zoro throwing himself into a match where he’s so vastly outclassed, makes her sick to her stomach.

Admittedly, he may not know how far out of his league, Mihawk is, in fact he probably doesn’t. His friends, Luffy and the two bounty hunters who’d been following in their own ship, seem to think he can’t be defeated, yet she knows better. She’s never met Mihawk in person, but his reputation precedes him.

“We have to do something,” she insists, her nails digging into Zeff’s arm even further. “He’s just a boy.”

“He’s a grown man capable of making his own decisions,” Zeff corrects, although the smile he flicks her way isn’t as comforting as he no doubt means for it to be. “You know that, or you wouldn’t be considering having Eggplant travel with him.”

“What?” Sanji yelps, sounding affronted. “Not you guys too! I’ve told that idiot Luffy at least a thousand times that I’m not - !”

“Not now, brat. They’re starting.”

True to Zeff’s word, Zoro charges at Mihawk, with a sword in each hand and a third in his mouth. His skill is evident in the fluidity of his movements, the controlled power of his thrusts making it clear why he’s the best in the East Blue. Yet, it takes only moments to tell the field is weighted in his opponent’s favour.

Mihawk doesn’t even bother drawing the sword on his back. Leaving it sheathed, he instead pulls out what’s basically a pocket knife, easily fending off each of Zoro’s blows with it. At one point he goes so far as to stop all three swords at once using a single flick of his hand.

Zoro’s eyes go wide under the brim of the black bandana he has tied around his head, the muscles in his back and arms straining as he puts as much force as possible into the ultimately useless blow. Then he yowls when Mihawk shifts the blade and draws a long line of red down his clavicle.

For the briefest of moments, Mihawk looks almost impressed. His strange golden eyes flicker, and he takes a step back, demanding to know Zoro’s name. He then promises to remember it after the younger man offers it up.

The two combatants back off at that point, circling each other warily. Next to her, Sora notices Sanji grinding his teeth, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

“He needs to back off,” he grits out. “He’s clearly lost the fight, so he should stop and let it be for now.”

Much though she agrees with him, Sora’s certain that’s not what’s going to happen. With blood trickling from both the wound on his shoulder and a line on his chin, Zoro pulls all three swords back, gearing up for a final attack. 

It hits, but does little damage. The swords in each of the young man’s hands shatter, leaving only the one in his mouth, the one with the white hilt, still intact. As the whole crowd watches, Zoro calmly sheathes the remaining sword, holding it aloft in his left hand as he turns to face Mihawk and spreads his arms wide.

“What the hell is he doing?” Ichiji asks, right as Zoro’s voice rings out for all to hear, declaring that scars on the back are a swordsman’s shame.

Mihawk’s already done him the honour of using his real sword against his last attack, and the Warlord repeats that courtesy again. His lips drawn back in a sharp grin, the older man darts forward, dragging his sword downwards in a furious arc that catches Zoro from his left shoulder to almost his right hip.

Blood sprays everywhere, soaking the deck, and Zoro falls. His body hits the water with a heavy splash, and across the horrified gasps of the gathered onlookers, one voice rises above the rest.

“Give up your dream and live!”

Shocked, Sora whirls around to find Sanji leaning over the Baratie ’s railing, one hand outstretched like he’s trying to reach out and grab the swordsman to pull him back from the fight.

Without thinking, she lashes forward to grip his sleeve tightly. “He can’t, sweetheart,” she says when he turns to gape at her. “You know he can’t.”

He stares back at her, his face a mixture of panic and distress, but even as he’s opening his mouth to say something, Mihawk’s voice rings out. 

“The wound isn’t fatal,” the Warlord says, his own sword already returned to its sheath as he climbs back aboard his own ship. “He’ll live.”

“How the hell isn’t that fatal?” Somebody in the crowd demands. “He basically cut him in half.”

“You don’t know Zoro,” another voice says, and when Sora tears her gaze away from Sanji, she finds Luffy staring at the water with an eerily calm expression on his face. Across from him, the two bounty hunters and the long nosed boy (Usopp? She thinks.) are dragging Zoro onto their remaining boat.

True to Mihawk’s word, Zoro’s alive. Barely conscious and with tears streaming down his face, he clutches his sole remaining sword and makes his captain a promise, bellowing to the sky that he won’t ever lose again.

“Now that one,” Zeff murmurs over the sound of Luffy’s simple acknowledgement, “has drive. Hawkeyes saw something there, alright.”

“Just so long as he’s okay,” Sora replies. 

“He needs a doctor,” Sanji says, now looking mutinous. “What good is fishing him out of the water going to do if he bleeds out five minutes later?”

“You let us worry about that,” Luffy declares. “Usopp, Johnny, and Yosaku will take Zoro and go after Nami,” he says, referencing the navigator who’d fled with the Strawhats ship in all the commotion. “And as for me,” here he shoots Zeff a sly grin. “Pops, if I take care of these pirates, will you let me off the hook for what I owe you?”

Exactly as she’s expecting him to, Zeff barks out a laugh. “Fine by me,” he says, stroking his moustache. “Fine by me.”

*****

Luffy’s a devil fruit user. Part of Sora thinks she should have realized this as soon as they’d met, but such people are rare in the East Blue, and the thought had honestly never occurred to her. 

The entire staff of the Baratie are fascinated in watching him fight. His limbs contort in all kinds of unnatural ways, twisting and stretching as he fights off man after man after man, ultimately culminating in him defeating Don Krieg and sending the older pirate crashing to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Unfortunately for Luffy, Krieg manages to trap him in a weighted net before he goes down, and the boy plunges into the water while his former enemy hits the debris from his own ship.

“I can’t believe he won,” Reiju says, shaking her head in wonder. “He’s much stronger than first appearances would suggest.”

“Yeah, but he’s not without weaknesses,” Zeff announces. “Someone had better get in there and fish him out. Devil fruit users lose the ability to swim when they gain their powers.”

“What?” Sanji squawks, already moving to tug off his shoes. “Fine time to be telling us that now, old man. What if he’s already drowned?” Then, without bothering to wait for an answer, he tosses his suit jacket to the floor and dives into the water. 

“He’d better get used to that,” Zeff says quietly, but not so quietly that the rest of the children don’t overhear.

“You really think he’s going to go?” Niji asks, his brow furrowed.

“Ask your mother.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Sora says when their middle child raises an eyebrow at her. In the distance, Sanji’s just resurfaced, and he can already be heard berating a semi-conscious Luffy as he drags the other man back towards the Baratie.

They make up a bed for the young pirate in an undamaged room, and he sleeps for the rest of the day, eventually waking up with an appetite that’s even more daunting than it was before. The entire family, plus a few of the longest tenured staff, gather in the main dining area, watching him eat.

“Hey, Pops,” he says around a mouthful of chowder. “I did my part, so we’re good, right? I don’t owe you anything else for the damages?”

Zeff snorts from where he’s seated at one of the tables, reclined back in his chair as he watches the much younger man devour everything in sight. “At this point, it’s costing us money to keep you here. You can take off as soon as you’re done with your meal. Hell, you can even borrow our supply boat if it’ll get you out of here quicker.”

“Cool, thanks!” Luffy enthuses. “I need to catch up with the others right away so we can go after Nami.”

Sanji frowns from where he’s standing with his hands fisted deep in his pockets, his posture stiff and uncomfortable. “I highly doubt that swordsman of yours is going to be in any shape to do much of anything, and the other guy didn’t look like much of a fighter.”

“Usopp’s got his own skills, and Zoro will be fine,” Luffy says dismissively, right before he shoves an entire cut of meat into his mouth, nearly swallowing it whole. “We’ll get Nami back, you’ll see.”

Sanji bristles. “No, I won’t!” He snaps. “I’ve told you a hundred times already that I’m not going with you. Once you leave here today, we’re done with each other. I mean, why would I even want to join up with the most hapless group of pirates I’ve ever seen, anyway?”

Luffy doesn’t reply, just gazes back at him with his large, brown eyes unblinking. Ichiji, on the other hand, clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says in a tone that’s more condescending than Sora has heard from him in years. “You’ve always been completely useless compared to the rest of us, so maybe you’ll fit right in with an equally useless crew.”

The ensuing silence is so complete you could hear a pin drop in the room. Even Luffy stops chewing for a moment, his face contemplative as he watches the two brothers square off, the pair of them coming to a stop only a few feet away from each other.

Unsurprisingly, Sanji finds his voice first. His eyes narrowing, the stricken expression he’d just been wearing vanishes as he glares at Ichiji. “What the hell are you talking about, asshole? I’m the only one who does any real work around here. You idiots would be lost without me.”

“Yeah, right,” Niji drawls, coming to stand on Ichiji’s left hand side. “Like you do anything other than slow us down. All you do is pick fights with the customers and yell a lot.”

“Your food’s not even that good,” Yonji cuts in, shoving away from the wall he’s been leaning against and taking the spot on Ichiji’s right. “If you leave, we’ll probably start getting better reviews.”

“Face it, Sanji,” Ichiji says, all attention shifting back to him. “Once a failure, always a failure.”

Sora gasps, her hands flying to her mouth as she unconsciously sways forward, fully intending to put an end to whatever this is. No one’s uttered that word in their family for eleven years, and she’ll be damned if they start again now.

Except she’s stopped from interfering by a hand wrapping around her wrist. Glancing down, she finds Reiju’s slender fingers pressed against her arm, and when she looks back up again, her daughter meets her horrified look with a calm one.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, low enough that no one else can hear her and flashing a reassuring smile. “The other boys and I, we talked last night. If gentle encouragement won’t get him out the door, maybe something else will.”

Something else?, Sora thinks. They can call this whatever they want, but all it’s going to do is dredge up old wounds and painful memories. It won’t help, no matter how noble the intentions behind it might be.

Fully determined to say as much, she’s stopped a second time by Zeff appearing by her side. Apparently having vacated his own seat, he scratches his chin thoughtfully, watching the tableau that’s unfolding in front of them.

“I think I get what they’re trying to do,” he says slowly. “It’s a good idea if it works, but we’re going to have a hell of a mess to clean up if they’ve miscalculated.”

“If -?” Sora hisses, or starts to rather. In front of them, Sanji’s taken a step forward, shoving his way into Ichiji’s personal space with his fists clenched at his sides.

“I am not a failure,” he snarls, practically spitting the words in his brother’s face. “I might be different from the rest of you, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m still the best damn chef on this boat. My skills are fucking unmatched.”

Ichiji yawns. “This is boring. You’re so useless, we could replace you with Yonji and no one would ever know the difference.”

Sanji sputters, and for one horrible second Sora thinks he’s going to forget himself entirely and actually use his fists in a fight. Then he rears back, throws his hands in the air, and bellows, “Yonji can barely boil water!”

The words bounce all around the room, faint echoes reverberating off the windows, punctuated only by a munching sound as Luffy returns to his meal. Then someone starts to snicker.

“Yeah,” Ichiji says, his nose wrinkling as he laughs quietly. “Yeah, we know.”

“Yonji could burn a salad,” Niji agrees.

“And in fact, I have,” Yonji adds solemnly. “Then Zeff threw a spatula at my head.”

“I stand by that,” Zeff says when Sora shoots him a scandalized look. “You know I believe in tough love in the kitchen.”

“Yes, well I believe in making you sleep out on deck when you annoy me,” she retorts, scowling when this just makes him grin bigger. “And I’m giving serious thought to it right now.”

“I’m quaking in my boot,” he replies dryly.

“Excuse me,” Sanji’s voice cuts sharply through the family squabbling, causing them all to look at where he’s standing in the middle of the room, seething. “What the hell is going on here? What are you idiots trying to do, piss me off enough that I’ll leave on my own?”

“Yeah,” Yonji drawls like it should be obvious. “Is it working? Because our backup plan is to just tie you up and throw you in a boat with the chore boy.”

“For the record,” Ichiji says, jerking his thumb at their youngest brother. “That one was his idea, but we’re not above trying it if you force our hand.”

“You want to go, Sanji,” Reiju says from her spot by their parents. “Whether you actually do is up to you, but you don’t get to use us as an excuse to hold you back. That’s not fair.”

“I’m not - that’s not what I’m doing.” Sanji insists, glancing from person to person until he finally lands on Sora. “Mom,” he says raggedly, stepping towards her. “I can’t just leave you. You need me.”

Sora feels tears prickling in the corner of her eyes, but she stubbornly blinks them away as she reaches up to cup his face in his hands once he’s close enough. “What I need,” she says in a voice that’s as firm as she can make it, “is for you to be happy. Reiju’s right, sweetheart, you can’t put this decision on us.”

He chokes, his visible eye wide and his face a mass of indecision. Then he turns to look at Zeff. “Old man,” he grits out. “Are you really going to try and convince me this place would be better off without me?”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” Zeff snaps. “Don’t be daft. On the other hand, one of these days you’re liable to destroy the place in a fit of temper if you continue on as you have been. And besides,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and pinning Sanji with a look. “The future king of the pirates needs the best cook out there, brat, and I can hardly imagine a more appreciative audience for your skills.”

As if on cue, Luffy tears a chunk out of a slice of salmon. Chewing happily, he swallows the bite and immediately repeats the motion, grinning wide around the second mouthful. 

They all watch him for a moment, the young pirate seemingly oblivious to the attention he’s garnering, and then the spell is broken by Sanji whirling around and stomping towards the stairwell. 

“Where are you going?” Reiju wants to know, one hand outstretched as if to stop him. 

“Where do you think?” He replies, and his voice is harsh when he cranes his neck around to look at her over his shoulder, but there’s no missing his bright smile. “I’m going to go pack.”

*****

There are tears on all sides when the boat leaves, and Sora clutches Sanji to her for as long as she can, no doubt getting his collar soaked. He holds her back just as tightly, murmuring promises to both be careful and keep in touch, as if that’s any help to her right now.

He hugs Reiju next, nods at most of the staff, and exchanges manly back pats with all three of his brothers. Then he turns to Zeff, who offers him his hand to shake. Not having it, Sanji hugs the older man as hard as he had her, whispering something into his ear that makes Zeff’s face spasm.

Sora considers asking about what was said, but in the end decides to allow them their privacy. Instead, she kisses Sanji’s cheek one last time, and stands watching on the deck until the smaller vessel has sailed out of sight.

“Mom?” A voice asks, and she finds Reiju waiting for her when she turns around. “Everyone else has gone inside to start straightening things out. Are you coming?”

“I - ” Allowing herself one last glance at the horizon, Sora nods. There’s no use sitting around feeling sorry for herself - especially since her son is off on a new adventure, not dead - and there’s plenty to do to get the Baratie up and running again. “I’ll be right there.”

Reiju gives her a knowing smile, but doesn’t press. Instead, she picks her way carefully across the damaged decking, eventually disappearing through the main doors of the restaurant, which had somehow survived the events of the past week unscathed. 

Sora watches the two swinging doors until they settle, then takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Moving forward, she follows the same path as Reiju until she emerges inside the dining area where they’re already erecting scaffolding to begin the repairs to the ceiling.

“What can I do to help?”

The answer to that question largely involves a fair amount of cleaning on her part. She has little skill when it comes to renovations, and there’s no denying the fact that these days she’s the physically weakest person on the staff. Still, she manages to carry her weight, and before she knows it dusk has fallen and they’ve been required to stop for the night.

There’s been enough damage done to the kitchens that they can’t prepare anything elaborate for supper. However, there’s plenty of food to go around, and once she’s eaten her fill, Sora climbs the twisting flight of stairs located at the heart of the ship, finding herself in need of some space.

No one comes to bother her as she makes her way to the room she shares with Zeff, or when she opts to take a longer than usual shower where the wetness that runs down her face is only partly due to the spray.

It’s only after she’s washed and dried and finds herself leaning over the railing of the room’s balcony, that she hears the familiar thumping that indicates Zeff’s arrival.

“I figured you’d be out here.” He says, and Sora feels something warm wrap around her shoulders. Looking down, she finds he’s brought her the faded blue shawl the children had given her for her birthday all those years ago. 

“Don’t want you catching cold anymore than I do the little Eggplant,” he says in reference to his parting words to Sanji. 

“I’m fine, but thank you.” Holding the shawl tightly with one hand, she slides the other over until he picks up on her unspoken request and covers it with one of his own. “I need you to tell me this wasn’t a mistake and that he’s going to be alright.”

For a time his only response is a comforting squeeze of her hand, but eventually he blows out a ragged breath. “You told me, way back when we first started this thing between us, never to lie to you or make promises I can’t keep.”

Sora grimaces. She had told him that, years ago, only mere months after they’d been a proper couple, if that. In all that time, he’s never reneged on the deal, and she understands his implicit statement that he’s not going to start now.

“I’m going to miss him so much,” she chokes. “And I’m going to worry about him every day.”

He’s got her gathered up in his arms before she really knows what’s happening, holding her pressed against his chest where he’s warm and solid, his heartbeat a steady thrum that reminds her she’s not alone. 

“Me too,” he says softly, kissing the top of her head. “Me too.”

“But,” he says, rubbing her back gently with one hand, “I think he’s going to be in good company. Those kids, they’re one of the weirdest bunch of brats I’ve ever laid eyes on, but there’s something special about them.”

She sniffles. “It’s not that I don’t agree with you, but what makes you say that?”

“Because the last time I met a ragtag band of miscreants and knew they were one of a kind, I wound up helping raise ‘em.” He tells her, and she can practically feel his grin when she huffs out a laugh.

“There’s my girl,” he says, smiling when she tilts her head up to look at him. “Miss him, love, and worry about him, but don’t mourn him. He’s been a fighter since the day he was born, he can take whatever the world throws at him.”

“I hope so,” she replies, but in her heart of hearts she knows he’s right. Regardless of his start in life, Sanji had grown up strong, and he was bound to get stronger still. “I suppose it’s just going to take time to get used to him not being here anymore.”

“For us and for them,” he agrees, nodding at the level below them. 

Leaning over to see what he’s getting at, she catches sight of Reiju and the three remaining boys. Night has long since fallen, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering them. They’re sitting beneath one of the lamps that line the Baratie’s desk, a couple of them swirling their feet in the water while the four of them swap a bottle of wine back and forth.

“Reckon it’s Niji who’s responsible for that,” Zeff grunts, jerking his chin at the bottle. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve told him not to go nicking from the stores. Tonight, though, I figure I can cut them some slack.”

“I wonder what they’re talking about.” Sora murmurs, resting her cheek in one hand and propping her arm on top of the railing. 

Zeff’s snort is explosive enough to send his moustache rattling. “You know full well what they’re talking about, Your Majesty. They might not show it the way we will, but they’re going to miss their brother. I imagine he’s the only possible topic of conversation right now.”

Forced to concede his point, Sora figures they may as well head inside to avoid intruding on the children’s privacy when a shout rises up from down below.

“Oi!” Leaning back away from the water, Yonji stares up at them and waves the bottle he currently has clutched in his fist. “Are you two going to sit up there moping all night, or would you rather come down here with us? We’re gonna swap stories about all the stupid stunts Sanji pulled when he was a kid, since he’s not here to defend himself.”

His siblings’ laughter floats up to reach them, even Ichiji’s rare chuckle added to the mix, and Sora quirks an eyebrow at Zeff. “Well,” she says when all he does is stare back at her, “what do you say?”

“I say if we’re joining them, we’re getting our own bottle and some actual glasses.”

Giggling, Sora stretches up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ll get the glasses if you get the wine.”

“It’s a deal.”

 

Chapter 6

The first letter arrives a few weeks after they’ve completed the repairs to the Baratie. Patty steps out to collect the morning mail, and immediately bolts back inside, waving a stack of papers in his hands.

“Boss! Miss Sora!” He shouts, dumping everything but a simple, white envelope on the counter to be sorted. “Sanji wrote!”

“Well, don’t just stand there gawking, you idiot.” Zeff snaps, nodding at Sora from where his hands are full over at his prep station. “Give the poor woman her mail.”

“Right!” Practically tripping over his own feet in excitement, Patty darts across the kitchen, and presents the letter to Sora with an elaborate gesture. “Here you go, Ma’am!”

“Thank you, Patty.” Sora says, delighting in the way he blushes bright red even after all this time. Wiping her hands off on a cloth, she reaches out to take the proffered paper. “I appreciate you bringing it in so quickly.”

Somehow flushing impossibly redder, Patty releases the document with a mumbled ‘It was nothing’, but makes no move to head back to his own station. Instead, he and the rest of the staff watch avidly as she carefully cuts the steal on the envelope.

“What’s it say?” Carne asks, only to be furiously hushed by Zeff.

“Give her a minute, or I’ll have you on trash duty for a month!”

“Yes, head chef.”

Ignoring the exchange, Sora pulls two folded pieces of paper free from the envelope. Recognizing Sanji’s looping scrawl on one of them, she’s goes with it first.

Dear Mom,

I don’t know how often I’m going to be able to write to you, but I’m going to do my best. Having said that, we’ve just reached Loguetown, which is supposed to be the last port before the Grand Line, so who knows what’ll happen after that.

You’ll be happy to hear that we got both Nami and the Merry back. I won’t go into details because it’s not my story to tell, but it turns out she was in an impossible situation. Or at least, she thought she was. The guys and I all had her back and took care of things for her. Now she’s free to do as she pleases, and it just so happens that she wants to stick with us. Which, thank god, because not only is she lovely, but I’m pretty sure she’s the only other person on the crew with a functioning brain.

Luffy and Usopp are fine, and even the Mossball’s managed to make a full recovery. He’s got a scar Yonji would describe as ‘gnarly’, and I still can’t believe he didn’t end up bleeding out all over the floor, but apparently sentient plant life is hardier than one might expect. Now if only he’d start bathing regularly and stop sleeping underfoot, he might actually become a functioning member of society. 

Anyway, there’s not much else to report beyond that. I’ve reorganized the Merry’s kitchen to my satisfaction, and so far everyone seems to be liking the food. Especially Luffy, although I’m pretty sure he’ll eat anything that doesn’t crawl away.

Give my love to Reiju, and I guess to those other idiots and the old man. Also, I’ve tucked something else along with this letter that I thought you might be interested in. Apparently sweeping his way through all the main pirate crews in the East means Luffy’s made a bit of a name for himself already. He’s pleased as punch and insists this is only the beginning.

I guess only time will tell.

Love,
Sanji

Relieved to hear that everything seems to be going well so far, but confused by the contents of that last paragraph, Sora turns her attention to the second piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, she blinks when Luffy’s grinning face beams up at her. “Oh my.”

“What is it?” Not having heard him come up behind her, Sora shifts so that Zeff can peer over her shoulder. He whistles low in her ear when he sees what she’s holding. “That’s a hell of a price for a first time bounty,” he says, running his finger over the bottom of the wanted poster. “Especially around here.”

Sora nods, having seen enough bounties in the newspapers to know that thirty million is incredibly high for a first timer. “Well, we did figure he was the type to make waves,” she says, aiming to sound nonchalant.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “What did the kid’s letter say?”

“You can read it if you like,” she says, holding it up. “But the gist of it is that they’ve got Nami and the ship back and have almost reached the Grand Line. Also, Zoro is okay despite the number Mihawk did on him.”

“Never doubted he would be,” he grunts. “Kid like that, it’s going to take more than a simple stab wound to take him out. As for the letter, I’ll read it later since I’m assuming you're going to stash it upstairs somewhere for safe keeping. In the meantime, I think I’ll hang that poster in the office. We might want to start a collection.”

“It’s all yours,” she says, letting him take it without any complaint. “Meanwhile, I’m going to go find each of the others and inform them that their brother isn’t dead.”

*****

The second letter arrives much quicker than Sora’s expecting, following practically right on the heels of the first. A customer hands it to Reiju on his way in the door one morning, and she trots into the kitchen with it held aloft.

Taking in gratefully, Sora pulls a stool up to her station, while Reiju sits herself down on a nearby counter, munching on a stolen cookie and idly swinging her feet back and forth, as her mother settles in to read.

Dear Mom,

I have no idea if this letter is even going to reach you now that we’ve crossed over Reverse Mountain, but as long as the mail bird is willing to accept my money I’m going to keep sending them. Hopefully you’ll get it without issue.

As you’ve probably guessed from the bit about Reverse Mountain, we made it to the Grand Line! Honestly, the legends people tell about this place don’t even begin to do it justice. We’ve been here for three days, and I’ve already seen more insane stuff than I have in the rest of my life combined.

Please don’t let that panic you. I know how much you worry, but I really don’t mean it in a bad way. Reverse Mountain was one of the craziest rides of my life and the second we got here we met a giant whale who’s been waiting fifty years for his crew to come back and a guy who was the doctor on Gol D. Roger’s ship. Absolute insanity.

More importantly, though, we’ve made a new friend. Her name is Vivi, and she’s a literal princess - not just in the way all women are, either, but in the, uh, other way. You know the kind I mean. Her home country of Alabasta is under attack by some seriously bad people, and Luffy’s agreed to help her sort it out.

I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, what are half a dozen teenagers going to be able to do? Well, we don’t know the answer to that yet, but you and Zeff raised me to never turn my back on someone in need, and it turns out the others are all cut from the same cloth. Vivi’s one of us now and we’re going to do right by her.

We’re heading to Alabasta now, although Nami says we’re going to have to make some other stops along the way. Navigating on the Grand Line is tricky business, and we are so lucky to have her. I shudder to think where we’d be if, say, the Marimo were the one leading us. 

Seriously, you wouldn’t believe the level of ridiculous that man subscribes to. It turns out that along with a sword fetish and whatever the opposite of manners is, he has the directional sense of something that’s dead. The two of us had to run all over Loguetown to help Luffy at one point, and I swear after the fifteenth wrong turn I was this close to putting a leash on him. Unfortunately for me, he probably would have just chewed through it, half-feral nightmare of a man that he is.

That’s all for now, Mom. I miss you, and please tell that useless old geezer that if he gives my station to Patty or Carne I’ll feed his stupid hat to the sea kings. Also, make sure the dingus trio stay away from my room, I’m positive Niji’s had his eye on it for years now.

Love,
Sanji

Sora makes a point to read the letter over twice, taking a few calming breaths as she places it gently down on the counter to keep from accidentally crumpling it. Then she turns around, looking for the only person who’s going to have any hope of talking her off the ledge in this instance.

“Zeff !” She shrieks, loudly enough that Reiju nearly chokes on a bite of cookie.

He’s there in an instant. “What is it? Is the brat okay?”

Wordlessly, she picks up the letter and hands it to him, motioning for him to read it. Then she watches as he skims through it, one of her feet beating out a steady staccato rhythm against the floor when she finds herself unable to hold still.

“Alabasta, huh?” He says once he’s finished. “I remember it. It’s a desert country. The ruling family’s called Nefertari, or something like that.”

Sora clenches her teeth so hard she’s surprised the enamel doesn’t crack. “Dear, I assure you it’s not their name that I’m concerned over,” she grits out. “It sounds like they’re heading into the middle of a war.”

“If you ask me it sounds like they’re trying to help out a friend,” he counters. “There are far worse fights he could be getting into, and for far worse reasons.”

“You know I hate it when you use logic on me,” she sniffs. Taking the letter back, she offers it to Reiju, who leans over to read it without letting go of her snack. “This seems dangerous.”

“They’re on the Grand Line,” Reiju points out, straightening out of her hunched position after she too is done reading. “Danger is a given. Zeff’s right, at least they sound like they have a good reason for whatever they’re getting into. Also, Sanji’s wrong. It’s Ichiji who wants his room, not Niji. He says the sun’s not so in your face in the morning on that side of the ship.”

“It’s a ship,” Zeff mutters. “The sun comes in all over the place depending on what direction we’re sailing in.”

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Reiju stresses. “Just that that’s what his reasoning is. I make it a point not to try and figure out what goes on inside the boys’ heads.”

“And thus, you are our brightest child,” Zeff informs her. “Even if you are a rampant snack thief.”

Uninterested in their chittering, Sora returns to her work station and decides to try setting aside her worries in favour of kneading some dough. With luck, Sanji will write again soon and put her mind at ease.

*****

There’s a longer gap between the second and third letters, with the latter not arriving for the better part of a month after the former. Still, arrive it does, and Sora snatches it out of the hands of the hapless junior chef who delivers it with much more force than usual. 

“What?” She asks in the face of Zeff’s raised eyebrow as the young staff member scurries away.

“Nothing,” he replies, watching her tear into the envelope. “You realize the mere fact that he wrote again means he’s alive, right?”

“Alive does not necessarily mean unscathed,” she says primly. “Now hush, I’m trying to read.”

Dear Mom,

So much has happened since I wrote last, I don’t even know where to begin. Sorry about that, by the way, I’ll try to be better at keeping up with it in the future.

First and foremost, we made it to Alabasta! … it is the hottest place I’ve ever been, and I don’t mean that in a good way. No offence to Vivi, but there’s nothing but sand as far as the eye can see, and they’re in the middle of a drought that’s lasted for literal years. Quite an experience for a guy who’s never not lived on the water.

I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that we’ve had a bunch more crazy experiences. Currently we’ve got Luffy’s older brother (!!!) tagging along with us. His name’s Ace, and he’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met in my life. Seriously, Firefist Ace, look him up if you get a chance. He’s on the trail of a nasty piece of work who betrayed his crew and our paths happened to converge for the time being. I don’t imagine he’ll be sticking around much longer, but it’s been nice having him.

And speaking of new people travelling with us! Ace and Vivi might be only temporary additions, but we’ve got someone who’s not. That’s right, your most beloved son is officially no longer the new guy on the crew. We picked up Chopper on a winter island, and you will be very pleased to learn that he’s an extremely talented doctor.

Yeah, we actually found him because poor Nami was really sick after getting bit by a poisonous bug on a different island (thereby proving that my longstanding hatred of the nasty things is justified). Chopper and his mentor got her fixed right up, and then we helped them overthrow an evil king. You know, as one does.

No, but seriously, you will love Chopper when you get to meet him, Mom. He’s kinda hard to describe if you can’t see him in person, but he’s the cutest little guy. He’s also a devil fruit user like Luffy, only his power is that he can transform into all these different creatures. Don’t let that fool you, though, he’s a healer before he’s a fighter.

Which, for the record, we need . Not all of us, mind you, but it turns out that letting himself get nearly bisected on the Baratie’s doorstep was only the tip of the iceberg for ol’ Moss-for-Brains when it comes to getting injured. So far, his notable hits in the brief time I’ve known him have included:

 

• The aforementioned doorstep bisection;

• Fighting an eight armed fishman 24 hours later and completely reopening said wound;
• Launching himself off a literal mountain (this was arguably more Luffy’s fault, but still);
• Jumping half naked into a frigid cold lake in the name of ‘training’; annnnd
• Attempting to slice off his own feet.

Would that I were joking about that last one. He told me it made sense at the time. I told him that if he ever tried something so stupid again I’d finish the job since it was me who got stuck sewing up his stupid ankles. (Obviously this was pre-Chopper. Yours truly got the gig because I’m a deft hand with a needle, lucky me.)

Seriously, how he’s already survived nineteen years on this earth, I will never know, but it looks like I’m stuck looking out for him for the foreseeable future.

Other than that, everyone else is doing fine. Nami’s as beautiful as ever, Usopp’s still secretly braver than he thinks, and Luffy continues to test my patience on the daily with his gluttony. All in all, business as usual.

Love,
Sanji

“D’you think he realizes that, in a letter where they’ve gained two new people, he’s still managed to devote almost half of it to the cactus head?” Zeff wonders from where he’s been reading over her shoulder. “Because my money’s on no.”

“That’s because you’re brighter than you like to pretend,” Sora advises. Folding the letter carefully, she slips it into her apron pocket, where it should be safe until she can head upstairs and store it in her jewelry box with the others. 

“Mhm,” he hums, tilting his head down so he can see her face better. “You don’t seem quite as worried as you did after the last one.”

“Oh, I’m still worried,” she assures him, seeing no point in lying. “But I’ve had some time to adjust to the notion of him getting involved in a civil war, and there was nothing specifically alarming in this new letter. Even better, they’ve got a doctor now, which is good news.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he agrees. “Hard to get far on a ship without one of those. And speaking of …”

“No,” she says, cutting him off immediately because she knows where that train of thought is bound to take him. “I haven’t had a dizzy spell in weeks, and I feel fine.”

“You used to go months without them,” he reminds her, but all she does is shake her head.

“I said no,” she repeats. “I’m not going to spend whatever time I have left being poked and prodded by doctors who can’t do anything. Judge had eight years to study my condition and couldn’t cure it.”

Long used to this argument, Zeff falls silent for the time being. He’ll bring it up again eventually, he always does, but she’s going to stand firm no matter what. 

It’s her life, and she’s going to live it as she pleases.

*****

Somewhat ironically, she’s bed-bound the next time one of Sanji’s letters arrives. An especially bad spell knocks her out for several weeks, and she’s only just recovered to the point that she can sit up for longer periods of time when Ichiji quietly lets himself into her room one afternoon.

“Sanji wrote again,” he says, flashing the envelope back and forth so she can see it as he drags a chair over to her bed and takes a seat. “I figured you’d want to see it right away.”

“You figured correctly,” Sora agrees, accepting it willingly. “Especially after that ridiculous news article.”

Prior to the last couple of months, the kingdom of Alabasta had been a veritable unknown. Even with her regal upbringing, she’d only ever heard about it in passing because it was too small and too far away to be of interest to Germa. Now, however, it’s all anybody’s talking about.

Alabasta, according to the official newspaper of the World Government, had been taken over by Sir Crocodile, a powerful devil fruit user and, like Dracule Mihawk, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. Supposedly, Crocodile had gone rogue, tried to murder the royal family, and been secretly heading up a group of assassins known as Baroque Works. If the paper was to be believed, only the quick actions of some heroic marines had stopped the entire country from falling into anarchy.

Sora doesn’t believe it for a moment. Not only does she have her own insider knowledge, but even the marine captain they’re trying to pin the victory on - some grumpy looking fellow called Smoker - seems like he’d rather chew glass than let the media keep fawning over him.

Add that to the fact that 1) the so-called Strawhat Pirates were known to have been involved in the mix, 2) the Nefetari family were conveniently unable to track down the pirates when the marines came knocking, and 3) Luffy’s bounty had skyrocketed to one hundred million, while Zoro now had a whopping sixty million dollar price on his head, and it wasn’t hard to read between the lines.

The marines had screwed up in Alabasta, and the Strawhats were the ones who came through in the end. Sora can only imagine how much that must chafe the higher ups in the World Government.

Positive she’s right, she unfolds Sanji’s letter, and is immediately vindicated.

Dear Mom,

First of all, don’t believe a single solitary thing you read in the damn newspaper. I can’t get into details because it would spell trouble for Vivi if this letter fell into the wrong hands, but the marines didn’t do a thing to help Alabasta. Luffy took out Crocodile all on his own, while the rest of us dealt with his goon squad. Enough said.

We’re all fine by the way. Obviously, we all had some assorted cuts and bruises, but nobody suffered any lasting damage and we were able to rest and recuperate before we had to set sail.

That was hard. I’m sure you saw in the news that the marines were close to catching us. Well, that’s only because we stayed to say goodbye to Vivi. I’m going to miss her terribly, we all are (especially poor Nami) but she said her duty was to her people.

She’s going to make a great Queen someday, and I know what I’m talking about there.

Speaking of royalty - algae head took to sarcastically calling me a prince for a little while there. He said it went with my snooty attitude and how fussy I am, and kept it up for half our trek across the desert, because apparently he’s a firm believer in beating a dead horse.

The thing is, though. I mean, I hate that term. You know that, I know that, and obviously we both know why. But, when I told him seriously to stop, he listened. He didn’t even press me for a reason. He just stopped because I asked him too. I guess maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye?

Just you wait, now that I’ve committed that sentence to paper, he’s going to do something so incandescently stupid within the next five minutes that I’m going to want to set myself on fire over it. Also, if he doesn’t stop bragging about that stupid bounty poster of his, I’m going to put razor blades in his food. I can’t believe he got one before me.

Oh! Another thing I can’t believe is that I almost forgot to tell you our other big news. We’re up to seven crew mates now! One of the Baroque Works operatives switched sides, and now she’s one of us. Some of the others (read: Mossball) were suspicious of her motives at first, but I know what it looks like when someone’s been forced to run longer than they should. Robin loves us, and we’re lucky to have her brilliant, beautiful self aboard.

I should wrap this up now. Luffy’s recently heard a legend about an entire island up in the sky that ships can supposedly travel to. I have to go find the others before he does something absurd … like actively trying to get there, haha!

Don’t worry, I promise not to fall out of the sky.

Love,
Sanji

Sora looks at Ichiji over the top of the paper once she’s done reading. He quirks a questioning eyebrow at her in response.

“That bad, huh?” He asks, the ghost of a smile dancing around the corner of his lips.

She groans. “He sounds like he’s enjoying himself,” she says, “but I am wondering where he inherited this insane adventurous streak from.” She stretches out a hand to clasp his forearm. “Promise me that neither you nor any of my other babies will go running to the Grand Line. I don’t think I could handle the stress.”

He pats her hand with one that now completely dwarfs her own. “You know full well that if more of us wanted to go, you wouldn’t get in our way,” he says calmly, no room for disagreement in his voice.

Sora barely resists the urge to sigh. “Of course not,” she admits, “but it wouldn’t stop me from worrying.”

Ichiji squeezes her hand tighter, his skin much warmer than her own. She’s cold so often these days, she hates it. It reminds her of being in the North Blue, where the wind had always been sharp and the temperature aggressive.

“Luckily,” Ichiji says, oblivious to her inner monologue, “none of the rest of us have any interest in that sort of thing. We’re content where we are.”

Sora considers this for a moment, and a nagging sense of worry makes her ask, “Are you really, though? Truly? There’s nowhere else you’d rather be or nothing else you’d like to do?”

“Not me,” he vows. “And not any of the others, I don’t think. Maybe that will change one day, but we’ll be honest with you if it does.”

She smiles then, and pulls her hand free so she can cup it around his cheek instead. “My biggest boy,” she teases gently. “Always so steadfast, especially when I need you to be.”

He allows the prodding for a moment, but isn’t shy about quickly returning her hand to the bed. “I’m your oldest boy,” he corrects, “but technically Yonji is your biggest.”

“Details, details,” she says with a tired wave of her hand. 

He gives her another one of those small smiles, and makes a show of adjusting the blankets on her bed. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, darling, but thank you for bringing me my letter.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle out of her bedding. “You're my mother, and you’re not feeling well. It was the least I could do. I’m going to let you get some rest now, though, okay?”

“Alright,” she agrees, smiling softly as she watches him leave.

*****

She finds the next letter all on her own. It’s early morning and she’s outside enjoying what looks to be some lovely weather when a mail bird lands not far away from her tea. Recognizing Sanji’s handwriting, she eagerly takes the letter it has held in its beak and tells it to go inside with the rest of its delivery.

Reclining back in her seat, she readjusts her shawl around her shoulders and starts to read.

Dear Mom,

Remember that time when I joked about how not even Luffy is crazy enough to try and reach a sky island? Well, fun fact - it turns out that not only is Luffy crazy enough to try it, but he’s also crazy enough to succeed . It was called Skypeia, and you’re not going to believe what I have to tell you about it.

Do you remember the book Noland the Liar? You used to read it to us a lot when we were little, so I’m assuming you do. Anyway, it turns out he wasn’t such a liar after all. He really did find a city of gold, and the reason that stupid king couldn’t reach it is because the whole place got blown sky high by the knock up stream.

I won’t pretend to understand how. Nami can do a much better job of explaining the mechanics.

Regardless, we made it to Skypeia, found the lost city, and helped rescue some people from an angry god. And not, like, a pretend god, but a real one. Mosshead’s extremely offended by the whole thing because apparently he doesn’t believe in fate or anything of that nature. I’m frankly not surprised. He’s too thick headed to possess an imagination. 

Also, Mom, I don’t know if this is going to upset you or not, but you should know I told the others I’m originally from the North Blue. I didn’t tell them anything else, I promise. I know how important it is to you that our secret stays safe, but I did it without thinking when explaining why I recognized the Noland book. The thing is though … I wish I could tell them the rest.

I trust them. All of them. Implicitly. I think if it wasn’t just my story to tell, I would have given in by now. They’d believe me, and they’d have my back. Hell, I’d probably have to stop them from going after you-know-who. God knows Luffy’s always one hundred percent willing to defend his friends, and the Mossball’d fight his own reflection if you gave him the opportunity. He’d probably love getting his hands on He Who Shall Not Be Named.

Whatever. I don’t really want to think too much more about it, and I’m sure you don’t either, so I’ll leave it at that. Like I said, I just thought you had a right to know.

In other news, our next stop is some place called Water 7. The trip back down from Skypeia did a number on poor Merry, and she needs more repairs than we can handle on our own. We’re fine for now, but better safe than sorry, you know, and this place is supposedly the crown jewel of ship building.

Oh, one last thing. If anyone ever asks you to take part in something called a Davy Back Fight, under no circumstances should you say yes. It is the stupidest event known to man, and the less said about it the better. The Marimo and I had to work together as teammates at one point and it was literally the worst thing to ever happen to me. 

Even if we did invent an absolutely sick team-up move when we did it.

Love,

Sanji

Sora neatly folds the letter once she’s done with it, and sets it carefully on the tray next to her so she can exchange it for her cup of tea. Almost idly, she swipes at the tears that are coursing down her cheeks without her permission.

“I’m so glad you found those people, baby,” She whispers, her voice being carried away by the early morning sea breeze. “I’m so very glad.”

*****

“MOM! Moooommmm! You need to come see this!”

Positive she’s never heard Niji sound so animated before, Sora hustles from the kitchen into the office, moving faster than she has in weeks. However, she promptly comes to a halt when she gets inside and finds her entire family in various levels of hysterics.

Niji has actual tears in his eyes, he’s laughing so hard, while Yonji is literally rolling on the ground holding his sides. Reiju has commandeered the spare chair and is openly cackling, as is Zeff beside her, while Ichiji rounds out the group where he’s trying to hide his snickering behind a newspaper. 

“What in the world?” She demands, planting her hands on her hips. “What’s gotten into you all?”

“That!” Niji crows, pointing at a pile of papers resting at the centre of the desk. “Oh my god, this is the greatest thing I have ever seen.”

Confused to say the least, Sora marches over to the desk and cranes her neck around to have a look. “O-oh my,” she murmurs, one hand automatically rising to her mouth to keep a giggle from escaping. “You guys, it’s not that funny.”

“Sure, sure,” Reiju agrees, wiping at the corner of her eye. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Sora stares down at the wanted poster and the crude drawing that she assumes is meant to depict her son. Given that his name is located just below the image it seems like a safe bet, even if said depiction is frankly terrible. Then she reads even further, and her laughter becomes much more restrained.

“Seventy-seven million,” she says, dragging her finger along the printed typeface. “For a first time bounty?”

“Yeah,” Zeff says, sobering as well. “And that’s not the only thing. They’ve all got one now, but wait until you see why.”

“The posters, paper, and his latest letter all arrived at the same time,” he adds, nodding at the newspaper Ichiji’s still pouring over. “You’re not going to believe this, but they broke into Enies Lobby to rescue Nico Robin and declared war on the World Government in the process.”

Sora blinks. Then she blinks some more. Then she motions for Reiju to stand up so she can take her seat. “I’m sorry,” she says faintly, “but I cannot possibly have heard you correctly. Did you just tell me my baby declared war on the most powerful entity in existence?”

“Him, Strawhat, Roronoa, Nami, the long-nose, and the doctor if this article is anything to go by,” Ichiji says, folding the newspaper and offering it to her. “But it looks like the authorities have deemed Robin and their newest crew member to be complicit as well.”

Unable to process so many things at once, Sora takes the newspaper, but sets it aside. “You said there was a letter,” she notes, wanting to go straight to the best possible source of information. “Where is it?”

Reiju takes a moment to root around in the numerous papers littering the desk, before pulling out a familiar envelope. She hands it to Sora, who accepts it gratefully and starts to read.

Dear Mom,

Actually, scratch that. 

Dear asshole siblings and father, all of whom I’m sure read these letters after the fact and are no doubt laughing your asses off right now,

Don’t even SPEAK to me about that godforsaken bounty picture, you hear me?! If a single one of you bastards brings it up, I will KICK YOUR ASS into next week! It’s not my fault the shit useless reporter apparently doesn’t know how to remove a camera lense cap!! Also, whatever jokes you’re making? I guarantee you our resident patch of seaweed has already made them. Never mind the fact that mine’s the highest initial bount of ANY of the crew. So yeah, laugh it up if you want to be on the same intellectual par as a piece of semi-sentient mildew.

Ahem.

On that note, Mom, I’m sure you’re panicking about everything that’s in the article that just came out, but I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. Plus, we had a really good reason for doing what we did. The navy was going to torture Robin for information and then kill her. She tried to sacrifice herself for all of us, but we wouldn’t let her, and if that required a little thing like shooting down the World Government’s flag then so be it. Honestly, I don’t know why they’re so worked up over a silly piece of fabric as it is.

Here Sora has to pause briefly so she can bury her face in her hands and spend some time breathing deeply through her nose.

Anyway, the good news is that we all survived this little stunt, and we even gained a new crew mate in the process. His name is Franky and he’s a disaster in every possible way, except for the fact that he’s one of the most brilliant shipwrights I’ve ever seen.

And actually, Mom, now that I think about it, I lied to you just now because the whole crew didn’t make it. We tried our hardest to take care of her, but we lost the Merry. The guys at Water 7 said her keel was cracked, probably from the way down from Skypiea, and there was no way she’d sail again. 

Technically they were wrong about that. The old girl came through for us one last time, right when we needed her most. I know it sounds dumb, but I am going to miss the hell out of that ship.

Luckily, we’re hardly stranded. Franky’s gone ahead and built us a veritable masterpiece called the Thousand Sunny. She’s already just as special to us in her own way as the Merry was, and I have faith she’ll see us through the rest of this voyage. I think there’s even a picture of her in the news already. If not, I’m sure there will be soon. 

Which reminds me, now that everyone has bounties, you can see what all the folks you haven’t met yet look like! For clarification, Chopper’s a reindeer, not a raccoon. He’s a little sensitive when people make that mistake.

With that said, I should get going. The fridge in my new kitchen finally has a lock on it, but the same can’t be said for my wine rack. I’m pretty sure I hear the telltale sounds of a triple sword carrying thief (actually only two right now, he lost Yubashiri in the fight to get Robin back), so I’d better go put him in his place.

Love,
Sanji

Zeff reads the letter once she’s done with it, passing it to first Reiju and then Ichiji in turn. Off to the side, Niji and Yonji are arguing about how best to arrange the wall in front of them to display all eight wanted posters.

“Be careful when you take the old ones down,” Zeff says, nodding at the copies of Luffy’s most recent and Zoro’s original. “I save them even after they’ve gone up.”

His piece said, he turns his attention back to Sora and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Let me guess, you're simultaneously terrified for him and the proudest you’ve ever been, right?”

“Pretty much,” she says weakly. “You too, huh?”

He nods. “We raised him right. Possibly too right. Kid’s got a sense of Justice that’s going to get him into trouble and the rest of ‘em seem to be more of the same.”

“Wonderful,” Sora huffs. “Do you think we should be worried that this letter didn’t mention their next destination?”

Zeff shrugs. “I doubt it. He probably just forgot what with all the other excitement. If they’re past Water 7, though, they’re further than I ever got. If I recall correctly, the next stop will be Fishman Island so they can head for the New World.”

“Fishman Island?” Finally dragging himself away from the wall and the bounty posters, Yonji perks up. “That place is supposed to be crawling with mermaids. I think I’m a little jealous.”

“Oh please, like any mermaid would do anything other than run away from you ugly mug,” Niji tells him.

Letting the sound of their petty squabbling wash over her, Sora leans back in her chair with a sigh.

*****

The next letter arrives in the middle of a stormy, blustery day, which Sora thinks is fitting once she takes a look at its contents.

Dear Mom,

I almost didn’t send this letter because I’m not feeling especially cheerful right now. On the other hand, I know how much you worry, and I don’t want to cause you more stress than I’m sure I already am.

First things first - a bit of happy news - we have a new crew member. His name is Brook, he’s a musician, and he is technically dead. And by that, I mean he’s a nine foot tall anthropomorphic skeleton. He joined up after we defeated another Warlord (Gecko Moria this time, don’t let the newspaper tell you any different), and got him his shadow back.

Yeah. The Grand Line is weird as hell.

But I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m so down about if we just won a big battle and made a new friend, right? Well, the thing is, it came at a price. Not a permanent one, thank god, but too close for comfort.

We almost lost Zoro, and I’ll be honest with you, I’m not handling it well.

I’m sure he’d be furious with me if he knew I was telling you this. None of the others know because the two of us were the only ones who were conscious when it went down. I don’t care, though. He’s currently refusing to talk to me about it, and if I don’t get it off my chest I think I’m going to explode.

See, the thing is. It was my fault. All that stuff you know who used to say? Well, turns out he was right. I’m not strong enough, and because of that one of my most important people almost died.

(Please don’t EVER tell him I called him that. He’d never let me live it down.)

Basically what happened was this, we beat Moria and his entire crew. It took everything Luffy had in the end, and he was down for the count. Then another freaking Warlord showed up (Kuma, this time), he demanded we hand over Luffy, and when everyone refused he knocked us all out cold.

Everyone that is, except for Zoro and I.

We both got tossed around pretty bad, me more so than him. By the time I got back on my feet he was standing in front of this giant of a man, offering himself up for Luffy and the others. Then he knocked me out cold when I tried to take his place.

I know, I know what you’re going to say, Ma, but look at it this way, I was raised by two people who made huge sacrifices so that I could live and be happy. Are you honestly surprised that I turned out the way that I did?

Not that it mattered mind you, by the time I woke up again, he’d already given himself over to Kuma. He went willingly, like a goddamned lamb to the slaughter. No one even knew anything was wrong until I started shouting for him.

I found him yards away. I don’t know how he got there, or how the hell he was still upright. There was so much blood, I’ve never seen so much in one place before, and for a second I honestly thought he’d somehow died standing up. Then he looked right at me and told me nothing happened when I asked him what Kuma did to him.

He was unconscious for days after that, slept right through the massive party the island threw for being freed. Even now he still looks like crap and he won’t fucking talk to me about it.

Sorry for all the swearing, Mom, but honestly at this point it’s either that or crying, and I refuse to sink that low.

Ugh, I’m begging you not to show this letter to Zeff and the others. Now that I’ve got this far I’ve got half a mind to burn it rather than send it to you. Maybe I’ll write you a different one that’s not so damn depressing.

Nah, I’m not going to do that. I know you want to hear the truth, even if it’s upsetting, and you hate when we lie to you.

Like I said, I really wish I had more fun things to tell you, but I’m pretty much out aside from Brook and the fact that we’re all still alive. Oh - Zoro did get a replacement sword, he was pretty happy about that. This one’s called Shusui and originally belonged to a late samurai from some famous place called Wano. I guess that’s kind of cool.

Anyway, I think I’m going to wrap this one up here. I promise I’ll try and have something nicer to talk about next time.

Love,
Sanji

Sora stays where she is for a long time after she finishes the letter, curled up in a chair by the window, ruminating on its contents. Eventually that’s where Zeff finds her, raising an eyebrow in surprise at the sight.

He catches sight of the letter not long after, and his face morphs into a worried frown. “Everything okay with the Eggplant?”

“I - ” She pauses, wondering how much to tell him. “Not exactly,” she says finally. “They’re alive, they’ve even got a new member, but Zoro had a near miss. I think he’s shaken up over the whole thing.”

“You think or you know?”

She shrugs, wanting to respect Sanji’s privacy. “He says he’ll try and have something happier to talk about next time.”

“Let’s just hope that’s true.”

*****

Marineford burns and at its centre lies a young man with a hole blown through his chest, his beloved younger brother keening at his side. Sora’s never met Portgas D. Ace - everything she knows about him she’s learned from the news and Sanji’s letters - but as she watches him die in the middle of a war zone, all she can see is a child who’s younger than Reiju.

The entire staff plus her family are gathered in the Baratie’s kitchen, all work forgotten as they watch events unfold on the single, tiny screen the restaurant boasts. Sora stands in the middle of it all, wrapped in Zeff’s arms as she scans the images that scroll past.

“Where are the others?” She demands, growing increasingly frantic when Luffy’s face is the only familiar one she sees. “Why is he out there all alone?”

No one bothers to correct her on this obvious inaccuracy. Because Luffy isn’t alone. He has allies fighting by his side. She can make out people she recognizes from the newsreels - Buggy the Clown, Sir Crocodile, First Son of the Sea Jinbe - but none of the other Strawhats are anywhere to be found.

“What if - what if -?” She starts, her fingers clawing veritable trenches into Zeff’s arm as she stands frozen, unable to look away. On the screen, Jinbe has picked up Luffy and is fleeing the battlefield, the remnants of the Whitebeard Pirates throwing themselves in the way to aid in the pair’s escape.

“Don’t say it,” Zeff says, knowing exactly where her mind has gone. “He’s not there, Sora. He’s not. If the marines had any of them in custody, or worse, had killed them, they’d be blasting the news all over creation. I don’t know where the brat is, but he’s not dead.”

Sora chokes at this last word, but nevertheless nods, willing to believe him in this instance, if for no other reason than the alternative is too terrible to comprehend. 

That belief gets harder and harder to hold onto, however, as the days pass by without any word. She starts wandering the Baratie like a ghost, unable to sit still, or focus on anything long enough to be of any use. Her children exchange worried glances where they think she can’t see them, and Zeff lies awake next to her at night, no doubt feeding off her restless energy.

News finally arrives two weeks later, but it still has nothing to do with Sanji. No, in this case it’s Strawhat Luffy rocking the world by returning to Marineford yet again, this time accompanied by no less austere company than the first mate of the former Pirate King.

Sora stares down at the picture of Luffy that spans almost the entire front page of the newspaper. He looks haggard, she thinks, covered in bandages and having dropped a significant amount of weight. She feels a desperate urge to hold him and offer him what comfort she can.

Speculation swirls among staff and customers alike. Marineford is a frequent topic of discussion, with theories flying fast and furious about why Luffy would risk showing his face just to ring a bell where half the world’s media could see him.

For her part, Sora’s less concerned with the bell than she is the prominent mark displayed on Luffy’s arm in the photo. It hadn’t been there two weeks prior when she’d last caught sight of him, so she can only assume it’s some kind of message. The only question is to whom.

She gets her answer, such as it is, after another few weeks have passed.

At this point she’s gone from worried to distraught. She’s a mere shadow of her former self, and she knows she’s not taking proper care of her health. Most days it’s a struggle just to get out of bed, and she suspects she wouldn’t manage even that much if she didn’t have the rest of her family around to fuss over her.

This lack of energy also means that she naps frequently, no doubt doing absolute hell on her already disastrous sleep schedule, and she’s lying in bed trying to do exactly that on the afternoon that Yonji bursts into her room with Zeff hot on his heels.

“Mom!” Her youngest shouts, not even trying to modulate his voice. “It’s Sanji! He finally wrote again!”

Sora’s heart leaps, and she jerks upright with more energy than she’s felt in weeks, her hand already outstretched to grab the letter he’s offering her. She tears it open, completely indifferent to the mess she makes of the envelope, while Zeff takes a seat on the edge of the bed and Yonji hovers at his side.

Dear Mom,

I can only imagine how frantic you’ve been this past month, and I’m so sorry for putting you through that. The first thing I’ll tell you is that I’m okay. The second is that so are all of the others, even if I have no idea where they are.

You remember Kuma, the big guy from Thriller Bark? We ran into him again at a place called Sabaody. It turns out he can use his power to send people anywhere he wants in the world, and he used it to split us all up.

I’m still not sure why he did it. The person in charge of where I landed knows him personally though. They say Kuma never does anything without a reason, and that he’s always several steps ahead of wherever you think he is. 

Even if that’s true, and this is all part of some grand plan, I can’t do anything but resent him right now. I wasn’t with my captain when he was going through hell, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Just like I suspect you’re never going to forgive me for what I’m about to tell you.

I’m sure you’ve already seen Luffy’s message to us in the paper, but you probably don’t know what it means. Back on Sabaody he ordered us to all meet back up at the Sunny in three days, to give things time to blow over. Well, the new plan is for everyone to stay where they landed and train for the next two years.

I’m not going to be able to write during that time. The leader of the island is insistent on no distractions, and I basically had to beg them to be able to send even this letter. I really am okay, though, or at least I mean I’m safe. I don’t think I’m going to be okay for a long time.

I already miss the others so much, and I never did get to have that much needed conversation I mentioned in my last letter. Guess I’ll have to put it on hold for now.

Unfortunately, I have to wrap this up, Mom. Please try not to worry too much. I promise I’ll take care of myself, and I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Love,
Sanji

PS: I know I don’t say it enough, but tell the others I love them. 

Sora sucks in a deep breath when she finishes reading and lets it out slowly. Then she repeats the motion several times, willing herself not to completely lose control in front of an audience.

“Well?” Zeff asks after several minutes of this, apparently able to maintain his composure for only so long. “What’s it say?”

“He’s alive and safe,” she says, not missing the way the older man sags in relief while Yonji punches a celebratory fist in the air. “He’s - I certainly wouldn’t say he’s happy, but he promises the rest of the crew is fine too.”

“That’s good,” Zeff agrees, his eyes searching her face for more details, “but that’s not all there is to it, is there?”

Wordlessly, she hands him the letter. As he reads, she turns to Yonji, who’s currently unable to keep a grin off his face. “Would you please go let your sister and brothers know? We can all talk about the finer details later, but for now they deserve the peace of mind.”

“You got it,” he chirps, vanishing out of the room before she can say anything else.

She sits quietly while he’s gone, waiting for Zeff to finish the letter. “Well,” she says, unable to keep quiet after he gets through it a first time and starts scanning it again. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d like to get my hands on whoever this asshole is who’s told him can’t write for the next two years,” he growls. “And maybe give the little punk a kick upside the head for going along with such a stupid plan.”

He meets her eyes then, his expression affronted, and Sora allows herself what feels like her first smile in weeks.

“Oh good,” she says brightly. “It’s not just me then.”

*****

The next two years flow by. The Baratie is as busy as ever, but Sora finds herself caring less and less for the day to day runnings, partly because she has more important things to worry about, but mainly because something she’s been trying to pretend for so long isn’t happening finally catches up with her.

She’s getting sicker. A lot sicker. Her energy levels are practically non-existent, and most days her hands lack the strength to so much as hold a whisk or a rolling pin, let alone use them. Even helping with the restaurant’s paperwork is difficult because she’s starting to have trouble focusing.

She sleeps more and more, exhaustion a near constant companion, and she can no longer hide the extent of the damage from the children. At one point she even catches the four of them engaged in a furtive discussion about the merits of trying to track down Sanji before the two year deadline is up.

“None of that,” she says, smiling when they spring apart like naughty school kids, clearly not having realized she was there. “Even putting aside the fact that we have no idea where he is, I’m not coercing Sanji into coming home over a little thing like this.”

Reiju frowns. “It’s not little - ” She starts, and Sora holds up a hand to cut her off, wishing she couldn’t feel the faint tremble resulting from so little exertion.

“I said what I said,” she declares, her voice as stern as she can make it. “And since I’m your mother, you have no choice but to listen to me.”

The four of them share an exasperated eye roll, frankly impressive given how in sync they are, but opt not to press. She doubts that’ll be the end of it, yet breathes a quiet sigh of relief when they disperse, knowing full well she isn’t up for an argument right now.

She starts spending even more time in bed, practically living there now, and eventually Zeff puts his foot down on the issue of summoning a doctor. One is promptly procured from the nearest island, only to provide exactly the prognosis she expects. 

She’s dying. Slowly, but nevertheless certainly. 

Her heart breaks at the way Zeff’s face falls upon getting the news, and then again when she swears him to secrecy from telling anyone else. 

“It’s not like they don’t already know,” she says, stroking a hand down one of his craggy cheeks while he clutches the other between both of his. “But I don’t want to cause more upset by talking about it. I want to enjoy whatever time I have left without a dark cloud hovering over me.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible, but of course you know I’m going to agree.” His face a mirror of her own exhaustion, he brings the hand he’s holding to his lips and presses a kiss to the tips of her fingers. “I haven’t disobeyed an order from you in thirteen years, Your Majesty, and I’m not about to start now.”

“Good,” she replies, pleased to see that he can still joke in the face of such upsetting news. “And besides, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Certainly not while our remaining son remains missing in action.”

“Tch, that one’ll turn up right at the last second, just you watch,” Zeff declares. “Any news on any of the others?”

“No,” she says, “only the same two as always.”

Nico Robin is with the Revolutionary Army. She shows up in the papers every now and again, not bothering to hide her face like she once did. Meanwhile, Soul King Brook has become a famous musician, whose music Sora likes to play on the small radio she’s had brought into her room.

There’s been no sign of any of the other Strawhats. Wherever the rest had been sent, the locations were clearly much more remote.

The clock keeps ticking, however, and finally, finally they receive some much anticipated news. 

It’s Zeff who brings it to her this time. She’s lying in bed one morning, half-heartedly reading a novel Carne had given her to pass the time, when she hears his familiar thumping gate. Assuming he’s coming to see what she wants for lunch, it takes her a moment to realize he’s moving much faster than normal.

“Latest paper’s in,” he barks, flinging open their bedroom door with more force than necessary. “You’re going to want to see it.”

Able to make out the headline already (“Strawhats Back?”) she tosses her book aside and holds out her arms. Grinning, Zeff walks over and hands her the news.

She doesn’t even read the article before she’s breathing out a sigh of relief. Luffy’s picture is splashed across the front page. In it, he’s wearing one of his wild grins and dragging a massive bag behind him, flanked by two familiar forms as he runs.

Sanji’s poor luck with the camera continues, as he’s turned away from whoever’s taking the picture, craning his neck around to look at something over his shoulder. Still, she’d recognize that form and shock of blond curls anywhere.

“He’s wearing his hair differently,” she muses, eyeing the cut of his suit with approval. “And he’s put on more muscle.”

“Not compared to the grass head, he hasn’t,” Zeff says dryly. “Kid’s even more of a brick wall than he was before.”

Letting out a humming noise to show she’s heard him, Sora allows her gaze to drift to the other side of the photo where Zoro’s on Luffy’s right. Then she gasps in horror.

“Did you see this?!” She demands, holding up the paper and pointing furiously. “That poor baby lost an eye!”

Zeff rolls his own in response.

*****

Her next, long-awaited letter, arrives after the news has published at least three more articles about the return of the Strawhats. Apparently, they’d put on quite a show during their second stint at Sabaody, and the marines are scrambling to catch up.

Unable to find it within herself to think of the navy as anything other than aggressors at this point, Sora finds their frustrations amusing to say the least. However, true happiness arrives in the form of a letter Zeff presents her with during one of the rare mornings where she’s felt well enough to move from her bed to the kitchen.

She doesn’t try to work in here anymore, but sometimes it’s nice to just be surrounded by all the hustle and bustle.

“For you, madam,” he says, dropping the already opened letter in her outstretched hands.

“You better not have peeked,” she warns him, and all he does is laugh.

Dear Mom,

Long time no chat, huh? I miss you like crazy, and I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote. Much though I tried to convince them otherwise, Ivankov stuck to their guns when it came to me communicating with the outside world.

Try not to take that too personally, Mom. Iva’s a trip, but they took good care of me, I promise.

I’m not going to get any further into that today, though. I’m kind of short on time since we’re heading for Fishman Island at what I’m going to describe as ‘high speed’. I’ll tell you all about Iva someday, just not right now.

More importantly, I’m sure you’ve seen the news, but the Strawhats are back and better than ever! It is SO good to see everyone again, and I can’t believe how much everyone’s changed. The ladies are even more beautiful than before, Luffy’s appetite has somehow gotten bigger, and Usopp has muscles. (Seriously, you’re barely going to recognize him the next time you see him.)

And speaking of muscles - I’m sure you already know this because that picture from the paper is literally everywhere - but my favourite Mosshead has come back sans half his depth perception. I told him this is what happens when he doesn’t have me around to watch his back. His response was a very pointed grunt, but I know that’s caveman speak for ‘Yes, Sanji, as usual you’re right about everything’. 

By the way, you might be pleased to hear we finally had that much needed talk. Two years apart meant it was a long time coming, so I wasn’t letting him run off again before we hashed things out. I’m still not sure what this means for us going forward, but, uh, I’m pretty interested to find out, you know? I guess I’ll just have to keep you posted.

That’s all for now, Mom. Our ship coating’s coming on as I write this, so I’ve got to go before I can’t get the letter out. Then it’s off to Fishman Island! Give my love to everybody, and I promise I’ll write again soon.

Love,
Sanji

“Huh.” Sora says as she finishes reading.

“‘Huh’?” Zeff echoes. “Two years we don’t hear from the little brat, and all his first letter does it make you say ‘huh’? What the hell did he put in there?”

Sora shakes her head, unable to fight off the grin she can feel coming on. “It’s not so much what he said as what he didn’t. I think - I think what we’ve always expected to happen might have finally come to pass.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before heaving out a massive sigh and crossing his arms over his chest. “Great,” he snarks. “Do you want to tell the rest of the kids about their new brother-in-law, or should I?”

*****

More and more articles are published about the Strawhats, but the only thing concrete in them is that the crew is back and had successfully evaded the navy while departing Sabaody. Speculation runs rampant over what they’ve been doing for the past two years, but no one has any real information. 

Frustrating though she finds this, Sora sternly tells herself not to get worked up again. The Strawhats have survived everything the Grand Line’s thrown at them to date, and there’s no reason to believe that won’t keep happening, especially given Sanji’s last letter.

Even if his next letter gives her pause.

Dear Mom,

You’re getting a two for one special on crazy adventure stories this time because we had back to back ones without a chance to catch our breath.

First off - Fishman Island. It was everything I could have dreamed of and more. Beautiful mermaids as far as the eye could see, just like in the stories you use to read us. We even met the mermaid princess and she was beautiful and kind, and in the end they threw a huge party for us because we rescued the entire island from an insane terrorist.

Admittedly, we did get mistakenly arrested for treason first. And Luffy technically kidnapped the princess at one point. And Zoro not-so-technically seized the royal palace and held the king hostage for a bit. But it was all for a good cause, I promise!

… okay, the last one was mainly because I left Zoro unsupervised for more than an hour, I’ll cop to that. I genuinely can’t take him anywhere without him getting lost and bringing disaster down on our heads. Some things never change, etc etc.

Regardless, we sorted everything out with the fishmen and now we’re all friends. Even better, you know Jinbe the former Warlord? You probably saw him in the news helping Luffy during Marineford. We met up with him, and he’s going to be joining the crew. He says he’s got some business to finish up with his former boss first, but once that’s done he’s all ours. I’m excited, he’s a really good guy.

Anyway, after Fishman Island we made it to the New World and came up just outside of this place called Punk Hazard. I could write until my arm fell off, and still not tell you everything that happened there. At one point we even teamed up with another Warlord and the navy because we had to stop this insane mad scientist from building chemical weapons.

I know you hate hearing stories like that, Ma, but he was experimenting on kids . No way could I stand by and let that happen, and I know you’d never have forgiven me if I had. Luckily it all worked out in the end, and we saved everybody.

We also made some new friends in the process. Currently we’ve got a samurai from Wano and his son sailing with us. They’d gotten stranded on Punk Hazard while looking for some missing friends, so right now we’re giving them a lift.

And the same goes for our new Warlord buddy, Trafalgar Law. I’m sure you’ve seen him in the news too, but what you might not know is that he was also at Marineford. He’s the doctor who saved Luffy’s life after he got injured, and they’ve got the weirdest, most hilarious relationship imaginable. 

Seriously, Luffy told him an alliance ‘means friendship’, and I’m pretty sure I saw part of Law’s soul actively exit his body. He’s asked us to help him out with something I can’t go into details on quite yet, and I’m pretty sure he regrets this decision on a daily basis.

Our next stop is a place called Dressrosa. It’s supposed to be a really beautiful and romantic spot. I hope it is because I’d like to have a bit of a breather, and honestly that sounds like it’d be right up my alley.

Zoro keeps grumbling under his breath about the whole thing where he thinks I can’t hear him. I fully intend to put him in his place on the matter, and if that means I have to physically drag him around the island to see the sights, then so be it.

That’s all for now, Mom. We’re expecting Dressrosa to be pretty busy, so I might not be able to write for a bit. Once we’re done there we’re aiming for a place called Zou where Law has friends waiting for him. He says it’s pretty slow paced, so if nothing else I should be able to reach out from there.

Miss you, and try not to worry about me too much!

Love,
Sanji

Chapter 7

“It’s been over two months.”

Zeff sighs wearily from his spot in the armchair that sits permanently at the side of the bed. He sleeps in it most nights now, despite her many protests, because he doesn’t want to disturb what little rest she manages to get, yet refuses to leave the room entirely.

“I know, love,” he says quietly, “but he also said he figured it’d be a while before we’d hear from him again.”

“Two months,” she repeats, beginning to shake her head and then thinking better of it. “He’s never gone that long without writing before, not without warning.”

“You’re borrowing trouble, Sora.” He says, one hand coming up like he thinks he’s going to have to stop her from getting out of bed. As if she’s even capable of doing that without help these days. 

“I want to know where he is,” she says fretfully. “After Dressrosa, the bounty poster, all of it. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Zeff doesn’t respond to this, and she knows he’s thinking about the same things she is. 

The Kingdom of Dressrosa had turned out to have been in the clutches of a Warlord (always a Warlord, would the Strawhats never cease picking fights with these people), who’d been terrorizing it’s people for a decade. He’d been summarily dethroned when Monkey D. Luffy had done what he does best and poked the hornet’s nest, only this time the whole world knew the truth. 

A navy admiral - either brave or stupid or both - had put himself on the world stage and offered up a public apology for what his organization had let happen right under their nose. He’d taken full responsibility, and made it equally clear just who had saved Dressrosa. There was even footage of the pirates successfully evading his grasp and fleeing the island.

“Sanji wasn’t with them when they ran,” she says, easily able to picture all the faces of those who had been. Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky, even Trafalgar Law and a number of others whose names she didn’t know, but no sign of her son among the group.

“Neither was Nami,” Zeff points out, exactly as he has all the other times they’ve had this conversation. “Or Soul King, or the doctor. And that bunch didn’t escape on the Sunny. Chances are good that’s where Eggplant and the others are.”

“But you don’t know that,” she insists, “and then there’s his bounty poster! Dead or alive for all of the crew, except him. What does that mean, Zeff? What could that possibly mean?”

He doesn’t answer, knowing full well already what she’s getting at, and she lets out a harsh laugh. “I’ll tell you what it means. It means someone with clout is pulling the strings where he’s concerned, and I can think of only one person who knows him who might be able to get an ‘only alive’ bounty issued. The only thing I can’t figure out is why he’d bother.”

“And that scares me,” she says, sagging back into her pillows, feeling drained. “No, that doesn’t do it justice. It terrifies me. If Judge has his sights set on him - ”

“Then he will have bitten off entirely more than he can chew,” Zeff finishes for her. 

“Think about it,” he adds, when she shoots him an inscrutable look. “Crocodile, Moria, Donquixote Doflamingo.” He holds up a finger for each name he lists off. “Those kids have been summarily decimating every big name player they’ve come across, and those they haven’t beaten they’ve allied with. If Judge is actually stupid enough to take them on, I know where my money’s going in a fight.”

“You don’t know him,” she whispers. “You haven’t seen what he’s capable of.”

“Maybe not,” he replies, “but I know our son. Hell, I know all five of our kids. Quite well, as it happens. You’ll never convince me any one of them isn’t better and stronger than their dumbass sperm donor. If he goes after Sanji, I fully expect him to get his ass handed to him and then some.”

She stares at him, her throat working soundlessly for a moment, until she reaches out and cups his cheek with all the strength her pale hands still possess. “I love you very much, you know.”

In answer, he takes her hand and presses a kiss to the centre of her palm. “Not as much as I love you,” he admonishes. “Stop worrying about Sanji, Your Majesty. He’s a big boy, and he wouldn’t take kindly to the notion that you’re making yourself even sicker over him.”

“Mmm, I suppose you’re right,” she replies, sitting back with a sigh. “He’s going to be mad enough when he finds out how in the dark I’ve been keeping him.”

Zeff pointedly doesn’t comment on the odds of her still being alive when that time comes.

*****

The shrill blaring of a transponder snail snaps Sora out of the first deep sleep she’s managed to achieve in ages. Confused, she flails around in the dark, weakly pawing for the source of the noise.

Zeff gets there first. In the darkness, she hears the familiar scraping sound of his chair being shoved backwards, and then the whole room is flooded with light when he switches the bedside lamp on. Still moving, he then reaches for the screaming snail and thumbs it awake. 

“I don’t know who this is,” he growls fiercely into the receiver, “but you’d better have a damn good reason for waking my wife at this hour.”

“Fuck you, old man,” spits a wonderfully recognizable voice. “As if you ever bothered to actually marry the poor woman.”

“Eggplant?!” Zeff demands, and Sora has no doubt that his pervasive look of surprise is mirrored on her own face. “Where are you? And how the hell are you in close enough range to be using a snail?”

“That’s a long story,” Sanji replies, with a tightness in his voice that makes Sora’s back stiffen. Even worse, there’s a strange humming noise in the background of wherever he is, and she doesn’t think it has anything to do with the snail connection. “It’s also not important at the moment. You need to get everyone up and get as far away from the Baratie as possible.”

Silence descends over the room, Zeff needing a moment to find his voice. “And why exactly would we do that?” He finally asks, sharing an inscrutable look with Sora. “We’re not exactly flush with places to go.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever, you just have to find somewhere to hide until we can get to you.” Sanji says, as simply as if he’s talking about crossing the street as opposed to half the world. “You’re not safe where you are.”

“Sanji - ” Sora starts, but he cuts her off before she can do more than say his name.

“Judge knows where you are, and he knows the other four are still alive.”

He drops this bomb with heavy gravitas, and Sora feels the blood in her veins freeze ice cold.

“It’s all my fault,” he continues on while she and Zeff remain at a loss for words. “He’s been hunting me without my knowledge ever since that stupid first bounty poster. Apparently, it was enough of a likeness for him to get suspicious that his most useless of offspring might have survived. He finally tracked me down just outside of Dressrosa, and we’ve been dealing with his bullshit ever since.”

“Yes, I know I didn’t handle it well in the beginning,” he adds to someone in the background. “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Sorry,” he says when Zeff makes a questioning noise. “The marimo’s here with me, and seems to think his input is warranted.”

Zeff shoots her a commiserating look over the top of the receiver before speaking into it again. “Never mind that,” he says harshly. “If Judge found you on the Grand Line, how is he anywhere near us?”

“Apparently he’s branched out from human experimentation and has cooked up a whole host of new toys,” Sanji says, sounding grumpily impressed. “Franky’s been able to jury rig a pretty fair imitation of whatever he’s done, which is why we’re close on his heels, but right now he’s got the jump on us.”

“Which is why you need to leave,” he finishes. “We’re coming, I swear, but we won’t get there before he does.”

She and Zeff share a long look, silently communicating in a way that only thirteen years together has made possible, and she sees the exact moment he realizes what she’s trying to convey.

“That’s not an option, kid,” he says quietly. “Even if we had anywhere to go, your mother won’t be able to handle a trip like that.”

This time the resulting silence is deafening, and Sora feels something shatter inside her at Sanji’s soft “…what?” that breaks it.

“Mom. Mom. Mama, what’s he talking about? What’s wrong?”

And oh how she wants to lie to him, to tell him there’s nothing the matter and have him believe it one last time, but there’s a very real possibility they’ll never have a chance to speak again once this call ends, and she can’t do that to him.

“I’m sick, sweetie,” she says, feeling tears well in her eyes at the distraught noise he lets out. “Worse than before, I’m afraid. The odds of me being able to leave, even if we had somewhere to go to, well. Let’s just say they’re not very good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demands, only to immediately backtrack. “No, never mind. This isn’t the time to get into it. If you can’t run then fine, we’ll just have to get to you faster, and you need to hold out long enough for us to do that.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Zeff snorts, showing remarkable restraint in the face of the situation they now find themselves in. “I don’t suppose you have any idea of when we can expect Judge’s arrival?”

“The best I can give you is ‘soon’,” Sanji replies. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“If wishes were fishes there’d be no more room in the lake,” Zeff notes, looking pleased when both Sora and Sanji snort out identical, reluctant laughs. “We’ll do what we can to hold down the fort, but try not to take too long before making your grand entrance.”

“It’s a deal,” Sanji says, sobering. “And hey, since I haven’t been able to say it in person for a while, I love you guys.”

“Feeling’s mutual, brat,” Zeff grunts. “Don’t do anything stupid on your way here.”

“We both know you’re the bigger risk for that right now,” Sanji grumbles. “I’ll see everybody soon. Try not to die before I get there.”

The snail then goes quiet with a soft click, and Zeff heaves a tired sigh as he sets it back on the end table. “Guess we’d better wake everybody else up.”

“It’s going to be a long night.”

*****

Sora refuses to stay in bed while they wait. If she’s going to be forced to see Judge again, she won’t be doing it while cowering beneath a pile of blankets and in her pyjamas no less. She gets herself dressed for the first time in weeks, and prods at Zeff until he helps her down into the main dining area.

The staff and the rest of her family alike are already clustered down there by the time she arrives. Reiju wordlessly guides her to the closest available chair, and the boys hover around her like a trio of fussy mother hens.

Over the years the staff have been filled in on some - albeit not all - of the pertinent details of their family history. They don’t know everything, but pretty much everyone is aware that Zeff isn’t the children’s biological father and Sora had fled a poor home life when they were little.

They listen with varying levels of consternation as they get told a speedrun version now. The lifers, Patty and Carne in particular, look horrified, but even the most junior of the cooks develops a determined cast and insist on remaining aboard.

“Besides, it’s like you said,” Patty declares, apparently having appointed himself as spokesperson for the rest. “It's not like we’d get very far anyway. Anybody who took off in the lifeboats would just be a sitting duck out there.”

“More than likely,” Zeff admits with a terse shrug. “Though I wouldn’t bet on things being better in here. Still, if you’re aiming to fight, you may as well go load up and then head out on deck to watch for them.”

“Except you lot,” he says, holding up a hand to stall Reiju and the boys when they make to follow the staff. “You stay here.”

All four of them exchange looks, before settling on Reiju as their own apparent spokesperson. “We’re going to fight,” she says flatly. “This is our home, and we’re the strongest ones here without a doubt. Depending on how many people Judge is bringing with him, we might be enough to stop him.”

The odds of that being true are extremely unlikely. Strong though they are, they’re far from the invulnerable machines Judge had originally planned for them to be. Also, there’s no telling what kinds of technological advancements Germa’s made in the past thirteen years.

On the other hand, all four of them are wearing identical expressions of stubborn determination, so Sora knows there’ll be no stopping them in joining the fray. As much as she wants them to get well away from here, it’s not going to happen.

“You’re grown adults and we can’t stop you,” she acknowledges tiredly, “but I’m your mother and I want you in here with me until the time comes. At least give me that much, will you?”

The terribly gentle hand Niji (of all people) rests on her shoulder is really all the answer she needs, but the other three nevertheless nod and let out varying murmurs of agreement.

Satisfied, she squeezes Niji’s hand briefly before leaning back in her seat. She can already feel exhaustion creeping in - the interrupted sleep and act of forcing herself down here no doubt catching up to her - but tells herself she needs to stay awake.

They wait for what seems like hours, although Sora’s making no real effort to keep track of the time. At one point Zeff vanishes into the kitchen and re-emerges not long after, armed with drinks and snacks for not only those inside, but those out. Darkness is still streaming in through the windows, however, giving no indication that the sun is anywhere near the horizon.

Eventually, a faint shout from someone on deck grabs their attention, and Reiju strides over to the window to take a look. 

“Snail ships,” she says, her back stiffening.

“How many?” Ichiji wants to know.

“Too many.” His sister replies, before adding somberly, “The castle’s in the lead.”

Someone lets out a low whistle, probably Yonji, but possibly Niji. The castle was only deployed when the entire army was on the move, and the children all lived in Germa long enough to know that. Judge isn’t messing around here. He means business.

“I’m sure I don’t need to ask this question,” Zeff starts, giving her a tired look. “But are you going out to meet him?”

In answer, she holds out a hand, both her intention and request plain. Looking like he’d rather be doing anything else, Zeff nevertheless takes it and helps her to her feet, tucking the hand carefully into the crook of his elbow so he can help her outside.

The wind hits her the moment they step through the doors, making her wish she’d thought to bring her favourite shawl down with her. Unfortunately, standing straight in the path of the oncoming ships, it’s too late to go get it now.

Zeff whistles low under his breath as he stares out across the water. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more godawful, ugly design for a boat in my life.”

Sora giggles, exactly as he’d meant for her to, and allows herself one last moment to bury her face in his burly shoulder, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You really are a crass old reprobate,” she says fondly.

“That I am,” he agrees. Across from them, a series of smaller ships loaded with armed soldiers are disentangling themselves from the larger snails and speeding towards them with intent. “Thanks for loving me anyway.”

“I’d have done it a thousand times over,” she promises. Then she catches sight of a figure she’d hoped to never have to see again, and her stomach drops. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

He brushes a kiss to the top of her head without ever taking his eyes off the approaching warmonger. “I’m not,” he says simply. “Thirteen years with the most beautiful woman in the world and five perfect children is more than most people can even dream of.”

Telling herself she can’t cry now, Sora focuses her attention back on the encroaching boats. The lead one has just come to a stop upon reaching the deck, and an imposing form with a wild mane of hair and intricate armour climbs aboard.

“So,” Judge says, his voice as deep as she remembers as he has the audacity to set foot in the home she’s built, “you’re still alive, are you?”

Gritting her teeth, Sora gives him the most winsome smile she can muster, the expression reminiscent of the ones she used to make while biding her time back in Germa. “I certainly seem to be.”

He snorts. “Barely,” he decides, after giving her a careful once over that makes her skin crawl. “What a sickly little thing you’ve become, Sora. I’m surprised you’re able to get out of bed, as weak as you look. No matter, though. It’s not you I’m here for.”

Straightening to his full height, he pierces her with a look that she wishes didn’t make her shiver. “Where are my children?”

About to open her mouth with a scathing retort, she’s stopped when someone else beats her to it.

“You don’t have any children.”

All eyes turn to Reiju, who’s just stepped out onto the deck. Niji and Ichiji flank her on either side, while Yonji rounds out the quartet by taking position at her back, and the young woman stands tall, with her head held high.

“You don’t have any children,” she repeats, sweeping a hand through her bangs where only a single slash of pink still remains. “Judge.”

No one moves as the man in question silently examines the four young people standing in front of him. His eyes narrow further and further as he takes them in, until they’re nothing but furious slits when he whirls on Sora.

“You’ve ruined them,” he spits. “My perfect creations, and you’ve taken them and turned them into a shadow of what they should have been.”

Sora stares back at him, unmoved. “All I did,” she says flatly, “was what every parent should. I gave them an opportunity to grow into who they wanted to be. It’s not my fault you never understood why that was so important.”

He snarls at her, and for a second she thinks he’s going to simply kill her outright and be done with it. Instead, he surprises her by holding himself in check. 

“It’s no matter,” he says, even though he’s speaking through visibly clenched teeth. “Once I get them back where they belong, I’ll have all the time in the world to try and repair the damage you’ve caused.”

Sora’s stomach drops. She doesn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her because of course, of course he hasn’t just come here for simple revenge. He wants his missing weapons back, and no doubt he’ll stop at nothing to get them.

Which -

“Over my dead body,” she growls.

“That,” he replies with a smirk, “can easily be arranged.”

She feels Zeff tense where she’s still leaning against him, but it’s the guard captain standing next to Judge - a tall man with a receding hairline - who surprises her most. Arching one eyebrow, he holds himself fully at attention while addressing Judge.

“Sir,” he says, and Sora can easily see the way he’s carefully choosing his words. “She is the Queen.”

Judge scoffs dismissively. “She gave up the throne the moment she left the country.”

Except she hadn’t, and Sora belatedly realizes that’s what the guard captain is getting at. Judge isn’t the Vinsmoke heir, she is. His only claim to the throne is by stint of being married to her. Technically, one of them is committing treason right now, and it’s not her.

Unfortunately, that brief spark of concern seems to be all the captain has in him. His expression smoothing out into one that’s completely unreadable, he nods. “Of course, Sir.”

This distraction dealt with, Judge grunts before turning to the bulk of his assembled men. “The princes and princess are to be taken in unscathed, but everyone else you can kill. However, the Queen is mine. I want her to watch this ridiculous hovel burn before she dies.”

Zeff shifts so that he’s standing between the two of them, physically shielding Sora with his body despite her protests. “Don’t you lay a hand on her.”

In response, Judge looks at him as if he’s barely seeing him. “I really don’t see what you can do to stop me,” he says, and then proceeds to raise one gauntleted hand, gesturing his men forward. “Remember what I said, do not not hurt my children.”

“What a stupid handicap to put on your people,” Reiju says, stepping past the crowd of chefs with her brothers trailing in her wake. She waits until the three of them have spread out on either side of her, all four of them assuming a fighting stance, and smirks. “After all, we’re going to have no issue with hurting them.”

Judge’s eyebrows shoot up, practically disappearing under his idiotic war helmet, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything more. Rather than wait for his men to come to them, Reiju and the boys charge forward, moving in near perfect synch as they cross the deck and launch themselves at the enemy.

Sora watches the entire scene unfold with her heart in her throat. She knows the children are strong, far stronger than normal, and it’s not like they’ve had no training since leaving Germa. Zeff’s taught them as surely as he had Sanji, and they’ve likewise built on the skills they’d already had before coming East. However one might look at it, they’re a force to be reckoned with.

But they’re also horribly outnumbered, and while Judge might not have had them around to experiment on, she has no doubt he’s continued treating his regular soldiers as lab rats. To say nothing of whatever advancements he may have made to his weaponry.

Still, the children hold their own in the fight. Dozens of soldiers go down under the blows they land, some of them hitting the deck and staying there, while others are knocked clear into the water. None of them can match the children for pure speed and strength.

Judge watches this from the sidelines, his expression growing increasingly irate as his men repeatedly try and fail to breach the unspoken perimeter the children have set up. Against her will, Sora feels a sick sense of satisfaction at seeing him realize he might have bitten off more than he can chew.

Then Ichiji goes down, his legs snared in some kind of wire netting, and everything changes.

Reiju turns, shifting her body in a clear bid to help her fallen brother, but throwing herself off balance in the process. Then, no doubt sensing an opening, a veritable tide of soldiers surge forward, converging on prince and princess, effectively sealing them off from their two remaining brothers.

Niji and Yonji react without thinking, both of them lunging at the fray despite Sora’s shouted warning. Exactly as she’d feared, the move leaves their flank exposed, and more soldiers pour forth in a seemingly never ending stream.

Before she knows it, all four of them are down, most of them pinned by sheer weight of numbers as soldier after soldier throw themselves into the mix. 

“Get them in chains!” Judge barks, his eyes alight. Even now, he’s still losing men, with the children lashing out however they can. “Tie them down!”

Tie them down, Sora thinks, her blood boiling, as if they’re nothing but animals to be used as he wishes. Her fury mounting, she pulls away from Zeff’s hold, fully intent on going down swinging if that’s how it has to be.

Zeff grabs for her, bellowing her name in a panic, and the rest of the chefs add their own cries to the mix. Ignoring them all, she continues stumbling forward, desperate to land at least one hit before she falls.

“Mom, no! Wait!” Niji’s shout stops her in her tracks without her permission, and she turns to look at him, frowning in confusion at what she finds.

All four children have stopped struggling. In fact, they’ve gone completely still, raising themselves up as best as they’re able and all staring in the same direction, none of them saying a word. A number of the soldiers holding them share various wary looks, and Zeff uses this opportunity to drag her back towards him.

“What the hell is going on?” He demands, his voice ragged in her ears. “What are they doing?”

“They can hear something,” Sora murmurs back, realization dawning as she remembers just how much keener their senses are. “Something we can’t.”

It’s as the words leave her mouth that this changes. A high pitched whistling sound rings out in the distance, coming from the direction the children are looking in, and getting louder as it approaches. Notably, it seems to be coming from up above.

“You don’t think … ” Zeff starts, his thoughts clearly trailing down the same path hers are.

“He said they were right behind him,” she replies, her gaze locked on the same spot as everybody else’s. “And everyone knows the Thousand Sunny can fly.”

“For short distances!” He snaps. “And that’s madness in and of itself. What did they do to that frigging ship?!”

“I think - we might be about to find out,” she replies, and as she says it, a form begins to take shape in the distance, getting bigger and bigger the closer it gets. Then it fully arrives with a thundering boom.

The Sunny bounces slightly as she hits the water several yards away, sending waves cascading all around her, large enough that the Baratie bobs in her wake. Her smiling figurehead beams down at all of them, and she barely misses a mark as she starts streaming towards them, eating up what little distance there is left between the two ships. 

“Wonder if that helmsman finally joined,” Zeff murmurs faintly. “She’s cutting through the waves awfully smooth.”

“Not really the time, dear.” Sora grits out, snorting when he eyes her askance. 

In front of them, the Baratie’s deck descends into even further chaos. Judge is barking orders, furiously banging his spear against the wooden planks and causing some of them to crack as he simultaneously demands that his men regroup yet not lose their holds on their prisoners. 

Finding herself unreasonably annoyed by such damage, Sora lets out a wordless snarl that unfortunately catches his attention. He turns to her, his eyes narrowing, and starts to stride towards her.

“If you think the arrival of those fools is going to be enough to see me back off, you have another thing coming,” he snaps, raising the spear with intent. “I’ll kill them as surely as I will you, especially that damned failure you’re so foolishly proud of.”

“I’m proud of all of them,” she snaps back, her eyes flashing as he raises the spear still higher. “Your inability to see how amazing they are is entirely your loss.”

He snorts, the spear now held above his head. “You always were too soft for your own good,” he says, moving to sweep the spear down in a vicious arc. “Goodbye, Sora.”

Shouts of protest ring out all across the deck, torn from the throats of the crew and her children alike, but one rises above all the rest.

“Hey, asshole!” Sora looks up, and is shocked to find Sanji’s leapt from the Sunny and is running directly at them, flames licking at his heels as he covers the distance across nothing but air. “Get the fuck away from my mother!”

He spins through the air, his body twisting in a fluid arc as drops downwards, concentrating all his focus on the King of Germa. He catches the man with both feet, sending him flying backwards as he lands.

Sanji doesn’t stop there, though. Taking only a moment to orient himself while Judge is indisposed, he lunges forward, landing on his hands and launching into a furious spin kick that sends soldiers tumbling backwards left and right, away from his sister and brothers.

“I don’t know what you losers think you’re doing, lounging around at a time like this,” he barks at his siblings, “but get the hell up.”

“Shut up, Sanji.” Climbing to her feet, Reiju rolls her eyes in a move that’s pure exasperated older sister. “Also, what took you so long?”

“Oh, you know,” her brother replies glibly. “Pretty sure we took a wrong turn when we were flying over Reverse Mountain. These things happen.”

Reiju gives him an incredulous look, apparently no longer able to keep up the playful banter, and then seems to surprise them both by wrapping him in a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Sanji says, patting her back awkwardly. “I’m just glad we weren’t too late.”

“Eh,” Yonji says with a shrug. “We had them on the ropes.”

“Sure, idiot. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Children,” Sora calls sharply, immediately finding herself under the scrutiny of five piercing blue-eyed stares. “I don’t mean to interrupt your reunion, but we do still have an invading army to deal with.”

Sanji gives her a troubled look that she suspects has nothing to do with Germa and everything to do with how much weight she’s lost since he’d seen her last. Rather than press the issue, however, he nods.

“You’re right,” he says. Fisting his hands in his pants pockets, he turns almost nonchalantly to look at where Judge is climbing to his feet. 

As they watch, the older man tugs off his helmet, one side of it having been caved in thanks to Sanji’s kick, and lets it fall to the deck with a harsh clatter. That done, he straightens to his full height, and glares with his left eye, the right one currently blinded by a stream of blood.

“So this is it,” he sneers, his attention focused squarely on Sanji. “You really think a weakling like you is going to be able to beat me?”

Snorting dismissively, Sanji drags one of his feet along the deck, flames igniting at his heel and then climbing all the way up to his knee. “Only one way to find out,” he drawls, twisting into a crouch that suggests he’s preparing to strike.

He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not fighting him alone.” Niji says calmly, causing all four of his siblings to stare at him. “We’re going to do this together.”

Nobody says anything for a moment, until Yonji clears his throat. “But the soldiers. That’ll leave the Baratie unguarded. Mom, Zeff, and the others will be sitting ducks.”

Unexpectedly, Sanji grins. It’s a wild, delighted thing, suggesting he’s going to enjoy what he has to say next. “That, I can definitely help with,” he declares. Then he cups his hands over his mouth, and yells to where the Sunny is now resting only a couple metres away. “Oi, Captain! How do you feel about kicking a little Germa ass tonight?”

“Shishishi!” Laughs yet another voice Sora hasn’t heard in years. “SURE!”

Sora doesn’t know what she’s expecting to happen next, but it’s certainly not for the sound of twanging rubber to ring out, or for nine figures to be launched from the pirate ship with enough force for them to land in between the Baratie’s crew and the armed invaders, who stare at them in shock.

Standing almost directly in front of her and Zeff, Luffy allows his limbs to snap back into their proper position and casually adjusts his hat on his head. “How’s that, Sanji?”

Her son grins, his teeth flashing brightly in the lantern light that’s illuminating the deck. “Oh, I think that’ll about do it. Deal with the soldiers however you see fit, but Judge is mine, okay?”

As Luffy nods, Sora allows herself a moment to give the rest of his crew a once over.

Standing with a sword in each hand and the white one he’d had even three years ago in his mouth, Zoro’s a pillar of strength at his captain’s left. Then there’s Nami, her bright hair grown out and a staff held at the ready next him, while Usopp, now as muscular as Sanji had claimed and with a massive slingshot at the ready, rounds out that side.

Meanwhile, switching to Luffy’s right gives her her first in-person look at the Strawhats she hasn’t met yet.

Chopper is anything but tiny tonight. Instead, he’s taller than anyone else on the crew, standing poised on Luffy’s other side. Next to him, Nico Robin rests easy on her heels with her arms crossed almost casually in front of her, while next to her, Franky has a number of weapons locked and a wide grin splitting his face.

Moving down the line reveals Brook - arguably the most visually familiar thanks to all his concert flyers - who has his sword drawn and his hollow eyes nevertheless fixed on the enemy. Lastly, and as Zeff had predicted, First Son of the Sea Jinbe has both hands raised in a fighting stance.

Nine pirates, ten including Sanji, but with a reputation as one of the most formidable crews on the seas. Judge can posture all he wants, but the tide of this fight has just irrevocably turned.

As if he can sense where her thoughts are going, Zeff momentarily tightens his grip on her waist. “Don’t go getting cocky, love,” he murmurs, low enough that only she can hear. “It’s not a done deal until they’re all down for the count.”

Nodding to show she’s listening, Sora doesn’t take her eyes off the tableau that’s unfolding in front of them. Though they’re clearly ready to fight, the Strawhats appear to be waiting for something. None of them moves to attack, and she wonders why that is.

Then Sanji grunts. “Let’s do this.”

As one, all five of the children charge at Judge, while the Strawhats brace for a fight of their own. Soldiers stream towards them, ignoring the battle brewing between the king and his offspring, intent on following their orders.

The Baratie’s deck devolves into a war zone almost instantly. If she’d thought the fighting was bad before, that has nothing on what’s happening now. Shouts ring out, metal clashes on metal, and bullets and explosions rip through the air. The stench of spilled blood reaches her nostrils, combining with smoke to make her gag.

As much as she might want to, however, she can’t look away because in the middle of it all are her children, ducking and weaving around the man who’d sired them, landing whatever blows they can as they swarm him.

At first it’s obvious that Judge wants to maintain his intention not to harm them, his desire to capture and contain still out in full force. As the battle continues, though, she can almost see the exact moment when he realizes that won’t be sufficient, and his desire to live outweighs the rest.

He begins lashing out more and more, no longer pulling his blows, and the ones that do manage to connect send whoever they hit sprawling. A sweep of his arm sends both Reiju and Niji tumbling across the deck, a kick to Yonji’s knee makes him howl, and a fist to Ichiji’s jaw sees blood gush from his mouth, the red droplets coursing down his chin and onto his shirt.

Sanji’s the only one he can’t seem to hit, a fact that makes him angrier and angrier with every dodged attack. Spit flies from his mouth as he roars, his rage palpable and seemingly never ending, as he tries again and again to take down the suit-clad figure.

For his part, Sanji barely appears to be breaking a sweat. Not only does he easily avoid Judge’s blows, but he repeatedly sweeps in and lands his own, his harsh kicks connecting with whatever parts of the man he can reach, adding to the damage he’d already done to his face.

And nor is he the only one. Despite the hits they’ve taken, the rest of his siblings lash out with attacks of their own. Reiju reigns down blows on his back, Ichiji swipes at him from the front, and Niji lands a kick to the back of his right leg that sends it buckling.

He tries to catch himself with the spear, meaning to use it to hold himself upright, but Yonji knocks it out from under him with an extended kick. They wrestle for it briefly, Judge trying to maintain his grip even as he’s going down, but Yonji’s having none of it.

Emerging as the victor in the struggle, Sora watches her youngest son take the monstrous weapon in both hands and then break the shaft over his knee. Despite being made of metal it gives him no trouble, snapping like a particularly weak twig, and he tosses both pieces into the water with an almost dismissive motion.

Judge lets out a wordless noise of protest, shoving himself up onto his hands and knees, his intention to climb to his feet plain. He’s stopped when several of the children lash out at him, collapsing back to the deck with a look of such betrayed shock that Sora feels a laugh bubble out of her.

“He really thought he could beat them,” she says when Zeff turns to stare at her incredulously. “He’s so far gone that he truly thought the fact that they have emotions now means he’s stronger than them.”

Zeff blinks. “While I don’t disagree with you, Your Majesty, perhaps now isn’t the time for a fit of giggles.”

“I’m not giggling,” she says, brushing his comment aside with a wave of her hand. “I’m … well, quite possibly I’m in shock.”

“Sora …” He starts, but she ignores his worried tone in favour of surveying the battlefield, such as it is.

She and Zeff have been pushed back almost to the Baratie’s entrance, with the rest of the chefs clustered around them. The Strawhats are scattered all over the place, most of them at least in sight, but both Zoro and Brook are nowhere to be found, and her own children are circling the fallen king like they’re not sure what to do with him.

“You don’t think …?” Zeff says, trailing off as he eyes them warily.

“No,” she replies calmly, easily able to interpret his unasked question. “They’re not going to kill him.”

Zeff sighs. “That’s probably for the best, but a nasty part of me is saying otherwise.”

“I understand,” she says. “I have a similar voice saying the same thing. In fact - ”

She never gets a chance to complete her sentence. Half a dozen Germa soldiers leap down from the roof, landing directly in front of her with their weapons raised. She hears the sound of a triggers cocking, feels Zeff start to twist in a futile attempt to shield her, and opens her mouth to scream.

Then the soldier directly in front of her frowns unexpectedly, his eyes going comically wide, and that’s when another shadow drops from the roof. Blades flash, cleaving through weapons and armour alike, and the next thing she knows she’s surrounded by a pile of groaning men, while a lone figure stands in front of her with three swords raised and a sheen of sweat glistening on his bare shoulders.

In the distance, she can see all five of her children standing in various states of shock. Based on their posture, they’d all been about to rush to her aid, only to freeze when the newcomer had gotten their first. Now they’re gaping in open confusion.

Sanji recovers himself first. Drawing himself up to his full height, he balls his fists up at his sides and directs a furious glare at her saviour. “For the love of god, you itinerant cactus,” he hollers. “Put a shirt on in front of my mother!”

Rolling his remaining eye, Zoro ignores this order and instead turns to Sora while sheathing two of his three swords. “You okay?” He asks, his voice a deep rumble that she finds oddly soothing.

She smiles up at him. “Yes, sweetie,” she assures. “But thank you for the save.”

Reasonably certain she can see a blush fanning across his cheeks even in the faint light, she’s expecting him to nod and then throw himself back into the fray. Instead, he surprises her and comes to a rest on her other side, standing opposite from Zeff. 

“I’ll keep an eye on things here,” he says, resting the flat of his only unsheathed sword against his shoulder. “In case they try something like that again.”

“Doubt they’ll be that stupid,” Zeff mutters. Although he does not, notably, try and shoo the younger man away any further.

Confident that he’s nevertheless right, Sora runs a critical eye over the Baratie’s deck. It’s definitely seen better days, and the amount of repairs needed are significant, but for the most part the battle appears to be over. A couple pockets of soldiers are still fighting, but most of those that can have surrendered, apparently not interested in meeting the fate of their brethren.

Or, for that matter, their leader. Judge is still sprawled across the deck, being further held down by the foot Niji has planted on his back to keep him there. His eyes are wild, though, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth in his attempts to claw himself upright.

Reiju watches him warily for a few moments, before coming to a decision. Waving Niji back, she waits for her brother to rejoin the rest of them, and then leans down until she and Judge are practically nose to nose.

“You’ve lost,” she says, her voice carrying clearly across the entire ship and then further out into the water. “Either accept that, or die.”

“Absolutely not!” He snaps, pushing himself to his knees. “I understand why the failure has turned against me, and you were always the most softhearted after him, but I won’t leave here without the most important of my creations.”

“Niji, Yonji.” He says, turning an imploring look on the two young men in question. “You want to come home, don’t you? You want to let me make you into what you could be, what you’re supposed to be?”

Neither man replies, the pair of them choosing instead to glare at him disdainfully, and he briefly closes his eyes. He stays like that for a moment, breathing deeply through his nose, before focusing his attention on the only option left.

“Ichiji,” he says firmly, his gaze locked on the oldest son. “You were the strongest, the best of all my children. I could always count on you to follow my orders without question, and with you by my side I could do anything. You want that back, don’t you? You want to come back to me.”

The entire deck goes silent, even the nearby waves stilling, and the only sound is the faint click of Ichiji’s heels as he walks towards the fallen king. Nobody moves, nobody even really breathes, as he tucks his hands into his pants pockets, and leans down exactly the way his sister had.

“I want nothing to do with you,” he says softly. Then he straightens, shifting as if he’s about to walk away, only to turn at the last moment, and slam a single, precision kick directly into Judge’s face.

It’s a move that’s pure Sanji, pure Zeff, a legacy of the family they’d built as opposed to the one Judge had tried to force on them. The king slumps, the fact that he’s about to lose consciousness clear, and he stares up at Ichiji with a baffled look while blood pours from his obviously broken nose.

Ichiji stares impassively back at him for several moments, but at the last second one corner of his mouth ticks up in a minute grin.

“I learned that one from my father.”

*****

“You should have told me.”

Sora glances over at Sanji, smiling at him where he has himself planted on the side of her bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he leans forward into her personal space. “Is that so?” She asks quietly.

“Yes,” he insists, one hand fisted in his hair, while the other digs its way into the bedding beneath him. “I would have done something. I would have come home - ”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you, and why I forbade your father and siblings from doing so either,” she informs him, unable to stop herself from laughing when his face goes nearly purple with frustration. “I refuse to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”

“You're my mom,” he says, as if that trumps anything. She supposes perhaps in his mind it does, but she’s not about to humour him here.

“I am aware,” she says instead. “It was the main reason behind my actions.”

She feels like the dirty look he shoots at her is unwarranted, but she’s also bright enough to know she’s not going to be able to change his mind. Patting his closest hand gently, she shrugs. “It’s alright. You’re here now.”

“Barely in time,” he grumbles, and whether he’s referring to her health or the previous night’s battle now, she’s not sure.

The Baratie is closed indefinitely for repairs. Even though the Strawhats had tried their best to contain the fighting to the outer deck, they hadn’t been entirely successful. The kitchen and dining room are both trashed, barely functional enough to feed everyone present, and while the family’s living area is fine, the staff rooms below deck weren’t so lucky. It’s going to take a while to sort things out, even with Franky’s offer to help.

Thinking of the quirky cyborg makes her smile. She’d been introduced to all the new Strawhats in the aftermath of the fight, and become reacquainted with those she’d already known. She finds them all delightful, and she’s grateful for the opportunity to have met them before it was too late.

Luffy, Zoro, Nami, and Usopp have all grown so much since she’d seen them last, in some ways they’re practically unrecognizable. Meanwhile, Franky is quirky as noted, as well as a devoted partner to Robin, who in turn has a unique sense of humour hiding behind her grim exterior. Jinbe watches over them all like a doting father, Brook is remarkably charming for a dead man, and Chopper is exactly as precious as Sanji’s letters had always insisted.

Thinking of the little reindeer does make her smile dim slightly, however. He’d personally treated everyone who’d been injured in the fight to defend the Baratie, and then he’d insisted on examining her even though she hadn’t suffered so much as a single scratch.

Sora’s very tired of being poked and prodded by physicians at this point, but she’d agreed at Sanji’s request. Part of her regrets that now, though. He seems convinced there’s something that can be done to cure her, and she’s concerned he might be putting undue pressure on his crew mate. Especially because as soon as he’d finished his examination and listened to the story of her illness, the doctor had disappeared onto the Germa flagship with a number of other Strawhats in tow.

And speaking of Germa, therein lay yet another issue they need to figure out how to deal with. 

The guard captain who’d initially questioned Judge at the start of the fight - Koda, apparently - had survived the battle relatively unscathed. He’d orchestrated a complete surrender despite Judge’s vitriolic threats of vengeance, and is now insisting that it’s up to her, as the person with the only legitimate claim to the throne, to decide what happens next.

“We need to come up with a plan,” she says, closing her eyes tiredly. “And yes, by that I mean I’m serious about what I said earlier. I don’t care if none of you like it.”

When she opens her eyes again, it’s to the sight of her entire family eyeing her. Zeff’s in his usual armchair. Sanji, Reiju, and Yonji have somehow all found seats for themselves on her bed, Niji’s dragged a chair in from somewhere and is straddling it with his arms hooked over the back, and Ichiji’s leaning against the dresser. All six of them look like they’re thinking the exact same thing.

Mainly that she’s lost her mind.

Well, they can think what they want, it won’t change her decision. Squaring her shoulders, she glances at each of them in turn, one after another, until her gaze finally stops on Reiju. “I’m going to renounce my claim, but only after I’ve made sure there’s no way Judge can take the crown back after I’m gone.”

All five of the children flinch at the reference to her impending demise, and she suspects the only reason Zeff doesn’t is years of practice at ignoring her more maudlin comments. Instead, he just gives her a flat look.

“Cutting the bastard’s head off would solve that problem as easily as what you’re suggesting,” he says mildly. 

“Maybe,” she says, although she doesn’t think that’s actually guaranteed, “but it would also mean sinking to his level, which I refuse to do. And,” she adds pointedly, “it would be giving him an easy way out. I rather like the idea of him seeing everything he’s tried to build get torn down around him.”

“Hear hear,” Reiju says, but her tone and expression don’t match her words. She knows what’s coming, and she’s not happy about it.

Sora gives her a tight smile, needing to make one thing very clear. “This is entirely voluntary, darling. If you refuse, and your brothers do as well, it’ll die with me.”

“No. It won’t.” Reiju replies, raising her head high and looking every inch the crown princess she’s once again become. “I won’t let that happen. I’m willing to inherit the throne, and I’ll work to fix whatever messes Judge created.”

Sora smiles, relieved yet at the same time almost disappointed. “I have every faith in your ability to do so,” she says. “And I’m sure your brothers will help any way they can.”

“I mean, sure,” Yonji says, speaking up when none of the others do. “The whole thing’s really weird, though. Does this mean we’re going to be Vinsmokes again?”

Even Sora blinks this time. None of them have used that name in years. ‘Just Sora’ was how she’d introduced herself long ago on a barren rock in the middle of the ocean, and ‘Just Sora’ she’s been ever since.

“I suppose,” she says slowly, needing some time to wrap her head around the idea. “That’s exactly what that means.”

Everyone falls silent, seemingly digesting this news, except - 

“Um,” says Sanji, blushing a furious red when all eyes turn to look at him.

“ … Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Eggplant?” Zeff asks when he doesn’t say anything further.

“Um,” Sanji repeats, his eyes now darting to the open bedroom doorway, and the lone figure who’s been silently lurking in it since he’d been summarily deposited there when Sanji’d stormed in earlier, all worked up.

Zoro stares back at him, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and a visible blush darkening his cheeks. “If you want to tell them, I’m not going to stop you,” he mutters, fixing his eye on the floor.

“Oh hell,” Zeff groans, while Ichiji points between the two and crows an unusually emphatic ‘I knew it!’ “I didn’t figure you idiots would’ve taken things that far already.”

Yonji and Niji make a series of confused noises, but are quickly drowned out by Reiju. Reaching across the bed, she grabs her second youngest brother’s shirt and shakes him by the collar. “Did you get married without us?” She demands, scandalized.

“What?! No!” Sanji yelps, struggling to free himself from her grip. “I just - I mean, that is. I may have agreed to get married without you, that’s all.”

“Way to make that sound like you should have voted by committee, Curls,” Zoro says dryly.

“You shut up!” Sanji snaps, jabbing a furious finger at him. “You’re still on thin ice for your extremely lacklustre proposal.”

Zoro narrows his good eye, seemingly having forgotten that the rest of them are in the room. “Who’re you calling lacklustre, jackass?” He demands, planting his hands on his hips. “I pulled an ‘I object’ moment in the middle of you trying to sacrifice yourself to a marriage of convenience. Show me something more romantic than that, I dare you.”

“Oh, I don’t want to know,” Zeff groans, while Sanji sputters indignantly. “Whatever you two are getting at sounds like it’s going to be hell on my stress levels.”

“It will,” Zoro agrees. “You’re not going to believe the stupid stunt he pulled when Judge first tracked him down.”

“Not now, Mossball,” Sanji says, his eyes glinting dangerously. He waits until Zoro gives him a begrudging nod and then sniffs. “Anyway. For anyone who’s still confused, no, I did not get married and take this idiot’s name already. I did, however, lose my mind and agree to do so at some point in the nebulous future. Therefore, there’ll be no returning to Vinsmoke for me.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Reiju says thoughtfully, smirking when Sanji shoots her an offended look. “Oh, don’t take it like that. I just mean you’re a wanted pirate. It might not be a good idea for you to have open ties with a royal family.”

“Woman’s got a point,” Zoro notes, and Sanji nods.

“Fine, yes. Wonderful. Glad we got that sorted,” he grumbles. “You can all wipe the stupid looks off your faces anytime now.”

Sora gives him another quick pat on the hand before anyone else can say anything. “We’re very happy for you, darling,” she says, her tone such that it dares anyone else to comment. “This is wonderful news.”

He licks his lips, looking suddenly embarrassed. “You, uh, don’t seem overly surprised.”

“She’s sick, not blind,” Zeff snorts. “Lettuce head there’s had his eye on you from day one, and you were no better. All those letters you sent home were like watching the whole thing play out in real time.”

“They were not!” Sanji snaps, blushing furiously. “Old man, I think you’ve finally gone senile. In fact - !”

Allowing herself to tune them out, Sora reclines back against her pillows, enjoying the way the familiar voices wash over her, even raised in ire as they are. For the next little while she has all her family home, and she intends to make the most of this gift.

*****

It takes three days before Chopper deems her fit enough to get out of bed again. The doctor’s been by at least a dozen times during that time frame, sometimes to run tests, and others just to monitor her vitals and ask her questions. He seems almost preoccupied when he talks to her on occasion, but still gives her a sweet smile every time she thanks him for checking on her.

The morning of the third day dawns bright and clear, with very little wind. Reiju helps her dress in the nicest clothes she has, even going so far as to style her hair and make suggestions about jewelry. Then she vanishes out the door once deeming her presentable, only to reappear a few minutes later with Yonji in tow.

“Doc says you’re likely going to overexert yourself today as it is,” he says sheepishly. “So Zeff told me to give you a hand coming down.”

It takes her a moment to figure out what he’s getting at, and when she does her immediate reaction is to tell him not to be ridiculous. The only thing that stops her is his earnest expression, and after a few moments, she acquiesces with a quiet sigh.

He lifts her as if she weighs nothing, one hand curled protectively around her back, while the other comes up under her knees. Not knowing what else to do with her arms, she curls them around his neck, barely being jostled thanks to how carefully he’s moving.

Zeff and the rest of the boys are waiting downstairs for them, while Luffy and the remainder of the Strawhats join them as they step outside. Nobody says much as they all pile into a small boat to ferry them across to the Germa flagship, though she catches Sanji curling his lip in distaste.

Yonji picks her up again once they’re back on land, effortlessly carrying her across courtyards she never thought she’d see again. His steps don’t falter as he walks, but she nevertheless draws him to a halt when they reach the main castle doors.

“I’m afraid I’m not willing to go any further like this, sweetheart,” she says, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “I will be damned if I let that bastard see me be carried like an invalid.”

He looks at Zeff first, clearly looking for permission, and she snaps her fingers to get his attention back on her. Making a guilty face, he nods silently, and sets her carefully on the ground.

“Thank you,” she says, patting his cheek. Then she adjusts the shawl around her shoulders - slightly faded after thirteen years of use, but she’ll be damned if she’s wearing a different one - and nods at the still closed doors.

They huge wooden structures swing inwards under pressure from Franky and Jinbe, after which both pirates duck backwards to rejoin their crew. Taking a deep breath, Sora moves to step forward.

Zeff had been adamantly opposed to her doing this alone, which is why he holds the spot at her left, forever willing to catch her if she stumbles. Reiju, thanks to the role she’s going to play, holds the spot on her right, while all four boys line up perfectly in synch behind them. 

The walk to the throne room seems much longer than she remembers, and she’s gritting her teeth in exhaustion, keeping herself going by sheer force of will by the time she reaches the correct doorway. Refusing to falter now, she crosses the threshold with the others trailing in her wake.

Guards decked out in full Germa regalia line the walls, and what nobles that remain cluster together in groups, unease rolling off them in waves as she and her entourage pass by. 

Captain Koda nods at her as she approaches, after which he glances at where Judge, his armour gone and his arms in shackles, stands surrounded under armed guard. Sora nods in turn, waving her family off to the right, while the Strawhats head left by Judge.

Steeling herself, she takes a deep breath and steps forward yet again, determined to climb the last few steps completely on her own.

The throne that dominates the room isn’t the one she remembers, the original no doubt not having been ornate enough to suit Judge’s delusions of grandeur. Nevertheless, she reaches the overwrought monstrosity without issue, and takes a seat.

Her feet barely reach the floor, the foolish thing is so high, and she gives it a disgusted once over before planting her hands on each of the arms. Then she watches as the guards shove Judge forward until he stands all alone below her.

She gives him a bright smile that’s edged with ice. “Kneel.”

His answering smirk is exactly as annoying as she’d expected it to be. “No.”

Refusing to let her irritation show on her face, she presses her fingers a little harder against the arms of her seat. “I said. Kneel.”

“And I said no,” he shoots back. “You can sit there and sneer at me all you want, but I will never sink to your level. You’re nothing compared to me, and I’ll - ack!”

His startled exclamation almost covers up the sound of his knees hitting the floor as both his legs buckle beneath him. Behind him, looking unconcerned, Zoro calmly pulls back the white sheathed sword he’d just slammed into the older man’s calves.

“What?” He asks, sounding bored as he casually hooks the sword back on his belt. “He was being annoying.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Sanji pinching the bridge of his nose, but the rest of the family are all wearing varying looks of approval. Nodding at the young swordsman once, she flashes him a quick smile and then motions for him to step back again.

Once Zoro’s retaken his place at Luffy’s side, that leaves Judge all alone, glaring balefully up at her. She allows herself a moment to let her eyes rove over him, noting with a fair amount of petty glee his broken nose, damaged eye, and other assorted cuts and bruises, before she clears her throat.

“Vinsmoke Judge,” she says in a voice that somehow manages to carry over the entire room, “you have been found guilty of high treason for your attempts to wrongfully usurp Germa’s throne, and your crimes against the royal family. For these reasons, you are to be formally stripped of all ranks and titles. You will also be given to the first available marine liaison, where it is anticipated you will serve out a life sentence in Impel Down.”

She winces inwardly at this, still not sure how she feels about sinking so low, but it had been Luffy of all people who’d pointed out how unlikely it was that anywhere else would be able to contain him. Given that the young pirate has more reason than most to hate the navy’s prison, she supposes it really is the only option.

“In addition to the punishment I’ve just outlined, I want you to be aware that your horrible laboratories are going to be dismantled. Any experiments you have ongoing will be terminated, and it is my intention to have any research contained therein destroyed. Your legacy is over, Judge. You’ll be nothing but a failed footnote in Germa’s history.”

“However,” she says, leaning forward with no small amount of anticipation, a dark, nasty part of her enjoying his enraged expression, “I’m not going to stop there. There’s one last thing you can give me, and I intend to obtain it by any means necessary.”

“And what’s that?” He asks, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.

Sora smiles.

“I want a divorce.”

*****

“So, wait,” Nami says, gesturing with the kebab she’s been nibbling on throughout the course of an impromptu get-together back on the Baratie. “Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand why you want to divorce your sleazebag ex, but why’s Judge so ticked off about the whole thing?”

“Because it formally does away with even the smallest iota that he might have a legitimate claim to the throne,” Reiju explains before Sora has a chance. “As long as he and mom were still married, if he somehow managed to avoid Impel Down he’d remain a threat in that manner.”

“If he avoids Impel Down, we’re just going to kill him outright,” Niji grunts from where he’s busily tearing into his own meal. “I’m not going through this again.”

“Niji,” Sora scolds, but she has to admit her heart’s not really in it. It’s been a very long, very trying day, and even comfortably ensconced in a pile of blankets and cushions, she can still hear the faint strains of her bed calling. “None of that now.”

“Sorry, Ma.” He replies, not looking sorry at all. 

Beside him, Yonji shakes his head sadly. “Can you believe this?” He asks the room at large. “He’s been second in line for Germa’s throne for all of three hours, and he’s already talking about executing people. You might want to keep an eye out for potential coups, Reiju.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” their sister says dryly. Eyeing a dessert spread before her, the newly crowned Queen of Germa carefully selects a chocolate covered strawberry and bites into it gleefully. “None of you have ever been able to beat me in a fight.”

Her brothers huff out various noises of protests, all of which she ignores in favour of turning back to Nami. “Was there anything else you were wondering about?”

“Not really,” the navigator replies with a shrug. “Honestly, I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around the facts that one) Sanji’s a literal prince, and two) he’s giving all that up to marry Zoro.”

Zoro lets out an offended ‘Hey’ at this, and Sanji gives him a condescending pat on the head, before nodding at the redhead. “Technically, I’m not giving anything up. I’m just far enough back in the succession that it’s likely to be a moot point.”

“Hold on,” Usopp says, yanking his gaze away from the meat he’s been thoroughly coating in the spiciest hot sauce Zeff could find for him. “You’re going to keep being a prince?”

“Well, yeah,” Sanji says, palming awkwardly at the back of his neck. “It was an accident of birth, I can’t really overturn it.”

“Uh, your mom literally just did.”

“No,” Sora corrects. “I abdicated in Reiju’s favour to try and make for a smoother transition, but I can understand why you might be confused.”

“Never mind that,” the sniper says excitedly. “I have a more important question now. If Sanji’s still a prince, then what does that make Zoro when they get married?”

“Nothing,” says Zoro.

“A prince consort,” say Sanji, Reiju, and Ichiji at the same time.

“What?!” Zoro yelps, his good eye widening in horror.

“Don’t worry,” Sanji says, giving him another pat. “We’d need Reiju, Ichiji, and Niji to all die both before us and without any children of their own for that to become a problem. I think we’re good.”

“We better be,” Zoro grumbles, staring moodily into the tankard of ale Sanji hands him as an appeasement gesture. “Because if you think I’ve got plans to learn any of that royal frou frou shit, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Please,” Sanji says, sounding pained. “Most days I consider it a win if I can get you to shower. I know better than to set my expectations that high.”

The two start bickering back and forth between themselves, but at a volume low enough for most of the room to ignore. Giving them one last, indulgent smile, Sora curls further into her blankets, putting only minimal effort into covering the yawn that tries to escape.

“Tired, Your Majesty?” A quiet voice asks, and she tilts her head to the side to find Zeff watching her fondly.

“You really have to stop calling me that now,” she says, extricating one hand from her cocoon so she can wag an admonishing finger at him. “I’m officially no longer a queen and everything.”

He catches the hand with one of his own, bringing it to his lips in a single smooth motion and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “You’ll always be a queen in my eyes,” he teases. “The most beautiful, elegant, and regal woman I’ve ever met.”

“Oh stop,” she says, blushing furiously as she twists her hand to pinch his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guilty as charged.” He replies, and Sora would continue chastising him if not for the act of Luffy suddenly raising his hand.

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” he says, the words garbled because he’s still trying to chew the hunk of meat in his other hand at the same time. “Now that you’re divorced, you can - ow! Nami, that hurt! - you can get married again, right?”

“Well, technically yes,” Sora agrees, wondering why he’s interested. “I could.”

“Cool. So what would that make Pops there if you did?”

“That’s much more complicated,” she says. “And, much though I’m not opposed to the idea,” she adds, catching Zeff’s eye and chuckling when he nods easily, “I’m afraid I have more pressing things on my mind these days.”

“Because you think you’re dying, right?” He asks, his voice softer now as she stares at her, his meal temporarily forgotten.

“Oh my god, Luffy - ”

“It’s alright,” Sora says, raising her hand to reassure a scandalized Nami. “I’m not offended. Especially because it’s true.” She glances back at the young pirate captain, meeting his gaze with her own. “Yes, Luffy, because of that.”

“Hmm,” he says, tapping his half-stripped bone almost absently against his plate. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re not going to let that happen then. You should get to have your whole happy ending after everything you’ve been through.”

Then, his piece said, he returns to his meal, tearing into the remaining meat with gusto as everyone else in the room stays silent.

*****

Sora tries very hard not to get her hopes up in the face of the Strawhats’ collective certainty that she can somehow be cured. Luffy and Sanji aren’t the only ones who seem to think Chopper can work miracles, and they’ve made it clear they’re staying put until the issue is sorted out.

Their enthusiasm is appreciated, but after twenty one years of slowly deteriorating, she can feel that she’s approaching the end. As nice as it would be to steal more time, time to see Reiju reign, time to see Sanji get married, time to see everyone achieve the things they want, she isn’t foolish enough to think it’s actually going to happen.

That’s why the book she’d been idly paging through drops from suddenly nerveless fingers when, all of forty eight hours after Reiju’s muted coronation, Chopper tells her he’s been successful.

“I’m sorry, what?” Positive she must have heard him wrong, she sets the book down on her end table with stilted movements before folding her hands in her lap. “Could you repeat that, please?”

Chopper smiles at her from where he’s perched on a stool next to her bed, preferring that to Zeff’s armchair. Elsewhere in the room, Robin and Usopp nod encouragingly. 

“I’ve found a treatment for you,” the doctor says a second time, speaking the words as simply as if he’s commenting on the weather. “It’s not a permanent cure, you’ll have to take the medication every day for the rest of your life, but it’ll stop any further deterioration and reverse some of the worst effects you’re already facing.”

Sora stares at him, at a loss for words. “How?” She finally demands upon finding her voice. “Judge worked for years and couldn’t find anything. How did you manage to get anywhere in less than a week?”

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting, but it’s not for Chopper’s normally sweet face to morph into an enraged scowl. “Judge,” he says, hissing the name out between clenched teeth, “was a liar as well as a monster.”

Blinking, Sora fidgets with the hem of one of her blankets. “I suspect I can’t disagree with that on principle, but what do you mean?”

In answer, Chopper looks over his shoulder at Robin. “You’re the one who found the research,” he tells his crew mate. “Maybe you should give the explanation.”

Her face unreadable, Robin nods and steps closer to the edge of the bed. “It’s quite simple, I’m afraid. All those tests Judge ran when the boys were young? They were because he was trying to figure out what you’d done so he could ‘fix’ Sanji and prevent the possibility of it cropping up in the others. He never looked for a cure.”

Sora sits silently for a moment, digesting this. “Just when I think he couldn’t get any more vile,” she murmurs faintly. “But was it really something so simple that a few days worth of lab work would sort it out?”

“Oh, no, not even remotely,” Robin says. “That’s actually the worst part. Judge may not have looked for a cure, but he found one anyway. About six years in, he stumbled over it by accident while trying to reverse engineer the effects on the boys.”

Sora freezes, letting that sink in. She’d fled when the boys were eight, which meant … “Oh that bastard,” she snarls. “He had something that could help a full two years before I ran, and he sat on it the entire time?”

“So it seems,” Robin said, her own face dark. “I stumbled over the details when searching through one of the laboratory archives. It was barely more than a throwaway line in a book.”

“Which is the other reason we’re only coming to you now,” Chopper says. “I wanted to run as many tests as I could think of before coming to you with what we’d found. Plus, the medicine requires some very specific herbs and meticulous preparation. That’s where Usopp came in. He’s got a knack for that stuff.”

“I was happy to help,” Usopp says earnestly when she shifts to look at him. “And I’ll show anyone who might need to know how to cultivate the ingredients.”

“I - I don’t know what to say,” Sora murmurs, still unable to wrap her head around what she’s hearing. “I - are you sure, Chopper? It’s not even me I’m worried about so much, but I don’t think I’ll be able to handle my family’s disappointment if you tell them you can help me and then it doesn’t work.”

Chopper rests a tiny hoof on the side of her bed, peering up at her with one of the most earnest expressions she’s ever seen. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I wasn’t absolutely positive about this, Sora. As I said, it’s not a perfect cure all, and you’re always going to have issues with things like sudden fatigue, but this will give you the life expectancy you were always meant to have.”

“Barring any unforeseen incidents such as the Baratie sinking or other random acts, of course.” Robin adds with a sweet smile.

Chopper grimaces, while Usopp buries his face in his hands.

“Robin,” the young man says tiredly. “Robin, I have begged you a thousand times to keep your creepy predictions to yourself.”

“Oh yes, my apologies.”

Sora laughs, she can’t help it. She tries to hide it by covering her mouth with her hands, but it slips out regardless of her attempts. “You really are just the most remarkable group of people,” she gasps. “I’m so glad to have met you all. Especially you, Chopper. You truly are the best doctor I’ve ever met.”

“Awww, that doesn’t make me happy at all!” Chopper chirps, wriggling in his seat. “Hopefully you still feel that way after you’ve tried the medicine. Usopp says that based on the ingredients he’s not sure even Sanji could make it taste good.”

Grabbing his closest hoof with both her hands, Sora shakes it with what strength she possesses. “Chopper,” she says seriously, “I truly could not care less. Do your worst.”

*****

Usopp’s prediction turns out to be true, and the first draught of medicine she knocks back leaves her gagging. Still, it’s a small price to pay for the looks on her family’s faces when she breaks the news to them a little while after it’s begun to take effect.

“You’re … going to get better?” Ichiji says. The line is more of a question than a statement, but she answers anyway.

“So the doctor tells me,” she replies, unable to keep a smile off her face any longer, especially when his jaw drops slightly. “It’s not a perfect solution, and I’ll be on medication for the rest of my life, but …”

“But that’ll be a lot longer than we were afraid of.” Yonji cuts in. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she agrees. “Although if you want to understand all the minute details, you’re better off talking to Chopper, not me.”

“I can’t believe the little guy did it.” Niji says, for some reason, proceeding to punch Sanji in the arm triumphantly. “That’s crazy.”

“Well,” Sora admits, her smile dimming a little. “In a way, he wasn’t without help.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Reiju asks, on the words like a dog with a bone. 

She’d debated whether or not it’d be worth telling them the whole truth, and in the end decided they at least deserved to know. Part of her wonders if that was a good idea as the tale unfolds, especially with the way Reiju’s face darkens.

“You know,” her daughter says coolly, leaning back and making a show of examining her nails. “Technically, I’m pretty sure I can have Judge executed now.”

“Reiju.” Sora scolds, meeting the younger woman’s gaze levely. “Look at it this way, by keeping him alive, he gets nothing but decades to sit and think about everything he’s lost. If you kill him now, that ends immediately.”

“Shrewd, Mother,” Reiju notes. “Very very shrewd.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m flattered to hear you say so.”

Her piece said, she turns to the only remaining person in the room. “You’ve been awfully quiet, darling. Don’t tell me you don’t have anything to say.”

“I,” Zeff starts, his eyes bright and his voice husky, “haven’t got the faintest idea of where to begin.”

Smiling, Sora trails her hand over his cheek, swiping at a bead of moisture lurking at the corner of his eye. “I don’t care what anyone says, you really are a sentimental old fool.”

“I fail to see how my being happy to hear that the woman I love isn’t dying makes me a fool,” he retorts, mock glaring at her. “I dare anyone to react differently under similar circumstances.”

“Plus, we always knew there was a mushy side lurking under that tough exterior,” Sanji teases, earning himself a much more natural glare in the process. “Also, hey, old man, does this mean you’re going to make an honest woman out of her now that everything’s said and done?”

Having already turned his attention back to Sora, Zeff doesn’t bother looking away a second time to chastise their son. “If she’ll have me,” he says roughly. “If she’ll have me.”

Sora makes a show of thinking about it until he scowls at her. “Oh, I imagine I could be convinced,” she laughs, feeling lighter than she has in years - if not ever. “But there might really be a royal title that comes with that now.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go commiserate with the lettuce head,” he says without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Sanji mutters with a pointed eye roll. “But he’s still at the point where he openly runs away whenever someone brings the issue up.”

“Then he’s smarter than he looks. Good to know.”

“Never say that where he can hear.”

“Really, though,” Sora says, dragging his attention fully back to her. “You’d marry me even after all this mess?”

He’s quiet for a moment, before pushing his chair back and climbing to his feet. Leaning over, he cups her face in both his hands and presses their foreheads together. “I,” he says firmly, “would marry you a thousand times over if given the opportunity. I’ve got nothing to offer you but what we already have, but if you’d do me the honour of becoming my wife, you’d make me the happiest man in the world.”

“In that case,” Sora says, pretty sure her own heart is about to burst. “I accept.”

He kisses her then, with more fervour than usual, and in a way more reminiscent of a couple half their age. Absolutely delighted by this, she gives as good as she gets, only belatedly remembering their audience when they start to protest.

“Dear god, why?”

“Ugh, parents, that’s gross.”

“Really you two, you could at least wait until we leave the room.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Ew.”

*****

Epilogue

Zeff finds her examining her wedding ring early in the morning, enjoying the way the sunlight glints off the simple gold band.

“Are you ready?” He asks. “Or are you going to keep hiding in here like that’ll somehow change things?”

“I’m not hiding,” she replies, letting her hand fall to her lap with a quiet thump. “Are they ready then?”

“Mhm,” he nods, taking said hand and pressing a kiss to her ring finger, the same way he’s done every day in the past week since he’d first slipped it on. “I’m afraid so.”

Sora sighs. “Even though I knew this was coming, I won’t pretend I’m not sad to see them go.”

“We all are,” he agrees, offering to help her up from her chair out of sheer force of habit and grinning when she twirls away from him with a smirk. “It’s going to be different around here without them, but you know they’ll all be back.”

“Of course,” she says, walking to the door and stepping on ahead of him. “Even if I wasn’t already certain of that, they’ve all taken great pains to assure me. Both individually and collectively might I add.”

His resulting chuckle follows her all the way to the stairwell, and he’s right behind her when she eventually emerges out on the Baratie’s newly repaired deck.

Two ships sit anchored not far away. The Sunny looks as cheery as ever with her Jolly Roger flying and most of the Strawhats already aboard. Meanwhile, Germa’s flagship looks more inviting than it used to, but still more somber than she’d like.

Sanji and Zoro are the only Strawhats still on the Baratie, and she turns to them first. Much to Zoro’s obvious embarrassment, she gives him a quick hug, before moving to share a much longer one with Sanji.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself out there,” she says, gripping him as tightly as she can. “And don’t forget to write.”

“I promise,” he says, hugging her back just as fiercely and kissing her cheek. “You make sure you do the same.”

“It’s a deal,” she says, stroking his hair one last time before he moves away. Then she watches as the two pirates share similar goodbyes with the rest of the family before launching themselves towards the Sunny without bothering with regular transportation.

With one set down, she turns to the next batch, taking in the serene way Reiju smiles at her as she stands in full Vinsmoke regalia, flanked by Niji and Yonji in similar getups.

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she chokes. “I know you already know this, but I’d never want to see you settle for a life you didn’t want.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Reiju agrees, “but someone has to fix the mess Judge made, and I think I’m up to the task. And besides,” she adds, nodding at her brothers. “It’s not like I’m going alone. I’ll have these two along to help if anyone feels like being difficult.”

“I know,” Sora chokes, hugging them each in turn. “I’m just going to miss you all so much.”

“Hey, we’re not going as far as Sanji,” Niji says as he holds her, “and with the speed the snail ships travel at these days we’ll be back so much you’ll get sick of us.”

“What he said,” Yonji agrees, jerking a thumb at his brother. “You’ll barely know we’re gone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zeff scoffs from behind her. “The decrease in our food bill alone will be enough to show things have changed.”

“Oh bite me, old man.”

Sora watches as the three children make the rest of their goodbyes, and then climb into the small dinghy that will ferry them over to the flagship. Only once they’ve started moving away does she turn to the last of the pack. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?”

Exactly as he has every other time someone has asked, Ichiji shakes his head. “No,” he says calmly. “This is where I want to be. I like what I do here, and someone has to keep things running after senility finally catches up with Zeff.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t start,” Sora warns. Motioning for them both to come join her at the railings, she turns to watch as first the Sunny and then the flagship begin to get underway, the two of them drifting in separate directions. “Come wave goodbye.”

The entire staff turns out to see the two ships off, and most of them are still there once both are out of sight. A number of tears are shed at the time, and Zeff has to raise his voice to demand they knock it off and get back to work. 

“Are you coming?” He asks as most of the others filter away.

“I think I need a minute,” she admits, ushering both him and Ichiji - who’s stalled waiting at the front doors - on without her. “I’ll be in soon, though. I promise.”

“Of course,” he says, giving her hand a quick squeeze before leaving to give her privacy. If she listens carefully, she thinks she can hear he and Ichiji already getting into a debate over menu prices for when the restaurant opens up again.

Chuckling to herself, Sora props her elbows on the railing in front of her and rests her chin in her hands. “What a wonderful life,” she says to nobody in particular. “What an unexpectedly wonderful life.”