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“To a successful mission!” Koala toasted.
Everyone raised their glasses in agreement, and various cheers rang out.
Rarely did the Revolutionary Army take a break, but that night, one squad was both deserving of it and happened to have the time for it. It was a very lucky combination.
The mission they were coming from was one in which they were assisting an already existing rebellion. It was a tale as old as time in terms of the actual politics: a monarchy in which a lackluster leader had taken control, and the people deciding that they’d had enough. The Revolutionary Army only helped out the people with the rebellion a bit, but their real job had been to help the people go through different government types that would work for, not against, them, all while making sure the people stayed the ones in control.
The Revolutionary Army never expected much in return from these places, but this time, they were offered an almost alliance with the new government, which stated that the Revolutionary Army would always find food on the table and a warm bed for the night if they ever needed it.
The group of Revs were on their way back to Baltigo now, but had opted to stop at a jungle island on the way back to rest for the night, which had turned into celebrating their victory.
Sabo was hardly an exception to the cheer, having been the CO in charge of the mission.
They had booze, but they had opted to hunt down their food so that it was fresh, and so that they would have extra rations in case anything went wrong (it wasn’t that they didn’t already have extra rations, just that they didn’t want to waste anything since they could hunt on their own).
They had managed to nab more than a few different animals, including a few crocodiles, which, while unusual, had quite a bit of meat on their bones, and to Sabo, smelled the best.
The chef turned the spit the croc meat was on, and Sabo suddenly frowned.
“You need to pull it away from the fire more. If you keep it where it is, it’ll char the outside, but the middle will still be raw,” Sabo said.
The chef turned to gape at him.
“How in the fuck do you know that?”
Sabo was a notoriously bad cook, and it was well known in the Revolutionary Army that Sabo cooking in a kitchen was more likely to cause an explosion than Sabo literally making bombs, and if he did manage to make something that didn’t explode, you’d still rather eat the bomb than whatever came out of the kitchen!
“Cause I made it all the time as a kid, it was Luffy’s favorite,” Sabo answered absentmindedly.
Sabo froze.
“Oh shit,” someone said.
It was as well known as his lack of ability to cook that Sabo didn’t have any memories of his childhood.
“Oh shit,” Sabo echoed.
He could remember everything. It just slotted into place like it was never gone.
“Oh god.”
Luffy, Ace; Sabo had forgotten his brothers.
Sabo sank to his knees by the fire, the smell of cooking crocodile cocooning him, taking him back to a pirate ship treehouse, and a jungle that was so incredibly similar to this one.
He wished he could say that it hurt, that having his memories back burned the same way his scars did at times, that it made him fully blind with emotion, that he had screamed or passed out or something.
How dare he? How dare he? How dare he? How dare he? How dare he?
How dare he leave Luffy alone? How dare he leave Ace to deal with his hatred? How dare he let them mourn him? How dare he leave behind his brothers?
Sabo brought a hand up to his cheek. His glove came away wet. He pulled it off. It wouldn’t come off. He brought it up to his teeth and pulled his hand away, letting the glove drop to the ground. Sabo brought a hand up to his cheek. His fingers came away wet.
Sabo then realized in horrifying, immediate clarity that he wasn’t currently alone.
The clearing was near silent. Some had turned away, and others looked from the corners of their eyes. Some stared blatantly, not daring to look away (some because of the horrible curiosity that sat in their chest cavities, others because it was like watching a ship sink: they couldn’t look away).
Sabo tried to put back on his mask, tried to pull that happy smile back on his face; they were supposed to be celebrating after all, weren’t they? What kind of party was so quiet?
Sabo broke down sobbing.
He felt like a child (and what a thing it was, for Sabo to remember what that was like for himself).
Someone put their hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away.
“Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Koala said.
Last Sabo had seen her, she had been on the other side of the crowd.
Koala wrapped an arm around his shoulder, this time without him flinching, and pulled him into a hug.
“OI! There’s nothing to see here. Get back to what you were doing,” she yelled, effortlessly taking control of the situation.
She put her hand on the back of his head and tucked him under her chin. She didn’t say anything, but Sabo knew she wanted to know. This was Koala after all, who he had met at ten and antagonized until they became friends.
“I remember,” Sabo whispered into her neck, an answer and a question all at once.
He felt her pause, not understanding for a second, in which he opened his mouth to elaborate. He closed his mouth when he felt her tense. She took a breath.
“Has anything changed, Sabo-kun?” she asked.
It was the same question he had asked her when he told her. How could he know?
“Everything. Nothing. I’m still the same, but my world has changed around me. You can forget everything, but you’ll still only be yourself,” he answered.
Koala smiled into his hair.
“It seems like you’ve got it all figured out, Sabo-kun.”
He shrugged.
“Sabo, what do you want to do?” Koala asked.
She didn’t call him Sabo-kun like when she was being casual, but she didn’t call him Chief either.
Sabo thought about it. Everyone here had just watched him have an emotional breakdown for seemingly no reason. He needed to reassure them, to give them some kind of explanation that wouldn’t ruin his own image, while still maintaining that there wasn’t something wrong.
It was a simple answer once he thought about it.
“Let’s tell them the truth,” he said, pulling away from Koala.
He watched her eyes widen, then he saw the gears turn in her head, going through his thought process without him needing to tell it to her.
“Alright,” she said, “let’s do it.”
Sabo stood up, brushing himself off, and dried his tears with an ungloved hand.
“I’m sorry for the interruption to the party,” he called to a quiet clearing. “I figure you’re all curious-” someone groaned, this was the start to the usual non-answer spiel after all, “-so I figure I ought to explain.”
Someone gasped. No one thought that they’d be getting a real explanation; they weren’t stupid.
“As you all know, around nine years ago now, I joined the Revolutionary Army after being shot down by a Celestial Dragon and losing my memories.”
“No way,” someone whispered to themself.
“I just received them back.”
The clearing was quiet for another second, then there were whoops and cheers, and someone shouted, “Let’s celebrate!”
Sabo smiled. Everyone knew he had been curious for a long time, and even if it had initially caused him distress, he really was glad to have his memories back.
One of the chefs cursed as they realized they’d burnt some of the meat, and another laughed at them because they’d managed to keep an eye on their own food despite Sabo’s big distraction.
The joy in the clearing worked its way back up, and the revs started partying once again.
Sabo would have to actually handle everything after tonight, telling Dragon that he got his memories back, and figuring out how to deal with it emotionally, but for now, he would enjoy the party, save the responsibilities for tomorrow.
(And if Sabo was already starting to plan how many vacation days it would take to visit a certain pirate ship in the New World, then that was his own business.)