Chapter Text
To be a Strawhat Pirate, you have to embrace a certain amount of chaos into your day-to-day life.
That’s just what being part of Luffy’s crew is like, after all. Even the most mundane day is far from boring. Today hasn’t been boring at all though, all of them can agree on that. They’d landed on the island of Punk Hazard and had an adventure and a half there, as well as gained a new ally or three, and a hostage! That’s certainly something the crew has never done before.
Definitely an eventful day, if anyone were to ask Robin.
Eventful days call for relaxing evenings, and nothing hits the spot quite like Sanji’s cooking after a chaotic day like this. That’s exactly the reason why the crew is gathered in the galley to eat sandwiches and unwind. Or onigiri, in the case of one Trafalgar Law. What an interesting man! Robin’s not entirely sure she trusts him yet, but she trusts in her captain. Luffy, for whatever reason, seems to have full faith in Torao and his plan, so she will too. All in all, it’s been a very nice evening, even if their guest is currently trying to throttle their chef for putting umeboshi in one of his onigiri.
At least, until a giant crash and a muffled yelp rings out from the deck. Robin and Zoro both stand up immediately, gesturing for everyone else to stay put until they figure out what made the noise. The swordsman already has one of his katanas half-unsheathed and Robin is preparing to apprehend anyone she sees when she sprouts out an eye to gander at the space outside. What she sees has her gesturing for Zoro to hold still.
What an unusual day, indeed. They left Punk Hazard all of an hour ago, and now there’s a strange woman on their deck in a hospital gown. She’s got blonde hair, and is still attached to an IV drip as she lies on the grass, staring up in utter confusion.
“It’s a woman,” Robin mutters, and Sanji perks his head up from where he’s been fighting with Law.
“Really? Let me see!” Sanji pushes himself out the door, completely ignoring the protests of the rest of their crew that they still have no clue who she is.
This, of course, does nothing to stop him. He rushes out of the galley and onto the top of the stairs leading down to the deck, peering out over the side. Curiously, he goes deathly still upon laying eyes on the woman. Where he’d normally be fawning and falling over himself by now, his posture goes rigid.
The woman looks up upon hearing the door open, and her face shifts through several emotions within the span of a handful of seconds, before landing on apprehension. She takes a few moments to stare at the crowd pouring out of the galley, then to the rest of the ship. Her eyes eventually land on the black flags flying high, their jolly roger out loud and proud. The mystery woman pales.
She looks young, and obviously rather sickly. Even without the hospital gown and IV drip, Robin is sure she would have been able to surmise this. Her skin is colorless to the point of ghastly, her hair looks paper thin, and she’s almost certain the woman is trembling. Although, that could just be from fear. Most average civilians would freak out if they suddenly landed on a pirate ship.
That does beg the question of how this woman landed on Sunny’s deck, though.
Chopper has a look on his face that screams his doctor instincts are acting up, but Franky is holding him back. That’s the smart thing to do, of course. They may be a tough crew with plenty of power all on their own, not even accounting for the Warlord and samurai currently on their ship, but they’re all exhausted after their adventures on Punk Hazard. No matter how harmless the sick woman may look, she may very well be bait for something far more sinister.
Best to keep cautious.
Her captain doesn’t seem to feel much apprehension about the uncertainty of the situation, though. Considering he takes a running leap off the staircase to land right next to the woman.
“Who are you, lady?”
The woman stammers, her posture rigid as she shakes her head. “I apologize, I-”
“Dumbass!” Before Mystery Woman has the chance to explain herself, Nami jumps down to the deck next so she can knock Luffy on the head with her first. “We have no clue if this stranger who just appeared on our deck is dangerous or not! Need I remind you how terribly it usually goes when people mysteriously show up on our ship?”
Luffy pouts. “Aww, c’mon! She’s sick and just as confused as we are!”
“You don’t know that, Luffy!”
“Sure I do, just look at her! Hey lady, are you sick?”
The woman gives their captain a small smile that looks both genuine and uncertain. “I apologize. I truly don’t know how I ended up here… or where here is, exactly. One moment I was in my hospital room, and the next I was here. Are we still in the North Blue, by chance?” Her accent is very distinctly Northern, but her Grand is entirely fluent. Strangely formal, though. Do they have a runaway noble on their ship now?
Sanji seems to have picked himself up from his earlier stupor and lights a cigarette as he begins to speak. He has his head kept down. Sanji, not looking at a woman? The mysteries of the day keep growing, it seems. “We’re not. This is the New World. You weren’t kidnapped, if that wasn’t clear. I have no clue how you ended up here, either.”
“None of us do,” Robin confirms. “Might I ask who you are?”
The woman swallows nervously. “I do not believe it wise to share my identity with pirates, no matter how docile you may seem.”
Law walks down the stairs at pace so casual it feels nearly condescending as he readjusts his nodachi on his shoulder. “That’s wise of you. What’s the last thing you remember from before you ended up here? The more detail, the better. We won’t be able to take you back to wherever you came from any time soon, though. There’s no time for detours, we need to get where we’re going as quickly as possible.”
“I understand. The events that occurred make very little sense to me,” she bows her head apologetically. “My nurse had opened a window for the sake of fresh air. A harmless action, for certain. But unfortunately, that window being open allowed something to hit me. I am unsure what it was– a beam of light, perhaps? The next thing I know, I am here.”
“A Devil Fruit, probably,” the warlord nods in response.
Robin puts a hand to her chin, contemplating the information they have. An eventful day, indeed. “We know of at least one Devil Fruit that can displace a person, but I doubt you had a run in with Bartholomew Kuma. You also didn’t land the way you would have if it were the Paw-Paw Fruit that did this.”
Nami sighs. “Does this mean there could be two kinds of Devil Fruits that can chuck a person across several seas? No thank you. Uh, now that I think about it, can I get a headcount? I didn’t notice anyone missing or disappearing, but is it possible one of us got swapped to where she is?”
“Everyone’s here, I checked,” Franky calls back, also making his way down to the deck with Chopper still in his arms. “Every Strawhat and all our company is accounted for.”
“Rules that out, then. What other options are there, time travel?” A look dawns on Nami’s face. “Wait. I said it, kind of as a joke, but now that I think about it, what year is it for you?”
Mystery Woman seems to consider this train of thought. “It is 1509, no?”
Everyone on deck looks at each other, a weighted silence between them.
“Uh, no. Lady, you’re super in the wrong place and time. It’s 1524.” The look Franky gives her is almost one of pity. “Super in the wrong place and time by, like, fifteen years. Yeouch.”
“Woah, you’re a real life time traveler!” Luffy smiles at Mystery Woman, getting uncomfortably close to her face. “That’s so cool!”
This confirmation of events seems to make everyone who hasn’t already left the stairway to the galley deem the situation safe as they all turn to each other. Robin watches as one by one, they come down to be level with their guest. All except Sanji, who’s still smoking at the top of the staircase. His behavior keeps baffling her. Is he alright? The sheer lack of fawning is concerning.
Zoro hauls Caesar back down with him, the hostage complaining all the way. Mystery Woman’s eyes seem to stick to the display.
“Don’t worry about that guy, he’s here ‘cause he sucks,” Nami says to Mystery Woman, seeing what’s caught her attention.
Sanji snorts, taking a drag off his cigarette. “The mosshead or the clown?”
"I heard that, shitty cook!”
—
Sora stares at the pirates in front of her. That’s what they are, right? Pirates? Most of them look pretty young, though; only a little younger than herself, with a few probably older. The skeleton is strange, though. He’s moving, so he’s certainly real. How does that work?
The boy in the straw hat laughs, getting up close to her face again. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m gonna be king of the pirates! This is my crew–”
“Not in your crew,” the man in the fluffy spotted hat responds. “We’re allies in our current objective and nothing more, got that?”
“Ignore Torao. He’s a captain too, but he’s sticking with us for now. The two cool looking guys are Kin’emon and his kid Momo, they’re samurai from Wano!” Wanoan samurai? How did they end up on a pirate ship? With every passing second, this situation makes less and less sense. An odd dream, perhaps? There’s no way this is real.
Either unknowing or uncaring of her confusion, the captain(?) continues on. “Then we have my crew. The swordsman with the gas guy on his shoulder is Zoro, my navigator is Nami with the orange hair, Usopp is a sniper and he’s the guy with the long nose, Sanji is my cook and he’s got curly eyebrows, Chopper is a reindeer who’s also a doctor, Robin’s my archaeologist and she’s the girl with the black hair, and Brook is the skeleton with the afro. He’s a musician! Got all that, lady?”
If Sora is to be honest with herself, no. She most certainly did not get all that.
It’s far too many names to memorize, and she stopped paying attention about halfway through. Not because she’s trying to be rude, of course, but because one name and description caught her attention in ways she never could have expected.
Sanji, a cook with curly eyebrows? If how the situation appears is to be trusted (and this isn’t a dream), this is supposed to be fifteen years in the future. He’d be 21 right now if Sora truly has time traveled. But her kindhearted and shy little son, a pirate? She can’t imagine that at all. But still, if there’s even the slightest chance that this is her boy, she has to take it. Sora isn’t sure she believes in time travel, but the evidence seems to be staring her in the face. She looks at the blond man still standing at the top of the stairs who’s chainsmoking and pointedly not looking at her. Could that really be her son?
She can distinctly feel the sting of where she fell onto the deck, and the sun shining on her face, and doesn’t remember falling asleep either. Maybe this really isn’t a dream. But the future? Is that possible?
If that’s really him, she’ll stick around for as long as it takes to get to know her son as an adult. She has no illusions that she’ll live long enough to see it in her own time.
She just hopes that wherever her little son and daughter are in her time, they don’t try to visit her room any time soon.
“Sanji?” she calls, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.
The man stiffens, a hand coming up to land firmly in his hair as he nods.
Sora smiles faintly, feeling the telltale prick of tears in her eyes. “Well come down here and let me have a look at you, then.”
The rest of the crew looks on in curiosity, and she finds herself wondering how much about Sanji’s life that his crew knows. Obviously he got away from Germa at some point, but how long ago was that? Was this crew the reason he left, or was it something before that? So many questions and yet so few answers as her son awkwardly walks down the stairs like all his friends did before him.
Friends, isn’t that wonderful? Even if they’re pirates, her little Sanji has friends.
He stubs out his cigarette and takes a shaky breath in. “How can I know it’s really you? How do I know you’re not a hallucination created to lure me in, created by an enemy?”
“Your caution is appreciated, but I promise that I am not an apparition.” Sora pauses. There’s an easy way to prove this! She looks up at her son, and switches to speaking in her elegantly perfected High Northern.
“In my time, the date is March 11th, 1509. That is one week and one day after your 6th birthday. You spent the morning at my bedside with a coloring book I gave you as a birthday present. Every illustration was handmade by me, and was inspired by things you enjoy. You gave me this bright, beaming smile as you told me you loved me when you received it.”
The best way she could think of to describe the look on her son’s face was shell-shocked. “I remember that coloring book. I accidentally ripped a page in it and I cried in your arms for ages. I spent so long apologizing, even though you kept telling me it was okay.” He licks his lips and starts to fidget with his clothing, likely craving a cigarette. Sora wonders when he picked up that habit. “This isn’t a dream?”
“It’s not, darling. I do not know what twist of fate brought me to you, but I am here nonetheless.” Sora lifted her arms, and Sanji almost immediately fell into her arms. The hug feels real. Her son, an adult in this time, is warm in her arms. It’s getting harder and harder to convince herself this isn’t reality.
She knows why he’s having this reaction. In his time, she’s almost certainly dead. This is not a shock to her, and it only further solidifies her resolve to get to know her son while she’s here. Maybe he’ll be able to get to know her, too. Sora wonders how old Sanji will be (was?) when the toxin she ingested inevitably catches up to her. Sora recognizes that she could just ask, but it feels insensitive considering the tears she can feel soaking through the collar of her hospital gown.
Sanji’s friends are staring at the two of them, and she lifts her head up to look all of them in the eyes. If her son trusts them, she’ll trust them too. Switching back to Grand, she gives them all a warm smile as she cups the back of the young man her son has become’s head. “I suppose I should introduce myself, then. My name is Vinsmoke Sora, queen of the Germa Kingdom, as well as Sanji’s mother.”
“Germa?!” the man with the fluffy hat shouts.
The ginger woman gapes at them, stunned. “Wait, Sanji is a prince and he never told us?!”
From his spot on her shoulder, Sanji sighs. “They don’t know about all that yet…”
Oh.
Oh dear. She may have messed up.
But why would a group of pirates care if their cook is from a kingdom known to be evil? Pirates are just as cruel, it shouldn’t matter to them. So why hide it?
Does it have something to do with why he left Germa? If his friends don’t know about it, his escape from their family must not have been a recent development.
Or, her brain sheepishly supplies, this could be an undercover mission for Germa 66. It is possible he never left at all, and you have just compromised his plans.
The skeleton lets out a rather distinctive sounding laugh. “I’ve never seen a queen’s panties before!”
“Can it, bone head!”
Well that’s certainly one way to pull herself out of a thought spiral.
Sanji picks himself up from his mother’s shoulder and takes a moment to compose himself before turning back to his crew. “I’m not answering any questions. I’m Blackleg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates and previously the sous chef of the Baratie in the East Blue. That’s all you need to know, got that?”
The East Blue? How in the world did he end up on the other side of the Red Line? Every passing moment on this ship seems to be opening the doors to a lot of questions Sora doubts she’ll like the answers to.
Although that does help shake her anxieties about Sanji still being under Judge’s thumb a little. If he spent time as a sous chef in the East, there’s no way he’s still a Germainian soldier.
Thankfully, the rest of the pirates (and two samurai, she supposes) seem to accept this.
Despite herself, Sora lets out a small chuckle. “It seems my son has made some truly eccentric friends.”
This is far from what she would have wanted or expected for her third son, she will admit. He does seem happy, though, and that’s truly all she could ask for of him.
Pirates are scum, anyone in the North Blue will tell you that. But then again, is Germa any better? The answer is rather obviously no. A country built near entirely for the sake of conquering and owning a fifth of the world is no better than a crew of pirates that cheat and pillage and destroy.
Germa is a country without land, built entirely on the backs of snails. It has no native population and all of its citizens are either soldiers or castle staff for the royal family. They’re warmongers and borderline terrorists, with nothing good to contribute to the world. Really, they’re likely worse than most pirate crews. At the end of the day, Sora would rather her son be a pirate by choice than an unwilling warmonger carrying out his father’s will.
Her son wasn’t made to be a Germa soldier. He’s kind, gentle, and soft. Sanji is human, not a soldier designed for the sake of violence. If she’d had her way, none of her children would be. If she’d had her way, nothing would be the way it is. But Vinsmoke Judge is a cruel man, and Sora knew from the moment she married him that she would never see freedom again.
Is that what this is about for Sanji? Freedom?
She hopes so. These people do seem shockingly nice; and tight-knit with one another, too. Sora has certainly never heard of a traditionally good pirate crew, but maybe this is it? Sanji is fifteen years older now, of course, but she hopes his heart hasn’t changed. After all, she can’t even begin to imagine her son who loves to lay in her arms and feed the local animals as anything close to cruel.
That does make the green haired man from earlier come to mind, though. He had a man slung over his shoulder in handcuffs, and as far as Sora can remember, he wasn’t part of the eccentric captain’s quick-witted introduction aside from being used to point out the swordsman. The redhead seemed to imply he wasn’t usually here, either.
Well, better to find out what she’s gotten herself into now, no? She clears her throat. “I must admit, this is quite far from what I would have imagined the future to look like. Sanji being a chef makes perfect sense, he has been cooking for me since he had the motor skills required to do so. But a pirate? That does baffle me. You have a hostage and everything,” Sora awkwardly gestures to the strange, handcuffed man laying on the surprisingly grassy deck of the ship.
Sanji nearly inhales a freshly lit cigarette. “That is not something that usually happens, mama, I promise!” he coughs up the smoke trapped in his lungs for a few seconds as he stammers. It looks like it must hurt, the poor thing. “That guy in particular just sucks, and we’re using him to take down someone who’s even more shitty!”
—
Blackleg’s mother is the queen of Germa. This is, in a day full of ‘what the fuck’ moments, quite possibly the biggest ‘what the fuck’ moment he’s had all day.
Law won’t claim to know the Strawhats as people particularly well, but based on the reactions of his crew, this is just as much a shock to them as it is to him.
And her name is Sora? Truthfully, Law has zero clue if that’s just a strange coincidence, or if the author of Sora, Warrior of the Sea knows a little too much about Germa as a kingdom and wanted to name the protagonist after the king’s sick wife.
…probably a coincidence.
Strawhat’s doctor has since whisked the time travelling queen away, though, insisting all the way that she needed a checkup. That’s fair, in all honesty. She's definitely very sick. Blackleg-ya had tried to join them in the infirmary, but his mother had politely declined it, claiming that a child shouldn’t have to worry about their parent’s health.
To Law, it sounds like she’s hiding something. But the woman is entitled to her privacy, he supposes.
Instead, Blackleg-ya sulked back over to the galley to clean up the dishes made from lunch. Stress cleaning, if Law has to guess. He doesn’t know much of anything about the cook of this ship, but that haunted look he had when he saw her said all it needed to. Having a run-in with your dead parent is probably very hard. For better or worse, Law has no clue what that’s like.
Everyone else has awkwardly scattered themselves about on the deck. Well, almost everyone. The swordsman walked off at some point to join the cook in the galley. It’s none of Law’s business, but he supposes it’s probably a good idea not to leave Blackleg-ya alone to stew for now. He seems like the type of person who might want company at a time like this, even if that company is a swordsman whom he has a questionably amicable relationship with.
But again: not his business. His business is with Doflamingo, and by extension, Kaido and Caesar. The Strawhats were a factor Law hadn’t accounted for in his plan, but they’re proving to be useful. This situation with the queen of Germa is even more unexpected, but as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his revenge plot, Blackleg-ya can spend as long as he wants with his mysteriously time-travelled dead mother. It’ll take them three days to get to Dressrosa, and he’s made it perfectly clear they aren’t to make detours until the plan is carried out.
Hopefully, she ends up in her own time before then. For now, Law will keep an eye on Caesar and make sure he doesn’t try anything.
“Torao!”
Or not.
The little racoon-reindeer-doctor-thing is calling out to him. Isn’t he supposed to be doing a checkup on Blackleg’s mom?
“What is it?”
“I’d like a second opinion on the care of Miss Sanji’s Mom. Her condition is very unlike anything I’ve ever treated before, and you helped those kids on Punk Hazard, so I…”
Law raises a hand to quiet the other doctor. “Has she given her consent to being looked over by another doctor?”
Tony-ya nods his little head.
“Alright, then,” he turns his head and calls out to the cyborg sitting not far away. “Hey, Robo-ya! Keep an eye on Mr. Mad Scientist for me.”
Thankfully, he gives a thumbs up and goes to take over Law’s vacated space.
He’s brought over to the infirmary where ‘Miss Blackleg’s Mom’ is sitting on the bed looking oddly sheepish.
Tony-ya turns back to him once the door is closed. “Thanks for coming in, Torao. Long story short, she’s sick because she consumed a toxin a few years ago. Do you think it’s possible to reverse any of its effects with your Devil Fruit?”
“Obviously. I’ll have to see what the damage looks like, but most likely I’ll be able to reverse or alleviate your symptoms.” Law took a seat in the doctor’s chair. “Have you been given the run-down on how my Devil Fruit works?”
“I am afraid I have not. Dr. Tony did say you have a medical Fruit known to create miracles, but that is all I know.”
He nodded. “I ate the Op-Op Fruit. Its effects are a little difficult to describe, but it allows me to perform surgeries that would otherwise be too dangerous or outright impossible to do. If any of the toxin is still in your body, I can remove it. I can also fix organ damage, but I won’t be able to bring back any dead tissues or cells. I’ll let you choose if you want to be awake for all of that or not, if you want me to do this.” Law tries to keep the pride out of his voice. He’s a damn good surgeon and he knows it, but coming off as overconfident can, as Shachi so eloquently put it, make him look like a malpracticing back alley doctor rubbing his grubby little hands together at some unsuspecting victim.
While Law doesn’t particularly care about how others view him, he also doesn’t want to disturb her to the point where she won’t let him operate. Aside from the doctor part of him screaming to help this poor woman, he will also admit within the comfort of his own head that the toxin thing sounds interesting. Was it an assassination attempt? Did she eat something she wasn’t supposed to? Maybe some sort of human experimentation like what Caesar was doing to those children? The possibilities are endless.
Unknowing of the excitement brewing in Law’s veins, the queen’s face is one of amazement. Is it because of the things his Devil Fruit is capable of? He’s sure that to a royal of Germa, a kingdom known for its scientific advancements, the Op-Op Fruit must be a real wonder.
“You’re letting me choose?”
Well that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. Does she not have medical autonomy in her own kingdom? The thought makes Law’s blood boil. “Of course I am. I don’t see why you’d like to keep slowly dying of a toxin, but it’s your prerogative to do so if that’s your choice.”
She seems to think about it. “I would like you to go through with it. And I would prefer to be awake while you do so.”
Hell yes. “Perfect. Tony-ya, I assume I have reign over your medical supplies?”
The other doctor nods. “I’m the one who asked you to help, so use whatever you need.”
“Just a scalpel and a waste bin. This won’t hurt, my Devil Fruit lets me operate painlessly.” After Tony-ya gathers the requested supplies, Law opens a Room and activates Scan.
“There’s still some of the toxin in your body, but not much. The major problem looks like organ damage and muscle deterioration. I’ll start with getting the toxin out since it’ll be quickest. Basically, I’m gonna disassemble your body. It’ll feel weird, but that’s the extent of it.”
Only once he gets a nod and a hum of confirmation does he get to work.
Her amazement at being allowed a choice was enough for Law to decide he’s going to make sure she’s told exactly what’s going to happen before he does it. Usually, his operations aren’t like that at all. His crew trusts him, after all, and usually if he’s working on anyone else they’ve passed out from pain or blood loss already.
He’s about halfway through pulling out the residual toxin when she speaks.
“Thank you for doing this, Dr. Torao.”
Law scoffs. “That’s not my name, just a bastardization of it Strawhat landed on. It’s Trafalgar Law.”
“Oh! I apologize, then. I have only heard you referred to as that, Dr. Trafalgar.”
The title gives him pause.
Law can’t remember a time anyone’s ever called him that.
When he thinks of ‘Dr. Trafalgar’, he thinks of his parents. Of a hospital covered in pure white, and of lives gone too soon. Law has no formal degree, and almost no one ever calls him ‘Doctor’. The closest he’s ever gotten is a moniker he only kind of likes. Surgeon of Death: Trafalgar Law. That’s him. He is not, and never will be, Dr. Trafalgar.
But, selfishly, he doesn’t tell her to call him anything else. For now, he can pretend to be a completely normal doctor with a medical degree and the backing of an entire hospital. For now, he can pretend to wear a white coat with a nametag the way his parents did. He’ll correct her if they ever talk outside of the infirmary. Yeah.
Law takes a breath and keeps pulling the toxin out of the queen’s body. He still doesn’t know what to call her. She doesn’t look that much older than Law himself, maybe 28 or 29, but surely a queen wants to be referred to as such?
It’s a pretty solid assumption considering everything he knows about Germa.
Any Northerner with half a brain on them will say that Germa is a kingdom of colonizers. They had total control over the North Blue for 66 days, like, 300 years ago and have since decided that they are going to cause problems for everyone until they get that reign back. The ruling family is so cartoonishly evil that they literally got turned into comic book villains.
And listening to the way their queen talks? The pretentiousness checks out completely.
Vinsmoke Sora herself seems to be rather kind– at the very least she loves her son very much, and she’s been nothing but polite to everyone on the ship she’s talked to, but her speech cadence is honestly throwing Law off a lot.
He’s met formal speakers, of course, but he’s never met anyone who refuses to use any short-forms for any possible word the way she does. Granted, she’s been here less than an hour, but he’d also heard her talk to her son in their native tongue earlier.
Leave it to Germa to be the only country in the world to genuinely speak High Northern in this day and age.
People don’t use High Northern in their day-to-day lives, as a general rule of thumb. Sure, Law was taught the basics of it as a child; Flevance was a rich enough and religious enough country to care about that sort of thing, but he was never expected to hold a conversation in it. High Northern is the root of Common Northern as a language, but is for the most part only still used in religious texts and ceremonies these days. It’s not like Germa has a native population, so it makes some sort of sense they don’t have their own unique language, but why use High Northern?
Because Germa is cartoonishly evil and loves acting so much holier than thou, Law thinks to himself. How the hell is Blackleg-ya a Vinsmoke? He seems way too humble for that. He did mention being a sous chef in the East earlier, maybe that has something to do with it. Time with common folk just changed him.
Well, whatever.
“I meant what I said earlier. We have shit to do, and we’ll be docking at the next island in 3 days. I doubt you know how long you’ll be stuck here for, but getting in the way isn’t something I’ll accept,” Law tilts his head up at her and cocks an eyebrow. He decides he might as well test the waters a little, while he’s here. “Your majesty.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh dear, please do not call me that. I am hardly much of a ruler, and on this ship and this sea, I am simply Sanji’s mother. Calling me Sora is perfectly acceptable.” She tries to wave her arm only to remember it’s still in Law’s possession. He chooses to ignore the mistake and moves his attention back to pulling toxin out of her veins. She gives him a small embarrassed giggle as she rubs the back of her neck with her free hand.
Well at least she isn’t as pretentious as her kingdom and its history. Law doesn’t think he could handle a snobby royal on top of a clown who decided to routinely drug children, samurai who are so sheltered by their country’s closed borders they have no clue what a transponder snail is, and a crew that seems determined to give him an aneurism purely by existing.
Why did Law propose this alliance again? The Strawhats are nothing but a pain in his ass.
Sora-ya bows her head sheepishly before speaking again. “I understand this situation happened at a rather inopportune time. While I am not in the know as to what you all are doing, it is clearly something of great importance. As much as I would love to spend time with my son, I would hate to get in your way.”
“If you’re still here by the time we dock, we’ll figure it out. For now, I’ve pulled out all of the residual toxin in your body. Do you still want me to repair the organ damage?”
“My, you are efficient with that power of yours. Yes, if you are able to.”
Law finds himself scoffing again. “Don’t underestimate my abilities as a surgeon. I’m just making sure I still have your consent to perform said surgery. Lay back for me.”
Sora-ya’s eyes widen, but she lays down as Law attaches her arm back to her body. He performs another Scan and clicks his tongue.
“The majority of the damage is in your liver and kidneys. I can help repair it, but there’s no making this go all the way back to normal.”
“I understand. The fact that you are capable of helping at all is far more than I ever could have wished for. I really must thank you for doing this.”
Law shakes his head and gets to work. “I’m a doctor, think nothing of it.”
The queen lets out a small laugh. “I have no clue how I am going to explain my sudden wellness to my husband. Or my sudden disappearance, for that matter. Although I do suppose my explanation will be hard to disprove. Devil Fruits are fascinating things, are they not?”
Oh great, she’s getting chatty. Law hates small talk, for the most part. He’s perfectly capable of operating and holding a conversation at the same time, but he doesn’t prefer to. He just doesn’t like talking to most people in general, really. However, Law does recognize that Sora-ya is probably more than a little nervous about being operated on. Most people dread surgery, and typically being operated on doesn’t equate to being awake. So he allows the chatter and the way she keeps staring at him.
And oh boy does she keep staring. It’s honestly a little disconcerting.
“It’s really up to how you want to handle it,” Law hums. “Not like we’ll be able to help you explain it whenever this reverses.”
Tony-ya giggles to himself from his spot watching over the surgery. “Do you think you can take things with you back into the past? Maybe our Sanji will want to send something back for his younger self? Hey, Miss Sanji’s Mom, what was Sanji like as a kid?”
“You want to know about that? Well, in my time, Sanji and his brothers are six-”
“Wait,” the reindeer interrupts. “Sanji has brothers?”
“He has not mentioned that, has he?” Sora-ya opens her mouth and closes it a few times before deciding on what she wants to say. “Sanji has one older sister and three brothers. The boys are quadruplets. I do not know how much my son would like you all to know, so I will leave it at that.”
Okay, Law’s mental assessment of this woman has improved a little bit. She seems willing to respect Blackleg’s privacy, which means she’s at least got some courtesy in her.
“Sanji himself is a little shy, but very kind. Not to mention the fact he has the most dazzling smile I have ever seen and the most adorable soft spot for animals.”
“So he hasn’t changed that much! That’s good! Has he always had his temper?” Tony-ya asks.
“A temper? Graces, no! Sanji is by far my most docile child,” Sora-ya seems genuinely concerned by the prospect of her son having a short fuse.
Law shakes his head before putting his focus back on the surgery he’s performing. “Docile isn’t how I would describe Blackleg at… how old is he?”
“Twenty-one,” Tony-ya provides.
“Twenty-one. I don’t know him as well as his crew does, but you should see the way he bickers with Zoro-ya. Really, I have no clue what’s up with them.”
There are a lot of ways Law could describe Blackleg-ya, but he isn’t going to be the one to tell this poor woman that her darling little son has managed to turn ‘horny’ into a personality trait.
“He likes to act tough, but we all know Sanji loves us,” Tony-ya does his weird wiggle… thing. “It really shows in his cooking. Oh! You’ll get to try some of his yummy food later!”
The two of them keep talking, but at this point Law is tuning them out. If Strawhat’s doctor wants to gush about his cook to said cook’s mom, he’s welcome to do that. It’s keeping her strangely intense gaze off of him and his scalpel, so it works for him anyways. He’s sure Sora-ya appreciates the distraction, and he appreciates not being talked to.
Law lets his mind wander as he works. Plans for when they make it to Dressrosa, this whole time travel thing, and of course, Sora-ya herself.
Like how she’s mentioned being the queen of Germa, and she explicitly stated having a husband, but she isn’t wearing a wedding ring. The North Blue puts a lot of weight into things like that. It’s possible that she just wasn’t wearing it for some reason when she got zapped out of her hospital bed, but it’s also possible their marriage is just that bad.
Blackleg-ya being a child of parents who probably should have gotten divorced makes sense for him, now that Law thinks about it.
Then, of course, there’s the damage done to Sora-ya’s body. It’s pretty severe, but she’s not on the brink of death just yet. If Law has to guess, he’d say that if the toxin is what killed her the first time around, she still would have had a couple more years before dying of organ failure when she got time-jumped.
Which begs the question of how the hell she ended up like this to plague his mind once more. All evidence he’s seen leads Law to believe this toxin has been wreaking havoc on her system for years, but was most likely only administered once. His first thought of an assassination plot is still possible, but if that’s what happened then whoever planned it was a fucking idiot. The toxin itself isn’t a lethal poison, and while he isn’t entirely sure what its intended use is, death probably wasn’t the intended outcome.
The human experiment idea could still hold up. The thought makes him feel more than a little sick.
Law’s sure he could figure it out, but that feels like an unnecessary invasion of privacy. He doesn’t need to know the how or why of a toxin ingested years ago in order to fix it.
“Alright, I’m done,” Law lifts his head and drops his Room. Wonderful timing on his part, considering he can feel a cold pain building up in his body telling him he’s overusing his Fruit. It’s been a long day. “Feel any better?”
Sora-ya sits up and flexes her fingers, then takes a deep breath. “I do.” She moves her arms and legs, flexes muscles, and does small stretches with a look of wonder on her face. “I feel much better. I now understand why Dr. Tony referred to you as a miracle worker. There is so much you could do with a power like that, why be a pirate captain instead?”
Well that’s deeper than Law wants to go. “Being a normal doctor was never in the cards for me. As long as Tony-ya’s okay with it, you’re free to go.”
“Why, that sounds absurd. Judging by your accent, you are Northern, correct? The North Blue is known for having fantastic hospitals. Your abilities could save countless lives!”
Law takes a deep breath. He isn’t going to start arguing with, or worse, yell at a patient. “You’re being pushy. I’d advise you to drop the subject.”
Strangely, the woman blushes. She must be embarrassed.
“Oh! My deepest apologies, I should have thought about what I was saying! Of course you have your reasons, and I… oh.” Her eyes widen. “Your accent, you must be from–”
Oh god, no. Law can feel his vision growing distant and unfocused. Time to remove himself from this situation immediately. “Drop. it. I said you’re free to leave.”
With that, Law makes his own exit out of the infirmary.
—
To say that Sanji’s having one hell of a day would be a massive understatement.
As if the Punk Hazard fiasco wasn’t enough, the universe decided he needs even more bullshit to top off his day. It’s not even 3 PM and he feels like falling over into his bed and taking a week-long nap. Or maybe chucking himself into the ocean. That feels like a solid reaction, too.
But no, the universe decided putting him face-to-face with his dead mother is exactly what Sanji needs right now.
When she first dropped onto their deck, he’d been angry. There could be no way that was really her, so how dare someone pretend to be his dead mother? And what for? It’s been so long since he’s heard her voice that he’d nearly forgotten how it sounds until now. That thought had just made him even angrier at the time. How could someone imitate memories Sanji barely has anymore?
And then she mentioned that coloring book. That was the moment Sanji realized this is reality. That his dead mother really is on his ship, surrounded by the people he loves. Surrounded by his nakama.
Sanji remembers his mom being an artist but rarely having the energy or mobility to draw anything. That was why the hand-made coloring book of sea creatures, storybook princesses, and elegant tables of food meant so much to him when he received it as a kid.
It’s why he still thinks about that coloring book and wishes he were able to leave Germa with it to this day.
Too late to regret that now, though. For now, he cleans the galley from floor to ceiling and tries not to feel a sting in his heart at his mom not allowing him in the infirmary with her.
Sanji still has no clue what killed his mom all those years ago, or why she was always bedridden. He can’t recall even once seeing her stand on her own without the assistance of a nurse or some sort of mobility aid. As the years have gone by, he’s made a million theories. The most plausible one he’s come up with is that quadruplets were far too much on her body, and her sickness was a result of pregnancy and/or childbirth. Some hypotheticals are crazier, and others are as simple as ‘she was sick’. Either way, he has to assume the two things had been related.
He can probably ask her while she’s here. But considering her excuse to not let him in the infirmary was that “children should not concern themselves with their parents’ health”, he severely doubts the likelihood of getting a clear answer.
So instead of thinking about it, Sanji is trying to make sure his galley is spotless and tonight’s dinner is absolutely perfect. This is the first time his mom is going to be trying his food since he was a kid, after all, and he isn’t going to let this chance get away from him. Besides, being in the kitchen has always been therapeutic, and that certainly hasn’t changed even with this development.
Zoro joins him 5 minutes into washing the dishes, but the two of them haven’t talked since he walked through the door. Sanji knows the silence isn’t one of judgement, but rather one of concern. Maybe even understanding.
For all his faults, Zoro has never been pushy when it comes to the deep, emotional shit. He knows there’s a lot about Sanji he hasn’t been told about, and he seems to be okay with that. Hell, Sanji’s sure there’s a lot about Zoro he doesn’t know, either. It’s something he’s always appreciated, but even more so now. Even with how much Zoro loves to dig his heels in and annoy the hell out of Sanji, he isn’t pushing it. Silently, he lets himself be grateful for that.
For once, they don’t even fight. They just clean in silence, occasionally bumping shoulders with one another with playful scowls. In an odd way, it’s nice.
Sanji is finishing up wiping down the countertops for the second time when his mom walks in the room.
Walks in. On her own two feet, without any help, and without the IV in her arm that she came here with.
He gapes for a few seconds while she laughs gently. He’s missed the sound of it more than he ever could have known.
“Your surgeon friend’s Devil Fruit is truly a wondrous thing, no?” she takes a seat with a small huff of a sigh. Even if Law fixed her up, she’s definitely not used to being up and about on her own.
Sanji just scoffs quietly. “Wouldn’t really call us friends, but yeah. One hell of a Devil Fruit.”
A silence washes over them as he keeps wiping down the counter.
Zoro gives Sanji’s mom an awkward half-wave that he can see from the corner of his eye. Sanji’s not sure he wants these two in a room together just yet.
With a small nudge to the sentient plant life’s arm and a jerk of his head, the other thankfully gets the hint and makes himself scarce. Zoro being so considerate is definitely an oddity, but one Sanji can’t exactly be mad about right now. He’ll ask about it later. Maybe. Or he’ll just accept the kindness for what it is and move on.
Now that he’s alone with his mom, though, Sanji can feel his throat closing up the same way it did when he laid eyes on her the first time today. He’s anxious, and he knows damn well why. There’s so much about him for his mom to be disappointed in, and the thought makes him feel more than a little nauseous.
As if being a pirate wasn’t bad enough, Sanji knows he’s got kind of a terrible personality. He’s not downright cruel the way his brothers are, but he’s quick to anger and is known to lash out. He just hopes that his crew plays nice enough that his poor mother won’t have to see that side of him.
Maybe it was a mistake pushing Zoro away? Being alone is even more nerve wracking. No, he reminds himself, probably not a mistake. There’s still a lot Zoro doesn’t know that Sanji isn’t ready to talk about.
There’s a lot none of them know that Sanji isn’t ready to talk about.
More than anything, Sanji wants a cigarette right about now. But that would just feel all kinds of wrong considering his current company. She may have seen him smoking when she got here, but it feels wrong now. He bites the inside of his cheek instead, and puts on his best charming smile. “Well, welcome to my galley. And the Thousand Sunny as a whole, actually. I realize now that I actually have no idea what kinds of food you like, so I’m open to suggestions if you have any or would like a snack. I can make anything, as long as I have the ingredients.”
“Oh my dear, sweet, considerate child,” she gives him a beaming smile and a slight shake of her head. Sanji tries not to cry. “Anything you make me will be perfect.”
“I guess I should have expected that,” he laughs. “You ate a lot of terrible shit for me as a kid, but I promise I’m a lot better now.”
“I imagine so. Your little reindeer doctor mentioned that you are twenty-one at this point in time, correct?” When Sanji nods his response, she continues. “You have certainly had a lot of time to improve then. You mentioned being a sous chef earlier, did you not? Am I allowed to ask about that?”
Sanji swallows a lump in his throat before switching to the language he frequently wishes he could forget he knows. High Northern feels all sorts of sickly on his tongue, but the thought of anyone hearing this conversation makes him feel even sicker. Especially considering the alliance members and hostage on the Sunny. “I’d rather not have this conversation in Grand, sorry. Uh, I guess I should start by telling you I don’t see Judge as anything close to a father these days. That honor goes to a one-legged chef in the East. He took me in a few years after I left. I haven’t been a Vinsmoke for a very long time.”
His mom hums in response. “I do not blame you for denouncing your biological father, dear. Honestly, I am very happy you have found a family that has treated you better than the one you were born into ever would. How did you wind up on the other side of the Red Line, though?”
He shrugged. “The entirety of Saint Germain was crossing the Red Line for some reason. My memory of it is fuzzy, and I only ever had half the details anyway. I think it had something to do with a war in an Eastern country? I was pretty young and very stressed, so I don’t remember exactly. But that’s not the important part, I guess. Reiju helped me escape. Judge found me, but let me go under the condition I never tell anyone who my biological father is. Called me his greatest failure and everything. Shitty thing to say to an eight year old, but for him, I guess it makes sense.”
Pointedly, Sanji doesn’t mention the dungeon, or the mask, or his death being faked. Really, those aren’t things he wants her knowing about if he can help it. He knows nothing can really be done about the past, and he honestly has no idea how his mother would react to all he’s been through. Evidently, she’s not angry at him for running away, which is a fear Sanji wasn’t even aware he had before today.
In fact, Sanji has never thought about what he’d do in the situation he’s currently in. It’s never crossed his mind that this could be a possibility. His grief over his mother has been a white hot pain in his heart since the day it happened, and it’s a pain he was never truly given the time or space to process. This is one hell of a time to process it, and frankly he’d just rather not. Who knows if she’ll still be here tomorrow, but if she is? Maybe he’ll take the time to process it then. To cry into his mother’s arms. To grieve her the way his father never allowed him to.
But not today. Not when he can still barely look at her without wanting to burst into tears when he wants nothing more than to keep it together.
“You left home all by yourself when you were eight? That must have been so difficult.” Sanji’s mom gives him a look of pure heartbroken amazement. “You are so much stronger than they ever gave you credit for, you know that?”
All he can do is blink the tears away from his eyes and go back to scrubbing the countertop. “Yeah, mama. I think I know. I’ve met people who remind me how strong I am every day.”
She smiles at him. That true, bright, and warm smile Sanji remembers from his childhood. “You are so much more than that, too. You are kind, and you are human, my son. That is all I could have ever asked for.”
There’s a weight to that statement he can feel, but doesn’t understand the meaning of. Is this about the Vinsmokes? Does she view her other children as not being human because of their cruelty?
No, that can’t be it. That doesn’t sound like his mother at all.
But then again, Sanji supposes he doesn’t really know his mother as a person. He was too young when she passed for him to have ever known. What if she isn’t the perfect saint she’s always been in his head? Is she just like the rest of his family? Does Sanji even want to know if she is? It’s a scary thought, one he doesn’t even want to entertain.
So he takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t entertain it.
“I’ll get started on dinner. It’s a bit early, but that means I have plenty of time to put everything together. You’re welcome to stay here, or go explore the ship.”
His mom rests her head on her palm as she looks at her fully adult son with a look of wonder. “I believe I will stay here. I have never gotten to see you work in the kitchen, this is certainly a rare opportunity.”
Sanji nods, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work.
—
Dinner aboard the Sunny is always a chaotic affair, but today is a special kind of chaos.
It’s most likely because of the guests on the ship, Brook surmises, that the dining table in the galley feels particularly energetic. The samurai are a delight, and while Law is a strange fellow, he’s certainly entertaining company. Mostly because of the shell-shocked look on his face every time Luffy does just about anything. Of course, they also have Caesar Clown aboard, and he’s weird enough all on his own.
Then there’s Mrs. Vinsmoke Sora. Somehow, she’s somehow the strangest addition of them all. She’s a lovely woman, for sure, but her appearance here was so unexpected. Time travel? With Devil Fruits, it’s certainly possible. But what are the odds? At least she’s spent all of dinner with one of the warmest smiles Brook’s ever seen.
So that’s where our beloved cook gets it from. He certainly takes after his mom a lot.
The Strawhats have occupied themselves with telling their new friends as many adventure stories as they can, with varying degrees of quality and accuracy. Zoro seems determined to embarrass Sanji as much as physically possible, while Usopp seems to be taking pity on the cook, including him in every tall tale he possibly can.
Hilariously, Sanji is rejecting both sets of stories.
Kin’emon and Momonosuke are just as captive an audience as Sora is, listening closely and asking followup questions. Caesar keeps whining, but everyone’s ignoring his complaints. All in all, it’s rather nice.
Once everyone is done eating (and their beloved captain has inhaled any possible leftovers), they all go their separate ways. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper are out playing some game on the deck they’ve roped Momonosuke into joining, and Kin’emon is supervising that whole debacle. Sanji is doing the dishes, while Franky has taken the liberty of giving Sora a tour of the ship. The girls are off to make sure there’s room in their cabin for said queen, Zoro is off to train, and Law is back to death-glaring at Caesar on the deck.
Brook, for his part, stays in the galley and plays some music.
“Sanji?”
The cook lifts his head and looks at the skeleton. If Brook’s being honest, the young man looks exhausted. “Hm?”
“Are you doing alright? Would you like help cleaning up?”
“No, it’s fine. Just been one hell of a day,” Sanji sighs. “I’ll probably turn in early tonight.”
Vulnerability, Brook knows, is something Sanji isn’t good at. No one on their crew is, but Sanji is a very particular brand of guarded. Where Zoro shrugs off physical pain and tries to deflect from it, their cook does the same with emotional pain. He won’t let anyone know when he’s stressed, even when all of them can see the obvious signs clear as day. It’s for this exact reason that the skeleton can tell he isn’t doing okay– he’s trying too hard to keep it together while simultaneously chainsmoking and aggressively scrubbing at every dish he can.
It’s deeply concerning, but Brook knows he’s not one of the members of the crew who will be able to get through to him. He hopes one of the ones who can, will.
But he tries anyway.
“You know she loves you, right?”
Sanji stops scrubbing at the plate in his hands to look up at him. “I know she does, I just…” he trails off.
“The way she looks at you says enough. I may not know your mother personally, but I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you all day with my own two eyes. Well, I would if I had eyes, yohoho! But I know the look of a proud parent, and that’s what it looks like. She’s amazed by the man you’ve become.”
The blond huffs quietly, taking another drag from his cigarette. “You don’t have to reassure me, Brook. I know.”
For Sanji’s sake, the skeleton hopes the other isn’t lying.