Chapter Text
Roger POV
A few months after Sabaody, nobody aboard the Oro Jackson bothered pretending Lilith was temporary anymore. Lilith occasionally did, usually whenever somebody used a suspiciously permanent word like daughter, niece, sister, or family, but the rest of us had stopped taking the argument seriously. Shanks called her Lili and introduced her as his best friend with the gravity of a captain announcing an alliance between kingdoms. Buggy also called her Lili while insisting at least twice a week that she was absolutely not his little sister, normally less than an hour before threatening somebody for bothering her. Everyone else had settled into Lil’s or Little Fish, the latter becoming permanent once we discovered that putting her near safe water meant accepting she might never willingly come back out.
Depending on which idiot was asked, Little Fish was our niece, honorary daughter, honorary little sister, best friend, swimming partner, or some combination nobody had bothered defining. Three men claimed to be her favorite uncle. Two others claimed seniority because they had known her several days longer. Someone had carved a tiny fish into the corner of her desk. Somebody else had sewn one onto a blanket and denied doing it when she thanked him. Pirates who had boarded Marine ships without blinking now held serious arguments over whether a five-year-old needed another pair of boots. I had stopped correcting anyone who called her my daughter somewhere around the second month. Rayleigh said that proved I had no boundaries. This from the man who knew exactly which blanket she wanted whenever it rained.
Getting Little Fish into the ocean was easy. Getting her out required negotiations. “Five more minutes!” she called from below us now, pale-blue hair plastered against her back as she floated beside the ship. Rayleigh stood at the railing with a towel already folded over one arm. “You said that fifteen minutes ago.” “That was a different five minutes.” “That is not how time works.” “How do you know?” Buggy, perched on the rail nearby, nodded thoughtfully. “She has a point.” Rayleigh looked at him. Buggy straightened. “…A terrible point. Completely ridiculous, actually.” Lilith splashed water high enough to soak his shoes. “LILI!” Shanks surfaced beside her laughing and immediately received the next wave directly in the face.
The peaceful swim lasted perhaps six more seconds before Shanks challenged her to race toward the marker floating farther from the ship. Lilith accepted before he finished speaking. They shot through the water together, Shanks still faster through experience and longer limbs while Lilith stubbornly refused to let the gap widen. Months ago, watching her would have surprised us. It didn’t anymore. Crocus had examined her often enough to establish that nothing appeared medically wrong with her; the kid was simply built far outside what anyone expected from an ordinary child. The sea produced people like that sometimes. I had seen what Linlin and Kaido could do with bodies that had never followed normal rules. Lilith was nowhere close to either of them—and I considered that excellent news for the continued survival of our furniture—but nobody aboard thought her constitution was ordinary anymore.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Rayleigh responded to that discovery in the most Rayleigh way imaginable: by making her training considerably less exciting than she wanted it to be. No Haki yet. No real weapons. Absolutely no pointing Lilith toward progressively larger rocks to discover which one she could break, which I suggested exactly once before Rayleigh and Crocus threatened me independently. Instead, he drilled fundamentals into her until she could probably hear him correcting her posture in her sleep. Balance. Footwork. Breathing. Safe falling. Efficient climbing. How to roll with an impact instead of meeting everything head-on. How to get away from someone larger instead of trying to prove she could overpower them. Most importantly, how to stop.
Lilith complained through nearly all of it and loved every miserable second. That morning Rayleigh laid a narrow beam across two overturned barrels and made her cross while the ship rolled beneath her. She reached the other side, hopped down, and looked at him expectantly. “Done.” “Again.” Her face fell. “I did it.” “Once.” “Once proves I can.” “Again.” “You’re evil.” “Again.” She muttered something suspiciously close to “old bastard” before climbing back onto the beam. Rayleigh’s mouth twitched. He had heard her. So had I. Shanks laughed hard enough to ruin his own attempt and slipped sideways directly into Buggy.
Buggy responded as though he had been murdered. “YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!” “I fell!” “ON ME!” “You were standing there!” “WHERE ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO STAND?!” Their argument continued beneath Lilith while she crossed the beam again, adjusted when the deck shifted, and landed in a controlled crouch. Rayleigh gave one small nod. “Better.” Lilith tried to hide the smile that immediately appeared. She failed miserably.
Control mattered more than any of the impressive things her body could already do. A few weeks earlier, Rayleigh had told her to tap a practice board and Lilith split it by accident. She stared at the crack with more alarm than pride. Rayleigh crouched beside her instead of congratulating her. “Did you mean to break it?” She shook her head. “Then breaking it wasn’t the success.” He tapped the splintered edge. “Knowing exactly how hard you’re hitting will be.” The next three days involved striking padded targets softly enough that they barely moved, which Lilith considered a personal attack. “This is backwards.” “No. This is useful.” “Breaking things is more fun.” “You spend too much time with Roger.” I had never been prouder of an accusation.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Swimming became training whether Lilith liked it or not. Rayleigh taught her pacing, diving, reading currents, conserving air, climbing aboard when her arms were already tired, and keeping something in reserve instead of spending every bit of strength simply because she still had it. She hated the last lesson most. “But I’m not tired.” “That’s why we’re stopping.” “That makes no sense.” “It will when you need enough strength left to help somebody else.” That silenced her more effectively than anything involving her own safety ever did. The next time he called an early stop, she climbed out without arguing once. Buggy checked her forehead for fever.
Today she reached the marker barely behind Shanks and slapped the wood a fraction after him. “I win!” Shanks shouted. “You started early!” “Did not!” “Your head was already underwater!” “That isn’t starting!” Buggy leaned dangerously far over the railing. “HE CHEATED, LILI!” Shanks splashed him from several yards away. Buggy jumped backward, caught his heel against the deck, and began falling directly toward me. I caught the back of his shirt before gravity completed the lesson. “Put me down!” “You were going overboard.” “I was adjusting!” “Horizontally?” “IT WAS STRATEGIC!”
Lilith reached the rope hanging beside the hull first and started climbing. Months ago, getting herself from water to deck had required awkward feet, white knuckles, and considerably more determination than technique. Now she hooked one leg around the rope, shifted her weight, and came up in a steady rhythm. She reached the railing, planted both palms, and hauled herself over without assistance, though too much enthusiasm sent her tumbling into a wet heap near Buggy. “Watch it!” he yelled. Lilith rolled onto her back. “You were in my landing zone.” “YOU DON’T HAVE A LANDING ZONE!” “I clearly just used one.” “THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT A THING!”
Rayleigh dropped the towel directly over her face. “Breathing?” “Fine.” “Arms?” She rolled both shoulders beneath the cloth. “Fine.” “Legs?” “Fine.” “Dizzy?” “No.” “Cold?” Silence. Rayleigh waited. Lilith slowly dragged the towel down until only her red eyes showed. “…Maybe a little.” The towel immediately became a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. I looked at him. He didn’t look at me. “Don’t.” “I haven’t said anything.” “Your face is about to.” Shanks climbed aboard in time to hear him. “Mama Rayleigh?” Lilith folded forward laughing. Buggy pointed. “HE DOES ACT LIKE ONE!” Rayleigh turned toward him. Buggy’s finger dropped. “…A very terrifying and extremely masculine one.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
I lost whatever restraint I had left. “Mama Bear Rayleigh.” “Roger.” “You brought the towel before she said she was cold.” “Because she always gets cold after swimming.” “You know her patterns.” “I’ve known you for decades and know yours too. That doesn’t make me your mother.” “You never bring my towel.” “Because I don’t care if you freeze.” Lilith made a muffled choking sound inside the towel while Shanks collapsed against the railing. Buggy looked between us. “He’s got you there, Captain.” I pointed at him. “Traitor.” “I’m nobody’s little brother. I can choose sides.” Shanks abruptly started laughing even harder. Buggy glared at him without understanding why.
Crocus eventually appeared to inspect the scrape Lilith had picked up on one knee during training. She sat cross-legged while he cleaned it, already more annoyed by the interruption than the injury. “It’s a scrape.” “Congratulations on your diagnosis.” “I’m learning from the best.” Crocus wrapped it anyway. “And the best says you don’t swim again until tomorrow.” Her head snapped up. “What?!” “You’re already cold, you trained this morning, and that knee needs to stay clean for one evening.” “This is medical oppression.” “Write a complaint.” “To who?” “Me.” “Then you’ll ignore it!” “Now you’re learning.”
Rayleigh handed her something warm before she could continue appealing to higher authority. Lilith accepted the cup with both hands, muttered something about dictatorships, then leaned against his arm while drinking without apparently realizing she had done it. Rayleigh went still for less than a second. I noticed. Crocus noticed. Three men pretending to do something important across the deck noticed. Nobody said a word while she remained there. Even I had standards.
Lilith finished, hopped down, and disappeared after Shanks and Buggy the moment Crocus released her. I waited until she was safely out of hearing range, then leaned toward Rayleigh. “Mama Bear.” The damp cloth he had been holding struck me directly in the face. Crocus walked away before anybody could involve him, though his shoulders were shaking suspiciously.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The island we reached that afternoon wasn’t particularly remarkable by Grand Line standards. Busy harbor, green hills, enough markets to resupply the ship, enough seafood stalls to guarantee Lilith would spend half her allowance before reaching the third street, and several taverns already doomed by our arrival. Shanks and Buggy went down the gangplank with Lilith between them while three adults simultaneously reminded her to remain somewhere visible. “I know!” she called without looking back. One of the crew tossed her a pouch. “Bring your favorite uncle something!” Three men objected before the coins reached her hands. “He’s not your favorite!” “Little Fish, remember who taught you cards!” “Remember who sneaks you dessert!” Lilith shoved the pouch into her pocket. “I suddenly have no relatives!”
The whole ship had learned her without anybody agreeing to do it. Somebody knew which fruit she hated. Somebody else knew exactly how long she could read before falling asleep with the book over her face. Her shoes migrated constantly and somehow always returned to her cabin. Half the older crew referred to her as their niece while some of the younger men preferred little sister because being called uncle apparently made them feel ancient. Shanks required no explanation. Lili was his best friend. Buggy required several paragraphs of denial despite following her around with the energy of an offended older brother. Rayleigh and I had apparently become the subject of an ongoing argument over whether we counted as fathers. I voted yes whenever the question arose because it annoyed him.
Lilith bought grilled squid at the first stall. She took two bites and made the mistake of letting Shanks and Buggy see what remained. “That one’s bigger.” “No it isn’t.” “Lili, tell him.” “I regret feeding either of you.” Shanks leaned closer. “Best-friend privilege.” Buggy looked scandalized. “WHAT ABOUT LITTLE—” He stopped himself so abruptly his teeth clicked together. Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “What about little what?” “Nothing.” “Were you going to say little sister?” “NO.” “You absolutely were.” “YOU HAVE NO PROOF.” Shanks was already laughing.
Rayleigh stepped beside me while I watched them. “She’s favoring her left foot.” I looked again. Barely. “From the landing?” “Probably.” He waited until Lilith returned, then crouched before she could escape. “Ankle.” Lilith blinked innocently. “I have two.” “Which one hurts?” “Neither.” “Lil’s.” Her shoulders dropped. “…Left.” “How much?” “Two.” “Out of ten?” “…Two and a half.” “No running for the rest of the afternoon.” Her face collapsed. “Rayleigh.” “Walking is fine.” “You’re destroying my youth.” “You’ve been five for months.” “Exactly. The good years are disappearing.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
She obeyed, which told me the ankle bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Shanks noticed and stopped racing ahead without being told. Buggy noticed too, though he pretended otherwise when he took the small shopping bag from her hand. Lilith looked at him. “Why do you have my bag?” “It’s annoying me.” “My bag is annoying you?” “Yes.” “By existing?” “Exactly.” She smiled. Buggy’s expression immediately became defensive. “DON’T MAKE IT WEIRD.” “I didn’t say anything.” “Your face did.” I nearly applauded. Rayleigh’s influence was spreading.
The men following us appeared three streets later. Four in total. Too poorly disciplined to be Cipher Pol, too focused on Lilith to be ordinary thieves. One kept watching her hair. Another stared openly at the rings in her eyes. A third began paying closer attention after a dockworker lost control of a crate nearby and Lilith reacted before anyone else. She couldn’t lift it outright—she was five, not Linlin—but she caught one side long enough to change its fall while two adults dragged a smaller child clear. The weight shoved her backward several steps before she released it. Rayleigh reached her immediately. “Hands?” Lilith flexed them. “Fine.” “Shoulder?” “Fine.” “Ankle?” She looked personally offended. “Still two and a half.” “Good.”
The men whispered when we moved on. Unfortunately for them, our hearing was considerably better than theirs. “Strong little thing.” “Look at those eyes.” “Hair too.” A short pause followed. “Someone would pay well for that.” Whatever amusement I had been carrying disappeared.
Rayleigh’s shoulders loosened beside me. Most people tensed before violence. Rayleigh relaxed. I had known him long enough to recognize which one was worse. “You’ve been watching them?” I asked quietly. “Since the harbor.” “Slavers?” “Scouts, perhaps. Or opportunists who know buyers.” I looked toward Lilith. Rare coloring. Eyes none of us could place. A body unusual enough that Crocus kept careful notes. The Sabaody incident had always seemed straightforward enough: dirty child in oversized clothing ran through the wrong streets at the wrong time and traffickers mistook her for one of their escapees. Now another possibility sat beside it. Maybe someone, somewhere, had looked at a child like this and deliberately decided she was worth money.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
I didn’t like that possibility. Rayleigh liked it considerably less. “Want me to take care of them?” “Not yet.” His attention stayed on Lilith. “She noticed.” She had. Her posture changed before Shanks or Buggy understood why. Her shoulders lowered. Her hands emptied. One foot shifted behind the other despite the sore ankle. Rayleigh had spent months teaching her awareness—not to fear everyone who looked at her, but to recognize when attention felt wrong. He moved closer without crowding her, staying where she could see him if she looked. He was giving her the chance to remember what she had learned.
The first man approached smiling. “Pretty hair.” Lilith took half a step backward. “Thanks.” “Pretty eyes too.” Shanks slid closer to one shoulder. Buggy stopped pretending to inspect the stall beside them and shifted toward the other. The man’s gaze dropped briefly to Lilith’s hands. “Strong for your size.” Her mouth tightened. “I eat my vegetables.” Buggy snorted despite himself. Another man circled behind them, apparently assuming three children would remain focused on whatever stood directly in front of them.
Lilith caught his shadow. When the hand came toward her shoulder, she turned before it landed. No attempt to overpower him. No test of how far her strange strength could carry her. She slipped beneath the arm, caught his wrist only long enough to redirect his momentum, then stepped toward Shanks and created distance. Months of tedious drills compressed into one clean movement. Beside me, Rayleigh murmured, “Good.”
Then the first man caught her wrist. Lilith reacted immediately, thumb angling toward the weakest part of his grip while her elbow turned and her weight began shifting in the direction Rayleigh had drilled into her. Then her face changed. Less than a heartbeat. Enough. Color drained from her cheeks, and I knew what had reached her without knowing every memory behind it. Sabaody. Men chasing people through narrow streets. A filthy little girl running barefoot while somebody shouted about property. Her body knew the escape. Fear reached her first. The bastard tightened his grip during the hesitation.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Buggy screamed before either adult moved. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY LITTLE SISTER!” The entire street seemed to stop. Lilith stared. Shanks slowly turned toward him. Buggy’s own face transformed as his brain caught up with his mouth, red spreading all the way to his ears. “…Nobody heard that.” Nobody had said anything. “I SAID NOBODY HEARD IT!” Under almost any other circumstances, I would have treasured the moment properly.
Rayleigh moved instead. I had watched him fight at God Valley. I had watched him cut through men who thought numbers mattered, drag our idiots out of battles they had no business surviving, and stand perfectly calm while dangerous people decided whether they wanted to die for whatever point they were making. None of those versions of the Dark King felt quite like the man who crossed that street before the slaver understood he had made a mistake. Rayleigh’s hand closed around the wrist holding Lilith. The fingers opened immediately. “Let go.” The words came afterward.
Lilith stumbled backward, and Shanks caught her shoulders only after she gave him one quick nod. Buggy planted himself at her other side, still clutching her shopping bag, his small body practically vibrating with fury. The man Rayleigh held tried to yank himself free. Rayleigh looked down at the hand that had been wrapped around Lilith’s wrist. “You grabbed my girl.”
Oh. Oh, that was magnificent. Rayleigh realized what he had said roughly one second after I did. Our eyes met. I smiled. “Don’t.” “Mama Bear.” “Roger.” “Activated.” The second man reached inside his coat. Rayleigh’s gaze shifted, and he collapsed before whatever weapon he carried cleared the fabric. The remaining two barely had time to understand there was a problem before a controlled wave of Haki folded them into the street.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Nearby civilians staggered or froze, but the pressure had been aimed carefully enough that every man who had been stalking Lilith went down while everyone else remained standing. Shanks stared. Buggy’s mouth hung open. Lilith looked from the unconscious bodies to Rayleigh. “Show-off,” I said. Rayleigh turned toward me. I raised both hands. “Protective show-off.” His eyes narrowed. “Mama Bear protective show-off.” One of our men called from behind me, “Captain, if he kills you, can I have your cabin?” “No.” “Worth asking.”
The humor vanished when Lilith looked at her wrist. Finger-shaped redness was already blooming across the skin. Rayleigh saw it and crossed back to her, then stopped short instead of reaching automatically. “Can I see?” Lilith swallowed and nodded. Only then did he take her hand, turning it carefully beneath the light. “Move your fingers.” She did. “Wrist?” She rotated it slowly. “Hurts.” “How much?” “…Three.” His jaw tightened. Lilith hurried to add, “Three isn’t bad.” “I know.”
His voice became too gentle. That almost did what the slavers hadn’t. Shanks leaned against her shoulder. “Lili?” She shook her head quickly. “I’m fine.” Buggy glared at the unconscious man. “He shouldn’t have touched you.” “No.” “I’d bite him.” Shanks blinked. “You weren’t even the one grabbed.” “I CAN STILL BITE PEOPLE!” Lilith laughed before she could stop herself. It was small and shaky, but real. Rayleigh exhaled. So did I.
Then the rest of the crew descended on her emotionally. One man produced a sweet from his coat. “Here, Little Fish.” Another offered fruit. A third offered to buy her anything in the market, which immediately shifted Lilith’s attention toward a bookstore and made him realize his mistake. Rayleigh looked around at them. “Stop bribing her because you’re angry.” Three grown pirates appeared offended. “It helps.” “It does not.” Lilith unwrapped the sweet. “I think we should trust the experts.” “You are not helping.” “I’m injured.” Rayleigh’s gaze snapped to her wrist. She winced. “…That was manipulative. Sorry.” “Good.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Shanks remembered the important part before anyone else. He slowly turned toward Buggy. “Little sister?” Buggy went rigid. “No.” Lilith looked at him. “You called me your little sister.” “I WAS UNDER STRESS!” One of the older pirates covered his mouth dramatically. “Our Buggy’s growing up.” “I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!” Lilith grinned. “Love you too, big brother.” Buggy produced a noise I had never heard from another human being. Shanks collapsed laughing against the nearest stall.
Rayleigh eventually stood once he was satisfied Lilith’s wrist wasn’t seriously damaged. She remained wedged between the boys, chewing her sweet and pretending she wasn’t still shaken. Everyone aboard knew that trick by now. Don’t swarm her. Don’t demand she explain herself. Don’t touch without warning. Give her enough room to decide what she needs. A minute passed before two small fingers caught the edge of Rayleigh’s coat.
He looked down. Lilith kept her eyes on the ground. “Can we go home?” Something in his face softened immediately. “Of course, Little Fish.” His hand hovered near her head. Lilith leaned into his side before he asked. Only then did he settle his palm carefully against her hair.
We took the long way back so she wouldn’t have to pass the unconscious men again. Two crewmates followed with the supplies while quietly discussing increasingly creative consequences for anyone else stupid enough to try kidnapping their niece. Rayleigh finally glanced over his shoulder. “Stop discussing mutilation where she can hear you.” Lilith looked up. “I already know pirates kill people.” “That isn’t the point.” “What’s the point?” Rayleigh considered that. “You don’t need to hear your uncles brainstorming.” Both men stopped walking. One pointed at himself. “Uncle?” The other clutched his chest. “He accepts the family structure.” Rayleigh’s expression went blank. I nearly walked into a wall laughing.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Back aboard the Oro Jackson, Crocus examined Lilith’s wrist, declared it bruised but otherwise sound, and sentenced her to rest for the remainder of the day. She received this like a death sentence. “Can I swim?” “No.” “Climb?” “No.” “Run?” “No.” “What am I supposed to do?” Crocus stared at her. “Sit.” Horror spread across her face. “That’s not an activity.” “It is today.” “This ship has become a dictatorship.” “You live with pirates.” “That is not a defense.”
Rayleigh solved the crisis by retrieving one of the books she had been saving and setting it beside her hammock. Lilith narrowed her eyes. “You planned this.” “I did not arrange an attempted kidnapping so you’d finally finish your book.” “Sounds like something you’d say if you had.” “Read.” Shanks sprawled on the floor beside her before she made it through the first page. Buggy sat near her feet while loudly explaining that his usual seat just happened to be occupied.
Within fifteen minutes, Lilith was reading aloud because Shanks wanted to know about deep-sea fish and Buggy kept objecting to illustrations he considered scientifically suspicious. Three older pirates wandered over. Then five. Somebody brought fruit. Somebody else brought a pillow. One of the men who called her his niece sat cross-legged on the floor and listened with complete seriousness while Lilith explained why a fish with teeth larger than its own head was apparently reasonable. Buggy disagreed. Shanks announced that they should find one. Rayleigh told him absolutely not. Lilith immediately sided with Shanks, proving gratitude lasted less than an hour.
By sunset, half the crew had somehow gathered around a single hammock. Lilith paused halfway through a paragraph to throw a grape at Buggy. He caught it in his mouth by accident and spent several minutes pretending he had planned it. Shanks demanded a turn. Two adults started taking bets. Crocus passed the doorway, saw gambling forming around an injured five-year-old, and kept walking before responsibility could find him. I leaned against the frame beside Rayleigh. “Jewel of the Oro Jackson.” He watched Lilith lean over the hammock to show Shanks an illustration while Buggy complained he couldn’t see. His expression softened in that quiet way he thought nobody noticed. “Yeah.” That was all. It was enough.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Much later, after Shanks and Buggy had finally been chased toward their own beds and the rest of the crew scattered, I found Rayleigh standing outside Lilith’s cabin. The door was cracked open. She had fallen asleep sideways across the mattress with her book lying open beside her and one arm wrapped around the ugly wooden bird I had bought months ago. The bruise around her wrist had already begun fading.
I stood beside him for a moment. “You know, for somebody who insists he isn’t hovering—” Rayleigh didn’t look away from the room. “Finish that sentence and I’ll throw you overboard.” I smiled. “Mama Bear.”
His head turned slowly. “Roger.” “Activated.” The look he gave me suggested the sea was about to acquire a new captain-shaped offering.
I was already running when a sleepy voice drifted through the cracked door. “Get him, Rayleigh.” Traitorous Little Fish.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Five Elders POV
The updated intelligence packet reached Mary Geoise several weeks later through the same restricted chain established after the first clear photographs of the unidentified child aboard Gol D. Roger’s ship. Lilith remained secondary to the operation on paper. Roger was the pirate whose movements justified continuing surveillance. Figarland Shanks was the child Mary Geoise had failed repeatedly to recover. Yet anything involving Lilith now bypassed ordinary circulation the moment an analyst recognized her.
The newest packet contained observations gathered across several ports. Exceptional swimming endurance. Recovery from minor injuries faster than expected. Rapid adaptation to physical conditioning. Strength disproportionate to estimated age and size. No indication of Devil Fruit weakness despite repeated voluntary immersion in seawater. None of the traits alone demanded escalation. Together, they described a five-year-old whose natural constitution sat well outside ordinary expectations.
“No artificial enhancement?” one Elder asked. “Nothing identified.” Another turned the page. “Then natural.” The world produced such anomalies often enough that the existence itself required no extraordinary explanation. What mattered was that this particular child already possessed too many other irregularities: no documented origin, possible Nefertari resemblance, distinctive eyes, suspicious circumstances on Sabaody, and now physical potential obvious enough to attract the wrong kind of attention.
The market incident made that concern less theoretical. Four men with ties to trafficking networks had noticed Lilith, discussed what a child with her appearance and strength might be worth, and attempted to seize her. Silvers Rayleigh stopped them before she could be removed. It did not prove the original Sabaody traffickers had ever possessed Lilith. It did demonstrate exactly why someone involved in that trade might choose her deliberately.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“The original assessment remains probable trafficking victim,” one Elder said. “But deliberate targeting is now more plausible.” Another reopened the earliest photograph: bare feet, filthy oversized clothing, armed men pursuing escapees through the same district, no known family before or afterward. At the time, the simplest theory had been that Lilith was another captive or had been mistaken for one during the confusion. The new evidence did not replace that explanation. It merely gave them another possibility.
The account of Lilith’s response received equal attention. She successfully avoided the first attempt to touch her using trained defensive movement, redirecting rather than attempting to overpower a grown man. When another caught her wrist, however, the child briefly froze despite beginning the correct escape. The surveillance officer cautiously suggested a fear response connected with Sabaody.
“Silvers Rayleigh’s instruction appears deliberate,” another Elder observed. The reports showed restraint, balance, defensive movement, and control rather than simple strength training. Rayleigh had also stopped before examining the bruised wrist and asked permission to touch her. The detail occupied only a sentence. None of the Elders dismissed it. Whoever was raising the girl aboard Roger’s ship had apparently learned what frightened her and adjusted accordingly.
The folder closed. The physical assessment would interest Imu. The stronger trafficking theory would anger him. The bruise around Lilith’s wrist would make the entire report personal. One Elder rested a hand on the sealed cover. “Take it to Imu-sama.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Imu POV
The first photograph in the new packet shows Lilith in the sea. Of everything intelligence has collected, it is perhaps the least useful politically and the one I study longest. She is half-turned toward Figarland Shanks, laughing at something outside the frame while one hand grips a rope hanging from Gol D. Roger’s ship. Wet blue hair clings to her back. There is nothing guarded in her expression.
Lili looked like that when she forgot anyone important was watching. Never during formal audiences. Rarely in portraits. But sometimes beside the sea, or halfway through an argument she had begun enjoying too much, the queen disappeared and only Lili remained.
I turn the page. Exceptional stamina. Accelerated recovery. Strength substantially beyond expectations for her age and size. Rapid adaptation under physical training. No Devil Fruit weakness. I read the assessment once, then again. A quiet laugh escapes before I decide whether I intended to make one. The Elder kneeling before me remains wisely silent.
“They consider this surprising?” “For a child of approximately five, Imu-sama.” “Of course they do.” I glance toward Lili’s portrait. Her face. Her family’s coloring. My eyes. And now a constitution that refuses ordinary limitations. “Did they expect my daughter to be weak?”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
One does not survive eight centuries by being delicate. Nor does one rule a world that continually produces ambitious fools with nothing except a throne and an impressive wardrobe. Lili understood that better than most. She mocked my vanity often enough, but she never mistook me for fragile.
“She inherited it from me.” The conclusion feels obvious enough that I almost resent explaining it. The Elder lowers his head. “That is one possible interpretation, Imu-sama.” I look at him. He pauses. “…A strong possibility.” Better.
I return to the training reports. Silvers Rayleigh is not encouraging the child to throw whatever strength she possesses at every obstacle. He is teaching control, restraint, stamina management, defensive movement, and how to avoid meeting a larger opponent directly. Irritatingly sensible. If her constitution continues developing, knowing how little force she needs will matter as much as knowing how much she can produce.
“Do not interfere with Rayleigh’s training.” The Elder looks up before remembering himself. “Imu-sama?” “Was the instruction unclear?” “No.” “Then there is nothing to discuss.” He bows again. At least one pirate aboard that ship possesses judgment. The bar is low. Nevertheless.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Then I reach the revised trafficking assessment. Whatever amusement remained disappears. Intelligence still cannot establish whether the men pursuing escapees on Sabaody had ever possessed Lilith at all. Now, however, another group connected to the same trade has seen her unusual coloring, her eyes, and a glimpse of her physical ability and immediately discussed what she might be worth.
“They wanted to sell her because of this.” The Elder chooses his answer carefully. “It remains impossible to confirm the circumstances surrounding the original Sabaody sighting. The latest incident does demonstrate that individuals involved in human trafficking may regard her traits as particularly valuable.” Particularly valuable. Such clean language for somebody looking at a child and calculating ownership.
“Who touched her?” The Elder turns several pages and gives me the names recovered through local contacts. Four men. Two with confirmed relationships to traffickers. One associated with a broker. The fourth hired muscle. “And the one who bruised her?” He identifies him. My eyes settle on the name until there is no possibility I will forget it.
“Trace all of them.” “Yes, Imu-sama.” “Every buyer. Every seller. Every broker, ship, warehouse, auction contact, and payment that can be connected to them.” The Elder hesitates only long enough to make certain he has understood the scale. “How far back?” “Until there is nothing left to find.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The bruise is not the worst part. Lilith evaded the first hand. The second touched her and she froze. Only briefly. Long enough for an observer to notice. The analyst suggests a fear response associated with Sabaody. I read the sentence twice.
Her body remembers.
Whoever put that fear into her did enough that months later a stranger closing a hand around her wrist could call part of it back. The page bends slightly beneath my fingers before I flatten it again. “The original Sabaody networks.” The Elder straightens. “Imu-sama?” “Expand the investigation.”
“Agents are already reviewing surviving organizations connected to the disturbance.” “Review them again. I want every name associated with child trafficking in those groves during the relevant period. Missing records. Destroyed records. Bribed officials. Dead brokers. Living ones. If the trail ends, determine who ended it.” My voice never rises. It does not need to. “Yes, Imu-sama.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
After the Elder leaves, I continue through the less urgent observations alone. The Roger Pirates call her Little Fish. Of course they do. Apparently she enters the sea whenever given permission and argues whenever ordered back out. That sounds suspiciously familiar. Lili once entered a palace fountain in formal clothing because somebody informed her queens did not do such things. She later claimed the statement had sounded like a challenge.
The other terminology irritates me more. Niece. Little sister. Daughter. The clown apparently shouted my little sister during the confrontation and spent the remainder of the incident denying it. Figarland Shanks calls her his best friend. Silvers Rayleigh referred to her as my girl while removing the trafficker’s hand from her wrist. I stare at that sentence longer than necessary. “Bold.” Gunko remains silent. Wise.
Rayleigh may train her. He may protect her. He may apparently carry towels because she refuses to leave the ocean at reasonable times. He may even become important to her. None of those things make him her father. Still, the next line earns him something approaching approval. Before touching her injured wrist, he stopped and asked permission. She agreed. Only then did he examine it. The pirates learned.
That matters more than I would prefer. Frightened children do not forget hands simply because adults wish they would. Whoever taught that crew to wait for her answer has done something correct. Perhaps Rayleigh. Perhaps the woman from Sabaody. Perhaps Lilith herself forced them to learn. The result matters more than the source. “At least they are trainable.” Gunko’s gaze shifts slightly. “The Roger Pirates?” “Do not make me regret speaking aloud.” Her eyes lower. “Of course, Imu-sama.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
I pick up the swimming photograph again. There is Lili in the face and the Nefertari line in the hair. There I am in those eyes. The child’s stubbornness could reasonably be blamed on either of us, though Lili would unquestionably insist it came from me while demonstrating more of it in the same breath.
The physical assessment rests beside the photograph. A five-year-old body already exceeding ordinary expectations and adapting rapidly once someone competent begins teaching it what to do. I remember Lili laughing whenever she accused me of believing every impressive thing in existence somehow belonged to me.
She would be insufferable about this.
“You gave her your face.” My eyes return to the report, and despite myself, a smile reaches my mouth. “But that part is mine.”