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The moon hung lazily in the dark, her light scattered across the waves as they washed over the shore. The water crept up the beach and then shrunk back, the perfect repetition of its ebb and flow becoming almost trance-like. It was a calming view, simple and easy, and the infinite horizon carried with it the scent of opportunity.
Katakuri was glad that he had chosen to have his home built on the coast. The citizens and his family alike had wanted him to be as close to the center of town as possible, so that he could always be reached with ease, but he had insisted on being by the sea. He had said it was to “keep an eye out, just in case,” but in reality it was only because he liked it. He enjoyed the sound of the waves, and the endless view always teasing him with the idea that he could be anywhere. It held promise, allowed him just a fragment of escape.
It was late, he realised. The past few hours had sprinted by, and he had been too busy to notice. Katakuri had not returned until just before midnight, occupied as he was with tasks and responsibilities, and had dazedly wandered to the living room window as soon as he entered his home. He was not sure exactly how long he had been sitting there, but he needed sleep. There were always things to be done, and tomorrow there would be more. He allowed himself a quiet sigh at the thought and leaned against the table in the center of the room.
He heard a gentle rapping noise then, of knuckles against wood. Katakuri reached for his scarf immediately and turned towards the front door, only to realise that the sound had not been coming from the door at all. He dropped the scarf and turned his head to the mirror on the far wall. His sister’s hand had reached out of the glass and she was knocking on the mirror’s frame, despite them both knowing that she could have walked straight in if she so chose. It was a small gesture, but Katakuri appreciated that she was at least trying to maintain some semblance of–non-existent–privacy.
“Come in, Brûlée.” Katakuri said, taking a seat and waving a hand lazily towards the table. He watched as she climbed a little clumsily out of the mirror and hurried to the chair opposite him.
“What is it?” Katakuri asked. “Are you alright?”
Brûlée nodded quickly. “I'm fine.”
Katakuri loved his siblings dearly, and he and Brûlée were especially close, but social calls were few and far between. Even if they had the time, for her to appear unannounced and at such an unholy hour, Katakuri knew something had to be off.
“It's late,” he said. “Do you need something?”
Brûlée laughed; it always made her look so much younger, Katakuri wished she would do it more often.
“Do I need a reason to visit my favourite big brother?”
Katakuri raised an eyebrow as he drew his eyes back to Brûlée from the clock on the wall behind her. “When it's almost 2AM, yes.”
“Ah,” she began fiddling with her hands. “Sorry, I didn't realise it had gotten so late.”
Katakuri shook his head. Even if he was barely on the verge of maintaining consciousness, there must have been some reason for Brûlée to appear like this, and he would wait until she had finished whatever it was that she had come to do. That was simply part of his job as her older brother.
She was still fiddling, not looking directly at Katakuri. It was unlike her to be so hesitant.
“Brûlée,” he said, careful. “What's wrong?”
Her hands froze almost instantly, and she glanced at him and then looked away once more, gazing straight past his shoulder at the window that he had been beside just moments earlier.
“Nothing,” she replied.
“If it's nothing, then you won't mind if I go to sleep.” Katakuri only half-faked what was an overly-dramatic yawn and closed his eyes. He heard Brûlée take a deep breath.
“I'm worried about you,” she blurted out.
Katakuri cracked open a single eye. She was dead serious; he could tell from the furrow in her brow. He sat up straight and tried to shake off his desperate desire for sleep, looking at her fully.
“What are you worried about?” He questioned. “I'm fine.”
Brûlée frowned and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the surface of the table. “Since you got home last week, you've seemed a little distracted. At first I thought that it might have been because of something Mama asked you to do, but…” She scratched her cheek with a long fingernail. “... It feels like you're distracted in a good way, like you're happy about something.”
Katakuri stiffened in his chair. At once, he knew exactly why he may have been acting that way, but he had not realised that this behaviour was so obvious . In fact, he had not realised that he was outwardly displaying any new behaviour at all.
“You seem calmer, somehow,” Brûlée continued. “And I know I shouldn't keep looking at you through the mirrors but even when I'm just passing by, I've seen you spending a lot more time at that window.”
That, Katakuri was aware of, but in his own foolishness it had not occurred to him that Brûlée would notice any difference. Almost annoyingly, she knew him too well.
“So, you're worried about me because I seem happy?” Katakuri cocked his head to one side, trying to play things off as coolly as possible. “Am I not allowed to be?”
“Oh, no, of course!” Brûlée stumbled over her words.”I'm happy if you're happy, that's fine–good, even, but… I was wondering if something happened.”
She looked at him with the sort of genuine concern that only a little sister could have, automatically breaking down his defenses without even trying. He had to make a decision and he had to make it quickly. He could risk it and tell Brûlée the truth, hoping that she would understand, or he could make up some lie that would inevitably be harder and harder to maintain on top of every other mask he already wore. Katakuri exhaled and met her eyes.
“I'm only going to tell you this because I trust you,” Katakuri began. “You can't tell anyone–I mean anyone–what I'm about to say.”
Brûlée lit up with joy. “Of course, Brother! Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned forward excitedly, a childlike sparkle gleaming in her eyes. His sister listening intently while they shared secrets in the dead of night felt warmly nostalgic, and Katakuri smiled at the memory.
“Wait!” She gasped, as if struck by lightning, and Katakuri felt just a flash of panic–she could not have figured it out, surely?
“What?” He asked.
Brûlée gave a conspiratorial glance around the room, despite knowing that they were alone, and then leaned in close. She lowered her voice as if the walls could hear them and whispered, “Are you seeing someone?”
If Katakuri had a drink, he would have spat it out.
“No!” He replied urgently, realised his suspiciously panicked tone of voice and repeated, “No. No.”
“Oh,” Brûlée deflated a little and leaned back in her chair. “That's a shame.”
“It's not,” Katakuri replied drily. “I don't know why you always jump to that conclusion.”
Brûlée gave no reason, only laughed and then looked at him patiently. She was waiting, Katakuri noticed. He took a moment to search for the right words, to think of the best way to phrase what was essentially treason, and understood that there was no way to sugarcoat this. He would be swift and straightforward in the same way he did everything else, and could only pray that Brûlée would be accepting.
“I bumped into Straw Hat Luffy.”
A moment for the words to register, and then Brûlée had sprung to her feet.
“Him? He’s the reason you’ve been–” She began shrieking, “Straw Hat! Straw Hat?” and repeating the name over and over. The more she recited his epithet, the louder and more disgusted her tone of voice became.
Katakuri was doubly grateful at this point that his home was far away from any other; Brûlée was so noisy, anyone within a mile’s radius would have assumed that there had been a murder.
“Brûlée,” Katakuri said. “Quiet down.”
She stopped screaming abruptly and looked at him, open-mouthed and with her hands fisted despairingly in her hair. She had frozen, eyes blank as if she had gone into shock, still staring unflinchingly at Katakuri’s face.
“Do you need a moment?” Katakuri asked, contrasting her extreme reaction with a somewhat forced demeanour of calm.
Her hands were still rigid in her hair, and Katakuri wondered vaguely if her arms had started to get tired. She had not so much as blinked.
“Brûlée?” Katakuri waved a hand in front of her face. “Did you break?”
Her eyes did not leave his–it was becoming slightly disconcerting. Katakuri was beginning to question his decision to tell her the truth when, finally, she dropped her arms and collapsed back into her seat like a balloon that the air had escaped from. She slumped over, seemingly exhausted, and Katakuri prepared himself for the inevitable onslaught.
Brûlée raised her head and looked at him searchingly, perhaps for any indication that he was kidding. When she found no such evidence, she groaned loudly and buried her face in her hands.
“Straw Hat?” Her voice was muffled. “Really?”
“Really.”
She sighed and Katakuri wished he could see the expression on her face, partly so he could gauge the nature of the situation, partly because he knew it would be hilarious. He was fully aware that he should not have been making light of what was, in theory, a serious conversation that may have serious repercussions, but Brûlée’s dramatics had always been amusing to him.
“Please,” she said. “Tell me the reason you’ve been happy is because you killed him.”
Katakuri cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”
Brûlée lifted her head, leaning her arms on the table. There was an intensely scrutinizing look in her eyes. “Well, did you seriously maim him?”
“No.”
“Did you… slightly maim him?”
“There was no maiming.”
Brûlée’s mouth fell open. “There was no maiming? At all?” She sounded utterly scandalized; if it were any other situation, Katakuri would have laughed at the look of sheer horror on her face.
“Then what did you do?” Brûlée asked the question incredulously, as if Katakuri could not have done anything else but try to kill Luffy. It made sense, in its own way–that was exactly what the rest of the family would have done. Luffy was their mother’s enemy and a danger to all that they sought to achieve, but Katakuri was not like the rest of them–not anymore.
He thought back to their encounter; it had barely been ten days since the incident but it felt so long ago, despite every detail being just as vivid in his mind as the moment it had happened. What had they done? Had they done anything noteworthy at all?
“We… walked,” Katakuri said. “And talked. That was it.”
Brûlée’s eyes widened. “You went for a walk with the man who Mama, and the rest of our family, want to take turns flaying?”
“It sounds worse when you put it like that,” Katakuri winced.
“It is worse!” Brûlée was shrieking again. “It's the absolute worst! It's the worst of the worst! You saw Straw Hat and you let him go! You–you just... hung out with him! What if–” Her face went deathly pale, and she lowered her voice, “What would Mama do if she found out?”
Katakuri began to drum his fingers on the tabletop.
“I've been trying not to think about that,” he admitted with a short, pained chuckle. The idea had been lurking on the periphery of his consciousness for days now, and he had kept shoving it away everytime it inched forward.
“She would kill you,” Brûlée murmured.
“Probably,” he nodded.
Brûlée did not seem as horrified as she had before. There was only concern in her air, now, and a little suspicion still lingering in the silence. A little time passed before Brûlée finally spoke, sighing as if having just come to a decision.
“I won't say anything,” she said, gazing at their moonlit reflections in the mirror on the far wall. “I didn't before, anyway.”
Katakuri knew what she was referring to. After he had been defeated, Katakuri had been unable to conceal his happiness about Luffy’s escape and Brûlée had been there to witness it. She had been kind, and kept it between them, but it was unlikely that she had expected this to follow.
“Thank you,” Katakuri said, with genuine gratitude. “I know this is a lot to ask.”
She exhaled heavily. “When you let him go, I thought it was just because you planned on killing him later.” Brûlée still did not look directly at him. “I didn't think you wanted–what, exactly?”
Katakuri crossed his arms and sat back as he wondered how to respond to a question that he himself did not have an answer to. “I don’t know,” Katakuri replied and gave a heavy sigh. “I just find him interesting, and I know how much you hate that generation of his–I agree that most of them are worthless–but Luffy–”
“–Luffy?” Brûlée interrupted with a loud, incredulous scoff.
“He insisted I call him that,” Katakuri said, thinking back to how stubborn Luffy had been about it during the time they had been together, and the way Luffy had looked up at him seriously only to burst into laughter a moment later. Katakuri could feel a smile threatening to emerge across his lips. “But I don’t particularly mind.”
Brûlée finally looked at him, took in the expression on his face and gave a snort of disapproval. Katakuri clenched his jaw, tried to think of sad things like collapsed souffles or uneven cake tiers or tea that had not brewed for long enough, but still could not stop himself from smiling.
“Geez,” Brûlée grumbled, crossing her arms. “Look at you. You’re beaming .”
“I’m not.” Katakuri responded, out of defensiveness, just a tad too quickly.
“You are.” Brûlée rolled her eyes. “Gosh, if you like him so much why not just adopt him?”
“I don’t think Mama would let me,” Katakuri frowned.
Brûlée stared at him in open-mouthed, wide-eyed incredulity.
“You realise I’m joking,” Katakuri emphasised. “I like him, but I haven’t gone completely insane.”
“Well, I–how am I supposed to know?” Brûlée sputtered. “I wouldn’t put anything past you at this point!”
Katakuri laughed briefly and rested his chin on his palm. “I suppose this is a little uncharacteristic of me.”
“A little?” Brûlée grimaced. “It’s not just uncharacteristic, it’s weird. I can’t believe you even had anything to talk about with that... kid.”
Katakuri shrugged, thinking back to what he and Luffy had discussed. Even now, he knew how banal and meaningless the entire conversation had been, but it had been fun and had flowed easily. It was not the content of the conversation that mattered.
“We just talked about… things.“ Katakuri said. “He told me about his crew, I told him about you and the others.”
“Isn’t that information that he could use against us?” Brûlée narrowed her eyes.
“He’s not the type.” Katakuri countered.
Brûlée’s eyebrows furrowed in what Katakuri knew was suspicion. “Are you sure you know him well enough to make that assumption?”
“I don’t have to,” Katakuri said. “I can tell.”
She did not look convinced, and Katakuri hesitated for a moment as memories began to cascade through his mind. There was more he could tell her, more he could say to make her understand, but it felt strangely personal. It was as though these things had to stay between him and Luffy, as though they had made some secret oath of silence. He knew, of course, that this was not the case; it was only the mental blockades that Katakuri himself had erected that were holding him back.
“Just–I just know, okay?” He said. “He may be ridiculous, but he’s… not a bad person. He has no ill intentions, especially towards us.”
They fell into silence, apart from the sound of Brûlée tapping a single fingernail against the surface of the table in a steady rhythm, and the almost imperceptible ticking of the clock on the wall.
Brûlée gave an exceptionally heavy, dramatic sigh. When Katakuri did not look at her, drifting through his thoughts as he was, she did it again, louder and more pointedly. His eyes flickered over to her.
“What?”
“Fine,” she said.
Katakuri blinked. “Come again?”
“Fine,” Brûlée emphasised. “I get it, sort of… well, not really. I don't understand what you could possibly like about that fool of a child, but...” She clenched her jaw, as if the words were painful for her to say. “Even though I don't get how, I can do my best to accept it.”
“Thank you, Brûlée.” Katakuri said. “I know it must seem strange, but he just has something in him, some sort of… I don't know, I can’t ignore it.”
Brûlée waved a hand, feigning disinterest. “You don’t need to explain whatever it is that has you so infatuated, just answer me something.” She paused, and Katakuri nodded for her to continue. “Was I right?”
Katakuri thought that he would have answered ‘yes’ almost immediately, but then realised that was not exactly the case. Brûlée had thought that Katakuri had been happy, but It was not that Luffy made him happy as much as he did not bore him in the way that everything else so often did. As time had dragged on, everything and everyone around Katakuri had dissolved into lifeless, grey masses that drifted meaninglessly by, and it had been that way for so long that he had simply resigned himself to it, to a life of mediocrity. He had lived that way for years and then Luffy had suddenly come along, loud and buzzing with energy and blindingly, painfully enthusiastic. There was so much about the boy that Katakuri found infuriating and confusing and interesting; it was not that Luffy made him happy as much as it was that Luffy did not make Katakuri miserable in the way that everything else did, and that in itself was a miraculous feat.
“I don’t know.” Katakuri said, honestly. “‘Happy’ might not be the right way to put it, but whatever it is that you think you saw me feeling, you were right.”
“Well, as long as it stays that way,” Brûlée huffed. “But don’t expect me to suddenly start liking him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Katakuri replied.
Brûlée gave him a tiny smile, and Katakuri felt truly at ease. This could have gone terribly wrong, but he had trusted her and it had paid off. It had lightened the load on his back; no longer was this a secret that he was keeping tightly locked away. Now he had someone he could confide in, comfortably, and of all the people and of all his siblings, he was glad it had been Brûlée.
She was drumming her fingers on the tabletop, looking strangely thoughtful, and Katakuri had to wonder what she was pondering.
“What is it?” He asked, his curiosity outweighing his patience.
“I was just thinking,” she said, ”you meeting someone would’ve been a much more fun secret to keep.”
“Honestly, Brûlée–”
“–Could’ve gone on a date, but no, you had to go and befriend that.” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”
Katakuri was ready to snap something equally as sarcastic back at her, when the heavy chime of a distant clocktower echoed through the night. It was 3AM, he realised abruptly; even more abruptly, he realised that he had completely forgotten how tired he had been. His eyelids were suddenly drooping once again, as if remembering how heavy they had felt.
Brûlée yawned and rose to her feet, and Katakuri cringed at the sound the chair made as it scraped against the floor.
“I should go,” she said, walking to the mirror. Katakuri followed and watched as the surface of the glass rippled and their reflections melted away, now displaying the dark, twisting maze of the mirror-world. Brûlée placed a hand on the frame of the mirror and made to step inside, when she turned back and looked up at him.
“One last thing,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Is this–is he–really worth the risk?”
Katakuri thought that it would have taken him longer to respond, dangerous as he knew the consequences were, but the answer came to him almost frighteningly quickly. With a small, self-deprecating smile, he replied, “Unfortunately, yes, he is.”
Brûlée gave a final, defeated sigh and murmured her good night. Katakuri watched as she slipped through the surface of the glass and stumbled over her own feet, and then the mirror rippled and Katakuri was left only with his reflection. He looked at himself, at the deep scar that ran all the way across his face. Strangely, it reminded him of Luffy’s smile. He turned away and wondered how long it would be until he saw him again–Brûlée could only take so much of Katakuri’s gushing, after all. The sooner, the better, Katakuri decided.
But first, sleep.