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A normal baby should wake and whimper for food and demand a change. Instead, Reiju lies awake in silence. One baby cries right from the womb, a minuscule blonde thing. Mother’s allowed to keep him, begging her to be careful and mind his head on those rare visits. The other babies are completely different.
Reiju runs her fingers over fuzzy hair, marveling because the skulls have already hardened. They never whine or beg for attention. Humming a lullaby or offering them a rattle never brings a laugh. Yonji’s a week old and wails, delighted because his strength manages to break a caregiver's finger.
A different caregiver rushes over because Ichiji collapses in his efforts to sit upright, stumbling when a metallic clang echoes off the walls. Everyone chooses to ignore the ruined floor.
Mother pumps bottles for them and it's never enough. Father relents and allows her to nurse Yonji solely because he always wants more. Ichcij and Niji will settle for the powdered stuff.
Yonji? He wIll have more and more. A wet nurse comes and removes Sanji. They have no use for him.
Things are normal. A new caregiver arrives daily. Some can manage the whole day. Those are rare people. Usually, Reiju will find them running from the room, murmuring horrified because something new has come up. Mother always asks whether the babies are doing well, kissing non-existent training bruises better, and watching the door for eavesdroppers. A diary sits beneath her bed cataloging the new changes in the babies.
Ichiji’s already crawling and completely uninterested in whatever’s on the floor. Things dangerous for another baby are mere obstacles for him. People are mere obstacles for him, having witnessed him raise a man overhead for blocking his path.
Sanji?
Gazing upon him feels as though she’s stumbled into some stranger’s nursery where the owner prefers to keep a doll over real children. Tiny compared to the other babies with pink cheeks and always smiling and desperate to hang onto her finger, satisfied to coo and offer up toothless smiles. Niji’s begun smiling, too, showing off a dimple and laughing because his power is new.
New and completely uncontrollable. Father’s schedule never considered them breaking teeth. Yonji’s always been the one interested in chewing on things, drool racing down his chin, and never leaving a rash the way it does on Sanji. A
dumb
curious caregiver tries to tug on his lower lip. Someone’s finger brushing his gums is the catalyst. They drop him. Niji smiles, showing off that dimple, and laughing. Reiju watches helplessly; she’s never smelled burning skin prior to that.
They recover. Recovering isn't enough for them to come back. Father decides to move him into a separate room and encourages the staff to wear protective clothing.
Armor is useless when facing off with him. Niji manages to claw and kick exposed skin. People learn to dodge him and he comes up with a new move. Then he misses. He’s never come close to missing. Picking him up shouldn’t be frightening. Even with the protective clothing, her body stiffens. Dropping him won’t cause any damage. Mother’s always watched her with Sanji, running a hand over her hair and his hair, begging her to be careful with him. Reiju tries, though, and tightens her hold when those eyes find her.
Mother's blue. Hardened with Father’s cruelness. Something new, too. A shocking whiteness bleeding across his pupil and into the blue, a brilliant shocking star. A doctor removes him from the kingdom, a temporary solution to save his power and eyesight.
Époni delivers the news for her. Unintentional electrocution while exploring his newfound power.
Mother sobs and curses him, her fingers seeking something to grab onto. Reiju’s fingers have never been grabbed with enough force to change color prior to that. Sanji watches them, his eyes that same beautiful blue, untinged. Mother looks into his eyes and sobs harder. A doctor manages to repair the damage. Well, the ruin hasn't completely vanished. He dons protective sunglasses and there's a discussion of whether he should be dosed with medication until he learns control.
Germa’s reputation is intact. The Vinsmoke name won't be damaged. These are the important things.
Reiju begins watching him sleep. Can he dream or has that been wiped, too? Maybe dreaming has been wiped for him and presented for another. Yonji’s always moving in his sleep, kicking some invisible enemy, and uttering nonsense. Ichiji’s the stiff one, choosing his sleep position and staying there for the night.
Sometimes she’s lucky, though. Yonji’s kick leaves a massive hole in the wall, his laugh something akin to innocence. He's unaware, having some dream where he's winning, and Reiju’s too happy to wake him up. Ichiji relaxes, willing his body to sink into and appreciate the cushy mattress, lips curling into a smile.
Niji? Well, he’s a challenge. Father’s removed the staff for him.
A child unable to control newfound skills is one old enough to care for themselves. Coming near him is difficult for her.
Sleep is no longer a concern. Instead, he's awake, screaming and attacking whoever tries coming close. Food could settle him except it's been removed, too. Father decided he's ready to wean. No use attempting a sippy cup or plastic. Glass is better.
No one knows the damage right away. Niji manages to scream until he's hoarse and collapses, unable to withstand another minute, weak snores coming from his slumped position. Glass shards are embedded in his clothing and the room reeks of rotten milk. The response is temporary, one he manages to overcome within days.
Reiju watches him and decides Niji will be Germa’s beloved son. Maybe having him shriek is better. Her other choice is watching him among the wreckage, calm now, smiling as a woman reads to him in a shaking voice. Tiptoeing around them are the other staff, asked to clean up the mess. Someone sniffs and he raises a finger in warning, skin changing color to that cursed blue.
Ichiji could be the beloved son. Except that he's unwilling to utter a word. Father’s research claims he should be stringing words together now, too large for a normal baby. Wouldn't he be devastated to know Sanji’s already making noise?
Her own research offers little. Ichiji manages to dodge his voice, ringing a bell or drawing. Using the bell is preferable; Reiju keeps his artwork under the bed.
Mother will never know these pieces exist. Germa being stronger is the important thing. Her growing stronger is the important thing. Father tugs her aside and announces there will be changes, weaving his fingers through her hair, and she can recall Époni doing the same. Époni never dug her fingers in, though, gaze blank when she tries pulling away.
The new rule is simple. Either her skill will improve or he begins to remove privileges.
Training has always been easy for her. Except that he begins a new regimen. Reiju's pulled from bed without warning and ordered to run laps on her unsure legs.
Reiju's nightgown is too long for running. Her soles are aching on the second lap with the skin threatening to crack open and bleed by the fifth lap. Her nightgown is covered with mud and torn from one too many stumbles.
Father shrugs and declares her efforts are decent enough. Reiju lies on her abdomen to sleep, biting the pillow with a muffled shriek as a nurse tries to fix her ruined skin. Her nightgown has been tossed, deemed unworthy to save. Reiju knows better than to believe he's done,
In the morning, there's no food for her. Her favorite food is being offered up, too. Her meal is water while being forced to watch Yonji shovel it down with no regard for its taste. Niji's begun to sample and love chocolate. He has no use for the meal, pushing the plate onto the ground and smiling when someone rushes forward to clean it.
Ichiji might be worse. Mother would refer to him as a grazer, preferring to sample his meal, slicing things into tinier and tinier pieces, and leaving the table with food for someone else. Tonight? Ichiji watches the wall and crams everything into his mouth, chasing it down with water.
Nothing on his plate. Yonji never leaves anything. Niji ensures his plate is wasted.
Father’s determined to starve her unless her work improves. Mother can’t help her either. Her body has moved from weakened and functioning into something else. A nurse lives in the room with her, and Germa keeps whispering that she's getting worse. Reiju sits outside the door and lies, claiming things are fine.
Mother knows she's lying. Reiju eavesdrops on the conversation she has with Époni. Her voice is barely recognizable now, a ragged and desperate noise. Her caregivers keep shushing her, begging her to sleep and relax.
Neither can answer her desperate questions.
Is someone going to protect her? Will Sanji be okay?
People already have an answer.
Germa's shame is being passed around the staff. Some have determined he's really a normal baby and weep for his future. She can't decide whether the other side is scared or optimistic. The other side is smaller, whispering that the poison's effects are only temporary. Someday he might awaken and recognize his true power.
She already knows no one will help her.
Father's hold on the staff is strong, his efforts to control them even stronger. The staff are ordered to lock up the pantries and fridges. Someone watches her room to ensure she doesn't attempt to leave for food. Her food has been reduced to whatever crumbs she can scrounge up. Father's willing to continue giving her a snack. Even then her food is usually too small to completely erase the rolling pain pinching her abdomen.
Then? Father decides she deserves a meal. She's done something right. Finally, he's willing to recognize and reward her effort.
Reiju ought to know better.
The family sits with silverware poised, expressions impassive when her dish comes.
Even a starved animal wouldn't consider her food. Father expects a single apple will keep her satisfied. Its skin has changed color into a brown and black mixture, shriveled up. Its odor is worse, souring the delicious steam rising from the other dishes. Father watches her and asks whether something's wrong. Isn't she hungry?
Starving.
Reiju's been surviving on water and whatever food she's allowed. Sleep would be better. Father's watching, though, irritation evident when she picks up her silverware and slices into it. Eating will give him the satisfaction he wants and potentially needs.
Reiju keeps her gaze locked on his as she continues slicing up her meal into smaller and smaller pieces, moving them around her plate. The staff moves around her as though she's invisible, catering to her siblings and picking up the dishes. Father allows her siblings to leave with scraps on the plate or in Niji's case the food untouched.
Father will allow her uninterrupted in exchange for one piece devoured. They stare one another down the whole night. Would she attempt a bite in exchange for a one-on-one with her beloved mother?
Reiju crams the piece in whole and gulps it down with water. Father smiles a wicked smile that says she hasn't won.
Father keeps his promise. Except he wakes her up and has her dressed in the prettiest gown she owns. Mother created it specifically for her; he even combs her hair and weaves a bow into the braid. Then, he allows her to indulge in breakfast. Reiju should know something is wrong when he drags her into the science room, the one she's never been allowed in and hauls her into a chair.
You're going to feel much better soon. He promises over and over. Once the whole thing is over? She's going to feel better. Be just like her brothers.
She's going to be so perfect.