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It was only a matter of time before Judge deemed her as disposable.
Reiju should’ve anticipated this sooner, especially after the mess at Whole Cake Island. Only her brothers– Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji, that is– are Judge’s perfect creations, and even then they’re flawed. By comparison, she’s a rough draft, an experiment without the necessary fine-tuning to make a machine into a completely unemotional war machine. She’s failed her part for too long; it was about time for Judge to realize her faults and ship her off to the highest bidder. She should be happy to be free of Germa’s expectations, no matter where she’s going.
And yet, despite her conditioning to be perfectly agreeable, despite how much she’s wanted away from Germa but being unable to grant herself escape, despite everything, she’s not happy. She didn’t want to be disposable.
Reiju never liked the thought of being the disappointment, ever since she was a child. Just how long could she keep up with her brothers, or whatever else Judge had planned? She’d be outshined eventually. As a child, she had selfishly been grateful that Sanji was the scapegoat, and not herself. What would have happened if Judge had four perfect sons and one experimental daughter? Sanji had given her an alibi. She wasn’t the worst of her siblings; she was second worst at best.
Second worst wasn’t going to last forever. She’s hidden her failures, her feelings, all her life, and has done a decent job at it for all these years. No emotion passes across her face. She bites her tongue as Judge commits atrocities in the name of Germa, she lets him do as he wishes to anyone who steps in his way. She does what she’s told, no matter the human cost.
And yet Judge is still willing to throw her to the wolves at the mere promise of a successful partnership between Germa and the Marines. They’d squandered their relationship with the World Government due to their failed partnership with Big Mom, and Judge was set to correct his own foolish mistakes with the same foolish plan. She doesn’t know why a marriage will satiate the World Government; they have no empire of children like Big Mom had. Perhaps they think they’ll have a hostage in case Germa goes rogue again. What foolish leaders; like she could be used against Judge.
“You’re our only chance to restore our relationship with the World Government,” Judge explains, regarding her like she’s one of his cloned soldiers, and not his only daughter. “Germa needs you to comply.”
Anxiety laces in his voice. He’s desperate, and pathetic. Judge always been a coward, but Reiju’s never been allowed to say that, or even protest his more foolish decisions. All she can do is comply with his demands.
The handsmaids dress her in an elaborate white wedding gown, decorated in detailed lacework and rare sea pearls. The dress shimmers, catching all the light in the room. It’s expensive. It’s fashionable. All the handsmaids compliment her on it, as if her appearance made any difference. All it does is make Reiju feel like an expensive doll.
Her dress is, objectively, beautiful. Lace crawls up her arms up to her neck, encasing her completely in delicate, fallible fabric. A large, silky bow cinches in her waist, resting on her back, waiting to be unwrapped by whatever Marine man Judge has sold her off to. The wedding gown is delicate, pristine, and evasive. It covers her leg tattoos, and shows just enough of her breasts to entice her betrothed, but covers enough for plausible deniability.
Her dress is the perfect balance. It’s everything a woman could have wanted. It still feels uncomfortable. The lace makes her arms itch, and it takes all of Reiju’s practiced poker face to ignore the urge to scratch at her own skin, to make herself bleed. Instead, she stands perfectly still, waiting for her betrothed to align himself to Germa and take her as his own.
“I don’t see why you should be married off,” Ichijii mutters. He sounds petulant, as if irritated at her situation rather than truly distressed. “Can’t we just kidnap the failure again? You’re useful. He’s not.”
It’s the highest degree of brotherly affection he can manage. Reiju sighs, ignoring the urge to thank Ichiji for his concern, however crass and misplaced it is. He’s trying. It’s more than most do for her.
“The Marines requested a bride,” Reiju explains. She keeps her tone curt, careful, like she could give herself away even now. “Sanji is many things, but I’m afraid he can’t pass as a blushing bride.”
“Hah! That’s right, I’d hate to see him on the altar,” Yonji proclaims, as if he hadn’t seen Sanji on the altar before. “You’re much more fitting. The dress is great. You’ll do Germa proud.”
That’s right. She’s here to make her warmongering nation proud.
“Thank you,” Reiju says, trying to smile. She turns to Ichiji, and forces herself to look unbothered. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll succeed.”
Ichiji scowls. So he hadn’t meant his comments to come off as concerned. “Whatever. It’s just a stupid use of resources.”
Stupid use of resources or not, it doesn’t matter. Reiju will bend over backwards to whatever the Marines want, just because Judge needs her to. As much as she stews and regrets and angers, nothing about that will change.
The wedding venue is impeccable. Pristine white flowers, grown in Germa’s labs, dot the edges of the aisle. Every single flower is perfect, with six petals each, all fully bloomed and immaculate. She hates to think about the number of flowers they culled to find the perfect arrangement. She knows Germa’s labs aren’t that good; they kill as many specimens as they create.
Niji smiles at her, though his grin is crooked and mean. “You look perfect,” he says, then knocks her on the shoulder. “All you have to do is deal with some shit Marine, right? Can’t be that bad.”
When he puts it like that, it sounds like such a simple ask. She’s tolerated three brothers all her life. She only has to tolerate one husband.
“Indeed. It would be easier if you didn’t keep dirtying my dress,” she says, pointedly patting down her front. “I need to be presentable.”
“Hah! Sure, sure,” Niji says, backing off. He offers her no remaining comfort, only holding his hands out like Reiju herself is going to snap. “You look fine. Just say yes and get this over with.”
The three of her brothers– the three still with Germa– are dressed in mundane suits, all standing in a line behind her as her groomsmen. She didn’t have a say in the matter– she didn’t have a say in much. They’ll represent her bridal party, and she’ll accept them as-is.
“I fully intend to get this over with,” Reiju says, curtly, then stares out past the aisle to see what the Marines have in store for her.
She doesn’t expect much. Reiju is being sold off to the highest bidder as a sort of apology to the World Government, like her corpse is worth more than her fighting prowess, more than her entire worth. She’s a warm body, and Judge is intent on collecting. She expects whoever is intent to marry her to be equally brutal in his judgement.
The cold air chills her. As much as everyone else is dressed up for the occasion, lace doesn’t do much to shield Reiju herself from the elements. She’s the main event, but her well-being is considered as much as a prized pig set for slaughter. She can’t imagine that the Marines have set her up with anything but a brute of a man, greedy for whatever woman he can find.
The wedding bells toll. Reiju swallows, mildly nervous. She knows whatever she’ll face will either be better than her previous experiences in Germa, or the punishment she deserves. She peers to the end of the aisle, but the sun prevents her from seeing her husband-to-be clearly.
“Hey, I don’t think that’s a man–” Yonji starts, but Niji clocks him on the back of the head.
“Shut it, moron! All that matters is that the Marine marries her!”
Reiju squints to the end of the aisle. She doesn’t quite believe what she sees. She’s been convinced she’s being sold to the worst of men– surely some begone Marine, long past his glory days, trying to find comfort in whatever woman he can still purchase– but instead, what she sees is a woman, dressed in a simple suit, looking considerably more nervous than Reiju feels. She keeps adjusting her bright red glasses on her face, like they’d fall to the floor if she didn’t attend to them every few seconds. The only intimidating thing about her is the sword that rests on her hip.
“That’s a surprise,” Reiju says. Her brothers turn to her, expecting her to share her opinion. “I wasn’t expecting someone that young.”
If her brothers have anything to say, their protests are drowned out by the musical cacophony of Germa’s very own band. The horns blare, loudly triumphant with little musical fanfare. Reiju holds her bouquet close to her chest, letting the flowers rest just between her breasts. It’s a natural distraction, but she doesn’t know if it’ll work on this woman. She planned this whole ceremony out, and now she’s thrown for a loop.
However, her groom– her bride– certainly is distracted. The closer she gets to the altar, the more she gawks. It’s as if she’s never seen a woman before. She eyes Reiju eagerly, then looks embarrassed by her own transparent eagerness. She keeps toying with the sword at her side, gripping the blade like she could use it to slice through her own awkwardness.
Her bride is good-looking, in a way. Her hair frames her face perfectly. Her blush highlights her eager expression, and her face shows an honesty Reiju herself isn’t accustomed to. Her suit, while masculine, is still fitted enough Reiju can tell that the woman in front of her has an athletic build. She’s sure that, if Reiju initiated a fight, she’d be evenly matched. It excites her, even if it shouldn’t.
Regardless, the wedding music plays, and her bride stumbles down the aisle. She loses the eagerness in place of warriness. Her bride-to-be glances nervously between all the attendants, her hands tight to her side. She keeps herself perfectly paced, like she’s practiced her own wedding before it’s happened. That’s ridiculous. Reiju herself hasn’t had the time to prepare much for this farce; she doesn’t imagine the Marines have any larger stake in it.
Her bride steps up to the altar. Her footsteps echo on the marble tile; under all that frill, she’s still wearing steel-toed boots. They echo, and she winces like she didn’t expect the noise.
“Sorry,” her bride says, treading with lighter steps. “I wasn’t expecting this large of a ceremony.”
She looks admonished. Embarrassed. Reiju smiles. She can sell herself as someone who’s beneath this woman– like Reiju’s a prize to be had, a delicate flower. Then, she can catch her off guard, and escape to live her own life outside of the Marines and outside of Germa. The thought excites her, even if it’s a frivolous fantasy.
“I’m nervous, too,” Reiju says, though it comes off as coy. She’s never had to make herself sound nervous before. It sounds too fake. Instead, she pretends her hands shake as she reaches out for her bride’s hand. “Is that alright, Miss….?”
“Tashigi,” her bride quickly clarifies. “It’s Tashigi. That’s okay. I’m not really here to marry you, I’m…”
Reiju doesn’t know what she says next. The bells toll, and the wedding ceremony begins, with or without her input. Reiju straightens her back, standing tall and imitating the image of a perfect bride. Delicate yet malleable. Serene yet conquerable.
“We gather here today, to join two– two people in matrimony–” drones on the Germa cleric, caught off guard by the brides in front of him.
Tashigi squeezes Reiju’s hands. Her hands feel sweaty and rough, and she holds Reiju’s own palms like a lifeline. She holds Reiju’s hands tight, like she’s something of worth.
“I’m so sorry to spring this on you,” she whispers. The priest in front of them continues prattling on about marriage and contracts. “I was supposed to talk to you earlier, but, well, I couldn’t find a way in to the castle, and I–”
“That’s quite alright,” Reiju cuts her off. “I’m sure your partnership is with the best intentions, Miss Tashigi. I’m quite amenable to agreements with the Marines. So is Germa.”
She’s amenable because Judge is amenable, but something about Tashigi’s earnestness catches her off guard. Tashigi flushes brilliantly, her face red. Her palms sweat in Reiju’s grasp. She’s the last person Reiju expects to want a blushing, submissive bride.
“I’m actually not here to create a partnership with the Marines,” Tashigi admits. She smiles hesitantly, then pulls Reiju’s hands close to her chest. “I’m here to return a favor for… well, for someone else entirely.”
Reiju pauses; so there’s a third party interested with a partnership with Germa? It’s not what she expected. She tries to smile, though the attempt only makes Tashigi frown.
“Is that so?” Reiju asks nonchalantly. “Who else wants to partner with Germa? Who else are you working with?”
Tashigi blinks. She’s shocked, but instead of pulling away, she grips Reiju’s hands tighter.
“No, no, you don’t understand, I’m not interested in a partnership with Germa.” She finally lets go of Reiju’s hands, but quickly presses her hand to Reiju’s cheek, shielding her face from the audience. Reiju can feel her breath, and it sends unexpected shivers down her spine. “Germa did reach out to the Marines to regain their status in the World Government, but we didn’t even consider the deal for a second. It wasn’t a very good proposal.”
Reiju is sure it wasn’t. Judge has been too desperate lately– just what did he think would happen? Something akin to dread overtakes her, then a calm acceptance. The Marines were never going to forgive Germa. Judge has just led them all into another marriage trap, and this time Germa won’t have Sanji’s kindness to bail them out.
She smiles. So this is how it ends. “And yet you’re here, Miss Tashigi.”
“I recognized your name,” Tashigi continues, “From the marriage invitation. So I contacted your brother and the Strawhat Pirates to… to return the favor, and this is what they came up with. They asked me to get you out of Germa.”
Tashigi had come to rescue her? What an absurd plot. It has to be a cover for something– anything– but the woman in front of her looks too honest. She balks; she’s sure her shock is clear on her face. The only reason the audience doesn’t notice is because Tashigi’s hand cups her face. It feels warm, and distracting.
“That’s okay, right?” Tashigi asks nervously. “The plan is a bit over the top. I was told what to expect, but I hadn’t thought you’d be so…”
Tashigi blushes. It lights up her full face.
“You’re awfully bold to tell me your plan,” Reiju states, trying to collect herself. She doesn’t understand what to do about Tashigi’s plan. “What if I don’t want to leave Germa? I could tell everyone your partnership is ill-founded, and you’ll be cut down where you stand.”
Tashigi pauses. Reiju finally focuses on her eyes, behind her red glasses, and she looks simple. Unassuming. But the grip on her face is tight, and strong, and Reiju has a feeling everyone in the room is underestimating this woman, including herself.
“You could do that,” she says. “But you won’t.”
That’s bold. She doesn’t back down, either, certain in her plan to rescue Reiju. The thought is absurd; Reiju may be a disposable war machine, but she’s a war machine all the same. The idea of escaping Germa with some Marine bride is too good to be true. That’s a fairytale ending that isn’t even worth considering. She doesn’t know how to process the real possibility standing in front of her.
She does need to say something; she needs to pry until Tashigi’s true intentions are revealed to her. “I’m shocked that a Marine would agree to partnering with pirates.”
It doesn’t dissuade Tashigi at all. “You’re not shocked, you’re stalling,” she says. “It can’t be that hard to believe I’m here to rescue you, is it?”
Reiju blinks, caught off guard. Tashigi’s hands are still warm. Reiju hasn’t had a hand on her face for this long in quite some time, and she’s growing too comfortable with it. She closes her eyes, and sinks into the feeling of being held by someone, even if she doesn’t truly know who it is.
“It’s a ridiculous plan,” she admits. Reiju needs to earn back the upper hand; where did this woman’s earlier nervousness go? She’ll just need to tease that out. She licks her lip, watching as Tashigi’s gaze falters. “But you still have to seal the deal, yes?”
“Eh?” Tashigi doesn’t follow, the decisiveness lost in a cute confusion. She hasn’t stopped staring at her lips, but she can’t put two and two together.
“You’ll need to kiss me after I’m done stalling,” Reiju says. “That was part of your plan, right? Whisk me off my feet and take me away as your bride. I can see why a Marine like you would partner with pirates, if that’s what you’re after.”
Tashigi flushes. The flush extends to her ears, and her neck, and Reiju wonders if all of her would turn red under scrutiny. “That’s not– that’s not why I agreed to this, you can’t–” Tashigi holds her breath, as if trying to stop words from falling out of her mouth. “You’re impossible. Strawhat didn’t warn me about this.”
Still, despite her flustered protests, the bid for a distraction doesn’t work as well as Reiju thought it might. Tashigi continues holding Reiju’s face in her palm like she’s something of worth, and with one long exhale, she says. “Well, if that’s what it takes.”
Reiju wasn’t expecting much from this farce of a wedding. But Tashigi’s lips on hers are warm, and inviting, and they traitorously signal some latent hope that she isn’t quite willing to address.