Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The concept of 'soulmates' is unknown in the Charlotte family.

A family divided by usefulness, strength, favoritism, and cruelty, a Charlotte with a soulmate are as rare as Devil Fruit users in the East Blue. Soulmate bonds in itself are legends in some places, mystical things, made for a few special people, blessed by Nika or whatever god created their world.

Not everyone has soulmates, not everyone who has finds them, and not everyone deserves them.

Charlotte Napoleon is the second son of the Minister of Flour and the fifth grandchild in the family, and perhaps the least adored by his grandmother. So it was a surprise when, among all sixty-three children, some of them already married, and fifteen grandchildren, he was the first to be blessed with a soulmate mark.

Not just a mark, but a bond as well, but this was a secret.

He doesn't understand love like the other children on Komugi Island. To him, love is like an excuse to control someone, and a soulmate mark is like a death sentence. People don't marry because they love each other. Marriage is a contract, and only the Charlottes benefit; those who have the misfortune of joining the family are only allowed to live a few more years.

He's understood this since he was a child. Although there are some exceptions, he knows that love is a privilege.

It happens the day after his eighth birthday. Mama threw a big party to celebrate. A rarity these days. Because even though she loves eating cake and having an excuse to throw a feast, only the children in the family get parties on their birthdays, and after you turn fifteen, you only get such parties on your wedding or when your first child is born.

Komugi Island is never as noisy as the others. With his father in charge, the island is very well maintained, everything follows a strict order, so that day, people took the opportunity to relax, dance, and eat to their heart's content. Napoleon could have slept in, which he hadn't done since he was five, but he couldn't.

His father wakes before the sun even considers whether it will rise or not, and Napoleon himself jumped on his bed, unsure whether it was because of Katakuri's heavy footsteps in the hallway or the slight discomfort in his wrist. He sat up, clutching his right arm, rubbing his short nails against his skin, still unsure if he was dreaming. The room was still dark, so he couldn't tell what was happening.

The burning grew worse, as if someone were slowly passing a lit cigarette over his skin. As if Uncle Oven were holding his arm in his enormous hand.

Tears welled in his eyes, making it harder for him to push the sheets from his legs and find his way from his dark room to the kitchen of the mansion. His siblings were still asleep in their beds, perhaps dreaming of chocolate cake and brigadeiros.

It hurt. It still burned. He kept pressing his left hand against his wrist as he walked, whimpering softly. Mama hates it when he cries loudly like a baby. The kitchen light allowed him to see what was happening.

Napoleon stopped near the door, listening to his mother hum, and looked at his wrist. There, on his smooth skin, was a name. Not a tattoo like his father's, but a mark. Like black ink. He can't tell the difference, but he knows he would never have written that strange name on his own arm.

Sanji

Just that. Just one word. In beautiful, long, delicate handwriting. He doesn't know what it means. As soon as he reads it, the pain stops. The tingling continues, so he rubs his fingers over the mark, as he does to soothe Mama's spanking. It doesn't help much.

"San-gee," he repeats softly.

His father's deep voice calls to him from the kitchen. "Napoleon, stop hiding." He jumps. Father always sounds so angry, it's hard to tell if he is or not.

Well, he's learned never to disobey, so he rushes into the kitchen, muttering a "good morning."

Katakuri is sitting at the long counter, already dressed in his dark clothes, his scarf resting on the stool beside him. He waits for Auretta to finish his donuts with a cup of tea between his fingers. His wife always makes his first batch, and the family cooks make the rest, which he eats throughout the day and for his meriendas.

No one wakes up earlier than Katakuri, and no one works harder than him. His children hardly see him unless they accompany him to work or he's given permission to rest. Three times a week, Napoleon and his siblings wake up early to so they all can have breakfast together. That day, he should still be in bed, so he can eat the rest of the birthday sweets with his mother before going to study with the rest of his cousins, aunts, and uncles.

"What are you doing out of your room?" A huge hand grabs him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him to sit on the counter, his legs dangling in the air.

The kitchen is enormous, big enough to accommodate the Minister of Flour and his wife. Napoleon could git his whole room in there. He gets tired just walking to the counter, so he's grateful that his father helps him, smiling at him with two missing teeth.

"It's too early. You can skip school today, sweetheat." His mother speaks from the stove, checking the donuts.

Even half her husband's height, she floats around the kitchen like an angel, and sounds like one, looks like one. Golden hair moves around her head like a jellyfish, her dress swaying as she moves up and down, never touching the floor.

"My arm hurts," he says, still holding his affected wrist against his chest. The pain is minimal. He's still eight years old, tears still streaming down his face. "It burns. Like Uncle Oven."

His father's eyes harden and he reaches out to grab his tiny arm, pulling it easily to check his pulse. He's still in a good mood, hoping to find some cut or bruise from a fall or a prank with his siblings. Sometimes Montero forgets he's too strong and goes too hard on his games. It wouldn't be the first time he's accidentally hurt his triplets.

That's not it. Napoleon notices his father's shoulders tense. Like when Mama gets angry and he knows something bad is going to happen. Katakuri's fingers wrap around his entire arm, leaving only the mark and his little hand visible. And Napoleon waits patiently for his father to solve the problem.

Katakuri isn't gentle, he's harsh in everything he does, but he knows how to measure his strength against his children.

"Dad, you're squeezing," he warns, wincing.

The grip disappears immediately. "Sorry."

Behind him, his mother closes the stove and sets two giant trays on the counter. The wind blows Napoleon's magenta hair, lifting the perfect scent of donuts into the air; he jumps when Auretta appears beside him, staring at his wrist.

Unlike Katakuri, she gasps and brings a delicate hand to her mouth. "Oh! Leo."

He's eight years old. He understands that whatever it is, it must be bad.

"What is this? What is Sanji?"

His father looks up at him. "Did you do this?" His sharp teeth barely move as he speaks, so quietly that Napoleon feels like one of the 3rd officer's subordinates. Small, weak, like he's done something wrong and will be punished.

"No." He shakes his head immediately. "It hurt a lot. What's a Sanji?"

Auretta holds his shoulders, floating higher to look at him. "It's a name, dear, I believe. This is a soulmate mark."

"No." Katakuri deepens his voice. A surprise. He's never rude to his wife. Even Napoleon's eyes widen at his tone. Auretta, so gentle and sweet in contrast to her husband, frowns, as if challenging him. Katakuri shakes his head. "It's not that."

"What could it be, Kata?" Auretta points a finger at Napoleon's arm. Sanji is still there. Even if she rubs it, the name won't go away. "Look. It's not a tattoo. It wasn't there yesterday."

Napoleon doesn't understand what it is, but he doesn't understand any less why his father is being stubborn. Closing his eyes, Katakuri releases his son and crosses his massive arms over his chest. If he were wrapped in his scarf, he would look even more intimidating.

"It's not a soulmate mark."

Auretta continues to hold her son's shoulders.

"He's eight. The marks appear after that age."

"He just turned eight. And you can't know. They're just stories." Katakuri takes a hugr donut and swallows it whole. To calm himself and not sound ruder than he already is, he takes another.

"Oven has a mark. How old was he when it appeared?"

Napoleon watches his father chew, eyes on the counter, thinking. He takes his time and eats two more donuts, then reluctantly answers, "We had just turned ten." He takes Napoleon's wrist with two fingers again. "Does it hurt?"

It's gentle. Concerned. Napoleon would understand years later why his father seemed so angry. Why he so desperately wanted his son to not have a soulmate.

"Not anymore. What's a soulmate mark?" He turns his head to look at his mother.

Auretta hands him some donuts, one of the regular ones. She does this a lot. When things escalate between the family, she's there, with a tray of food and a smile that could make the sun kneel. It's how she survives in Totto Land. It's what makes her different from all the Charlottes.

Her gentleness, as she lifts Napoleon's chin with her fingertips. There's still melancholy in her violet eyes. He can't avoid looking at the thin scar running over her nose bridge.

"It's something rare. Very special. You're so lucky, meu amor."

The storm that is his father dims her light with a voice like thunder. "Auretta," he warns, looking at his son sternly. "You're old enough, boy; you're going to need to understand some things."

And he knows. Napoleon has heard this a few times. And those words never come with anything good.

"Okay." He crosses his legs on the counter. Letting them dangle over the edge makes him look like a child.

His father offers him a donut from his own tray. "Want one?" It's the closest he'll ever get to his father gently embracing him in his arms. As if he's sending him off to war.

Napoelon holds the donut, which is made for his father, as big as a child's float, and nibbles it carefully, his wide, childlike eyes shining. His father sighs and continues eating, suddenly looking older. He enjoys these rare moments between them, where he can have Katakuri's undivided attention, and no one yells at him or scolds him for disturbing the mighty Minister of Flour.

He could count on one hand the number of times he's been alone with his father in his whole life.

His mother returns to the stove to get the next donuts. Her voice grows more distant. "Soulmate marks are rare; people believe they are special gifts given by Nika. Like our family's powers." She moves her fingers, and wind gathers on her palm. The small whirlwind disappears as soon as it forms.

"This is the name of your other half." Katakuri pokes the single word on his wrist.

"Somewhere in the world, there is a person who was made for you." Auretta continues, softer.

Napoleon frowns, cheeks filled with chocolate filling. "For what?"

To marry. It's the only answer his father gives. He's not good at it. He's direct, practical, and cold. His mother tries to comfort him, saying it's because there's a special person made just for him who has 'Charlotte Napoleon' somewhere on their skin. She cups his face and smiles, telling him he'll never be alone because there's someone who was born to love him.

No one but her believes it. God, Napoleon knows she doesn't believe it herself. The Charlottes aren't made for romance. Their marriages are conquests; the strongest get the best deals, the weakest get what's left.

When they tell Big Mom that same day, because something like this couldn't go unnoticed, she laughs. The ground shakes with the sound of their clapping. The homies accompany her with sweet music that makes Napoleon want to stick glass in his ears. The eldest children have gathered at the Chateau, with equal disbelief upon learning that their favorite brother's son has a mark.

"Mamamamamama! A mark! Another one! Finally! They're so rare in our family," Big Mom continues, lowering herself on the throne to look at her fifth grandchild. "And you, of all people, got one! Let me see!"

Napoleon holds out his wrist. Uncle Perospero leans close with his mother, frowning. Aunt Mash and Cornstarch are whispering to each other.

"Sanji. It's too simple, Mama. There's no way we could find them that easily," the oldest son announces, jutting his chin up.

"It's an unusual name," Aunt Broyé says, sensing Mama's disappointment. "It won't be impossible."

Aunt Brûlée's long fingers touch his shoulders. Napoleon allows it and smiles at her, still showing the name on his skin. "Do you feel anything, Leo? A connection?"

"Just pain. It's gone now." He shrugs.

"It doesn't matter!" Mama raises her arms, silencing the far corners of the archipelago like a god couldn't. Her face comes so close as she bends down that Napoleon can see himself in her eyes. "You have someone special just for you. And if that person is strong, they'll be perfect for you to marry! Can you imagine?" She stands to pace around the room, thinking of cake, white dresses, and gifts. Her children hurriedly make way. "I hope it's someone important, from somewhere great, it will be perfect! Maybe a princess."

Napoleon looks down as his uncles and aunts speak at once. Daifuku rubs his head, that grimace that seems to be stuck on his features showing mocking concern.

"I doubt it's one."

Oven gives him a hard shove that nearly knocks him over, a protective hand resting on the twins sleeping on his chest. Mont'dOr has several books at his feet, the pages racing before his eyes before he moves on to the next.

"I'll find them, Momma. I'm sure of it."

"I have to marry this person?" The question is so innocent it cuts through the mocking air the Charlottes create like a needle.

Big Mom turns around with fire in her eyes. "Of course! They were made for you. And they must be waiting! Katakuri, come here! Oven, you too."

The second and fourth sons approach. Big Mom continues to smile, her lips stretched like an omen. Her glowing eyes fall on Napoleon, and he puts both hands behind his back, held in place by his favorite aunt's hands.

Later, when everyone is allowed to return to their duties, grumbling at being interrupted, Napoleon sits on his father's shoulders, hidden by his scarf, and waits for the words he's been afraid to hear.

"Napoleon, you're almost an adult. It's time for you to take on some responsibilities."

News of his milestone spreads quickly throughout Totto Land. Not everyone believes it; some congratulate him, others shrug and look at him with pity.

Napoleon becomes an adult too quickly. Responsibilities are thrust upon him as if they were a blessing. And he begins to see more clearly the small cracks in his family that have been so poorly filled with cake, terrible songs, marriage contracts, and displays of strength.

It's not a family, he tells himself as he brushes mud from his clothes.

It's like a prison, his older brother says once, and goes back to punching the walls until his knuckles bleed.

"I heard you have a soulmate." Lola visits him two months after his birthday. Chiffon is nowhere to be seen. The two are rarely apart.

Napoleon's pants are dirty with mud, and the soles of his feet are hard from running barefoot for so long. Pudding tries to eat the rattle he gave her, and Flampe sleeps tied to his back while he finishes his homework. In two years, he won't have to go to school.

"Yes. I don't know why Mama is so happy." He lets her sit beside him. They are silent for a moment, watching Uncle Raisin teach Aunt Panna and his cousin Suzette how to jump rope, until Napoleon slams the book shut. "Aunt Lola, what's this? Everyone's acting strange."

Lola clasps her hands together on her skirt, sighing. She's eleven, but she sounds like she's thirty and so, so tired.

"Mama said I'm an adult. I can understand things. You can tell me," he insists, sounding too much like he's eight.

Lola shakes her head and looks back at her brothers and nephews. All younger than her and under her care. "When you grow up, you'll marry that person. No matter who it is, Mama will do everything she can to find them and bring them to you." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and looks so sad. "And if you're very, very lucky, that person will be from some important family."

"What for?"

"What for?" The high-pitched voice of Clementine, the second granddaughter and Grandma's favorite, cuts through the air like a rusty blade. "Napoleon! It's necessary!"

Flampe shifts on his back, and Napoleon drops everything to calm her. If she wakes up crying, Aunt Mash will smack him on the head and ground him.

That doesn't stop Clementine from walking up to him in her pretty and shiny shoes, putting her hands on her hips, grimacing. "That's what weddings are for. Your mother has this power of storms, Aunt Sirgrún is going to be chief of Hebi Island. And that's why Mama loves them. But look at me!"

She raises her arms in the air. Pudding mimics her with a toothless smile.

"My father is useless. There's nothing special about him. My mommy said she'll get rid of him soon." A sour laugh follows her words. The second grandchild isn't sad. "Maybe she'll send him away like grandma's husbands, or maybe she'll just kill him."

Lola clasps her hands over mouth with a gasp, but Napoleon isn't surprised. He'd already heard Aunt Compote talk to Perospero about being tired of her husband, whose name no one could remember. Most of the steparents and the spouses kept their distance, with a few exceptions like the first triplets' wives and Aunt Aina, Counter's wife, who he seems to adore.

"It doesn't matter." Clementine shakes her head. "Your soulmate better have something amazing about her, or she'll be useless."

Uncle Montb stops playing ball with his brothers to join in the conversation. "Just like your mother." His brothers laugh.

Napoleon forgets about his baby aunt sleeping on his back and stands, tossing the book into Lola's lap. "My mother isn't useless! She's the one who controls our weather and makes the days sunny!" His voice trembles like lightning, cracking in all the wrong places.

Like his mother's powers on a bad day. His mood makes the air around them too heavy to breathe. He can't create storms. If he could, he would have swept away the teasing of his cousins ​​and uncles.

Uncle Raisin doesn't stop spinning the rope Suzette is skipping, shrugging. "Maybe. But she's a wimp. Everyone knows that." He looks at Montb, Kato and Katen. "Of all three, she's lucky to have married your father."

"Yeah!" Katen smiles. Napoleon clenches his fingers so tightly he could break them. "Brother Katakuri is the strongest in the family. Your mother is lucky she's pretty enough to marry him."

"Shut up..." A thunderclap follows. Lola is trembling beside him, standing to hold her little nephew in case he decides to jump on his uncles and scratch their faces like Montero does.

"And your mother is weak." Uncle Kato agrees. "That's why Mama did that to her face."

"And you three are weak too," Uncle Montb points out, looking around for Montero and Caramelo. "The only thing that will save you is if your soulmate is special. Truly special."

Everyone looks at the mark on his wrist. Delicate and beautiful, in contrast to the dirt Napoleon accumulates on his skin after a day of training. He hides it with his fingers. He doesn't want anyone to look. They can't look.

"If not, well, you'll be useless. Just like my father."

"Clementine!" Lola raises her voice. Flampe wakes up, slapping her little legs against Napoleon's tense back.

The crying snaps him out of his rage. Napoleon lets Lola take her little sister and rock her. It also catches Aunt Compote's attention. Everyone falls silent in her presence, lowering their heads and putting aside their jokes, swallowed up by her shadow, which so closely resembles Big Mom's.

"Mommy! I was just telling Leo how lucky he is!" Clementine smiles, her hands behind her back like a little lady. A precious angel, indeed.

Compote's lips curl. She barely glances at her nephew before waving her hand and rolling her eyes, too tired to repeat the words everyone has been throwing at him for the past two months.

"Yes, yes. We're all very happy for little Napoleon. We hope he and his soulmate are very happy."

He knows what that means. It's almost a curse.

Four months after his eighth birthday, no one cares much about his mark. No one searches for his soulmate, they just hope that when the day comes, Napoleon will meet whoever Sanji is and bring them to the delicious and beautiful cage they call home. Where everyone is welcome to suffer under Big Mom's clutches.

"Don't be pessimistic," Lola tells him. "Maybe you'll get lucky and your soulmate will love you."

"I hope not," he says. It's a lie.

He doesn't know what he wants. He's eight years old and almost an adult. In six years, he'll be old enough to join one of the family's crews, and in ten years, he'll be able to marry. To his soulmate or not.

His parents' marriage is peaceful, and there was a time when he believed it was happy. His father is the stronger son, his mother is "adored" by Big Mom, and her bloodline is too precious to be wasted. Auretta is a Storm Maiden, they're the most rare gems in the world. She keeps the days sunny, and that makes Mama happy. She's a confectioner sent by the Gods and is beautiful to behold.

Everything a daughter-in-law should be. Perfect for the Minister of Flour. This doesn't make her any less hated by her sisters-in-law, who envy her being in such a "privileged" position while they have to accept their less important marriages.

Karakuri's triplets are the uncles who visit Komugi the most, and they bring their families with them whenever they can. Napoleon starts to pay more attention to the family after his mark.

Daifuku fights with his wife every day for every possible reason, and they only got married because Mama saw how successful Katakuri's marriage was and thought the same would happen for his triplets. While Daifuku's marriage brought another alliance, him and Aunt Sirgrún hate each other, and everyone knows it.

The rest of the family find it funny when they discuss during gatherings, throwing insults and shouting at each other; Napoleon would pity her if his aunt Sirgrún weren't as sour and mean as Daifuku.

Meanwhile, aunt Hendrika is a warrior, but has as much patience as Auretta and is the only person besides Mama who can tell Oven to shut up without causing a disastrous outburst. Napoleon was intrigued when he discovered they were soulmates, they get along well and never yell at each other, so maybe marriage couldn't be so bad.

Seeing the mark on his wrist, Uncle Oven smiled and told Napoleon that when he discovered Hendrika had the same mark as him on her calf, he wasted no time in demanding that she marry him. Aunt Hendrika sighed and said she couldn't refuse.

"She's mine, isn't she? I couldn't lose her." Oven throws his head back and laughs, pulling his wife by the waist.

"Oven is a very devoted husband," Hendrika replies whenever her sisters-in-law ask why she puts up with the hothead. There's a hardness in her eyes that matches his mother's, and Napoleon shivers.

At ten, he becomes an adult and is always so busy, so tired, that it takes him a while to realize his soulmate is starting to connect with him. That the bond between them is growing stronger.

His schedule is packed. Five days a week, he trains with his aunts and uncles, or with his siblings and cousins. It doesn't matter; he spends all day being thrown to the ground, rolling in the grass, getting more bruises and sore to get stronger.

The homies laugh and make songs about how his bones break when Uncle Cracker hits him hard.

He slowly realizes that his dreams are strange.

So tired he gets every night, he believes the woman in his dreams is his mother. Until she isn't. His mother is frighteningly tall, fat, her eyes a sweet violet, like a dream, and an ethereal presence, worthy of her lineage. The woman he sees when he's between dream and reality is thin, blonde too, with a delicate, sad face. Pale, as if she's never seen the sun.

He feels affection when he sees her in his subconscious. The same kind he feels when he sees his mother, so when he realizes she's not his mother, he's confused.

"What if my soulmate is this old woman?!" he screams at Montero one night, shaking him by his pajamas.

His older brother kicks him out of bed. "You're lucky, then. She'll see what a brat you are and break the bond."

From the bed in the corner of the room, Caramelo throws a pillow at them. "Just don't scare her with your ugly boar face."

The woman isn't his soulmate, he realizes weeks later. Much worse. She's someone his soulmate knows. Every night, Napoleon receives a summary of what his soulmate has done during the day. Images of the gentle woman in a bed, stone walls far sadder than those of the Chateau, maids begging him to stop running in the rain, colorful hair accompanied by sneers.

Napoleon begins to feel angry. Angrier than he normally feels.

It starts to get clearer every day. All the memories are seen from a lower perspective, which means Sanji must be younger than him. This is worse. It becomes a distraction when he stops dreaming and starts following his other half's daily life while he's training or doing chores.

Every Saturday, he joins his mother in the Whole Cake kitchen to learn how to bake. It's almost as arduous as training. Mama's appetite is voracious, and he has no time to rest between mixing dough and decorating cakes that make him want to vomit. And on Sundays, he trains a little more in the morning and spends the rest of the afternoon sore.

Katakuri says there's no time to rest. He, Montero, and Caramelo must get strong. And now that Auretta is pregnant with his little brother, their responsibilities in the kitchen increase.

Napoleon hates cakes, so he stays busy making small treats like brigadeiros or pasteles. When he's in the kitchen, the bond grows stronger until he hears a soft little voice in his mind.

"I need to practice. Mommy will get better if she eats good food."

A feeling of pride and affection fills his mind. Followed by tiny hands holding something that looks like a ball of mud, mold, and all his nightmares.

He holds back from vomiting all over the pastries. Mama will punish him. He covers his mouth and clutches his stomach.

"This looks horrible. What the hell is this?"

The feeling fades. The little hands stop working and let the lunchbox slide, but catch it before it hits the floor. Embarrassment sets in, and Napoleon hits his own cheek.

The slap echoes through the kitchen. Montero is finishing decorating a cake twice his size, and Caramelo is trying to force the donuts to bake faster with the power of her mind. It's just them in the mansion's kitchen.

"Are you going insane?" His older brother asks from the top of the stairs. His wild, spiky hair is tied in two bows, his sharp teeth just beginning to show.

Napoleon holds his hand to his burning cheek. Now he feels sick. And terrified.

It happens again. And again. Not every day, but often. And it becomes a problem. Napoleon starts having flashes of memories and thoughts and sensations that aren't his.

Uncle Cracker hits him in practice and he nearly vomits. In his mind, a little boy winces and asks if he's okay. Napoleon punches Montero, right in the jaw, and hears someone whimper amidst his thoughts of victory. At his cousin Devon's birthday party, he nearly vomits when he sees how big the cake is, but Sanji croons about how beautiful it looks.

Not only that. He learns things about his soulmate. He's eight years old and is getting better at reading. He's sweet and small, innocent in a way that would get him eaten alive in Totto Land. He feeds the rats in the basement and never fights back when his brothers laugh at him and beat him until they knock out his baby teeth.

He loves to cook. When Napoleon is in the kitchen learning to make complicated sweets, he hears Sanji exclaim in delight. He can even imagine his little eyes shining with admiration. It's so sweet and gentle it makes him want to vomit.

"My soulmate is a boy," he whispers to his triplets. Uncle Cracker has let them rest. Their birthday is a month away, and it's getting hot on Komugi Island.

"Is he strong?" Caramelo, the youngest of them, and the toughest, asks.

"I bet he's a wimp," Montero grumbles, sitting on a branch in the tree under which they rest.

Napoleon's cheeks turn scarlet. He can't deny that he thought that about Sanji in the early days. But he can't let his siblings insult the person made for him like that.

"Don't talk about him like that. He seems kind. And it's much better than..."

Having someone like Uncle Oven as a soulmate, he mutters inside his head.

Caramelo remains sprawled on the grass. "How do you know? You've never seen him."

The homies don't stay that close to their home. That's why they like to lounge in the gardens in front of their father's office. It's a small patch of privacy they've earned after their mother bribed Big Mom with some strawberry shortcakes.

Napoleon checks to see if Uncle Cracker is back, or if he left the cookie soldiers nearby, then leans over to his younger sister. "Don't tell anyone. I saw him in my dreams."

Montero lets out a short laugh and swings his legs from the branch. "I hit you really hard today. You're starting to hallucinate."

"No. I saw him!" Napoleon covers his mouth as he screams. His face turns even redder. "I don't think it's just the mark connecting us, I can see him in my dreams."

"Is that possible?" Caramelo asks. "I thought the bond could only be one or the other. Feeling pain, seeing dreams, reading thoughts, a thread of fate."

Threads of fate are rarer, and the most desired. They make it easier to find your soulmate. Napoleon wouldn't like that. As soon as his red thread appeared in his hand, Mama would drag him across the Grand Line until she could find Sanji, and then drag the poor six-year-old to Totto Land even if he cried. Even if he doesn't understand what's happening.

"I think you two have something strong there," Montero says. For a moment, Napoleon thinks his brother is being nice. He sounds a little sad, like Aunt Lola. Then he lets go of the branch and smirks, showing the sharp teeth he's already growing. "And if he's a wimp like you, then he's a perfect match."

"I'm not a wimp!" Napoleon stands up, going to grab him by the collar of his sweaty shirt.

The eldest of the triplets laughs and dodges, laughing when Napoleon keeps trying to grab him. In his mind, Sanji wonders why he's so angry. He still can't see through his eyes.

"You can't even hit me!"

They return to training. Uncle Cracker throws them across the lawn until the sun touches the horizon and pats them on the head, praising their hard work, and disappears through a mirror.

Auretta makes them hot chocolate, and when they return to their room, lying in separate beds, boxes scattered because they'll soon be moving and no longer sharing the same space, Montero lowers his voice, his back facing them.

"So? What's your soulmate like?"

Sanji can't see what he's doing. He still has no idea what the voice in his head is. Why he sometimes hears strange things or feels unrecognizable anger. Napoleon doesn't let him see his daily life, and he doesn't want him to start.

The homies tease him all day when he visits his father at work, his cousins ​​fight over petty things, his aunts look at each other with scorn, and even the sunny sky his mother works so hard to maintain feels like a curse over them.

And he knows the place where Sanji lives is bad too. He can see the intimidating, unfeeling figure of his father, his brothers who laugh at him and attack him. And Sanji doesn't defend himself. He cries and cries and begs them to stop and wonders why they don't like him.

And Napoleon holds back the urge to tell him to stop and grow up.

"He's cute." That's what comes to mind. Sanji's image is still blurry. He has some of the younger boy's appearance. Blond hair. A low, lively voice. "I think he likes cooking. He's not very good at it." He chuckles. Sanji must be asleep. He doesn't whine or protest.

"Then he's useless to the family," Caramelo says immediately. Napoleon jumps out of bed and throws himself on top of her.

"Shut up, idiot! I'll break your horns!"

His father grounds him for a month. He continues training and training, paying no attention to his soulmate.

Sometimes he stares at his mark. The people of Harkuriki Town are curious when they see it, congratulate him, and are happy to know that the son of their beloved Minister of Flour has someone special. Napoleon nods and continues with his day, listening to Sanji read aloud yet another recipe he has to practice.

It's comforting, simple, and strange. But Napoleon can't be distracted.

He learns to focus on his own inner voice. He becomes tougher, learning to take punches and kicks and not mind the pain because Sanji can't feel more pain than what he receives from his brothers. When something breaks during training with Uncle Cracker, he swallows all his tears and holds the pain inside so it doesn't reach his other half.

It's hard. It's torture. He keeps the distance between them wide, but never lets go of the connection. He also doesn't pay attention to what Sanji sees. Recipes run through his head, his small concerns are met with grumbles and quick comments.

"Yonji is so mean."

"You need to fight back. You're the same height. Punch him in the nose."

"I can't."

"You never try."

"I need to fix my bandages... where's Reiju?"

"Do it yourself. It's easy. Watch me."

"Who are you? Are you a ghost?"

"No. Now go back to sleep."

"Where are you?"

"Quiet. I'm studying."

"But..."

Napoleon continues reading the children's book to Pudding, Devon, and Flampe. His other half returns when he's feeling lonely. Reading recipes, thinking about rainbows, fairy tales, learning how to mend knife cuts and burns.

Learning that the ghost in his head is something different.

April once again arrives, two years after the mark, Napoleon and his triplets turn ten. Sanji cries during the birthday party, and Napoleon can't ask what's wrong because Mama shoves three slices of cake into his lap. He vomits behind the table. She hits him so hard that even Sanji must have felt it. And there are no more extraneous thoughts in his head for a long time after that.

Montero begins following his father to important meetings, learning how to manage the island, Caramelo follows the aunts to the library and spends hours reading books with pages filled with numbers and letters, Napoleon continues to take hits and walk from one island to another with his cousins ​​strapped to his back.

Sometimes it's easy to take care of them. Other times he feels so angry he has to hold back to keep from exploding.

In June, his little brother is born. Auretta names him Brigadeiro, Big Mom calls him Bree. He's tinier than the triplets, but louder. The kitchen responsibilities diminish, however, Napoleon knows that when Brigadeiro gets older, it will be him or Caramelo who will carry him on their back.

Two months after Brigadeiro's birth, they throw another party.

Big Mom loves parties, loves showing off her wealth to the other Pirate Captains, and loves cake more than anything. You can guess which children she likes best based on how glorious their weddings are. The most lavish parties so far have been Compote's and Katakuri's; the other children have learned not to expect much from their weddings if they aren't good enough.

Uncle Moscato tried, really tried, not to show how disappointed he was when his big day was accompanied by gray clouds and the party had to be cut short many, many hours early because of the impending storm. Most weddings in the Charlotte family last a whole day.

As the one controlling the weather, Auretta must follow a strict routine that allows her to control the rain without destroying Totto Land's environment and causing a catastrophe.

But she was weak after Brigadeiro was born. Having worked so hard during her pregnancy and then helped with the final preparations for the wedding party, she couldn't keep the sky clear for long. And Big Mom couldn't let her most precious daughter-in-law wear herself out.

A furious look made Moscato swallow his regrets about how unfair it was and thank Mama for the party.

Napoleon couldn't look at the cake during the entire celebration. He sighed with relief when the ceremony ended and Uncle Moscato kissed his now-husband. Five hours to get some rest. To run around the lawn like the other children and not have to be completely responsible for them.

For the first hour, he danced with Yuen, Raisin, and Joconde; the latter insisted he join her. Then he picked up Pudding and pretended she was the best dance partner in the world, making Joconde and Clementine jealous. And finally, he ran across the dance floor to collect used confetti with Anglais, Eggbert, and Abalone.

His tie was tightening around his neck, he'd let down his magenta hair, which was difficult to keep combed, his mind quiet. Sanji wasn't speaking to him, for some reason. Sadness lingered somewhere in his mind, where the bond is strongest.

He almost reached out to grab the little boy's hand and ask what was wrong. Lola and Chiffon sat next to him as Auretta got up to feed Brigadeiro, clapping along to Aunt Cornstarch and Aunt Mash's speech.

"Do you want to get married?" Chiffon asked him over the drunken singing of Oven and Cracker. He knows how to tell them apart, and they appreciate it.

"Like... my parents?" Napoleon asked, watching his father take Brigadeiro from Auretta's arms, the baby so small in his palm, and leave the garden.

Lola shook her head. "Maybe. Like Moscato. His husband seems nice.

"They're happy together."

"He's lucky."

For the first time since Uncle Counter, they're happy with another family union. Uncle Moscato can't stop smiling and doesn't let go of his husband's hand. Normally anxious and meek, now he seems like the most confident man in the world.

Napoleon searches his mind. No one answers. "I don't know. Marriage isn't... easy." He throws his head back to look at the gray clouds gathering. The party will be over soon. Better hurry up with the grooms' dance before the garden gets drenched.

"People yell at each other when they marry." The three of them jump when Ambrosia approaches, throwing herself into the empty chair. She looks like a perfect mix of Daifuku and Sirgrún, with spiky blond hair, ashen skin, snake-like eyes, and a permanent scowl. She's the same age as Sanji and the smiling Aunt Panna, but looks angrier.

"Just like your parents?" Chiffon murmurs.

Daifuku is drunk, slumped against Perospero, complaining for all to hear about how marriage is shitty and how he hates his wife. "Isn't she boring, brother Pero? Isn't she? Isn't marriage terrible?" He keeps shouting. Sirgrún is frowning from across the garden, on her third glass. The eldest brother sighs and asks the band to turn up the volume.

"If I'm going to get married, I want it to be to someone nice," Lola comments, sighing. Napoleon smiles at her dreamy face. "I wonder if your soulmate is nice, Leo."

Yes, too nice. Perfect to be eaten by Totto Land.

He wouldn't be surprised if Mama was keeping a groom's suit in a safe somewhere. And he doesn't want to think about it. Sanji is a child compared to him, from a different world, and he's not cut out for the Charlottes. He wouldn't survive like his mother or Aunt Hendrika. He'd go crazy like Mont-d'Or's wife, and Napoleon doesn't want him ever getting close to this family.

So he pretends not to think about it. He has eight years before it's too late. Ten, if Mama decides to be merciful. He might give Sanji enough time to realize how wild his family is and break the bond. Reject his soulmate and move on.

"I don't know. I've never seen him," he replies after downing his soda.

"Him?!" The twins and Ambrosia lean closer, too curious.

He blushes. "Sanji is a boy's name, isn't it? Who calls their daughter 'Sanji'?"

Chiffon keeps her hands over her mouth, surprised by the revelation. Lola nudges her, and they whisper a secret.

"The same person who calls their children Toast and Crepe." Ambrosia points to Oven's twin boys running toward the chocolate fountain.

Napoleon stands and grabs them before they get dirty. The wind blows stronger, threatening to throw away the tent surrounding the garden. Moscato is already on his feet, pulling his husband for the grooms' special dance.

It's a shame, Mama decides it's time to go. She's already eaten the entire wedding cake, which means there's no point in staying there anymore.

"B-But... Mama!" Moscato calls out, and is ignored. Big Mom's thunderous footsteps silence him.

That's when Napoleon intrudes. He had the audacity to defy his grandmother? He had no idea what was happening. How could he have known this was his uncle's punishment? A way to humiliate him after he failed to complete a simple mission Mama had assigned. The wedding wasn't just for Mama to swallow up another small empire. It was a punishment, and no one could interfere.

The Charlotte siblings stood, leaving as Mama ordered, leaving Moscato and his husband in the garden as the sky began to weep.

Napoleon held Oven's twins in his arms and looked up, shielded by a giant cherry tree. His mother was gone. There was no one left to clear the skies.

He had an idea.

Without leaving the protection of the tree, he raised a hand, carefully holding the twins, and concentrated. He had never done this before, nor even tried. His mother said he was still too young to learn to weather storms like the rest of the Brennan family. He didn't know it was her trying to protect him from further mistreatment by his grandmother.

But he didn't want to upset Moscato. He was the nicest uncle, and it was his special day.

Honestly, he barely remembers what he did wrong to receive his grandmother's fury.

With all the strength he possessed in his ten-year-old body, he sweated until he managed to tear a hole in the gray sky, forcing the clouds to part and open a small space for sunlight to shine through.

It was beautiful. Moscato and his husband were enveloped in a small ray of light, just for them. The rest remained in the rain.

Napoleon smiled triumphantly, breathing hard. He had done it. Even Sanji felt his surge of pride at being able to control the powers he hadn't even learned to channel yet.

Moscato didn't smile at him. He stared wide-eyed as Lola and Chiffon took the twins from Napoleon's arms and walked away.

The next second, Napoleon was hit with such force that his ears rang as his head hit the ground.

He heard Sanji scream if he was okay, and then was hit again.