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Summary
Six months later, Sanji learned two things.
First: medical checkups were brutally expensive, especially when the doctor frowned too long at the scan and scheduled another visit.
Second: raising a child alone required swallowing things far more bitter than pride.That was how he ended up standing outside the National Kendo Association’s training facility, appointment slip clenched in his hand, heart beating a little too fast for someone who told himself—daily—that he was fine.
He looked at the name in the offer letter. Roronoa Zoro — National Championship Representative.
Sanji almost turned around.But then he thought of the envelope tucked into his bag: bills, receipts, estimates for the months ahead. Thought of the small, quiet life growing inside him, unaware of pride or grudges or unfinished sentences. So he inhaled, straightened his coat to better hide the curve of his stomach, and walked in. That's when everything started...