(A/N: This is from the point of view of an OC. As well, I've used the English translations of the named of the Usopp Pirates (Carrot, Pepper, Onion), since their names seem to be meant as direct references to the vegetables, rather than just Japanese names.)
"Daddy! He's back!" came the unnerved hiss from the swinging door to the dining room, and Burdock handed off the mixing bowl to his wife. Azi slid her hand over his in encouragement as she turned away from the bread pans to take it, and he left the kitchen. He reached down to squeeze Suko's chubby shoulder reassuringly in turn as he went by.
"Go get Auntie Saga, lovie," he told her. Squaring his shoulders and pulling his collar closed, he went out to the dining room as Suko's heavy stomping run headed out the back door.
The old man was in the middle of the the half-filled tables, skinny and a little stooped, mass of grey hair undone and gone wild around his head. He was staring around at the other patrons. They knew the drill, and carefully kept on eating, at most giving him polite nods. Confused consternation grew on his face until he turned around enough to spot Burdock.
His grin stretched wide, then, eyes bright, and, like always, Burdock could easily recognize the man who'd told him all those stories when he was little. The nose gave it away anyhow, even now with all the lines and wrinkles and crows feet. Captain Usopp always laughed a lot.
"Carrot!" the Captain said jovially. "I don't know who any of these people are filling this place. Has my illustrious presence brought an influx of tourists? Of course it has," he scoffed at himself, and chuckled.
Burdock swallowed around his return smile, wished it didn't feel like shoving a hot iron through his heart. His father had died over a year ago now, but every time the Captain had one of these... episodes... it seemed to bring it all back.
"What can I get you, Captain?" he asked, steeling himself. He hoped Saga was at home. She was one of the certain few her father still always recognized, no matter what.
"Oh, you know, the usual," the Captain waved with one gnarled hand, and wandered over to the bar. Burdock made a show of taking the white rum from the shelf, and then filled a glass with mostly water, lime juice, and grenadine. The Captain never noticed the difference, and alcohol was bad with his pills.
The Captain flipped a fat gold coin from his thumb straight into the tip jar when Burdock handed him the drink. That aim had never faded. "No need for that, sir," Burdock protested, as always.
"You'll need the money when you finally buy this place. Just take it." Burdock bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, pocketing the coin. That thing was worth two months full bookings. He'd return it to Saga later. "I know you have big plans!" That had been true. The Beachstone Inn was twice as big as it had been when Burdock was a little kid. Pop had spent years expanding it, or at least, years paying for Uncle Pepper and old man Barley's hard work. And then last year Burdock had inherited it all, though he'd been running it for ten years already. The whole place was his, from the big kitchen to the extension on the west side to the renovated snailphone booths. Burdock barely remembered how it had been before, just a vague memory of shabbier floors, more cramped rooms, and only one cook.
He wondered what the Captain saw when he came in here.
The Captain took a sip of his drink and tapped his fingers idly against the bar's varnished wood. "So where are the boys? Aren't we going to go fishing? I promised Saga the legendary giant bream for supper tonight, after all. Kids who eat its meat grow up the healthiest, you know."
Burdock hid his hands below the back edge of the bar, grabbing and twisting at a washcloth. He shrugged his usual shrug. "They'll be here soon," he said lightly. He was very glad "the boys" weren't here now. They'd headed slowly home from their weekly lunch visit an hour ago, arm in arm, leaning together on Uncle Onion's cane. Burdock pulled over the bowl of pretzels as a distraction. The Captain dug in happily, eyes unfocusing into some daydream, nibbling away while Burdock watched him, tried to breathe normally through the iron band that felt like it had tightened around his chest. "Say..." Burdock finally started, picking up a pretzel himself, turning it over in his hands. The Captain blinked and looked at him again, still smiling.
Oh god, he was always so happywhen he got like this and came looking for Pop. Was this better or worse than that silent, shaking grief from the funeral? Burdock could never decide.
And the resistance crumbled, finally. "You remember last time we went fishing...?" he asked, letting the end dangle. Talking to the Captain with a leading question like that usually resulted in-
"Of course!" the Captain smacked the bar hard enough to make Burdock and a bunch of the other patrons jump in surprise. A couple of them rose warily from their chairs, but Burdock hurriedly waved them down. "You reeling in that old boot was so classic I couldn't have made it up better myself. But, you know, it's really what happened next that took the cake."
Burdock stood and listened to a tale so embellished that he had to laugh along with the Captain when the punchlines came. He knew the story-the real one-from Pop and Mom's own retellings, and Uncle Onion's memoirs. Meeting the lost fishman tourist family had been a remarkable event for them even without added frills like rebel Marine invasions or a suddenly sentient pop green kelp strand falling in love with their pet panda shark.
He didn't really mind the frills.
The sound of the front door opening and closing made him glance over. There was Suko's short, round shape, and Saga's lean taller one, her familiar face as kindly-older-lady looking as ever, if you didn't count the scars on her cheek, the armband with the jolly roger on it or the bandolier of throwing knives she'd never stopped wearing. The sight of them was a relief, but not an urgent one anymore. Burdock was smiling now.
"And that's when you," the Captain jabbed Burdock in the chest with one pointy finger, "made a total fool of yourself in front of that lovely fishwoman." The Captain lapsed into a very passable imitation of Pop stammering through a greeting that had Burdock in tears, not only with mirth, but mainly so.
"You do that when they come back this year," the Captain snorted, waving that pointy finger at Burdock authoritatively, "and she won't give you the time of day."
Pop hadn't done that the following year. And Mom had given him the time of day. And Burdock's half-fishman heritage wasn't that apparent, unless you touched his skin, noticed the slight webbing of his hands or the gills under his shirt collar, or saw the dark harlequin rasbora stripes down his back and his legs.
Saga had taken a seat at the table just behind the Captain, and Suko was making a beeline back to the kitchen. Saga caught his eye, shared empathy passing between them. He shrugged a little, still smiling, and wiped at the wetness in his eyes.
"I know, Captain," he said. "But thanks for telling me."