The girl was seven now, the same age Luffy had been when Garp had dropped him on their lap, and just as wild too, running circles around Dogra and Magra every time Makino brought her along. Watching yet another brat run around the house was a strange thing. If Dadan had been any better with feelings she might've called it nostalgic; as it was she mostly thought of it as a bloody nuisance, making her all mushy like that.
There'd been a time, over twenty years ago, when parenthood had been the farthest thing from her mind; since then she'd raised three kids and buried two of them, though she hadn't actually got to bury either. Sabo's body had been lost to the sea (and by this point, she had serious doubts about that one, though Luffy hadn't said anything to her. Probably wouldn't think of it unless she asked. Didn't matter much anyway because she'd mourned him all the same), but Ace had an actual grave somewhere. She thought about going, sometimes. Maybe she'd get Garp to take her someday, if she ever felt like braving the sea.
And now here she was, watching another kid grow into an actual person, full of dreams that were getting bigger with each passing day.
That was a weird thing to think about.
The girl ducked between Magra's legs and ran off into the woods carefree as you please, because some things really never did change. Besides Dadan, Makino chuckled at her daughter's antics. Makino had raised three kids, too, though they'd never been hers in the same way they'd been Dadan's. Dadan often wondered if that was why she'd so badly wanted one of her own.
"Think we'll make a pirate out of this one as well?" Makino asked.
It was a long-standing joke between them, that their good influence had pushed all of their kids towards a life of crime, though in reality there'd been very little pushing to be done, and in Luffy's case most of it had been done by someone else. Sometimes, Dadan wished she could've met him, that Red-Haired Shanks, back when he was still hanging around Foosha Village. She suspected they'd've gotten along pretty well, though maybe not until after a couple pints.
"If you keep bringing her here we might make a mountain bandit out of her instead. Better for her too. What do pirates even do these days, except get their ass kicked by their own King?"
Makino snorted. It always caught Dadan by surprise, whenever she did that. It wasn't the kind of laugh she usually associated with pretty ladies in long-sleeved blouses and ankle-length skirts. But then again, Makino wasn't the kind of person she usually associated with pretty ladies in long-sleeved blouses and ankle-length skirts. Dadan had known that from the first time Makino had come to their hideout, past the mountain trails even armed men wouldn't brave alone, and had stood among her men unarmed and unafraid, asking with a politeness that had thrown them all off if Luffy was there, by any chance (Dadan still had no idea how she'd found out. Garp certainly hadn't told her; he'd still been too angry about her letting his grandson hang around pirates – as if anyone had ever let Luffy do anything). Dadan had known that, and had relearned it time and again over the twenty years they'd known each other.
That was a weird thing to think about, too, that they'd known each other for so long. Longer than Dadan had known anyone except her men, but that wasn't the same, and Garp, but that definitely wasn't the same.
"Why do you keep bringing her here, anyway?" Dadan asked when Magra came back with the girl on his shoulders and Dogra under one arm. All three of them were sopping wet; the girl was hooting in delight. At least this one wasn't a hammer – one of those had been enough to worry about for a lifetime. "Not that I mind, but it's one hell of a hike just so we can drill some honest banditry into her."
"Maybe it's not about her at all. Maybe I just enjoy the company."
That made Dadan laugh, because hell knew she'd never been anyone's first choice for company. Most people agreed she'd been born old and cranky. But it was a nice thought, so she let herself enjoy it for a little while. On most days she would have snuffed it out in a heartbeat, but, once in a great while, when the house was once again filled with a kid's laughter and part of her insisted she must miss her boys, she figured it was okay to let herself get mushy so long as no-one else knew about it.
Just for a little while.