Break the Cycle
Sabo is going to be a father. He wishes that that filled him with something other than intense overwhelming fear.
Notes: This piece was written for the ASL: A Bond Stronger than Love zine. Link in the end notes!
The breeze ruffled his hair gently, the sun turning the sky and the ocean golden-orange and pink. By all rights, a beautiful evening. Too bad, he felt so cold. Sabo clenched his fists as he stomped past the place he'd been calling home for the last few years. A small farm, the beginnings of a vineyard being planted. All signs of a peace he'd fought so hard for, but never thought he'd achieve.
And now...this. The ultimate sign of peace. Or, well, it should be.
Koala was pregnant.
He, Sabo, the former Second-in-Command of the Revolutionary Army, former Noble, and now an active member of the World Reformation Forum, the new World Government, was going to be a father.
The bar came into sight, the stench of cheap alcohol and cheaper entertainment coated the air. He didn't come here often; he preferred the quiet of home or to visit the next island over for better booze and quality company with old friends. He didn't recall walking through the doors or ordering the drink in his hand. There were people on either side of him laughing loudly, downing as many drinks as he, but entirely different in disposition.
No matter how many drinks burned down his throat, the sick, cold feeling in his chest wouldn't leave him. An old feeling, a deep feeling. Fear. All the wars, all the fights, hell, even being burned didn't leave his hands so shaky, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it over the terrible crashing of drums and drunk guffaws that echoed off the walls.
A father. He was bringing a new life into this world. How was he supposed to handle that? He didn't know how to be a father. Hell, he'd just turned tail and ran after she told him.
He stared down into the piss colored liquid in the glass in his hand.
He'd had many father figures in his life, each of them lacking in their own ways. His biological father had been a bastard. He appeared before Sabo's eyes, his memory of the man fuzzy now except for the fear that still tinged all his thoughts of him. Tall, imposing, a cruel sneer on his face always aimed in Sabo's direction. He'd never loved Sabo, was always too invested in his own goals, in scheming machinations to further his status at all times.
His scars itched fiercely, and the music was suddenly excruciatingly loud, the people around him suddenly monstrous. He needed air. Sabo lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door, nausea swirling in his gut. No one stopped him. After all, who would attempt to mess with a war hero? Garp, his laughing smile and painful fists kept him company as he shambled through the streets, heading for the forest.
Garp, a man who, while he had accepted Sabo as one of his own without question, had chosen his career over his family. He'd let Ace die. He was there, on the battlefield, and he did nothing. Sabo's hands tightened into fists. He, too, had chosen his own ego over that of his children.
The forest was dark, and though not the one he'd grown up in on Goa, it still smelled the same. His feet found the trails deer frequented, winding around trees, over gulches, crossing streams and rivers, the sound of crickets and beasts rumbling in the pitch black. Memories of his times with Ace and Luffy, of their tree fort, of their hunts, seemed to echo off each log, their ghosts racing past his legs.
Luffy, so small, so bright and carefree. So different from his father.
Dragon hadn't fallen far from the tree, however. While he loved the man and believed in his mission enough to die for it, Sabo knew that Dragon was not a good father. Even now, after the War, as the world began to settle into its new forms of government, he could barely stand to be in the same room as Luffy; he had hardly spoken a word to him. From guilt, or despair, or something else entirely, Sabo didn't know. Dragon had never treated Sabo like he imagined a son should be treated either; he was a busy man building a global movement, had never donned the cloak of fatherhood with an air of seriousness. Yet again, a man who chose his career over his family.
The sound of the sea reached him, filling up the frightening quiet of the forest. The trees thinned out, revealing the cliffside, a massive fogbank rolling in, the shape of it like a tidal wave about to break across the island.
So how was Sabo going to be? How could he be anything different?! Was he not a product of the people in his life? Did he not inherit his cunning from his biological father, his willingness to accept others from Garp, and his determination from Dragon? And if he had taken on their better qualities, he probably had their negative qualities too. His ruthlessness from his birth father, his cavalier outlook towards life from Garp, and his terrifying ability to focus on only one thing, consequences be damned, from Dragon.
He dragged his feet along the coast until he could go no further, coming to a halt at the cliff's edge, staring out at the ocean. A river from deep within the forest dumped into the sea below, the freshwater rejoining the ocean in an endless cycle.
He clenched his hands into fists, the cold inside of him turning to molten anger, flames erupting from under his skin, startling him. An image of Ace, so angry at Roger for leaving him, so angry at the world because of how they perceived his existence hovered in the back of his head. Roger had been just like Garp, just like Dragon, hell, even like his own father. Choosing his career, his dream, over his family.
Leaving his child at the mercy of the world.
The cold of the fog settled around him like a shroud. How was Sabo supposed to explain to his child that their Uncle was no longer with them because the world believed he should die? Even though he'd fought and won for the world to be different now, the War had only been over for a few short years, nothing more than a blip in the face of 800 years of tyranny! Every day, Sabo worked to change laws, to organize, to make the world more equitable and equal for all, but wasn't this new world just a product of the old one? Were the changes big enough? Did they even make a difference?
Would his child grow up in a world just as bad as the one Sabo had been raised in, just in a different way?
The darkness of the cliff he sat on was too close. The stars hidden by the fog, the whole world gone, just him alone on the cliffside confusing the roaring in his ears with the sound of the ocean far below. He placed his head in his hands, despair ripping at him. Sabo could see it now, his need to ensure his child's safety and happiness by working towards some theoretical utopia, and never being home. So focused on his work, on the greater good, that his child would grow up with a father who never put them first either—doomed to repeat the exact mistakes of his own parents.
And Sabo didn't want to be like that! He sank his teeth into his lip, his chest so tight he could barely breathe despite the desperate gasps that tore from his lips. He collapsed to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest. Time passed as the darkness inside of him broke free, ravaging his heart. But slowly, the wind picked up, blowing the fog out. The sky began to lighten. Black to gray to pale blue. Sabo's shaking began to subside, his nausea fading, his heartbeat beginning to slow. He unfolded as the first cries of seagulls reached his ears.
He turned, looking towards the east, watching the sun rise over the treetops, the golden light turning the sky pink and orange, the sound of life awakening all around him, banishing the darkness.
A new day.
Sabo took a breath, letting it fill him up, allowing it to expand from his toes to his forehead, his chest easing. He didn't want to be like his fathers. And he didn't have to be. Sabo got to his feet, eyes settling in the direction of the home he shared with the woman he loved. He could break the cycle.
It was a new world, and he could be too.
Notes:
This was my piece for the ASL: A Bond Stronger than Love zine. It's an amazing FREE zine, here's the twitter link:
twitter DOT com/ASLbasedZine/status/1389250797507067906
This piece is near and dear to my heart, I personally struggle with Sabo's concerns in regards to whether or not I'm doing enough or the right things, or if I'll just perpetuate a cycle of awful forever.
Anyway, let me know your thoughts and as always, thank you for reading!
You can find me on twitter at buggyisbest.