Hallo and welcome back!
I'm really fucking elated at how well received this continuation of this fic was! Even coaxed comments from some of you who've never commented before, you have no idea how rewarding this is. This fic is my baby and to see that others also enjoy it is just ... ugh, insert Chopper's happy dance.
Ages ago Nico Robin, Demon Child, archeologist and anthropologist of the Strawhat Pirates had walked alongside Roronoa Zoro, Demon in Human Skin, swordsman of the very same crew. In between the two a pitiful, beaten creature with three heads and when the woman had expressed her worry and concern for the poor thing the swordsman had brushed her off. Had told her not to show her concern lest she hurt the beast's pride.
She had taken the words to heart, so when the very same swordsman had been returned to them, battered and bruised, barely alive, she had resisted the urge to hover over his sick bed, despite everything she may or may not have already felt back then. Had done her best to respect his culture and his beliefs.
Over the two years the crew had spent apart she had internalised the words. It wasn't just him either, the man was a warrior by heart but she had decided to extend the same courtesy to all of them. Don't worry, don't be concerned, they are strong, they will pull through any and all hardship.
After reuniting she barely even had to chant it in her head, the trust and faith so deeply rooted in her heart.
When he later got wounded and again almost died due to a nasty anticoagulant coursing through his veins she had not been concerned, had just felt guilty. When she had seen Zorojuuro's wanted poster on Wano she had been concerned for their cover, not for him, not too much anyway.
Every now and then she did worry though. But she wouldn't show, or try not to, because try as she might he always knew.
This time had been very different. She had been sick with worry. Utter and complete despair had gripped her in the lonely nights waiting for her crew's return all cuddled up in the green robe he'd left behind, hugging their child growing in her belly, telling tales of all his stupidly heroic deeds. All a sobbing and crying mess that she didn't even have the energy to blame on the pregnancy hormones.
It had become slightly more bearable when the G-5 had returned. She'd been surprised of course, but they insisted to stay, to keep her safe from marines because quite obviously they already had her in custody. Frankly, she just didn't have the energy to send them away, but as it had turned out Tashigi was excellent company and while their cook obviously was not of Sanji's calibre it was decidedly better than what she had fabricated herself. Without questioning the marines kept Sunny squeaky clean, washed her clothes, cleaned the dishes and even stocked the hold. They made Sunny look as if a mature adult with her emotions under control had lived here the past week and not a woman barely holding on to sanity due to her sorrow and worry. And while Smoker did not seem happy with it all he not once interfered.
She had spent four days with them between her clone's consciousness returning to her and spotting the little submarine and the ships accompanying it on Franky's radar and she put them to good use.
When the crews boarded the ship she was expecting them, welcoming them, freshly showered and in her own clean clothes instead of his dirty workout gear. She had even brushed her teeth.
They all barely acknowledged neither the marines littering the ship nor her and she was grateful, not quite sure if she could hold up if instead of helping with the preparations for the inevitable party they had tried talking to her, her throat suddenly so tight with emotion, relief, that she almost feared she'd have to suffocate. Ridiculous, she'd known he'd be safe the moment her clone had returned.
And still… when she finally laid eyes on him, only few bruises, fewer bandages and one offending red chafed line across his throat from where the rope had dug into his skin, the world stopped. He could have died. So close to death.
She knew it was the same for him, he too stood there, just staring. At her, her belly, her, and she saw relief. His life rarely mattered to him if it saved the crew, but he was glad he was alive.
She forced down the sob and went to him, calm steps, slow, unhurried. He wouldn't go anywhere.
Hand in his greasy spikes she pressed a kiss on his forehead, soft and chaste like he did before they fell asleep.
"You took your time, Kenshi-san," she murmured and he crushed her to him with as much force he could without harming her or their child, buried his face in her neck. His breathing shallow, shoulders quaking just enough to feel the tremors under her fingers, but not enough for the others to see.
He sunk to his knees, hands on her sides and his forehead resting against where their baby grew.
She hugged him close to her, kneeling as he was, and broke, tears running freely, because he was here. Because no matter how good she was at storytelling, she would have never been able to do the man justice. Their child just had to meet him itself. And now it could.
An utterly, suuuper manly sob ripped through the afternoon and she could feel the heat creep up his neck at the reminder that they weren't alone, that literally a whole fleet was mingling about and probably more or less openly watching them.
She didn't give a fuck, didn't give a single fuck who could see that he made her whole, even more than the others.
Hope you enjoyed, not sure yet if I can make it til next week with the next chapter, but two weeks at the latest! As always please let me know what you thought of this mushy self indulgence! (Gotta be careful, people might take me for a romantic)