Despite the momentous, near-unbelievable changes enacted on all their lives, things return to a semblance of a rhythm.
They stay in the village for two whole weeks after that (something for which Valentine is silently, endlessly grateful). In that span, there are several very important changes.
Makino teaches her, step by step, how to weave her hair into a fishtail.
It's a bit more complex than a braid, symmetrical and neat looking, wending from her crown to the feathery tips of her hair. She prefers it over the former, simply because it's more stable, even if it takes longer and she's sure it'll take many years to perfect doing it on her own, her hands now fumbling, imperfect and clumsy.
Valentine has deft hands, quick from combat and thievery, but in this, her mother's are quicker; skilled and practiced, near mesmerizing in their long-perfected movements, multitasking. Valentine loves the feeling of fingers in her hair: the rhythmic tug and pull, the smoothly woven strands, the weight of it… it feels nice.
Makino gets her first kerchief from the fabric store down the road. Mr. Tells - who's been selling smaller squares for kerchiefs and other yards of different fabrics for sewing projects to Makino for longer than Valentine's been alive - waves Makino off when she tries to pay, lashes fluttering much like the dusty wings of the silkmoth on his lapel. No trouble, dear, he demurs, handing over the scrap of red, and once again, Valentine is reminded of exactly how much this village loves her mom, that once, years ago, Makino was a child herself, running errands for her golden-spider mother and curling-horns father, bright-eyed and young.
(Valentine knows that she herself is an inexact and flawed mirror image of that same shining picture.)
The kerchief itself is a deep, understated crimson, stiff cotton that'll surely be worn soft with age, near enough to her favorite color to be within spitting distance but not so close as to be unduly eye catching. The first time she has her hair plaited, pinned up and gathered into a knot at the base of her skull, bangs hanging loose, her new kerchief tied and covering everything, she looks in the mirror and stares.
Holy hell, she looks like a mini-mom.
Makino - who has basically done everything at this point, from the fishtail to the pinning - looks like she can't decide whether to be proud, embarrassed, or run to the den-den mushi photography shop and shell out a truly obscene quantity of money to capture this moment forever.
"Thanks, mom," Valentine whispers, leaning back affectionately against the softness of Makino behind her, and Makino's fretting hands squeeze reassuringly on Valentine's shoulders, her conflicted smile melting into something more sincere.
"Your hair," Ace blurts.
Ace, of all people. "What about it?" Valentine fires back, doors to the bar swinging shut behind her, hand coming up to worry at the fabric of her kerchief in a rare bout of selfconsciousness. It looks… a bit odd with her usual (matching red) scrappy tank top and her shorts, but she's thinking about changing that, too. (All things in time.)
The boys have been waiting, impatient, for the past five minutes or so (the hair took a little longer than expected), and they're all staring.
"It's- I mean- where did it all go?" Ace is peering at her head suspiciously, eyes narrowed. It seems that he's searching for any trace of the usual seemingly-endless waterfall of it from under the fabric.
"I think it looks nice," Sabo puts diplomatically, a thoughtful look on his face, stroking his chin.
"I like it better when I can grab it," Luffy says bluntly, peering over on his tiptoes. He ducks around behind her to prod at the back of her head, giggles at the coiled braid he finds there-
"I'm pretty sure my enemies feel the same way, Luffy-Lu," she offers dryly, smoothly skirting away from his grabby hands. The endearment slips out, past her shy smile and the self-conscious twitterings of her heart.
She feels a ripple of comprehension pass through Ace.
(The squealing of a pig, yanking at her skull, writhing like a fish caught on a line, panic, fear, pain, pain pain-)
Valentine smiles serenely and takes off walking, past the boys (she pokes at Sabo's side teasingly, nudges Ace's shoulder with her own, skips out of the way of Luffy's chasing and wiggling fingers), towards the forest.
Porchemy is dead. He can't hurt her. Not anymore.
The day after they get back, Ace asks to talk to her alone.
She's internally freaking out the whole walk up through the village and to the border of the forest. Ace hesitates while deciding which direction to go in - can't go to the hideout, Sabo or Luffy might find them if they decide to look, it is the hottest hours of the day, after all, the best time for messing around and generally doing stupid shit - so Valentine reaches for his hand and tugs him towards the clover meadow.
He doesn't ask where they're going, just acquiesces, silent and (against her mild expectations) not jerking his hand away. Ace can be loud, can be very talkative (in the group or apart from it), but sometimes, he's quiet, and once he gets past a lot of toxic stuff he has built up in his brain around physical contact, he likes to be touched. As someone who likes the occasional quiet and enjoys casual contact with others herself, she appreciates it.
"What is this?" Ace asks, gently letting go of her hand as they step across the border of the treeline. Valentine doesn't respond verbally: she shoots a smile at him over her shoulder (not a grin, not quite so wild and unrestrained, but something sincere nonetheless), unlacing her boots and kicking them off, peeling off her socks and dropping them to the ground below so she can wiggle her bare toes in the soft clover beneath her feet.
She reaches for his hand again, tugs him unprotesting to the sunny center of the meadow. Spring flowers are just starting to bloom, here, and the clover is littered with shoots and buds of pink and blue and yellow.
She lets go and flops on her back to the soft green.
Wordlessly, and after a moment of hesitation, Ace copies her.
He kicks off his shoes, lays on the ground on his back. They're cheek-to-cheek but their legs are pointing in different directions, both gazing into the blue and cloudy sky, quiet.
For maybe a minute, she lets the silence sit, her braid (woven into a simple, loose plait) coiled along the clover like a shining, lustrous serpent, the rest of her splayed out loosely, carelessly, relaxed. She looks up at the cornflower blue of the sky, the puffy white clouds (dark gray on the horizon, looks like it might rain later), the brief glimpses in her peripheral of red dragonflies zipping through the air, wings translucent and glittering like stained glass. She can hear Ace's even breathing, so very near (exceedingly audible, but somehow not unpleasant), can feel the sensation of the warm sun on her skin and the clover below tickling her bare arms and legs, and she can sense…
It's peaceful.
Ilirya is quiet, wearing the striped and fragile form of a chipmunk and sunning himself on her belly. Aurelia is - for once - something entirely new. She's a wild horse, a long-maned golden palomino, trotting around the meadow and grazing on clover, making Valentine think fondly, impossibly, of her and Luffy's discovery of this place, so long ago. Aurelia's not quite a filly, not quite a mare, stuck in that inbetween place, as she'll surely be for some time longer, until Ace grows up.
Not for the first time, Valentine wonders how Aurelia will settle.
"...I wanted to talk about a couple things."
Ace's familiar timbre cuts into the silence, breaking through the buzzing and gentle noises of the meadow, not at all unpleasant. He sounds calm, thoughtful, voice quieter than usual but still so very him.
She tries to imagine not hearing his voice every day, but she can't picture it.
"Go ahead," Valentine replies. She inhales slow and exhales in a gradual sigh, arching her back and letting her arms rise until they're spread eagle, forearms dragging through the clover, enjoying the sensation, pure and genuine. "I'll answer, if I can."
"Thanks." Ace clears his throat, and Valentine stifles a fond smile. Makino's lessons are really kicking in, huh? "First, I wanted to just… I wanted to say thank you."
Valentine blinks.
"You got Sabo back." The clouds are drifting overhead, lazy, puffy and white. The sky seems ever-bluer as she gazes into it. "And I mean… I don't know what would've happened, if he would've come back on his own, but me and him talked, and-" Ace clears his throat. "He wasn't happy there. He wasn't happy at all. And I don't know what I was thinking, but I-"
He cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, but Valentine stays quiet.
He needs to get the chance to just talk. She's cut him off enough, before.
"I can just get- my brain gets stupid, sometimes, I dunno. I stop thinking like I should and I just start thinking stuff like…" Ace's voice gets quieter. "Sabo hates me. He hates us. He doesn't want to come back, he's too good for me, he's better off over there where I can't bring him down… I'm being selfish enough with Luffy, with Val. If Sabo managed to escape, then I should just let him go."
Ace tone is thick near the end of it, but it stays even. Valentine keeps staring at the sky.
"So. Yeah. That stuff's not… Sabo said that's not right. I dunno if he's right about that, but…" Ace breathes out shakily. "If he wants to be with us, I'd be the shittiest person alive to try and take away his freedom again. And it's not just me, here. There's you and Luffy, and Makino, and you guys are just… anybody would be lucky to have you guys in his life." Ace laughs, and she feels it when he shifts, still looking up at the sky. He's smiling. "It's funny, you know? I try not to be selfish, but I just end up being stupid. That's how it always is, with you guys. Right from the start…"
There's a brief quiet.
"So. Yeah. I don't know exactly what you did, but… I heard enough from Sabo. You really put your all into getting him back, and it just- it made me think about why I didn't, and why I was… yeah. I dunno." He makes another undefinable, stifled sound. "It's so hard to talk about it, damn. But I needed to let you know that I- that you- that I appreciate it. Whatever you did to get Sabo back. And if any of us gets taken again, I'm gonna be first in line to rescue you guys."
Valentine smiles at the sky, gentle and gradual, blooming slow over her face. It's a watery smile.
"So, yeah. That's the first thing."
Valentine turns her head slightly, hearing it before she sees the galloping hooves of Aurelia pounding the clover and thundering in their direction-
Ace grunts an oof from the impact as Aurelia shrinks to a sprinting and panting golden retriever puppy, colliding into his side with a hearty thump.
"C'mon, Rels," Ace grumbles, but he's laughing, and Valentine sneaks a quick peek up past her hairline and to his face, catching sight of the glisten of teartracks and the slightest curve of a freckled smile before she tears her eyes away, refocusing on the sky. "I'm tryna have a talk here."
Aurelia - Rels? - of course, doesn't respond. But her panting quiets as she curls up against Ace's side, calming, seeking the reassurance of touch.
"Yeah," Ace finally says, after another few moments of quiet as Aurelia settles. "Do you- do you hear what I'm saying? Do you wanna say anything?"
"I think it's important for me to just listen, right now," Valentine responds quietly. "But if there's anything you specifically want me to address, l can do it."
"Got it. Yeah, so…" She hears his sigh, feels the distant hint of his movements as his shoulders shift. Is he petting Aurelia? (Rels… she likes the sound of it.)
"That's the first thing. Second thing is- can you tell me more about that thing you mentioned, back in the terminal, when Bluejam… when everyone fell down? You said it was-" she can't see it, but she can feel when Ace makes a face. "Conquistador's Hakay?"
"Conqueror's Haki," she giggles, grinning, forgetting to be careful, and Ace shares a laugh with her.
Ace's laughter trails off naturally, and her smile slowly fades as she tries to keep her mind from going back to that day, the blood, the fear, the pain. "Yeah. Conqueror's Haki." He enunciates carefully. "You said you read a book on it?"
"Uh." Her mind fizzes. "Yeah. In a… manner of speaking."
"The hell does that mean?"
"I can't give you the book, is what I'm saying. I don't have it anymore."
Ace makes a faintly disbelieving sound. "Alright."
There's a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, unbroken by the buzzing sounds of the meadow, the trilling of birds and Rels' still-audible puppyish panting.
"Well. We've all got our secrets." he trails off, sounding distant. "Can you tell me any more about it?"
"Yeah," she replies, automatic, pathetically grateful he's letting it go. "It's- Conqueror's Haki is this… it's a manifestation of the user's will. I think. It's one of three types of haki, and it's the most rare. Anybody can be trained in the other two, but conqueror's has to be inherited genetically."
"Genetically, huh?" She can't quite decipher his tone.
"Yeah, but it's not guaranteed. I dunno how it really works, honestly. Just that one in a couple million people have it, and… what it does."
"What does it do?"
"It can be… used? Released?" She has no idea how this actually works. "In a shockwave, I think…? More advanced users can make it more targeted." She's dodging the question. "And what it does is- if an opponent is significantly weaker than you, they'll usually fall unconscious. Those weaker but not way weaker may be incapacitated, or they might try to run away… I mean, this is all based on memory-" sort of, "-so I might be getting it wrong, but I think that's the gist of it."
"So, when everyone fell down…" Ace says quietly.
"Yeah." She swallows around the lump in her throat. "That was conqueror's haki. And, like I told you, this is… based on my imperfect memory." She tries to let how honest she's being leak into her voice. Please, believe me.
"...Okay." There's the barest second of hesitation, but there's no uncertainty in his voice.
She blinks. "That's it? Just 'okay?'"
"I mean, you're not lying. You never really do."
She chokes on a laugh, but it doesn't quite make it out of her throat.
"What about the other types of hakay?"
"Haki, Ace," she absently corrects. "And they're called 'observation' haki and 'armament' haki. Armament is- it basically reinforces whatever it affects, whether that be your body, your weapon, etcetera. Observation is basically sensory haki. It's kinda complicated, but you can basically just- sense… stuff…"
She trails off. Several puzzle pieces click into place.
Ace shifts, several flyaway locks of his hair tickling her cheek. "Well, I wanna see if I can do more conqueror's haki stuff. It sounds useful. And the others sound good, too."
"They're all useful, in one way or another. And they have to be unlocked," she murmurs, distant. She stares into the sky, unseeing. "In battle, generally, but there's other ways. And almost nobody knows how they work outside the grand line. It's extremely difficult to find way to train any of the three types."
"The Grand Line?" Ace's inflection gives the words the capital letters they deserve. "The pirate graveyard? What about it?"
"Haki is for really strong people. And it interacts weird with devil fruits… they're all weak to it, but certain types are only weak to it. Devil fruits are almost mythical in all the oceans around here…" she absently waves an arm to the left, right, the sky. "But they're suuuuper common in the grand line. And haki is one of the only things that normal people can use that matches it, so people learn how to use it." And not-people, but I don't think that's really relevant.
"...I'd ask how the hell you know all this," Ace murmurs, "but then I think you'd lie."
She doesn't say anything.
"I don't care how you know." Ace whispers, the rare shrewdness that sometimes comes over him leaking into his voice, sharp and forgiving, paradoxical. "It doesn't matter to me. Just tell me more about it."
She does.
Rambling into the warm air, past the dragonflies and the clover and the blue sky, she tells him all she knows about haki, hands waving as she forgets to hold back, gesticulating and grinning, occasionally overcome with inflection perhaps a little too sharply sarcastic for a nine-year-old's high-pitched, childish tone. Conqueror's. Armament. Observation.
The more she talks about the latter, forming and solidifying theories and opinions as she speaks them aloud, the more she starts to be sure.
"-and I think," she finishes, quieting, "that I'm starting to unlock my observation haki."
"Wha- really?"
Ace, who's been listening patiently for maybe half-an-hour now, flips from his back to his belly, propping himself up on his arms to stare down at her face. She flinches reflexively as his hair whips against her cheek - a consequence to their faces being so close in the first place, side-by-side - and his shadow falls over her as his turn closes the scant inches between them. Valentine blinks, splayed in the clover, at the upside-down features of him: cinnamon fleck freckles, naturally dark skin a tawny golden-brown, tinted warmer and freckle splattered by the sun, shadowed from the angle until she can't quite make out his expression, framed by the thick waves of black hanging down and curling around his cheeks. (Is his hair getting a little shaggy?) His eyebrows are dark and dramatic, his lashes unfairly long, eyes gunmetal gray, and the cuts and bruises on his face from the gray terminal fire (how long ago was it?) that litter his brow and jaw and scraped up nose are almost entirely faded, healed. They're scabbed over and half-faded, bandages discarded, exposed to open air, and he's staring down at her, the look on his face melting from baffled to inscrutable.
"Really?" he says.
She nods mutely. "Yeah. I mean. I can… I can feel your presence right now."
She closes her eyes.
It's barely-detectable, and she could almost convince herself she's imagining it, but she feels it.
Clearer, with her eyes closed. The faint, wavering warmth of him, tumultuous and orange-tinged, utterly indescribable, felt by a sense she's sure she didn't have a few days ago. So near.
His shadow leaves her face and he collapses to the clover, beside her again, but she keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. It feels like basking in the heat of the sun, scant radiance, not yet expanded to full, roaring potential. And more than that, it feels like him. It feels nice.
"This stuff," Ace murmurs, breath tickling her cheek, "sounds like something we should tell Sabo and Luffy about."
"You're not wrong," she responds, eyes still closed, face to the sky. Her senses are straining, reaching past the meadow (past the odd, echoing copies of their signatures, in Ilirya and in Rels, and that's something she'll have to examine closer at a later date) and into the trees, trying to see how far she can push it.
Past the tinges of Ace, all she can feel are the barest whispers of hints and intuition, feelings and hunches that remain unconfirmed. Instinct. She has a feeling, though, that if she just keeps doing this - reaching out and feeling, trying to detect as much as she can - her abilities will start to grow, solidify, firm into certainty. It might take a while, but-
"I thought you were dead."
Her eyes fly open.
"I really- I really thought you were gone forever."
His voice is choked, barely audible. He's laying beside her. The meadow is still in motion around them, the sky still blue and the dragonflies dancing, but Valentine feels, abruptly, as if she's stuck in a moment in time, still and inescapable. She can't react, can only stare into the blue, wide-eyed, the tickle of the breeze and the clover a distant, faraway thing.
Ace laughs, shattering the suspension like spun sugar as the world comes back to her, vibrant and unapologetic, and there's nothing of his recent humor in the sound. It's barren of joy, barren of smiles; empty, for all intents and purposes. An utter void, helpless.
Her metaphysical awareness of him fades away, yanked wholescale back into the physical world, and she leans up, pivots, ignores Ace's hey! of protest, doesn't look close at his reddened, miserably fragile expression before she pulls him up by his arms and into a hug.
They're both half-risen, seated in the clover, dæmons toppled off of them and off to the side. He shoves at her shoulders, halfhearted, but she squeezes her arms around him tighter. She feels horrible, she didn't even think- she didn't think for a single second about what Luffy and Ace would think of her, back when she put everything on the line to go and rescue Sabo.
She's starting to realize that she might have made an oversight.
"Ace," she murmurs, heartfelt, into his bare shoulder, cheek pressed against the worn strap of his shirt. Her eyes are stinging. "I'm sorry. Thank you for coming for me."
Ace hugs her back so tight it's bruising, stifling his silent, built-up dry sob in the crook of her neck. He's so still that he's trembling- trying so, so hard not to break down. Her heart hurts for him.
"I..." What can she say to him? What can she say that'll make it okay for him to cry? "I meant what I said, you know. I'm not gonna die. Not if I can help it."
She hisses out her next breath as his fingers dig into her shoulderblades, extended claws of a cat that refuses to let go. "That's the- that's the problem! You say- 'not if I can help it,' but you'd-" he rasps out a breath, a terrible, foregone realization. "You'd die for us!"
She can't lie to him. She hugs him tighter, ignoring the pain of his nails digging into her, tries to give some measure of comfort as he stares into the terrible truth. She can't look at him, hides her eyes in the crook of his neck. "Yes."
"Then how could you-" he chokes out a sob, miserable and stifled as his forehead thumps against her shoulder, as the stinging pressure of his nails retracts, smoothing into his palms and rough fingers flattened against her back and curling around the edge of her ribs to hold her closer, and she lets the tears coming to her eyes spill over, sorrowful and apologetic but never regretful. She can't change her mind on this, won't, not even as she feels his tears dripping onto her skin, undeniable.
"I'm sorry," she says, gentle, and he cries.
He wails into her shoulder, loud and broken and brutal as a punch, the sobs tearing from his chest like the cries of an animal. They rise above the trees, pour into her until it's all she can hear, all she can feel, new sense tuned into his unbearable sorrow, resonating. She can feel his awful heartbreak, his helplessness, his fear and pain and self-hatred and anger, and it floods past her like the battering winds of a storm, incongruous and dragged into the gentle sunlight of the meadow. All she can do - all he can do - is endure.
She cries with him, gentle and sympathetic, but she can't possibly match the breadth of his sorrow. It's beyond her, past her death, past even Sabo, the thousands of indignities piled up over barely more than a decade weathering life's cruelties, harsh realities. It's the fear of losing, the fear of losing what's been let in, the people he's started to hold so precious. He loves them fiercely, she can feel it, but it's not a kind love. It's salvation and damnation, the two inextricably intertwined, because behind every single day of Ace's life is a fear, the pervasive rage and terror of never belonging, of never being enough. He wants this, so badly it hurts him, and he can't-
She heaves in a shuddering breath, clinging to him harder, petting gentle, reflexive and comforting over him as he wails.
He wants this so bad it hurts him, this family they've found, and he feels selfish enough with love for them that even if it'd be for the best, he can't leave now. He tried so hard at first, so hard to keep them away, but they just kept-
"I'm here," she whispers, choked, because she can't say it's okay because it's not, can't whisper shh because he's already spent so long with nobody to hear him cry, she won't try to quiet him now. Somebody needs to let him be heard.
He cries and cries and cries, endlessly, the overspilling of a bottomless well of sorrow, because in the end, he's an eleven-year-old boy, hurt and abandoned by the world, terrified to lose the small family he's found. He holds her so tight it's almost unbearable, striving to cling to just one thing, one person.
He breaks and she stays there with him, holding him tight, as if perhaps, with her arms encircling him, she can hold the most important parts of him together.
The end of it doesn't feel like catharsis.
Ace clings to her still, as if he doesn't want to let go, hiccuping sobs still leaking out of him with every breath. Valentine can feel, distantly, Ilirya and Rels curled up together, somewhere to the side, but her focus is on the boy in her arms.
She clutches him just a bit tighter, stroking over his back, because he's so young, so hurt, but he doesn't have to be alone. None of these three boys will have to be alone.
She's not going to be the first one to let go. He can pull away when he's ready.
Kneeling in the clover, shoulder wet with tears and snot and trying to swallow down her own cries, trembling, her eyes go wide as she feels something furry and warm pushing against her arm. Ilirya, she thinks, off kilter, shifts her elbow, raising it up just a bit so he can hop on-
A warm, squirming puppy wriggles between them, but it's not Ilirya.
She leans back with a gasp, sharp inhale swallowed as Ace pulls her back almost desperately, clinging. The warm golden fur of Aurelia is smooshed between them, going still and content, and a moment later Valentine experiences the utterly indescribable sensation of feeling another person's dæmon shift against your body, separated only by a thin layer of fabric.
Rels does smaller and softer- a cat, maybe, or a rabbit- no, the impossibly fragile and downy-soft gray of a chinchilla. She curls up between them, nestling soft fur and twitching nose against Valentine's neck, tiny paws curled over the collar of her tank top, and Valentine's breath stills.
She feels Ace's spike of panic-fear-rejection, feels him move as if to pull away-
"No," she whispers, voice wrecked, hugging him tighter, pulling him back. "It's- it's okay. I was just- surprised. I don't mind."
Aurelia lets out a little trill, and Valentine can feel the dæmon's tears leaking against the bare skin of her neck, near-silent and far less loud but just as sorrowful.
Ilirya leaps, wends up her shoulder, a ferret, and hesitates.
"Yeah," Valentine murmurs thickly, exhales shakily as Ilirya darts from her shoulder to Ace's, winding comforting and warm around the back of his neck.
She jolts, hugs Ace tighter, reflexively, because-
It feels as if she's standing, eyes closed, next to the buzzing, shivering breadth of something so, so important. Ace isn't touching Ilirya deliberately, isn't doing anything but let himself be touched, but-
A feeling of unbearable intimacy shudders through her, settles, evens out.
Belonging.
Ace starts crying again. She breathes.
Eventually, as all things do, it ends.
She tells him, laughing brokenly through her whispers, that he'll have to be the one to let go first, that she can't be the one. Silently, he complies, hands clutching at her shirt for just a moment more before he releases her, pulls away.
He looks utterly wrecked. But what catches her eye isn't that- it's the closed-eyed form of Ilirya, still huddled against Ace's neck like a mink stole, and with a jolt she realizes she's holding Rels in her arms, cradling her gently, stroking with tender fingers at velvety-soft ears.
Ilirya unwinds, jumps from Ace's shoulder to hers, and she shudders at the loss of it, raw sensation receding, calming. It's not pleasant, exactly, but it's a type of relief, a reprieve from raw connection, nothing she's ever felt before.
Still, it's time. She stills her stroking fingers, mouth twitching into a reflexive frown at Rels' chirrup of protest. The feeling of holding someone else's living, breathing dæmon in her arms is indescribable, utterly unique. She can feel Aurelia's heartbeat thrumming under her hand.
It's time.
She leans close, holding Aurelia gently, and deposits Ace's dæmon into his waiting arms.
Rels shifts mutely to a winter ermine, climbing up Ace's arm to wind around his neck, and for some reason, the mirroring sends a flush barreling through her, rising fast to the back of her neck and her cheeks.
Ace just looks at her, expression wrecked and not hiding it, almost pensive, empty now that he's not wracked with grief. He's staring at her intently, and after the space of a moment and a flash of realization she understands: he's assessing her. Waiting with red eyes and teartracks stained on his freckled cheeks to see if she'll turn on him, or tease him, or take it all back. Unwavering, standing tall as he faces her down, awaiting the consequences. Waiting to see if her gentleness will recede.
"We can stay here for as long as you want," she murmurs.
He clears his throat. "No. I'm- I'm good."
She doesn't begrudge him the distance as he clears his throat, scrubbing at his eyes with his wrist as he rises, turning, getting some space. After all that trust, she can't imagine he's feeling anything but very, very aware of what just happened.
She is also very, very aware of what just happened.
"You coming?" he tosses over his shoulder, already halfway across the meadow and pulling on his flats. She rises mutely, Ilirya wound 'round her shoulders still, stepping over and across the warm clover meadow with bare feet. She skips past him, leans down to scoop her socks and boots off the ground, starts pulling them on.
He waits for her at the treeline. They turn to go-
"Wait!" she blurts, hand darting out like a snake to latch around his wrist.
He's staring at her, wary and red-eyed, eyes narrowed. "What?"
He's shared so much with her. How could she not say this?
"Before we go," she says, nervous, hand squeezing just barely tighter around the knobs of his wrist. "I've gotta- I've gotta tell you something."
He stares at her, wide-eyed. "Yeah?"
She swallows. One heartbeat passes. Another. "I ate a devil fruit."
A beat of silence.
"What?"
She tells Luffy and Sabo about Haki, and about the fruit.
Reactions are mixed.
Luffy is so excited about her devil fruit. He asks if this means she's finally gonna start taking baths with all of them now, and she offers a dry no, Luffy, even as Sabo and Ace choke and splutter in mortification. Luffy asks, bemused, how she's gonna take baths alone if she can't move in the bathtub, and she shrugs and tells him she's managing.
(Managing with quarter-full tubs and very careful hair washing, mostly.)
Sabo asks what her fruit does (ever-practical) and she tells him, truthfully, that she has no idea. She repeats the ironclad name of it, says she'll have to figure it out, and in all actuality, Sabo will probably be a lot of help when it comes to that. Sabo's type of smarts match up well with hers in the long-term - the idea spinning, prepping for later, not-in-the-heat-of-combat type of planning smarts - and outside any life-threatening situations (god forbid) to help her make breakthroughs, she has a feeling that her fruit isn't gonna be the easy-to-use, straightforward and powerful type. She can't exactly describe how she knows, but it feels complicated, feels…
It feels like it's gonna be a hell of a pain in the ass to figure out.
(She explains that yes, the devil fruit is probably why my eyes got all weird, Luffy. They take that fine, although she gets a lot of curious stares. She tries not to take it to heart. Hey, if one of them changed eye colors, she'd probably be fascinated, so…
She makes a concerted effort not to hold it against them. Significantly higher percentage of eye-contact during conversations notwithstanding.)
The haki conversation (though again, it's more of a lecture) goes smoother. She can tell that, like Ace, most of the finer points go flying over Luffy's head, but Sabo seems especially keen-eyed and interested, even pulls out a notebook to take notes partway through. She tries her best to explain the hazy, murky truths - this she remembers sharply, knows it's important, but still - and whenever she feels like she's forgetting something particularly important, her head tingles and she gets back on track.
(She doesn't think too hard about this.)
Haki becomes a mundane, springtime truth in the normalcy of Foosha Village. Yet another thing to consider while getting stronger, yes, but ultimately, just another thing on the pile of things to tackle.
She's not sure if she's underselling it or what, but whatever. They have time to figure it out.
She drinks cold milk after her first successful solo bath.
It's the little things, she thinks to herself, self-satisfied, tipping her head back as she drains the frosty glass to the dregs. Her hair is heavy with water, hanging down her bare back, dripping inordinate amounts of water onto the already-slick tiled floor, and she mentally adds wring out hair to her short-term to-do list. (Good thing her balance is so good, or she would've slipped and busted her head open more than ten times by now.)
She places the empty cup gingerly on the rim of the sink, glass clinking against porcelain.
Some things really do persist, she thinks, because she still likes drinking milk. Luffy guzzles the stuff, and even Ace is begrudgingly partial to it, so with Valentine enjoying it as she does, that leaves Sabo as the only one of the four of them that just doesn't like the taste.
It gets fresh delivered every morning from a nearby farm right to their doorstep, and all two gallons of it are always gone by the end of the day. With Luffy and Ace's endless appetites (and her and Sabo's, to a lesser extent), plus Makino's own usage in cooking, the fact's not surprising.
(She's glad that the little bit she squirreled away this morning lasted until now, though.)
She squeezes the water out of her hair in a cascade, towels off briskly, noting that even with wet hair - and make no mistake, her hair was soaked with water - her acute hearing had remained at full capacity. She hadn't felt any change at all after wringing it out.
(That first step into the water is less jarring, now, all the more because she expects it. She doesn't know if it's her imagination, either, but it seems less starkly crippling every time, more of a shift and less of getting a limb cut off.
It brings to mind easing into a cold pool on a hot day. Difficult to stand, at first, but her body quickly adjusts.)
She hasn't done any extensive testing with the effects of water on her body, yet (and she's not in a hurry to do so), but from what she's experienced, still water is the worst for devil fruit users. (Which includes her, now. She's a devil fruit user. It hasn't quite sunk in.) When the bathwater is churning, getting splashed doesn't affect her at all (thankfully), nor does mundane tasks like washing her hands, scrubbing dishes, etc. Running water is fine, as are all forms of non-submersive moving water (including, she predicts, rain, though her hypothesis is yet to be tested).
It's the still water that has the greatest effect. And seawater, she assumes, but she hasn't gotten near the stuff since she ate her devil fruit. Hasn't had the chance, in the span of just a few days.
So she hasn't taken a dip in the sea quite yet. For their part, Ace and Sabo haven't gone swimming in any of the forest's rivers since months before when her and Luffy joined them (as stupid as it seems to risk going swimming in crocodile infested waters), and though they apparently usually do it pretty often during the summer months, it's somewhat of a moot point in the wintertime. Still, winter is bleeding into spring, and Valentine frowns at the very undeniable fact that she'll never be able to swim again, won't be able to join in on any of the upcoming summer festivities.
(She'll be stuck on the sidelines with Luffy, and wow does that give her an insight into some of the little things his devil fruit keeps him from. She vouches to try and be more considerate in the future.)
Well, she can't swim, it's true, but that doesn't mean she can't go in the water. She can, in the shallows, at least, or as long as she has someone making sure she stays afloat. Or a lifejacket. If those even exist.
And though she's compared it to jumping into a cold pool, she doesn't really hate it, because being in the water is soothing. It's like laughing gas, she thinks, in the vein that she knows something is off - she shouldn't be relaxing, something's wrong, something's wrong - but it slows her active mind, makes the hubbub of her thoughts go still, quiet, slow and molasses-like. Not alarmingly, but subtly, bit by bit, until she's falling asleep in the bath and Makino is hammering on the door, calling out anxiously, Valentine, are you okay? Valentine-
(This is why she refers to this as her first successful solo-bath.)
It's sort of like self-medicating, which scares the hell out of her. Her most successful strategy to date is keeping the bathtub shallowly filled and scrubbing herself down, sudsy and briskly ignoring the reaching tendrils of calm.
It's weird, because she thinks her body might still be changing. Not in the growing-girl, maturing part (which it is, to her mingled relief and apprehension), but in the 'a devil fruit is changing my biology and I have no idea what it's altering' part.
Her hearing is better, that's for sure. And it only seems to be improving, weirdly, though she has a sneaking suspicion it's entirely linked to her fruit, with how her senses snap back like a rubber band when she takes a dip. She wonders, scrabbling to find answers, if the echo echo fruit is changing her biology to catch up with its altered sensory perception, nudging her internal workings just a bit further than normal as she grows, but that would be preposterous.
Wouldn't it?
Anyways, she's not gonna think about the passive effects of her fruit right now. Currently, she wants to figure out how to use it actively.
The small, longrunning business where Makino got Valentine her first kerchief - Mr. Tells' Fabric Shop - also carries clothing.
The shop is an organized, tidy place, furnished with all wooden tables, floors, walls, and clothing racks. The wood itself lacquered and shining; a rare luxury in Foosha, but then again, this shop has been around for longer than Valentine's been alive. The luxury makes sense.
The multicolored array of clothing strikes a sharp contrast against all that shining wood, as does the back portion of the shop, full of wall-to-wall shelves crammed with fabrics of every imaginable variety. Rich brocades and fine silks are prominent and on display; well within the range of vision of the register, too, just in case anybody gets sticky fingers. Not that anyone gets sticky fingers in Foosha. (None other than young-her and Luffy, anyways. Everyone else is a respectable adult of the middling to elderly age range. Except Makino.)
Mr. Tells' Fabric Shop is also where Makino buys Luffy all his tank tops. Valentine can faintly remember them paying a visit to the place when they were much younger (too young for the memory to be much more than impressions and fog), giggling at Luffy hopping up and down and pointing to the rack of multicolored button-down sleeveless tops on the rack, shouting I want that one!, tugging insistently on the shade of the brightest of reds with his teeny-tiny, grubby hands.
Makino gets almost all of her own clothes there (the ones she doesn't sew herself), which isn't unduly surprising, considering that it's the only clothing and fabric shop in Foosha Village. Still, being the only option doesn't mean it's a poor option; the clothes are well-made, and if they're not sewn by Mr. Tells himself, they're shipped in from elsewhere and sold at higher prices.
Today, Makino has bustled them all inside, given them a murmuring request to please, don't break anything. Valentine nods fervently; she'll keep an eye on the boys, make sure Luffy doesn't get too excited and knock over anything important. Makino's been a patron of this shop for years, and Valentine honestly can't stand the thought of her mom getting bad rep or worse just because she's taking them to get some new clothes.
Speaking of.
Valentine taps her finger on her chin as she considers expanding the group of button-down-tank top proprietors from two to three.
There's shades in darker red than Luffy's preferred cherry-red, deep crimsons and rich maroons. She's keen-eyed as she strokes over the hems, eyes gleaming.
She likes them.
The shorts she's wearing right now are alright (blue shorts like Luffy's, they match anything and everything), but she's thinking of going in a different direction with those, too. Stake a claim on her color scheme at the outset, so to speak. (Not that she'll avoid clothes in other colors, at a later date, if they catch her eye, but she's always preferred wearing sets of a certain scheme.)
She slinks over to the lacquered wooden table of neatly folded pairs of shorts - rotating a wandering Luffy with a soft grip on his shoulders and pushing him gently towards the button-down-tank-top rack on the way, to his joyous grin - and rifles through the darker pairs. She has a plan.
Ultimately, it goes like this:
Valentine gets two button-down tank tops in deep crimson, one in maroon, and another in sky-blue; the last purely because she likes the color and she won't be hemmed in by her own color scheme, dammit, she'll wear whatever she wants.
She has new shorts, too, a practical pair in black, to-the-knee and studded with two sturdy pockets. She really, really likes the pockets.
Her boots are fine. A little worn-in, but they were overlarge when she got them, and she's just starting to grow into them now. With how her feet will be growing in the near future, she doesn't see the need to get any new boots.
And she's not going to abandon the rest of her closet, or anything (she's sure she'll throw on some of her old and beloved graphic tank-tops on lazy days), but she plans on phasing the new fashion in for whenever they go out out. As in, to the terminal or inside Goa's walls.
(They have an image to present, after all.)
And the rest of the boys have gotten new clothes as well. Sabo especially.
(She remembers catching sight of a familiar face in her peripheral, turning more fully at the glimpse of what she can only describe as Sabo looking lost, staring at the racks of clothing, trying to figure out what to choose.
Was this the first time in his whole life he'd ever chosen what he'd be wearing?
Valentine had managed one purposeful step in Sabo's direction before Makino was stepping in, putting a gentle hand on Sabo's shoulder, talking low, guiding him towards a rack.
With a gentle smile, Valentine had turned back to her own search.)
The end result is rather impressive.
Sabo's previous hat - made of felt and silk, glossy and black, worn dull from wear and tear - can't be replaced in this particular store (though Valentine's well aware of a hat shop in Edge Town that purportedly has everything he'll need for a replacement, and she notes it quietly, puts it on her docket for later).
His previous high-end garb has been replaced with a similar caliber of colors, blues and whites and blacks, but the overall fashion is different.
The tattered cravat is gone, and with nothing around his neck, Sabo seems to feel a bit underdressed. He worries at the cuff of his new dark blue coat often, eventually rolling up the sleeves in his familiar style, looking a bit more comfortable, and for that - if nothing else - Valentine is appreciative.
He's wearing shorts in the same style and color that Valentine ended up choosing - that is, practical and black - with his (rather ostentatious, but hey, he's the one who picked it) white button down tucked into the shorts, sleeves rolled up under the jacket. His hands had twitched for the belts, and Makino didn't begrudge him; his previous golden-buckled belt (emblazoned with Sabo's noble family crest, and wow had she felt stupid after noticing that one) has been replaced with one in simple brown, plain-buckled and understated.
The resulting look is oddly more mature. She thinks it may be because Sabo's not wearing oversized cyan shorts anymore (and boy had those been ill-fitting, not that Valentine had ever had the heart to tell him, considering that they were one of his only remaining possessions of the life he'd left behind), just the neutral and muted shades of black, white, and dark blue. The coat is high-collared and versatile, material light but not overly-thin, and the shirt is of fine make, well fitting and easy enough to replace anywhere if (when) it gets ruined and need calls for it.
He's gotten new boots, too, black and laced-up rather than buckled like his old ones. As someone who wears lace-up boots herself, Valentine appreciates the fashion.
Surprisingly, Ace has gotten new boots as well.
He's replacing the flats! Valentine feels a bit betrayed by the change. He looks so… so serious with the boots, even retaining his typical tank top and shorts. He's yet to shed his resting frowny face, though by this point, Valentine can effortlessly see past it and prod a smile out of him if need-be. (And need-be is far more often than Ace would admit to preferring.)
(It's impossible to feel anything other than utterly at-ease with Ace, now. After what he shared with her, what they shared, the barriers of uncertainty and awkwardness hold about as much weight as fine gossamer. Visible, certainty, but of little import.)
And Ace, of course, who's been wearing black shorts since the beginning, accuses them of copying him. Valentine responds with a teasing shrug. He's not entirely wrong, after all.
Luffy, for his part, has kept his old fashion entirely, strawhat, sandals, and all. Not that she had any hope of that changing. Luffy's style is just part of who he is. (He manages to wrangle a couple more colorful button-down tank tops out of Makino, though. One in sky-blue just like hers, another in an eyebrow raising shade of yellow.
Hey, she'll always have Luffy's back, but unless he's wearing something that clashes atrociously, fashion is a form of self-expression and therefore completely his choice.)
Valentine eyes the fabrics on display consideringly, and though there's more than a few she wouldn't mind wearing in the form of kerchiefs - a plain, velvety black velour, a subtle brocade over olive green in shimmering thread of dusky rose, a bright blue silk - she knows very well that she can use her own share of the treasure to get some more kerchiefs in Goa. She knows that Simmons has them in stock, after all. She's bought more than enough as gifts for Makino to know that.
All in all, she considers the shopping trip a success. They manage to make it out of the store without knocking anything over (if barely), and Mr. Tells gives them an amused goodbye accompanied by a flutter of moth's wings as Makino herds them out, new clothes bundled in her arms.
(Valentine already has the treasure prepped and converted to pure beri bills, ready to slip into her mom's lockbox in the dead of night. It's not the most honest way, but Makino won't take any money directly from her, no matter what she tries, so Valentine has to resort to desperate measures.)
Two weeks pass in a blink. They move back into the forest.
It's getting truly warm, now, spring proper, and Valentine tells Makino honestly that she doesn't think they'll be able to spend the majority of their time in the village. Makino isn't happy about it, but she doesn't argue; perhaps because Makino honestly can't afford to feed them all every day (they'd eat her out of house and home), but also because Valentine has dropped a couple of the details of Sabo's situation (and consequential removal from said situation), and Makino - after she gets past her tightlipped outrage - expressed that she understands, that she gets why they really do need to stay hidden for a while.
She tells them to visit when they can, gives them tight hugs and forehead kisses, and asks for them to keep each other safe.
(Valentine doesn't blame her at all for this. Makino is- Makino is so young, barely twenty five, and she has a business to run and a life to live. Valentine doesn't know the details of her own birth, but she can do the math, and she can't stand the idea of being a burden to the first person in this world who's ever loved her unconditionally. And more than that, she can't stand the idea of Makino getting in trouble - hurt, taken, worse than that - because Valentine couldn't grow the fuck up and live somewhere else, taking her issues and problems with her.
She hugs her mom tight and tells her she'll visit often.)
They expand the treehouse.
First things first, they carve out a bunch of new treasure boxes in the boughs of the massive tree that houses their hideout. It takes a little while, but they manage it, leaving a lot of (hopeful) empty space for when enough time passes that they feel safer going back to the terminal.
(They sneak into the terminal under the cover of night to fetch the materials, discarded boards and wood and nails. The Gray Terminal isn't back to normal - the landscape has changed, all their known paths are gone, so many of the people are mangled or dead or just plain missing - but in a way, it'll always return to how it was. The persistence of the terminal doesn't come from happenstance; it's a symptom, a sickness that Goa refuses to treat at the source.
As long as the Hightown of Goa exists, so too will the Gray Terminal. In whatever form it takes.)
So they fetch more materials and expand the hideout, creating a multi-roomed, very reinforced, stupidly over-trapped fortress in the trees. They each have their 'own' room, now - more privacy than they've had so far, as low as that standard is - but Luffy never uses his, and they end up piling into the same room to sleep more often than not. The separate rooms give them a little more space to split off, though, and although Valentine has found that horrifyingly, it's almost impossible for her to sleep alone, if she ever wanted to, she'd have the option, so.
(She's still not over the dizzying view from the balcony. She's never been afraid of heights, but she has a healthy dose of common sense and a good head on her shoulders. No thanks.)
Valentine throws herself into being stronger with an almost frightening fervor.
What happened in the meadow with Ace sits quiet at the back of her mind. She'd gotten so close to everything he is, then - as much as that's even possible in a world like this - and as a result their relationship has shifted. He's calmer around her, relies on her just a bit more, assumes she'll be there. Valentine's not sure if he even knows he's doing it - she's reasonably sure his attitude towards what happened in the meadow is 'never talk about it, ever,' after all - but the way he acts has changed.
And he's fiercely, aggressively protective of all three of them. Sabo finds it irritating, Luffy's cavalierly cheerful about it, and Valentine isn't quite sure how to feel.
She settles for appreciative annoyance.
They move into the treehouse, and it feels like a move-in for good. Valentine takes the majority of her closet with her, her one (precious) kerchief, her best pillow and her favorite downy blanket.
(The more she scans her room in the bar for what she wants to take, the more she realizes how barren it is, how very little she has to take with her. Everything important is already in the forest.)
They settle back into hunting and sparring and messing around, a little less carefree, a little more heavy, but still whole. There's a wariness in them, now, barely perceptible, except-
Luffy is clingier. Ace is more protective. Sabo is quieter and louder in turns, not quite sure where he wants to be. And Valentine is-
Valentine is afraid.
There's this fear in her, now. She's so weak, so fragile, feels like no matter where she reaches, it'll never be enough. What is she, to a real pirate? A blade of grass? A pebble?
This entire nightmare with Porchemy and Bluejam and what almost happened to Sabo (days away from losing him, forever, never again) has been a wakeup call. She needs to change.
There's lots of things for her to focus on, but she narrows down her main goals:
1. Straight-up asskicking ability (training methods: sparring with the boys, exercises)
2. Observation Haki(?) (training methods: mediate, maybe? sitting down and trying hard to sense stuff?)
3. Echo Echo no Mi (training methods: who the fuck knows, honestly, maybe trying to talk it out with Sabo)
Her time limit is unknown.
She gets to work.
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Notes:
How about them apples, huh? B)
Okay, so. On a more serious characterization note.
Reasons that Ace is letting a huge possible past secret of Valentine's go (in terms of not caring how she learned about haki):
In canon, Ace is super persistent when it comes to discovering Sabo's past. He and Luffy basically rattle it out of him! So why the one-eighty?
["This is Sabo. If it's important, he would've told us." She stares particularly hard at Ace, who's frowning, looking at her. He doesn't let go of Sabo's collar.
"I hate liars and cowards," says Ace. "If Sabo's been tricking us all this time-"
She can hear the ghost of hurt rising in his voice, and she cuts him off. "Sabo's not like that, and you know it." She's harsh, matter-of-fact. As she needs to be. "Let him explain."]
Ace, who has (obviously) a complex relationship with his past and origins, takes this to heart. Does it really matter where they come from? he thinks. Luffy and Val don't know that I have the blood of a demon, but they accept me anyways.
This has almost no effect in the short-term - Sabo tells them about his origins as a noble anyways, etc. - but in the long term, it starts to affects how Ace regards people based on their origins. And that, by consequence, influences how forgiving Ace is willing to be with another person he considers family.
If the situation was a little different - if they were less calm, if she hadn't taken him to the meadow, if there were other people around, if the timing was off, if this wasn't after he thought she died and then she returned, alive, hoo boy, that's another huge contributing factor - Ace may not have acted the same way. But then again, isn't that how it always is? Reactions aren't ironclad. More often, they're a combination of factors coming together.
I think that characterization done well should speak for itself, but this point pretty significantly affects the plot and it's origins aren't too immediately apparent, so I wanted to state it in plainer terms. I hope people don't feel as if it was out of character.
(Also, literally do not me on the inconsistent capitalization of 'haki.' And 'edge town.' I just got a beta, but they're only reading for chapter nine and onwards! :,D.)
...All that stuff aside, I think this chapter is pretty exciting for a lot of reasons. What do you guys think? :)
(This chapter is dedicated to all the people who think Ace deserved to cry before he was dying in Luffy's arms in-canon. Because he did. He so did.)