Chapter 2
Ren stood at the helm of the massive flagship, the "Sweet Vengeance," feeling both at home and completely out of place. The vast expanse of the New World stretched before him, a familiar sight that now carried the weight of centuries of conquest and expansion. As the newly appointed Grand Admiral of Territorial Expansion and Strategic Defense for the Big Mom Pirates - no, the Charlotte Empire - Ren couldn't shake the surreal nature of his situation.
Just months ago, he had been a typical pirate captain, leading a crew of a few hundred through the treacherous waters of the Grand Line. Now, he found himself at the head of a fleet so vast it boggled the mind. 17,000 ships, over 2.7 million people under his command - the numbers were staggering, almost incomprehensible.
A memory flashed through his mind, unbidden and crystal clear. Sanjul, standing on this very deck 200 years ago, surveying a much smaller fleet. The pride, the responsibility, the sheer magnitude of the role - Ren felt it all as if it were his own experience.
These flashes came regularly now, about once a week. Sixty minutes of vivid memories from a life he hadn't lived, yet somehow had. It was disorienting, to say the least.
"Grand Admiral," a voice called, snapping Ren back to the present. He turned to see Smoothie, one of the Sweet Commanders, approaching. Her expression was a mix of respect and lingering skepticism. "The war council is assembling. We await your strategy for the upcoming campaign in the East Blue."
Ren nodded, trying to project a confidence he didn't entirely feel. "I'll be there shortly. Thank you, Commander Smoothie."
As she walked away, Ren took a deep breath. The war council. Another surreal aspect of his new life. He was expected to lead discussions on grand strategy, to make decisions that would affect millions of lives across hundreds of islands. The responsibility was immense, almost crushing.
He made his way to the council chamber, a grand room filled with veteran captains and ministers. As he entered, all eyes turned to him. Some faces were familiar from his own life, others he recognized only from Sanjul's memories. The dichotomy was jarring.
"Grand Admiral on deck!" someone announced, and everyone stood at attention.
Ren took his place at the head of the table, acutely aware of the expectations weighing on him. He cleared his throat and began, "Thank you all for gathering. Let's discuss our plans for the East Blue expansion."
As the meeting progressed, Ren found himself drawing on knowledge he shouldn't have. He spoke of past campaigns, of the intricacies of East Blue politics, of strategies employed decades or even centuries ago. The words flowed from him naturally, a blend of Sanjul's experience and his own innovative thinking.
The older captains nodded approvingly, clearly seeing echoes of their former leader in Ren's words. It was both gratifying and unsettling.
After the council, Ren retreated to his quarters, his mind reeling. He collapsed into a chair, running his hands through his hair. The sheer scale of what he was now responsible for was overwhelming.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," he called, straightening up.
Katakuri, the strongest Sweet Commander, ducked through the doorway. His usual stoic expression was tinged with something Ren couldn't quite place - curiosity, perhaps?
"You handled the council well," Katakuri said without preamble. "Your strategy for the East Blue is sound. It's... reminiscent of how Sanjul would have approached it."
Ren felt a mix of pride and unease at the comparison. "Thank you, Commander. I'm still adjusting to all of this, but I'm doing my best to live up to the role."
Katakuri studied him for a moment before speaking again. "I've been tasked with... mentoring you. To help you grow into this position. It's crucial for the future of our empire."
The word 'empire' sent a shiver down Ren's spine. It was still hard to wrap his mind around the fact that the Big Mom Pirates had evolved into a true imperial power. And now he was at the forefront of its continued expansion.
"I appreciate the guidance," Ren said sincerely. "There's so much to learn, so much history I'm trying to catch up on."
Katakuri nodded. "Sanjul built this role from the ground up. When he started, we were just a powerful crew. Now..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to encompass the vast empire they commanded.
Over the next few weeks, Ren found himself in a whirlwind of activity. He spent hours poring over maps and reports, familiarizing himself with the 149 islands under their control. The growth was staggering - from 35 islands when Sanjul first took the role to nearly 150 now. A population that had exploded from 12.25 million to 382 million.
The logistics alone were mind-boggling. Ensuring food supplies, maintaining order, managing the complex web of alliances and vassal states - it was a never-ending task. Ren found himself grateful for the flashes of Sanjul's memories, which often provided crucial insights or historical context.
But it wasn't just the administrative tasks that were overwhelming. The social aspects of his role were equally challenging. Veteran captains who had served under Sanjul decades ago now looked to Ren with a mixture of hope and skepticism. They wanted to see their old leader in him, and Ren wasn't sure if he could - or should - live up to that expectation.
One particularly surreal moment came during a strategy meeting with Captain Marnier, a grizzled old sea dog who had been with the crew for over a century. As they discussed naval formations, Marnier suddenly laughed, slapping Ren on the back.
"Just like old times, eh, Sanjul? Remember that trick we pulled in the Battle of Reverse Mountain? Those World Government dogs never saw it coming!"
Ren froze, a flash of memory hitting him. He saw the battle as if he had been there - the clash of ships, the roar of cannons, the brilliant strategy that had led to a decisive victory. But it wasn't his memory. It was Sanjul's.
"I... yes, I remember," Ren said hesitantly. "It was a brilliant maneuver."
Marnier beamed, seemingly oblivious to Ren's discomfort. "Knew you still had it in you, even in this new body. It's good to have you back, Grand Admiral."
Moments like these were common, and each one left Ren feeling more and more like an impostor. He was Ren, but he was also Sanjul, and the line between the two was becoming increasingly blurred.
The pressure to live up to Sanjul's legacy was immense. Sanjul had led the Big Mom Pirates through five global wars, countless smaller conflicts, and had been instrumental in transforming them from a powerful crew into a true empire. His strategies had not only expanded their territory but had dramatically increased the prosperity of their holdings. The sevenfold increase in population across their islands was a testament to his leadership.
Ren found himself struggling to reconcile his own identity with the echoes of Sanjul that lived within him. He was grateful for the knowledge and experience that came with these memories, but he also feared losing himself in the process.
One particularly difficult aspect was dealing with the romantic entanglements of the past. More than once, Ren encountered female captains or ministers who had once harbored feelings for Sanjul. While Sanjul had remained steadfastly loyal to Galette, the lingering affections of these powerful women added another layer of complexity to Ren's already complicated situation.
Captain Amaretto, a formidable leader in her own right, once cornered Ren after a meeting. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of nostalgia and something more as she spoke. "You know, Sanjul - Ren - whatever you're calling yourself these days... I always admired your strategic mind. And other things." She winked, leaving Ren flustered and unsure how to respond.
These encounters left Ren feeling guilty, both towards Galette and towards his own sense of self. He loved Galette deeply, both with the lingering affection of Sanjul and with his own newly blossoming feelings. But navigating the divide between the old life and the new was difficult. He knew he was attracted to her but was it just himself or his past life saying it? Sanjul or him?
XXX
Perospero stood on the balcony of the Whole Cake Chateau, his candy cane staff tapping thoughtfully against the railing as he gazed out over the sprawling cityscape of Sweet City. At 250 years old, he had seen the Big Mom Pirates - no, the Charlotte Empire, he corrected himself mentally - grow from a fearsome pirate crew to a major world power. The transformation still left him reeling at times.
"Peros-nii," a voice called from behind him. He turned to see Compote, his younger sister, approaching with a stack of documents. "The reports from the outer territories have arrived. We need to review them before the next council meeting."
Perospero nodded, suppressing a sigh. Reports, meetings, administrative tasks - these were now the backbone of their daily lives. Gone were the days when their primary concerns were raiding ships and battling rival crews. Now, they were responsible for the lives and livelihoods of millions.
"Let's go to the study," he said, leading the way. As they walked through the ornate halls of the chateau, Perospero couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed. The building itself was a testament to their growth - what had once been a simple stronghold was now the seat of power for an empire spanning 149 islands.
In the study, they settled into plush chairs, spreading the reports across a massive desk. Perospero's eyes skimmed over the documents, taking in information about crop yields, trade disputes, and minor rebellions in far-flung territories.
"Do you ever miss the old days, Compote?" he asked suddenly, looking up at his sister.
Compote paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Sometimes," she admitted. "Things were simpler then. But look at what we've built, Peros-nii. We're not just pirates anymore. We're rulers."
Rulers. The word still felt strange to Perospero, even after all these years. He remembered clearly the day Sanjul had first broached the subject of empire-building. It had seemed like a far-fetched dream then, but Sanjul's vision and strategic brilliance had made it a reality.
"I never thought I'd be spending my days worrying about tax policies and infrastructure projects," Perospero chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
Compote smiled wryly. "None of us did. But Sanjul was right - we had to adapt or be left behind. And now..."
"Now we're one of the last remaining powers from before the Age of Revolution," Perospero finished. The collapse of the World Government 259 years ago had reshaped the political landscape of the world. The Big Mom Pirates - through luck, strength, and Sanjul's foresight - had not only survived but thrived in the chaos that followed.
As they continued to work through the reports, Perospero's mind wandered to the early days of their expansion. He remembered the excitement and trepidation as they conquered their first few islands, the gradual shift from simple occupation to true governance. Sanjul had been instrumental in that transition, guiding them from pirates to rulers with a steady hand.
"Peros-nii," Compote's voice cut through his reminiscence. "We need to make a decision about the trade dispute in the East Blue territories. The local governors are requesting our intervention."
Perospero frowned, focusing on the matter at hand. This was the reality of their new existence - constant decision-making that affected millions of lives. The weight of responsibility was sometimes overwhelming.
"Let's bring it up in the council meeting," he decided. "We'll need input from the economic ministers."
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Smoothie entered, her towering form barely fitting through the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, "but Katakuri has called an emergency meeting. There's been an incident in one of our North Blue holdings."
Perospero and Compote exchanged glances. Emergency meetings were becoming more frequent as their empire grew. The complexities of managing such a vast territory meant that crises were always brewing somewhere.
They made their way to the council chamber, a grand room that had once been their mother's personal dining hall. Now, it was the heart of the empire's governance. As they entered, Perospero saw that most of the senior family members were already present.
Katakuri sat at the head of the table, his scarf pulled down to reveal his serious expression. Even after 50 years as the official leader of the Charlotte Empire, he still carried himself with the same quiet intensity that had made him a fearsome Sweet Commander.
"Thank you all for coming quickly," Katakuri began as Perospero and Compote took their seats. "We've received word of a rebellion brewing on Syrup Island in the North Blue. The local Charlotte representative has been overthrown, and there are calls for independence."
A murmur ran through the assembled family members. Rebellions were not uncommon, but they were always treated seriously. The stability of their empire depended on swift and decisive action in such matters.
"What are our options?" Smoothie asked, her voice calm but tinged with concern.
Katakuri looked to Perospero. "Peros-nii, you handled a similar situation in the West Blue last year. What's your assessment?"
Perospero leaned forward, his mind racing. This was the crux of their new reality - balancing the need for control with the welfare of their subjects. In the old days, they might have simply crushed any opposition with brute force. But now, as rulers, they had to consider the long-term implications of their actions.
"We need to understand the root causes of the rebellion," Perospero said slowly. "Are they dissatisfied with our governance? Is there a charismatic leader stirring up trouble? Once we know that, we can decide whether to negotiate or use force."
The discussion continued for hours, with various family members offering insights and suggestions. Perospero found himself marveling at how far they had come. The level of strategic thinking, the consideration of economic and social factors - it was a far cry from the straightforward piracy of their early years.
As the meeting wound down and a course of action was decided, Perospero couldn't help but feel a sense of pride mingled with his ever-present bewilderment. They were handling the crisis like true rulers, not like the pirates they had once been.
Later that evening, Perospero found himself back on the balcony, this time joined by Mont-d'Or. His younger brother was leafing through a book, as usual, but his expression was troubled.
"Something on your mind, Mont-d'Or?" Perospero asked.
Mont-d'Or sighed, closing his book. "I was just thinking about what Sanjul used to say - about governments and the monopoly of force. Do you think we've truly become that? A government, I mean."
Perospero considered the question carefully. "I think we have," he said finally. "We provide stability, enforce laws, manage resources. For better or worse, we're the authority that millions of people look to."
"It's a strange feeling," Mont-d'Or mused. "I remember when our biggest concern was finding the next island to raid. Now we're worried about crop yields and education systems."
Perospero nodded, understanding all too well. The transition had been gradual but profound. He thought back to the day Big Mom had announced her retirement, passing the reins to Katakuri with the stipulation that he too would step down after 100 years.
"Mama's decision changed everything," Perospero said softly. "She blamed herself for Sanjul's death, you know. Said her endless campaigns had finally caught up with us."
Mont-d'Or looked surprised. "I didn't know that. I always thought she stepped down because she was tired of ruling."
Perospero shook his head. "No, it was also grief and guilt. But in a way, it was the best thing that could have happened to us. Katakuri's leadership style was better suited to building an empire than constantly expanding one."
They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the lights of Sweet City twinkle in the gathering dusk. The city had grown exponentially over the centuries, a physical manifestation of their empire's growth.
"Do you think the people in our territories know how recently all this came to be?" Mont-d'Or asked suddenly. "To them, we must seem like we've always been in power."
Perospero chuckled. "Probably not. To most of our subjects, especially the younger generations, this is all they know. We prefer to keep it that way. But I remember having a discussion with Sanjul about it ages ago. Be 'Progressive Conservative'. People don't rebel if things are going right no matter how bad your rule is. And anarchy is 9 meals away. So that's how we've run it. As long as the Charlotte Family gets to remain in power and on top, if there's grievances or protests on the island we tend to meet them a quarter way."
"And if they don't?" asks Lollipop, one of the younger Charlottes, if by young you meant a woman in her 30s
"Then we simply kill a few hundred of them to send a message. Open palm, closed fist" shrugged Perospero
XXX
Ren stood nervously outside the grand meeting hall in the Whole Cake Chateau. Today, he was to meet Sanjul's - his - children and grandchildren for the first time. Galette squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"It'll be alright," she said softly. "They're excited to meet you, even if it's... different."
Ren nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's just so strange. I have memories, feelings, but they're like... like watching a movie with half the scenes missing."
They entered the hall, and Ren was immediately struck by the sheer number of people present. Faces of all ages turned to look at him, a mix of curiosity, hope, and uncertainty in their eyes.
A woman in her mid-40s (though Ren knew she was actually 200) stepped forward. Her eyes, so like Galette's, studied him intently.
"Father," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Or... Ren. I'm Caramel. Your... Sanjul's oldest."
Ren felt a surge of emotion - not quite paternal love, but a strong sense of connection. "Caramel," he said, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on his tongue. "It's... good to meet you."
Caramel smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. "We've missed you so much. Even if you're not exactly the same, having you back, in any form, means everything to us."
A memory flashed through Ren's mind - holding a newborn Caramel, feeling overwhelming love and pride. The intensity of the emotion caught him off guard.
"I... I remember holding you when you were born," Ren said hesitantly. "The joy I felt... it's like an echo, but it's there."
Caramel's breath caught. "You remember that?"
Ren nodded. "Not completely, but... yes. It's there."
More family members began to approach, each introduction bringing a new wave of fragmented memories and emotions.
A man in his early 50s, looking no older than 30, stepped forward next. "I'm Butterscotch," he said, his voice deep and slightly hesitant. "Your... Sanjul's youngest. I was just a baby when you... when he died."
Ren felt a pang of sadness that wasn't entirely his own. "Butterscotch," he said softly. "I... Sanjul... he loved you very much. I can feel that, even if I don't have clear memories."
Butterscotch's eyes widened. "Really? I... I only have photos, and stories others have told me. To know that you can feel that love, even now..."
Ren reached out, placing a hand on Butterscotch's shoulder. The gesture felt right, even if he couldn't fully explain why. "Your father held you often. I have flashes of it - a dark-skinned man cradling a baby, feeling so much love it almost hurt."
Tears spilled down Butterscotch's cheeks as he pulled Ren into a tight hug. Ren returned the embrace, feeling a complex mix of emotions - his own uncertainty and the echoes of Sanjul's fatherly love.
As the day progressed, Ren met more of his children and grandchildren. Each encounter was a unique blend of familiarity and strangeness.
A woman who appeared to be in her late 30s approached, a young child in her arms. "Father," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm Margarine, Caramel's oldest daughter. This is your great-granddaughter, Praline."
Ren felt a dizzying sense of displacement. Here he was, physically 30 years old, face-to-face with a granddaughter older than him and a great-granddaughter.
"It's... wonderful to meet you both," Ren managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn't quite name. He looked at the child in Margarine's arms, feeling a strange tug of affection. "May I... may I hold her?"
Margarine nodded, carefully transferring Praline to Ren's arms. As he held the child, a vivid memory flashed through his mind - holding another baby, generations ago, feeling the same overwhelming love.
"I remember," Ren said softly, looking up at Margarine with wonder in his eyes. "Not this exact moment, but one like it. Holding you, I think. The feeling is the same."
Margarine's eyes filled with tears. "Grandpa Sanjul held me just like that when I was born. Mother always said it was one of his happiest moments."
Ren looked down at Praline, then back at Margarine. "It's so strange. I don't know you, not really. But there's this... echo of love. Like I'm remembering a book I once cherished, even if I can't recall all the words."
As the day wore on, Ren found himself in conversation with a group of his grandchildren, all appearing to be in their 20s and 30s but actually ranging from 50 to 150 years old.
One of them, a man named Ganache, leaned forward eagerly. "Grandfather - or, well, Ren - what's it like? Having memories from a past life?"
Ren considered the question carefully. "It's... surreal. Like watching a movie you think you'd enjoy, but half the scenes are missing. There are moments of clarity, flashes of emotion, but it's all fragmented. I know these feelings and memories belonged to Sanjul, but they're part of me now too, in a way I can't fully explain."
Another grandchild, a woman named Fondant, spoke up. "Do you... do you love us? Like Grandpa Sanjul did?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with emotion and expectation. Ren took a deep breath, wanting to be as honest as possible.
"I don't love you the way Sanjul did," he said slowly, seeing the flicker of disappointment in their eyes. "I can't. I'm not him, not entirely. But I feel echoes of that love. There's a connection there, something deep and meaningful. And I care for you all, in my own way, even if we've just met. It's like... like meeting people you've heard wonderful things about all your life. There's an instant affinity, a desire to know you better."
Fondant nodded, a small smile on her face. "That makes sense. We don't expect you to be exactly the same. We're just... so grateful to have you here, in any capacity."
As the gathering began to wind down, Ren found a quiet moment with Galette. She looked at him with concern and love in her eyes.
"How are you holding up?" she asked softly.
Ren ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "It's overwhelming. All these people, these connections... I feel like I'm balancing on the edge between two lives. Part of me wants to embrace it all fully, to be the father and grandfather they remember. But another part knows that's not entirely who I am."
Galette took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be exactly who Sanjul was. We all understand that. What matters is that you're here, that his soul lives on in you. We have a second chance at having you in our lives, even if it's different."
Ren nodded, feeling a surge of love for Galette - both the echoes of Sanjul's centuries-long devotion and his own growing affection. "I'm glad you're here with me, navigating this. I couldn't do it without you."
As they prepared to leave, Caramel approached them one last time. "Father - Ren," she said, correcting herself. "I just wanted to say... thank you. For being here, for trying to connect with us all. I know it can't be easy."
Ren smiled at her, feeling that strange mix of familiarity and newness. "Thank you for being so understanding. I may not be the father you remember, but I hope we can build something new, something meaningful."
Caramel nodded, tears in her eyes. "We'd like that very much."
As Ren and Galette left the chateau, walking hand in hand through the candy-covered streets of Sweet City, Ren felt a complex swirl of emotions. The day had been surreal, challenging and yet he would have gladly done it again for his family.
His family.
Two words that echoed into his mind. Whether he liked it or not this was his family now.