Chapter Text
As much as he’d like to attribute their miraculous escape to their superior physical enhancements and technology, Ichiji is realistic enough to admit that their opportunity to retreat was a result of nothing more than sheer luck. It comes unexpectedly, seconds from when he’s sure that he and all his siblings are about to die at the hands of Big Mom and her endless supply of children. Ichiji had already braced himself for the end, not that he was very bothered by the thought, when suddenly the mountain of a man he’d been fighting- Charlotte Oven, if the wanted posters he’d seen were accurate- suddenly freezes, head jerking up like he’s listening for something.
This reaction prompts Ichiji to tune into his superior senses, ones that had previously been entirely focused on the battle in front of him. He hears cheering coming from somewhere in the distance, but he doesn’t spare it a second thought as he takes the opening to put some space between him and his opponent. Oven, shockingly, doesn’t follow. The man instead scowls at Ichiji as if to say, ‘You got lucky today’ before bounding off in the direction the cheers are coming from. His long strides take him out of view within seconds.
Under any other circumstance Ichiji would probably give chase, but he’s just spent the better part of the last half hour getting his ass beat halfway across the New World and then some. A quick systems assessment of his physical state shows that he’s in desperate need of repairs. The vision in his left eye’s gone fuzzy, his exoskeleton is mangled and melted in a dozen places, and he’s barely got enough fuel in the tank to make it off this thrice damned, candy-coated nightmare of an island, if that’s even an option at this point.
He’s put on edge though when none of the Charlotte children arrive to take their older brother’s place as Ichiji’s opponent. The battle ground is now eerily quiet with shattered cookie bits and frosting strewn around like a party of ravenous children just came through and leveled the place.
Then he picks up on the operatic strains of Big Mom’s Soul Pocus spell in the distance, and the lenses in his still good eye whirl wildly. He can’t see anything from where he is, and he really isn’t interested in getting any closer to wherever the Charlotte siblings had fucked off to, especially if their mother is about to start pulling people’s lifespans out of their bodies like some kind of sick taffy. If they’ve found some other hapless victim, then that’s good enough for him.
Without a second thought, Ichiji pushes off the ground and makes a break for the Germa ships off the coast of the island. His engines whine in protest, and the raid suit is struggling to keep up with the breakneck speed Ichiji is pushing it to, but he doesn’t slow for even a second.
“Wh- hey! Wait for us!”
He hears Yonji complaining from somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t spare a glance in that direction. He’s pretty sure Niji and Reiju are following as well, if the twin engine whines taking off are any indication.
The flight back to the castle is tense. The whole time Ichiji is waiting for some candy-themed spawn of Big Mom to shoot out of the ocean or a licorice laser to knock them out of the sky because, with their luck over the past day, surely something like that wouldn’t be out of the question, but they all make it back to the main castle unimpeded. It’s an unnervingly lucky break, one that the convenience of has Ichiji’s mouth twisting down into a harsh frown.
There are still Charlotte children and officers hanging around the main castle, doubtlessly trying to loot their treasuries and laboratories, but even half dead on their feet Ichiji and his siblings manage to make short work of them. Ichiji scoffs at how weak they are as he dumps the invaders’ crumpled bodies into the ocean. Could Big Mom really not have sent her stronger generals to raid their ships? She must have really be underestimating them, or more likely she was fully confident that her plan to eliminate them all at the wedding would work. They aren’t exactly escaping unscathed though. A number of their snail ships are practically dead in the water, and only the main castle along with a couple of the smaller ships are in any condition to retreat.
The siblings make their way through the empty stone hallways until they wind up in the throne room. The silence in the empty chamber is more pronounced than it usually is now that Judge isn’t there to fill the space in his gaudy throne. Ichiji supposes that without his father there to give orders, the responsibility for their next plan of action falls on his shoulders. Evidently, his siblings have the same thought, as the three of them turn to him.
“What now?” Niji says, crossing his arms.
Ichiji takes a moment to glance over the others’ conditions. They all look to be as battered as Ichiji. Niji’s hair is a mess, some flyaway strands standing on end from residual electricity, and his gauntlets are sparking randomly as he bangs them against each other in irritation. Yonji’s having trouble retracting all his fingers to their normal state, and his jaw might be dislocated. Reiju looks like she’s gotten away the cleanest, but her raid suit is burned at the edges of her wings and there’s a bruise already darkening over her right eye. Ichiji just considers himself lucky that his brothers can’t see the way the lenses in his left eye have his pupil dilating and contracting randomly behind his sunglasses, or else he’s sure they’d already be making fun of him for it.
“Father didn’t make it out yet,” Reiju says, glancing back at Whole Cake Island.
“We don’t have the strength or resources to retrieve him if he’s been captured,” Ichiji replies tonelessly.
Reiju bites her lip but doesn’t have any counter argument. “What’s the plan then?”
Ichiji takes a second to consider his response. They’re truly in no condition to mount a rescue effort, not with nearly all of their ships out of commission and themselves in poor form. Though he hadn’t stopped to count all the bodies that littered the castle grounds while they were clearing out the Big Mom pirates, he knows that their armies of clones have been severely decimated as well. Going back would be, in short, a terrible decision that would more likely than not result in the destruction of not just them but their entire kingdom.
“The best option we have right now is to retreat and take stock of what resources we still have,” Ichiji says after a split second of deliberation.
“Not going back for Father?” Niji laughs harshly, “Damn, that’s cold, Ichi.” Despite his words, Niji doesn’t look all that concerned with the decision.
“He shouldn’t have gotten captured then,” Yonji says with a shrug. “Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Maybe they’ll just keep him hostage.”
Reiju gives Ichiji an unreadable look before speaking again. “You should order the retreat then. It likely won’t be long before they send ships out to try and launch another raid.”
Ichiji nods, “I’ll make the announcement. In the meantime, the rest of you three go out and assess what on the castle is still functional, what’s damaged, and how many units we have remaining.”
“Boring,” Niji mutters.
The three of them all leave without any further complaints though, and Ichiji retreats to his father’s study. It’s not like he’s never been inside the room before, but this is the first time he’s entered without Judge present. He doesn’t spare much time to look around at the decor though, instead beelining for the heavy wooden desk at the back and transponder snail sitting on top of it.
He orders the retreat of all remaining ships, satisfied that at least some of their engineers are still at their posts when he feels the floor beneath him shifting barely a minute after the call. A glance out the office window reveals that they’re still able to keep up an adequate pace, fast enough that hopefully they’ll be far enough away that the Big Mom pirates won’t bother giving chase.
Ichiji then begins to go through Judge’s desk drawers in search of… well, anything he might be able to use. The facts are that Germa is effectively demolished at this point. If Judge has any inventory records, squadron head counts or similar documents, Ichiji might be able to get a better idea of just what they’ve lost.
‘Not that that’s particularly hard to see,’ He thinks grimly. Another look out the window reveals the decimated landscape of their kingdom. Already he can tell that the soldier stock depot has taken a significant hit, and of all their towers only Ichiji’s has managed to survive. The medical ward and servant’s quarters look largely untouched at least, but the labs all appear significantly gutted. He’s sure that Reiju will give him a more detailed report later, but Ichiji’s not optimistic (not that he ever is) that much has survived.
It takes a good amount of time to go through Judge’s desk. Ichiji relaxes incrementally after his internal clock informs him that two hours have passed since they made their escape from Whole Cake Island. Whatever had drawn the Charlotte’s away, it’s enough that they haven’t come looking for the castle, and hopefully won’t be doing so anytime soon.
That appears to be the only bit of good news though, as Judge’s desk is cluttered with all manner of reports with little organization to speak of. The stacks of filing cabinets are well categorized (not that Ichiji’s surprised considering they’re all lab reports and Judge always did seem to care more about their scientific achievements than anything else), but all the papers full of former contacts, budget reports, and inventory lists are haphazardly clipped together and shoved into drawers.
Ichiji scowls, abruptly realizing why so much of the accounting work had gotten shoved onto him as soon as he’d been able to hold a pen. For all that Judge had aspirations of grandeur, he sure seemed unconcerned with the steps it took to get there. It takes a frustratingly long time to separate all the documents into semi-organized piles, and Ichiji estimates will take hours more to read through them all.
It’s just as he’s digging through the top drawer of his father’s desk that he discovers a false bottom. He pries it open, frowning as he finds only a single sheet of completely blank paper. He pulls it out, wondering if something’s written on it in invisible ink, when the texture under his fingers tips him off as to what it really is.
‘Paranoid bastard,’ Ichiji thinks, setting the paper on top of the desk. There are no strips or tears cut out of the paper, and Ichiji wonders if it makes him feel any sort of way that Judge didn’t trust him with something like this.
No, he ultimately decides, he doesn’t care. He sets the paper aside and goes back to sorting through the stacks.
Another three hours pass before his three siblings barge into the room, and Ichiji still has only gotten through approximately a third of the documents. He scowls as he looks up at the others standing in the doorway.
“What.” He’s already in a foul mood, and the shit-eating grin on Niji and Yonji’s faces grate on his nerves even more than they usually do.
“Have you been in here the whole time since we left?” Reiju asks, lifting an eyebrow, “You should go to the medical ward to get checked.” She doesn’t sound too concerned for his sake though, she never does.
The rest of them look like they’ve all taken a trip out to the ward though, their various injuries now bandaged up with a few hasty repairs to their exoskeletons as well. It also looks like someone popped Yonji’s jaw back into place, more’s the pity. Ichiji had been looking forward to only one of his brothers spewing bullshit for a while.
“I’ve been busy,” Ichiji says, “I’ll go later.” The doctors and scientists should still be awake later. They better damn well be.
Yonji lets out a low whistle as he takes in all the stacks of paper around the room. “Damn, you’ve got a lot to go through.”
Ichiji rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, not that any of them know. “Report,” he snaps.
“The stock depot’s totally shot,” Niji says, leaning back against the door frame, “Right now we’re operating at about a tenth of our usual army size. The guys down there say it won’t be back up and running for a while.”
“A while?” Ichiji prompts.
“I think he said… four or so months? And it’s gonna be pricey,” Niji laughs, “We only have two of our treasuries right now, Vinsmoke castle and your castle, so it might take even longer unless we can find some well paying jobs or lucrative places to raid fast.”
“Servants quarters and food storehouses are largely untouched though,” Yonji says, sounding happy, “So at least we won’t starve! Oh, and around seventy percent of the servants are still in working condition if that counts for anything.”
“Not much,” Ichiji mutters, displeasure growing. He turns then to Reiju. “The labs?”
“Mostly destroyed or gutted,” Reiju says, “They were after our tech after all.”
“How gutted?” Ichiji asks.
“Reports estimate that seventy percent of our recent projects have been set back by at least a year after equipment and documentation were stolen,” Reiju says.
“Basically, we’re screwed,” Niji says.
“Did you find anything up here yet?” Reiju asks, glancing around the stacks of paper.
“Not much,” Ichiji says, “Most of my time so far has been spent just organizing everything.”
Reiju’s eyes land on a blank sheet of paper on the edge of the desk. Her lips turn down in a frown. “What’s that?”
Ichiji follows her eyes down to the paper. “Oh.” He picks up the paper. “Vivre card.” He frowns as he looks down and realizes that the edges are singed black now. He’s pretty sure it wasn’t like that when he found it.
Niji and Yonji don’t react to the words, but Reiju jolts, eyes going wide. “Father’s vivre card?”
“I have to assume so,” Ichiji says, tone condescending, “It was hidden in his desk.”
“Of course that bastard wouldn’t have given any of us a piece of it,” Yonji says rolling his eyes.
“What, so he’s still alive?” Niji says, squinting at the paper. He pushes off the wall to get closer, and the others take that as their cue to crowd around the desk. “Looks like it’s a little worse for wear.”
“It-“ Ichiji barely gets the word out before flames burst to life on the edges of the paper.
Reflexively, he drops it on the desk. His eyebrows raise as the flames burn higher. Reiju gasps, glancing around for… something. She eventually pulls her scarf off to try and smother the fire, but the effort is futile as the fire only starts to eat at the paper faster.
“Should we do something?” Yonji asks, finally looking concerned.
“What can we do?” Niji replies, though his tone is devoid of its usual humor.
Reiju’s eyes finally dart to Ichiji, and she looks more emotional than he’s seen her in years. “Ichiji…!”
Unbidden, the thought rises to his mind as he meets her frantic gaze. ‘Weak’.
“We knew it was a possibility,” Ichiji replies, watching the flames burn through now half of the paper. “Big Mom was fine with killing us all at the wedding. Clearly she’s not interested in our personal knowledge or anything he could promise her.”
“But…” She bites her lip staring at the paper. The fire has consumed at least three fourths of it.
“Too far to turn around,” Yonji says, glancing out the window. It’s dark out, and they’ve sailed far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to see Whole Cake Island even if it were daytime.
Silence falls between the four of them then as they watch the flames burn through the rest of the paper. One fourth becomes a sixth, an eighth, a sixteenth. A pile of ash sits smoldering on the table, the remaining embers slowly flickering out. A thin curl of smoke wafts out the window.
Ichiji looks up at his siblings. Niji and Yonji are both frowning down at the desk, though they make no snide remarks, which is about as serious as can be expected from them. He sees Niji’s fingers twitching though, as if the younger is considering reaching up and drawing his fingers through the sooty remains. He apparently suppresses the urge though and settles for crossing his arms instead. Reiju looks conflicted about something. It was no secret that she never fully approved of Father or his actions, but she still looks a shade paler than usual and appropriately solemn.
It occurs to Ichiji then that he should probably say something, anything, to acknowledge the passing of their father, but nothing comes to mind. He turns his gaze inward, wondering if he should feel some kind of way other than mildly displeased at this turn of events, but comes up equally empty.
Ichiji, for the first time since their mother passed, reaches deep down to try and dredge up… some kind of emotion. As always, there’s nothing. Well, there’s irritation that Judge went and died while leaving a whole mess for Ichiji to clean up, but grief? Sorrow? Anger, even? There’s none of that, not that Ichiji would probably recognize it if he felt it.
He glares at the pile of ashes on the table as if his lack of emotional response is its fault. In a way, he supposes it is.
‘Father is dead,’ he thinks. A statement of fact that barely makes a ripple in his psyche. His next thought is, ‘I should clean those ashes up before the wood stains.’