Chapter Text
When you were younger, your father told you the origins of the Shimizu Family once laid in a scorned laborer’s hands. He had worked in the huge rice fields of the Kurama Kingdom, as a planter, a warehouse worker, and involved himself in the long, tedious process for providing food. When the resident Emperor Naka halved his workers wages to afford a royal wedding for his daughter, the first Shimizu’s hunger and rage burned. He set fire to the palace, recruiting half of the rice laborers, and set up a militant wall of defense to continue planting rice to give away to the poor.
The First Shimizu warred against the Emperor and won, allowing the laborers to return to their normal wages as well as being given a portion of their capital per year, and allocating rice fields to Shimizu in exchange for disbanding. He accepted all of them openly, but kept his united army of the workforce in contact with one another in case of a second attempt at starving them.
The Emperor’s bargain only lasted a year, before he repeated his mistakes all over again to buy a second castle for his spoiled son-in-law. On the way to show his daughter and new in-laws their home, their carriage was ambushed, and all its noble passengers killed. The successors who fought over the throne waged a civil war with the now styled Shimizu Family, and lost in a sea of blood after their inner fighting cost them time, resources, and unity. Shimizu abolished the royal system, put 700 nobles to death, and instituted the Law by Strength. Its meaning was simple; anyone strong enough to rule, would rule.
The Shimizu Family rule Kurama, as a yakuza.
“When a man begins to starve, he becomes the desperate fox. He grows more crafty and cunning, faster, stronger, and more daring.” Father had told you. It was a good story, told when you most needed it. You had fallen sick and he was looking after you, in spite of his many obligations. “There is no telling what he will attempt to catch the fattened rooster.”
He had run his cool hand across your sweaty brow, and you felt comforted. So long as a Shimizu hungered, they could accomplish anything.
++++++++++
“Here child. Sit with me.”
You had turned thirty last summer. Though Father Shimizu (as your father was always called) gave gifts to his subordinates on their birthdays, he never met with most of them in person. The Shimizu Family spanned in organized gangs all over the world. You had powerful siblings now, running pirate ships, maintaining the black market, and keeping a vicegrip on profitable businesses. Even the Navy did not trouble you. You knew from experience that in difficult times, the Navy was often your family’s biggest client. And yet on your birthday, he had taken time off to go with you to the mountains, to see the cherry blossoms.
Father Shimizu still looked on you as his child, and called you such. You didn’t mind. Such soft sentiments made you feel young.
In the Shimizu Family Complex, it was its own city. Though the first Shimizu had not accomplished its construction in his lifetime, his son did as a future home for his closest kin. The Shimizu Family had begun as a patrilineal line, until a promising recruit who had risen through the ranks avenged the loss of his brother, the true heir. Then it grew more complex. It was common enough for promising adopted sons, and even daughters to become Father (or Mother) now. Father Shimizu had eight natural children and nine adopted, but looked on you the fondest, for all you weren’t born to him.
And when you sat beside him at his table, he took a brief moment to collect your hand and pet it. “So young.” He sighed. He was feeling his age every day, already in his late sixties. “And yet too old for me to get away with calling you a child.”
“I don’t mind it.” You assured gently, holding his hand back and resting the other on top of his. “Come now Father. Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?”
Here he grew rather severe. “Yes. We have been reached out to accomplish a large contract. It is the largest we have been indicted to undertake, and the fortune promised immense. We have been employed by the Charlotte Family.”
That can only mean one person. Charlotte Linlin.
Her status as Emperor was almost measly in comparison to her infamous appetite. The woman had turned giant because of it, with her many rumored “Sweets Islands”, all devoted to their own base ingredient. “If it’s Big Mom-“ You said, murmuring. “-she can only be after the mochiko.”
Kurama grew rice. It grew every kind of rice imaginable, and became a food basket to most of the world. And with the rice came the money, which led to seizing control of other means of food production. Kurama soon gained valuable cattle, pigs, and chickens for meat and dairy, orchards with heavy plums, peaches, cherries, and every other fruit that would grow there. And when Kurama could not reasonably stand to grow much more, they expanded. Hands stretched out into other kingdoms, buying up the majority of farmland and taking control of food prices.
The crown jewel of the Shimizu’s agriculture however, was the mochiko. A sweet rice four, grown from their own strain and watered not only with pure spring water, clear enough to see fish swimming through it, but diluted with good quality sake.
“Correct. I understand she wants to make an island out of it.” He sighed. “We have it a little easier with the base. A large enough one for a small town. She wants it for the convenience of traditional sweets whenever she likes.” Likely a smallish population of only a few thousand, and a mochi factory. “But we have nevertheless been charged to produce 8 million tons of mochiko for its construction.”
“Eight million?!” You were aghast. And in tons ! “That could feed a large nation on mochi for three years!”
“It will all be put into making an island. She has means of making it last.” He said gravely. “We have already begun the work, and new planting seasons prioritized. The sum being offered is immense enough that we may have even more productive years to come. We will have the amount, come hell or high water.” It most likely meant buying out the worlds supply of it. There would be some mochi-less nations for some time. It would not be the same quality as Shimizu mochiko, but if they were packaged with the family crest, no one would be the wiser. “It will take us only a few months.” And in that speed, it would likely turn to blood on some unwilling vendors. “I would like you to lead the delegation.”
This was no surprise. You nodded along. “Of course.”
But there was something in Father Shimizu’s face. A weariness you came to recognize whenever he had a difficult situation put before him. “Father, what’s wrong? Your face has gone all stormy.”
“Ahh, I forget-“ He sighed, rubbing his temples. “-you see to the core of me child.” And sighed again. “There was a condition Charlotte Linlin wishes to enforce. She is ever covetous of powerful pirates and criminals, as well as rarities. She wishes to offer a hand of marriage from one of her daughters to Jiro.”
His oldest son. You knew him very well thanks to the proximity, but also knew his temperament. He would not come quietly to this.
“I have told him of the offer, and he has agreed to meet the girl in question and give his answer.”
That was surprising.
“I had no idea Jiro would ever settle down.” You noted, a little amused. “Could it be he might actually be looking forward to it?”
“Big Mom does not know of our traditions. She only wants us to submit to theirs.” He shook his head. “I do not intend to tell her Jiro will not be my successor, even if she’s counting on it.” This, Jiro could not know. Perhaps he felt safer as heir if he had a powerful mother-in-law backing him. “Neither will you. But I don’t need to order that, I think.”
“No.” You had long since lost any naivety, or innocence on how these things worked out. “So. We get the mochiko. We work out the details. We get the money. And we see if Jiro likes his bride. Is that all?”
“Yes. I trust you to settle things. You would not be afraid of Charlotte Linlin, even if she was an Emperor.”
No. Though you would welcome her attempt to make you afraid. You had always wanted to see what you could grasp with fox teeth.
+++++++++++++++
Entering the New World was always a treat. The seas here were rougher, more unpredictable. It took you and the experienced crew beyond the four tame Blues, and into something really unknown.
A Sea King, tossed in the waves, attempted to make a meal of you all. You made a meal of it instead.
“I’ve heard it rains sugar syrup and all its clouds and skies have faces.” The crew gossiped over a meal of Sea King on Rice. It tasted good, especially with the eel sauce. “All the buildings and houses are all made out of sweets!”
“God. I’m going to go into a diabetic coma before we get home.”
You enjoyed your lunch on the upper deck, away from the rest of the crew. Jiro soon joined you. “Sister. May I sit here?”
“Of course. Come, have some lunch.”
The proper Children , a title rather than merely a family description, had more luxuries. Those both born and adopted in properly. You had seventeen siblings in all, and regardless of the ones spoiled rotten by Father’s indulgence, you were all very strong and expected to act as heirs, regardless of who it went to. Jiro had his own dark habits, but he kept them behind closed doors when possible, and you made no comment on them so long as he did not make a nuisance of himself. Unfortunately, he had the habit of becoming a nuisance more and more as he got older.
He took a portion of the lunch, and drank it down with clear sake. You did not like to imbibe alcohol so early in the day, but most of your siblings did. “She’s very pretty.”
“Who?”
He gave you a long suffering look. “My future wife , Sister.”
“Ah yes.” You nodded. “Did Big Mom send you a flattering picture?”
He procured a small photo from his chest pocket. When you observed it, you saw an attractive woman his age, with rust-red hair and a clear complexion. There was something determined about her face, and she had even signed it. Charlotte Cinnamon . You nodded your approval and handed it back to him. “My congratulations. The two of you will doubtless have the greatest happiness together.”
“So we will.” He nodded back, tucking the photo back in his chest pocket. “I’m surprised Father didn’t arrange one for you as well. You’re getting on in years.”
But you shook your head. “I owe him a great deal too much to be honored that way. I will be beyond marrying age before I can ask him to acquire a husband for me.”
That however, was you just telling him what he wanted to hear.
Jiro gave you a suspicious look. Father forbade his children from open conflict with one another, but there was still something under the surface he couldn’t control. Only one Child could become Heir , and in the ways of the yakuza, such things could never be made truly secure. The very nature of the Shimizu Family meant that only the strongest could claim the top title. The truth was a little colder, and Jiro was attempting to see it as you did.
That Jiro was more dispensable than you were. Father would not let you marry unless it was your greatest wish.
Jiro’s suspicions partially subsided. “A Mochi Island. Charlotte Linlin must be crazy.”
“Yes.” You agreed. “Very crazy.”
____
Tottoland’s archipelago was visible from a distance. A cluster of islands, rather closely put together. The color, even from far away, was garish and bright. It looked like something a child would build with toy blocks or draw, not something for a woman of eighty years to collect and actually encourage. As your ships sailed through to Whole Cake Island, the crew were agog.
“Look at that! An island made of chocolate!”
“There’s another one! It says flour on the entryway!”
“What a circus.” You mused, watching from the top deck. “No wonder Big Mom is always feeling peckish.”
The greeting at the docks was very favorable. To Jiro at least. He was welcomed by Perospero, Big Mom’s oldest son, and a man so outrageous ghastly and over the top you could not imagine it was easy to marry him off, even with Big Mom’s relentless matchmaking. Jiro accepted all the welcomes with the greatest condescension, and then introduced you. “My little sister.” He said. “Come, greet him.”
You deigned to give a small bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Pleasure is all mine.” Perospero answered, though you sensed, with unequal civility. “Mama will see you now.”
You nodded, and turned to the crew. “Begin unloading the present at once. Don’t fall behind.”
The present was huge itself. It was not just one, but eight ten ton boxes worth, all loaded on carts very carefully and pulled along by a large group as they followed behind you. They were all stamped with the Shimizu Family symbol; a sheaf of rice encircled by a fox tail. As you and Jiro walked down the main promenade, you were openly gawked by the citizens, Big Mom’s other children, and by their pirate crewmates. Everything was so whimsically colorful and tacky, and you could smell the sugar in the air. You would likely be sick of sweets by the end of it, and look forward to the mochi drought.
It would be a shame because you liked mochi the best. It was what Father first gave you when you were begging on the streets. That red bean center and stretchy consistency was even better than the 1000 Beri he had put in your hand. It wasn’t too sweet, and was good with tea, and a pleasant view.
It wasn’t until you reached Big Mom’s main complex that things grew a little darker. The interior was not as well lit, and it turned from bright and cheery Toyland to something of a creepy funhouse. Jiro squirmed at all the mirrors, and the Homies giggling in the corners. They appeared from ordinary object, normal one moment until their eyes opened and they tittered at him. You were less fazed. They would not be a threat to you.
Your Haki would have flared the second they tried anything.
The main chamber loomed before you, a huge door made to look like a gigantic gingerbread cookie, iced with studs of jelly candy and chocolate chips. Perospero knocked, with an echo booming behind it. “Mama? The Shimizu Family is here to see you.”
“Bring them in! Bring them in!” Charlotte Linlin’s voice was aged, but powerful. “We’ve just gotten the tea ready!”
When the door opened, Jiro went pale. You could understand why.
Even if the reports stated her height and size, that was very different from seeing it up close and in person. Big Mom sat at a large table, with many other sized chairs for her other children (some needing stairs), with a bathtub sized teacup in her sausage like fingers. Her mouth was the first thing you noticed, always grinning in a disturbing light, with big teeth, and a slight drool.
She had a very prominent nose and wild eyes, and yet all of this was decorated with an embellished pirate hat and a pink dress that could have been used for a circus tent. Her pink hair was long and wild, like a jungle, and looking at those crazed eyes, you wondered if she had ever been sane a day in her life.
Jiro froze up. You could see he was not going to initiate greetings as he should. So you stepped forward, and gave a deep bow. “Charlotte Linlin. We are honored to be your guests.” You spoke, and introduced yourself. “I am Father Shimizu’s daughter. This is my elder brother, Jiro.”
A faint spike of Haki to shock him awake. Your aura had grown sharp in a warning, and he snapped out of it, and bowed. “I am so honored to have been chosen to see you Captain Charlotte.”
“Verrry good!” She trilled, beckoning you both to the table. A few servers had come and wheeled tall, staired chairs your size up to the table. “We’ve been expecting you! Come, come, before the tea gets cold!”
Jiro seemed hesitant to go. But you gestured for him to make the first step, and he emboldened himself to begin walking. You did not go to your chair at first however, and approached Big Mom directly. “Father Shimizu wishes me to deliver a gift to you, on the opening of our alliance.” You address with calm composure. “It is our family specialty, and I trust we have brought enough for your enjoyment.”
You made a small gesture with your hand to the following attendants, and they untied and lifted off the lid of the enormous box. You heard Big Mom’s stomach rumble before she squealed in delight. “It’s true! The famous Shimizu Sakura Daifuku!”
A gigantic daifuku bun, made to fit in her big hand, was seated inside the large box. There was one ton of over a hundred smaller boxes for the rest of her family, but the first seven carts were brought purely for her appetite. “Captain Charlotte. We have often enjoyed this treat in line with our tea ceremonies. I hope it will be to your taste.”
You rose up the stairs and took your seat.
A few smaller boxes were plated for the primary Sweet Commanders and children of importance at the table, but Big Mom was already gobbling up the daifuku with relish. It was morbidly fascinating to watch her eat out of the corner of your eye, less like any human would eat. But Big Mom could not possibly be all human. Not with that size, or behavior.
You had not yet poured the tea, but when you lifted a hand for the pot, a bigger one took hold of it. Your eyes now turned to your left.
A son of Linlin was sitting beside you, separating you from his mother. He was extremely tall, though still dwarfed by Big Mom, and wore an enormous, fur-lined scarf that wound many times around his broad shoulders. He paired it off with some wild looking leather clothes, something you’d seen other yakuza wear when attempting to look intimidating. Father Shimizu never let any of his employees working in the family complex or directly under him dress in anything but clean, practical clothes, but you had seen other styles forwarded by the more liberal yakuza members of gangs that served the family. His hair was a dead giveaway to his relation, in a deeper pink, but still rather unruly. His gaze was fierce and hard.
Yet in holding the small teapot, he poured your cup with such delicacy that he seemed an artist.
“Allow me.” He said, his voice deep and mature.
You nodded with a polite smile. “Thank you very much.”
His face had been seen once before, in the ledger of the Sweets Commanders and most prominent of the Charlottes. This was the strongest, the second son, Katakuri.
When he set the teapot back down, you took up the cup, and inhaled the scent. It was a black tea, with a faint odor of lime and orange. Not as appropriate for daifuku, but when you sipped it, you enjoyed it simplicity and comforting tang. You turned your head to your right, to inspect how Jiro was doing.
He had a very cold, and controlled expression, and was looking at his still full teacup as if it was all to blame. He was sitting next to Charlotte Smoothie, the 14 th daughter, and Cinnamon’s direct sister. Cinnamon sat right beside Smoothie, and beyond her sat the middle sister Citron. The rest of the table beyond had the remaining Sweet Commanders. But you resisted the urge to smile in an obvious manner when you saw why he was so furious.
Cinnamon was at least twice his height. And with long legs that couldn’t be hidden by the colorful tablecloth, she had been selective in sending her picture. You can imagine he felt rather cheated right now. Nothing irked him worse than feeling diminutive. You would know…he felt that way all the time when compared to you.
There was relative quiet at the table, aside from Big Mom’s noisy munching and chewing. You maintained curious observations of the other Sweet Commanders, and even managed to give Smoothie a smile when she caught your eye. It was a colorful bunch, and doubtless Jiro would have to be careful in deciding to carry on with the engagement should he choose to do so. Father Shimizu might force him on it, but Jiro would already have to contend with either the in-laws and being put down by his wife and two sisters, and the enormous wealth and influence he might wield if he stayed.
I’ll have to work extra hard to keep him invested. You thought. Perhaps I could make him sign off on something if I made the right promises.
Big Mom soon demolished her share of the sweets, and washed it down with tea from her cup. “Mmmmnnnmmm!” She groaned with satisfaction. “Delicious! And soon we shall have it as often as we like! Dear-“ She addressed you. “-what does your Papa say about the mochiko deliveries?”
“Given that we cannot predict the vagrancies of the sea-“ You open up negotiations, setting down your cup. “-We think it would be appropriate to put aside payments for the mochiko to be exchanged once delivery is made, rather than paid all at once.” It was also security against getting price gouged for more, should the Charlottes attempt to change up the price to their benefit. “And if you are obliging, we would not press for an exchange of dowries and a proper signing of a trade agreement until we can both be satisfied with the terms, and the couple happily wed.” You turned pleasantly to Jiro. “Though I think my brother will have that second part well in hand.”
He flushed a little, less out of embarrassment and more in anger. “I…I don’t have the words for their beauty.” He muttered. You almost had to choke back a laugh. No words indeed. “Would it be too soon…for you to call them Sisters?”
Smoothie raised his eyebrow. You saw something of quickness in her eye, and she turned to you. “I don’t mind.” She shrugged. “But why don’t we get to know each other first? There’s no rush, as you say.”
Big Mom scrunched up her huge mouth. “Hmm! Very well! I’d rather get it all and done with-“ She heaved up from her seat, almost rocking to get herself out. “-but it’s true! Besides, we don’t want to spoil the precious mochiko before it gets here! You tell your Papa to be as careful with it as you can! What did you say the current market price was for it?”
You gave her a calm smile. “Roughly 1,200 per pound. And if it’s eight million tons, with ships carrying 5000 tons per voyage-“ You do the math rapidly in your head. “-It’s about 16 billion per voyage. Present market price.”
She growled a little. “If it weren’t so precious-“
You rose from your seat. “We might be prevailed upon to improve our dowry, if that helps.”
Jiro followed your example, hastening down his steps. But before you could properly step down, a large hand offered itself. Katakuri’s hand, in a fingerless leather glove, gently folded as if to allow a bird to rest on his finger. “Allow me.” He said again. You were interested in this unexpected chivalry, and rested your smaller hand on one of his fingers. He assisted you down the stairs, bending almost halfway until you were at the base, and then rose full height. “Our trade delegates will be meeting you both in the next room. Big Mom will be seeing you at the next family dinner, if feasible.”
“Thank you very much for inviting us to tea.” You said, with more graciousness than your brother could admit himself. “I look forward to seeing you all again.”
You bowed to everyone, and exited with the yakuza trailing behind you and Jiro.