Chapter Text
The second time Yasopp left, Banchina didn’t cry. She smiled and held Usopp up on her hip and waved and blew kisses and never let her smile falter. Not with the weight of Yasopp’s eyes on her. He was already so guilty, he hated leaving them alone. He asked her yesterday if she wanted him to stay. She saw it in his eyes and knew he would’ve dropped all his dreams if she’d said the word. She didn’t hesitate—she told him to go.
Yasopp was a pirate. Asking him to sit on this tiny, quiet island, watching his second family sail away without him would kill him. At least, it would kill all the parts of him she loved, and maybe, over time, it would kill the parts of him that loved her.
She told him to go, and as many times as he asked she told him she was sure. He’d been so anxious about her, about letting her down, but he wouldn’t. They’d find a way to make it work, just as they always had. Banchina promised him she’d be okay.
She promised, so she swallowed back the lump in her throat and blinked against the burn in her eyes as she watched his ship shrink in the distance. Banchina didn’t regret sending him away. She wouldn’t give Yasopp the chance to regret it either. She smiled as wide as she could.
Usopp shifted on her hip, making a short, unhappy noise. Banchina tore her eyes from the ship, in time to watch the puzzle pieces begin to fit together behind Usopp’s eyes—Dad was on the boat and the boat was only getting farther away.
Usopp clutched his slingshot tighter (it might as well be grafted to him, the way he took it everywhere), even as both arms reached out in a grabby motion. He wriggled and whined, trying to make Mama put him down to let him chase the boat down and make it give Dad back.
Banchina held Usopp tighter. “It’s almost time for dinner, baby boy. Let’s go home.”
“Dad!” he cried, flailing to be set down. “No, no, no!”
She turned away, carrying Usopp with her. “I know, but it’s time to go home. Aren’t you excited to eat the pike you caught?”
Usopp only screamed louder, helpless tears rolling down his face. “No!”
The village was watching, so she pressed her nose into Usopp’s hair and murmured comforts and didn’t cry. But nothing could stop Usopp’s tantrum.
Some small part of Banchina felt like a traitor for carrying him home. The walk felt especially long, but she focused on the flurry of fists and legs in her arms and the bruise forming on her jaw where Usopp’s slingshot bonked.
With the door closed, she set Usopp down and hugged and soothed until he stopped crying (the bruise was purely an accident—not worth a scolding). She cooked the pike Usopp and Yasopp had caught together and set the table and coaxed Usopp to eat. But he was stubborn, and three years old, and much too angry, so Banchina relented after only a few bites. Skipping bath time altogether (because that was a lost cause), she tucked him into bed and turned out the lights. After being chased back to bed twice while trying to sneak out the door of their one room home, Usopp must have finally tired himself out enough to fall asleep. Banchina heard his breathing reach a slow and even rhythm.
Careful not to tread on the creaky floorboards, Banchina let herself out of the house, easing the door shut with nothing more than a tiny creak.
With a sliver of moon lighting her way, Banchina followed a path that wound from her home through a small cluster of trees on the west side of the house to a cliff overlooking the ocean—her favorite place on the island. She sat down, feet dangling over the edge as she searched the horizon.
The moon wasn’t bright enough. The night was too dark and maybe the distance was too great to make out the Red Haired Pirates’ ship.
Banchina wrapped her arms around her body and at last she let herself break. A cloud passed overhead. Not even the moon saw Banchina cry.