Nibbling On My Blorbos

“Without your depths form, I doubt that.” Zeff interrupted, massaging his temples while you looked at him, confused as ever. “... do you even know about that? Or anything, that comes with being a leopard seal selkie?”

“I… I know that the cold doesn’t bother me. Or it didn’t. I don’t like the cold now.” You sink your nails into your upper arms. Upper arms that even at age 16, had been well-muscled and soft, with a healthy amount of blubber to keep you from catching a chill. Now, you didn’t even have the layer of muscle to keep you warm. You felt so, so cold without your pelt on.

“It’s not supposed to bother any selkie, ducky,” Magda sighed, leaning against one hand while her other came to hold herself around the waist, eyes on you. She looked distressed, as though you’d said something extremely troubling. “We have blubber, even when we’re in our legged shape, it was a blessing from the Sea Mother herself, as a way to keep ourselves warm and protected from the cold and the fruits of man.”

“I–I know that much!” You’d puffed up a little, flushing, and trying to make yourself look bigger than you were. But nothing could hide your arms, that looked bony without a baggy shirt to cover them. 

Privately, Zeff wondered how you’d managed to even appear as if you could do the work of a boatswain. He would have taken you in regardless; he had no room to judge anyone’s situation, but it was more a testament to just how much he hadn’t been paying attention to the extended staff that the Baratie needed to run smoothly.

And besides— you resented what Magda said! You knew the basics of being a selkie! You’d just… grown up on a small island in the Selken Isles. The northernmost island, where the fishing and boat-building village of Seal’s Drop sat. The most remote village in the Selken Empire, where Sion had grown up, smack dab in the middle of the North Blue.

There wasn’t much to really do there. Information didn’t come by easily, with how far Seal’s Drop was from everything, but during the late spring and early summer, dozens of fishing boats from the southern islands would land on the rocky shores to fish and do trade. 

The selkies that had come then were usually of elephant seal or ringed seal lineages, and had always seemed a bit shocked to see you and your siblings, with your leopard seal traits playing along the shores. But they always seemed to focus on you. You looked the most like a leopard seal out of your siblings, with your dark hair and skin, fading into splotches of pale skin on your underarms and neck, with pitch-black sclera and pinpricks of white for the iris, where the rest of your siblings had normal, warm, blue-green eyes inherited from Sion. 

You were all Feann, save for the white freckles that stood out like constellations in the night sky on your skin. 

Yet you hadn’t been raised any differently from your littermates, even when it was clear you were of a different selkie lineage than them. 

Magda insisted on having one of her party following you wherever you went now. Halander, or Hal, as Sanji had addressed him, would often be her first choice. If it wasn’t Hal, it was her. Just like she was right now, her hands folded neatly behind her back as she walked beside you on the dock. You were on your fifth walk of the day. Because if you sat any longer in the women’s dorms, you’d go insane. So you walked along the docks. Usually keeping to the ones where customers weren’t allowed so you wouldn’t have to deal with the general public. 

Or face Sanji. 

The blond was usually on the customer-facing docks, which also happened to double as a market for fresh sea creatures, gathered kelp, or imported herbs. And ever since that little heart-to-heart in his room, it’d been hard to look at him. To know that he knew everything, because you’d spilled your guts to him. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. And… something else you couldn’t quite decipher. 

You hated it. 

Hated everything about this stupid arrangement, especially when Sanji or Zeff delivered you meals and made sure you were eating. They never told you your weight, they actually wouldn’t let you even look at the scale, but based on Zeff’s little grin after, and how your portion sizes were increasing, their plan was working. 

Because that meant sooner rather than later, your cycle would start again. You’d be at the mercy of your biology, your body crying out for a mate to help you in a way only they could. 

You couldn’t even make yourself throw up. Always under strict watch after meals, just to be safe. 

Like now. Magda beside you as you walked the docks up and down, counting the steps you took, hoping that if you walked enough, it would cancel out the weight you were gaining from the growing portions of food. 

And, whatever, if you could walk for longer periods of time without getting dizzy, or you didn’t feel as exhausted as you normally did after waking up even after getting several hours of sleep. And the occasional glances you got at yourself in the mirror started to resemble the person you remembered from before all of this happened. 

It was stupid anyway. 

But fuck, you were bored! You were going to scream at this point. You’d taken 10,000 steps, according to the careful count you were keeping in your head, and it was noon. Magda didn’t even seem to care. She had announced that she and her little nomadic pod would be staying and working at the Baratie for the foreseeable future, and would help replace Nyck. The former head boatswain had been unceremoniously fired for stealing equipment and skimming money from the paychecks of those who worked under him. 

It also didn’t help that Magda was genuinely good at her job. Showing you tips and tricks for repairing docks, and how to easily cut a dovetail joint without a proper saw. Begrudgingly, you paid attention. These lessons also only came whenever you ate a full meal. 

Yet most annoyingly, Sanji always seemed to know whenever you took these walks. Even if you’d planned them to be during a rush, he’d pop up! Even when his hair was greasy from frying something, wearing an apron stained with sauce, or even when his entire front was covered in a fine layer of flour, Sanji was there, offering a platter of snacks or a fine meal for you. 

You wanted to throttle him. Him and his stupid, swoopy hair, sparkling eyes, kind smile, and his gentlemanly behavior. The genuine sweetness that he always seemed to exude when he greeted you. That blond bastard. How dare he!

“Ah! There you are!”

Especially now. Just when you’d hit around 12,000 steps. The length and back of the dock was around 100 steps. So you and Magda had been pacing this dock, back and forth for the past who knows how long, and just as you were about to walk in the direction of the main building, there he was. 

Sanji. 

He was actually dressed well this time, no signs of the lunch rush ruffling his appearance. You swear, he starched his shirts for fun in his free time. Collar perfect. Not a wrinkle on his apron. Smiling at you. You hoped he was at least ready for the smile lines he’d have when he aged. Yet here he was, with a little wooden bento box, wrapped in a tea towel and held out for you. Utensils tucked into the top little knot to hold them there. 

“I managed to pick the old man’s brain for some recipes your mum may have known,” He happily presented the meal to you. You took it. But by the Sea Mother, it felt so forced. Like you had no other choice but to take it, even if you were certain Sanji would have kept it until you were ready to eat it. 

That’s not how it would have been with Arlong. Any time he showed you kindness, it was expected that you fawn over him. You had to respond two-fold, thanking him endlessly even if his kindness was more like a slap in the face.

“Now say thank you,” Arlong growled, tipping up your chin with his hand, the angle so high you were ready to fall over backwards. Whimpering as the tips of his claws from his pointer finger and thumb cut into your skin. “Say thank you, that I decided not to share you with our honored guests after all.” 

The mousey-faced marine general sneered at you. You could feel his gaze on you. On your breasts, on your legs. And on your long hair, pulled back into a ponytail that fell over your shoulder, the edges of your hair brushing against the ground. 

“A shame. After giving you that break, you’re tighter than normal,” Arlong growled crudely, pulling you up to give him a savage kiss. You had learned better than to try and fight back. That would result in him biting your tongue or lip, to the point you would need medical treatment. “Say thank you, pet.”

“Thank you,” your voice shook. Arlong always loved when you sounded afraid. “Thank you, my love,” 

Calling him that felt like a slap in the face. An insult to real love. To your mothers, who would slow dance in the kitchen and whisper sweet things to each other, no matter the time of day or how the other looked. Even if it made you sick to say, you still said it. Not wanting to face the consequences of speaking your mind. No, the early days had taught you well enough. 

Damn that Sanji! He even seems to sense that you didn’t want to take it, even as you accepted the tupperware. It was warm to the touch on the bottom.

“You don’t have to take it,” Sanji leans down, so that he can look at you. His gaze is soft and there isn’t even a hint of malice in his eyes. “I can save it for you. I just thought it might be nice to taste something familiar.” 

He’s so genuine. You want to scream at him to leave you alone in your misery. He hasn’t once objectified you as Arlong or his crew did. No one here has. But you still hate how he looks at you and this… this forced kindness he treats you with!

Magda nudges you as if she can encourage you to speak more, when it was already more akin to pulling teeth than nudging a stubborn toddler into trying a vegetable.

Sanji can see how you’ve stiffened. How your nails are sinking in the skin of your palms and how you stare down at the wooden boards under his feet as if that will suddenly make him fall through them into the ocean below. 

Which isn’t what happens, but depending on the way someone might interpret it, it sort of does!

When a selkie is particularly emotional, their control over the water around them could… become volatile. Normally, that was under the selkie’s control by the time they were of school age, with toddler tantrums being legendary in the Selken Isles for the chaos that could be unleashed if a pup was particularly unhappy about being put down for a nap. Almost every selkie had a story from their childhood of a tantrum turning the previous warm bathwater to a solid block of ice when being told it was time to get out.

You had a story like that, all of your littermates did! Actually, your mothers had been very proud of how quickly you’d learned how to control your influence over the water, after you’d initially caused a kettle to start boiling immediately after Sion had told you that you’d need to wait before you could get any hot chocolate. The call of the water had come naturally to you, the element was familiar. Like an old friend. 

But, in cases of extreme trauma, it wasn’t uncommon for a selkie to lose their control over the element, even if, like in your case, they’d been considered a prodigy for their skill with water. 

You realize what’s going to happen the second before it does. 

Sanji is launched into the air by a geyser of seawater, leaving a gaping hole in the dock below. He’s up around seventy feet, flailing as the jet of water loses its power. You’re shaking, looking up in horror at what you’ve done as Magda lets out a low, nearly impressed whistle. 

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” You reach out, panic coursing through your veins. You don’t want Sanji to get hurt! Not at all! You’re angry, yes, furious about this entire arrangement, but you don’t want anyone else to be hurt because of you! 

Somehow, midair, Sanji manages to twist himself into a diving position, the winds pushing him so that there’s no fear of him hitting the docks, but instead, the deep blue waters around it. There’s no thinking. You’re diving into the ocean just as Sanji hits the water. Diving form or not, falling from that height would hurt anyone. Personal experience had taught you that the hard way. 

The ocean greets you as an old friend. You melt into your true form, swimming deep to pull Sanji to the surface, as he just floats. He’s in shock, and that’s fair. Eyes wide, as he looks at you, swimming down towards him, hands outreaching and then pulling him towards the sunlight above. 

He isn’t quite sure what he expected of a Leopard Seal Selkie’s true form. But you’re… stunning. Hair floating out around you like kelp, eyes almost glowing under the water. The grey dappling of your skin is ethereal. How the darkness of your hairline and the tips of your ears fades into a dark, stormy gray, with freckles of white that almost look like bubbles of air. Your chin is a paler gray, as is the front of your neck and likely chest. Dappled. Slightly different from the solid pale gray that Pell and Feann boasted. 

You reach for him. The tips of your fingers are black, like the darkest parts of your skin. The palms that same pale gray as the dapples around your chin. You pull him towards you and hold him, your powerful tail propelling the both of you upward. You must be at least eight feet— no, twelve— long from the top of your head to the very end of your tail fins. Twice as long as he is, easily. 

There’s a beauty to how easily you swim upwards. How you control the water around you. Sanji is enamored by it, by you, and how strong you are when you’re in your element. And this isn’t even your full strength. 

You both hit the dock not even a second later. Sanji under you, soaked, while you’re frantically checking him over, tail curled around him protectively as you lean over him, eclipsing the sun with your body as you look down at him.

“Oh my Mother, oh my Mother, I am so sorry, I was just so angry, but I never wanted you to be hurt—“ 

Your hands are so gentle as you hold his face, looking down at him with big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Or are those water droplets from the ocean  hitting him? Maybe they’re tears, you are sniffling quite a bit.  

He can’t help it. He starts to laugh. A small little noise at first. Then he’s fully cackling, prompting you to start laughing. Or maybe you’re just crying still, he isn’t entirely sure, even as you slump against him.

So Sanji wraps his arms around you and hugs you. Laughing, making sure you can tell he’s not mad, and sure enough, you are laughing! Smiling brightly and laughing so hard your shoulders shake. Normally, he would have asked before hugging you. But forgive him, this has been a chaotic ten seconds. 

“We’re alive!” Sanji throws his head back, smiling up at the sky as you wipe at your face. “We’re alive! What could be better?” 

His hands smoosh your cheeks. And you keep laughing, actually trying to duck your head. You don’t know when you last laughed this hard. At the ridiculousness of it all. Foreheads knocking against one another as you both laugh. Magda just chuckles to herself, holding her chin in one of her hands as she looks at the two of you. 

There’s a hole where you’d broken the dock. You’re both sopping wet, laying on the dock now, laughing hysterically. Sanji is sprawled on his back, and you’ve melted back into your human form. Cackling, arms holding your stomach. Acting like proper teenagers who’d just pulled off some amazing stunt.

Zeff comes running, which is rather comical, given his peg leg, stopped only by Magda holding out a hand, as if telling him to relax. A large smile on her lips as she gestures towards the two of you. There’s a blank expression on his face, as if he’s short circuited. After just a few seconds of staring at the two of you, he finally seems to find his words again.

“That’s fine,” Zeff chooses his words carefully, “But what about my dock?”

“I’m sure she’ll fix it,” Magda laughs softly, patting Zeff’s shoulder as Sanji helps you up, the two of you still laughing. You both actually fall right back into the ocean, and you’re right back into your true form, your tail easily keeping the both of you afloat as you move it back and forth with practiced ease. “Let them have this, Zeff. When was the last time either of them had the chance to act like proper children?”

He looks at the two of you, Sanji now crawling back to sit on the edge of the dock while you stay in the water, folding your arms and resting on the edge of the dock. Smiling and actually chatting with Sanji, who seems like he could care less about the sopping-wet condition he’s in. The tupperware of food is bobbing slightly in the waves. 

Your eyes light up when you see the rice balls in it, likely stuffed with all sorts of things that Zeff had suggested. Salmon marinated in mirin and lightly salted, then finely diced so it could be easily pressed into the middle. Roasted sesame seeds, green onion, and roasted in sesame oil before being wrapped in dried seaweed. 

Feann had loved those same riceballs when she was little. Zeff had made them for her countless times, when Coth and Pell were off with Roger doing blue knows what. 

It’s bittersweet to see you happily devour them. You look so much younger than you actually are. Legally, if Zeff’s math was right, you were an adult. You also loved to remind him that you were almost nineteen, even if you were a few months away, yet.

“Do you like them?”

“Like them? They’re amazing, they taste just like my Mu’s!” You look at Sanji then, your eyes so bright his breath catches in his throat. “Like, right down to the salmon, how did you manage that?”

“Zeff gave me the recipe. Said he used to make them for your mom all the time.” 

“I don’t think… he ever met my Mu…” 

There’s a note of confusion in your voice. Head tilted to the side. But you’re still eating the rice ball. Zeff feels a pressure being lifted from his chest. You’re actually… adapting. Pretty well, it seems. 

“He was my Mam’s podfather, though.”

“Yes! Feann! She visits. I think I told you that already.” Sanji snaps his fingers, and you seem to perk up a bit. “Wouldn’t. Uh. Blame you, though, if you forgot about that. With all the things that have been happening for you.”

“We can… call it even. Since I did send you flying, just now.”

“Oh, yeah. That did just happen.” Sanji finally seems to take stock in his soaked appearance, and how you’re in your merged form. Powerful tail moving gracefully under the water while you hold onto the edge of the dock, still talking to him. “Did you get… bigger?”

You look at your hands, momentarily letting go of the wood. Then lightly do a small twirl in the water, trying to look down your own back. 

“May…be?” You murmur, still trying to look down your back. You splash your tailflippers once. Twice. The smack of them hitting the water seems to heal something in you. “I don’t feel any bigger. But I don’t have my pup fluff anymore. I… guess I hadn’t noticed that, really. That I wasn’t as fluffy anymore.”

“Oh! Like Coth!” Sanji snaps again. As if realizing something. “She’s a little puffball. When she last came here, she was all fluffy. Like a big cotton swab.”

“You probably know better than me.” You mumble, cheek resting against your arm. Leaning against the dock as Sanji pulls his legs to fold under him. “Hah. You know my own littermate better than me, at this point,”

“I mean, if you just let us call them here…” Sanji trails off and promptly gets the now empty tupperware thrown at his face, which he catches easily, starting to laugh while you huff, lowering yourself back into the ocean, blowing bubbles with your nose, only part of your head above the water. “Okay, okay, message received. You can stop pouting.”

“I will pout however long I want,” You grumble, leaning back on the dock, arms folded. “I’m a grown selkie. I may even go for a long swim, since the water’s so nice.” 

“I’ll be putting the kabash to that,” Magda pokes in, settling beside Sanji on the dock and then easily slipping into the water in her merged form. She’s just a little smaller than you, but clearly more muscular. “No long swims given how scrawny you still are, pup. Not alone at least.”

“I’m not that skinny! I’ve gained weight!”

“Yes. Five pounds heavier, which is the safe amount for the month we’ve been working on it.” Magda ruffles your hair, easily hefting you up onto the dock by lifting you up under your armpits, laughing a little more at your chuff of shock. “Now, if you were at a proper weight, I wouldn’t be able to do that, pup.”

Sanji watches you flail a little, chuffing and squeaking at Magda. Zeff walks up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sanji…”

“I’m fine,” He looks up at the older man, placing his hand on top of his, smiling a little. “You always did worry too much about me.”

“I don’t think I worry enough.” Zeff’s voice is soft, even when Sanji stands. He looks down at him now, when it always used to be the opposite. “Are you hurt at all?”

“A bit wet. But fine.” 

You can’t help but feel a bit guilty, letting yourself turn legged again, while Magda hops gracefully onto the deck beside you, having used her control over the water to propel herself into the air, landing on her feet. She places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m shocked that it didn't happen sooner than it did.” 

She strokes your face gently. Drawing you upwards with a quiet laugh. She’s not like Feann or Sion. Feann was blunt where it mattered, but soft when needed, often just slightly too late, when you were already long-upset by something. Maybe not always the most patient with you and your littermates. Sion was always sweet, but hid a terrifying, silent anger when finally pushed over the edge. She was who you recalled as the most gentle. Always slipping your treats and small trinkets. 

Your mothers were your mothers, when it came down to it. You loved them both dearly, and if it was at all possible, you would give anything to trade your life for Sion’s if it meant that Feann would be happy again. 

Magda was something else entirely. 

Quiet, understanding. She just seemed to know whatever you, Hal, or Sanji needed at the time she was talking to you. So different from your mothers— not in a way that made her seem better than them— but in a way that refreshed you. 

It was illogical that you didn’t want to talk to your remaining pod. That you didn’t want to see Feann, or Pell, or get to know your little sister. But the trauma you’d experienced often had you making illogical decisions. 

Like, for an example, your weight. It was vital to your health that you gained the weight you’d lost over the past two and a half years. But you never wanted to go back into your cycle, to have the possibility of bearing a child of Arlong’s even if you were long-gone from Arlong Park. The mere thought of having the pup that had so long haunted you actually growing inside you had you losing any desire to eat.

Magda understood your illogical behaviors. Coaxing you on calming walks, rather than frantic attempts to try and burn away any of the weight by exercising. And when you refused to let her enter your room? She sent Hal, who would say something so unhinged you had no choice but to snap out of your stupor. 

“How are you… so, good, with me?” 

Your voice rasped a little, as Magda continues to stroke her hand through your hair. Untangling the knots that had formed. She doesn’t pause, just humming, and you can almost imagine her little smile, the slight tilt of her head as she considers your question. 

“I used to be you, pup,” Her hands are smooth and gentle. There’s no pain as she brushes your hair. “Long ago. I used to be you. Not to the same extent as your troubles, or the pain you’ve faced. But I have been there. Had my body and pelt taken without my say.”

She pauses now, and gently turns your face to look at her. Magda’s eyes are filled with a devastating understanding of everything you’d experienced. You shudder, eyes wide as she brushes her hands through your hair oh-so-gently.

“How… how did you keep going?”

“I didn’t want to let the man who did that to me win.” 

There’s a fire in her eyes when she says that. A spark that refuses to be snuffed out, one you had once thought was completely gone in you. 

“Tell me, little gull,” Gently, Magda tilts your chin up. “Will you let the one who did this to you win? Will you let him haunt your every step, for the next eighty years, as you live, afraid that he may come out from the shadows?” 

You feel light as a feather when she asks you this. As though the heavy stone of guilt, the same that had been crushing your chest since you’d been stolen away from your home, was finally being lifted away. 

“Or will you step forward regardless?”

“I will.” You don’t recognize your own voice. Stronger than it’s been in a long, long time. 

“Good,” Magda pinches your cheek, smiling. “Then I have someone you want to meet. A therapist, who I can vouch for. Her name is Dr. Shelle.”

Dr. Shelle is a short, albino selkie. Her voice is a melodious, ringing bell with every word she speaks. The tea from her home island was sweet, with dried cloud berries and the seeds and petals of a fragrant flower mixed in. She pours an ungodly amount of honey into her own cup, and offers you the honey wand, laughing at how you wrinkle your nose. 

“Not a fan of sweets?”

“My Mu made this spicy, warm tea. She’d add milk and brown sugar straight in the kettle, with the herbs and spices.” You look at the cup in front of you. It’s speckled, with little clay details that look like barnacles. The tea is a golden color, with a stray petal floating in it. A petal that had somehow escaped from the strainer. “...This is new.”

“I’d bet. You’re from Seal’s Drop, right? That’s the opposite end of the Isles from me. I’m from the southernmost island.” Dr. Shelle laughs, head tilted back. Her eyes are a pale pink, behind fine, golden glasses that perch on the tip of her nose, needing badly to get pushed back up for them to be of any use for her eyesight. “I’m of Monk Seal lineage, so, quite different from you, being of Leopard Seal Lineage, hm?” 

“I guess so.” 

You don’t want to look at her. Like looking at her may somehow reveal your deepest, darkest secrets in the first session.

Sanji, bless him, had tried to explain therapy to you, in the hour between sitting on the docks to now. With you sitting in the plush chair in a little private dining room in front of the therapist, fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

“It’s going to be so, so awkward,” Sanji towels his hair off, standing above you, with another towel slung around his hips. You are staring anywhere but him and the skin and muscle that is no longer hidden under his slacks and dress shirt, sitting awkwardly on his bed, for the second time ever, one of his pillows held to your chest like a stuffed animal. He’s utterly ripped. Naked save for the towel around his hips. What an awkward time to realize he was attractive. “You’re going to just trauma dump about everything, which will suck.” 

“What does that mean?” You manage to look up at him, only to find he’s turned around now. Showing that his back is also well muscled, especially evident as he fusses with his hair, looking in the mirror on top of his dresser. “Trauma dumping, I mean.”

“Right. No Snailnet. Right right right,” Sanji mumbles to himself, making eye contact through the mirror, and grinning. “It’s telling someone… everything. And I mean everything. It sucks. But it’s part of helping yourself..”

“Everything?” 

Your throat feels like it’s going to close up. Sanji winces, turning around, and crouching so he’s eye level with you. This look on his face that’s not quite pity, but more understanding. That’s why Magda had asked that he help you prepare for your first session. 

“This first session always sucks, but, I can help you unpack it after, if you’d like. Zeff would too. Or Magda. Or Hal. Or anyone. We’re here for you.” 

His sad smile is genuine. Hesitantly, you nod, tears already threatening to spill. Face pressed into the top of the pillow.

“So… do I… just… talk?” You risk a glance up at Dr. Shelle. She’s looking at you already, smiling. 

Everything about her reminds you of your late Uncle. His name had been Gunther, and he was Sion’s older brother. He’d been a gifted healer and worked especially well with pups. Always smiling gently, always knowing how to comfort the wails and hiccuping sobs of an infant, to the stunted whimpers of a teenager about to bloom into their first cycle. It all came naturally to him. He’d been there to deliver you and all of your littermates, welcoming you into the world with only love and warmth. 

Arlong had Gunther’s pelt hung like a trophy on the wall of his room. The fishman liked the patterns of your uncle’s spots, apparently. You’d been forced to stare at it countless times when Arlong had forced himself on you. Wishing you could have given him a proper burial. 

Your uncle had fought tooth and nail to defend the small nursery in your village. Gunther had given his life to try and save the pups who had been entrusted to his care by the selkies who worked at the docks, fighting viciously and letting himself get dragged away while villagers fled with the pups deeper inland.  

Arlong had always been so annoyed by that. The fact that your uncle had managed to save so many pups, and by extension, villagers, with his sacrifice. That was what justified Arlong hanging his pelt on the wall in his room. As if to prove that he had still somehow won. Because he’d killed Gunther in the end. 

“If you want.” Dr. Shelle tucks her feet under her, sitting on the chair across from you. “How about I tell you a bit about myself? So we’re not total strangers, hm?” 

“I’d… like that.” 

“My name is Dr. Anteth Shelle. I’m a monk seal from Lilypad Cove, which is on the southernmost island of the Selken Isles. I have a younger brother, who nearly died when I was about your age, along with my mother. My brother’s name is Mickey. My mother’s name was Désh. She died saving both of us when our home caught fire.” She set the mug on the desk, and looked at you with a sad, knowing smile. “I went into training at the capital island the next year, to become a therapist specializing in severe trauma. I wanted to help Mickey.”

“Did you?” You unfold a bit from how you’ve tucked yourself into the chair. Leaning forward in interest. 

“A little. He came to live with me. He did much better, in the capital. It was how I figured out I wanted to specialize in trauma responses. He still lives there, with my father. I graduated near the top of my class– around fifth from the top student. Got on the shitlist of the World Government after I did a few studies on trauma caused by Celestial Dragons visiting islands that couldn’t afford to pay the tithe to become registered, and I think you can do the math with why I’m constantly on the move now.” She laughed a little, as if she hadn’t just admitted she was a fugitive of the law.

But then again, you were also, technically a fugitive, being the grandchild of Pell Blackfin and Coth Rippled, and the daughter of Feann Blackfin. 

“...Oh.” You tuck your legs against your chest. “So that’s what trauma dumping is. I think.” 

“Yes! Where did you learn that?” Dr. Shelle laughs again, leaning with her head to the side, her cheek resting against a loose fist. Looking proud of you!

“Uhm. A… a friend?” You blush a little. All you can think of when Sanji gets mentioned now is his muscled back. “He… he’s been through a lot of therapy, and his Dad and Aunt wanted him to help me.”

“Yes, Sanji. Magda told me a bit about him. Wanted me to check in on him, even if he’s in a stable state right now. But it seems the Sea Mother guided me here to you, instead.” If she sees the blush on your face, she says nothing. “I’m glad you have a friend here.”

“I had another, before I was here,” 

You blurt the words out. Because who else will, if you can’t bring yourself to speak her name? 

“At— at Arlong Park. Her name was Nami.”

Just the thought of her makes tears well up. The faint scent of tangerines that always clung to her. Her short, ginger hair. She used to sleep in the same bed as you, protecting you from Arlong by making it seem as though you were having a girl’s night— something that oddly pleased the fishman. She would bring you food, and even convince Arlong to let you have some free days. Perhaps it was the fact that he liked the idea of the two of you commiserating together. Two people whose lives he had destroyed. Who he had brought together, and planned to use and use until you were of no use to him anymore.

“She was the only person who was kind to me.” You whisper, leaning over your legs as you cry, tears hitting your knees. “She helped me escape.”

Nami pressed your pelt into your hands. It was in its raw state, just a seal skin, not the thick hoodie you’d shaped it into when you were twelve, under Sion and Feann’s watch. Your first time changing it. 

Toha had originally accused you of copying her, before bawling, when you said you wanted to be just like her, your wonderful big sister, who you looked at like she hung the stars and moon. Your sister had hugged you tight then. Promising you could always match your pelt with hers, whenever you wanted to.

When you reverently wrap the sealskin around your shoulders, it doesn’t change back into that hoodie But you feel the hum of it as you press your face into the soft fur. 

It’s a creamy white and gray. Like a pup’s would be. None of the spots that earned the seal its name, finding kin with the big cat that hunted and played with its prey, just as the seal hunted so skillfully under the waves. 

“You need to leave. He’ll be back by dawn tomorrow. I need to make this look convincing,” Nami kissed your forehead, and you’d started to cry at that point, hugging her as tight as your weakened body could manage. “I love you. Now go be free, kelp-brain.”

“As long as you live, I’ll be thankful to you.” You’d hugged her, one last time, before running off towards the ocean. Leaping into the water and changing your shape for the first time in two years. Now a scrawny, still fuzzy juvenile leopard seal, swimming as fast as your weakened body could manage.

You swore you could feel the water moving to help you without you trying to even call it towards you. As if the Sea Mother herself is trying to guide you somewhere safe. 

“She sounds like she was very brave. And a good, good friend.” 

Dr. Shelle gently touches your hand as she speaks. And you only nod, crying after recounting your escape to her. 

“I miss her,” You admit. Gripping onto her hand. The first time you’ve held another person’s hand in two years. “I miss her so much. I—I  probably got her into so much trouble. She probably hates me now. I wouldn’t blame her at all.” 

“I doubt that,” Dr Shelle squeezes your hand, coaxing you to look at her. “She was willing to give you your pelt back. She knew what she was doing, and I’m willing to bet she’d do it again, if it meant you would be free.” 

You finally let yourself sob. Hiccuping in the air. 

It all spills out from there. In painstaking detail that surprises even you. Dr. Shelle just holds your hand through it all, occasionally asking questions. She lets you ramble about your siblings. About your younger brothers, Mun and Riko, and how they had loved to chase waves up and down the beach, and how they would make wind chimes out of sea glass. About Pudge— now named Coth— and your little memories of her. 

You whimper out the details you want to forget. Of what Arlong did to you. The conditions. The sun burns you’d gotten from being thrown to lie on the concrete, as a punishment for biting him. For trying to fight back. And eventually, how your spirit had broken, half a year in. 

The day you’d given up, some of Arlong’s crew members had been talking loudly and happily about how injured Feann had been when they’d left the island. How she had roared, bellowing your name across the island. 

Gloating. About how clever they were to jump her all at once so they could overwhelm her, even in her depths form. 

Chuu had stared at you, with his signature smirk, before walking over to squeeze your cheeks. Reeking of the alcohol he loved. 

“Your little village never stood a chance from the start, selkie.” 

To now. How you’d found out that Coth had survived, that Feann had survived, and how your mother mourned you while raising Coth with her father. 

“Actually, my little gull, your mother and I have been meaning to talk about something with you. About your birth, really.”

That had been one of the last things Sion had said to you. What did she mean by that? You stop your fidgeting, staring down at the floor, brows starting to knit together. And the other thing she’d said before—

“Aye, just wait till her father gets here.”

Had Pell already been on the way? Did Sion know the fishmen were coming? How did that relate in any way to what she’d said about your birth? You’d been born in a rainstorm, according to your Uncle Gunther. He’d been the one to deliver you. 

“What did you mean by that, Mu?” You whisper, trying to think hard, only to realize you’re still with Dr. Shelle. The other selkie looks concerned, and you realize she’s actually crying. She rumbles, a true rumble, and you wilt a little. Zeff had done his best, yes, and his rumbles at you had been comforting, but not like this.

Instinct wins over. You all but flop into Dr. Shelle, snuffling softly like a pup. Her rumbles come from deep in her chest, lower in pitch. These mean safety and comfort. She pats your back, continuing to make her low rumbles. Safety. Comfort. Urging you to just feel.

When had you last let yourself feel, without immediately trying to pack everything back up not a minute later? 

Your snuffles turn to low trills. Dr. Shelle continues to pat your back, keeping you tucked against her. You’re taller than her, making it a bit awkward when you fold yourself onto the same chair as her, but she makes it work.

“I think this is a good, natural stopping point for today’s session.” Dr Shelle doesn’t move you, letting you curl into her, still patting your back like you’re a pup she’s trying to put down for a nap. “You did so, so well. I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

As she tries to pull away just a little, you whine, pointed ears flicking to press against your head, disappearing under your hair. You trill, tilting your head back just a bit. Eyes watery. Dr. Shelle tightens her hold again, laughing softly and letting you get comfy. 

This is probably the first time you’ve felt safe enough to be so direct about wanting affection. And Dr. Shelle has decided she will stop at nothing to make sure you never felt afraid of wanting affection ever again. 

“Be proud of yourself. This was a lot.” 

Dr. Shelle lets you stay there until you surface from your instincts, rubbing your eyes. 

“What do I do next?” You murmur as you stand. She walks you forward, calm as can be, towards the door of the private room, then through the main dining room. 

“Keep moving,” Dr. Shelle smiles, opening the door. Outside, Sanji leans against the wall, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Zeff and Magda talk in low voices. Hal is sunning himself, lounging and stretching as a seal.

All four faces light up when you walk out. Gentle and asking how you’re doing. Magda gently rubbing your arm. Sanji, ever careful not to let the smoke from his cigarette get in your face.

“You’ll look back one day. And be amazed by how far you’ve come.” Dr. Shelle finishes, but you don’t hear her. You don’t need to, though. There’s a soft, confident smile on her face, watching as Hal and Sanji guide you towards the edge of the dock to sit and discuss everything about your first session.