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When you stepped into the Mostro Lounge, the first thing that hit you was the silence. No bustle of staff, no whispers of customers, not even the familiar clink of glassware. For the first time since you’d known it, the entire building was utterly empty. Only the dim glow of lamps and the cerulean reflection of the aquarium lined the path as you walked.
You knew Azul had invited you for something important, but you hadn’t dreamed it would be this. You had been dating for some time now, and yet… Azul was a man of secrets.
He was always planning something, always keeping a trick or two up his sleeve. But tonight, the air around you felt different, heavier, thick with anticipation.
In the center of the lounge stood a single set table. A solitary candle burned upon it, its flame dancing in the cold silver of the cutlery. And beside them lay a parchment. A rolled contract. One you recognized instantly.
Azul was seated at the table, his hands folded, though his fingers were trembling slightly. The moment he caught sight of you, he stood up and donned his trademark smile, polished and confident. But around his eyes lingered a nervousness that didn't belong to him at all.
“Thank you for coming,” he said softly, gesturing to the seat opposite him.
“Azul… what’s going on?” You sat down, your gaze instinctively drifting toward the contract. He cleared his throat.
“Ah, that- that is actually what I wanted to… ahem… discuss.” The candle cast a warm glow across his face, and you noticed he was a fraction paler than usual.
“You can tell me anything, you know that.” Before he could continue, you placed your hand over his. You felt him flinch ever so slightly.
“I do. And that is exactly why… why I wanted it to be tonight.” His fingers finally relaxed, closing around your hand.
Azul took a breath, and for the first time, you saw that he was truly shaken. Azul Ashengrotto, the man who never buckled under the pressure of hundreds of customers or catastrophic orders. He looked, in this moment, like a boy standing on the edge of a deep ocean, unsure whether to jump. Slowly, he unfurled the scroll between you.
The handwriting was elegant and formal, but the contents blurred for a moment because you simply couldn’t believe you were reading it correctly. Azul let out a deep exhale.
“Some time ago, I began… reflecting on what you mean to me. How much you have done for me. And how much I have changed… because of you.” His voice wavered, and you realized this wasn't a performance. This wasn't the master of the Mostro Lounge, this was Azul, your Azul. He leaned in closer.
“I wanted to draft a contract. Something binding, something that would… tie us together. But then I realized that with you, I want no conditions. No clauses. No ‘ifs’ or ‘whens.’ I want…” He swallowed his words, and you could hear his heart beating faster than usual. “I want you to choose for yourself, without any magic. Without any pressure.”
From beneath his coat, he pulled a small box. Black, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Your heart stopped.
Azul opened it. Inside sat a ring adorned with tiny pearls in the shape of a delicate seashell. It was simple, yet exquisite. And strikingly personal.
“I want to ask you… if you will marry me,” he breathed, finally looking you straight in the eye, stripped of masks and practiced smiles.
The world around you grew even quieter. You felt as though even the water in the tanks held its breath.
“Azul…” you whispered, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “Did… did you really think I’d say no?”
“You are under no obligation to say yes,” he blurted out, far too quickly. “I know I am not without my faults. I have made many mistakes. But I swear that-”
You didn't let him finish. You lunged toward him, throwing your arms around him. You felt his body stiffen for a second before he pulled you back against him, holding you tight. The warmth of his embrace was familiar and safe, yet entirely different from any time before.
“Yes,” you breathed into his shoulder. “Yes, of course I will.”
It took a moment for his brain to process what you’d said. Then, you felt his hands begin to shake. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.
“Truly?” he asked quietly. No arrogance, no hiding. It was almost painfully sincere.
“Truly.” You smiled and nodded.
A smile spread across his face, soft and radiant. He took the ring tenderly, as if it were made of sea foam and might shatter at the slightest touch. As he slipped it onto your finger, his hands were unexpectedly unsteady.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“That’s the best part,” you teased gently. “Knowing I’m the one who makes you lose your cool.”
Azul flushed, or rather, he turned that specific shade of blue he always did when he was genuinely flustered. “Please… do not make fun of me at such a momentous occasion.”
“I’m not teasing. I love it,” you smiled softly.
The ring fit your finger perfectly. Azul stared at it for a long while, as if unable to believe it was real. Then he kissed your hand, a soft, silent gesture, his lips barely grazing your skin.
“I promise you, I will never let you down,” he said.
You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was soft, tender, and full of an emotion that neither of you could hide. When you pulled away, you rested your head on his shoulder.
“Did you clear the whole place out just for the two of us?” you asked, your eyes wandering over the empty lounge.
“Naturally,” he replied quietly, his fingers stroking your hand. “I wanted it to be perfect. So I would know nothing would interfere… so you would be certain that I meant it.”
“I didn't need an empty lounge to know that,” you whispered.
“But I did.” Azul chuckled.
And you realized then that while Azul Ashengrotto was a master of contracts, schemes, and clever magic, in this moment, he was just a man who loved you with all his heart. And you were the one he had chosen.
The thirty-sixth drawing goes to Alphonse Elric, the armored soul from Fullmetal Alchemist. Gentle and compassionate, he carries immense strength within a body of steel and a heart full of kindness.
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Vibe: pet peacock AU, harpy Vil, fluff, slow burn, accidental roommates, domestic comedy, cozy fantasy, soft romance, wholesome chaos
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When you stepped into the Night Raven Pet Shop yesterday, you were just looking for a momentary distraction. The place seemed like any other pet store. Bells jingled above the door, the air smelled of hay and sweet feed, and fish darted through tanks lining the walls. Nothing felt… out of the ordinary.
The shopkeeper gave you a brief nod, and you began to wander aimlessly. That’s when a small, multicolored bundle in one of the top cages caught your eye.
A small peacock. He looked ruffled and grumpy, as if your very presence were an inconvenience. And yet, you couldn't look away, he was beautiful, unnervingly so.
"You may hold him," the shopkeeper offered, his voice suspiciously smooth. "He is a very… rare specimen."
Before you knew it, you were cradling the bird in your hands. He looked up at you sternly, as if warning you not to mess up his feathers. The shopkeeper kept talking and talking, until finally, you walked out with a birdcage you had never planned on buying.
The next morning, you woke up feeling stiff but surprisingly calm. You turned toward the table where the cage should have been. But it was empty. A cold shiver ran down your spine.
"Oh no..." you whispered.
Before you could even get up, you heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. You froze. There was no one else in the apartment. Slowly, cautiously, clutching your phone like a last line of defense, you crept toward the door.
In the silence, you heard the splash of water and then something that sounded like… a huff? You threw the door open and nearly collapsed in shock.
Standing at the sink was a man. He was breathtaking, so perfectly groomed he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fashion editorial.
Golden-blonde hair flowed over his shoulders, long lashes framed deep violet eyes, and his skin was as flawless as porcelain. And behind him, a long peacock tail unfurled, dazzling with blue-green iridescence.
He wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, holding the edge with the elegant nonchalance of someone used to being admired. He looked at your half-empty bathroom shelves and your cluttered, messy vanity. He frowned.
"You live like this?" he asked with genuine revulsion.
"What? Who even are you?!" You blinked once. Twice. The man turned to face you fully. His back feathers gave a slight shiver, like someone irritably snapping a fan shut.
"I am Vil Schoenheit," he announced in a tone one uses to state an obvious truth. "And judging by the circumstances… you bought me."
"I bought a…" You gasped for air. "…a peacock! Not some guy!"
"A harpy, darling. A harpy." He raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday's transformation feather was the last one, so I reverted to my true form. It happens. Did the shopkeeper not tell you?" He leaned against the sink, inspecting his nails.
"No!" you blurted out. "He just said he was lovely and unique, not that he turns into- into-" You gestured at him helplessly. For a moment, a flash of amusement seemed to flicker in his eyes. His tail feathers rippled.
"I understand that having me in your home can be overwhelming," he said with a touch of smugness, "but I required hot water. My feathers dry out after a transformation and… well, standard residential conditions are hardly ideal."
Then, he finally took a proper look at you. All of you, from your messy bedhead down to your inside-out t-shirt.
"And you look like you just woke up," he remarked.
"Because I did just wake up!" you cried.
You watched him as he dried his hair with a towel, his tail lowered but still immense. Reality was spinning circles around you.
"So… what now? Are you… staying here?" you asked hesitantly.
Vil pushed off from the sink and walked past you so gracefully you didn't even notice your heart had started racing.
"You bought me," he replied simply. "I am under your protection until my magic reaches a stable level. Usually, that takes a few weeks."
"A few weeks?!"
"Does that bother you?" He stopped in the middle of the room and turned his head over his shoulder. His voice was calm, but a flicker of genuine uncertainty, barely perceptible yet piercing shone in his eyes.
"No, just… it’s a bit… sudden," you stammered.
"The best things usually are." A soft smile tugged at Vil’s lips.
The following days were surreal. Vil paced through your apartment, occasionally fixing a strand of your hair as he passed by, or gently moving your coffee mug because it was a "poorly chosen color for the daylight."
And you? You slowly stopped blushing quite so hard, or at least you tried to. When you noticed his tail feathers were losing their luster from the dampness, you reached out and offered him a towel.
"Thank you," he said, surprisingly soft. "Most people are afraid to even touch me."
"I’m not afraid," you replied quietly.
"I like that." He turned to face you, his feathers casting a blue-green veil of light around you both. He took your hand, his grip warm and firm and pressed it against one of his tail feathers. It felt like silk, perfectly smooth, and for some reason, a shiver ran down your spine.
"You have beautiful fingers," he noted. "Though you neglect their care."
"You-" you laughed in disbelief. "You are…"
"Charming?" he finished for you.
"Impossible." But you smiled anyway. And in his eyes, a small, satisfied spark ignited.
That evening, you sat on the couch together. Vil sat close to you, his tail spread along the backrest like a soft, iridescent shroud.
"I’m sorry," you said after a moment of silence. "If I… wasn't prepared."
"You gave me a home," he whispered. "That is more than I expected." Vil placed a finger under your chin and gently tilted it up. Your heart skipped a beat.
"But… I didn't buy you on purpose," you mumbled.
"How romantic. Love by happenstance." He laughed softly.
"That's not-" You tried to protest, but he cut you off.
"Mmm, not yet," he interrupted, leaning in closer until his forehead touched yours. His voice was almost tender. "But it has potential. Thank you for not being afraid of me."
"And thank you for… not staying a peacock."
"I was beautiful either way," he smirked.
"But you’re prettier like this…"
He laughed, genuinely this time. And you knew then that no matter how impulsive that purchase had been… it might have been the best decision you ever made.
Vibe: emotional family fluff, supernatural domesticity, protective Mihawk, soft found family, pregnancy reveal
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A rare, honey-thick silence reigned in the castle library, the kind that only comes with the late afternoon, when the sun leans into the tall windows and dust motes dance in its beams like tiny fireflies.
You were nestled in a deep velvet armchair, your legs tucked under a wool blanket, fully immersed in the lines of your book.
Mihawk sat at his massive oak desk just a few feet away. He wasn’t reading, nor was he writing. His golden eyes, usually as sharp as the blades of his daggers, were fixed in your direction, but they looked different. They were veiled in a deep, unspoken contemplation, as if he were listening to something residing just beyond the reach of human hearing.
The silence was finally broken by the soft rustle of wings. Sera, who had recently returned from training with Zoro, drifted into the center of the room. He wasn't loud this time. His movements were unusually cautious, almost reverent.
"Mom?" he whispered, approaching your chair.
"Yes, Sera?" You looked up from your book and smiled at him. "Did Zoro let you go already? I thought you’d be training until dinner."
Sera didn’t answer. Instead, he snuggled up to you and, with unexpected tenderness, rested his head in your lap, directly against your stomach. You exhaled and began to run your fingers through his snow-white hair, but the boy suddenly went rigid.
"Mom... you have two lights inside you," Sera murmured, his voice trembling with wonder.
He pressed his face tighter against the fabric of your dress. His angelic sensors, designed to detect life and energy from miles away, were now focused on a single point.
"Two lights? What are you talking about, sweetheart?" You laughed softly, still lost in the plot of your book. "Maybe I just drank too much of Perona’s herbal tea, the one that glowed so strangely."
"No. It’s not tea. It’s... small. Like a seed. But it’s beating. It’s beating to a completely different rhythm than your heart. Is it... another person?" Sera lifted his head and looked into your eyes. His gaze was incredibly solemn, almost sacred.
In that moment, you felt the air in the room shift. Mihawk stood up. His movement was so fluid and silent that you barely registered it until he was standing right beside your chair. He placed one hand on the backrest and the other his large, glove-covered palm, on your stomach, right next to Sera’s face.
"Sera is right," Mihawk said. There was an unusual undertone in his voice, a combination of absolute possessiveness and unexpected fragility.
"Mihawk? You too?" You looked at him, bewildered. "But I feel fine. I feel completely normal."
"Your aura has changed," he spoke softly, his eyes never wavering from your face. "A few days ago, it began to scent differently. Like a garden in bloom after the rain. I sensed it last night while you slept. There is a new pulse. Faint, but unwavering. Like a gathering storm."
You froze. The book slowly slipped from your fingers and landed on the blanket. You placed your hands over theirs, over Sera’s small, warm palm and over Mihawk’s steady, powerful hand.
Suddenly, it clicked. The slight fatigue of the past few days, the strange craving for apples with salt that you’d attributed to the spring air...
"So... we’re going to...?" Your voice hitched with emotion.
"Are we having another one?" Sera breathed, tears of joy glistening in his eyes. "Will I have someone I can teach to collect seashells? Someone to protect?"
Mihawk leaned in so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. His face, usually an unreadable mask, was now an open book of relief and pride.
"It seems Kuraigana will have to build another room. And I... I shall have to sharpen my black blade a little keener. Nothing and no one will come near this castle."
At that moment, the library doors flew open.
"Horo-horo-horo! Why is it so weirdly quiet in here?! And why is Sera glowing like a lighthouse?!" Perona stormed in, followed by Zoro, who tried to look like he didn't care at all, though he too was burning with curiosity.
"Zoro! Perona! I’m going to be a big brother! Mom has a new light in her belly!" Sera turned to them with a triumphant smile. Perona dropped her umbrella, and Zoro nearly tripped over his own katana.
"What?!" they shouted in unison.
Mihawk pulled you closer to him, as if wanting to hide both you and the little secret inside from the entire world. You just sat there, surrounded by your beautiful, supernatural family.
"Welcome to the team," you whispered. And there, in the silence of the library, amidst the dust and ancient tomes, a new chapter of your shared destiny began, a chapter that a demon and an angel sensed before life itself could even write it down.
The forest was silent, unnaturally so. Only your footsteps made a faint rustle in the moss and among the tangled roots. You didn't belong here, and you knew it.
Folk tales of an enchanted woods, where those who entered never returned, were whispered in every village for miles around. Yet, something drew you in. A sweet fragrance drifting through the air was more powerful than reason itself.
As you pushed through the thicket, the trees suddenly fell away, revealing a small clearing bathed in golden light. In the center stood a long wooden table, perfectly set.
There were mountains of food: pastries still warm from the oven, succulent fruits, and steam rising from hot dishes. Your stomach cramped painfully with hunger.
You drew closer, almost in a trance. You reached for a piece of cake… when suddenly, something cold slid around your wrist and gripped it firmly.
"This food is not for mortals. Once you taste it, you will never be able to leave the forest," a voice spoke from right beside you.
You gasped and spun around. Standing next to you was a man, or rather, a creature with a long serpentine body covered in gold and blue scales that shimmered like gemstones in the light.
His human upper half was lean and elegant, his fair hair tousled with a stray lock covering one eye. The other eye, dark and piercing, watched you intently.
"W-who are you?" you breathed.
"Sanji. Guardian of this part of the woods." He sighed, and the grip of his tail loosened slightly, though he didn't let go.
"I... I just got lost," you stammered. "I didn't mean to steal anything." You were afraid, but you saw no anger in him, no cruelty. Instead, there was… concern.
"It always starts like this." Sanji’s expression softened.
He released you and slowly slithered toward the edge of the clearing. You rubbed your wrist, where a faint, cool tingling remained from his touch.
"Why is that table there?" you asked cautiously.
"It’s a trap for humans," he replied quietly. "The forest’s magic offers them what they desire most. Food, home, peace. And in exchange, it takes their freedom. At the same time, it serves as a banquet for the inhabitants here," he explained.
"And you?" you asked. "Are you here by choice?" You looked back at the lavish spread. Suddenly, it didn't look so appetizing.
"I am part of the forest." He was silent for a moment. Then he offered a small, somewhat sad smile.
You should have left. You should have turned and run while you still could. Instead, you sat down on a stump at the edge of the clearing.
"Aren't you lonely here?" the words slipped out before you could think. Sanji looked at you in surprise.
"You can stay for a while. Just... don't eat anything." Then, he offered you a small, guarded smile. So, you stayed.
Days and nights in the forest passed differently than in the human world. The sun set more slowly, the stars burned brighter. Sanji taught you which waters weren't cursed and where to find fruit that was safe to eat.
He cooked real food for you, not magical illusions. He was incredibly meticulous, preparing every bite as if it were a sacred ritual.
Gradually, you stopped fearing his serpentine nature. His tail was warm, sometimes it would absentmindedly coil around your legs as you sat by the fire. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it.
"Why are you helping me?" you ventured to ask one evening.
"Because you're different. You didn't try to take more than you were offered." He looked away, his cheeks flushing slightly pink.
And perhaps it was also because he had fallen for you before he could even admit it to himself. You saw it in the little things, in the way he quietly covered you with his coat when you fell asleep by the fire. How he always caught you before you could slip. How he watched you when he thought you weren't looking.
One night, the forest shuddered. The magic around the clearing intensified, and the table filled with food more violently than ever before.
"It is time," Sanji said softly. "The forest does not want to let you go."
"And will you let me go?" Your heart tightened.
"I don't want to," he hesitated. The magic grew stronger, the air turning heavy. You felt a hunger more primal than ever before. It would only take one step toward the table.
"If you stay," he whispered, "you will become part of the forest. With me, forever. But you will never see the human world again."
You looked into his eyes. The eyes of someone who had protected you, who had taught you to laugh again, who accepted you exactly as you were.
"And if I leave?" you asked.
"You will forget." His voice broke. The magic pushed you forward. But instead, you turned to him and threw your arms around his neck.
"Then I would rather forget the world," you whispered. His hands came to rest on your waist, and he kissed you gently. The light around you exploded. The forest vanished into a glow for a moment, and then everything went still.
When he stepped back, the table was gone. The clearing was just an ordinary piece of woods. Sanji was still with you, red as lobster, his tail coiling protectively around you. Now, you were a part of his world.
Characters: Mihawk x reader, Sera, Zoro, Perona, Shanks
Vibe: chaotic family reunion, supernatural comedy, found family, cozy monster household, wholesome chaos
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The atmosphere on Kuraigana shifted in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t the oppressive presence of angels, nor the cold shadow of a demon. Suddenly, the air grew heavy with the scent of the wild, of pine needles, and something that felt like a gathering storm in the heat of summer.
Mihawk, who had been refilling ink into his quill in the living room, froze. His golden eyes narrowed into slits.
"He is here," he said, his voice sounding like steel scraping against stone.
"Who?" you asked, but the answer came in a deep, guttural howl that echoed across the entire island, making the window panes vibrate.
Mihawk turned sharply to Perona, who was floating nearby with an armful of pink pillows.
"Perona. Get the keys. Now. Go to the dungeons and lock the wine cellar. Twice. Then station your most depressing ghosts in front of it," he commanded.
"What? Why?" she stammered, startled.
"Because if Shanks gets his hands on my vintage reserves, there will be nothing left of this island but a bare rock and a pile of glass shards," Mihawk snapped, already striding toward the main gate.
Outside in the courtyard, right beneath a red moon peering through the mist, stood a figure. It wasn't a man. It was a colossus in human form, a heavy cloak the color of curdled blood draped over his shoulders.
Shanks, the Blood Moon Werewolf, looked like wildness incarnate. One eye was crossed by three jagged scars, his red hair resembled flickering flames, and fangs peeked from the corners of his mouth.
"Mihawk! You old stick-in-the-mud!" Shanks bellowed, his laughter sounding more like the bark of a dominant alpha. "I heard you got yourself some pups! So I came to see if they’ve finally taught you how to wag your tail!"
"Shanks. Your presence is like a plague. I hope you don't plan on staying longer than it takes for the sun to rise." Mihawk stopped five paces from him.
Shanks ignored him, his gaze falling on you. In a flash, he was standing right there, his speed was supernatural.
"And this must be the patient woman who keeps you on a leash! And... wait, what do we have here?" He leaned down toward Sera.
"Are... are you a wolf? A big wolf?" Sera stared at him with wide yellow eyes, his halo flickering nervously.
"I’m the biggest wolf you’ll ever meet, squirt!" Shanks scooped him up with one hand and tossed him high into the air, only to catch him again with a thunderous laugh. Sera, who looked like he wanted to incinerate the intruder a moment ago, suddenly burst out laughing.
"My name is Sera!" the boy protested, though he was already enthusiastically tugging at the werewolf’s thick fur.
"Zoro, keep an eye on him. And don't let him mark the pillars in the castle," Mihawk muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Hey, Red-hair. Hope you brought something to drink, because the old man just had the cellar locked," Zoro smirked, stepping toward Shanks.
"I knew he’d be scared! But don't worry, Mihawk, we’re not drinking your wine today. Today, we drink to family! Even the ones with wings, six arms, and a moody demon for a father!" Shanks grinned broadly, slapping a massive barrel labeled Mountain Troll Moonshine and winking at you.
The evening devolved into glorious chaos. Shanks told stories of hunts under the blood moon, Sera tried to mimic his howling, which sounded like a whistling teakettle, and even Perona eventually admitted that werewolf fur was "actually a pretty stylish accessory" and mostly, very soft.
Mihawk sat in his armchair, a glass of that wickedly strong moonshine in one hand, his other hand resting on your shoulder. He watched his home shake with laughter, watched Zoro argue combat technique with Shanks, and saw Sera trying to bribe Shanks with a seashell to teach him how to howl "like a real wolf."
"I told you we’d need more wine," you whispered to him.
"Next time... next time I’m lining the walls with silver," Mihawk sighed, but there was no irritation in his eyes. Only the peace he had found in this mad company of monsters.
As Shanks roared with laughter again and Sera clapped enthusiastically, Mihawk’s lips curled into a faint smile. Kuraigana was no longer the island of a lonely demon. It was a fortress, full of misfits who called themselves a family.
As the hours passed, the mood in the hall shifted from a wild celebration to a warm, familial conspiracy. Shanks, now sprawled comfortably on the floor by the hearth, looked more like a large, contented hound than a feared werewolf.
"Dad, can Uncle Shanks come over more often?!" Sera called out, lying happily on top of Shanks.
"No, Sera. That man is pure indiscipline converted into energy. Use him as a lesson in how not to behave when you grow up," Mihawk said, raising an eyebrow. Shanks laughed so hard his ears twitched, shifting back into his human form.
"Don't be such a bore, Hawkeye! Look at them. They’re great." He gestured toward the corner where Zoro had fallen asleep sitting up, all six arms crossed over his chest and katanas neatly lined up beside him.
Perona had draped one of her black veils over his shoulders to "civilize him a bit" and was currently trying to explain to Sera that werewolves should be brushed at least once a week.
"So, Mihawk," Shanks lowered his voice as Sera ran off to help Perona with another batch of cookies. "You actually did it. A demon of the angelic army, an Oni, a ghost princess, and you. And her..." He glanced at you. "How did you manage it? You, who always said your only friend was your sword?"
Mihawk looked at his hand, still resting on your shoulder. His fingers gently squeezed the fabric of your dress.
"I didn't 'manage' it, Shanks. It just happened. Like the tide returning to the shore. I could no more fight it than you can fight the moon," he replied calmly.
You smiled at him, and he returned the look, a rare, genuine moment where the mask of the world's greatest swordsman completely vanished.
Suddenly, a muffled thumping and scraping echoed from the hallway. Everyone went silent. Mihawk stiffened.
"Perona... I told you to lock that cellar," he said sternly as the girl returned.
"I did! I locked it! Ghosts and all!" Perona squeaked.
At that moment, one of Perona's Negative Hollows staggered into the hall. It looked utterly trashed, clutching an empty bottle in its translucent hands and wailing piteously. Then, from the darkness of the corridor, came a satisfied belch.
"It can't be," Mihawk muttered. "My vintage 1492 Cabernet..."
Benn Beckman, Shanks’ right hand, poked his head around the corner with a calm expression and a second bottle in hand.
"My apologies, Mihawk. Your ghosts are depressing, I'll give you that, but after two glasses they're actually quite decent to talk to about the meaning of existence. Good lads. And don't be mad at us, it was captain's orders," the silver-haired fox smiled knowingly.
"See that?! Not even your magic can stop a thirsty werewolf when he’s got a smart man with him!" Shanks exploded into a fit of laughter, rolling onto his back.
"Shanks... Benn... You have exactly ten seconds to leave my castle before I turn your pelts into a rug for the fireplace." Mihawk rose slowly. His aura turned pitch black, and the floor beneath him began to frost over.
"We’re going, we’re going!" Shanks laughed, scrambling up. He whistled for his crew and turned to you and Sera. "Take care! And Sera, remember, next time you want to pull a sword on your brother, try chewing on his boots first. Works much better!"
"Bye, Uncle Shanks! Come back soon! I’ll bring you the best seashells!" Sera waved with both hands.
When the castle gates finally closed and the silence of Kuraigana returned to its old tracks, Mihawk stood there, staring down the empty hallway toward the cellar. Then he looked at you, at the sleeping Zoro, and at Sera, who had leaned against his side and drifted off as well.
"Next time," Mihawk said with an air of finality, "I lock the castle."
"Liar," you chuckled. "You're glad he came."
Mihawk didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked Sera up in his arms, took your hand, and together you headed toward the bedroom.
"Perhaps. But those shells Sera promised him... I will personally deduct them from his hide as pasyment for those bottles," he said solemnly, though you caught the hint of amusement in his voice.
Above the island of Kuraigana, the blood moon set, replaced by the silver glow of dawn. The family of monsters and humans finally slept, protected by walls, swords, and above all, each other.
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Ultimately, you gave in to curiosity and stepped inside the Night Raven Pet Shop. At first glance, it looked like any other pet store.
There were shelves lined with aquariums and cages, treats for cats and dogs, and the familiar scent of hay and dry kibble. But there was something different about this place, something... subtly magical. And then, you saw him.
A small squirrel sat in a cage in the middle of the shop, his eyes calm and observant, as if he recognized you instantly. He watched your every move, and as you drew closer, he elegantly rearranged his small pinecones and tiny toys within the cage. There was something profoundly soothing about his presence.
"He’s quite special, isn’t he?" you heard the shopkeeper say from behind the counter. An older man with a wrinkled smile. "Some animals have a natural talent without ever being taught. This one... well, I think you’ll need a bit of patience, but believe me, he’s one of a kind."
You stepped closer, and the squirrel looked you straight in the eye. In that moment, his composure and effortless elegance completely charmed you. The shopkeeper noticed your interest and smiled gently.
"You know what? I think the two of you would get along just fine. If you’d like, I can get him ready for you," he offered immediately.
"I’m just... looking," you whispered, though in your heart, you knew it wasn’t true.
"Well, that’s fair," he nodded. "But trust me, sometimes you don't choose the pet. The pet chooses you."
And so, you ended up taking him home. During the drive, you placed his little carrier on the seat, but he eventually curled up in your lap, calm and content.
The next morning, you were awoken by an unexpected aroma. Muffins? No, that couldn’t be right... But then you caught sight of someone at the kitchen counter.
A tall man with glasses and a thick, bushy tail stood there, humming softly to himself. A tray of freshly baked muffins sat on the counter.
"I hope you like mint. Also, you should probably throw out that expired milk," he said with a slight smile as he turned toward you.
You stood there, jaw dropped, staring at him in disbelief as if you were still dreaming.
"Who... what...?" you stammered.
"I’m Trey," he said simply, as if it were perfectly normal to break into someone’s kitchen and bake muffins. "And now you know why that little squirrel was so calm. Actually... I am him."
Your jaw hit the floor. The little squirrel? Trey? None of it made sense, and yet... it was impossible to deny his gentle presence, his composure, and that strange sense of security that seemed to surround him.
"S-so... you’re... the squirrel?" you managed to ask. Trey nodded, his tail giving a quiet flick.
"Well, not entirely. Only when I’m out and about... or rather, when I want to be inconspicuous." He smirked and set the tray on the table. "But here we are, and I don't think you should stress over it. Muffins taste better when they’re baked with love."
You couldn't hold back your laughter or your wonder. The whole situation was so surreal that you eventually just nodded and sat down at the table.
Trey sat across from you, his tail swaying gently behind him, and you began to talk. He told you about his life between the human and squirrel worlds. How difficult it could be to balance being a man and an animal while always remaining true to himself.
There was something warm about his voice and the way he watched you with eyes that were just as calm and wise as the little squirrel in the cage.
That evening, you sat together in the kitchen. Trey had his legs crossed, and you were gently stroking his tail.
"So... you’re still essentially that squirrel?" you asked softly.
"Yes and no," he smiled, drawing you closer. "But does it matter right now? The important thing is that we’re together."
His warmth enveloped you, and for the first time since waking up to this new reality, you felt absolute peace. The little squirrel who had charmed you at the shop was now here in his human form.
The following weeks were filled with small, tender moments. Trey helped you in the kitchen, occasionally ventured out into the garden to play with nuts just like a squirrel, and the two of you found your own rhythm.
Every smile, every gentle touch made you believe that magic exists and that sometimes, it comes in the form of a tall man with glasses and a furry tail who bakes you muffins without you saying a word.
And even though it still felt impossible to believe that you had bought a squirrel only to share your home with a weresquirrel, every "Good morning" accompanied by a soft caress on your cheek convinced you of one thing: that day in the shop was definitely no mistake.
Vibe: chaotic family comedy, wholesome slice of life, found family, humor, domestic chaos
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The air in the dining room was thick, not with the tension of battle, but with a strange, bittersweet aroma that smelled like a mix of cotton candy and lavender soap.
Perona was scurrying around the table in her fluffiest apron, while her Negative Hollows, sporting tiny chef hats, distributed the plates.
"Horo-horo-horo! I hope you're hungry! Today’s special menu is 'The Princess’s Midnight Surprise'!" she announced triumphantly, slamming a lid onto the table.
Mihawk sat at the head of the table, back straight, gaze fixed on the plate before him. On it lay something that resembled pasta, but it was a vibrant, neon pink and jiggled slightly of its own accord.
"Perona... why is the food moving?" Zoro, sitting opposite him, stared at his portion in disbelief.
"It’s a living garnish, you uncultured brute!" Perona snapped, stomping her boot. "It’s art! Mom said I should try to be creative!"
Everyone turned to look at you. Your expression was one of silent apology, you had only wanted to boost her confidence in the kitchen since she was so unsure of herself. You’d had no idea she would add crushed glitter and flower petals she’d scavenged from Mihawk’s garden to the sauce.
Sera sat between you and Mihawk. As a Seraphim, he was technically immune to poisons, but right now, his heart beat only for his family. He scooped up a spoonful of the pink mass and looked at Mihawk.
"Dad?" Sera whispered. "I think it’s edible... technically speaking. But I have a bad feeling about this."
"We are family, Sera. In a family, sacrifices must occasionally be made." Mihawk slowly raised his fork. It was clear he would rather face an entire fleet of Marines than this single bite.
"If I survive this, not even falling into a volcano can kill me." Zoro sighed, took a fork into each of his six hands, and with the expression of a martyr, dug in.
The silence that followed the first bite was absolute. Perona watched the movement of their jaws with intense anticipation.
"It is... an interesting combination of flavors, Perona. I detect... cod liver oil? And... strawberries?" Mihawk swallowed. His face didn't move a muscle, but a nerve near his eye twitched.
"And a hint of curry!" she added enthusiastically.
"Perona... why do I feel like your ghosts are flying around inside my stomach?" Zoro had been shoveling the food down with incredible speed, the "the faster it’s gone, the less I’ll taste it" strategy, but he suddenly froze.
"Horo-horo-horo! That’s the side effect! It’s food that lifts your spirits!" Meanwhile, Sera really got into the meal.
"I like it! It tastes like... victory!" he shouted, his mouth full of pink pasta. Perhaps it was because his body could digest rocket fuel, or maybe he was just so happy to be sitting at the table with his siblings.
When it was all over and the plates, some through sheer force of will were empty, Zoro slumped back in his chair, all six hands massaging his stomach.
"I'm cooking next time. I’m making onigiri. Normal. White. Glitter-free," he grunted.
"Shut up, you Onigiri-Demon!" Perona shot back, but she was smiling. She saw that even though they complained, no one had refused. Mihawk wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at you.
"Next time, dear, please ensure that creativity in the kitchen does not violate the Geneva Convention," he said calmly.
"It was the best, Sis! Next time I'll help you pick those glowing blue mushrooms from the forest! They’d be great in a soup!" Sera jumped up and threw his arms around Perona’s waist.
"See? At least someone here has taste!" Pride shimmered in Perona’s eyes.
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Mihawk let out a soft, deep chuckle. It was the most perfect chaos in the world. They might all feel sick tomorrow, but in that moment, at a table stained with pink sauce, this family was the happiest place on earth.
"Tomorrow, I’m ordering supplies from the mainland. A lot of supplies. And wine. We’re going to need a lot of wine to wash down that 'surprise'." Mihawk leaned toward you and whispered.
The sea was unnaturally calm that day. The surface shimmered like spilled silver, and your small boat rocked lazily on the swells.
You had long ago learned to read the currents, sensing where something valuable might be hiding. Today, something pulled you toward a spot where the depths seemed darker than usual. When you leaned into the rope and began hauling a heavy object from the water, your feet nearly slipped. It was massive.
An ancient chest, overgrown with seaweed and barnacles, so heavy your arms throbbed with the strain. With a grunt, you finally heaved it over the gunwale. It landed beside you with a dull thud.
Your heart hammered with anticipation. Kneeling by the lock, you pulled a thin metal pick from your pocket. With a few practiced movements, you clicked it open. You could already see yourself draped in gold and jewels.
But the moment you touched the lid and lifted it, a thick spray of black ink hit you square in the face.
You gasped, blinded and disoriented. Before you could wipe your eyes, something cold and powerful coiled around your wrist. With a sharp jerk, the force pulled you right to the edge of the chest.
When you finally managed to blink and refocus, your blood ran cold. Inside, a giant octopus was shifting. The word Kraken flashed through your mind.
Massive tentacles writhed against the inner walls of the chest, and between them… a face. Human. Pale, handsome, and deathly exhausted. Silver eyes watched you with a mix of surprise and wariness. Black hair spilled over his shoulders, and dark markings gleamed along his neck.
"Let me go," he murmured hoarsely.
You stared at him in utter shock. This wasn't just a monster. This was… someone. Half-man, half-creature of the deep. Slowly, carefully, you loosened your grip on the tentacle you had grabbed in your panic. He didn't release you immediately, but the pressure eased.
"You… you can speak?" you breathed.
"Law," he corrected quietly. "Trafalgar Law."
You helped him sit up and offered him your water flask. He hesitated for a moment before taking it. As he drank, his breathing gradually steadied.
Bit by bit, he explained. He was the son of the Kraken, the guardian of the deep trenches. Sea hunters had wounded him and imprisoned him in a charmed chest before tossing it overboard. Trapped with nothing, he would have slowly withered away.
As you helped him out of the chest, you saw his true form for the first time. From the waist down, his body transitioned into powerful, shimmering tentacles that moved gracefully across the deck. Yet, he didn't feel dangerous. Just tired… and lonely.
"Return me to the sea," he asked softly. And you did. You helped him into the water.
The moment he touched the brine, the sea surged around him, and his strength began to return. Before vanishing into the depths, he looked back at you one last time.
"I owe you my life," he said. "I will find you." Then, he was gone.
For a while, you thought it had been a dream. But then, the nights began.
Whenever you sat on the edge of the pier, letting your feet dangle in the water, you felt watched. Then one night, with the moon hanging high, the surface churned… and Law emerged before you.
He was strong now. His tentacles glistened, his scars were barely visible. But those silver eyes recognized you instantly.
From that moment on, he kept coming back. He told you of the abyss, of singing corals, of cities built from mother-of-pearl, and of treacherous currents that could tear stone apart.
In return, you told him of the human world, of the sky, the stars, and what it felt like to live a life without immortality.
Gradually, you lost your fear of his tentacles. Sometimes, one would curl cautiously around your ankle, almost shyly. Other times, he would gently pull you closer to the surface as you laughed.
One quiet night, when the wind was warm and the sea still, you looked at him differently than before.
"Why do you keep coming back to see me?" you asked softly. He was silent for a moment, his tentacle tracing patterns on the surface of the water.
"Because you saved me…" he replied. "And because when I am with you, I don't feel like a monster." Your heart swelled with tenderness.
Slowly, you leaned in until your forehead touched his. He was cooler than you, but his touch was gentle. As your brows met, the world around you fell silent for a heartbeat.
His tentacles wrapped around you with extreme care, as if you might break at any moment. He held you differently than a man would, but with such reverence that you laughed softly and leaned into him.
"Law," you whispered.
"I’m here," he replied, before he leaned in to give you a soft, careful kiss.
Every evening, you returned to the shore. And he was always there. Your guardian from the depths. A quiet love born of ink, darkness, and a single open chest.
Vibe: emotional hurt/comfort, found family, healing, unconditional love, stormy angst
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The storm over Kuraigana was far from natural. Black lightning streaked across the sky, and the air tasted of ozone and char. Somewhere up there, Sera was weeping, and his grief shook the very foundations of the island.
Mihawk paused at the edge of the forest and turned back. He expected to see an empty path, but instead, he was met with an incredible sight.
Zoro, with one arm in a sling and bandages wrapped across his chest, was leaning on his remaining four arms, clutching a katana in each like a makeshift crutch. Perona, her hair a mess and her face streaked with soot, hovered beside him, her largest Hollow carrying a medical kit and a spare blanket. And you stood between them, your resolve set: you weren't coming back without your youngest.
"I told you to stay at the palace," Mihawk growled, though there was no real heat in his voice.
"Shut up, old man," Zoro coughed, spitting out a bit of blood. "The kid thinks he took me out. I have to go explain to him that if he wants to kill me, he’s gonna need at least another hundred years of training."
"And who’s going to scold him for those burnt curtains if not me?" Perona added, wiping away a tear she tried to mask with anger. "We’re going for him. All of us."
Mihawk looked at you. He saw your pain, but he also saw your strength. He gave a sharp, brief nod.
"Fine. We split up. Perona, search from above. Zoro, watch the coast. I and... Mom... will head for the cliffs," he decided.
The search lasted for hours. The rain that began to fall was hot, Sera’s tears took the form of liquid fire.
"Sera!" you called into the darkness of the forest. "Come home! Everything is okay!"
Finally, they found him. He wasn't on the cliffs. He had hidden in the darkest cavern beneath the castle, the place where Mihawk used to store old, forgotten weapons.
Sera sat in the corner, his wings wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon, his halo completely extinguished.
"Go away," a voice echoed from the shadows. It sounded like multiple voices speaking at once. "I’m a threat to everyone. I’m... dangerous." At that moment, Zoro burst into the cave. Or rather, he stumbled in.
"You’re a real idiot, kid," Zoro wheezed, leaning against the wall. "Look at me. I’ve got six arms, horns, and I look like a nightmare. Perona talks to corpses. Dad slices a mountain in half when he’s in a bad mood. No one in this house is normal, and no one is 'safe'... except maybe Mom."
"But I hurt you, Zoro. I could have killed you." Sera slowly peered out from beneath his wings.
"This? This is just a scratch. If you want to be my brother, you have to learn that in this family, we just happen to blow each other up sometimes. It comes with the territory." Zoro smirked, pointing to his scars.
"And if you think we’re just going to let you walk away, you really are a stupid angel. Who else is going to help me steal Dad’s wine when I’m older?" Perona flew closer and tossed a blanket over him.
"Sera. An angel has no choice. You do. You chose us. And we chose you. Explosions and all. Strength and all." Mihawk stepped forward, his shadow falling over Sera. Sera looked at you. You knelt in the mud and dust of the cave and reached out your hand.
"Come home, Sera. I’ll make you cocoa. No pink glitter. I promise," you said softly. Sera broke into sobs. He lunged at you, slamming into your arms so hard you lost your balance. Zoro caught you with one of his hands to steady you both.
"Mom... I was so scared you’d hate me," Sera sobbed, his voice finally returning to normal.
"Hate is far too much work, Sera," Mihawk murmured, resting a hand on the tangled group of his children. "And today, we are all far too tired."
You returned to the palace together. Mihawk carried Sera on his back, as the boy was emotionally and physically spent. Zoro limped alongside them, supported by Perona, though they both loudly dismissed it as 'humiliating.'
As you reached the castle, the storm over the island dissipated, revealing the stars. Sera was nearly asleep on Mihawk’s back, his face tucked into the black fabric of his coat.
"Dad?" Sera mumbled just before drifting off.
"Hm?"
"Zoro said I almost got him. Am I stronger than him?" he asked sleepily.
Mihawk looked at Zoro, who had just tripped over his own katana and was cursing like a sailor. Then he looked back at Sera.
"Today, yes, Sera," Mihawk whispered with a faint, almost invisible smile. "Today, you got us all."
It was the strangest procession Kuraigana had ever seen. But as the castle gates closed behind them, it was clear that this family was no longer an experiment. It was a fortress that no Seraphim, no government, and no fear could ever tear down.
The glass doors of the Nights Raven pet shop chimed as you stepped inside. The scent of hay, kibble, and something strangely sweet hung in the air, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.
You had originally come just to "look around." Nothing more. Just to see the cute animals, maybe pet a rabbit or pick up a treat for the neighbor’s cat. But then you saw him.
In a glass enclosure against the back wall, a silver puppy was huddled. His fur shimmered like moonlight, and he was… asleep. Or more accurately, he kept falling asleep.
Every time he managed to crack his eyes open, they would immediately grow heavy again. His little head would droop, and with a soft sigh, he’d drift off once more.
“Cute, isn't he?” a voice called out behind you. The shopkeeper was smiling almost suspiciously wide. “A very rare breed. Calm, gentle, the perfect companion.”
“I’m just looking,” you protested weakly, but you were already kneeling by the glass.
The puppy opened his beautiful, sleepy pale violet eye, and looked directly at you. Then, his tail gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wag. That was your undoing.
Twenty minutes later, you were walking out of the shop with a carrier in your arms, completely dazed by the salesman’s pitch, your heart full of doubt and your head spinning. Inside the carrier, the puppy breathed softly, curled into a tight ball.
At home, you opened the carrier carefully. The silver puppy didn't move. He kept sleeping as if the rest of the world didn't exist. You laid a blanket on the floor, lifted him gently, and tucked him into a soft pet bed. Then, you went to make yourself some tea.
When you returned, you nearly dropped your mug. There wasn't a puppy sleeping on the blanket anymore. There was a young man.
He had silver hair tousled from sleep, soft dog ears poking out from the top of his head, and a tail that he had instinctively wrapped around himself like a shroud. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. He looked so… peaceful. Vulnerable.
“What… what on earth…” you whispered.
His ears twitched at the sound. He woke with a start, blearily opening those same violet eyes. When he saw you standing over him, a flash of panic crossed his face.
“P-please, don’t call the hunters,” he blurted out, scrambling into a sitting position. His tail flicked nervously. “I… I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You were… a puppy,” you managed to say, standing there as still as a statue.
“Yes. I… I’m not very good at staying awake. That’s why I take that form. It’s safer.” The young man lowered his ears. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, you sat down on the floor across from him.
“I’m not calling anyone,” you said softly. “But you have to explain this to me.”
And so, between yawns and embarrassed pauses, he explained that he was a weredog, a being caught between human and hound, and that he’d been sold in the shop as an ordinary pet because… it was easier to sleep than to run away. That was the first time you truly talked.
The days passed quietly. He spent most of his time sleeping, either in his dog form at your feet or as a human on the couch. You grew used to it.
You prepared his meals, changed his water, and tucked him under a blanket whenever he shivered in his sleep. And every time he was awake, his eyes followed you.
A quiet, warm bond began to form between you.
One evening, you returned home exhausted. The moment you closed the door, you felt a soft warmth against your legs. The silver puppy pressed against you.
“You really are something else,” you whispered, sitting on the floor to pet him.
The world around you went still for a moment. When you took your next breath, you felt warm skin instead of fur. You looked up.
The young man was kneeling before you. His tail was wagging slowly, and his cheeks were flushed pink.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For letting me stay.”
Your heart tightened with a strange feeling you couldn't quite name.
“What is your name?” you finally asked.
“Silver.” He gave a small smile.
From that moment on, everything changed. Silver began to stay in his human form longer, even though sleep still tried to claim him. He would sit beside you, and sometimes, in a half-daze, he would rest his head on your shoulder. If you didn't move away, he would always whisper a quiet thank you.
One night, he woke up trembling from a nightmare. Without a word, you pulled him into an embrace. He froze at first, then shyly hugged you back, his tail brushing lightly against your back.
You stayed like that for a long time. And you realized then that you were falling for him.
The truth caught up with you both one morning. Silver was gone. Only a note lay on the table:
I can’t put you in danger. Thank you for everything.
Your heart constricted with pain. Without thinking, you bolted outside. You searched for him in the pouring rain, your clothes soaked and tears streaming down your face.
You found him at the edge of the woods, exhausted, in his dog form, barely able to stay on his feet.
“You idiot,” you gasped, dropping to the ground beside him. “Did you really think I’d just let you walk away?”
“I don’t want you to suffer because of me.” He shifted back, drenched and shivering, his eyes full of hurt.
“I’m already suffering,” you whispered. “Because I love you.” His breath hitched. He pulled you into his arms slowly, tentatively, as if you might vanish.
“Then I’ll stay,” he said quietly. “If you’ll have me.”
“Always.” You smiled through your tears. His tail began to wag joyfully.
And for the first time since you met him, he didn't fall asleep immediately. He stayed awake just to hold you in his arms and walk you back home.
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Vibe: angst, emotional breakdown, loss of control, family bonds, protective love
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The afternoon was playful. Perona drifted above the courtyard, teasing Zoro while he tried to juggle six heavy stone barrels to practice the coordination of his six arms. Sera joined them, buzzing with excitement over the new "Black Light" technique Mihawk had been teaching him.
"Watch, Zoro! Mom, look!" Sera cried out, beginning to form a ball of energy in his palms. It was meant to be a tiny spark, a harmless trick for a laugh.
But inside him, deep within his core, something snapped. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the nightmares, or the buried stress from the Seraphim attack.
The ball of light suddenly turned pitch black and began to expand uncontrollably. The air around Sera started to vibrate with a high-pitched, painful hum.
"Sera? Stop it, that's not funny anymore," you said, stepping toward him.
"I... I can't hold it! Mom, it burns!" Sera’s face contorted in terror. His halo flared wildly, fueled by panic and agitation. Perona by your side floated closer as well.
"Mom, get back! Sera, fire it into the sky! Now!" Zoro instantly dropped the barrels and lunged for you.
It was too late. The energy detonated. It wasn't a blast of fire, it was a wave of pure, concentrated holy magic.
Zoro managed to throw himself in front of you and Perona, all six arms crossing in a defensive stance to shield you. But the blast was too close. The shockwave tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Zoro slammed into the stone wall of the palace, which spider-webbed and cracked under the impact.
The dust settled. In the silence, only heavy, ragged breathing could be heard. Zoro lay among the rubble of the wall. His chest was scorched, one of his arms was bleeding, and one of his horns had been chipped.
Perona lay beside him, dazed by the impact, her umbrella snapped in two. Though you were unhurt thanks to Zoro’s shield, your eyes immediately fell on Sera.
The boy stood in the center of a crater. Smoke still rose from his hands. He stared at Zoro’s blood on the ground, at the motionless Perona, and then at you, at the look of shock on your face.
"Zoro..." Sera breathed. "I... I didn't mean to... I..."
"Sera, it’s okay, he’ll survive, he’s strong!" you cried out, trying to run to him.
But Sera recoiled. There was no sadness in his eyes, only pure, paralyzing self-loathing. He looked at his hands as if they were alien, repulsive tools.
"I was right," he whispered in a voice that hurt more than the explosion. "I’m just a weapon. I’m dangerous. I’m... a monster."
"Sera, stay put!" Mihawk roared, appearing on the terrace and instantly taking in the scene.
Sera didn't even look at him. He snapped his black wings open so violently that the sand around him ignited. With one powerful beat, he shot straight up into the sky. At a speed that shattered the sound barrier, he vanished into the grey clouds hanging over the island.
"Sera! Come back!" you screamed into the empty sky, but only your echo answered.
"Breathe, Zoro. Breathe." Mihawk was instantly at Zoro's side. Zoro wheezed and coughed up a bit of blood.
"I’m... fine. The kid... packs a hell of a punch. We have to... go after him." He tried to stand, bracing himself on his arms, but two of them failed him and he sank back down.
You just stood there, staring at the horizon where the clouds were still swirling from Sera's wake. Your little angel, who used to collect seashells and fear you wouldn't love him, had just come to believe his greatest nightmare: that he didn't belong in your family.
"Zoro, stay with them. Tend to your wounds." Mihawk stood up, his face harder than ever, though a deep unrest flickered in his eyes.
"Where are you going?" you asked through tears, even though you already knew.
"I am going to get my son. Before he manages to convince himself he isn't one anymore." Mihawk slung Yoru across his back.
He struck out into the forest toward the highest cliffs, the place where Sera always hid when he wanted to be alone with his shells. But this time, there was no peace. A storm was beginning to gather over the island, triggered by Sera’s surging energy a storm of black light and angelic tears.
The thirty-fifth drawing goes to Lucy Heartfilia, the Celestial Spirit Mage from Fairy Tail. Bright and determined, she opens the gates to her spirits with courage and an unbreakable heart.
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