What was one to do when faced with an insurmountable problem? When all attempts at resolving it had failed, or returned little results? Such questions weren't unfamiliar to Yuna, but this time around, she was having a difficult time coming up with a solution. She'd spent days pondering her options, but always coming up with so little by way of answer.
What was she supposed to give to Katakuri for his birthday?
Yuna was normally quite skilled at selecting gifts for those close to her. It was easy enough to know what her brothers would appreciate most on their honorary day of the year. Genji was fond of puzzles and various curiosities that kept him occupied all day long, and she knew of one very crafty artisan in Seiiki who enjoyed making such contraptions. Denji, alternatively, was partial to more practical things. Getting him a new sword polishing kit or set of boots when his were worn was an easy enough feat.
Even her father, the King, couldn't be easier to give gifts to. A simple rose from the garden was enough for him, a reminder of his late wife, their mother. Most years all he asked for was a day for the four of them to spend together as they shirk their duties for a few hours. It was a rare time when he could bring himself to leave the kingdom in the hands of his trusted advisors and guards for awhile—rarer still that he could bring himself to put aside the needs of the country to be a little selfish with his own family.
She was social by nature, finding it easy to get to know those around her and file the information away for later, for occasions such as this. Surprising someone with a well-chosen birthday gift was so satisfying, to see them smile so widely. But Yuna knew so little about her own husband...
What kind of things did he like? What did he appreciate? Were kind words worth more to him than gestures or actions? Or did he prefer being in the presence of those important to him? Were gifts a welcome trinket, or was he only fond of things that were more practical? Realizing that the answer to such questions eluded her even still, to the man she'd married no less, was a distressing notion. And the worst part was that it hadn't been a lack of trying...
Katakuri had already left home that morning for his daily tasks around the island. Whatever they may be...And rather than visit the town as she normally would, Yuna found herself standing in the open garden, staring down at the tiny people milling about in the distance, continuing to contemplate.
The sun's gentle heat should have lifted her spirits, but Yuna couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. She'd been stuck for days, taking every opportunity possible to think of something-anything at all-that she could present to Katakuri for his birthday. Brulee had offered to help, but some part of her felt like it wouldn't mean quite as much unless Yuna figured this out for herself.
Which was inherently ridiculous, she knew, but let it be known Yuna was also steadfastly stubborn as a mule...
The party to celebrate the triplets' birthday wasn't yet for several hours, hosted in one of Big Mom's large dining halls at the main castle, but she felt each minute tick by with frightening speed. There was little time to hand-make anything, and her attempts at finding something to purchase for him in the markets the day before had proved fruitless. Surely if he'd wanted anything from his own island's town, he'd have already gotten it for himself.
Pacing back and forth along the garden's railing, her eyes tracked the movements of those in the town below, absentmindedly observing those who were simply going about their day. Juno had informed her that the town would host it's own small celebration of their Minister's special day down in the market while the Charlotte Family all gathered on the main island. The main course, naturally, would be donuts. From this distance, one couldn't hear the noise of the townspeople going about their business, baking and setting up decorations and stalls to serve food to the rest of the citizens.
Interrupting the silence was the tell-tale signs of hunger, a low grumbling from her stomach prompting the realization that she'd neglected to eat in all of this deep thought. All this thought of donuts had made her famished.
Figuring that she'd get no closer to an answer on an empty stomach, Yuna pushed away from the railing and wandered her way back inside, intent on finding the kitchen and something to sustain herself.
As usual, the team of chefs were hard at work as she stepped into the room. There was something heartwarming about the scurrying about that always seemed to perpetuate the kitchen. Underlaying the frantic facade as they rushed to get things done was a passion unmatched by anything she'd ever seen. Despite her hunger, Yuna settled in to watch for a moment or two, observing them as they went about their business.
It didn't take long to recognize they were preparing the donuts for Katakuri's next merienda. Which, she surmised, would be coming up quite soon. Eventually, amidst the bustle, she had caught the attention of the head chef, Germain, who greeted her with a deep bow while he dumped a bag of flour into a mixing bowl. The others followed suit once they noticed her sudden appearance.
"Yuna-sama, a delight as always to see you. But, forgive me," he began, shaking the now-empty bag to get the last bits of flour out before setting it to the ground where several others already lay, "I must see to Katakuri-sama's donuts before preparing for catering the celebration. We can have something quickly prepared and sent up with you to your room within the hour."
"No need for that," she said, waving away his apology, "I know you have much to do. I rather thought I'd make something for myself, if it isn't too much trouble? I'll do my best not to get in the way."
Seeing them go about their cooking with such determination had spurred the desire to try her hand at it herself once more. Plus, with several lessons under her belt, she felt more confident that this time, she might get her mother's recipe right.
"No trouble at all, my dear!" He exclaimed with glee, gesturing behind him to a section of the kitchen counter not presently being used. "I see you're eager to continue practicing your cooking skills."
"It is something I wish to be good at." She admitted, first approaching the sink to wash her hands properly. "I never had much time to learn as a princess. I have some catching up to do."
"As expected. Those of royal descent have more important matters to attend." Chef Germain nodded, all the while whisking another bowl with eggs and vanilla extract. Then, perking up, he apprised her with a smile. "Ah! It must be no coincidence that you have returned today of all days. Are you to bake something for Katakuri-sama? A batch of those beignets you so love, perhaps? What a thoughtful gift! I'm certain Katakuri-sama would quite enjoy something made with such care."
Yuna opened her mouth to deny the assumption, but then...the thought stuck with her. Katakuri may be a complicated man, but he certainly liked his sweets and baked good, she supposed. The routine delivery of donuts to his daily meriendas was proof of that. Beignets weren't much different...
The more she mulled over the idea, the better it began to sound. Perhaps it wasn't anything noteworthy in comparison to the gifts he'd receive from the rest of his siblings, but it would come from Yuna's own hands. Something made with passion and that meant so much to her as well. A little bit of her own life to share...
Maybe he wouldn't value it as much as she did, but it was better than having nothing to offer him as his wife.
That would have to do, Yuna decided. After all, they did say the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. "Yes, you're quite right, Germain." She smiled in reply, drying off her hands and moving towards the pantry. "I only hope that this time they're at least edible."
"You've made great progress in your lessons, Madame. I'm certain you'll do just fine!" He encouraged, before once again throwing himself into his work with the dough.
She knew better than to take up any more of his time, and pulled her hair back to get it out of her face. Grabbing the ingredients she needed, and—calling upon not only the lessons the chefs had so kindly provided to her the past few weeks but memories of cooking with her mother, as well—Yuna got to work.
The kitchen felt many degrees hotter after all of the vats of oil had fried the many donuts and beignets to a golden crisp. Coupled with the pressure not to mess this particular batch up, Yuna wiped away the sweat from her brow as she stepped back and admired her work. By scent alone, this batch had turned out better than her last. No acrid stench of burnt oil, nor the deep brown of having fried them for far too long. The final result was a stacked pile of sugar-dusted pastries on a large plate. They certainly looked appetizing to her, if not a little oddly shaped. She only hoped Katakuri would not judge by appearance before being tempted to taste them.
With any luck, the sugar would mask any imperfection in the dough or how they'd been fried. They were a far cry from that of the ones the chefs had prepared for her the last few weeks, but this batch was at least something Yuna could be reasonably proud of having made on her own. At the very least, they weren't blackened lumps of crumbling ash...not her finest moment, to be sure.
Taking the plate gently, she walked over to where the large basket on the cart was being filled with the donuts the chefs had finished only moments before. Germain ensured they were placed so that the frosting would not be ruined as they travelled, directing the operation with a keen and practiced eye.
He looked up at her approach, eyeing the plate she held in her hands. "Ah, Madame, the fruits of your labor! I see they've turned out much better than your last attempt, and by far leagues improved from your first."
"I had wonderful teachers." She admitted humbly, holding out the plate for him to take. "Now, would you be so kind as to add these to the snacks for my husband? They'll go cold long before the party begins tonight. And...please let him know they're a gift from me, for his birthday?"
"Of course, Madame!" He reverently took the offered plate and placed it alongside the many donuts. "I will see to it personally that he is informed."
"Thank you."
"Gentleman, please ensure these are secured properly. They are a gift to Katakuri-sama from Yuna-sama herself" He passed along the plate to one of the chef's standing on the cart, arranging donuts. With care, he placed the plate in a spot deemed suitable for safe transport. The former princess hoped that they would not end up ruined or scattered about the ground on their way. She'd seen first-hand the speed with which they moved to try arriving on time for her husband's scheduled merienda.
Stepping back so as not to be in the way as they prepared the cart with the last few donuts and his tea to go with it, Yuna waited and watched as the team of chefs finally left with their pastries in search of her husband. A mix of anxiety and hope filled her chest, hoping that her efforts wouldn't all be in vain. All there was left to do was wait. She likely wouldn't see him until the celebration that night anyway.
She left the kitchen as the second half of the kitchen crew stayed behind to clean up the mess left over. Despite trying to stay and assist, they shooed her out of the way, insisting that she not lower herself to such 'menial tasks' as cleaning the kitchen. No matter how much she insisted she didn't mind, they had won in the end, successfully herding her out of the kitchen and shutting the door behind her for good measure.
Yuna found herself with nothing left to do until the party began later on. It wouldn't do to fret over if her gift would be well-received. She needed a distraction.
After wandering the halls of her home for several minutes, her feet finally took her to the study. She hadn't yet replied to her father's letter. Not for lack of wanting, but she hadn't know what to say up to this point. Perhaps now the right words would come to her if she simply sat down and forced them out.
Dear Father,
I'm sorry this letter is so late in coming. I simply could not find the right words to respond with until now. Hopefully you have not worried too much. I promise future letters won't be so delayed, fate willing.
Having seen Big Mom's country for myself now, I don't think I could properly put into words how fantastical it all is. Whole Cake Island on its own seems a fantasy befitting a child's dreamland. Buildings made of food in an assortment of bright colors, talking trees and plates and snack cakes, chess piece soldiers and seas made of juice and wine...This letter must make me sound as if I've lost my mind, but I swear to you it is all true.
The wedding was...certainly something. I won't lie, not having the three of you here on my wedding day was difficult. It's every daughter's wish to have her father be at her side. I felt Denji's and Genji's absence as well, but most of all Mother's. I miss her more than I can say, and especially on that day. I regret she could not have seen my in my gown. It was beautiful, but it lacked a mother's touch. I don't know how else to describe it. It simply was not the day I had imagined without all of you there. Part of me is sorry for having told you to stay, even if I knew it was the best decision at the time.
It was all so overwhelming. Surrounded by so many people I didn't know, unfamiliar with the customs, and unsure what was expected of me. Heavens, father, there were so many people in attendance! I almost imagine all of the citizens of Seiiki combined still would not have matched the sheer number of people who watched our union that day. Though I cannot say confidently whether they were there for the sake of us or to appease Big Mom herself. The entire thing seemed more catered towards her than myself or my groom.
The occasional was certainly grandiose, one only fitting of a princess marrying Big Mom's second and favorite son, I suppose. I've never seen a cake so large. And I can say it was delicious, though I'm afraid some of my ill-feeling soured my enjoyment of it.
I understand Daigon's reservations towards my husband. He's fiercely loyal and protective, and I appreciate him for wanting only the best for me. In some ways he is right about Katakuri, but I believe 'brutish' is too harsh an assessment. I would not go so far as to say I've been mistreated, though I had hoped for a companion more open to learning about one another than he has been.
There is no easy way to describe Charlotte Katakuri, and despite having now been married to him for several months, I'm no closer to defining him clearly. I expected to face challenges in learning to love a man I knew nothing about prior to our marriage. It is only natural. However, this is far more than I could have foreseen. He is often distant and aloof. There are long periods of time we do not see each other at all, sometimes days. He claims to never sleep on his back, so we have yet to share a bed together. (I imagine you're relieved to hear such a thing.) And most perplexing of all is his unbreakable vow to never show his face to anyone. His eyes are all I shall ever see of him, as I understand it. I have yet to ask the reason, though I suspect I will not receive an answer even if I do. He keeps so much of himself from me, I fear there is no hope for bridging that gap between strangers to something even akin to friends. Despite it all, I won't give up just yet.
I realize I've listed so many things that paint him as someone unpleasant, or even untrustworthy, but that isn't the whole picture. He is all of those things, yes, but I sense there is a deeper kindness and honor to him than he first portrays. He does nothing to hinder me seeking happiness in Totto Land, in fact encouraging me to have it. I am free to go where I please, to meet anyone I wish and do whatever might bring me joy. He's not barred me from anything, save accompanying him to attend to whatever duties he performs as Minister of the Island. The moments where I think there is more to him than he'd like me to believe are few and infrequent, but there all the same. Maybe I am seeing something that isn't actually there, simply out of hope for it to be true. But I don't think that's the case. I know there's a good man within him. There must be. I only wonder if I will ever grow to love him, or if he's capable of doing the same. I'm not certain I want to or not. It's still early yet.
Knowing that the kingdom is safe at last makes everything I endure worth it. It is wonderful to know that my decision wasn't all for naught. I hope to one day return and visit to see how the country has changed, and to see what true, lasting peace looks like amongst our people. Such joy is something I can only imagine.
Under Big Mom's protection, we won't have as urgent a need to produce arms. In regards to the tribute, might I suggest converting one or two of the weapons production facilities into caramel factories? Certainly not all of them, of course, but enough to ease the pressure for not meeting the required quota. Big Mom's wrath lives up to the stories we've heard, from what little I've witnessed. I insist you avoid provoking it at all costs.
I have begun to make friends, slowly but surely. Truly the most difficult part of it all has been attempting to learn the names and win the favor of the 84 siblings-in-law I now possess. The sentiment is that no one is good enough for their elder brother, so I have my work cut out for me. I've made progress with one or two, but it is an uphill battle from here. With time, I'm certain things will improve. Do not worry for me in that regard.
Please give Denji and Genji my best. I still regret that we parted on such strained terms, but hopefully in time they'll come to respect my decision. Knowing all of the good that's come out of it, I wouldn't take it back for anything. I've made peace with my situation. Please encourage them to make their own peace with it as well. Tell them their wedding gift to me would be pride in the good I've managed to cause, if need be. Perhaps that will sway them.
I miss you all dearly and look forward to your letter. And please let Daigon know that I am well, and not to worry too much.
With Love,
Yuna
In comparison to the tea party she'd been invited to a week prior, and the wedding day Yuna had experienced when first arriving, the birthday party hosted in celebration of the three eldest triplets was certainly a much less formal affair.
A room nearly the size of Big Mom's throne room itself housed the dozens of children in attendance along with the Emperor herself, wide tables seating the siblings and their mother before a feast of epic proportions. Most of which were sweets and desserts of some kind. The smell of sugar and confectionary goods was dizzying. Having eaten only a few hours prior, Yuna knew there was no way she'd be able to eat much at all.
Another table set against the wall was stacked several yards high with bags and boxes wrapped in colorful paper and tied together with strings and bows. Presents from their siblings, in the numbers she couldn't begin to guess at. Suddenly the tiny gesture of baking mediocre beignets felt so insignificant in comparison, but she shoved that morose thought down.
Bouncing music filled the room from a band of musicians upon a stage set at the far center of the space. Upbeat and encouraging dancing amongst those within earshot. It was a pleasant distraction from the stares that were occasionally shot her direction. Mostly by the female siblings, Yuna noticed. No doubt still thinking about the revelation of her devil fruit ability. Once more feeling like a bug under a microscope, she ignored the stares and simply tried to enjoy the music, sipping at a glass of juice quietly.
Big Mom primarily occupied herself with scarfing down the food already set at the table. That was preferable. The last thing Yuna wanted was to gain the Yonko's attention after the last time at the tea party. The best outcome, she had decided, was for her mother-in-law to forget about her existence entirely. A laughable hope, yes, but one she couldn't help but with for.
The three guests of honor meandered around the room enjoying themselves—Oven and Daifuku a bit more visibly than Katakuri himself, Yuna noticed. With the plethora of food, drink, and conversations to keep them occupied, the atmosphere was lively...to put it mildly. Wild may be a more accurate description.
Loud, raucous laughter could often be heard from Oven, the most boisterous of the three siblings. Daifuku had that perpetually resting face of disdain no matter the occasion, it would seem, but even he seemed more at ease than the day she'd met him upon the dock. And all one could see from Katakuri were those red eyes of his taking in everything he saw with a sharp, measured interest. It was impossible not to watch him as he traversed the room in seemingly random directions, pulled this way and that by the many siblings vying for his attention. This was the first time she'd truly seen the fan club he'd spoken of in action herself, and it was no wonder he sought moments of solitude away from it all. Simply watching the way they hung off his arms and followed his every step was exhausting.
After the mountain of presents had been opened—a process that took nearly 2 hours, considering—the siblings took their places at the tables to truly eat their fill. Fresh plates of pastries and cakes and pitchers of tea were brought before them by a team of chefs and waiters.
Yuna had believed the three brothers being celebrated would take their places by their mother at the head of the main table, however she looked up to see her husband taking a seat in the empty chair beside her. Catching his eye, she offered a small, surprised smile before turning back to her own tea cup. Something told her he wasn't in the mood for discussion, and so she remained silent. Lifting the drink to her lips, this one, thankfully, was a normal cup and didn't talk.
It was easy enough to blend into the background as the siblings talked and laughed amongst themselves. No one was particularly interested in the wife of the brother they were there to celebrate. That was perfectly alright with the former princess. This environment didn't seem the most conducive to making friends amongst his siblings anyway.
Settling in for a long night of sipping on tea, Yuna leaned back in her seat and let out a tired breath.
"The beignets," a deep voice said beside her, drawing her eye back to the husband who had sat there only minutes before. Those red eyes regarded her with a sidelong stare, "I'm told you made them yourself?"
Not having expected him to speak with her, it took a full second to truly process his words. Then, delighted that he'd been the one to engage in conversation this time, she sat up a little straighter and set her cup back onto its saucer.
"I did. I hope you enjoyed them?" Yuna smoothed the skirt of her dress down in nervous habit. "It's...Beignets are very special to me. My mother would bake them when I was a child. I remember them being the most amazing thing I'd ever tasted."
Then, she let out a nervous laugh. "But, well...I'd understand if the ones I made weren't anything close. I'm...not much of a cook, I'm afraid. Your chefs bore witness to that quite clearly, unfortunately, though I am trying to learn."
"They tasted fine." His admission lifted a small weight she hadn't realized had settled onto her shoulders, and her smile widened just slightly. He regarded her for a moment, before closing his eyes. "Much like donuts, in fact."
"Yes, they're very similar." She went on, leaning forward now that she'd finally—finally!—found a topic of conversation that Katakuri seemed comfortable discussing with her. For the first time, she felt the establishment of some sort of bridge between themselves. Something for her to use to bond with him in the way he'd avoided all this time. "My mother would always dust them with sugar, like the ones you had, but my father prefers them with raspberry sauce or honey. Really, though, there are endless things to pair with them."
Katakuri hummed, eyes opening to peer at her again. Yuna's smile widened, before clasping her hands together in her lap. "I can make them for you again, every so often for your merienda perhaps." She finally offered, feeling strangely vulnerable as she did so. How could the simple act of offering to cook for him feel like so much more? "If...you'd like?"
"There is no need to trouble yourself with it, my chefs can prepare anything I require." He replied almost automatically, and Yuna felt some of her hope dwindle, until he shifted in his seat and closed his eyes once more. "But should making them bring you happiness...I would not refuse."
There it was again. The sense that there was more to this man than she had any full understanding of. If he were cruel, he would have denied her and left it at that. If he were brutish, he would have mocked her offer. So simple an admission, and yet Yuna chose to view it as the first brick in the foundation of their relationship. At the very least, it displayed a small willingness on his part to allow her into his life. Maybe the door hadn't opened fully, but a crack in the window, surely.
Slowly, she nodded, eyes peering into his, trying to decipher more from his expression than was first obvious. "Sharing something important to me with you would make me very happy, yes."
Moments ticked by, their eyes never leaving one another. Yuna hoped to convey some of the gratitude she was feeling through her expression. Katakuri was a mystery as always. There was no telling exactly what was on his mind. Until finally he gave a nod of his own, accepting of he words.
There was nothing more to be said, then. He turned his attention back towards the party still underway.
The party eventually came to a close, once Big Mom herself had decided the celebration's end upon her departure—due mainly to the depletion of food to be had on the tables. Much later than even she had anticipated, Yuna found herself finally free of the social expectations of the day, and thanked Brulee for her help in returning home through the mirrors. She'd even coaxed something of a smile from the violet-haired Charlotte sister. It seemed since their encounter on Queen's Day, things had certainly improved between them. Now, if only she could find the time to truly get to know her a bit better...
Yuna had looked towards her husband, expecting them to leave together as they'd arrived, but Katakuri had elected to stay and assist with transport of the presents he received. The sheer number of them made going through Brulee's mirrors unwieldy. It was quickly decided they'd be shipped back to Komugi Island via Katakuri's own ship.
She sat before her vanity, needing a few minutes to simply sit alone after such an exhausting day. Leaning forward, she inspected her hair in the mirror, picking here and there at stray strands she saw. Somehow, her hair had become a tangled mess during the course of the party, despite not ever having really left her seat. She supposed with all of the chaos around her, it had naturally gotten a bit mussed up. Absentmindedly, she brushed away at the pale green strands, her own fingers carding through its wake. A proper brush would be needed to properly tame it, certainly.
The sound of the door opening draws her attention, and she stops entirely as Katakuri emerged from the doorway, closing it gently behind him. It had been literal months since she'd last seem him in their room, and his appearance so late into the evening implied it to be the place he'd retire to for the night. How unexpected.
He turned, spotting her sitting at the vanity and gazing expectantly at him. With nothing more than a nod, he walks past her to his large, plush chair set at the other end of the room. If she'd been hoping for further conversation after their promising start earlier, she was sadly mistaken. A pity.
Deciding not to let the dismay get to her, she stood from the vanity and made her way into the closet to dress in her nightgown. Not much different in style than her usual daily attire, it was a much more breathable material, and not quite as form-fitting, so as to not constrict as she tossed and turned in her sleep. It was nice to change into something much more comfortable. She wondered if Katakuri had sleepwear of any kind. She'd only ever seen him wearing two different outfits; his suit on their wedding day, and the exposing leather ensemble that was his typical day-to-day wear. All those spikes and straps certainly weren't comfortable to wear constantly, were they?
With a weary sigh, Yuna emerged from the closet, returning to the nightstand and grabbing the hairbrush that sat to the side, beginning to tackle the worst of her tangled knots.
Silence settled between the pair, the only sound Yuna's even breathing and the dull tugs of the bristled through the strands. Slowly, her mess of hair became much more put together, straightened and soft.
For the second time that night, Katakuri's voice startled her.
"Is it customary to dress so modestly in Seiiki Kingdom?"
A glance behind her sees Katakuri still seated in his plush chair, legs crossed at the knee and arms folded over his chest. But even in the dim light of their room, she could see the red eyes watching with intent curiosity. The fact he'd been curious wasn't a surprise, rather, that he'd wondered enough about it to actually ask, was.
"No." She replied, turning back to the mirror to continue fixing her hair. "Seiiki's former slave population is too racially and ideologically diverse to adopt such a culture. Perhaps some do, but it isn't prevalent. I've simply grown accustomed to wearing such clothing, and prefer it over anything else."
"Why?"
The passing of the brush through her hair slowed, until she set it gently down onto the vanity. Her chest tightens with anxiety, feeling unprepared to show him the full truth when they were still such strangers to one another. Had she felt they were closer, or at least a modicum of respect or trust had been established, then perhaps this moment would feel different. But without knowing how he might react to the truth, Yuna was unwilling to speak it.
This was not a discussion she was prepared to have yet. At least, not without some semblance of idea for how much commitment Katakuri was willing to extend to her.
"Why do you hide your face behind your scarf?" She questioned in a small voice instead of positing an answer to his own. Her eyes remained fixed on her reflection in the mirror, schooling her features into something neutral. There. It was out in the open now.
Nothing. Yuna's breath sounded loud to her own ears. When only silence followed, fearing some line had been overstepped, she dared to look back at her husband again.
He only stared in her direction. It lacked anger or resentment, however, the air was tense with vulnerability sitting right at the brink of being discovered. Yuna wondered then, which one of them would eventually be laid bare first. Both unwilling to let go of the parts of themselves they kept hidden from the rest of the world, who's pride would take the first hit? Who's bravery would overcome their cowardice? Or perhaps the better question was, would it ever?
Unvoiced questions both husband and wife heard plain and clear. Neither answered.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
