Chapter Text
Sanji is the only quintuplet born crying. This is concerning, but immediately overshadowed by Go, who emerges with ambiguous genitalia.
This does not please Judge Vinsmoke, who realizes his eugenic experiment might only have a 60% success rate. Every child is immediately shipped off for testing, just in case. Sora Vinsmoke is not permitted to hold her children.
The results confirm what anyone could have guessed. The genetic manipulation designed to stunt Sanji’s amygdala and limbic cortex didn’t take. Go has three sex chromosomes.
Judge has to decide what the scientists should do with the damaged goods. He listens to the results, the recommendations, and decides to gamble. If he’s lucky, Sanji’s limbic system may arrest at a young age, and he’ll lose his emotions naturally. With enough estrogen boosters, Go may grow into a daughter, Goju.
Judge’s verdict: Sanji and Go will be allowed to grow up intact - for now. But the contingencies of lobotomy and genital mutilation respectively are always on the table, in case there’s no improvement.
While the three perfect brothers treat both Sanji and Go like punching bags, Sanji is clearly their favorite toy. Go understands that they are an objective failure, and that their brothers have a right to beat them for this, so they take their abuse without fuss. They don’t cry, beg, run, or bruise like Sanji does. Sanji’s reactions are much more unpredictable, and therefore more interesting.
Sanji is useful when the brothers want a hunt, or the satisfaction of leaving a lasting mark. Go is useful when they want to take out their aggression on something convenient, or unbreakable.
It’s certainly not pleasant. Judge kept all his kids’ pain receptors intact, so that they could accurately assess damage in combat, which means Go feels every blow. But they can mend the injuries overnight, anyway, even if their skin is often as dented as Sanji is colorfully bruised.
“Why don’t you fight back?” Sanji asks one evening. Dinner has just ended. Go was beaten twice today, mostly the face and ribs. Privately, they’re grateful Yonji didn’t kick their crotch this time. That seems to be a favorite tactic for him, and while Go doubts it’s actually inhibiting their genital development in any way, they can’t help the tiniest inkling of relief when that area is left alone. They want to earn their feminine suffix as quickly as possible, so that the beatings stop.
“There’s no point.”
“But it hurts!” Sanji insists.
“Yeah,” Go agrees, affectless.
“So why not fight back? You’re strong!”
“I’m only as strong as them. I’d lose as soon as they gang up on me. It’s more economic to just take it.” Go shrugs.
Sanji looks positively distressed. The neutral line of Go’s mouth curves down ever so slightly. They don’t understand Sanji’s emotions. They flare up constantly, usually when it’s most inconvenient for him; when he’s teased, during beatings, et cetera. Go doesn’t understand why he always lets them show all over his face. Reiju has emotions too, but she doesn’t bother showing them unless they’re useful.
“But it hurts!” Sanji says again, voice warbling.
“...Yeah. We already agreed on that.”
Sanji doesn’t seem to grasp that the pain is as irrelevant as it is deserved.
“Why not at least run away from them?” He asks, “You’re fast enough.”
“I can’t run forever. It’d just waste time and energy to delay. The only way to stop the beatings is to stop being flawed.” Hopefully that comes sooner, rather than later. Until then, all they can do is wait.
Sanji’s forehead wrinkles.
“Mom… mom told me that she doesn’t think I’m flawed,” he whispers.
Go considers this.
“But that doesn’t stop the beatings,” they point out, pragmatically, “The people with power over us say that we’re flawed, and their truth is the only one that holds weight. Even if mom was objectively correct, she cannot stop them, so her sentiment is irrelevant.”
Tears well up in Sanji’s eyes. Go doesn’t even know what they said to trigger him, they just told the truth.
“It’s not irrelevant to me,” Sanji says wetly, balling his fists. “I love mom.”
Go tilts their head. Studies Sanji for a moment.
Unlike their brothers, Go never really had much interest in Sanji; beating him isn’t appealing when your fellow assailants are just as likely to turn on you, and Go knows pain intimately enough that seeing it on someone else is rather boring. But for the first time, talking circles with him in the hallway, they find Sanji’s emotions interesting.
“What’s that like?” They ask.
Sanji sniffles, confused.
“Wh- what’s what like?”
“Love,” Go says. “You apparently feel it strongly enough to ignore reason. What’s it like?”
“Um,” Sanji says eloquently, “I dunno? I just… love her… and she says she loves me, too.”
He blushes furiously, looking at his shoes.
“That’s it?” Go can’t feel disappointment, but the explanation is objectively anticlimactic.
“Well- no!” Sanji waves his hands in front of him, frantically, “It’s like… she makes me happy, and warm, even when I’m sad, and cold.”
Go considers this rather oxymoronic statement. Half of it is about emotions, which they don’t feel, and the other half is accomplished just as effectively with a hot water bottle.
Sanji apparently senses their disinterest.
“Urgh! I’m not explaining it good!” Sanji sags in defeat. “Mom would do it much better.”
He suddenly jolts up straight, eyes alight.
“Go, you should come with me to see mom tomorrow! She could explain it!”
His eyes are big, round, and earnest. There’s so much emotion in them that Go’s instinct is to say “no” out of self-preservation. But they have a few unstructured hours tomorrow, and, objectively, there’s no reason not to go. It’s something to do, at the very least, even if the walk is a bit long.
“...Alright,” Go shrugs.
Their brother’s face splits into a huge smile. Go has no idea what to do with it, so they just stand up and head to bed.
Sanji floats like a butterfly during the walk across the snail sectors to mother’s ward. He swings a small parcel joyously as he dances.
“-added some cucumber, too, for texture,” Sanji is saying, because Go hasn’t bothered to stop him. “And the chefs even let me use the oven! So they’re baked! They got kinda soupy and burnt, but I didn’t have time to try again and I promised I’d bring something.”
“Sure.”
Go has no idea how a cookie can be both soupy and burnt, but they’ve decided not to think about it.
“You, um, you can try one too, if you want,” Sanji says. “I made them for mom but she’s really nice so she’ll let you have one. If you want.”
“I don’t want one. They sound gross.”
“...oh.” Sanji stops floating. Go’s not sure why. But they didn’t really get why he spent the energy walking like that in the first place, either, so they ignore it.
They trek in silence for another minute, before Sanji speaks again.
“Do you think mom will like them?” Sanji asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” Go says honestly. “Taste is subjective, though they sound objectively inedible.”
Sanji frowns, worrying the parcel’s string between his fingers.
“It won’t…” he trails off, glancing worriedly in the direction of the ward, “It wouldn’t make her more sick, right?”
“It might induce vomiting,” Go shrugs, “But I highly doubt it’ll accelerate endometrial cancer.”
Sanji nods to himself, exhaling with relief.
“Okay, good. Thanks, Go.”
“Sure.”
They have no idea why Sanji is thanking them, but he clearly doesn’t understand his own emotions either, so asking would be worthless.
“Sanji!” Sora calls delightedly as he whirlwinds into the room. “My sweet boy,” she coos, pulling him into a hug.
Go steps through the doorway after him, subdued. Confusion flashes on their mother’s face for less than a millisecond before it gives way to pure, unadulterated joy.
The transition is so fast and genuine that it bewilders them. Sanji’s emotions are unwieldy, Judge’s and Reiju’s are tightly controlled, but Sora’s are neither. She shows emotion openly and comfortably. It’s alien.
“Goju!” Their mom calls warmly, pleasantly surprised. “My baby girl, come here.”
Go blinks, even more off-kilter now.
“It’s still just Go, ma’am. I haven’t been fixed yet.”
Sora frowns, looking heartbroken.
“I don’t believe in that nonsense,” she says firmly. Go really isn’t sure what that has to do with it. “Do you want to be Goju?”
It’s a bizarre question. Go doesn’t really care what they’re called. They just want to stop being a failure - to stop the beatings - and they’ll be called Goju when that happens. The name is a side effect more than anything. Being ‘Goju’ without earning it is simply incorrect.
“I’m just Go,” They say, because they don’t know what they want, but that statement is true.
Sora tilts her head, studying them. Then she nods, apparently satisfied.
“Alright then, Go, please come give your mom a hug.”
Sanji, who has been watching their exchange in her lap with mild confusion, breaks into a huge smile and motions for Go to join him.
Go thinks that their brothers and father would probably beat the both of them for such blatant affection, but neither of them are here, so there’s no reason to protest. They comply, vaulting easily onto the bed.
“I’m so happy to have my children visit me,” Mom gushes, squeezing them both. “Have you two been getting along?”
“Yeah!” Sanji chirps, nodding eagerly, “Go is the best. They’ve never hit me, even when the others do it.”
Go is surprised to realize that’s true. It’s not that they never would, they’ve just never had any inclination or reason. They’re not as sensitive to boredom or offense as their brothers. Still, it’s a bit surprising. Even Reiju has laid a hand against him once or twice, at Father’s behest. But Father finds Go revolting, so it’s not like he’d ever ask anything of them.
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Sora says, grip tightening. “And what about you, Go?”
“Sanji has never hit me either,” They confirm, even though it’s probably obvious. If Go is disinterested in causing pain, Sanji is downright terrified at the prospect.
“Good,” she praises. “I’m proud of you both. It takes a lot of strength to choose kindness, you know.”
Go frowns slightly. They’ve certainly never chosen kindness. Or cruelty, for that matter. Go doesn’t really think in those terms. And choice is rarely something they have access to.
“Oh, Sanji, what do you have there?” Mom asks, peering at the parcel in his hands.
“Oh, yeah! I made cookies!” He says, unpacking them. Halfway through he stills, suddenly. “Um, Go says they’re probably inedible, though…”
“Nonsense!” Sora declares. “My son made me cookies, I want to taste them. I bet they’re delicious!”
Sanji giggles and continues unpacking. The paper falls away to a box of cookies that look more like charred puddles of vomit than anything a sane person would call “delicious.” But their mom’s smile doesn’t waver. In fact, there’s a twinkle in her eye.
And then she does something that burns a deep respect for her into Go’s very bones.
She takes a huge bite of a cookie, chews, and swallows it, all with a positively adoring expression.
“Sanji, these are delicious!” She declares, popping the rest into her mouth and reaching for another.
Go’s jaw is on the floor. They can smell it from here, those things are rancid. She might have to drink battery acid just to get the taste out before next week. But she reaches for another, happy as a clam.
Sanji, meanwhile, is buzzing.
“Really?” He asks, watching her eat.
“Really! I can tell you put a lot of thought into them.”
“I did!” Sanji nods, “I started with a basic chocolate chip recipe, but I wanted to make it special so I added some truffle oil, and then-”
He rambles on about the truly horrific process of creating something that Germa’s enhanced interrogation division could only dream of. And all the while, their mom chugs away at the cookies, until the box is empty, and she licks her fingers clean. Only someone who willingly drank poison and carried genetically modified quintuplets to term could possibly have this kind of constitution.
She’s a badass.
“That’s wonderful, Sanji,” She coos, as their brother finishes his story. “You’re getting better with every dish! Will you bring me something next time, too?”
“Of course!” Sanji agrees. “I want to try Beef Wellington, next!l”
Go gets nauseous just thinking about how that’ll turn out.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Sora says earnestly. Sanji smiles radiantly.
“What about you, Go?” Their mom turns to them, “Anything special you’ve been up to?”
“No.”
When they’re not getting their ass kicked, they train and study, mostly. Aside from Sanji’s cooking and Reiju’s makeup, none of the Vinsmoke children have hobbies. Unless beating the snot out of the failures counts.
Sora hums. “Well, has anything from your classes sparked your interest, lately?”
“No.”
Schoolwork is so easy it’s boring, sometimes. They can tell it’s more a formality than anything, since the true purpose of the Vinsmoke children is to be superhuman weapons. Judge thinks it’d be shameful for the royal family to be illiterate or ignorant of their country’s glorious history, but he’s not going out of his way to challenge them intellectually.
“Oh! Mom! Mom!” Sanji interjects. “Go asked me a question last night and I was answering it bad but I knew you’d explain it super good so I brought them here to ask you. They want to know about love!”
Sora’s eyes twinkle. “Is that so?” She asks, directed at Go.
“Yes,” Go dips their head. “Sanji mentioned it, and I was curious. I don’t have emotions, so I asked for a description. But his articulation and vocabulary are lacking.”
Sanji pouts. Mom places a gentle hand on his head and pets, soothingly.
“What did you say, Sanji?” She asks.
“Um…” Sanji blushes, eyes downcast. “I said that love makes you feel happy and warm, even when you’re sad and cold.”
Sora smiles and pulls him into a hug. “That’s such a beautiful way to describe it,” She praises. His chest puffs up with pride.
“I can try to explain it further,” she says, turning to Go. “Love as a feeling is hard to pin down, I think because it encompasses a lot of emotions over time. And those emotions vary from person to person.” She taps her finger to her chin, pondering. “If emotions are hard to grasp, perhaps I can explain it in terms of actions. True love, to me, is taking care of someone. When they ask, of course, but especially when they don’t.”
Go nods, slowly. They’re following so far.
“Thinking of them often, prioritizing their safety and happiness, even if it’s difficult or comes at expense to yourself. That’s love.”
That makes sense. Sanji clearly thinks about their mom constantly, and vice versa. And they’re certainly eager to make each other happy. Even Reiju, who is pragmatic to a fault, occasionally sneaks Sanji sympathetic looks or bandages.
It colors logic into behavior that Go previously considered illogical. Emotions are still a black box to them, but this larger feeling - love - apparently has trends. Many of the things Sanji (and Reiju, to a lesser extent) does can be explained, even justified, by love.
“I see,” Go says. “Thank you for explaining it to me.”
“You’re very welcome,” Sora smiles, giving their hand a pat. “Anything you want to know, I’m always happy to explain.”
Go inclines their head in gratitude. They didn’t have any questions beyond the love thing.
The rest of the visit is uneventful. Sanji and their mom chat and smile. Go listens disinterestedly, only speaking when addressed directly. But as the sun crawls across the sky, one of the nurses knocks gently on the door.
“My apologies, your highness, my prince, and my princeps,” she bows to each of them in turn. “But I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. The queen needs to rest.”
Sanji and Sora pout and give a token protest before finally agreeing. They say their heartfelt goodbyes and hugs.
“I love you, my sweet boy,” Sora whispers into his hair.
“I love you too, Mom,” Sanji says into her shoulder.
They break apart, and he slides reluctantly off the bed. Go moves to follow, when they’re pulled into a hug as well.
“And I love you, my darling Go,” Mom murmurs.
Go is stiff with surprise, but allows themselves to relax when they recognize it as an embrace.
“I don’t think I’m capable of love, but I appreciate the sentiment,” they reply.
Mom pulls out of the hug and smiles down at them, eyes glossy with tears.
“I think you’re capable of anything you set your mind to, Go,” she says, with a kiss to their forehead.
It’s a sweet thought. But if that were true, Go would have stopped being a failure ages ago. So they extricate themselves from her lap with a polite nod and take their leave.
Go never deigns to visit their mom again before she dies a few months later. They don’t have any reaction at the news, nor her funeral.
Sanji is distraught, a mess of emotions. It only eggs their brothers on, and exacerbates Judge’s distaste for him. Between the crying and the lack of developing powers, Go can see the writing on the wall: Sanji’s failures won’t be tolerated much longer. The only question is whether Judge plans to put him under the knife in a last-ditch effort or simply get rid of him altogether.
Privately, Go pockets some estrogen packets from the lab and takes an extra dose every other day. It’s ineffective.
Their intersexuality disgusts Judge, but at the very least it’s not a public failure, like Sanji’s shortcomings. They can only hope it’s enough to avoid the same fate.
