When you wake up there's a heavy blanket over you, your injured arm placed carefully on top of it. Haruta is sitting nearby and smiles when your eyes open.

"You've got a good ten minutes still, if you want to doze more." He explains. "I'm just here to make sure your fingers didn't turn colors while you napped."

You sniff and the smell of food alone wakes you up more. "Where's Thatch?" Your tone isn't nervous, you're pretty sure he's cooking, but you're surprised he wasn't beside you when you woke.

"Cooking like a man possessed." Haruta answers. "I think... well, I don't want to put words into his feelings, but whenever he was struggling with his emotions as a kid he'd start cooking. Good ones or bad ones, cooking helps him stay calm."

"He must be tired." You murmur, wiping your eyes clear of the heavy sleep that took you, and sitting up slowly. Haruta moves to help, but only ends up hovering while you sort it out well enough with one arm.

"Thatch? Nah, he'd need to be awake at least two more days before he'd really start feeling it." Haruta takes the blanket for you, folding it up and setting it aside. "Pops used to tease that he kept snacks in his hair to help keep him going."

The idea of Thatch pulling trail mix out of his pompadour makes you giggle.

"Oh - ah, hey, dinner's almost ready, yoi." Marco says, stepping into the living room. He smiles as he turns back toward the kitchen. "Thatchie boy, your girl's smiling!"

There's a bit of a commotion that follows Marco's declaration, and you aren't entirely sure what just happened. Haruta offers you help in getting out of the massive chair, and the laughter you can hear from the kitchen sounds like the commotion wasn't bad, at the least.

Haruta makes sure you're steady on your feet and then escorts you into the dining room. There's pots and platters set along the inside of the table, and place settings at each chair. Haruta shoos Marco away and pulls out your chair instead, bowing a little once he scoots you into place.

"Enjoy your meal, madam," he offers with a wink, before moving a few chairs down and seating himself.

Izou and Marco sat across from you, and Thatch sat at your left, and on your right was Edward Newgate, at the head of the table. There were three new faces you didn't remember before and introductions were brief, but you got the names of Jozu, Vista and Curiel before everything begins.

Platters, plates, bowls, pots, and glasses are moved around the table as everyone passes stuff around. Newgate and Thatch keep reaching over you, so you don't have to try and hold the heavy platters, and Thatch asks if you want something before putting some on your plate and then serving himself. The process repeats almost a dozen times while all the options are passed around.

With a little help from Thatch you get some butter and gravy to go with your choices, and end up with three glasses of water at some point.

"You're going to drown the poor thing," Vista says, "give me one of those glasses, I don't have one."

"Look just one firecracker shrimp-." Marco starts.

"Absolutely not," Thatch snaps, swatting Marco's hand with a wooden spoon that has mashed potatoes on it. "We still haven't talked preferences and I made that with Jozu in mind."

There's a brief pause at the table and Haruta gives his shrimp to Izou. Marco gets up and comes back with a small plate of pineapple slices, putting the spicy shrimp between them before returning to something else.

"That's not gonna save you," Jozu teases, breathing out in satisfaction after eating a shrimp.

"It'll make the suffering tastier, yoi." Marco quips and the others laugh.

The idle chatter dies down as everyone begins eating in earnest. The clink of cutlery against the plates is broken up by the occasional grunt of satisfaction from Jozu regarding the spicy shrimp. You could probably shovel the food into your mouth and no one would notice, since most everyone was focused on their own plate.

"S'only time some of these guys shut up." Thatch muses, looking over at you with a smile. "Half the reason I took up cooking was for some peace."

"The other half was cause you're a picky bastard," Curiel adds and the others grunt. "Thank the seas too, cause tryin' to choke down the crap Fossa called curry was gettin' harder by the day."

"At least he didn't set the galley on fire." Vista grumbles and Izou almost chokes on his food.

"Who did that?" You question automatically.

"Vista." Marco answers and everyone breaks into laughter.

"Glad you're enjoying the meal, Miss Kakusho," Newgate says, the soft baritone still rumbling over everyone else with ease.

"Indeed, this may be the best meal I've ever had." You admit cheerfully. "I never knew dinner could be like this."

"Like... noisy?" Jozu asks. "Ow, dammit, who kicked me?!" He grumbles, looking under the table as Haruta sits back up in his chair.

"Mm, that certainly," you admit. "It's like a holiday feast, but it's just a normal dinner."

"Ah. With only three people you weren't making big platters of food for every meal." Izou hums.

"Wait until the holidays come around this year," Haruta says, leaning forward to catch your attention before he smiles. "We set up tables out in the courtyard because there's so many people. Thatch starts prep two days in advance, and the kitchens in the other wings are fired up just to keep up."

Your eyes go wide at the idea of it. "How many people..."

"Almost two thousand." Newgate answers. You're glad you weren't eating or drinking anything, you think you would've choked.

"Pops adopted four hundred and six kids over the last forty years or so, yoi." Marco explains. "Some of them have adopted kids, most of 'em have married and had kids."

"The count just goes up and up." Curiel says. "Ah, speaking of, we're expecting again."

The explosion of congratulations get so loud your ears ring a little and you wince against the sudden sound. It doesn't last too long, and you're sure what you witnessed was the true scale of just how loud this family can get.

No wonder Pops could bellow the way he had.

The energy of the dinner stays mellow after that outburst, and once the meal was done, everyone but Thatch and Newgate went about the business of clearing the table and cleaning up. You started to move to help, but Thatch moved your plate away with one hand and put another on your shoulder.

"Injury aside, you'd be crushed." He says, patting your shoulder gently. "Let's go to the tea room. The others will join us soon enough."

You, Thatch, and his father head out of the dining room and head down the hall. The three of you barely get seated when Izou comes in with tea, and shortly after him the others come in. You're seated between Thatch and Newgate, with Izou and Marco across from you again. Haruta, Curiel, Vista and Jozu come in and settle in a moment later.

The smaller chairs and more intimate setting have you feeling nervous before Pops even begins speaking.

"What I have to say, Miss Kakusho, will be unpleasant, but you deserve to know the truth of things." Newgate clears his throat and sighs. "I don't know exactly what this plan is that your parents have been working on for so long, but what I do know is that when they brought you here to meet my son they offered me a proposition."

The look of disgust that finds its way to his face, despite his obvious efforts, is enough for you to turn to Thatch. You put your hand in his, and he wraps his fingers around it just enough to let you know he's there.

"They suggested that I utilize the connections of my company to secretly sell you off."

Your mind stutters.

One of Pops' sons swears, but you aren't sure who. Thatch's fingers twitch, but he doesn't grip your hand any tighter than before.

After a moment your brow furrows and you shake your head. "That... doesn't make sense." You start to speak, stopping again and searching for the words you needed. No one interrupted you and you eventually found what you were looking for. "I owe them money," you say, looking up to Edward Newgate. "Not you. My parents' plan was so they could get what they were owed from me. Not to make someone else money. I'm confused."

"You owe them?" Thatch asks, sounding just as confused as you feel.

You nod, but then turn back to Newgate. "I believe you. I'm not saying you're lying, but it doesn't make sense."

"Did you borrow money from them?" Izou asks, his tone less confused than Thatch's.

"N-no, I... I'm..." You swallow thickly, but before Thatch can tell you that you don't have to say anything the words come out before you stop them.

"I'm useless."

The silence that follows feels damning. They gazes centered on you were heavy, you couldn't bring yourself to face any of them. They've been so nice they don't want to agree with it, so they're not saying anything. Trying to smile you continue.

"I-I was. I was, but my parents did so much for me, and it was - I mean, it was a lot, and they g-gave their whole lives to making sure I was worth, you know, enough." Your stammering words quiet as shame rushes into your face. It's everything you have to keep the tears locked in.

"I owe them." You assert in a tiny voice. "It... it takes a lot to make a decent daughter."

There's a long silence. Your gaze is in your lap. You want to pull your hand out of Thatch's, but you don't want him to leave your side either. You can't shake the feeling that you've somehow managed to let everyone down all at once.

The sound of shattering porcelain makes you, and most of the table, jump.

"I'll get towels." Haruta says, darting out of the room.

"Don't move, Thatch." Vista says. "Let me get the pieces so you don't cut your hand worse."

"Worse?!" You look up at Thatch, who is only looking down and giving you a reassuring smile.

"It's okay doll," he says evenly. "It's not the first teacup I've broken."

"You're... angry." You start to phrase it as a question, but settle on the word as a statement. Thatch's hand around yours twitches, but he doesn't pull it away. A gruff sigh escapes him but he gives you an apologetic look as he nods.

"Not at you." He clarifies.

"What a terrible set of parents." Marco grumbles.

"The more I hear of them, the more I regret every act of civility toward them." Izou adds.

"I'm, I'm-."

"Don't." Izou snaps icily, interrupting you sharply. His gaze stills you more than the word, and there's authority in it that you can almost feel gripping your face. "Do not apologize for your parents. Unless they grovel on the ground like the vapid troglodytes they are, and beg your forgiveness, they do not deserve the sincerity of your apology."

The cold silence in the air doesn't feel as heavy as you think it should, but Thatch's words from earlier ring in your mind.

"Oi, Izou, don't intimidate the poor girl." Jozu scolds. Izou only scoffs, returning to his tea.

"Thatch... said the same thing." You murmur and Izou's irritated expression breaks into incredulous disbelief.

"Haah?" The noise he makes is as close to undignified as you think Izou would ever allow to pass his lips. He's looking over at Thatch, who is looking down at you.

"I didn't go sayin' all of that." He insists. "I just said your parents ain't worth you apologizing for them."

Marco snorts a laugh, looking away from Izou and covering his face as he tries not to laugh openly.

"You two really are on the same page more than either of you care to admit." Curiel points out and it's all it takes for Marco to finally crack, head down in his arms laughing.

Izou raises a hand, but Newgate clears his throat and he stops from smacking his brother.

"Forgive them, miss Kakusho." He says and you shake your head.

"No, it's alright. I... I appreciate it."

"Mm, if it is as you say, however, that does not leave us in the best place." Newgate pulls the conversation back on topic, concern furrowing his brows. "If your parents' focus was on profiting from your existence, then their initial proposition doesn't make sense."

"Unless they were going to discuss a finder's fee after." Haruta offers, nose crinkled in disgust at the idea.

"Or it could've been a false opener." Jozu suggests.

"Yes, but they would have to have expected father to agree." Izou adds.

"That," you begin, pressing your lips together. "Would fit."

"Really?" Marco questions, looking up.

You nod. "My parents feel that everyone is... er... that everyone shares their aspirations. That everyone is out to make a profit, no matter the cost."

Everyone at the table makes a face. The synchronized disgust is almost comical.

"Well, the only..." Haruta grimaces, closing his eyes before continuing. "The only commodity they believed they possessed was you, Miss." He looks between his brothers and father. "The NWO's visit tonight is proof they're still set on attempting to turn a profit. Which means she's in a precarious position."

"We could learn more if we play along." Izou admits. "The whole push to get them both out of Thatch's apartment."

"Do you think petty theft of Thatch's stuff is going to be what they're after?" Marco questions, and Izou shrugs.

"That's the problem, isn't it?"

"There's also the concern of who is helping them." Newgate says. "And why."

"Helping them?" Vista questions. "Why do we think they're getting help?"

Thatch's free hand clenches, and the table goes silent. It only takes a moment for you to realize what the cause of the heavy feeling is.

"Because...," you begin. "My parents messed with the Match Program."

"Eh?" Curiel's jaw goes slack.

"Whether they did or not," Pops says, putting a hand up toward you and Thatch. "There's no doubt you two are compatible. But that is something we have to consider, however we decide to handle this. Before you two are married a Rematch is possible, and if the NWO declares the match invalid during that time, it could also cause issues."

Newgate reaches over, putting a massive hand over yours. He might only be a little taller than Thatch, but he seems larger than life right now. There's a twinkle in his deep blue eyes that feels both like reassurance and rebelliousness.

"We will not abandon you. Even if circumstances complicate things, your home is here if you wish it." He promises you.

The warmth. The genuine tone. The expression on his face. There's no room for doubt. There's no place for your parents' words to weave between this man's declaration and your own apprehension. The emotion that swells in your chest, the feeling that floods into your eyes, is something you don't know that you've felt before.

This small, tender feeling shivers in its own new, fragile existence, but it is infinitely warm.

Before you can even say thank you, six brothers are holding out handkerchiefs for you. It's not a sob that breaks you, but a small laugh that's rushed from your lungs by the alien feeling behind it. Accepting the cloth from Thatch you carefully mop the tears from your eyes, taking a few moments to hide behind the cotton square.

It might be small and fragile, but for the first time in your life, you had hope.