New York’s international airport had always been a hubbub of people and chaos, Zoro knew that much. At nine years old, he’d been there only a handful of times, but his parents had told him enough for him to know how easy it was to get separated from the rest of their group. His mother had told him a story once about the time she’d gotten lost in the airport, and the only thing his mind had gripped onto was the terror of the idea that his family could lose him.
But like most nine-year-olds, logic was not always at the forefront of his mind. What had been at the forefront of his mind at that moment in time was that his baby sister was screaming, and the stuffed giraffe sitting on a shelf in the gift shop was extremely adorable. He knew his parents didn’t have time to stop and buy something, but he thought there was at least enough time for him to pick it up and hold it for a few seconds.
He wove through the crowd of people, keeping a sharp eye on his parents as he did so. As long as he had them in his sights, everything would be fine.
The giraffe was soft when he picked it up, much like the stuffed animal he’d bought his sister last year for her birthday. He smiled at the memory, petting the fur away from the giraffe’s eyes. He was sure there would be time to go shopping for stuffed animals once they got to their hotel, but this one was so adorable, he almost wanted to cross the sea of people and beg his father to buy it for him.
He was on his toes trying to put the giraffe back when an unfamiliar voice spoke in his ear.
“Do you want that? I can buy it for you.”
Fear seized his chest, and he turned to find a lady standing over him. She looked no older than his own mother, but her face held none of the kindness that his mother’s did.
“My Da said we have to leave for the hotel now,” he replied, his voice small. His parents had always told him to be cautious of strangers; you never knew what they wanted until it was too late to ask questions.
“Your dad doesn’t have to know.”
The hand that wrapped around his wrist was tight – too tight. He drew in a breath that came back out as a squeal, and tears threatened his eyes.
“Stop! Let go!” He didn’t know what else to say. He searched the crowd frantically for his parents, but he could no longer see them.
She prised the giraffe from his fingers, setting it back on the shelf. It appeared her kindness had disappeared.
“Da!” he squealed, his voice catching on a sob.
Many thoughts rushed through his head at that moment, the foremost one being that he would never see his family again. Directly after that thought was the one that told him he should’ve stayed with his parents. The giraffe hadn’t been that cute.
The lady tugged him out of the gift shop, murmuring to onlookers that her son was being naughty. He sucked in shuddering breaths, trying to think of a way to get away from her. Her grip on his wrist was too tight, and he knew that the situation looked exactly as she was painting it. The only thing he could think to do was keep calling for his father, so he did.
She pinched his wrist harshly, which only made him scream. He continued to struggle against her grip, but it was no use.
He had nearly given up hope when someone stepped up beside him and stuck a hand on top of the woman’s.
“What are you doing with my son?”
Zoro looked up to find his father standing over him, glaring menacingly at the woman. Zoro reached for his father’s shirt immediately, fisting the fabric in his loose hand.
“You mean my son?” the woman asked in a tone that demanded no argument.
Zoro argued anyway, shrieking about how she certainly wasn’t his mother. Most of what he said was entirely unintelligible through his tears, but apparently the stares of his father and the other onlookers were enough to get the woman to let go. He stumbled into his father’s chest and sobbed.
There was certainly some verbal exchange after that, as his father didn’t pick him up for a few moments, but Zoro didn’t hear it. The next thing his mind registered was his father’s apologies, and all Zoro could do was apologize back, over and over.
“You and Mumma. Were. Right. There,” he blubbered into his father’s neck.
His father only rubbed his back. “We were. But please stay right next to us in the future.”
His only reply to that was a watery, “Okay.”