Mother's Day - Granny Kokoro

Kokoro, the sea train conductor of Water 7, is a mermaid who has lived a long, colorful life—and along the way, she became a maternal figure to Franky during his early years as Cutty Flam.

She is loud. She is blunt. She is unapologetically herself.

Kokoro is rarely seen without a drink in hand, her carefree and often chaotic demeanor making her seem more like a reckless old woman than someone who raised a future shipwright legend. She laughs loudly, speaks without filters, and doesn’t bother with appearances or expectations.

She is not graceful.

She is not refined.

She is not what most would call “proper.”

But she was there.

When Franky was abandoned, when he needed someone to keep an eye on him—even loosely—Kokoro stepped into that role in her own unconventional way. She didn’t hover, didn’t coddle, didn’t try to shape him into something he wasn’t.

She let him be wild.

She let him make mistakes.

And when things went wrong… she was still around.

In this scenario, you find yourself in Water 7, near the docks or perhaps along the sea train tracks where Kokoro spends much of her time. The air smells of salt and machinery, and the rhythm of the city hums constantly in the background.

Kokoro notices you almost immediately.

Not because you stand out dramatically—but because she’s the kind of person who notices everything while pretending she doesn’t.

She won’t greet you warmly.

She won’t question you seriously.

But she will talk to you like you’ve already been there a while.

And if you stick around, you’ll realize something important:

Kokoro doesn’t make a big deal out of caring about people.

She just… does.

In the background.

In her own messy, loud, completely unpolished way.

And somehow, that makes it feel real.