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"Your brother accidentally ate a Devil Fruit."
Doflamingo, who had been doing his best to ignore Sengoku's presence in his (Tsuru's) kitchen, was forced to look up at this. Baffled, he asked, "How the fuck do you accidentally eat a Devil Fruit?"
"By all the blues, do not ask him that." Sengoku looked more than a little harried. "He's already in a magnificently poor mood and your sense of humor would be the final straw."
"You think he'd really lose his temper at me?" Doflamingo asked, more than a little curious. Rocinante's temper burned out fast and bright, too often smothered by guilt or embarrassment before it could really show its shape.
"The way he's going, he'd be liable to set you on fire," Sengoku replied dryly, then sighed. "To tell you the truth, I think he's very disappointed."
Finally, Doflamingo set his book aside. "What does Roci have to be disappointed about?"
"It's not exactly an exciting Devil Fruit," Sengoku admitted. "Useful, to be sure, and Rocinante's bound to recognize that once he starts thinking with his head again, instead of his heart but..." Sengoku glanced at the door, then pulled out a chair. "You know as well as I do that offensive Devil Fruits are far more likely to win the high-ranked officer positions than even the best strategy. Armament Haki is another option, but Rocinante has a long way to go before he has a chance of following that path."
Which was Sengoku's way of saying, politely, that Roci's Armament was shit and everyone knew it.
"I think Rocinante is afraid that all his dreams have been pulled out of his reach," Sengoku told him. "It's hardly as dire as he thinks, but he's not in any temper to listen to me. I am asking you, Doflamingo, to go be a fresh face. Listen to him. Try to talk him around. He might be more willing to listen to you at this point."
And oh, it looked like it hurt Sengoku to admit it. "You want me to be the voice of reason?" Doflamingo said, amused.
"Believe me, if I had any other options, I would take them."
Rather than be offended, Doflamingo decided this was a compliment. "Alright then." He stood up and stretched, joints stiff from sitting at the kitchen table reading for too long. "I'll do my best to pretend I'm Tsuru and act like the stiff old lady. Only sensible advice and learned wisdom from me."
A flash of resigned misery crossed Sengoku's face as Doflamingo pulled on his coat and headed towards the door-- then paused, halfway there, and glanced over his shoulder. "What is the Devil Fruit, anyway?"
"It's the Calm-Calm Fruit," Sengoku told him. "Its abilities are linked to silence."
Doflamingo snorted. "Oh, I see why he's so unimpressed."
That made Sengoku stand up and give Doflamingo his very best Admiral Scowl. It was an expression Doflamingo associated with his early days at Marineford, when he'd barely been able to be in the same room with Roci without making his brother cry. He remembered being furious that Sengoku had always acted like it was his fault that Roci was such a crybaby. It had taken ages for Tsuru to make him understand that, for all he didn't want to believe them, it was.
"If you're just going to hurt your brother for your own amusement," Sengoku said dangerously, "then don't bother going."
Doflamingo's hackles went up, grip tightening on the doorknob. "Sounds like you're the one hurting him now," he sneered. "Why don't you just leave this to his real family?"
It didn't have the effect Doflamingo expected. Rather than get angrier, or look hurt, Sengoku looked at him for a long, syrup-slow moment. Then the tension eased out of him, and his frown settled into gentle chiding, rather than menace. "You know better than to talk like that," Sengoku replied.
"He's my brother," Doflamingo snapped, put off-kilter by the sudden calm.
"Then act like it," Sengoku replied simply. "You should go. If you don't head out now, he might decide to leave."
Doflamingo caught his breath. He hadn't considered that. Without another word, he went through the door.
---
Sengoku was right; Roci wasn't home.
It was unlike him. Roci was a creature of habit, comfortable only in familiar places. If he'd left, it was because he didn't want to be found. He was likely trying to avoid Sengoku-- and maybe Doflamingo.
Too bad for him. The creeping anxiety up Doflamingo's spine wouldn't let up until he'd tracked Roci down or his brother had come home himself.
Observation Haki was the obvious first step, but a fruitless one. Doflamingo's Observation was good for alerting him to threats and dodging bullets. Less so over long distance-- which was what he'd need to track one wayward teenager. He didn't want to start asking people if they'd seen him, because if Roci caught wind of his search, he'd go to ground. Then finding him would be doubly difficult.
The solution was to start searching Roci's usual haunts. Tsuru's apartment and Sengoku's could both be crossed off already, but that left a multitude of options. The library on the third floor, the apartment on the first floor owned by the lady who sometimes hired Roci to walk her dogs, and the landing of the sixth to seventh floor stairwell with the window that had a perfect view of the coast: all turned up dead ends. But as he looked out at the sunset over the sea, sighed, and began to climb the stairs up to the seventh floor, Doflamingo's Observation finally pinged.
He had to stop and focus, turning his Haki towards where he could faintly sense Roci, all the while with relief making him shaky.
Of course Roci wouldn't just vanish. Where would he even go?
Two more stories up, and Roci was still above him. On the tenth and top floor, Doflamingo glared upwards, sighed, and went for the roof access. This was supposed to be his hiding place. How had Roci even found it?
How long had Roci been using it?
The sky was vibrant with the sunset, all pinks and reds and purples melting into the deep blue of the incoming night. Sitting a sensible few meters away from the edge of the roof was a sitting figure. An uncomfortable smell in the air made Doflamingo pause, then stomp forwards.
"When the hell did you start smoking?"
Caught, Roci jumped, looked over his shoulder, and accidentally set his shirt on fire. He patted it out with an embarrassed ease that said he'd done this before. He didn't meet Doflamingo's eyes when he said, "Everyone does it!"
"No, they absolutely do not!" With Roci sitting, Doflamingo practically loomed over him. Roci curled inward, looking away. Doflamingo felt a sort of satisfaction-- and then immediate guilt. What good did threatening Roci do?
He sat down beside him, ignoring the way Roci steadfastly continued to stare out at the horizon, not acknowledging him. "What--"
"No." Roci looked small and miserable, but his voice was defiant. The way he tucked his chin into his chest made Doflamingo think of protecting the vulnerable throat from a hit. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you."
Doflamingo sighed, frustrated. What was he supposed to do, then? Sengoku sent him up here; he couldn't go back just to tell him that Roci wasn't talking. That would be like giving up. Admitting he wasn't good enough. "Fine," he said. "I'll just sit here."
Roci exhaled sharply, smoke hissing through his teeth. "You wouldn't understand anyway," he replied.
"What, that you're--" Doflamingo cut himself off. Nice. He had to be nice, or Sengoku would be pissed. "I could try to understand," he said, picking through the words like they were razors.
"You could," Roci needled him. "But you won't. You never do."
That wasn't fair. Doflamingo had done nothing but try since they'd dragged him to Marineford, and all for Roci's sake. Nothing he did was ever good enough for any of them. It was Sengoku's fault, probably. Poisoning Rocinante against him, making his little brother look for all the things he did wrong.
Or, a small, bitter part of him suggested, maybe Roci still hasn't forgiven you.
Shut up. Doflamingo glanced over at Roci, who was still scowling at the sea.
Maybe he never will.
"I try," Doflamingo said. "You think I don't try? When was the last time I picked a fight with the idiots they call cadets? They haven't threatened to kick me out in ages! You think I'd put up with any of this bullshit if I weren't trying?"
"I think you just like being strong," Roci replied.
That was true, sort of. Doflamingo did like being strong. He liked being able to protect himself. More importantly, though, he wanted to be able to protect Roci. Hard to do when Roci didn't trust Doflamingo to protect him.
"Fine, whatever," Doflamingo replied. "So what? You want to be a Marine too. Don't you want to be strong?"
"Yes!" Roci punched a fist down into the concrete roof pad. "I do! But no matter what, I just can't do it! I can't keep up with you, or Dad, or Tsuru, or anyone!"
...Huh. "You lied to Sengoku," Doflamingo guessed. "You didn't eat that Devil Fruit by accident."
Pulling his knees up to his chest, Roci flexed his hand. The knuckles were bleeding. He'd have nasty bruises tomorrow. "No."
Doflamingo reached out to take Roci's wrist, tightening his grip when Roci tried to pull away, and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. "So it didn't go according to plan," Doflamingo says, tying the handkerchief around Roci's hand, blood already soaking through it at the knuckles, "and now you're feeling guilty and you're pissed that it didn't work, right?" When Roci realized what Doflamingo was trying to do and stopped squirming, Doflamingo let go of him so he could tie the knot tighter. "Right?"
"Yeah." Roci sounded defeated.
There was a lot of things Doflamingo could say. Tsuru would probably take this as an opportunity to tell him that was what he got for trying to take shortcuts. Sengoku would... actually, Doflamingo wasn't sure how Sengoku talked to Roci. When he was talking to Doflamingo, he usually just seemed disappointed. Roci liked him, though, so that must just be him. If Mother were alive, she would smile and say that it didn't matter, that they could fix it, that things would turn out okay.
If Mother were alive, they wouldn't even be here.
"Alright, so make a new plan," Doflamingo said.
Roci looked up at him.
"Your plan to get a big bad Devil Fruit that would make people take you seriously is a wash. Don't sit up here and smoke about it; go make a new plan."
Skeptically, Roci said, "Like what?"
"I dunno." Doflamingo rolled his eyes. "Sengoku said your Devil Fruit is for silence, right?"
"The Nagi-Nagi no mi."
"Yeah, whatever. It's not big and flashy, but it sure sounds like the sort of thing that would be useful for sneaking."
"What, like espionage?"
"Sure." Doflamingo gestured vaguely out towards the sea. "Or sabotage. Or even shooting. You've been getting good marks on your range tests, right?"
"I guess." Roci sounded sheepish. "They're pretty good."
"What ship wouldn't want a sharpshooter who could take out enemies totally silently?" Doflamingo said. "I'm just saying, there's potential there. You just have to think about it." He paused, then looked down at Roci again. "You think I was all that excited about my Fruit to begin with?"
"Weren't you?"
With a snort, Doflamingo let himself fall backwards to lay down on the gravel pad. Roci's pale face leaned above him, peering down at him. "Nope. That guy, Trebol, he talked a big game about Devil Fruits and power and revenge, and then all I got out it were strings." He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to erase the phantom texture of his Devil Fruit. Cloying pith and bitter rind had seemed to stick in his gums for days. "Took me ages to get the hang of them. And even longer to start thinking about what I could really do with them." He stared above, at the clouds in the twilight. He'd only escaped from Mariejois because he'd been able to pull off a near impossible trick. Because he'd looked up at the sky and thought, I wish I could fly away. And then-- he'd done it.
"It's not the Devil Fruit," Doflamingo said confidently. "It's what you do with it."
"Huh." Turning back out to sea, Roci put out his cigarette on the concrete.
Weighing the benefits of telling Sengoku about Roci's smoking against the downsides-- Roci would be furious again, for one-- Doflamingo decided to drop it. For now, at least. He was fairly certain that he could talk Roci out of it, on a better day.
Besides, Sengoku would find out about it on his own, sooner or later.