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“Please! You have to help him!”
The marine stared down at the shaking, sniffling little boy in front of him. Despite the freezing winds shining flickers of snow to his face, he could distinguish that this was the complexion of someone afflicted by sickness, not just cold. He clung to his uniform jacket, twisting it the best he could in his tiny hands that were losing energy by the second. He’d seen that kind of face counted times before, although never in someone that young: the sunken face of an assured death soon to come.
And yet, he didn’t ask to be rescued, or taken to a clinic, or even for some food. Instead, he had handed him a message capsule, begging for it to be taken to the superiors, and in an apparent last second decision told him to save someone else.
Behind his dark glasses, his gaze shifted to the blue cylinder for a moment. This was an official Marine issued message, it was easy to tell from the quality alone. Up until ten minutes ago, no marine had set foot in Minion Island for at least a few decades- That they knew of, that is. Why would a marine send a kid all the way over the shore in this sort of weather? Rather, how could a marine get so gravely injured they resorted to a sickly kid for help? There was no sign yet of Doflamingo’s ships in either island, as they stood in waiting for Vice Admiral Tsuru’s orders. If one of his own had defected in that time, he would’ve heard of it already, the team was small enough for that kind of change to be noticed among the crew.
Two options were most likely:
One: This was a trap, set up by the pirates that held the Ope Ope no Mi, who for whatever reason had decided to call off the exchange.
Or two: some defective marine tried to meddle with the deal, and it had gone so badly they were throwing one last Hail Mary.
Either way, the same implication was made: There had been a traitor.
The boy pulled on his uniform again, stronger, fueled by the anger of not getting a clear response to his pleas.
“He believes in you!” he spit out, then coughed, then tried to keep shouting. “I don’t, but he believes in you, for some reason he believes in you! Please!”
The captain let out a long breath, watching the white cloud that came from his lips mesh in with the environment. His right hand divided itself from his wrist, flying off somewhere behind him to the nearest soldier he could find. When the boy jumped back in shock, Smoker laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
“It’s alright, it’ll be back on it’s own,” another drag of his cigar, still lit thanks to what little warmth his fruit allowed him to control. “Now, show me the way.”
While he’d usually turn to smoke to reach the destination faster for such an emergency, in this weather he could barely see past his arm’s length, and the child was quite insistent in keeping him in his hold. In the back of his mind, the quickest move to take out Nanashaku remained a constant. His hand returned seconds later, with the vague acknowledgement that one of his fellow captains have gotten the memo, with the official seal it should make it to the Vice Admiral in due time before any decision was made. The North Blue had notoriously worse winters than the other seas, let alone compared to the tropical islands of the East, but it was another beast to actively fight it as it seeped into his combat boots and the jacket he refused to zip up on principle; he had to wonder if he wasn’t being taken to a corpse. How had this weak thing that coughed every few steps even manage to make it this long? This close, he could see the white spots covering his face, partially covered by the oversized hat on his head, was that related? So much held white in this side of the globe, it got mixed up when he was focusing on putting in foot after the other.
Finally, the monochrome and vague shapes in his vision began to take form. Against a wall that could be missed for a pile of snow at first, a body was slumped. He was pulled in faster, now that the objective was in sight the sick boy seemed to have gotten a second wind. It was a person, quite a tall one by how it hunched over themself, long legs spread in front of them. Their face was downcast, obfuscated by a red mat of red hair—no, that was a hat, a dumb looking one. In fact, other than the large feathered cape that covered their back, they didn’t seem all that prepared for the island. Which, reminding himself of his exposed abs, might mean nothing.
“Cora-san!” he let go of Smoker, running straight to the moribund a few feet away from him. Only then was the captain convinced he wasn’t seeing some long forgotten dead man, as he began to shift, at a glacial pace, towards the voice that called for him. Golden locks revealed themselves from under the beanie, along with a ridiculous makeup that had been smudged by the blood dripping over it. Now free to move, Smoker dissolved the lower half of his body to propel himself forwards, reaching Cora at the same time as his small companion. “Cora-san, I got help!”
“Law?” Cora whispered, too focused on the kid to notice the sudden torso floating right above him. His voice was rough. interrupted by panting. If his hypothesis was correct, this should be the traitor. Did he know them? It was hard to tell, between the angle, the blood and the lipstick reaching to his ears. The voice rung a bell. “You brat, that's not what I…”
The injured man turned his head upwards, after the two feet falling near him called his attention. Just as slow, just as strenuous as when searching for the boys’ voice, giving Smoker all the time in the world to repeat that voice in his mind over and over, to discern from the viscera those warm eyes, the blond fluff of hair that would wake him up from their shared bunk bed.
Two pairs of eyes went wide in recognition. A cigar fell to the snow, flame snuffed out at the contact.
They both blinked, taking in the image before them.
“S… Smoker…?”
“Rosinante,” he stated like a judge's sentence.
Through the swollen spots across his face, Rosinante gave him that big, infuriating smile he hadn’t seen in years. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that!”
Law held tight to the blond’s arm, face pressed to it while he muttered, “so you know him...”
Rosinante could only turn partially his way, “sorry, kid. You got me.”
“Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot, I knew already!”
“You’re the idiot, bringing a marine here.”
No time for this. Smoker shook his head, kneeling down to pick his old companion up by the shoulders.
He was pushed back.
“No, no, what are you doing?” Rosinante heaved.
“What do you think? I’m taking you to the infirmary! You have some explaining to do.”
“No!” now it was Law trying to stop him, pulling down his arm with all the strength his bony hands could handle, more like claws struggling to dig past the heavy coat.
“In fact, you’re coming too, kid, you look awful!” he grabbed him by the scruff of his hoodie. In return, the kid managed to twist himself into biting his bicep, surprisingly hard for his weight. Droplets of red were left behind on the fabric “Kid!”
“They’re gonna kill me!” his throat burned with the effort, sending him into another coughing fit.
“They’re not going to—”
“They will.”
Smoker turned back to Rosinante, half expecting him to start laughing at him for falling so easily. “What?”
What he was met with was a dead serious expression, the type that never fit quite well with his softer features, not even in this sorry state. “They’re… they’re going to kill him… or worse...”
“What are you talking about?” his gaze shifted between him and Law, trying to connect the dots. “He’s a kid, I’m sure—”
“They don’t care! They only care about these damn white spots!” the boy cried out, struggling in vain. “They’ll see me and lock me up and they’ll kill me!”
By this point in his career, uglier side of the marines had begun to make himself known to the captain. There were bad apples from the start, the occasional officer accepting bribes, the superiors that ordered him to attack civilians over a minor critique. After his transfer, however, he’d come to see how those apples grew from the crops themselves, rotten from the roots. The corruption poisoned the well from which officers like him drank, hoping to drive them away. It’d be absurd to deny it.
Yet… “He’s a kid,” he repeated, this time more to himself, trying to fit in any narrative where that made sense.
“Do you think… if I had the slightest hope he’d be fine with them… I wouldn’t have tried already!?”
For some reason, he trusts you.
Rosinante pushed away from his hold once more, falling back into the wall with a thud. “I don’t care what happens to me, Smoker, but Law… please. We’ve gone this far…”
“I didn’t ask you to take Cora-san away, I asked you to help! You can help him, can’t you?!”
His thoughts were speeding up. Running over the information, the crimson stained snow under his feet, reports of naval activity nearby.
“Where’s the fruit, Rosinante?”
The pitiful, slightly mocking smile thrown his way, followed by Law stopping his fighting to hide under his hat told him all he needed. Smoker dropped the child, setting him by his side.
“Of course. Make it more difficult for everyone, won’t you?” he turned to child, gently coaxing him out of his hat. “Hey, no, look at me kid. Look at me.” He got a glare, which would have to do. “Law, wasn’t it? You’ll have to lend me a hand here”
“How?!”
“You ate the fruit, didn’t you?”
“So? It didn’t work!”
“No, you just don’t know how to use it because someone can’t be bothered to teach you.”
Rosinante winced, “Paramecias are too different from one another…”
“There’s no blood getting to your brain, it’s making you dumber than usual, that’s why you think that.”
“And the hypothermia.”
“Hm?”
“The hemorrhage is preventing his brain from getting oxygen, but the hypothermia is making his muscles cramp up, unable to allow what is still there flow. The combination is what’s making this so difficult.”
Smoker blinked, then grinned, “you’re a smartass, aren’t you? You know your stuff.”
“More than you.”
Excellent.
He’d seen Rosinante trip, fall, and split his skull open more times than either of them cared to count. The man was helpless, setting himself on fire, shooting himself with his own gun, putting himself between the bullets and the victims. The most resilient idiot he’d trained with. He needed to hold onto that. It was a matter of buying time, that was all.
“You’re right, I’m all lost with this medical stuff. I’m better at other things,” he lifted his hands, making a small show out of the smoke dancing between his fingers, a trick that didn’t look lacked a bit of its charm in the middle of a blizzard. “No matter the type, devil fruit powers are all the same. Will made manifest through a catalyst. Mine is my body. This clown’s is his voice”
“Hey.”
“What’s yours?”
He sniffed, “I don’t…”
“You have one. You know why the Ope Ope no Mi is called that?” Law shook his head, still staring at him like he was mad for bringing up the subject at all. “It’s for ‘operation’. It has never been magic, it’s skill and expertise. Well, you have at least one of those, don’t you? What’s your catalyst? What do you need to operate?”
He began to shift around, brows furrowed in concentration.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Shut up, not a word from you unless it’s to help, got it?”
Rosinante laughed, because of course he would in this situation, despite the pain that made him curl onto himself.
Suddenly, Law’s eyes lit up, clasping his hands together “I need a room.”
They were spared on single moment to notice the small ball of blue light that was produced from his hands, before it expanded into a dome, blinding them for a few seconds. When the captain regained his wits, he found Law awestruck, laser focused on Rosinante’s wounds. There was no sign of the fear rattling his bones moments before.
“I… I see it. I see what you mean.”
Smoker didn’t. That might be a good thing, this wasn’t his doing. He patted him over the hat.
“There we go. What’s the next step?”
“Captain Smoker. sir”
“Did you send the memo to the Vice Admiral?”
“I'm afraid a more pressing matter has presented itself. The Ope Ope no Mi has been stolen.”
“Yes, I'm aware. I was calling because of that.”
“Sir?”
“I got a lead. I’m infiltrating the possible culprit’s ship as we speak.”
“Do you need reinforcements?”
“No, I’ll be hanging low at the moment. It seems like this could take a while, I’ll do my best to keep you updated. I leave you the control of the G-5 until new notice. Roger?”
“Roger. If I may ask, sir...”
“Yes?”
“Who gave you this message?”
“An anonymous source. If it’s bogus, I take full responsibility. I will be out of range shortly, is there anything else to report on?”
“No, that was all. Thank you, and good luck.”
“Good luck.”
The snail went idle after the click. Instead of falling back to sleep, it began to eat the pieces of shredded paper that were scattered across the desk. Another Den Den Mushi rang nearby, dark as obsidian, gloved hands thrumming on its shell. After what felt like an eternity in this small office, it showed him the blond mane and tinted glasses he was waiting for.
“We got a mole.”
Donquixote Rosinante opened his eyes, slowly, stirred awake by the rays of sunshine hitting directly against his face.
That shouldn’t have happened.
His whole body was sluggish, unable to react at the pace of his rushing mind. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be breathing, much less feeling the thousand needles that stabbed his lungs with every sharp inhale. The hushing of the waves hitting wood, the back and forth of the surface underneath, a weight settled neatly in his lap, it was all too familiar. Too perfect. Could it be? Had it all been nothing more than a horrid, vivid nightmare born from the stress of the ticking clock? Before his sight could grow adjusted to the light, his arms were already wrapping around the bundle on him, looking for warmth. It was weak, cinders of what was once a raging fire, but it was there. Only then did he try to sit up, fighting off the odd numbness that had settled in his limbs. His sigh of relief almost turned to a laugh at the end, of course it’d be a dream. How could any of that be possible?
“Good, you’re awake. You were starting to scare me”
All at once, his senses sharpened. A man sat rowing at the other end of the little raft he'd been using for the last 6 months. Even with time, the sun and clouds of smoke obfuscating him, Corazon could recognize him.
“Don't ask me for cigars, I'm not lighting up any for you.”
He blinked a few times, putting everything together. His body curled protectively around Law’s, careful not to wake him up. This was real. Everything had been real, the pain, the voices, being dragged through the snow back to his boat. A man who should be at the other side of the world muttering about a new hiding spot.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Rosinante.”
“You first,” he growled. He didn’t want to meet him again like this. He expected to never meet him again. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you honestly think you’re in any position to demand answers here?”
“You knew I was back in the North Blue for a mission regarding Doflamingo. What are you doing so far from the East?”
Smoker glared at him, a second cigar already in his hand while the first one still burned in his mouth. In the years since they last met, his eyes had grown colder, and his own crueler, both sets very different from the mischievous glances they’d share before sneaking out of their dorm to spite their mentors.
“I was transferred to the G-5 unit due to my reputation,” the corners of his lips lifted up at the word, “they said I did well with troublemakers, which isn’t wrong. That happened to be the faction in charge of supervising Diez Barrels for the Ope Ope no Mi buy, while Vice Admiral Tsuru looked for Doflamingo thanks to insider information. If you had shown up with the Donquixote Family, that would’ve made for a nice little reunion. Instead, you stole the devil fruit before either group had a chance to get their hands on it, and gave it to a sickly child while you bled out.”
The mere reminder set ablaze every healed wound under his blouse, making him wince, laced with the tone of distrust the other carried.
He swallowed hard.
“It was my only shot.”
He waited. Not quite sure for what. Punching, shouting, an arrest warrant. None of these came. Merely a reluctant patience.
“Doffy likes to take children in. I kicked most of them out, literally, painting it as me hating children. Doffy turned it into a test to stay in the family, and to my shock, some passed. This bastard being the latest one,” he looked down as Law pressed himself closer to him. “An angry little thing, can you believe he managed to stab me? Three years left to live, he said, and he’d use them to kill as many people as possible. Doffy decided he’d do a great Corazon if he survived.
“Trafarlgar Water D. Law… I don’t think I could explain to you what finding out his name meant, what he holds within, under so many layers of hurting. He had to live. We’d been looking for a cure from the very first day, it never got anywhere, so I set off with him. Had you ever heard of Amber Lead Syndrome before? The whole North Blue has. They believed rumors, stupid rumors about how horrific it was, some bullshit about it being contagious—tell me, Smoker, do you know what is like to be denied to even enter a hospital? Doctors flaying around, crying that they’d call the marines, knowing they’d kill an innocent boy?”
“I take it this isn’t related in any way, shape or form about the hospital arsonist I read about in the news?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, half apologetic. “Ah, I guess that… that would make some rockus, eventually.”
“So in the nick of time, you found out about the deal for the fruit. Set a trap for you brother, distract the marines, give it to the kid… you’re clever, I’ll give you that.”
“Still a clutz, though,” he chuckled, a sob logged in his throat. “After I took the fruit, I tripped on the way back, and the Barrels Pirates got me. At least they took me for dead and I managed to get to Law. Now…” he rubbed the child’s back, hoping to ease the tremors in the slightest. “Now he gets to live.”
“He still has to cure himself.”
“He’ll figure it out. You saw it, he’s a smart kid, knows more about medicine than any of those quack doctors we visited. He has a chance to be free.”
Unless this was no longer the Smoker he knew. The cadet he had met so long ago, who refused to act outside his own morals, who helped him sneak in cigarettes into the cabins, might as well be far gone.
The marine sighed, white clouds going straight to Rosinante’s face, avoiding Law’s. He sucked in a breath, taking in the free shot of nicotine, damaged lungs be damned.
“Your brother was the one taking an angry, vulnerable kids in gang figths. I’m not arresting him for that. And he obviously didn’t steal the fruit while he could barely walk. You, however,” he pointed an accusatory finger his way, “I’m still figuring out what to do with you.”
“Still…?”
“I got us some days while I clear my head. Hopefully enough for Law to figure out his power.”
How? How could he say that so casually? His jaw went slack, his breathing stopped for a moment, letting out the smallest of choked out sounds. His very heartbeat rattled his ribcage, threatening to break it into a million pieces.
“Smoker…”
“Don’t give me that look—”
Before he could finish, he was pulled into a tight hug, shaken about between of cries of “Thank you, thank you!” and “Momo-chan!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“You’re the best, Momo-chan!”
“I still can arrest you!”
Only Law struggling against all the sudden movement managed to get him to step back. He gently hushed him back to sleep, not wanting him to get even more involved in the Marine nonsense he’d been dragged into, “it’s okay, you’re okay now, Law. Just hold on a little longer, yes? We already won.”
The ocean was unusually quiet, the salty wind barely strong enough to keep the sails on. The sun shone bright on them, for the first time in months not scorching his skin. With a groan, Smoker leaned back, both his hands dragging down his face.
“You understand the gamble I’m taking on here, don’t you?”
He nodded, “I know, Smoker. Thank you. I mean it.”
“You always end up getting me in trouble, Rosi.”
“Please, you get in trouble all by yourself.”
There was the smallest huff of a laugh. “I do.”
At the horizon, the silhouette of an island began to form.