Written for Milo, who gave me the prompt to write a fic in which Corazon interacts with a member of the Family that he typically would not.
I do not own One Piece.
If Donquixote Rocinante was anything, he was observant.
A little clumsy, perhaps.
Alright, very clumsy.
But observant.
He had to be.
Corazon was the absent-minded fool who tripped over himself and set himself on fire lighting a cigarette.
Corazon had nothing to say. Nobody looked to Corazon for an opinion, nobody asked Corazon questions, and nobody expected Corazon to voice his thoughts.
Corazon was more of a presence, nothing but a pair of eyes and ears. Always present at the family's proceedings, but offering no sound or contribution. He was merely a permanent fixture, like Jora's particular teacup, Trebol's sea charts, or his brother's signature coat.
But eyes and ears are observant.
They are a spy's tools.
So for Rocinante, the fine details did not go unobserved when his brother took in a boy from the streets.
The boy was…well not really a boy. He was stuck in that awkward adolescent stage of old enough to know right from wrong, but young enough to be wild, impressionable, and stupid.
He was dressed in a threadbare trench coat meant for a man twice his height, with an odd assortment of junk hanging off of it. A pair of rusted goggles covered his eyes and a medical mask the bottom of his face.
He had taken the entire family by surprise by holding his own in combat against Machvise and Senor Pink; demonstrating incredible marksmanship and agility with a variety of firearms and weapons, stashed in the ludicrous coat.
"Enough games," Pica had squeaked, surging before the boy in a mountainous form of rock. "I will fight him."
The boy immediately dropped to the ground and pressed both his hands to the earth. The ground swelled beneath his hands, and a pair of massive explosions sent rock and debris flying bringing Pica's massive rocky form to his knees. Rocinante watched his brother's eyebrows rise above his glasses, an approving smile on his face.
But it was not the devil fruit abilities or strange clothing that made Rocinante furrow his brow.
Even the most respectful of prospective members to the family reacted to Pica's voice upon first hearing it. Raised eyebrows, a hastily stifled snort, or a hand to the mouth.
The boy did not even blink behind his goggles.
He called himself Gladius.
Rocinante found it rather foolish that the boy insisted on naming himself after a sword when he had proven himself proficient at firearms.
He was not particularly strong or hardy; quite the contrary. Gladius was somewhat sickly and prone to illness due to a compromised immune system, hence the mask. He largely relied on his devil fruit abilities and marksmanship, as opposed to physical strength. A scar on his temple and unusually long eyelashes were his only defining features, hardly worth noting in a spy's ledger.
Jora fussed over him and cut his hair. This only made him glower and sulk more, but Rocinante could tell that he was actually pleased when he looked in the mirror. Diamante had an attractive mask made for him, while Trebol replaced his ratty coat and goggles with a handsome leather jacket and pair of marksman's goggles, the kind the North Blue was known for.
Gladius had flushed a deep tan at the gifts, stammering thanks, and Rocinante could tell he probably had never had such nice things unless he had stolen them.
He refused to take off the goggles, even wearing them at the dinner table, and had taken to spending share of treasure on buying secondhand clothes and modifying them to his tastes with buttons, studs and cogs. Rocinante wasn't quite sure why his brother seemed to delight in taking eccentrics into his 'family,' but Gladius fit right in next to his brother's feathers, Lao G's rabbit ears, and whatever the hell Jora was wearing that day.
"Quite the fashionista," chuckled Senor Pink, and Gladius scowled, but his ears darkened and the mask creased to reveal a hesitant smile.
Rocinante supposed, with a certain amount of disgust, that Gladius was rather the 'child' of his brother's 'family.' Still just a kid, and dying to impress the hardened pirates who had taken him in, many of whom were old enough to be his father.
The one closest to his age was Pica, who still had six years on him, making Gladius clearly the youngest. And still…
Gladius didn't seem to have any reaction to Pica's voice.
Rocinante wasn't entirely sure that this was merely out of politeness.
Gladius would often ask people to repeat themselves at dinner, or stare very intently during long conversations from under his long eyelashes.
Of an evening when Machvise would occasionally sing sea shanties and play the guitar and even Doffy would chime in, Gladius typically wandered off. But then again, so did Rocinante, as he had no desire to listen to Jora warbling or Trebol's off key belches of noise, and it wasn't as though 'Corazon' could join in singing anyway.
Rocinante could sing. Corazon could not.
Otherwise, Gladius didn't talk much. He seemed contented to glare and skulk.
At which Rocinante couldn't help but be reminded of himself – glaring and skulking about the ship like an overlarge painted vulture.
But it wasn't really himself. Rocinante didn't glare and frown.
Corazon did.
Rocinante wasn't mute. Corazon was.
"I'm here to relieve your watch, sir."
Gladius peered up at Rocinante, his goggles glinting in the moonlight. He still insisted on wearing them everywhere. But after few months of what was clearly better food than he had seen in most of his life, he was finally starting to look less scrawny.
Rocinante glowered back down at him. He lit another cigarette and turned to leave, but something in Gladius's expression made him pause. Well, the expression he could see behind the mask and goggles, which wasn't much. Call it a spy's intuition, but Rocinante raised an eyebrow at Gladius.
Gladius toyed with a stud on his jacket, averting his eyes from Rocinante.
"So, you really can't talk?" Gladius blurted.
Rocinante, no, Corazon's eyes widened in a hateful, hardened look.
How dare Gladius question him so flippantly about something so secretive? How dare he question Corazon, Doflamingo's brother? The brat needed to be taught a lesson in authority. Corazon clenched his fist, looming over Gladius, ready to send him flying across the deck.
"It's okay," said Gladius, flinching, his hands raised. "I can't hear."
The fist that Rocinante had clenched suddenly went slack.
How had he not noticed it? Of course, it all made sense now. Pica's voice would have meant nothing to him, nor would Machvise's music, and the intent staring at family conversations would have meant he was lip reading.
"Do you –? " Gladius raised his hands, bringing his fingers together in a fluid motion before drawing a hand down his chest and raising a palm outward to Corazon.
Sign language, Rocinante thought. He did not need to know the signs to understand that Gladius's extended palm was clearly a question. He had seen a Marine or two who relied on signing during his training.
He looked awkwardly down at his own hands, feeling like he was supposed to do something with them. Flustered, embarrassed even, he shook his head.
"Oh," said Gladius. He diverted his eyes out over the sea. "It's okay. I mean, it's not like I'm perfect at it. I picked it up here and there. There were a handful of kids like me on the streets, you see, after…"
His voice trailed off. "That ain't important," he said, shrugging. "I guess, I thought it must be hard to write stuff down. I thought maybe you'd like someone who could talk with you, like you…you know…listen to you."
Rocinante, no, Corazon, stared at him.
Gladius wanted to listen to someone who didn't speak, with ears that couldn't hear.
"Look," said Gladius. "I uh, I could show you - your name." The mask creased slightly. A reticent, apprehensive, nervous smile.
Here was this thug off the streets that his brother had dragged in, trying to give Corazon a voice.
"Look, see?" said Gladius, raising a hand. "Co." He curved four fingers over his palm. "Ra." Crossed his fingers. "Zon." Index finger drawn up and down.
Rocinante carefully mirrored the signs. Four fingers curved over the palm. Crossed fingers. Index finger drawn up and down.
"Yeah, that's your name," said Gladius. Rocinante could see the crack of a grin under his mask.
Rocinante smiled back, looking down at his hands, almost impressed with himself.
But that wasn't his name. It was a pretend name, for a pretend person who Gladius thought was like him.
His smile faltered. He was playing a role. An able bodied person, playing a role that was very real for Gladius.
He suddenly felt ashamed, like he had violated some code – playing at disability. Gladius had thought Corazon was someone like him, someone who might understand walking through life without sound – be it sound spoken or heard. He had thought those sullen eyes and painted face were like his, someone who knew a life forced silence.
"I thought, maybe," said Gladius, looking up at him. "…Maybe I could teach you. And we could talk and—"
Rocinante shoved passed him.
Rocinante could talk.
Corazon could not.
"Look, I'm sorry!" Gladius yelled after him. "Shit, I -"
He cursed and kicked the ship's railing as Rocinante stalked away.
Corazon was not his name.
The mute, skulking Corazon was not who he was.
The need to stop his brother's madness had cost him not just his voice, but his identity.
He lit a cigarette and stalked down the deck stairs, inhaling sharply. He felt dirty, ill, and conflicted, pretending to be mute. Gladius was on the cusp of manhood - old enough to know right from wrong. The fact that he was deaf did not make him less of a thug.
So why did he pity that eager smile, desperately reaching out to someone who was maybe, like him?
"Cora," said Doflamingo, looking up warmly from his book, as Rocinante stalked into his quarters. "What kept you? Was Gladius late? Can't have that boy slacking off."
Rocinante shook his head, and pulled out his notepad.
You know he's deaf?
Doflamingo shrugged. "Well of course, Roci. He hides it well. He can clearly speak and read lips."
Doflamingo turned a page in his book. "Lost his hearing in an explosion. Stentoria - there was a war there about a decade or so ago. He would've been just a kid. Probably why he's so sickly too; the war's pollution and gasses wrecked his immune system. Could have been reduced to begging. Instead he fought."
"The strong will survive," gurgled Trebol, who was oozing in the corner over the family's ledger.
Rocinante thought, before hastily writing again on his notepad.
Do the Marines have technology for something like that?
It was a bit of a lie. He knew the Marines had technology for accommodating disability in their ranks. Vegapunk was too busy crafting superhuman weapons, but his subordinates were frequently trying out new inventions and medicines on willing Marine volunteers. Mad scientists, some of them were called, but they had given people back arms, legs, even jaws.
"Neh neh, Doffy, that's not a bad idea," slurped Trebol, looking up.
"You're right," said Doffy thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "What a clever idea. I may actually be able to pull a few strings on this one…no pun intended," he added, as Trebol guffawed uproariously.
Rocinante stared at the words he had written.
He was here to stop his brother's 'family,' not make their lives easier. What was he doing? Helping another criminal in his brother's band of mobsters?
Gladius's deafness had nothing to do with the Family, or their plans.
Behind the mask of Corazon, Rocinante was perfectly capable of choosing silence, choosing muteness. Gladius could not so simply choose to hear.
"Nehneh…Corazon isn't always such a fool," chuckled Trebol.
Yes, Corazon was the fool. The clumsy, bumbling, skulking fool.
But Rocinante was not.
Corazon could ignore pleading smiles, could push away those who reached out to him.
But Rocinante could not.
Gladius gave Rocinante a wide berth for the next few days, but seemed relieved he was not going to be tortured for disrespecting one of the upper executives.
A few weeks later a box arrived in the mail from Vergo.
It didn't surprise Rocinante that there were Marines who could get tech out to the black market. Clearly Vergo, in whatever his secretive mission entailed, was able to steal or access Marine technology. So those were the 'strings' his brother mentioned pulling…
The hearing aids were rather large and unsightly; square shaped and about the size of one's palm.
"So, do they work?" squealed Pica, inquisitively.
Gladius screamed and toppled out of his chair.
"Fufufufu, I'll take that as a yes," said Doflamingo.
"Now, Pica," cooed Jora, patting Pica's massive arm, as Pica's fists shook. "Gladius was just startled because he hasn't heard any of us speak! It's nothing personal about your voice-zamasu," she added, hastily.
"Hmm, perhaps in a few years time I'll have to be considering getting a pair of these myself," chuckled Lao G. "And we can order a pair for Jora too. Getting, that's the 'G!"
"Do that, and I'll be hanging your head in the dining room-zamasu," snapped Jora, grabbing him by the collar. "And I'll title it 'Senile Old Fool."
Gladius stared up at the gathered family.
"I…I…" he covered his mouth, eyes wide, suddenly recognizing his own voice.
"Don't thank us-innn," said Machvise.
"Yeah, it was Corazon's idea," said Diamante.
Rocinante sighed under his breath from outside the doorway. He had purposefully not joined the family. He lit a cigarette and strolled out into the junkyard of Spider Miles.
He wasn't like Gladius.
Corazon was.
And Corazon was a lie.
"Corazon?"
He turned to see Gladius behind him, the mechanical square shapes perched snugly over his ears.
Gladius's hands were shaking, as he raised his right fingertips and brought to them to left elbow, raised his left hand, and bowed. Four fingers curved over the palm. Crossed fingers. Index finger brought up and down.
"Thank you, Corazon," said Gladius, in a rigid voice that was trying to be firm and calm as he stared at the ground. "I will always be…very grateful for this." He bowed quickly, but not before Corazon saw the moisture welled up in those silly goggles.
Rocinante, no, Corazon shrugged and walked away.
The very least Rocinante could do, was apologize for Corazon.
(I wrote a fic about the Family and there was no Dellinger! Can you believe it?!)
This fic would likely take place about a year or so before the younger Family members were recruited.
Gladius being deaf has long since been a headcanon for me, (pretty much since his character was first introduced) but it has not been something I've really explored.
Gladius is using Japanese Sign Language. I want to thank my friend Neil who went out of his way to translate a JSL chart for me and figure out how to spell Corazon, while I did research on the rest of it.
I also want to thank my beta Most Divine Goddess Laura who is awesome and always steps up when I throw fics at her.
Thanks to anyone who read!