Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from One Piece.
Author's Note: First of all, this is from the anime arc in Lovely Land, beginning at episode 326. Second of all, "love" does not necessarily have to be sexual/romantic. Are we clear? Good.
Puzzle had a lot of people who followed, admired and respected him. Such was the duty of a man who dreamed of being Pirate King, and was to be expected. Each and every member of his crew was dear to him, and he could not have picked one over another even if he tried.
There was one exception—just one. Vigaro was special. Perhaps it was easier to say now that the man was dead; but Puzzle had no doubt that while he might not have admitted it, he had always known that Vigaro was important to him in a way that was different from the others.
Of course, all his crew members were like sons to Puzzle. They looked up to him and followed his lead, no matter how many doubts or fears they had regarding his decisions. Puzzle, in turn, fed off of this attention. The respect and confidence of his crew was a large part of what gave him his own confidence. It made him happy to know that he was one to lead them, and that they would never question him.
But Vigaro had been so much more than that. Looking back, Puzzle wondered if it hadn't been a mistake to let someone so close to his heart—to be so dependent on someone. Shouldn't a captain be a person who was emotionally self-sufficient, after all?
With Vigaro, the balance had been the other way around. Vigaro was Puzzle's single rock of support: Vigaro's faith in him had given him faith in himself; Vigaro's laughter had made him want to laugh; he knew that Vigaro was always keeping an eye out for him, and this gave Puzzle the confidence that he could not possibly fail. How could he, with Vigaro at his side?
Vigaro had been the only one who could ever have changed Puzzle's stubborn mind about anything—yet he had never tried. He had made it clear that Puzzle was the only man whom he would ever allow to stand above him, and his loyalty was set harder than stone—harder than diamond, even, for it could not possibly break if it were sent to hell and back and then back to hell again.
Then Vigaro had died—to save him. That was the first time that Puzzle had ever known the feeling of his world crumbling to dust. Suddenly, for the first time, his confidence was gone; he felt insufficient to lead his crew; all his pride as a pirate had vanished as though it had never existed, and he knew that his personality had pulled a one-eighty.
He saw Vigaro's face in his dreams, laughing with him at some inside joke, giving him courage and confidence with his simple words of faith, smiling at him after some silly prank Puzzle had pulled. He saw Vigaro's face in each member of his crew, and every time they spoke of dying for him as Vigaro had done, it was like a knife to the heart—because Vigaro had died for him, and thus the world had lost a great man.
What right had he to deprive the world of a man like Vigaro? Vigaro had almost been better than Puzzle at instilling an idea in his crew's mind—their willingness to die for Puzzle was a clear reflection of this fact.
But his thoughts weren't always that selfless either. Sometimes, he wondered what right the world had to deprive him of Vigaro. He wished he could take everything back—back to the days before he had convinced Vigaro to join him on the sea as a pirate. Vigaro hadn't even wanted to be a pirate. He had only come because of his love for Puzzle.
In the end, it had been his crew and the Straw Hats who finally dragged Puzzle to reality. In retrospect, he wondered if it had not just been Vigaro's love for him, but his own love for Vigaro that had dropped him into the depression that it had. He had probably loved and depended on the man too much—more than a pirate captain should love and depend on anyone; more than was safe to love and depend on another in a life where any one of them could die any day.
He wondered if he ought to be ashamed of how much he depended on Vigaro even after his death. Whenever something went wrong, and even when they were going right, Vigaro was always in Puzzle's mind, giving him advice and encouragement. Not a day—not even an hour—went by without Puzzle thinking of Vigaro.
Then again, maybe that was why he was as strong as he was. Maybe there really was no Puzzle without Vigaro. Maybe, without Vigaro, he never would have fought as hard, or sailed as far, or gathered as many crewmembers as he had.
Puzzle was careful to rarely ever talk of Vigaro, for too much talk of him would let his crew know the extent of his dependence, which would undermine his authority as captain. But he knew that they knew that there was a scar on his heart that would never fade—and that was Vigaro.
New crewmembers were quick to realize that there was no first mate on the ship, and they were never to ask the captain why. They were quick to learn the story of Vigaro's life and death, and that they were not to mention that name to the captain under any circumstances. Occasionally, in dire situations in battles, one of the older members of the crew would advise the captain of what Vigaro would have done. But this was a right reserved for the members who had been there when Vigaro was alive, and even they never did this unless they could see no other way out.
And Captain Puzzle was content with this system. It was the way in which Vigaro lived on, as bright a star in death as he had been in life.