He catches the scent of smoke as a breeze filters past the roar of gunpowder and screams.
He wonders what he's feeling.
Strawhat was staring at them with an uncharacteristically focused glare – but it was flat and glazed over, fixed on Lucci. He knew that kind of look, the kind of look that was preparing to maim, rip apart, tear and destroy. Anger that was coated with a firm enthusiasm, powered by the rush of adrenaline.
He wonders what Lucci is feeling.
Probably nothing but a usual potent sense of justice.
Kaku takes a deep breath, taking in the smell of charred cloth, the burnt flag that stood for what they fought for.
The weight of his swords reassured him, hanging heavy from his hip.
He hears a sob – the demon chil-woman is crying.
What does she have, he muses faintly, but tunes it out easily.
He catches Hattori's eyes, a mirror reflection of Lucci's, and there is smothering anger (as well as a pigeon can manage).
He lets himself smile, an expression that never had anything to do with what he was actually feeling, and tenses his legs.
There is a different kind of justice here, one that he cannot understand, doesn't want to – but he knows, knows that the form of justice standing before them in a red vest and a strawhat is going to be hard to erase.
Hard, but not impossible.
He taps the side of his long nose, and Lucci has a hardened grin tightening across thin lips.
Kaku finds it in himself the ability to look at the clouds scattered in the sky behind the Strawhats, stained with streaks of ash, framed by the glitter of the sea.