semita - "path"
On the northern side of Minion, a path twisted through the white-blue hills. It swerved into the woods. Delved as if blinded into the island's nebulous core.
Doflamingo walked upon it. His arm was stiff and soaked, wounds held shut with haphazard stitches. He didn't feel any of it.
There was a hole in him. Torn open, black as a ravine.
Bullets could not compare.
The ghost appeared every five feet, rocking on its heels, sprouting butterflies out of its palms. "Look at you," it said, "What have you become?"
He passed it by again. Shallow-rooted fir trees wreathed over his head, shuddering at his passing. Gnarled creatures melted out of their shadows. Horns and nails and white circlets for eyes.
You're still holdin' back. You're clinging to something.
He left you… Betrayed you...he isn't family…
Doffy, you were destined for greatness. You were meant to be a king.
He hurt you, Doffy.
Make him pay.
They swept over him, blanketed him, seeped through him and smothered him. He was falling and there was nothing left to catch him.
xxx
The Den Den Mushi crept to the ledge of Vergo's hand, peering down at Rosinante with grin stretched. "Confused?"
Vergo's jaw tightened, leather gloves taut. "Trebol—"
"Relax, Vergo, what's the harm in telling him? He ought to know the full story. No reason to hide it anymore."
Rosinante cradled his ribs. "...What did you do?"
"Behehe, sit tight, pretty boy, and I'll enlighten you." Trebol's gaze raked the gray pallor of Rosinante's face, his bloodied nose, the vague blue seeped into his lips.
"My," he added, "you look terrible by the way."
xxx
(Sengoku swiveled to his desk. Drafted letters littered the surface in cyclonic disarray, messages that trailed or were abandoned incomplete. Ink had dried into the crevices of his little finger and palm. Around the cabin, Tsuru's words bounced. Their bite was still fresh, that briskness which only emerged when she was truly alarmed.
Doflamingo had sealed up Minion Island. Had woven a cage out of rage and strings. Barrels was dead. His crew was dead. Everything else on that island was either dead or soon to be dead too. It did not require speculation. Nothing escaped Doflamingo once the target was planted. History bore testament to that.
Sengoku dialed Rosinante's number a third time. The familiar tune of an unclicked line sang at him. Sweat rolled past his collar. He set the speaker piece down, cold in the stale cabin air.
"Sir." The door creaked open. "A message came in for you."
Sengoku stared out the porthole. The cadet waited, weight shuffled from right to left, a new floorboard squeaking at the nail.
"Sir?" he said, a little louder, "Fleet Admiral?"
"I heard you." Sengoku sighed, turning in annoyance. "Just tell those old farts I'll explain myself and all that other crap when I return."
The cadet looked confused. "Er...no, sir, it's from Saobody Medical."
Sengoku blinked. At the edge of his desk, a carved sozu plunked in a fountain dish of pebbles. "Medical? What do they want?"
"Said you requested to be kept abreast of a study they were conducting a couple years back."
He stared, completely clueless, before recollection came to him. "Oh." Sengoku's shoulders slackened in disinterest. "I'll call them back. This isn't the best time."
"They've already sent a pigeon out to us, sir. Director insisted."
Sengoku shook his head. "Fine," he said, exasperated, "How much longer to the triangle?"
"Approximately ninety minutes now."
Too long. "Try to shave that down."
The cadet hid his grimace well. With a salute, he took his leave, bootsteps fading
The sozu rose and fell again, a wet plunk against stone.)
xxx
He spent one day in the hospital after arriving in Saobody. Not because there was anything specifically wrong with him, but because of a general disbelief that there couldn't be.
Rosinante didn't really remember it. He'd been crying so hard and screaming so much that they'd stuck him full of medicine to make him sleep. After that, it was a blur of shots and penlights and clear wired bags hooked into his arms.
Voices drifted from the open hall, rocking in and out of his dreams. Doctors. Sengoku-san.
"I can't be sure. By his description though, it sounded like his brother had…"
Blurs of fingers settled on his wrist. A cold silver bell kissed his chest several times a day. At one point, he drifted to wakefulness covered in long bronze wires, each attached to his chest by suction cups.
"...community's been pooling research funds for a study...preliminary findings...repeated exposure...heart…"
Someone took his hand.
"...the study...like to be notified..."
He woke up out of the hospital. Water purled through two open windows. Sengoku-san sat at his bedside. Sunlight caught one of his epaulettes, spilled down his sleeve like lava and onto the duvet.
"You're gonna be okay, son," he said, smiling, and offered his hand to help him sit upright.
Rosinante hunched in and began to cry again. He didn't care to ask what Sengoku-san meant. Had already tossed those words aside and forgotten them.
He wasn't okay. He'd never be okay again.
"Please take me back," he said, "Please, please, please."
xxx
Trebol told him about Father. And Law.
And the old island.
And his fucking file.
"...truth is he didn't kill your father. Would've loved him to, nothing would've quite sealed the deal like that, but he didn't. 'Twas a shame. Ended up having to do it myself."
"...didn't want the surgery. Immortality trussed up in a bow and he tells me he doesn't want it, can you imagine?"
"...held on for ten days! Had to give him a little push the right way. Said he promised you..."
"...ah, yeah, we burned them. They were unnecessary."
"Oh, Doffy." Trebol shook his head. "Doffy, Doffy, Doffy. He did try."
Rosinante's face was colorless, his split lips parted.
"You," he whispered, "fucking—"
"Me? Behehe, don't look at me. Your story was already written. Both your paths already set." The Den Den's eye stalks rotated. "I just gave the occasional direction is all."
"You—"
Vergo raised the staff and Rosinante slammed into the ground again. His vision ruptured, returned maroon and disintegrated at the corners. A filmy heat rose over his skin and cushioned the pain though. It numbed his cheek to the ice, stalled even the twisting tightness in his chest.
Rosinante's fingers drew grooves into the snow. He heard Trebol laughing. Laughing like that day upon the crossroads on an old island with the sky bleeding out. This sack of filth and death and evil—
For a second, the rage that flowed into him was blinding. Tore through the wickered cracks of his exhaustion like geyser water, all steam and bright flecks. Perhaps he knew a little then of that fog his brother spent his whole life charging around blindly in.
But it was only a second. One second and then it was over, the feeling collapsed into itself like a dead star.
Why was he blaming Trebol?
Sure, Doffy still minded him. Still came to him with gifts and compromises. Sure, he must have felt obligated, some semblance of duty remaining.
But he changed like the tide. He put his own interests first and for the sake of his own sanity, Rosinante had needed to be done with him.
Doffy couldn't love anything. Maybe he could've learned a long time ago, but certainly not anymore and Rosinante didn't have anyone to blame but himself. He was the one who had run. The one who'd traded Doffy away to them.
His brother was a monster now and he would never love anything, least of all him, and there was no one to blame. Not even Trebol.
"Love you?"
Rosinante blinked. It took a hazy minute to realize he'd spoken out loud. The Den Den tutted.
"Ah, yes, to spend all those years with your regret, trying to get back, trying to atone, hoping and hoping, only to realize what you came back for wasn't here anymore. Behe, you're not one to envy."
Vergo twitched.
"Trebol," he growled and was not paid any mind.
"Nene, Corazon, wanna hear something ironic though? The real kicker at the end of all of this? The punchline?"
xxx
(After ten minutes of blind searching, he found Cora-san's gun wedged beneath the twisted bars of a bed frame. Law's hands half-quivered as he reached for it.
The thing was stupidly heavy. The trigger guard wide enough to fit three of his fingers. It took both his hands to cover the grip and lift it to eye-level.
Law was stunned. He had the stray recollection of Cora-san twirling it around once, humoring Baby and Buffalo in some game, the flintlock swinging with the same arid ease as plastic.
A nibbling worry emerged that he wouldn't be able to fire it. He already wasn't the most skilled with firearms in general. But there wasn't time to search for more options and Cora-san needed him, so Law lugged it outside anyway.
Trebol's voice oozed everywhere. ("The real kicker at the end of all this," he said, the tail end of a sentence, "The punchline?")
Vergo's back was tense as a spring. Cora-san lay crumpled on the ground.
Chills plunged down Law's neck at the blue shade of his lips. A kernel of suspicion had been forming in his gut ever since Cora-san had first passed out. It grew a little more now, beginning to solidify.
"Enough," Vergo snapped suddenly and made him jump, "I've had more than my fill of your voice, Trebol. Take amusement from Doffy's suffering one more time and we'll see how long you keep laughing."
"Ehhhh, what are you suddenly mad about?" The Den Den turned in Vergo's palm, whine drawing on the tongue.
Cora-san's gaze had lowered to the ground. Beneath the blood and bruises, his expression was strange. Kind of drowsily surprised, as if he'd just been awakened from a perplexing dream. Law prickled with worry, before the red eyes shifted towards him from beneath the hood. Cora-san looked resigned at the sight of him.
"Aaaanyway, Doffy will be just fine when this is all over. Better than fine." Trebol giggled, pitched high with veneration. "We haven't even met him yet, Vergo. Our true king. Free of all these pathetic weaknesses and tiresome chains. A magnificent creature. Like I said, right Corazon?"
Law spread his legs and straightened his back, tried to recall Gladius's corrections on his stance. It was a struggle to cock the hammer and lift the barrel.
"And you mustn't worry about the kiddie," Trebol crooned, "Once everything's said and done, we'll be sure to make a magnificent creature out of Law too."
Whatever that meant, Law's blood curdled. He'd never go anywhere with fucking Trebol.
Law curled his fingers around the trigger, a second from squeezing when a voice froze him to the spot.
"Well. Good to know I didn't hit you too hard."
Vergo turned around. His skin and sunglasses shined as if glossed with polish. The Den Den's mouth opened with glee.
"Little Law! Behehe, thirteen years old now, eh? How time flies. I believe Doffy was still working his way through all the booze in our hold last you were around." It leered. "Have you missed him, kiddie? Ready to come back and see him again?"
Law's mouth pursed. He couldn't say that he didn't miss Doflamingo. Two and a half years of being protected and fed and given a place to belong would've never let him say that. They'd been a family and there was a piece of Law that missed him very much and probably always would.
But Cora-san had said they were never going back and so missing him was the only thing Law planned to do.
"Get away from him."
Vergo's brow arched. The feeling of his gaze was tangible as it dragged along the gun, heavy and cool.
"Armored haki causes terrifying ricochets," he said, pivoting around, "Not many weak spots at all, unless you pop me between the eyes." The staff tapped the icy ground. "Something to think about when holding a gun that's clearly too heavy for you."
Law's blood went cold. Bullet ricochet. Shit. That ugly detail had completely flown by him. To say nothing of the specific weak spots in armored haki.
As if reading his mind, Vergo's skin thickened and calcified. "You won't hit me, Law," he said, "But go ahead and take a shot. Let's see where your bullet lands. In me or you or maybe even in your dear Cora-san over here."
A breeze rushed through the quarry town, rattling the gun. Law's mind raced.
He should've hidden the gun. Slipped it to Cora-san when he'd had the chance, instead of thinking he could use it himself. Stupid, stupid. What should he—
"Do it, kid." Cora-san shifted, elbows underneath him. "Fire."
His voice was jarringly calm. It agitated Vergo at once. He snapped that Cora-san was a fool and would die a fool too. He wasn't spared so much as a glance.
"Just fire," Cora-san said, and Law almost thought he had lost his mind as well, before he caught the refractions of the strings.
So shimmering thin they were only visible at one angle alone. They slung across the ground, over the mouth of the flintlock, before ending in long loops around Cora-san's fingers.
The second form of the Nagi Nagi no Mi. Law's gaze darted away, before Vergo was alerted.
Despite the scarce amount of time there'd been, Cora-san had finally explained the gist of this form to him. The threads absorbed sound from any object they touched. They projected this sound back as physical force once cut.
The bigger the sound, the more devastating the force.
It clicked into place suddenly and quickly then for Law—what the intention was here too. Cora-san's gaze locked with his own.
We're getting out of here, it said, Fire.)
xxx
(The runt pulled the trigger.
Treetops blew apart, marking the bullet's trajectory as it spiraled towards the stars. He'd been missed entirely. The muzzle barely trained on him.
It certainly would've called into question whether Doffy's ideas of successors needed reexamining, if Vergo hadn't been preoccupied with a wholly different matter by that point.
The shot had made no sound.
The burn of frizzen scorched the wind. Gray smoke curled out of the barrel. Plain as day, the child had fired and yet there'd been no sound. No thundering release of spring and pressure. No gunshot.
"Ehhh?" Trebol said, "What happened?"
Vergo did not know. He didn't care much for anything he did not know either and advanced towards Law on his last dregs of patience.
There'd been enough nonsense tonight. The boy would sit here, beside his beloved Corazon, and they would all wait for Doffy in silence.
"You've had your fun," he said and his hand extended, his shadow casting long.
"Vergo."
He froze.
Rosinante staggered to his feet, weaving, unblinking even as Vergo spun towards him with his staff lifted. The breath he sucked in was rough and painful. He wiped blood off his nose and chin.
"I'm sure," Rosinante said, "that you think what you did was right. You're some piece of work, don't get me wrong, but if there's one thing I'll say about you, it's that you've always wanted what was best for my brother."
His head rose a little higher, blackened eyes like carved pieces of flint. It was extraordinarily unpleasant, but Vergo could not look away.
"I've no clue how you've come to hate me like this and I don't care to find out either." His arm fell from his torso, making his body teeter. "But for everything you've done for him. How you kept him alive all these years, how you...gave an honest shit about him. For that, I'm grateful to you. I am."
Vergo stared, vein forming on his forehead. "What do you think you're—"
Rosinante's hand lifted. His fingers crooked.
And for the first time, in that space between the seconds, Vergo noticed the strings. Gleaming and quivering threads that sprung at his face, a blue twin to Doffy's, right before Rosinante snapped his fingers and they broke apart.
Then Vergo understood very well where Law's shot had gone, because he heard it with supreme intimacy. One and three-quarters of an inch from his ear.
Agony exploded through his skull, lacerating his brain, sending his vision crackling under the roar of force erupting through matter. Disgracefully, he may have yelled out. Crashed to his knees. Clasped at his ear.
Rosinante sprinted past him, a blur of feathers and gold. The child leapt into his arms.
By the time Vergo attempted to stand, half-stumbling into the snow again, they had already gone.)
xxx
He remembered the wall of course—the leaves as red as copper, as rope burns and blood and flames. The color of his brother's rage as it crackled and sprung from his bones. How it flailed like a bolt of lightning and struck without discrimination.
It stabbed him through. Suffocated him under heat and weight.
Many years later, he would wonder how. Was it because he'd been so close? Devoid of any shield or barrier against exposure? Was it because he'd resisted Doffy when Father and every other soul in that square had submitted to his will?
Rosinante flopped his head against Doffy's shoulder. Blotches covered his vision and spun his skull. He'd been sweltering for a week since the wall. Dizzy and light-headed with fatigue.
Doffy had assumed it was a cold. Gave him water and acted as a pillow. Rambled and speculated over what he'd done to the mob, because that was a topic of eternal pleasure to him.
"That guy, Trebol...he called it Conqueror's Haki."
"You promised you wouldn't talk to him."
"I haven't. Just thinking out loud." Doffy lifted a palm, craned his own head back so their hair touched. "It'd be great if I could control it."
Rosinante stared blearily at his brother's hand, tapered and scarred, clever and warm. He thought about the desperation and hatred that had summoned such power into being and he shuddered. His pulse was visible at his wrist, artery squirming like a worm on a hook. Rosinante curled tighter against Doffy's side.
"You don't need it."
His brother snorted. "Don't be dumb, Rosi. Yes, I do." An arm wrapped around him. His sweaty bangs were pushed off his face.
"I have to protect us." Doffy's voice was a storm. "No one else will."
xxx
(They walked in silence for a while.
The ground flattened under Cora-san's tread, each of his strides the equivalent of a normal man's ten. Law's hands closed around his sleeve, all ten nails shaking and bloodless.
Vergo whirled in his head. How he'd crumpled to his knees, blood curling out of his ear and down his collar. How his metal face unzipped into a snarl. It was something so beyond the flat and placid one Law had spoken to on the beach that his mind reeled.
"Law." Cora-san touched his back. "Calm down."
"I'm sorry."
"'S not your fault."
"I dropped your gun."
"Doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does," Law said, "I th-thought—"
The hand rubbed his spine. "You were trying to help me. It's more important we got away."
Law bit his lip. Black feathers imprinted on his pale round cheek. Cora-san smoothed down his cloak a few more times, before his hand dropped. They were quiet for a couple more minutes too, before Law managed to lift his head again.
"...If Trebol's around, that must mean the rest of the Family is too right? Senor and Jora and the others." He turned, hesitant. "And...I guess also…"
Cora-san nodded. "He's here."
Wind shuddered down the trail. A lattice of dead branches rustled, releasing a glittering shower of icicles. Law was pulled in and his head shielded. The trees wavered in his vision behind a black hem of feathers. They scrabbled and clawed at the bars, leaping at those pinholes in the sky.
"What is that?" Law said, once Cora-san had lowered his arm, "Did Doflamingo do that?"
He pointed at the cage, but Cora-san neither looked nor answered. All his focus went beyond them to the buried path ahead.
"I need to get you off this island."
Law stiffened.
"You mean we need to get off this island together."
Cora-san glanced at him, a minuscule moment that was somehow infinite, before he continued walking.
Law didn't understand the meaning behind such an expression, but he glared at it anyway, daring to be corrected. Dared him, dared him. He said they were going to travel the world. That they would find Zunesha and learn if sky islands were real and be so far away from this place that Law would never have to hear its name again—
"What's that face for?" The rim of his hat was shoved over his eyes. Law sputtered, flailing instantly.
"What the hell, Cora-san!" He yanked his hat up again, a furious scowl burned across his face. It was a mystery to him why people were so obsessed with the thing.
But Cora-san wasn't looking at him anymore. His mouth had relaxed at the corners, dried blood stains cracking against his paper-gray skin. Law forgot his sullen retort while it still languished on his tongue.
"Are you okay?" he asked, startled, a little hushed.
Cora-san nodded again. "I'm fine."
Perhaps it was meant to be reassuring, but Law wasn't too convinced. Something had changed in Cora-san. Growing more discernible the longer Law stared, as if a shadow puppet skating towards him across a wall.
"What did Trebol say to you?"
Eyes slid towards him. "...you heard him?"
"A little bit. Something about a...a punchline. What was he talking about?"
Cora-san sighed, his white breath huffing through the dark.
"Oh, just a joke he's probably been holding in for a long time. About...all of this. My brother and me."
Law stared. "What?" Anger crawled up his throat. "Why?"
"I don't know." Cora-san hefted him up higher. "I don't really know why he did any of the things that he did. Maybe the world was cruel to him too."
The pity tinging his words was both unbelievable and unsurprising. Law touched the hand supporting his knees, curling his palm around two long fingers. When I'm older, he wanted to say, ferociously, childishly, I'll kill him for you.
But he didn't say it of course, mouth twisted up.
"Was it a good fucking joke at least?"
Cora-san laughed. Had to stop mid-way to cough.
"Yeah," he whispered, "It was pretty good.")
xxx
The second time was the day they took Dellinger away.
The giant ship rocked, littered with the unconscious bodies of crew and Family. All save him, who'd coaxed Doffy into letting the infant go. Everyone, but him, who'd rebelled.
He woke up the next day to a bloody nose. Rosinante touched his face, startled a moment, before tossing his ruined pillow into the hamper.
Must've been the weather.
xxx
(Cora-san began to falter.
He steps weaved and he tripped over his own feet. When he was struggling to rise a third time, Law pulled on his sleeve, unable to bear another second.
"Let's take a break."
"We're not far enough yet."
"But you're tired."
Cora-san shut his eyes a moment, too exhausted to deny it. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, but his lips were truly blue now and Law remembered the sharp cracks he'd heard when Vergo kicked him, the unbalanced thud-thump of his pulse even earlier in the hut.
"I need to check you over."
"There's nowhere to stop."
That was also true. Law peered over his shoulder and tried to assess how much distance they'd gained from the quarry town. Although Cora-san hadn't been able to run long, the view of the huts had disappeared. Law suspected they would be reentering the hills soon if they kept walking in the same direction.
The rest of the vicinity was composed of barren woods and snowdrifts, a strong smell of the sea blowing with every northern gust. Law gave it all hopeless observation.
He was on the cusp of suggesting they sit down for a while in the open, when they passed the tree. Animals had stripped off most of the bark, left it like a giant piece of coral. That was the only reason why the notch had been visible then, dark and uneven like a scar. Law tilted his head.
"Wait, let me down."
He waded through the snow back to the tree. The notch looked ancient, like it'd been carved in by an arrowhead.
He shuffled over to another tree close by and found a similar notch. Then the same one in the next tree. There was an entire line, disappearing into the woods, the ground sloping into a faint incline. A pulse of hope spread through Law's veins. Hunters maybe. Senor had told him once they left marks on trees to keep from getting lost.
"Kid?" Cora-san said, drifting up behind him. Law took his hand.
"Let's follow these."
There was a pause. Cora-san's fingers wrapped slowly around his. "It might be dangerous."
"It's dangerous here." Law tugged. "C'mon."
The snow was deepening, rapidly approaching his waist. All of his toes were numb, but Law struggled forward, hand tight over Cora-san's.
"Let me carry you."
"No, you're tired. I can walk."
"You weigh virtually nothing."
"I don't care, you need to—"
Cora-san plucked him out of the snow.
"We'll be quicker this way," he said, and bundled him into his coat before he could try to wriggle free.
It was so stubborn and Law scowled at him, a moment of disapproval. Then he pressed his ear against Cora-san's chest and tried to track his heartbeat. It was thundering like a racehorse, the hooves cutting into his cheek.)
xxx
(The notches led them up a slope and away from the hills. On a bluff overlooking the beach if Law had to guess, from the tang in the wind.
An abandoned chalet lounged against a rock shelf, draped in icicles, walls concave from the erosion of meltwater and storms.
The windows were destroyed, glass long burst and the wooden frames shattered. What sparse furniture inside was in similar stages of rot. Snow-dusted cobwebs hung across browned vinyl walls. It smelled like coal dust, something clogged with humanity from long ago.
But it was out of view, had a roof and Cora-san looked pleased.
"Did good, kid," he said, setting him on the ground. Law smiled, a bit feathery with pride. It didn't last long, since Cora-san had to lean against the wall a second later, all the color drained out of his face.
"Cora-san?"
"One minute," he said, swallowing, "I'm a little...uh…"
"Sit down," Law said and tugged on his sleeve until the man obliged, one leg bent and the other stretched out. Law crouched beside him and took his pulse. Still too fast.
"Lean back. I'm gonna check your ribs." He rolled up Cora-san's shirt without waiting for a reply.
The bruising was ugly, but a lot less extensive than he'd been dreading. A cautious examination revealed that the coat had taken the brunt of Vergo's attack—sparing bones from the force. Law released a breath of relief and eased the shirt down.
"Think you escaped any fractures. I'll make you something for the pain."
Cora-san grabbed him immediately. "Don't go outside."
Law rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Cora-san." He slid a hand beneath his cloak. Cora-san glanced with surprise at the small bag of white willow leaves he produced. Law nudged him back against the wall.
"Some extra I saved while we were still on Rubeck," he explained, "There has to be a kitchen around here somewhere. I'll figure it out there, just gimme your lighter."
He leaned over for Cora-san's pocket, brushing his hand along the way. The skin was colder and clammier than ever and Law's brows tightened.
"I'll get you water too," he said, clutching the lighter as he tried to hurry off. The hand on his shoulder didn't budge. "Cora-san, what—let go of me, we need to hurry."
But Cora-san didn't let go. If anything, he turned him around again.
"You're the furthest thing from stupid, Law," he said, "I know that." Law was pulled closer, before he could respond. A newly troubled shadow lingered in Cora-san's features, as if a thought had finally struck him.
"Cora—"
"Why did you think the marines would help me, kid?"
Law went still. They were both still actually, only the susurrating of dead leaves and dust trickling around them. Law turned away first.
"Your Den Den Mushi."
The snail napped on a table a couple meters away, beneath the tarnished bands of candelabras. The panel of its shell was routinely lit now, dozens of missed calls from that same number. Cora-san's grip loosened. Law shrugged out of it and padded over to the table.
"It's this." He gestured at the red button, the one that had flared up like a beacon that one autumn day, brought news of Diez Barrels and his deal.
Law folded his arms on the table. "I saw a lot of Den Den Mushis with this button then too."
Cora-san eyed the Den Den for a long beat. "Then?" he asked.
Law nodded. "When they came for Flevance."
The silence spilled in like an ocean. He navigated through it to the wall again and picked up the bag of leaves. He peered up at the towering shadow before him.
"You're a marine, Cora-san?"
An indiscernible flicker passed through the man's expression. For a second, Law thought Cora-san was going to feign ignorance or make a passionate denial.
Instead, he suddenly deflated and slumped against the wall.
"...yes, Law. I'm a marine."
The words blanketed everything, too large for the space. Law gripped the bag with both hands.
"What happened to Baby and Buffalo?"
"Turned them over back in Vale."
Silence again.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
A low sigh. "I don't know. Guess I was just...afraid. 'Cos of what they did to you and your city, I thought that—I didn't want you to—"
"Don't care."
Cora-san went quiet. Law pocketed the bag of willow leaves and climbed into his lap, palms flat on his knees.
"I don't care." Law's hands curled around the fabric of his pants, brows knotted. "You're not a marine," he said slowly, "You're Cora-san."
He blinked back at the stare and didn't move.
Law didn't know how long they sat there, before Cora-san's lips finally quirked into a smile. He reached up and straightened Law's hat.)
xxx
(Amazingly, the pigeon found the ship. It was one of those sturdy winter creatures from Drum that could battle the blistering currents. Sengoku untied the tube, passing the bird along to the cadets to be fed and rested.
An envelope slid out once he popped the cork. It bore the address and insignia of Saobody Medical. Sengoku slid a thumb over the navy blue header. The study. He really had forgotten.
Rosinante's case had always perplexed Medical. Two and some years surviving on refuse and dodging the abuse of villagers and he'd gotten away with only flesh scars and a vitamin deficiency. They'd been amazed. Chocked it up to fortune and bloodline and scheduled Rosinante for discharge within the hour.
Then they'd learned about Doflamingo and that hour had ballooned into the next twenty-four.
A frown wormed Sengoku's lips. He tore open the envelope.)
xxx
(While Cora-san rested, Law searched through the chalet.
The kitchen was tiled in cracked mosaics. Insect husks lay like shells on the stone countertops and sinks. From the oven, Law managed to unearth a small chipped pot and from the pantry, a teacup with its discolored handle pale yellow.
Nothing left behind that could be a weapon though. Not even a butcher's knife or a trowel. And the rest of the rooms were either hole-riddled or stripped bare. Like that decrepit vessel Doflamingo used to switch them over to sometimes in lieu of the Numancia flagship, the walls moaning and indented.
"Doesn't shock me," Cora-san said, when he returned, "Minion's not much younger than Rubeck. People must've plundered it ages ago."
"I hate them," Law grumbled, forehead puckering at the wood scraps he'd found, "Why can't I light this?"
"It's all wet." The Den Den Mushi started ringing again. Cora-san sighed and shifted positions. "Smoke'll go everywhere anyway. The table would be better."
Law padded to it and scooped up the Den Den, placing it on the ground. He made dubious survey of the stocky legs and top. "...I can't break this."
"I'll do it, kid."
Law spun around with a reprimand on the tongue. Cora-san hadn't moved though.
The Nagi Nagi's string form glided out of his fingertips. They streamed past Law and towards the Den Den Mushi near his feet and attached like suctions.
The creature stopped ringing. Its shell continued flashing. Its mouth remained in motion. The strings were glowing when they fell off, brilliant as sapphires, buzzing full of sound.
With large eyes, Law watched them coil around the table.
"It'll be small range again," Cora-san said, "But stay where you are."
Then he snapped his fingers and blew the table apart.
Law jolted, hair rising at the crack and splinter of chapped wood. The four legs shattered into jagged chunks, the top rucked like an upside-down tent. The linoleum hummed beneath his soles.
Law stared at the destruction and was morbidly curious then of the state of Vergo's eardrum. Or the ribcage of that Barrels pirate still lying dead on Rubeck's shore.
"Go ahead," Cora-san said, face the gray pulsing shade of the sea.)
xxx
("How come you never used your fruit before?" he asked, as a pot of snow melted over the fire, "It's so strong. You almost look cool."
Cora-san perked up. "I look cool, Law?" he said, a hint of delight that made Law sigh and smile a little back.
"Yeah, you do. Why didn't you ever use it?" The water bubbled. He pinched out a careful amount of white willow leaves. He listened as Cora-san explained the Nagi Nagi no Mi was specialized for espionage. That he had only eaten it as part of this elaborate mission to infiltrate the Family as a mute.
"Obviously, I didn't manage."
Law looked over his shoulder. Cora-san's gaze had wandered off to the sky again. A beat passed.
"Does Doflamingo know about your devil fruit?"
"Know about it?" A snort. "This second form was his idea. Chased me around Rubeck for half a month developing it."
Law blinked, though without any real surprise in it. The concept of harnessing sound into force was deceptively simple, explosively violent, terrifying with potential. Seemed like something that'd have crawled out of Doflamingo's brain.
He poured the water, stomach tight and uneasy.
"Do you think he knows about you too?"
Cora-san's breath unscrolled, mist in the freezing air. The cage reflected in his eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure you already have the answer to that one.")
xxx
His brother had promised to let the old island go.
Blood trickled down his temples and nose, beaded onto the washroom tiles. A flutter and whoosh tunneled in his ears.
It was this moment, he would understand later, all the pieces clicking with ferocious speed. His heart was weakening. Covered in new scars from fighting about Dellinger. He'd been too close and it was this moment. This one.
"Rosi." A hand reached for him and fell down again part way. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," he said, "It's okay."
Outside the porthole, a little bird flew away.
xxx
Law kept checking his pulse. At least once every fifteen minutes. Wiped sweat off his face and iced his shiner. Made him drink a cup of white willow tea. Suffice to say, Rosinante felt suitably pathetic.
He didn't have the heart to tell the boy to stop though when he was so clearly worried. Frightened. Although Rosinante wasn't sure why. He'd be fine. This was exhaustion. He had a good bloodline, a god's bloodline, for lack of a better term. He'd be fine.
"Stop saying that," Law said, features pinched with frustration, "You are not fine. And this is not goddamn exhaustion."
The cup was shoved into his hand again, plain warm water this time. Rosinante sipped at it gingerly, a pocket of heat blooming down his throat. He looked at the child's fierce, half-terrified frown through the steam.
"Then what is it, kid?" he finally asked, "What's wrong with me?"
Hesitation. Law fiddled with his sleeve. Rosinante's brow lifted tiredly. He's poised at the edge of prompting again, before the words were blurted out.
"I think it's heart failure."
A bare line of reasoning hurried out after—direct, logical, nerve-laced with concern. Apparently, he'd displayed most of the general symptoms—hard of breath, fatigue, lack of appetite, a rapid uneven heartbeat. The nosebleeds, the black out, you were too stressed, you wouldn't stop smoking—
"No." Rosinante laughed and had to choke off to wheeze and clutch at his ribs. "No, Law, I don't have heart failure. I'm barely twenty-six."
"That's not how it works, Cora-san," Law snapped, before his brow loosened and he chewed on his lip, "Though it does make it less likely. I still remember a bit of your medical file. You don't have any cardiomyopathies running in your family either..."
Rosinante laughed again, cold all over. "Cardio-what? I-I don't have, I've never—"
The world did a cheerful pirouette and imploded. Rosinante trailed off, hand fumbling for purchase against the wall through a curtain of black sparkles.
"Cora-san?" came Law's voice, alarmed but soft. Small hands struggled to pull him upright once more against the wall. Rosinante hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until he was opening them again. Three Laws slung off the green afghan around his shoulders.
"Believe me now?" he muttered, wadding it beneath Rosinante's knees. He tore another section from his cloak and held it to Rosinante's nose (which must've been bleeding again), and checked his pulse.
"Did you ever have any major injuries in the past? Something that might've damaged your heart?"
Rosinante lolled his head towards the grimy coffered ceiling. A sharp pain pinched his chest in intermittent beats. He tried to do as Law asked, but his mind drew a blank.
It kept flinging up Doffy's face instead, features swimming in and out of focus. He was ten years old, hanging from a wall, swearing to kill people.
That guy, Trebol...he called it…
"Something had to have happened," Law said, "Might've even been years ago."
Doffy was twenty-seven years old and promising to let an old island go.
Rosi, I didn't mean to.
He shut his eyes, scrunched them tight even though it made him sick. Made him cold.
xxx
(He had seen his mother diagnose a patient with heart failure once. Mid-60s, gray-haired and stout, she'd wailed and cried and fallen to her knees. His mother had stroked her back as if she were a child, in those same butterfly patterns she'd massaged into Lami after a nightmare.
Oh why? He remembered her voice, resonating in the summer heat. Oh why oh god oh no...
Cora-san didn't cry. He didn't cry about himself ever. He just didn't.
In fact, he calmed down within thirty minutes, gazing across at the fallen candelabras. That strange pensiveness had returned to his expression, made even his confusion sound dazed and faraway, a sheet of pure water.
"But...I can't have heart failure. I still have to get you out of here. How am I supposed to do that if I have heart failure?"
Fresh blood trailed from his left nostril. Law cleaned it for him, overfocused.
"We're getting out together."
"I've been completely fine for years. I was fine this morning. I don't understand."
"You'd think you were fine even if your jaw was hanging backwards," Law muttered, "This is a progressive type of thing. Symptoms don't show until later. Kind of like amber lead."
A laugh spurted out of Cora-san, incredulous.
"So we match then."
Law gave him a worried look. "Weird way to put it, but yeah." His gaze grew pointed. "Except I know where mine came from. Can you really think of nothing that may have helped cause this?"
Cora-san turned toward the window again. "Guess I went harder with the cigarettes than I should've. And maybe I was a little stressed."
"Not guess," Law snapped, "You did. And not a little, a lot. Anything else?"
He got a shrug. "Why does that matter, kid?"
"Of course it matters. Hospitals need to know this kind of stuff before they can treat you."
Cora-san's mouth parted and unless it was an answer to the question, Law didn't want to hear it (not now, not ever, wouldn't have it, wouldn't). So he stood up and padded over to the window. They really must have been close to the beach-side, since the distant bursts of cannon-fire were audible now.
Law imagined the ruffling sea, where the polished marine frigates fired at the behemoth ship of the Family. His hands curled against the dirty sill.
All this resolve aside, his gut knew escape was pretty much impossible on their own. That getting Cora-san help would be only an imaginary prospect as long as the cage stood before them.
Law took a breath.
"Cora-san," he said carefully, "we have to talk to Doflamingo."
The ensuing silence was so dead that he turned around just to make sure the man was still conscious.
"I know it's dangerous. And...and risky, but we can't stay here. Your condition's not beyond hope. If he opens the cage and flies you out of the triangle then you have a decent chance."
"Law—"
"I'll tell him the truth. All that shit Trebol and Vergo pulled. And that you're showing signs of heart failure and need urgent care."
Cora-san bent a knee, resting its side upon the afghan. His voice was wan. Colorless.
"He's pissed off with me."
"So what? You guys are always a little pissed off with each other."
No reply.
Law bit his lip. It wasn't a splendid idea. Doflamingo never reasoned too well when he was mad, and Law remembered that. But he had to listen this time. He had to. Otherwise Cora-san was going to die and that couldn't happen, because Cora-san was going to live forever.
It really was that simple.
And if it was about his brother then surely he would help.
Whatever the world had fashioned Doflamingo into—god, demon, pirate, monster—that had always been the one thing about him which Law knew to be irrevocably true.
A gust blew across the snow, bearing a pile of wrinkled palm leaves. They battered into the cage bars and were sliced apart like butter. Their remains blew through the window and onto the chalet's floor. Cora-san stared at them.
"Not a little," he whispered, "A lot."
Law stormed over and kicked the leaves aside.)
xxx
The kid grew angry at him, frustrated with his reticence. Fire and conviction burned in his eyes. The sight of it warmed Rosinante a bit. Tired him, but also warmed.
"Law," he said for the third time, "you don't understand,"
"He's your brother, Cora-san," the boy said back, as if he thought maybe Rosinante was the one who didn't understand.
So their cycle went until the boy's eyes started crossing from exhaustion and his syllables slurred. He crankily refused Rosinante's suggestion to sleep, before making a pretense of checking his heartbeat and conking out in his lap anyway.
Rosinante sighed. "You'd probably be more comfortable on the floor at this point," he mused, poking a white-mottled cheek, "I stink of blood and sweat."
As if on principle, Law clutched his sleeve tighter.
Rosinante repositioned the child to the crook of his arm. For a few seconds, he studied the problem of getting Law off of Minion. Turned it over. Drifted off.
He was on a cliff the next time he opened his eyes, alabaster rocks clustered around him, delicate and smooth enough to approach translucency. Beyond, the milky sea swirled. Its vaporous tongues of foam rolled up and down. No shape as always, no smell, no sound. The entire world had been leeched out.
On the bluff, Doffy kicked his legs.
Thud went his feet, each time a heel bumped against rock. Thud. Thud.
He tilted his head as Rosinante sat down beside him. A third cut on his right cheek now joined the ones on his left and forehead. The blood from them was shiny and black.
"What's happening to your face?"
"That's one way to greet someone."
"You're bleeding."
A small hand flipped the hair out of Rosinante's eyes. "So are you." Rosinante scowled and wiped his face with the back of his hand. His brother watched him.
"Did you like Trebol's little joke, Rosi?"
"I don't like anything he has to say to me ever."
Doffy chuckled. "Understandable." His head canted. "But do you believe him?"
A pause. "It reminded me of something."
"Oh?"
"A long time ago. What she used to tell me about you."
His brother's eyebrows lifted. He made a small thoughtful noise, but didn't comment. For a while, they watched the crests of the milky sea, folding and tossing.
"They destroyed my file."
Doffy nodded.
"I spent half my life on that thing and now it's all gone."
"They never were fans of our little reunion."
"What the fuck did they end up showing you?"
His brother didn't respond. His smile had faded. He drew up his legs, arms folded over bruised knees. A crystallized posture for Rosinante, who had seen it many times after Mother's death. At that windowless sill, which Doffy glared out of for hours while Rosinante sobbed in their father's arms.
"Rosi," he said, "I wonder why you never talked to me. Never thought to ask me about all the things they'd told you. Or why you let yourself believe Trebol and Vergo and marines and everyone else in this world except me too."
He didn't sound upset. Just curious. Rosinante was silent. Doffy didn't wait for long, before he relented and turned back to the sea.
"You'll have to answer me eventually." The ground trembled. "Can't run anymore."
Fissures materialized in the rockface and dripped light. Rosinante's gaze wandered around his legs wearily.
"That's all you do, y'know. Run from me." His brother stood. "I'll never get to see my brats again. It's not fair. They were mine. Don't you regret anything?"
The light swelled, the cliff broke off along the edges and was swept into the whiteness below. Rosinante exhaled.
"Doffy," he said, "I'm full of such regret that it's a marvel it never killed me sooner. Practically the only thing I don't regret is taking those kids away from you. This was no life. No way for them to live. It wasn't right and I won't regret it ever."
His brother looked away. The cut on his forehead wept, stained his face like a lurid mask. Rosinante's nape shivered. For a moment, he had to look away before continuing.
"But...it's occurred to me how painful losing them must've been for you and...and that's a thing I do wish hadn't happened. Always."
Doffy's mouth loosened, the cold creases smoothing.
"What's this? Thought you said nothing could ever hurt me."
Rosinante reached forward as the world was crumbling. "I shouldn't have." He swallowed Doffy's child shoulders beneath his palms. "I was wrong."
Stars danced in the pools of his brother's glasses. Warm, clever fingers landed on the center of his chest.
"Well, we are more than even now, little brother."
Rosinante stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." The air was suddenly heavy, full of overpowering heat. Doffy's hand spread over his heart, caging its faulty, erratic beat. "I never did achieve any proper control of it and you know what I mean."
Then the sea and the cliff and his brother vanished.
xxx
(Dear Fleet Admiral:
When we last spoke, you had expressed interest in a long-term study our research team was conducting on the physiological effects of Conqueror's Haki.
Per your request to be notified of final results, attached is a summary of the team's findings. Most notably, and consistent with preliminary hypotheses, we discovered a pronounced correlation between repeated exposure and the potential development of…)
xxx
He wandered out into the snow. Hypocritically, after being so adamant with Law about it, but the heat was overwhelming. Dense and nauseating. It was trapped in his chest, gummy and impenetrable.
The cannons were fainter now. The Vice Admiral must've been pushing the Family out to open sea. She had always been amazing to watch in a fight. Relentless as the elements. The only one Doffy had never gotten a handle on. He wished he'd seen her more.
Dizzy. He was dizzy. Rosinante sat on a rock abruptly, breath fluttering in the night.
A delirious and continuous urge for a cigarette tried to whisk off with his attention. His heart punched at his ribs like a desperate prisoner, a compression right below the spot where Doffy's hand had been.
Heart failure. God, he didn't have time for this shit.
It is a precious thing indeed. A voice said inside him. Time.
Rosinante's eyes widened a sliver, before falling again. For a while, he stared at the ground, the clashes of a distant battle cracking in the air.
After his heart finally stopped protesting and his vision cleared up, he wobbled to his feet and pulled out his Den Den Mushi.
Four missed calls today.
One thousand and thirty-three in the past half year.
Rosinante dialed.
xxx
(When the Den Den rang, Sengoku answered without looking for the first time.
"Tsuru? Any changes?"
The pause was long enough that he glanced up from the letter he was reading. The snail's face was haggard, the voice low and hoarse.
"Sengoku-san.")
xxx
The second path away from the chalet led into a silvery tunnel of fir trees. Shallow-rooted, branches shuddering overhead in a hard thick net. Rosinante walked beneath them and listened to his old man's voice. Only half-processed anything being said.
Sengoku knew the Family had gone to Minion. He was little more than an hour away himself and putting on speed.
He had been so worried. Beyond worried. Told Rosinante that the old island wasn't his fault. That they would find a cure for Law together and make sure all the kids were safe. They would bring in the Family too and get Doffy all the help he needed. He apologized again and again for discouraging him, for having no faith, for being a bad father.
"You're not a bad father," Rosinante said, vision growing hot and watery. He scrubbed out the tears before they could leave slimey tracks down his face. "I'm the one who's sorry, Sengoku-san. I should've called sooner, I should've let you know where I was."
"You don't have to apologize to me, son." The Den Den looked worried. "You sound horrible. Are you alright?"
Rosinante's lips parted. The words clogged in his throat however, and refused to budge. I'm trapped in a cage, sir. I'm dying of heart failure. He's coming for me. They tricked us both. I can't let them take my kid.
"There have been better days."
Sengoku's eyes softened.
"I know. And we'll fix everything, I promise." Chair legs scraped against floorboards. "For the time-being though, you need to keep away from Minion. Tsuru's gotten this crazy idea that you might be there currently."
Something hollow with water plunked over the line. Rosinante stared at the snail.
"You're not so reckless as that, I know, but she was convinced and it was getting to me. Do my nerves a favor and steer away from the triangle, okay?"
"Okay, sir," Rosinante whispered.
xxx
(Sengoku wilted into his seat with relief, the dread of an encounter with Rosinante's stubborn streak receding. "Good kid," he said, "Send me your coordinates tomorrow morning and we'll come pick you and the child up immediately."
He turned back to his desk.
"Also from now on, you'll have to be more careful when dealing with Doflamingo," he said, "And I suppose just Conqueror users in general."
The snail blinked. "Conqueror users?" Rosinante asked, quietly.
"That's right." Sengoku picked up the letter again, sifting back to his spot. "Medical's published a couple things recently.")
xxx
"There was a study being conducted on Conqueror's Haki a few years back. Around when I first brought you to Saobody. Some worry among the community that it'd have aftereffects similar to radiation exposure. The preliminary findings weren't good."
The same sound again, falling and plunking. A flutey sound, like a pipe. It echoed in Rosinante's skull.
"By that point, your brother had already nailed you once with his, so they were testing you for everything under the sun. You were fine obviously and nothing turned up, but I asked to be notified of the study results anyway."
A clearing blossomed at the end of the woods. The snow was so stark against the trees that it resembled a whorl of light.
"It's rare, but Conqueror's Haki has a non-minimal risk of causing heart damage. Cardiomyopathy, if you want the fancy term."
Rosinante stopped at the edge of the field.
xxx
("And that thing's a huge can of worms. Heart attack, heart failure, stroke, the chances double for everything." Sengoku cringed again at the data points, before setting the papers down. "It's all rooted in repeat exposure though, so that's why I think, until your brother calms down, you should—"
"Sengoku-san," Rosinante said suddenly, blankly, "I'm sorry."
He blinked. "What? What for?"
The ensuing beat was cold.
Sengoku would've prodded again if the Den Den's shell hadn't lit up, almost neon yellow in the candlelit room. A message from Tsuru blared from the screen in ink-black letters.
UNDER ATTACK BY THE FAMILY DRIVING THEM OUT TO SEA
THEYRE BOTH ON MINION
GET TO THE CAGE
Sengoku's mouth opened. "Wha...?" His face drained white. "Rosinante?"
The snail's gaze was calm and empty. Faded, like it was staring at something in the distance.
"I'm sorry," it said again, "I have to go."
He jounced the table in his rush. The sozu tumbled and smashed apart on the ground. Sengoku ran out of the cabin.
"Hold on," he said, mindless, "Hold on, hold on, get hidden, find somewhere to standby."
The snail replied, "You're a great man, sir. The greatest one I've ever known. It's been such a privilege, truly, really…"
"Stop it, boy, we are not—"
"And I'll be okay. Wherever I'm going."
"Just hide. Hide, please, I'm almost there. I'm coming to get you—"
"I know, old man." The Den Den smiled. It bowed its head.
"Thank you," Rosinante said, "It was an honor to be your son."
The line clicked off.)
xxx
"Oh, Rosi," his brother said in a dream, "I couldn't change. I couldn't change."
xxx
One hundred forty-four kilometers away, while Sengoku burst onto deck and wrung the helmsman's collar, shouting at him to go faster, faster, Rosinante set the speaker piece down. He set the Den Den Mushi down too and let it crawl away into the brush.
He was light-headed again. His breath wheezing. And he realized then that Death had not been coming for Law after all. Not ever.
"Look at me," a voice said behind him, soft.
xxx
"I tried my best. I was just too weak. I never wanted to be a monster, Rosi, never..."
xxx
He was blood-soaked and shaking. He was covered in veins.
xxx
"...but maybe this was all that was meant for me."
xxx
Rosinante turned around.
Doflamingo stood in the clearing, feathers spilled around his feet.