Two glasses clinked together. "Cheers."

"To your health, kiddo!"

Sitting at a table still partially covered with medical reports and journals, two very old friends downed their glasses with a speed belying their ages. The one wearing a white military coat draped over her shoulders leaned forward and rested her elbows on the tabletop. "Phew!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure this rotgut isn't meant to be sterilizing your torture tools?"

"Hah!" the wrinkled yet unnervingly nubile physician across from her scoffed. "Still can't hold your liquor, eh, Tsuru?"

"It's not so much a question of my fortitude as your inhuman capacity. I hope you're at least sober when you practice medicine."

Vice-Admiral Tsuru of the Navy did not hesitate to refill her glass before passing the bottle to her drinking buddy. Considered back in her day to be the brightest flower of the Marines, she was now a mixed bag of perplexing contradictions. The skin on her whip-thin arms hung loose and wrinkled but the muscles beneath were tough as tree roots. Once lustrous hair remained full and thick, though now bone-white and pulled tightly back into a horsetail. While bent by age and the rigors of a thousand life-or-death conflicts on the high seas, that fierce glint in her eyes which had humbled many a pirate swag remained undimmed. The normally frowning gash of her wrinkled lips now curved upwards in a friendly if somewhat saucy grin.

"'Practice' medicine?" the harpy across from her laughed before taking a swig straight from the bottle. Wiping her mouth with the back of one hand, she leaned forward and fixed the other woman with a wicked smirk. "In my profession, practice is what you do on dead things! Real healing flows from someone who knows how to beat an ailment and convinces their patient to expect the same, heart and soul!"

Tsuru scoffed outwardly at this confidence bordering on arrogance. Privately, however, she recognized where such self-assurance was born from. If ever there could be anyone called a legend among the medical community, it was Dr. Kureha of Drum Island. Her case histories stretched back over 100 years, and while the number of failures was by no means miniscule, in some cases entire generations of families the world over owed their continued existence to this woman. Whole fields of medicine could be built off her accomplishments. The human body held no secrets from her. She was a living repository of knowledge and experience which might otherwise be lost forever. And all this while still maintaining the physique of a twenty-year-old, combined with a hag's fearsome visage. In the same way she harbored both an inspiring determination to rescue any patient and a terrifying tendency to ignore whatever reservations said patient might have about her draconian methods. Talk about a mixed bag.

Having had a chance to meet for the first time in several years, the military officer took this opportunity to touch upon another topic. "I'm told things have gotten quite difficult in your neck of the woods. That young lout of a king is performing exactly according to everyone's expectations. I'd like to be of assistance in return, but my hands are tied. Delivering this myself is the most I can do. Thanks for helping out anyway."

So saying, Tsuru withdrew a plain black box the size of a brick from her overcoat and slid it across the table. In response Kureha snatched the item up, taking a moment to check the contents before snapping the lid closed. Her hairy lip curled in a snarl, and she swallowed another titanic swig from the bottle.

"Bah! I really must be getting old!" the ancient healer growled, eyes fixed on the light of the oil lamp between them. "I'm even glad to see your baby-cheeked face again." Tsuru chose not to point out that she could no longer be described as a spring chicken. Meanwhile Kureha had not finished her rant. "Maybe because there hasn't been anyone really worth talking to since that joyous charlatan bit the big one."

"What was his name again?" the Vice-Admiral asked, more to see how the spiteful ancient reacted than any real lapse of memory.

Kureha threw her a look that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what the younger lady was doing, but consented to go along with it all the same. "Hiluluk." She grunted the name as though it were a particularly lethal form of flesh-eating bacterial disease. "Doctor Hiluluk, he had the audacity to call himself in my presence! I've met monkeys that knew more about medicine than that quack! But all the same…" Her slender shapely fingers tapped the black box as though agitated just to be admitting this. "He had the soul of a true doctor, combined with the heart of a pirate and the mind of a madman! As I live and breathe, Tsuru, I never in my life saw anyone fight so hard to cure a patient, even if the remedies he concocted only switched one disorder for another! He was a… goddam mad genius, and a dolt, and an arsonist, and the most beautiful joke the gods ever graced my days with."

Her hoarse voice had gone soft as she gazed into the flickering nub, then glanced wistfully to where the teapot spout of an alembic still steamed faintly over a doused gas burner. Tsuru said nothing for a time, simply watched the old witch as she relived a saga in her past that would never return, whether she wanted it to or not. Not like any of us get that many second chances in life, it occurred to her. "But he did leave you with something worthwhile," she pressed as the mood around the table seemed to grow grim.

Kureha broke off staring and looked all around her laboratory. "Yeah. You could say that, though the little toadstool inherited his father's gift for getting my goat."

Two floors up in this tree-house she now called a home, Tony-Tony Chopper was snoozing away, exhausted from another rigorous day trying to fulfill his teacher's insane demands. The Zoan reindeer boy was asleep by the time the two of them arrived, sprawled over a medical text he had spent the whole day memorizing between assignments. Tsuru noticed the tender way Kureha picked up the orphaned outcast and carried him off to bed. She wondered if this level of gentleness was evident when he was awake to see it. They had observed him sleep for a while together before repairing downstairs to get caught up.

"Will the two of you be all right here?" Tsuru questioned earnestly, seeing a chance to broach another topic she had been skirting around. "You're both wanted criminals, even if only according to the laws of Drum. I made sure to get this to you because it would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands, but after I leave, that lumbering hippo of a monarch might still have you caught, or just killed! Why not take this opportunity to leave Drum? I can provide you safe escort to any island you wish. There's a small squad of my girls that I left back at a rendezvous point in the woods; they'll handle anything this island's military can throw at us. You wouldn't have to live on the run anymore."

To her dismay, the hag only shook her head. "No. I can't leave. We're the only medical professionals left for this island's population. The rest fled or were captured. If we abandon these people, they'll have no recourse available. It's the warm season now on this Winter Island, but when the true cold arrives, no matter what precautions they take there'll be frostbite, snow blindness, broken bones and hypothermia. And that's just the beginning. No hypochondriac hippo fart is going to make me forsake my oath. So here's where we'll stay!"

Tsuru regarded the dedicated doctor dispiritedly before hanging her head. "Well, I tried. Pass over that bottle. And wipe it off, for heaven's sake, your mouth is as filthy as ever!"

"Hah! Infant! When are you going to grow up, eh?"

One might not expect two ladies in their far-flung professions to have formed a friendship. And truly, trust hadn't happened overnight. It had taken decades for these strong-willed warriors to come to terms with one another beyond simple professional courtesy. But when you faced down death as part of your daily routine, it lent a healthy respect towards anyone who endured the same ordeals. Time and again these two had thrown themselves back into the warzone without regard for what it might cost them. A family, children, loved ones? However cruel or sad it may sound, ultimately those came second. Because if you can devote yourself to a branch of service, whether it be medicine or the military, it stems partly from the fact that you understand not just the importance of what you do, but the necessity. And recognizing this same fervor in others (no matter how obnoxious they may be) could easily lead to respect. Friendship built gradually from there.

They continued to reminisce for a while longer, until finally the Vice-Admiral stood up to leave. Kureha escorted her to the door. Outside snow had started to fall, and it wouldn't do to be caught in a blizzard.

"Does this weather seem odd to you?" the healer asked as she stood at the open portal, peering up into an overcast night sky.

Tsuru too inspected the heavens while she slipped on her gloves. As a lifelong mariner, she had gained a professional appreciation for the elements. A simple headwind might be the prelude to a typhoon, after all. But she could detect nothing overtly sinister in those looming thunderheads.

"No. But then again, I don't quite have your experience with the stuff. Tell me, which of the fifty different shades of snow you can identify would you call this one?"

"Ah, you cheeky little backbiter," Kureha groused in return. "I remember a time when those Marine boys would follow you around like lost puppies, yapping at your heels and trying to impress you into sharing a cabin with them even for just one night. Now look at you! Should've begged me for my secret of eternal youth." So saying, she thrust out an unopened bottle of vodka. "Take this as a parting gift. It might just serve to warm up those poor little Navy girls you left shivering out in the forest."

"What are you talking about?" Tsuru accepted the flask with a sour chuckle. "I didn't come ashore with anyone."

Kureha paused, studying the old seadog curiously. "You said you did just a minute ago."

Tsuru blew out her breath, watching it puff in the frigid air. "Maybe you had a bit too much to drink after all, you great lush."

"Says you, whippersnapper! I ought to give you a clout about the ears!" Kureha retorted hotly. Now she held out her hand. "But instead I'll give you this, with my thanks. I appreciate your coming all the way out here for an old woman's sake. It's good to know there are still people I can depend on."

Her comrade grasped the witch's suave fingers in her chicken-claw grip. "Don't be too proud to call me if you run into any real trouble. The World Government does take care of its citizens, even from their own leaders if need be."

The centenarian only sneered at the offer. "I'll call you if I want someone to drink with, how about that? Sure you can walk a straight line back to your ship?"

"Get back inside before you freeze your overmedicated keister, you cold-hearted old banshee." Tsuru raised the bottle in salute as she turned away. "Good night, Doctor."

"Safe journey, Vice-Admiral."

Kureha stayed at the door as she watched her friend disappear into the deepening snowfall. Warm golden light from inside her arboreal home cast a welcome glow over the ever-deepening drifts. White-capped evergreens spread all around her. It was a peaceful night, but cold, and she should by all rights head off to bed.

For some reason, though, that long-suffering soul remained where she was, looking up into the sky. She couldn't say what it was that troubled her, but her instincts were not to be discounted. It would be wise to keep a sharp eye out. These were dangerous times.

A few minutes later she had closed up shop and gone to bed.

Outside, the snow began to fall more heavily.

Noises awoke her. Something out of place. Movement down below.

An intruder.

Soundlessly the doctor rose off her cot. She picked up a scalpel left close at hand. Sliding her feet into soft slippers, dressed only in a t-shirt and sweatpants, Kureha stole down the winding staircase that led to the first floor.

Pausing by the archway leading in, she surveyed the area. Dim light filtered through the drapes allowed little to be seen. The room's contents were just dark vaguely identifiable shapes. Nothing registered as out of order. Even the noises had stopped. In no way did she detect a single solitary soul.

This as much as anything told her how much trouble she was in.

"If you've come looking for money, I'm afraid you picked the wrong house," the mordant medic bit out, teeth bared and eyes raking the shadows. "Either way show yourself. I might look young, but even I need my beauty sleep."

At the table where she had previously sat, the lamp came on.

Turning swiftly, Dr. Kureha saw a person sitting there she could have sworn hadn't existed a moment ago. The figure sat with legs crossed over knee as she blew out a match, smoke drifting up to coil around her head like a snake.

"Good evening, Doctor."

There was a smile on that face Kureha didn't like. A pair of huge glasses with swirling designs on the lenses covered a great part of her youthful features. At a guess her age must be about 27 years old. Lime-green hair tumbled down her shoulders like a frozen waterfall. She sat with confidence, completely relaxed; her body was very well-maintained, and there were no weapons in sight.

Nevertheless the doctor felt a prickly heat course through her trembling limbs from adrenaline. Look at what isn't there as well, you senile bird. Her front door was securely closed with latches in place, and none of the windows were broken. How did she get in? The girl was wearing nothing more than a spaghetti-strap tank-top and jean shorts. Her feet had only sandals on. There didn't seem to be a coat anywhere that she could see. Even Kureha, long immune to the cold of Drum Island, wouldn't be walking around in that getup. Milky pale skin visible on arms, legs and midriff had an unnatural tint of faintest blue. Perhaps most telling of all, no plume of mist appeared when she spoke. It was icy cold in the laboratory, yet this scantily dressed burglar looked as though she had just glided in from Alabasta on a sand-skimmer.

Prognosis: potential Devil-Fruit user and threat.

Aloud, the wary elder only said, "And why is a pleasant-seeming little girl choosing to break into an old woman's home in the middle of the night?"

"I need your help, of course. My research indicates you're famed far and wide as the most competent physician of the past six generations." One hand came up to lift the glasses away, revealing a lovely face with golden eyes as cold and lifeless as those of a corpse. "And I have it on good authority that I'm very sick." Her tongue came out to lick meaningfully over sensual lips.

Kureha's eyes narrowed, the scalpel cupped in her palm. "My prognosis is you have a psychological disorder that can't be treated by pharmacological means. I recommend a good therapist. Or a lengthy stint in prison."

"Oh, no. I've done my homework, and I know exactly what prescription I need." The woman settled her glasses on the table. "It's called NHC-10."

A previously faint suspicion now blossomed into certainty.

"Are you familiar with it?" the beautiful burglar asked in a teasing tone. "Very rare, very hard to come by. Only a small amount exists in the world. The largest known supply was kept under lock and key by the World Government. But when we tried to learn more about its whereabouts, a little bird told me someone got wind of us and was moving the drug to a secret location. That certain someone keeps a close eye on our group, and we return the favor. Which is why I'm here." She stood up. "Well, Doctor?"

An agent. One chosen to track and possibly deal with a foe as powerful as a Vice-Admiral. But she waited 'til Tsuru had completed the delivery and left before making her move, which also demonstrates she's aware of her enemy's capabilities and does not wish to engage in unnecessary conflict. An intelligent and careful opponent. Something tells me a mere scalpel won't be enough to deal with this one.

So decided, Kureha placed her hidden weapon down on a nearby table. The woman's eyes alighted on the gleaming length of surgical steel with a professional interest, then lifted to regard the doctor once more. She inclined her head respectfully. Like she was acknowledging her decision as correct.

We'll see how long that confidence lasts, you little pipsqueak.

Dr. Kureha strolled at leisure across the lab floor. She could feel the woman's eyes upon her every step of the way. Reaching the alembic that had been boiling previously, she switched on the pilot light, reigniting the gas. There came a rustling behind her which she ignored, continuing to go about her business ever so calmly. It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped 20 degrees in the last few seconds. Still the gas came alight to burn steadily beneath the heavy glass globe.

Without any hurry, Dr. Kureha picked up a packet of cigarettes nearby. She tapped the pack until one slim tube came forth, dragging it out the rest of the way between her teeth. After this she bent down and lit the cigarette from the clear blue flame. Coming upright, the doctor exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Filthy things. They'll be the death of me." With that she came back around. "Well… maybe you'd like to explain what you need something like that for?"

Behind her, the snow bunny had risen to her feet, posture relaxed and still smiling. "I'm afraid I couldn't even if I wanted to. The specifics aren't really known to me. All I know is that we've recently begun working with someone, and this person is very insistent that he needs the drug in order to operate at optimal performance. I've been assigned to assist him in any way he needs. Before we get to our new workplace, I'm collecting materials that should help him in his pursuits. The NHC-10 is one of them. But that's enough sharing for now." She held out a hand. "If you'll kindly provide it to me? Then I'll be on my way and leave you in peace."

Kureha took another drag on the cigarette. "Mmm. Peace, eh?" Here she smiled in a way much like her opponent, a buzzard facing down a snow leopard. "And what peace did you have in mind? The peace of the grave?"

"Don't throw your life away for this, Doctor. It's not worth it."

"How would you know what my life is worth, you ignorant thief?"

A frigid wind began to swirl and eddy about the room with a mournful whistling sound. The elderly woman's pulse quickened. Behind her the flask was beginning to quiver. The thick red liquid inside would start bubbling any minute now. Just have to hope it's enough. To cover this she started talking again.

"I can't give you what you need, dearie. An old friend asked me to do them a favor, and those in my profession treat our oaths very seriously. Safeguarding something as dangerous as NHC-10 should be entrusted to those who appreciate just how deadly its applications really are. And an admitted bubblehead like you who's only following orders strikes me as the type who would let it be put to unsafe ends."

That enchanting marble face had gone cold. "Doctor, I have obligations to fulfill. You wouldn't want to see my boss when he gets upset. He's… unused to being denied."

"Don't worry. I'm good at dealing with bratty children."

Just another minute. Please.

All of a sudden the green-haired girl sighed. "Well, I suppose I can't force you. I'll be on my way, then."

Oh?

As Kureha watched the intruder bent down to blow out the lamp. Just like that the room was lit mainly by the gas light. She braced herself for a surprise attack that, surprisingly, never materialized. Instead her home invader proceeded towards the exit with all outward appearance of tranquility.

Wait for it. That other shoe's going to drop right about...

"Although…"

Close to the stairs, the woman paused.

"I traveled all the way out here. And my little sister came along too. This new job will take me away for months, maybe years at a time. We might not see each other again. Which is why our boss let us have this time together even when it wasn't in his best interests. He understands the importance of family."

That mixture couldn't boil fast enough. So keep talking as much as you want, snowflake.

"Which is why I'm not going to hurt you. I doubt that would get me anywhere. Instead, I think I'll pay a visit to your little helper upstairs."

Kureha tensed.

That friendly smile turned on her once again, complete with the chilly unfeeling eyes. "I was watching him before while waiting for you to return. That Zoan child works so hard, so earnest. Really wore himself out. Just adorable. My sister would love to have something that cute and fluffy to play with. Fill the ache in her heart, you know? Or maybe…"

The woman took a step up the stairs.

"I'll just kill him."

As she moved, a transformation took place. The color leeched out of her, dissolving away in patches, until all that remained was white. Snow lingered in ever-deepening piles behind every step she took. This pure white form shone in the gloom with the promise of lonely, frozen death.

Logia. It's worse than I feared. Even this might not be enough. But Chopper will get away. I told him what to do if it sounds like we're being attacked. He'll escape, but not if I let her go up the stairs. Can't risk him being too close when it happens. The mixture's still not ready. I have to keep her down here.

"You're a cold witch, aren't you?" she said out loud.

Almost around the turn of the snow-draped stairs, the Logia user paused. She threw a look back over her shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm good at dealing with bratty children."

Kureha took a drag on her cigarette. "Then get your scrawny butt down here and I'll give you what you want."

Fast as thought the killer's body crumbled into mounds of snow. A moment later she had risen again whole out of the layer of permafrost which was now building over the lab floor. Sheer cold was in her face as she glided closer.

Undeterred, the valiant physician stepped past her. She approached the side of her hollowed out tree home and gave a sharp rap in three specific places. From out of the wood itself there fell a narrow plank which stuck straight out from the wall. A cloth cover with daisy patterns decorated its top side.

"Ironing board," Kureha explained. "You wouldn't have found it; blends into the wood, and damn thing gets stuck tight unless you hit it in just the right spot. Makes for a good hiding place, though."

"Hmph." The Logia raised an eyebrow but remained where she was.

Kureha reached into the cavity and brought out the black box containing the supply of NHC-10. She turned and headed back. No sense trying to pull a fast one. This snow demon seemed well informed, so she probably knew what the drug looked like and would not be fooled by an attempted substitution.

More importantly, the mixture was finally bubbling merrily away. Which means you lose, yuki-onna.

Kureha kept a scowl on her face as she stamped forward bearing the source of their struggle. She resolutely did not look at the churning container. I just have to get my hands on it long enough to break the glass. Thank heaven it was in an alembic and not an ordinary open-mouthed beaker, otherwise all this snow falling indoors might have set it off beforehand. The concoction grew more volatile as it reached higher temperatures, but only when experiencing sudden thermal shifts. Heat it to boiling and pour it onto something even slightly below room temperature, and you get an explosion strong enough to ruin everything in this lab. Furniture, flesh; even the precious NHC-10 would be lost. Hiluluk nearly killed himself the first time he made it. Chopper still held out hope of finding some medical applications for his demented father's numerous failed experiments, which explained why it was here in the first place. Now I'll use that maniac's own invention to protect his son.

The boy's room was two levels up. He's well out of the blast range. And there's no way I'll allow medicine to be used for evil. This creature in front of me is a type of sickness that only responds to one cure. 'First do no harm?' Rubbish. If living has taught me anything, it's that you have to be willing to hurt the patient for their own good. More like 'Kill the patient to cure the disease', eh? Who would have thought I'd turn out just like you, Hiluluk, you idiot?

"Open the case, Doctor, so I can see it."

A few steps away, she obeyed. The lid came up to reveal rows of vials nestled against one another in snug red velvet slots. Kureha watched the Snow Woman appraise them carefully, before a satisfied smile stole over her face.

Enjoy it while you can, Frosty.

With that, she flung the box to one side.

Immediately the girl dove swift as an icy breeze to catch it. Intending to lunge past her to grab the alembic, Kureha only gave a lurch as something seized hold of her feet. The snow! She's got me trapped! A pillar of the stuff was moving up her legs, hard and unbreakable. In moments she would be entombed to suffocate. Thinking quickly, the healer snatched a book from a nearby table, drew back and threw straight at the explosive concoction.

Wailing gales moaned throughout the chamber, and a white wall sprang up between Kureha and her target. The medical tome thudded against it uselessly to fall into the snow. Next thing she knew her bare arm was seized in a fearsome grip. The cold that came with it was shocking, seeming to drain every drop of warmth out and leave her shivering.

Defiantly she looked up. Above her loomed a creature of elemental fury. Composed of snow, its mouth was filled with great icicle teeth. Even those once golden eyes now held only flat white death. This was the true form of a yuki-onna, known for enchanting men and luring them to their deaths in an icy waste. The monster dove for her, jaws spread wide to bite her face off. With surgical accuracy Dr. Kureha quickly spat the burning cigarette she still had in her mouth directly into the thing's eye. It jerked back with a hiss, granting her a momentary reprieve. Unfortunately her body was simply too numb to try and use this opportunity to break free. All she could do was watch as those murderous orbs opened to train on her again.

"That's enough."

The mythological monster froze. Slowly her attention moved in the same direction as Kureha's. At the other side of the room, the front door lay in a limp folded mess, like a wet towel hanging off its hinges. Standing framed there was a decidedly chilly Vice-Admiral Tsuru.

"You've got what you came for, witch," the old seadog declared. "Now I believe it's time for you to flee with your tail between your legs."

"You think I can't handle a pair of decrepit birds like you?" the Snow Woman whistled in a voice like frigid mountain winds.

"If I were you, I'd be more worried about the little brat who came with you."

That cold deadly face observed the wizened Marine carefully, as if judging whether or not to believe her. After a while she asked, "Is he still conscious, at least?"

"She is," the Washer Woman corrected her, reaching up to scratch behind one ear. "Though none too pleased at the predicament I left her in. I don't like to mistreat children, even if they are quick and nasty little buggers. Those creatures she had with her were more of a challenge. But I exercised restraint, don't you worry." When the winter maiden still appeared to hesitate, Tsuru added, "We can continue the fight if you like. But something tells me that bubbly mess over there is quite lethal, and if it gets shattered in the commotion, we all might die. So run on home and tell your 'young master' not to try my patience. He knows better than to underestimate me. Hopefully he's taught his followers the same. Now go help that little girl before she freezes to death."

The miscreant's eyes narrowed vengefully. For a moment it seemed she meant to kill them both, and not in any way that might be called pretty.

Then with a moan she became a mass of snowy gales that lunged backward, smashing through a window and escaping out into the wilds of Drum.

Kureha collapsed to her knees as the snow around them melted away. In a flash Tsuru was by her side to help the doctor into a chair. When the older woman's head came up, there was a flush of anger to her trembling face. "You idiot! What are you doing standing around here? Go after that thing, she's got the NHC-10!"

"It's over, Kureha. I'm sorry." The Vice-Admiral pulled up a seat and collapsed into it with a sigh. "Even if I got it back for you, she'd just wait 'til I'm gone and try again. I can't arrest her since she belongs to a shichibukai. I had hoped to keep this delivery under wraps to avoid any conflict, but it seems he has a mole in the Marines. Which means there's no safe storage left."

The witch doctor spat in trembling fury. "How did you know I needed help, anyway?"

She was surprised to see the old sailor clench a fist on the table, stoked wrath evident with every breath. "When I got back to the rendezvous point I mentioned, I found a lot of tracks in the snow. There were mine, but also a bunch of other people, and from what I could tell they had all come in with me. But I don't remember anyone accompanying me ashore! What's stranger is there were prints that looked like they belonged to a small child. They approached the others from the forest, and there were signs of a brief struggle. Then the child's tracks moved off in the company of a lot of bizarre footprints that just seemed to appear out of nowhere." Tsuru slumped in her seat and shook her head tiredly. "I can't explain it. But clearly something strange happened. I had to make sure the same thing didn't get to you, so I came back here as fast as I could."

Kureha rubbed her shoulders vigorously in an attempt to dispel the sense that she had been frozen bone-solid. "So that bit about you finding her little sister was all a bluff, eh?"

"So she has a sister. That's news. I just guessed she was trying to trick me about the gender, so that worked out at least." The younger generation of fighter picked up the pair of glasses off the table to examine them. Tsuru looked at her apologetically then. "I am truly sorry, Kureha. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

"No, what you should have done was destroy the NHC-10 rather than let anyone get away with it! Do you have any idea what kind of horrors that thing can do to people? No, of course you don't, you're–!"

"I think you should turn off that bomb on the stove before it blows, Doctor."

With a sharp curse Kureha leapt upright and stalked over to switch off the gas. She then placed both hands on the tabletop and seemed to sag forward, still trembling slightly. For the first time, she actually looked her age.

"Would you really have blown yourself up to keep it from falling into the wrong hands?" Tsuru asked quietly.

Kureha didn't answer at first. Her eyes drifted over to where the now cherry-blossom colored chemical sent up wisps of pink smoke.

Blown myself to bits? No way. Not for a drug.

I would have done it to protect him. Your son, Hiluluk.

Out loud, all the ancient doctor said was, "I swore an oath. And I mean to keep it."

FIN.