The Oro Jackson cut through the azure waves.
Rhett stood at the ship's stern, mist swirling around his fingertips as he healed a crewmate's arm. What if the mist fails one day?
He'd boarded this pirate ship at three years old. Before his Devil Fruit, they'd slapped on bandages and relied on their monstrous physiques. Then his power bloomed, and somehow the role of ship doctor fell to him.
The problem? Rhett knew nothing about medicine. His healing was brutal and direct, like Tsunade's technique, stimulating muscle cell division, except he flooded the body with raw life force. It worked wonders for external injuries, but actual medical knowledge was beyond him. As Roger's illness loomed, Rhett couldn't help but wonder if Crocus had joined the crew sooner, would things have been different?
Better prepare for the worst, Rhett muttered.
During dinner, Rhett tapped his glass, drawing everyone's attention.
"We need a ship doctor," he announced.
Silence, then laughter.
Gaban grinned. "What's the matter, little Rhett? Running out of mist?"
Shanks raised a hand excitedly. "Rhett-gege used his mist to fix my broken bone last time! It was amazing! Didn't even hurt—just felt kinda itchy!"
Buggy, mouth full of meat, chimed in. "Yeah! This boss was all beaten up, but after a dip in Rhett's mist, good as new!"
Roger laughed heartily. "Kuhahaha! Rhett, you're not trying to slack off, are you?"
The crew's laughter wasn't misunderstanding, it was unwavering trust in Rhett. He'd never let them down.
Rhett didn't laugh. He knew because of their trust that he had to find a professional doctor.
"My ability can only heal external injuries, and my methods are crude," Rhett said, calm but firm. "For your sake, for your futures, we need a real ship doctor."
"Hey, Rhett, who are you looking down on?" Gaban snapped, clearly offended.
Ignoring Gaban, Rhett scanned the crew, his gaze finally settling on Roger. "We need a professional ship doctor," he repeated.
Silence again. The crew knew Rhett must have his reasons. They didn't ask questions—they simply trusted him.
Rayleigh stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Who do you have in mind?"
"Twin Cape," Rhett said. "Crocus."
The Oro Jackson docked beside the lighthouse of Twin Cape. Rhett stood at the bow, black hair tousled by the sea breeze, crimson eyes fixed on the lighthouse and the man beneath it, glasses perched on his nose, expression cold.
"Doctor Crocus!" Rhett called out, waving.
Crocus didn't look up, continuing to flip through his medical notes. "Pirates? Not interested."
Gaban crossed his arms, grinning. "Hey, old man, we're here with sincerity!"
Crocus snorted. "Pirates and 'sincerity'? The last guy who said that nearly blew up my lighthouse. Now he's probably fertilizer somewhere at the bottom of the sea."
Roger laughed heartily. "Kuhahaha! That guy must've been an idiot!"
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, his tone calm. "We need a ship doctor, and your skills... are unmatched."
Crocus finally looked up, his gaze settling on Rhett. "Even if I agreed—"
Before he could finish, the sea erupted violently, and a massive shadow broke through the waves.
"Boom—!"
A colossal island whale—Laboon—surfaced, its eyes locked onto the Oro Jackson. A deep, warning growl rumbled from its throat.
Buggy screamed, leaping onto the mast. "Waaaaah! How is this whale so huge?!"
Shanks gripped his sword tightly, eyes gleaming. "So cool..."
Crocus stood on the shore, his voice calm. "I won't be boarding your ship. If you want to fight, come and try."
But Rhett smiled.
Laboon, the little whale of the Rumbar Pirates. Rhett had always been fond of him. The Rumbar Pirates had perished fifty years ago, and even decades later, when Monkey D. Luffy arrived, Laboon still remembered his promise to them.
Brook, Laboon—this was a mutual longing. Rhett leaped into the air, mist gathering beneath his feet, lifting him gently onto Laboon's nose.
Laboon blinked, stunned.
Rhett crouched down, placing his palm gently on Laboon's rough skin. A faint flow of blood-red mist seeped out.
"Big guy, we're not enemies," Rhett said softly, like coaxing a child.
Laboon let out a low moan, his tail splashing uneasily.
Rhett smiled, pulling out a small Tone Dial. The songs of the Rumbar Pirates still echoed across the seas. Wasn't that a kind of success?
He pressed play, and a melodious tune drifted into the air.
Laboon froze.
That was... the song of the Rumbar Pirates.
Crocus's pupils constricted. "How do you—"
Rhett put away the Tone Dial and looked at Laboon, delivering the most important news for the whale. "The Rumbar Pirates are gone, but Brook is still alive."
Laboon's breathing quickened, his massive eyes shimmering with tears.
Rhett continued, "He's trapped in the Florian Triangle, but he hasn't forgotten his promise to you. He's waiting."
Laboon let out a mournful cry, a mix of sorrow and hope.
Crocus hurried to the shore, his voice trembling slightly. "Are you sure? I've been searching for them. How can I trust you're not lying?"
Rhett nodded. "I swear on the name of the Roger Pirates."
Laboon stayed silent for a long time before slowly sinking back into the sea, only half his head visible, his eyes wet as he stared at Rhett, as if asking, "Really?"
"Of course it's true."
Rhett jumped back onto the ship, brushing off the water droplets, and grinned at Crocus. "Now, will you join us?"
Crocus stared at him for a long moment before finally sighing. "...We leave in three days."
Crocus boarded the Oro Jackson, and Laboon no longer rammed against the Red Line. Instead, he floated quietly in the sea, watching them depart.
But Rhett wasn't in a rush to return to the ship. He'd wanted to help Laboon for a long time and had prepared a Devil Fruit perfect for him—the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Fighter. Useless for humans, granting only basic combat knowledge and reflexes. But for a massive island whale like Laboon? Strength wasn't an issue.
The downside was freedom. Laboon could never swim the seas alone again.
Unless—
Rhett's blood mist could shield him for days now, dense enough to resist the ocean's pull.
The choice, of course, remained Laboon's.