The faint, comforting aroma of Bonney's simple supper still lingered, a delicate veil in the cramped confines of the room. I watched her sleep, a small, peaceful curve on her makeshift bed. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, a stark counterpoint to the storm raging within me. This unseen ailment that clung to her, this enigma, pressed down on me, a silent weight added to the already considerable burdens I carried.
Kuma's deep rumble of a voice drew me from my troubled thoughts. His towering presence seemed to fill the small space, his gaze fixed on me with an unwavering intensity. His human features, etched with the quiet fortitude of a life lived hard, held a profound well of concern. "What is it you wished to discuss, Lazarus?" His tone was level, yet I could sense the undercurrent of worry for the child.
I turned fully, meeting his gaze. I knew his anxieties mirrored my own, amplified by the paternal affection he held for Bonney. "I believe," I began, my voice measured, "there might be a way to cure Bonney's… condition."
Kuma's still form seemed to shift almost imperceptibly, a fragile flicker of hope, fleeting as a breath, crossing his stoic features.
"I've been considering the possibilities," I continued, choosing my words with care. "There's a scientist, a brilliant mind, known as Dr. Vegapunk. His work… it's said he can achieve things others deem impossible. I believe he might hold the key to understanding, and perhaps even healing, Bonney."
A genuine spark of relief ignited in Kuma's eyes, momentarily softening the harsh lines etched by hardship. "Dr. Vegapunk… this is promising news."
But I had to temper that burgeoning hope. "However," I cautioned, my brow furrowing slightly, "Dr. Vegapunk works directly under the World Government. Given your… affiliations, Kuma, as a key figure in the Revolutionary Army, approaching him directly would be… difficult, if not outright dangerous."
The shadow of his previous worry returned, clouding his expression. The chasm between the revolutionaries and the World Government was too vast and treacherous to easily bridge.
Seeing his concern, I offered a sliver of reassurance. "But do not despair. As it happens, my uncle's closest friend… he and Dr. Vegapunk are old acquaintances. I believe I can reach out to him, explain the situation, and perhaps… perhaps he can intercede on Bonney's behalf."
Kuma's gaze sharpened slightly. "This friend of your uncle… is he also a Marine?"
I nodded, a hint of a wry smile touching my lips. "Yes. A high-ranking one, at that."
A moment of silence hung in the air as Kuma processed this unexpected information. Then, his deep, resonant voice broke the quiet. "Thank you, Lazarus. Thank you for sharing this." A pause, and then, a surprising declaration. "However… I also have a way. A path that might lead Dr. Vegapunk to help Bonney. You need not trouble your uncle's friend on our behalf."
I regarded him, a question forming in my eyes. His words held a certain weight, a quiet confidence that intrigued me.
Before I could inquire further, he shifted the topic. "I will be leaving for the Grand Line right now, Kuma."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "The Grand Line? So soon?" He then posed the question I knew had been weighing on him. "Lazarus… why? Why the path you have chosen? You harbor a deep resentment for the World Government, a hatred I have witnessed firsthand. Dragon himself saw your potential, offered you a position of command within the Revolutionary Army. Why refuse such an offer? Why choose to become… a pirate?"
The word hung in the air, thick with societal judgment. I met Kuma's gaze steadily, my own eyes reflecting the complex mix of defiance and conviction that now defined me.
"They call me a pirate," I stated, my voice firm, "and perhaps, by their definition, I am. But I still hold to the justice I learned as a Marine. My duty, as I see it now, is to scour the seas, to eradicate the scum that preys on the weak, the corrupt that thrive in the shadows. The Revolutionary Army seeks to dismantle the scum that sits on the throne, poisoning the world from above."
I paused, my gaze softening slightly. "Though our methods diverge, Kuma, our ultimate goal is the same: peace. A world free from oppression, a world where the innocent can live without fear."
I rose, the weariness of our conversation settling upon me. "I should be going."
As I turned towards the makeshift exit, Kuma's voice, laced with a newfound curiosity, stopped me. "Lazarus… why this kindness? Why extend such care and concern towards me and Bonney? We have known each other for barely a week."
I turned back, a genuine warmth touching my features. "Because, Kuma," I said simply, "you are a good person. And… we bear the same mark."
With a fluid motion, I extended my hands, manipulating the air around me. A large, shimmering bubble began to form, expanding until it was large enough to encase me comfortably. I stepped inside, the translucent walls sealing around me. With a subtle shift of my will, the bubble lifted from the ground, rising slowly towards the open sky.
I waved a silent farewell to Kuma, who stood watching with an unreadable expression, before directing the bubble towards the distant horizon, towards the turbulent waters of the Grand Line.
As I floated through the clear air, the familiar weight of a crumpled piece of paper caught my eye. My wanted poster. The crude drawing bore a passable resemblance, and the bold red numbers screamed a bounty of 89 million Berry. Beside it lay a tattered newspaper, its ink smudged in places.
I unfolded it, my eyes scanning the bold headlines. "Former Marine Turned Rogue Terrorizes Seas," one shrieked. The article detailed my supposed crimes: the audacious theft of a Marine warship and a staggering five thousand rifles, painting me as a dangerous renegade. Another article, even more sensationalized, proclaimed my brutality in the Sorbet Kingdom: "Ex-Marine Butcher King Bekori, Massacres Sorbet Kingdom."
A dry chuckle escaped my lips. The absurdity of it all, the blatant distortions of the truth, were almost comical. I had confronted King Bekori, a cruel tyrant who had brought immense suffering to his kingdom. Justice had been swift, eliminating the source of their pain and the king's loyal, corrupt followers. But the claim of a widespread massacre of innocent citizens was a lie, a fabrication intended to paint me as a monster. They twist the truth so easily, I thought with disgust.
My amusement, however, was short-lived. In the distance, a distinctive silhouette broke the horizon – a ship bearing the unmistakable Jolly Roger of the Donquixote Pirates. The flamboyant, crossed-out smiley face, a banner of chaos and cruelty, a symbol of the very scum I had vowed to eliminate.
A cold resolve settled in my eyes. My path to the Grand Line had just taken an unexpected detour. With focused concentration, I manipulated my bubble, altering its course, drawing it inexorably towards the approaching pirate vessel.