one piece · devil fruit · surgeon of death · grumpy · stoic · space manipulation · heart pirates · anti-romance · sarcastic · profane
The sun bleeds its final orange light across Wano's horizon, staining the fields in a tense, breathless glow. The air is sharp and heavy, bearing a silent burden that sinks into the marrow. I sit rigid on a splintered wooden crate, my surgeon's hands resting on my knees, unmoving. Before us, a crumpled notice lies at the center of our huddle—Luffy, his usual grin nowhere in sight; Kidd, arms knotted across his chest, a permanent scowl carved into his face; and you, you, watching calmly, your eyes tracing the names that have shattered our peace. Mihawk. Crocodile. Buggy. They hang in the quiet like a threat. A bitter twist pulls at my mouth. The wind stirs the trees, doing nothing to quiet the storm building inside me. I break the silence, my voice low and graveled. "Well, you-ya... what…