One Piece : Brotherhood

"Please… please help me!" A man dragged himself onto the path from beneath the rubble, his body covered in stark white patches, the telltale signs of the disease that had ravaged Flevance. His eyes, desperate and hollow, fixed on me as if I held the cure.

Despite ending the life of the Plague Fruit user, the epidemic hadn't ceased—it had only intensified, as if his death had somehow stoked the sickness into a fever pitch.

"Ross…" Little Robin tugged at my jacket, her wide, pleading eyes staring up at me. I could see the weight of her helplessness etched across her face.

She'd seen suffering before, lived through it herself, and it hurt her to witness others' agony and not be able to relieve it. Beside her, Mansherry sat perched on my shoulder, face pale, hands trembling from exhaustion but determined.

"Ross, I… I can still continue…" Mansherry's voice was small, tinged with quiet desperation. She couldn't ignore the pain surrounding us, nor the quiet suffering of the dying man who lay just ahead.

She wanted so badly to heal him, to help them all. I had forbidden her from using her fruit recklessly, knowing the toll it took on her. Mansherry, while powerful, was still physically fragile.

Unlike Leo, who had thrown himself into relentless training, strengthening his body and honing his skills, Mansherry had focused on mastering her Devil Fruit and her Observation Haki. Her strength was bound up in her ability to heal and empathize, and despite her pure intentions, her powers couldn't save everyone. Not without costing her life.

Before I could voice my refusal, Leo's voice cut through the air, full of fierce emotion.

"No! Absolutely not, Princess!" Leo's roar was loud, but the anger in his voice held a raw edge of fear. His fists clenched, shaking slightly as he spoke. He stepped toward her, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and sorrow.

"You've already pushed yourself to the brink. That last person… you had to tap into your own vitality just to heal him. Do you think we're all just going to stand by and let you keep sacrificing yourself like this?"

Mansherry looked up at Leo, surprised by his outburst, but she didn't look away. She could see the pain in his eyes, could feel the frustration and love beneath his anger.

"Leo, these people… they're suffering. I can't just sit by and do nothing…" she said softly, voice trembling.

Leo's expression softened, but his anger didn't abate. "And what would happen to us if something happened to you, Princess? Have you thought about that?" He looked away, jaw clenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"How would I… how would any of us look the elder in the eye back in the Tontatta Kingdom if we returned without you? If I failed to protect you, if I couldn't keep you safe?" His voice cracked slightly, and he quickly looked away, blinking hard.

Mansherry's gaze dropped to her hands, and for a moment, she was silent. She hadn't truly considered what her loss would mean to them. The sight of all the dying had overwhelmed her heart, and all she could think of was using her powers to ease their suffering.

But now, faced with Leo's words, she saw his pain, his desperate need to protect her, and the worry etched in his face.

"I… I hadn't thought about that," Mansherry whispered, her voice soft and tinged with guilt. "I'm sorry, Leo. I just… I just want to help."

Smoker, who had been silent until now, placed a gentle hand on Mansherry's little head. His gaze was tender, but his eyes were filled with a deep sadness.

"Mansherry," he said quietly, "I understand how you feel. Watching people suffer, knowing you have the power to help them… it's unbearable. I know because I've felt that pain, too. But there's a balance. Your life is precious to us, to everyone who loves you. Sacrificing yourself won't stop the suffering; it will only add to it."

Mansherry looked up at Little Robin to the side, her lip trembling slightly, caught between the weight of her desire to help and the realization of her own limits. She could see the empathy in Robin's gaze, the shared understanding of what it meant to want to save everyone—and the harsh reality of not being able to.

Leo hopped onto Smoker's shoulder, his voice gentler now but still tinged with a fierce determination. "You're family, Princess. We all depend on each other. And the last thing any of us could bear is to lose you because you tried to do too much."

"I'd give my life to protect you, Princess. But I don't want you giving up yours to save others. Not when we're here, not when we can find another way together." Leo added sincerely.

Tears welled up in Mansherry's eyes as she looked at Leo and then at Robin, feeling the love they held for her, the fierce loyalty that burned beneath their anger and sadness. She realized that her life, her well-being, meant as much to them as saving these people meant to her.

"I'm sorry… I didn't think…" Mansherry began, her voice thick with emotion.

I turned to Robin, noticing the way her shoulders drooped, her gaze clouded with grief. "Robin… if you'd like, you can go back to the ship," I offered gently.

She had insisted on joining us, but I could see the toll this scene was taking on her. The trauma from Ohara was still a raw wound in her heart, and the horrors around us were reopening it, piece by piece.

"No…!" Her voice wavered, but her resolve was steady. "I need to see this with my own eyes, Ross. Only then will I have the strength to change this world." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, her expression hardening with determination. Lucci, standing beside her, turned his gaze to the suffering man lying nearby.

"Master Ross," he asked, his voice cold yet calm. "Shall I grant him the mercy of death?"

I paused, knowing it wasn't the first time we'd been forced to make such a decision. Mansherry's healing had saved lives, yes, but it was merely a stopgap in the face of the catastrophe here. For every life saved, a hundred more were succumbing, and Flevance was writhing in agony.

My Observation Haki stretched out across the land, revealing the borders where other kingdoms' soldiers were combing through the outskirts, eliminating anyone they found. No one could blame them. They feared the plague spreading to their own people, and they'd taken drastic measures to quarantine the blight that was Flevance.

A week, I thought. At this rate, within a week, there wouldn't be a single soul left alive in this kingdom.

Meanwhile, back in the capital's central square, little Law stood before a grotesque mountain of corpses. The stench was overwhelming—rotting bodies piled high, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Yet, Law's gaze never wavered. He didn't flinch, didn't turn away, despite the bile rising in his throat. He was forcing himself to bear witness to the horrors around him, burning the images into his mind. He wanted to remember every detail, every grim truth, every drop of suffering.

A soft voice spoke from behind him. "You and your family are lucky, you know that, kid?"

Law didn't need to look back. He knew who it was: Christina, her presence unmistakable. She walked past him, carrying a large barrel of oil over her shoulder as easily as if it were a feather.

Her voice was always harsh, always brutally honest, but Law knew that beneath her bluntness was a measure of truth that he couldn't ignore. She had saved his family from death when no one else would, and he was painfully aware that without her, he and his sister Lami would likely have joined the heap of corpses beside him.

"Is this all a life is worth?" Law asked hollowly, staring at the pile. He was trying to understand, to make sense of the meaningless suffering around him.

From overhearing conversations between his father and others, he'd gathered the truth—that this wasn't a curse or punishment from nature. No, it was man-made, a tragedy born of greed and political manipulation. It was cruelty crafted by human hands.

Christina gave a humorless laugh, stepping up to the pile and tipping the barrel, letting the oil pour over the corpses. "Human life is fragile, little one," she said, her voice hard.

"Once, this kingdom was thriving—a place where even the poorest lived comfortably. Now look at it." She motioned to the bodies around them. "This is what's left. This is what happens when power and greed become more important than people's lives."

Law's hands clenched, his small fists shaking with barely suppressed rage. He looked up at her, voice thick with pain. "Is this… is this how we're going to end up, too? Is Lami going to be thrown into an unmarked grave, with no one left to remember her?"

Christina paused, her gaze softening as she looked at the boy. She could see now why her superiors had taken such an interest in him. This was no ordinary child. Where others his age would have been overwhelmed, Law was trying to understand—no, to fight. She saw the desperation, the refusal to simply accept the fate handed to him.

"Others might have to accept their fate, but you…" She took a drag from her pipe, exhaling a trail of smoke before continuing. "You have a chance, kid. Think about it: why do you think we're here? Why would a group of pirates go to such lengths to protect you and your family?"

Law's gaze didn't waver. He wasn't naive—he knew they wanted something in return. He had long suspected that they saw something in him, something they intended to use. But if that meant Lami could live, he would do whatever it took. He would sell his soul if it meant keeping his sister safe.

Christina seemed to read his mind. "You're right," she said, a grim smile on her lips. "We want something. But it isn't just about using you, Law. You have potential—potential to rise above all of this." She gestured around her, at the ruins of Flevance, at the corpses scattered across the ground. "Most people will never get that chance. But fate's handed you a different path."

Law met her gaze, the cold fire of resolve in his eyes. He understood now. This wasn't about some vague notion of revenge or fate. This was about choosing what to do with the hand he'd been dealt. He had seen what greed, what ambition, could do to a kingdom. He'd witnessed the cost of a life lived in submission to power. Now, he would decide what to do with the spark of life he still held.

"I won't let it end here," he whispered, almost to himself. "For Lami… for everyone who didn't make it. I'll live, and I'll make them pay for what they've done."

Christina's smile widened, her face reflecting a rare expression of pride. "Then let's get to it, kid." She walked toward the pile, oil still dripping from the corpses as she flicked a match, the flame catching instantly, lighting up the faces of the dead in a somber glow. "This world doesn't care, Law. You're going to have to make it care."

As the fire roared to life, Law stood silently, watching the flames consume the remains of Flevance's fallen citizens, etching their loss and suffering into his soul. He had made his choice. This was only the beginning. And he would carry their memories forward, reshaping this cruel world into something that could finally, truly, be called just.

"Let's go, kid. We wouldn't want to be late for the execution now, would we?" Christina exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, her voice both grim and resolute.

"The whole world will soon know exactly what happened in Flevance—and who was responsible for it. Maybe, just maybe, these souls will finally find some closure." She directed Law down the path where the royal palace had once stood, now reduced to a heap of rubble beneath a hastily constructed scaffold.

A massive platform rose in the heart of the ruins, a grim monument to justice, or perhaps vengeance. Atop the scaffold lay Admiral Hazard, once a figure of indomitable strength. Now, he was a shell, barely clinging to life, his once powerful frame wasted and broken.

Shackled with seastone cuffs, every ounce of his Haki had been drained, leaving him defenseless against the same plague that had decimated the citizens of Flevance. Infection gnawed away at the stump where his arm had been severed, and patches of rot spread across his body, making him appear both pitiful and grotesque.

Beside Hazard sat Issho, his expression pensive, his face set with the weight of duty. Although he disliked the idea of this public spectacle, he understood the necessity of it. The citizens below had gathered at great risk, some still bearing early symptoms of the plague themselves.

They had come not only for justice but to finally lay eyes upon one of the men responsible for the devastation of their homeland. They were the few left unscathed, but the memory of their loved ones—and their anger—burned hot in their hearts.

Mounted on spikes beside the scaffold were two severed heads, grisly trophies of the fallen regime. One was the head of King Asbestos, a man who had turned a blind eye to the suffering of his people in his insatiable greed.

The other head belonged to Hugo, a figure once so familiar and trusted by the people. Many in the crowd recognized his face with a jolt of horror. He had been one of their own—a friendly bartender, a neighbor, someone they had trusted and confided in. Now, his severed head was a macabre reminder of betrayal.

The crowd seethed, their voices a cacophony of rage and sorrow, filling the square like the roar of a storm. Issho, sensitive to the emotions radiating from the gathered masses, felt their pain pressing upon him.

Their cries demanded retribution, the release of pent-up anguish, the kind of closure that could only be bought in blood. Despite his inner conflict over the justice of such an execution, Issho could not deny the grim solace it might offer to the people who had suffered so deeply.

A broken voice rasped from beside him. "Just… just kill me," Hazard pleaded, his voice hoarse and trembling, no longer the authoritative tone that had once struck fear into so many. He had asked the same question countless times, his words now barely more than a murmur, a desperate prayer to escape the torment he now faced.

For a man who had once commanded an entire fleet, whose authority had seemed absolute, this pitiful, pleading figure was an ironic testament to the fallibility of power.

Issho's blind eyes shifted, a slight frown creasing his brow. He felt no warmth for the Admiral, only a cold acceptance of what must be. Although he disapproved of the psychological torment Hazard was enduring, a small part of him whispered that this was a fitting end.

Let the people see the man who had stood by as their lives crumbled; let them witness his suffering as he faced the consequences of his crimes.

"Mercy… please," Hazard whispered, his head hanging low as he felt the weight of thousands of eyes upon him. But there would be no mercy here. He had shown none, not when he had the power to prevent this disaster, not when his choices had led to this nightmare.

From the crowd, a voice shouted, "Let him suffer! Let him rot like we did!"

Another called, "This is justice! He deserves worse!"

Christina nudged Law forward towards where Lance stood, her face a grim mask of resolve as they stood before the scaffold.

"Remember this, kid," she murmured. "Remember what unchecked power and corruption can do. This is the cost of betrayal—the price of ignoring suffering for the sake of ambition. Don't let yourself forget it."

Law's face remained stoic, but his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms. He looked up at Hazard, taking in the withered figure before him.

This was the man who had upheld the system that poisoned his country, the man who had stood by while Flevance was ravaged and left to die. Law's gaze hardened, the embers of vengeance sparking in his young heart.

Issho could feel the boy's silent fury, the deep-seated anger simmering beneath his composed exterior. It was the same kind of rage that the people below harbored—the same wound that refused to heal. But Law's anger was different—it was cold, calculating, something more than blind hatred. It was a promise, a vow.

Issho's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand lives. "You know what you have to do to make this end," he murmured, his tone both relentless and oddly gentle, like the final note of a dirge.

Hazard, once an unyielding Marine Admiral, was a hollow shell now. He could no longer endure the suffering, the wounds festering with infection, the agony coursing through his veins. And he knew that without a confession, this torment would never cease.

That man—the monster he had become a prisoner of—would keep him alive, healing him just enough to keep his suffering going. There would be no escape without the truth.

"Fine! I will confess," he croaked, his voice breaking, his hands trembling as he raised them in surrender.

"I'll tell the world everything. The truth about Flevance, about Amber Lead, and how the World Government drove an entire people to oblivion." His voice quivered, his words spilling out in a desperate rush as if hoping they might buy him mercy.

The crowd quieted, the weight of his confession settling over them like a shroud. Hazard took a shuddering breath, the last of his pride broken, his words barely coherent as he began.

"The plague… this plague has nothing to do with Amber Lead poisoning." He winced at the gasps that rippled through the mob below. "It was orchestrated. This suffering was planned."

He struggled against his own disgust, but continued, his voice rising above the fury and heartbreak around him.

"The royal family of Flevance, greedy and self-serving, had long been aware of the truth. They knew what Amber Lead would do to its people, the suffering it would bring to the generations that came after them. They knew, and they colluded with the World Government to hide it."

He paused, struggling to find the strength to speak his own crimes aloud, his gaze wandering over the horrified faces below.

"But it didn't end there. They feared that the truth would eventually come to light, that the legacy of their greed and cruelty would not stay buried. And so they turned to the World Government's Cipher Pol agency… to bury the truth permanently."

A murmur of rage rose, boiling over like an eruption. Some in the crowd hurled stones, bits of debris from the ruins that surrounded them, even scraps of wood, their fury unbound.

Others surged toward the scaffold, hands reaching, fists clenched, their anguish given voice in cries of fury. They wanted his blood—they needed it, if only to feel something could be set right.

Yet each attempt was halted midair, as Issho's gravity held them back, containing their rage with the weight of his own power.

Issho's face remained stoic, but within, he felt each pulse of the crowd's anger, every tremor of despair and grief. He was not just bearing witness; he was shouldering it, absorbing their pain and amplifying it, channeling it into the role he had accepted.

He would bring justice for those who could not find it themselves, would make sure their suffering meant something.

Hazard's voice broke again, a sliver of humanity breaking through his remorse. "I… I let it happen. I followed their orders without question. And when they decided Flevance needed to be silenced, I let them. I helped them."

His head bowed, tears sliding down his haggard face. He had orchestrated death on a scale beyond reckoning, had used his own power to wipe out towns and villages under the guise of justice.

But then, his voice wavered, almost a whisper, as he faced one final sin. "And there's… there's someone else I owe an apology to."

Hazard's voice faltered as he forced himself to remember her face—a face that had faded over years of violence, yet one Rosinante had insisted he acknowledge to find his release.

It was one of the conditions set forth to end his torment: an apology to a girl whose life he had stolen, a life so innocent, yet shattered under his cruelty. He hadn't remembered her name at first. But now, it came rushing back, bringing with it the full weight of what he had done.

"Hannah…" he murmured, his voice cracking as he felt her presence like a specter. "I took her life. She was the daughter of a merchant… I remember the terror in her eyes, and still, I—" His words caught in his throat, the shame gripping him like a vice.

"I ravaged her life without hesitation, without a second thought. I see her face every time I close my eyes now."

He was shaking, his face contorted in remorse, no longer the imposing Marine Admiral but a broken man who had tasted the bitter truth of his own darkness. "Hannah… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he choked, the words trembling in the silence. It was the apology of a man who knew he deserved no forgiveness.

And soon enough, Hazard laid bare all his crimes; the list went on and on; even some bloodthirsty pirates wouldn't have so much blood on their hands. The crowd fell silent, the air heavy with shared grief and anger. The people below began to weep, some even clutching the hands of loved ones beside them, seeking solace in the solidarity of their pain.

Hazard's words had opened old wounds, and for the first time, his arrogance shattered. His confession hung in the air, bitter and raw, seeping into the hearts of those around him.

As the confession ended, Lance, standing near the front in his doctor's ccoat, emerged from the crowd and climbed onto the scaffold. His face was twisted with a mixture of rage and sorrow; unlike others, Issho didn't stop him.

Standing before Hazard, he gripped a spear, his hands trembling with fury. "I'm a doctor," he began, his voice thick with barely contained emotion.

"I swore an oath to save lives, not take them. But you… you're no human. You don't deserve to live." His voice cracked as he raised the spear, his eyes wet with tears. "Today, I will make an exception. For Flevance… for every life you destroyed."

Yet as he stood there, weapon poised, his resolve faltered. The weight of his oath, the horror of ending a life, fought against his fury. The spear clattered from his hands, and he collapsed to his knees, his head bowed, tears spilling down his cheeks.

A firm hand settled on his shoulder. It was Issho.

"You don't have to carry this burden," the blind swordsmanl said, his voice a low rumble, heavy with conviction. "This is not your cross to bear."

Issho knelt beside him, his eyes unseeing but his heart resonating with the sorrow around him. He took a deep breath, his grip tightening on Lance's shoulder.

"I'll do it. For your sake, for those who can't carry this weight. I will be the blade for those who can't wield one. I will bring justice to those who were silenced, to those who wander without peace."

Rising to his feet, Issho turned to Hazard, who now slumped in resignation, his confession finally given, his sins laid bare. He had nowhere left to hide, no place left to turn. Issho raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent, sensing the gravity of this final moment.

Issho moved closer to Hazard, lowering his voice so that only he could hear. "Your crimes may never be forgiven, but your confession… it will be remembered. For the lives you've taken, for the innocence you've stolen, today you will pay the price."

He stepped back, casting a final look over the crowd, absorbing their agony, letting it settle into his soul as if he could ease their suffering by shouldering it.

He raised his sword, its edge gleaming in the dim light, a blade that bore the weight of a thousand souls. The crowd grew silent, their anger quieting in the face of this final moment. Issho's hand was steady as he prepared to end it, his voice a whisper that carried across the square.

"For those who could not see justice in life, let it be known that justice will find you in the end."

With one swift stroke, he brought the blade down, and Hazard's life ended in a single, resolute motion. The man fell, his sins silenced forever.