Chapter 10: Our Great Pirate Adventure
During their time on Morey Pier the Donquixote family developed an easy and familiar way with one another in terms of physical affection, especially when it came to Doffy, and this pleased him to no end. He knew that outsiders would not understand them, but he didn’t care. No, that wasn’t quite true. He did care in that it pleased him to be different; to be set apart from the common rabble. In his mind his family and the way they behaved were simply above the understanding of average peons.
Doffy now felt that he had taken his first steps into manhood, and his thirteenth birthday made that milestone official. The birthday itself had been a glorious and terrible occasion, marking Doffy’s ascension in fire and in blood. With only a week to go before their new pirate ship would arrive, they had sailed back to the island where Doffy had met them for the first time and together they had laid the town and its murderous, pitiless people to waste and to ruin.
There was something triumphal in it. It was the end of a chapter of Doffy’s life. It was the fulfillment of his promise, the promise he had made in that other night of fire and blood, when he had lost his eye. The promise that he would kill everyone. He had kept it. When the celebration of his birthday was finally done, not a soul who had done him wrong remained alive.
It had been beautiful. It had been splendid. A happy birthday, indeed, and his family had joked and laughed; they had feasted and drunk, and had played games and enjoyed one another’s company in the ruined town.
It hadn’t been enough to satisfy the dark, gnawing hole inside of Doflamingo.
His vengeance had been as sweet as good wine, but it hadn’t stopped his nightmares, or dulled the ache of the loss of his brother. If anything, by the time that they all returned to Morey Pier to wait out the few days before their ship would come in, both of those had returned in abundance, sharper than ever.
Doffy would no longer sleeping alone at all, thanks to that. Instead, he spent each night in one of the others’ beds, smothering himself under their affections.
On the final night before the ship’s arrival Doffy slept huddled against the long curve of Trebol’s body, shifting restlessly against his silk pajamas, and weighed down under the shared thick stack of covers.
His tossing and turning woke Trebol, who gently pushed his fingers through Doffy’s sweaty hair. “Hey, hey, Doffy, you’re dreaming again. Wake up.”
Doffy made a soft noise, almost like a dying bird, and clutched at Trebol’s pajamas burying his face in his chest and breathing hard.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Doffy, I’m here,” Trebol reassured him, holding him tightly. “It was a dream.”
Doffy took big, shuddering breaths, and clutched him, nodding.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head against Trebol’s chest. He’d barely been asleep, but he’d still been dreaming. Been dreaming of his birthday, which mingled sickly with dreams of the mob. He dreamed that Rosi had been in town on his birthday, and that by mistake they’d…
A choked noise escaped his throat instead of words.
Hearing that, Trebol sat up and gathered Doffy in his arms, into his lap. “Come on, it’s almost morning anyway. No need to keep trying to sleep, eh?”
“Okay.”
Doffy let Trebol lift him, coddling him and murmuring gentle reassurances as he picked him up, and offering him the bottle of wine from the bedside. Doffy sipped from it carefully, trying to banish the images from his mind. Rosi’s face in terror, covered in blood, his eyes hidden by matted hair.
He tried to focus on now, instead. On the way Trebol’s boney arms were still strong enough to hold him– forever, he hoped– on the taste of the wine; warm and slightly sour. In the echo of their footsteps down the hall of the old manor house as they headed down to the kitchen.
“We’ll be leaving this place tomorrow,” he murmured as Trebol carried him down the stairs. “We probably won’t see it again.”
“No indeed,” Trebol agreed. He paused to light the lamp in the main hall. “The workers will certainly loot it, after we’re gone. Whatever we leave to them. Will you miss it, Doffy?”
“Not really. There are good memories here, but places are just… places. It’s the people who are important, and we’re all leaving together.”
It helped to remind himself of that. To banish long-gone, probably-dead Rosi with the reminder that his new family, his real family would always be with him. Would never leave him. Would never let him down when it really mattered. And tomorrow, they were starting a great new adventure together as pirates.
“Ah, young master, always wise beyond your years.” Trebol chuckled softly and set Doffy down in one of the kitchen chairs, lighting up the lamps in that room too, and casting them both in their warm glow. “Would you like some fruit juice? Or shall I go wake Dia so he can make us some coffee?”
“Let him sleep.” Doffy waved his hand, resting his chin on one arm against the table. “Juice is fine for now.”
Most of the stuff in the kitchen was already packed up; charmed by Dia’s devil fruit power, and rolled up neatly to save space. They’d even decided to take along some of the furniture like that, including the armchair that Trebol had gotten very attached to.
That too, helped push away the lingering anxiety of the dream. Helped slow the thudding heart in his chest. Helped soften the ache, the wish to go back. To do something differently.
There wasn’t anything he could have done differently. There wasn’t anything he should have done differently. He’d done everything right.
He had done everything right, and this was where it had led him.
And now he was going to go on a great adventure, and become a pirate.
And now– right now– he was going to climb back into Trebol’s lap and have some juice.
It would be sweeter than the wine for certain.
When Dia came whistling cheerfully down into the kitchen that morning, he was only slightly surprised to see Doffy and Trebol already sitting there. He didn’t even have to ask; he just met Trebol’s gaze, and got a little nod in return.
Nightmares again.
He sighed, and rustled Doffy’s hair on his way to the stove to get the coffee going. “Morning, you two. Big day today, yeah?”
Doffy straightened from where he’d been slumped in Trebol’s lap and turned on that bright smile of his. “Yeah! We’re finally gonna be real pirates!”
Trebol chuckled. “So we are, so we are. Once Pica and Corazon get down here, we’ll go over the plan one more time.”
“Haven’t we been over it enough?” Dia teased. While the coffee kettle was heating, he started frying some eggs. “I think I could walk through it in my sleep. Ain’t exactly complicated.”
“Hey, hey we don’t want to screw it up and spoil Doffy’s excitement, now do we?”
“Alright, alright, you got me there.”
Later that morning Doffy grinned widely at Vergo from across the table in the kitchen. It was still strewn with dishes from breakfast. No one had cleaned them up since they were going to be leaving. Why bother?
“Are you ready to be a pirate?”
Vergo’s foot thunked against the leg of the table again as he swung it back and forth, the light catching his glasses as he put his fingers to his chin. “Maybe. Though I don’t know if I really look like a pirate yet.”
“Hmm…” Doffy considered it. On the whole, he probably didn’t look much like a pirate yet either. “How do you think we should change that?”
“Don’t they usually wear big hats? Though those get in the way, don’t they?” Vergo mused slowly, his brow knitting.
This was an important question.
“Well, Dia wears a big hat,” Doffy mused, tapping his lip. “But I always kinda felt like they get in the way, yeah.”
“He might be the most piratey of all of us at the moment,” Vergo bobbed his head. “So let’s skip them. They’re his thing. Maybe we’ll just have to make a flag instead. Wear it on everything.”
“We already have a flag, remember?” Doffy nudged Vergo’s foot gently with his own under the table, as he reminded him. Diamante had made it, to Doffy’s specifications, and presented it at his birthday. “But I love the idea of wearing it on everything!”
“Oh…” Vergo rubbed the back of his neck—his spotty memory acting up again. “Yeah, that’s right. I remember it. The big smile. We should put it on shirts and buckles and stuff.”
Doffy rested his foot against Vergo’s. His little memory issues were endearing, if silly, usually. But he got mad when he thought about why they happened. He put the anger away for now, and focused on his excitement.
“We should put it on everything!” Doffy agreed. “You’ll wear it, right? And you’ll call me ‘captain’?”
“I’ll wear it on everything ya want me to wear it on,” Vergo nodded firmly, before his smile grew on his face. “Of course, Captain. Captain Doffy.”
Doffy’s smile grew wider, too.
Pica stood lookout for the ship on the hill behind the manor, spy-glass in hand. A chill went through him when he finally saw it crest the horizon, the Bully Whim’s stout, heavily armed profile reminded him too much of the old fishing ship that he and Vergo had been enslaved on.
But that was years ago. He was far stronger now, bigger, and more practiced at violence and killing. The captain on this ship– brutal and foolish as Trebol described him– would be summarily stomped into paste, and then Doflamingo would be the ship’s new captain.
He was looking forward to Doffy being their captain. That was exciting. Doffy would be the captain, and Pica would be an officer, and have his own crew to boss around. Doffy had even been talking about putting him in charge of the ship’s weapons and that was very exciting.
Pica picked up the pace as he rushed down the hill to tell everyone to get ready.
Trebol had already made it known days ago to the workers that, unlike usual, their assistance would not be needed with the ship when it arrived today. He had given the foremen another generous bonus to their pay. Certainly they were suspicious, but they were also very greedy, and careless. Some of them, he was sure, were smart enough that they were already sizing up the manor.
When the ship docked, there would be no help coming for the captain and skeleton crew of the Bully Whim.
Trebol waited at the dock with the others as the ship approached, a smile on his face like the cat about to get the canary.
“It’s really ugly,” Doffy observed as the ship came into view. His nose wrinkled, and there was a signature pout on his lips.
It was true that the ship wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing. A rather fat hulk, bristling with obvious weaponry, and no particular frills or flourishes.
Vergo tilted his head to the side. “….it is. Think we can find someone to force to help decorate it a bit? More color would help.”
“Splash of color wouldn’t hurt,” Dia agreed thoughtfully, stroking his chin as they watched the ship get closer.
“Maybe…” Doffy whined. He poked his fingertips together, considering the idea. “A pink ship wouldn’t be too bad.”
“You know, once we’re successfully pirates, we could get our own custom made ship,” Trebol offered. Ever since they’d begun earnestly making an attempt at the pirate life, he’d been reading about the culture. Custom built pirate ships were a ‘must have’ for famous pirates, it seemed.
“They do that?” Vergo tilted his head. “If they did—how crazy can you make it? Can you make it, I dunno—a big flamingo or something? A cat-ship?”
Doffy’s smile lit up at the suggestion. “A flamingo!”
Trebol had a terrifying vision of the future.
Captain Slidell didn’t like the scene waiting for him on Morey Pier when he stomped down the gangplank. The cannery workers were nowhere to be seen, nor was Mr. Watts, and instead, waiting for him was an assortment of grinning, mercenary looking weirdos.
There was no other word for them. Two of them were extremely tall and gawky, of indeterminate age. The other three were young, Slidell didn’t know or care how young, and all three of them were finely, but unusually dressed in a mishmash of styles and garments.
Something was definitely amiss here.
He had his hand on his sword as he approached. “What’s all this then? Where’s Watts? Where are the damned workers?”
To Slidell’s surprise, it was the soft, fancy looking blond lad who stepped forward, his chin raised haughtily.
“My Uncle George Watts, rest his soul, passed and left this factory to me. As for the workers, there’s been an outbreak of influenza in the cannery, which I doubt you want your crew to catch?”
He scowled. Fat old Watts had been in admittedly poor health, though if he had a nephew, he hadn’t mentioned it to Slidell. Not that was any kind of surprise, Watts was also tight lipped and unsociable. And the conditions for his workers were adequate, but plagues and diseases among the poor were common.
“Do you have the paperwork of my agreement with your uncle?” Slidell demanded. He tacked on a perfunctory, “Rest his soul.”
One of the gawky men– the one in the heavy coat– stepped forward. “We do indeed. In fact, young master Doflamingo had asked me to negotiate with you a more generous agreement, if you had the time. And we can add on a bonus for your crew having to move the stock themselves, due to the unfortunate illness.”
Slidell turned his suspicious gaze on the man.
“And you are?”
The “young master” stepped forward. “Trebol is my secretary. He tells me that my uncle has been a terrible skinflint to you, and I’d like to make amends.”
That finally brought a smile to his face. Watts had been a canny old bastard who had haggled him to the last berry– and Slidell had haggled right back. If the old man’s bleeding heart nephew wanted to give him more money for free he certainly wasn’t going to turn it down, no sir. It would be a nice bit of extra dosh to line his pockets.
“Right then,” Slidell grunted. “I’ll get the crew hauling and be back to discuss finances with your secretary, ‘young master’.”
He was so pleased about the situation he didn’t think to question the other two kids, or what they were snickering about as he tromped back up the gangplank to shout orders.
There were two reasons for luring the captain and crew off of the ship before killing them, according to Trebol. The first was so that some wise ass didn’t decide to try firing cannons at them, and the second was so that they didn’t damage the ship in the brawl.
Diamante couldn’t argue with that. It would be more fun to cut loose without worrying about breaking their new toy. There were only 15 or so men on the crew, but they were rough, experienced sailors so the fight would at least be a slight workout and not something completely trivial.
Besides, watching the captain react to Doffy’s stupid rich kid routine was priceless. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when they got to the punchline of the joke.
“Is this your whole crew?” Doffy asked once the workers were on the pier with the freight. “Not very many people…”
The captain snorted. “Don’t need a full crew for waters like these, lad. Just cost you a fortune in wages.”
Diamante swaggered forward with the punchline. “Well, we’re about to save you a fortune, then.”
Vergo snickered softly off to the side in a way that was sure to be disconcerting to anyone with half a brain. Lucky, the captain probably didn’t even have that.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the captain grimaced. His hand did finally go for his sidearm, but it was much too late.
Diamante was faster on the draw.
The last time Vergo had been in a fight with a half dozen burly sailors it had not gone well for him.
Things were different now. It was an unfair fight in a completely different direction.
Vergo had a mastery of haki now—and his fists and body were coated head to toe with it as he danced like lightning across the ground and pounded man’s skulls flat like they were cans of cola under a cart’s wheels.
Blood dripped smoothly from armament haki, repelled as everything else was from it, as he kept his calm expression through even the sailor’s retaliation.
Back when he was little he’d be struck and drop to the floor, beaten black and blue for ever daring to even speak up. Back in the day, they’d hit his head so hard he’d lost something he’d never get back.
But now he was taking everything from them with only a few swings of his deadly fists and a haki-coated stalk of bamboo.
The rest of the gang was just as deadly. The handful of sailors, as big, and tough as they were, didn’t stand a chance against the five of them. They were tougher. They were better. Any two of them could probably have dealt with the whole crew, with a few more scrapes and bruises than they finally ended up with.
But this way, with the five of them, none of them even got hurt. The sailors all went down. Vergo saw one of the smarter ones trying to flee, only to be lassoed back by a handful of silvery threads and strangled on the boards of the pier.
Vergo took a moment to enjoy the sight of him dying. He reminded him dimly of the fuzzy memory shapes that were the old captain’s crew— the men who’d never done a thing for their lowly cabin boys.
In a way, it was like putting a face on them again—where the knock to the head took them away. “Heh.”
Doffy looked around, beaming widely. There was a trace of blood spattered across his cheek and over his glasses.
“That’s all of them, right?”
“Looks like,” Dia nodded, nudging one of the bodies with his boot until it fell off into the water.
Vergo lifted one up to look at him before tossing him in the water too. “Means the boat is ours, right?”
“Presumably, yes!” Trebol gloated cautiously. The pier around him was dripping with glue, and one of the sailors was still busy dying under his heels, just like that first day they’d met on the fishing boat. “We’ll have to check the ship to make sure there’s no one hidden away on it, but…”
Doffy pointed at the hulking boat. “But we have a pirate ship! We have to put up the flag!”
“No sooner asked than done, Doffy,” Dia promised. “Shall we check her out?”
“Yes!!”
Vergo felt Doffy’s threads wrap around his wrist as he pulled them all toward the gangplank.
As he often did, he stumbled along after him with a subtle smile, letting Doffy lead the charge like the captain—the king he really was. His eyes turned up towards the massive ship with a hum of amusement.
It was big, strong, and one day they’d have an even better one. It was the first step towards being real pirates instead of just a gang of thugs on the mainland. Like in the comics.
Dia was relieved to find when they searched below deck that there was no one else on the ship. He’d harbored a small worry that they might find that this captain had kept the kind of pressed labor that Corazon and Pica had been forced into when they’d met.
From the little nod that Pica gave him when he declared ’empty’ he gathered it had been on the kid’s mind too.
“Better that we pick up some crew we know are interested in being pirates,” Dia said, tapping his nose thoughtfully. He’d spent some time over the last weeks chatting up the cannery workers to see if any of them were up to the task, but he’d come up empty.
“Soon, right?”
“Soon enough, yeah. Doffy and Tre have some plans on that, I think.” They were going to sail south, toward, toward the bigger, warmer cities all choked with industrial sprawl. Plenty of tough down-on-their-lucks who’d give their right leg to sail with a pirate crew in places like that. “They wanna make sure we only bring aboard people who are gonna be loyal, you know?”
Pica nodded. “It’s important.”
It was important. Dia sure as hell didn’t want to be woken up by a fucking attempted mutiny in the dead of night. But he did think they could benefit from a few more bodies around the place. They were a tight knit group, but there was a lot of work to sailing a ship. Not only that but Dia found himself itching for a little more company; a few more drinking buddies, and more people to show off to.
Maybe even a few girls he could convince Trebol were worth their time. Not that he didn’t love screwing around with the gang, but, there was always room for variety.
He slapped Pica companionably across the back. “C’mon, let’s get up there. We still gotta haul the baggage on board. Next time, somebody else can do it, eh?”
Pica smiled, and that was as good as getting a laugh out of him.
They were almost ready to go.
Doffy watched with a huge grin on his face as Diamante balled up their new ship’s old flag and tossed it into the sea before hoisting their own flag up the mast. The Donquixote flag. Once it was raised to the top of the ship it fluttered handsomely, unfurling and showing its colors in the stiff breeze. Its bright smile under the crossbar mirrored Doffy’s own.
He pumped his fist into the air and whooped. “The Donquixote pirates are ready to set sail!”
A cheer went up from the others, too, all hooting and clapping before they got to work making the ship ready. Doffy had a big part to play, too, his stings making up the smaller number of men they had tending the rigging. He’d already practiced on their smaller boats.
He adjusted the sails, and Pica pulled up the anchor. The wind caught the mainsail and tugged them gently out of the harbor toward the open sea of the North Blue.
Their little gang had officially become the Donquixote pirate, and they were going to make an infamous name for themselves. His name. Their name. The name was important. It was everything the filth in Mary Geoise had tried to take away from him. His family.
Well, Doffy’s new family, his real family, the Donquixote pirates, were coming. And they were going to take everything away from the filth in Mary Geoise. Even if it took fifty years.
Doffy finished setting the sails in order on their heading, and turned to look at his family. They were everything the world hated. They were people that the rulers of the world would consider trash. They were his treasures, and he loved them.
Slow, quiet Pica, with his huge body and his tiny voice. He’d been treated like an abused pack mule by the world, and he showed it in his soft nature and his ferocious, slow burning temper.
Diamante, sharp, and prideful, and a showman. Quick to laugh, whether it was at a joke or someone’s misfortune. The world had been empty of promise for him, so he’d turned his back on it.
Dreamy, intense Corazon, who could have been a hero in a kinder world, but would help Doffy tear down this one instead. Robbed of his full wit by a man who considered him disposable.
And Trebol, a scholar and a politician, a man who would find it easy to be kind if he didn’t know that the world would always be cruel. A man who knew that the world looked down on him like he was the scum underneath their shoes.
All of them were Doffy’s protectors, his teachers, his confidents, his friends, and his beloveds.They were so much more than what everyone else saw. They were everything, and he loved him.
When the world was burning to ashes at Doflamingo’s feet, when he was laughing at the final reversal of it all, the The Donquixote pirates– Donquixote family would be with him, holding hands and laughing.
As the sun set glowed over the glittering open ocean of the North Blue sea, Diamante lit a cigarette and leaned over the railing, looking out at the vast expanse.
“Hell of a lot bigger ship than when we first got started, eh?”
“Bigger group, too.” Trebol came and rested on the railing upwind of him, arm to arm with him. “Hey, hey, didn’t I tell you if you brought me along we’d go up with the world?”
Dia slung his arm around Trebol’s shoulders and laughed softly, remembering that first fateful night, his knife to the chained clerk’s throat.
“You sure did, Tre. And you were right. We’ve come a hell of a long way. Pretty good for a bunch of runaways, slaves and orphans, eh?”
“Well, we’ve got a long way further to go. But pretty good, Dia. I’ll say.”
Diamante was glad that he’d let himself be convinced to take Trebol along that night. He was glad that he’d let Trebol twist his arm into keeping Pica and Corazon around. He was very glad that they’d waited so long for Doffy to come back.
“Glad I didn’t decide to go it alone.”