The Straw Hat Pirates remained blissfully unaware of the gathering storm of powerful factions converging on their location. For four consecutive days, they had maintained an almost festival-like atmosphere across Drum Island, transforming what should have been a brief recruitment stop into an extended celebration that tested even the islanders' renowned hospitality.
Luffy's infectious enthusiasm had proven impossible to contain, spreading through the crew and local population like a beneficial plague. Each day brought new reasons to extend their stay—Sanji discovering rare winter spices that inspired elaborate feast preparations, Usopp regaling increasingly large audiences with embellished tales of their adventures, Zoro finding worthy sparring partners among the island's militia forces.
Only Princess Vivi's increasingly desperate negotiations with Nami had finally established a departure deadline.
"If we don't leave soon," Vivi had pleaded during one of their private discussions, "Arabasta might not exist by the time we arrive. Every day we delay gives Crocodile more opportunities to destabilize the kingdom."
The urgency in her voice reflected a harsh reality that the Straw Hats, in their characteristic optimism, seemed unable to fully grasp. Without the shared trials of Little Garden to forge deeper bonds between crew and princess, their commitment to her cause remained somewhat abstract—a favor for a friend rather than a burning mission of liberation.
Meanwhile, in a makeshift prison cell constructed in Drum Island's former royal dungeons, Wapol was discovering firsthand the consequences of tyrannical rule. The defeated king's survival had been nothing short of miraculous—his two most loyal retainers had died instantly when Eren attacks them, but Wapol himself had managed to encase his vital organs in the metallic alloy produced by his Baku Baku no Mi just before losing consciousness.
The metal coating had saved his life but condemned him to a different form of suffering. The citizens he had oppressed for years now had their revenge within reach, and they intended to savor every moment of his agony.
"Please..." Wapol croaked through cracked lips, his voice barely audible after days without proper water. "Just... just kill me quickly..."
His captors showed no mercy. Guards rotated in shifts to ensure he never received more than minutes of sleep at a time. When exhaustion threatened to claim him, precisely applied whips would jolt him back to full awareness. They wanted him to experience every second of cold, hunger, and desperation that his policies had inflicted on countless innocents.
The psychological torture was perhaps more devastating than the physical discomfort. Former subjects who had lost family members to his medical purges and the recent attack would visit his cell simply to describe their suffering in excruciating detail. Children whose parents had died from treatable illnesses would stand outside the bars and ask him why their loved ones had to perish while he lived in luxury.
"Do you remember my daughter?" an elderly woman had asked the previous day, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her weathered face. "She was seven years old when her fever started. We begged the guards to let us see a doctor—any doctor. They said only the king's personal physician was allowed to practice medicine, and he was too important to treat peasant children."
A line of former soldiers gathered outside his cell. They were men he had dismissed or punished for questioning his decrees, forced to watch helplessly as villages starved when medical aid was denied. One by one, they recited the names of every villager who had died under his reign. The list lasted hours. When they finally fell silent, the echo of those names continued to ring in his ears, a roll call of the dead that no amount of denial could silence.
Grieving mothers came to whisper lullabies through the iron bars—songs they once sang to children who never reached adulthood. Their voices cracked, yet they sang with quiet determination, forcing Wapol to hear what he had taken from them. He tried to cover his ears, but the melodies seeped into the stone and burrowed into his mind. Sleep became impossible.
Then the orphans. They were too young to fully understand politics, but old enough to know pain. They mocked his gluttony, pressing scraps of moldy bread against the bars as offerings, then snatching them away before he could touch them. "You had everything," one boy spat, his voice trembling with rage. "And still you took more."
Wapol had no response. His memories of his subjects were virtually nonexistent—they had been statistics at best, annoyances at worst.
Only Dalton's intervention had prevented the former king's immediate execution. Despite his own injuries from their final battle, the acting leader had dragged himself from his sickbed to address the vengeful crowds.
"I understand your desire for justice," he had told them, his words carrying the weight of someone who had suffered under Wapol's regime while being forced to enforce its cruelties. "But we must consider the political implications of our actions. The World Government may view his execution as an act of rebellion rather than justice."
The pragmatic concerns were valid, even if emotionally unsatisfying. In the feudal power structure that governed the One Piece world, overthrowing a recognized monarch—even a despotic one—could be interpreted as an invitation for Marine intervention. The newly liberated Sakura Kingdom needed time to establish legitimacy before facing potential retaliation from higher authorities.
So Wapol lived, though whether his current existence could be called living remained debatable.
The emotional weight of departure had been building steadily as the Straw Hats prepared for their final journey to the Going Merry. Tony Tony Chopper found himself at the center of a farewell ceremony that felt both celebration and funeral—joy for his new adventure mixed with grief for everything he was leaving behind.
Dr. Kureha had maintained her characteristic gruff demeanor throughout the extended goodbye process, but those who knew her well could detect the subtle signs of genuine emotion beneath her sardonic exterior. The ancient woman had raised and lost more people than most individuals ever met, yet Chopper's departure affected her more deeply than she cared to admit.
"Stop sniveling, you little brat," she commanded, though her arms remained wrapped around the sobbing reindeer with surprising gentleness. "You're supposed to be a doctor, not a crybaby. How are you going to treat patients if you fall apart every time someone says goodbye?"
Chopper's response was muffled against her coat, but his words carried clearly enough: "I don't want to leave you alone, Doctorine! What if something happens to you while I'm gone? What if the kingdom needs medical help and I'm not here?"
The questions revealed the depth of responsibility he felt for his home. Despite his youth and inexperience, Chopper had already begun thinking like a true doctor—considering not just individual patients but entire populations that might require his care.
"Foolish child," Kureha replied, her voice carrying decades of accumulated wisdom and just a hint of maternal pride. "This island survived for centuries before you were born, and it will endure long after we're both gone. Your job now is to learn everything you can about the wider world, then decide where your skills can do the most good."
She pulled back enough to look directly into his large, expressive eyes. "Besides, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here in this castle when you're ready to visit, probably complaining about whatever apprentice I'm stuck training next."
The procession toward the harbor took on an almost ceremonial quality as the entire island seemed to turn out for Chopper's send-off. Citizens who had been saved by his medical interventions walked alongside the sleds, sharing stories and offering final words of gratitude.
"Thank you for saving my son," a middle-aged fisherman called out, his voice cracking with emotion. "The fever would have killed him if you hadn't been there."
"Remember us when you become famous!" shouted a group of children who had befriended the unusual reindeer during his treatment of the villager.
Even former soldiers who had once served under Wapol's oppressive regime offered their respect. Chopper's healing hands had tended to their wounds without judgment, treating former enemies with the same care he showed to closest friends.
The young doctor found himself overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection. He had spent most of his life believing himself to be a monster—rejected by reindeer for his human characteristics, feared by humans for his animal nature. Only Dr. Hiluluk's unconditional acceptance had begun to heal those deep psychological wounds, and Dr. Kureha's training had given him purpose beyond his own survival.
Now, surrounded by hundreds of people who genuinely cared about his welfare, Chopper finally understood what Hiluluk had meant about the power of human connection. These bonds transcended species, appearance, or any other superficial differences—they were forged through shared experiences of compassion and mutual aid.
"I promise," he declared to the assembled crowd, his voice carrying with surprising strength, "I'll learn everything I can about medicine, and someday I'll return to help make the Sakura Kingdom the greatest medical center in the world!"
The cheers that greeted this proclamation echoed across the snow-covered landscape, a sound of pure hope that seemed to warm the air despite the frigid temperature.
As they reached the harbor where the Going Merry waited, the crew made their final preparations for departure. Zoro had already secured the ship and completed pre-sailing checks with characteristic efficiency, while Sanji loaded the last of their expanded provisions—enough food to feed a small army, supplemented by Drum Island's finest preserved winter vegetables.
It was then that the true farewell ceremony began.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The thunderous sound of cannons erupted from Drum Mountain's highest peaks, but instead of deadly shells, the weapons launched something far more beautiful. Thousands of pink cherry blossom petals exploded across the sky, carried by carefully calculated charges designed to create maximum visual impact.
The artificial sakura rain transformed the entire mountain into a living work of art. Against the pristine white snow, the pink petals created a breathtaking contrast that seemed to merge heaven and earth into a single, perfect moment of beauty.
"It's magnificent," Nami whispered from her position on the medical sled, her usual focus on practical concerns temporarily forgotten in the face of such overwhelming spectacle. "Chopper, they're doing this all for you."
The reindeer could no longer contain his emotions. Tears streamed down his furry cheeks as he gazed up at the falling petals, each one representing the love and respect of the people he was leaving behind. Through his blurred vision, he could almost see Dr. Hiluluk's spirit dancing among the blossoms—his adopted father's dream of bringing cherry blossoms to this winter island finally, beautifully realized.
"Dr. Hiluluk," Chopper sobbed, "can you see this? Your miracle cure... it really worked. The cherry blossoms are blooming on Drum Island!"
The ceremony continued for nearly an hour, wave after wave of pink petals painting the sky in celebration and farewell. Citizens waved handkerchiefs and called out final messages of encouragement, while the crew stood in respectful silence, understanding that they were witnessing something truly special.
Even Luffy, normally impatient to begin new adventures, seemed moved by the display. His usual grin had been replaced by an expression of genuine appreciation for the sacrifices that Chopper was making to join their crew.
"We'll take good care of him," the captain called out to the assembled crowd, his voice carrying the weight of a sacred promise. "Dattebayo!"
As the Going Merry finally prepared to depart, one last conversation remained unfinished. Eren Yeager stood apart from the main group, his imposing figure silhouetted against the cherry blossom-filled sky. Despite Luffy's repeated invitations to join their crew, he had remained steadfast in his refusal.
"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Luffy asked one final time, his disappointment evident despite his attempts to remain upbeat. "We could really use someone with your strength, and I bet you'd have amazing adventures!"
Eren's response carried none of his usual intensity—instead, his voice held a note of genuine regret. "My path lies elsewhere, Luffy. There are things I need to accomplish, debts that must be paid, and justice that requires my personal attention."
The explanation was deliberately vague, but Luffy seemed to accept it at face value. The Straw Hat captain had an unusual talent for understanding when people needed to follow their own destiny, even if he didn't fully comprehend their motivations.
"Well, if you ever change your mind, you'll always have a place on our crew," Luffy declared with characteristic generosity.
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