One Piece : Brotherhood

Flevance, North Blue

Lance stood in the bustling streets of Flevance, the "White City," his brow furrowed with concern as he watched a group of miners stroll by, laughing without a care in the world. They were unaware—worse, they were willfully blind to the slow death creeping up on them.

He approached a middle-aged man, his heart heavy with the weight of the warning he knew he had to give, even if it would fall on deaf ears.

"You need to stop," Lance said, voice steady but imploring, "The amber lead is killing you, not just you—your children, your future generations. You need to leave this country while you still can."

The man paused, turning to face Lance with a furrowed brow. His clothes were clean but simple, and his hands bore the telltale signs of a miner's life—rough and calloused.

The man had worked in the amber lead mines for years, and despite Lance's grim warnings, his expression was filled with disbelief and annoyance rather than fear.

"Why should I leave, Doctor?" The man asked, his tone polite but clearly dismissive. "Look at me! I'm healthy, my guardian's healthy, and my children are healthy. I've been working these mines for over a decade. We live well, we eat well. I have enough to not just survive, but to provide for my family and more. Flevance has been mining amber lead for generations, and we're still here. It's not like anything's changed."

He folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing as he sized Lance up. "The King himself has reassured us there's no danger. And if the World Government's backed him up, who are you to tell me otherwise?"

Lance sighed, frustration gnawing at his resolve. He glanced at his guardian, who stood behind him with a cold, mocking glint in her eyes. No words were needed—her presence alone was enough to make the man cautious.

It was no secret that the Donquixote family was protecting the doctor, and any attempt to harm him would be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. Even the Kingdom's soldiers avoided crossing Lance and his guardians, knowing full well the bodies strung up in front of the Royal Palace were a brutal reminder of the consequences.

"Listen to me," Lance began, his voice softer but desperate. "The amber lead hasn't shown its true face yet, but it's only a matter of time. The sickness... it lies dormant, but when it strikes, it will be too late. Your body, your children's bodies, will start decaying from within. You won't even see it coming."

The miner scowled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's just a theory, Doctor. You have no proof. I've been working in those mines for years, and nothing's ever happened. People get sick everywhere, not just here. And even if what you're saying is true—why would the King allow us to mine it? Why would the World Government let us continue?"

Lance clenched his fists, trying to stay calm. He had been hearing the same responses over and over, and it made his heart ache. These people were too comfortable in their lives to see the danger looming over them like a shadow.

The promise of wealth, of a steady income, of prosperity had blinded them. And the King—no, the entire Kingdom of Flevance—was content to let their citizens dig their own graves, so long as the mines kept producing.

"They're lying to you," Lance said, his voice hardening as he spoke. "The King, the World Government—they're hiding the truth because they're profiting off the amber lead. The sickness hasn't shown itself yet, but once it does, it'll be a disaster that not even they can contain. And by then, it'll be too late to leave."

The miner's face twisted with frustration, his patience wearing thin. "You're asking me to give up everything," he said, his voice rising.

"My home, my livelihood, my family's future. All for some 'maybe' sickness that hasn't even shown up yet? I'd be a fool to leave, especially when the Kingdom is paying me triple what I'd earn anywhere else! My children are set for life, Doctor. And you're telling me to throw that all away because of some unproven theory?"

Lance's heart sank. He could see the fear behind the man's eyes, but it was buried beneath layers of denial and pride. The allure of money, the comfort of stability—it was too much to walk away from, even in the face of impending doom.

"You're healthy now," Lance pressed, taking a step closer, his voice pleading, "but that won't last. The amber lead is like a poison—slow, subtle. You won't see it until it's too late. And when the sickness finally comes, when your children's bodies start to rot from the inside... will you still think this was worth it?"

The miner hesitated, just for a moment. He glanced back at his family, who were laughing and playing nearby, unaware of the conversation. His resolve wavered, but only for an instant. The reassurances of the King, the promises of wealth, the comfortable life he had built—they were too powerful to let go.

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving. I trust the King, and I trust the World Government. They wouldn't let us die. I'm staying here, Doctor. I'm not running away from a life I worked hard to build."

Lance stared at him, a deep sadness in his eyes. He wanted to argue, to shake the man and make him see the truth, but he knew it was useless. People only saw what they wanted to see, and until the sickness revealed itself, no amount of warnings would convince them.

The miner turned to leave, but not before casting a wary glance at Lance's guardian, who still stood silently, watching the exchange with cold detachment. He could feel her eyes on him, like a predator watching prey, and he swallowed hard before quickly walking away.

Lance watched him go, a hollow feeling settling in his chest. The people of Flevance were living on borrowed time, and there was nothing more he could do to save them. Not until the amber lead syndrome finally reared its ugly head—and by then, it would be too late.

His guardian stepped closer, her expression hard as steel. "They won't listen," she said flatly, her voice devoid of sympathy.

Lance nodded, though the weight of it was crushing him. "No. They won't."

The kingdom's soldiers watched from a distance, uneasy. They, too, knew who Lance was, and the terrifying power that protected him. One soldier, younger and more impulsive, muttered under his breath, "Are we just going to stand by while he slanders our king?"

The captain shook his head. "Do you want to end up like the Marines and world government agents who tried to touch him? Their bodies are still rotting in front of the palace, and no one's dared to take them down. Forget about him. The Donquixote family is protecting him—and that woman... you don't want to mess with her."

The soldiers fell silent, eyes nervously flicking to the imposing figure of Lance's guardian. She glanced at them, and they quickly looked away, their fear palpable.

Lance's heart was heavy, knowing the danger the people faced, but as long as they remained blinded by comfort and wealth, they would never leave. Not until the amber lead claimed its first victims. And by then, all the warnings in the world wouldn't matter.

Lance sighed, his gaze drifting toward the horizon, where the mines of Flevance continued to churn with activity. The constant hum of mining filled the air, a steady reminder of the poison lurking beneath the surface.

"I hope my wife was able to convince someone, at least one person, to see the truth about the disaster that's coming," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration and sorrow.

Beside him, Christina, the ever-watchful protector of the Donquixote family's interests in Flevance, let out a chuckle. Her amusement was dark, almost mocking.

"Convince someone? Doctor, you may understand how the human body works, but you fail to grasp the workings of the human heart." Her eyes gleamed with a sharpness that suggested she had seen far more of human nature than Lance could ever imagine.

Lance turned toward her, his brow furrowed in frustration. "What do you mean by that? People deserve the truth—they have a right to know what's coming."

Christina leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression one of weary disdain. "People only hear what they want to hear, Doctor. The allure of money, of security, is far stronger than any warning of a future threat. Especially when that threat isn't staring them in the face yet." She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"You think your wife or even Issho-san can change their minds? Not a chance. These people won't budge until they're knee-deep in their own graves."

Lance's frustration grew. "But Issho-san—he's been touring the mines, speaking to the people, just like we have. He must've gotten through to someone by now."

Christina snorted softly. "Issho-san is a powerful man, but even he can't change the hearts of people blinded by greed and comfort. The moment he stepped foot in Flevance, people feared him, not because of his words, but because of who he is." She paused, her gaze drifting toward the distant town.

"They know he's Fujitora Issho—one of the strongest men in the world. But respect and fear are different from trust. No one's going to abandon their way of life because of some vague danger they can't see."

Lance clenched his fists. "So what? We just wait for them all to die? For the amber lead to destroy their lives?"

"If it were up to me," Christina said with a shrug, "I would've dragged you and your family out of here long ago. This city, this kingdom—it's a lost cause." Her tone was cold, detached, as if the lives of the people here meant nothing to her.

In truth, they didn't. Her only concern was Law's safety and, by extension, his family's. "But that decision isn't mine. It's up to Issho-san now."

Lance couldn't help but frown. "Why does someone like Issho-san—someone so powerful—care about a place like Flevance?"

Christina's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "That, Doctor, is something I don't fully understand myself. But it's not my place to question his motives." She glanced at him.

"Though if I had to guess, it's because he's seen too much suffering already. Maybe he's hoping he can prevent another tragedy."

Lance's thoughts drifted to his wife and children, currently under Issho's protection. The blind swordsman had taken a deep interest in the family's well-being from the moment he arrived in Flevance.

At first, people didn't pay much attention to the middle aged man—how dangerous could a blind swordsman really be? But then, everything changed the day a group of soldiers tried to kidnap his children.

That day, the entire port of Flevance had felt the weight of true power.

The ground had trembled as if the very earth itself was bowing to Issho's will. Soldiers had been crushed under an unseen force, their bodies strewn about like rag dolls. Even the most hardened of the Kingdom's forces had frozen in terror as they realized the kind of man they were dealing with.

Word spread like wildfire after that: the blind swordsman was none other than Fujitora, a core member of the Donquixote family with a bounty exceeding 1.6 billion berries.

From that day forward, no one dared make a move against Lance's family. Not the soldiers. Not the townsfolk. Not even the Cipher Pol agents, who had initially been sent to keep tabs on the doctor's every move.

The sight of marines and agents strung up outside the royal palace, left to rot under the sun, was more than enough to send a chilling message to anyone thinking of crossing the Donquixote family.

"Since the truth about Issho san's identity came out," Christina continued, her voice softening slightly, "even the World Government's dogs have kept their distance. No one's willing to sign their own death warrant by targeting your family. Issho-san made sure of that."

Lance's heart was heavy. He appreciated Issho's protection, but it wasn't enough to ease the pain of knowing that, despite all their efforts, the people of Flevance were walking willingly toward their doom.

"They're comfortable, Doctor," Christina added, as if sensing his inner turmoil. "Comfort is more addictive than any drug. It blinds people. Amber Lead has given them prosperity, and they'll cling to that, even if it means their own destruction. You're not fighting ignorance. You're fighting greed. And greed, as you've seen, doesn't listen to reason."

Lance stared down at the ground, the weight of her words settling in. He had tried everything—pleaded, reasoned, even begged. But in the end, Christina was right. He couldn't save people who didn't want to be saved.

"All I can do now is protect my family," he muttered.

Christina gave a slight nod. "Exactly. Focus on that, Doctor. The world is full of fools. Let them be. Your family's survival is all that matters now; the longer you stay here, the more risk you are putting your family in."

In a quiet corner of a small café in Flevance, Issho sat at a modest table, his large frame dwarfing the furniture. Around him, the sounds of children's laughter filled the air, a lightness that seemed almost out of place in the grim reality of their surroundings.

At the table, little Lami and Buffalo, the chubby boy from Spider Miles, were engrossed in their own contest. Lami clapped her hands, egging Buffalo on.

"More, more, more!" she cheered, her voice high-pitched with excitement as Buffalo, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, tried to stuff yet another peach into his already full mouth. He was on his seventeenth.

Issho couldn't help but smile, though the expression was tinged with sadness. The innocence of children was a bittersweet thing, their laughter like fragile bubbles floating above a sea of tragedy.

Even the doctor's wife, who sat nearby, tried to maintain a brave front for the sake of her children. Her eyes, however, betrayed her anxiety.

The weight of Flevance's inevitable collapse was bearing down on her, yet she clung to the hope that Issho had offered—the promise that the Donquixote family was searching for a cure for her children's illness.

At first, she had been skeptical. When she learned who Issho truly was—a pirate, one of the highest-ranking members of the notorious Donquixote family—she couldn't reconcile the man before her with the stories she had heard.

A pirate was supposed to be a ruthless, heartless marauder. But this blind swordsman, with his gentle demeanor and unwavering commitment to her family's safety, was anything but.

Issho exhaled deeply, his attention shifting from the children to the transponder snail on the table in front of him. The snail stared back, its eyes blinking slowly, waiting for the other end to pick up the call. For the past two weeks, he had done everything in his power to warn the people of Flevance about the impending disaster.

He had toured the mines, spoken to workers, and even met with those who were beginning to show early symptoms of Amber Lead poisoning. But the citizens were willfully blind, too comforted by their current prosperity and reassurances from their king.

A pang of frustration twisted in his chest. Issho knew what Christina would suggest—drag the king into the capital square and force a confession from him under the blade's edge, making him reveal the truth about the Amber Lead.

But that wasn't his way. His conscience wouldn't allow such drastic measures, even if it meant saving lives. And so, he had finally decided to reach out to the only person who might be able to provide a solution.

With a soft click, the transponder snail connected. The voice on the other end was calm, as though expecting the call.

"Ross-kun..." Issho's deep voice rumbled into the receiver, a mixture of weariness and hope. He had known this moment would come eventually. Ever since Issho had left for North Blue to personally intervene in the crisis of Flevance, this conversation had been looming on the horizon.

"Issho-san," I responded, my voice steady. "I had a feeling you would call. How are things in Flevance?"

Issho let out a long, heavy sigh. "It's not good, Ross-kun. I've tried my best to reason with the people, to show them the danger of Amber Lead, but... they're too blind. Blinded by comfort, by false assurances from their king. They refuse to believe the truth, and I fear time is running out."

As Issho spoke, his voice took on a note of helplessness, something rare for a man of his stature. He had faced countless battles, witnessed atrocities, and carried the weight of his own justice on his shoulders for years, but this situation—a city walking willingly into ruin—felt beyond his reach.

Despite his strength, despite his presence, there was little he could do against the stubbornness of human nature.

"Issho-san, do you finally understand what I've been trying to tell you all these years?" I said, my voice firm yet calm. "You can't help people who don't want to be helped. You're fighting a battle they don't even realize is happening. They've become prisoners of their own ignorance."

On the other end of the line, Issho remained silent for a moment. I could feel his internal struggle, that nagging sense of justice that wouldn't let him walk away. It was one of the things that made him who he was—his desire to save everyone, even those who refused to see the danger.

But that desire, noble as it was, had blinded him to the harsh realities of the world. He wanted to save these people from themselves, but their stubbornness was a wall too thick for even his strength to break.

"Ross-kun," Issho's voice was heavy, filled with a mix of frustration and compassion, "just because they aren't asking for help doesn't mean I can abandon them. There has to be a way...a way to save them without forcing it upon them."

I sighed. Issho was a rare soul, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, thinking he could somehow change the hearts of people who clung to their comfort, even when that comfort was built on a ticking time bomb.

"Issho-san, you're being naive. Do you really think that just because you've warned them, they'll suddenly drop everything they've built, their homes, their lives, and leave Flevance? You don't even have concrete evidence. The Amber Lead Syndrome hasn't flared up yet. For all they know, you're just another doomsayer trying to disrupt their lives."

He sighed, knowing that my words rang true. His idealism, while admirable, was also his greatest weakness in situations like this. "I thought... maybe if I could convince them, find a place for them to go—somewhere safe—they might be willing to listen."

"And where would that be?" I shot back, frustration edging into my voice. "Even if you did manage to convince them, even if they were willing to leave everything behind, where would you relocate them? And do you think those places would take them with open arms once they hear about Amber Lead Syndrome? You and I both know that the people of this world fear what they don't understand. Once the rumors spread, once word gets out, do you really think neighboring countries would welcome them? They'll be treated like lepers."

"But the syndrome isn't contagious," Issho said, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "It's in their blood, not something that spreads from person to person."

"We know that, Issho-san. The World Government knows that. But fear doesn't care about facts. The people won't care about the truth once the fear takes hold. Unless you're willing to fight through every border, cut down anyone who opposes you, how do you plan on getting them to safety?" I paused for a moment, letting the weight of my words sink in.

"And even then, you're only buying them time. Moving them won't cure the Amber Lead in their blood. It's a death sentence, Issho. You can't save them just by changing their location."

I could hear Issho's breath catch, as if he was finally beginning to understand the depth of the tragedy unfolding before him. "There's Mansherry's power," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"We could use her healing abilities to keep them alive, infuse them with vitality..."

I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "Mansherry's power can only go so far. It's temporary, Issho. She can't cure something that's embedded in their blood. And as much as I respect Giolla San's restoring abilities, I doubt even her devil fruit power can't reverse the genetic damage that Amber Lead has caused.

Unless you somehow manage to get your hands on the Ope Ope no Mi—a miracle fruit that might be anywhere in this world—there's no permanent solution. And trust me, within a decade, the syndrome will spike. You don't have as much time as you think."

There was silence on the other end. Issho knew I was right, but his heart wasn't ready to accept the cold truth.

"What about moving them, then?" he asked after a long pause. "Even if it buys us time, we could continue searching for a cure. We still have a few years, by your own estimate."

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on me. "And what then? You manage to move them somewhere else, but what happens when other countries refuse to take them in? What happens when fear spreads faster than the truth? These people will be outcasts, Issho. They'll be hunted down, persecuted, left to rot. You can't save them with hope alone. You need something more, something they'll believe in."

"Or do you expect the Donquixote family , a bunch of pirates, to do something that the government is entitled to do... take care of these people?"

Issho's silence spoke volumes. He was wrestling with his ideals, with the harsh reality of a world that didn't bend to the will of good intentions.

"Sometimes, Issho-san," I said quietly, "violence is the only answer. Sometimes, you have to shed blood to save lives. That's the truth you've been trying to avoid all these years. The world isn't as kind as you want it to be. If you really want to save these people, you're going to have to be willing to fight for it. And not just against the disease, but against the world itself."

Issho let out a deep breath, the weight of the world pressing down on him. "I've always believed that there must be a way without bloodshed, Ross-kun. That's what justice is about...saving lives without taking others."

"But that's not the world we live in," I replied, my voice firm but not unkind. "You can't help people without facing the darkness head-on. Sometimes, the price of saving lives is paid in blood. And you need to decide if you're willing to pay that price."

There was a long, heavy silence before Issho finally spoke again. His voice was quiet, but resolute. "I'll find a way, Ross-kun. Even if it costs me everything."

I sighed. "I hope you do, Issho-san. But remember—don't let your ideals blind you to the truth. Sometimes, the hardest choice is the one you least want to make."

*****

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