Rhett stood at the ship's stern, cradling the Human-Human Fruit: Martial Artist Model. His gaze was calm as he watched Laboon.
"Laboon, the choice is yours." His voice was soft, but carried clearly to the whale's ears.
Handling kids? Rhett was a professional. Just look at how plump and healthy Shanks and Buggy turned out under my care.
Laboon's massive eyes were fixed on the fruit, deep in thought.
Rhett had explained everything: eating it would grant new power, but cost the ability to swim freely. Yet, if he could move in human form... maybe finding Brook would be easier.
Such a dilemma for a whale.
Crocus stood nearby, expression complicated. "Rhett, are you sure about this?"
Rhett smiled faintly. "I'm just giving him a choice."
Laboon let out a low hum, then suddenly opened his maw, suction yanking the Devil Fruit straight into his throat!
Tiny as the fruit was to a whale, it vanished in an instant.
The moment it hit his stomach, blinding light erupted from Laboon's body! His form shrank rapidly, blue skin smoothing, muscles tightening into compact definition.
"Woo—!" A high-pitched cry, no longer a whale's depth but tinged with human cadence.
As the light faded, a small blue whale-man stood on the deck—only slightly larger than Shanks, with a flexible tail that could stand upright like a human's legs. He looked like a kung-fu dugong, though Rhett privately thought this version was cuter.
Then Laboon's face twisted violently.
Panic rippled through the crew.
Rhett had never heard of this reaction. Before anyone could react, Laboon managed a single, strained syllable:
"Fru—... gross..."
Rhett, fluent in baby-speak, instantly understood.
"Laboon, you're saying the Devil Fruit tastes terrible, right?"
Laboon nodded, eyes welling up with tears as he stared accusingly at Rhett.
How could you trick a child like this?
"WHOA! Laboon's a whale-man now!" Buggy's jaw practically hit the deck.
Shanks sprinted over, grinning. "Amazing! Laboon, can you understand us?"
Laboon blinked, then nodded vigorously. "Buh... Brook..."
Rhett chuckled. "It's working. Speech isn't perfect yet, but he can communicate."
Crocus adjusted his glasses, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Incredible..."
Laboon took two wobbly steps—clumsy but stable. He examined his new body, then looked up at Rhett with gratitude shining in his eyes.
"Woo!" He suddenly lunged, nuzzling Rhett's chest in thanks.
*THUD.*
Rhett went flying.
Sure, Laboon was still young for an island whale—but as the saying goes, condensed essence packs a punch. Rhett felt like he'd been hit by a freight train. That raw strength was nearly vice-admiral tier.
Roger roared with laughter. "Kyuhahaha! Looks like we've got another fun crewmate!"
Rayleigh nodded, smiling. "Now Laboon can sail with us properly."
"Though—" Rhett extracted himself from the splintered wood. Voice serious, he faced Laboon, "you can't swim anymore. My blood mist can shield you from seawater temporarily, but until you build resistance, full immersion will drain your strength."
Laboon nodded solemnly, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"Then—" Rhett extended a hand, crimson mist swirling around Laboon in a faint red aura, "welcome to the Roger Pirates, Laboon!"
Laboon cheered, waving his little fists (flippers?) and high-fiving Rhett—
*(〃￣)￣)人(￣)￣〃)*
Rhett went airborne again.
The crew: "..."
Laboon froze, tears pooling instantly. "Woo...! (I didn't mean to!)"
Shanks and Buggy scrambled to pry Rhett out of the wall.
Buggy poked him. "Hey. You alive?"
Rhett shook his head calmly. If he could tank Garp's fists, Laboon's raw strength alone couldn't break his defense.
"...Alive. Might need a minute to unstick myself, though."
Laboon rushed over to help—only for his flipper to snag the plank.
*CRACK. The wood splintered, sending Rhett SPLAT* onto the deck.
Now panicking, Laboon circled him anxiously, afraid to touch anything.
Roger laughed. "Little Laboon, you'll need to practice control!"
With few younger crewmates aboard, Shanks and Buggy instantly embraced their new "big brother" roles.
"Hey, Shanks! Laboon likes me better!" Buggy planted his hands on his hips, smug.
Behind him stood a "fashionably accessorized" Laboon—wearing an oversized captain's hat, a necklace of "priceless gems" (glass beads, per Buggy), and a bright red nose matching Buggy's own.
"Hah? What nonsense, Buggy!" Shanks swung a wooden sword from the mast. "Laboon trained sword swings with me yesterday! He clearly admires me more!"
"Also, that red nose looks ridiculous on blue Laboon."
"YOU LOOKING DOWN ON BUGGY-SAMA, YOU BASTARD?!"
"Woo?" Laboon tilted his head, utterly lost.
Rayleigh sipped coffee nearby. "And so it begins. Laboon, you should practice speaking too..."
Roger bellowed with laughter. "Kyuhahaha! Youthful energy!"
Rhett, ever the instigator, leaned in. "So... which of you three is closest to Laboon? Think about it—Captain Roger's got his crew. Don't you want your own ships someday? Laboon's combat potential is insane. Imagine him as Rayleigh-boon, Gaban-boon, or even Rhett-boon..."
Shanks and Buggy knew the drill—when pirates picked fights, Roger never lifted a finger. Rayleigh, Gaban, and Rhett were the three unshakable mountains guarding them.
Now picture this: their own ship, sailing the seas. Enemy pirates approach. Laboon steps forward, voice deep and icy—
"You trash aren't worthy of standing before my captain."
Shanks and Buggy: "Hehehehe... HAHAHAHA—" Their faces twisted into something downright deranged.