The Oro Jackson swayed with the waves. On deck, an unprecedented training session was about to begin.
"Laboon," Rhett said, arms crossed, blood mist swirling, "starting today, you need to learn to control your power."
Laboon blinked, tiny fins fidgeting.
Ever since eating the Devil Fruit, it had been breaking things. Yesterday, the dining table. The day before, the mast. Just recently, it had nearly sent Buggy flying into the sea. Yesterday, it had accidentally fractured Shanks' arm with a hug.
"First," Rhett conjured a delicate teacup like a magician, "try to pick this up."
The teacup glimmered, so thin it was almost translucent. Laboon gulped, and extended a trembling "finger"—
Crack!
The teacup shattered.
"Wuuu..." Laboon drooped its head.
"It's okay," Shanks patted its fin, "when I first started using a sword, I sliced Rayleigh's shirt for the hundredth time."
Rhett handed Laboon its breakfast and turned to fetch the secret weapon he had prepared.
Laboon turned its head, a half-eaten fish still dangling from its mouth. It whimpered, the silver fork in its fin bent into a strange shape.
The deck fell silent. The waves suddenly sounded loud.
Rhett stifled a laugh. "Looks like we need sturdier utensils."
He brought out Sea Stone forks—spoils "borrowed" from the Navy. After a night of crafting, Rhett had shaped them.
"Try this," Rhett handed the fork to Laboon. "Sea Stone is tough enough to withstand your strength."
Laboon cautiously gripped the fork. Its power seemed to diminish. It gently tapped the fish in the barrel.
"Yes, like that..." Rhett whispered, "imagine your fin is as light as a feather..."
Thunk!
The fork pierced the fish's gill with precision. Laboon raised its prize.
No! Seat!
Rhett felt like a genius. The Sea Stone suppressed part of the Devil Fruit's power, letting Laboon precisely control its remaining strength.
But Laboon got too excited and splashed water onto Shanks.
"Hey!" Shanks wiped the fishy water from his face. What could he do? Of course, he chose to forgive. "At least the fork didn't fly off this time! Good job, Laboon!"
Since the Sea Stone worked so well, Rhett pulled out a feather he had "accidentally acquired."
"Thank you, messenger seagull."
"Little Laboon, what you need to do now is use your tiny fins to fan this feather and keep it floating in the air. But don't let it fly away or fall to the ground."
Laboon curled its small body cautiously, clutching the feather, its tail sticking up. It was putting its entire body into the effort.
"Remember," Rhett sat cross-legged in front of it, "your power should flow like your breath."
Laboon nodded, took a deep breath, and gently waved its fin—
Whoosh!
The feather shot like a white streak and thwacked into the main mast, its tail still quivering.
Buggy's eyes widened. "Sugoi..."
"Quiet." Rhett glared, walked over, and plucked the feather from the mast. "Again."
Beads of sweat formed on Laboon's forehead. It switched to using the tiniest part of its fingertip, carefully cradling the feather.
"Good, now..."
Little Laboon stared so hard its eyes crossed.
The feather was lifted by the airflow, drifting toward the ship's edge—
Laboon panicked and reached out!
"Wait, don't—"
Boom!
Rhett enveloped the feather in his blood mist, infusing it with Sea Stone powder. The feather took on a faint metallic sheen.
"This way, at least the feather won't fly off," he explained, "Even if it does, I can pull it back. This will suppress your power, but not leave you completely powerless."
Laboon curiously took the "specialized feather" and immediately felt the difference—it was like wearing thick gloves. Its strength confined to a manageable range.
"Wuu! (This is great!)"
It gently flapped its fin, and the feather slowly rose. Though it bobbed up and down, it stayed suspended.
"Success!" Shanks cheered.
Rhett gradually withdrew the mist, and the feather suddenly flew away. The encouragement on everyone's lips got stuck in their throats, leaving them feeling extremely awkward.
Days passed. The three little ones continued their training. Crocus meticulously examined the Roger Pirates' physical data, finding them all in good health. Old injuries were healing, thanks to Rhett's supply of vitality.
But for Rhett, this wasn't necessarily good news. All terminal illnesses have origins.
Was this a plot twist? The original story never explained how Roger fell ill, and this frustrated Rhett. He sought out Crocus, hoping the doctor would thoroughly examine the captain again.
"Little Rhett, they told me you know something about the future. It was you who invited me onto the ship. I guess Roger must have contracted some disease in the future that even you couldn't cure, right?"
Rhett nodded. He was about to describe Roger's symptoms but suddenly realized the story never specified what the illness was. All he knew was that Roger would suffer a terminal disease.
Crocus patted Rhett's shoulder. "In my years of practicing medicine, I've seen too many partings of life and death. I promise you I'll do everything I can to treat the captain. Consider it my repayment for helping me find the Rumbar Pirates. Healing is a doctor's duty, not something for fighters like you to worry about. Of course, if you'd like to learn medicine, I'd be happy to teach you."
Rhett bowed deeply. "Then I leave it to you."