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Rosinante couldn't remember much from before Sengoku picked him up, only flashes: a man and a woman’s kind faces, a boy’s occasional gentle words, a ship, a new place, shouts, and then death. Lots and lots of deaths, and blood running across his eyes, and everywhere and everything he saw was covered with blood.
The last thing he could clearly remember was a gunshot, and then he woke up in the Marine Headquarter with Sengoku by his side.
The first year Rosinante was quiet and awfully prone to nightmares about events of the past that he didn't fully comprehend even as they happened. Just flashes of the memories were enough to scare him though, and many mornings Sengoku found him huddled at the base of the bed, his blanket wrapped around him and tear tracks on his cheeks.
Rosinante didn't speak the entire first year after their initial encounter when he sobbed to Sengoku his name and that he wanted to go with him, but that didn't stop him from faithfully following Sengoku around like an imprinted duckling. Everywhere Sengoku went, Rosinante went, even if Rosinante hid behind Sengoku every time he followed him into a conference room or cafeteria full of marines. Rosinante followed Sengoku so closely that it had gotten to the point that Sengoku was temporarily placed in charge of all the paperwork because Rosinante wouldn't let Sengoku go long or far enough for him to complete any mission.
The second year Rosinante grew comfortable with Sengoku and that was when he discovered that when he tried to speak that he couldn't. Rosinante clenched at his throat then, disoriented and horribly confused, and it took twelve minutes for Sengoku to guide him down from his panic attack.
The doctor who examined Rosinante afterwards told them that there was nothing wrong with Rosinante’s vocal cords, and that he guessed it was some kind of psychological trauma that prevented Rosinante from speaking.
Rosinante recalled the last time he spoke - cried and sobbed, really - as he begged his brother to not kill their father, and how all his words fell on deaf ears as their father’s head exploded right above him, splattering Rosinante in his blood.
“What’s wrong, Rosinante?” Sengoku asked, kneeling beside Rosinante when his face scrunched up, as Sengoku learned it always did right before he burst into tears. Sengoku quickly searched the room before coming back with paper and pen, shoving them in Rosinante’s hands, and in doing so, halting his tears out of sheer surprise. “Tell me, Rosinante, write it down. Do you feel sick?”
Rosinante looked down at the paper and pen in his hands, and then back Sengoku. His eyes welled up, before he launched himself at Sengoku. He tripped and Sengoku caught him with practiced ease before he face-planted into the ground, and then Rosinante was burying himself and his tears against his guardian.
Sengoku froze since Rosinante had never hugged him before, before awkwardly patting Rosinante on the back.
“There, there, it’s okay, Rosinante,” he said. He thought back to the traumatized blood-splattered state they found Rosinante in and the beheaded body that they later identified as Donquixote Homing - his father - in the vicinity and said, “You’re safe here, I promise.”
Rosinante nodded against him through soft hiccups, and from then on, used paper and pen to communicate with Sengoku, which was more often than Sengoku expected since Rosinante didn't try reaching out to him at all the first year. When Rosinante expressed interest in learning sign language, Sengoku learned with him, and somehow, against all odds, the second year Rosinante stayed with Sengoku found them even closer than before, only this time, not just in terms of proximity.
The third year brought Tsuru sweeping to his doorstep while Sengoku was training new recruits - not-Garp style, thankfully - at the Marine Headquarters. She raised an eyebrow when she spotted a boy nearby watching the training with a furrow on his forehead.
Sengoku told the recruits to continue when he noticed her arrival and then walked over to her, only pausing to glance back at the boy. Tsuru tracked how the boy immediately got up to follow Sengoku even before he turned around and how Sengoku waited until they were walking side-by-side to continue over to her.
“So you really got yourself a kid,” Tsuru mused. She squat to the boy’s height before Sengoku could reply, and took note of how he immediately shrunk to the back of Sengoku’s leg, though he still peered around him at her. Something in Tsuru softened, and she made her expression as harmless as possible as she said, “Hello, what's your name?”
The boy glanced at her for a moment and then up at Sengoku. At the encouraging look that Sengoku gave him, the boy pulled out a notepad and a pen from his pocket and scribbled down something.
‘Rosinante,’ it read when he turned the notepad over to her. After a moment, he took the notepad back and wrote, ‘Are you Sengoku’s friend?’
“Yes,” Tsuru said after a beat. “Is he taking good care of you?”
Both Sengoku and Tsuru startled at the enthusiastic nod and the wide beam they received. Sengoku’s eyes became suspiciously bright, and Tsuru began to understand maybe why Sengoku stayed off the field so long for him.
Tsuru stood. “I’ll forgive you for kicking back behind a desk for the past two years while Garp and I picked up your slack,” she told Sengoku.
Sengoku opened his mouth, most likely to protest that he didn’t choose desk work by choice, only to close it again after another glance at Rosinante. “Are you going to stay for a bit?” he settled with saying.
Tsuru nodded. “I’m going to see how your training with your recurits is going,” she said, and hid a smirk when Sengoku winced. Of the three of them, Sengoku was the straightlaced supervisor, but Tsuru was always stricter than him in regards to training since she held herself and others to a high standard.
And then there’s Garp, the blasted man who didn’t care about anything at all.
Tsuru recalled Rosinante watching Sengoku lead the training of the recruits before, and turned to him. “Would you like to participate in the training, Rosinante?”
“Tsuru-chan!” Sengoku exclaimed, as Rosinante’s eyes widened at the offer.
Tsuru ignored Sengoku and waited on Rosinante’s answer. When Rosinante gave her a firm nod, Tsuru smiled. “You want to join the Marines when you grow up, Rosinante?” she asked.
Rosinante nodded again. ‘Like Sengoku,’ he wrote, so earnest even in his childish scrawl.
Sengoku choked, and kneeled beside Rosinante.
“Rosinante, that’s nice, but don’t you want to explore other options? You’re still so young, and…” Sengoku gestured helplessly, and Tsuru noted that even with him kneeling, Sengoku still dwared Rosinante by a lot.
Either Rosinante was small for his age, or Sengoku was just protective. Either was possible, but neither should hinder Rosinante’s aim to become a marine if he didn’t let them.
Rosinante slipped the pen between the notepad’s pages, and then squashed them between his body and his arm. With his newly freed hands, he began signing.
Tsuru watched in mild surprise when Sengoku signed back, though in retrospect, she would have been more surprised if he didn’t learn it by now considering that must be Rosinante’s primary method of communicating with him. It was hardly convenient for Rosinante to always bring around a notepad and a pen, after all.
Tsuru would have to look into signing as well now.
“He’ll be fine,” Tsuru said, when they came out of the conversation with Sengoku’s shoulders slumped and Rosinante’s eye lit bright with excitement. “You can’t always coddle him.” Sengoku sighed as she continued, “He has to grow up someday.”
“I know,” Sengoku said. When he saw Rosinante looking up at him, a small smile crossed his face as he ruffled Rosinante’s hair. Rosinante laughed, ducking his head. “I’m sure you would be a fine marine, Rosinante.”
Rosinante nodded with a grin, before turning to Tsuru. ‘Training?’ he asked.
Tsuru kneeled next to him and nodded. “Training,” she confirmed, “though do something for me?”
Rosinante cocked his head to the side inquiringly, and she smiled at the sweet picture he made.
“How do you say ‘train’ in Sign Language?” she asked, and a bright smile blossomed across Rosinante’s face.
Dropping his notebook and pen in a hurry, he pointed to his right with his left hand’s pointer finger and then skimmed his right hand palm-down back and forth over his left hand.
Tsuru mimicked the sign the best that she could and when Rosinante nodded encouraging, she did it again, and said, “Alright, let's go then.”
Tsuru stayed at the Marine Headquarters for two weeks before Garp came crashing in, because where two of them were, the third would always inevitably follow.
The fourth and fifth years were tranquil. Rosinante was finally fine with letting Sengoku go on short missions, but then it was Sengoku’s turn to grow insecure about leaving Rosinante alone at Marine Headquarters. The fourth year found Sengoku bringing Rosinante along to any non-combative missions, and then the fifth year found Sengoku dropping Rosinante off to either Tsuru or Garp if he was anticipated to engage in a combat.
Garp grumbled that he wasn't a babysitter whenever Sengoku dropped Rosinante off to him, yet when he actually saw Rosinante, a wide grin would split across his face as he squat in front of Rosinante and ask, “Did you miss me, Rosinante?”
Rosinante nodded slowly, before signing, ‘But can we not train your way, Garp?’
Garp’s brows furrowed as he followed Rosinante’s signs. After a second, he beamed and said, “You want me to train you, Rosinante?”
Rosinante immediately shook his head, recalling all Garp’s ‘creative training,’ and repeated himself.
Garp gave him a closed-eye smile. “More creative training?”
Rosinante waved his hands in front of him and shook his head rapidly in denial, and Sengoku sighed as he massaged his forehead.
“Garp, stop messing with Rosinante,” he said. “I don’t have the time for this, and your signing hasn’t been that bad since last year.” Garp guffawed, loud and amused, as he munched on a rice cracker. “Also, I’ll personally strangle you if I come back to Rosinante telling me you put him through any sort of your crazy training.”
Garp tsked and look away. “No one appreciates my training of love.” He paused, before grinning. “Well, at least there’s still Kuzan.”
Sengoku took a rice cracker from Garp’s bag as Rosinante tilted his head to the side. ‘Kuzan?’
Rosinante became acquainted with the Captain when Garp foisted Rosinante onto him after Gol D. Roger was spotted a week’s trip away from their base.
Captain Kuzan took one look at Rosinante and sighed, ruffling the side of his hair. “Why me?” he asked from where he was lying on the lawn of the marine base. Behind him in the building, marines were shouting orders and running about in preparation for the departure.
“Bwahahaha, I’m just giving you some practice for when you have kids,” Garp said. Kuzan made a face, and Garp laughed harder. “You didn’t want to go anyway, Kuzan. Here’s a chance to stay on the base.” He nudged Rosinante forward. “Rosinante’s a good kid. Just keep him alive until I come back, alright, or Senoku will come after me!”
Kuzan let out another sigh and covered his eyes with his eye mask again after Garp left. After five minutes of failing in his attempt to nap again due to a pair of curious eyes watching him, he finally said, “What?”
There was a rustling noise and then silence, but no answer to his question came forth. Kuzan frowned and pulled off his eye mask as a hand shook his arm.
Rosinante was holding up a notepad. ‘Can I nap with you?’ it read.
Kuzan looked at him for a moment, before saying, “You can’t speak.”
Rosinante shook his head, and Kuzan inwardly cursed Garp for not telling him something like that before leaving. He turned back to Rosinante and patted at the ground next to him. “Yeah, you can…” He paused. “What was it again?” He rummaged his mind and then shrugged when he couldn’t recall, and rolled over to his side. “I forgot. Just do whatever you like.”
Rosinante let out a small giggle, before settling a feet away from Kuzan. Kuzan brought the eye mask down again and drifted. He woke up later to the feeling of something tickling his face.
“What…?” he said, before recalling the child that Garp foisted off onto him. “What are you doing?” He lazily swatted at the tickling sensation, and there was a giggle and a thump like someone slipping before Kuzan sensed Rosinante scrambling away from him. The sleep from his mind cleared and he grimaced. “What did you draw on my face?”
The laugh from a distance grew louder. Kuzan placed his hand against the ground and reminded himself, Careful , as he sent a thin thread of ice in the direction of the laugh. The laughter abruptly cut off as Rosinante yelped, and Kuzan hid a smile.
He pulled his eye mask up a moment later when he recalled that Rosinante didn’t speak, and the sight of the child sprawled on the sheet of ice after slipping on it greeted him. Rosinante’s eyes were sparkling, and Kuzan nearly groaned.
Of course the child Garp foisted on him couldn’t be normal and run away screaming. At least that way he could claim Rosinante didn’t like him and beg off babysitting duty again, however nice it was to not follow Garp into hunting Roger down yet again.
‘Magic?’ Rosinante asked, tapping curiously at the sheet of frozen grass.
Kuzan could already tell he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep. He shook his head and raised his arm, allowing it to ice over. Rosinante’s eyes widened. “Devil Fruit,” he corrected.
Rosinante ran over to him and in his haste, somehow managed to trip. Kuzan blinked and looked at the trail of ice he made a few feet away from Rosinante and then back at where he had fallen. Kuzan recalled hearing the sound of someone slipping before, and realized that Rosinante was somehow clumsy enough to had tripped over thin air.
Just keep him alive until I come back, Garp had said and left without telling Kuzan that Rosinante wouldn’t be able to call for help if he was in trouble or that he was clumsy enough that he could severely injure himself upon nothing at all.
Kuzan could feel an oncoming headache and kissed his peaceful days goodbye. Joining Garp in his battle against Roger might had been the more relaxing alternative at this rate.
Rosinante got back up with a wince and flopped down in front of Kuzan to take his arm in his hands. Kuzan let him examine it patiently, until something tickled the back of his mind. “What was it again? Tickle…” Kuzan looked at Rosinante and tried to recall. “You did something.”
Rosinante grinned widely at his words and nodded. He let go of Kuzan’s arm and tapped either side of his cheeks with his hands. He signed something and when Kuzan just stared at him, he brought out his notepad and wrote, ‘Smile.’
Rosinante mimed what he drew on his own face, placing a finger on each corner of his lips and then pulling them outward in an upward curve. He signed the same sign again. ‘Smile.’
Kuzan looked at Rosinante’s wide beaming face and then sighed, rubbing the side of his head. “I suppose it coulda been worse.”
Rosinante nodded seriously, and then broke into a wide grin again.
The sixth year found Kuzan babysitting Rosinante more often than not, until Kuzan was promoted from Captain to Commodore and promptly ran away. He wouldn't have ran away so fast if, during one of the times when Rosinante stayed at the marine base that Garp was in charge of, Garp didn't accidentally left out a Devil Fruit that he confiscated from a pirate and which Rosinante ate.
The shouts that Garp received from Sengoku when he found out Rosinante ate the Calm Calm Fruit confirmed Kuzan’s suspicion that sometimes it was more safe to fight pirates than to babysit Rosinante for Sengoku.
Rosinante officially joined the Marines the seventh year under Sengoku’s command as a Private Recruit at the age of fifteen, a compromise of Rosinante’s wish to join and Sengoku’s wish for Roisnante to stay close because he was still so young. Rosinante ended up being promoted to Corporal within four months due to outstanding performance, since by then, he had been following Tsuru’s training regimen for the past three years and his ability surpassed that of normal recruits.
Whispers of nepotism from other private recruits and soldiers followed him around the Marine Headquarter soon after. Sengoku had the strong urge to hurt someone when he found Rosinante crying in his room. He hadn’t seen Rosinante cried so badly since the second year he stayed with Sengoku.
‘It’s okay,’ Rosinante signed, wiping his eyes and face. He looked up at Sengoku and gave him a smile. ‘I’m fine.’
“You can’t always coddle him,” Tsuru had said to Sengoku when Rosinante first brought up wanting to become a marine. “He has to grow up someday.”
Sengoku looked at Rosinante, his son in everything but name, and recalled the sobbing boy that he had found seven years ago. He looked at Rosinante now, trying to be strong even through his tears, and thought, He is growing up.
It would only be a disservice to Rosinante to insist he stayed at the nest.
Sengoku kneeled in front of Rosinante, who barely used to reach his chest but was now nearly at his shoulders, and said, “How do you feel about a transfer?”
Rosinante’s eyes widened, before he at last closed his eyes and nodded. Sengoku wiped his tears and said, “I’m sorry.”
Rosinante shook his head and signed. ‘Thank you.’
At his own request, Rosinante ended up being transferred from ship to ship and base to base for the rest of the seventh year, helping out in any operation that required secrecy or stealth using his Calm Calm Fruit. He continued that for the eight year, until Kuzan heard about it and requested some assistance in stealth on an operation that he had been planning to undertake.
Rosinante went on his ninth year to join Rear Admiral Kuzan aboard his ship and the first thing he did was trip in front of the entire crew on the way to report to Kuzan for his duties.
“Oh my, my,” Kuzan said, though in reality, he wasn’t surprised or concerned. It had been two years since Kuzan last saw Rosinante, but he had watched over Rosinante for nearly two years before that. Clumsiness was Rosinante’s constant companion and Kuzan was beginning to think that that wouldn’t change regardless of his age.
Rosinante pushed himself up from where he had fallen, unhurt as Kuzan knew he would be, but then Kuzan noticed the red burn of his ears and cheeks. There was a determined frown on Rosinante’s face, so at odds with the sunny grin that Kuzan remembered Rosinante by, and then he became aware of the whispers of his men of “too young”, “weak”, and “burden”.
Rosinante marched the rest of the way to Kuzan without tripping, a fact that Kuzan might have teased him with if only Rosinante’s eyes weren’t hard as flint as he performed a perfect salute at him and then started signing.
“Marine Code 01746. Corporal Donquixote Rosinante, reporting for duty,” someone in the crowd of marines translated aloud.
The whispers grew to murmurs, this time with the additional hiss of “nepotism” upon his rank. Kuzan saw the way Rosinante bit his lips, but said nothing upon the hard warning look Rosinante gave him, only flicking Rosinante on the forehead when they passed by each other on the ship later that day.
Kuzan didn’t need to speak up anyway. Rosinante’s action spoke for himself two days later when their ship came across a pirate crew and Rosinante polished them off alongside with the rest of his men, clumsy tripping and all.
Their stealth operation went off without a hitch and after Kuzan dropped off the pirates at Impel Down, he extended an offer for Rosinante to stay on his ship permanently and Rosinante agreed. Kuzan’s men slapped Rosinante’s back in welcome and shoved a tankard of beer into his hand upon hearing the news, and that was how Rosinante ended up staying on his ship.
The tenth year found Rosinante promoted to a Sergeant Major, and when he found out, he stopped breathing. Kuzan was just about to be concerned by the very realistic statue imitation Rosinante had going, but then a tear slipped out from the corner of his eyes and he blinked in bemusement at his hand after swiping at his face.
Kuzan’s men froze at the sight, congratulations on the tip of their tongue all but forgotten. It was only when Rosinante looked up and finally saw them again that they unfroze.
One of them whistled with a laugh, and clasped a friendly hand against Rosinante’s back. “Hey, hey, Sergeant Major, I know it’ll be nice to be able to boss us around from now on, but no need for the tears, man!”
Rosinante flushed when he realized he just teared up in front of the entire crew and tried to duck away, but the marines were having none of that and crowded around him, giving him their congratulations and also some friendly ribbing.
Rosinante only managed to escape hours later after enduring countless recounts of ‘and then he was so moved he immediately teared up!’ and the first thing he did was pick up the Den Den Mushi in his room and then stared at it. After a long moment, he finally gathered his courage and dialed the familiar number.
The Den Den Mushi on the other end picked up before the second ring could even sound, like it had been waiting for him.
‘Sengoku?’ Rosinante tapped against the mouthpiece with Morse Code. He suddenly felt like a kid again, with all the anticipation and fear knotted in his throat and chest. ‘It’s me,’ he explained uselessly.
“Rosinante,” Sengoku’s voice came through, steady and warm as the man himself. “I heard. Congratulations on your promotion. You’re a Sergeant Major now.”
The pride in Sengoku’s voice was unmistakable. Rosinante lowered his head, curling around the Den Den Mushi as he nodded.
“Mhm,” he said, as the knot in his chest loosened and warmth flooded through.
“I’m proud of you,” Sengoku said, and that was all Rosinante ever wanted to hear and believe in,“and you have every reason to be proud of yourself.”
And now he could do so too.
Kuzan was startled when Rosinante came out of his room the next day with a bright grin on his face, and for a second, an image of a younger Rosinante overlapped the one in front of him.
‘Kuzan,’ Rosinante signed in greeting, only for confusion to dim the light in his expression when Kuzan didn’t react. ‘Are you - Hey!’
A frown crossed Rosinante’s face as Kuzan ruffled his hair like a kid, only for it to falter when Kuzan smiled and said, “Welcome back, brat.”
Kuzan could not remember the last time he saw Rosinante grin. Smile and laugh, yes, but grin like a child? Never, not when Rosinante already hated all the rumors about how he was too young for his position, too clumsy, and that he must have had a family member to boost him up. Not when Rosinante, on some level, had allowed himself to believe those stupid rumors, and had set about proving himself by leaving Sengoku’s shadows. Rosinante made sacrifices to get to where he was, his relationship with Sengoku nearly being one of them, and had left things behind on his rush towards growth. Kuzan was glad to see that Rosinante was finally slowing down to catch his breath, and in doing so, allowed himself to go back and pick up what had he left behind.
Rosinante looked at Kuzan for a second upon his words, and then understanding dawned. ‘Thank you for your patience, Kuzan,’ Rosinante said, and then grinned again, his lips nearly stretching from ear to ear.
It looked really silly, and no one could get Kuzan to admit that he had missed seeing it.
Smoker joined Kuzan’s ship the eleventh year, and Rosinante took interest in him almost right away.
Getting right into his face with his notepad, Rosinante wrote, ‘Hello! I’m Donquixote Rosinante, the Sergeant Major. You?’
Smoker stared at Rosinante, eyed at his uniform that indeed indicated he was the Sergeant Major, and then looked over at the other marines just for confirmation. They nodded, and then something like despair and resignation flashed across Smoker’s face before it blanked out to something that could be seen as vaguely respectful if you tilted your head sideways and squinted.
Smoker had just gotten out of the academy. He probably didn’t expect such a quirky superior right off the bat, especially given how strict the marine academy must have been, though Rosinante recalled a line in Smoker’s file that said he was a troublemaker.
Rosinante watched Smoker take in everything, his grin only widening all the while at Smoker’s reaction, which, in retrospect, might not have helped convincing Smoker that he wasn’t being trolled. Nevertheless, it seemed like there was enough evidence to support Rosinante and his rank, so Smoker gave him a perfect salute and introduced himself.
Rosinante hid a laugh because Smoker’s perfect marine behavior reminded Rosinante so much of himself back when he first joined Kuzan on his ship.
‘Welcome, Smoker-kun!’ Rosinante wrote, the flourish in his words effectively communicating all the cheer in Rosinante’s tone. ‘Rear Admiral Kuzan is napping right now and he doesn’t appreciate us waking him up for anything short of imminent death, so I hope you don’t mind it’s only me greeting you.’
Smoker looked a little like he was wondering if he came onto the right ship but managed to swallow back all his questions and nod anyway, so Rosinante guessed he would fit right in.
Maybe it was because Smoker was only two years younger than Rosinante or maybe it was because he was so tense and uptight like Rosinante used to be, but for whatever reason, Rosinante found himself unable to resist badgering Smoker just to see if he would loosen up.
Rosinante found out that if he bothered Smoker just enough, Smoker’s face would flush very pleasantly with anger. The last time that happened was when Rosinante found out that Smoker ate a Devil Fruit called Smoke-Smoke Fruit.
Rosinante slung an arm over Smoker’s shoulder, putting most of his weight there as he leaned forward to clench at his own stomach with his other arm, unable to stop laughing. ‘Smoke-Smoke?!’ he would have said and asked was that Smoker’s theme with his cigar, his name and now even his Devil Fruit, but even without him saying it, it was obvious what Rosinante was laughing about.
Smoker’s face flushed then, red spreading in his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, and that was the last thing Rosinante saw before Smoker abruptly used the very thing Rosinante was teasing him about and made himself into smoke, causing Rosinante to fall to the ground with a yelp when his support disappeared.
Then it was Rosinante’s turn to be laughed at, but he didn’t mind because that was Smoker’s first bark of laughter since he joined. He was not so amused when the marines also joined in as he picked himself off the ground, and managed to hold onto his frown for two seconds before he sighed and grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.
The thing Rosinante remembered the most about the twelfth year was a single battle their ship had with a group of nameless pirates on the sea. They weren’t strong, per say, but they had heavy weapons and somehow managed to get access to seastones, leading all the Devil Fruit users - who were the powerhouses of their ship - to fight more cautiously in order to not get caught.
Nevertheless, the marines weren’t weak and twenty minutes into fighting, it was obvious that the pirates would soon lose. Rats act rashly when cornered, nevermind humans, and Rosinante suddenly found all the remaining pirates fighting with an extra burst of strength powered by desperation.
Rosinante was handling it through his tripping and falling, which befuddled and amused his opponents to no end until they suddenly found themselves beat on the ground, when he caught sight of a pirate running at Smoker from the back, his sword gleaming with a coating of seastone.
Smoker wasn’t looking in his direction and even if he was, Rosinante doubted he would be able to decipher his signing among all the chaos. Rosinante was too far, he could not reach him, and Rosinante had never been a ranged fighter since guns sickened him.
The pirate was almost upon Smoker, and no one else - much less than the man himself - had noticed.
Move, Smoker, move! Rosinante thought, rushing towards him even though he would be too late. He watched the sword slowly descend. “Smoker, behind!”
Smoker whirled around, the jitte that he had taken to using just catching the sword’s blow, and Rosinante let out a breath. Smoker’s eyes widened when he caught sight Rosinante and then Rosinante realized, I spoke, I spoke.
“Rosinante!” Smoker shouted, and then Rosinante remembered the opponent he was fighting and dodged. The sword glanced over his side, drawing blood, but it was not fatal. His opponent cursed and rushed forward, and Rosinante danced back until his foot caught on a rolling bottle of beer and he was suddenly tipping back.
I’m going to strangle whoever left it there, Rosinante thought, and then that was the least of his worries when he realized he had tumbled overboard.
Rosinante’s blood ran cold, and the sound of waves drowned his ears.
“Fuck!” he heard a familiar voice curse, and then Rosinante’s world crackled with gleaming white.
He yelped as he landed and stood immediately because the floor was fucking cold, only to fall immediately because the floor was also fucking slippery.
Holy shit, Rosinante thought when he registered what he landed on, staring at what used to be sea water. Now it was just ice.
Rosinante raised his head and sure enough, Kuzan was there, peering over the ship with heaving breaths and a hand against the railing to support his weight. Gleaming ice trailed from his hand down to the side of the ship and directly into the sea to the icy floor that Rosinante was now lying on.
Rosinante carefully stood up on wobbling legs, noticing from the decreasing commotion that the fight must finally be wrapping up. ‘Kuzan,’ Rosinante started signing, before recalling that he had shouted at Smoker in warning before. He raised his hand carefully to his throat, cold tingling from his fingertips to where they met his neck, before his mouth opened.
“Are you okay?” Rosinante asked aloud, the words heavy and unfamiliar vibrating from his throat after years of not speaking. But it was him. The words came from him.
Kuzan’s eyes widened upon his spoken words. “Rosinante,” he started, but then a figure billowed from the ship past Kuzan and straight to Rosinante.
“Are you okay?!” Smoker demanded, halting right in front of Rosinante and looking at him wide-eyed and concerned.
Warmth curled in Rosinante’s chest despite the ice he was standing on.
“Yeah,” Rosinante said aloud, the single word coming out in a puff of cloud due to the cold, and enjoyed Smoker’s widening of eyes. He has such pretty eyes, Rosinante thought, and then wondered why he didn’t say so as much, especially since he apparently got his voice back.
How much longer do I have to speak before I get used to it again? he mused, before saying, “You have pretty eyes” at the same time Smoker said, “So you really got your voice b...ack…”
He trailed off as he registered what Rosinante said.
Ah, ah, his flush is pretty too, Rosinante thought, before thinking, why don’t he say that aloud too, since he apparently got his voice back.
“The flush on your face is pretty too, Smoker,” Rosinante said, grinning as the flush on Smoker’s face deepened. Rosinante opened his mouth to tell Smoker that too, and then Smoker’s hand slapped across his mouth.
“Shut up!” Smoker said, eyes darting everywhere and at everything but Rosinante.
Smoker’s hand was warm against Rosinante, and it made Rosinante aware of how cold he was from standing on the ice after lying on it due to his fall.
Rosinante stepped forward and enveloped Smoker in a hug, and Smoker froze. “You’re really warm,” Rosinante said, though he couldn’t tell how much Smoker could decipher since his hand was still over his mouth. Rosinante closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Smoker’s, and Smoker’s hand fell away. “This might be a bad time, not to mention I’m your superior, but I really like you, Smoker.”
Smoker’s hand immediately covered his mouth again, though he didn’t pull away from Rosinante. Even the tips of his ears were burning red by now.
Rosinante chuckled. “You’re so red, Smoker, though all the warmer for me, I guess,” he said with a grin, and Smoker growled.
“God, do you ever shut up?!” he hissed. “I miss the days when you were mute!”
Rosinante merely continued to grin. “You don’t like my voice?” he asked, and then Smoker fell silent. He mumbled something. “What?”
Smoker turned his head so his mouth was directly against Rosinante’s ear, and then a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold went through Rosinante. Rosinante could feel Smoker’s lips curl to a smirk, and then it was Rosinante’s turn to flush.
“I said,” Smoker murmured against his ear, smirk going away now and his voice just a tad shy and embarrassed underneath all the gruffness, “I like you too. Fuck the regulations.”
Rosinante’s heart nearly rocketed out of his chest upon those words. He laughed and pressed closer to Smoker, tightening his hold on him, and nearly slipped on the ice. Smoker quickly wrapped his arms around Rosinante to steady him, before slowly hugging back.
“Idiot Sergeant Major,” Smoker murmured, his tone fond, and Rosinante couldn’t stop grinning even if he wanted to.
“Maa, well,” a voice drawled from overhead, “as much as I’m happy for you, can you guys come back up? I can’t move, these guys aren’t helping, and I need someone to take charge.”
Smoker and Rosinante turned around to the sight of their entire crew plus the handcuffed and tied pirates staring at them. Their fellow marines whistled, loud and obnoxious. “Congratulations!” they shouted, and also, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”
“Shut up!” Smoker shouted, and threw his jitte at the marines when they booed. Rosinante laughed and pressed a kiss Smoker’s cheek, and he froze before his entire face turned red.
The marines cheered.
“Let’s go back,” Rosinante whispered against his cheek, and Smoker glared at him before nodding. Rosinante wrapped an arm around Smoker and let him carry him back on the ship, where he - amusingly enough, it was only now that Rosinante recalled - attached his smoky upper body to his lower half.
“Kuzan, what’s wrong?” Rosinante said, going to his Rear Admiral as he recalled him saying that he was stuck. “Are you okay?”
Kuzan looked at him and then tilted his head to the side of the ship where his hand was glued on.
Rosinante laughed when he realized that the word ‘glue’ was used quite literal. “You can’t pull your hand back?” he asked, and Kuzan sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
“I used too much power to freeze the sea,” Kuzan explained, and Rosinante nodded because they had theorized that maybe Kuzan could do it, but this was the first time he succeeded since previously, the sea had always canceled out Kuzan’s Devil Fruit power before it can take hold.
“Thank you. You saved me,” Rosinante said and Kuzan waved it off.
“Just… what is it again?” Kuzan’s brows furrowed. “I forgot, but that. Yeah, do that for me while I take a power nap.” Rosinante nodded and hid a smile, used to Kuzan’s forgetful ways now. Kuzan paused from leaning back, and said, “Also, congratulations on your new relationship and getting your voice back.”
Rosinante’s heart soared at the reminder. He grinned and saluted. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said, before he turned around and waved at Smoker and the other marines to start cleaning the aftermath of the battle.
The beginning of the thirteenth year was bliss. Rosinante and Smoker remained on Kuzan’s ship and they were all promoted after capturing a notorious group of pirates, Rosinante to Commander, Smoker to Corporal and Kuzan to Vice Admiral. For a while, they even went around visiting Sengoku, Garp and Tsuru. Smoker’s nervousness - not that he would admit it - upon meeting them was fun, and Rosinante teased Smoker for weeks after since all Sengoku did upon the news was look at him, Garp laughed, and Tsuru nodded before accepting him.
Then in the middle of the year, they heard news about a group of pirates called the Donquixote Pirates and Rosinante’s blood ran cold.
At the head of the Donquixote Pirates was Doflamingo.
Smoker’s brows furrowed when he heard. “Donquixote? Isn't that the same as your last name…?” He trailed off when he saw how pale Rosinante looked. “Rosinante?” Rosinante couldn't breathe. “Rosinante!”
Smoker quickly sat him down with his head between his knees and Rosinante gasped gratefully, and clenched tight onto Smoker’s fingers between his hand.
Smoker brushed his hand against Rosinante’s face and he nearly flinched. Smoker stopped, hand hovering before he dropped it.
“What is it?” Smoker asked.
Rosinante shook his head, and didn't know what he was trying to say anymore. “I…”
He closed his eyes and the images that he hadn't seen in years - the blood, the headless body of their father, Doflamingo standing above them with a deranged smile on his face - flashed behind his eyes. He felt sick.
“Smoker…” Rosinante said, a silent plea. Smoker looked at him without understanding, but with a willingness to if only Rosinante would tell him, and Rosinante recalled the looks of hatred they had gotten when the Donquixote family inadvertently revealed that they were former World Nobles and all the suffering that came after. “I'm sorry. Can you please not ask me yet? I'll explain it someday, but…”
Smoker nodded. “Alright, alright. That's fine,” he said, and even his gruffness couldn't hid all the concern in his voice. “Now stop looking so pale.”
He raised a hand to brush his hand against Rosinante’s face, only to freeze when he recalled Rosinante nearly flinching back before. Rosinante leaned forward into his warmth before he could pull away.
“Alright,” Rosinante said with a small smile, and he could tell from the look Smoker gave him that it was weaker than the smiles he normally gave him, but Smoker didn't say anything.
Rosinante looked at the cigar hanging from Smoker’s mouth and tugged it away. “Hey!” Smoker protested, but then Rosinante took a puff from it.
Rosinante coughed immediately, the bitter smoke stuck disgustingly somewhere in his mouth and lungs.
“It taste really bad,” Rosinante said, making a face, and Smoker rolled his eyes.
“You say that everytime we kiss,” Smoker said, taking his cigar back. Rosinante appreciated how Smoker tried to control himself and not immediately snatch it away. Smoker relaxed when he placed the cigar back in his mouth and away from Rosinante. “What made you think this would be different?”
The smoke was still as nasty-tasting as Rosinante thought. Rosinante didn't like it, but…
His heart was already slowing down from its rabbit pace.
Smoker frowned when Rosinante started smoking and trying different brands of cigarette afterwards, but he didn’t say anything since he also smoked.
By the end of the year, Rosinante had settled on a brand that he liked and smoked daily.
(“He’s my brother,” Rosinante admitted one day against the racket the marines in the bar made. He tossed a drink back and when he swiped at his eyes later, Smoker let him pretend it was from the alcohol burn in his throat and planted a kiss at his eyes.
Smoker was so accepting of Rosinante and his pirate brother - perhaps because Smoker had seen how Rosinante agonized over it before - that Rosinante couldn't bring himself to tell him about them being former World Nobles.
Rosinante’s relationship to his pirate brother, Smoker could perhaps forgive despite his rigid ideas of justice because of their distance, but how about the very World Noble blood running through Rosinante’s veins?)
The fourteenth year, Cipher Pool came by to ask Rosinante some questions about the Donquixote Pirates. Smoker, Kuzan and the rest of the crew stood between them, gaze sharp and weapons out, but Rosinante shook his head and went with them, saying that he’d be back soon.
Rosinante kept his promise, but he didn’t - couldn’t - stay. Cipher Pool was smart; they had taken him in to question him as much as to answer Rosinante’s own question, and when they were done, Rosinante knew entirely too much about what the Donquixote Family had done and entirely too little about what other horrific acts they were planning to do and how to stop them.
After that, he could not go on his life pretending to know nothing and do nothing, just as Cipher Pool intended. Cipher Pool offered Rosinante to be their agent, and he just barely managed to not curse at them before storming away.
“You don’t have to go,” Smoker said from the door as Rosinante packed his things from his - their - room, and Rosinante shook his head.
“Cipher Pool sent agents and they all came back in body bags one way or another,” Rosinante said. “My brothe - Doflamingo trusts no one, I know this well.”
Smoker tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp. Smoke curled from his lit cigar into the room. Rosinante barely noticed it, had been used to it for some while now.
He’ll miss it.
“What makes you think he’ll trust you?” Smoker asked. He finally stopped leaning on the doorway and walked over, stopping just behind Rosinante. Rosinante continued packing and tried his best to not turn around when all he wanted to do was bury himself against Smoker and forget everything.
But he can’t.
“You’re a marine, Rosinante,” Smoker continued. “Not a spy. What makes you think you can do what even Cipher Pool can’t?”
He sneered at the words ‘Cipher Pool’. He did always hate shadowy agencies like that.
Rosinante finally stopped and turned around. He pressed his lips together for a moment, before smiling. He hoped it didn’t make him look like he was about to cry, but judging from Smoker’s expression, he had shit luck with that.
“Because I’m his brother, Smoker,” Rosinante said. “His blood runs in my vein, and that, he at least still cares about.”
I’ll come back for you, Doflamingo had promised before taking their father’s head back to Mariejois. It was intended to sound reassuring, but by then, all Doflamingo’s words sounded like threats to him.
Maybe Smoker was right. Maybe they were threats all along, but Cipher Pool implied by attempting to recruit him that they thought he could do something about Doflamingo and Rosinante may not like Cipher Pool just like Smoker, but he at least knew their intelligence was rarely wrong.
If they think that maybe Rosinante had a chance of spying on the Donquixote Family from within and making a difference, then Rosinante couldn’t sit around and wait while the Donquixote Family slowly gain strength until it becomes too strong to suppress. The Donquixote Family, from what Cipher Pool told him and from the research Rosinante did himself after finding out about its existence the thirteenth year, had already grown unprecedentedly fast already.
Rosinante regretted not thinking about Doflamingo and what he did during the years that Rosinante was living his life.
“Will that stop his hand if he finds out? Will he really still his hands if its against his brother?” Smoker asked quietly and they both knew the answer to that. Smoker had seen the reports of what the Donquixote Family had done, even if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes Doflamingo blowing their father’s head off, which was why Smoker was trying to stop him.
It was also why Rosinante was so resolute on going.
Rosinante remembered, even if he would rather forget, the tears, anguish and fear Doflamingo laid upon him when he killed their father. Doflamingo cared for him when they were younger, Rosinante knew, even when they were as different as day and night. If Doflamingo would do that to even Rosinante and their father, he couldn’t imagine what Doflamingo would do to others. Rosinante couldn’t let him hurt more people, not if he could help it.
“I’ll miss you,” Rosinante said instead of answering, and Smoker’s jaws clenched tightly before he at last let out a breath.
“Five years,” he said, enveloping Rosinante into a hug. “Bring them down in five years, or else it’ll be me that you’ll be dealing with.”
Rosinante laughed and rested his head against Smoker. “Alright, five years,” he said, closing his eyes.
Neither of them moved for a very long time.
None of them - Tsuru, Garp, Kuzan, Smoker - approved of Rosinante’s decision, but at least on some level, they understood even if they didn’t agree. Sengoku was in the same category, but unlike them, he couldn’t let go, even if he knew that was what Rosinante wanted.
“There are other ways,” he said, because he remembered how broken Rosinante was when Doflamingo finally crossed the line the first time. Sengoku was there, he helped Rosinante through it, and he remembered keenly the nightmares and tears Rosinante had afterwards that, to some degree, still haunted him today. He knows the life that Rosinante had right now, could see the brilliant future that Rosinante had ahead of him, and he couldn’t bear to have his son in everything but name throw all that away.
“Please, Sengoku,” Rosinante said, two simple words that Rosinante had never uttered to him except one time previous, and Sengoku closed his eyes.
The first time was when Rosinante asked Sengoku to let him be a marine.
“It doesn’t have to be you,” Sengoku said. “You are not responsible for Doflamingo’s actions.”
Rosinante slowly shook his head.
“It has to be me,” Rosinante said, and didn’t flinch as he finished, “because I’m his family and he is mine.” Rosinante looked at Sengoku. “And I want it to be you. If I’m going to go back to Doflamingo, I would rather it be under your command, with you taking charge of the operation.”
Because you took me away from him once, and it changed my life and I’m forever grateful, he didn’t say, but he didn’t need to because even from the beginning, Sengoku and Rosinante’s relationship had never been built upon words, but rather actions and signs and later, just glances. Sengoku knew without Rosinante saying, just as Rosinante knew Sengoku would give in without him saying more.
“Commander Rosinante, Marine Code 01746,” Sengoku said at least, his voice strong and commanding, and Rosinante snapped to attention. “I hereby give you an independent mission. You are to infiltrate the Donquixote Family and report anything noteworthy that you can find. You are, under no circumstance, to engage the Donquixote Family into battle and if it comes to that or if you are ever discovered, you are to abandon the mission, hide, and call for backup. Is this understood?”
Rosinante saluted sharply, a grin bright on his face. “Yes, sir!”
“Also, pretend to be mute during the mission,” Sengoku said.
Rosinante looked at him, bemusement on his face, and Sengoku wondered how to tell him that even among the marines, Rosinante was too honest, too transparent for his own good, and that it was better to have less potential source of tells to give him away.
“Try putting some distracting makeup on as well,” Sengoku advised, briefly recalling his, Garp, and Tsuru’s infiltration days. “You have too honest a face,” he explained, and didn’t add, too kind, too considerate, too trusting and too beloved.
Rosinante smiled at Sengoku, his expression soft, and nodded.
By the end of the fourteenth year, it was no longer common knowledge that Admiral Sengoku once raised an adopted son named Rosinante, that Rosinante was often found at either Vice Admiral Tsuru’s or Vice Admiral Garp’s base whenever Admiral Sengoku went out to the sea, that he was Vice Admiral Kuzan’s subordinate for five years, that he had a relationship with Corporal Smoker, and that his last name was Donquixote.
By the end of the fourteenth year, except for the file in Admiral Sengoku’s office, the name Donquixote Rosinante completely vanished from all records.
[ 2]
In the eighteenth year, Rosinante was killed by Doflamingo. They scoured Minion Island, but failed to find his body for burial.
He was only twenty-six.
Xxx
There was no nineteenth year.