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Caesar Clown was hunched over a cluttered table in the makeshift lab set up within one of Zou’s vast tree hollows. The acrid scent of herbs and chemicals wafted through the air as he reluctantly crushed medicinal leaves with a mortar and pestle. His flamboyant demeanor was dimmed by his current predicament: being forced to make antidotes for the poisoned Mink tribe.
“Slave labor!” he proclaimed loudly, his purple lips twisting in disdain. “My genius reduced to some herbalist hack. It's an affront!”
Across the room, Tony Tony Chopper busily tended to a rack of bubbling beakers. The little reindeer looked every bit the focused doctor, his small hands deftly measuring and mixing.
The door to the lab creaked open, and Milky, the kind-hearted reindeer Mink, stepped inside with a tray of fresh supplies. Her warm smile lit up the dim, cluttered space as she approached Chopper.
“Doctor Chopper, here are the herbs you asked for,” she said sweetly, setting the tray down beside him. “You’re doing so much for everyone. You’re incredible, you know that?”
Chopper froze, his ears twitching as his face turned beet red. He spun around, flailing his tiny arms. “Th-that doesn’t make me feel happy at all, you harlot!”
Milky blinked at first, then let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You’re so funny, Doctor Chopper.” Before he could respond, she leaned in and planted a light kiss on his cheek.
Chopper stood frozen, steam pouring out of his ears. Milky giggled again at his reaction and waved as she left the room. “Keep up the great work, Doctor!”
As the door swung shut behind her, Caesar Clown, who had been watching the entire exchange from across the room, dropped the vial he was holding with an audible clink.
“Oh, give me a break!” Caesar exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “You just called her a harlot! And she liked it! What kind of bizarre charm are you sporting?!”
Chopper’s face flushed crimson. “Wha—ch-charm? That’s not—she’s just being nice!”
“Nice?!” The scientist responded with indignation. “Oh, please. She’s practically swooning over you. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, the picture of sophistication and genius, and I can’t even get a hello from the Mink girls!”
“Shut up!” Chopper barked, waving his arms defensively, his small form trembling with frustration. But then, as quickly as his anger had flared, it faded. His arms dropped to his sides, and his expression turned somber. “She’s just… the first reindeer who’s ever been this kind to me.”
The scientist blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in tone. “Huh. The first, you say? What’s that about? You weren’t the darling of your herd or something?” he said sardonically.
Chopper hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. He fiddled with his hat, his voice quiet but steady. “…Not exactly. They didn’t like me because of my blue nose. Things got even worse after I ate my devil fruit. They thought I was a monster and kicked me out.”
The bubbling of the beakers seemed louder in the heavy silence that followed. Caesar’s grin vanished completely, his usual flippant air replaced by something harder to place. It wasn’t empathy—more like some sort of pity, understanding even. For a moment, he said nothing, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the little reindeer.
“Did you take revenge?” Caesar murmured at last, his voice lower, more serious.
Chopper’s head snapped up, his wide eyes locking onto Caesar’s. “What?!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking. “No! Of course not!”
Caesar’s gaze didn’t waver. “Why not?” he asked, each word deliberate. “They treated you like a monster. Threw you out. Isn’t that what monsters do, Chopper? Take revenge?”
Chopper stared at him, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Because… because it wasn’t their fault,” he said finally, his voice trembling but resolute. “They were animals acting like animals. They didn’t understand. And even if they did, what would hurting them change? It wouldn’t make me feel better. It wouldn’t make me… not a monster to them.”
Caesar frowned, his tone incredulous. “They treated you like dirt, didn’t they? If it were me, I’d have wiped them out without hesitation.”
Chopper’s voice trembled with restrained anger. “That’s exactly what I’d expect from you, Caesar. But they weren’t evil. I understand that now. I’ve grown.”
Caesar sighed in frustration. "You know, I don't know much about reindeer, but I know a thing or two about sheep." He snorted, a bitter sound with no humor in it. “Not that I’m entirely one myself.”
Chopper glanced up, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
The air hung heavy for a moment after Chopper’s question, the kind of silence charged with unspoken thoughts. Caesar sat there, the corners of his mouth twitching as he wrestled with his emotions, caught between nostalgia and bitterness. Finally, he broke the stillness, his voice carrying a heavy resignation.
"I was among the first human clones created by the child prodigy Vegapunk. Well, almost human. Human cloning was still in its infancy, so they spliced in the animal they found easiest to produce—sheep."
Chopper had often wondered about Caesar's appearance. This tall, gaunt, ram-like man with horns, hooves, and a tail was a clone, a scientist who was a product of science himself.
“When I was created, I was supposed to be perfect. The best of them all. They made me taller, sharper, smarter than the rest. Shurororo...” He laughed, the sound hollow. “Perfect in every measurable way—except for one. My damn hair.”
He reached up and tugged on a strand of his jet-black locks, the motion almost spiteful. “The others had their fluffy, white, pristine wool. Me? I got this. Made me the literal black sheep of the flock, and you can imagine how that went over. They hated me. They feared me. Like I was some kind of monster in the middle of their perfect little herd.”
"They...treated you that badly?" Chopper asked, his tone softening. The hurt in his voice was palpable, reflecting the weight of his own struggle with identity and belonging.
“Never mind that I could think circles around them. Never mind that I was the most human out of any of them. Hell, that should’ve made me better, right? More real. But no. It just made me a monster.” He sneered, his lips curling upward in a twisted facsimile of a smile.
“Didn’t… didn’t any of the scientists try to help you? Surely someone cared about you?”
“Oh, they cared, alright. Some of them were real kind, too—at least on the surface. They’d wipe my tears, tell me how sorry they were for what I was going through.” His voice softened into a mocking, syrupy tone. “‘You’re so special, Caesar,’ they’d say. ‘Don’t let the others get to you.’”
He slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the vials and beakers. “And then, the moment my back was turned—or hell, sometimes right in front of me—they’d pull out their notebooks and scribble down every detail. A ‘fascinating case study in group dynamics and prejudice,’ they called it. Isn't that rich?”
“What about Vegapunk? He created you, didn’t he? Surely he… he must’ve cared about you.”
Caesar twitched at the name, his golden eyes narrowing as if considering whether to answer. His lips twisted into a bitter smile, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, Vegapunk. The great and benevolent genius. Of course, he cared. ‘My special little boy,’ he’d call me. ‘My perfect son.’ But I knew what that really meant?”
Caesar continued, his tone hardening. “It meant I was his perfect experiment. He’d pat me on the head, say I was different, better than the rest. But every time he said it, I knew he was blowing smoke up my ass. I wasn’t his son. I wasn’t his boy. I was a prototype—a living test case.”
The room fell silent, save for the soft bubbling of Chopper’s beakers. The little doctor could only stare as Caesar’s usual flamboyant façade cracked, revealing something far more vulnerable and raw.
“So, I climbed the ladder. From test subject to scientist. I worked harder, thought faster, invented better than anyone else in that miserable lab. And still, it wasn’t enough. Because no matter what I did, no matter what I made, people didn’t see me. All they saw was Vegapunk. His genius. His shadow. I wasn’t Caesar Clown to them—I was just his damn creation.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and he paused, taking a moment to steady himself. When he spoke again, it was quieter, more bitter.
“I wasn’t a man. I wasn’t a scientist. I was a science experiment. On display for their amusement.”
“That… sounds really painful, Caesar.”
Caesar blinked, startled by the sincerity in Chopper’s voice. “Painful?” He snorted. “It was hell.”
Chopper frowned. “But why are you telling me this?”
Caesar looked at him, his usual bravado absent. “Because we’re the same, kid. You get it, don’t you? Being cast out. Being treated like you don’t belong. You think your crew would ever really see you as anything but a talking animal?”
Chopper stiffened, his fists clenching. “They see me as their doctor,” he said quietly but firmly. “And they see me as their friend. That’s enough for me.”
Caesar scoffed, though his sneer was weaker than usual. “Maybe you’re lucky, then, reindeer boy. Or maybe you’re just naive.”
“You know what, Caesar?” Chopper’s blue nose twitched slightly as he straightened. “You’re right. We’ve both gone through some pretty horrible things. I know what it’s like to be called a freak. To be chased away. To feel like no one sees you for who you are. I get it. I really do.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected fire in Chopper’s tone.
“But here’s the difference,” Chopper continued, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. “I didn’t grow up to hurt people because of it. I didn’t take my pain and use it as an excuse to make other people suffer.”
Caesar flinched but quickly tried to bite back. “You—!”
“No, let me finish!” Chopper snapped. “You were a test subject as a kid. You know how much that hurts, how it feels to have your life treated like it doesn’t matter. And yet you still—still—decided to use children as test subjects!”
Caesar’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t regret his actions—of course not—but his usual quick-witted defenses failed him under Chopper’s furious glare.
“That’s not just cruel—it’s downright despicable!” Chopper’s voice cracked as he shouted, his emotions bubbling over. “Whatever happened to you, whatever made you feel like you were nothing, doesn’t give you the right to do the same thing to someone else. Especially not to innocent kids!”
The words hung heavy in the air, Caesar shrinking slightly under the weight of Chopper’s fury. For a moment, it seemed like the reindeer had nothing more to say. But then, to Caesar’s surprise, Chopper’s voice softened.
“…But even after all of that, I’m still sorry for what happened to you,” Chopper said, his shoulders slumping as his anger gave way to sadness. “No one deserves to feel that way. Not even you. I’m sorry that no one saw your worth. I’m sorry that they treated you like you didn’t matter. But I’m not sorry for calling you out. You needed to hear it.”
Caesar raised an eyebrow, his expression twisting into a mock pout. “So that’s it, huh? I pour my heart out to you, and you just slap me in the face with all that moral high ground? You hurt me, kiddo. Truly, I’m wounded.”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Chopper retorted, rolling his eyes, though his voice carried a hint of tired amusement. He sighed deeply and glanced at the clock ticking softly on the lab wall. “Look, it’s late, and we’re both exhausted. Just… go to bed.”
Caesar huffed, leaning back dramatically against the counter. “Hmph. You’re not my mother…”
Chopper didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he shuffled toward the door, ready to return to his crew.
“Good night, Caesar,” Chopper said softly, his voice carrying a somber edge as he left the scientist alone.
The lab fell into silence, save for the faint bubbling of beakers and the occasional creak of wood as the great tree hollow shifted in the night. Caesar stood motionless for a moment, staring at the spot where Chopper had exited. His usual flamboyant sneer had faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. Slowly, he turned back to the cluttered table, leaning heavily against it as though the weight of their conversation had physically drained him.
He let out a sharp exhale, then another, before muttering to himself, “Damn child. Who does he think he is, lecturing me like that after everything I said? ” His words trailed off, the bitterness in his tone unable to mask the tremor underneath.