North Blue. On a desolate island not far from the Red Line, a biting sea wind carrying a salty, fishy scent forced its way through the cracks of a broken window, emitting a low, moaning sound.
Inside a ramshackle wooden hut, the once-exalted Donquixote family huddled in a corner. Damp mold crept across the mottled walls. Rainwater leaking from the roof pooled into murky puddles on the earthen floor. The air was thick with the smell of decay.
Ten-year-old Doflamingo wiped the sweat from his brow with a dirty sleeve. Together with nine-year-old Rosinante, he held half a moldy loaf of bread. The bread's surface was covered in a bluish-gray fungus, emitting a nauseating odor of rot.
"Mother, please eat something," Doflamingo's voice was a bit hoarse. Standing on tiptoe, he offered the bread to his mother, Topman Urea, who lay on a plank bed.
Urea struggled to prop herself up, a strained smile appearing on her pale face. Her cracked lips trembled slightly as she stretched out a bony hand to take the bread.
"Cough... Thank you, my children." She carefully tore off a small piece, chewing it slowly in her mouth as if savoring a delicacy. The moldy taste spread in her mouth, but she bore it without showing her disgust.
"Mother, you eat it all," Rosinante said softly, though his eyes were uncontrollably fixed on the bread in his mother's hand.
Just then, a loud grumble came from his stomach, jarringly loud in the silent room.
Doflamingo immediately glared at his brother, but Rosinante stubbornly pressed his lips together, refusing to admit his hunger.
Urea's eyes grew moist. She knew this moldy bread was something her children had risked their lives to scavenge from the village dump. Just yesterday, they had been chased by angry villagers throwing stones; Rosinante's knee still bore the scrape marks. Looking at her sons' emaciated faces, her heart felt as if it were being cut by knives.
"Children, Mother is truly full," Urea said, breaking the bread into two pieces. "You should also—"
"No need, Mother," Doflamingo interrupted her, a resoluteness unbefitting his young age appearing on his childish face. "Rosinante and I will go to the shore later. Maybe we can find some shellfish." As he spoke, his gaze swept over the pile of empty shells in the corner—their dinner from two days ago.
On the other side of the room, Donquixote Homing knelt on the ground, his trembling hands holding a worn-out Den Den Mushi. His disheveled, grimy appearance bore no trace of the former Celestial Dragon's nobility. The once-magnificent clothes now hung on him as mere tattered rags.
"Please... I'm begging you. Let us return. Even if it's just letting my wife and children return to Mary Geoise." Homing's voice was choked with desperate sobs. He had uttered these same words countless times, but the answer was always the same cold refusal.
"Urea is sick. Even if you won't let us return, please send a doctor to save her. I'm begging you." Homing pleaded into the Den Den Mushi again, his voice nearly a whimper.
However, the Den Den Mushi merely closed its eyes coldly, directly cutting the communication.
"Homing, let it go. We can't go back," Urea's weak voice came from the bed. Looking at her husband's hunched back, her eyes were full of heartache.
"But, Urea, your illness..." Homing turned, staggering to his wife's side. His fingers gently brushed her feverish forehead, his eyes full of self-reproach and agony.
"I'll be fine. We've been here long enough. We need to move on. Otherwise, those people will find us here," Urea forced herself to say, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible. She knew the people once oppressed by the Celestial Dragons were searching everywhere for their family.
"I'm sorry, Urea... I'm so sorry..." Homing buried his head on the bed, his shoulders shaking violently.
Scalding tears soaked the thin bedsheet. He wept like a child. The once-lofty Celestial Dragon could not even guarantee the most basic necessities of food and shelter.
"It's alright, Homing. We're a family," Urea said with difficulty, lifting a hand to gently stroke her husband's hair. Her gaze moved past her husband's shoulder, landing on her two sons. Doflamingo was holding Rosinante tightly. Both boys watched the scene in silence.
Outside, the sea wind howled, whipping up sand that beat against the shaky wooden walls. In the distance, the sound of waves crashing against reefs seemed to narrate this family's tragic fate.
Once Celestial Dragon nobles, now reduced to struggling for basic survival, barely clinging to life on this desolate little island.
Suddenly, a hearty, boisterous laugh shattered the silence.
"Wororororo, look what I've found? Isn't this a family of Celestial Dragons?" a bold laugh came from outside.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!" Ten-year-old Doflamingo immediately grabbed a wooden stick, placing himself in front of his family. Though his voice was childish, it carried an unwavering firmness.
Nine-year-old Rosinante's legs shook with fear, but he imitated his brother, tightly gripping a stick and shielding his parents. Under the moonlight, his small hands trembled incessantly, yet he did not retreat.
Crash!
The rotten door fell to the ground with a light push—not just the door, but the entire wall collapsed. A tall figure slowly walked into the room, the moonlight casting a huge shadow behind him. The newcomer was burly, with horns on his head and a spiked club at his waist.
"Please... spare us... We've suffered enough..." Homing pleaded, trembling. Even without seeing the man's face clearly, his imposing build alone was enough to inspire despair.
"Relax. I'm just curious about what life is like for Celestial Dragons who gave up their status," Kaido grinned. "You're not even worth me lifting a finger. But..." He glanced at the barely-breathing Urea in the corner. "Even if I do nothing, that frail woman won't last through the night."
"Are... are you a doctor?" Doflamingo mustered his courage to ask, a sliver of hope in his voice.
"Kid, do I look like a doctor to you?" Kaido scoffed.
Doflamingo lowered his head in disappointment, but quickly looked up again, a stubborn light flashing in his eyes. "Please, give us some food. I promise, I'll repay you someday."
This was the first person they had encountered since leaving Mary Geoise who showed no hostility toward them. Doflamingo didn't want to give up this last chance.
"Repay me?" Kaido looked at the stubborn boy before him with interest. "In your current state, surviving is the real question."
"I will survive," Doflamingo clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. "No matter what, I will survive."
Under the moonlight, the boy's gaze was frighteningly determined.
(Note: The timing of Doflamingo's mother's death has been slightly altered here, as the author believes Doflamingo was still a salvageable child before his mother's death.)
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