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Chapter 25: Fragile Freedom
The thick chains that had bound Doflamingo to the mast for so many days had finally been removed. The metal links lay coiled like discarded snakes on the deck, still damp from the sea air, still stained from his skin. The cold iron shackles remained clamped tightly around his wrists—less a precaution now and more a symbol. The seastone collar still sat snuggly against his throat, repressing his Devil Fruit and with it his ability to see.

He sat still through the process, spine straight, legs folded neatly in front of him. He didn’t move. Not when the locks were opened. Not when Sanji pulled the final length away. Not even when the mast creaked as if in relief.

He could move now. But he didn’t.

Because freedom came with consequences. And after a childhood of being punished for standing without permission, he wasn’t quite sure what the cost would be this time.

Luffy stood nearby, Doflamingo could feel the boy’s presence like the sun on his face—unrelenting, direct, impossibly warm.

“You’re not tied up anymore,” Luffy said, his voice unceremonious and open as ever. “You can move around now.”

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly. The words registered, but the meaning did not. Move around. As if that were a choice. As if he hadn’t spent every second of the past week measuring each breath in silence, afraid that even twitching wrong would snap the tenuous peace.

“Don’t go too far,” Nami added softly from across the deck. She didn’t sound afraid. Just watchful. Like someone who had been hurt before and learned to stay alert. He understood that.

Still, he finally moved.

Slowly, testing the boundaries. His long legs unfolded like rusted machinery. He stood on aching joints. The deck beneath his feet felt too wide, too open. His hands trembled as he reached out, searching—always searching—for something familiar.

He found it in the alcove beneath the stairs. It had become a sort of den—his den. Close to the main deck. Exposed, yes, but shielded from overhead sun and from too many curious eyes.

He retreated there instinctively, hands bracing the opening like a wounded animal returning to its den.

Law stood near the railing, silent and unreadable. Doflamingo didn’t need to look to know it. He could feel the surgeon’s stare like a blade between his shoulder blades—cold and deliberate. But there was no command to stop him. No barked threat. Just… silence.

It was worse, somehow.

Luffy crouched near the edge of the alcove, eyes wide and without fear. “I’m gonna help you,” he said with quiet conviction. “You’ll see. You don’t have to be alone.”

Doflamingo froze.

Those words twisted something in his gut this time. Help him? Not alone?

That wasn’t how this worked. People like him—monsters, tyrants, slaves who’d survived by becoming something else—didn’t get help. They didn’t deserve it. And they sure as hell didn’t get Luffy of all people kneeling at their feet like a friend.

His fingers dug into the wooden edge beneath him.

You don’t help people like me. You chain them. Kill them. Or you walk away and pretend we were never human to begin with.

He hadn’t asked for this. Not the ship, not the kindness, not the freedom that tasted like guilt in his throat.

“You don’t have to… help me,” he murmured, voice rough and low, more from disbelief than defiance. He meant it. He wasn’t trying to manipulate Luffy—he just… couldn’t understand.

But Luffy only smiled, like it was simple. Like the answer had never changed.

“Yes, I do.”

And that—that—was what finally broke something loose in him.

Not anger. Not hope. Just… fatigue.

So much of him wanted to scream, Why? Why help the man who destroyed cities? Who brought nations to their knees? Who crushed mercy under his boot just to prove he could?

But instead, he simply leaned back into the shadows of his alcove. His head dropped forward, and he let the darkness curl around his shoulders.

“You don’t understand,” he thought. “I’m not someone you save. I’m what you survive.”

But he didn’t say it.

Because a part of him—small and traitorous—wanted to believe Luffy anyway.

And that, more than anything, was what exhausted him.

Chapter 26 – The Devil You Know

Morning came quietly.

There was no fanfare, no sudden change in the wind, no dramatic declaration. Just the rhythmic sound of sails creaking and waves slapping gently against the Sunny’s hull. The kind of day that felt peaceful in the way only long stretches of ocean could.

Doflamingo sat beneath the stairs, hunched slightly, shackled wrists resting in his lap. The salt wind caught strands of his hair, brushing them against his face. He could feel it—pressure, direction, warmth. Not enough to chart anything, but enough to orient him. He didn’t need vision to tell the ship was steady.

He’d been listening.

Not actively. Not with intent. But words drifted, carried by motion and breath and presence. Voices moved in arcs. Weight shifted in patterns. He heard Nami muttering about shifting currents. Franky cursed about ballast angles. And something in Doflamingo—withered, not dead—remembered how ships worked.

“Your angle’s off,” he said without raising his voice.

Franky startled mid-sentence. “What?”

Doflamingo tilted his head slightly toward the noise. “The starboard ballast. If you’re using double-shock suspension instead of fluidic pressure, you’re going to lean too hard to port on the next wind shear.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then, slowly, Franky leaned over the railing above the stairs. “…How the hell do you even know what system we use?”

“I don’t,” Doflamingo said. “But I can hear the tension difference when your boots cross that section of deck. And I remember the sound of a double-shock.” His tone was flat. “CP9 used it on their recon ships twenty years ago. The design creaks at a higher pitch when overloaded.”

Nami blinked. “That’s… actually accurate.”

He didn’t answer. He leaned back slightly and rested his shackled arms across his knees.

Chopper appeared a few minutes later with breakfast. Doflamingo took it without comment, fingers brushing fur briefly. Chopper didn’t flinch.
Xxxxx

By midday, the air had grown warmer and the crew’s mood had begun to thaw. Luffy snored in a hammock strung between the masts. Usopp and Franky wrestled with a faulty rigging knot. Nami stood at the rail, squinting at cloud formations.

Doflamingo could feel a headache building behind his temple. He’d been focusing too long. But something in the clouds bothered him.

“Storm’s going to curve,” he said, abruptly. “It won’t hit us directly.”

Nami turned. “You can’t even see it.”

“I don’t need to,” he said. “Wind pressure’s dropped. You’ve been checking it every six minutes. And someone adjusted course four degrees west to counter drift. If that’s still holding, the system will curve northward before it can cross our path.”

She stared at him. Not distrustful—just… puzzled. Then, slowly: “Thanks.”

Doflamingo nodded once. A small thing. But it left something jagged in his chest.
Xxxxx

Later that day, Sanji needed help carrying storage barrels from the hull. Luffy was still napping, Zoro had vanished, and Usopp had fake-sprained his wrist. Chopper volunteered first—but surprisingly, so did Doflamingo.

Sort of.

He didn’t offer, exactly. But when he stood up and started walking in that direction—slow, arms by his side, head tilted—it was clear he was trying.

Sanji raised a brow but didn’t stop him. “Fine. Just don’t drop anything. Or poison anything. Or make me regret this.”

Doflamingo grunted and followed him.

The storage deck was darker. More cramped. Sanji moved ahead without issue. Doflamingo followed, slower, tracing the wall with one hand. Each step was careful. Controlled.

Until—

Snap.

The sound was small. Rope against metal. A loop breaking tension.

But Doflamingo’s body reacted.

He stumbled back, heart thudding wildly. He slammed into the wall, chest heaving, shackled hands raised instinctively over his face.

It wasn’t rope. It wasn’t seastone. It wasn’t a whip. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

Sanji turned sharply. “Hey—hey, what the hell—?”

But Doflamingo couldn’t hear him. Not over the rush of memory. Not over the phantom feeling of branding irons and collars and laughing Celestial scum. He braced himself as if expecting a blow that never came.

Sanji’s voice finally cut through. “Oi. Hey—stop. You’re not down there anymore.”

It was that that got through.

Down there.

He exhaled, chest still trembling, and let his hands fall. “I… heard something. It startled me.”

“You think?” Sanji muttered. “You looked ready to break the ship in half.”

“I’m not going to,” Doflamingo said tightly.

“No. I know.” And that surprised them both.

They didn’t speak again on the way up.
Xxxxx
That evening, he didn’t retreat beneath the stairs immediately.

He sat in the open. Wrists still bound, posture still hunched. But present.

Robin approached quietly, sitting beside him with a book in her lap. “You were right about the weather.”

“Of course I was.”

“Where did you learn to track storms by sound?”

His fingers twitched. “My father refused to let us have weather logs. Said the heavens would guide us.” A pause. “I learned to listen instead.”

Robin nodded. She didn’t ask more. She just opened her book.

A few feet away, Law leaned on the railing and said nothing. But he watched.
Xxxxx
Luffy’s shift began as the sun dipped below the sea. He wandered over with his usual bounce and plopped down cross-legged in front of Doflamingo.

“You helped a lot today,” he said.

Doflamingo scoffed. “Spare me.”

“No, really. You were cool. Even Sanji said so. Sorta.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I am,” Luffy said cheerfully. “And I’m gonna keep helping you.”

Doflamingo stiffened. “Why?”

Luffy grinned. “Because you’re here. And you’re a person.”

Doflamingo stared in his direction for a long time. Something unspoken moved behind his tired eyes. Finally, he turned his head away.

“You’re exhausting,” he muttered.

“I get that a lot.”

Chapter 27: “Two Small Steps”

The day was warm and windless, the ship caught in one of those lazy midday lulls that lulled even the most energetic into a daze. Most of the Straw Hats had retreated to the shaded parts of the Sunny, sprawled out, dozing or tinkering. Only Usopp and Chopper remained by the sail rigging, grumbling quietly as they tried to adjust a tangled pulley rope.

“I swear Franky re-rigged this without labeling anything again,” Usopp muttered, standing on his toes to reach the high tie-off. “It’s like trying to guess the future with noodles!”

“I think you tied it wrong!” Chopper chirped. “The rope’s supposed to go over that beam, not under!”

“I’m not that dumb!” Usopp shot back.

Chopper squinted up, then admitted, “…Well, maybe I’m wrong?”

It was the kind of small, pointless argument that filled quiet afternoons at sea. Neither noticed the tall figure stepping silently from the shade beneath the stairs.

Doflamingo didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. In two long strides, he was beside them, moving with an eerie, fluid calm. With a practiced flick of his fingers, he grabbed the rope just above Usopp’s reach. His hands moved with precise control—no wasted energy, no hesitation. He unthreaded the tangle, hoisted the slack, and tied it off at the correct angle. A perfect sailing knot. Then he turned and walked away.

Usopp and Chopper stared up at the newly secured rigging, then back at the wide, retreating shoulders.

“…Did he—” Usopp blinked.

“He’s so tall,” Chopper whispered, ears tilted forward.

“Was he always that tall?”

Sanji, leaning nearby with a smoke half-finished, exhaled and muttered, “You lot keep forgetting he’s basically a tower in a shirt.”

Doflamingo didn’t return to his alcove. Not yet. He sat near the mast, wrists resting on his knees, quiet and still in the shifting light. There was no smugness in his posture—no sign he expected thanks. Just silence.
Xxxxx
Later, in the galley, the crew gathered around the main table, staring at a crude map Robin had copied from the logbook’s projected path.

“The next island is called Ryukuzan,” she said. “It has no official Navy presence. That’s… not a good sign.”

“It’s not lawless,” Franky added, “but the reports say the port’s surrounded by black rock reefs. Tough on the rudder if we don’t land clean.”

“I don’t like it,” Nami murmured, arms folded. “There’s something off about the weather patterns, too. It’s hard to read.”

They debated back and forth—adjustments, approach angles, the safest time to dock. The map became cluttered with notations and corrections. Robin’s voice remained calm, but there was tension in her brow.

Then, from the open doorway, a voice cut in:

“You’ll lose the rudder if you try to dock during high tide.”

Everyone turned. Doflamingo stood in the threshold, framed by sun and shadow. His expression was neutral. His tone was flat.

“The outer reefs flood twice daily. The second time, the water hides the sharpest rocks. They drag ships under. You dock then, you’ll tear through your keel.”

Silence fell over the room.

Robin blinked, then slowly looked down at her map. “…That wasn’t in any of the records.”

Doflamingo took a few slow steps inside. “Because the records were made by traders. And most of them don’t survive docking at night. They get picked clean before anyone can update the books.”

Zoro’s hand hovered near his sword hilt, out of habit more than suspicion. But he didn’t interrupt.

Franky’s eyebrows twitched. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I ran guns through Ryukuzan for five years,” Doflamingo said calmly. “And bought half the dockyard’s loyalty. The rest tried to stab me. They failed. The rocks didn’t.”

Robin’s pen stopped moving. She looked up again—searching his face.

“I’m not your navigator,” Doflamingo added. “But if you dock before sunset, you’ll be able to anchor past the reef. Use the eastern channel. The current there turns at dusk—it’ll slow you down, but it’ll keep the keel from dragging.”

Robin tilted her head. “Huh.”

Franky rubbed his chin. “…He’s not wrong. If we adjust for the current and angle the rudder manually—”

“He’s right,” Nami said, staring at the tide charts with wide eyes. “How the hell did I miss that?”

No one thanked him. But no one challenged him, either.

Doflamingo turned and walked away.
Xxxxx
Later, under the stars, he sat against the wall beneath the stairs, elbows resting on his knees, listening to the creak of wood and whisper of the sea. He felt it all, the shift in pressure through his keyed up senses, subtle vibrations—the way the ship breathed and groaned.

They were talking about him. He could tell. Soft voices. Careful ones.

They still didn’t trust him. They shouldn’t.

And yet…

“You don’t have to be kind to be useful,” he told himself.

But the weight in his chest argued otherwise. He had spoken. He had offered. Not out of instinct, not out of panic—but choice. He hated that it lingered inside him like heat after a burn.

Above, the deck creaked.

Luffy appeared beside him, quiet but unmistakable.

“You did good,” Luffy said bluntly.

Doflamingo didn’t answer.

“I’m still gonna help you,” Luffy added.

The warlord turned his head, jaw tight. “Why?”

Luffy grinned, unbothered. “Because I want to. And you didn’t have to help us either. But you did. So that means you’re changing.”

Doflamingo stared ahead.

“…You’re still exhausting,” he muttered, and leaned back against the wall like the conversation was done.

But he didn’t move away.

Chapter 26: The Shape of Shadows

The wind was steady, the sun hot and clear. From the deck, the island on the horizon looked deceptively peaceful—green jungle ridges rising behind a modest-looking port town. It had been weeks since they’d stopped anywhere with civilization. Longer still since they’d docked without incident.

Luffy was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“A town!” he shouted, one leg already hooked over the rail. “They’ll have food! And meat! And maybe even—”

“Hold it.” Zoro caught the back of his shirt like a leash. “We’re docking as a group.”

“We are?” Usopp frowned. “I thought we were splitting up.”

“We are,” Nami called from across the deck, adjusting her belt. “Me, Sanji, and Franky will head into town to get supplies. You guys can go explore once we’ve cleared the way.”

“You’re not taking Robin?” Brook asked.

“She’s staying back with Chopper,” Sanji said, his arms crossed. “And keeping an eye on our guest.”

Doflamingo sat, or rather leaned, by the mast. His arms were still wrapped in iron and the collar sat on his neck, but for days now he hadn’t been tied down. He didn’t move much—not out of fear, it seemed, but habit. He hadn’t tried anything. He just kept to himself, mostly in his dark alcove, rising when summoned or when the wind shifted too sharply.

But even in silence, his presence was a thread in the air—tension wrapped in silk.

“Don’t worry,” Luffy grinned. “Mingo’s not going anywhere.”

At the sound of his name, Doflamingo tilted his head. He didn’t smile.

Xxxxx

It was Franky who asked him to help.

They were loading barrels of spare gear onto the deck, and one of them had rolled into a hard-to-reach gap under the railing.

“Hey—Doflamingo,” Franky said, almost like he was testing the word. “Mind grabbing that?”

Doflamingo didn’t move for a moment. But then, slowly, he stepped forward. He reached down—and without crouching, without effort—plucked the barrel out and passed it up.

Franky blinked.

“Man, I forget how freakishly tall you are.”

A snort came from Usopp. “He’s like a scarecrow on stilts.”

Sanji added dryly, “A scarecrow that could kill you with a whisper.”

Doflamingo didn’t respond. But as he turned away, his breath hitched—just for a second. A tangle of ropes had gone taut, pulled against the wind, and the snap of one frayed line breaking jolted something in him. His head jerked. His hand spasmed.

He blinked rapidly, mouth tight.

Chopper noticed. “You okay?”

No answer. Just a faint shake of the head and retreat—back to the stairs, back to his shadowed corner beneath the deck. He pressed his hands together there, breath shallow. Tried to focus. Tried to stop remembering.
Xxxxx

The island shimmered in the heat haze—bright, bustling, and deceptively tame.

From the ship, it looked harmless. A sleepy port, tucked between jungle ridges and half-toppled walls from some long-forgotten war. Palm trees swayed along the edges of the harbor. Children ran barefoot near crates of dried fish. Music floated from the taverns.

But Doflamingo hadn’t survived this long by trusting appearances.

He stood by the railing, arms loose in front of him, head tilted slightly toward the distant town. His coat was gone—replaced now with a heavy, dark jacket that smelled like grease, leather, and something sharp he couldn’t name. Franky’s, apparently. The only one that remotely fit his massive frame.

The ship was quiet. Too quiet.

Two parties had gone ashore already. Zoro, Luffy, Brook, and Usopp had peeled off first, excited to explore. Sanji, Nami, and Franky followed not long after, intending to secure supplies and scout potential threats. Everyone else had remained behind—Robin, Chopper, and Law.

Too many missing. Too few here.

He didn’t feel vulnerable. Not exactly. But something in the air felt off.

And then it struck him—fast, cold, silent.

A flicker of pressure. Like a breath held too long.

He stiffened. His hands clenched without thinking.

Observation Haki. Uncontrolled, flickering, and raw—but unmistakably there. It lit up like a flare, and in the gaps of perception came the shape of something wrong.

Something waiting.

He turned on his heel.

“They’re walking into a trap.”

Robin looked up first. She was reading, of course—she always was—but her eyes were sharp beneath her lashes. “What did you say?”

“Nami’s group,” he growled. “They’re headed into something. I don’t know what. I can’t see it clearly. But it’s there.”

Chopper blinked. “Are you using… Haki?”

Doflamingo ignored the question. He stepped forward, unhurried but with unmistakable purpose. “You need to let me go.”

Law straightened from where he’d been leaning against the opposite rail. “Absolutely not.”

“You’ll change your mind in ten minutes—when the town goes up in smoke.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not,” Doflamingo snapped. “Do you think I’d risk coming to you like this if I weren’t sure?”

Law’s eyes narrowed. “You could be using this as a cover to escape.”

Doflamingo’s lip curled. “If I wanted to escape, I would’ve waited until everyone left.”

“Not without your strings.”

“I don’t need strings to vanish. Or do you think the man who ruled Dressrosa for ten years never learned how to disappear?”

“Then why are you here?”

That silenced him for a beat.

Doflamingo’s jaw worked. His voice, when it came, was lower.

“Because they’re going to get hurt.”

Robin studied him. The tension in his shoulders. The faint tremble in his jaw. The way he didn’t quite clench his fists. Because he couldn’t. He was holding back, and it was costing him.

She moved first.

“Chopper,” she said. “Keys.”

Law turned to her, incredulous. “You’re serious?”

“He’s not lying,” she said. “Not this time.”

Doflamingo almost flinched when Chopper unlocked the cuffs. Not from pain—but from the strange rush of freedom. His wrists felt loose. He flexed his fingers slowly.

The collar stayed on. He made no attempt to remove it.

“I’ll need to hide these,” he muttered, tugging the sleeves of Franky’s jacket down to cover the worst of the scars. He wrapped strips of canvas—torn from an old sail—around the base of the collar, tucking it into the coat’s lining.

Robin watched all of it silently.

“Do you plan on going as yourself?” she asked.

He paused.

“No,” he said. “I’m going as the Joker.”

Law’s mouth curled in disgust. “Of course you are.”

Doflamingo smiled, faint and bitter. “You don’t understand. If I walk in looking like a fugitive, I’m dead. Worse—they’re dead. If I walk in like I still own the place? They hesitate.”

“And if someone recognizes you?” Chopper asked.

“I’m counting on it.”

He turned to the gangplank. The disguise wasn’t perfect—but it didn’t need to be. Not if he played the role right. Not if he walked like a king and laughed like he’d never bled.

Robin called after him, “You’ll come back?”

He stopped at the edge of the ship.

And with his back to them, he admitted, “I could’ve run a hundred times. I didn’t.”

Then he stepped off the ship, long strides silent against the creaking dock. The coat flared behind him as he vanished into the town.

Robin watched the horizon a long time after he was gone.

“…I don’t think he even realizes,” she murmured.

Law glanced at her. “Realizes what?”

“That he’s scared for them.”

Chopper shivered.

And far ahead, in the twisted alleys and flickering heat of the town, the Joker returned to the stage.

Chapter 27

The alley was wrong.

It hadn’t started that way. Just a shortcut through the outer market. Nami knew the path—she’d picked it for speed, not cover. But somewhere between the fruit stalls and the back door of the apothecary, the laughter had stopped. The breeze died. And the street… hushed.

“Something’s off,” Franky muttered, voice low.

“Yeah,” Sanji said, eyes flicking upward. “Feels like we’re being watched.”

They were.

Not by bounty hunters.

By residents.

Windows slid open just an inch—slats of wood creaking. Doors cracked. Not enough to be noticed unless you were looking. But enough to reveal flickers of eyes.

Shutters were closing too slowly.

People weren’t hiding.

They were waiting.

Then the first thug stepped into view.

And the second.

And the third.

At first glance, they looked like scraps—skinny arms, patched clothes, mismatched weapons. Street rats. The kind the Straw Hats could brush off without a second glance.

But more followed.

And kept coming.

They weren’t random.

They moved with discipline—loose, relaxed, coiled. Their faces weren’t the mindless thugs of some coastal gang. Their eyes were trained. Sanji clocked the silent hand signals. Franky noticed the way they flanked the walls, sealing exits. Nami watched them form a half-moon formation and wait.

“They’re pros,” Sanji said quietly, cigarette shaking ever so slightly at his lips.

“And not local,” Nami added, jaw tight.

The tallest of them stepped forward. Gold teeth. Knotted braids. Voice like gravel.

“Well, well. Straw Hats, huh? Big names. Bad luck.”

Franky took a half-step forward. “You picked the wrong crew, pal.”

But the thug didn’t flinch. None of them did.

“We’re not here for you,” he said.

Another man, slightly older, added with a grin, “Just the message you carry.”

The tension twisted. That phrase—the message you carry—didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like a signal.

And just like that, something shifted.

Sanji felt it first. A heaviness in the air. Like a trap clicking shut.

He reached for his lighter—and froze.

Four of the gangsters mirrored the motion. Not with lighters. With blades.

This wasn’t a bluff. This was a containment.

Sanji clenched his jaw.

“We can handle them,” he muttered.

But Nami’s glance said otherwise. “Not if they’re stalling. Not if this is a distraction.”

That’s when the footsteps came.

One pair.

Unhurried.

Steel on stone.

And the gangsters—these hardened men—went rigid.

The leader’s voice dropped a full octave. “No…”

The Straw Hats turned.

And he stepped into view.

Tall. Towering. Black coat swirling around his boots. Blond hair wild and untamed. The air bent around him. His sunglasses glinted red.

Joker.

The name hit the street like a gunshot.

The thugs recoiled.

The townsfolk—who’d been watching from windows and doorways—saw him.

Truly saw him.

A man screamed from somewhere above. “It’s him—it’s the Warlord—he’s back—”

Shutters slammed. Doors locked in rapid succession. Crates dropped. Horses bolted.

The city remembered.

And Doflamingo—Joker—smiled.

But it wasn’t for the gangsters.

It wasn’t even for the Straw Hats.

It was for the audience he knew was watching from somewhere higher. Somewhere hidden. The ones who sent this test. The ones pulling strings of their own.

They wanted to see if Joker still had teeth.

He intended to show them blood.

One of the gangsters—dumb with fear—shouted, “He’s supposed to be locked up! You’re done, you’re finished—!”

Doflamingo appeared in front of him in a blink.

One hand closed around the man’s throat.

“Did someone send you?” he asked softly. “Or did you volunteer for the slaughter?”

The man barely had time to wheeze before he was hurled into a wall with bone-crunching force.

Another charged.

Doflamingo grabbed him mid-motion—one hand on the jaw, the other on the ankle—and folded him backward across a barrel. He didn’t even blink.

The leader, desperate, drew a gun.

Doflamingo kicked it apart mid-aim, sending shards into the man’s face. He screamed, stumbled, and was silenced by a punch so sharp it left him twitching.

The final two hesitated.

Doflamingo turned to them.

“Go,” he said. “Tell your master: Joker’s not dead. He’s here to play.”

They bolted like rats.

Silence.

The town stared.

In windows. From rooftops.

The show was for them.

And for whoever sat in the shadows, watching the performance unfold.

Doflamingo straightened his coat, rolled his shoulders, and turned to the Straw Hats.

“You three,” he said. “With me.”

He said it like they were his soldiers.

For a breathless moment, Nami wasn’t sure.

Neither was Sanji.

But Franky saw it—the slight tremor in Joker’s hand. The tension at his jaw. Not madness.

Calculation.

This was for someone.

A warning.

And a challenge.

The Joker had returned.

And the whole damn town had seen it.
Xxxxx

The dust hadn’t even settled.

Nami’s pulse thundered in her ears as Doflamingo stalked ahead, long strides purposeful, not looking back to see if they followed.

They did.

Of course they did.

Sanji was the first to speak.

“What… the hell was that?”

No one answered.

Not right away.

They walked through the stunned silence of the town—every eye watching them from cracks and corners. Not one dared speak his name. Not one dared stop him.

Franky broke the tension with a low whistle. “Didn’t think I’d ever see that again.”

“That wasn’t a rescue,” Nami said flatly. “That was a performance.”

Sanji lit his cigarette with shaking fingers. “For who?”

Doflamingo stopped.

They froze behind him.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.

Just stood there—coat flaring slightly in the wind.

Finally, he said, “You were outmatched.”

Nami scowled. “We had it handled.”

“No,” he said. “You didn’t. They weren’t sent to kill you.”

He turned just enough for the red glint of his glasses to catch the fading sun.

“They were sent to see if I would let you get hurt, die. To see if Joker would still bite back after… everything”

Sanji took a step forward, tense. “So what—you saved us? For optics?”

Doflamingo didn’t answer. His silence was confirmation enough.

Franky folded his arms. “You knew someone was watching.”

“I felt it,” he muttered. “Higher than the rooftops. Farther than the town. Doesn’t matter if they were there in person or not. They’ll hear. They’ll see.”

“And who are they?” Nami asked.

His mouth twitched—almost a smile.

“The ones who are playing on the playground I built,” he said. “The ones who remember who Joker was… and want to know if he still goes for the throat.”

Nami stepped forward. “And do you?”

He didn’t look at her. Just started walking again.

Behind them, the last of the townsfolk dared to breathe. Murmurs rippled. Footsteps retreated. The story was already spreading.

Sanji’s voice, low and steady, broke the silence between them.

“So what’s your play now, Mingo? You gonna drag us into whatever’s coming next?”

For the first time, Doflamingo paused mid-step. His head tilted.

And then—quietly, without the bravado or theatrics—he said:

“You did that when you inserted yourself at Dressrosa.”

A beat.

“But I didn’t want them to kill you.”

That stopped them cold.

Nami exchanged a glance with Sanji. Franky’s jaw was tight.

None of them said what they were thinking:

That in that moment… it almost sounded like loyalty.

Like the Joker was choosing a side.

And they didn’t know if that made them safer…

Or made them targets.

Chapter 28: Flicker of Shadows

The narrow streets of the town stretched out before them, sunlit and deceptively peaceful. Nami, Sanji, and Franky trailed behind Doflamingo, their minds still trying to process the violent display they’d just witnessed. How had the Joker moved so decisively, so cruelly—and without his strings? Wait, he still had the sea stone on? Right?

Nami broke the silence first, slightly panicked, voice low but sharp. “How did you do that? What about the sea stone, you still have that, right…” she asked nervously. Beside her, Sanji and Franky tensed up.

Doflamingo didn’t turn. His voice was steady, the faintest trace of that familiar arrogance curling his words. “Confidence and observation haki. It came back—just long enough.” His hand brushed the collar concealed beneath his coat, tapping it softly. “Still wearing this, don’t worry. I haven’t been able to use my powers since you put it on.”

Sanji’s brows furrowed, disbelief flickering behind his usual bravado. “So… you were blind the whole time? And your haki? It only just kicked in?”

A slow smile spread beneath Doflamingo’s sunglasses. “I was on deck listening. The moment I sensed you were walking into a trap, I reached for it and it answered. That’s all.”

Franky folded his arms, impressed despite himself. “You fooled those thugs good… but how long can you keep that up?”

Doflamingo shrugged. “Not long.”

They continued down the winding streets, the shadows growing shorter as the sun climbed higher. For a time, Joker’s movements were fluid and sure—his trademark swagger returned, his coat flaring with every step. Nami watched him closely, noting how the others fell easily into formation behind him, as if following a commander.

But then, just as they reached the center of the town, something changed.

Doflamingo’s steps faltered ever so slightly. His head turned sharply—searching the surroundings with sudden intensity. His jaw tightened.

Franky’s voice cut through the moment. “Doffy? What’s wrong?”

The smile slipped from his face. “The haki… it’s gone.”

For a heartbeat, none of them moved. Then the truth settled, heavy and unmistakable. The haki that had allowed him to ‘see’ without sight flickered out, leaving him exposed—blind again. In the middle of a hostile town.

Nami stepped forward without hesitation. “Here,” she said, positioning herself just off his side. “Let me guide you.”

Doflamingo’s lips twitched—an expression caught somewhere between gratitude and the Joker’s usual cruel amusement. “Not bad. Like old times.”

They moved with caution, the group silent except for the soft clack of their footsteps on cobblestone. Behind the confident mask, Doflamingo relied on Nami’s steady presence as they slipped through alleys and side streets, avoiding attention. No one suspected his blindness—not now, not after the display.

An hour passed in tense silence.

At last, the familiar silhouette of the ship came into view, rocking gently at the dock.

Waiting on the deck were Robin, Chopper, and Law—the trio who had stayed behind, anxiously tending the ship and wondering if Doflamingo’s desperate plea for release was more than madness.

Chopper was the first to react, eyes wide as he saw the group approach with the infamous Joker at their lead—standing, whole, and alive. His legs carried him forward before his brain caught up, but he froze the instant Joker’s practiced façade flickered for the briefest second.

Robin’s eyes were sharper—observant as ever. She noticed the tightness in Doflamingo’s movements, the flicker of exhaustion beneath the bravado. His shoulders rolled back as if shrugging off an invisible weight, but there was no mistaking the strain.

Law remained silent, calculating. His gaze narrowed, dark and intense. “What the hell did you do in that town?” he asked quietly.

The group stepped aboard, and the tension thickened. It wasn’t just relief that Doflamingo was back—it was uncertainty, and an undercurrent of fear.

Joker’s mask cracked.

He let himself falter, staggering slightly before collapsing into a heap on the deck.

Chopper rushed forward, heart pounding.
“Mingo!”

The others gathered around, watching as his hands trembled, his breath came in shallow gasps. The confident savior of the alley was gone, replaced by something fragile and broken.

Robin laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Doflamingo…”

His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

Sanji’s eyes darkened. “You did all that… and now this?”

Nami’s gaze was fierce. “You’re not invincible, Doffy. Certainly not now.”

Doflamingo closed his eyes, the weight of everything crashing down—past, present, and the uncertain future. He wasn’t sure who he was, who he was supposed to be.

Who he wanted to be.

Chopper knelt beside him, voice soft but firm. “We’re here, Doffy. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

The ship rocked gently under the setting sun, shadows lengthening like fingers across the deck.

The Joker had returned—but at what cost?

Chapter 29: Ripples

The ship had gone quiet.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t just stillness, but tension. The kind that waited.

Doflamingo sat slouched in his alcove under the stairs, head tipped against the wood paneling. His coat had been discarded somewhere en route—draped over a crate, forgotten. The sunglasses he’d nabbed on the way to Nami hung from his collar, loose and unneeded. On this ship he didn’t need to be Joker. They already knew how weak he was.

He hadn’t spoken since they got back.

Not really.

Not beyond the few clipped words he used to dismiss Chopper’s concern, to push Robin gently away when she’d offered a hand, to wave off Franky’s awkward half-joke about “one hell of a show.”

He hadn’t answered when Law muttered something acidic about recklessness.

Everyone gave him space.

For now.

He listened to the faint creaks of the Sunny, the lull of the tide, the soft murmur of voices on the deck. His mind buzzed.

Katakuri had been there. He hadn’t seen him, couldn’t see anyone, but he had felt it. Just for a moment—observation haki brushing against that monstrous presence. Watching. Waiting. Judging.

Katakuri was a signal. Not an attack dog. Not yet.

Big Mom was sniffing. And if Katakuri was here, the rest weren’t far behind.

He’d bought the crew time—but at a price.

And the underworld would be swarming now.

Joker’s return wasn’t just rumor—it was confirmed. He had walked the streets, delivered violence with flair, and vanished again. And worse?

He wasn’t alone.

The world would start asking questions.

Why was he with the Straw Hats?

Why were they working together now? Hadn’t they been the one’s responsible for his downfall in Dressrosa.

And most dangerous of all: what game was he playing now? To the outside world, none of this would make any sense.

Footsteps approached, light and careful.

He didn’t need to see to know it was Nami.

“Feel like talking?” she asked, soft.

“No,” he said.

But he didn’t tell her to leave.

She came anyway, settling on a low barrel across from him. He could feel the heat of her stare.

“You scared the hell out of us,” she said.

A beat.

“You scared yourself too, didn’t you?”

His jaw tightened.

“Wasn’t supposed to go that far,” he murmured.

“But you did.”

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly. “Didn’t have a choice.”

“Sure you did,” she said. “You could’ve stayed here. You could’ve sent Law. You could’ve let us fight our way out.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “You wouldn’t have made it without getting badly hurt.”

Silence.

“I felt them closing in. The coordination. The message.” He leaned back. “It wasn’t just a street brawl. It was a litmus test.”

“For Joker.”

“For me,” he corrected.

Nami crossed her arms. “So you gave them what they wanted?”

He hesitated. “I gave them what they feared.”

“And now?”

“They’ll want more.”

His tone shifted—colder, harder. The Joker voice flickering beneath the exhaustion. “I showed my teeth. That means every vulture with a grudge is going to come sniffing.”

He turned toward her, eyes blank and empty, but the weight of his stare was still there.

“You need to move. Fast.”

Nami frowned. “What?”

“The town won’t protect you. They’ll gossip. The word’s out. Joker’s back. And worse—he’s traveling with Straw Hats. That’s going to make waves.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re saying—”

“I’m saying get this ship moving. Now. There’s another island a day or two away. You can resupply there quickly. But you’ll need to figure out next steps. Big Mom is pissed, and Kaido won’t be far behind her.”

Footsteps echoed overhead—others gathering, shifting. The mood above was tense. The rest of the group had returned.

Nami stood slowly, absorbing it all. “What about you?”

“I’ll catch up.”

She scoffed. “No, you won’t.”

He didn’t argue.

“You’ll hole up in here until we’re halfway to the next disaster.”

Still, he didn’t argue.

She turned to leave—but paused at the threshold.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For choosing us.”

Doflamingo said nothing.

She left him there in the dark.
Xxxxx

Above deck, the Sunny was alive again.

Sanji, Franky, Robin, Chopper, Law, and now Brook and Usopp stood in a loose semicircle, tension thick in the air. They’d returned minutes ago, expressions grim. The townsfolk hadn’t dared stop them. Not after that show.

Brook was the first to break the silence. “So… we’re leaving?”

“Yes,” Nami said firmly. “Now.”

Robin raised a brow. “What about him?”

“He says the underworld is going to come looking. And Big Mom’s already sniffing around.”

A hush settled.

Sanji’s expression turned stormy. “Wait. You’re telling me Big Mom’s crew is here?”

Nami nodded slowly. She squared her shoulders. “We weigh anchor in twenty. If Doflamingo’s not on deck by then, I’m hauling him up myself. He caused this mess and he’s going to help me fix it. Or at the very least run away from it as fast as possible!”

Chopper, still rattled, quietly mumbled, “He pushed himself too hard.”

Robin agreed. “But he got results.”

Law didn’t speak.

His gaze lingered on the horizon.

He’d seen the way Doflamingo collapsed. The way the Joker fell apart once the mask wasn’t needed.

And the part that haunted him?

It wasn’t the fragility.

It was how easily the performance had come back.

Like it had never really left.

Chapter 30; Shadows Move

The Sunny cut across the sea in silence.

Not literal silence—waves still lapped at the hull, the sails still groaned under the wind, and somewhere below deck, Franky’s tools clanked against metal. But there was a quiet that settled in the spaces between. Between glances. Between unspoken fears.

It hadn’t even been an hour since they pulled anchor. The port town vanished into the horizon, but no one dared to feel relief. Not yet.

Robin sat on the edge of the crow’s nest, book open but unread. Nami leaned against the helm with furrowed brows, adjusting their heading for the third time. Chopper was still tucked in a corner of the lounge, surrounded by medical notes he wasn’t reading. Sanji smoked in agitated bursts at the bow, while Franky worked on reinforcing the outer hull—again.

Only Brook hummed quietly to himself. It was a soft sound, almost reverent, and made the quiet louder somehow.

On the lower deck, Law descended the stairs, jaw tight.

He found Doflamingo exactly where he’d left him—slumped in the alcove beneath the stairs he’d just descended. His coat still hadn’t been reclaimed. His new sunglasses remained untouched. He looked like a man who hadn’t moved in days. Just like he had when he’d first rejoined the straw hats.

Law didn’t speak right away. He just stared.

Finally, he said, “Was that your plan from the start?”

Doflamingo didn’t look up. “Which part?”

“Using the Straw Hats as bait. As a distraction. As cover for whatever you’re scheming now.”

A faint grin tugged at the corner of Doflamingo’s mouth, humorless and tired. “You think too small.”

Law stepped closer, voice low. “You used them. You used us.”

Doflamingo tilted his head back against the wall. “No. I played a card I didn’t want to play. And I paid for it. You think this is a win?”

“You brought the underworld down on us.”

“No Law,” he said sharply. “You did that when you took out my factories. When you dismantled my empire. Wasn’t your reason for aligning yourself with the Straw Hats to go after Kaido and Big Mom?”

Law sucked in a sharp breath. He truly hadn’t thought he’d live long enough to see the repercussions of that claim.

“Don’t change the subject! You wanted them to see you. To remember.”

Doflamingo’s voice dropped, colder now. “I wanted them to think twice.”

Law’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t do this for them.”

“No,” Doflamingo said, smile vanishing. “But they benefitted. So shut up and steer.”

The silence stretched.

Law didn’t respond. He turned and walked away without another word.
Xxxxx

Above deck, the tension shifted in small, strange ways.

Nami sat cross-legged near the helm, charting their next destination with Robin, who suggested a sparsely populated trade island two days’ sail to the northeast.

Sanji hovered nearby, arms folded, trying not to look like he was hovering.

“I don’t get why Big Mom was there,” he muttered. “Why?”

“She doesn’t move without a reason,” Robin said. “It was a warning.”

Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose Law did say from the beginning this was about taking out Kaido and Big Mom. I just didn’t expect that we’d be harboring the guy they’re pissed at.”

Before Nami or Robin could respond, Chopper walked up to them.

“He’s not okay. I mean, obviously, but—he’s not okay. He’s burned out. Whatever happened in that town exhausted him. I don't understand how he was able to get you guys out of there without a fight. ”

“Because he’s a monster,” Sanji snapped.

“Because he had to,” Robin countered gently.

Franky joined them, grease on his hands. “Ship’s good for now. But if Big Mom’s crew is nearby, we might wanna look into countermeasures. Fast.”

Brook plucked a few notes from his violin, then said softly, “He really scared them, didn’t he?”

No one answered.

They didn’t need to.
Xxxxx
Far away, back in the half-shadowed ruins of the town they’d fled, a tall figure stood on a rooftop.

Katakuri.

His scarf billowed faintly in the wind. Eyes half-lidded, he stared at the horizon long after the ship vanished.

A den den mushi crackled softly in his palm.

“They’ve moved,” he said. “I saw him.”

A pause.

“I’ll follow. Let mother know. In fact, let everyone know.”

The snail blinked once before the call ended.

Katakuri tucked it away.

Then he stepped down into the dark, vanishing into the waiting streets below.