Archive of Our Own ^beta

In his many years alive, Dragon had seen some absolutely appalling and nauseating things — unlawful execution, torture, enslavement. The worst of the world. By then not much phased him, yet he still felt chills when he remembered the events of that day.

He’d stayed behind alone on Dawn Island after the fire to watch the government ship come into port. It was cause for celebration that put a scowl on Dragon’s face. He found a good spot far from the cheering crowds, standing vigil on the northern shore where the shadows and boulders obscured his cloaked figure from view.

His intention was to merely observe, because something always happened when the World Nobles were involved. For example, how the royals of Goa had set fire to Grey Terminal because a Tenryuubito had been sent from Marie Jois to inspect the kingdom — and gods forbid they let innocent people live simply because they weren’t privileged by wealth and status.

It would have been shameful to allow the honored Noble from the Holy Land to see such scum beyond the walls of Edge Town. As if the beastly man would even leave the castle once he’d reached it…

Afterwards, once the ship had docked and the crowds had dispersed, Dragon had one final task to see to. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to find him, but that boy needed to know. He needed to know that the people from Grey Terminal were safe. He deserved as much, didn’t he? After fighting so hard to do his part, he needed to know it wasn’t for nothing. Dragon had hoped it would be simple — he should have known better.

From his place at the shoreline, Dragon had the perfect view of the massive vessel as it sailed towards the dock. Likewise, he stood at the perfect angle to see the little fishing boat, undetected at first but easy to spot when the shore was at its stern and the big ship was at its bow. Dragon felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes swept over the boat, almost hysterically miniscule compared to the one that towered above it.

He could easily sense the single occupant with his Haki, and it lodged something that felt like panic in his throat when he recognized the aura. They’d only met once, the night of the fire, but Dragon doubted he could ever forget it. The small child who was groveling on the ground while the red glow of flames lit up the sky, teasing the high top of the great wall separating Edge Town from sure destruction.

He was blond and covered in bruises and scrapes, half conscious and whimpering into the dirt that had gone muddy from the blood pouring out of his nostrils. Wailing and whining as his fingers clawed at the earth, taking handfuls of it and beating tiny fists into the ground. Helpless, bleeding, crying in front of a locked gate he didn’t have the strength to open on his own — and Dragon understood.

He felt immediate kinship with the child as he knelt in front of him, letting him reach out with trembling hands to cling onto his cloak and cry his frustrations, his shame, his guilt. He couldn’t stop seeing the exhausted relief in the boy’s blue eyes when they met Dragon’s and seemed to register that this strange man in the cloak was listening — listening — and would remember. Then he'd promptly passed out, collapsed on Dragon’s lap and bleeding from wounds that the city guards had inflicted on a child — on a child — who just wanted to save the people in Grey Terminal who were burning.

Dragon wanted to find him after the fire’s had died, after returning the occupants of the trash heap to their home and sending his little army off to the next island. Dragon wanted to locate the child and reassure him that it was okay. No one had died. Everyone was safe. He may not have been able to open the gate on his own, but Dragon had been there to pick up the responsibility so the boy wouldn’t have to mourn his perceived failure.

It was okay, it was okay — but it wasn’t okay. Though the innocents of Grey Terminal hadn’t burned as intended, there was always someone else who had to pay the price. There was always someone who had to shoulder the punishment in the stead of an attempted mass slaughter. Someone always had to burn — that was just how their pathetic world worked.

Dragon had the perfect view of the ship flying the government’s hideous emblem; the perfect view of the Tenryuubito aiming a bazooka and shooting a cannonball of burning flames straight through the hull of the fishing boat.

The first shot set the tiny ship aflame — the second shot triggered a reaction through every board and nail, blowing it into a maelstrom of smoke, embers and fire so hot that the surface of the ocean boiled.

It happened so quickly that all Dragon could do was stand helplessly and watch the ship burn. He could still sense the boy’s aura beneath the surface of the water, but it was flickering and painfully weak. His boots dragged across the earth as he shuffled towards the edge of the water, desperate eyes wide as they searched the cresting waves and burning wreckage that bobbed with the chaotic currents before sinking beneath them.

Can’t I do anything? A passing thought that had his heart falling into the pit of his stomach as his eyes continued to search, Haki enabled and stretched deep into the dark depths of the bay.

The aura was fading by the second, but it was also drifting ever closer. Dragon was hesitant to hope, until he saw fingertips break above the water. A small hand reaching up, grabbing at the air. Dragon didn’t hesitate to move closer, reaching out as far as he could to grab the child around the wrist and lift him out of the ocean.

He was already unconscious as Dragon settled him against the bulk of his left arm, perfectly cradled at the crook of his elbow. His clothes were burned through on the left, pieces of fabric melted and sealed against the edges of the wounds. Dragon moved a palm to the boy’s bleeding throat, lips pressed into a tight line and holding his own breath as he waited for a beat, then another, letting out an exhale when he felt a weak pulse.

The child was alive, but just barely; half drowned and burned so badly Dragon could see how deep the damage went. Skin and flesh was burned away to leave gaping, bleeding sores that covered a good percentage of the left side of the boy’s small body. The scent of charred blood and flesh was intense and nauseating to the point where Dragon was confident he’d be smelling it for days — maybe longer.

As a Revolutionary, Dragon had saved many people, but it had never been so hands on and personal before. He’d never been in a situation where he had to cradle a bleeding child in his arms, holding a hand over a burned throat to feel any sign of life as that child lay unmoving and unconscious. Yes he was alive, but Dragon could feel he was on the verge of death, barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. If it had been anyone else, Dragon imagined they would have died from such traumatizing damage already; but not this one.

This one was different.

This child who was clearly of noble blood yet cried for the people of Grey Terminal.

Dragon needed to move quickly and return to the Wind Granma so his physician could treat the boy before he succumbed to his wounds. As it was, he almost did. The journey was quick, Dragon was able to reach where his vessel was docked by nightfall, but on the way the boy spasmed multiple times.

The first time he began to seize violently in Dragon's arms, he worried the boy was losing his fight. He tightened his hold and watched with wide eyes as the blond coughed and gagged. His eye-lids slid open a crack to reveal rolling pupils and the whites of his eyes. Bloody spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth, and Dragon begged in his mind for him not to die. Not in his arms. He didn't want to have to wash a dead child's blood from his hands.

After a moment he settled, and Dragon was given a moment of reprieve from his panic, but it happened two more times before they reached the Wind Granma.

Dragon struggled to stay calm as his feet touched down on the deck. Ivankov spotted him first, having been outside at the time, waiting for him. She jogged up to Dragon, fuming, demanding to know where he'd been and stating that they'd been waiting for ages.

The concern was appreciated — of course his misfit crew of renegades would worry about him — but his friend’s attention quickly changed focal points when their eyes found the boy lying in Dragon's arms.

“Who is this boy? What horrible wounds!” Ivankov turned to yell across the deck. “Someone get Karasu!”

Dragon watched a few people turn to do as they were ordered, then looked down at the boy. His skin was pale and clammy, and his breathing was short and labored. He wasn't in good condition.

"Who is this boy?" Ivankov asked again. "What happened when you were watching the ship from Marie Jois pull in? Did you do something?!"

"No, I didn't do anything. I didn't cause these injuries." Dragon turned his irritated gaze front when he heard heavy footfalls.

The doctor who came forward was a tall man draped in a cloak of black feathers and wearing half a plague mask on his face. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was skilled with medicine and acted as their head physician. Karasu was a trustworthy, honorable man who didn't take kindly to people targeting the weak. Which was probably why his narrow eyes narrowed further as they locked on the beaten form in Dragon's arms.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice muffled and almost inaudible through his mask. Dragon did his best to explain.

"He was shot by a Tenryuubito." The angry responses that echoed over the deck were pleasing, but noisy. "He was on a small fishing boat heading out of port while the Government vessel was coming in. He simply chose a bad time to go sailing and the World Noble took note of him as an obstacle before promptly attempting to remove it." He tightened his hold around the child. "The boy sailed out of the way so the ship could pass, but it didn't matter. He'd already offended the Tenryuubito."

"Those… those…" Ivankov's face was red in anger, but Dragon kept his attention on the doctor looking over the child.

“I was close enough to spot him and pulled him from the water, but his wounds… I wasn't able to completely stop the bleeding. He's been seizing periodically."

“He’s burning up,” Ivankov said, one hand on the boy's forehead. “I can feel it through my glove.”

“Burns are difficult to treat,” Karasu informed. “In addition to the infection that’s causing his fever; and I'm worried about the seizures.”

“Should I help?” Ivankov asked, and Karasu shook his head.

“He’s too young. The healing hormone may do more harm than good. I don’t want to risk it.”

Dragon felt nausea twist in his gut. “Treat him how you can.”

Karasu nodded, holding his arms out. “I’ll take him.”

Dragon took a step forward to carefully transfer the boy. He set a hand in his blond hair once he was securely in Karasu's arms, sweeping his eyes over him once more as if he'd forgotten to check something. Then he stepped back, watching Karasu turn and start towards the infirmary.

After ensuring the kid was in good hands, Dragon turned to Ivankov. "How are we on supplies?"

"We were able to trade for everything we needed for our trip," Ivankov answered. "We can leave anytime."

"Now," Dragon decided, walking towards the cabins. He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger, brushing off the dried blood that had coagulated there. "Have someone inform me of the boy's condition when he's woken up. I need to change."

"I'm sure he'll be alright," Ivankov said. "Karasu knows what he's doing."

"I know that," Dragon stated firmly. "I never said I was worried."

He didn't receive a reply to that, so continued on to his room.

Hours passed. Dragon kept busy in his room dealing with charts, newspaper articles, and files upon files of information he needed to read, but it was hard to concentrate. Even after changing clothes and washing the blood from his hands, Dragon could still smell fire and burning flesh.

He was grateful for the distraction when someone finally knocked on his bedroom door, and lifted his head as it was cracked open to let in Inazuma.

"He's awake," she said, "but… well… you need to see for yourself."

Dragon eyed her uneasily as he shut his file and stood to follow.

When he entered the infirmary, the boy was conscious and sitting up in bed. His shirt had been removed and his trousers replaced with soft blue hospital pants. He was covered in bandages and hooked up to a blood transfusion and intravenous fluids, leaning against a pile of pillows that had been set up at his back.

His head was down, staring at where his hands were clamped into the sheets above his lap, and he appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely out of touch. Eyes empty and distant, face dangerously pale, shoulders shivering. His head snapped up when he heard Dragon's steps approach, tensing up in alarm.

Dragon expected to see recognition in his single visible blue eye. He saw nothing but confused fear.

"How is he?" Dragon asked the nearest soldier, Bunny Joe, who hesitated before answering.

"His wits have returned to him," Joe stated the obvious before getting to the important part. "But he's not quite… right."

"His memories," Karasu said from a corner of the room. "He can't seem to recall anything."

"What?" Ivankov stated in alarm. "His memories?"

"He can't even remember his own name," Karasu said.

Terry Gilteo took a step towards the table where Karasu had discarded the boy’s ruined shirt, lifting it into his hands and looking over it. "Here, your belongings.” He approached the side of the bed and the boy turned his puzzled eye to him. "They have the name ‘Sabo’ written on them. Here on the shirt collar, you see? So that's probably your name, do you think?"

"Sabo?" The boy repeated — his voice was weak and held a tremor to it, a likely effect of the screaming he must have done during his incident. "I guess…"

"This is terrible," Ivankov mumbled, and Inazuma nodded her agreement.

"Did you see anything that could have told you who he was when you found him?" Joe asked Dragon, who shook his head slowly.

"I know one thing for sure," he said. "He's a Noble from Goa Kingdom."

"A noble?" Joe gaped at him. "You're kidding."

Gilteo waved a hand towards Sabo, setting the other on his hip. "Well, that's something at least. Let's send him back. I'll look for his parents and —"

"No way!" Sabo exclaimed, sitting forward in bed. He suddenly looked frantic as his eye moved wildly around the room between the people who had squeezed inside. "I… I don't want to go back!" He decided. "Please don't send me back! Please take me anywhere but there!!! I'll go anywhere else!"

His eye watered with unshed tears and he grit his teeth. He’d twisted his fists into the sheets, drawing attention to the stains of brown on the bandages around his knuckles and the back of his left hand. Dragon pressed his lips tightly together as Joe stepped closer to the bed, one hand raised.

"It’s okay, you’re alright. Take a breath, you need to stay calm. The accident you were in left you with very severe injuries."

Dragon looked towards Karasu. "What’s his condition?" He asked.

Karasu stepped away from the wall and crossed the room to answer in a quiet voice that the boy wouldn't be able to hear. Gilteo and Joe both hovered at the bed attempting to calm Sabo down with gentle coaxing and soft words.

“His left eye was damaged,” Karasu started, and Dragon made a face.

“Did you have to remove it?”

“No,” Karasu murmured, “but if he wasn’t completely blinded by the initial injury, then he’ll lose his sight in a matter of years. We won’t know anything more until the burns have healed, but considering how deep they were, there’s going to be extensive scar tissue that may hinder his movement in the future.”

“He’s so small, the scars will just get in his way as he grows,” Ivankov added. “They may start hurting. He may lose movement completely as he ages.”

"I want to believe his seizures were triggered by the shock,” Karasu said, “but the wound on his head is bad. He has a clear concussion in addition to the burn covering his eye and face, and now his amnesia. I'm concerned he may have received some level of trauma to his brain. Adding seizures to his current list of newly acquired disabilities would make his recovery much more difficult. He could have an episode midway through and pass away in spite of our efforts.”

“So keep a close eye on him." Dragon decided. "He shouldn't be left alone for any amount of time during his recovery, and someone should sit with him at night."

"That poor child," Ivankov murmured. "His life’s been torn up because of those bastards.”

“He’s extremely lucky,” Karasu agreed. “He was on the verge of death.”

"Boss," Gilteo called, and Dragon turned away from his two companions to glance at where the other man was standing beside Sabo's bed. "What do we do?"

Dragon caught Sabo's eye, and Sabo stared back at him, desperation making that eye gleam. With what, Dragon didn't know — tears of fear, frustration, anger. He looked anxious and scared, but he wouldn’t even blink as he held Dragon’s gaze. As if he recognized his fate was in Dragon’s hands.

Dragon didn’t really like that anymore than Sabo probably did. Seeing the kid like this, somehow all Dragon could think about was the night of the fire and how this boy had cried into his lap about the injustice of his own home.

"This kingdom reeks of rotten humans."

As if Dragon hadn’t already decided what to do… 

"We'll keep him with us."

Sabo lit up, sitting straight as a smile spread across his face.

Gilteo and Joe gaped at Dragon. "What? Wait are you serious?"

"Yes."

"It would be simpler if we just dropped him off with capable allies. Considering his injuries —"

"No." Dragon shifted on his feet, folding his arms. "He's our responsibility now."

Ivankov leaned towards Dragon to murmur to him. "Uh, excuse me, are you certain that's a good idea? Can we even take care of a kid? A noble kid, at that?"

"What makes him any different than you or Kuma?" Dragon asked, and Ivankov looked away. "Nobility by birth does not dictate how you live your life or how your morals develop." He glanced towards the bed where Inazuma was offering Sabo a glass of water. "Besides… it can't be that hard."

The words tasted sour and hypocritical — he’d be seven now; his birthday was coming up — and Dragon swallowed around them. He had to focus on what was happening at that moment and how to deal with this newest curveball.

It was obvious that Sabo was nothing like any noble Dragon had met before. Granted he already had an inkling that Sabo was very different after meeting the night of the fire, but it was something else to hear him so against returning to his noble family when he had seemingly no memory of that noble family.

The flames had traded his memories for brutal scarring. Sabo couldn't even remember his name, yet somehow he remembered that he didn’t want to return home. Whatever his reason had been for choosing to commandeer a ship and attempt to run away via the sea, it didn’t matter. He was adamant about not wanting to go back, and Dragon couldn’t even imagine how frustrating that was.

To be terrified of where you’d come from with no memory of why you were afraid.

It didn’t matter to Sabo who these strangers were, where they were going, why he was bandaged up and in pain, or why he couldn't remember anything. He wanted to go with them.

Anyone who’d seen his ship explode probably assumed he was dead already, so his family wouldn’t be looking for him. Judging by Sabo’s reaction against them the night Dragon first met him at the gate, he very much doubted they would care one way or the other. It would be fine. They could handle an injured amnesiac ten year old.

Dragon inquired about his surgery when Sabo had settled back into the pillows, nodding off with the glass of water still in his hands. He needed to know the details of the boy's situation, even if he wasn't happy about what Karasu told him. 

Sabo's small body had been covered in horrific burns. What parts of him hadn't been burned had been marred with less severe lacerations and gashes that Karasu had sutured closed.

There hadn't been a lot Karasu could do to seal the burns. The only option he was left with was to graft skin from the areas of Sabo's body that hadn’t been injured — his right thigh and his back — to aid in the healing of some of the deeper wounds on his left side.

He'd lost a dangerous amount of blood, but shared the same blood type as Kuma, who had been all too willing to sit and give some up for a transfusion.

They had done their best to patch Sabo up, but the recovery ahead would be long and arduous. They had so many questions, and there were so many unknowns. Sabo would have to relearn everything all over again, and that, mixed in with the stress of his injuries, certainly wasn't ideal.

“We’ll let him rest for now,” Dragon decided, pacing over to the bed and catching the glass of water before it could topple out of Sabo’s hands and soak the sheets. “Joe, I want you to sit with him.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. I have some business to deal with.”

Sabo went in and out of consciousness in the following days. He tossed and turned in bed, cried in his sleep and screamed himself awake. It took sedating him to calm him down so he wouldn’t tear open his wounds, and Ivankov went as far as to recommend keeping him under until Sabo had healed a little more. He was too agitated when he was awake and kept moving around and scratching at the needles stuck in his body.

Karasu waved aside the idea. “Long-term use of sedatives can lead to negative side effects or exacerbate his seizures. I only want to use them as a last resort if nothing else works to calm him down.”

“What do you recommend?” Dragon asked, and they glanced over at where Sabo was fast asleep with the sheets and covers pulled up to his chin.

“He needs to know he can trust us,” Karasu said simply. “Somehow…”

Sabo’s reactions and moods when he was conscious were untrackable. They never knew if he was going to wake up in the middle of a panic attack or wake up calm. For the first week he couldn’t eat solid foods without getting sick, which seemed to make him even more miserable. He’d stare at the plain broth they gave him with a frown and sagging shoulders before drinking it a little at a time. Normally he wasn’t able to finish it.

Around the middle of the second week his fever soared. Dragon was in the room with Karasu and Kuma while Sabo was asleep when he suddenly went rigid, before starting to jerk on the bed. He’d ripped the IV from his arm before Karasu moved to help, holding one arm out to stop Dragon and Kuma from coming closer.

“Stay back, just give him a minute.” He rolled Sabo onto his side; minutes passed before the seizure ended.

Sabo’s eye fluttered open, looking at Karasu in confusion as the doctor helped him sit up. “Wha’ ‘appen?”

“How do you feel?”

Sabo looked more confused at the question, wincing when Karasu pressed gauze against his arm where the IV had come out. “Hurts…”

“What hurts?” Kuma asked, and Sabo shifted his gaze to him.

Dragon expected him to be alarmed or frightened, which was the most common response to children seeing Kuma for the first time, but Sabo just stared at him sleepily for a moment before answering.

“It all does.”

“Lean back,” Karasu said, setting one hand on Sabo’s shoulder and leading him against the cushions at his back. “I have to get a new needle for the IV, keep an eye on him.”

Kuma moved forward to take Karasu’s place holding the gauze against Sabo’s arm so he wouldn’t bleed while Karasu moved to the far side of the room to retrieve a clean needle. Dragon stepped up to the left side of the bed, watching as Sabo rubbed his right eye with his left hand.

“I’m cold,” he mumbled. “My arm is cold.”

“That’s from the intravenous fluids,” Karasu said. "It's normal."

Dragon picked up the blanket at the foot of the bed, unfolding it and draping it around Sabo’s shoulders. "Better?"

"Uh-huh." Sabo nodded, holding the sides of the blanket closed with one hand. He made a face when Karasu returned with another needle. “I still need that?”

“Just until you can stomach solid foods and medicine,” Karasu said, and Sabo grumbled a little in frustration.

He stared as Karasu slid the IV into his hand, then looked up. “You gave me blood before.”

“Yes, but you don’t need another transfusion at this point.” Karasu explained, and Sabo nodded as Karasu waved back at Kuma. “He’s the one who gave blood. You share the same type.”

Sabo seemed interested in that. “Does that mean I’m gonna get really really tall like him?” He asked breathlessly, looking excited.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Dragon said, and Sabo deflated.

“Oh.” He focused on Kuma anyway. “What’s your name? I’m Sabo I think. That’s what my shirt said.”

“Bartholomew Kuma.” The man gave Sabo a smile. “You can just call me Kuma.”

Sabo smiled back. “Okay. What about the scary mask guy? I don’t know his name yet.”

Karasu looked up from where he was taping the needle into Sabo’s hand, glaring at the boy, so Dragon answered for him. “Karasu is our physician.”

“Karasu,” Sabo repeated. “What about you?”

Dragon eyed Sabo for a minute before answering. “Dragon.”

“That’s your name?”

“Yes.”

“That’s really cool .” Sabo beamed.

Dragon lifted his eyes when he heard Kuma chuckling, offering him a glare before looking back down at Sabo. “How are you feeling now?”

Sabo’s smile faded as he looked away. “I’m okay now. I don’t know what happened, but I’m really tired.”

“You had a seizure,” Karasu explained. “You received some head trauma during your accident, so the neurons in your brain caused a temporary abnormality in your movement and muscles.”

Sabo stared at him blankly before looking at Dragon, who simplified it. “Your head was hurt so your brain told your body to fight. Your muscles spasmed as if you were running. That’s why you're tired.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.” He stared at his lap before lifting his head again. “Will it happen again?”

“It’s possible,” Karasu admitted, “but don’t worry too much. We’ll figure out a way to manage it.”

Sabo picked at the folds in the sheets silently. Dragon had no idea what the kid could be thinking at that point, but it probably wasn’t anything good. He had no memories, he was badly injured, and now he was being told he may suffer from the occasional seizure. He just couldn’t catch a break — he’s just a kid.

Sabo’s head snapped up when the door opened, his body tensing up in anticipation but relaxing when he seemed to recognize Inazuma and Ivankov. That was good, Dragon decided. He felt at ease around them. Dragon focused on the stack of cards that Inazuma was holding up as he and Ivankov stopped at the foot of the bed. Both of them looked pleased about something. 

"We thought of a potential way to trigger his memories," Inazuma stated, and Ivankov quickly exclaimed their idea.

"It may not work, but it’s worth a shot!” She held a hand out as Inazuma brandished the flash cards. “We can show him images associated with Goa and see if he recognizes them!"

Dragon considered that before looking down at Sabo, who'd snuggled back into the pillows and pulled the blankets up. He was staring at the flashcards with a half closed eye — he looked exhausted.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He just had an episode —”

“No I’m okay,” Sabo insisted, looking up at Dragon. “I wanna try.” 

“You’re certain you’re up for it?” Kuma asked, and Sabo gave a jerky nod at him before looking back at Dragon hopefully.

“Alright…” Dragon murmured. “But only a few. You need rest.”

Sabo nodded again, then turned his eye forward to focus intensely on the flashcard that Inazuma presented. He started simple by showing Sabo the Goa emblem — a picture of a daisy with three feathers.

"Does this look familiar to you?" Inazuma asked.

Sabo stared blankly for quite a while before shaking his head, looking uncomfortable. “No. Is it important?”

“Let’s try another one,” Ivankov said, and Inazuma nodded before pulling out another.

This one was almost an exact photo replica of the Goa castle, and Dragon had to wonder where his associates had gotten these flashcards. Had they gone shopping when they stopped on Dawn Island? Did they sell Goa themed cards in the kingdom shopping center? Did Ivan and Inazuma make them by hand?

Like the emblem, Sabo showed no sign of recognizing the castle, so Inazuma flipped over the next one. Goa brand wine. Now it was getting weird.

“Where did you get those?” Dragon asked, and Ivankov looked at him, propping her hands on her hips.

“It’s a children’s game one of our soldiers bought at the market the day before the fire. I asked to borrow them.”

“Ah.”

“What about this one?” Inazuma turned over the next card to show a gaudy, eccentric water fountain located in town.

Sabo’s nose wrinkled as he scowled. “I don’t like that.”

Dragon took note of the response. “Do you recognize it?”

Sabo just kept his face screwed up, and seemed to lose himself to his thoughts before eventually dropping his eye and shaking his head. “No… I just don’t like it.” He looked at Dragon nervously.

"It's alright if you don’t remember,” Dragon reassured, and Sabo looked back at the flashcards.

"I don't know," Sabo admitted softly. "I know what this stuff is, I just… don't remember why… water fountain, wine… but I don't recognize anything."

"That's fine," Dragon reassured.

"He's retained some basic everyday knowledge," Karasu pondered. "The only thing he's missing are memories of his general life."

"That's still a huge chunk of memory, though," Kuma reminded. He smiled gently at Sabo. "Try one more."

Sabo nodded and Inazuma flipped the next card. Sabo stared at it for a few moments before his eye suddenly widened in alarm. Dragon watched him closely, growing tense the longer Sabo stared silently. His breathing had hitched, growing short and unstable in his chest as his body shook, fingers digging into the sheets above his lap.

Dragon quickly turned to look at the flashcard, startled when he saw the illustration of the campfire. "Turn it around," he snapped, and Inazuma gaped at him before looking down at the card.

Realizing what was happening, he shoved the other cards against Ivankov's chest, then tore the fire card into small pieces.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize."

"Alright,” Dragon set a hand on Sabo’s bandaged shoulder. “We’ll stop that for today. Sabo, look at something else.”

Sabo didn’t respond, but his breathing was getting heavier. Dragon held off squeezing his shoulder in fear of irritating his burns, but it didn’t seem like Sabo could hear him. Potentially because of the gauze covering his ear.

Dragon looked up when Kuma pulled his chair closer to the bed. He reached out to put a hand on Sabo’s other shoulder, looking at Karasu.

“He’s having a panic attack. Can you give him something?”

Karasu looked frustrated. “He’s already taking a lot of medication. I’m not sure how much more I can put in his system before it starts having consequences, and after having a seizure today I don’t want to sedate him. Just try to calm him down naturally."

“Get him a glass of water,” Dragon waved towards Ivankov, who dropped the cards onto the bed and went to do as told. “It’ll distract him at least.”

“Sabo,” Kuma called out gently, rubbing his hand over Sabo’s skinny shoulders. “You’re safe here. Everything’s okay.”

Dragon didn’t know if it was the soft coaxing or the comforting touch, but Sabo’s breath had started to settle. He seemed to be staring at something at the edge of the bed. Dragon followed his line of sight to where Ivankov had dropped the cards.

“Here, water,” Ivankov offered when she’d returned, but Dragon held a hand up to stop her.

“Wait a minute.” He looked over the cards for a moment before reaching out and picking up the one with the tree on it. Sabo tensed, so Dragon handed the card to him. “Is this familiar to you?”

Sabo took the card from him, holding it tightly in his hands and staring down at it. He’d calmed down, so that was something, but after a moment he shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“Do you know what it is?” Kuma asked, and Sabo looked at him blankly.

“It’s a tree.”

Ivankov set a hand on her hip. “He knows what trees are, Kuma. Here,” she handed the glass of water to Dragon. “Have him drink before lying down again.”

“No I'm okay," Sabo insisted. "Let me try again!"

"Your heart rate is too high," Karasu said. "No more for today."

"How would you know?" Sabo argued.

"I can hear it," Karasu stated, then looked at Dragon. "He needs to rest."

"Right."

Sabo started to argue again, but clamped his mouth shut when Dragon gave him a stern look. He held the glass of water towards Sabo.

"Drink. Then lie down."

Sabo begrudgingly obeyed, finishing the glass of water and handing it back before sinking under the sheets. His right arm stayed above the covers, lying on top of them so the IV wouldn't be bothered. Karasu crossed the room, carrying a syringe that Sabo eyed suspiciously.

"It's just for pain," Kuma was the one to reassure the boy after noticing Sabo's apprehension. "It’s not a sedative or hard drug. It's what we've been giving you the past few days so you can sleep."

"Is it the stuff that makes my head feel weird?" Sabo asked, looking from Kuma to Dragon. "Cuz I don't like it."

"It's better than the alternative." Dragon put a hand back on Sabo's shoulder. "Get some sleep. You've still got a ways to go in your recovery. Don't worry though," Dragon quickly added when misery crossed Sabo's features. "Just be patient. You'll be on your feet again in no time."

Sabo’s wounds were so severe that he was confined to bed rest for quite a while. Karasu was especially concerned because of how young and small he was, so he was meticulous about the ten year old’s recovery and constantly checking on him.

To his credit, Sabo was an obedient patient. When he was told to rest, he rested. Dragon figured it was more because Sabo was still in shock and wasn’t ready to move rather than the fact he was good at following directions.

This was proven the minute Karasu cleared him to walk around. He was still heavily bandaged up, had one good eye and a heavy limp, but that didn't slow him down in the slightest. The instant he was on his feet, they were incapable of making him stay still for longer than a few minutes.

Everything about the Wind Granma absolutely enthralled Sabo, and he spent his days memorizing every board, every repair, every crate of supplies and piece of spare rope. Dragon would often see him at the bow of the ship trying to climb the dragon figurehead that extended over the water with Ivankov yelling at him to get down before he fell.

Sabo was unquenchably curious and resilient. The bandages that were wrapped around almost his entire body didn’t seem to hinder him at all, and though he did stumble and bump around with only one good eye to use, his ability to adapt proved almost inhuman.

He liked climbing the webbed rigging rope that led up the mast, joining whoever was in the crow’s nest and staying there for hours to just stare over the ocean towards the horizon.

Sometimes he would climb up onto the railing to walk along it, until someone caught him and scolded him to get down — with his depth perception cut in half, it was too dangerous to be playing around on the railing. The potential of him falling was too great, no matter how much Sabo insisted he knew how to swim so he would be fine if he fell in.

“You say something to him!” Ivankov insisted at one point, waving a hand at where Sabo was standing with them.

He looked annoyed that someone had halted his exploration of the ship.

So Dragon quickly thought of something threatening — something his father would probably say — before turning to meet Sabo's indignant pout with a frown of his own.

“If you fall in the water we’ll leave you behind,” he warned, and Sabo stared at him before grinning.

“No you won’t.” Then he turned and bolted off, probably to do something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Dragon shrugged at Ivankov. “What can we do? Threat of punishment doesn’t scare him.”

“Try harder!”

“You want me to hit him?” Dragon asked, squinting at the phantom pain in his own head from the dozens of times his father would smack him around for being impertinent. “That never works. He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s just enjoying himself.”

“He’s gonna hurt himself!”

“Karasu said he was alright to move around so long as he’s careful,” Dragon defended.

Ivankov pointed in Sabo’s direction, where the kid was climbing on a stack of crates trying to reach the roof of the closest cabin. “You call that careful?”

She had a point, but Dragon still wasn’t enormously concerned. As a matter of fact, he saw Sabo’s high energy as a sign of his recovering health. Kids were supposed to run around and cause chaos. Sabo was a big personality in a tiny body, and that was a good thing.

The longer he spent around the Revolutionaries, the more comfortable he grew, to the point where he was eager to talk to everyone. He was certainly a lot to handle, but the soldiers all seemed to take to him after just a few minutes of conversation.

Sabo was a little demon, but he had a sort of charisma that drew people to him. Dragon supposed his pitiful appearance played into how kind and gentle the Revolutionaries were with him. A Tenryuubito had attempted to murder him, they were all aware of that, and they were all there because they hated the World Nobles. Sabo’s presence was just an affirmation that their ambitions were an honorable cause. They wanted to take care of him, regardless of what family he’d been born to.

Not that he really acted like a child from a noble family. In fact he acted so un-noble-like that Dragon wondered if he’d been mistaken in assuming he was from a well off family.

Even the way he ate was distinctly feral. When he could stomach solid food, he inhaled everything the chef put in front of him. He ate like he was storing food for the winter before anyone else could get at it first. He ate like he knew what it felt like to not eat. The only reason he used utensils at all was because Karasu had reprimanded him for soiling the bandages on his left hand once before. The chef seemed absolutely delighted at Sabo’s gusto, nearly brought to tears when Sabo complimented each dish with a smile and his mouth still full.

“He eats like you,” Kuma commented at one point, looking far too amused.

Dragon merely grunted through his own mouthful of food, not finding the statement worth a reply.

Karasu had to change Sabo’s bandages twice a day, he had to take a number of painkillers and antibiotics at each meal, and the medical specialists on the ship had to hassle the kid into taking naps every few hours so he wouldn’t push his damaged body too far.

When none of that was interrupting him, and he wasn’t in the mood to wander the ship, he would normally seek out Dragon.

He took a shine to Dragon almost immediately, and had developed the habit of following him around when he wasn’t doing anything else. It wasn’t anything that bothered Dragon. Sabo was pretty quiet most of the time so he never distracted Dragon or got in his way. Mostly his presence was just confusing.

There didn’t seem to be any real purpose for it. He never started up any conversation. Sabo would simply sit next to Dragon quietly. Whether he was sitting outside with a map and a Log Pose or in his study reading the newspaper, Sabo would manage to find him and join him, not speaking or making noise. Just sitting.

Sometimes when Dragon stood alone at the railing with a spyglass to observe the horizon or just admire the view, Sabo would come up to his side. He would struggle to pull himself high enough to fold his arms across the railing and stare in the same direction as Dragon.

Dragon wondered idly if the boy had anything better to do, then remembered no, he probably didn’t. So he was left baffled and pondering but not asking Sabo to leave him be, because that seemed like the wrong thing to do.

“He knows you’re the one who saved him,” Kuma was explaining his sound theory one night when they were working in Dragon’s study, after Dragon had muttered about Sabo’s new interest in trailing after him. “As a matter of fact, that’s all he knows. He doesn’t remember anything else about himself or his past. He doesn’t even know why he’s hurt. Just that he is, and that you were the one who rescued him.”

“So did Karasu,” Dragon argued. “So did you. We all saved him.”

Kuma ignored the comment as he continued. “His entire life was unhinged because of the World Government. He’s lost his memory, he’s recovering from severe wounds, he’s very confused, very lost, and though it may not seem like it, very scared. He has to relearn everything, who he is and what this beautifully tragic world is. It’s going to be a difficult journey, but he trusts you. That’s a good thing.”

“What do you expect me to do about that?”

“He’s still very young,” Kuma reminded. “Attachment is important for a child’s cognitive development and growth, which is exceedingly more important for someone who’s had ten years of their childhood stolen from them.”

“Allowing him to get attached wouldn’t be wise, especially when you take into consideration what we’re doing.” Dragon folded his arms. “Anyway, I don’t like children. I don’t have time to worry about him.”

Kuma merely offered him an infuriating smile. “I don’t think it’s up to you anymore.”

One helpful thing about being raised by a Marine Vice Admiral was learning of the helpful tips the Navy used to travel through the Calm Belt safely. It wouldn’t have been wise for their criminal organization to try and enter the Grand Line through Reverse Mountain after all. The bottom of the Wind Granma had been layered with Seastone so Sea Kings would be unable to perceive them as they sailed, though it didn’t always work.

On the rare occasion where it didn’t work, Dragon and the rest of his people were plenty capable of fighting off one or two Sea Kings, so it still wasn’t a massive issue. They made for good dinner meat anyway.

Despite the dead air of the Calm Belt, a steady wind caught their sails and pulled them along through the water. Dragon was standing at the railing with a spyglass in hand, watching the surface of the ocean for any sign of the monsters that could be swimming just below the ship. Ivankov was on the other side of the ship, Inazuma at the bow, Karasu in the crow’s nest and Gilteo at the stern, all watching the water for danger.

Sabo joined Dragon after a few minutes of standing there alone. He stood up on a crate so he could reach the railing, planting his hands against the top of it and leaning forward to look down at the white water crashing against the side of the ship.

“It feels weird here,” Sabo said out of nowhere. It was the first time he’d ever initiated a conversation with Dragon, who glanced down at him in alarm.

Once he’d calmed down from the initial shock, he folded his arms and looked back over the water. “This is the Calm Belt. It’s different from any of the Four Blues or the Grand Line. There are no ocean currents, or natural air currents, which makes it an ideal nest for Sea Kings and an effective barrier between the Blues and the Grand Line. That’s why it feels different.”

“Doesn’t feel very calm,” Sabo admitted, leaning back to stand straight. “It feels crowded.”

Dragon watched him out of the very corners of his eyes. It was a strange comment, and Dragon was about to ask him to elaborate before Sabo looked up at him curiously.

“What do you mean by Four Blues?”

The question prompted Dragon to physically turn his head to look at him. “What?”

“You said Four Blues,” Sabo repeated. “What are they?”

Dragon was confused, even toddlers knew basic geography, then winced when he remembered oh right, amnesia.

“The Four Blues are the four oceans in the world,” he explained, searching through his cloak until he found a memo pad and pen stowed somewhere in the pockets so he could scribble a diagram for Sabo. “The ocean we just left, where you were born, is the East Blue. Each ocean is aptly named for the direction they focus. North, South, East and West Blue. Where we are now is the Calm Belt which, as I said, is a strip of ocean with no ocean or air currents — just dead water. Once we cross the Calm Belt, we’ll be in the Grand Line, which is another strip of ocean paralleled by the Calm Belt on both sides.”

“Oh,” Sabo said, taking the memo pad from Dragon so he could stare at the map he’d drawn. “Red Line… what’s that?”

“It’s… a continent of sorts. One that stretches the circumference of the globe. It’s a wall.”

“Do we break it?” Sabo asked, turning the memo pad sideways to see the map in a different perspective, and Dragon barked a laugh.

“No. We pass under it. You don’t have to worry about that, though.”

Sabo set the memo pad on the railing, looking up at the sails. “But there’s wind. You said there were no air currents.”

“No natural air currents,” Dragon corrected. “You don’t have to worry about that either.”

“Huh,” Sabo looked back down at the little map, tapping his fingers against the railing and swaying on his feet — he almost seemed agitated. “The world’s really big…”

“Are you scared?” Dragon asked.

Sabo seemed to legitimately consider that question before picking the memo pad up and holding it out to see it from a distance. Then he hummed, then smiled. “No, I don’t think so.” He turned his smile to Dragon. “How many places are there? Are there a lot? How many have you been to?”

Dragon stared at Sabo, again taken aback at his curiosity and impressive resilience. Though he still seemed agitated for some reason.

“I’ve visited a few countries — a few islands,” Dragon answered his questions. “Not all of them, but a good amount.”

“Can I visit them too?”

“We’ll stop at a few on our way home,” Dragon said. “Keep in mind you’re still very hurt and are still recovering.”

Sabo pouted, looking away. “Yeah I know.”

“You can visit more once you’re fully healed,” he paused, “and once you can defend yourself.”

“Like fight?” Sabo asked. “I can fight!”

“Can you…”

“Yeah!” Sabo held his fists up, facing Dragon. “I’m really good at fighting!”

“Where’d you learn how to fight?” Dragon asked, and almost instantaneously Sabo’s mood seemed to shatter.

He dropped his arms limply to his sides, staring blankly. The blue of his eye went dim as he seemed to think, his brow drawing tighter the more he tried to remember. Dragon was about to change the subject when Sabo finally spoke, his voice toneless and empty.

“I don’t know…”

“Hm,” Dragon watched him, narrowing his eyes at the sympathy that coiled in his chest. “I’ll introduce you to our karate instructor once we return.” Sabo perked up, looking at Dragon with great interest. “He’s an incredibly skilled fighter, I’m certain he can teach you a lot. If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah!” Sabo insisted. “I’ll be able to show you how strong I am then!”

One corner of Dragon’s lips twitched, but he fended off the smile. “I’m sure your skills are very impressive.”

Sabo appeared even more delighted at the compliment, but the expression faded so quickly that Dragon felt blindsided. In a matter of seconds Sabo’s smile had fallen, his face going paper white and his eye widening in horror as he spun on his heel to face the railing with a sharp gasp. Dragon reached out as Sabo threw his arms in front of his face with a yelp, staggering backwards and slipping off the edge of the crate.

Dragon barely caught him before he could hit the deck and hurt himself, crouching down as Sabo screamed with his hands over his eyes.

“What in the world happened?!” Ivankov yelled as she ran over — Kuma was close to her heels.

Dragon just shook his head, his eyes wide in shock. “I don’t know, he just… fell.”

Sabo was shaking furiously, slowly pulling his hands down, and Dragon watched the terror change to confusion. “Wha —” he gaped at Dragon — the whites of his visible eye looked red. “What happened to the snake?!”

“Snake?” Kuma repeated, and Sabo sat up rigidly.

“There was a snake! It just — it just shot up and snapped at us!”

“There’s no snake, Sabo,” Inazuma reassured, her hands raised in a placating manner, and Sabo glared at her.

“Yes there was, I saw it! It was gonna eat us! It was right there!” He pointed at the railing where he and Dragon had been standing a moment before.

As if on queue, a Sea King shot up beside the ship, the water crashing from the force of its head breaking through the surface. Buckets of water splashed over the deck as the Sea King rose up to hover, turning its piercing yellow eyes to them and opening its mouth to show off rows of razor sharp teeth.

Bones, strips of fabric and giant splinters of wood were caught between those teeth — probably the remnants of the last ship it had munched on.

The crew cursed colorfully and immediately began running around the deck in different directions, leaving Dragon alone with Sabo. They hurried to tie down crates, grab the mainsail and take the helm to move them away from the Sea King. All Dragon could do was stare at the creature and think, it does look like a snake.

Sabo had frozen to the spot, his face tinged yellow in fear. Dragon put a hand on his shoulder and caught the Sea King’s eye as it readied its attack. The creature froze, pupils slitting as it started to shiver under Dragon’s stare.

“Wanna end up a four course meal?” He snarled, and a shiver went through the Sea King as it turned its head away, casting one last look back at Dragon before ducking beneath the water and disappearing.

Sabo finally breathed, though he was still shaking. He looked mortified and confused, looking helplessly at Dragon. “I saw that,” he whispered. “I saw it, but before.” He looked even more terrified then. “Am I crazy?”

“No,” Dragon assured, and Sabo immediately began to relax, his shoulders untensing as he looked back at the railing.

“But I saw it…”

“You used Haki,” Dragon said, and this time the confusion on Sabo’s face was completely valid — most people in the Blues had no idea what that was. Dragon took Sabo by the arm and helped him stand, watching him closely. “It’s an ability that enables someone to wield their own spiritual force to recognize the auras of other living beings or manifest armor. What you just did was recognize the Sea King's aura, but you did so moments before it showed itself. It’s called Kenbunshoku Haki, and allows you to sense the presence of others, even if they’re concealed from view or far away. If it’s advanced enough you may learn to sense someone’s strength and emotions, or develop a sort of precognitive ability — you can see things before they happen.”

Sabo still looked uncertain, but he nodded. “Is it normal?”

“It is,” Dragon answered, and Sabo fully relaxed. "However, it’s a difficult ability to awaken, and it’s extremely rare for someone as young as you to have activated it.”

“So it’s not normal?”

“It’s… something that everyone has, in some ways; but only very specific people have the ability to awaken their Haki. People with extremely strong wills.”

Sabo squinted. “So… it is normal?”

Dragon shut his eyes for a moment before setting a hand on Sabo’s shoulder. “What does that matter? This ability of yours was awakened because you have a strong spirit.” Sabo looked awed at the explanation, eagerly listening to Dragon as he spoke. “Haki abilities are awakened when the user is under extreme stress, oftentimes as a form of defense. You must have awoken your Kenbunshoku Haki the moment your ship was impacted by the Tenryuubito’s cannon fire. Your strength of will pushed this ability to the surface as a way to protect you and keep you alive.”

Sabo lifted his hands, looking down at them. “What do I use it for?”

“That’s up to you,” Dragon said. “You could train to heighten the ability and perfect it so you can use it on command, or you could let it fade.”

Sabo didn’t think about the options longer than two second before looking up. “Can you teach me?”

Dragon didn’t know why the question made him feel so pleased but it did, and he nodded. “If that’s what you want. I could teach you Busoshoku Haki once you’ve gotten comfortable with Kenbunshoku Haki. If you’re interested.”

“What’s that one do?” Sabo asked.

“It’s the ability to use your own spiritual energy to manifest armor,” Dragon explained. “It makes attacks and defense a hundred times more powerful, but you’ll have to train up a lot. The armor is only as powerful as one's personal strength, and Busoshoku is a little more complicated than Kenbunshoku.”

“Because I have to be under a lot of stress to wake it up?” Sabo asked.

“Right.”

“If that’s the case then I think I should already have it, ‘cause I’m really stressed all the time.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I have to be in even more stress?"

"We can discuss it later," Dragon returned his hand to Sabo's shoulder, turning him. "You should rest for now."

"But I'm not tired."

"You're still recovering. You need to let your body rest."

Sabo sighed. "Fine." He lifted his head. "Do you know Haki?"

"Yes."

"Can you show me?"

"I will," Dragon promised, walking Sabo to the door of the cabin. "After you've recovered."

"That could take ages," Sabo mumbled impatiently, and Dragon's lips twitched into another tiny smile.

"You better take care of yourself then."

"I will, I will!"

It took two months for them to reach Baltigo from Dawn Island, and after letting the island's doctor give Sabo a full exam, confirming that he was well enough to be with the general population rather than confined to a hospital bed, they moved him into a dorm room.

The dorms were located on the west side of the compound, set up with four kids to a room, separated by gender with girls down one hallway and boys down another. It was a necessary accommodation to make, because there was no shortage of orphans living in Baltigo with the Revolutionary Army.

In the time that they’d been active, they’d rescued dozens of children from burning islands and dying countries, relocating them to the safety of their hidden base to train and study. Though it wasn’t for the sake of filling their ranks to bursting with homeless youth.

Dragon’s method was precise: rescue the young who had no control over their own lives, train them so they were strong enough to protect themselves, educate them on the subjects that the World Government refused to acknowledge, and once they’d reached a certain age, allow them the choice to stay or go.

Allowing them the freedom to choose what they wanted to do with their futures was imperative.

A good amount of children would ask to stay once they were older, and the last thing Dragon would ever do was reject them. It made him proud to see so many recognizing the darkness in their world and choosing to fight it directly. Even the kids who chose to leave the army, Dragon was confident they would be fighting the status quo in their own ways.

What mattered was that they were given every side of the story, every bit of information that they had, the truth of the World Government and the misguided justice of the Navy. They collected all of that information for themselves and built an opinion based on their own experiences and thoughts.

Exactly as it should be.

Generally Dragon didn’t spend much time with the children. Their quarters were located on the opposite side of the compound, and Dragon was either off base or working in his study. When he did come around, the children would watch him warily, either avoiding him or speaking with him so stiffly it made him feel like an executioner placing them all on trial — which wasn’t ideal.

He didn’t fault them for being a little afraid of him. In Ivankov’s words, he had a face that naturally chased kids away and made babies cry. She'd said it as a joke, no doubt, but Dragon held the words to heart. It was probably true, after all. With his tall stature, dark eyes, excessive facial tattoo and perpetual frown, Dragon would have been shocked if people weren’t immediately frightened of him.

But where most of the kids on Baltigo were hesitant to be near Dragon, Sabo was more than comfortable with his presence. In fact after returning to their base, it seemed that Sabo preferred being around Dragon, Kuma, Ivankov and Inazuma rather than the children his age.

He was noticeably cautious and defensive around the other kids, often looking over to Inazuma or Kuma — whoever was around — as if for validation, to ensure someone was nearby that he trusted.

At least that’s what Kuma had explained.

Everyone — adults and children — ate meals in the same mess hall, so Dragon usually saw them at their designated tables, but he practically never talked to them. There was never really a need to. It wasn’t like Dragon’s presence was necessary. Hack, Inazuma and the others were more than capable of taking care of the orphans.

Most of their progress was the same, whichever kid you looked at, so Dragon’s attention was never captured by their skills — or lack thereof. When they were brought to Baltigo, they were all equally lost and inexperienced.

Every single child was on the same level; except for Sabo.

Dragon had long since stopped being surprised by that, though. Sabo was an outlier from the moment they met in Goa, so seeing him stand out once he began settling into Baltigo was nothing shocking.

Though Dragon did find himself worrying about Sabo on occasion. He was different in more than one way after all, and people would realize it eventually.

Kids were naturally curious, so it was no wonder many of them — most of them — consistently questioned Sabo about the bandages. When they asked him about where he'd come from, what his story was, he would mutter that he simply didn't know. Some kids accepted that answer, but the ones who didn't got mad at him for lying and keeping secrets.

That only served to upset Sabo more, and after some time he began to gravitate further and further away from his peers. The first time he showed up at Dragon's study, he looked exhausted, but he lit up when he recognized the man sitting behind the desk.

"What are you doing here?" Dragon had asked as Sabo stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "How'd you find my office?"

"Kuma told me," Sabo said, walking up to the desk.

Dragon rolled his eyes — of course Kuma did. "Why aren't you with the others?"

"My class is already over." Sabo pushed a chair up to Dragon's desk and climbed onto it, setting a book on the desk in front of him.

"Alright, then you should spend some time with the others your age."

Sabo flicked the edges of the book, not meeting Dragon's eye. "They don't like me," he said, then smiled at Dragon. "I like sitting with you way better! Anyway you said you'd teach me remember? Haki?"

"After you've recovered," Dragon clarified. "You're still healing."

"Karasu and the other doctor said I don't have to wear bandages that much longer," Sabo announced, and Dragon set down the pen he'd been holding. 

"I know, I talked to the doctor already, but you still have a few weeks, and you'll have physical therapy to attend after."

Sabo pouted a bit at that. "Who told?"

"Hack." Dragon folded his arms. "He saw you limping on your left leg."

"It's just my knee a tiny bit."

"It would be better if you trained with the other children," Dragon chided, "especially if your knee is bothering you. I don't want you hurting yourself when there's no one around to help you."

Sabo groaned, leaning back in the chair. "But Hack's training is so boring," he complained. "I'll just get rusty if I do all the baby stuff they do."

"It's not baby stuff, it's martial arts, and Hack is very skilled at Fishman Karate. He knows what he's doing."

Sabo leaned forward, setting his chin on the edge of the desk. "Still boring…"

"Give him a chance." Dragon leaned forward, eyeing Sabo critically. "Since you're here, Inazuma also mentioned you haven't been paying attention in class."

Sabo winced, keeping his chin on the desk as he reached out to open the book he'd brought with him and held it up to hide behind. Dragon shut his eyes, sitting straight again, keeping his arms folded and tapping his fingers against his bicep.

"Sabo."

"But it's so boring," Sabo whined behind the book, pulling it closer and setting it over his head. "It's all 'history of the Four Blues' this, and 'anatomy of the human body' that."

"Inazuma said you keep falling asleep."

Dragon could see Sabo's indignant pout beneath the book on his head. "Cuz I'm tired…"

"Why are you tired?"

Sabo seemed to debate whether or not to answer before deflating in his seat. "I keep having bad dreams," he explained softly, and Dragon pressed his lips together. "They wake me up and I'm always scared to go back to sleep, so I stay up and… read stuff."

"I see…"

"But they're good books!" Sabo insisted rather pathetically, sitting up and setting his book down again. "Stuff about navigation, and weather, and ocean currents and how they're affected by reefs and fish life. What Log Poses are and how they work on the Grand Line."

Dragon couldn't help being interested in that, holding his chin as Sabo flipped through his book. "You're interested in navigation?"

"Yeah!" Sabo dug through his pocket and held out a crumpled piece of paper.

Upon closer inspection, Dragon realized it was the hastily drawn map he'd made for Sabo weeks ago.

"When you gave me this, I started thinking about maps and stuff, so I started looking through the library for cartography books and navigation books." He pulled the map closer, beaming. "I wanna draw maps and charts and navigate on ships to reach lots of different islands!"

Dragon considered that for an instant before speaking. "That's fine," he decided. "I'm happy to support that interest, but you also have to pay attention to Inazuma's lessons." He paused before adding, "We can talk to the doctor about giving you medicine to help your nightmares, and if you need to talk to someone we can look into that as well. You need to be able to sleep." Sabo rubbed his eye in response. "I suppose that explains why you look so tired."

"Only a little," Sabo said. He pointed to the couch pushed against the right wall. "Um, but can I lie down? Just for a second? In here?"

Dragon frowned. "Wouldn't you prefer being in your own bed?"

"No, a couch is fine," Sabo promised, getting to his feet and pulling his book with him before pausing in front of the desk. "Oh right, I almost forgot the other reason I came here!" He searched around his pocket before pulling something out and holding it across the desk towards Dragon with a proud smile. "Here you go!"

Dragon stared at him blankly before accepting the object, which was, absurdly, two marshmallows glued together, one on top of the other, with pipe cleaner arms and drawn on features, complete with a little frown and a design over its left eye that matched the tattoo on his own face.

"What is this?" Dragon asked, and Sabo grinned.

"It's a marshmallow Dragon! I made it when Inazuma told us to do arts and crafts because she was annoyed at us!" He pointed. "See his arms are folded cuz he's mad at all the other marshmallow revolutionaries for annoying him." He pulled his arm back in to cross over the book hugged to his chest. "Do you like it?"

Dragon had absolutely no idea what to say. He had never been given something hand made by a kid before. Did they do that often? Kuma said kids tended to draw or make things for adults they liked, as a gift, and that it was special. So maybe this was normal, but still not something he had been prepared for.

He somehow managed to choke out, "It's fine," which seemed to be enough for Sabo.

He walked over to the couch then, setting the book on the table and flopping onto the cushions so hard that Dragon almost asked if he'd agitated the burns. Eight short minutes passed before he heard Sabo's breathing even out into soft snores.

He really must've been tired if he fell asleep that quickly.

Dragon looked down at the craft Sabo had presented to him, staring at it for a drawn moment before setting it on his desk between his Den Den Mushi and his cup of pens. Then he stood up, pulling his cloak from where he'd draped it over the back of his chair and pacing over to the couch to cover Sabo with it.

He was lying on his left side, so Dragon took a moment to readjust him into a more comfortable position, sliding one of the throw pillows under his head before pulling his cloak up to Sabo's chin.

After confirming the kid was comfortable, Dragon went back to his seat and continued his work as if nothing had happened.

A few hours later when Kuma came to retrieve Dragon for dinner his attention was drawn to Sabo, who'd woken up and sat straight after hearing the door open. He smiled pleasantly at Dragon, but in natural Kuma fashion said absolutely nothing.

Kuma, Ivankov and Dragon stood in when Karasu announced Sabo was healed enough to have his bandages removed for good. Sabo fidgeted as he sat on the cot in the infirmary, looking everywhere as Karasu cut through the bandages on his face and peeled them away. The deep burns on his face had healed into raw, red and purple skin that covered his eye completely. The scar reached up to his forehead and curved around his face to the hinge of his jaw before marring part of his ear.

The damage was unavoidable to look at with Sabo’s shorter hair, and Dragon winced as Karasu unraveled the bandages around Sabo’s neck, torso, shoulder, arm and hand, uncovering the tender skin and damning burn scars. Sabo lifted his left hand when Karasu stepped back, reaching over with his right hand to trace the scars and hold his wrist as he flexed his fingers.

His face was pinched up — he looked more expressive with both eyes showing. “The air feels weird.”

“That’s normal,” Karasu reassured. “It’ll take some time for you to get used to feeling it on your skin after being bandaged up for so long.”

Sabo rubbed his left eye with the back of his hand, looking up. “I’m all better then?"

“You still have physical therapy to retrain your body on how to move,” Kuma said. “The scar tissue built up at your joints, so if you don’t work them it could become painful.”

“Don’t rub your eye so much,” Ivankov chided, and Sabo squinted as he pulled his hand away, blinking rapidly and tensing.

He looked fearfully at the four people around him, speaking softly. “I can’t see anything with it…”

No one spoke for a moment, before Karasu offered something unhelpfully. “That’s normal.”

“Your eye was damaged in the fire,” Dragon said while Ivankov punched Karasu in the shoulder. “It appears the incident took your sight. I’m sorry.”

Sabo looked bothered, but not angry. His shoulders sagged, pressing his fingers beneath his eye. “Blind?”

“Yes.”

“You still have your other eye, though,” Kuma said with a smile. “And you’ve been living with only one eye for a while now. The only difference is now you don’t have to keep it bandaged. It will be a lot more comfortable.”

Sabo nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“You probably won’t even notice it once we’ve built up your Haki,” Dragon offered, and Sabo lit up.

“Yeah, and it never bothered me when I had bandages on anyway! Cuz I could kinda see with my Haki?”

“That’s very plausible.”

Sabo grinned, openly excited despite the road block that had been dropped in front of him. At the close distance he was standing, Dragon could see the subtle difference between Sabo’s eyes. Anyone who took the time to really look would easily be able to pick out the disability. Maybe Sabo realized this.

Maybe that was why he began to grow his hair out and shook his head when Inazuma offered to cut it when it got past his ears.

Or maybe he said no because Inazuma’s scissors were enormous. Dragon didn’t want a haircut from him either. One wrong angle and his head would be off.

It took a long time for Sabo to completely fit into his position. He was awkward with other people, didn’t have the best luck when socializing with kids his own age, and was always with the doctor for physical therapy appointments so he could fend off a limp for a little bit longer. When he wasn’t there, studying, or training, he was with Dragon or Kuma, studying Haki or navigation.

He was so pleased with himself when he drew his first map that Kuma decided to hang it up in Dragon’s study, which made Sabo even happier. It was a good map, Dragon had to admit. Sabo clearly had some skill to back up his interests.

Sabo excelled in training. After having to reprimand him several times for running off on his own, he finally agreed to reluctantly work under Hack. So long as he was also allowed to train by himself once they were done. Dragon could barely believe the nerve of him trying to make a deal, but he’d agreed. At least he was doing what he was told.

He was still falling asleep in his classes, and Inazuma had gone so far as to start disciplining him for disrupting the lesson, but he was also still having nightmares. Karasu and their other lead medic had prescribed medicine for him to take before bed to make them less likely, but Dragon didn’t actually know if he was taking them the way he should.

After a few years, Sabo got more comfortable around the kids his age. At most, they started to admire him for his enormous strength and talent, and they’d stopped trying to press him for information about his scars and his past. The majority of the army and their wards knew the story now, how Sabo had been attacked by a Tenryuubito and subsequently lost all his memories.

As orphans, his peers could understand Sabo’s trauma to some extent, so they began to empathize and understand him. They went from isolating him and pushing him out of groups to insisting he join them while they trained, studied, or played. Sabo was getting along with them, but he still enjoyed spending time with the adults and the people who he’d known longer.

Despite everything, Sabo didn’t really make friends until he was thirteen and first met Koala. She was brought to Baltigo with the singular goal of joining the Revolutionary Army. At fourteen years old, Dragon was hesitant to agree; until she explained who she was to him. Knowing what she’d endured, it would have been cruel of Dragon to say she was too young to make such a serious decision. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She and Sabo got along almost immediately when they met during Hack’s lesson.

In a way.

They were paired up as sparring partners and did not go easy on each other. Dragon stood there baffled as he watched them roll around in the dirt, biting, scratching and refusing to pull their punches. He couldn’t tell if Koala was trying to prove that she was capable of keeping up with the boys, or if Sabo was trying to prove he wasn’t afraid to hit a girl.

They didn’t stop until Hack stepped in and physically pried them away from each other, holding them both up by the backs of their shirts like he was holding up feral kittens. Koala’s nose was spilling blood and Sabo’s bottom lip had split open.

“I won that fight!” Sabo announced, and Koala threw one of her shoes at him.

“No you didn’t!”

“Fight me again then, I’ll win this time!”

Hack looked frazzled as he shook them both. “Knock it off! You’re embarrassing yourselves and making me look bad!”

“Dragon-san doesn’t care!” Sabo said, and Dragon met Hack’s wild eyes.

“Well… they’re showing us what they’re capable of.”

“I have to be strong if I want to join the army too!” Sabo announced, his hands curled into fists.

It was the first time he’d ever vocalized interest in staying with them long term. Dragon was pleased, but didn’t show it on his face. “When did you decide that?”

“This morning!” Sabo said, and Kuma started to laugh from beside Dragon, who lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Why not see what he’s learned these past few years?” Kuma asked, and Dragon pulled his hand away to look up at him.

“You want to spar him?”

“Sure. It sounds fun.”

Sabo lit up, grinning. “Yeah! I wanna fight Kuma!” He punched a fist into his palm. “I’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“Please, you’re such an idiot,” Koala said, arms folded and cheeks puffed out. “You’re a tiny dumbass, you’re a ragdoll to him.”

“What was that?!”

“Set him down, Hack,” Dragon directed. “Let’s see how long he can last against Kuma.”

Hack sighed in exasperation as he set both kids down. Sabo stuck his tongue out at Koala before jogging over to take a stance in front of Kuma. The fight went about how Dragon had expected, with Kuma smacking Sabo into a crate of weapons like he was flicking a leaf off his shoulder. Sabo dug through the weapons that had spilled from the broken container before picking out a lead pipe, which was probably the most unexpected thing to happen.

Dragon wasn’t at all surprised when the young fool launched himself over Kuma and went straight for him. His eyes were gleaming and his lips were pulled in a brilliant grin. Dragon almost felt bad about how easily he dodged the obvious attack before knocking Sabo out with a hand to the back of the kid’s neck. He caught Sabo around the chest before he could hit the dirt, the pipe slipping from his fingers and clattering on the ground beneath him.

“See?” Koala sighed. “What a reckless idiot.”

“You’ve taught him well,” Dragon complimented Hack. “I’m surprised he actually listened to your lessons and utilized what you taught him.”

“So am I,” Hack admitted, and Kuma laughed again.

“What do you think, Dragon?”

Dragon hummed, looking down at Sabo before glancing at Kuma. “I did promise him a long time ago that I would train him to perfect his Haki.”

Kuma maintained his smile. “You’re actually going to?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve just never known you to take on an apprentice before.”

Dragon glared at him before letting Hack and Koala take Sabo. They laid him out on his back so he would be more comfortable — Dragon doubted he’d be unconscious for very long.

“I’ve never been known to break a promise, either.” He turned then, looking over his shoulder at Hack. “Have him come to my study once he wakes up. I’ll discuss his training schedule with him then.”

“Good,” Koala decided, grinning. “That means I get Hack all to myself!”

“I do still have other people to train,” Hack reminded, and Koala pouted at him.

“That’s okay Hack, I’ll help you.”

Dragon picked up the lead pipe as he passed, turning it around in his hands as he carried on towards the compound. It was an unusual choice for a weapon, but if that’s what worked for Sabo, then Dragon was happy to support him.

Dragon didn’t know where Sabo’s remarkable strength of will or natural aptitude with Haki came from, but it genuinely blew him away sometimes how easily the boy took to the lessons. All he had to do was understand how Haki worked before he began showing a rapid climb in his ability to control his Kenbunshoku.

It had been notably strong already, potentially due to the extreme trauma that brought it out. After designating an official schedule for daily Haki training, it just got stronger, until he could tie a blindfold over his eyes and still win a fight.

Sabo was already a skilled fighter when he first got to Baltigo. Hack had posed that it could have been left over muscle memory from when he lived in Goa. He commented that although Sabo's mind was blank, his body still knew how to move. It was a sound theory, but Dragon couldn’t think of a good reason why a noble child from High Town would already be so well versed in combat.

It was yet another missing piece of the puzzle, and made Sabo that much more mysterious and fascinating.

He had a big heart and an impressive level of empathy towards people. He could get along with just about anyone, and possessed a certain charm that some of the revolutionaries had already fallen victim to. At the same time, he was the most disagreeable, argumentative and feral child that Dragon had possibly ever met before.

Sabo was exceptional in dealing with young children, though he remained somewhat wary around people his own age — not that they knew how old Sabo was in the first place. Really they were just guessing. He was ten or eleven when they first picked him up, that’s what Karasu had said.

What mattered was that he knew how to act around people, he just chose to be a menace. Maybe because he was bored. Maybe because it was comforting to him.

He never acted out while he was training with Dragon, though. He took those lessons very seriously.

Kenbunshoku was a useful and powerful ability to perfect, and Sabo did so in a matter of months. It was no surprise considering how long he’d had it. Dragon never pushed any further than what he thought Sabo could handle, and though he was confident Sabo would be able to unlock Busoshoku, he never put that weight on Sabo.

The last thing he wanted was to force Sabo into a position to awaken that ability — he’d been through enough already, and it was better for it to come out naturally on its own. Which it did eventually, when Sabo was fourteen.

It had been a stressful year to begin with, losing Ivankov and Inazuma while they were working a complicated mission away from Baltigo. When the news reported in the papers that two ranking members of the Revolutionary Army had been sent to Impel Down, Sabo had not taken it well. They’d lost people like this before, but Ivankov was different.

Dragon certainly wasn’t happy about the situation either, but they had inside information about the Navy prison thanks to Morley, so he wasn’t too worried. Iva and Inazuma would be fine, and he tried to explain as much to Sabo when he burst into the study with the newspaper crumpled in one fist, eyes wide and gleaming red — as if his Kenbunshoku Haki would help him somehow.

He stood there raging for ages about how they needed to break into the prison to bust them out — the newspaper tore beneath his angry fingers — and it took both Dragon and Kuma working together to explain why they couldn’t for him to finally calm down.

“What we’re doing here is very dangerous,” Kuma explained gently, one hand settled on Sabo’s shoulder. “The Revolutionary Army is a terrorist group that the World Government sees as an incredible threat to their positions of power; and that’s what we want. We want them to see us as a threat. It means they’re scared, and that we have power over them . Our ambition to take down the Tenryuubito scares them, and that is why they’re so desperate to capture as many of us as they can.”

“The soldiers and executives in this organization are criminals of the highest level,” Dragon added, standing beside the chair that Kuma had taken. “We put our very lives at risk when we undertake missions because we’re attempting something that hasn’t even been a consideration in centuries. We’re trying to dismantle tyranny that has been festering for eight hundred years. That kind of thing cannot go without sacrifice.”

Sabo’s hands curled into tighter fists, hands shaking at his sides. “But that’s not fair,” his voice trembled at every octave, and Dragon felt his heart fall.

“No. It’s not.”

“You’re proof of why this army is necessary, Sabo,” Kuma tried to explain, touching the scar on Sabo’s cheek. “The noble’s overinflated opinion of what they are owed is what led to your incident. The Tenryuubito stole your mind.” Sabo’s brow drew in discomfort at the reminder; Kuma continued. “We fight and sacrifice so that one day children won’t have to suffer the same way.”

“Ivankov knew the risks,” Dragon said. “You shouldn’t underestimate her.”

“I’m not underestimating her,” Sabo mumbled, lifting an arm to rub his eyes with his sleeve.

“Everyone we lose, everything we can’t keep hold of, needs to become our resolve,” Dragon said simply, and Sabo stared up at him with an intense expression in his eyes that almost made them look like the striking blue glow at the base of a candle flame.

“I will never lose anyone again.” Something black coated his fingertips — flickering — before fading.

It was there and gone in the blink of an eye, but Dragon felt the way Sabo’s aura seemed to shift for his newly awakened Busoshoku Haki.

Brought to the surface because Sabo was desperate, desperate to protect his people.

Sabo tried. Over the years as he was sent on missions more and more often, he became the recognizable fool who threw himself into reckless solo fights in order to buy time or save his soldiers. There were many times he failed. Many times where he was too late — where all of them were too late.

The number of times they arrived at an allies home only to discover the entire town had been annihilated? Or trailed black market weapons dealing to a country in the midst of war that left corpses of young and old scattered across the ground? Those were countless.

It took something from Sabo every time, and Dragon would watch it happen, silently regretting the decision to let Sabo enter the army as an active soldier. He was just a kid, now being exposed to the worst of the world.

Hands stained with blood that still pumped through veins as he tried to save innocents breathing their last in the wasteland of their homes. As if he had the power to halt death in its tracks by placing bare fingers to gaping wounds.

Dragon would pull him aside every time and repeat the same mantra of bullshit. “Steel your resolve. This wasn’t your fault. Sometimes we lose and we just have to keep going.” Blah, blah, blah… 

Sabo would listen mutely with an expression that said the words were going in one ear and out the other. Dragon couldn’t blame him. Sometimes he started to lose hope too; but he couldn’t afford that. There was too much riding on their shoulders, and they’d come too far to stop now.

“You have no responsibility to stay with us,” Dragon said at one point.

Sabo was seventeen and sitting in Dragon’s study, scribbling something in a notebook Kuma had once gifted him. He paused in his writing and glanced at Dragon with a frown. “You say that all the time.”

“Because you never listen.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dragon-san,” Sabo said firmly. “You don’t have to worry so much, I can handle it.” His eyes shifted to stare at the desk in front of him. “I just have to get stronger and smarter. I’m gonna help us take down the Tenryuubito if it’s the last thing I ever do in this life. They need to pay for the things they’ve done, the people they’ve hurt; Koala, Ivankov, Kuma. I’m not going anywhere until we’ve put them down.”

Dragon pressed his lips into a tight line at the mention of Kuma. It was a decision they’d all made together, but in the end Kuma had volunteered to be the one to accept the title of Warlord after some rookie had turned it down in the most theatrical of ways on Sabaody Archipilego.

He wasn’t dead, but they hadn’t heard from him in months. Sabo was understandably very upset, but by now he understood why the executives of the army made the decision to allow Kuma to infiltrate the Navy as a spy.

He’d sworn to get any information he could in any way he needed to, and that worried Dragon, but he’d never been able to really control that big fool. Kuma respected him of course, but not nearly enough to sit still when he was ordered too.

Sabo was quite similar in that sense. Maybe that was why Dragon was so willing to have Sabo inherit Kuma’s title and position as the next Chief of Staff when Kuma had brought it up before leaving. It was worrisome, because Kuma wouldn’t have suggested he be replaced if he thought he’d be returning, but Dragon couldn’t hang on that concern for long. There was too much to do, and it wasn’t in his nature to sit and grovel for someone who wasn’t even gone yet. He couldn’t afford to worry — he couldn’t allow himself to grieve when he was the one who set these people on this path.

You chose this, he’d remind himself constantly. So did they.

Yet it was different when he thought about Sabo. He may have made the decision to join the Revolutionary Army, but what other choice did he have? He had no memories, no one he trusted outside of the army. These people saved his life, and Dragon worried maybe he only stayed as some backwards form of showing gratitude. Whenever he brought that up, though, Sabo denied it.

All Dragon could really do was support his decisions and ensure that there was an out if Sabo ever chose to leave the army.

As the years went on, it seemed less and less likely that Sabo ever would. He’d settled into the Revolution like it had been built for him, and Dragon would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t enormously proud of how far he’d come from that boy he found sobbing into the dirt while the Grey Terminal burned — not that Sabo remembered that.

The few times Dragon had talked about Goa in passing, Sabo didn’t even react; but he’d stopped trying to remember a while ago. When he was younger he would spend hours clutching his head and trying to force the memories out, going so far as to physically strike himself in the temple until he’d bruised. The stress of it all had given him seizures before, so Dragon had ordered Sabo to stop trying. It was just hurting him.

“If the memories are meant to return then they’ll come on their own, but trying to force them is dangerous to your health.”

That’s what he’d said; but he never expected them to return the way they did.

Dragon had heard rumors of the war. He tried to stay as informed about what the Navy did at any time, especially when it disturbed the carefully crafted false sense of balance in the world. So he knew what was happening and he knew why, but during that ordeal the Wind Granma was days away dealing with another war. Dragon doubted he would’ve been able to do much anyway aside from cause more problems.

He didn’t learn the full story until he’d returned to Baltigo, where he was presented with the fact that his fool of a son had broken into Impel Down, busted out hundreds — including Ivankov and Inazuma — before storming Marineford; and ultimately failing.

Made worse by the fact the truth of his lineage had been plastered for everyone to see. If Luffy didn’t have a target on him before — he definitely did — it would be bigger than his back now.

I wouldn’t blame you for hating me.

The papers didn’t sugar coat or glamorize the war. The article bathed the Navy in glowing light of heroism and slapped a picture of Portgas D Ace’s corpse uncensored on the front page. It was all a show to them. Dragon could taste bile and smell the phantom of burning flesh when he read the words on the page, finding only a bit of comfort when he learned that Luffy had escaped.

Akainu had begun a desperate hunt for the young pirate, mad with the obsession to capture and eliminate the threat he posed. Dragon doubted the Admiral would be able to find Luffy, but figured he should keep his eye out anyway.

If he just happened to bump into one of Akainu’s ships and happened to destroy it, that was hardly his fault.

The room was buzzing with conversation about the war and the deaths of Whitebeard and Fire Fist. Dragon barely registered the shocked comments and questions aimed his way about him having a son who just so happened to be the most infamous rookie in the world at that time. He felt a bubble of pride when someone brought up Ennies Lobby, but his attention was quickly readjusted when he heard Koala calling Sabo’s name.

When he looked up, Sabo was clinging to the edge of a desk across the room. His legs were shaking beneath him and it seemed he was barely holding himself upright. Dragon could hear him hyperventilating, could sense the shock going through Sabo’s trembling body with his own precise Kenbunshoku Haki.

Sabo had endured hundreds of seizures in the past, but Dragon had never heard him scream like that before. In ten years he hadn’t heard Sabo scream once ; even when he was frightened. He yelled before, but he’d never done this.

Sabo’s hands were on his face, palms digging into his eyes and fingers clawing into his hair as his body bent back, mouth gaping open as he let out a guttural wail that lasted and lingered, the noise clinging to the walls and reverberating. Dragon felt the pain ricochet beneath his ribcage and his eyes went wide in alarm. Sabo sounded like he was reenacting an animal's death scream. His body seized violently as he fell back, hitting the floor with a crash and not moving.

“Sabo -kun!” Koala and Hack were at Sabo’s side in an instant.

Dragon stood from his desk and moved to join them as the rest of the soldiers halted all conversation to help.

“Someone get the doctor!”

“Did he have another seizure, what happened?!”

“Is he breathing?!”

Dragon set a hand on Sabo’s forehead once he’d crouched down beside him, brow furrowing in concern. “He’s burning up.”

“He was fine earlier!” Koala insisted, tears building in her eyes. “I don’t understand what happened!”

“This was a very different seizure than ones he’s had in the past,” Hack said. “He’s breathing, let’s just wait for the doctor. Did he hit his head? Is he bleeding?”

Koala slid a hand beneath Sabo’s head before pulling it back, sighing. “He’s not bleeding.”

“The last mission was taxing on all of us,” Gilteo commented warily. “Maybe he was triggered by his exhaustion. I told him he looked tired and should go lie down but he said he was alright.”

Dragon leaned back, eyes going to the newspaper pages that had come apart and scattered across the floorboards when Sabo had fallen. His eye was drawn to the closest page, which he picked up and folded so Ace’s smirking profile was visible. The thought of “he ended up looking a bit like Roger after all” passed his mind before Dragon noticed the tears that had soaked the front of the paper.

It wasn’t unusual for Sabo to cry over something unjust, but never to this extent. His eyes would get watery, but he’d normally wipe the tears away before they could fall and get right back to work. This current situation was certainly in the realm of unfairness that made Sabo’s blood boil in rage, but why would it put him in such a compromising position? Why did it trigger a seizure when he hadn’t suffered one in months?

Or maybe it wasn’t Ace’s death that had done it? Maybe Sabo just happened to be at the table when he started to feel the onset of a blackout? That didn’t make sense either though. When Sabo felt it coming he usually sat down so he wouldn’t collapse and hurt himself. He didn’t cling to tables or cry over newspapers. What the hell was going on?

Sabo was unconscious for three days before Dragon got an answer to that question.

He stopped by the infirmary a few times a day whenever he had free time to check on him. His fever had spiked by the time they got him in a bed, shaking with full-body sweats and occasionally jerking around in his sleep. Koala explained that Sabo talked sometimes, which he had never done before, but she couldn’t understand any of it because of how slurred his voice was. Occasionally she could make out one or two words, but they never made sense in any context.

She recognized the words “spyglass”, “flag”, “cage” and “sake”, but what stood out the most was when he repeated “fire, fire, fire”.

Sabo had suffered from a severe case of pyrophobia for many years before doctors and therapists had helped him acclimate to it somewhat. It was one of the biggest after effects of his incident, but at his current age it didn’t send him into a panic attack like it used to. He was still wary and cautious, but not paralyzed with fear. So it made sense, but didn’t at the same time.

His fever broke in the middle of the third night, and he was able to sleep for a few hours in general peace. Dragon was able to finally relax, focusing on a few things that needed to be dealt with. He needed to call Ivankov and return Bunny Joe’s call that he’d missed because he was checking on Sabo — Gilteo had said it was important — and try to assess how the world would change in the coming months following Whitebeard’s death.

The Navy and the Government would have to appoint new Warlords and another Yonko, and Dragon wasn’t looking forward to either of those announcements.

Dragon was at his desk flipping through the newspaper waiting for a call from Joe, occasionally looking towards the snail and letting his eyes draw down to the little craft Sabo had made him years ago. He should probably throw it out. The marshmallows had gone hard as rocks by now, and Betty kept muttering about how gross that was, but Dragon could never find it in himself to get rid of it.

He looked up when the door opened — Sabo had a bad habit of not knocking before walking in and Dragon had long since stopped reprimanding him for it since he never listened anyway.

Sabo wasn’t normally the kind of person to wear excessively casual clothing, so seeing him in loose pants and a white button-up was a little strange. Where was his fancy little vest and the tiny belt he put on his arm outside his shirt that served absolutely no purpose?

Dragon decided not to tease him — he looked too tired to make it any fun. He hadn’t even finished securing the belts of his boots, and his shirt was only partly tucked in; his hair was a mess.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet this soon,” Dragon commented. “Are you feeling alright?”

Sabo didn’t answer as he shut the door quietly before pacing over to the couch. Dragon half expected him to lie down and take a nap on the couch like he used to do when he was younger, but Sabo just sat there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded tightly in front of his mouth. He was silent for such a long time that Dragon half wondered if Sabo just wanted to sit there.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. Sometimes the kid just didn’t want to be alone so sought Dragon out to be in the same general area. He did it all the time after they’d rescued him; sought out Dragon around the ship to just sit beside him. Dragon figured it made him feel safe, because he only ever did it when he seemed upset or vulnerable.

He was about to turn back to his work when Sabo lowered his hands, hesitating visibly before speaking. “That night,” he started, paused, then continued. “Why did you stop when you saw me?”

Dragon stared at Sabo before answering. “You were drowning —”

“Before that,” Sabo interrupted. “The night of the fire, why did you stop when you saw me?”

The realization struck Dragon and he set down his pen abruptly, focusing completely on his Chief of Staff. “You…”

His memories… 

Dragon took a breath. “I hadn’t been expecting to see a child at the gate when I walked Edge Town,” he admitted. “I wanted to know why you were there.”

“Did you expect the answer I gave you?”

“Hardly,” Dragon answered. “You surprised me that night. I’d never heard a child as young as you speak with such confident resolve against their birthright before.”

Sabo tapped his thumbs together. “Is that why you rescued me when the Tenryuubito shot me?”

“I rescued you because you were a child,” Dragon stated. “You were innocent and didn’t deserve to have your life ended like that. No one deserves to have their lives cut short because of the misplaced authority of one man.”

Sabo folded one arm across his knees, lifting his other hand to cradle his head, covering his eyes. “You were the one who bandaged me that night after I passed out,” he said. “I was so tired, I couldn’t stay awake. I was so worried. I just needed to get through that gate, make sure they were okay. I didn’t know where they were and…” his shoulders gave a quiver as he breathed. “When I woke up I had bandages stuck on me. That was you?”

“I couldn’t leave you injured,” Dragon argued. “I couldn’t take you with me either.”

“You should have,” Sabo stated, and Dragon winced.

“I rescued the people in Grey Terminal that night,” Dragon said, feeling a chill of elation at the fact he could finally tell Sabo what he’d wanted to tell him for ten years. “There were some injuries but very few casualties. Mostly the elderly who couldn’t handle the smoke. The great majority survived, and we returned them to Dawn once the fire’s had gone out.”

Sabo nodded into his hand. “Did… were there children?”

“Some women had infants…” Dragon recalled. “Not many children.”

“None around my age?”

“No.”

Sabo’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. “Okay. That’s good. Maybe… maybe they weren’t there.” He gave a cold laugh. “Not that it matters anymore…”

“Your memories,” Dragon said finally. “You remembered something.”

Sabo went completely tense again as he spoke with a broken voice. “I remember everything.” Dragon didn’t have a chance to assure Sabo he didn’t have to tell him anything if he didn’t want to, because Sabo was quick to continue. “I really was a noble. Born in High Town to the Outlook family, to high nobility just a few levels below the royal family. I hated it. Most days I spent by myself, stuck in my room, the library, left to wander outside alone. No supervision or caregivers. When I approached my parents I’d be turned away. My father would strike me to the floor if I interrupted something important.”

Dragon went rigid, hands curling into fists. “How old were you?”

Sabo seemed to consider that. “Younger than five. I know because that was how old I was when I ran away.” He slid his hand up into the fringe of his hair, lowering his face further so Dragon couldn’t see his eyes. “I used to leave the property a lot — no one cared enough to stop me and never said anything if I got home late anyway; I doubt anyone noticed I was gone. I would wander the streets looking for… I’m not sure what. I think I was just lonely. Eventually I found myself in Grey Terminal, and somehow… it all seemed so much more… alive than anything I’d seen in Goa before.

“Everyone laughed so loudly; not those obnoxious little chortles or behind the hand smirks. The people in Grey Terminal gave bellowing laughs that felt so much more homely and genuine — so much kinder. I was drawn to the people there. They didn’t know who I was, but I think they must have known I was a noble from my clothes. I would sit with them for hours into the night listening to them tell stories. When they’d finish one I’d beg for another, until I got hungry and decided to go home.

“But I hated to go home, even for food, because it was always the same. The mansion was warm, and big; and lonely. It was quiet and oppressive and I felt like I was in a cage. Every adult around me neglected and ignored me if they weren’t making my mouth bleed for talking out of turn. I was a pawn to my parents, a means to get higher in life. They had me for the sole purpose of marrying well and boosting their status in society. I couldn’t stand it. I left.

“Grey Terminal was cold, and cramped, and I was almost always hungry, but I wasn’t locked up there. I didn’t mind sleeping in the dirt and being hungry if it meant I could make my own choices. Honestly I probably would’ve died within a year, I had no idea how to live like that… but it was better than going back home. I remember I would stare at the sky at night, at the stars, and think this is okay. I don’t mind dying if I can look at this every day before then.” Sabo paused for a drawn moment, as if he was building the strength to continue — or maybe trying to remember what happened next. “Then I met my brother.”

“Your brother?” Dragon gaped.

Sabo nodded. “My age. He was a complete mystery to everyone. All anyone knew about him was that he lived somewhere on Mount Corvo and only came down to scavenge and cause problems. He’d get into fights with men ten times his size and five times his age; and he’d win. Some of the adults told me to stay away from him because he was such a wild card. He had a temper like a switch and could blow up in an instant. He was feral and violent and dangerous, but I wasn’t afraid of that kind of thing. My father used to make me bleed, so a kid my age hitting people with pipes and sticks seemed like a much better option for companionship.

“I started to follow him around whenever he showed up. I don’t think he ever noticed me. I’d never made friends before so I didn’t know how to go about it, and just followed him around trying to figure out how to introduce myself. Then one day I followed him out of Grey Terminal along the coast, up to this viewpoint hundreds of feet above the ocean. He stood there for a long time, just staring, until…” he cut himself off with a sharp breath. “I had to run over and pull him away,” he laughed. “Such an idiot… what five year old is ready and willing to throw themself from a cliff?”

Dragon clenched his jaw, sympathy roiling in his chest. He didn’t interrupt, choosing to watch Sabo as he slowly continued his story, because it was a story Dragon had wanted to learn for years. Damn him if he wasn’t ready to listen for hours if he needed to. People’s pasts were what built the foundation of who they became as they grew, and this story was the reason Sabo had cried at Edge Town’s gate that night.

“He got mad at me,” Sabo said. “We ended up punching each other and wrestling in the dirt until we’d tired ourselves out. Then we just laid there. I think he was still mad at me for a while after that, but he didn’t try jumping off a cliff again. Maybe because I was always there to keep his feet on the ground. For a while I wouldn’t let him walk closest to the cliffside because I didn’t want him getting any stupid ideas. I’d elbow him away from the water until he started smacking me asking what I was pushing him for. I just… I just didn’t want him to die.”

His body gave a visceral response to that last word, curling forward like he was physically rejecting it. He was taking in deep breaths, and Dragon recognized the attempt to keep himself from having a panic attack. He stood up from his desk to join Sabo at the couch, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

“You’re wrong,” Sabo snapped, taking a few more breaths in before he could speak normally again. “He didn’t live in Grey Terminal with me, but he came every day after that. Sometimes he’d stay the night with me, even helping me build a little shelter. He taught me about survival, how to hunt for food and take care of myself when he wasn’t around. I didn’t want him protecting me anyway. I wanted to be able to look after him as his equal, because we were friends. He was my first friend. My best friend.

"He’s the one who introduced me to the idea of piracy and a life on the ocean. He used to go on and on about leaving Dawn and being free, and it was… such a tempting dream. I wanted that too. I wanted to leave Dawn Island with him and sail as a pirate and be free. I’d been tied down for so long by who I was born to, and I wanted to escape it — and he did too. We were going to leave together. We were saving up money, teaming up to rob bandits and scumbags of money they’d already stolen. We were gonna buy a boat and sail away as soon as we had enough, and we were gonna be pirates. We saved up for years, just the two of us… then suddenly there were three of us.”

Dragon tried not to react or show his shock. He’d already expected something like this, the fact Sabo had forgotten friends or family, but two siblings?

“Were they related to you by blood?”

“No,” Sabo murmured. “I don’t have full siblings. My parents adopted a boy after I ran away, to replace me, but I never considered him to be family. My only brothers were… we didn’t have to be connected by blood. That didn’t matter to any of us. We looked after each other. We hunted together, lived together, fed each other and trained as a group. We were all gonna be pirates. Maybe not together. We’d always expected to separate eventually, but… not so soon. Not the way it happened.”

Sabo bowed his head further, lifting his other hand so both were buried in his already messy hair. “It was my fault. I was careless. I never told either of them about who I was, never told them my parents were alive and that I was a noble. We snuck into High Town for something and my father, he… saw me. I had to confess who I was, and try to explain why I ran away from home. I didn’t think they’d understand. Trying to explain that some people don’t get along with their parents, and that some parents don’t like their kids… to the point where they neglect or abuse them. My younger brother, I don’t… think he really grasped it, but he was only seven. I didn’t expect him to. My other brother got it. The way he looked at me, the way he scowled when I commented about my father hitting me. He understood. They were mad at me, but… because they cared, not because they didn’t.

“There were no secrets between us after that. I think my heritage was the only thing that hadn’t been talked about, so when I’d finally told them about my past it just made us closer and deepened our bond. The three of us were inseparable. It was more the two of us doing all the work and dragging our younger brother around because he was such a weak little baby. He was always crying and whining and complaining, but I don’t remember minding all that much. It was okay. I loved being with them, and I loved them, because I was somewhere other than Goa.

“I thought my father would leave me alone, but he didn’t. He had someone track me, and when he’d found me he brought police into Grey Terminal to take me back by force. When I resisted, he threatened my brothers. He said they’d kill them if I didn’t go with him, so I did, because I wanted to protect them.” Sabo gripped the sides of his hair in fists. “I just wanted to keep them safe. They were more important to me than any amount of gold or any food or any form of freedom. They meant everything to me.

“I wasn’t home more than a few days before I learned about the fire by chance. I was so mortified. I ran away again, I tried to open the gate to warn everyone, to find my brothers and make sure they were safe, but the gatekeepers kicked and hit me until I was too hurt to move. I couldn’t do anything… I couldn’t help. That’s when I met you the first time. The police found me the next day and forced me back home. My father put bars over my windows and locked my door, hired bodyguards to keep me inside so I wouldn’t embarrass them anymore. They had me sit with tutors for hours studying trade and commerce. I was locked up for days, and… the longer I was in that house the more I realized that if I stayed… if I stayed, I would end up just like them.”

Sabo was shaking horribly now. “I’d never been more scared of anything in my life. I didn’t want to be like my father. I didn’t want to grow up into an entitled, heartless monster like the ones who burned Grey Terminal. I felt helpless and scared and I just wanted to see my brothers again. Just one more time, just a glimpse… but I never got that.”

He took a breath — Dragon rubbed his shoulders. He didn’t want Sabo to continue if it was putting this much stress on him, but he doubted Sabo would stop even if he was told to. Beyond that, Dragon didn’t want to tell him to stop. To take away that choice. Especially after hearing all of this. He’d let Sabo talk, let him take as much time as he needed before continuing, which he eventually did.

“It felt like there were weights on my shoulders, and making the decision to leave the island sooner than planned was a hard one to make, but I couldn’t stay. I wasn’t strong enough to deal with it all. I couldn’t do it alone, but I couldn’t go back to Mount Corvo because I would be putting my precious brother’s lives in jeopardy. I’d have rather died myself than ever watch one of them die because of me… and I almost did, didn’t I?

“I didn’t know anything about the World Noble that came to Goa. I mean, I knew an important official was showing up, but I didn’t expect him to shoot me when I sailed out. I just… wanted to be free. I wanted to leave and reunite with my brothers when it was time for them to follow. I left a little sooner than them, but while I was on that little boat I was so sure we’d see each other again.

“I remember the sound of cannon fire, my boat setting on fire, trying to tame the flames… then the second shot. I saw it coming, and I think part of me knew what was going to happen. The fire… the scorching heat… the pain.” He scraped his nails down to his left eye.

Dragon almost grabbed his wrist to keep him from hurting himself.

“The last thing I thought about was them,” Sabo admitted. “My brothers. The fool with the too kind heart and the jaded scowl who doubted every breath he took. The little crybaby who was fearless towards everything that he should have been afraid of, and only showed panic when we threatened to leave him behind. I love them so much and I forgot them for ten. Years.” He dropped his head even lower — his forehead was nearly touching his knees — and he spoke in a voice so quiet, so agonized, that Dragon barely heard him. “And now I’ll never see them again…”

“Sabo. I don’t know how many times I’ve said it for you to understand. You’ve no responsibility to remain here.” Dragon squeezed the back of Sabo’s neck. “You’ve regained your memories and realized you had connections, family you care about and who cares about you. If you want to see them again then I won’t stop you. You know our contacts can locate just about anyone, we can find where your brothers are —”

“We can’t,” Sabo interrupted, shaking his head.

“Why can’t we?”

The question was followed by a few horrible seconds of silence, before Sabo finally let out one sentence that seemed to explain everything. One sentence that made his seizure and three day coma make complete sense, and shattered Dragon in a way he hadn’t expected; but oh, maybe he should have expected it — Sabo was from Dawn Island after all.

“Because my brother died at Marineford.”

Dragon took a sharp breath in. It took his mind such a long time to catch up with the reality of those words that by the time he was ready to respond, Sabo had pressed his face into his palms. His breath was coming out short and sharp and his shoulders were trembling violently. Dragon could practically hear the way Sabo’s heart was crashing against his ribcage.

“Sa —”

“I can’t breathe.” Sabo dropped his hands a few inches from his face, gasping. “I feel sick.”

Dragon said nothing as he pulled away from Sabo, retrieving the trash bin from beside his desk. He set the bin under Sabo’s head before taking one of Sabo’s wrists, attempting to maneuver him into a better position.

“Cross your arms. Hands against your shoulders.”

He had to move Sabo physically to get his arms in an X across his chest, palms pressed to the opposite shoulders as his head hung. Dragon pressed his palm to Sabo’s forehead so he wouldn’t hurt his neck, his other hand pressed between his shoulder blades in an attempt to ground him in reality.

Sabo didn’t throw up — he’d been unconscious for three days and Dragon doubted the young fool had given himself time to eat before coming to discuss the situation of his memories with Dragon. He did however sit there dry heaving and choking on stomach bile for an excruciating amount of time. All Dragon could do was sit there and hold him through it.

It was nothing he’d never done before. Sabo had suffered so many panic attacks over the years, learning how to help him through them had become a staple skill. They didn’t last long when he was younger, though they happened more frequently.

These days they were rarer but far worse, and lasted much longer.

When Sabo was smaller it was easier to hold him through these episodes, but now all Dragon could do was sit next to him so he knew he wasn’t alone. Pressing his palms to his own shoulders and feeling Dragon’s hands on his head and his back would help — Sabo said it helped.

He explained before that sometimes he lost his vision. He would find himself doubting he was even still alive; he thought he was falling into some endless pit. Feeling his own shoulders shake while having someone hold him with still, secure hands made him remember his feet were still flat on the floor and his body was somewhere real and safe.

It was never easy to see Sabo like this, in so much pain, and it seemed much worse than it usually was. Dragon was worried that Sabo would have another seizure or pass out again, which would be the worst possible scenario. Not that any part of this was ideal. Especially considering the reason Sabo was suffering.

His brother had died at Marineford. Dragon knew a lot of people had died at Marineford, but there was only one figure that stood out, and it was one he knew was on Dawn Island that happened to be around the same age as Sabo.

Garp had never been good at keeping secrets, so Dragon had always been impressed at the fact he'd managed to keep both Ace and Luffy from the rest of the world. He supposed if something was important enough, the Vice Admiral could manage to keep his mouth shut. Even if he did let it slip to Dragon the day he chose to hand his own child to Garp for protection.

Learning about Roger's son had been a shock, but somehow Dragon felt a little more at ease because of it. He had no way to predict that Luffy would end up so close to Ace, but he was happy for it. He was happy that Luffy had managed to make friends — to find a brother that cared so much for him in turn that he was willing to give his life to protect him.

It was a devastating cocktail of regret and relief. Dragon was already worried about the effects Ace's death would have on Luffy, and now? Now he had to see with his own eyes the way it was destroying Sabo. Nothing could be worse than seeing a child he cared for struggling to breathe under the weight of a death that was not deserved.

I should have done something.

"Did you know who he was?" Dragon asked gently, not removing his hands from where they laid.

It sounded as if Sabo was breathing through the depths of heavy water, eventually nodding his head.

That was another shock. Dragon hadn't expected Ace to have told anyone of his true heritage. Had Garp told him? Told Ace? Was that wise? Dragon could scarcely imagine the self hate that must have rooted in Ace if he'd actually known where he'd come from and the darkness that lingered on his name. Undeserved though it was, it was still there. Had Garp just... let him bask in that darkness his entire childhood?

What five year old is ready and willing to throw themself from a cliff?

"It wasn't as though he told me outright," Sabo said softly. "He hated talking about it. He got extremely angry every time someone brought Roger up. Sometimes he would discuss it with me, but only at night. I think maybe he found some security in not being able to see my face when he talked about his father. Maybe he was afraid I would make a face at him. Maybe he was worried I'd see him cry. I never felt any kind of disgust towards him for it, though. What kind of a hypocrite would I have been for judging him on his blood when I was so scared of being judged on mine?

"Rather than him telling me, I sort of just figured it out and he never denied it. Since we talked about becoming pirates so much, Roger was bound to come up eventually. I'd learned about him from some of the adults in High Town, and some of my tutors. I'd hear whispers and gossip, and everyone seemed to hate him so much; but you know... it made me really admire him."

Sabo's shaking had finally slowed, though his shoulders still quivered slightly. "I held so much disgust towards the Goa nobles already, so knowing they didn't like Roger made me love him. When my parents hated something, I was the one who opened myself to it, because I knew it would piss them off. I had no idea he had a child, though — but I guess no one knew that.

"At one point when we were talking about sailing, Ace brought up Roger — he brought Roger up first. He asked if I knew who that was and I got really excited, because of course I did. He looked so alarmed at how excited I was... I suppose no one had ever shone Roger in very positive light around Ace before, so I... was the first one he'd ever gotten a good response from. He got angry. He started to list off reasons why I shouldn't consider Roger to be a good person, or a good influence. He didn't even stop to take a breath, as if he was just repeating things he'd said a million times before — or maybe it was things he'd heard people say before...

"He talked like he was playing a record, and partway through I got this stupid thought. Why would he hate someone he doesn't even know who died before he was born? Then it hit me. I don't know if that makes me smart or stupid. The more he ranted about Roger, the more sense it made.

"So you think someone like him shouldn't have been killed? So you think it's okay for him to have done everything he did? That's what he said — and he was yelling at me through it. He was a bad person. He was an evil man, you know. Everyone says so. Everyone I've asked. It's good he's dead, and you know they would've killed his wife and son too. They'd kill his kid if he had one. They'd do terrible things to his kid if he had one, because he was a beast who never should've been born in the first place." Sabo paused a moment. "That's what he said."

"You figured it out just from that..."

"I guess," Sabo's fingers had pinched the material of his shirt on his shoulders, arms still crossed, body still folded in half. "It took a few separate conversations to really confirm it, though. I never admitted to him I knew, but he knew I knew... and it never really changed anything. Not for me at least. Although... I think it made me a little more aware of him. His moods I mean. They were all over the place when he was a kid — he was always so angry. Some part of him was always doubting.

"So I started trying to counter it. I don't know if it helped, but whenever he was getting angry, or if we were talking about Roger, I tried to drop things that would make him feel better. He'd scowl about how Roger should've never had a child, so I'd remind him that if he'd never been born, I'd still be lonely. I'd probably be dead. He always looked startled or thoughtful when I said stuff like that, like he'd never even considered it before. I don't know if it helped... even if I told him I was happy he was alive and that we'd met, I think it only made him feel better for a little. He'd be happy for a few days, then go back to being angry.

"It never annoyed me. Having to remind him it was okay for him to be here every day. He was important to me and I loved him and I tried to make sure he knew that, but I suppose when you've been around people that constantly try to remind you that you shouldn't be alive... or if you hear full grown adults joke about what they would do to a child if they knew he existed... it leaves a brand on your heart that lasts as long as the claw the Tenryuubito put on their slaves.

"For five years it was just the two of us. Ace and I... then we met Luffy." His voice was stronger and didn't hold the same tremor, but still quiet.

Dragon tried not to tense up when Sabo began speaking about his son. He'd already figured out they probably knew each other, but hearing it confirmed by Sabo himself threw it into stark relief of the gravity of what had really happened at Marineford, and what it really meant to the Revolutionary Army.

"That kid... was something completely new. Damn how much he would cry and cry... such a baby... Ace hated it. Having some tiny brat trailing behind us who couldn't even properly utilize his Devil's Fruit. He was dead weight and constantly caused us problems. I think I got used to him quicker than Ace, because Ace just wasn't used to people wanting to be around him. Till that point I was the only one he spent time with, then suddenly there was this kid who wanted to be his friend that wasn't me. It was earth shattering to him.

"Luffy was a persistent fool, and eventually managed to weasel his way into our lives as a permanent fixture. So it was the three of us after that. It was just luck that Luffy was dead set on being a pirate like we were, and it caused arguments about who was going to be Captain. Luffy was under the impression we'd join his crew, but kids have stupid assumptions sometimes. It was fun, though. Living with them. Existing with them.

Sabo took a slow breath in. "We exchanged ceremonial cups of sake and swore brotherhood to each other. From that point on, wherever we were in the world, whether we were on separate pirate crews or hundreds of miles away from each other, separated by time and leagues upon leagues of ocean water... we would still be brothers. Nothing would be able to break the bond we'd made with one another."

He curled into himself — Dragon had to move his hand, raking it back through Sabo's hair. When he spoke next, it was with a hitch to his voice, and Dragon shut his eyes. Maybe so he wouldn't have to see Sabo cry.

"When they learned who I was, after my father saw us in High Town, I told them how desperate I was to leave the island... to be free of it all. That stuck with Ace most of all, I know, because later when my father found me to force me back home, Ace was the one who told me to run away. To leave them both there and not worry about them. He yelled at me that if I went back with my father I would never be free like I wanted, so I needed to just leave them behind and run as far away as I could. They would find me again, we would meet again, in the future when they'd both become strong pirates. We would be able to find each other on the Grand Line and renew our oath over another cup of sake." He choked on a sob. "Now we can't, because I forgot; because I had the audacity to forget everything about them. The two most important people in my life, and I just forgot them like they were nothing."

"You did not choose that." Dragon had to fight not to raise his voice, but the idea that Sabo could be blaming himself for something he had absolutely no control over infuriated him — and made him hate the Tenryuubito that much more.

Dragon didn't know what to say in this situation, it was so unexpected and complicated that he was worried he could hurt Sabo further. He raised his head, instinctively looking towards where Kuma normally sat. He was always the one who knew what to say. How to calm Sabo down or reassure him; but Kuma wasn't there anymore. It was just Dragon. That added an additional layer of loss to this mess.

"I'm sorry," was the only thing Dragon could get out, and it sounded so pathetic.

Dragon was not bad with words. He knew how to talk, to make speeches, to inspire the masses, but this was so beyond him. Somehow he could speak to millions of strangers, but not to the kid he'd been raising for ten years.

"Saying that this wasn't your fault won't make you believe me," Dragon said eventually, "but it wasn't."

Sabo was silent for half a minute before muttering. "Can I please ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"If I had remembered in time... and I knew about the execution before... would you have let me go?"

Dragon considered that for a moment. He wanted to say yes, but that situation had already been so messy. He had confidence in Sabo's ability and strength, but there was a nagging voice at the back of his head reminding him that accidents happened and people died, and that sometimes nothing could be done to stop it.

Sabo was already infamously reckless throughout the army, and had on more than one occasion thrown himself into potentially fatal situations that he’d just barely been lucky enough to survive. So he wanted to say no, because he knew what Sabo was like when people he loved were in danger, and Dragon wouldn't have wanted to risk his life —  he was already on edge not knowing Luffy's condition.

Even considering all of that on its own, though...

"Would you have really listened to me if I'd told you no?" Sabo shook his head quickly, and Dragon sighed. "Do you think you could have made a difference if you had been there?"

"I could have," Sabo mumbled.

"How?" Dragon asked. "What would you have done differently?"

Sabo was quiet before mumbling again. "I could've stopped Ace, I... could've gotten them both out of there."

"How?" Sabo began shaking again, choking on words he couldn't get out. Dragon rubbed his hand over Sabo's back, stroking his fingers through the messy hair that was already sticking in every direction. "Sabo... it's cruel of me to compare this to a mission, but I've said numerous times that we can't control everything that happens. All we can do is just roll when the tide hits us and get back up to try again."

Sabo raised his voice, just short of being a yell. "Would you say the same thing if it had been me there?! Or Luffy?!" He gasped a little at his own words, pulling his hands from his shoulders to hide his face. "No... I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry."

"Your anger is justified..."

Sabo shook his head slowly. "He's gone. I'm never gonna get to see him again. I lost him and didn't even realize I had him in the first place."

"But you still have Luffy," Dragon said simply.

"Luffy," Sabo repeated miserably. "He's got to be hurting so much, I... I don't know what to do. What do I do?"

"Go find him if you think you need to."

Sabo tensed, making a noise. "No... no, I... I can't face him like this. Not when I let Ace die."

Dragon sighed again. "You weren't the one who —"

"Did... do they even know I'm alive?" Sabo whispered. "They couldn't... they would have looked for me otherwise. Did they think I died when my boat blew up? But how could they have known that happened? Then why didn't they look for me? Did they look for me? Did they think I just abandoned them? Did my brother die knowing I was out there and assumed I just chose not to come to save him?"

"Easy —"

"I feel sick again."

"The bin's right there. You need to breathe."

"I can't —"

"You need to try," Dragon pressed, moving his hands to Sabo's shoulders and squeezing. "All you need to do is just try . Your brother's would not want you doing this to yourself, letting yourself linger on this kind of pain."

"But I don't know what else to do," Sabo whimpered. "I feel like I don't know what's right anymore. I feel like I've lost a core piece of myself I can't ever get back. How am I supposed to live with that? With knowing my brother is dead and I'll never get to see him again?!"

"You have to find some way —"

"No there is no way!" Sabo yelled, hands flying to the sides to cling to the edge of the couch cushions. "There's no reason, there's no meaning to any of this! This wasn't fair!"

"You're right," Dragon agreed gently. "It wasn't," he yanked on Sabo's shoulders to force him into a sitting position, turning him so they were looking at each other, "but that does not mean it was your. Fault."

Sabo's brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. His cheeks were shiny from tears, eyes glassy with ones he hadn't shed yet.

"You do not carry this entire world on your shoulders. You cannot save every single person who is unjustly convicted."

"He mattered," Sabo said. "All the people I've helped liberate over the years... he was the one that mattered."

“All of them matter,” Dragon said.

"I know but he mattered," Sabo repeated. "He was my brother!"

"He still is your brother." Sabo's eyes widened so Dragon continued. "Weren't you the one that said you would be brothers whatever happened? Whatever separated you? Nothing would be able to break that bond you'd created? What makes death so special? It doesn't invalidate the connection you had with him, and he wouldn't want you to make yourself hurt because of your guilt. You don't need to be punished, Sabo."

Sabo watched him with an exhausted expression painted across his face, shutting his eyes and lifting his hand to cover them with his palm. “I feel like I’m coming undone…”

“It’s just pain,” Dragon reassured. “Things can only get better if you work for it.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? My head aches.” He kept his palm against his eyes, fingers buried in the fringe of his hair. “There is… so much going through it. So much information, so many memories. Too much to process. Where am I supposed to go from here?”

“Go forward,” Dragon said. “Whatever you need, I know we’re not your brother’s, but you’ve been our family for ten years and that won’t change. If you need to leave, if you think that will help you —”

“How many times do I have to say I’m not leaving the Revolutionary Army before people start believing me?” Sabo sighed, dropping his hand from his face and listing forward to lean against Dragon, face pressed against his shoulder. “I’m not leaving. I want to stay here, and not because I think I have to or feel like I owe you. I believe in our goals. I believe in what we’re doing and what we’re aiming to accomplish. I want to be part of the war against the same people who tried to murder me. I feel like I belong here, and since remembering everything about my parents… now I’m even more certain I need to be here.”

Dragon patted Sabo’s back, nodding. “The option is still there.”

“I don’t need that option.”

“You still have it,” Dragon repeated firmly, cradling the back of Sabo’s head. “I want you to talk to the doctor later.”

“What for?”

“It’ll be good for you to discuss this with someone.”

“I just told you.”

“I meant someone with history helping you through emotional trauma. Your pyrophobia and nightmares. Therapy will be good for you.”

Sabo sighed. “Not right now.”

“I said later, didn’t I?” Dragon grumbled a little — why was this kid so difficult? “I won’t force you to do it, but if you need it you have that support. Whatever happens, I just need you to know you’re not alone through this.”

“I know,” Sabo said, his voice muffled against Dragon’s shoulder. “Dragon-san,” he paused, and Dragon was going to respond, to encourage him to continue, but Sabo mumbled before he could. “Don’t die.”

Dragon held his breath, wincing. “What we do is very dangerous. You know that. I can’t make you any promises that I think I may break.”

“I’m not asking you to make me a promise,” Sabo said. “I didn’t ask a question at all. I’m saying don’t die.”

“You’re far too young to be telling me what to do.” Dragon said, hugging Sabo. “I hear you…”

Sabo didn’t return the embrace, but he didn’t pull away. After a moment he sighed a little. “So you have a son, huh?”

Dragon snorted, pushing against the back of Sabo's head to squish his face into his shoulder until Sabo had grumbled in protest. “No. I have two.”