That night.
In an office at Donquixote's headquarters, Rosen sat in a big chair, looking through intelligence about the major forces in the North Sea.
That's right.
The office belonged to Donquixote Doflamingo.
The executive chair belonged to Donquixote Doflamingo.
Even the information Rosen was reading was collected by Donquixote Doflamingo.
Now, everything in the Donquixote Family, which originally belonged to Doflamingo alone, had completely become Rosen's private property.
"No need to knock, just come in."
"Don't worry, Doflamingo is busy expanding the Donquixote Family's power and completing the three tasks I gave him. He won't notice you."
"Donquixote Rosinante."
Rosen was the only one in the room, yet he suddenly spoke as if addressing the air, his eyes never leaving the information on Germa 66 spread across the table.
Crunch.
As Rosen finished speaking, the faint sound of a door opening echoed, and a figure wearing a feather coat, with features resembling Donquixote Doflamingo, stepped inside.
Walking beside him was a young boy with a childish face, though his eyes carried the wild sharpness of a lone wolf.
"Lieutenant Commander."
"Donquixote Rosinante."
"Reporting to you."
In the Donquixote Family, Rosinante—regarded by almost everyone as a mute—closed the door behind him. His gaze fell on Rosen. Then, he saluted and spoke.
"Don't be shy, sit down."
"You're a marine, and also the son of Sengoku. Publicly and privately, we can be considered family."
"If you want the Ope Ope no Mi, I can understand. But you're already a Devil Fruit user, so I can only tell you this—"
"I'm sorry. I can't give you the Operation Fruit."
Rosen gestured for Rosinante to sit, and without waiting for him to speak, laid bare the purpose of his visit.
The moment he sensed Rosinante's approach, Rosen had already glimpsed the future with his Observation Haki, reading both his intent and thoughts.
That was why Rosen knew everything without Rosinante uttering a word.
"Vice Admiral."
"I know the stakes of the Operation Fruit are high."
"But if it wasn't a matter of life and death, I wouldn't—"
Rosinante's face shifted, clearly shocked at Rosen knowing his purpose so precisely. He tried to explain further, but Rosen cut him off.
"As for the Operation Fruit, I still can't give it to you."
"But you mentioned a life at stake. That, I can help with."
"Perkin-Lead Disease, right?"
Rosen's eyes shifted to Trafalgar Law, who had stayed silent all this time.
For days, in the Donquixote Family, Law had been fearless, a lone wolf among predators. But when Rosen's gaze fell on him, he trembled like a frightened pup, instinctively retreating a few steps until he was half-hidden behind Rosinante.
It wasn't an act.
Half a month ago, he'd seen with his own eyes the mightiest king of the North Sea, Donquixote Doflamingo, defeated by Rosen—then tamed like a wild beast in a circus.
If even the King of the North Sea could be collared like a guard dog…
That kind of existence was beyond Law's comprehension.
It also meant the boy who once dared strap bombs to himself to threaten Doflamingo had completely lost that courage in Rosen's presence.
"Vice Admiral."
"You mean… you can cure Law's disease?"
Rosinante didn't even ask how Rosen knew. By now, Rosen seemed like a prophet, exposing his thoughts before he could speak them aloud.
"That's right."
Rosen nodded and beckoned to Law.
He had already decided on the Operation Fruit.
Not because of its immortality operation, but because of its raw power—the Ope Ope no Mi's incredible ability.
Instead of creating a pirate worth three billion, better to create a navy Admiral—or at least an Admiral candidate.
Conveniently, there were at least three people around him who could eat a Devil Fruit.
Doll.
Gion.
And Tokikake.
Not to mention Doll—both Gion and Tokikake had the qualities of future Admirals.
Whoever among them ate the Operation Fruit wouldn't just be a candidate; they could stand as a true Admiral years earlier.
Even compared to the Logia trio, they might not be inferior.
So between giving the fruit to a boy like Law, or to his adjutants and classmates, Rosen's choice was obvious.
Still.
Since Rosinante had asked him, he wouldn't let Law die of lead disease.
Not to mention, at this stage, Law was nothing but a troubled child—not yet the pirate worth three billion. Under Rosinante's watch, it was almost impossible for him to become one.
"Go on."
"The nightmare that's been haunting you ends here."
"Law."
Rosinante nudged Law forward.
He had no doubts, only absolute trust.
Before Rosen came to the North Sea, Rosinante had contacted Sengoku several times, learning all he could about the man.
If Rosen said Law could be cured, then Law would be cured.
As for the Operation Fruit, he said no more.
"What should I do?"
Law's voice wavered with nerves.
"You don't have to do anything."
"Just stand there."
"It will be over soon."
Rosen lifted his palm.
A Zanpakutō materialized from nothing, its blade gleaming in his grip.
"Bankai."
"Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame."
The words had barely left his lips when a towering figure appeared behind him.
A gigantic woman, hair bound in a classical bun, dressed in a sleeveless kimono, with puppet-like limb joints.
From a distance, she resembled an enlarged version of Unohana Retsu.
"So this… is his Fruit ability?"
"The Arms-Arms Fruit…"
"Unbelievable. To push an ordinary Paramecia this far—into something so terrifying."
Rosinante's breath caught, cold sweat dampening his back as he stared at the puppet woman called Guanyin no Red Princess.
The instant he saw her, he felt death itself watching him.
It seemed as though, if she so much as raised her hand, he would be cut down without question.
And he didn't doubt it for a second.
Sengoku had told him—when Rosen called out "Bankai," it meant he was releasing the full power of the Weapon Fruit.
Or rather, the full power of the Zanpakutō it had created.
Click.
Rosen casually swung his blade, cutting across the air toward Law.
"Urgh!"
Law gasped, clutching his stomach. He felt as if he'd been slashed open. Pulling up his shirt, he saw a thin stitched mark traced across his abdomen.
But there was no blood.
More importantly—despite the cut, there was no pain. Instead, for the first time in years, he felt relief.