A king… speaking so casually about killing kings?
Bartholomew Kuma's pupils contracted. The massive man, who had weathered storms and revolutions, looked down at Jin with genuine surprise. This man wasn't merely different—he was an anomaly among rulers, an aberration that didn't fit the mold of this world.
"If I had killed King Bekori… what then?" Kuma's voice was low, almost conflicted. "All it would bring is the World Government's fury. Their retaliation would be madness itself. The country, the people—nothing but greater suffering would await them."
He had wandered since leaving Sorbet Kingdom, reflecting, always reflecting. If Dragon had been there… what choice would he have made?
And now this king—this brazen young monarch—was showing him a road he had never dared to imagine.
Kill the king.
Jin shook his head. His gaze was sharp, cutting like a blade. "And yet you fled. Did that spare you retaliation? Has Bekori's survival spared your people? Are they living in happiness, Kuma? Or are they still drowning in fire and despair?"
"You are too soft."
"'Tyrant,' is it? Hah! I see no tyrant before me. Only an ostrich, burying its head. A coward running from truth, running from responsibility."
Kuma's head bowed. The enormous figure, so often compared to a beast, seemed to shrink. Before Jin, he looked less like a warrior and more like a child scolded for breaking rules, tongue-tied and ashamed.
Because deep down… he knew Jin's words were not entirely wrong.
Jin exhaled through his nose, his disappointment a tangible weight.
This was the world's tragedy. Even men with Kuma's body—massive, monstrous, touched by a Devil Fruit as rare as any treasure—were shackled by their own minds. Shackled by a world of nobles and kings, of laws written to serve the strong.
A giant in flesh. A dwarf in spirit.
Not a heart of a conqueror. Not yet.
Just another who thought submission might spare him.
He was hardly alone. Pirates aplenty lived that way too—thinking compliance would protect them from the butcher's blade.
The Revolutionaries? Admirable, yes, with sparks of defiance. But even they were hemmed in, bound by their era.
Seeing a man like Kuma, with the gifts of the heavens in his hands, waste them so, Jin could only feel frustration. What a waste of talent. What a waste of fire.
He steadied his breath. "Enough. I've said too much. Let us return to the question—why are you here?"
Kuma raised his head. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Jin's scolding left him with a gnawing sense of dread. Not of physical harm—no, it was something stranger. As if Jin had pierced straight through his skin and into his soul.
Was it because Jin's worldview was so alien, so beyond his own? Or was it because Jin had spoken aloud the weakness he had tried to bury deep inside?
Whatever it was, he felt… like a child before a stern parent.
Yet he could feel too—there was no malice in Jin's words. Only disappointment.
Am I truly wrong?
Self-reproach gnawed at him. The classic inner torment of an earnest man.
So he told Jin the truth. About Bonney. About her illness. About why he had come.
Before sailing here, Kuma had heard whispers: Drum Island, land of medicine, island of doctors. If anywhere held hope, it was here. He had clutched at that promise—even the mere posting of a job ad was enough to draw him across the seas.
Jin listened, and then smiled. "Our island has an old witch—ah, forgive me, an old doctor. She may be able to treat your daughter's disease."
For the first time, Kuma's stone-like features cracked. His face lit with hope. "Truly?"
"Yes," Jin said firmly. "In fact, I can assemble a specialized medical team to study her illness directly."
Kuma's massive chest rose and fell quickly. "If you save Bonney… whatever you ask of me, I will do. Anything."
Then, almost sheepishly, he added, "So long as it does not harm others. I am… a pacifist."
Jin almost laughed in his face. Pacifist? What use was a pacifist in this world? Did he need a choirboy, or did he need a shield that could break armies?
But he swallowed it. Not yet.
Better to draw Kuma onto the board first. Keep him close. Shape him later. Better than leaving him to fall into Vegapunk's clutches and become a weapon for the very tyrants who hunted him.
"You needn't harm others," Jin said evenly. "Serve me as sparring partner and protector. Nothing more. The term—twenty years. Do you accept?"
"Twenty…" Kuma blinked. Just that? Compared to Bonney's life, twenty years was nothing. He straightened, his deep voice rumbling with conviction. "If she is saved, then yes."
"I will go further," Jin replied. "We'll sign a contract. Two years. If she is not cured within two years, you are free to leave. You'll have time to seek other doctors. Is that not fair?"
Kuma's eyes widened. Such sincerity, such fairness… it floored him. "Even if she cannot be saved… I will keep my word until the end!"
A true honest man. Loyal to a fault.
No wonder the Five Elders found him so easy to manipulate. Treat him well, and he'd give you everything.
Jin called for Maya to draft the contract, then summoned Dr. Kureha and the Chief Physician named Hippocrates. The old witch was reluctant—until Jin baited her with one line: "What, you mean you can't cure it?"
Her pride exploded. Challenge accepted.
Her only condition: Jin was never again to use Chopper as leverage against her. Jin agreed at once. He ordered Hippocrates to give her everything she required. If they lacked something, he swore he'd find it.
But he was no fool. One basket could not hold all eggs. He had contingency plans.
-> The Ope Ope no Mi and its surgical miracles.
-> Germa 66 and their genetic science.
-> Punk Hazard's Caesar and his grotesque experiments.
One way or another, he would have a cure.
Kuma was now his. Another blade in the scabbard. Though one not yet to be drawn in daylight.
For Kuma was not like Wilson or some nameless pirate. His bloodline traced to the Buccaneer race, worshippers of the Sun God Nika—unforgivable in the eyes of the Celestial Dragons.
Jin might have pulled strings in Marie Geoise, leveraged dreams and shadows, and erased the bounties of men like Wilson. But Kuma? Kuma was a different beast. Some lines could not be crossed.
So he would be hidden. A secret weapon. A trump card to be revealed only when the board demanded it.
Jin built him a cabin in the mountains of Winterhan, secluded and quiet. Kuma and Bonney lived there.
Bonney laughed. Bonney played. She and Chopper, and the quiet girl Anaguma, bonded quickly. Children with scars always recognize one another.
Watching them run together, Kuma felt peace. For the first time in years, peace.
His own childhood had been steeped in chains and torment. He would see Bonney spared such a fate. Her laughter would not be taken. He swore it, silently, solemnly.
…
"Mister Kuma, it's time."
Maya arrived, skis hissing across the snow, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. She had taken to Drum Island's winters as though born for them—sledding, skiing, racing husky sleds through the snowfields.
Kuma turned. "Time? Time for what?"
"Time to set sail," Maya said brightly.
A smaller figure ran up—Bonney, pink hair bouncing. "Out to sea? I'm coming too!"
She clung to Kuma's side, not wanting to let go.
Maya crouched and patted her head. "Not this time. When you're older, you can come. For now, stay."
"No!" Bonney pouted, swatting Maya's hand away.
Chopper's eyes sparkled. "Wait, really? When we're older, we can go to sea? Then I can too?" He remembered Hiruluk's words: The ocean is vast, a man must one day sail it.
Anaguma muttered sourly, "What's so good about the sea anyway?" Dark memories of her time aboard the Salamander still clung to her heart.
It took Kuma a long time to soothe Bonney's tears. At last, she agreed to stay with Chopper and Dr. Kureha for a while. Better for her treatment anyway.
When the children had gone, Kuma returned to the cabin. He drew out a special coat—a massive bear suit lined for snow. With it, he looked less like a tyrant, more like a harmless hiking bear.
Disguise in place.
"Where to?" Kuma rumbled.
Maya smiled, eyes bright. " Alabasta!"