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The man who rescued Kozuki Momonosuke from Punk Hazard's garbage dump was none other than Trafalgar Law, the Death Surgeon—newly appointed as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. He'd used one hundred pirate hearts as tribute to gain the World Government's trust, securing access to Caesar Clown's experimental facility through his alliance with Donquixote Doflamingo.
Law had arrived at Punk Hazard only recently. His knowledge of the facility remained limited—he knew Caesar Clown was conducting experiments here, that the mad scientist was engaged in morally reprehensible research, but the full scope hadn't yet been revealed to him.
The mass grave filled with small corpses provided its own damning testimony. Whatever Caesar was doing here, children were dying by the dozens.
What Law hadn't expected was finding a living child in that pit of death.
From examining the boy's appearance and palpating his bone structure, Law could determine the child was less than ten years old. Yet he'd survived in conditions that should have killed any human within days. His body carried the distinctive scent of a predator—raw meat and blood, the smell of something that had crossed lines no child should ever cross.
Law had understood immediately: this boy had been eating the corpses to survive. There was no other explanation for how he'd lasted this long in that hellish environment. If the child hadn't possessed remarkable intelligence and survival instinct, his body would have rotted alongside all the others long ago.
Using the spatial manipulation abilities of his Ope Ope no Mi (Op-Op Fruit), Law had extracted the boy from the garbage pit and transported him to his private quarters. A thorough medical examination using his Devil Fruit's diagnostic capabilities had revealed something extraordinary: aside from dehydration and malnutrition, the child had sustained no injuries whatsoever.
The boy hadn't died after falling from a height that should have shattered his skull. The result was medically miraculous, and it made Trafalgar Law increasingly curious about the child's true identity.
The boy had also been filthy beyond description. Before he'd woken up, Law had unceremoniously dumped him in the shower, scrubbed him down thoroughly despite the unconscious state, and changed him into spare experimental clothing. Then other matters had called him away temporarily.
When Law returned to his quarters and approached the door, his Devil Fruit's sensory abilities detected the subtle changes in the boy's heartbeat—the shift from unconscious to conscious patterns. The rescued brat had woken up and was now pretending to still be asleep.
How predictable.
After exposing the deception with a well-placed sword strike from Kikoku, the two—one adult, one child—had fallen into their current standoff.
Considering the boy's age, the fact that he possessed such calculating wariness in an unfamiliar environment actually impressed the Death Surgeon. Most children would have panicked, cried, begged for help. This one assessed threats and played dead instead.
But Law had no patience for extended games of pretend.
"I've checked the laboratory files," Law stated flatly, golden eyes fixed on the small figure trying to project confidence. "Caesar Clown keeps detailed records of every experimental subject—names, ages, physical characteristics, experimental protocols, results. There's no entry for you. You weren't on the ship's manifest. You're not part of his research program."
He leaned forward slightly, expression unreadable. "You ended up here by accident, didn't you? So tell me—what's your real story?"
Caesar Clown might have been a monster in human form, but his scientific documentation was impeccable. He maintained meticulous files for every child brought to Punk Hazard, complete with photographs, medical histories, and experimental outcomes.
After reviewing numerous records, Law had confirmed the rescued child didn't exist in Caesar's system. This person outside the planned parameters represented a variable—and variables could be useful tools in the right circumstances.
Kozuki Momonosuke's mind raced with barely controlled panic. Fear of the unknown gnawed at him. Half the responsibility for accidentally ending up in this nightmare belonged to his own poor decisions. The other half rested squarely on Foxfire Kin'emon's shoulders—if his retainer hadn't been so catastrophically unreliable, none of this would have happened.
The boy's cunning eyes darted around the room, searching for options, calculating odds.
I can't reveal I'm a samurai. Can't mention the Kozuki name—that's suicide. If I want protection, I need leverage. But what leverage does an eight-year-old have?
Then inspiration struck—or what seemed like inspiration to a desperate child.
"Hehehe..." Momonosuke forced a confident grin onto his face. "Don't be scared when I tell you this. Don't let my young age fool you—I'm actually the adopted son of Edward Newgate, Whitebeard himself!"
He puffed his small chest out importantly. "If you dare hurt me, you'd better prepare for revenge from one of the Four Emperors! But if you help me get out of here safely, my father can reward you with treasures beyond imagination!"
The boy delivered this declaration with utmost seriousness, convinced he'd played a brilliant tactical card.
Trafalgar Law's expression froze.
For several heartbeats, neither moved. Then Law's face transformed—eyes widening, mouth twitching, before he doubled over with laughter.
"Hah—hahaha!" The Death Surgeon's normally controlled demeanor shattered completely. "Oh—oh, that's—hahahaha!"
Momonosuke's confidence wavered. "What... what's so funny?!"
"Sorry, sorry, just—" Law tried to compose himself, failed, and laughed harder. "Give me a moment—"
"What's wrong with you?!" Momonosuke demanded, face flushing with embarrassment and confusion. "You should be afraid! Whitebeard is the Strongest Man in the World! My father commands the seas! Anyone with sense knows not to—"
This explanation only made things worse. Law's laughter intensified until tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He braced one hand against his desk for support, shoulders shaking.
"Stop laughing at me!" Momonosuke shouted, humiliation burning through his chest. "Whitebeard is one of the Four Emperors! Everyone knows his name! Why aren't you taking this seriously?!"
"Because—" Law gasped between laughs, finally managing to catch his breath. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a smirk still playing at his lips. "Because that's the funniest joke I've heard all year. Maybe in the last five years."
He reached into a desk drawer and extracted a folded newspaper, tossing it casually toward the boy. "You can read, can't you? See for yourself what's wrong with your little deception. If you're going to lie to survive, at least make it believable."
Momonosuke caught the newspaper with trembling hands, confusion and dread warring in his chest. He could read—his mother had taught him carefully despite his young age. But why would a newspaper expose his lie? Whitebeard was one of the Four Emperors, a living legend who—
The headline struck him like a physical blow:
[THE END OF THE OLD ERA]
Below it, in slightly smaller text:
WHITEBEARD EDWARD NEWGATE FALLS AT MARINEFORD
THE STRONGEST MAN DIES STANDING
WHITEBEARD PIRATES ANNIHILATED
Momonosuke's hands began to shake. He forced his eyes to focus on the article text, absorbing information that felt impossible, unreal.