On the azure sea, the Oro Jackson sliced through the waves.

Ritter stood at the stern, mist curling around his fingertips as he healed a crewmate's wounded arm. His power could mend injuries, but each time he used it, a question inevitably surfaced in his mind:

"What if one day… even my mist is powerless?"

Ritter had boarded a pirate ship at the age of three. Before he could heal, wounds were simply wrapped in bandages, left to recover by the monstrous resilience of the crew. But after Ritter awakened his Devil Fruit powers, the role of ship's doctor had quietly fallen to him.

Yet Ritter had no medical knowledge whatsoever. His healing was crude and direct much like Tsunade's method of stimulating cell division to heal wounds. Ritter simply poured an immense amount of life force into the body, forcing it to regenerate on its own. Wherever something was damaged, it would grow back. Life energy? Unlimited.

This made him exceptionally effective at treating external injuries, but anything that required actual medical understanding was beyond him. And as the day of Roger's terminal illness crept closer, Ritter began to wonder what if they had recruited Crocus earlier? Would things have turned out differently?

He muttered to himself, "We need to plan ahead..."

At dinner, Ritter suddenly tapped his glass, drawing everyone's attention.

He spoke with unusual seriousness. "We need a doctor."

The deck fell silent for a brief moment then erupted into laughter.

Jabba grinned broadly. "What's the matter, little Ritter? Your mist running out?"

Shanks raised his hand excitedly. "Ritter fixed my broken bones last time! It didn't even hurt, just tickled a bit!"

Buggy, chewing on a piece of meat, mumbled with a full mouth, "Exactly! I was black and blue, but soaking in Ritter's mist made it all better!"

Roger burst out laughing, his straw hat tilting from the wind. "Kuhahaha! Ritter, don't tell me you're trying to slack off?"

There was no confusion in their voices only deep trust. Ritter had never let them down.

But Ritter didn't smile. He knew that because of their trust, he had to find a proper doctor.

His voice was calm, but firm. "My ability only works on external injuries and even then, the method is rough. If you all want to grow old and keep your place in your families, we need a real doctor."

"Bastard, Ritter, who are you looking down on?!" Jabba barked, already riled up.

Ritter ignored him. His gaze swept across the deck, finally settling on Roger.

He repeated, "We need a real doctor."

The deck quieted again.

Everyone knew Ritter had his reasons. No one pressed him. They chose to believe.

Rayleigh stroked his chin, thoughtful. "Who do you have in mind?"

"Twin Capes," Ritter said. "Crocus."

The Oro Jackson slowly docked beside the lighthouse at Twin Capes. Gentle waves lapped against the hull.

Ritter stood at the bow, black hair tousled by the sea breeze, crimson eyes fixed on the lonely lighthouse and the indifferent man beneath it, with glasses and a cold expression.

Daisy Grandpa? he thought.

"Doctor Crocus!" Ritter called out, his voice crisp and clear over the wind.

Crocus didn't even look up, still flipping through his medical journal. "Pirates? Not interested."

Jabba crossed his arms, smirking. "Oi, old man, we came with sincerity!"

Crocus let out a cold laugh. "Sincerity? The last guy who said that nearly blew up my lighthouse. He's probably fish food now."

Roger laughed heartily, straw hat tilted. "Kuhahaha! Then he was clearly an idiot!"

Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, voice calm. "We need a doctor. And your skills... are unmatched."

Crocus finally looked up and fixed his gaze on Ritter. "Even if I agree—"

Before he could finish, the sea suddenly churned. A colossal shadow surged upward through the waves.

BOOM!

A massive island whale Laboon burst from the sea, staring down at the Oro Jackson, a deep rumble rising from its throat, a warning to the intruders.

Buggy screamed and leapt onto the mast. "Waaaah! That whale is huge!?"

Shanks gripped his sword, eyes glowing. "Amazing…"

Crocus stood by the shore, expression steady. "I'm not coming aboard. If you want to fight, go ahead and try."

But Ritter just smiled.

Little Laboon from the Rumbar Pirates… Ritter had always had a soft spot for the whale. The Rumbar Pirates had perished fifty years ago in the original timeline. Then Luffy arrived. For seventy, maybe eighty years, Laboon had waited faithfully for their return.

Brook and Laboon they were a bond forged through time. A promise spanning decades.

Ritter leapt lightly, mist gathering beneath his feet as he gently landed on Laboon's nose.

Laboon froze, massive eyes blinking in surprise. He clearly didn't expect someone to land there.

Ritter crouched, laying his hand on Laboon's coarse skin. His blood mist pulsed faintly harmless.

"Big guy, we're not your enemies," Ritter said softly, his voice as gentle as a lullaby. Despite Laboon's size, in his heart he was still a child.

Laboon let out a low rumble, tail slapping the water uneasily and sending waves crashing.

Ritter smiled, then pulled a small sound dial from his coat something he had picked up on an island by chance. Even after all these years, the Rumbar Pirates' songs still echoed across the sea. That, too, was a kind of success.

He pressed the dial. A soft, melodic tune drifted into the salty air.

Laboon's body suddenly went still.

That song… the Rumbar Pirates…

Crocus's eyes narrowed. "How do you—"

Ritter silenced the dial, turned to Laboon, and spoke the words that would mean the most.

"The Rumbar Pirates are gone. But Brook is still alive."

Laboon's breathing hitched. His massive eyes shimmered with tears.

Ritter continued, "He's trapped in the Florian Triangle. But he never forgot the promise he made to you. He's still waiting."

Laboon let out a mournful, piercing cry a sound filled with grief and longing, but also hope.

Crocus hurried toward the shore, voice trembling slightly. "Are you sure? I've searched for them all these years. How can I know you're not lying?"

Ritter nodded. "I swear on the name of the Roger Pirates."

Laboon sank slowly back into the water, leaving only half his head above the surface. His eyes locked onto Ritter's, as if silently asking, "Really?"

"Of course it's true."

Ritter leapt back aboard, shaking the water from his coat, flashing Crocus a grin. "Now, will you join us?"

Crocus stared for a long moment, then sighed deeply. "…Three days. I'll set off in three days."

Crocus boarded the Oro Jackson, and Laboon no longer slammed his head against the Red Line. Instead, he floated peacefully in the waves, watching them leave.

But Ritter didn't board immediately. He had always wanted to help the little whale. And he had just the thing for him a Devil Fruit.

The Human-Human Fruit: Martial Artist Model.

Useless for humans it offered only basic combat instincts and reflexes. But for Laboon, a giant island whale, strength wasn't a concern. This fruit wouldn't diminish his power it would refine it.

Of course, the downside was losing the freedom to roam the seas on his own. But Ritter had a backup plan. By wrapping Laboon in his blood mist, he could let the whale swim freely for days at a time. His mist was now dense and resilient strong enough to resist being dispersed by seawater.

Ultimately, the choice would be Laboon's

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