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Here's the thing: despite being recognized as lazy by everyone, even pirates, Kuzan has never been good at sitting still.
It just feels wrong, to sit still in a world as crazy and dangerous as theirs, and even he can see that as a child. Ice is still and hard and dangerous, but it can break if not careful, and that's exactly how Kuzan is.
Letting things happen without acting, leaving his life in hands of others, is a slow, venomous way to die. Joining the Marine seems like the best way to take control of his life, so he does it. It’s the right and easy way.
(So if he’s truly free, if it’s truly the right way, why does he feel so wrong?)
Kuzan comes back to the Headquarters burned and a leg less, icy rage and bitterness settling heavily in his lungs.
He doesn't stop to see any doctor and walks straight to Sengoku's office, ignoring the marines's stares, their wide eyes, mouth gaping and whispers echoing loudly between them. The Voices of the people dying and hurting in this place hurt his head, and if it wasn’t for his careful control of Observation Haki it would be unbearable. His injuries burn, still sore and far from healed, and his left leg shakes, still unused to being supported by ice instead of flesh.
He enters the office without knocking, already sensing that only Sengoku was in the room, and closes it behind him. He doesn’t bother to sit down on the chair and stands tall in front of the older man.
“I want to resign.” he says without preamble, and the future Ex-Fleet Admiral heaves a deep sigh, but he doesn't look surprised. It's not like Kuzan hid his displeasure at the idea of Akainu being in charge.
“You can't.” he says, and upon seeing Kuzan's stormy expression, “Not yet, not so soon after Marineford. It's bad enough you two decided to fight barely two months after the war. Do you have any idea what kind of effects your spat had on the younger soldiers?”
“You're the one who chose to retire.” he points out, and usually he wouldn't talk back to a superior, especially Sengoku, but he's tired and entirely out of fucks to give.
It's a statement as to how tired the older man is too that he doesn't even reprimand him. Sengoku ignores him and keeps on talking, too used to dramatic marines to be affected.
“Changing of Fleet Admiral isn't going to happen in one day. Everyone needs to be present, to be witnesses... It's already a mess as it is, you leaving will only add fuel to the fire.”
“I don't care.” Kuzan says flatly, “I refuse to work under someone like Sakazuki.”
“I'm not asking you to.” Sengoku retorts, sighing. He does that a lot, and even more since Marineford. Kuzan would say he was worried, but that would be a lie. “You can retire if you want to, I'm not stopping you, and neither will anyone.” Sengoku continues, “But you need to wait until we sort everything out. It's complicated enough usually, and even more in this case.”
Kuzan doesn't know what he means by 'in this case’; maybe he's referring to the mess and death created by Marineford, or by the fight between him and Sakazuki. Frankly he doesn't care either way.
“When can I leave?” he asks, cold and distant. Nothing is going as he wants it to, but isn’t that always the case?
“In a few weeks.” Sengoku answers, and adds before Kuzan can protest or express his displeasure, “Now is a very bad time for the Marine, Aokiji. We lose many soldiers in this war, and faith in the World Government has been shaken. And with Whitebeard’s declaration about the One Piece…” he trails off, but Kuzan understands.
That doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“I see.” he says, and his voice is neutral even though his Voice screams his rage. Sengoku can obviously sense it with his haki, because he sends him a dark look.
“I can’t do anything.” the Fleet Admiral says, perfectly neutral and indifferent, even his Voice not giving any of his feelings away.
And isn’t that the problem?
Monkey D. Garp comes to see him a few hours after his arrival while he's trying to nap in his office.
Kuzan doesn't know what to think or what to say upon seeing the grief-stricken man. Two months since Marnineford, since Portgas D. Ace left the world with a smile and deaf to his family's screams, a smile on his face just like Saul, but seeing his usually smiling superior like this makes him feel shame, and he doesn't know why.
“Sengoku told me you were leaving.” he says immediately, unbothered by the numerous bandages and burns covering the Devil Fruit User, and Kuzan feels grateful not to see any pity on his face. There's no judgement or reprimand in his tone either, simply curiosity, so Kuzan nods and answers.
“In a few weeks. As soon as I can.” and he's still irritated not to be able to leave sooner, to leave this place ruled by a mad dog and his madder owners, but he tries not to show it. He must not succeed, because Garp sends him a knowing look.
“Don't want to work under a mad dog, do you?” he says, and there's something vicious and cold in his gaze, something Kuzan has never seen on him before, and if he didn't know him better he would think the glint in his dark eyes was hatred.
“Yes.” he says, and doesn't elaborate. Garp doesn't ask details and sits on the opposite chair, setting a bottle of sake on the desk. He glances at him but Kuzan shakes his head watching the tired man pour himself a generous drink.
“I tried to retire too.” he abruptly says, gaining Kuzan's sharp and surprised gaze, before grumbling, “Kong didn't allow it, but he accepted to reassign me. I'm an instructor now!” he claims, and for the first time something vaguely resembling joy takes shape on his face before disappearing.
Garp drinks before sending him a look, eyebrow raised, and Kuzan sighs.
“Sengoku insisted that I stay until everything was back in order, and for 'morale', so I have to wait some time.”
Garp hums in agreement.
“Got any idea as who'll replace you?” he asks, and Kuzan shrugs.
“No. I'm hoping for Issho, but the decision isn't mine.” though with his resignation, Issho's promotion is almost assured even without Kuzan’s support. He wonders if he'll be happy, or satisfied. Issho has never been the kind of guy desperately wanting to climb ranks like others, so he's not sure.
Silence reigns for a while, both deep in thoughts.
“You have a debt toward me.” Garp says, voice calm, and Kuzan freezes.
“I do.” he confirms, tense. The few times he mentionned this debt to Garp, asking if there was anything he could do for him, the old marine had laughed it away. But while Kuzan was easy-going and pretty lazy, if there was one thing he was stubborn about it was this. Debts mattered.
“Good.” Garp frowns, examining him, “Remember the kid who tried to stop Akainu?”
This wasn't what he expected, though he doesn't even know what he expected, really. “What of him?”
“He's my student, Coby. I trained him day and night. He had shitty stamina and shittier punches, but he grew well. I'm proud of him.”
Coming from Garp, it's a huge compliment. The man is a harsh teacher, more likely to hurl rocks and insults at you than encouragements, and his praises are rare and few inbetween. It's sweet, but Kuzan doesn't see what that has to do with him.
“Did something happen?” he hazards, and Garp scowls.
“No.” he grits out, rage making his teeth clench, and Kuzan feels his muscles tense despite his injuries as if to prepare to fight. “But it will.”
Kuzan blinks, frowning slightly and staring at the other man blankly. “I don't understand.”
Garp scoffs. “Do you really think Akainu is going to let the soldier who openly opposed him in front of the whole world walk away scotfree? Especially now that he's Fleet Admiral.”
Kuzan's first thought is to protest, because sure the kid had been reckless but he was right, and the only one brave enough to act. Stupid maybe, but it worked. Surely even Sakazuki could see it...
Sakazuki is crazy, he often thought when talking to his colleague, sometimes just in passing or loudly like in Ohara when he didn't hesitate to kill civilians, never stopping until everything burned in his path.
Crazy. Cruel, maybe. But surely, even he wouldn't take it out on a kid who was right, a marine, one of them, a child who wanted to help...
(There were children in that boat, in Ohara...)
“So what?” he asks, not letting his thoughts stray in the past, “He'll be fired, and that's it. It happens.”
Garp gets up and slams his hands on the desk, staring deeply in his eyes.
“Stop fooling yourself, Kuzan! You and I both know that man won't hesitate to kill anyone in his path, marine or pirate, innocent or guilty. He showed it at Marineford!”
He stops, breathing heavily. His glass of sake falls on the floor.
“They're going to kill him.” he continues, and Kuzan hates his voice, this false calm and this silent, boiling rage hidden by furrowed eyebrows and a forced smile. It's not how it's supposed to be. It's not how Garp is supposed to be.
(It's not Justice.)
“They won't.” he tries to say, and it sounds empty. “We all saw him, it'll be too obvious-”
And Garp laughs. It looks incredibly wrong on his face, sounds raspy and cold and fake to his ears.
“You're naive, Kuzan. That won't stop them. Everyone saw him- so what? They'll invent a reason, claim treason or create an accident. It may cause some problems, but they'll make it happen.”
His voice closes off. Kuzan sits very still, unsure what to do or what to say. For a long time, only silence surrounds the office.
“I couldn't save Ace.” Garp whispers, broken, “I couldn't help Luffy either, or Dragon. They all went against the law. I couldn't do anything.”
Kuzan wonders if he's saying that to convince him or himself.
“But Coby? He didn't do anything wrong. He's a marine, through and through, and a damn good one at that. He never went against the law. He'll be great one day, greater than me, but he needs time to grow, to learn. And Akainu knows it, and he won't let him.”
Garp sounds bitter now, disgusted, and still Kuzan doesn't know what to say.
“His only crime is stopping a war.” he whispers, and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they're burning, a fire raging to destroy those threatening his people. It surrounds Kuzan, this fire, and it feels like a threat and a prayer tangled together to become something greater.
Garp the Hero stares at Kuzan, and when he speaks, it feels more like an order than a request.
“Don't let another one of my kids die.”
He is called to a meeting the very next day. They're supposed to talk about who will take who's place, what needs to be done at Marineford and official business like that. They all know he plans to resign, and his presence is only for appearances. He can feel Borsalino and Sakazuki’s gazes on him, and doesn’t spare them a glance.
Garp’s words replay in his mind at every moment of the day, mocking and begging him to do something, but Kuzan stubbornly ignores them. For all he admires Garp greatly, even more than Sengoku or any marine, the man just lost his grandson. He’s mourning and scared, and his thoughts and paranoia are proof of this. He doesn’t need to worry.
(You have a debt toward me.)
And then Sakazuki stands up, and his denial is brutally crushed.
“Now,” the new Fleet Admiral says, standing tall, taller than anyone in the room, eyes serious and cold (always cold, even when he's angry, why-) “There is another matter I’d like to bring to your attention...”
Garp is right.
Of course he is.
They're going to kill the kid.
They don't say it outright, but Kuzan learnt to read between the lines a long time ago and can hear it behind the words punishment and disobeying orders, he can't be trusted loud and clear. Even Sakazuki is smart enough not to show it, but he can still see the vindictive rage in his dark eyes. It's obvious he wants to murder (murder, because that's what it is, murder of the child who saved them all) the one who dared to stand in front of him without cowering in fright.
And it's not Kuzan's business anymore, not really, because he'll be gone in a few weeks at most, leaving a vacant post and his authority as admiral behind. He's only here because he has to, to make this mess look better. It's not even the first time he hears them talking about killing children without using the word.
But this is the child who was braver than all of them. This is the child who stood in front of a monster and stared at him without flinching, begging those who were supposed to fight for what is right to stop killing needlessly.
Coby isn't a pirate, isn't a revolutionary, isn't a criminal. He doesn't have secret knowledge that should be destroyed and hidden from the world. He isn't a traitor like Saul. He's a marine, one of them, and they call him a traitor when his only crime is stopping a war.
And maybe it's because he knows he won't stay here, maybe it's because the pressure of doing good and following orders for them, for this so called Justice feels foggy and wrong now.
(Maybe it's because of an innocent girl crying and his best friend dying, frozen with a smile and laughing, surrounded by fire.)
The meeting goes on, the planned “disappearance” of their young saviour all but forgotten and forgiven. No one seems to find anything wrong with it. Neither Garp nor Sengoku are here to take a stand.
There’s only Kuzan, with his debt and a child’s cries in his mind.
(A child’s cries- Nico Robin or Coby? Not the same age, but children all the same. One had cried for her destroyed life and the other for those of his allies and enemies.)
The meeting goes on and on and on, and Kuzan-
Just-
Doesn’t know.
(There's a thousand of regrets and questions buried deep inside Kuzan, locked and sealed in a box, and he's too scared to open it. He’s not ready to face his past actions, the cries of these people who didn’t deserve to be called criminals. He’s not ready, not yet.)
(He’ll never be ready.)
Kuzan followed orders all his life and lost hours and days of sleep over something that was supposed to be Justice. He didn’t hesitate, because it was Justice and right and what would that mean for him, if it wasn’t? What would that say about him and his choices, if Justice wasn’t what it was supposed to be?
Whoever wins this war becomes Justice, Doflamingo had said, laughing, and he was a pirate, they were fighting against pirates, criminals, who was Justice should have been obvious from the start. He wasn’t supposed to be right.
But he was.
In this blank and cold room, surrounded by the people he used to serve, Kuzan makes a decision.
It’s an easy one, in the end.
(He would have saved the kid even if Garp hadn't asked him to.)
Smoker corners him a few days after this meeting while he’s busy thinking about how he’s going to take the brat without anyone noticing, lips thin and eyes narrowed. His friend doesn't look good, not really, but it's still a vast improvement from the other marines stuck in bed who have yet to wake up.
“Rumors say that you're leaving.” is what he greets him with, and Kuzan almost smiles, sad and fond and stuck inbetween.
“I am.” he confirms, and Smoker inhales sharply. Like Sengoku, he doesn't look surprised, but he frowns and bites his cigar. Kuzan knows him well enough to see how upset he is.
“I'm sorry,” he says before Smoker can open his mouth, “but you won't change my mind. I can't stay here.”
You know why, he doesn't say, because Smoker knows him well enough to understand. The younger man exhales slowly and sits heavily beside him, leaving the banch creaking under his weight.
“I get it.” he blows and lets a cloud of smoke escape from his mouth, still frowning but less tense.
“I need a favour.” he says, and Smoker's head tilts.
Neither he nor Garp can go and talk to the boy without rising questions and suspicions. Since Marineford, they are both being watched closely- Garp even more than him for his relationships and actions during the war. Kuzan is busy getting his resignation accepted and avoiding his colleagues trying to convince him to stay. Even if he wasn't, suddenly getting close to a young soldier so below his rank with whom he has never interacted before would be too strange and obvious. This soldier in particular even more.
“You know the kid who tried to stop Akainu? The one with pink hair.” he asks, and Smoker sends him an empty look.
“Who doesn't? He's basically legend with how suicidal he was. He made Mugiwara look sane!” he adds, which is probably a huge compliment or insult coming from him. It's hard to tell.
Kuzan doesn't speak for a moment, mind racing. What he heard at the meeting and his brief conversation are replaying in his head, loud and accusing.
The words are out before he can stop them. “They're going to kill him.”
It’s strange, saying it out loud, outside the privacy of his mind. He’s not used to being this open, this honest. It’s horrible and terrifying, but it’s right, and it’s a new feeling, but not a bad one.
“What.” says Smoker, and it’s not a whisper or a yell, simply a demand.
“They’re going to kill him.” he repeats, and this time he recognizes the feeling in his chest as anger. “Because he dared to go against Akainu, because he showed us that we were wrong, and to the Fleet Admiral-” his words are mocking and condescending, but he doesn’t care “-it makes him a traitor.”
Smoker stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide and fists clenched. His cigar’s smoke moves unnaturally against the wind, a slight use of his Devil Fruit in what Kuzan knows is an attempt to stay calm.
“He stopped the war. He was right.” he says, and Kuzan chuckles darkly.
“That’s not enough.” he retorts, and it feels like a horrible echo of his conversation with Garp.
Again, his friend stares at him for a long time. He has no idea what he is looking for, but he must find it, because he leans forward, eyes hard and determined.
“What do you need?” Smoker asks, and Kuzan smiles.
As much as Kuzan wants to walk over the kid and take him away, he can’t. Neither can Garp, and since they’re the only ones who know about Sakazuki’s plan and wants him out before anything happens, it’s a huge problem.
Garp told him he was still stuck in an infirmary, but he isn’t allowed to interact with his soldiers until everything is settled, still being closely watched by Sengoku for any sign of homicidal desire regarding a newly named Fleet Admiral. Kuzan is also watched, for slightly similar reasons, though he suspects it has more due with the hope some have that he will change his mind about leaving.
Smoker isn’t.
He’s not being watched, and he has enough free time to go and visit his soldiers and colleagues scattered across the many infirmaries of Marineford. He visits often, to check on and encourage his fellow marines to keep hope under the approving looks of his superiors. He helps the nurses and doctors with supplies, as many other non-injured soldiers do. It’s a common sight, and Smoker is known to care about his men, so no one looks twice.
And if he happens to see a pink haired boy lying on a bed, pale and tired with his hands pressed against his ears, well. He visits so many infirmaries, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it?
He officially hands over his resignation two days before he is supposed to leave Marineford, as the rules oblige, giving him enough time to pack his things.
“I see.” Sakazuki says, sounding almost sincere if not for the subtle anger in his eyes. “You were an element important to the Navy.”
There's an accusation there, maybe a question, but Kuzan doesn't bother answering and only stares back coldly.
“We’ve always had a difference of opinions.” You want to kill a child who proved you wrong, who saved us, who is one of us-
His old colleague glares at him. “I know. I thought you could put aside your... ideals and work with me for the greater good, but I see that was wishful thinking.”
Kuzan doesn't say anything, shrugging slightly.
“Sure. I'll be out of your way then.” Kuzan keeps his shoulders as relaxed as he can, turning away and heading toward the door. “Good luck, Sakazuki. I'm sure you'll do great.”
His lie resounds loudly in the silence.
Smoker brings him the kid in the middle of the night, a hand firmly clasped on the younger one's shoulder. Kuzan is supposed to leave in a few hours in the morning, but no one will bat an eye if they see him depart in advance when he made his displeasure with staying obvious.
“You need to come with me.” he says as soon as he's standing in front of him.
There's a light in the kid's eyes. It's the first thing he notices about him, even before the ruffled pink hair. It's barely noticeable but it's still here.
The brat looks pathetic, face pale and eyes red from crying, dressed in a hospital dress, covered in bandages and headband on his ears to try and muffle loud sounds. His pink hair are ruffled, his clothes crumpled. It's obvious he's just been woken up and is still disoriented, which is good since he's less likely to ask questions as to why an ex-admiral is asking him to follow him in the middle of the night.
“Why?” Coby asks, voice barely above a whisper, dashing Kuzan’s hopes of leaving without destroying the boy’s world view.
How do you say to a marine, a child, that the institution he trusts and helps desire his death? Especially when his dream is to become an admiral?
“You’re in danger here.” he says, because he’s always been a coward.
Strangely, the kid doesn’t look surprised by that fact, despite his wide eyes and red face. His Voice is incredibly agitated and loud, but it’s been this way since he arrived. Didn’t anyone teach this kid how to control his haki?
“Why?” he repeats, and Kuzan’s voice is stuck in his throat.
Smoker kneels beside the boy, attracting his attention as he turns away from Kuzan. He looks solemn, eyes softer than usual, and when he speaks there’s a note of respect in his voice that the ex-admiral never heard even when he was talking to his superiors.
He hands him an envelope. “From Garp.” he says, “Don’t open it yet.” he adds, and doesn’t elaborate.
“What you did in Marineford was amazing.” Smoker starts slowly, and Kuzan looks down because he doesn’t want to see the kid’s face once he understands what’s happening to him, “You did what was right, and you were the only one brave enough to do it. You are a great marine.”
Coby's Voice wavers, not reassured at all. Still, Kuzan doesn’t look up as Smoker goes on, anger and determination bleeding in his voice and Voice.
“Akainu-” the name is spoken with disgust “-is an arrogant and mad man, who should have never been made Fleet Admiral in my opinion. He’s extreme and doesn’t listen to reason, and most of all, he’s scared of losing his authority.”
What a nice summary, Kuzan thinks bitterly. He couldn’t have said it better himself.
“And you, Coby,” Smoker says, voice steady as realization and fear bleeds in the kid’s Voice, “opposed him in front of the whole world, proving him wrong, and you stood in front of him without hesitating even though you’re weaker and he’s your superior.”
Kuzan sneaks a glance toward his friend and is briefly stunned to see the respect in the usually cold eyes. Not even he has this effect on Smoker, and he’s not sure what to do with this realization.
He expects Smoker to keep going when the boy speaks, trembling yet sure of his words.
“He- he’s going to- to-” he seems to choke on the words before managing to spit out “kill me, ri- right?”
There’s something terrible about hearing such certainty in his words, from the mouth of this young marine who isn’t supposed to have seen the worst of them. But again, he can’t think of anything worse than Marineford, and it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.
Kuzan hopes Sakazuki chokes on his Justice.
“I’ll protect you.” he says, voice fierce and hard, leaving no room for arguments. Smoker and the kid’s heads turn toward him, both with surprised looks in their eyes.
Kuzan stares at Coby, at this boy braver than all of them, this boy with a light in his eyes, a light that could become a raging fire if given time to grow. It’s a light that reminds him of hope.
And Kuzan won't allow this light to go out.
“I’ll protect you.” he repeats, and it’s a promise.
They board the boat silently, the night hiding them from tired and distracted guards.
Kuzan is holding the few bags he has, a sad amount considering the time he spent as a marine. Smoker managed to gather some of the boy’s belongings before bringing him, a bag of clothes and a smaller one of money and other objects, but that’s it. They’ll have to stop at an island at least a few days after leaving.
Coby is quiet beside them, looking incredibly small between the two older men. He’s still crying, quiet and resigned tears, and it would hurt less if he was sobbing loudly and openly like in Marineford. His hands are clasped around his ears for some reason. The moonlight makes his pale face white as snow, and he’s slightly shaking. Kuzan dearly hopes he won’t run a fever, because they can’t afford to stop at the nearest island without attracting attention, and his medical knowledge is limited.
The boat is small but has a cabin with two beds, a kitchen and bathroom. It’s not much privacy, but marines are used to it so he doubts it will bother the kid much. Kuzan has no intention to sleep soon anyway, so for now it won’t be a problem.
Smoker watches them board, eyes narrowed and fists clenched as he stares at the small figure stumbling on the boat before finding his footing. The situation seems to bother and anger him more than Kuzan, but Smoker has always been the fairest and hungriest for Justice between them. He would have been an amazing teacher and friend to Coby, if things were different.
He gives them the bags and Kuzan sets them on the floor of the cabin. The kid watches him, shuffle on his feet as if unsure what to do, and Kuzan sighs.
“Change.” he says, “You must be freezing. And sleep. We can talk later.”
For a moment it looks like he’ll protest, but the boy slowly nods. He briefly looks at Smoker, still on the docks and watching them outside of the boat. He hesitates before speaking.
“Thank you.” he whispers, barely audible, “For everything.”
He’s still holding Garp’s unopened envelope tightly in his hand, but Smoker simply nods. Coby glances at Kuzan before closing the cabin’s door softly.
“This is fucked up.” Smoker says as soon as the door is closed and Kuzan is in front of him, “That kid doesn’t deserve this.”
“He doesn’t.” Kuzan agrees, but doesn’t say anything else.
“Call me if you need anything.” his friend says, and Kuzan nods even though he knows he won’t until at least a few months, if not a year, has passed. It’s better not to attract attention toward the one who helped sneak the kid out.
Smoker turns away, waving a hand as he walks back toward the Headquarters.
They leave without problems, and if the guards catch sight of him they only see him and not the child hidden inside the cabin, still awake but lying on the bed.
Kuzan eventually gathers the courage to come and talk to this child now under his guard, who he swore to protect.
“Yo.” he says, not whispering since the kid’s Voice is still loud and agitated under the blankets.
The way he rolls to look at him makes him seem even younger, and Kuzan feels a pang of sadness for this child who deserved better than all of them.
“What’s the problem?” he asks, then reformulates, “What’s hurting?”
Coby doesn’t look him in the eyes, face turned towards the blankets, but he answers.
“Voices. They’re so… loud.”
“Ha.” Kuzan eloquently says, frowning. So the kid doesn’t have any training. He must have awoken not too long ago, which leaves only one option, and he grimaces. Marineford. A war zone.
Yikes.
At least he knows what he’ll teach him first.
“You’ll learn, I’ll show you.” Kuzan reassures him, and Coby sends him a stupefied and hopeful look before ducking his head.
“Sleep.” he asks again, and gets up. He lets his haki surround the child, cold enough to push away the boiling anger of the war’s voices. It’s not the best, but it’ll work for now.
Coby shakes under the blankets, and Kuzan drapes his jacket over him. Soon, his breathing slow down and sleep wins him over.
Kuzan leaves his charge and the cabin, watching Marineford get further and further away from them until only sea surrounds them.
Morning comes. The kid- Coby, he really needs to start using his name if they're going to stick together- is still silent and wary, hardly if ever looking him in the eyes, but his face has regained colour and he no longer flinches when Kuzan speaks to him, so there's that.
“We're going to go see a doctor.” he declares, while the wind is pushing their small boat forward, gentle waves rocking the ship. Coby manages to send him a questioning glance before turning his shy eyes away. It’s not much, but it’s still progress.
“For your burns?” he hazards slowly, and Kuzan nods.
“And my leg. He'll check you too.” he adds, and is rewarded by a surprised gaze.
“Why?” he asks, genuinely confused, and Kuzan sends him an incredulous look.
“You’re still hurt, aren’t you? You were in the infirmary before we left.”
“Yes, but I’m almost healed. Please don’t worry…”
“Mmh.” is all Kuzan says, dubious.
Well. He never had to take care of someone before. This would be interesting at the very least. And well, it’s not like he had anything planned beyond leaving. Teaching seems like a good option.
It won’t be easy. There is still the possibility of Sakazuki sending searches for them, even issuing bounties or accusing Kuzan of kidnapping a young and promising soldier after his heroic act during the war. There are pirates like Akagami, who Kuzan is pretty sure is keeping an eye on the young marine he saved, who will notice something strange going on, or Revolutionary spies who’ll try to take advantage of this strange and unexpected situation.
No, it won’t be easy. But when after a few days, Coby looks at him in the eyes and smiles, still tired but far more rested than before, his hair ruffled by the wind and his Voice calmer, no longer haunted by the screams of an unfair war, Kuzan knows it will be okay.
(Maybe this, is Justice.)