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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #30
🕑 Added 2025-04-24 03:38:58 +0000 UTCBefore Gale could even begin to piece together what just happened—whether he’d awakened his hidden potential, unlocked a cursed sword technique, or just had a particularly vivid near-death hallucination—a loud, wet thud broke through the moment.
He turned sharply, expecting maybe a dramatic villain monologue or another surprise attack, only to see Florencio collapse to his knees.
The sound of ragged coughing echoed in the courtyard.
“Maestro!” Gale exclaimed, all the thrill and confusion from earlier vanishing in a blink. He sheathed his sword in a panic and rushed to Florencio’s side.
The old man clutched his chest, hacking violently into a trembling hand. Gale reached to steady him, alarmed, but Florencio raised a hand to stop him—calm and composed, despite the blood now painting his palm.
Gale froze. His heart thudded uneasily.
Blood.
There was blood.
Florencio slowly pushed himself to his feet, as if the coughing fit hadn’t just knocked the strength out of him. His spine still carried that same stubborn dignity, but Gale could see it now—that quiet strain behind his eyes, the subtle tremor in his limbs.
“You didn’t really lose the locket… did you?” Gale asked, his voice low, somewhere between confusion and concern.
Florencio sighed—really sighed, like a man laying down a burden after carrying it too long.
“No, niño,” he said gently. “I didn’t.”
A soft, tired smile followed.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“‘If’?” Gale echoed, blinking. “You impaled fear straight into my soul, man. You gave it a name, a hat, and a residency permit!”
Florencio chuckled, though it came with another cough. “Normally, a swordsman would need months of discipline… meditation… battles. Time to grow. But we didn’t have that luxury.”
Gale winced, rubbing his sore ribs. “Yeah, well, I’m sure terrorizing me into leveling up was definitely the best alternative you could think of.”
Florencio gave a sheepish shrug. “It was the only way.”
His tone dropped, quiet and bittersweet.
“…Because I don’t have much time left.”
The courtyard went still.
Gale’s eyes dropped to the blood on the maestro’s hand again—stark against pale skin, too red to ignore now that the adrenaline had faded.
“Wait,” he said, frowning. “You mean… you’re sick?”
Florencio nodded once. “I’m dying.”
The words hit like a brick wall, and for a moment, Gale forgot how to breathe.
The silence stretched—Gale stared at him, the gears in his mind trying to process it. Not because he didn’t believe him, but because, somehow, it just didn’t fit. This was Florencio, the flamboyant, dramatic, rose-wielding sword freak who called people "niño" even when tossing them into walls. The idea of someone like him dying felt... wrong. Like the universe had a typo.
“Wait—hold on, what?” Gale said, voice jumping half an octave. “You’re dying?! Then what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be looking for a doctor or something?!”
Florencio smiled again, but it was thinner this time. Less pride, more pain.
“I’ve visited many doctors,” he said softly, his voice wrapped in memories. “From the West Blue to Sabaody… all of them told me the same thing.”
He held up his bloodstained hand.
“There’s no cure.”
Gale’s chest tightened. “But you didn’t give up.”
“Of course not.” Florencio’s eyes twinkled with that old spark. “I’m far too stubborn for that. I spent years searching. Books, travelers, healers, even pirates with rumors of panaceas hidden in sea temples. Eventually, I came across one rumor—a whisper of a certain medicine said to heal what no other treatment could.”
That made Gale perk up.
“Wait… you found a lead? Here?” he asked, eyes lighting up. “You mean it’s on Karate Island?”
Florencio nodded.
Gale grinned, practically bouncing in place. “Awesome! Then let’s go get it! Just tell me who has it and I’ll either buy it… or beat it out of them. Either way, we’re bringing that miracle back.”
For a second, Florencio looked like he wanted to believe it could be that easy. But then his smile twisted bitterly.
“It’s not that simple, niño.”
Gale’s grin faltered. “It never is,” he muttered, then louder: “What do you mean?”
Florencio took a deep breath, then tilted his head slightly. “Tell me, Gale. Are you familiar with the geography of Karate Island?”
“…Geography?” Gale blinked. “Are you stalling or are we switching to trivia night now?”
He scratched the back of his head. “No, I’m not familiar. Why? You gonna test me on river systems next?”
Florencio chuckled, but there was weight in his words as he began to explain.
“Karate Island is shaped like a massive land ring. A circular landmass with a shallow inlet of seawater in the middle—like a lake made of the sea itself. At the very center of that water…”
He raised a finger for emphasis.
“…is a small islet. A place untouched by man.”
Gale raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. The cure’s on that islet.”
Florencio nodded. “A flower grows there. A rare, obsidian-petaled bloom called Rosa Nocturna. It only blossoms once every decade, in the heart of the salt lake.”
“Ominous name for a flower,” Gale muttered. “Was ‘Definitely Not Cursed Lily’ taken?”
“The Rosa Nocturna,” Florencio continued, ignoring him, “is no ordinary medicine. Its nectar has the power to reset the body—cleanse sickness, slow aging… perhaps even defy death.”
Gale’s jaw dropped. “So it’s basically a revival potion?! Why haven’t you gotten it already?!”
Florencio’s gaze darkened.
“Because,” he said grimly, “that lake… is home to a Sea King.”
Gale blinked. “…Come again?”
“A massive one. Old, cunning. It made the lake its domain long ago. And it is not alone. The entire lake is teeming with sea beasts—monstrous, unnatural things that follow its commands like soldiers.”
Gale stared.
A pause.
“…Okay, but you’re you,” he said finally, gesturing at the maestro like that explained everything. “Sure, you’re sick, but you’re still, y’know—you. Rose-striking, life-threatening you. A couple sea monsters shouldn't stop someone like that!”
Florencio let out a soft, rasping chuckle. “Your words are flattering, niño… but the truth is, this sickness has been gnawing at me for years. What you see before you now… is just a husk of the man I once was.”
Gale blinked slowly.
A husk?
He stared at the man who had just parried a flying sword slash into the stratosphere like it was a minor inconvenience. Who had nearly given him a heart attack by suddenly channeling the spirit of a dramatic fencing god mid-fight.
This… was a weakened version?
What the hell kind of monster were you before?! Did you eat mountains for breakfast? Bench press volcanoes? Suddenly Gale felt like a literal toddler with a butter knife compared to whatever Florencio used to be.
Either oblivious to Gale’s spiraling thoughts or just completely used to them, Florencio continued calmly, as if he wasn’t shattering reality.
“Even now, I’m capable of slaughtering sea beasts… even a Sea King. But the problem lies not in power, but in endurance. I can barely exert myself before the sickness tightens its grip. A few moments of effort… and I’m spent.”
Gale's mind was racing. He imagined the lake again—monstrous sea creatures, the infamous Sea King lounging like some aquatic mafia boss, sipping seawater martinis or whatever it is Sea Kings do—and then imagined Florencio trying to cross that monster-infested soup while battling the expiration date on his lungs.
Yeah. Not great odds.
Then it hit him.
“Wait a minute…” Gale’s voice slowed with realization. “I don’t have that problem.”
He looked at his own hands, calloused from training, still buzzing from the sword clash. “I can make the journey.”
He turned to Florencio, brows furrowed, gears turning. “Is that why you took me in? Why you trained me?”
Florencio looked at him with quiet, steady eyes.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “That was part of it. Are you disappointed?”
The honesty hit harder than Gale expected. No deflection. No cryptic old-man riddle. Just a direct yes.
For a moment, Gale stood there, staring. Then he shook his head, firm.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Florencio’s brow rose. “It doesn’t?”
Gale gave him a crooked grin. “Maestro, you’ve been an amazing teacher. The things I’ve learned from you—hell, the trauma alone—priceless.”
Florencio gave a low chuckle.
Gale continued. “Look, people always say relationships are built on feelings and destiny and soul bonds or whatever, but the truth is—most start with a reason. A need. An interest. A job. Something.”
He gave a small shrug.
“But it’s sentiment that keeps them going.”
Florencio went quiet, then laughed—one of those quiet, nostalgic laughs that came from deep in the chest, even if it made him cough a second later.
“You’re starting to sound more like me, Gale.”
Gale blinked. “Wait… was that a compliment or a warning?”
Florencio just smiled knowingly, wiping a trace of red from his lip.
“Perhaps both.”
Gale scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling awkward. Compliment or cautionary tale, he wasn’t sure what Florencio’s words had meant—but either way, they made something warm and uncomfortable stir in his chest. He didn’t do well with earnest emotions. Jokes? Sarcasm?
Denial? Those were his love language.
So naturally, he deflected.
“Right then,” he said, patting his chest like a pirate about to dive into cannon fire. “Now that I know where the medicine is, I’ll just head over there straight away. Swim to that islet, punch a Sea King in the face, turn the rest into sushi, and bring you back that miracle flower like it’s no big deal.”
He grinned, but his voice carried a hint of steel beneath the bravado. This wasn’t just about some quest. Gale didn’t have many people in this world he could really count as friends. Kiwanu and the Torino Island weirdos were basically it.
And Florencio… Florencio had trained him, yelled at him, humbled him, occasionally threatened him with a rapier flourish, and—okay, maybe borderline tortured him during drills—but he was still someone Gale respected. Liked, even.
And he’d be damned if he let one of the few people he cared about die on him.
Florencio gave a small, tired smile. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, niño, but…”
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he did some mental math. Possibly consulting an internal calendar. Or maybe just remembering which moon cycle dictated the blooming schedule of plot-convenient magical flowers.
“…The medicine won’t bloom for another month.”
Gale’s confident expression twitched.
“Seriously?” he sighed. “Of course it doesn’t. Can’t just be available like a normal life-saving item. Nooo, it has to be dramatic and seasonal.”
Florencio ignored the sarcasm like a seasoned professional and continued, “Until then, you can still learn a few more things from me. Your technique is solid, but it could be better. Maybe fix that sword of yours… or get one that doesn’t look like it’s survived a bar fight and lost.”
Gale gave a long, reluctant sigh, shoulders slumping. “Alright, alright… you win, old man. Guess I could stand to patch up the ol’ toothpick.”
He glanced up at the sky, where stars had begun to peek through the inky blue of evening.
“It’s getting late anyway. You should get some rest.”
Florencio nodded slowly. “You too, Gale. Tomorrow… we train.”
Gale groaned as he turned to head inside. “Great. Can’t wait to nearly die again in the name of swordsmanship.”
