The two siblings were immensely grateful for the kindness Miguel had shown them. Despite being a complete stranger to this land—and having no obligation to interfere—he had chosen to help them when no one else dared to. It was a rare gesture in a world where self-preservation often outweighed compassion.
As the younger sister quietly ate beside her brother, savoring the food with a peaceful smile that had been absent for days, Miguel turned to the older boy and struck up a deeper conversation.
He asked about the nature of his little sister's illness—how long she had been sick, what symptoms she experienced, and what treatments had been tried. The boy, though wary at first, gradually opened up, revealing his knowledge and desperate attempts to treat his sister with the limited resources he had.
After a thoughtful pause, Miguel made an offer.
"Hey... you're a doctor, right?" Miguel asked, watching the boy closely. "Turns out, we've actually been looking for one to join our crew. So, what do you say? Want to come with us?"
The older sibling looked at Miguel with a surprised expression. His gaze shifted immediately to his sister, who was still happily chewing her food, her face brighter than it had been in days. That simple smile of hers, after so much suffering, clearly stirred something inside him.
"…But how could you heal my sister if you're saying you need a doctor?" the boy asked, squinting suspiciously. "Wouldn't you need someone like me if you can't treat her yourself?"
Miguel just chuckled and flashed a grin, clearly amused by the question. "Ah, well... that's a trade secret, you see. I'll tell you how after you agree to join us," he said teasingly. "No spoilers until you sign on."
The boy blinked, slightly confused. "Wait—we've been talking for this long and I haven't even told you my name yet..."
Miguel raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. I was wondering when you'd notice."
A little flustered, the boy straightened up and said, "My name is Gyutaro Shabana. And this little princess here is Ume Shabana—my little sister."
Ume, still nibbling on a slice of fruit, looked up at the two of them and gave a cheerful wave. Miguel gave a small smile in return.
"Well, I'm Deus Grego Miguel," he replied, placing a hand on his chest. "And this lanky, grumpy guy over there—who's been sitting the whole time like he owns the place—that's Borsalino."
Borsalino raised an eyebrow at the comment, clearly unimpressed. "Lanky, huh?" he muttered before casually smacking Miguel across the back of the head. Miguel barely flinched, clearly used to the dynamic.
Miguel laughed it off and turned back to Gyutaro. "Anyway, as the Captain of the Deus Pirates, I'm officially inviting you to join our crew as our Doctor. What do you say?"
Gyutaro's eyes widened at the offer. For a moment, he was silent, absorbing the gravity of the opportunity being placed before him. He slowly looked down at Ume, who had now finished her meal and was looking up at him with a hopeful, innocent smile.
She didn't say a word—but she didn't need to.
Her smile alone was enough.
Gyutaro was officially welcomed as the doctor of the Deus Pirates, with Ume—due to her young age—being taken in as an intern under his care. Shortly after their induction, Miguel unsheathed his blade without hesitation and swiftly slashed both Gyutaro and Ume—not to harm them, but to rid them of the illness that had plagued their lives.
Miguel had noticed something unusual: although Ume showed visible symptoms, Gyutaro exhibited none, yet his presence bore traces of the same sickness. The disease was dormant within him, waiting for a trigger. Miguel's cut wasn't one of violence, but of release—his blade capable of severing not just flesh, but intangible afflictions like curses, illnesses, and even the weight of fate itself.
As soon as Miguel's blade touched him, Gyutaro froze—his body trembling slightly. He felt an inexplicable lightness, like a crushing burden had suddenly lifted from his shoulders, one he hadn't even realized he was carrying. It was as though a chain wrapped around his soul had been cut. Meanwhile, Ume's transformation was more immediate and visible—her pale skin brightened with color, and the constant shaking that had defined her for years gradually came to a stop.
Her white, sickly hair—long associated with the condition—began to darken, returning to its natural hue. Slowly but surely, life returned to her eyes, and for the first time in her entire existence, she felt peace. The chronic pain she had grown used to, the suffering that had always been her companion, faded into nothingness.
Ume stared down at her hands in disbelief, clenching and unclenching them, almost afraid that the pain would return. But it didn't. Her lips quivered before curving into a fragile smile.
Gyutaro, watching from the side, could hardly believe what he was seeing. His little sister—who had always looked as if death were waiting at her bedside—now radiated with health. Her complexion, once sallow and ghost-like, bloomed with warmth and vitality. He was stunned speechless, taking a shaky step forward as if afraid she might vanish.
It was, in every way, a miracle.
-------------
Both Ume and Gyutaro were accompanied by Borsalino and Miguel back to the port where their ship was docked. However, upon arrival, they were greeted by an unexpected and infuriating sight: a group of men clad in armor, wielding swords and guns, rummaging through their ship as if it were their own. It was clear these men weren't pirates—they moved with a sense of authority, suggesting affiliation with the kingdom.
Miguel's previously good mood vanished instantly.
"Oi," Miguel said, his voice cold and sharp, "what the hell do you think you're doing on my ship?"
The men merely glanced at him and responded with smug, condescending grins before continuing to ransack the vessel.
Then, from the group, a figure who seemed to be their leader stepped forward. He stood directly in Miguel's path, his posture confident—almost arrogant.
"You, who violated His Majesty's decree, are hereby sentenced to forced enslavement," the man announced with mock grandeur. "All your possessions are now forfeit to the Kingdom of Flevance."
With that, the leader twitched his fingers—and suddenly, the coat draped over his shoulders sprang to life. It slithered unnaturally and launched itself at Miguel, behaving more like a creature than cloth.
Miguel's expression darkened.
"Huh? You've really got a death wish, don't you…" He muttered.
Without even drawing his sword fully, Miguel released a flying slash—so fast and precise that the only evidence of it was the sound of wind howling and a massive chasm being carved into the sea behind the ship. The wave that followed roared with unnatural force, making the armored men freeze in place. Their arrogant expressions instantly vanished, replaced with growing fear.
Miguel stepped forward slowly.
"This country doesn't seem to need a king anymore," he said darkly. "What do you think, Borsalino?"
Borsalino sighed, almost annoyed. With a flash of light, he summoned a blade made entirely from photons and vanished from where he stood. In an instant, he appeared aboard the ship, moving with blinding speed and calmly incapacitating every soldier on board—each one falling before they could react.
The so-called leader was now trembling, realizing far too late that their king had made a colossal mistake. Before he could even beg for mercy or flee, Miguel appeared in front of him. The man's head was cleanly severed from his shoulders in a blink. Miguel's sword absorbed the Devil Fruit power the leader had—an ability that had manifested through his sentient coat. But it was useless now.
Miguel turned to the others.
"Wait here, alright?" he said casually to Borsalino, Ume, and Gyutaro. And without another word, Miguel launched himself into the air—flying at high speed toward the castle of Flevance.
He didn't knock. He didn't announce himself.
The moment he arrived, Miguel activated his Observation Haki at full intensity, spreading his awareness throughout the castle. He felt the emotional signatures and life forces of every individual inside. In less than a second, he sorted them all—those who harbored cruelty, corruption, and malice, and those who were kind-hearted or simply uninvolved.
His rampage began immediately.
Miguel tore through the halls of the castle like a storm of judgment. He killed without hesitation, slicing through guards, nobles, and officials—anyone he deemed guilty. There was no trial, no discussion. This was personal. He wasn't a hero—he had never claimed to be. But there were lines even he couldn't ignore, and the blatant injustice toward the innocent had crossed it.
In under an hour, the castle was eerily quiet. The only survivors were the genuinely kind-hearted individuals—and the king, who now sat in a puddle of his own urine, his hands trembling as he begged for mercy.
Miguel walked toward him calmly, eyes devoid of sympathy.
"Take me to your vault," Miguel said flatly.
The king, stammering and shaking, tried to save face by warning Miguel. "You… You don't know who you're dealing with! I'm connected to the World Government! If you harm me—"
Before he could finish, Miguel's blade flashed once more.
Both of the king's hands were severed in a single clean stroke. Miguel made sure to cauterize the wounds immediately, preventing death but maximizing the pain. The king's screams echoed through the ruined halls.
"I don't care," Miguel said emotionlessly.
Broken and bleeding, the king led him to the vault—a massive chamber overflowing with gold, gems, and even Devil Fruits gathered from decades of exploiting Amber Lead.
Miguel simply touched the structure, and with the power of the Fuwa Fuwa no mi, he made the entire vault float—lifting it from its foundation as if it were weightless.
With a wave of his hand, the treasure began drifting through the air, carried by his power all the way back to the port where his crew waited.