A Certain Hypocritical Seven Warlord Wants a Happy Ending with Me

Decaniss hated pirates more than anything.

It wasn't because she had any deep-seated grudge against them. She simply thought those people who never had to work, spent every day fighting and killing, and yelled about throwing parties at the drop of a hat were incredibly stupid.

It wasn't until her younger childhood friend of nearly ten years suddenly accepted an invitation from the World Government and became one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea that she learned he was a pirate too.

The young, black-haired man lowered his eyes. Looking at Decaniss's bloodied hands as she treated his wound, he fell silent for a moment before saying, "I need you."

Decaniss disdainfully wiped the blood on the man's black fur coat. "Get lost, and don't let me see you again."

Yet after he left, she kept seeing reports of him defeating enemies and becoming a national hero. He would show up at the sea restaurant where she worked for no particular reason, putting on an air of smug arrogance.

Decaniss: ...What's with the act? Anyone who didn't know better would think you'd really gone straight.

Sure enough, that guy was later locked up in the great prison of Impel Down.

Crocodile had thought he would die on that cold night when he was twelve.

His abdomen had been slashed open. He clutched his wound desperately, but blood still gushed out. Whenever his consciousness wavered, his swollen organs threatened to slip through the gash in his stomach.

He hid in the darkest, narrowest corner of the orphanage. His only regret as he waited to die was that he hadn't taken out his opponent.

But then a girl opened the door, pushed his intestines back into his abdomen, tidied everything up, and stitched his stomach closed.

No disinfectant, no anesthetic, no way to stop the bleeding.

Crocodile touched the stitches on his stomach in a daze. He was still alive.

Theme: I shout that those who love no one are free, but my eyes still can't help turning toward those who are loved.