I Sell Gacha Jars in One Piece

Kureha stood in front of the mirror for a long time.

Over a century of living, and the desire to look in a mirror without bracing herself had never quite left her. Now the face looking back was one she hadn't seen in decades. A woman in her prime, full-cheeked, sharp-eyed, with a skin that suggests someone who has been taking very good care of herself. Which was not, historically, the face Kureha had been working with.

She pressed one hand against her cheek.

"This is completely inexcusable," she said, which was her way of saying she was overwhelmed.

Tears were not something Kureha did publicly, but the brightness in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Mr. Amon." She turned from the mirror and faced Amon. "I owe you a genuine debt."

"Your luck did the work," Amon said, waving a hand. "I just sold you the jar."

"Don't deflect. I didn't expect to see this face again in my lifetime, and here it is." She looked at him steadily. "If you ever find yourself in trouble, any kind of trouble, come to me. I'll do whatever I can. You have my word."

Amon nodded. He wasn't going to dismiss the offer. Dr. Kureha was, in her own way, a deeply mysterious figure. A woman past a hundred and still moving with an economy and precision that only came from serious training, operating in a kingdom at the edge of the world as if she had chosen it deliberately. There were theories among those who paid attention to such things. The Rocks Pirates, who had dominated the seas in the era before Roger, had included doctors among their members. Shakky at Sabaody was one name that came up. Kureha was another.

He had no proof. But the Observation Haki she had just demonstrated, fine enough to register Dalton's approach from a considerable distance while apparently deep in conversation, and the speed at which she had departed moments ago, these were not things that belonged to an ordinary island doctor. Whatever she had been before she settled here, it was something significant.

"I'll remember," Amon said simply.

Kureha gave him a short nod. "Dalton's on his way. I'll leave you to that." She picked up a fresh bottle from the shelf without looking, apparently having located all of them by memory, and was gone through the door before anyone had fully processed that she was leaving.

...

Dalton arrived with half the kingdom behind him.

"Hiriluk." He reached out and gripped the old doctor's shoulders. "You did it. The whole kingdom is talking about nothing else."

The people who had followed him down the mountain were still coming through the entrance in a steady stream, every face carrying the same stunned, shining quality. Some of them had clearly been crying and weren't bothered about it. The plum blossoms had done something to the island that no speech or proclamation could have managed.

"We misjudged you," Dalton said. "Every one of us. You kept telling us this was possible and we kept not believing you."

"You were the real doctor all along!"

"We called you a quack. We were wrong."

Hiriluk went red from his collar to his hairline. He was not a man who had received much in the way of praise, and receiving it all at once from this many people simultaneously was more than his composure was built for.

"No, no, wait. Everyone, please listen." He held up both hands. "You've all misunderstood something important. I didn't research these flowers. I didn't develop these seeds."

The crowd went quiet.

"That's not possible," someone said. "We saw you planting them."

"I did plant them. But the seeds themselves came from this man right here." Hiriluk turned and pointed clearly at Amon. "Mr. Amon is the one who made this possible. Without him, I would have spent another thirty years searching and found nothing. He brought these flowers to Drum Island. He is the one your gratitude belongs to."

The crowd shifted its collective attention to Amon.

"He's not from here," someone said, uncertain.

"I've never seen him before."

Dalton studied Amon for a moment, then looked back at Hiriluk. "You're serious. This man, not you."

"I am absolutely serious."

"The seeds really did come from his jar," Chopper added, pushing forward to stand beside Hiriluk. "I was there. I picked the jar myself. Mr. Amon is the one who made it possible for any of this to happen."

When he finished, the silence had a different quality.

Then Dalton straightened, and his voice carried the way it did when he wanted it to carry.

"Then we owe gratitude to both of them." He looked between Hiriluk and Amon with equal steadiness. "Hiriluk for everything he's given this kingdom over thirty years of refusing to give up. And Mr. Amon for what he brought to us today. These flowers showed us something this morning. If this island can bloom, then we have no excuse left for accepting what Wapol has done to us."

The crowd answered him.

It was not a complicated response, and it did not take long to organize. Wapol was away at the World Conference, which left the castle understaffed and the chain of command confused. Dalton had been waiting for an opening, and the kingdom had been waiting for a reason, and now they had both. What followed was less a battle than a collective decision made by people who had already made up their minds.

By the time it was finished, the Drum Kingdom had reclaimed itself.