Heaven Has No Limit Chapter 13 - Not Like Us

“Den-Den Mushi, play Power, by Ye.”

“Mu…?”

“What do you mean you don’t know how? You’re a fucking telepathic snail. Can’t you just find the song in my head or something?”

“Myu… Myu…”

“You’re lucky I still need you, else I’d be sending your slimy ass to a salt factory…”

Noah ran his hand through his hair. The nursery building was still crumbling from the remnants of the Supreme King Clash, and his throat was sore as fuck from yelling his lungs out, but he’d be damned if he let it show. Not when Vinsmoke Judge was still staring at him with wide-ass-eyes as if he was a virgin schoolboy seeing unshaved pussy for the first time. His stocks in the Vinsmoke Market were at an all-time high at this point, and it couldn’t possibly get any fucking higher.

Thank you, Donny Boy…!

“Oi. Judge.”

“Y-yes, Saint?”

“Get your ass outta here. Keep Reiju safe. She’s my property. Oh, and make sure the rest of your brats are safe too, I guess. Might need them in the future.”

“Y-yes, Saint! At once!”

Vinsmoke Judge didn’t so much as blink at his declaration of Reiju as his property. Noah couldn’t blame him; the man was still adjusting to the fact that Noah had the sauce. 

Carrying his children in his arms, as he rushed to the door, he stopped. “S-Saint, should I contact the Mari—”

“They’re already on their way. Get your ass going. Git! Git!”

“Y-yes, Saint!”

Vinsmoke Judge hurried out of the crumbling nursery with his children in tow, and Noah took a step forward, using Geppo to casually make it look as if he was sitting on the air.

“Haki Piece baby… the Haki Piece is fuckin’ real.”

The Haki of Kings was a doubt-proof, fool-proof, seal of quality that told anyone who was anyone that Noah was him. 

He didn’t even need to say shit, just flexing that Haki was like rolling up to a Community College in a fucking Cadillac. However, Noah was well aware that it had to be used sparingly and timed for maximum effect. Shit was like having a big dick; the impact was lost if he whipped it out every time someone with a small dick started a dick swinging competition. 

Let’s see… Donny Boy, Donny Boy… that Haki of yours was kinda weaksauce, Donny Boy…

It was the first time testing his Conqueror’s Haki against someone else, but there was that weird feeling that Flamingo-Man’s Haki wasn’t all that. The feeling was something he could not explain, because Conqueror’s Haki was like having an extra sense; it was like having synesthesia, pulling a Frank Liszt and trying to tell the orchestra to play the color blue. They’d think he was on coke, or he was messing with them, because they literally could not perceive the world the way he did, and had no fucking clue what note ‘blue’ was supposed to sound like.

Unless, it might not be my Conqueror’s Haki that’s giving me that feeling… is it my Observation Haki…? Yeah… it is… this feeling…

Noah rubbed his chin. 

Donny Boy… Donny Boy… aren’t you supposed to be a top-tier…?

Donny boy, Donny boy, don’t you dare have me catching L’s Donny Boy!

Right… you were scared shitless of Kaido, weren’t you, Donny Boy…? Scared of a Yonko killing you… whereas Pirate Jesus didn’t even hesitate and charged straight at him.

Noah frowned.

Shit… you… You actually hold your life dearly…? That’s such an L, Donny boy… If you’re not willing to die for the sake of your ambitions, are you really a top-tier Donny Boy?

So you’re definitely not Yonko Level… I doubt you’re Yonko Commander Level… but you should be at least Shichibukai level… shouldn’t you be Donny Boy?

Wait… Shichibukai level… Shichibukai… level…?

Noah snapped his fingers.

“Shit. Isn’t it still too early for that?”

The memory of Señor Pink’s skull being crushed like a watermelon played in his mind. Two decades was a long time for some bitches to level up their game, but by that same merit, it was an amount of time for some bitches to still be dicking around at the Firelink Shrine.

“...Nah, Donny Boy’s versatile.”

Flamingo-Man had the most versatile Devil Fruit in the Ito Ito no Mi. There was no way the man would put up a piss-poor showing, unless he was imaginatively bankrupt.

“Come on, Donny Boy. Come to fuckin’ Noah! Come and be my first stepping stone in showing the world what it means…” 

Noah smacked his hands together.

“To define a fucking era.”

=====)+(=====

“Doffy… t-this— I didn’t… we couldn’t—”

“Quiet.”

Trebol was chewing glue. His lips constantly opened, and his cheeks constantly contorted, each time forming into the shapes needed to vocalize words, and each time, failing and faltering. The cause of the repetitive failures to express himself verbally was due to the total number of unconscious individuals aboard the Numancia Flamingo as the ship finally docked at the Germa Kingdom.

Everyone was out cold. Pica was on the ground, foaming at the mouth. Diamante was likewise unconscious, only the white of his eyes visible. Vergo was out cold, twitching heavily. Giolla had passed out on the deck, over a barrel. The others… not a single one of them remained standing.

Everyone, except himself and his Captain, himself and Doflamingo. The others, well seasoned, well-vetted, were all capable of withstanding the worst of Doflamingo’s Haki of the Supreme King, but not a single one of them, none but him, had managed to withstand the results of a Supreme King Clash. They all lay in varying states of unconsciousness, some foaming at the mouth, others, blank-eyed, white-eyed, with twitching bodies.

Trebol had the sea legs spoken of by sailors in times of yore, so liquid and gelatinous that the act of standing was impossible. He was on his knees, and he cursed, and hammered his legs, his knees, his traitorous, insidious knees, which had collapsed on their own accord as two Kings clashed their wills, and he, a poor, pathetic peasant, unbeloved by the sea and fate, could only bow.

T-that… Haki… There is… someone in the Germa Kingdom with Haki that rivals Doffy’s…? How is it possible?! Who could—

“YOU WANT SOME?!”

A voice, sharp, clear, cut through the air, bursting forth with enough force that Trebol’s skull rattled in his brain.

“COME GET SOME!”

A shockwave burst forth. Trebol’s clothes flapped back into the wind. In the air, the seagulls descended like raindrops. In the sea, fish ascended, floating like bubbles to the top. On that day, that cloudless day, a challenge had been made that Trebol feared could not be turned down.

“Fufufufu… Hehehehehehehehehehe! HEHEHEHE!”

“D-Doffy— we— we—”

“Quiet. Trebol.”

Trebol’s lips slapped shut.

His captain extended his hand forward. Yet, for a moment, nothing happened. Slowly, then, Doflamingo’s gaze went upwards. The sunlight glinted off his glasses.

“He cleared out the clouds. He was expecting us. Expecting me.”

“B-but… h-h-how could he possibly know that you can use the clouds to—”

Doflamingo charged forward, as though he were tugged on by something. Trebol stammered. “D-D-Doffy! W-wait!”

Cursing his traitorous legs, he struck, again and again, doing what he could to command them to move, to move!

No, Doffy! That… that Haki…! It… It was—

Doffy had tried to hide it. He had truly done so; however, there was no mistaking the horrid truth that was revealed when the Supreme King Clash occurred. Doffy had been the one to use his Haki of the Supreme King first, but despite that, their unknown adversary managed to push it back all the way. It was the only reason it reached them all the way here, where the force of the clash knocked out all of the Doflamingo Pirates.

The only way Doffy’s Haki could have been pushed back was if it was… 

If it was…

Weaker.

Impossible! Impossible! There is no one more suited to be a King than Doffy! How could… How could there be anyone with ambitions that surpass him?! With a will that surpasses him?! What… what sort of individual could possibly…?!

Haki was tied to will. Doflamingo’s will was the strongest Trebol had ever seen, the greatest he had ever encountered. As a boy, despite being burnt by a crowd, being cursed at, yelled at, and being hated by an entire village, he barked back defiantly, refusing to be cowed. He held his head high and swore vengeance on them all.

How many could do such a thing? To be hated by hundreds, condemned, loathed and scathed, yet still continue to believe in their cause, to still refuse to bend their head, to still refuse to plead or beg for mercy?

I must see it! I must see it for myself! What sort of individual…!

Trebol began to crawl forward, ignoring his gelatin-like legs as he pursued Doflamingo.

“Doffy! Wait for me! Doffy~!”

Trebol needed to see this with his own eyes.

He needed to see it. He needed to confirm the truth of his convictions with his own, naked, raw eyes!

Yet, in crawling, in chasing after his progeny, his destined King, Trebol’s jaw would unhinge, his heart would seize, as if clutched from its chest, and his entire being would shudder and tremble, wavering like a Jolly Roger in a storm.

There, from his position, he watched the standoff. Doflamingo stood in the air, on a series of strings attached to buildings and rubble. On the other end was the source, it appeared, of that Haki. The identity of the one with Kingly Ambition who challenged Doflamingo.

“Doffy…?”

For a moment, Trebol thought he had been thrust back into the past at the sight of the blond hair on the youthful features. Yet, he had not. 

He…

He’s…

He’s… just… a boy?!

A boy.

Younger, even, by all appearances, than Doflamingo had been, when Trebol found him. He was taller and more muscled than one would expect from a child his age, but he was undoubtedly a boy, a child. Blond hair, blue eyes, wearing a white suit that would seldom be out of place on a CP0 Agent. His hands in his pockets, he sat on the air itself, as if it were solid. Yet, Trebol could tell, from the light, almost imperceptible kicks the boy made against the air, that the boy was using Soru, one of the Rokushiki Arts, to maintain the appearance of sitting casually.  He looked down on them, from where he was in the air, with a wild, manic grin. 

There was no mistaking what he was. There could be no mistaking what he was.

Celestial. Dragon.

World. Noble.

Another one.

A proper one.

Bile arose in the depths of Trebol’s throat. He tasted the vileness of his stomach acid, threatening to corrode his oesophagus as it swelled from his gut. He had the odd feeling of being a woman at a ball who’d just discovered another woman wearing an identical dress, but wearing it better because she had bigger breasts and a thinner waist. He had the mien of a tycoon who had just made an expensive purchase of a private island, only to discover that there was an even better, even shinier, even bigger private island now available for sale, but his coffers were empty.

No, no… Doffy… is… Doffy is the one who will be…! Doffy is… Doffy… is—

Trebol turned from Doflamingo to the Young World Noble, and from the Young World Noble, back to Doflamingo.

The comparisons between them were clear. Both were blond, both were Celestial Dragons, but one was a young man, and the other was a young boy.

Doffy… what will you do?

Doflamingo, on sighting the individual who had made his crew collapse, sighting the individual who had challenged him, had gone quiet. Eerily, unusually, dangerously quiet. The boy was quiet in turn, only occasionally craning his neck left and right, rotating it as if it were sore from looking down at them. 

“You kept me waiting, Donny Boy.”

Doffy… 

Trebol’s teeth gnashed together. 

No! No! No! Doffy! Not like this! Not like this…!

Trebol had always been at his side. Always. Doflamingo’s habits were things he grasped more clearly than the back of his own hand. They were things he understood intimately, because he had been responsible for molding them. Influencing them! Nurturing them! Developing them! He, Trebol, was the one who molded Doflamingo into the man he was!

Trebol feared Doflamingo’s silence was a result of the way he had molded him. For he had taught and reaffirmed to Doflamingo that he was the greatest, a god, the top of the world, to whom none would challenge, and none could compare, due to the nature of not only his birthright, but the fact that he possessed the Haki of the Supreme King.

These two facts were central to who Doflamingo was and how he faced his enemies. Against all others, he would and could lord his superiority over them; the fact of his lineage, the fact that he was a God, all of it, gave him the assurance that his enemies were beneath him. It was why he toyed with them, played with them, saw them as puppets and tools, and entered their heads to manipulate them to his will and whim. He could do so because he was superior to them! He was the most eminent one! He, and he alone!

Yet, Trebol had always had the inkling of suspicion that raising Doflamingo with that belief and mindset was a double-edged sword.

Against anyone else, he would have no doubts, fight, and triumph without hesitation.

Yet, what would happen were he to meet someone to whom those beliefs were blatantly false?

The boy in front of them was undoubtedly a Celestial Dragon, a World Noble. So he, too, was of the same nature of Godhood. It meant, in that regard, Doflamingo could not claim to be superior. Rather, it was the opposite. One was clearly a True God, whilst the other was a God who had Fallen From Grace. Attempting to put on airs in front of such a person would only have him mocked.

The only other means he could claim or believe to be superior was in regard to Haki of the Supreme King.

Yet, the boy possessed it.

Not only did he possess it, but he was a boy, a child, and he possessed it even younger than Doflamingo had. The fact that they had clashed was already Doflamingo’s loss, for there was no pride, none at all, in discovering that his Kingly Ambitions could not overpower those of a child.

Doffy… I can’t let this setback stop you! 

“W-who — who are you?!” Trebol stammered, speaking up. “W-where did a person like you come from? It’s impossible! No one so young could possess a Haki that could rival—”

“Hey.” 

The boy spoke. The boy whom Trebol doubted even had pubic hair yet. The boy whose voice was still a pitch so high that it belied his blatant youth. The boy, still craning his neck, didn’t even bother looking at him.  

“Keep yapping, and you die.”

Y-y-yap? “Who do you think you—”

“Glock.”

Something moved his body. Jerked it, pulled it out of the way with enough force that his arm was almost dislocated. The sound of a devastating crack of the sound barrier shattering followed moments after. A projectile zoomed in the space where he’d been mere seconds prior, the space where his head had been, mere seconds prior, tearing off at a speed that Trebol’s eyes could not follow. A second later, there was an ear-shattering boom off on the sea’s horizon, far, far, away.

Sweat dripped down his forehead.

W-what w-was… just…? M-my body moved on its—

“D-Doff—”

A series of white, thick strings pierced his upper lip and then his lower lip. Trebol tried to scream and failed to scream, and the threads sewed his upper and lower lips shut, tight. The holes did not bleed; they were not given a chance to bleed. The strings were so thin and so fine that even upon breaking the skin, blood was not drawn. Trebol grasped at his mouth, sewn shut, his eyes turning to the man he’d raised, who was not looking at him, not gazing at him, not even paying any attention to him.

“Mmmmph?!”

“Donny boy, Donny boy…” the boy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re losing aura points, Donny boy. Having that snot-nosed bum on your side is a fucking war crime.”

“Hehehehe…” Doflamingo broke his silence, chuckling. His hand ran down his face. “So, you know the future. You can see it with your Haki.”

See… the future? Trebol’s brows furrowed. That… that’s only a myth… Doffy! That ability can’t possibly—

“What gave it away?”

W-what?

“You’re asking me that, even though you’ve been repeatedly avoiding my attacks?”

A-avoiding? Attacks? When did he…?

Trebol’s eyes widened.

Those neck motions? He wasn’t just… craning his neck?

A battle had been going on, unbeknownst to him, from the very beginning. The duo were silent, only because they were focused. Doflamingo’s strings were so thin as to be invisible, thus Trebol never noticed, and he never suspected—

Doflamingo had been attempting to control the boy with Parasite from the moment he met him, and the boy had been quietly, wordlessly fighting back against his control.

It was a battle of a level he was not even qualified to commentate on.

And thus, because he could not see, grasp, or sense the nuance of the conflict going on between them, he had instead rushed to the wildest possible theories.

Doffy! I misjudged you… to think I misjudged you so—!

Trebol’s breath hitched in his throat. 

But… seeing the future…? The myth is… true? Those who push Observation Haki to the limit… can they truly see the future? 

Senor Pink’s discovery and death, the boy’s actions in clearing out the clouds even before they made landfall, his challenge, the reason he was waiting for them—

If they assumed the enemy could see the future…

All of it began to make sense.

“...You’re not like them,” Doflamingo said, at last. “You’re different from those bastards in Mariejois.”

“No shit,” the boy snorted. “The vast majority of our kind are trash. Fat, useless pigs that only know how to eat and fuck and shit and piss and fuck and eat some more. I’d kill them all myself, but…” He ran his hand through his hair. “Whatever. Give it another decade or two, and I’ll purge heaven of its filth.”

Trebol trembled.

W-what…?

Did— did he just say… he’d…?

“Fufufufu… hehehehe….” Doflamingo burst out laughing. “I didn’t think there was anyone who hated the rest of our kind as much as I did.”

Doflamingo’s right hand moved at his side. His fingers gently danced. 

Under the sunlight, there was a glint. Almost completely imperceptible, so thin and fine that even Trebol strained to see it. Yet, when he did, his eyes widened. The entire area, all around them, everywhere, there were strings. Strings connected to the ground, strings connected to buildings, strings connected to strings, and strings, intertwined within strings. They were in a massive, sprawling maze of endless strings in all directions,  a veritable interconnected web of endless strings.

W-when did he…? He was… preparing this… all along?

Doflamingo was taking his enemy seriously. He was taking the boy more seriously than anyone he had ever faced before. Trebol swallowed uneasily.

Doflamingo’s lips broke out into a smile. “You know who I am. You’ve gone through all this effort for me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Jaygarcia Noah.”

Doflamingo’s hand froze. His head snapped up.

“Jaygarcia?”

“What, were you expecting me to be a fucking Figarland? Or a Donquixote? Get used to the taste of disappointment, Donny Boy.”

Doflamingo went quiet. Slowly, he said, “There has been a member of the Gorosei who hailed from the Jaygarcia Family since I was a boy.”

“You wanna know if I’m related to him?” Noah grinned. “The fuck you think? Nepotism is the name of the fucking game, Donny boy. You really think you can be anyone in this world without having ties to the OGs?”

“Mmmmph! Mmmmph!”

Trebol was furiously, desperately attempting to unsew his mouth. 

Doffy no!

A relative of one of the Gorosei was above their current paygrade. 

This was different from a regular Celestial Dragon. If they had captured an ordinary one, with Doflamingo’s status as a former Celestial Dragon, Trebol was assured there was still room to maneuver, room to bargain and debate and use them as a hostage, because they were, at least, of somewhat comparable value. 

That plan was thrown out the window if the boy was directly related to a man who held the Highest Authority in the World.

“MMMPHH! MMMPH!” 

DOFFY! We need to flee, DOFFY!

Not just one, not two, but it was possible that all available Admirals would be sent collectively to kill them and retrieve the boy if they were foolish enough to abduct him. Worse, they couldn’t even claim to bluff that they would kill the hostage, because doing so would be asking to make the entire world their enemy. They would be persona non grata to every living being who lived and thrived under the World Government. Their fellow pirates and criminals would sooner turn them in than risk war just by being acquainted with them. 

Trebol was amongst those vividly aware of just what had happened following the death of the Pirate King, and how the World Government had mobilized the Marines to hunt down and kill countless pregnant women across various islands. Wives were dragged out from the arms of their pleading husbands and shot point-blank without hesitation for their lives or those of the children in their bellies.

Earning the full, unfiltered wrath of the World Government was a slow, painful, agonizing death.

“Why’d you save that bum’s life, Donny boy? It can’t be because you care about him.”

Doflamingo chuckled. His fingers danced. “Trebol has his uses.”

“So it’ll be a bitch to replace him,” Noah nodded, shaking his head. “I get it. Decent minions are hard to find.”

“Is it? Even for those who’ve enjoyed the excess of the Holy Land?”

“You tell me, Donny Boy. You’ve lived there longer than I have.”

“I left the Holy Land when I was eight.”

“Yeah, and I’m not even seven yet.”

The air was silent. Trebol’s eyes went wide. Doflamingo, too, had a momentary double-take.

He’s not even… seven? Trebol’s heart was racing. What sort of…?

“Oi, Oi… You’re serious?” Doflamingo said, bursting into laughter. “What in the world did they feed you?”

“You’re one to talk. You’re almost ten fucking feet tall. Is that natural, or is the Ito Ito no Mi responsible?”

The smile vanished from Doflamingo’s face.

Trebol froze.

“Go on, tell me, Donny boy. Did becoming a string-man make you grow taller? Shit, did it make your dick thinner? Wait, no, don’t answer that. I don’t want to fucking know.”

Doflamingo moved his hand to his face, rubbing it slowly, as he laughed. “Noah, was it? You’re an interesting one. So interesting, I almost don’t want to kill you.”

“Same, Donny Boy, same,” Noah said, nodding his head. “But, you know how it is. That bum over there can’t understand because he’s not like us.”

For the first time, there was a strange expression on Doflamingo’s face. 

A smile.

A smile Trebol had never, ever, seen.

“Hehehehe... you're correct.”

The air was so thick that trying to breathe made Trebol feel as if he were drowning in his own mucus. Only his mouth had been sealed by Doflamingo’s strings, but it felt like his nose, too, was sealed, and his lungs were being squeezed. The ground was trembling. The strings all around them were vibrating, as if they were being played upon a violin or strung on a guitar. A sharp, thick, ringing sound began to completely fill the air.

Doflamingo lifted his hand. 

“He’s not like us.”

There was a beat. 

“Bullet String.”

“Glock.”

A battle between gods had begun.