Training resumed far too soon for anyone's comfort.
Not that Buggy had ever truly known comfort in this world, but he could confidently say that resuming a training regimen less than a day after nearly dying was a new personal record, even for a pirate with detachable limbs.
The Big Top drifted steadily toward Sabaody, the air thick with humidity and the heavy scent of damp wood. The ship creaked with every wave, as if groaning in sympathy with its battered crew.
Buggy stood on the deck, sweating under the afternoon heat, his shirt tossed aside and his torso wrapped with fresh bandages. The stump where his arm once hung ached dully.
Phantom sensations flickered now and then, his missing arm drifting somewhere far away, useless, out of reach.
He flexed his remaining fingers, letting a trail of faint purple sheen dance across his knuckles.
Armament Haki.
Still shaky. Still inconsistent. But getting better.
Across from him, Urouge was going through his own regimen. The monk had torn most of his shirt off, leaving only a half-robe draped across his massive shoulders.
His missing arm was wrapped tight, clean, and properly treated, though the wound, if stirred, would still draw blood. The scar at the end would surely turn out looking vicious.
Even with one arm, the man progressed like a boulder rolling downhill, unstoppable, relentless, and far too dangerous to ignore.
"Again!" Urouge barked, lowering into a stance that was slightly awkward, slightly off-balance, but unmistakably improving.
Buggy nodded, exhaling sharply as he raised his right hand. "Alright, monk. Try not to collapse after one punch this time. I don't feel like dragging your oversized ass to the infirmary again."
Urouge laughed, loud, booming, and completely unbothered. "Heh! Worry more about yourself, Captain. I can at least throw a punch with one arm. You only have one to block it with."
They met in the middle of the deck with the impact of two cannonballs colliding. Buggy's Haki flared, coating his forearm dark as night. Urouge's single fist gleamed like polished iron as it slammed into him.
The shockwave rattled the ship.
Buggy skidded back, boots scraping harshly across the planks.
Urouge's massive frame staggered, planting his feet hard enough to crack the wood beneath him.
They took a breath. And then another.
Then charged again.
Below deck, Mohji and Cabaji watched from a distance, both wrapped like mummies in bandages and trying desperately to keep their pride together.
Mohji adjusted the blindfold wrapped over his eyes. "You're sure this is safe?"
Cabaji scoffed, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "Of course it's safe, saw captain doing it as well. It's just a rock. A very small rock. Probably."
"On your left!" Another crewman shouted.
Mohji barely managed to dodge, a pebble whizzing past his cheek. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he flinched. The next three stones struck him in the shoulder, the knee, and squarely on the forehead.
"OW! HEY! No aiming for the head! That had to be deliberate!"
The crewman shrugged. "Sorry! Captain Buggy said to specifically aim for the head... Observation Haki training, man. You're supposed to feel the intent behind the throw."
"I FELT SOMETHING, ALRIGHT!"
Cabaji sat cross-legged with his own blindfold on, trying to maintain stoic dignity. Then a rock pinged off his skull.
He didn't even flinch.
He just sighed. "You threw that one without a shred of killing intent, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"…I hate this training."
They both did.
But after seeing their captain have one arm taken away, and Urouge's lose one entirely… the fear of staying weak outweighed the fear of pain.
Every man on the ship was beginning to understand something crucial: Strength wasn't optional anymore.
Back on deck, Buggy wiped blood from his lip as Urouge steadied himself, panting.
"You're pushing too hard," Buggy muttered. "Your body's still recovering."
"And you've only got one arm too," Urouge countered.
"Yes, but mine is a temporary problem," Buggy smirked. "Yours is a lifestyle."
The monk clicked his tongue but cracked a grin regardless. "Then I must become twice as strong as I was."
"Stronger," Buggy corrected, flexing his Haki-shrouded fist. "We both do. That damn flamingo bastard-"
"-was impressed," Urouge finished.
Buggy's expression darkened. He looked out over the sea, eyes narrowing.
"That's the part that pisses me off the most. We grazed him, you bruised him slightly, barely made him bleed. That was enough to get his attention."
"And enough to make him feel we'd be useful," Urouge muttered. "A man like him doesn't recruit weaklings. He collects tools."
Buggy clenched his teeth, memories of those strings slicing through the air, slicing through flesh, resurfacing. He could still feel the way they cut through his body. Even if they didn't actually hurt him, he hadn't ever been so out of control in a situation.
He'd normally be the one to separate his body to dodge attacks. Doflamingo moved too fast for him to even have time to consider that at times.
The man had taken his arm the way someone plucks a feather from a chicken.
Yet…
He wasn't afraid. Not even a shred of fear could be found in the clowns mind.
He had seen scarier men, been in worse positions with no way out.
Now? He had a whole sea in front of him. And a plan in his mind that would make most call him a madman.
But that was exactly what he was.
Buggy had seen something… interesting. Something that made the humiliation worth storing away for later use.
He'd seen Doflamingo frown.
A crack in the bastard's permanent mask frown, when Buggy's Haki enhanced 'Act Cutter' left a cut on him.
Buggy held onto that image like a prized treasure.
He exhaled, letting frustration melt into cold focus. "Too bad I can only imagine what his face will be when he realizes his mistakes..."
Urouge gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Revenge is best served cold, Captain... I am still not so sure about your plan. A few more months of this training, and we'll be tearing through mountains."
"Damn right we will. But we barely saw a fraction of that feathered bastard's strength. You're really overestimating our growth. We'll plateau eventually~"
The training continued for weeks.
Buggy learned to fight with only one arm, using his legs more, using momentum differently, relying on speed rather than overwhelming power.
He discovered how to channel Haki into palm strikes, knifehand chops, elbow jabs, even headbutts.
He looked less like a clown and more like an acrobat-turned-assassin. But the grin stayed.
Urouge, despite his injury, adapted faster than expected. Without a second arm to rely on for balance, he was forced to refine every motion, every stance, every shift in weight.
His punches became sharper. His steps became lighter. His Haki flared more violently every day.
If anything, it felt as if losing an arm made him more dangerous.
Below deck, Mohji and Cabaji finally learned how to dodge stones without hearing them first.
Only sometimes.
But progress was progress.
And slowly, very slowly, the Big Top became a floating training ground. The crew hardened, their morale sharpened rather than broken. For every bruise and bloodied nose, their conviction deepened.
Because they weren't just training for survival. They were training for revenge.
-
-
-
One humid morning, after weeks of relentless grind, Buggy leaned against the railing, breathing in the salty air. The sea stretched endlessly ahead.
And then, faintly, he saw it.
Mangrove roots towering like colossal trees. Ships clustered around bubble-coated docks. Stray bubbles floating through the air like drifting ghosts.
Sabaody Archipelago.
Buggy's grin widened.
"Finally. A clown has only so much patience~"
Urouge joined him, folding his single arm behind his back. "Back to civilization. Of sorts."
"Depends on your definition of civilized."
Their ship creaked, slowing as the current shifted. Crew members gathered on deck, bandages mostly gone, bruises faded, eyes sharp with newfound strength.
Buggy felt a pulse of something faint in the back of his skull, a familiar presence, like a spider tugging on a web.
A Den Den Mushi. One with a very particular appearance. A feathered coat, annoying shades, and shit-eating grin seemingly permanently etched on.
The snail's eyelids snapped open, its expression shifting into a mocking grin as the voice crackled through.
"Fuffuffuffuffu~… Captain Buggy."
Buggy answered smoothly, voice dripping with false obedience. "Captn' Doflamingo. What can your humble clown do for you today?"
There was a pause. A distinctly confused pause.
"…You adjusted quickly."
Buggy laughed lightly. "Man's gotta learn to adapt, right? No point making things harder for myself. Besides, you've given us an opportunity."
"A wise mindset," Doflamingo mused, though Buggy could hear the faint suspicion. "Very well. Since you're reaching Sabaody, I have your next assignment."
Buggy leaned casually against the railing. "I'm listening, the signal's shitty though."
Doflamingo completely disregarded his answer, as one would expect. "A certain rookie is on the rise, one of these supernovas marines keep crying about." The snail's glasses glinted ominously. "Eustass. Kidd."
Buggy whistled. "That, huh? Yea I've heard of em. Pretty big deal, aren't they? Heard they got devil fruits... Think any one of em can turn into dragons?"
"Hmph, Dragons... as if." Buggy smiled as he heard the clown mutter some unintellgible stuff, calling him an ignorant hick.
The warlord then continued. "He and his folk are just trash. I want him eliminated, make yourself useful. Consider it a test of loyalty. Do this… and I may even return your arm."
Buggy just smiled. "Pretty dangerous task, but how can I refuse?~" His tone was joyful almost.
Another pause, shorter now. More suspicious.
"…You seem awfully eager, Clown." Buggy smile turned a tint more deranged when hearing the Warlord's slightly confused voice.
A wide, sharp, unsettling smile.
"Orders are orders, right? I'm just motivated. After all… who wouldn't want to please someone as benevolent as you?"
Doflamingo hummed, faking some pleasentries, but still not at all convinced. "Good. Keep this attitude, clown. Keep it… and you might just survive a bit longer."
The snail hung up.
Buggy's grin lingered long after the call ended.
Urouge stepped closer, raising an eyebrow. "That went better than expected..."
"No," Buggy corrected, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "It went perfectly. You there, recorded all that?"
One of his crewmates on the side nodded, the dial in his hand humming.
"We only need to alter it somehow... It may be a bit difficult." The random crewmember scratched his head, none of Buggy's men were thinkers at the end of the day.
He looked toward the glowing lights of Sabaody.
"Bah. Use as many of those recording dials as needed, take his words separately, add in some static, mash them up. Then record everything in one final cut. You have my instructions, even a monkey could do it with enough time..."
Urouge cracked his knuckles by clenching his fist, his willpower humming faintly. "Well, I guess we're doing this... Ready when you are."
Buggy placed his hand on the mast, staring up at the two Jolly Rogers, his own and Doflamingo's, fluttering together above the deck.
And he smiled. A deep, wicked smile.
"Let the next act begin."