メ Alone in the snow

Introduction

The sky was heavy, covered by thick clouds that hid the sun. A cold wind blew through the wreckage left by the cage, stirring up snow and pieces of a vivre card that slowly disappeared, stained with blood. The silence was almost absolute—broken only by the distant sound of the sea and the echo of a muffled sob.

Donquixote Rosinante’s body lay motionless on the ground, the blood already darkening and contrasting with the white snow. A metallic smell permeated the air, dense and suffocating. Beside him, someone knelt, shoulders trembling, hands shaking as they clutched the fabric of the bloodied coat of the man who was no longer breathing.

Doflamingo, who had already turned his back on the scene, stopped. A faint silvery reflection—tears in the diffused light—caught his attention. He turned slowly, the sound of his boots echoing dryly against the stone floor. The wide smile he once wore began to fade, giving way to something indecipherable.

“...So you were hiding this from me too?”

Doflamingo’s voice was low, hoarse, laden with restrained contempt. He took a step forward, observing the figure kneeling before Rosinante’s body.

“My dear brother... always so foolish. A traitor and on top of that... a liar.”

The sound of laughter that escaped him was cold, joyless. The wind ruffled his blond hair as the pink cloak moved slowly behind him.

“You don’t even know what he really was, do you?”

He moved closer, the shadow of his body covering them.

“That man tried to destroy me. He tried to take away everything I built.”

His gaze lowered, fixing on the hands that still held the inert body. For a moment, the smile vanished completely. There was something there—a distant memory, a pang of something he preferred to ignore.

“You have his eyes...”

He murmured, more to himself than to them.

“Full of that damned compassion.”

Doflamingo looked away, a brief click of his tongue echoing in the silence. The tension in the air seemed almost to vibrate. He could simply end it—one less witness, one ghost to be erased. But instead, he just stood there, staring at the blood staining the ground, and the body of the one he once called brother.

“Rosinante... even dead, you still irritate me.”

The words came out low, almost like a sigh. Doflamingo then turned, the sound of his boots echoing again as he walked away. The wind blew stronger, scattering the ashes and dust—and, for a moment, he hesitated before disappearing completely on the horizon.

"Follow me if you want, but you'll have to prove you're worthy of joining the Donquixote family. Otherwise, good luck trying to survive."

He spoke as he walked away, leaving the choice hanging in the cold air—an invitation or a challenge, depending on how one chose to see it.