Chapter 26: Dual Fruits, Wings for the Tiger (Please support with recommendations and monthly votes)

As soon as Buffon finished speaking, his hands moved with dazzling speed, threads danced through the air, and in the blink of an eye, a white cloak appeared in his grasp—identical to the one he had previously given to the Tyrant Bear.

Ivankov took the cloak, examined it, and considered Buffon's words. It was true; the Revolutionaries never left home without their cloaks. But this craftsmanship was truly astounding. Compared to the drab, mud-yellow burlap cloaks Dragon had once provided—this was the difference between a work of art and a piece of protective gear.

“Indeed, it’s excellent. If Bear appreciates your skill, it must be extraordinary, and it's perfectly fitting for a queen like me! So tell me, boy, what’s your name? Are you one of our Revolutionaries? And how did you get here?”

Buffon shook his head and replied coldly, “Castie Buffon. I’m not a Revolutionary.” As for how he came to be here, he offered not a word of explanation.

Ivankov didn’t press further, simply continued, “Well then, Buffon boy, welcome to Newkama Land. We have plenty of people here, so we’ll need you to keep busy for a while.”

Buffon nodded silently and immediately resumed weaving cloaks.

…

Meanwhile, in the Chief Warden’s office on the fourth level of Impel Down, a heated argument had erupted. Tension thickened, and it seemed as if the group might come to blows at any moment.

Hannibal, his head covered in lumps from Magellan’s fists, whimpered pitifully, “It has to be a Ghost Sleeve Incident! There’s no other explanation. How else could Buffon, a living, breathing man, vanish under my nose?”

“You useless fool!” Magellan, already furious these past days, unleashed his pent-up rage once again on Hannibal.

Immediately, the lumps on Hannibal's head grew to a third layer.

Moriah, coldly glaring at Magellan, said, “Magellan, if you don’t find Buffon for me, I swear on my life I’ll go to war with the Navy and turn this entire Impel Down upside down!”

His words were no idle threat; it was precisely what he intended. Buffon’s craftsmanship was tailor-made for his zombie army; in Moriah’s eyes, Buffon was no longer just a talented subordinate with an uncanny skill for stitching corpses—he had come to regard Buffon as a trusted companion. If Buffon were to perish here without cause, Moriah would absolutely make good on his threat.

Garp, ever the blunt instrument, was terrible at defusing such situations. The responsibility fell to Strategist Tsuru to intervene.

“Moriah, don’t be hasty. Buffon is valuable to us as well. Let’s search together on the fifth level.”

Moriah shot Magellan a venomous glare, then joined Tsuru on the way to the Freezing Hell.

Upon reaching the fifth level, Moriah disregarded any concerns about violating Navy protocol. He immediately summoned hundreds of shadow bats, sending them in all directions to scour every corner of the frigid hellscape.

Hannibal, shivering as he addressed Tsuru, said, “Chief Tsuru, do you think Buffon might have collapsed from the cold and gotten buried in the snow? If you use your Wash-Wash Fruit to clear the snow from the ground, we might just find him!”

Before he could finish, Magellan knocked him on the head again. “Can’t you tell the difference between fainting and disappearing, Hannibal, you idiot!”

Tsuru waved her hand. “We can’t do that. There might be clues left in the snow!”

Just as she finished, one of Moriah’s shadow bats returned. After receiving its report, Moriah announced, “There are Buffon’s footprints over there!”

Without another word, he unfurled his massive frame and, with a speed unseen in nearly a decade, dashed in that direction.

Arriving at the spot, the group stared at the abruptly ending footprints, confusion written on each of their faces.

It seemed the Ghost Sleeve Incident was not mere rumor after all.

…

In just half an hour, Buffon had managed to outfit every Revolutionary in Newkama Land with a cloak.

Ivankov, gazing at the pristine cloaks, exclaimed with excitement, “Thank you, Buffon boy! Now let me give you a shot of hormones—let me—”

Before he could finish, Buffon flatly refused, “No need. Also, your gloves are torn.”

“Oh dear! How embarrassing!” Ivankov said sheepishly, noticing the gloves split by his own long nails.

Once again, Buffon’s fingers flew, and a brand-new pair of gloves appeared in Ivankov’s hands.

“Here you are. These should last you a long while. I’m leaving,” Buffon said in his usual icy tone.

Ivankov smiled. “Very well, Buffon boy. I hope we meet again on the great seas.”

Ivankov understood Bear. Anyone Bear trusted, even if not an ally, was certainly not an enemy. He had no intention of forcing Buffon to stay. Besides, Buffon’s presence in Impel Down was proof enough that this man’s identity was anything but ordinary.

Just as Inazuma was about to cut open the wall again for Buffon’s exit, Buffon’s eyes flickered toward the lightning-shaped scar on Inazuma’s face.

A strange discomfort welled up inside him. But how could he bring it up? This wasn’t a situation where he could, as with Sentomaru, simply knock someone out with a chopping hand.

At that moment, a Newkama entered with news. “Lord Ivankov, we just rescued one of our comrades from the outer ring. He was covered in wounds, but now…”

The rescued soul, upon spotting Buffon, instantly clasped his hands to his heart and squealed in a high-pitched voice, “Darling, thank you so much!” He even threw Buffon a flirtatious wink.

Hearing this, Ivankov glanced at the man’s perfectly stitched wounds, then stared at Buffon in astonishment. “Buffon boy, you’re a doctor too? You sewed these up?”

As one blessed with the miraculous Horm-Horm Fruit, Ivankov could heal such injuries, but only with his fruit’s power. He knew full well the difficulty. For Buffon to stanch the bleeding with nothing but suture work—his technique was on an entirely different level.

Buffon nodded in silent confirmation.

Ivankov was overjoyed. He promptly peeled off his fishnet stockings and said with great seriousness, “These scars were left by that damn Navy officer when I was arrested. If you could…”

Buffon didn’t let him finish. He got right to work, and in less than fifteen minutes, all seventeen scars crisscrossing Ivankov’s legs like fishnet patterns were restored to flawless skin.

At the same time, Buffon obtained the Horm-Horm Fruit.

Ivankov gazed at his now smooth and beautiful legs, unable to restrain his admiration. “Buffon boy, why not consider staying? We have plenty of boys here who are both handsome and charming, you know…”

Buffon shook his head, turning his gaze to Inazuma’s face.

Inazuma, catching that look, grew a little uneasy. “This scar has been here since my childhood. Can you fix it too?”

Buffon nodded and, without further ado, stepped forward and began his work.

Five minutes later, the lightning-shaped scar vanished from Inazuma’s face, and Buffon obtained the Snip-Snip Fruit.

“With this, I’ll never need a scalpel again!” Buffon mused silently, then said aloud, “All done. I’m leaving now.”

Inazuma nodded, transformed his hands into scissors, and cut a slit in the wall. After checking outside, he said, “Buffon, there are a lot of Navy personnel on this level right now, probably looking for you. Even Moriah’s here—are you two together?”

Buffon nodded without explanation.

Seeing Buffon’s reluctance to speak, Inazuma didn’t press. He found a secluded spot, snipped open another wall, and sent Buffon on his way.

After Buffon left, Inazuma turned to Ivankov. “What do you make of this kid?”

“He must be a Devil Fruit user, but what on earth is his power?” Ivankov replied as he put on the gloves Buffon had given him, curious to test their durability.

Activating his fruit’s power, Ivankov elongated and sharpened his nails, but the gloves showed not the slightest sign of wear.

Amazed, Ivankov signaled Inazuma with his eyes. Inazuma set aside his wine glass, transformed one hand into a giant pair of scissors, and snipped at the cloak.

Yet, no matter how much force Inazuma applied, the blade could not cut through. The two of them were left in utter disbelief.

Were these truly just cloaks? No—these were defensive armors that would make the Revolutionaries even more formidable.

“Buffon boy, the Revolutionary Army will never forget this debt,” Ivankov murmured.