Chapter Thirty: The Grim Reaper’s Nemesis and Sauro

After giving orders to his subordinates to begin their inspection, Jonathan finally found a moment to thank Buffon. “Mr. Buffon, if not for your keen observation and almost miraculous skill in medicine, we might have lost a navy soldier in vain. Thank you!”

From this shift in address, it was clear that Jonathan was now truly respecting Buffon from the bottom of his heart.

Jonathan then removed his hat and gave Buffon a formal military salute, his expression solemn and entirely sincere.

Buffon, however, waved a hand dismissively. “If the inspection turns up nothing else, go ahead and load everything onto the ship.”

“That will trouble you, Mr. Buffon! On behalf of the families of these fallen navy men, I thank you once more!” Jonathan added.

Buffon still showed no particular reaction. When the navy finished their inspection and found no more survivors, Buffon left the icehouse.

It was now low tide, and Buffon couldn’t depart for another three hours until the tide rose again. He returned to his ship for a brief nap.

By the time he awoke, the tide was nearly high, and all the coffins had been loaded into the ship’s icehouse. Jonathan had specially asked his wife to prepare plenty of food for Buffon to take on the journey, and now he led all the marines of G8 Fortress to the pier to see Buffon off.

As for the matters Crane had instructed him about, Jonathan had long since cast them aside. Recruitment or not, he believed that only in this neutral state could Buffon’s extraordinary medical skills truly be honored.

“Mr. Buffon does not belong to any one camp. A man like him should belong to the whole world!” Jonathan thought to himself as he waved goodbye.

After seeing Buffon off, Jonathan finally went to the infirmary to check on the navy soldier whom Buffon had snatched back from the hands of death.

Upon arrival, Ship’s Doctor Corbatto nodded to him and pulled him outside the infirmary.

“Vice Admiral Jonathan, just who is this Dr. Buffon? His mastery of medicine is truly breathtaking! I’ve served as a ship’s doctor in the navy for over ten years, and even our current Chief Medical Officer—if faced with a case like this—would likely only do what he could and then leave it to fate!”

Such praise was indeed high. As head of the G8 medical ward, Corbatto, though she appeared young, was nearly flawless in the practice of medicine—her only weakness being a tendency to faint at the sight of blood.

For her to give such an assessment meant Buffon’s skills were utterly beyond her reach.

“Corbatto, can you tell me exactly what sets him apart?” Jonathan asked with great interest.

Corbatto considered for a moment before replying solemnly, “I can’t comment on the internal injuries without seeing them, but they’ve been treated to perfection, of that I’m sure. As for the suturing of the wound, in all my medical career, I have never seen such flawless work. It was as though he was creating a great work of art, not just closing a wound. There’s not a single gap or unevenness, not even the slightest sign of bleeding. I suspect he didn’t miss a single blood vessel during the suturing. And considering how quickly he discovered and completed the treatment, he truly is death’s nemesis! If it were me, even after hours I could only say I performed the operation, but I’d have no confidence in saving the patient’s life, let alone suture a wound to such perfection!”

“To snatch a life from death’s grasp—‘Death’s Nemesis’ truly is a fitting title for Mr. Buffon!”

Though Jonathan spoke calmly, inwardly he was in turmoil. Even without medical knowledge, the idea of suturing blood vessels was clearly beyond ordinary capability. And Corbatto’s point about the time taken—this was what struck him most. From the moment he had left to when he returned with reinforcements, barely ten minutes had passed. In that brief span, Buffon had performed an operation that would have taken Corbatto hours, if she could even have done it at all. Jonathan found himself at a loss for words to describe Buffon.

“This great doctor’s name is Buffon, isn’t it? Could I meet him? I want to…” Corbatto began, but Jonathan interrupted, “Mr. Buffon has already left. Perhaps if you ever get to sail with the fleet, you might meet him again!”

Hearing this, Corbatto couldn’t help but feel regret. How could she miss meeting a doctor capable of snatching lives from death? Even a single meeting, even if she received no guidance, would have been enough.

“Vice Admiral Jonathan, can you tell me his background? Where is he headed?” she asked, unable to contain herself.

“He’s off to fight death elsewhere,” Jonathan replied, then turned and left, leaving Corbatto outside the infirmary, staring blankly out to sea.

“Mr. Buffon… I hope that, in my lifetime, I may be fortunate enough to meet you,” she murmured.

…

At this moment, Buffon, after boarding the ship, immediately moved Sauro’s corpse into the laboratory.

Out of curiosity, he had just used his Observation Haki to thoroughly examine the body and discovered something unusual.

To put it simply, Buffon judged that Sauro wasn’t truly dead; he had merely been placed into suspended animation by Aokiji’s signature technique, Ice Age.

With the powerful physique of a giant, Sauro, though frozen for nearly twenty years, had not perished—only remained in a state of apparent death.

Whether Aokiji had done this intentionally or not, Buffon was determined to try reviving this former Vice Admiral of the Giant tribe.

First, Buffon needed to remove the ice encasing him. Lacking proper tools, he had to use his fists. But the ice created by Aokiji was far harder than ordinary ice. After pounding it for a while with little result, Buffon grew somewhat irritable.

On impulse, he slammed his head into the ice. At that moment, a voice echoed in his mind: “Goalkeeper’s Secret Art: Header Clearance—Special Move!”

“Well done!” Buffon praised inwardly. Looking down, he saw cracks spreading from the spot where he’d headbutted the ice.

In moments, the ice shattered to the floor, and Sauro’s body was fully exposed to the air.

Buffon smiled slightly, switched to the Horm-Horm Fruit’s power, and administered a shot of Excitement Hormone.

Instantly, where there had been silence, heavy breathing began to rumble from Sauro’s massive frame.

“It worked!”

Whatever Aokiji’s intent, this result was surely one he would be glad to see. After all, having to kill a friend would leave anyone with a heavy heart—except, perhaps, for Akainu, but then, he never really had any friends.

Next, Buffon turned to the wounds covering Sauro’s body, the scars left by cannon fire. Gazing at these marks, Buffon felt a surge of respect for this marine who had clung to his own sense of justice.

When Sauro had served as a Vice Admiral, he had participated in many missions to capture and investigate ships of historical interest. Witnessing the navy’s merciless slaughter of unarmed scholars, he began to question the motives behind their actions.

Later, acting on secret orders from Sengoku, Sauro was to join the Buster Call on Ohara. He demanded that Sengoku provide evidence of the scholars’ crimes, but was flatly refused. So, Sauro sought out Nico Olvia, then imprisoned, to learn the truth.

Believing he could no longer serve the navy with a troubled conscience, Sauro chose to act according to his own sense of justice. He helped Olvia escape and accompanied her home, which led to the navy pursuing him as a traitor.

Eventually, Sauro drifted to Ohara, where he formed a deep friendship with Olvia’s daughter, Nico Robin.

When the Buster Call struck Ohara, he fought against the navy to protect Robin, using his immense strength to destroy several warships, but was ultimately frozen by Aokiji’s Ice Time Capsule, immobilizing him.

Before parting, Sauro told Robin that no one in this world is ever truly alone, and that she would find companions willing to protect her. He urged her to face life with optimism, to keep smiling even in pain.

In the end, Sauro was completely frozen by Aokiji’s Ice Age.

Standing over fifteen meters tall, Sauro presented Buffon with no small challenge. It took him nearly four hours to address all the chronic injuries left by years of freezing, and more than two hours to tend to the wounds visible on the surface.

With the final stitch completed, the Character Compendium appeared, recording Sauro’s information within.

Two more hours passed. Suddenly, a thunderous shout startled Buffon as he was sunbathing on the deck.

“Where am I?”