Chapter Six: The Gloves and the Treasure Ship

Just then, Perona hopped lightly into the laboratory, with the Squirrel Brothers following behind, carrying a nearly three-meter-long coffin.

“Hey there, hey there, hey there! Bufon, I’ve taken apart all those toys Dr. Hogback stitched for me before. Could you sew them together for me again?”

Perona, only thirteen at the time and yet to eat the Soul Fruit, already radiated an unmistakable girlish charm. She wore a red lace dress with matching round-toed shoes—everything a vibrant scarlet.

“I really can’t imagine what she was thinking later, switching to that Baroque black. Isn’t a sweet, soft girl adorable enough? Why insist on the aloof queen persona?” Bufon mused to himself, though his words were simple: “Alright, just leave them here.”

“Bufon, can I watch you work?” Perona asked, rising onto her toes.

“Suit yourself,” Bufon replied, though inwardly he thought, “This orphan whom Moria picked up years ago probably isn’t just here to watch. There’s likely a hint of testing in her curiosity.”

Bufon had the Squirrel Brothers open the coffin and began sifting through the toy parts—essentially, just piles of tattered fabric.

Though the brightly colored scraps were mixed together and nearly impossible for most to distinguish, for Bufon, the master of his craft, it was no challenge.

Kumashi, Azka, King Kong...

In no time, he’d sorted the scraps into six neat piles.

“Do you want them reinforced?” Bufon’s tone remained cold.

“No need. Just remember to sew all their mouths shut. If they make any noise, they’re not cute anymore!” Perona insisted.

Bufon shook his head. He truly couldn’t understand this girl’s sharply divided nature—perhaps it had something to do with her abandonment as a child.

Starting with Kumashi, Bufon’s curiosity about its inner workings was piqued. In the original story, Perona once mentioned that Kumashi possessed ten times the strength of a bear.

Bufon’s needlework was nothing short of miraculous—his hands seemed to weave as if by magic, leaving Perona watching in awe.

“Hey there, hey there! Bufon, are you knitting a sweater?” she exclaimed.

“Mm,” Bufon grunted, as terse as ever.

Moments later, the scattered scraps were stitched into the form of a giant teddy bear.

Where original parts were missing, if it had been a real corpse, Bufon would have used matching body parts from other cadavers. But Kumashi was a genuine doll; Hogback had used bandages to cover up the gaps. Bufon, now wielding the power of the Sew-Sew Fruit, would never tolerate such shoddy work.

He did as Perona had said—using his fingers as needles, he wove fabric. Yet the thread wasn’t the “spider silk” Perona saw, but rather strands conjured by his fruit’s ability.

Thus, the saying proved true: A corpse-stitcher who doesn’t aspire to be a tailor is no true craftsman!

In an instant, a new and improved Kumashi stood before them.

Perona’s already pupil-less eyes grew impossibly wide.

“Bufon, were you a weaver before you joined the crew?”

Bufon was left speechless.

Perona, clearly used to his coldness, went on: “Bufon, could you knit me a pair of socks?”

Hearing this, Bufon recalled Perona’s iconic black-and-white striped stockings from the original story—suddenly, he understood.

“She wants me to cultivate her style!”

With this realization, Bufon nodded his assent.

After mending all Perona’s toys, he said, “Done. I’ll bring you the socks shortly.” Perona didn’t question further, thanked him, and left with her army of dolls.

Once she was gone, Bufon set about knitting a pair of pantyhose from memory. The thread was white, but what about the black stripes?

He thought of the Black Blade, of Armament Haki’s enveloping power.

Again, inspiration struck.

“So that’s why you gave me this fruit and Haki—to do things like this!”

Channeling Armament Haki, a pair of black-and-white striped pantyhose appeared in his hands.

He took up Autumn Water, tossed the stockings into the air, and sliced at them—yet they remained unmarked.

Thus, the world’s first knife-proof stockings in Pirate King history were born.

Bufon pulled off his white gloves. With a “rip,” one tore in his hands. Over the past year, he’d gone through countless pairs—such was the poor quality.

Suddenly, recalling the stockings, a sly smile curled Bufon’s lips.

His fingers danced, conjuring thread from the Sew-Sew Fruit, and in moments, a new pair of white gloves appeared. He put them on, tugged hard—they were sturdy beyond compare.

Then, the word “white gloves” brought to mind certain connotations he disliked, so he coated them with Armament Haki.

But the term “black hand” also irked him; he didn’t wish to evoke Capone Bege’s image. So, he withdrew most of the Haki, leaving just a black cross on each palm and back.

...

A month later, as Bufon trained atop the lookout tower, the News Coo arrived again.

He paid a few Berries for a newspaper and began to read.

Front-page headline: “World Government Officially Announces the Seven Warlords of the Sea.”

Bufon didn’t need to read further to know who the seven were.

The Warlords, together with the Four Emperors and the Marine Headquarters, were known as the three great powers of the Grand Line, though the system had only existed for about a decade.

In Bufon’s eyes, the Warlord system was meant to intimidate pirates, but it had done little more than serve as a shield behind which the seven quietly built their own power.

Still, this suited him—so long as Moria’s fame and strength grew, Bufon’s own safety was assured.

At that moment, the Den Den Mushi on the lookout began to ring.

Bufon answered, and Perona’s voice came through: “Hello, Bufon! The treasure ship is back. Come down, let’s greet the haul together!”

“Alright,” Bufon replied, as sparing with words as ever.

He hung up and leapt down from the lookout.

Perona was already by his side. Over the past month, as they’d spent more time alone, Perona often sought him out and had long since learned his routines. But his little secrets remained completely hidden from her.

Together, with a troop of zombie puppets, they arrived at the port. A medium-sized sailboat was already docked, its pirate flag emblazoned with Moria’s flaming skull insignia.

This was the treasure ship Perona had mentioned, crewed by a zombie army under Absalom’s command. Besides stealing corpses, they also captured civilians and weaker pirates to supplement Moria’s collection of shadows.

The zombie puppets on board had begun unloading coffins onto the shore when a massive giant clam suddenly floated toward them.

No doubt, it was Absalom showing off.

Once in front of them, Absalom deactivated his Clear-Clear Fruit’s power, set the clam beside Bufon, and said, “There’s something special about the corpse inside. Bufon, please show us your extraordinary skills!”

Bufon nodded silently.

Absalom then turned to Perona, grinning obsequiously. “Perona, your new stockings look amazing!” As he spoke, his hands reached out.

Perona responded with a sharp kick to his face, and Absalom, with his lion’s mouth grafted onto his head, opened wide and bit down.

Crack! The sound of teeth shattering rang out.

“Hey there, Absalom, these were woven by Bufon with Tarara’s spider silk. Your teeth are no match...”

Clutching the broken pieces of his fangs, Absalom looked hopefully at Bufon.

“The Clear-Clear Fruit, huh? Not bad at all.”

Bufon stepped forward, took the severed teeth, and, with needles flying, restored them to perfection.