[Voyage Link: Here.]

"And the multiple compound fractures in your right hand are because….you say you stopped a bullet with your bare hand?" the Doctor asked in a monotone voice as he frowned suspiciously at his patient, leafing through the notes on his clipboard, a mix of annoyance and disbelief plastered on his face as if to make sure he had not misread anything.

"Yes...It was a pistol; the same size and length as a standard issue...probably same caliber and strength…I put my hand over its muzzle and-" Renero began, the end of his words laboured, yet, he was cut short once again by the doctor's court flick of the hand, a mix of disdain and disbelief painted clearly on his face. Renero let out a heavy sigh.

Clad in striped pajamas, bandages wrapped all around his body, though most notably onto his left arm with faint crimson showing through, Renero was sitting against was must have been half a dozen pillows over two beds, his white coat draped over the headboard.  

On his lap sat the book he had been reading a few moments before, a blue hardback with the title of “Classification of Beasts: The Blues, The Grand Line and Beyond.” It was a widely interesting book, vivid in its descriptions, so much so that the reader could easily imagine the beings it detailed, even if they never seen anything like it. Yet, the pain that snaked all across Renero’s body made focusing on the book near impossible, able to only read a paragraph or so, before having to stop, the pain pulling him out of his mental safari.

"I do not care what you did in your false bravado. It's simply not possible that your hand, even that of your kind, was able to take the blow of a firearm at such a range and only come out with simply fractures." The Doctor cut in as soon as silence set, tugging at his own white beard with frustration as if he had caught a little child telling a tall tale.

Having already been checked by multiple doctors, given multiple blood transfusions, his cuts cleaned and stitched and most importantly, his fractures mostly healed, a day or two more in rest and it had seemed that his recovery would to be complete, ready to walk the streets once more.

Yet now, it seemed quite the contrary. Instead of enjoying the last few days of recovery as a well-deserved break from active duty and doing some light reading, he was once more retelling the events that took place on the train. The first few times he understood since he was unable to provide a written report, so the details provided had to be just right, both for the treatment of his injuries and for the record of what occurred on that fateful day. That went without a hitch and all seemed good. The pirate scum trampled underneath the boot of justice and commendations were in order.

But this time, there seemed one particular detail that did not bode well with the old withered man that stood marching around in front of him. His survival.

The process of recovery had taken a huge toll on him and although the scars, if any would remain after fully healed, were covered in his thick fur; there was still a mental strain. The restless nights; hotspots the erupted with pain. The painkillers given did little for him, given his huge size, and asking for more was something Renero know not to do. Repeating the same story over and over was proving not only tiresome but also as draining as his recovery, especially seeing as how he was getting nowhere with this doctor.

"Had you been maybe enhanced with some kind of exoskeleton, cybernetic enhancements, anything that made you more than just flesh and bones, that would have been plausible but..." The Doctor trailed off, stomping around as he read and reread the report in his hands, as if it somehow might have changed while he was talking. “Nearly every footman has a tall tale about a scar or two, to be expected from such thugs, though at least most have the decency to only lie to the other common soldiery but this..." he muttered under his breath.

Renero couldn’t wait to get out of this bed and meet his squad mates and train himself back into fighting shape, yet this doctor seemed pretty adamant about not believing him and wasting both their time. Where his actions foolhardy and possibly stupid? Might be seen as such by some, but that's what needed to be done. Yet Impossible? Well, he was no doctor but here he was, arm still attached, albeit sore, having regained most if not all of his functionality in it.

The doctor turned sharply on his heels, facing Renero once more. "You don't actually mean to tell me that you..." he jabbed a finger in Renero's chest, his face a few centimetres from his. "An Animal...have the means to gain an ability of Haki?" he whispered with spite and anger, Renero half expecting steam to start shooting out of his nose and ears, the rage in his bloodshot eyes clear. “I have entertained your little charade long enough but…but…” The rest of his words lost as he snapped his jaw shut, a raging mumble barely reaching Renero’s ears.

Albeit Renero had no idea what this man was talking about, yet this tone was not the first time he had heard it. It seems that his hope of finally being recognized as a marine officer instead of just a minkman had come hollow; Afterall, the mix of two seemed to be worse than simply being a Mink.

This had been giving way to a feeling of apathy in Renero. He still had to see a human sprout claws and rend a pirate in twain, but that was excepted of a mink, the belittlement unimaginable to those who lacked that ability. Yet that was also the reason they were shunned for, seen more as wild animals and tools, even more so than the layman rank and file.

The doctor regained his composure, taking a step backwards to the relief of Renero. Hopefully, he had worked himself out of the rage and reach the rational conclusion that this was the reality and not what conspiracy he was cooking up in his mind.

“Irrelevant now, I have wasted enough time trying to make sense of your hogwash.” He waved off at Renero, leaving no time for any rebuttal, not that Renero wanted to challenge that point further. Any compromise of understanding, no matter how fickle, was enough. “Here in my hand I have the results from your check up in Alabasta.” He said, tapping the notepad in his hands, seemingly calming down.

“As presumed, your genes seem to have mutated abnormally resulting in your freakish size, even for your race.” disdain dripping from each word of his voice. “The main symptoms of your abnormality is pain in your joints and….brittle bones.” He stopped on the last point, looking at Renero for a full second with piercing eyes, as if to make sure that Renero was understanding him.

He finally could see where this crackpot theory had come from; This man might have been hateful, but he was not blind to the facts. After all, the Marine hospitals were not manned by wizened fools, but by the sharpest minds and most steady of hands. Yet that still did not account for the fact that he was alive, be it the merit of luck, toughness or the skill of the healers that tended to him.

“Apart from taking an extra two beds to house you in any establishment you grace your presence with and an early painful death that is.” he added. “Any questions, Mr…let’s see….Wajima?” He looked up from his notes, his lips pursed together.

“Is there a cure?” Renero husked as stoically as he could.

Silence fell upon the room for a moment, the rusting of the curtains that danced on the wind seemingly filling Renero’s head. After a long stare, the raging malice having completely faded, replaced by what seemed to be pity.

“That’s where things get complicated. There is a cure but..." He stopped, for a moment “...We can’t give it to you.”

These words Renero like a cannonball, his chest tightening at such a stunning blow. He knew things were going to be bad but this he did not see. There was no rage or malice in this man’s words. So why was he making such a claim? Was it some kind of sick joke? Rage was making way into him, his patience running out.

“We have managed to be able to negate and even reverse the effects of an aberrant gnome in trials, but that research has only been done on Human psychology and even then, it’s still unstable at best." He stopped, once more. “Trying to apply such research to your case would be the same as sentencing you to death. Your parentage is unknown, so the construction of your biology might not be the same as other Minks either, and your height suggests so. A cure would have to be tailor-made for your case... ”

He left the sentence hanging, the implication clear. He wasn’t important enough for such an endeavour. Millions of Beli for one low ranked soldier. It would be hubris to consider otherwise, Renero was sure of that.

His head was filled with a thousand questions chiefly: Will it cause him to be discharged from service? A short life went hand in hand with that of a marine, but losing all he had worked for his entire life? That would make the short life a mercy. He could not bear to ask, the silence to heavy for him to break.

“I do not know what connections you might have Mr. Wajima, but I suggest you call them now. With the rising number of non-humans being enlisted-" At these words, one could clearly see the old man held his personal feelings, his voice wavering as he did his best to remain impersonal and professional. “Research in their physiology will naturally follow, but that will take time, time which in my professional diagnosis, you do not have.

Silence followed once more.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts then, seeing as you have no questions." With that, he was alone Renero barely noticed; his eyes no longer seeing any safari nor wrathfully staring.  He had no connections, let alone ones that could muster a cure for him. His meagre savings weren't going to buy him ones that could either. Yet, if Renero knew one thing at that moment, it was that hoping for a better tomorrow, waiting for a cure to come out of the heavens; a wait that simply could lead to a slow death; was as much a choice and kneeling over into the grave.

He had to take things in his own hands.

He flexed his bandaged hand, the muscle rippling through the white fabric, a sliver of pain still being felt dully, a reflex of being lost in his own thoughts. It was a massive undertaking, yet as massive as it was, even with all the impossibilities that it contained, Renero felt some kind of confidence in his new found idea.

Maybe it was because he was in such a desperate situation, perched on a precipice with the only way being down, that growing wings seemed like a good idea; The only idea. He had to undertake the research for a cure himself. The biggest problem was that his medical knowledge was only basic, that which was thought to him when he was still in the Marine Academy, basic first aid to be used in the battlefield. So, he had to teach himself all that was required to be a doctor. It sounded simple, after all, he was an avid reader and had a sharp mind.

Yet that still did not solve the fact that it would take years of dedicated study, for one to earn the title of a doctor. Not only that, it would require hundreds of man-hours, trials and tests for a cure. But those doubts did not touch Renero's mind. Maybe it was because the situation was so dire it had stretched his nerves to their point or maybe because he was dead tired and really wanted to go to sleep, but he resolved to begin his intellectual pursuit of medicine.

After a good nap, of course.