"Help! Is anyone there? I'm dying of thirst..."
Just as Amon and Lily stood taking in the sight of Rain Dinners and were about to press forward, a faint, desperate voice carried across the desert from sowhere nearby.
Amon turned toward the sound. Out across the sand, a man in a pink outfit with a swan's head draped around his neck was crawling forward on his hands and knees with painful slowness. His skin was drawn tight, his lips cracked and split. Severe dehydration, clearly. And from the wound visible on his abdon, that injury was likely what had put him on the ground in the first place. Without water and without help, he wasn't going to last much longer.
Amon changed direction and headed toward him, Lily following close behind.
When he got close enough to see the man's face properly, he stopped.
Of all the people to find half-dead in the sand. This was Mr. 2, Bon Clay, a mber of Baroque Works and the user of the Clone-Clone Fruit.
Amon had always had a soft spot for Bon Clay. The man followed the Okama Way, which raised plenty of eyebrows, but everything he actually did spoke of a loyalty and courage that most people would never co close to. Deliberately letting himself get captured by the Navy to buy Luffy and the others ti to escape. Transforming into Magellan inside Impel Down at the cost of his own freedom. Whatever his appearance or his beliefs, Bon Clay was the definition of a man who put others before himself. The Okama Way was his religion, but his actions were those of soone genuinely worth respecting.
Finding him here made sense in hindsight. He was Baroque Works. Of course he would have business on this island. What didn't quite fit was the state he was in. Crocodile had done a thorough job clearing pirates out of the waters around Alabasta. There shouldn't have been anyone in this area capable of doing this kind of damage.
By the ti Amon reached him, Bon Clay had already passed out.
"Lucky you."
Amon crouched down and got to work. He had a decent impression of the man, and that was reason enough. The wounds were serious. Deep, and carrying traces of so kind of energy that was still actively disrupting the tissue, an energy Amon found oddly familiar though he couldn't imdiately place whose it was. Fortunately, sword energy could burn it out. He worked thodically, clearing the interference, binding the wound, and then called to Lily for water.
The dehydration had been as much a factor in Bon Clay losing consciousness as the injury itself. The mont the water touched his lips, he began to cough his way back to awareness.
"I... I'm still alive!"
He blinked up at Amon and Lily with wide, uncomprehending eyes, then broke into a grin of pure relief. "You saved ! Thank you, truly, thank you!"
Lily stared. Amon's dical ability was sothing she was still getting used to. The man had been barely breathing minutes ago and now he was already sitting up, looking like he might try to stand.
"Right, where are my manners. My na is Bon Clay. What are your nas?"
Even in the imdiate aftermath of nearly dying, Bon Clay's instinct was to learn the nas of the people who had helped him. He was a person who could not let a debt go unacknowledged.
"I'm Amon. A Jar rchant." He glanced at Lily. "And this is Lily. My partner."
"Amon. Lily." Bon Clay repeated both nas carefully, then dropped the easy grin and spoke with sincerity. "I won't embarrass you with excessive thanks. But if you ever need anything from Bon Clay, you ask without hesitation. That's a promise."
"Ha, there's no need for that."
"Still. How did you end up out here in this condition?" Amon asked. It was a fair question. The area around Alabasta's waters had been kept clear. There shouldn't have been anyone capable of this anywhere nearby.
"A Navy Admiral. Kizaru."
Amon paused. "Kizaru? What's he doing out here?"
His first thought was Pluton. If the ancient weapon's existence had sohow leaked, the Navy sending an Admiral would make sense. But that didn't line up with what he knew of the story. If the Navy had gotten involved at that level, Crocodile's entire sche would have unravelled before it even reached its endga. He wouldn't have needed years of careful preparation.
"I don't know what he was here for," Bon Clay said, his expression sobering at the mory. "Our ship had just made port. We were still coming ashore when soone spotted a Navy flag. We tried to pull back, and then a man in a yellow pinstripe suit just appeared and pointed at our ship without even looking at it. The whole thing exploded."
He shook his head slowly. "He didn't co after us. Just that one gesture and he walked away. If he had actually been there for us, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I only found out it was Admiral Kizaru from what the sailors were shouting."
"That tracks," Amon said with a small nod.
It sounded exactly like Kizaru. Bored, passing through, casually destroying sothing on a whim and then moving on. The other Admirals would have finished the job. Kizaru's particular brand of dangerous laziness was the only reason Bon Clay had managed to crawl away at all.
"I really do owe you my life, Mr. Amon." Bon Clay let out a slow breath, the lingering fear still visible behind his eyes. The explosion itself hadn't even been aid at him, and it had still done that much damage. The thought of what a direct hit would have ant was not sothing he wanted to dwell on.
"Don't ntion it. We t out here, and that's reason enough." Amon clapped him on the shoulder.
Bon Clay's eyes welled up imdiately.
"Could I possibly... have a little more water?"
He looked mildly embarrassed asking, but the thirst had been relentless. Running on sheer willpower through desert sand for however long he had been crawling had left him completely hollowed out.
He drank a full bowl and finally felt like himself again. So colour returned to his face, and he began to talk more freely.
"So, Mr. Amon, what brings you to Rain Dinners? If you don't mind the company, I know this area well. Once we get there, let treat you to a proper al."
"?" Amon smiled. "Selling Jars, mostly. And catching up with a few old friends."
"Selling Jars?"
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