ONE PIECE one shots,,

-THE WEIGHT OF GUILT-

Kaido sat in the dimly lit room, the soft flicker of a single lantern casting long shadows on the stone walls. His wife lay on the bed, her fragile body curled under thick blankets, barely moving. Her once-bright eyes now seemed dull, the spark that had drawn him to her during their days in the Rocks Pirates all but extinguished. His massive hand, calloused and rough from years of battle, gently rested on hers. She was cold, so much colder than he remembered.

Kaido's chest tightened with guilt. The scene before him weighed heavily on his heart, a rare vulnerability pulling at the corners of his mind. He hadn't meant for this to happen. When he had banished her to that cursed prison after their argument, it was to make her understand, to remind her not to challenge him—especially not after he had dealt with Oden. But he never expected the prison guards to be cruel, never imagined they would lay a hand on her. She wasn't supposed to be hurt. Yet here she was, broken, barely holding on.

"Stubborn woman..." His voice, low and gravelly, filled the quiet room, but there was no real anger behind it. He looked down at her pale face, brushing a lock of her hair from her forehead. "You always had something to say, didn't you?"

She shifted slightly, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The woman who had once challenged even the great Kaido, the Beast of the Rocks, now lay helpless. And it was his fault.

The argument still echoed in his mind—the fire in her eyes when she told him how wrong he was for what he did to Oden. She had stood before him, defiant, unafraid. He had admired that about her, even as her words cut deep. But his pride had gotten the better of him. He couldn't let her challenge him in front of his men, so he had sent her away. And now...

Kaido clenched his jaw, his heart ached with the weight of his mistakes. "I should've protected you."

His wife stirred again, her voice a whisper, barely audible. "Kaido..."

He leaned in closer, his massive frame towering over the bed. "I'm here," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically soft. "You're safe now."

For a moment, there was only silence. She didn't say anything else, just stared up at him with those weakened eyes, and Kaido felt the weight of her suffering press down on him even harder. How had he let this happen? He was supposed to be strong, supposed to protect her from the world—but he had failed. His anger, his pride, had blinded him.

With a shaky breath, Kaido sank into the chair beside the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. He couldn't bring himself to leave her side. Not now. Not ever again.

"I'll fix this," he muttered, though he wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. "I'll make it right."

She blinked slowly, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. Despite everything, despite the pain and the abuse she had endured, she still looked at him with that same tenderness that had always softened his hardened heart. It was maddening, how she could still care for him after all he had done.

"Rest," Kaido urged, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "I'll stay with you."

He shifted closer, bringing the heavy fur cloak draped over his shoulders up to cover her more securely. She deserved warmth—deserved everything he had to offer, and more.

For hours, Kaido remained at her side, watching her fragile form breathe in and out. He didn't move, didn't speak. His guilt weighed on him like an anchor, pulling him deeper into thoughts he had long buried. But even in the silence, there was something comforting about being there, with her.

As night turned to dawn, Kaido leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers. The warmth of her skin, though faint, reassured him. She was still here, still fighting.

"You're strong," he whispered, his deep voice filled with something unspoken—a softness that he rarely showed. "Stronger than anyone I've ever known."

A weak chuckle escaped her lips, and it was the first sound of life she'd made in days. "Coming from you... that's quite a compliment."

Kaido's lips twitched into a smile, a rare and genuine one. "Don't get used to it."

Her hand, frail and trembling, lifted to cup his cheek. He froze for a moment, feeling the warmth of her palm against his rough skin. Her touch was light, but it carried so much weight. It spoke of forgiveness, of love—things he had never thought he deserved.

"You don't have to... carry this alone," she whispered, her words a faint breath. "I'm still here."

Kaido closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears that he refused to let fall. He wasn't the crying type—not the emotional type at all. But in this moment, with her by his side, he felt more human than he had in years.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again," he vowed, his voice firm but thick with emotion. "I swear it."

She gave a small nod, her hand slowly slipping back to the bed as exhaustion overtook her. Kaido remained by her side, his large hand gently cradling hers, promising silently that he would never leave her again.

And for the first time in a long while, in the stillness of the early morning light, Kaido allowed himself to hope.