"Take the Den Den Mushi out of that cabinet," Crocodile said with difficulty. No wonder. With something like an iron brush lodged in his lung, anyone would have struggled to speak.
Werther's eyes lit up. Crocodile had finally given in.
Just in time. If he had held out much longer, he would have been close to death. Intent Blood had drained too much of his blood.
Werther took the Den Den Mushi from the cabinet and examined it closely.
So this is the Den Den Mushi reserved for the Shichibukai? Nothing special about it.
"Give me the Den Den Mushi. That isn't the one reserved for the Shichibukai. And take this damned thing out. I can barely speak. I need to call my partner and have her fetch it." Crocodile could no longer stand the strange object in his lung. He hoped the call would give Werther a reason to remove it.
"Are you sure? You might want to prepare yourself. Taking this thing out normally comes near the end of the third stage." Werther looked troubled. If he had known Crocodile still needed to make a call, he would not have put it in.
Werther took more anesthetic from the pack on his back and gave Crocodile another injection.
Then he slowly began pulling the "iron brush" from Crocodile's lung.
"Ah! Aah! Ah!" Crocodile howled, bloody bubbles forming at his lips.
By the time the "iron brush" was completely out, Crocodile had gone limp.
The "iron brush" no longer looked as it had before. Its teardrop-shaped tip had swollen into a round ball bristling with tiny spikes, like hair teased into an enormous afro.
It was one of Werther's second senior sister's creations. The brush's tip was made from a special material that slowly absorbed moisture, straightening, hardening, and