POWAAAA... DEAR READERS.
I'M BACKKKK.....
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Show me your motivation.
HERE<--------
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Attendance Please:
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After Mihawk left, Yuji lifted Zoro in one smooth motion, careful not to disturb the blood-soaked cloth pressed against his chest. Zoro's head lolled slightly, a low groan escaping through clenched teeth, but his eyes remained half-open, stubborn as ever.
He and the others boarded the ship. The gangplank creaked beneath their hurried footsteps. Inside the living quarters, Yuji laid Zoro down on the bed as gently as he could.
Nami was panicking. Her eyes remained fixed on the t-shirt Yuji had pressed against Zoro's wound—it had changed from pink to deep red, then to a dark, ominous crimson in just minutes. Blood dripped onto the sheets below, spreading like a slow, hungry flower.
"T-the blood… it's not stopping!" Nami's voice cracked, her usual sharp composure gone. "At this rate… he could die from blood loss!"
"WHAT?!" Luffy's shout rattled the lantern hanging from the ceiling. He was at Zoro's side in an instant, gripping Zoro's calloused hand with both of his. "No, no, Zoro… you can't die… do you hear me? You can't die…"
Usopp stood frozen in the doorway.
Yuji took a deep breath.
The tension in the room was palpable.
But he kept himself calm. That was the first lesson he had learned as a medical student in his previous world.
Seeing the others so distraught, he decided that he had to take charge.
"It's okay," Yuji said, his voice low and steady. "Nothing is going to happen to Zoro. You know why? Because I'm here."
He let a confident smile spread across his face and looked at each of them in turn: Nami, Luffy, and Usopp.
"Really?!" Luffy asked, his voice breaking. Tears and mucus streamed freely down his face.
"Of course, Captain," Yuji said, holding his gaze. "Do you trust me?"
Luffy didn't hesitate. "Yeah."
Yuji's smile widened slightly. "That's the confidence I want to see." He turned to Nami, his tone shifting to something brisk and practical. "Nami, get me a clean cloth, some water, and whatever we have in our medical supplies."
Nami blinked once, twice, then nodded through her tears, wiping her face with the back of her wrist. She moved forward.
"Usopp, go help her carry all of that."
Usopp nodded immediately and scrambled after Nami, his sandals slapping against the wooden floor.
Then Yuji looked at Luffy. The captain had not moved from Zoro's side; his hand remained wrapped around Zoro's.
"Captain, I need you to go to the restaurant and inform Old Man Zeff about Zoro's wounds. Tell him we need medical help immediately. I'm certain he'll know what to do."
Luffy wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve and nodded. Then, he rushed out of the quarters.
Yuji stayed with Zoro.
He kept pressure on the wound with the blood-soaked shirt, feeling fresh blood seep warmly between his fingers. Zoro groaned, a deep, rough sound that vibrated through the mattress.
"Hey, buddy… are you with me?"
"Argh!" Zoro grunted. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Yuji could see the muscles straining in his neck. "Fuck… motherfucker! Is this… what dying feels like?"
Yuji chuckled. "You know, you remind me of a bald guy with an eyepatch. He curses a lot, too."
"I bet… we'd get along great," Zoro managed a pained smirk, though his face was as pale as a winter moon.
"Hahaha… Oh, I'd really like to see that with my own eyes."
Then Nami and Usopp returned. Nami carried a bowl of water and a roll of clean cloth, while Usopp clutched their small medical satchel as if it were made of glass.
Yuji nodded. "Good."
He gestured to Usopp. "Come here. Keep pressure on the wound."
Usopp's hands trembled as he pressed down, his eyes wide with fear.
Yuji took the clean cloth from Nami, dipped it in water, and held the dripping cloth above Zoro's wound. He squeezed it gently, allowing water to trickle onto the blood-soaked shirt in soft, steady drops.
Plip. Plip. Plip.
"See this," Yuji said, keeping his voice calm and instructive. "What I'm doing is softening the skin around the cut. That way, when we pull my blood-soaked shirt away from the wound, it won't tear his skin. It will come off more easily."
Slowly and carefully, Yuji squeezed more water onto the shirt. Then, with a slow and steady motion, he peeled the fabric away.
Zoro hissed through his teeth.
The gash underneath was ugly, deep and angry red at the edges. However, the bleeding had slowed.
Using the same clean cloth, freshly dipped, Yuji began to gently clean the wound. Zoro flinched each time the wet cloth touched the deepest part of the cut, his fingers curling into the sheets.
"Now, cleaning the wound is very important," Yuji said as he worked. "It lowers the risk of infection." He didn't look up. His hands moved with quiet precision, wiping away the dried blood to reveal the raw tissue beneath.
Nami and Usopp watched in tense silence. Nami covered her mouth with her hand, while Usopp kept swallowing repeatedly.
Yuji examined the now-clean wound. The bleeding had stopped, not entirely, but sufficiently. The edges were already beginning to darken with the initial stages of clotting.
He nodded, then took the only bottle of spirits from the medical supplies. The glass felt warm in his hand.
"Zoro… this is going to sting. A lot," Yuji said, uncorking the bottle. The sharp smell of alcohol filled the small room.
Zoro bit down on his lip. "Just... do it."
Yuji poured the liquid carefully.
Zoro's back arched off the bed. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His teeth ground together with an audible creak.
Nami turned away. Usopp flinched as if he were the one who had been burned.
And then the door burst open.
Luffy rushed back inside, followed by Zeff, his wooden leg thudding against the floor, and Sanji, who carried a large wooden box in both arms. The cook's brow was furrowed with concern, though he said nothing.
Zeff took one look at Zoro's chest and nodded once in approval.
"Good. You have cleaned and sanitized the wound."
He turned to Sanji. "Drag that table over here. Put the box on it."
Sanji nodded and did exactly as he was told, moving the small table to the center of the room and setting the box down with a heavy thud.
Zeff stared at Zoro, at the wound, and at the boy's pale but still conscious face. "What was the boy thinking? Facing Dracule Mihawk of all people is like inviting death to come and take you personally."
Zoro's eyes snapped open. Even pale and bleeding, with his chest torn open, there was fire in his gaze. "Shut up… you geezer!"
But Zeff ignored him. He opened the wooden box, and Yuji saw what was inside.
A fish, half-filleted with scales still glistening, laid out on a bed of clean cloth.
Yuji's eyes widened, then narrowed with understanding. "So, you want to do it the old-fashioned way, huh, old man?"
Zeff grunted. "I don't have proper medical supplies on hand—no sutures, no antiseptic cream, nothing a real doctor would use. So this is the only way we've got." He looked at the others still crowding the room, Luffy, Nami, and Usopp, hovering like anxious ghosts. "What are you eggplants staring at? This is an operating room! Now get the hell out of here! The pink-haired boy and I can handle this."
"B-but—," Luffy started.
Yuji placed a hand on his captain's shoulder.
"Captain, leave the rest to us, okay?"
Luffy's lips trembled. For a moment, he seemed as if he might argue, might plant his feet and refuse to leave Zoro's side. But then he looked at Yuji's face, noting the steady calm there, and nodded.
"Okay."
He and the others walked out, and the door clicked shut behind them.
Zeff watched them leave, then turned to Yuji. His expression changed. "You've done this before."
Yuji met his gaze. "A few times."
"Good. Now help me with this, boy. Hold the wound open while I prepare the sutures."
"Alright."
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Luffy walked to Merry's head and sat down heavily, his legs dangling over the side. He said nothing, simply staring at the horizon with his hands resting limply in his lap.
Nami and Usopp followed him and stopped at the front upper deck. They leaned side by side on the railing.
Sanji stood by the main mast, his hands in his pockets.
They were all silent, waiting.
The only sound was the gentle slap of waves against the hull.
Sanji watched the three of them, a strange feeling twisting in his chest.
"Why would he do that?" Sanji asked quietly.
But in the silence, his voice carried like a stone skipping across still water. Luffy, Nami, and Usopp heard him clearly.
"Why would he challenge Mihawk," Sanji continued, "knowing he might not walk away alive?"
Silence hung in the air, heavy and sharp with unspoken words.
Then Luffy spoke.
"It's his dream." The captain didn't turn around. His voice was flat but certain. "His dream is to be the greatest swordsman in the world."
Sanji's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again.
"But is some dream more important than his own life?" His voice rose slightly. "Doesn't he care about how you all feel? Doesn't he realize how impossible his dream is?"
"He knows," Luffy said, his tone unchanged.
"Then why would he still chase after a pointless dream?"
At that moment, Luffy turned his head. His eyes met Sanji's, dark and serious.
"What would you say," Luffy said slowly, "if I told you the same thing about your dream? That this All-Blue place isn't real? That it's just a children's story? That you should just give up on it?"
Sanji snapped his mouth shut.
Feeling the tension rise, Usopp stepped in, his voice lighter. "Look, Sanji, what Luffy means is—it's our dream." He scratched the back of his head. "Whether it sounds impossible, whether people laugh at us or mock us for chasing something pointless, it's still our dream. We've got one life to live. With every passing second, we're getting closer to the end. Nobody knows when their time's up." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to something quieter, more honest. "So instead of just sitting around waiting for death, it's better to chase that impossible thing. Even if it kills you. At least you can die with a smile, knowing you gave everything for your stupid, impossible dream."
Sanji looked into Usopp's eyes.
He saw no hesitation there, no doubt, just a quiet, burning certainty.
Sanji looked away.
The door to the quarters opened.
Yuji and Zeff walked out together. Yuji had changed into a clean shirt.
Zeff wiped his hands on a rag, his expression unreadable.
"That boy is really something," Zeff said. "Anyone else would have died from the pain alone."
Yuji smiled. "That's Zoro for you."
Luffy was already in motion, scrambling down from Merry's head and crossing the deck in three quick strides. Nami and Usopp followed closely behind, their faces a mixture of hope and fear.
"Yuji! Old man!" Luffy's voice cracked. "How is Zoro? Is he okay now?"
Zeff scoffed. "Okay? Give that boy enough food and alcohol, and he'll be fully recovered in two days."
The tension in Luffy's body melted away like sugar in hot tea. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled slowly and shakily. Beside him, Nami slumped against the railing, while Usopp let out a high, relieved laugh.
Zeff patted Yuji's shoulder and walked away, with Sanji trailing behind him. The cook glanced back once, his eyes lingering on the crew before he disappeared through the Baratie's door.
Luffy turned to Yuji, his eyes bright. "Can we see him?"
"Yeah, you can see him, but he's resting now, so don't wake him."
They nodded and slipped inside the quarters as quietly as possible.
Zoro lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his torso, clean and white, with only the faintest blush of pink seeping through. His face, still pale, had softened in sleep.
None of them spoke.
Yuji leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and allowed himself a small smile.
"Like old man Zeff said," he said quietly, "with enough food, Zoro will be back to full strength in two days. You don't need to worry about anything."
He pushed off from the doorframe. "Now, I'm going to take a bath. I've got blood drying on my chest, and it's starting to itch."
He walked away.
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Slowly, the morning bled into the afternoon.
None of them had left the ship. Luffy, Yuji, Nami, and Usopp all stayed by Zoro's side, taking turns watching over him, changing the cloth on his forehead when his fever spiked, and giving him sips of water when he woke.
Seeing their efforts, even Zeff showed some generosity by sending food for all of them through one of his chefs.
When Nami stammered that they didn't have enough money to pay, the chef just shrugged. "The boss said to tell you he'll deduct it from Luffy's salary."
Luffy, who had been reaching for a piece of fish, froze mid-reach.
"I'm getting paid?"
Everyone laughed. The sound filled the small quarters, warm and bright, chasing away the last shadows of the morning's fear.
Now, Yuji sat at Zoro's bedside with a bowl of rice and gravy. He scooped up a spoonful, held it to Zoro's lips, and smiled warmly.
"Say 'ahh.'"
Zoro's frown was so intense it could curdle milk.
"Not even as a kid was I ever spoon-fed," he muttered, his voice rough with sleep and embarrassment. "This is so humiliating."
"Say 'ahh.'"
"Fuck you."
Yuji's grin widened into a mischievous smile. "Oh my! It looks like this child has a potty mouth."
Zoro's eye twitched.
From the doorway, Luffy, Nami, and Usopp watched and snickered. Luffy had his hand clamped over his mouth, Nami was shaking with silent laughter, and Usopp had turned away, his shoulders trembling.
"What are you idiots laughing at?!" Zoro's face flushed red beneath his pale complexion. "You have no idea how embarrassing this is!"
That only made them laugh even harder.
Yuji raised the spoon again. "Just one more bite."
Zoro glared at him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he finally opened his mouth.
"Ahh," Yuji said.
"Don't push it."
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While the mood aboard the Going Merry had improved, inside the Baratie, someone was facing a different kind of crisis.
Sanji stood at his station, knife in hand, with a half-chopped carrot in front of him.
He hadn't moved for thirty seconds.
The carrot sat there, sliced unevenly, a sign of his wandering mind. His usual precision had completely deserted him.
Patty watched from across the kitchen, his brow furrowed. Carne paused mid-stir, the bubbling sauce forgotten.
Sanji's eyes were distant, fixed on something none of them could see.
Zeff, watching from the pass, set down his tasting spoon with a quiet click. "Sanji."
No answer.
"Sanji."
The young cook blinked, as if surfacing from deep water. "What?"
Zeff studied him for a moment, then said, "You're dismissed. Get out of my kitchen."
The other chefs tensed, waiting for an outburst, for Sanji to snap back, defend his focus, or do something.
Instead, Sanji set down his knife and walked out of the kitchen without saying a word.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
But Sanji didn't notice. He walked through the back door and stepped onto the rear deck, where the afternoon light streamed in pale golden bars across the wooden planks.
He pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it with hands that trembled, just slightly.
He took a long, slow drag, held the smoke in his lungs, and exhaled it in a thin, gray stream.
The water lapped against the hull, slow, steady, indifferent.
'What would you say if I told you the same thing about your dream?'
Luffy's words swirled in his mind like circling sharks.
'That this All-Blue place isn't real? That it's just a children's story?'
"You're thinking too loudly, brat."
Zeff's gruff voice came from behind him. Sanji did not turn around. He took another drag from his cigarette and remained silent.
Zeff limped over to stand beside him, his wooden leg thumping against the deck. He leaned on the railing with his arms crossed and stared out at the same water Sanji had been watching.
"Patty told me everything about yesterday," Zeff said after a long pause.
Sanji's jaw tightened. "Of course he did."
"You should go with them," Zeff said.
Sanji's head turned, just a fraction. "What?"
"Those Straw Hat kids—you should go with them." Zeff didn't look at him; his eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "Maybe you'll do something important out there instead of just staying here and doing nothing."
"I can't."
"Of course you can," Zeff's voice hardened. "You're the one holding yourself back. Not me. Not the Baratie. You."
Sanji's fingers tightened around his cigarette. "I still owe you a debt."
"There is no debt, you stupid boy," Zeff's voice rose, cracking across the quiet deck like a whip. "I saved your life that day not because I wanted you to owe me. I saved you because I saw fire in your eyes—a passion for something impossible." His voice dropped, softening at the edges. "Something that reminded me of myself."
Silence settled between them.
Then Zeff spoke again, and his voice had changed.
"Have I ever told you that I once met the Pirate King himself?"
Sanji's head snapped toward him. "You met Gold Roger?"
Zeff scoffed, but there was no bite in it. "That's not his real name. His real name was Gol D Roger." A memory flickered across Zeff's weathered face. "What a man he was, Sanji. He had this charm about him. People just… gravitated toward him. And he never shied away from speaking his mind. He once told me something that's been burned into my skull ever since." Zeff turned to look at Sanji directly. "A man can die, but his dream lives on."
Sanji's cigarette had burned down to the filter, but he didn't notice.
Zeff continued, "It means that even if you die someday without fulfilling your dream, someone else will come along, someone crazier than you. They will carry that same dream forward, perhaps without even realizing it, but they will carry it."
He reached out and gripped Sanji's shoulder firmly.
"When I first met you on that ship, I saw a spark of madness in your eyes. And I realized, maybe you're the one I've been waiting for, the one to carry my dream forward."
Sanji's throat tightened.
"And I know," Zeff said, his voice dropping to something fierce and tender all at once, "that somewhere deep inside you, that same craziness still burns—that same passion. And I want you to reignite that fire. If not for me, then for your mother."
The words struck like a physical blow.
Sanji's eyes burned, and his vision blurred.
"She would have been so sad," Zeff continued, relentless now, "if she saw you wasting your life away instead of chasing what you truly wanted. I'm sad, Sanji, watching you try so hard to repay something that never had a price to begin with."
Zeff paused, his jaw working as if chewing on the next words, tasting them, ensuring they were right.
"Sanji, you're like a son to me," his voice cracked. "No, you are my son. And as a father, I can't just sit and watch my child drown in something he's doing to himself."
He squeezed Sanji's shoulder gently.
"So go. Chase your dream. See the world. Experience it with your own eyes. And when you finally achieve it, you can always come back." Zeff's voice softened to a barely audible whisper. "This is your home, Sanji. We'll all be here, ready to welcome you with open arms."
Sanji's lips quivered.
The cigarette slipped from his fingers, forgotten.
And then, without quite knowing how he had gotten there, Sanji was hugging Zeff, his face buried in the old man's shoulder, his body trembling with sobs he could not hold back.
Zeff's arms wrapped around him tightly.
"Go, my boy," Zeff murmured into Sanji's hair, his voice thick and wet. "Show the world what you're made of."
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