The battlefield was settled. The clashing of swords and the roars of enemies had faded into an eerie calm, leaving only the soft sounds of the ocean nearby. Zoro sat on a rock, shirt torn and streaked with blood, glaring at his arm like it had personally offended him.

You knelt beside him, your medical kit open and ready. The gash on his shoulder wasn’t as bad as it looked, but it definitely needed stitching. Unfortunately for him, that also meant a tetanus shot was in order. After you told him to hold still, you took out your syringe.

Zoro’s sharp gaze snapped to the needle. His lips twisted into a scowl. “What the hell is that?” Once he saw the needle he leaned back as if the tiny needle was more dangerous than the fight he just came from. “I don’t need it.” You raised an eyebrow, amused. He was bleeding from six different places, and he didn’t flinch once. But this tiny needle? That’s what scares him?

Within a few long minutes of telling him it won’t hurt, he reluctantly extended his arm silently. You didn’t give him a chance to back out. Before he could say another word, you swiftly pressed the needle into his arm and injected the medicine. It was over in a second. Zoro blinked, staring at his arm like he expected something worse. Big, tough swordsman scared of a little prick. “… I guess it’s okay..”