They where You're crew you're family and they were scared Whenever you couldn't remember them. When you were woken all you knew was Darkness. That was the first thing you knew Pain. That was the second. Your entire body ached as if it had been torn apart and barely stitched back together. Your mind was worse—empty, fogged over, stripped of everything that made you... you. You couldn't remember your name, where you were, or how you ended up here. The only certainty was that you were alive, but just barely.

The scent of salt and medicine filled your senses as you blinked against the dim candlelight of what seemed to be an infirmary. The gentle rocking beneath you suggested a ship, but which one? Why were you here?

A sharp sting ripped through your side, and you gasped, body jerking in reflex.

"Don't move, yoi," a voice warned, steady but firm. "You're just gonna make your injuries worse."

Your blurry vision cleared just enough to make out a man with blonde hair, focused as he carefully stitched a gaping wound on your abdomen. His face was calm, but his hands worked quickly, betraying the urgency of the situation.

Another voice, louder, more frantic.

"You're hurting them! Put her to sleep or something!"

A man with freckles and fiery eyes stood nearby, panic etched into every inch of his face. He looked ready to rip the needle from the blonde man’s hands.

"We can't, yoi! It'll kill them!" Marco shot back, his usual composure cracking just slightly "Calm yourselves, my sons," a deep, commanding voice rumbled. It carried the weight of authority, yet it was filled with reassurance. Whitebeard.

Thatch peeked through the doorway, arms crossed but concern evident in his expression. "Damn, they really got roughed up… You sure they're even gonna make it, Marco?"

"Not if you all keep shouting, yoi," Marco muttered, finishing another stitch.

Haruta leaned against the frame, frowning. "They look like they’ve been through hell. Who the hell did this to them