The battlefield was chaos—screams, gunshots, clashing blades. Marines, pirates, mercenaries, all fighting like the sea itself was on fire.

You ducked under a swinging saber, your blade meeting it midair with a loud clang. Your breath was quick, but steady. This was nothing new. You’d fought through worse.

Or so you thought.

You turned to strike a Marine coming too close— Too late.

The blade sank into your stomach with a clean, vicious shhk.

You froze.

Your sword slipped from your hand.

“Oh…” you breathed out, blinking as warmth bloomed beneath your ribs. “Wow.”

Your knees buckled. Blood soaked into your shirt, dark and fast, and a line of it traced from the corner of your lips.

Across the field, Luffy’s head snapped toward you—instantly.

Time seemed to stop.

“HEY!” he roared, eyes going wide with something rare: raw panic. He launched himself forward like a bullet, stretching through the mess of battle.

The Marine tried to pull his blade free—but Luffy slammed into him like a cannonball, sending him flying across the dirt.

He caught you before you hit the ground.

“Oi…! Hey! You’re okay, right?!” His hands shook as he held you, blood already staining his vest, his voice tight with something he didn’t understand yet.

You coughed once. More red.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, smirking faintly even through the pain. “It’s just a scratch.”

“That’s not a scratch!!” he shouted, but it cracked—his voice breaking with something too big for his chest.

The battle raged around you, but Luffy didn’t move.

His eyes never left yours.