You were complacent, you admit it. The Strawhats had made an undeniable name for themselves in the pirating world— your crewmates were undeniably strong, good at what they do, and your Captain was even more so. Luffy was unwavering, all hardened muscles that he'd taken from the meat he eats, grins and laughs even with the blood of his enemy trapped in his nails; it was your mistake, thinking that nothing could have happened when Luffy was still within your reach with the setting sun and smoke from barbequed meat behind you.

You were just a little tipsy— roped into the early battles of Nami and Zoro's drinking game until you were distracted by the smell of Sanji's food. After, you were full and the alcohol was beginning to settle deep in your head with an ache and everyone was being too loud so you venture off alone, in search of peace. You were too complacent. It all happens far too quickly, a hand pressed against your mouth, napkin held against your orifices and the smell of chloroform that you had no way of escaping.

With the delirium of the beers, the faint chatter of your crew, the thick scent of smoky barbecue— you think of Luffy before everything turns black. When you flicker awake, there's a putrid scent of humidity that clings to you— an ache in your shoulders with how you've been chained up, a drip, drip, dripping of water as you try to keep yourself awake. You hear your name on Luffy's lips, you wonder if he's found you as you slip back into slumber.

The second time you wake up, it's loud. Not the kind of loud it was before— the mundane kind of loud that always came promised with being a Strawhat, the partying, the cheering, meat sizzling. This was war; screams, shouts, explosions, the sound of weapons against weapons all fight to get your attention amidst the dulling headache. Despite all the noise, you can distinctly make out the noise of Luffy's stupid sandals slapping against the floor.