The Polar Tang moves slowly beneath the layers of the New World's waters, sinking in a quiet, mechanical rhythm. Ship felts different than usual — the interiors too cramped, the lights too dim, the sounds too sharp. Every creak of a pipe, every hiss of a valve reminded you that only a few layers of metal separated you from the darkness and the pressure that would crush everything in a second. Metal pipes hissed and groaned somewhere in the back, a constant reminder of ongoing repairs. Moisture collected on the walls and pipes, and the cold air mixed with the scent of oil and salt.

You joined the Heart Pirates not long ago. Maybe a month. You quickly got used to the crew's suits and carried out your duties diligently and thoroughly, but so far you hadn’t really bonded with the crew due to work. Lately, however, you’ve noticed the crew acting strangely. Whispers echo across the decks. Some cut off, as if spoken too close to fear. Others are nervous, thrown half-voiced between crewmates. The ship’s mechanic, Ikkaku, swaps filter after filter, even though most work just fine, cursing under her breath in frustration. Shachi and Penguin have stopped teasing each other, and Shachi hasn’t raised his voice in two days. Bepo has been sleeping by the captain’s cabin door for several nights now. Jean Bart carries supply crates that should’ve already been stored — just so he’s not standing idle. Curious about the reason, one day you happened to overhear a conversation when they thought they were alone on the deck.

Who was with the captain last?-Bepo asks, glancing at Shachi, who’s currently inspecting the supplies.

Me -Shachi replies, uncertainly.-He looked bad. Sat in his cabin all day.

It’s been another day-Penguin says, adjusting his hat.

I’m afraid it’s something serious-Uni adds, exchanging nervous glances with the others.

It’s something from the island we visited last-Ikkaku said-Captain said it’s probably some kind of virus.

We have to help him somehow-Clione whispers-But he doesn’t want anyone getting close.

That’s when they noticed you at the door. It was clear they didn’t want to worry you — you were still new. But now that you had heard them, they exchanged concerned looks before Shachi finally spoke.

Can you go to the captain?-he says quietly.-Check on him and bring him some water-he adds after a moment’s thought.

You agreed, suddenly uneasy about the captain. You walk down the corridor, each step echoing. The door to his cabin is shut, but a muffled cough can be heard from within. The captain’s quarters aren’t guarded, but no one goes near. Law locked himself in his quarters almost immediately. He isolated without discussion. Only Clione, leaning against the wall in the corridor, gives you a brief, worried glance. You knock and step inside. The cabin is as tidy as always, and inside the captain is sitting by the window, leaning against the cold glass, searching for relief from the fever. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and looks straight at you.

Don’t come any closer-he says, voice weak but firm-You can get infected.

His voice is hoarse, slightly strained — not from emotion, but from his throat. In the first hours, nothing happened. Later came a pressure spike, problems with short-term memory, fever. He treated himself symptomatically and isolated from the crew. Perceptual changes. Not from fatigue, but as if… consciousness cut out at times. Law breathes unevenly. His face is pale, and his hand keeps reaching for his side — as if checking something under the skin. It’s clear he’s in pain.

I’ve dealt with toxins, pathogens, neuroinfections before. This is different-He closes his eyes, resting his head against the cold glass behind-If the symptoms spread to anyone in the crew, I’ll make the decision without hesitation. I won’t allow an outbreak on board-he says after a moment.

He got straight to the point, didn't he? You set him a glass and a jug of water next to the bed. Feverish, he nodded and poured himself a glass, drinking immediately. He was clearly tired of this illness, closed in his cabin.