# RECOVERING

M/n felt the immediate comfort of the crew and the ship.

His previous worries gradually died down the moment he saw how they still treated him like before.

The moment he could stand on his own feet again, Roger even threw a party to celebrate his second stage of 'baby steps'. But M/n also knew that they were just trying to find a valid reason to get wasted, not that he blames them.

While they were playing loud music outside by the outer deck, M/n was having his arms checked, having Crocus holding him back while both Buggy and Shanks patiently waited outside the door. The brunette can even hear them bickering from where he stood.

"Is it severe?" M/n hesitantly asked. Although he knows that it was quite serious, he hasn't directly heard Crocus' words before.

The doctor thought deeply as he used his spectacles to inspect the damage carefully.

"How do I say this. . ." The doctor began, hesitant on revealing the actual situation to the patient.

Usually, he would have no problems on telling them the truth, but considering his patient is a 9-year-old brunette who has the tendency to fret too much for his own good-- Crocus was naturally left in a fight between his conscience.

"You can tell me straight up." M/n spoke up, seeing the reluctance in Crocus' demeanor.

The last thing Crocus needed was raising the stress level of his patient, so he decided to word his words very carefully.

"Well, your arms are suffering from burns." He pointed out slowly. "Not to mention, the wounds and scratches are caused by the actual claws of the. . . Animal." Crocus cleared his throat, unsure of how to refer to the special specie that M/n encountered.

What the brunette was hearing was already something that he knows. He was hopeful for somewhat a more detailed elaboration regarding his injuries.

"To answer your question-- yes, it is quite severe. If I were to rate the severity from 1 to 10, I would give it a 7.5. Burns can permanently damage one's skin depending on the degree, and adding up to the open wound, it is in the risk of infection. I'm trying my best to make your pain more bearable and to lower the risk of a scar."

"It's inevitable, right?" M/n looked up from his arms. "The scar."

"Usually, I would say 'yes' and agree. However, your progress in healing is very impressive, even I am surprised." Crocus voiced out. "It would take an entire year for wounds like these to start closing up, but it has roughly been a few weeks but it's already at the point of fully closing." He said in visible amazement clear in his eyes.

M/n had his own suspicions.

"M/n, are you some mutant or something?" Crocus lightly joked.

M/n did not find it funny. A mutant? That was not too far off. He was having his own doubts of his own heritage, and hearing someone else point out the evidence and odd points of his being was only adding up to his thoughts.

"I'm kidding, lighten up." Crocus nudged him lightly, seeing the grave look on the brunette's face.

Although he promised to be careful with his words, he was going a little over the board.

"Crocus-san, is there a possibility of. . . Odd people existing?" M/n finally spoke up after an uncomfortable pause that left Crocus wonder if it was because of his poor choice of words.

"How would you define odd?"

M/n hesitated. He couldn't exactly risk spilling out what was happening inside him. How was he even supposed to explain it?

And even if he tells Crocus all about it, what makes him so sure that the man would have all the answers he would need? What if Crocus tells the others and now they would treat him differently?

M/n did not want to be different. Why did he have to be different?

"No, never mind. I'll get going now, thank you for your treatment, Crocus-san!" He left the room abruptly, leaving Crocus utterly confused and in the dark.

"Odd people?" The doctor could only ponder what the boy had meant by that.

The moment M/n left the door, he was immediately greeted by Buggy and Shanks who were too engrossed in arm wrestling.

"Ah, M/n-- you're finally here. Come and help me take down this dumbass!" Buggy exclaimed, and it seemed like he did everything in his power just to muster his words out properly.

M/n can tell that the clown was giving it his all, including physical strength and attention.

"Don't listen to him!" Shanks was on the same boat.

Unfortunately, their little showdown was interrupted when Scopper Gaban suddenly picked up the barrel they were using and casually lift it over his shoulder as if it was a piece of paper.

"Ah, sorry kids but we're gonna drink this one out." Gaban winked-- well, as far as they could tell behind those sunglasses. The man then redirected his attention towards the particular apprentice. "Are you well now?"

M/n's brows naturally knitted together. "Yeah. . ."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how well are you?" Gaban questioned, letting the brunette take his time to ponder.

"9."

"Well, the incident was partly mine to fault. I should have stayed awake." Gaban sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry 'bout that."

M/n blinked a little blankly. Right, he nearly forgot that Gaban was around the ship during that time. Sleeping, most probably because he's always the one who watches the ship at night. The brunette could not blame him for resting.

"It's nothing."

"You dealt with it like a champ!" Gaban praised, looking quite impressed. "If it were Buggy or Shanks in that situation, I bet they would have squealed so loud-- they'd give the crew their exact location."

"Hey!" Both the boys to mention were defensive after being teased.

"Well, I'm off!" He casually saluted before joining the ruckus in the upper deck.

It was rare to catch a conversation with Gaban, not because he was an introvert or a shy guy or anything-- quite the opposite. Catching a conversation with Gaban is rare because he tends to be busy in the day and even more busier in the night, he just has too many agendas.

But other than that, he was a great guy. Basing on his strength, he definitely does not fall behind the other adults. Personality-wise, he's quite outgoing and competitive. M/n can see him as a stern and mischievous old man in the future.

"Seriously, that guy." Buggy grumbled, huffing away.

"He lumped me with the likes of you! I should spend less time with you so that people won't assume I have the same terrible personality." The redhead went on, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Terrible personality?! I'd kill to be away from you!"

"Let's drink." M/n's voice cut through their dispute, and both heads turned to him in evident surprise.

"Drink?!" Buggy's mouth fell open.

"M/n, do you even know that word?!" Shanks gasped dramatically.

"Let's drink juice." M/n briefly corrected, no longer surprised of their interpretation of his words. "It's a good weather to drink something cold."

It took a few seconds for the atmosphere to die down.

"You have a point." Shanks nodded along. "Buggy, get us some juice."

The clown was less than happy to be told what to do. "I'm not your damn servant, you stupid red hair!"

To stop them from fighting, M/n stepped in between them, holding a sheepish smile. "Normally, I would volunteer to get it, but I can't exactly hold anything properly."

The other two stared at him blankly.

"Ah, right." They took note of his state before deciding to shove their rivalry down for once, just for the sake of their fellow apprentice.

While they went to the kitchen, a deck lower — M/n happens to find himself standing behind the railings that faces the main deck where everyone was having a blast. He could even smell the sake from where he stood.

It was a heartwarming sight to see them all having a joyous time, to see their smiles, to feel the positivity they radiated. It even warmed his heart to the extent he was beginning to feel his worries fade away.

But speaking from his very own experience, all good things come to an end.

The smile fell of his face as he grimly realized this.

And he can't help but wonder just how long it would take for him to lose this.