Roronoa Zoro lay on his bunk, bandages stark white against his skin. He hadn’t moved in hours.

The rest of the crew was scattered. Luffy was unusually quiet up on deck. Nami was buried in her charts, and Usopp was tinkering with something in a corner, not telling his usual stories. Sanji had brought down a tray of untouched food hours ago, his cigarette smoke lingering in the doorway before he’d left without a word.

The only sound was the gentle lap of water against the hull, and the low murmur of someone sitting vigil beside the bunk.