Dead Boy Cares

Mushishi's second episode genuinely is so wild. It goes:

Do you know what happens when you close your eyes?

No, not your physical eyelids. When your very being shuts in and you travel too deep within yourself, stray too far away from the wordly light, kind and familiar, when you close your inner eyes, you may find a path to a place where the true darkness dwells. It's the darkest shade of night you've ever known, and ever darker than that, and terribly deep. Any absence of light in the outside world will pale in comparison to this great nothingness, and any unlit space will seem welcoming with illumination, and the tiniest speck of light will scorch and scar your retinas. And inside that void you will feel something beckoning, something almost eager to greet you back and make you stay. And inside of you, in response to its greeting, you might feel something willing to listen.

But if you're brave enough and curious enough and the darkness won't claim you, the eternal light will. Because there, at the bottom of pitch black emptiness, lies the river of light and it's the throbbing, quivering, shimmering heart of life itself, its beginning and its cradle. And it smells sweet like euphoria and wine and rancid like rotting flesh and humus, and it's the brightest shade of dawn you've ever known. Its ever-changing, undying beauty is entrancing and it will devour you whole if you don't find in you the strength to avert your eyes -- and you won't want to.

And swarming near that luminescent vein, the wondrous and bizarre creatures play. If you look hard enough, you might be able to discern them in the brightness flowing past you. They're simply life at its most basic, its most pure, and they're not like anything you've ever seen. And their shapeless, foreign otherness will take your breath away, but this overwordly delight will be so profound you may mistake it for fear. Don't be afraid. Even when they feast on your flesh and enter your dreams and sap your eyes of the ability to see, they do not seek to harm you. Beauty tries to colonize you, as does decay, and so nature pulls itself back into balance, perpetuating life indefinitely. And there, at the spring of all things that lies in the thick of the world's putrescence, you cannot look away from it.

Oh, and there's also him. Some random dude wearing a polo shirt. Who apparently only has one eye and, wait— Is he smoking a blunt? Hello, Ginko.

I lied maybe he’s literally just Like That

I can’t get over how much they made chilchuck look like a sausage in the anime

Wanted to see what it was all about so I read all of Dungeon Meshi today and it’s such a wonderful little story. I think it’s messaging is really beautiful - agony over the inevitable will perpetuate itself eternally if you let it, and the most fulfilling thing you can do in life is take care of yourself and others. So much to think about!

A Promise Made, a Person Met

I meant to make this as part of natsumeweek but life just gets in the way so I have a backlog of one of two natsuyuu and mushishi fics I'll post them slowly lol

Natsume x reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Coming back with plans to fulfill your promises, you end up meeting someone new.

[Image ID: A long horizontal screenshot of green countryside. In the distance there are green mountains and trees.]

You had never seen a person shine as brightly as he did before.

Backlight against the backdrop of the school window the sun only served to enhance the glowing power he held within his core. It took you off-guard and you stared embarrassingly long at the willowy boy before giggling and his uncomfortable shifting snapped you out of it. You quickly introduced yourself and sought your assigned seat, somewhere in front of the boy and plopping down on it and hunching down. The awkward conundrum of being a teenager hit like a truck and you wanted to cover your face in embarrassment. Trust you to make a fool out of yourself on your first day at the new school.

“All right, everyone, settle down,” the teacher called. “You have more important things to worry about. Like this week’s upcoming test.”

There was a resounding groan but every student dutifully got out their work. Amidst the rustling of papers and folders, you overheard one of the boys behind you speak up. 

“Wow,” he declared. “I never thought I’d see the day when our very own Natsume Takashi would get an admirer!”

You sunk down deeper into your seat, but one thing out of all that caught your attention.

Natsume Takashi.

You wouldn’t forget that name. After all, he shone like the sun itself.

The first time you two met outside of school, it was when you were running errands for your parents. A bright, cheerful day, sunlight falling down onto your skin to warm it as you stepped out of the house. Your parents wanted you to run to the store, to grab ingredients for treats to repay the kind couple next door. They had brought loads of food for your family the first week you settled there, and now, your parents wanted to repay the favor.

Just as you were shoving on your shoes to avoid your brother’s requests to pick up extra snacks, the sounds of chattering approached. Looking up made you squint your eyes at the golden-warm glow, realizing it was Natsume and a black-haired boy walking past the half-wall of your house. The two of you locked eyes and simultaneously froze like deer in the headlights. For a moment, the world, gleamed vibrantly, as if this boy’s arrival had made the world become better. 

Natsume’s friend didn’t realize anything until he was a good few steps away, stopping and glancing back at Natsume and then following his line of sight to you. 

“Natsume?” He asked, hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

His words broke the spell that held the both of you and heat spread across your face. 

“Hi, Natsume!” You said almost too loudly. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“Me either,” the boy returned. He jerked an awkward thumb at the one next to him. “This is Tanuma Kaname, Tanuma, this is my new classmate.”

Tanuma had an aura around him, not the glowing power like Natsume, but enough to be noticeable. This time, you didn’t get caught up in staring as you introduced yourself, still standing stiff-legged in front of your door.

“Ah,” There was something that shifted in Tanuma’s eyes, but his expression didn’t betray anything. “Nice to meet you.”

The door opened behind you as your brother stuck his head out. “Oi, I know you’re trying to dodge me brat–”

He shut his mouth with a clack as he saw the other boys out on the street, all the more awkward as his scrutiny fell on them. Before he could say anything, you threw out a hand. “You know what I’ll grab your snacks! Just gimme the money and the list.”

“Nice.” Everything was shoved into your fist in the blink of an eye, but your brother didn’t hesitate in getting in the last word by scrubbing the top of your head with a palm, messing up the hair there. He didn’t let you spit back an insult as he slammed the door shut.

You then remembered that there were also two others standing there, turning to them with wooden limbs and an awkward smile as you started to shuffle down the path of your house to them. Once you were finally past the wall of your house, you pointed behind you. “I’m gonna go to the market.”

With those words, you turned around and sped walked away. When you glanced back, you saw them entering the house right next to yours.

The market–it turned out–was actually the other way, but you couldn’t bear facing them any longer. Though you did quite regret it later when you nearly tumbled over the bridge after being startled by a Yokai resembling a rolling mass of weeds.

***

Exhausting. 

Human interaction was exhausting. 

But climbing these steps in the middle of nearly summer sun? Also exhausting.

After the debacle outside of your house, your parents almost forced you to deliver the treats to the neighbors (which, by some very unfunny irony, ended up being Natsume’s guardians! Ha! What are the chances!) but your brother took mercy on you and bailed you out of the situation. That was why you were out here, climbing the seemingly unending steps to get to the shrine you remembered being there.

Long ago, when you were younger and your abilities were just flourishing, you made a promise to a spirit. The naive child that you were, with a heart too big for the world, promised to come back and free him from his shrine where he had been imprisoned. You didn’t get the chance to work on it, as you had to move away due to one issue or another. It allowed you to come in contact with so many other spirits and Yokais, a slew of experiences and promises exchanged that matured you into the person you were today.

Still, you never forgot the first promise you ever made.

His name was Madara.

He talked to you when you were a young, crying child, often seeking shelter in the clearing around his little shrine. His presence, although imprisoned, had warded off the spirits who followed you. He was arrogant and rude but still let you stay until the worst of the spirits were gone. Through many conversations and many visits, your young mind had latched onto his tales of glory, and when you had to leave this place, you had made a promise with him.

You told him that you would come back to free him, break the wards that had been too strong at that time. It had taken life much longer to return you here, but now there you were, various Yokai-given items in your bags in the hopes that they might break the seals. But as you reached the location where you remembered his imprisonment to be, you were met with a surprise. You froze as you laid your eyes on the sight in front of you, jaw dropping in dismay.

What once was a rope barrier strung up with zig-zagging shide papers was severed into two. More importantly, the small wooden shrine that was once there was nothing more than splinters of rotting wood on the ground and bits of porcelain.

“Ohhhhh my god,” you muttered, dropping the bag and sitting down on the grass. “It broke?? He got out??”

You muttered incoherently, flopping back on your back against the springy grass. All this workout for nothing, hauling a heavy bag up steep stairs. Though a big part of you wondered just who broke the seal. It was powerful enough to keep someone like Madara within the small area, so it must have been someone truly powerful to break it.

Your mind flashed back to Natsume, warm and glowing, but quickly brushed it away as you fully laid back to simply accept your fate.

Almost like a figment of your vivid imagination coming to life, you heard the pounding of feet on stone and the sound of Natsume’s voice.

“S-Sensei, wait up!”

You screamed as a doughy mass popped into your face, assaulting your vision with blurs of orange, white, and black fur. Reflexes brought your hands up to pull the thing away from your face.

“Finally! After years! You finally showed up!” A nasally voice came from the creature as you pulled it off. In your hands was what seemed to be an immensely round feline–wait.

You glanced at the cat.

You glanced at the remnants of the shrine, fragments of porcelain there. If you looked closely, you could see faded paint on it. An eye here, a whisker there.

You glanced at Natsume, connecting the dots and startling to your feet in a move that made the boy flinch and the cat in your arms meow in displeasure.

“You freed him?!?!”

“He did not!” Madara squawked angrily in your hold, wiggling back and forth. “The foolish boy tripped and ripped through my barriers. I took care of freeing myself thank you very much!”

Natsume rapidly switched his attention between you and Madara. “D-Do you know each other??? Nyanko-sensei is this why you were so insistent on coming here???”

Nyanko-sensei? Was that the name that he was called now?

You fought to reign in your hysterical laughter as the spirit bucked himself indignantly out of your grip. Kicking you in the chest with surprising force for such a blobby form.

“I can’t believe it! Wow! You actually freed him!”

Seeing the boy slowly backing away like he was about to bolt, the cat meowed, “Natsume, this is the brat I was waiting on! The one I said made a promise to free me.”

Seeing the boy’s confused expression, you reigned in your emotions and filled in the blanks. “When I was younger, I sought out this place as shelter. His aura and the seals were strong enough to ward off the Yokais that followed me. As thanks, I told him that I would free him when I got stronger. But I didn’t think you’d come to free him before me!”

The flighty look on his face was replaced by a tentative hoe, so achingly raw on his open face. “So it’s you… You can see them too, then…”

You nodded, taking a seat on the grass and indicating for him to do the same. Nyanko-sensei didn’t hesitate in jumping into your lap. Your stomach rumbled, and you dragged your backpack closer to rummage through it for the food you packed. “Among other things. My sight has always been abe to detect… more. I can see spirits and any distinct auras in humans that indicate their powers.”

He seemed fascinated by your words, barely noticing the sandwich that you decided to discreetly shove into his hands. “What do you mean?”

“You have an incredible amount of power, Natsume,” Nyanko replied for you. “This one was probably drooling over you the first time you two met.”

His crass words made you flail, dislodging the cat. “N-No it’s not like that! I’ve just–It’s just that you shine so brightly that I couldn’t help noticing you!”

Recognition flashed in his eyes as he let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, leaning back to prop up on his arms. He was still holding the sandwich. “Was that why you froze in front of the class?”

Being reminded of the incident made you groan, unwrapping your food to take a big bite out of it. “Don’t remind me about it… That was so embarrassing.”

He smiled at you, a soft, gentle thing. “No. It makes sense now…” His pondering turned into confusion when he finally registered the item in his hand. “Huh..?”

You looked away, pointedly taking another bite of yours. “I brought it along just in case. I always pack extra food for anybody who might want it. It’s… about time for lunch anyways.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Madara yapped, beginning to root for the paper-wrapped food. “Natsume if you don’t want it, I’ll take it!”

The boy leaned away, sticking his sandwich up into the air out of the Yokai’s reach. “No way, Sensei! You ate almost half of my breakfast this morning I’m not giving you this.”

“Madara can have half you mine,” you said, splitting your sandwich into two. You paused, upon their silence, glancing between them. “Yokais aren’t allergic to anything right?”

“Uh-Uh, no… I didn’t expect you to call him Madara. I call him Nyanko-Sensei”

“Hmph, it’s because this one has marginally more respect for truly power beings,” Madara harrumphed as he waddled closer to you. He settled down on the grass in front of you, expectantly waiting for the food so you put it down in front of him, on top of a piece of paper.

The feline wasted no time tearing into it, so for the next few minutes, the warm air was filled with the sounds of you three eating and the noise of distant wildlife. 

“I’m… glad. To see another person who can see them,” Natsume murmured quietly, tossing a bit of his sandwich to Madara despite his rejection earlier. 

“Yeah…I’ve never met another person who had abilities like mine. I’m glad you’re the first.”

So in that little clearing, you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of both the sun above you and its incarnate in the boy next to you. From the way you saw him interact with Madara, he has nothing but kind intentions. He talked and dealt with the spirit with an ease that you had. It allowed you to relax, eyes drooping in a haze of sleepiness. Though this was the first promise you didn’t fulfill for a Yokai, you didn’t mind. Based on Madara’s content purring, ti didn’t seem like he did either.

Natsume Takashi was so incredibly warm. Radiant and glowing and suffusing the air environment with an air that was so distinctly him. Even with the short time you’ve known him, you couldn’t ask for a better person to have freed Madara. You hoped he wouldn’t mind you becoming a part of his life.

You let out a content sigh.

It was a beautiful sunny day.

im actually going to just look at him forever if thats okay

Actually that no punctuation plot hole ooc wattpad fanfic written by that 12 year old will ALWAYS be better than character ai. And I love that 12 year old btw

Natsume has 3 types of outfits :

1 : soft aesthetic pinterest photoshoot

2 : bruh city dude

3 : middle aged mom working at the administration

esoteric form of roleplay where instead of actually roleplaying you just make up characters together and discuss in abstract how they'd interact and how their story would go

You Don't Need to Try to Belong

Sorry if the tone near the end doesn't quite match the rest of the fic something happened in the middle of me writing it and like all good writers do I used this as an emotional outlet. But hey, who doesn't want Marco to hold them amirite? This was meant to be shorter, but the rest of the crew hijacked it like the pirates they were.

Phoenix Marco x Reader (fluff, near-death experiences, dash of sickfic & hurt/comfort)

As the unofficial ‘Fixer-Upper’, the jack-of-all-trades of the Whiteboard Pirates with a helpful Devil Fruit to boot, you tend to overwork yourself helping any issues that arises. Sometimes at the detriment of your own health.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing the sun rise over the horizon from your vantage point up in the Moby’s crow’s nest. 

The gentle blush of pink peeking over the horizon, watercolor-soft as the veil of the night pulled back. Blackness faded away to reveal the glittering waves of the ocean stretched seemingly infinitely all around you. It was a freedom given to you by the Whitebeard Pirates, one you could never repay.

Sunrise also had the added bonus of signifying the end of your lookout ship, the promise of your bed waiting for you.

Below you, on the deck, the morning bell rang out, signifying the official end of the night shift’s work. The hubbub of the ship coming to life stirred up as you climbed down the mast, seeing the specks of the other lookouts doing the same at the other crow’s nests. A few members glanced your way as your feet hit the deck, and you returned the greetings thrown at you, albeit with slightly less energy.

Your stomach growled as the aroma of food from the galley drifted over when you entered the halls. However, you didn’t join the others for breakfast like normal and instead went deeper into the Moby’s bowels to where the crew’s quarters were. You’d been bothered by a persistent headache all night, and you knew that going into the noisy mess hall would no doubt make it worse.

The shared cabin was thankfully empty for the most part, and you made it over to your hammock before collapsing into it and tugging the blanket up to your chin before blacking out, looking forward to the long, uninterrupted rest you’d get.

“WAKE UP!”

You grunted in pain as you were upended from your hammock, bedding and all falling down with you. Blearily, you sat up and squinted at the pair of legs in front of you, smacking your dry lips. You didn’t know how long it was since you’d fallen asleep, but you knew it was not long enough.

A freckled face and messy black hair invaded your vision, the inquisitive expression of one Portgas D. Ace showing who exactly it was that woke you up.

“Hey! Got a moment?”

Even though it was phrased as a question, you still found yourself forcibly dragged to your feet, his grip on your wrist the sole thing that kept you moving as you stumbled through the halls and out into the deck. Sunlight pierced your half-closed eyes, and you winced, squeezing them shut as you trusted Ace not to run you both into something. You two finally paused and you cracked your eyes open to show that you’d stopped in front of Striker, in all her dripping glory as she hung hoisted up over the deck.

Ace finally released your wrist, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to drag ya all the to fix up the Striker for me? I’d ask Blenheim, but he’s with the other fleet right now.”

At the request of a fixing, you forcefully shook off your sleepiness. Tiredness still lingered, and that damn headache still nipped at your temple, but you pushed it all back. Alert eyes assessed the damage in front of you as you tuned into Ace’s chattering.

“I got cornered by a few small Marine scout boats and had to take the Striker through some sorta reef. Thought I got through it fine, but I guess the coral—”

A sudden thud.

You paused in your observation to haul Ace out of the way of the crew and lay him out straight before returning to the Striker. True to his word, the bottom of Striker’s hull was deeply scratched when you bent down to take a look at it. The wood was gouged in a few points, areas where leaks would’ve no doubt let in water. It was a miracle Ace made it back. You hummed at the thought, making a note to get Pops to talk with the young man about his recklessness.

The Striker swayed gently from the lines holding her up as you pushed gently, tilting your head to catch the sound of sloshing water in her bowels. It wouldn’t do to mend everything only to have her rot from the inside out by trapped moisture. When nothing came back, you nodded approvingly and crouched down, hand reaching up to touch the largest of the holes. There was a dim glow before the wood seemed to seal up wherever you dragged your fingers over it, returning to its previous pristine state. You did the same for the others, each spark and glow only tugging at the tiredness in your bones. It was light work, but you were still exhausted by the time you finished, opting to take a seat by Ace where he lay. You were only beginning to blink off into sleep when the young man sat back up.

“—scratched ‘er up real bad and—Oh.”

Ace blinked at the newly repaired full before turning to you, sending a thousand-kilowatt smile your way.

“F’xed it,” you mumbled, shooting him a thumbs up. Your head tilted to the side and you dozed off. While your Devil Fruit, the Mend Mend Fruit was extremely useful, it did take a toll on you.

Strong arms once again wretched you to your feet, and you squawked as Ace bodily hauled you off, cheerful as ever.

“Thanks so much! Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’’”

You went limp in the newly minted commander’s hold, resigning yourself to your fate as he dragged you along to the mess. There were a few others there who were the stragglers from lunchtime.

Ace shifted you to drape over his shoulder like a sack as he assembled a plate for the two of you. The world flipped around as he set you down at a table, and you murmured your thanks, dragging heavy limbs to your utensils to force a few bites down.

A call of your name and a harried-looking Thatch halted right by your table, relief on his face. “There you are. Glad I could catch you. Think you can get that pipe done for us now?”

Your eyes widened as you straightened. Right. You were supposed to have stopped by this morning after breakfast to help fix up the leak in the piping that the division didn’t have the supplies to replace. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Thatch.”

Shooting to your feet, you pushed your plate to Ace and quickly set towards the galley, Thatch on your tail. The Fourth Division greeted you, wrapping up post-meal duties as they avoided one particular section in specific. Someone already peeled away the wooden boards to expose the problematic pipe, and rags were stuffed along the spaces in the wall and sprawled on the floor. As you approached, you noticed that there was something on the pipe. You squinted at the stain and sniffed.

“Is this–Is this dried molasses?!?” 

Thatch whistled and adverted his eyes under your scrutinizing stare. “We had to make do.”

You exhaled despairingly, pressing your fingers into the sticky mess. It was concerning how often you all ran short on miscellaneous supplies, despite being an Emperor’s crew. A glow sparked up, and you sealed the gap.

The sticky, dark substance stuck to your fingers as you withdrew them, and your stomach suddenly churned. Rushing to an empty sink, you quickly washed it off as you called back, “I’m not cleaning that.”

“Fair,” Thatch said. He withdrew a rag from his chef apron. “Thanks for this.”

You hummed as you exited the galley.

Somehow, those two actions seemed to unleash a catalyst upon your peace. The promise of rest seemed further and further away as you were directed all over the ship, fixing this odd thing or that odd part. Your headache never went away, only getting worse as nausea was added to the list.

Skull called out his thanks as you bolted away from him, clapping a hand over your mouth as you beelined for the railing. You made it just in time to empty your stomach over the side. The only food in your stomach—the meager bits you managed to shovel down before Thatch interrupted—splashed sadly into the water.

Shivering, you closed your eyes to block out the sight of the swaying waters below you. The railing dug into your stomach as you slumped down into it. Everything felt hot and cold at once, and you admitted to yourself that maybe it was time to lie down. No more using your Devil Fruit for today.

As you were straightening up, a scuffle broke out from behind you. It was two recruits, roughhousing or fighting, you couldn’t care either way. But before you could move, one of them stumbled and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as your grip slipped, and because of the way you were leaning over the railing, you felt gravity tugging you to the wrong side as you pitched overboard.

Your wide eyes were fixed on the spot where you just were, too stunned to make a peep. There was a shout of alarm on board.

It was never fun falling from the Moby Dick. Its massive size meant nothing less than a painful impact, and even a few broken bones if you were unlucky.

But you wouldn’t call yourself lucky either way if you fell over the Moby in the first place.

You slammed into the waves.

The first thing that hit you was the pain. Like crashing into solid brick, your back ached from bearing the brunt of the impact. Then the insidious cold seeped in, past your clothes, past your skin, until everything went numb. Bubbles swirled past you in a dizzying spectacle, and it would’ve been pretty if not for the death grip of the weight pulling down on your limbs.

Motes of bubbles passed your lips, but you had the foresight to not open your mouth, to not breathe. But that was all you could do as you sunk deeper, black edging into your vision.

They always said that drowning was a horrible way to go, the choking of water in your lungs. But to you, it felt soft. Like the welcoming of the tiredness you’d carried around all day.

It’s so easy,

Your eyes fluttered, lips cracking open, allowing the saltwater to rush in.

You could get the rest you wanted.

You didn’t feel the arms clamping around your waist to drag you upward.

But you did notice as the two of you breached the surface, water spewing out of your mouth as you coughed. It burned going up, and you clung limply to the form you now identified to be Rakuyo as he stretched up his other arm. “Bring us up!”

He crushed you to his chest as the two of you shot up from the water, hauled up by his living flail. You both landed on the deck again, him on his feet while you were still in his hold. However, that quickly changed as your body spasmed.

“Woah there!” The man exclaimed, quickly crouching down so you wouldn’t meet a second painful impact if you spilled out of his arms.

“Someone grab Marco!”

Quickly, you were set on your side. Just in time as you retched. More seawater (seriously you don’t know how you swallowed so much) came up, through your nose, through your mouth. Warm hands rubbed your back as you gathered the strength to prop yourself up, as the spasms continued. It would’ve been mortifying to have the crew see you like this if you hadn’t seen these same full-grown men projectile vomit their dinner after a few too many drinks. As of right now, you were busy trying not to feel like death warmed over. Someone’s oversized sash fell around your shoulders as they used it to dry you off of the cold water.

“What’s going on, yoi?”

Marco’s voice was like a balm to your raw nerves as indistinct voices murmured over your head. Someone draped something soft over you (a towel?) and you sneezed.

Like the world’s most pathetic, bedraggled, wet cat, you were picked up from underneath your arms and passed over to warmer ones.

“H-Hol’ on,” you slurred, getting wrapped up in the fabric around your shoulders. Your head lolled against a warm chest. “Might throw—throw up.”

Marco shushed you. “Don’t worry about it, yoi.”

Blue and gold flames fluttered to life around you, your aches and coldness fading away. However, you still felt that bone-deep tiredness, and your lungs still rattled wetly. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary. We have to monitor your lungs, just in case.”

Aw, man. You hated to be a bother.

Weakly wriggling in his grip, you voiced your protests, “‘M fine. L-Lemme jus’ go sleep it off.”

“You can rest in the infirmary. I healed your superficial injuries, but I can’t fix the drain your Devil Fruit already pulled from you or expel any potential water. Don’t fight me on this, yoi.”

You let out an unintelligible noise, sagging deeper into his hold. The hubbub of the ship fell away into muffled peace as he entered the infirmary, greeting the nurses there.

“Goodness! What happened?” Lisa asked as she pulled out more towels and a pair of spare clothes.

“We had a tumble off the deck,” Marco said, setting you down on a bed in the corner and stepping back for the nurse to let her set the clothes down by your side. He grabbed the privacy curtain, readying to pull it close as he asked you, “Think you can get changed, yoi? Lisa or another nurse can assist if you think you’ll need help.”

You looked down at your shaking hands, then to the set of folded clothes beside you. It was a simple enough shirt and pants, nondescript for their versatility. “I’ll be f-f-f-fine.”

The shiver that broke your words into a stutter wasn’t convincing, but Marco didn’t push it as he pulled the curtains closed around you to give you a bit of privacy. His voice came from the other side, “Let me know when you’re done, yoi.”

It took you much longer than you’d like to admit, wrangling yourself into the change of clothes, but just when Marco began shuffling on the other side of the curtain, you managed to pull the collar of the shirt over your head with your stiff limb and wrapped your hair in a towel.

“I’m d-do-done.”

The curtains were pulled open again and Marco stepped through. In the span of time it took for you to change, the man had collected equipment of his own. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and he carried a blanket rolled up under an arm and a thermometer.

“Just a precaution, yoi,” he said when he saw you eyeing his getup. You took the blanket when he handed it to you. The back of his hand came up to rest on your forehead and he hummed as he began putting on his stethoscope. “I want to listen to your lungs and keep you here to rest up.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you tilted your head back, staying still as Marco pressed the cold metal of the chest piece into your skin, expression calm as he focused on your breathing. After a few moments, he pulled away and tugged off the instrument.

“Your breathing sounds alright from what I could tell, yoi. But your temperature’s a little out of its normal range. How are you feeling, yoi?”

With the assessment done, you pulled away and curled up on the bed, tugging the blanket up. “Blegh, fine. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“You do that, yoi,” Marco said, patting your shoulder. “I’ll watch over you.”

Letting out a huff, you allowed the lull of sleep to finally pull you under.

***

Warm hands on your forehead and cheek stirred you from the fretful slumber you were in, and you murmured, trying to pull away from the disturbance. Your breath whistled when you sighed, nose closed by a painful pressure and the rattle when you breathed seemed more prominent than ever.

There was a quiet tut before they came back with greater insistence, pulling you into a sitting position. You resisted, but your limbs felt leaden when you tried to lift them up. A slow, pounding pain pulsed in your temples on top of that, intensifying when you cracked your eyes open. You squeezed them shut again, but that peek was enough to see the slight chastisement on Marco’s expression as you identified him to be the one taking care of you.

His voice was low, kept to a manageable level that wouldn’t upset your head as he said, “Looks like you’re getting a fever, yoi. That’s strange.”

Blue flickered through your closed eyes as a gentle wash of his flames coursed through you. The pounding in your head lessened

“Tried my best to alleviate some of your symptoms, but since most of them aren’t physical injuries, I don’t think helped much.”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, blinking the crustiness from your eyes as you sat up. “Thanks for tryin’”

He hummed, pulling away. “What I’m surprised about is that you’re getting so sick from a dip in the waters. As far as I’m aware, the waters in this part of the Grand Line should be temperate enough to avoid that issue, yoi. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion flashing in his gaze as he picked up on your guilty air. “You were on deck at a time where you would usually be asleep, yoi. Why weren’t you resting?” 

“Listen,” you began. “You’re not allowed to scold anybody involved in it…”

Marco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I already know who it is, yoi?”

“Ace took me out to help fix Striker,” you agreed, ignoring Marco’s muttered ‘I knew it’. “Then we swung by the galley where there was something I forgot to fix for Thatch. Some of the crew caught me about, and it kind of escalated from there.”

The way the man tilted his head was distinctively avian. “Now, why would you do that, yoi? We’ve discussed using your Devil Fruit when you’re tired.”

You pursed your lips and adverted your eyes, shrugging. “I dunno. I couldn’t just say no.”

His eyes softened. “You know… You’re deserving of rest when you’re tired. You don’t need to bend over backward to please us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Unbidden, you felt tears spring up in your eyes, and you blamed it on the mess running through your system, pulling away so you could wipe them.

However, Marco’s hands came up to hold your face, thumb wiping away the bit of saltiness that spilled over your lashes.

“Silly love,” Marco murmured as he tugged you into his chest and enveloped you.

Pliantly allowing it to happen, your face ended up buried in his chest. His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he shifted to take a seat and pulled you into his lap. You sank deeper into him, instinctively relaxing at the soothing warmth he emitted.

“Nobody would think less of you for resting. There’s no payment to be on the crew beyond what you can safely provide. And you’ve done plenty, are doing plenty. Pops is not going to kick you out if you don’t repair Skull’s necklace or somebody’s sandals for the fiftieth time. You belong with us. We want you.”

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face. Marco’s chuckle jostled you a little bit, and the arm around your waist squeezed you, dragging you even closer to him. His flames flickered over you again, and you went boneless against him, hands dropping from your face. The ache in your chest that you didn’t even know you were carrying lightened with his presence.

“You just rest now, yoi. I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed, a trembling shaky thing. “Thank you, Marco.”