Knock, knock, knock.
"Oh, Brook. What is it?" The voice from within the captain's quarters was strained, lacking its usual vigor—a stark contrast to the boisterous man who had led them through countless adventures.
"Captain, I've got the basic information on the kid." Brook's tall frame cast a long shadow across the threshold as he entered, a neatly folded paper in his slender fingers. He tried not to wince at the sight before him: Captain Yorki, once the embodiment of strength and vitality, now hunched over his desk with skin too pale and eyes bearing the telltale glaze of fever. The signs were unmistakable, though they all pretended not to notice them growing worse each day.
Captain Yorki sat hunched over his desk, maps and logbooks scattered before him. His long blonde hair was disheveled, and a pallor had begun to creep across his once-vibrant features. "You can deal with it, Brook. I still need to handle the situation with the meds. I feel our future is bleak here."
The words hung heavy in the air between them, an acknowledgment of the growing threat they dared not name aloud.
"Don't get too sad, Captain. I'll try to talk to the doctor on the island about it, and we'll definitely find medicine to cure your and the others' illnesses." Brook's voice remained optimistic, though the tightness around his eyes betrayed his concern.
"Alright, give me a brief summary of the kid." Yorki relented, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Knowing their predicament, Yorki couldn't help but sigh. Patiently reading what Brook wrote on the paper was a bit too much for the captain in his current state, but he appreciated the hard work of his vice-captain. He continued to read the report and speculate on the child's background, occasionally glancing up at Brook with raised eyebrows.
"What makes you think the kid's a noble?" Yorki finally asked, tapping a finger on a particular paragraph.
Brook straightened his cravat, a habitual gesture when he was presenting his thoughts. "His clothing is made from good fabric, and he has several currencies hidden within his belongings. I believe he might be one because he had a book with an unknown language in his possession. Not to mention his upbringing, which shows naivety—there's no way a commoner could have the caution he displayed."
"I see..." Yorki coughed lightly into his handkerchief, quickly tucking it away before Brook could see the flecks of red. "But as you know, there's no way he could be a spy sent to us. We've only just arrived in the New World. Don't you think it's foolish to actually send a spy on our rookie pirate crew?"
"Even so, there's a need to maintain our caution." Brook's fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh, the musician's habit revealing his unease.
"I don't disagree, but you're thinking too deeply, Brook." Yorki's smile was weak but genuine. "Relax—not everyone is cunning. You need to slowly understand the boy before making a judgment. We also still need to deal with our problems here..."
Brook couldn't help but sigh forlornly as he looked past the captain at another door leading to the ship's infirmary, where he knew several of his crewmates lay sweating through fever dreams. Who would believe that a quarter of his mates would be affected by an unknown disease, as even the captain needed to tend to them between navigational duties?
"Be careful not to get infected, Captain." The vice-captain's voice dropped to a whisper.
"I can't promise you that. Just hurry up and get them on land so we can check their condition." Yorki straightened, a momentary flash of his old strength showing through.
"I'll tell the boys. Please take care."
With that, Brook closed the door and returned to the upper decks where the sounds of continuing celebration reached his ears. Looking at Lynn, now passed out from the party's excitement, Brook could only dispel his apprehension as the kid showed fear even in his sleep, brow furrowed and limbs occasionally twitching.
That alone told Brook the kid had a story.
But who didn't?
Everyone had their own story; all they could do was deal with it one way or another.
Still, Brook did his best to judge the kid's character while signaling to the helmsman to adjust their course toward the nearest settlement. They needed to find help for their crewmates, and soon.
Looking at the horizon, Brook took his violin from its case and slowly swiped the bow across the strings, playing a melancholy tune that carried across the waves. The notes spoke of loss and hope, fear and determination—emotions too complex for words but perfectly captured in the music that was the Rumbar Pirates' true strength.
As weeks turned into months, Lynn learned more about the Rumbar Pirates and their way of life.
The kind and fun-loving crew were pirates who did more good than bad. The worst thing they did was pillage merchant ships, but they never killed anyone, and they always left some supplies for the merchants to reach the next port. Despite their battles with other pirate groups, indiscriminate killing and ruthless pillaging weren't in their vocabulary.
Pirate battles, however, were anything but tame. It was a battle royale where even allies could get hurt. Whenever they engaged in combat with rival crews, they did it on the enemy's ship, careful not to damage their own vessel with cannon fire or blood spatter.
Sometimes, a crewmate would grab Lynn from his hiding place behind barrels or crates and force him to watch as they boarded enemy vessels. "This is how you survive in this world, kid!" they'd shout over the clash of steel and pistol fire. Witnessing it live made the modern boy throw up—the smell of blood and gunpowder, the sound of blades cutting flesh, and the screams of the wounded overwhelmed him, showing him the cruelty of a world far darker than his own, where schoolyard bullying seemed like a children's game in comparison.
After seeing it for the third time, Lynn steeled himself, determined not to be the weak link in this strange new life.
"Graaa! Where's the bastard that wants to taste my blade!" Lynn shouted during their fourth raid, having procured a small dagger from somewhere and rushing toward the gangplank connecting their ship to an enemy vessel.
Brook caught the back of his collar with a sigh. "Calm down, kid... You'll get injured. Go back to our ship and prepare the mop..."
Brook stared at the boy who wanted to enter the fray and get himself killed. Grabbing the kid with one hand and tossing him to the back of their own ship, the vice-captain then leapt into battle, displaying mighty swordsmanship that left Lynn in awe. The precision, the grace, the deadly efficiency—it was like watching a dance where every step could mean life or death.
"Teach me, Vice-Captain!" Lynn pleaded that evening while carrying a mop and bucket, as well as first-aid kits, to tend to the injured crewmates who lounged about the deck nursing various wounds.
It had been nearly three months since Lynn joined the crew—three months of seasickness, callused hands, and learning to find his footing both literally and figuratively. Aside from being a cleaner and galley assistant, he had also gradually become the crew's unofficial nurse. The rough men had a hard time caring for their injuries—bandages were hastily applied if at all, and their universal technique of slapping rum on everything from splinters to sword wounds wasn't particularly effective.
Lynn's experience with bullies had given him unfortunate but practical knowledge of wound care. The first time he'd properly cleaned and dressed a gash on one of the Mizuta twins' arms, the entire crew had watched in fascination. By the second week, a small corner of the infirmary had become "Lynn's station," complete with his own collection of bandages, salves, and the medical texts he pored over each night by lantern light.
The modern child, occasionally injured by bullies back in his world, understood more about proper wound care than these hardened pirates.
"Yeouch, Lynn! Watch out for that wound—it's still stinging." One of the Mizuta twins winced as Lynn applied an alcohol-soaked cloth to a deep cut on his bicep.
"Jeez, how can a big guy like you cry over alcohol to clean your injury?" Lynn rolled his eyes, gaining confidence in his role among these fierce men.
"It hurts! Yeouch!" The pirate dramatically flailed his free arm.
"But weren't you the one who yelled, 'Get me the booze, I'll kill you all and get drunk!'?" Lynn mimicked the pirate's deep voice surprisingly well. "This is the booze you asked for—why don't you just get drunk already?"
"What kind of booze is dabbed on the wound? Argh! Just get it done already." The man whimpered as the cotton touched his wound again, then sighed in relief when the bandage was neatly tied around his arm.
From nearby, Brook watched the interaction with amusement, his violin tucked under his chin as he played a soothing melody to raise the crew's spirits.
"So, can you teach me, Vice-Captain?" Lynn asked, finishing his rounds and approaching Brook with hopeful eyes. His small hands mimicked a sword-fighting stance he'd observed during the crew's last skirmish. "I want to learn to fight like you—to be strong enough to stand with everyone when the next battle comes."
Brook regarded the boy thoughtfully, violin bow tapping against his chin. "No," he said finally, voice firm but not unkind, "but I can teach you an instrument. How about that?"
The offer came with a smile that softened the refusal. What Lynn couldn't know was that Brook saw something in the boy's delicate fingers and attentive eyes—a potential that would be wasted on brute sword techniques when it could be channeled into something that might truly save him one day. In the world of pirates, being the strongest wasn't always the path to survival; sometimes, it was being indispensable in other ways.
Although Lynn looked dejected, he accepted the deal and began training with Brook. Sometimes, when the seas were calm and the chores were done, Brook would relent and teach him basic swordsmanship stances, but he would always return to teaching instruments like the piano, violin, guitar, and cello.
Make no mistake, Brook didn't deny Lynn because of lingering suspicion. Lynn's muscles simply hadn't developed enough to endure high-intensity training. Without a safe place to practice, Brook couldn't just tell Lynn to swing a sword wildly. There was too much danger on a rocking ship, and Lynn had plenty of work to do while resting after training. That's why Brook taught him instruments that required finesse rather than brute strength, building the boy's dexterity and patience.
As a kid from a different era, Lynn was smart and quick to learn, but he was also emotionally vulnerable. Six months into his time with the Rumbar Pirates, they were ambushed by a rival crew seeking revenge for a past defeat. The battle was fierce, and they suffered casualties. Lynn cried day and night for weeks, mourning their dead comrades while playing soft, haunting melodies on the piano Brook had taught him to use. The other crew members might have been sad, but Lynn's way of grieving was different from those who had already become accustomed to loss in their dangerous profession.
As they continued to sail the Grand Line, more casualties occurred in skirmishes and accidents, and Lynn never grew accustomed to death. Each loss hit him hard, a reminder that no matter how fantastical this world seemed, it was brutally real for those who lived in it.
Then came the sickness.
It began innocuously enough—a persistent cough from Riggins, one of the older crewmen, dismissed as the result of too many years of pipe smoking. Then Farrell developed a fever that wouldn't break, even after three days of Lynn's careful ministrations. By the time they realized what was happening—that this was something more sinister than common illness—it was spreading throughout the ship like wildfire, jumping from hammock to hammock in the cramped sleeping quarters.
The symptoms progressed with terrifying predictability: first the cough, dry and hacking; then fever that left the strongest men delirious; followed by a weakness that seemed to seep into the very bones. Lynn had never seen anything like it, not in his world with modern medicine, and certainly not in the medical texts he'd studied aboard the ship. The crew began to whisper of a curse, but the doctor—face drawn with exhaustion and fear—spoke of contagion and quarantine.
The dwindling number of healthy crewmates made the ship more silent. As the epidemic in the hull intensified, the groans of the sick grew louder, and even Captain Yorki, despite his attempts to stay strong for his men, fell ill. They never identified the illness, but they knew it would kill them all if they did nothing. The number of sick increased daily, and others began to show symptoms.
Only Lynn remained unaffected, so he was often the only one who could tend to the more severe patients when the ship's doctor became too exhausted to continue.
No one forced him—he volunteered. Lynn had the intuition that he might already have been vaccinated against the sickness the others had contracted in his own world. Modern medicine had conquered many diseases that would have been deadly in earlier times, and this seemed like it could be one of them.
As he wasn't a trained doctor, Lynn could do nothing but care for them and hope for the best, applying what knowledge he had gleaned from medical texts they'd acquired in port and conversations with the ship's ailing physician.
Every death filled him with grief, and each day, the number of infected grew.
Finally, after nearly a year at sea with Lynn aboard, the captain made a decision.
"162 cm, you've grown up, brat! Cough," said Captain Yorki as he marked the wall with a piece of charcoal, smiling at the kid in front of him—their ship's little doctor. Despite his worsening condition, the captain maintained his habit of measuring Lynn's height against the cabin wall every month.
"Woah! This is great! I'll beat Master Brook in a flash and look down on him!" Lynn exclaimed, genuinely excited to see tangible evidence of his growth.
"Hold your candy there, kid. There's no way you're going to suddenly become a 2-meter-tall monster like our vice-captain!" One of the healthier pirates laughed, ruffling Lynn's hair.
"What? I'm still young and have time to grow! Unlike you guys, who are already very old, mind you." Lynn stuck out his tongue playfully.
"Watch your mouth, kid! I'm still young!" The pirate flexed his arm, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at a healing wound.
"You're twice my age! Don't be shameless—accept your age, uncle!"
"Alright, alright, stop the banter." Captain Yorki's voice, though weakened by illness, still carried authority. "I brought you all here not to show off our little doctor's growth or to witness your drama. I have an important announcement to make."
The captain's serious tone silenced the quarrel immediately, as the man begrudgingly stared at Lynn, while Lynn tried to maintain his composure, sensing that something significant was about to be shared.
Brook, standing by the door, snickered at their childish behavior but quickly sobered, focusing on what the captain had to say. The vice-captain's normally cheerful expression had grown somber in recent weeks as the situation aboard the ship deteriorated.
"Several months after our little doctor arrived, the others and I had a discussion," Yorki began, his breathing labored between sentences. "Our disease's progression is slowing down, and thanks to his brains, we can see that no one else will get infected. However, the cure has stopped working..."
Using his knowledge from several medical books he had read and what he recalled from the internet in his world, Lynn had been able to treat injuries and even create his own medications. This showed just how adaptable Lynn was. Using this knowledge as his foundation, he had studied under the tutelage of doctors from settlements they visited whenever possible.
Unlike the pirates who valued strength and courage above intellect, Lynn was academically gifted—far beyond what they could truly comprehend. Once he was taught something, he could grasp ten related concepts. After a year of sailing with the pirates, he had already learned more practical skills than in all his years of middle school. The experience helped him form bonds with his new friends, and the fact that people died because of his lack of knowledge drove him to desperately learn and understand medicine better than before.
The doctors overseeing the settlements they reached had referred to him as a prodigy. Despite this, he was still unable to recreate modern-day medications from his world. His approach to medicine had evolved into something akin to traditional Eastern practices: using combinations of plants and natural substances, he created medicines with fewer side effects. Lynn could identify symptoms and tried to treat illnesses by addressing those indicators.
But the patients with the mysterious illness weren't responding anymore. If the medicine failed completely, it meant he would lose them all.
He wasn't their true doctor but a substitute who worked tirelessly to reach the level of expertise needed. Even with his intelligence, he was still a teen lacking experience in dealing with epidemic disease, so he constantly sought to learn as much as he could from other healers they encountered.
Even with all this effort, his medicine had limited effectiveness against the unknown disease ravaging the crew.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I tried..." Lynn's voice cracked, his eyes downcast.
The room fell into heavy silence.
Even though they knew the situation, hearing it stated so plainly made them feel the full weight of their despair. Their only options now seemed to be to die at sea or be left on land to waste away, possibly infecting others.
The captain patted the boy's head gently and smiled. Even though his skin had become wrinkled and sallow, his eyes sunken from illness, he tried to project positivity, staring at the child whose dark bags under his eyes showed just how hard he had worked to save them all.
"Don't worry, Lynn. No one's blaming you. You're our best chance at survival. No matter how much of a genius our little doctor is, we can't continue to burden you on our journey…"
"But! I definitely will find the cure for your disease!" Lynn protested, tears welling in his eyes.
"No, Lynn…" Yorki's voice was gentle but firm. "We know you're amazing, but you can't expect us to let ourselves become a burden to our crewmates. Because of your growing reputation, dozens of towns and countries have sent their most famous doctors to check on us, but none can heal us. Fearing our disease infecting them, they even forced us to continue living on the ship, denying us proper care in their facilities."
Captain Yorki drew himself up, summoning dignity despite his deteriorating condition. "As your captain, I will never be the one to hold you back! Cough, cough!"
"Captain…" Brook's voice was barely audible, thick with emotion.
"From now on," Yorki said, his voice firmer than it had been in weeks, summoning dignity from some deep reserve of will, "the Rumbar Pirates captain will be you, Brook..."
He pulled off his captain's coat—the distinctive garment that had become synonymous with his leadership—with trembling hands that betrayed the effort it cost him. The fabric, once filled with his robust frame, now seemed too large as he held it out to his vice-captain. The coat represented more than leadership; it carried the weight of their promises—to each other, to Laboon, to the dream of reaching the end of the Grand Line.
A heavy silence fell across the room as Brook stepped forward to accept both the coat and the enormous responsibility it represented. The torch was being passed, not in triumph as they'd once imagined, but in desperate hope that their journey might continue even as some of them turned back.
Brook nodded solemnly, accepting both the coat and the enormous responsibility it represented. "I see. Is that why you chose to sail back, huh?"
"Indeed, we choose to return…" Yorki confirmed, a wistful expression crossing his face.
"Then, I pray for your safety, captain." Brook bowed his head respectfully.
"Thank you, Brook…"
"Hic, hic…" Lynn couldn't contain his sobs any longer, the reality of what was happening finally hitting him.
Patting Lynn's head one last time, Yorki said, "It's alright, your medicine will help us survive a while longer... We wish to at least return to our hometown and have a great last day there. Take care of them for me, Genius…"
"Aye, hic, aye, sir." Lynn tried to stand at attention, a proper pirate despite his tears.
"We've already prepared the necessities for our departure, and your supplies are also ready. Since we're close to the entry point, it shouldn't take us long to reach our destination. Mates, thank you for the memories, and please visit us when you've achieved the end of your journey!"
With those final words, the former captain took his leave. Leading the infected crew members toward the other boat they had acquired for this purpose, Captain Yorki jumped aboard with more strength than he had shown in weeks, waving his hand as the sails were unfurled. Slowly, distancing himself from his former crewmates, he began the journey out of the Grand Line, back toward the calmer waters of East Blue.
"Greet Laboon for us!" Yorki called out, his voice carrying across the widening gap between the vessels.
"Take care, Captain!" Brook responded, the musician's voice strong despite the tears streaming down his face.
As the ships parted ways, Lynn stood at the railing, salt spray mingling with the tears he could no longer hold back. He watched until Captain Yorki's ship was just a speck on the horizon, then nothing at all—swallowed by the vastness of the sea that had brought them together and now tore them apart.
The weight of responsibility settled over the remaining crew, now led by Captain Brook. The musician stood tall at the helm, Yorki's coat draped over his shoulders like a promise, his usually jovial face set in lines of determination. They had lost friends, mentors, brothers-in-arms, and for Lynn—who had arrived with nothing—the closest thing to a father figure he had known in this strange new world.
The ship felt emptier now, quieter despite the continued creaking of timbers and flapping of sails. But as Lynn wiped his eyes, he heard the first notes of Brook's violin rising above the sounds of the sea—not a melody of mourning, but the Rumbar Pirates' anthem, a defiant declaration that their journey would continue.
But they still had a promise to keep—to Laboon, to their departed comrades, and to themselves. The journey would continue, and somehow, they would find a way to survive the perils of the Grand Line.
Brook's violin began to play, a song of farewell and new beginnings, as the remaining Rumbar Pirates set course deeper into the most dangerous sea in the world.
[Character Status: Lynn Sadogashima]
Level: 1
Class: [Unknown]
HP: 75/75 (★★★☆☆ - Improved through pirate life)
MP: 30/30 (★★★☆☆ - Growing potential)
Core Attributes:
[STR]: 20/100 ★★☆☆☆ (Intermediate) - Developed through ship work and basic training [VIT]: 25/100 ★★☆☆☆ (Intermediate) - Hardened by life at sea [AGI]: 20/100 ★★☆☆☆ (Intermediate) - Improved balance on the rocking ship [INT]: 60/100 ★★★★☆ (Advanced) - Natural talent enhanced by practical learning
World-Specific Attributes:
[Sea Legs]: 45/100 ★★★☆☆ (Proficient) - Adapted well to ship life [Haki Potential]: ?? (Locked) - Still dormant [Devil Fruit Compatibility]: 70% (High) - Unchanged [Musical Aptitude]: 30/100 ★★★☆☆ (Developing) - Brook's tutelage showing results
Passive Skills:
[Dexterous Hands] Lvl 3 - Significantly improved through medical work and instrument practice [Modern Knowledge] Lvl 4 - Increasingly applying knowledge from his world [Survivor's Instinct] Lvl 3 - Enhanced by witnessing real combat
Active Skills:
[Basic Treatment] Lvl 2 - Can handle routine injuries and illness [Medicinal Brewing] Lvl 3 - Creating effective herbal remedies [Musical Performance] Lvl 2 - Learning multiple instruments
Techniques:
[Swordsmanship Lv. 2]: Beginner - Basic forms learned from Brook [Herbology Lv. 3]: Intermediate - Can identify many medicinal plants [Medicine Lv. 2]: Beginner - Growing knowledge of treatments [Music Lv. 1]: Novice - Fundamentals of multiple instruments
Achievements:
✓ [Ship's Apprentice] - Found your place among the Rumbar Pirates
✓ [Survivor's First Year] - Completed one year in the One Piece world
✓ [Field Medic] - Helped treat the crew during crisis
✓ [Student of the Sword] - Began training under Brook
Current Quest:
» [New Captain, New Challenges] - Adapt to Brook's leadership
» [Medicine Man] - Continue developing medical knowledge
» [Remember the Fallen] - Honor those who departed with Captain Yorki
Technique Levels: 1: Novice, 2: Beginner, 3: Intermediate, 4: Advanced, 5: Expert, 6: Master, 7: Advanced Master, 8: Grand Master, 9: Advanced Grand Master, 10: Unknown
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