On the Oro Jackson, the smell of battle quickly faded, replaced by the sounds of victory cheers and the aroma of wine. The crew members sang sea shanties loudly and off-key, boasting about how they had just given the Marines the slip again. Garp, equipped with what the crew called his "Roger Radar," had found them as usual, and the two sides had engaged in another one of their "friendly" meetings.
Kyle leaned against the mast, holding a fresh glass of orange juice and taking a small sip. It was perfect, exactly the taste he loved. His eyes, however, drifted over to his captain.
Roger was standing with his hands on his hips, one arm slung over Jabba's shoulders as they boasted loudly, his laughter as hearty as ever. But the arm that wasn't holding a sword was wrapped in thick bandages, and dark red bloodstains were slowly spreading through the white cloth. While it was Garp who had managed to break his defense, a wound like that would normally be a minor issue for a monster like Roger, healing quickly even without treatment.
But Kyle noticed something else. He listened closely and realized that while Roger's laughter was loud, his breaths seemed just a little shorter than usual.
Kyle's hand, holding the glass, paused. No way… Has it… started?
His heart sank. The sweet orange juice in his mouth suddenly tasted bitter.
Night fell, and the victory feast began. The rich smell of roasted meat filled the deck, and a huge bonfire cast a warm, red glow on everyone's faces. Roger had changed into a clean shirt and was holding a wine glass bigger than his own head, drinking and laughing with Jabba.
"Cheers!"
"Oh oh oh oh!"
Shanks and Buggy, the two apprentices, were the loudest of all. Each was holding a large piece of meat as they chased each other around the deck, bragging about how they had "heroically" fought off three Marine soldiers earlier that day, which earned a round of laughter from the crew. The entire ship was alive with the noise and energy of the feast.
Only Kyle seemed out of place. He sat in a shadowed corner, a glass of orange juice untouched in front of him. He wasn't eating or drinking, just quietly watching his cheerful companions. His gaze passed over every face, finally settling on Roger's vibrant, smiling one.
No, I have to do something!
During a lull in a drinking contest, the deck fell quiet for a moment, with only the crackling of the bonfire filling the air. Kyle stood up and walked into the firelight.
"Hey, everyone."
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence and reached every ear. Everyone looked over at him, and even Roger blinked with curiosity.
"I've got a suggestion," Kyle said, his expression unusually serious. "I think it's time we found ourselves a ship's doctor."
The air was silent for a few seconds.
"Pfft—" Jabba spat out a mouthful of wine. "Cough, cough… Kyle, are you running a fever? A ship's doctor? What in the world do we need that for?"
"Exactly," Nozdon added, patting his sturdy chest. "As long as your head is still on your shoulders, everything else is just a minor injury!"
"Hahaha! You're right! A bottle of rum is a better doctor than any man!"
The crew burst into laughter, all of them thinking Kyle was telling some kind of strange joke. Kyle just gave a wry smile. He looked around at everyone, his golden eyes looking especially serious in the firelight, and the loud laughter slowly died down.
"Think about it," Kyle began slowly. "Every time we fight, we have to hold back a little. We're afraid of getting seriously hurt, afraid of losing an arm or a leg. But what if we had a really skilled doctor on board?"
He paused, letting the idea sink in before he threw out his real bait.
"Imagine it. We could charge into a fight with no holding back. Even if your limbs got cut off, as long as you picked up the pieces, the doctor could just reattach them for you! You could trade blows with stronger enemies, life for life, because you'd know you have a doctor to patch you up! Our fights could be even more reckless, even more exciting!"
The playful looks on the crew's faces started to fade, replaced by a hint of eagerness. For these battle-hungry pirates, his suggestion was starting to sound very appealing.
Seeing that he had their attention, Kyle put on a kind smile and played his final card.
"And, more importantly…" His voice dropped, full of devilish temptation. "Don't you all think it's a waste of time to sleep for a whole day after every feast? If we had a doctor, he could make us the strongest hangover cure in the world! We could party all night, drink until the world spins, and then just take one dose of his cure. We'd wake up the next morning feeling fresh and ready… for the next feast!"
He raised his voice, full of passion. "We could even have three feasts a day! A feast for breakfast, a feast for lunch, and another feast for dinner!"
"…"
The deck was dead silent.
Everyone, including Roger, was stunned. Their minds seemed to be struggling to process this incredible proposal. Three… feasts a day?
"OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!"
"That's genius! Kyle, you're an absolute genius!" Buggy's eyes were lit up, as if he could already see a future of endless juice and non-stop parties.
"He's right! For the feast!"
"A ship's doctor is a great idea! We have to get one!"
"I want to get drunk every single day!"
The crew's mood exploded. The same men who had been laughing at Kyle moments ago were now completely convinced that finding a doctor was their most important mission. The deck erupted with noise again, but this time, the topic wasn't battles, but the wonderful fantasy of endless feasts.
"Kuhahaha!" Roger laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face. He threw an arm around Kyle's neck and shook him playfully. "Kyle! Where do you come up with this stuff! Alright, it's settled! We're going to find the best doctor in the world and make them join our crew! For the feast!"
"FOR THE FEAST!" everyone roared in unison.
Amidst the celebration, only Rayleigh didn't join in. He leaned against the ship's railing, quietly sipping his drink. His gaze drifted past the noisy crowd and landed on Kyle.
Although Kyle was smiling and cheering along with everyone else, Rayleigh could see there was no real joy in his eyes. Deep down, he was hiding a heavy worry that was completely out of place with the wild party around them.
Rayleigh said nothing. He just silently raised his glass in a small gesture toward Kyle.
Kyle noticed the look and raised his own wooden cup, returning the gesture from across the deck. They both understood without needing to say a word.
Some bad news was best kept quiet, especially when it would bring a grand feast to an early end.
----------------
You can read advanced chapters here: patreon.com/GregariousLion