Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of its characters.
Marked By Fire
Zoro didn't see what the big fuss was about.
It was just a little burn.
Seriously, Chopper was going a little too far in his mollycoddling over him. The doctor kept fussing over the careful binding of the bandages, the right amount of ointments on the burn and especially with the restraining orders to his bed. Of course, he broke the rules and went to train like usual, ripping off the inconvenient bandages so he could move a lot easier. Then, Chopper, along with a few helpful volunteers, would come and drag him back to bed and secure all the bandages back on his little burn, often with the usage of excessive violence. Chopper even went as far as threatening him to strap him down to the bed to prevent him from disobeying him again, which was a bit extreme, in his opinion.
It was just a little burn.
Apparently, to the others, it was not so. There were times when they felt uneasy around him, willing to avoid him than to confront him, whether it was because of him or because of the tiny, insignificant burn or maybe a little of both. Whenever their eyes instinctively trailed down to the white swath of bandages and faint pinkness of skin just rippling between the bandages, they would quickly look away or busy themselves immediately to distract themselves, to forget that it was ever there. Because it wasn't there and what wasn't there, does not exist.
It was just a little burn.
He thought they were just overreacting. Like the time Sanji accidentally hit the bandaged skin on his arm in an outburst of anger when he was being particularly vexing, deviously tempting the cook to an argument. Zoro never thought the kitchen could get that quiet. Sanji flushed with embarrassment and guilt before hurrying away to divert his attention to wash the dirty dishes, even though the sink was empty and sparking clean. He simply continued to eat, inwardly sighing that he wasn't able to goad Sanji to a fight. He did not understand why they were all looking at him like he was a ticking bomb seconds away from an explosion or someone carrying a deadly, contagious disease ready to infect others.
It was just a little burn.
They probably think it's the most painful thing, despite it only being a small thing. It just looks bad, with all the bandages Chopper has been wrapping around it, tying it loosely but tightly enough so it wouldn't hurt him. Which is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. He does not feel any pain from it. He can train all day and night without experiencing any sort of agony or strain that the others would expect him to suffer through. He felt perfectly fine. It was as if he didn't have that silly little burn at all. In fact, he doesn't feel a thing at all.
It was just a little burn.
He had been careless. They all were, in a sense. He should have realized it that someone would have set the place on fire, to trap them there, to incinerate them alive. It was hot, so sweltering hot. The fire roared above and below him, searing the soles of his boots. Smoke suffocated him, cutting off his air, as he blindly tried to claw his way through it, sweat trickling down his cheeks, shouting at the others to move. He could hear Nami calling for them somewhere from the outside, towards the direction of their escape to a cool and fire-free location. They were so close. Yet they were too far away. The ceiling was coming down. They wouldn't make it. It would be too late. They would die. So he made the decision.
It was just a little burn.
Lifting the semi-conscious Luffy from his shoulder, he tossed his captain forward and out the only area exempt of flames and smoke. Wildly grabbing the first person behind him, which happened to be Sanji, he seized the protesting cook's arm, also bodily sending him and the petrified Chopper, who was clamped on his head, flying outside. The last one was Usopp, who, interestingly enough, realized what he was up to. The sharpshooter began frantically shaking his head, clenching his hands tightly on the front of Zoro's shirt, trying to bellow some sense into his head, trying to drag him - them both out at the same time. He had never seen this side of Usopp before. But there was no time left. No time to change his mind. It was either both of them or only one of them. It would be only one of them.
It was just a little burn.
They found him half-buried in the rubble, covered in ash, soot and bricks. They probably thought he was dead, him being so still and silent. Over the next few days, Chopper would grimly announce the total extent of the damage he received. Most of his right side was crushed and severely burnt, the injuries too grisly to look upon. It was only a miracle that kept his right lung still functioning. It might even take years before he could use his disfigured limbs properly again. Even if the burns did recover, there will be scars, ugly, horrid scars, a lasting reminder of the event. A permanent memento of what Zoro was able to do and what they couldn't.
It was just a little burn.
Then, his eyes flicked open and he saw them. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't feel his right arm or leg. It was strangely numbed, like it wasn't even there. He had been expecting at least a spasm of unbearable pain upon his awakening, but this way was better, he presumed. Absently, he wondered why he could still smell smoke and fire when he knew that there wasn't any smoke or fire around him. He would later discover that the bitter stench will forever coat and stick to his skin. He simply lolled his head - it was all he could manage at the moment - towards them and cracked a weak smirk at their teary and guilt-ridden faces.
It was just a little burn.
He told them he was all right.
It was just a little burn.
Really, it was nothing, he insisted.
It was just a little burn.
They continued to cry and cry.
It was just a little burn.
It really was.
It was just a little burn.
To him, it was just a little burn.