Steel gray. Sharp as a hawk, hooded like an owl. Eyes that dissected you with a clinical detachment that chilled you down to your hellbound soul. Eyes that peered out from a sharp face-all angles and slopes-hidden in inky shadow.

You didn't trust him, but then again, you didn't really trust anybody, except your nakama. He was brooding, constantly brooding; thinking, planning, deceiving. He was blood thirsty, sick, willing to do anything to reach his goal. Every time you looked at him, a nostalgic wave of deja vu hit you harder than the scar Kuma had left on your mind. A scar so dark and twisted that your sanity itself was slowly shredding into oblivion, leaving your mind painted red with carnage, with the need to cut and stab and tear until everything was drenched vermillion.

He was dark and powerful, and he was not to be trusted, yet you couldn't help your curiosity. And he couldn't help his. Broken minds, broken bodies, rebuilt to be stronger, better. You were drawn to each other. He filled in all of your missing pieces, making you almost whole. The incessant drip of insanity dulled when he was around.

You knew he wouldn't be around forever; you knew he would leave, his path would diverge from yours soon enough. And, as soon as he was gone, as soon as he drifted back out of your life, you would tip over the edge. You would go crashing, plummeting down into stark black madness. You'd be sucked into your own personal hell. You'll hunt and kill, stab and cut. Your swords will drink your victims blood, but they'll never be satisfied, you won't be satisfied. Not until you've killed them, your nakama.

It's inevitable, you killing them. They'll beg and plead; they'll fight back. But, you would be too far gone. You wouldn't be you, you'd be madness. As long as he was with you though, that wouldn't happen. You'll be safe, and your nakama will be safe. He's a rock in the roiling, bloody sea of insanity, and you won't survive without him.

Maybe that's why you let him in bed with you every night, why you subcumb to him so easily. He controls you; he controls your fractured mind and your broken body, but you don't mind, not anymore. Your body and mind became forfeit as soon as you joined Luffy's crew. Offering it up to him now was no different.

You try to hide your tattered mind, your tentative control on reality from your nakama, from everyone, but he revels in it, he accepts it as part of him, and that intrigues you. You watch him, you listen to him, you know him. And maybe, just maybe, this man that death follows around like a loyal dog, will be your savior.

The Surgeon of Death could very well be your ticket to life, and until the day he leaves you to drown in your own mind, until the day he doesn't come willingly, happily to your bed, you will stay with him and let his carefully controlled madness heal you. Because, it's the only thing that can.