The room dips like it's performing a duet by itself. It's a funny thought and he chuckles, headache stabbing into his skull. If only it would stop spinning however, then he could actually get out of the room that seems to be pressing down on him from all sides; much too small. He fidgets, it's either been ten minutes or ten hours but either way it's been far too long. He's bored, in this dull room with only his dull, throbbing pain for company. Plus, his stomach has been grumbling for a while now, making it harder for him to ignore the damn feeling.
He hums a tune under his breath; it reminds him of clouds and a goat for some reason. He feels the presence of others in close proximity, feel souls like eight blinding beacons. While it puts him on edge, there's nothing he can do until his own nausea fades somewhat. Toying with the sleeve of his patients' gown - mildly surprised that it's not stained with blood - he feels the soft fabric bend under his hands. What's it like, he wonders, to beat people down and to crush their dreams and to have complete control of their life almost as if they-
The door creaks and he sees a flash of blond hair poke out, "so he has Retrograde Amnesia then?"
"That's my diagnosis, but I'll have to do a few more tests to make sure," high voice, reindeer, looks kind of cuddly...Chipper? No, Chopper, that's his name. The doctor.
He tenses at this thought - can't trust them, not again - and gazes warily to meet the eyes on the blond man. He can feel the power concealed behind the sleek suit and tie and psyches himself up to fight if necessary. His wounds throb but it's an ignorable pain. The man's obviously surprised, visible eye widening, but manages to hide it somewhat with a belated, "oh, you're awake."
He looks at the tray in the man's hand; filled with food; fruit and soup and steaming hot bread. It's deliciously tempting, and his mouth waters and fingers twitch before he imposes his self-control and settles for a glare. Not this time. Not again.
"Oh Luffy," Chopper peeks around the man's legs, "I didn't expect the sedatives to wear off so soon - are you hungry?"
He continues to stare the man down, hands clenched in the sheets. The straw hat sits on the desk opposite and the sudden urge to pull it over his face to hide his expression is staggering. He feels exposed and raw and vulnerable.
"This is Sanji," Chopper continues, seemingly oblivious to the boy's conflicting emotions, "I asked him to bring some food that wouldn't upset your stomach in case you wanted some."
He shakes his head, the sting of self-betrayal prickling in his stomach. He ignores it in favour of watching the man's - Sanji's? - hands shake slightly and put the tray down with deliberate calm. His heart palpitates as the man strides across the room to cup his chin with one hand.
"What happened?" the anger in the voice is tangible, and he tries to shrink back but the grip on his face is firm, "what did they do to you?"
"Sanji," Chopper says, nervously tugging at the man's clothes, "perhaps you should go outside for a few moments-"
"I know you're hungry," the man continues, "you need to eat."
I'm confused, he wants to say, I feel so alone and it hurts. Instead he ends up snarling, "let go!"
He pushes against the man's chest sharply and streaks past him, blanket tumbling to the floor and colours blending together as the room continues to spin relentlessly. He hears the thump of the man falling behind him and his startled shout as he grasps the door handle like a lifetime and thrusts it open. There's no time to acknowledge the guilt swelling inside.
If the bang from the door slamming against the wall didn't alert the inhabitants of the next room then his sudden dive for a kitchen knife certainly does. He points it at the people - and skeleton? That's kind of cool - gathered around a dinner table, forks halfway to their mouths with food slipping off.
A sudden cry of, "Luffy!" from Chopper and he's stumbling towards another door, slightly ajar with a sliver of sky blue showing.
A hand grasps his wrist and halts him, a man with a stony expression and three, glinting katanas. He's powerful and dangerous and the boy swipes blindly with the knife only to have it knocked away with little more than a hand flick. A sudden ache shoots up his arm from his grip and he tries to pull away only to watch his arm stretch.
He's taking breaths but not breathing, struggling in this man's grip until he somehow finds the strength to tear away, leaving calls of a name - his name - in his wake. This must be an illusion, just like the others. People don't move like that, he knows that much, even if the feeling of wood grain under his skin feels authentic enough.
Sun blinks into his eyes and for a second he's blinded but then he adjusts and the sky has never looked so beautiful. Though he can count the number of times he's seen the sky on one hand, so it's likely he's talking rubbish.
He clambers onto the railing, eyes set on the island the ship must've left a while ago. It's but a speck in the distance and his legs are already shaking from expending his energy for so long, but it's his only chance. He has to take it.
"Luffy," a woman's voice this time, gasping, "Luffy, don't!"
"Don't call me that," he rasps, whipping his head round to glare at her. Her ginger hair floats in the breeze around her heaving shoulders and he watches as she waves the others back. Part of the weight pressing down on his chest loosens a little.
"Ok," she agrees readily, "Ok. Just come down, you can't swim."
"How do you know?" He demands, arms quivering, "you know nothing."
Several long moments pass, and he scowls at the rest of the people gathered on the deck. His brain is foggy, and full-blown panic is just around the corner. Even so, the island is getting further away every second he wastes talking to this group of people...this crew...
"I know you're confused and overwhelmed, but we'll tell you everything if you just give us the chance and listen," pleading, she's pleading. Desperate for him to get off the railing. Despite the distrust going haywire at the back of his mind, he can see no malice in her expression. She looks earnest, eyes wide and body language open.
For the first time, he really looks at his surroundings. Soft grass and a swing and in the distance, a flower garden. It's a stark contrast to the base...
"Please," the woman repeats holding up a hand, just far enough away that he feels completely unthreatened by it, "my name is Nami, we're nakama."
"Nami," he spells slowly, finding it difficult to concentrate now, "nakama..."
"Yes," the hope in her face warms him somehow, and he can't help but smile a little, "nakama - will you please come down for me?"
The hand is still outstretched, palm up, golden bracelets clinking on a slim wrist. He has nobody and he's so terribly, terribly alone but...maybe he doesn't have to be. He reaches out tentatively, turning around on the railing to full face her. The smile on her face is contagious and a burden he didn't even realised he carried lifts slightly. Their fingers touch, their eyes lock and for once he feels like he's made the right decision.
And then his foot slips.
I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I've already done quite a lot of cleaning so hopefully it's ok :)
Retrograde amnesia – when past memories are forgotten, as opposed to repressing them due to trauma or being unable to create new memories.