(happy 'seol nal'!)

A shout, a falter, a sickening crunch and then, nothing at all.

The moment he opens his eyes is a painful one because it is the same moment he realizes he is awake and the throbbing between his temples blots out everything else, dulling his senses to a hyperawareness towards that can only be called agony. He groans or maybe he whimpers; the sound and the voices murmuring frantically around him, fall on deaf ears. He closes his eyes again and gladly sinks away from the pain.

The metallic ring of steel clashing against each other and sting of gunpowder are the familiar marks of a fierce battle and he slides between enemy after enemy, casually knocking the marines away. It is insulting they've come this close to Thousand Sunny, close enough for the marines to climb aboard. However, out of the few things that can stand up to the newly reunited Straw Hat crew's almost maniac defense of their ship, a single marine vessel is not one of them.

He walks down the deck, not bothering to look back at the sharp crack of his elbow meeting the nose of a marine. He is a man with a mission and his objective is standing on the edge of the adjacent marine vessel, bellowing orders.

He crouches down to build the momentum for a jump-but then there is a shout, he falters, and with a sickening crunch, there is nothing at all.

The rest of him wakes up after his reflexes already brought up the remains in his churning stomach; the foul acid burns his mouth but the effort he makes in trying to wipe it away results in a slight twitch in his otherwise limp arms.

"We got you," A low voice speaks close to his right and despite the soothing calm, he flinches away. The voice is too close for comfort, too close for safety-

"…kay, it's just us," another voice, a different voice promises. It's just us. Those words mean something yet the nausea clamps down and from its steel grip, only blurred colors and garbled sounds bleed through.

"…per….doesn't look…good-" A beat later as his stomach turns against him a second time. Spitting and gasping for breath, he belatedly realizes the cushioned surface he is resting against isn't a bed. The world is tilted as if he is sitting up; he is hanging in another's grip. "...concussed... to check…movement.."

Something cold presses against his temple and eases the pain. He welcomes it, slumping against the grip despite himself. The moment of comfort is what lulls him into peace, compliant and content to surrender to his captors. It is why he doesn't pay attention to the touches that brush against his face-not until a light explodes in his eye and he seizes back. Darkness claims him once more.

Strange jewels are scattered around him, glinting in the dark like broken glass. No, he takes a step forward and looks closer. The jewels are glowing of their own accord, the flush of color fending off darkness because they aren't jewels at all but fragments of memory, echoes of laughter and tears. Thousands of seconds and millions of moments flash by in each reflection and when he peers into the shards, the colors and sounds flood into his mind. The force knocks him to his knees but even in the breathless confusion, he instinctively understands that he is never to let go and struggles to keep up. The vivid memories are like sand however; the harder he tries to hold on, the faster they slip away until he no longer has anything, is completely empty except for -

"Luffy," he chokes. A voice asks for his name again, and he gives it. Luffy, he repeats, holding on to the word, the name, the one memory that keeps coming back no matter how much the others slip away.