Chapter 4: [Voyage] - the mystery part 2 - Venturing Realities: The journey started after being Brook's disciple

The next morning, Lynn awoke to chaos.

"MARINE SHIPS! THREE OF THEM, BEARING DOWN FAST!"

He scrambled from his hammock, hastily grabbing his medical bag and the box containing the strange fruit. The ship lurched violently as it changed course, sending Lynn stumbling into the wall.

Above deck, the situation was grim. Three Marine vessels formed a blockade ahead, their white sails brilliant against the blue sky. Marines lined the rails, rifles and cannons at the ready.

"They've been tracking us since Alabasta," Brook explained grimly, telescope in hand. "I'd hoped to lose them in the night, but they're persistent."

"Can we outrun them?" Lynn asked, securing his bag around his waist.

"Not with this wind." Brook's usual jovial manner had vanished, replaced by the stern demeanor of a captain facing danger. "We'll have to fight."

The crew moved with practiced efficiency, manning battle stations and preparing weapons. Lynn hurried to the medical bay, quickly organizing bandages, disinfectants, and surgical tools. Combat injuries would soon follow, and he needed to be ready.

The first cannon shot fell short, sending up a plume of water that sprayed across the deck. The second came closer.

"RETURN FIRE!" Brook commanded, and the ship's cannons roared in response.

Lynn braced himself against the medical table as the ship rocked with each blast. From his position below deck, he could hear the chaos above—shouts, explosions, the clash of metal on metal as the ships drew close enough for boarding.

"Doc! We need you topside!" Barbaro appeared at the doorway, blood seeping from a gash in his arm. "They've boarded us!"

Lynn grabbed his emergency kit and followed, heart pounding. On deck, the battle raged. Marines and pirates clashed in a blur of steel and gunpowder. Brook moved like lightning, his sword flashing as he cut down Marine after Marine.

"Over here!" Lynn called to Barbaro, pulling him behind a stack of barrels. "Let me see that arm."

Working quickly, Lynn cleaned and bandaged the wound. "You'll live. Now stay put while I—"

A deafening explosion interrupted him as a cannonball struck the ship's mast. Wood splintered, raining debris across the deck. Lynn instinctively threw himself over Barbaro, shielding him from the worst of it.

Pain lanced through Lynn's back as something sharp pierced his skin. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright once the debris settled.

"You okay?" he asked Barbaro.

"Better than you." Barbaro pointed at Lynn's shoulder, where a large splinter of wood protruded. "That needs to come out."

"Later," Lynn insisted, already moving toward another injured crewmate. "There are others who need help more."

For the next hour, Lynn worked tirelessly, moving from one injured pirate to another. Remove shrapnel, clean wound, apply pressure, bandage, move on. His own injury throbbed painfully, but he pushed the sensation aside. Modern triage concepts from his world guided his decisions—who to treat first, who could wait, who was beyond help.

The battle gradually turned in their favor. Brook's swordsmanship and the crew's tenacity drove the Marines back to their own vessels. When the last Marine ship retreated, the crew's victory cheer was subdued by exhaustion and the knowledge of what they'd lost.

"Damage report," Brook called out, wiping his blade clean.

"Mast's damaged but standing," reported the ship's carpenter. "Hull's taken some hits below the waterline—we're taking on water, but the pumps are keeping up for now."

"Casualties?" Brook's voice softened.

"Three dead. Twelve injured, four critically," Lynn answered, his voice cracking from exhaustion. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the pain in his shoulder returned with vengeance.

Brook nodded grimly. "We need to find somewhere to make repairs. Navigator!"

"There's a small island about a day's sail southeast," the navigator reported. "Uninhabited, according to our charts."

"Then that's our heading. Set course immediately." Brook turned to Lynn. "And you, doctor, need to let someone treat that shoulder."

Lynn started to protest but swayed on his feet as dizziness washed over him. "Maybe you're right."

One of the less injured crew members helped Lynn to the medical bay, where he instructed them on removing the wooden splinter and cleaning the wound. As they worked, Lynn drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion finally taking their toll.

His last thought before darkness claimed him was of the strange fruit, still secured in its box beneath his hammock. He'd nearly forgotten about it in the chaos—perhaps that was for the best.

Lynn awoke to gentle rocking and the sound of waves lapping against the hull. Sunlight streamed through the porthole, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. His shoulder ached dully, professionally bandaged with what he recognized as his own handiwork—someone had followed his instructions well.

"About time you woke up," came a gruff voice from the doorway.

Lynn turned to see Barbaro, arm bandaged but otherwise looking well. "How long was I out?"

"Nearly a day. We've reached the island and started repairs."

Lynn tried to sit up and winced. "A whole day? There must have been others who needed—"

"Everyone's stable," Barbaro interrupted. "You did good work before you passed out. Now the crew's returning the favor by letting you rest."

Relief washed over Lynn. "The dead?"

"Already buried. Brook said words over them this morning." Barbaro's expression darkened. "We lost good men."

Lynn nodded solemnly. Despite all his medical knowledge, death remained an inevitable companion on their journey. The weight of it never lessened.

"Brook wants to see you when you're up for it," Barbaro continued. "Something about 'experiments' and that weird fruit of yours."

Lynn groaned. "He's still on about that?"

"You know how he gets when he's curious about something." Barbaro grinned. "Anyway, there's food in the galley when you're hungry."

After Barbaro left, Lynn carefully tested his mobility. The wound hurt, but the movement wasn't restricted—a good sign. Slowly, he made his way to his feet and dressed, then headed above deck.

The island was small but dense with vegetation. The ship had been anchored in a natural cove, protected from the open sea. On the beach, crew members worked on repairs, carrying timber from the island's interior to patch the hull.

Lynn spotted Brook sitting on a rock outcropping, playing a soft melody on his violin. The music carried on the breeze, somehow both melancholy and hopeful.

"Master," Lynn called as he approached.

Brook lowered his violin. "Ah, the walking wounded rises! Yohohoho! How's the shoulder?"

"It'll heal," Lynn said, sitting beside him. "Barbaro said you wanted to see me?"

"Indeed!" Brook set his violin aside and produced the box containing the strange fruit. "I've been thinking about this curious object in your absence."

Lynn sighed. "You're still not convinced I should stay away from it?"

"On the contrary!" Brook opened the box, revealing the disk-shaped fruit. "I've concluded that if this is indeed a Devil Fruit, it should be your choice whether to consume it or not."

Lynn blinked in surprise. "That's... unexpectedly reasonable of you."

"Yohohoho! I can be reasonable when it matters!" Brook closed the box and handed it to Lynn. "But I do believe you should study it further. If it's not a Devil Fruit, it might still have properties worth understanding."

Lynn accepted the box with a nod. "I'll look into it. But I'm still not eating it."

"As you wish." Brook picked up his violin again. "Now, since you're awake and well enough to walk, you're well enough for a music lesson! Fetch your violin, and we'll see if near-death has improved your playing! Yohohoho!"

Lynn groaned but complied. Some things never changed, even after battles with Marines and mysterious fruits from the deep. And honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. of barrels. "Let me see that arm."