Chopper's steps echoed softly down the corridor as he returned from delivering the medicine, his breath clouding the air with every exhale. The stone floor beneath him felt colder than usual, and each clack of his hooves sounded louder in his mind, competing with the storm of thoughts spinning inside his chest. Luffy's voice—"You're not a monster. You're a doctor."—refused to leave him. It circled over and over, defying every wall of doubt Chopper had carefully built. His hoof briefly faltered mid-step, a sign of how deeply the words had sunk into him.
As he passed a frost-rimmed window, he paused, drawn toward the dancing flakes of snow just beyond the glass. They drifted like tiny memories falling from the sky. His reflection stared back at him—furred, horned, different. His nose was red from the cold, his eyes slightly puffy from lack of rest. The contrast between the warmth of that one voice and the cold stillness around him felt unbearable. He frowned. The reflection blurred as a memory surfaced.
He was younger then. Covered in bruises and snow. His breath had been ragged from running, his legs trembling from exhaustion. The world had seemed cruel and sharp. But even in the coldest moments, Hiriluk had still smiled at him.
"Doctor Hiriluk," Chopper had whimpered. "They called me a freak. They threw stones at me again."
Hiriluk had crouched down beside him, brushing snow from his antlers with calloused hands. "They fear what they don't understand. But you—you have the power to help, Chopper. That's what matters."
Tears welled in Chopper's eyes. "But I'm not like them. I'm not like you."
"Exactly," Hiriluk said with a grin that beamed despite the weather. "You're something new. Something wonderful. And that scares people. But someday, someone will see what I see."
The memory fast-forwarded to that last day. The doctor standing proudly on the snowy cliffside, arms stretched to the sky, smiling in front of the explosion he triggered to go out with dignity and purpose. Even as the bomb lit the horizon, his eyes had been peaceful.
"I had a wonderful life!" he'd yelled. "Thank you, Chopper!"
Chopper remembered screaming, sprinting into the wind, but being too late. The blast had cleared the clouds above, revealing a blue sky as his tears fell freely into the snow.
Back in the present, Chopper whispered, "I don't want to lose again." His breath fogged the window. He turned away, heart heavy with longing.
Later, back in the infirmary, Chopper placed a tray of new medicine on the table without meeting anyone's eyes. The fire in the hearth crackled quietly in the background, casting soft flickers of light across the walls. The room smelled faintly of herbs and boiled bandages. Nami still slept quietly in the bed, her breathing more stable now thanks to the treatment. Chopper glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and a soft wave of relief swept through him. His chest tightened—not with anxiety, but with purpose.
Kureha watched him from the corner, arms folded. She said nothing at first, observing the stiffness in his shoulders, the careful way he moved—as if trying not to disturb the air.
"You're working hard," she said without sarcasm, her voice unexpectedly gentle.
Chopper nodded faintly, keeping his eyes fixed on the tray.
Kureha approached. Her boots made no sound across the rug beneath her feet. "You're conflicted. I can see it."
He stiffened, gripping the edge of the table. His ears twitched but he said nothing.
"That boy with the straw hat… he's different," she said. "And you already know that, don't you?"
Chopper clenched his jaw. His grip on the tray tightened. "I don't know yet."
"You do," she said gently, placing a hand on his head and smoothing down his fur with care. "You just haven't accepted it."
She added with a faint smile, "Just like how you used to sleep curled up in the old cabinet when you were scared. Same expression."
Chopper looked up, just briefly. Her eyes were stern but kind. Like they'd always been. Like Hiriluk's once were.
A soft noise from Nami's bed brought them both to attention. Chopper quickly stepped away, his face flushing. He returned to preparing the next set of doses, but his thoughts were far from the room.
That night, the castle was even quieter than before. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting silvery streaks on the stone floor. A faint wind whispered against the glass panes, and the creaking of the old walls was the only sound that accompanied Chopper's footsteps. The chill in the air had deepened, and the shadows stretched longer.
He carried a smaller satchel through the corridor, his head down, body bundled against the cold. The strap of the satchel bit into his shoulder, but he didn't mind. He was used to the weight of things he couldn't put down.
Then Luffy appeared at the far end. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, one foot tapped slightly with a rhythm only he understood.
"Oi," Luffy called out.
Chopper froze.
"Join my crew," Luffy said simply.
Chopper stopped in his tracks, his heart leaping to his throat. "W-what?"
"You heard me," Luffy grinned. "We need a doctor. A good one. That's you."
"I-I'm not…"
"You are," Luffy interrupted. "You're the only one who could help Nami. You're the only one I want."
Chopper's eyes darted left and right. "I-I can't! I'm… I'm a monster!"
Luffy stepped forward, unphased. "Then we'll have a monster on the crew. Who cares?"
Chopper backed up, ears flat. "You don't understand! I've lost people! I don't want to trust again!"
"I've lost people too," Luffy said, quietly but firmly. "But I still believe. And I believe in you."
The corridor was still. Chopper's breath hitched. He looked like he might cry. He wanted to believe Luffy. He wanted to take that step.
Then—he turned and ran.
Luffy didn't chase this time. He simply stood where he was, watching. A quiet smile remained on his face, calm and patient.
From a high balcony, Chopper pressed his hooves against the cold stone railing and looked out at the full moon. The landscape was blanketed in snow, silent and still. The stars blinked in the sky like they too were waiting for an answer. His hooves tightened against the stone. A single tear slipped down his cheek, vanishing into his fur.
His thoughts spun like the wind, but one remained.
"If I follow him… will I really belong?"
To be continued...
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