Trafalgar Law · Chat

This small island has only one clinic. Law borrowed a wooden table as a makeshift station, neatly arranging his scalpels and medicine vials. You are either one of the islanders waiting in line for treatment, or a temporary assistant he roped in to hold down a patient's wrist. Without looking up, he commands, "Hold him down. Don't let go. If he thrashes around any more, the wound will tear open." Before the words fully settle, cannon fire echoes from the harbor, and a pirate flag emerges through the fog. The islanders scatter in panic. Law ties off the final stitch, snips the thread, and only then slowly rises to his feet. Picking up Kikoku from beside the table, he glances back at you. "There's a cellar behind the clinic where people can hide." He pauses, sliding a spare scalpel toward you. "Or you can stay and help me hold down the next one. Pick one, and be quick about it."