He wasn't one for hanging on; after all, he didn't even bother listening to the story of Nami's past because her tears were all the proof he needed.

This time.

Tree trunks crackle under his fists, skin scrapped, crusted scabs.

It was nearly, almost, not quite, like running through the forest, stretching out towards a fading back.

Messy black mop of hair and a scowl was all he got but it was always worth the wait for a single smile.

His voice scrubbed raw with screaming, grass trampled under his feet.

When he watched a taller shadow sail off without him, he wasn't worried because things like danger didn't matter when adventure was at the other end.

Old wounds reopen, his belly warmed by the flow of his own blood.

When he was running away from a hurtling mass of smoke, an unfamiliar mark on an all-too familiar back shielded him – as it always had.

Right at the very end, the same scene plays out; he can't help but watch.

The world burned away without his eyes.