You sit in the sickbay, quiet, uncomfortable as San moves around without a word. There's the clatter as he mixes something, from the smell, probably some sort of herbal salve to prevent infection, but that's not the most important thing right now. Even more important than your hand. Even more important than your pain.
You tongue the inside of your cheek nervously. San is practically stomping around the room, his movements only increasing in volume with every second that passes, you can clearly see the wound up tension building in his shoulders. That intimidates you, but you need to at least try to make everything okay.
It's the least you can do.
"Master?" You begin, hesitantly. San doesn't respond first, whether he can't hear you or he's plain ignoring you, you don't know, but you swallow the lump in your throat and call, louder this time. "Master?"
San freezes, hands hovering over the work table. Suddenly lost for direction, aimless, without purpose. "What." His voice is curt, short, trembling and when he finally turns around to meet you, his eyes scream "what" even louder, and you're shocked to see that tears are clinging fiercely to his lashes, refusing to fall.
The sight stings like a whip to the face.
"Master–" You begin to say, desperate to fix this somehow, but San doesn't look at you, fingers digging into the wood of his work table so hard that his fingers turn white. He's angry, no, furious with you, that much is obvious.
How are you supposed to make things right?
You merely watch in silence as San takes three deep breaths to compose himself, the furious expression vanishing only to be replaced by an emotionless mask of steel. You're not sure which one you prefer, the tension between the two of you merely thickens like growing smog. He continues smashing the marigold petals with more force than necessary, the sound of mortar meeting pestle going clack-clack in your ears like an ominous echo.
The sharp smell of potent marigold paste fills your nose, but its familiar scent isn't comforting you, instead you close your eyes and try to will the pain in your hand – and in your heart – to go away.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Wha-" You say, confused for a second before you realise, oh, that's what he's talking about. You had your reasons, sure, but speaking them out loud suddenly seems way too daunting a task for you to handle. You fumble around for the right words, but they don't come to your mind.
"I said," San repeats, through gritted teeth this time, and the fury makes his voice tremble. "Why didn't you say anything about the bleeding?"
You press your lips together for a while, keep silent. Trying to figure a way to phrase your reasoning into words seems impossible at the moment and your head hangs while San doesn't say a word either, the tension only growing between the two of you.
San finally finishes preparing the poultice with lips drawn in a tight line, his eyes don't meet yours as he steps over to you with a bandage in hand. Crouching before you, he continues to avoid your gaze even when he picks up your hand with the utmost gentleness, as though he can't bring himself to translate his rage into a physical form.
Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.
He swipes a finger over the skin around the wound, taut expression unchanging, and a shower of tiny flakes fall to the ground. They look like snowflakes.
What are those?
"What are those?" San echoes your thoughts brusquely, curiosity clashing with some attempt to remain upset. You frown, confused, bend down to squint at the small shapes. But then San shouts in horror, staring at the hand that he has clasped in his.
Shocked, your eyes instinctively follow his gaze to the wound on your hand, and what you see terrifies the hell out of you.
"Master!" You scream, panicking. Everything is going haywire. "My hand... it's–"
San cradles your hand urgently in his, as if that would be of any help to you, but it only ends up doing the opposite. The two of you can only watch in terror as a crack splits down the tip of your index finger, tiny web-like patterns splintering across the skin. Your heart leaps into your mouth, but before the two of you can do anything about it, your index finger breaks off completely, falling to the ground and breaking clean in half.
What?
San's eyes dilate at the sight, his breath leaving him in unsteady, terrified pants. You feel no pain, but your heartbeat resounds in your ears, like a faint echo. You're so calm you're surprised and, raising your hand curiously, you see more cracks already starting to appear along the skin of your knuckles.
"Chin Hae!" San screams, alarmed, but you don't hear his voice, instead you simply continue to stare at the webbed fissures blossoming across your hand, down to your wrist. The skin turns an earthy brown before your eyes before they fracture into tiny pieces, falling away like chaff blown away by the winds.
There's another crack, a sharp breath, and then your entire hand falls to the ground.
It shatters into a thousand pieces.
You sit there, stunned, staring at the broken shards that had used to be part of your body. Where warm blood had once flowed through, you only feel empty pain there, a phantom ghost of what had used to be.
Instinctively, you try to wiggle your fingers.
Nothing moves.
There's no blood, no nothing. Just a mere stump where your hand used to be, clay fusing with warm flesh at the joint of your wrist.
"I... I need to tell Captain." San trips over his own words, stumbles over his own feet as he stands to make for the door. But the fingers of your remaining hand find his wrist, encircle it ever so lightly, that is enough to stop him dead in his tracks.
"No."
San whirls on you, with wide eyes, you can still see shock in the depths of them. It's clear that your master knows that this is a problem way out of his depth, one that he has no ability to resolve. "Are you crazy?" He demands fiercely, but you can hear his voice breaking. Guilt washes over you, but you force it down and meet his eyes with more calm than you should have.
"You can't."
Your voice doesn't break.
"Why?"
San is furious, he's powerless and yet here you are, taking away the only thing he can do, calling for help. He wants more than anything in the world to save you, needs to save you. He won't give up, but you can't let him tell anyone; most of all your captain.
"– you're going to die if we don't do anything about this, Chin Hae! You've been coughing blood, having nosebleeds, and now? I didn't do anything about it and look what happened to you! I'll be damned if I let you die after all this time, Hongjoong-hyung would be able to do something–"
You waver for a second, the will in you crumbling. You just want someone to know, someone to help you, but you stay resolute in your decision, immovable as stone. Suddenly, the words come to your lips too easily.
"It wouldn't change a damn thing."
There's a second of stunned silence between the two of you.
"What?" San repeats after you, he looks stupefied that you'd say such a thing. Then the words begin to tumble from your lips, razor sharp knives that tear into your master's heart with each stab.
"What could he possibly do about this? I know he's the Pirate King and all, but do you really think a mortal man with a mere blessing could save me from breaking into pieces?" You spit contemptuously, rising to your feet. Your words burn but you're hollow inside, you continue speaking even as San's expression turns more and more hurt. "Don't lie to me. I was created by gods, San. Captain is human... he's weak, powerless... He can't save me."
"He–" Your master begins to say, but even he falters ever so slightly in the face of the unconquerable odds laid bare in front of him. How could a mortal ever solve a problem of such a scale?
For the first time in his life onboard the Treasure, he doubts his captain.
Seeing him waver, you press forward, spilling empty words you don't believe. "Besides, Captain has so much to deal with already, and it's not like I'm dying or anything. Stop over-exaggerating, master." You roll your eyes, get to your feet, and the sound of a tiny sob escaping your master behind you nearly breaks your heart. Why do you feel like crying? "Do you really want to make Captain take on more burden than he already has? It's not his fault that you aren't a good enough healer to cure me."
A soft wail leaves your master's lips, but you hold your head high and step into your shared bedroom tucked behind the infirmary, slamming the door shut behind you.
And for the first time, you lock it.
Finally, with no eyes on you, you sink to the ground and begin to cry, quietly into your sleeve. Sobs pulse in your chest, tear at you from the insides, struggle against you like the wings of a bird, but you suffocate them. You can't let anyone hear.
But you're scared.
You're so, so scared.
You're going to die.
And no one can help you.
"Please... no, that's an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I... no... I won't be able to bear it if any of you die so please..."
Don't die.
As if to mock you, something warm and coppery begins running from your nose once again, dripping into your lap, turning your shirt red. You raise the stump where your hand used to be to your nose and blood smears across it, turning it crimson. For a moment, it looks your hand had truly been amputated.
How you wished that were the case.
I'm sorry, captain.
I think I won't be able to keep this promise.