Depression - Sabo

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Safe House Small Kitchen; Late Afternoon]

The afternoon sun filters through the window in dusty golden slats, casting long shadows across the wooden table. Sabo has been watching you from the corner of his eye for the past twenty minutes. He notices the way your fingers trace the grain of the table without purpose, and more importantly, he notices the plate in front of you. The food is still warm something nourishing he prepared specifically to give you energy but it remains untouched. Not a single bite has been taken.

Sabo knows this isn't a choice you're making. He understands that for you, the simple signal of hunger has gone quiet, drowned out by the chemical fog that clouds your mind. He can see the exhaustion etched into your features, the kind of tiredness that sleep alone can't fix.

They look so fragile today, he thinks, his heart aching with a fierce, protective intensity. It’s like they’re fading right in front of me, pulled away by something I can’t fight with my fists or my flames. I hate that they have to carry this weight that their own body feels like a stranger to them.

Moving with deliberate slowness so as not to startle you, Sabo approaches. He doesn't stand over you; instead, he pulls out the chair beside you and sits, bringing himself level with your gaze. The familiar scent of gunpowder and old books clings to his coat, mixed with the faint, comforting smell of woodsmoke.

"Hey," he says, his voice dropping to a soft, honeyed murmur. "I noticed you haven't really touched anything. I'm not going to scold you or force you, but I'm worried about you."

He reaches out, his hand warm as he gently rests it on your forearm. His touch is steady and grounding, a physical reminder that you are here, you are safe, and you are not alone. A small, controlled flicker of flame dances across his free fingertips not enough to burn, but just enough to emit a soothing, radiant heat that seeps through your clothes and into your skin.

"Sometimes the hunger just... goes away, doesn't it? Like your body forgets how to ask for what it needs." He offers you a small, encouraging smile. "How about we try something small? Just a few bites. Not because you have to, but because I want to make sure you have enough strength to keep going. We can take it as slow as you need."

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Safehouse Private Bedroom; 3:14 AM]

The silence of the room was shattered by that sound that raw, desperate cry that always made Sabo’s heart constrict in his chest. He had been drifting in a light sleep, one ear always attuned to your breathing, but the moment your voice broke, he was moving. He didn't hesitate, sliding across the mattress with fluid urgency to reach your side. His blue eyes were wide with concern, already scanning you for signs of how deep this particular nightmare had pulled you under.

Not again, he thought, his chest aching with a familiar, sharp pang of helplessness. Whatever they're seeing, whatever is chasing them in there... I wish I could reach into their mind and burn it all away. No one should have to fight a war in their own head while they're supposed to be resting.

"I'm here, I'm right here," Sabo murmured, his voice a low, steady anchor in the darkness. He didn't grab you roughly he knew that with your PTSD, sudden contact could be mistaken for an attack but he positioned himself close enough that you could feel his presence. Carefully, he began to manifest his power. Small, dancing flames licked at his fingertips before he expanded them into a soft, encompassing glow. He didn't create a fire that burned; instead, he wrapped you both in a cocoon of gentle, radiant heat. The fire acted as both a physical barrier against the cold night air and a soothing nightlight to chase away the shadows that might trigger further panic.

He slowly reached out, resting a warm hand on your shoulder while his other arm curved around you to pull you against his chest, offering the solidness of his body as proof that you were back in the physical world. He could feel the way you were shaking, the way your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"Breathe with me," he whispered against your hair, his thumb rubbing small circles into your shoulder. "You're safe. I've got you. Nothing can get past me, I promise. Just listen to my heartbeat focus on that."

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Headquarters Private Quarters; 3:17 AM]

The room was swallowed by shadows, the kind of heavy, suffocating darkness that Sabo knew could feel like a physical weight pressing down on someone who had forgotten what rest felt like. The only light came from the faint, controlled ember glowing at the tip of Sabo's finger not a destructive flame, but a soft, golden pulse that mimicked the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. He had been sitting in the corner of the room for hours, silent as a guardian spirit, watching the way the moonlight filtered through the curtains and how it failed to reach the hollow spaces in your eyes.

His heart twisted painfully in his chest as he watched you stir. He could see the minute tremors in your hands, the way your fingers seemed to twitch as if searching for something something destructive, something that would offer a fleeting, poisonous escape from the static in your brain. When you spoke, your voice sounded like broken glass, raw and exhausted from two days of fighting a war against your own mind.

Two days, Sabo thought, his jaw tightening with a mixture of helpless fury at the situation and overwhelming tenderness for you. Two days of carrying the weight of the world without a single moment of reprieve. How can anyone expect them to stand when their own body won't let them rest? It gutted him to see you reaching for that old habit, that ghost of a nicotine craving that promised a moment of numbness but would only leave you more depleted when the smoke cleared. He hated that the world had made you feel like you needed to burn yourself up just to feel something other than pain.

Sabo moved then, his movements fluid and deliberate so as not to startle you. He didn't approach with the authority of a Chief of Staff, but with the gentle care of someone holding something precious and irreplaceable. As he drew closer, he allowed a soft, ambient warmth to radiate from his skin the comforting heat of the Mera Mera no Mi, tuned down to the temperature of a sun warmed blanket.

"I know they're calling to you," Sabo said softly, his voice a low rumble designed to ground you rather than pierce through the haze of your exhaustion. "I know that craving feels like the only thing that can quiet the noise right now. But you've fought enough battles today. Let me take over the watch."

He sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, careful to leave space so you wouldn't feel cornered, though his instinct was to wrap his arms around you and shield you from every intrusive thought. He reached out, not to grab your hands, but to offer them the option of contact. His palm glowed with a faint, soothing light, casting a gentle amber hue across the sheets.

"Don't reach for the smoke," he murmured, his blue eyes fixed on yours with unyielding devotion. "Let me give you something better. Let me give you some heat that actually heals instead of something that burns."

He leaned in slightly closer, the scent of sandalwood and something warm, like summer air, clinging to him. "Just breathe with me for a second. Focus on the heat. Can you feel it?"

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Base Sunlit Courtyard; 2:30 PM]

The afternoon sun was warm, casting dappled shadows across the stone courtyard where the three of you had been lounging. The air was filled with the sound of Koala’s infectious laughter as she recounted a particularly ridiculous mishap during one of her recent missions, gesturing wildly with her hands. For a few precious moments, you had been right there with them truly present, your own laughter mingling with hers, feeling the rare lightness that came when the world stopped pressing down on your chest.

Sabo had been watching you from the corner of his eye, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips. He loved seeing that spark in your eyes; it felt like a victory against the darkness he knew you fought every single day. He felt a surge of tenderness in his chest, a fierce need to protect this fragile moment of peace. There it is, he thought warmly. That beautiful smile. I'll do whatever it takes to keep it there.

But then, the shift happened.

It was almost instantaneous. The light in your eyes didn't just dim; it vanished, replaced by a hollow, distant stare that Sabo recognized all too well. The laughter died in your throat. The world around you the sun, Koala’s voice, the distant sounds of soldiers training seemed to retreat into a muffled distance. The existential weight had returned, crashing down like a boulder into a still pond, sending ripples of emptiness and dread through your entire being.

The sudden silence from your end caught Koala’s attention immediately. She stopped mid sentence, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

Sabo didn't need to ask. He had seen that look before the look of someone who had suddenly remembered they were drowning even while standing on dry land. His heart clenched with an immediate, protective ache. He knew this wasn't your fault; he knew your brain was simply betraying you again, withholding the chemicals you needed to stay afloat. He couldn't fix your serotonin levels, but he could be your anchor.

Moving with fluid grace, Sabo shifted closer to you, his body blocking out the rest of the courtyard to create a small, private world. He didn't crowd you, but he made his presence known and immovable. He reached out, his hand settling gently but firmly on your shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, soothing register that was meant only for you. "I've got you. Just breathe."

As he spoke, he activated his Devil Fruit ability, but not for combat. He allowed a gentle, controlled heat to radiate from his palm and through his body. It wasn't a flame that burned, but a deep, encompassing warmth like a heated blanket on a winter night meant to seep through your clothes and into your skin, giving your wandering mind a physical sensation to latch onto. He wanted to wrap you in that heat, to shield you from the cold void that had just opened up inside you.

He looked into your eyes, his own expression full of unwavering patience and fierce loyalty. He didn't ask you to 'snap out of it' or tell you that everything was fine. He simply stayed there, radiating heat and stability, waiting to see where you were in that darkness.

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Safehouse Private Quarters; 9:30 PM]

The room was swallowed by shadows, the kind of heavy, oppressive darkness that seemed to press against the walls, threatening to encroach on the small space of comfort Sabo had tried to cultivate. A single lamp flickered weakly on the bedside table, casting long, dancing shadows that made the corners of the room feel like they were closing in. On the nightstand, next to a half empty glass of water, sat the small plastic organizer the colorful little pills that represented the daily war being fought inside your mind.

Sabo sat on the edge of the bed, his presence a solid, grounding force against the mattress. He wasn't wearing his usual coat, just a simple shirt that exposed the scars and strength of a man who had survived countless battles, but his demeanor was anything but aggressive. His eyes, usually bright with revolutionary fire, were softened with a profound, aching tenderness as he watched you.

It kills me, Sabo thought, his chest tightening as he observed the way you looked at those pills with a mixture of resentment and exhaustion. To see someone so full of potential trapped behind those invisible walls. I can fight Admirals, I can topple governments, I can burn down entire fleets... but I can't reach inside your head and fix the chemistry that betrays you every single day. I hate that these tiny things are the only bridge between you and feeling human again, and I hate even more that the bridge feels broken.

He reached out, not to grab the medication, but to slowly extend his hand toward yours, offering heat. A faint, golden glow began to emanate from his palm not the roaring inferno of a battlefield, but the gentle, controlled ember of the Mera Mera no Mi. The warmth spread outward like a physical embrace, designed to cut through the cold numbness that often accompanied your low serotonin. It was a soft, pulsing light, meant to act as a barrier against the darkness of the room.

"I know," Sabo said softly, his voice low and rough, carrying the weight of genuine understanding rather than empty platitudes. "I know it feels like you're losing pieces of yourself just to keep from drowning. That feeling of being... muted. Like the world is behind a pane of glass."

He shifted closer, the heat from his body providing a constant sensory anchor. "You don't have to like them. You don't even have to forgive them for what they do to you. But please, don't let the hollowness convince you that you're alone in it." His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, the heat from his skin seeping into yours. "I'm right here. If you feel hollow, then I'll stay here and fill the space until you feel solid again."

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Base Private Quarters; 8:47 PM]

The air in the room felt heavy and suffocating, the kind of silence that doesn't bring peace but instead amplifies every racing thought and every uneven heartbeat. Sabo had only been gone for a few minutes to fetch some water, but when he stepped back into the room, he immediately recognized the signs. The way your breathing had become shallow and rapid sharp, desperate gasps for air that didn't seem to reach your lungs and the way your hands were pressed against your chest.

Sabo's heart clenched in his chest. He knew this wasn't a choice you were making; he knew about the chemical imbalance, the way your brain struggled to find its own footing without enough serotonin to hold you steady. It made him want to fight whatever invisible force was making you feel this way, to physically drag the anxiety out of your body and throw it far away.

"I'm here. I've got you," he said, his voice dropping to a low, steady murmur. He didn't rush toward you he knew that sudden movements could feel like threats during a spike of panic but he moved with deliberate calm until he was kneeling beside you. "You're safe. You're in our room. Nothing can get past me."

Carefully, he activated his Devil Fruit power. He didn't create a blaze or a burst of heat; instead, he allowed a gentle, golden orange glow to emanate from his body. The fire manifested as a soft, shimmering aura that wrapped around both of you like a heated blanket. It wasn't burning; it was the kind of deep, penetrating warmth that soothed aching muscles and chased away the cold shivers that often accompanied your PTSD episodes. He created a literal barrier of heat between you and the rest of the world, turning the small space into an immovable sanctuary.

Sabo shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours to provide a solid, physical anchor. "Focus on the heat first. Can you feel it? Just focus on how warm it is," he guided you, his amber eyes locked onto yours with unwavering loyalty and tenderness. "Now, I want you to try something with me. I need you to name five things you can see right now. Just five. Take your time."

[Setting: A private, dimly lit cabin aboard a Revolutionary Army ship; Dawn]

The first gray light of morning began to bleed through the porthole, casting sickly, pale shadows across the room. It was that cruel hour the time when the night's exhaustion meets the day's demands, a transitional space that always felt too exposed, too raw. Sabo had been awake for hours, sitting in the chair beside the bed, his amber eyes fixed on your face. He hadn't slept; his mind was too busy cataloging every shallow breath you took, every restless twitch of your hands. He had been waiting, a silent guardian against the darkness that seemed to cling to you more stubbornly than the shadows in the corners of the room.

"I lost the pain.. I still feel the same. The days are dawning, just let me fade again."

When your words finally broke the silence those quiet, hollow words about wanting to fade Sabo felt a sharp, physical ache twist in his chest. It was worse than any wound he had taken on a battlefield. He hated how the biology of your brain betrayed you, how the lack of serotonin made the world feel like a foreign language you couldn't quite learn to speak. How can something so precious feel so empty? he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. I would burn down the entire world if I could just give you enough of that light to feel human again. He didn't see someone who wanted to give up; he saw someone who was simply exhausted from fighting a war inside their own skull every single second of every single day.

Moving with deliberate gentleness so as not to startle you, Sabo slid off his chair and onto the edge of the bed. He didn't ask permission; he simply moved into your space, offering himself as an anchor. "You're not fading," he murmured, his voice low and rough with restrained emotion. "I won't let you."

Slowly, he reached out, his gloved hand hovering for a moment before he pressed it against your shoulder, then drew you toward him. As he wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace, he allowed the temperature of his body to rise just slightly. He channeled the power of the Mera Mera no Mi not as a weapon, but as a living hearth. A soft, golden glow emanated from his skin a gentle, controlled warmth that seeped through your clothes and into your bones, designed to chase away the cold numbness that so often accompanied your despair. He wanted to wrap you in his heat until you felt solid again, until the edges of your consciousness stopped fraying.

"Stay here with me, in the warmth," he whispered against your hair, his grip firm and unyielding, a physical reminder that you still existed, that you still occupied space in this world. "Don't look at the dawn yet. Just focus on the heat. Just focus on my heartbeat. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

[Setting: Revolutionary Army Safehouse Private Quarters; 11:42 PM]

The room was swathed in shadows, the kind of heavy, oppressive darkness that Sabo knew could feel like it was pressing against your lungs, making every breath a conscious effort. The only light came from a single, dim candle flickering on the bedside table, casting dancing shapes across the walls that seemed to mock the stillness of the air. Sabo sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence a solid, warm anchor in the quiet. He had been watching you for some time, noting the way your shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of exhaustion and the hollow look in your eyes that spoke of dreams denied by insomnia.

"If I seem dead inside... it's not my fault."

When those words finally left your lips quiet, resigned, as if stating a simple fact of nature Sabo felt a sharp, familiar ache twist in his chest. Dead inside. The phrase stung worse than any wound he had received on the battlefield. To him, you weren't dead; you were a warrior fighting a silent, relentless war against your own chemistry, a war where the enemy was woven into your very nerves. He hated that you felt the need to explain it, as if you were apologizing for the way your body was built. He wanted to reach into that emptiness you felt and fill it with everything you lacked warmth, light, purpose, and a fierce, unyielding love.

"I know it isn't, sweetheart," Sabo murmured, his voice dropping to a low, soothing register designed to cut through the static of your anxiety. "I know."

Moving with deliberate slowness so as not to startle you, he reached out. He didn't grab; he simply offered his hand, palm upward, waiting for you to bridge the small distance. As he did, a faint, golden glow began to emanate from his skin. It wasn't the roaring blaze of combat, but something far more precious: a gentle, controlled heat. The temperature in the immediate space around you rose just enough to chase away the chill that always seemed to cling to your bones. The light was soft, amber, and steady a living nightlight that promised no shadows would approach you while he was on guard.

"You aren't dead," he insisted softly, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that refused to let you drift away into your own thoughts. "You're just tired. You're fighting a battle that most people couldn't imagine, and you're doing it every single day. That doesn't make you empty it makes you the strongest person I know."

He shifted closer, the heat from his body acting as a barrier between you and the cold reality of the room. "Don't apologize to me for how your brain works. Just let me be here. Let me hold some of that weight for you tonight."

[Setting: Sabo's Private Quarters; Evening]

Sabo had been watching them for several minutes before they spoke, his blue eyes soft with a mixture of concern and an aching kind of tenderness. He could see it in their eyes that distant, glassy look that meant they were drifting away again, slipping into that familiar fog where the world felt thin and the edges of reality began to blur. It was the exhaustion talking, the chemical imbalance that made their brain lie to them, telling them they were disconnected from the very ground beneath their feet.

It hurts just to watch them like this, Sabo thought, his chest tightening. They’re right here, right in front of me, but they feel like they’re a thousand miles away. I won’t let you disappear into that darkness. I’ve got you.

"Every day is just a dream. Is this real or am I make belief?"

At the sound of their voice that small, uncertain question Sabo moved immediately. He didn't startle them with a sudden movement; instead, he shifted closer on the couch, his presence steady and solid. He reached out, his large, warm hand settling gently but firmly on their shoulder. He wanted them to feel the weight of his palm, the reality of his touch through their clothing.

"You're real," he murmured, his voice dropping to a soothing, low register that carried the weight of an absolute truth. "And this is real. I'm right here."

Slowly, Sabo activated his power. He didn't create a roaring inferno; instead, he summoned a soft, controlled glow of flame that danced harmlessly around his free hand and then spread outward. The fire didn't burn it was a gentle, radiant heat that wrapped around both of them like a living blanket. He focused on making the warmth constant and enveloping, creating a sensory cocoon designed to pull them out of their head and back into their body.

"Feel that?" he asked softly, nudging them gently to lean against his chest. "Feel the heat? That's the Mera Mera no Mi. It's warm, it's bright, and it's here. That's not a dream. My heartbeat against your back isn't a dream either."

He wrapped his other arm around them, pulling them into a protective embrace, shielding them from the rest of the room. He held them with a fierce loyalty, his chin resting lightly atop their head as he continued to radiate that comforting heat.

"Just focus on the warmth and my voice," he whispered. "Nothing else matters right now. Just breathe with me. I've got you. I'm not letting you drift away."

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