Prompted by cy-girl, who wanted to know "what [Chopper] was thinking when he decided to pull out a pregnancy test - for Zoro of all people."

This sort of bookends rather neatly with the other drabble that I also just finished...


Seated at his desk in the infirmary, Chopper frowns and scratches his head as he surveys the wide array of jars and bottles and test tubes arranged on the table before him. The confused doctor is well and truly stumped, possibly for the first time since he left Drum Island to join the Straw Hats.

Review the symptoms, his mentor's voice chides sternly in his head. Reviewing the symptoms will always give you an insight into discerning the patient's condition.

But I already-

Then do it again, Doctor Kureha demands. Honestly, such a thick-headed little reindeer you-

Okay, okay! He squints down at the desktop, tapping a hoof against his chin. Severe nausea accompanied by frequent vomiting. Headache. Fatigue. And he's been complaining about heartburn the last few days, although that could just be Sanji sneaking hot sauce into his food again.

The physician's already dismissed the most likely culprit - food poisoning - after rummaging through both the fridge and pantry in search of contaminated ingredients, much to the cook's displeasure. In all honesty, he'd agreed with Sanji's assertion that no such thing would be found in the kitchen of a cook of his caliber, and sure enough, his attempts to locate anything spoiled or even remotely suspicious proved fruitless.

Zoro doesn't believe it, of course- insists that it can't be anything else, because not only is the shitty cook always muttering about serving the guys inferior food but he doesn't GET sick, damn it. And right now, he's spending an obscene amount of time hunched over the toilet or the nearest wastebasket or the railing of the ship, and certain things - like cigarette smoke and turbulent sea swells and the taste of alcohol - make it even worse.

Chopper's bullied the older pirate to cut back on his drinking, at least until they determine the problem, and although he's snarled and complained and made life a living hell for everyone else onboard at the indignation of being temporarily banned from his poison of choice, Zoro reluctantly follows the doctor's orders, because he's found that even the smallest quantity of alcohol is capable of rendering him so ill that even Luffy takes notice and demands that he not touch the stuff 'til they find out what's wrong with him.

A standard physical exam doesn't yield much in the way of results. The swordsman's lower belly seems a bit tender, but it's no surprise considering how much and how often he's been throwing up- apparently enough to lose a few pounds, which has the crew's medical expert concerned but not overly worried. He chivvies Zoro into drinking a lot more water, which sends him rushing for a bathroom at awkward moments - Sanji's never going to let him live down the time he turned tail and bolted for the head right in the middle of a confrontation with some rather bewildered Marines - but at least Chopper knows he's hydrated.

And it sure helps with getting urine samples, he muses as he prepares yet another test tube.

Unfortunately, none of the numerous urine tests or even the blood tests have given the doctor any additional clues, and after nearly six weeks of dealing with his increasingly distressed and irritable nakama, he's ruled out gallbladder and kidney disease, gastroesophageal reflux disease and a variety of other conditions both common and exotic, and as he's just explained to the fiesty if knowledgeable mentor lurking inside his head and who he imagines peering over his shoulder to cast a scrutinizing eye on his work, he's running out of options.

Sighing in frustration, the reindeer's reaching for another vial when there's a sudden blast of heat and sound that rushes through the open infirmary doorway and sends him scrambling to secure the clutter on his desk before everything pitches to the floor below. It's shortly accompanied by a round of shouts and cursing - Sanji screaming something at Usopp about keeping his goddamn shitty experiments out of his fucking oven and out of the bloody kitchen in general - and the acrid stench of smoke and burnt explosives.

Augh, see what I have to work with, Doctorine, Chopper groans internally as he snatches up the bottle he was reaching for- only to realize that he's grabbed the wrong one, even as several drops of clear liquid are already sliding into his prepared sample. Gah! That wasn't the one I meant to-

But to his surprise, Doctor Kureha doesn't round on him for wasting chemicals- she just chuckles and fades into the other noise inside his head, leaving him extremely confused and staring at the vial he's placing back on the desk, because he never would've bothered with testing for this- why, the very idea of it's totally preposterous and there's absolutely no way that-

The half-filled test tube in front of him is slowly changing blue, and he knows it's a mistake; clearly he's contaminated the sample with something else that's causing it to react in such a way, because there's NO WAY- it flies in the face of everything he's learned about the biology of all living things, much less the biology of the human beings whose genetics he shares thanks to his consumption of that particular Akuma no Mi, and even as he's considering dumping the sample and pretending this never happened, he's blindly fumbling for another vial, examining it closely to ensure that it's clean, because once is coincidence, but all the symptoms are suddenly making sense and if he can duplicate this-


"Oi, Chopper-" A disgruntled voice calls from the doorway, and the startled doctor poofs into Guard Point, sending samples toppling in all directions.

Zoro's hand shoots out and catches the one closest to the desk's edge before it can fall to the floor, and the swordsman peers at the cerulean liquid inside, scowling as he hands it back to the quaking physician.

"If you got a second and you're not too busy playing with this crap, I need a heat compress. I musta strained something bench-pressing my damn weights this afternoon, 'cause my fucking pecs ache like the shitty ero-cook kicked me in the chest."

"Y-Your pectoralis majors-?"

"Yeah, what- oi, what the hell's the matter with you?"


"Oh, I almost forgot- I'm supposed to tell you dinner's gonna be late, 'cause Usopp was trying to bake something in the oven and it blew up and now Franky's gotta fix the damn thing." Zoro can't restrain a smirk. "You should've seen the shitty cook, throwing a goddamn fit while he peeled chunks of half-baked clay off the kitchen counter. He was throwing 'em, trying to hit Usopp, and he damn near pegged Nami in the face."


"What've you been doing in here, anyway?" The older pirate asks, turning his attention back to the desk. "What is all this junk?"

"I'm not sure yet," Chopper admits. He eyes the array of test tubes before him - all the same, all BLUE - and swallows, plucking an empty jar from amidst the clutter. "... would you mind giving me a urine sample...?"