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The marines called them the Weakling Trio.
When they heard the news, Usopp scoffed and started on his list of epic deeds. Nami rolled her eyes, muttering about men being idiots.
Chopper’s reaction was much the same. He didn’t like it, of course. But it was the same way he didn’t like eating meat, or didn’t like it when Zoro took off his bandages early, or didn’t like when the villagers called him a monster.
Maybe they didn’t like it, but that didn’t make the name wrong.
“I mean,” Chopper said one night, during watch. Technically it was only supposed to be him and Usopp, but Nami’s nights weren’t always pleasant, and they didn't mind the company. “We are the weakest. It’s not incorrect, I guess.”
“We’re only weak because we’re on the crew with the others,” Nami said, waving a hand. Chopper could tell by the way her eyes pinched that she was lying, sounding more dismissive than she felt.
“Zoro and Sanji and Luffy are the monster trio,” Usopp added. His hands fidgeted with his slingshot, a nervous habit. “The marines say Robin and Brook and Franky the weirdos. It could be worse than weaklings.”
No it couldn’t, Chopper didn’t say. Because being weak was one thing, but being weak on the Strawhat Pirates was another. He tapped his hooves together and kept silent, even as Nami rubbed his head and Usopp tugged him closer.
What if they were too weak? What if Luffy kicked them off for being the weak links on the team?
"I dunno," Chopper whispered. He'd already been kicked out of one herd, and he had no desire to find a new home. "I'm just... nervous."
"Don't be," Usopp said, raising his arm to ruffle Chopper's fur. Halfway through the motion, he winced and paused, flexing his hand.
Without missing a beat, Chopper made a 'gimme' gesture, tugging the arm closer into the reindeer's grasp. He had it examined in seconds - no visible injuries, scrapes, eczema, broken bones, discoloration. Mentally, he ran the likelihood of anything serious versus a simple strain, decided it was simply overuse from their last battle, and shifted positions.
"Pressure points," he informed Usopp briskly, just before he started working on those spots. Usopp's face tightened before he relaxed again, tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Nami, I'll do your wrists next, if you want?"
"Thanks, Chopper." The boat rocked a little, and Nami glanced up, raising her arm to feel the wind. "Damn," she muttered, consulting the stars with a huff. "We're drifting about two degrees further north than we want." She looked over the edge, eyeing the wheel. "Usopp, can you-"
"Yeah, yeah," Usopp groaned theatrically, at maybe a tenth of his usual volume. With his free hand, he tugged out his slingshot, taking his time to bite the end of the rubber and line it up. After a quick moment of calculation, he fired.
A dull ping came a moment later, and the Sunny shifted ever so slightly to the left. Nami stuck a finger into the wind again and grinned. "Perfect," she confirmed.
A second later, Chopper let go of his hostage arm, settling back in smug satisfaction. There'd been no breaks or anything unfixable in his examination, and a massage should have cleaned everything up. "Perfect."
Usopp stretched his hand and laughed. This time, he swiped a hand through Chopper's fur with no issues. "Perfect," he parroted.
The three of them glanced between other, seeming to realize what they'd just done, and laughed.
Maybe they were weaklings, Chopper decided, snuggling in with his friends. That was okay. They didn't have to be the strongest to be very, very good at what they did.