interlude: one

(Wano)

'so say the unsayable, say the most human of things.'

—The Deepest Sighs, The Frankest Shadows – Gang of Youths

Another sleepless night. Morning is nothing but a blur, and then it's midday: a humid, languorous affair.

Law leans against one of the ancient, moss-drenched trees, flicking through a borrowed medical text from Chopper. He's yawning and rubbing his eyes, reading but retaining none of it. Unfocused. Annoyingly so. Though the Mink town around him mulls lazily in the sun, whispered words accompanied only by the clinking of dishes and call of gulls above, he finds himself distracted by it all, looking up into the endless blue, or just simply watching the way the Strawhats' and his crew interact.

Ikkaku stands a few paces down from him, stretching to the slow melody of Brook's violin. She's talking. He cannot hear what she's saying, but at some point, she stops her movements, throwing her head back and laughing aloud. The sound is as wild and untamed as her hair; it carries away with the gentle breeze, drifting towards him softly.

Law holds his breath. Finds it caught in his throat as he stares at her, heart swelling with something strong. Aching, almost.

So familiar.

Brook pauses his tune. "Any requests, Ikkaku-san?"

She hums, her clear hazel eyes suddenly finding Law's through the midday haze. She holds him for a moment, catching him in the act of staring; but he does not look away, finds no need to.

"Captain? What was that shanty we used to sing before leaving the North Blue?"

A derisive snort sounds from behind her. "Captain never used to sing with us!" Uni sits up in the grass next to Ikkaku's feet, grinning up at her. "Remember when we went out to Fisherman's Point, and there was that dock keeper who demanded a song for payment?"

"Oh yeah," Ikkaku answers, smiling fondly as she looks to the distant sky, voice full of nostalgia. "Captain cut off his arms." Brook splutters a little at that, but Ikkaku merely shrugs, continuing, "What about Old Swansea?"

"Aye, that's a good one," Uni agrees.

Brook returns his bow to the violin, pausing to look at Law, as if waiting for the captain's permission. Law gives a curt nod, and the music starts up instantly, an upbeat tune that Ikkaku sings softly to as she resumes her stretching, Uni falling back into the grass with a satisfied sigh.

Law smiles to himself, closing the book and looking away. Kikoku is pressed against his side, and he grips her scabbard, eyes fluttering closed briefly. His head spins with exhaustion, and he allows himself a moment, letting his shoulders relax as he leans further into the mossy oak. Ikkaku laughs again; continues the song, words floating through the dark—soft, gentle. Like home.

"And when we're leaving the old Fallerones,

"Bound for my ol' Swansea."

Law breathes deep.

The air is curiously thick with salt, and he hears something over Ikkaku's singing—something so far away. Something all too familiar and eerie.

"I know you'll pull my girl, on the string—"

The sound of a wave—

"For to haul me in from the sea."

And then, she falls away. Everything does, all at once, and Law stands in a dark emptiness, Kikoku still in hand, but nothing else.

Just. Nothing.

He thinks he's asleep. Maybe. It has never come to him this easily before, but if he focuses he can still feel the sun, warm and heavy in his lap like a cat—the voices of his crew, Ikkaku's singing, a scratching he can't place.

Regardless, Law is cautious. With a tentative step, he walks forward into the dark, boots clicking loudly on what he can only assume is stone. One more click—two, three, four. Each step draws him away, until he can hear and feel nothing at all anymore. He walks and walks, the abyss building around him; suffocating, choking his breath.

A rush of ice-cold wind passes through, goosebumps erupting on his bare skin. He shivers, pausing, looking around; but he cannot see anything—nothing, dark, nothing—it's just this freezing cold, the taste of salt, the roar of ocean waves.

He keeps walking for what feels like hours. At some point, he realises Kikoku is gone—and then, there's the ocean.

Water swirls around his ankles. Midnight black. Pulls him down, and he sways, trapped, heavy. Like it's guiding him to somewhere—somewhere far below him, into the nothing.

"Law."

He looks up. Monet stands before him, soaking wet. Water drips from the tips of her feathers, and she's shivering, violently, her whole frame spasming. Her hair frames her face, slick wet, half-lidded eyes glaring at him through her long lashes.

He can see her pulse thrumming in her throat, skin paper thin.

"My heart?" There's something in her voice. "You promised to serve our Young Master."

He frowns. "What—"

"Law." Not a question. Not an address. A plea. She's shaking, and he can see her ribs through her singlet, a cage trapping her heart. Her lips are blue, moving soundlessly, but she manages, "Why?"

The crest of a wave at her feet, crashing into foaming white without any warning. She gasps, and he reaches out for her, hands clutching nothing but three white feathers, splattered with blood, just like every time before—just like before—

Law gasps for air.

Everything is dark, and then there's blinding brightness.

Sun. Still on that tree. And—clink—Kikoku, in hand. Ikkaku laughs, the violin reaches a crescendo, and Law realises he's on land, he's alive, hair not wet, skin warm.

A dream.

A dream.

He's surely falling into madness.

Law swallows, with difficulty, the scream built in his throat. Focuses on just breathing and breathing and breathing. Grass beneath him, damp, rich with the smell of earth and rain. His heart thuds loudly, painful against his ribs, and he takes a moment—two, then three—for it to steady, rubbing his face like that can get rid of the nightmare burning into his mind, trying not to think—don't think. He sighs into his palm, frustration curling in his gut, body exhausted like he's run a mile.

Then, he hears it.

This soft scratching; and small movements, a sharpness in the air, something that almost weighs heavy. The dream suddenly feels far away, and Law drops his hand, eyes searching only for a second before he finds its source—Usopp, sitting just to his left, against a cabin. The sniper is surrounded by all manner of things—tools and food and notebooks—but the one that has all his attention, he holds to towards the sunlight, hand sweeping across the paper in smooth, curving movements.

He pauses for a beat, frown darkening his long features, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Then, he looks up, directly at Law.

He can feel Usopp's Observation Haki. Uncontrolled, sloppy, and Law wonders if the man even realises he's using it—if he even knows he can.

Law holds his gaze. Usopp stares back, wide-eyed. Swallows, Adam's apple bobbling nervously. And there is a full minute where the silence just stretches painfully between them, tension crackling dangerously through the open forest air.

Law finally speaks: "What are you doing, Nose-ya?"

Usopp lets out a sound—something between a squeal and a yell, dropping his pen and paper and pressing himself back up against the cabin in surprise. Like he forgot that Law can talk. He's still covered in all manner of bandages, and even from this far, Law can see the blood that stains the one wrapped around his right shoulder. Those small movements—drawing—opened the line of stitches on his upper arm. Careless. Law sighs.

"Sorry—I was—I can stop, if you'd like—"

Law raises a brow, smirking. "Stop what?" He waves a hand towards the other man. "You're bleeding."

Usopp frowns, glancing to his shoulder. He seems to relax a little, sighing audibly. "Oh, yeah. I'll get Chopper to fix that." He scrambles forward, picking up his tools again and settling them on his lap. He stares at the paper for a moment, eyes tracking across the drawing critically.

"What are you doing?" Law repeats, shifting slightly, relaxing further into the tree behind him.

"I was—uh." Usopp holds the notebook up to Law and smiles sheepishly. "I was drawing you."

Indeed, he was. Law can see it clearly in the light—sharp, thick outlines of his body, all corners and harsh edges; then the swooping curve of patterns travelling up his bare arms, the thick diagonal of Kikoku cutting across the page. He has his hat, his spotted jeans: and smaller details. A severity to his posture. Guarded, almost, even on paper. Aloof.

There's a curious personality to the page, Law finds. Acute. Succinct.

"Me?"

"Yeah! You know, you're a good subject." Usopp places the book back in his lap and flicks his pencil quickly across it. "I like to draw whenever I have time, but I haven't really seen anyone like you before—not that—ah—like, not that that's a bad thing—it's just—"

"It's fine," Law drawls, cutting off his nervous rambling. "You're very good."

Usopp seems to relax again, throwing him an almost cheeky grin. "You get bored of drawing the same people, you know? Luffy's just a blur when I try, and—well, most of my crew are… not like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." Usopp's staring straight at him now, no hint of anxiety or tension. Law smirks, quirking a brow. "It's a good—"

"USOPP!"

Usopp looks up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the sight before him. He picks up his notepad just in time to stop Luffy from crushing it, the small captain landing in his lap with an excited yell, not a second later. Law watches as the two are reduced to a writhing, chaotic mass before him, all yells and laughter shattering the quiet afternoon.

"You should have come on our walk! Chopper nearly fell off a cliff, shishishi!"

"Luffy—stop—get—Luffy!"

"It's okay, I saved him."

"Get—off—okay!"

They return to some normalcy. Luffy falls into place at Usopp's side, nattering about Zoro getting lost, some food they found, a tree with a sword stuck in it. The sniper goes back to his drawing, humming and asking all the appropriate questions to keep his captain distracted. Eventually, Luffy tires of his own voice, casting a curious glance over Usopp's shoulder at the notebook in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Drawing," Usopp replies, voice vague with concentration. "Drawing Torao-kun."

"Oh—ah."

Luffy stops, lips pressing together, face blank. He's staring at the paper, but he says nothing more, just stares, strangely silent.

There's something about him.

Law frowns, watching the scene from underneath the brim of his hat.

"What, don't you like it?" Usopp's voice is amused, pencil still idly scratching. "You usually don't shut up about my drawings."

Luffy doesn't respond, and Law, oddly, finds himself gripping Kikoku a little too tight, fingers pressing into groves and scratches worn in her hilt from years of use and abuse. His heart thuds. In this open air, it's very hard to breathe, and Luffy's shadowed gaze is heavy, calculating, staring at the drawing with frustrating obscurity.

Strawhat's mouth opens, teeth pressing into his bottom lip—and. He blushes. A soft pink spreading slowly across his cheeks. He ducks his head down quickly, hat hiding his red face, and declares, "It's good, Usopp!" Then, without any warning, he is flying towards Law, laughter bubbling freely out of him.

His rubbery limbs wrap tightly around Law's torso, and pull the surgeon in close, ignoring the spluttering protests. Luffy settles on his lap, pressing his face into Law's chest, still laughing, carefree, happy, content, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"I like that it looks like you!" Luffy says. His voice is soft and gentle, incredibly fond.

Law's heart stutters, and he actually hesitates for a beat, at a loss of what to say.

"Torao."

"Get off me," Law mutters, pushing his palm into Luffy's cheek. All it does is stretch his neck and knock his straw hat off his head, the fool captain not budging an inch. "Mugiwara-ya—"

But Luffy isn't listening. "Did you see the tattoos Usopp drew? They're so cool, Traffy, and you're really tall, and your sword on the paper looks so scary, too—so cool." He looks up, Law glaring down at him with a snarl. "What's wrong? You look tired."

"I am," he answers between gritted teeth. His heart is beating terribly fast. "Let me rest."

"But Traffy," Luffy moans. "It's still the day! And we have a party tonight. You're gonna come, right?"

He doesn't answer. Not at first. Just looks down at him, feeling the weight of Luffy's body against his own. The sunlight casts long shadows across his deceptively innocent face, and Law stares, transfixed, studying the darkening bruise across his jaw, a gash under his left ear; gazes at the split in his lip that threatens to bleed with his smile. All new wounds from his latest adventure in the Zou jungle, and it's so unbearably endearing, so absolutely Luffy.

Luffy says, voice much too small, "Please come, Traffy."

Something tightens in Law's chest. A soft admission—the realisation that his company is wanted.

Law's mouth is dry, raw, when he replies: "Okay."

Luffy's answering smile is as bright as the midday sun. "Yosh!" And his arms tighten around Law, just for a small moment, a second of a beat, before he releases and makes his way back over to Usopp.

Salt hangs heavy in the air, heat exploding in Law's chest.

"I want that drawing, Usopp!"

"Let me finish it first," Usopp snaps. He's scribbling madly now, utterly focused on his work.

"It looks finished to me."

"You can't even draw!"

"Oi, that's not true! I—"

"Captain!"

The moment shatters like glass.

Bepo.

Law tenses immediately, reflexively readying Kikoku for a fight. His eyes sweep the area, searching for any immediate danger, but finding none. Law sees Luffy frown, looking to the edge of the town with a curious 'hmmm'. He follows Strawhat's gaze, and sure enough, Bepo comes out of the jungle, running, a small group of people following behind: two Minks, Chopper, Penguin and Shachi.

"What?" Law addresses Penguin as they near, standing slowly. "A ship?"

Law's heart sinks at his own assumption. An immediate: He's found me. There's the taste of metal between his teeth, heart thudding, each breath dragging painfully through his throat.

"No."

It's Chopper that answers him. He's in his larger form, and it takes Law a little too long to realises he has something—holding something to his chest—that it's—

A body.

"We can take her to that cabin," one of the Minks say, pointing to the house just behind Usopp. "It should have some supplies and herbs."

"She needs proper medical attention," Chopper says. He sounds worried, but he works on keeping his voice level, steady, staring directly at Law as if pleading for help. "She's been bitten by something. The venom—or something—maybe poison, I'm not sure—"

"Don't worry!" The group turns, Luffy standing just to the side with his hands on his hips, grin wide. He's brimming with pride. "Chopper's the best doctor!"

"No, Luffy." Chopper's voice is rising slightly now, wavering with panic. "The venom has no antidote, I've already tried my hardest, I can't—"

"It's fine," Law interrupts coolly, noticing the tears building in Chopper's eyes.

Luffy's head snaps towards him, frown deep set in his face. He tries to ignore it, but Strawhat has these eyes, this attention that makes him falter.

"Help Chopper, Torao."

There is no argument to be had here, and Law swallows thickly, ignoring the order, the intense, unwarranted confidence from Strawhat.

"You've at least delayed her death, Tony-ya. Take her in."

The cabin is wonderfully bare, aside from a lone bed, a table, chairs and dried herbs lining the ceiling. Chopper lays the girl down carefully on the cotton sheets, brushing her hair out of her face with delicate fingers. Each breath comes out as a pained rasp, and as Penguin and Shachi move the table nearer to their captain, Law measures her pulse with his fingertips, clocking each number in his head.

The two Minks leave, but Luffy stays, standing in the doorway, watching quietly.

"I'll need your help, Tony-ya," Law requests, breaking the tense silence. The Strawhat doctor is emptying his backpack on the table, sifting through his instruments. He passes Law rubber gloves, pulling a pair on himself. "I'm afraid I'm still quite weakened from the events of Dressrosa."

"That's okay," Chopper says. "The wound is on her left shoulder. I've cleaned and shaved the area and found two small holes—what I think are bite marks. The Minks before told me of a spider in the area, but she had no reaction to the antivenom they had on hand…"

"How long ago did they give that to her?"

"Yesterday."

"Captain!" Law casts Bepo a glance. He bows a sorry, continuing, "I don't think the spider is venomous."

Law hums. "Poison?"

"Bacteria, captain." Bepo takes a breath. "Sorry!"

"Why are you apologising?" Penguin snaps. He looks to Law. "That should be fine, right, captain? Just remove it."

Chopper nods rapidly, making a little mm-hmm sound. "That's what I was hoping you could do."

Law opens his mouth to reply, but stops.

Luffy.

He walks further into the cabin, steps strangely slow and purposed, peering at the Mink girl quietly from underneath the brim of his hat. The whole room seems to wait on him, and it is in that moment Law realises: of course. That of course they do, because that is what Luffy does, what Luffy is.

"Can you do it, Torao?" he asks.

He looks at Law. Looks right at him, and Law feels it then. Intensely. They're the only two in the room, the space between them incredibly small, and it is so bright, so clear.

"Yes." There is no hesitation, and Law adds, smirk touching the corners of his lips: "Do you doubt me, Mugiwara-ya?"

Luffy sniggers.

"I'm going to search her body," Law addresses, blinking back into the group. He snaps his gloves on. "If she wakes, hold her down."

"Wait!" Chopper cries, suddenly back to panicking. "At least give her aesthetic, you monster~!"

Law frowns over at him. "That would be a waste."

Luffy's laughter fills the cabin again, drowning out Chopper's angry yells, and Law takes the opportunity in the fray to open Room, the dull blue light expanding with a dissonant hum.

Everything fades away to nothing. He focuses on the Mink girl, mapping out her body, taking the time to search every layer of her, every scratch, every bruise, every breath, each laboured beat of her heart.

There is a rhythm here. Habits and rituals he has obsessed over and learnt for more than a decade. Finding problems, testing solutions. There is no doubt in his ability, no second of indecision or worry.

A full twenty minutes pass before Law finally closes the space, teetering forward, drained and exhausted. He grips the bed to steady himself, and takes a deep breath, sucking in the stuffy air between his teeth. It is only then that he feels the weight of the cabin, five pairs of eyes waiting on his diagnosis with worried tension.

"Bacteria," Law answers the unspoken, voice thick with fatigue. He looks at Chopper. "It's out now. Just needs—rest."

"Oh!" Chopper's eyes widen. "Law, that's amazing~!"

"Ahhh." Luffy's grin splits his face in half. "Shishishi! Traffy's really good, huh?"

"Captain's the best!" Bepo declares. "We would never have survived the Grand Line without him!"

Penguin and Shachi share a look, and Law smirks, huffing a laugh. "You can take her, Tony-ya. Give her some aesthetic—and antibiotics, if you have any."

Chopper nods, scooping the unconscious girl up into his arms.

"Yosh!" Luffy cries. "Let's go, Chopper!"

He's grinning from ear-to-ear, looking at Law with utter trust and sincerity. And Law forgets to—

Well.

Forgets everything really, looking at Strawhat, unable to stop the slow smile spreading over his own face.

"Get some sleep, Traffy," Luffy says, voice deep. "We have a party tonight."

Law breathes then. Law breathes so deep. The smell of salt. The taste of it on his lips. "I know."

They leave, the cabin falling incredibly silent.

Penguin and Bepo move the table back to its rightful place, and Penguin complains about the dried garlic hanging from the roof. Shachi brings Law a chair, and he practically falls into it, every muscle in his body refusing to cooperate. He watches the trio. Watching as they move about the space, bickering and making fun of one another, Bepo apologising while also stirring the pot; Penguin, as always, taking the bait and biting back to every subtle remark. Shachi flicks between sides, and he laughs—and Law can't help laughing with him, because Shachi has one of those laughs, like an infectious disease, even if the original gag wasn't that funny.

As the sun starts its slow descent, the sky golden, Bepo sprawls out on the wooden floorboards and sighs. Penguin leans into him with a book; Shachi's already on the floor nearby, fast asleep, and it isn't long before the polar bear's snores join in with his, a harmony Law that is all too familiar with.

He stands and settles into Bepo, shoulder brushing up against Penguin's, and yawns. Without question, his first mate takes Kikoku out of his grip and lays her carefully on his lap.

"How's your arm, captain?" Penguin asks softly.

"Fine." Law's eyes flutter closed, suddenly weighted and heavy. "It will be fine."

There is a long silence, filled only by the haphazard snoring and flicking of Penguin's pages. Law focuses on the rise and fall of Bepo's chest—the pressing of Penguin's body into his side. Tunes out the buzzing of his own mind and just—Law just is.

Wonderful.

Then:

"Captain?"

"Mmmm."

"I'm glad you're back."

Law does not open his eyes. But he smiles, warmth curling and spreading in his stomach, swelling his chest, his heart.

This is his past and his present—his memories of these three. And it is everything: it is the why, the reason, his life now—and he will remember this. This is important. This is it.

"Me too," Law whispers.

And he means it. He really does.

Night crawls in. Law wakes to a canopy of stars, alone, on the bed in that little cabin. Outside, he can hear laughter, cheers, clinking of glasses—someone yells Luffy's name, and Law sits up then, rubbing a hand down his face and blinking back into the world.

No dreams. Thankfully. He takes a breath. The strong smell of meat fills the air, and his stomach growls in response, body automatically rolling out of the cot and making his way out. Kikoku sits diligently outside the door for him, and Law notices in the dull light how clean her scabbard is now—and her handle—and—

Ah.

A new braid has replaced the old, ruined one. Perfectly crafted—red, of course—and Law almost laughs then, muttering under his breath about those idiots and wasting their time. But his heart is thudding loudly, and he is full of something despite his hunger, something inexplicable, something that feathers his soul.

"Oi." Law shrugs Kikoku into her place on his shoulder, looking away from the large gathering of people. Zoro's standing on his right, two drinks in hand, passing him one over. Like he was there all evening. Waiting for him. "Here."

Law takes it.

"I heard about this afternoon," Zoro drawls with a knowing smirk, taking a step closer to Law. The party is exploding behind him, Luffy singing to Brook's song along with the Mink leaders. Franky's got a whole dance choregraphed, and Usopp is teaching Uni how to put chopsticks in his nose. "Chopper won't shut up about it. Or your crew. And Luffy."

Law raises a brow in response, taking a long sip of his drink. Sake. Burns. Feels good. Nice.

When it's clear Zoro won't elaborate on the situation, Law clears his throat and asks, "So?" There's a rawness to the word, like he's almost afraid to know why.

"Luffy's not like that."

The sentence sits heavy in the air, echoing what was spoken only a week ago, and Law finds himself leaning forward near Zoro, desperately wanting more, wanting to know why.

All he gets is a dark chuckle, and, "Nakama, huh?"

Then Zoro is gone, disappearing into the crowd, Law left blinking slowly and stupidly, mind a haze of questions.

He shakes it off, straightening, taking another drink as his eyes scan the party. Bepo sits around the large campfire, full bowl of food resting on the log behind him. Once his navigator catches sight of him, his face breaks into a toothy grin, waving Law enthusiastically over. The Minks he sits with make room for Law, and he takes place beside Bepo, bowl of soup immediately dumped in his lap.

"I saved this for you, captain!"

Law smirks. "Thank you, Bepo."

They let him eat in silence for a bit, the quiet between them filled with Luffy's awful singing and Brook's violin. Law watches them across the fire, soup warming his belly. Strawhat's smile is so wide, so free, and fuck, Law can't stop staring, because it is just so bright, so blinding—the brightest damn thing he's ever seen.

It is amazing.

Luffy's not like that.

The soup tastes like paper, and all he can think is what does that mean, how does that mean anything—

"We were just talking to Bepo about his family," one Mink says eventually—the leopard. Pedro. Law's gaze snaps to him, and he's suddenly breathing again, air filling his lungs all in a rush. "I worked with his brother."

"They did amazing things, captain!" Bepo says. "Travelling all around the New World as mink pirates!"

His eyes glitter, and Law feels a pang, something that hurts deep inside of his chest.

Pedro leans back into the log, small smile playing around his eyes. "I would like to go out to sea again. You should come with us, Bepo."

Law freezes, and Pedro lets the silence permeate the air, thick and sharp with meaning. Everything is a low buzz, and Law's mind races, tries to keep up with the situation.

Luffy's singing and the world sways.

"That is," Pedro continues eventually, "if your captain allows it."

Law stares at him. He knows the delicacy of Minks—is intimately aware on where he is and where he stands in this situation. With careful, purposed movements, he places down the empty bowl to his side, letting his hat shadow his face, and takes a breath.

"Bepo can make his own decisions."

His voice betrays him—thick and acidic. He can hear everything he wants to say in that simple sentence; and is sure that Bepo can, too—Bepo who knows him like the back of his own paw, who knows more about Law than even Law himself.

See, it has always been this way. Law needs these people more than they could ever need himself. He is a burden to them, and they—

"Captain?"

They are light.

Law stands. "My drink is empty, Bepo," he says, putting a palm out to stop his navigator from rising and following. "I'll be back."

Lie.

He hates himself for being this way—driven by selfish greed. Always has. Law remembers the burning in his chest at age ten, in the dark of night, wishing and wanting just to be something else, something true. And he remembers hating himself then, too, wanting nothing more than for his disease to just end it, just kill him—free him from himself.

Now he's still alive—and what a bitter taste that is.

Law leaves. Follows the line of the jungle tangling across the path of the small town. Follows it until the sounds of the party behind him are nothing but a low drone, and annoying buzz in the back of his mind.

Law stops, pouring the rest of his sake into the roots of an oak tree, wondering—

Well. Not a lot. He thumbs the new braid around Kikoku, eyes on the star filled sky, trying to find something familiar. God's Hand was the constellation that guided them out of the North Blue: Bepo told him that. It was something Law didn't really know upon leaving—when Cora took him, he tried to teach Law a little about the importance of stars and navigation. But it was the one thing that would never retain, and every night, he could only remember God's Hand: fingers that sprawled in the heavens, pointing it out to Cora as soon as the sun set, their dingy infinitely draw towards it. Like it was something. Like he knew something.

He sighs. Shrugs Kikoku closer. Arm hurts. Nostalgia does not fill in the gaps; holds no answers. Not now. Not ever.

"Captain!"

Law turns, eyes widening slightly when he sees Bepo's outline approaching, shadowed by the roaring fire behind. He's saying sorry, and he almost sounds out of breath, like he's run a mile when it's only been twenty metres, if that.

"Bepo."

"Captain! I'm sorry!"

Closer now. Law can see the tears swimming in his eyes; only has a moment to register them before Bepo jumps on him, wrapping him in a near-suffocating hug. He's muttering all manner of apologies, and Law stumbles back slightly beneath the weight of him, sighing loudly as his heels dig in the dirt.

"Get off."

He does. He's sobbing, snot dribbling out of his nose, and Law smirks a little at it, rolling his eyes.

"Bepo. I'm not upset."

"But—but—but you left, captain! I would—I won't do it, not if you don't want—"

"Bepo." The sharpness to Law's voice catches him, and Bepo stops, sniffling quietly, looking directly at Law as if waiting for an order. "What do you want?"

"I—"

"I ask as a friend, Bepo. Not a captain."

Law lets the silence stay for a moment, hoping it can communicate what he is too cowardly to say: this was your goal, I understand, I left you, I'm sorry, it's only fair, it's only fair, it's only—

"I want to travel with you, captain."

Then—

Fuck.

Bepo bows. He bows low, right down, does not look up at Law at all, nose nearly touching the earth. Behind, Law can see the party clearly: the chaos, his crew dancing around the fire, the insanity that is the Strawhats, encouraging any and all bad behaviours.

"What are you doing?" Law hisses, voice choked and caught in his throat. His eyes sting. "What—"

"Take me with you, captain! Let's travel the world together. Let's go—let's—"

Law blinks. Then stumbles forward, almost into Bepo, as something hard thumps on his back without any warning. An arm snakes around his neck, and Bepo straightens, eyes widening, grin spreading across his face. Wetness lines his cheeks.

"You're such a crybaby!" Shachi laughs, arm tightening around Law. He's significantly shorter, and Law has to bend to his height—something he does with an unamused scowl. "You know, if you show captain too much affection, I heard he turns to dust."

"He actually catches on fire," Penguin mutters around a smoke, sliding up next to the mink with a dark grin.

"You don't want that Bepo—"

"—who would beat us a poker—"

"—or eat all the riceballs—"

"—drink all the ale behind our backs—"

Bepo's mouth falls open. "Captain! I'm sorry! Don't catch on fire!"

Law wrenches himself out of Shachi's grip, his crewmate falling away with an inane cackle. "Bastards."

"Are you on fire?!"

"No, I'm—" Law exhales between his teeth, trying to mask his face into one of frustration. But the smile threatens, a strange warmth spreading through his body, and he snorts. "No."

"Anyway," Penguin says. He turns, and starts an idle walk back towards the party, hands in pockets, the trio falling into place at his side. "There's this island I want to go to once the Yonko's down. I heard—" his voice drops to a stage whisper, Bepo and Shachi leaning in close dramatically— "it's like Amazon Lily."

Shachi hi-fives Penguin comically, and Bepo looks at Law, eyes sparkling through the night. "Can we go, captain? Please? Maybe there will be lady bears."

"There won't be any lady bears!" Shachi snaps.

"We'll go," Law says, firm, before they can start that argument again. "Let's—" he pauses, eyes hard on the party they walk back to, breathing in deep, Kikoku in hand, Shachi's arm bumping into his own. "Let's do it."

All three of his crew members share grins, their excitement palpable—but before anything else can be said, a hand comes flying towards them.

"What—"

It takes Law a full moment to register what is happening, and when he does, it's too late. Much too late. The limb takes a handful of his shirt, grips tight, and then he is flying through the air, landing heavily without any warning into the body said hand belongs to. Kikoku clatters out of his hold.

It doesn't hurt but.

Fuck.

"Oi! Mugiwara-ya!"

Luffy is just laughing and laughing beneath him, and Law shakes his nerves, jumping up and scowling. He dusts off his pants with two hands, striding over and plucking his nodachi out of the grass.

Luffy follows him, still laughing.

"I told you to wait, Luffy!" Usopp is a metre away from them, crouching on the ground with Chopper at his side. They're tapping some bottles, and measuring powder in a glass beaker. "Sorry, Torao-kun."

"I wanted you to see this, Traffy." Luffy bumps shoulders with Law, grinning up at him. "It's going to be great!"

"We also need your help to get down that small valley," Usopp adds, jerking his thumb behind him. "Otherwise it won't have the same effect—hold that, Chopper. Great."

Curiosity gets the better of Law. He idles over, Luffy glued to his side, peering down at the concoction Usopp is working on.

"Fireworks?" he asks, after a minute of silence.

"Yep!" Usopp says, grinning. "And I think they're ready! Reckon you can get us down there?"

"Only if you're not too tired!" Chopper jumps in, worriedly. "I know that you were drained after—"

"It's fine," Law drawls. Luffy fist bumps the air. "Let's go to the edge."

Usopp and Chopper gather their things, following Law to the viewing peak of the valley. It's small, this dipping and arching hill that sprawls across Zou. From here, they can see the curve of the horizon, the tail of the elephant flicking back and forward on it's idle path. There's no breeze, and the sounds of the party are non-existent here, feeling further away than the endless stars that stretch above them.

"Alright." Law opens Room. "Ready?"

Usopp only gets one nod in before Law switches him and Chopper with a large boulder below. He peers over the edge, the two visible in the clear night, waving from below. They're too far to hear clearly, but Law can see them get started on their show immediately, setting up each firework with mathematical precision.

"This is gonna be great!" Luffy says. Law turns to him. He's looking out over the ocean, smile wide, eyes sparkling. "I'm excited!"

"For fireworks?" Law drawls.

Luffy casts him a quick look. "No." He slams his fist into his open palm. "Kicking Kaido's ass. And fighting with you again. And—"

He pauses. Law waits for more, but it does not come. Brook's still playing the violin, and he can hear its distant melody, over the rush of far-off ocean waves. He takes a breath. Let's it out slowly.

"The ocean is nice," Luffy says.

And—gosh. He's quiet. So peaceful and serene, suddenly, like Luffy's drunk too much and is starting to tire. His eyes shine, but they see faraway, not quite with Law—at least, not until he turns to him, moving close, all in Law's space, smelling of salt and smoke. And he is right there, definitely very much there, and Law can't—can't even—fuck.

"It—" Speak. "It is."

Luffy smiles.

"Mugiwara-ya—"

"Okay!"

A shout from below. Law blinks and breaks away, almost jerking at the sudden realisation that he was leaning forward, nearly touching Strawhat. He rubs a hand down his face, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes, and Luffy scoots close to the edge, lighting up.

The first firework is small. The second, also. The third is yellow, and explodes like sun in the sky, and Law can feel the party behind them pause, shouts of joy and excitement filling the space. The air is pregnant with purpose.

Law stares at the sky, blinking into the light—then something warm presses into his palm, and he looks down. Strawhat holds his hand, leaning into Law's side.

"It looks like your ship, Traffy!"

Law's heart flips. "I guess."

Luffy laughs. "Your crew are great, too. Crazy hair girl gave me this."

He pulls out a small origami swan from his pocket, letting it sit delicately in the circle of his scarred palm. Another firework lights up the sky, this time blue, and Law can see all the little details on the paper animal—lines and drawings, disappearing into the folds.

"She's good at that," he says, remembering all the origami she used to hide around the submarine whenever he put her on night-watch. "What's on it?"

Luffy's still got his hand. Calloused though soft. Somehow. He looks up, smile oddly small and embarrassed. There's a warmth to his cheeks, and his lips are a little parted, teeth white. And Law is falling, feels so fucking close to him, Strawhat right there, this man of light, utter trust in his own hand.

"It's Usopp's drawing of you," Luffy says.

Law's throat is very dry. He swallows twice.

"I—"

—And leans forward, brushing his lips along Luffy's. Feeling the breath catch in Strawhat's throat, his hand squeezing Law's tightly, the slight parting of his lips. And before he can even question what he's doing, Law presses further into him, lips taking Luffy's between his own, hoping it can say—hoping it says—

Luffy tastes salty and sweet, and Law's heart is thrumming like a humming bird beneath his ribcage, almost painfully fast.

It is only after too long, when another firework explodes in the sky, that Law realises Luffy hasn't moved at all.

At all.

You fool.

Law breaks away immediately, stumbling backwards, cheeks and chest burning with embarrassment as he tries to find his footing. He snatches his hand out of Strawhat's, now all clammy, gripping Kikoku painfully tight in his other palm. He tries to take a breath, to breathe—fuck, breathe—

"I am—Mugi—" Breathe, breathe, breathe. "Sorry. I thought—I don't—"

Law takes the brim of his hat, pulling it down to shadow his face, murmuring something even he cannot understand at this point. Another firework explodes, blissfully drowning out his idiocy—fool, fool, fool.

Luffy is unbelievably still before him. Frozen. Expressionless.

"If you—"

Ah.

Law realises, quite suddenly, intensely, that he has to leave. Now. Away. Far away from here and Strawhat. Pulling his hat down even further, he manages one more time, something akin to sorry and I thought leaving his mouth absently.

But then:

"Again, Traffy."

The words are soft yet demanding, spoken with an air of intensity that could only come from Luffy. His hair falls into his eyes, darkening his face, but the gentle curve of his smile spreads, warming the rest of his demeanour.

Law stares. Blinks. "What?"

His brain isn't working, isn't keeping up with the present, though Luffy just repeats, "Again," this time lifting his head, revealing his shining eyes, grinning at Law through the night.

"Don't be scared."

Law hears his voice, though Strawhat's lips don't move—and he just thinks okay.

Okay.

The violin starts up behind them, the shouts and singing of their crews as the jingle drifts through the night, laughter rolling with the crashing waves of the distant ocean.

Law steps forward, free hand rising to Luffy's face. He rubs his thumb over the scar under Strawhat's eye. Impossible imperfections. Runs it across his lips. Slightly cracked, but soft, and Luffy doesn't move, so Law thinks it's okay then, it's okay—

—it's okay—

It's been a long time since Law has had a friend and lover. But Luffy knows him—knows him well—and still, he stands here before Law, utterly trusting, waiting, paused, smiling, trusting—and how.

How.

"I'm going to kiss you, Mugiwara-ya."

And he does. Slowly. Luffy tastes like salt and smoke, is still, is warm. Law's hand traces his jaw, skin deceptively fragile and malleable beneath his touch; opens his lips, tastes him, feels him—so free—so Luffy. He is grinning as Law is kisses him, and the surgeon's stomach flips lazily at the feel of his smile, the anticipation building between them; the sweet, tangible tension.

Luffy hums when they part for a breath, the sound feathering across Law's lips. "Torao. You feel nice."

Law drags in a breath. Smirks.

Strawhat grins back. "Do it again!"

In that moment, there is nothing. Not doubts, no worries, no burdens; not even himself.

Just Luffy.

And Law feels—Law is—he can—

Another firework explodes in the clear night sky; a brilliant, blinding blue, lighting across the night, disappearing into the abyss.

And finally, Law can breathe.

whoa boy so i died a little writing this? anyway, finally done GOSH just a chapter of law needing to be loved, i hope it didn't bore anyone. i don't have time to go back and thoroughly edit but i hope it's okay.

anyway, if you want to know more about law and monet's relationship i have this a oneshot i wrote a little while ago called melancholia and sunday evening. AND thank you so much for the support guys!