Getting adopted had been, admittedly, very low on Law's priority list.

Law had come from a small but prosperous mining town. For centuries the quaint village had survived from coal mining, when several generations before Law's own, someone discovered a rather thick vein of a rather rare element, Amber lead. Once they realized it wasn't just a pocket, a relative gold rush hit the village, which become a town, which then shortly afterwards become a city.

This was where Law was born and raised. A beautiful prosperous city filled with kind people, many job opportunities, and Amber Lead nearly everywhere. Being so close to the source, many statues made of the element decorated the city, and in recent years it had become a popular jewellery item for both men and women.

If you'd asked Law at the time of his ninth birthday he'd have told you he was happy. His parents were both doctors and he knew he wanted to follow in their footsteps. He was learning new things every day and people said he was a prodigy. His little sister looked up to him immensely, and secretly Law hoped someday she too may decide to follow in the family footsteps and become a doctor.

"and so sometimes, in these arteries here, cholesterol will build up causing the blood pressure to rise. It can put too much strain on the heart which can cause...?" His father looked to Law expectantly. It was a sunny day, and as usually happens during the summer there was a festival outside, but today Law was inside studying with his father. There was no other way he'd rather pass the day.

"Heart attacks" Law replied proudly. He knew he was smart for his age. He knew the other doctors all looked in admiration at him. They all said things when they thought he couldn't hear "a genius for his age" "definitely takes after his parents" "will certainly break records"

"very good" his father smiled. He too knew of Law's superior intelligence and promise. It was why, even on beautiful days like today with festivals parading down main street he stayed inside to tutor his son, to encourage his potential. If Law wanted to learn he would do everything in his power to help "Large amounts of blood pool through these arteries to reach the lungs to be oxygenated, that's why even the smallest knick can leave someone dead in minutes. Surgeries in this area must be incredibly precise, for sometimes the shrapnel imbedded in someone's chest can actually be plugging a hole in the artery"

"Mm" Law nodded, jotting down some more notes to review later. With his father's guidance, he highlighted several of the more important lines in the medical textbook laid out in front of them, ones to pay close attention to when reviewing before bed. Law's entire bookshelf was filled with similar texts and medical journals, ranging from simple biology and chemistry, to incredibly complex ones on advanced surgery that even Law hadn't read yet. He would, soon, but for now he knew where he was and how much further he'd have to go before he could reach there.

"Hey Law" his father inquired "I've been asking around and many of the surgeons said they'd be fine with you observing the surgeries close hand if you'd like" Law eyes began to brighten "they know you're a responsible young boy, and who knows? after a few weeks of observation they may even let you participate"

"really?" it wasn't that he doubted his father, his father would never lie to him, but this was an incredible development for him. At such a young age, being allowed in the surgical rooms was a huge honour. It spoke volumes of how high the local medical community thought of him

"of course. Everyone can see your potential and they're eager to nurture it." He wrapped his arm around his son, pulling him into a gentle hug "I'm so proud of you Law"

Law only grinned and hugged his father back in response.

Today, Law studied alone.

His father was in his office, where he'd been spending more and more of his time as of late. Law understood, his father was busy, and he didn't mind. He'd been reviewing his notes, review was always necessary to advance.

"I don't understand" his father's voice drifted through the open door through the hall and into Law's room where he sat at his desk "The white patches, the inexplicable pain, the bleached hair. I've never seen anything like it before." He paused for a voice on the other side of the line to respond "only in the elderly, but every day I'm getting younger and younger patients coming in showing the same symptoms. In a matter of months we've gone from only those over the age of 80 coming in, to patients as young as 50" Another pause "are you sure?

At this point Law was ignoring his work in favor of getting closer to the source of information, namely his father's door. He knew something strange was going on in the country, a boy as intelligent and observant as he would have a hard time missing it, and at this point public interest was low but present. Most had heard of the mysterious illness sweeping through the elderly, and very little was known of its origin or transmission method, so nothing could be done to prevent the spread.

"Anything?" Law's mother spoke up, now that his father had hung up. She too was a well respected doctor working hard to treat the new disease but so far nothing was effective enough to have a lasting impact.

"Nothing. Not Goa, not Cocoyashi, Not syrup. None of the neighboring towns have seen anything remotely similar" he sounded defeated "at the rate it's been spreading through Flevance it should be appearing in the surrounding area by now but nothing-" a deep sigh resonated through the room "it's only in Flevance and I can't begin to wonder why"

While it had taken a few months for it to move from the elderly to the middle aged, it had only taken a few short weeks for it to reach nearly the entirety of the rest of the populace.

The hospitals were overflowing. Patients covered in white patches, hair bleached white, screaming in pain filled nearly every room, overflowing into the halls and onto the floors. Nurses and doctors worked their best to treat everyone, but they too were falling victim to this disease.

Law had reviewed all he could and was now itching to learn more, but his father was so busy trying to find a cure while his mother treated the victims to the best of her ability, that Law had no one to teach him. He understood, but it was still frustrating.

Lami had come to his room more often than not, now that their mother was too busy to let her play in the hospital as she normally did when both parents were working. Today she sat on Law's neatly made bed, messing it up, and playing with her dolls quietly.

His door creaked open and both of their heads shot up to see their parents standing in the doorway. Lami immediately jumped up with an excited shout to wrap her arms around her mother's legs who scooped her up into a hug. Law was more wary. Getting down from his chair at his desk, he observed the two adults standing in his room apprehensively. They both had resigned expressions of exhaustion which weren't uncommon in these trying days, but today they looked even more worse off than normal.

Approaching his father, he reached up for a hug "dad?"

He smiled, knowing Law wouldn't miss or ignore their increased worry as Lami had. Scooping his 9 year old into a similar hug he brought the family into the middle of the room where they all sat and hugged one another

"they've put the city under quarantine" he whispered to his son so Lami wouldn't hear "We can't find a cause so they've put a quarantine up. No supplies or people are allowed to leave the city"

"but you said it wasn't contagious" Law didn't understand "you said it would have appeared in the neighbouring cities by now if it was contagious"

"I know. It isn't contagious" he squeezed his son "we think it's hereditary"

Law sat silently in his father's lap, relishing in the comfort he provided while processing the news. Hereditary, adjective, passing or capable of passing naturally from parent to offspring. Capable of passing from parent to offspring.

"If you see any white patches on you or Lami let us know okay?"

Law didn't comment on the white streaks in his father's hair

It would only be 10 days after the conversation with his parents that Lami would collapse on their way to the park. He carried her all 4km to the hospital on his back, no ambulances could run anymore since they needed all the paramedics to work in the hospitals, and he would have been proud of the feat if he wasn't almost entirely certain his sister was dying.

It took 45 minutes of sitting in the emergency room filled with screaming feverish adults covered in white spots for a nurse to have a look at them. It was the same for everyone else, keep her hydrated, keep her cool once the fevers started. They'd run out of painkillers quickly once the quarantine had gone in place.

It would take hours for someone to notify their parents of what had happened. The family went home together and tucked Lami into bed, got her an IV for her fluids, and prayed.

It would only be three more days for Law to notice the growing patch of white on his chest. For the first time in his life he saw his father cry.

One by one the city died. The elderly died not long after the white patches appeared, but the young persevered longer. Long enough for the white to spread across nearly their entire bodies, long enough for their entire scalps to be bleached white, long enough to be begging for death by the time the excruciating pain of the fevers claimed their lives.

Through the entire ordeal his parents persevered. They pushed through fever and pain alike to try to reach a cure. They had concluded it wasn't a virus, wasn't a bacteria, and wasn't an infection. Through trial and error again and again they worked their hardest to find a cause, and with it, a cure.

While his parents worked, Law never left Lami's side. He'd tell her stories, even when she was too feverish to understand them. He'd bring her toys, water, anything she asked for. He'd never let go of her hand.

In the end she died before his 10th birthday. She was only 7 years old. When she'd finally stopped breathing in the middle of the day as she slept, Law fell into shock. He couldn't move, he couldn't take his hand from his sister's. It would be hours before his parents would come home to find him like that. His father held him in his arms as Law sobbed while his mother took Lami outside. There weren't any spots left in the graveyard, nor anyone left to bury them.

Together they dug a hole and buried Lami in the backyard. They all held each other, sobbing and screaming at the loss of the youngest member of their family.

In a little under a year Law's life had gone from that of a prospective doctor prodigy studying under surgeons to that of a dying nine year old. The patches had spread to his face, and his father couldn't look him in the eye anymore.

Sitting in the middle of his father's office, hands shaking, Law didn't know whether to scream or cry. Maybe both. His knees were shaking, his eyes were watering, and a lump in his throat made itself known meaning he was close to all out sobbing.

In his hands sat his file. His father had been keeping files on as many victims of the disease as possible but it was clear he'd been keeping Law's file for longer than the white spots had appeared on his chest and face, now spreading down his arms and legs. His father had discovered early on it couldn't be contagious, probably as early as that phone call he'd overheard all those months ago. From there he'd figured it must have been hereditary and he was right.

Following the pattern of everyone else, all those around the same age dying around the same time, he'd been able to predict Law's life expectancy.

He had just over three years to live.

He might not make it to his thirteenth birthday.

He would never be a doctor.

Alone in his father's office, Law wailed.

For Law's ninth birthday, his parents bought a chocolate cake from the bakers down the road. They'd decorated it with sugar cherries from the candy shop and all sung Happy Birthday together. Lami had gotten him a Frog stuffy, remembering the days when he'd collect frogs and dissect them before his parents had forbidden it and instead began teaching him about medicine, and his parents had gotten him several advanced textbooks on brain chemistry and anatomy. His aunts and uncles had all given him some pocket money to spend as he saw fit, and they'd even invited some of the neighborhood children and their families to come celebrate together and eat cake. Lami had spilt juice on his cardigan and ultimately it had been a fun day.

Law spent his tenth birthday huddled in his room with his parents. His fevers had begun and like Lami he felt dehydrated, shaky, and very confused. There were times he couldn't stop asking for Lami, too fevered to remember what had happened only that something was wrong and he needed to see her where was she he was scared and too cold but so hot and where was Lami?

His mother was the second to die.

Law's fevers had temporarily receded for a few days, enough for his father to inform him that his mother had passed some days ago. He took him out to the backyard where he'd buried his mother next to Lami. They placed flowers next to her grave, no gravestone to mark the spot, no way to get one.

He wanted to cry but he couldn't, he didn't have the fluids to spare. Instead broken wheezes escaped his pained chest, accompanied by whimpers and burning eyes. Eventually his father brought him back inside and lay him in his bed.

When Law awoke from his fevers next, he was alone.

His throat was parched, his head ached, and stumbling to the bathroom sent pain shooting through his nerves. Only finally quenching his thirst and some of the headache did he realize his father was nowhere to be found.

Even in his sickly state did he realize his father was most likely dead, and knowing he would die, didn't want his son to find him dead next to his bed, and so left.

Outside, Law found him lying next to his mother's grave. He didn't have the strength to dig his father's grave but he still tried. He sunk to his knees, scooped his hands, and began clearing a hole.

For hours he stayed outside, kneeled in the dirt, digging a shallow grave for his father. His muscles ached, and his mouth was parched, but he couldn't bring himself to move from the spot of his father's grave. He knew if he stopped he may not start again and he couldn't leave his father out here for the crows and dogs.

It shouldn't be like this. His breaths came in quick sharp pants and it wasn't fair. His sister should be alive. His mother should be alive. His father should be alive. It wasn't fair. What had they ever done to deserve this? They were a family of doctors, they tried to help people, they hadn't done anything wrong.

Before he knew it his hands and stopped and he collapsed to the ground. His breathing was coming in wheezes and his hands hurt too much he couldn't move. His muscles ached, his head pounded, his tongue felt swollen, he was dizzy, oh lord he was so dizzy.

When he opened his eyes it was night time. He could vaguely recall enough dizzy feverish memories to know it had been several days since he'd last started digging.

With aching muscles and aching joints, he slowly lifted himself to his knees. Trying to stand, he fell back onto all fours but was determined to stay up. This was okay. He could do this. Slowly, in incredible pain, he crawled towards the back door to his house. One hand in front of the other, one knee shuffled forward at a time.

The sun was peeking over the horizon by the time he made it inside. Still, over the tiles of the kitchen he crawled. Once he made it to the sink, he collapsed in a heap on the floor, worn out. His vision was too dizzy, he felt so cold, his muscles ached. It was only a little further, he just had to pull himself up then he'd have the water but he couldn't lift his arms. Slowly he lowered his eyes.

When he awoke once more the sun was setting, this time he was sure it had only been a few hours, but at this rate Law wouldn't survive the 3 years his father predicted he had left.

It was the thought of his father, the father who taught him about brain anatomy and heart attacks, who purchased him expensive textbooks to further his passion for medical science, who cried when he showed him the first white patch to appear on his chest, who buried his wife alone, who lay rotting in the backyard without a proper grave that finally moved Law to lift his screaming arms and pull himself to lean on the counter. Panting, he shot a shaking hand into the tap, scrambling for the knob before cool luscious water finally began pouring out of the faucet.

Immediately, without thinking, he stuck his head under the water. Having the water run through his hair and over his face not only served to cool his raging fever, but also allowed him to lap it up like a dog in the summer, helping to quench his thirst and lessen his incredible dehydration.

For what must have been hours Law stood leaning against the counter with his head under the water, even as his stomach protested and he was unable to drink any more he kept cooling his head, going so far as to grab some of the dish soap and run it through his hair. Mesmerized in his near delirious state of bliss, he watched the bubbles flow down of his hair into his drain. It took him several moments to realize the soap had all left his hair and the remaining white streaks were indeed more symptoms of this mysterious disease penetrating his body.

With a slightly cooled head, Law had the mind to fill as many bowls as he could reach with water and place them on the floor in case he later lost the strength to pull himself up, as he almost had earlier. From there he used the small burst of energy he'd gained to crawl to the shed and retrieve a shovel. From there, he returned to the backyard to keep digging.

It took him several days, potentially more than he realizes considering the times his fever spiked and he passed out, to dig a large enough grave for his father.

It wasn't nearly as deep as he remembered his sister's to be, but it would have to do. Any deeper and he wouldn't have the strength to pull himself out.

It had been hard, dragging his father's rotting corpse to the grave. His hair had begun to fall out, his eyes were bloated and protruding, and his body was covered in blisters which Law had quickly discovered were full of fluid. Trying not to further damage his father's corpse, Law was finally forced to roll him into the grave, lest he risk falling in himself.

Throwing a quick layer of dirt over him, Law finally forced himself to leave to go to the kitchen. The scavengers wouldn't get him that far down in the grave, covered in the dirt as he was.

And it was only lapping the water pouring over his head that his mind cleared enough to remember that there were scavengers, and wasn't that something. All rules of nature dictated that these animals should avoid the corpses at all costs, but they'd been forced to throw the bodies in the back parking lot of the hospital when no one came to claim them because they were attracting scavengers like stray dogs and vultures.

The ingestion of infected flesh should have been the easiest way to contract the disease, if it was at all contagious. The fact that nature knew these bodies were safe to eat meant his parents had been right, the disease was not at all contagious, it was hereditary. Something he'd inherited from his parents, who'd inherited it from their parents, and so on and so forth for generations. Something that shortened the life span bit by bit so it was at first unnoticeable until it accumulated enough to finally show symptoms and kill its host, killing the elderly first and then the entire country all at once. Something like a poison, contracted from an abundant resource in a very small area.

Sitting on their amber lead tiles, in his feverish delirious dizzy mind, Law realized he may have figured out the source of the disease that had destroyed his life

It hadn't taken the CDC long after Law had realized the truth to realize it themselves. Actually they'd probably realized it much sooner, but it took time to organize people and funding into an organized group ready to save a city. Of course that time spent organizing might have ruined any chance of saving the city at all.

People in bulky hazmat suits walked through the streets, stopping at bodies lying everywhere in various states of decomposition, checking for pulses when it seemed possible they may simply be unconscious. Apparently they'd only found 15 alive so far, 10 of which probably wouldn't make it through next week.

In joining the military Bell-mere hadn't known quite what to expect. Maybe getting shipped out to some base in the middle east, maybe stationed some remote ass location no one cared about, she didn't really care. She had two girls to care for, and the military offered a fat paycheck.

She could definitely say she didn't expect to be immediately shoved in a hazmat suit and sent to some remote city where a mineral they'd been mining had accumulated into a fatal toxic level in the local populace and they'd all started dropping like flies. The government panicked, quarantined the area, and only discovered too late it wasn't contagious.

Now she and several dozen other new recruits were getting shoved into hazmat suits and praying to whatever gods they believed in the toxicity couldn't penetrate the suits.

After this, Bell-mere was wondering if the fat paycheck was worth it. Sure her daughters were provided for, but she was hardly ever there, and walking through the streets of decomposing bodies left her feeling like she might need therapy after this. At least she wasn't assigned to search the hospital, where all the sick had been collecting, and dying, and with no one left to collect the bodies they'd begun to pile up.

But searching through the houses still left a sick feeling in her stomach. For every bedroom, every kitchen, every fridge covered in children's drawings, Bell-mere knew there was another family dead. Another child who'd never grow to be an adult, another life cut short. Seeing one framed drawing of a family that looked similar to her own youngest daughter's drawings had Bell-mere concluding she would definitely need therapy.

Moving from one backyard to the next, Bell-mere was confronted with her first graves. She'd heard from the other squads that some families had buried their dead locally when the graveyards filled, but she had yet to find her own. Now here she was standing in front of three graves, dug side by side. Two of them were covered in rotting flowers, the other was bare and clearly much shallower. Her heart went out to whoever had been forced to bury their last family member alone.

Going inside the through the backdoor, Bell-mere felt her heart stop.

She'd seen a few bodies in various states of decay, and it already messed with her psyche as it was, but she'd been thanking all her lucky starts she hadn't found any children. It seemed her luck had run out as before her sat a young boy, no older than 10, dark soft hair streaked with the bleaching typical to this disease framing sunken in eyes surrounded by white patches of the amber lead. He was slumped, his face was flushed with fever, and his breathing came in harsh pants.

His breathing came in harsh pants.

Her mind catching up to her body, Bell-mere flung herself at the alive boy, unconscious, feverish, dehydrated, and probably starved, but alive.

Grabbing her radio, she shouted into the microphone "I've got one! Alive, feverish unconscious, 10 years old, and alive! he's alive!"

After his shattering revelation, Law hadn't wanted to wake up.

His parents had been right. The quarantine had been for nothing. They could have been getting treated instead of scrambling for a cure that didn't exist. Bodies in the streets, overflowing hospitals, no resources, burying his father, all because of nothing.

For weeks he'd drifted in and out of delirium, unable to do much more than groan and roll over. Once he'd gained enough lucid thought to realize he was in a hospital, one he didn't recognize, that he was getting treatment, he had enough lucid thought to know he would survive, and that he was disappointed at this fact.

He could barely move. The white patches covered nearly his entire body, his hair was streaked with thick white stripes, but his fevers had begun to recede. Every day doctors came in to see him, every day nurses commented on how lucky he was to be alive. He didn't think it was so great.

He shared a large room with two dozen other people, the number dropping every day. They were the only survivors and so far treatments hadn't helped them much. For awhile he'd hoped he would join them but none of their fevers had receded to his point and it looked like he may actually make a recovery.

It also looked like he may be the only one.

The government was at a total loss on what to do in this situation. On one hand it was an incredibly fuck up to assume the disease was contagious, there had actually been substantial proof from the Trafalgars, all dead now except their little boy god rest their souls, that the disease was not contagious. Not only had the hastily applied quarantine been completely unnecessary, but it had probably killed the city. Tens of thousands were dead because of their mistake.

And now they were left with one. One boy, the son of the famous Trafalgar doctors, 10 years old and said to be a medical prodigy. Now lying in a massive room alone as the other two dozen survivors kicked the bucket throughout the week.

Senator Sengoku groaned, dropping his forehead into the palms of his hand. He was at a loss on what to do with this boy. On one hand it looked like he would pull through which was incredible, it gave them the small enough chance to potentially redeem themselves. On the other, he would be a walking talking reminder of their mistakes for the rest of his lives.

The first priority for the government was finding him a home. His entire family had all lived in Flevance (read: were all dead) and so that left them with their first chance at redemption. They needed someone rich, someone charitable, someone in the spotlight who could spoil this child for the rest of his life.

His eyes slid over the files collected on his desk. There were around half a dozen or so candidates left who'd applied. Many wonderful kind families had applied but Sengoku couldn't just think of who would coddle him the best. He needed someone cocky, someone who was doing this out of the kindness of their heart but also as a publicity grab. He needed someone to flaunt just how well provided for the boy was, so that the people would maybe understand they were doing their best to handle the situation.

Fortunately there was one such candidate who fit the bill perfectly.

No, getting adopted had been very low on Law's priority list indeed.

But his fever had receded to non existence, his white hair had begun falling out and normal black hair replacing it, and the white patches of amber lead covering his body had been surgically removed, leaving behind large white scars that would never leave his body, always would he have the gruesome reminder of his pain and torture laid out on his skin for all to see.

They'd aptly named it "Amber Lead Disease"

His room, which in the beginning he'd shared with two dozen people, was empty except for him, but soon it would be able to return to whatever its original purpose had been before the few survivors of Flevance took it over. Especially now that there was only one left.

They'd all died. Every single one of them. The kind nun who'd taken in all the children as their parents died of the disease first, the 9 year old feverishly screaming he'd promised his parents he'd live, all dead. Law had been the only one who wasn't so far gone that the treatments were useless.

He didn't want to live.

It was a constant thought, following him day in and day out, as the nurses changed his fluids, as he was escorted to the bathroom, as they took him to physical therapy. His sister was dead, his mother was dead, he'd buried his father himself. The surgeons he'd observed, the children they'd invited over for his ninth birthday, the nurses who'd aided him when Lami fell ill, all dead. His entire family, his entire existence, erased in a matter of months.

And now he was expected to just pick up the pieces of his shattered life and continue like nothing had happened. Like his entire world hadn't just collapsed around him, like he had nothing left. He was expected to smile and be so grateful the government saved him, so thankful to be alive.

The grinning idiot in the pink coat wasn't making matters any better.

Donquixote Doflamingo, like the rest of the world, had watched the Flevance incident occur in real time with only mild interest. He'd watched as quarantine barriers were erected, neighbouring towns panicked, and slowly a city died.

Doflamingo was a man of many interests, many passions, and many methods of ensuring his quality of life stayed the same. It hadn't been hard to redirect drug routes around the city and surrounding media fiasco, and it really the entire event had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience to the celebrity drug smuggling CEO.

It wasn't until the government finally got off their asses and decided to do something that Doflamingo realized he may just be able to profit from this fiasco as well. A few dozen survivors had been rescued, he wasn't sure of the exact numbers, and most of them had been orphaned children. Immediately he'd put in a request for foster care or adoption. He knew his chances of rejection were slim but even he was nervous hearing they were all dropping and the chances of any of them surviving past the month were narrowing quickly.

Now despite what all the gossip said of him, Doflamingo was not an entirely selfless man. He was rich, he was the CEO of a business he'd founded at a young age (with some help), and he was also mafia boss who smuggled large amounts of drugs, weapons, and other illegal contraband around the world. To keep the government off his back he donated tremendous amounts of money to charities each year, and all around kept his public record neat and tidy. He also hadn't gotten where he was without a little intellect, and he could smell a good publicity grab when he saw one. Adopt a poor orphaned kid from the ruined city, spoil them rotten their entire lives, and the world would eat from the palm of his hand.

He also knew the situation would be advantageous for both parties. Not only would he look good in the eyes of the public, but the government would also in some roundabout way for giving the kid to such a loving caring person. Now if only one of them would actually survive.

It was just his luck one 10 year old boy managed to pull through where the rest failed.

And so now here he stood in a hospital room, staring down his soon-to-be son. The kid was small, most kids were especially compared to his 7 foot stature, but this kid was especially small for his age. He was covered in large white scars where the white patches had been, which would probably never fade, and his scalp had several bald spots where normal hair was growing in to replace the bleached. Dozens of tubes, wires, and other medical tools were plastered to his body, connecting to large machines surrounding his bed. Looking at him, Doflamingo had a hard time believing this mangy kid would survive the night, let alone recover from the poisoning that had nearly killed him.

He was out of it, very very out of it if the medicinal charts on the white board near his bed said anything, but still he'd stuck a strong glare to him the moment he'd walked in.

Doflamingo drew attention to himself, he knew it. His hot pink coat and matching feather boa wasn't exactly what passed for fashionable nor socially acceptable these days but he was equally praised as he was berated in the magazines for his unique attire and Doflamingo felt he could afford the quirk of his.

But still he felt his fashion choices weren't the source of Law's ire.

Placing his hand on Law's knee in a somewhat placating gesture Doflamingo decided to break the silence "so. you're Law"

Law refused to speak, silently still glaring

"You may have already guessed this but I'm going to be your father from now on"

Getting adopted was so low on Law's priority list he hadn't even realized it was a possibility, a necessity really, which was ridiculous considering he'd buried one of his parents himself. But faced with this pink monstrosity only furthered his thoughts and wishes for death, especially saying he was going to be his father.

"no" he had a father, one who taught him about anatomy and heart attacks, and who wore simple button up shirts and lab coats, not horrible pink feathery monstrosities.

This, this thing, actually had the audacity to chuckle "the papers are being processed, and you've made it far enough down the road to recovery that they're sure you'll survive. Give it a few weeks and it'll all be official

"for now, you can call me Doflamingo"

Donquixote Doflamingo, as it turned out, was fairly famous. If Law hadn't already been convinced he was a charity case, he could now rest assured knowing he was not only a charity case, but a publicity grab as well.

Leaving the hospital left Law with a sick feeling in his stomach. He wasn't entirely recovered, far from it, but enough of the toxin had left his system to allow him treatments in Doflamingo's home. Cameras followed them for their short walk to the Limo to take them away, and even that left him out of breathe. While he may have recovered from the fevers, he still had many lasting effects he was suffering from including a patchwork scalp of bald spots, sunken in eyes and cheeks from the starvation, and large white scars from the surgeries to remove the amber lead.

They'd paraded him in front of the paparazzi to make them look better later. Today they could all gawk and gape at the dying boy, and months later they'd all marvel at his recovery. He was nothing but a toy for them. Nothing but a chess piece to fix their mistakes.

"You get used to it all" Doflamingo seemed cheery enough, smiling and waving at the paparazzi "they're just insects to appease, that's all"

Sitting behind him, all alone fighting back tears, Law felt like he was the insect being appeased.

Living with Doflamingo had proved to be more difficult than he'd have anticipated.

The man was volatile. He liked to randomly take Law out for excursions around the city, something he hadn't been used even before his illness. He was a quiet boy, he liked to spend hours studying with his father, not parading at various city events.

Doflamingo knew this, Law knew Doflamingo knew this, and he was certain Doflamingo took every opportunity to drag him outside just to irk him. Parading him in front of the cameras to make himself look like a good Samaritan and document his recovery was only a bonus to the psycho man.

He was also pushing his fashion habits on Law. He'd been able to avoid the feathers, and the bright pink articles of clothing that appeared in his closet at random, but a ridiculous spotted hat had made itself home on Law's head and only on threat of losing internet privileges did he continue to wear the thing.

Not that the internet was a safe place for Law anymore. The Flevance incident, even nearly a year later, was still the most interesting thing for News companies to blog about, and pictures of the ruined city were still circulating. The first time he'd come across such photos his throat had seized up, his breathing had come too fast but not fast enough, and his vision had blurred. His throat had become parched, his skin ached from amber lead, and his stomach ached from forced starvation.

A panic attack induced from the photos had sent him into a spiraling fever that nearly left him hospitalized. Since then his internet use had been closely monitored to ensure he didn't accidentally stumble on any more references to the ruined city, which left him in a vacuum of information. He had no idea how the government was handling the case, who was responsible for the fatal decision to quarantine the town, how they were being punished.

He had no idea how his city's final moments had impacted the world at all.

For his ninth birthday Law and his family celebrated the day together with chocolate cake and the neighborhood kids.

For his tenth birthday his parents held him in his feverish state and his sister had been buried in the backyard.

For his eleventh, he packed his bag to spend the week with Doflamingo's brother.

"just for seven days or so, while I'm overseas to deal with some... business" Doflamingo helped to pack Law's bags by carefully picking out and laying out various pieces of clothing, which Law either then placed in his suitcase or tossed on the floor, usually based on colour. He would wear the stupid spotted hat, it had grown on him, but Doflamingo could not subject him to any pieces of pink clothing.

He wasn't an idiot, living with the flamboyant man for this long Law had picked up that he was involved in some illegal extracurriculars. He'd manage to conclude that this was also the reason why the camera happy man was passing up the ultimate media stunt, his birthday, although that probably had something to do with his less than spectacular recovery so far. Wait until next year to parade around the charity case

"You'll be staying with my little brother, Rosinante, he's a good kid, pretty strange, you'll like him" he looked at Law "probably. maybe. Don't kill him before I'm back" with the suitcase now full, Doflamingo shut it and picked it up to carry for him, knowing carrying it would only tire out Law out too much "it's only for seven days. You'll be fine"

Despite Doflamingo's assurances, or maybe because of them, Law was very wary.

Ha wow I haven't posted in a really long time. Like... a really long time. This isn't even from the other two fics I have up OH WELL.

as some of you may know, Corazon week is about to begin and so 7 days of fic! yay! this is aptly named Day 0 because Corazon week doesn't actually start until the ninth but I needed a prologue to set the stage. Originally this was going to be a part of day 1 but it became a monster so I decided to do a prologue. The rest of the chapters are not nearly as long, I promise.