the feeling of freedom (that a cage offers)

by CherryLimonJuice

Summary:

Freedom is a difficult concept for Trafalgar D. Water Law to define.
Once, someone had told him he was free—that he no longer had to live under anyone else's influence. And yet, he had never felt that way.
Least of all when his world had shrunk to four walls, sealed off from everything else.

(In a universe where Trafalgar Law allows himself to be more transparent about his future plans, his bond with Monkey D. Luffy grows stronger much earlier than anyone would have expected.)

Chapter 1: Prologue: Two worlds

Law had seen him before —in newspapers he bought while waiting for a lead that could change his life, the ink still warm from the press, the pictures black and white. His name traveled from island to island, praising feats that were hard to believe — the kind of things no sane person would ever dare to attempt.

Monkey D. Luffy.

The rookie whose reputation skyrocketed overnight. Hundreds of thousands of people told his stories: how he destroyed cities — and rebuilt them with hope and longing —, how aggressive and selfish he could be — burning the world for his crew, moving sea and land to make sure they were safe — and his complete disregard for justice — crushing any Marine forces that stood in his way, enforcing his own sense of right and wrong in the face of the World Government’s corruption.

Law had been following him, looking for his name — any mention of him — in every newspaper for months. He underlined, cut out, pasted, and organized every event where Monkey D. Luffy had been present, trying to find a pattern, a hint of what drove him.

And now he had found him — he had reached him, and will see with his own eyes the man who knew no limits.

Law had already made his decision — deep down, he knew there was no way he was going to change his mind. Not after all the time he’d spent gathering every piece of information.

That’s why he went.

The bar door burst open with a loud bang, echoing through the small space, silent in the stillness of early morning.

Law turned slightly, tilting his head back to get a look at the new arrival.

He smiled.

He was exactly what Law had imagined: loud, impulsive, and completely unaware of his surroundings. The perfect recipe for a problem —or a threat, as the Marines had already started to call him.

"Two meats! Or three! You serve meat at this hour, right?"

Law watched him bounce between empty tables, practically hopping on the balls of his feet.

"We don’t serve food this late," the bartender grunted from behind the counter.

"EH?" The straw hat tilted his head to the side, his eyes wide and confused. "But that guy’s eating."

"Those are snacks that come with drinks."

The air grew heavy, almost too thick to breathe. Both pairs of eyes turned toward him. The rubber pirate pointed right at him, and the bartender just shrugged, too tired to care.

Well, this wasn’t how Law had planned their meeting.

Luffy took a single long step toward him, stretching his body thanks to his Devil Fruit, and flopped down next to him, resting his cheeks in his hands like a puddle more than a person.

“Hey!” he blurted out, eyes still locked on Law. “Can I eat that? I’m super hungry and my nakama say we’re outta food. You’ll share, right?”

Law tilted his head slightly, waiting for... something.

Then he pushed the plate toward him without a word, letting the food be devoured without a second thought.

"Thanks!" The words were barely understandable through mouthfuls."What’s your name?"

"Trafalgar Law."

Chapter 2: The Horse and the Infant

A loud crash echoed through the metal and wooden walls of the Marine ship they were on.

Amid the startled cries, Luffy pushed forward until he reached the highest point of the deck. His hands gripped the railing tightly, fighting against the wind whipped up by the ship’s increasing speed.

A giant wave — that was what they were riding to finally reach Ace and rescue him once and for all.

He was so close, just a little further — time itself seemed to stretch the harder his heart pounded, threatening to burst out of his chest.

The pressure and the shouting muffled his hearing, making it feel as if he were underwater — with the same suffocating panic of drowning.

He was going to rescue Ace.

Too much had happened in the past few days, far too much to focus on just one thing. Too much to even understand what was really happening anymore.

Somewhere between leaving Hancock’s island — maybe even before — his mind had simply stopped processing the events unfolding before him.

He’d had to put off saying goodbye to Bon-chan, and to so many others.

There was no time to drown in sorrow, not when his goal was still ahead.

He had to save Ace — and he would prove to him that he wasn’t a child anymore. Ace would see it for himself.

And, just like he’d said back when they met again in Vivi’s Kingdom: they would see each other again, this time at the very top.

The ship jolted to a sudden stop, throwing his body forward. Luffy let out a groan, clutching his head where a metal bar had struck him — or maybe he’d run straight into it himself. Either way, it hurt.

He lifted his gaze, glancing left and right to find out what had happened, because this wasn’t the plaza where Ace was being held.

“What happened?!” the clown screamed at the top of his lungs, flying back and forth at full speed.

Luffy frowned, springing up to where the others had gathered.

It was cold.

“Hey, Jinbe!” The wind the clown created as he crashed into Jinbe knocked Luffy’s hat off his head. He had to hold onto it, maneuvering so it wouldn’t fly away. “Why are we here?!”

A distant explosion made him turn his head. Many more followed, along with cries and shouts of battle.

They were high above where Ace was imprisoned — he could see him, a chained figure, and his heart stopped beating — Everything around them was frozen, the sea and the wave they’d been riding.

“The water’s frozen.”

“What are we gonna do?!”

“Ah... it’s a shame we won’t be able to go—”

The pere-pere of a Den Den Mushi interrupted the voices. Luffy went straight for it. The crowd parted quickly, giving him an easy path — these people were very helpful.

“To all fleets near Marineford,” Luffy froze in place, listening to the voice coming from the Den Den Mushi without needing to touch it, “be advised that the execution ceremony for the condemned, Portgas D. Ace, has been moved up.”

The pounding in his ears grew louder, painfully so.

They wanted to kill Ace sooner.

Luffy closed his eyes for a moment — they felt wet, that’s how they felt.

They had to get there faster.

He had to save Ace.

“Straw Hat-boy, we’re going down now, don’t worry.” Iva’s huge head appeared in front of him, blocking his view of everything else.

They had to go down.

Luffy lifted his gaze and grabbed the tallest mast he could reach, vaulting off the ship with ease.

“...first, the one with the wax— yes, you. Evacuate everyone from here, we can’t have too much weight if we’re going to move this thing. Jinbe, help me lift the lower part, if we unhinge it we can slide down to the base. Croco-boy and Knife-boy, once we’re down, you two go ahead to clear the way...”

If the ice broke, they would fall.

They would reach Ace.

Luffy knew he wasn’t thinking — not in the way his nakama teased him about, but in a far more shallow way.

He couldn’t say exactly — or at all — how they’d ended up up there, or what had caused them to fall, or when the others had followed him.

He just knew they were falling because he felt nothing solid under his feet, because he couldn’t move at will. His stomach turned over, worse than it had since he woke up, and he couldn’t help but feel afraid.

It was horrible, so strong it was hard to move his limbs — which really did feel like rubber — and he’d felt that way many times in the last few days.

First his crew, his friends — Luffy hoped they were alright. He knew they were strong, they were amazing. But once again, his limbs went limp when he remembered them.

Every time he closed his eyes, every time he slept, all he saw was them disappearing.

The clown’s screams registered louder in his head.

He didn’t know where his nakama were. Would he see them again someday?

He had to. He couldn’t continue his journey without them — he wouldn’t be able to.

“Croco-boy! Grab Straw Hat-boy!”

But first, he had to rescue Ace. Then, he would go for the others.

More frantic shouting erupted, and Luffy had to force himself to focus on what was happening.

The ground was too close.

Notes:

You could say this is the first chapter, although it also kind of works as a prologue — just from Luffy’s point of view.

I wanted to take a moment to explain what’s going on with Luffy a little better. I’ve been rewatching Marineford to get a deeper understanding, and from my perspective, Luffy is basically dissociating from a little before they escape Impel Down until the end of the arc. The way he keeps repeating Ace’s name throughout almost the entire arc feels like a sign that he’s not truly processing the situation around him — he’s completely focused on reaching his brother. At the same time, he’s sinking deeper and deeper into his thoughts, like the events of Sabaody and Impel Down have hijacked his mind so completely that they’re still playing on a loop in the background, even if he’s not consciously aware of it.

And while I think that disconnect helped him survive the chaos and push through without giving up, it’s also incredibly concerning — especially considering how young he still was. I tried to reflect a bit of that here.

Like I mentioned before, I’m drawing inspiration from EPIC: The Musical, especially this chapter’s connection to the song The Horse and the Infant — you’ll be able to recognize the songs in the titles. That said, this isn’t a lyrical adaptation; I’m mostly taking little pieces from the songs and twisting them into a new narrative path (though sometimes the chapter title might give away what’s coming).

I also wanted to mention that there might be a few chapters inspired by Hamilton as well (I’m seriously obsessed with musical theatre lately).

Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter — feel free to comment and leave some kudos!

Chapter 3: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Law had bet everything that day—his future, his love, and his life.

Trafalgar D. Water Law had wagered it all on Monkey D. Luffy.

The tide had risen, washing the base of the cliff without restraint. Law swung his legs, feeling the sea breeze dampening his trousers.

He was alone—only himself here. He missed his crewmates, missed their laughter and the clamour he had learned to appreciate.

He couldn’t help but compare the hollow ache in the pit of his stomach to the one he’d felt when Corazon’s laughter disappeared from his life forever.

It made no sense—Law knew he would see his crew again, his friends. He only had to wait a little longer, and they would be there to greet him with open arms and scoldings he wouldn’t be able to quiet even if he tried.

He supposed it was because he had never ruled out the possibility of dying when he left Sabaody, leaving his whole life behind—or maybe it was the sheer amount of death that had seeped into the very air around him.

All of it for Straw Hat—Luffy.

He wanted his strength, needed it for his plans to work in a few years—when Law finally gathered the courage to free himself from his chains. But he wouldn’t risk his friends. He had learned at a very young age that losing someone you loved was more painful than a terminal illness—more torturous than any physical pain they could inflict on him.

So Law left his crew in Sabaody, gave them vague instructions to sail to a nearby island, and vanished among the horrified murmurs about the events of Marineford.

The seawater threatened to soak his shoes, lapping beneath him.

His heart was still pounding hard, the adrenaline refusing to leave his body—from the hours he’d spent dancing between life and death with Straw Hat’s body and the two weeks he’d kept his vigil in case of an emergency.

The sea parted, letting the massive corpse of a Sea King drift past.

Law shot to his feet, his nails digging into the damp earth left by the dawn drizzle. Instinctively, he reached for Kikoku, unsheathing it—the blade thrumming under his grip, ready to strike.

From the water, a figure emerged—tall as an average man, built like a fighter.

His breath caught in his throat, bottled up like champagne about to burst.

Silvers Rayleigh.

“Well, I was expecting to find a lot more people here when I arrived.”

Law took a step back, his boots sinking under his weight, surely making a tiny crater in the grass.

“Trafalgar Law, am I wrong?” the old man smiled, his glasses glinting in the sun. “We met back in Sabaody—not a pleasant place, as I recall.”

“Peculiar circumstances,” he replied, his hand tightening around Kikoku’s hilt, trying to stay steady.

“True, true.” Rayleigh pulled off his wet clothes and wrung them out.

There were muscles everywhere, scars and fresh wounds, little scrapes. It wasn’t the body you’d expect of an old man whose hair had long since lost its color.

“I came to meet with Luffy. My ship sank in a storm and delayed me.”

“What misfortune.”

“I know. I would’ve liked to learn a bit about how the Surgeon of Death treats his patients. You’ve got quite a few rumors following you, boy.” Rayleigh took a step closer, then another. His posture was relaxed, casual in a way that was almost unheard of in the New World. “I suppose Luffy must be in the forest.”

“He just woke up. He didn’t take the news very well.”

Law had to make a conscious effort to regulate his breathing, feeling his lungs fill, the air sliding through his nostrils and leaving in a warm farewell.

Rayleigh—the old man—had effortlessly knocked out everyone at the auction house. He’d made Penguin stagger when he’d closed in for what had been longer than a blink.

He was powerful—a weapon loaded and ready all on his own.

"You should have gone." Law frowned, as he tried to fit the words together. “With Luffy, I mean. He needs every friend he can get right now.”

“I’m not his friend,” he snapped—a reflex more than anything, still too focused on staying composed.

“You’re carrying his hat.” Rayleigh gestured with an easy, amused little laugh.

The string of the straw hat hanging around his neck felt heavier for a moment. The fabric was thin, made to be forgotten if you wore it long enough.

Law held the brim between his fingers.

When the operation had started, he hadn’t had time to worry about the patient’s belongings—too overwhelmed searching for vital signs to latch onto, too busy staying alive beneath Marineford’s depths, dodging attacks meant to kill him.

It had been hours later, when exhaustion finally struck, that the hat had rolled to his feet, bits of worn straw catching on his ankles.

He’d picked it up and, without thinking, kept it with him.

“I don’t plan on staying any longer.” Law replied instead, letting the implications of friendship over a worthless object hang unspoken. “Straw Hat is awake. I have no reason to keep wasting my time here.”

“If that’s so, I still think you should say goodbye to Luffy. You’ve done a lot for him.” Rayleigh cast a look toward the stretch of forest, even if nothing could be seen but thousands of trees. “I’ll stay here watching your submarine—don’t worry. This old man won’t be going anywhere soon. Go.”

He wanted to refuse, to make clear the background of his actions and walk away once and for all.

But he couldn’t.

The person standing before him was nothing less than a legend—his reach in power, the innate mastery of Haki he possessed, and the leadership that radiated from his very posture. No matter how old he was, he outclassed Law by far.

Rayleigh had ordered him to go after Straw Hat—not an option, no matter how much he liked to pretend it was.

Law had always known how to distinguish those small nuances in the tone of words. The moments when certain syllables rose above others, completely changing their meaning.

It had been imperative to learn that when his life revolved around games without mercy.

So he turned around and started walking away. He didn’t nod or say anything—there was no need, and he knew that if he opened his mouth, he’d condemn himself.

When had he become someone else’s subordinate?

How pathetic.

He followed the trail of destruction to find his patients. Both were badly injured, with wounds running clear through their bodies—an entrance and an exit.

It had been fascinating—too fascinating—to dig among the ligaments and muscles altered by the powers of the Gum-Gum Fruit.

The reach of Devil Fruits had always intrigued him. Each had its own set of limits to obey.

They said that a Devil Fruit’s power disappeared from its target once the user lost consciousness. However, that depended strictly on the type of fruit consumed.

According to that rule, if Law were to cut someone in half while keeping them alive, that person should die the moment Law was knocked out.

Straw Hat’s body should have stopped being rubber during the operation, reverting to an ordinary human being.

Neither of those scenarios had turned out to be true.

Perhaps Law had been interpreting the rule incorrectly. Maybe there were countless details he’d overlooked. Whatever the case, his curiosity about the subject wouldn’t cease.

A loud explosion indicated him he needed to take the next tree to the right.

If the wounds reopened, there would be much worse problems. Law hadn’t been exaggerating when he warned Jinbe of the danger Straw Hat’s body would be in if the wounds split again.

He had done everything he could to keep him alive for so long—he should have died. Law had stretched his life against nature itself.

But there was nothing else he could do.

The crash reached him before the sight did. Something—a boulder the size of a mountain—flew past just a few meters away, the impact as it struck a tree making the ground tremble under his feet.

Law lifted his gaze.

Through the haze of dust, he distinguished Straw Hat’s silhouette. His fist was rising and falling again and again against a rock that refused to break completely, splinters spraying in every direction.

Jinbe was trying to hold him by the waist, but every attempt failed—each grip dodged.

“Luffy!” the fish-man’s deep voice sounded exhausted. “Enough, boy! Stop!”

Straw Hat wasn’t listening. Between the sound of flesh pounding rock and his own sobs, it was simply impossible to reach him.

Law couldn’t be there.

Law shouldn’t be there.

He should turn around, retrace his steps, and face whatever Rayleigh had in mind for his future—he could lie, he could—

Straw Hat screamed. His vocal cords reached their absolute limit, the voice sounding raw, nearly bloody—a sign he had done this before, many times, too many.

Law stood still. His feet wouldn’t let him move—he couldn’t bring himself to leave or to step closer to the other two. He needed to get out of there.

Straw Hat’s arm stretched farther than any human body should allow, smashing his fist against Jinbe’s torso, driving him back to keep him away. He didn’t seem aware of his surroundings, unable to distinguish what was around him: trees, mountains, people.

Everything must have looked the same to him.

It was the purest image of loss.

One Law was far too familiar with—he had seen it firsthand, after all. On a thriving island reduced to ashes and on another where snow covered spilled blood, repeating the same agony—too terrible to name—more times than anyone should have to endure. No matter how hard someone else had fought to keep him from feeling despair again.

Because it wasn’t fair—it would never be fair.

Cora-san had sacrificed his life, had put himself in danger day after day, hour after hour, standing against Donquixote Doflamingo to save people he didn’t even know—people he owed nothing to — to Law.

He gave his life for justice, and yet every other marine’s sacrifice gets told, every other marine gets to grow old—but never Cora, who deserved nothing less than all the time in the world at his disposal.

That all-too-familiar ache began under his eyelids. Law held it back—just like so many nights alone in his submarine—swallowing the tears.

Endless nights, when he asked himself why he was still here, what he gained by staying alive when everything he wanted always ended up far out of reach.

He remembered Lammy’s bright eyes when they talked after school, roaming the toy shops. His mother’s soft hands tucking him in. His father’s gentle voice taking them along to his work. The crooked smiles Cora-san would give him to lift his spirits after the waves of pain from his illness.

It had been so much harder to escape that endless circle of loss when he was younger—the months after the events on Minion Island.

It had been almost impossible back then.

But Law had to keep living—if not for himself, then for those who were gone.

Cora-san would never be the revered hero he deserved to be—not despite the piles of information he passed right under the noses of one of the most dangerous organizations on the seas, not even after dying to save lives—and so, Law would keep his memory alive. He would make sure everyone—

Law would keep him alive.

Law had let the tears stop, stopped mourning what he could never get back, and rose again.

He lived another eleven years.

He focused on what he knew, recalled every piece of information Cora-san had managed to leak out, the papers he had hidden on the ship that carried them for those six months.

He studied—studied every single one of them, tried to make sense of it all—and not for the first time, he had screamed himself hoarse for losing that final message to Vergo.

He leaned on Bepo, on his crew, when he fell apart—he was well aware he would never be free of those episodes. He learned to trust again, to let go of part of his pain and allow others to help carry it.

Every day, he asked himself if this was what Cora would have wanted for him—the people he connected with, the actions he took, the emotions he still couldn’t handle.

Cora-san had always been the best—a damn saint Law could never surpass.

Law kicked, fought, and cried beneath his memory. He destroyed islands as easily as Cora had smiled, hoping he could see that smile in his dreams, approving his own version of justice.

He freed slaves, gave them a new chance at life, gave them the same hope Law had received when he believed he was on his deathbed.

He got into battles that didn’t concern him—saved Monkey D. Luffy, saved the former Warlord Jinbe, and thousands more by keeping those two alive.

Was this what Cora-san would have wanted?

He would have done so much more—Law could never even reach what he had done.

If only he’d had more time—Law would have given him all of his without hesitation.

He closed his eyes and remembered his face again—trying to forget the blood that had stained his skin in those last moments.

He wished he could see him again.

Law opened his eyes and let the image of Cora-san dissolve in his memory. When he spoke, his voice was rougher than he remembered—it hurt, it hurt to talk.

“You don’t get to decide who lives or dies.”

He conjured a Room, raising one finger to capture the figure of Straw Hat, who struggled, suspended in the air, thrashing his head and arms side to side, trying to break free. “Do you weave fate itself, Straw Hat? You’re nothing but an ordinary human, like the rest of us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jinbe collapsing to the ground, exhausted. His breathing was ragged after fighting to restrain Straw Hat’s blows. “Ace made his own choices, Luffy. You still have so much to live for—so many people waiting for you.”

Straw Hat let out a wounded sound, twisting without much strength left.

Law sighed—inhaling, exhaling.

“If you die, who will keep him alive?” His voice dropped a tone, vibrating in his own ears. “There are things only you know, you were brothers after all. Only you can tell his story.”

It was just a matter of time.

 

---

 

The deck of the submarine rocked back and forth with the waves rolling in from the shore. He had decided to stay outside, bring his writing materials, and admire, one more time, the reason for his decision.

Law was going to remain on Amazon Lily for another two months.

It hadn’t been easy to reach that point—he missed his crew, but there were too many factors keeping him from leaving entirely right then.

Rayleigh was one of them. The old man had insisted for hours that he stay nearby, pointing out Straw Hat’s wounds with worry. Law had already done enough for that old man—he’d dealt with the destruction of part of the island to keep his patients’ wounds from reopening and watched over them for the following hours—he didn’t have to keep listening to him.

Then there was the news Boa Hancock had brought. The Marines were relentlessly searching for the submarine’s whereabouts—and his head. His bounty had risen spectacularly, as had the admirals’ unofficial efforts to kill him.

Law wasn’t going to risk ending up in Impel Down if he could help it.

The sheet of paper—soon to become a letter—lay flat atop one of his books he now used as a writing surface. The pen hovered in the air, just centimeters from letting the ink spill across it.

His crew must have been worried sick. He could easily imagine Bepo spiraling into anxiety, devouring the supplies Clione had managed to gather. By now, they surely knew the outcome of the War of the Best—Law’s appearance at the very end.

His vivre card was probably the only thing keeping them sane—Law needed to start that letter soon.

A shout echoed from the cliff above.

“Torao!”

Law looked up just in time to dodge the body hurtling straight toward him.

Straw Hat soared through the air, crashing into the metal wall behind Law.

“Ouch!”

“I told you your wounds are still under observation,” he said, shooting him a bored look as he quickly scanned the bandages. “Stop doing that.”

Straw Hat laughed, bright and sing-song. “I’m fine, just bored.”

Law ignored him once he confirmed that not a single drop of blood was staining the now dusty wrappings. He would have to change them soon.

The corners of the white paper lifted in a gentle breeze.

“What’s Torao doing?”

“That’s not my name.”

He rolled the pen between his fingers, spinning it, lifting it, tapping it—thinking.

“Don’t ignore me!” Straw Hat stepped into his line of sight, sitting down in front of him on an improvised chair. “What are you doing?”

“Writing.”

Notes:

The canon is changing—Law stays on Amazon Lily together with Luffy and Rayleigh. Now, I think (even if Law never says it), that seeing Luffy in that state was one of the reasons why he agreed to stay two more months. That’s also why I included that scene.

Just to clarify, Law piloted the submarine alone to Marineford and (okay, maybe it has autopilot or something, who knows) managed to avoid most of the Marines’ attacks by maneuvering it by himself. I started thinking that maybe Buggy also helped him get Luffy and Jinbe aboard to make things a little easier. Law didn’t want to risk his crew this time, knowing the extent of destruction Luffy would bring and therefore the strongest attacks he would have to face.

The part about Corazon is something I’ve been thinking about a lot—the pain of Law’s loss turning into guilt and rage, knowing that even though Corazon risked so much and gathered so much information on Doflamingo, he would never be commemorated as a Marine, maybe even hated by the organization. Law might hate the Marines, but he would also see that even after his death, Corazon couldn’t be honored the way he deserved by them—because in everyone’s eyes, he died betraying the Navy and was just Doffy’s unlucky subordinate. They would never see him the way Law does.

It’s one of the many reasons why he always wears his name on his clothes—“Corazon”—so everyone can know about him.

Well, this chapter was a little sad, but the next one won’t be! I hope you enjoyed it, and don’t forget to leave kudos and comments—I appreciate all of them.

See you next time!

Chapter 4: Helpless

Everything was very bright, very beautiful. From the wide, high ceiling where Luffy could see his reflection as a little red dot, to the golden goblets that looked a lot like the ones Nami had barely managed to buy on one of the islands they had visited in their last months together.

Now he was sad.

Luffy pouted, letting himself be pulled along by the arm by Hancock, who was much more excited than he was.

That morning, he had been summoned to where the rest of the women lived — with real houses and lots of food that didn’t grow on the outskirts of the island. Hancock and an old lady had shown up after his daily training with Rayleigh, claiming that he deserved to be part of the celebration for the kingdom’s anniversary.

Luffy didn’t really understand why a kingdom had a birthday, but he liked the idea of eating tastier things than roasted Sea King.

He had jumped to his feet and followed Hancock when she told him they had to dress him properly before eating — Luffy didn’t care, too busy casting a glance at Torao’s yellow submarine.

He was invited too, right?

He had supposed so — he would see him later, then.

“Look, Luffy, we prepared a big chocolate cake for afterwards.” Hancock dragged him to the center of the large room.

It was a very big cake, layer upon layer of baked dough and a chocolate fountain beside it.

Luffy felt his mouth water.

“Wait, Luffy!” His arms were grabbed, stopping his rushed walk toward the table. “It’s for later.”

His shoulders slumped.

He couldn’t have the cake, he couldn’t see his nakamas, and neither Rayleigh nor Torao were in sight.

What more did the world want from him?!

“But Hancock!”

Many more people came into the room, only women, of all sizes and colors. Luffy liked them, but they were very boring sometimes.

Hancock had let him go, her hands grabbing her own cheeks in a gesture that, Luffy remembered, she did many times.

She was weird.

“The main dance is starting now!” a woman’s voice exclaimed through a Den Den Mushi.

Many other women screamed in excitement — Luffy watched them in confusion before copying them and letting out a happy howl.

It must be something fun, right? Dancing.

On the Sunny, when everyone was in the garden, Brook would play an entertaining melody for everyone, and Chopper and Franky would jump around moving all over the deck; even Robin sometimes let Sanji lead her to dance in the center of everyone.

Luffy liked dancing with them.

Hancock had grabbed him again by the edge of his outfit, dragging him among many women who were crowding everywhere.

“My queen!”

“We’re waiting for you!”

“I know, I know…” Hancock stopped walking, making Luffy bump into her back. This time she held him by the shoulder, turning him around. “I’m going to dance this piece with Luffy!”

Much more happy shouting.

The music began — it wasn’t how he had imagined it. It was much slower than what Brook played with his violin, it didn’t have many high notes, it sounded like a lullaby —Luffy remembered that Torao had told him that’s what it was called when he had asked.

Torao would hum songs when he looked at his wounds — Luffy liked it a lot, even if he never understood what he was saying.

Hancock made him move to one side, grabbing one of his hands and placing the other on her waist.

They moved to the other side — Luffy lowered his head, watching his feet so he wouldn’t accidentally step on Hancock. Usopp got very annoyed about that when Franky did it.

Hancock said something, but Luffy didn’t manage to hear her, too focused on watching where they were going — it was a lot of work.

Hancock wouldn’t get mad if he stepped on her, right?

Luffy evaluated her face again. Her cheeks were red — again —, a big smile on her face and bright eyes.

Yeah… she wasn’t going to get mad.

He smiled, copying her.

Their clothes matched, Luffy realized. She looked pretty, like when Nami modelled the new clothes she bought or when Franky changed his hairstyle when Sanji wouldn’t let him into the kitchen after a day of working on inventions.

She had a long red dress with golden pieces — same colors as Luffy — and a ribbon tied in her hair. Her feet must have hurt from the high heels she was wearing, but Hancock was smiling and laughing, excited about the dance.

She was very strong — Luffy had seen that from the beginning.

The lights were shining, pointing at the two of them, Hancock moving as if she knew exactly what she was doing and had practiced it many times. She was an empress; it made sense she knew those things.

If Luffy was going to be the King of the Pirates, would he have to learn too?

He tilted his head, thinking.

The lights blinded him, hitting his eyes and keeping him from seeing the other people around him.

Should he ask them?

He squinted to see better. The lights dimmed a little when he did, letting him see in one of the spins a silhouette different from the rest. He wasn’t a woman, he wasn’t wearing a dress, and he didn’t seem to be among groups of people either, alone — just arriving.

Luffy opened his eyes wider, catching the details.

Torao.

Torao was coming into the room. Torao had come after all.

His smile grew even bigger.

Torao also looked prettier. He always looked pretty, but now Luffy could see more of his figure than with the thick coat he almost always wore, even when it was very sunny.

Torao’s eyes shone when one of the lights hit him, the gold as bright as what Luffy was wearing — they matched.

Luffy laughed, little giggles coming out of his mouth and making his stomach do a happy flip.

He felt something soft under his feet, once, twice.

“Sorry, Hancock!”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t hurt.”

Luffy wanted to leave. Hancock was very fun sometimes, but he wanted to say hi to his friends. Rayleigh had also come in through the big door at some point after Torao did.

“Are you alright, Luffy?” Hancock asked worriedly, her eyebrows furrowing and a few wrinkles appearing.

Luffy made a grimace. What was he supposed to do?

“Bored.”

“Oh…” Hancock wasn’t smiling anymore, and Luffy felt a little bad. He should clarify that she wasn’t what bored him. Hancock wasn’t boring. “The song is about to end, Luffy, don’t worry. Afterwards, do you want to…”

Luffy had nodded. The song was going to end and he could go to his friends. Torao was sitting at one of the tables in the back, crossing one of his legs over the other and saying something to Rayleigh — he couldn’t hear, but Torao didn’t look happy.

“Do you want to go to your friends?” Hancock asked another question.

She didn’t look worried or sad anymore. She had a strange shine in her eyes and a crooked smile on her lips. Luffy didn’t know how to interpret it.

“Yes,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Torao just arrived and I want to show him the chocolate fountain, the giant cookies, and the big roasted buffalo and…”

Hancock blinked rapidly, watching him closely. She smiled even more — it wasn’t entirely happy, but it wasn’t unhappy either.

“Very well, you can go to your friends,” she said. Luffy laughed at the tone of voice she used, like when Dadan tried to order them to take a bath.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor. He wanted to introduce her. Luffy didn’t think he had ever seen her talk to Torao — Torao always hid in his submarine when any of the island’s women came to see them.

Surely Hancock would like Torao!

Torao was the best!

They dodged the groups of people around them — Hancock shouted something, and Luffy stepped on someone.

“Sorry!”

Torao and Rayleigh were sitting together this time — Luffy watched them eating one of the meat sandwiches he had seen earlier.

No. Torao wasn’t eating it, he realized as he got closer. Torao had taken the bread apart, setting it aside and eating only the meat.

The meat must have been really tasty!

A hard bump made him stumble, crashing against a table and rattling the glasses on it.

The noise was enough that Torao and Rayleigh turned to look at him — Luffy felt his belly do another flip, this time much stronger.

Torao’s golden eyes shone brightly when they looked at him, as if they grew bigger and only they existed — it was strange, just like how his hands felt very still, he needed to move them.

Torao was very, very pretty, Luffy could see it better now. The suit he was wearing was completely black and had many golden cords on the shoulders and in the front — like gold, a lot of gold.

He looked like a prince, like the ones Sanji told Chopper and him about. Sanji said they were magical, so beautiful they could have the world at their feet and so strong they conquered everything they wanted because no one could stop them.

Luffy hadn’t believed those existed — pirates were better, but now, looking at Torao, he was sure they were real.

Because Torao looked like Sanji had said they were, and he was so strong he would have everything he wanted.

Torao was amazing.

“Luffy?”

Luffy blinked, half-hearing Hancock say his name. He had stopped, and now Torao and Rayleigh were staring at him.

“Hancock, I’m going to introduce you to my friends!” he said instead, shaking his head side to side to focus on the task of getting to Torao.

He felt his legs walking for him, moving without him having to tell them — Torao was frowning, this time looking at Hancock and then back to Rayleigh.

Luffy had to hurry.

“Torao!”

Torao looked at him again, his eyes half-open — that was fine, that was better.

“Straw Hat-ya.”

“Luffy, hello.” Luffy smiled toward Rayleigh, noticing the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Look, this is Hancock!” He lifted the arm still linked with the woman’s, and Hancock let out a little yelp.

Did he hurt her? — Luffy let her go.

“I already know her, Straw Hat-ya.”

“Really?” Luffy tilted his head to the side, trying to remember if that had ever happened. He was sure it hadn’t.

“Yes, when you were very focused on eating when you woke up.”

Torao shrugged and gave a nod in Hancock’s direction, which she returned.

Rayleigh got Torao’s attention again, showing him a paper with something written on it.

“Oh…” Luffy frowned, crossing his arms.

Hancock was still at his side, but she didn’t say anything. Rayleigh shook the paper so the light would hit it better, and Torao picked up his plate of meat again.

Luffy pressed his lips together.

People were dancing, and the music was slow again — boring.

He opened his eyes wide, smiling once more. “Torao, let’s dance!”

He didn’t wait for an answer, he didn’t need one — Luffy was going to be the King of the Pirates, and the King has everything he wants. He took the plate from Torao’s hand, lifting him out of his seat with the force he used.

“What are you—?” Torao grabbed his arm with his free hand, trying to break Luffy’s grip. “Straw Hat-ya, no.”

“But—” The lights blinded him. He blinked quickly so he wouldn’t lose sight of Torao — no more. “I want to dance!”

“Then dance, but don’t drag me with you.”

“But—”

Torao turned around, ignoring his protests and walking back to his seat.

But Torao was a prince, so he had the world at his feet and no one could stop him.

 

---

 

Luffy held the materials tightly in his hands, keeping the wind from blowing them away. With determination, he pushed aside the fabric used as the door of Rayleigh’s tent.

“Luffy? Today’s training is already over, what brings you here?”

“I want you to teach me how to write letters.” He put the sheet of paper and the pencil on the small wooden table nearby, with enough force to make his point clear.

Torao never paid attention to him and always ignored him whenever Luffy tried to take him out to explore the forest and fish while Rayleigh supervised — in case they fell into the water if the little boat flipped over. — He only ever paid attention to the thick books he read and those papers that arrived in his hands from the bird that brought messages.

If Torao only paid attention to papers, Luffy would give him a paper with letters so he would notice him.

“I can do that, if you pay attention,” Rayleigh said, speaking so calmly he almost sounded amused — Luffy smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “But, can I ask why?”

“Torao likes letters!”

“Of course… Law.”

Rayleigh got up from his chair, walked over to Luffy, and closed the door before smiling broadly at him.

“Torao is very smart.”

“He definitely is.”

“I also want to show him that I can.”

---

There were many days — a week — when Rayleigh sat him down on the grass and taught him how to write correctly. They drew the letters together until Luffy’s were easy to understand.

He had stained many sheets with dirt and ink — he had to redo the last one five times, but he managed to make it presentable.

It looked good, and Luffy didn’t wait any longer to hand it to Rayleigh, pushing him to give it to the bird so it would eventually arrive in Torao’s hands like all the others.

Luffy was hiding behind a bush — making sure his hat wouldn’t be seen by accident — and waited, waited many minutes for the messenger bird to come flying to the yellow submarine with the smiling face.

Torao was lying back on a beach chair, his hat covering his eyes and an umbrella keeping the sun off him — didn’t he feel hot in that sweater?

A big gust of wind made his hair fly up into the air — Luffy was startled, grabbing the strands that lifted quickly so they wouldn’t be seen among the leaves of the bush.

The messenger bird flew at full speed over his head, crossing the distance to Torao like a bullet — but Torao reacted before it crashed into him, because Torao was so cool.

The envelopes fell into his hands in an instant — one black, with an orange ribbon tied into a little bow; and the other yellow, with the smiling face that Torao had everywhere, from Luffy.

Eagerly, he rocked up onto the tips of his toes, leaning forward to better see Torao’s expressions.

Torao narrowed his eyes, observing the two envelopes with one eyebrow raised.

One

Two

Three

Four

Luffy exhaled when Torao opened his. He tore the paper carefully along one edge, ripping it in a straight line to create an opening. The folded paper fell onto the ground.

His heart was beating fast, sending a jolt of energy through his body so strong it reached his ears.

Torao unfolded the paper, adjusting his position to read the written letters.

Luffy came out from behind the bushes, unable to hold back his excitement any longer.

The paper was folded back to its original shape — Torao looked up, finding him in just a moment.

Luffy smiled — Torao had read his letter and was finally looking at him.

Both letters were put away, tucked under the thick book Torao had been reading earlier, before he walked in big strides to where Luffy was waving.

In the sunlight, Torao’s hair looked much browner. Luffy hadn’t noticed that before — it must have been because Torao spent so many hours always in the shade.

“Did you really have to send me a letter, Straw Hat-ya?” Luffy closed his eyes when the piece of yellow envelope was pressed against his forehead — it wasn’t hard. “I have to see you every day, so why do I also have to get paper messages now?”

“But you always ignore me!” he complained, dodging another swat and crossing his arms. “So will you come with me to pick strawberries now?”

Torao sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Since you took the time to go all the way to civilization to send the note…”

“It’s a letter!” he corrected, smiling. “And you’re going to have so much fun! Rayleigh and I found this clearing where…”

 

---

 

Luffy ran as fast as he could, even swinging between tree branches to cut across.

He was late.

He had written another letter to Torao the day before, and to his surprise, he got a reply that morning.

It was small, just a piece of paper cut from a bigger one:

 I’m not going to wait for you if you’re not there.

Luffy wasn’t there — he was arriving late.

He stretched the fingers holding the piece of paper, careful not to get it dirty from the bark on the trees — he should have left it with the other letters Torao had given him, kept in a little box Rayleigh had helped him make, but for some reason that day he couldn’t part with it.

Torao was waiting for him at the top of the mountain, on the cliff Luffy had shown him many weeks before — it was a beautiful place, and he was more than happy to have heard Torao agree with him.

His arm got tangled with one of the branches, knocking a bird’s nest to the ground and sending him rolling the last few meters he needed to reach.

Oops.

“Help!” He stretched the last vowel of the word, shouting with all his lungs so someone would stop his body from falling off the cliff.

“You’re late.”

Abruptly, his body stopped rolling, hitting something Luffy couldn’t see from his position — Torao’s legs.

Torao was standing at his full height, his hands in his pockets and the cow-spotted cap casting a shadow that kept Luffy from seeing his eyes.

“You did come!” It was a little weird how his voice came out, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath — Luffy touched his heart, feeling the fast thump-thump beneath his skin.

Was he sick?

“I confirmed today, didn’t I?”

Torao moved away from his side, turning his back and walking off until he sat at the edge where the mountain ended.

“Yes… but you never listen to me!”

“You don’t command me, Straw Hat-ya.”

Luffy ran until he was beside him, letting himself fall into the grass and matching the swinging of Torao’s feet in the air. “You should!”

“Of course not. I’m a captain for a reason. If I wanted to be ordered around, I wouldn’t be one.”

Luffy hummed, placing his hands on his knees and leaning all his weight on them so he could see Torao’s face without falling.

“I’m also a captain!”

“I’m aware.”

“But I don’t care if Nami tells me where we have to go first.”

“That’s different, Straw Hat-ya.” Torao sighed, unlike him, leaning his head back. “The thief-ya is your navigator, just like Bepo is mine. They know which island is best to land on.”

Torao’s eyes shone very brightly under the sunset of that day. Luffy couldn’t see them completely, some parts shaded by the cap’s visor, but they were so striking it was impossible not to keep looking.

“Bepo…” Luffy tilted his head, closing his eyes and shaking to clear his memory — he was having a hard time. “The bear?”

“That one.”

“He’s your navigator?” he asked, remembering the big white bear he had seen at the auction house. “Why does he talk?”

“He’s a mink.”

That definitely didn’t mean anything — Luffy hummed, waiting for Torao to keep talking. Torao shook his head to himself, giving him a strange look before closing his eyes. “It’s an island where a lot of animals talk.”

“Wow! That’s incredible!” he exclaimed. “Have you been there?”

“No.” Torao shook his head. “But… I plan to someday.”

An island with lots of talking animals must be awesome — it’d be like having lots of Choppers everywhere.

“I’m gonna go with you!”

Luffy could feel a change in the atmosphere — like Torao’s shoulders tensed and his feet, which were swinging with the wind, stopped moving.

Had he said something bad?

Then, it was the tone.

“Straw Hat-ya…” Luffy frowned, observing Torao closely. “You never asked me why I saved you.”

It was something serious; Luffy could tell for sure. Torao had that look that wasn’t really focused on him, seeing something Luffy couldn’t, looking right through him and going on to reach limits that didn’t exist. Torao seemed like he could know everything happening in the world, like he held knowledge Luffy didn’t think anyone could ever have, so much information, so many things to unpack.

“I didn’t have to,” he replied, shrugging. “Torao knows why he did it.”

“Don’t you have any curiosity to know?” His golden eyes narrowed — everything on Luffy. “What if I only want you to owe me? What if I want to destroy you later?”

“Torao isn’t bad. He wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know me, Straw Hat-ya.”

“Yes, I do!” His voice rang out over the distant songs of the birds — Luffy didn’t care, not when Torao looked madder than ever. “Torao is good. I can see it.”

“What if I want to use you for my own benefit?” Torao said, so rough and dry that Luffy felt his throat must have hurt to say it.

He didn’t look okay — and Luffy didn’t like that.

“Then that’s okay,” he replied simply, meeting the gold he liked so much — surprise in them. “I want to help Torao with whatever he wants to do.”

“You don’t understand me.” Torao sighed, growled — it was a combination of both, so dense it echoed in Luffy’s ears longer than it should have. “I want to kill someone. I want to use you to kill them.”

“Torao must have a good reason,” Luffy insisted, smiling, something small, wanting Torao to see he was serious. “He’ll just have to wait two years until I finish training with Rayleigh.”

“You’re impossible…”

“You are!”

They fell silent — Luffy knew better than to keep talking. He had understood those moments when he was a child, much more often after Sabo had left. Ace had needed a lot of time to himself, just him and his thoughts, but Luffy couldn’t stay alone; he needed his older brother…

Luffy knew when it was better to stay quiet. That helped the people he loved in that way — and Torao had that same look Ace used to have, so empty.

The same look Luffy knew he himself had had many weeks ago — the look he knew he still had on some nights when it was impossible to sleep.

“Doflamingo killed someone very important to me.” Torao said softly, so softly the wind could have carried it away.

Luffy didn’t know exactly who Doflamingo was. He thought he’d heard his name once, but like so many times, he regretted at that moment not paying attention to what was happening around him.

Whatever, that ‘mingo’ guy had to be a horrible person if Torao wanted to kill him.

“Cora-san saved me. Doflamingo killed him.” Luffy had never heard Torao speak that way. The way the vowels dragged out harshly, breaking and scraping against his teeth. “He was his own brother, but even so, he shot him. I could never forgive him.”

“Then we’ll defeat him!”

Luffy spoke completely seriously — how could he not, when Torao seemed to be struggling with himself just to talk, just to be there.

Luffy also understood why he always seemed to have something inside himself that didn’t let him fully rest. He had seen it in Nami when they first met her, in Vivi the closer they got to Alabasta, in Robin, who had only just started smiling for real in the last days he had seen her.

If Torao needed him to be able to defeat Mingo, Luffy would be more than happy to lend him his strength, just to be able to see him free in the end.

Just so Torao would smile at him.

“What… what was Cora-san like?” he dared to ask, making sure he pronounced it correctly.

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing, maybe Torao would want to end the topic once and for all, but Torao also got happy talking about his nakamas. About the bear, the one with the penguin hat, and the other one who wrote him letters all the time.

If Torao loved Cora-san, talking about him would make him happy — and Luffy wouldn’t have to see that golden color hiding behind tears and pain anymore.

Torao fell silent for a few seconds. At some point, his hat had fallen back, landing a few centimeters behind them, and he seemed uncomfortable without it — Luffy remembered his own. He took it off and played with it, feeling it heavier against his fingers.

He didn’t think too much about it. He squeezed the material in his hands one more time before letting go of it, placing it carefully over Torao’s black hair.

The sun — more orange than yellow — shone brighter, illuminating Torao from head to toe.

Torao flinched at the gesture, quickly raising his hands to feel the object on his head. Luffy put a hand on top of it, stopping him from taking it off.

“Straw Hat-ya…” he threatened, but Luffy didn’t care.

“If Torao doesn’t mind… can he tell me about Cora-san?”

Silence again, briefer this time and broken by Torao’s tired exhale — Luffy smiled, knowing everything had gone back to normal.

“Cora-san… he was a clown…”

 

Notes:

And here it is — the part where Law finally shares his plans for the first time!

As you probably noticed, Luffy is in love; he himself might not know exactly how to describe it, but the feeling is there. For the record, Law only sees Luffy as a friend — a future ally… however you want to call it, but there are definitely no feelings on his part (I really hope that was clear).

I enjoyed writing the section with the notes or letters they send each other. Luffy (I think this is canon) has a hard time reading and usually ends up waiting for someone else to tell him what it says. I didn’t want to portray him as illiterate, since I believe Makino or the mayor of Foosha Village did their best to teach him plenty of things, but it still takes him a bit more effort than most people to read and write.

Luffy kept sending a lot of silly letters to Law. According to Luffy, Law also sent him a few letters from his side — but in reality, Law has only given him some lists of things he needs to collect for him in the forest or instructions for his recovery, nothing personal.

I said this fic was inspired by EPIC: THE MUSICAL, but I think it’s going to end up with half the chapters being more like Hamilton.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and leave kudos and comments!

Chapter 5: Wait for It

After several years traveling in the company of loud people, sailing through the currents of the New World alone settled in the pit of his stomach like a spicy discomfort.

The blue waters turned black at the depths where the Polar Tang maneuvered.

It was a familiar view; one he had grown used to seeing in his day-to-day life.

Law sighed — it felt different after spending two months on solid ground. The longest time without rushing from island to island that he had been able to enjoy.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was how his life had once been meant to be. Exploring the world with nothing but love and curiosity. Days would pass slowly, drinking in every second of happiness, not caring about the shades of guilt he never stopped feeling in this world when love decided to touch him against his will.

If love touched him, because Law didn't deserve it.

He didn’t deserve the way his crew hovered around him with bright eyes, always waiting for him — not the way Bepo hugged him when he thought he was stressed, not the way Penguin sat with him in silence on sleepless nights, not the way Shachi fixed his hair every week.

He didn’t deserve the way Cora-san had looked at him, as if his mere existence made hopeless days a little better.

But Law could never do anything to push them away. He could never make them understand he wasn’t the person they were looking for.

Law found himself loving them despite his own restrictions — they had slipped into his heart, flooding it, and would leave it withered once their departures became inevitable.

Because Cora-san had died saving him, smiling through the pain because he believed in Law even when Law didn’t believe in himself. He saw kindness where there was none. He believed in the best of people. He was a Marine who trusted a pirate — a rotten child who led him to his death.

Because his mother and father left from one day to the next. No warnings. Just sharp pain that never faded, that clouded his senses until living lost its meaning. Life slipping through their fingers without doing anything to stop it.

Because his sister’s departure was as slow as it was sudden. She deserved more time. She had everything Law lacked to be, the kind of person who would change the world, who would fix it.

But deserving didn’t change fate. It didn’t bring back the dead or kill the scum.

Law could only protect their memory. Their legacy.

Days went on, the world didn’t stop for his losses, and people kept living, breathing — Law kept living.

He remained on his feet, stumbling forward, messing up decisions. He found himself trusting — against his will — people who could destroy him.

They also helped him keep breathing. They held him up and celebrated by his side, moving toward a better future.

If there's a reason, he's still alive when everyone who loves him has died, Law is willing to wait for it.

Defeating Doflamingo was the first step — but was there more?

Cora-san once wanted him alive. He had asked Law to live, back when his own brother wasn’t yet a threat.

What was it that Cora wanted for him?

Law could wait — just a little longer — to understand what his existence truly longed for.

He moved from his seat, brushing his fingertips along the wooden desk covered in papers and coffee stains. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, tired.

One of the sheets flew off, caught on the edge of his coat zipper.

Black and gray ink, pink highlights, blue scribbled notes — Doflamingo smiled back at him in a frozen grimace.

Law held one corner, crumpling the paper under his rough grip.

Just a little longer.

Eleven years — soon thirteen. Time slipped through his fingers.

The pen that had been resting unused at the edge of the table was picked up. Law toyed with the object between his fingers, quickly striking through one of the scattered ideas written on the edge of the paper.

Zou.

Law could control that for now.

 

---

 

"Captain!"

Bepo’s soft, furry arms wrapped around him tightly. The orange boiler suit rubbed against Law’s cheek, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Law let himself be hugged, gripping the fabric with his own hands, squeezing it between his fingers to hold them there a little longer.

He had missed them.

He looked over Bepo’s shoulder, at the rest of his crew. He did a quick headcount — a habit he hadn’t thought to shake.

The other nineteen looked at him with bright eyes and their own cries of joy.

"Hey, Captain!" Shachi’s voice rose above the rest. The redhead had pushed his way through, elbowing crewmates aside "Where my hug at?!"

"Is it gonna be by arrival order? ’Cause you looked at me before Shachi."

Laughter broke out. Even Law’s body shook with the spasms of it, pressed up against Bepo’s chest.

He frowned, but there was no real strength behind it. "I saw the boar, that ran you over, first."

"Hey!"

"We bought you a souvenir from Sabaody! You don’t deserve it anymore, Captain!"

The hug ended. Bepo unwrapped his arms slowly with a low grunt. Law brushed off the white hairs stuck to his hoodie, blowing them into the air before giving the mink a glance.

"Did you bring us a souvenir?" Bepo asked, putting his paws together in an attempt to look cute — and it worked.

Law looked away, knowing he had blushed at least a few shades. "What makes you think that?"

"Shachi said you’d bring us something from the war."

"Yeah, Law, what did you bring us?" Shachi called out from the back.

"Did you want a severed head as a gift?" he replied, raising an eyebrow, amused to see most of them shiver. "Or a piece of Akainu’s clothing?"

"The second one doesn’t sound bad, Captain," Penguin laughed. "It’d be nice to know how it doesn’t melt in lava."

"It must be part of his body."

"The suit?" Clione made a confused face, quickly mimicked by the others — Shachi shrugged.

"Maybe he’s naked all the time and creates his clothes with his devil fruit."

"That’s..."

"Alright!" Ikakku interrupted, clapping to draw attention. "Let me see the Tang. Something tells me you haven’t repaired it like you should, Captain."

The woman frowned in scolding, hands on her hips and hair blowing in the air, but as she passed him, she gave him a friendly pat on the back, covering him in her sweet perfume.

Law found himself smiling, soft and calm, as he watched his crew pushing each other to squeeze through the entrance to the submarine.

This was fine.

 

---

 

"Ikakku has the money!" Shachi yelled from somewhere near the entrance.

"Why her?!"

"I don’t know! Ask the Captain!"

The fluffy hair of the only woman in his crew poked through the door.

"I’m buying you new clothes, Captain. I saw you wearing the same shirt for over a week." With a grin on her face and a dangerous glint in her eyes, Ikakku waved at him before running off. "Yellow and black, got it."

The crew had spent the past week catching up and resting beneath the surface, hidden from view while the Marine fleet remained stationed at the island. Now, with the Marines finally gone as of the day before, it was time to gather supplies and prepare to continue their journey.

"Are you sure you don’t want to go?" Law asked.

Bepo was one chair away, leaning over some papers — drawing. Law thought it was some kind of map, but wasn’t entirely sure with the different colors covering most of the page.

"Yes, Captain."

"Just don’t come complaining later when you want to go out while we’re already on the move."

"I won’t."

Law nodded, listening as the main entrance closed, leaving them in total silence.

The library was lined with bookshelves, all secured with a locking system to keep the books from falling during the submarine’s movement. However, in moments like this, you could see the colorful spines and their titles glowing under the yellowish lights.

He knew the mink was watching him — Bepo was never good at hiding his actions, too big and clumsy. Law ignored him. He’d speak when he felt ready.

He focused once again on the documents he had managed to take from Amazon Lily, a large copy of a map — torn to pieces but still functional. It detailed directions and reference images to pieces of land in the New World, islands forgotten by the World Government.

He hadn’t been able to find more than that. The section had been restricted once they realized Straw Hat had dragged him into the palace library.

"You’re not going to leave again, right?" Law looked up, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

Bepo sounded like he was about to cry — nothing new — the fur on his forehead wrinkling in pale lines and his claws digging into the table.

Law sighed. "You know the plan."

"I can go with you, Captain." Bepo said quickly. "Please. You don’t have to do this alone."

"We’ve already talked about this."

"Cap—"

Dressrosa was still far away, but Law had had years to plan the assault. He knew every move to make, every precaution to take, and he had always been too stubborn to deviate from something he had structured.

The decision had been made, and deep down, Law knew Bepo understood. The big polar bear was good at dissecting him, understanding his strengths and weaknesses — the limits no one else could cross.

It was a lost battle, and they both knew it.

Still, giving him a little peace wasn’t a bad thing.

"Straw Hat offered to help.” Law leaned back in his seat, pretending to be as uninterested as possible. “Does that make you feel better?"

The images of the conversation he had had on the cliff with Straw Hat repeated in his mind over and over. Law had found himself opening up about his past, managing to bring out some stories that hurt like open wounds.

He still didn’t know if it had been his best move, but sitting there, legs pulled in and chin resting between his knees, Law had felt just as small as he had the first time that story left his lips—back on Swallow Island.

"Straw Hat... Oh!" Bepo sat up straight like a dart, beaming from every pore. "Yes, I remember him!"

"I’d be worried if you didn’t."

"Sorry."

Law dismissed it, waving a hand back and forth, waiting for his navigator to stop apologizing. "You can stop pretending to draw now."

"Sorry!" Bepo’s face twisted in confusion, shaking his head a second later. "But I am drawing, Captain!"

Law held back a laugh, feeling at home for the first time in months.

---

The yellow glow of the sun turned orange, tinting the skies purple on the horizon, pink and as intense as fire on the other end.

Law took a few more steps across the deck, closing the distance to the railing. The evening air hit his face, carrying that familiar scent of algae and fish — salty.

They hadn’t come back yet. Law had been able to hear the voices of some of his crewmates a few minutes earlier, nearby, just a few streets away, and shared laughter whose context he hadn’t managed to catch.

Bepo had gone to sleep earlier than expected — it was supposed to be their farewell party for the island.

Fish swam below the submarine, schools of them dodging the pointed structures.

Law allowed himself to relax, absorbing the humidity in the air and the warmth of the few rays of sun that still reached his body.

The next stop was still uncertain — the news from Sabaody was still fresh, and Marine fleets had surrounded the island like a shield. They’d have to disembark on another Paradise island, again.

The sun dimmed. Clouds moved quickly, trading places until the deck of the Tang was cast in shadow.

Law opened his eyes — at some point, he’d closed them. And as his heart sped up in arrhythmic, frantic beats, the salty scent turned chemical — mint and wood, alcohol pronounced by its making.

He couldn’t quite place what was happening, but the smell churned his stomach, triggering every alarm. It was faint, scratching at the furthest part of his brain.

The wind shifted direction, surging from all sides and making it hard to breathe normally. A sharp seagull cry cracked through the air, unleashing a wave of noise in his ears.

Law rushed to grab Kikoku, the hilt brushing his fingertips just as the distant sound of a ship’s anchor echoed against the seawater.

Something was definitely wrong, and it had escalated way too fast.

Behind him, the Tang’s deck creaked under the weight of something — someone.

Law turned quickly.

"Been a while, Law."

It was inevitable — the sweat in his palms and the cold shiver racing down his spine, despite how hot his body felt. Law hesitated, clutching the synthetic grip of his nodachi — he hated himself for it.

Donquixote Doflamingo, standing with his long legs bent in that characteristic posture burned into Law’s eyes from the moment he saw him again—far away, framed by the spilled blood of the War of the Best—stood atop the submarine, his shadow stretching over Law.

His signature glasses had been replaced — this time a dark pink, matching the feathers that draped from his shoulders.

Law’s breath caught at the base of his throat when he saw the man’s smile grow.

"Doflamingo…" he whispered under his breath.

He was screwed.

Why the hell was Doflamingo there?

The hate was covered by the horror that blond hair triggered in him. There was no good reason Doflamingo would show up in front of him — not unless he wanted something from him. Or wanted him.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Law couldn’t lie to himself even if he wanted to. And even if it was, he didn’t believe he’d come out of it unscathed — not with that man. That’s why he’d planned so carefully, configured every detail of their first encounter under his rules and on terrain that gave him the advantage.

He unsheathed Kikoku, the cursed blade catching a pink gleam in the light.

His legs didn’t move — he remained still, waiting.

"Aren’t you going to greet me, Corazón?" he asked cheerfully, his voice raspy and deep, not matching — not at all — the sweetness with which he shaped the syllables of the nickname.
Law clenched his jaw at the word. "I raised you better."

He didn’t respond, his mind running a thousand miles a minute.

There was no clear escape, surrounded by waters that would drown him the second he touched them. His powers could only do so much — escape to the city, run aimlessly with the shoreline as a limit.

"Did I surprise you?" Doflamingo spoke again, leaping from his position and landing in front of him — both levelled by the ground, uneven only in height.

Law forced himself to speak, his teeth protesting the pressure. "What do you want?"

"A lot of things, in general," Doflamingo mused without taking his eyes off him. "Today? We both know what I came for."

One step — Law struck.

The blue aura stretched out in a blink, casting its glow over a wide diameter around them — terrain he could control.

"Oh, come on, Law. No need to get aggressive," Doflamingo mocked.

He slashed diagonally, a sharp gust of air aiming for the neck, chest, anything. But Doflamingo swayed out of the way with the same ease he used to dodge Baby 5’s attacks back in Spider Miles — humiliating.

Law couldn’t remember having ever seen him fight before — Doflamingo had never needed to. The Family handled the dirty work, Pica and Gladius got their hands bloody so he could stroll in untouched — but Law had always known he was stronger than any of them, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

His figure draped in pink had gone unnoticed in Marineford, playing with threads on the sidelines and filling his path with corpses without sparing them a second glance.

His fingers moved with near effortlessness and immediately, an invisible thread grazed Law’s side.

The cut was clean, shallow. His skin split beneath layers of fabric, blooming with color.

"Shut up!"

Doflamingo laughed, unfazed by the shout, as he counterattacked for the first time in earnest. He raised a hand, and dozens of threads fell from the sky like shining blades or tiny bullets embedding into everything in their path.

Law rolled across the ground. One struck his thigh. Another slashed across his back, but there was no time to scream. He simply stood up as best he could.

He swallowed hard, feeling the skin on his face uncomfortably tight from the fluids drying quickly under the strong wind at the shore — all sounds stacked in his ears. The thumping of his heart, his ragged breathing, the hurried footsteps in the distance, still near the shore.

Another strike. A direct punch. Law deflected it with his sword, but the impact threw him backwards, his spine slamming against the metal railing.

If he fell, he was done for.

The ground creaked beneath his feet.

"Come on, Corazón. Are you done yet? Gonna let me talk now?"

Law clenched his teeth. The air burned in his lungs — he growled, anger flowing hot through his veins.

Doflamingo kept coming, closing the distance at a slow, deliberate pace. Kikoku had fallen meters to his right, his leg throbbed in agonizing pain, the cold seeping into his back was a reminder of his limited mobility, but he could still...

"Captain!"

The shouting from the city had grown louder at some point. Among the screams of terror and protests, Law picked out the characteristic northern accent of Shachi. The black boots of his crew’s uniform thudded against the sand in heavy steps, now ringing out too clearly.

"What's happening over there?!"

"Is he bleeding?!"

He could still do it. Numbers didn’t always guarantee victory, but this was an advantage he hadn’t had before — the sea. Penguin was sprinting along the shore, kicking off his black boots mid-run and leaving them behind. The sea had always been their strength, so—

"Mister Donquixote, the cannons are ready." A small Den Den Mushi chirped from inside the pockets of those pink feathers.

The blood drained from his face — Law felt his strength crumble at that moment, finally understanding why he’d heard the sound of an anchor several minutes earlier.

Turning sharply to the right, staring at the now nearly darkened horizon, Law spotted the white sails of the Marines, the shape of their warships barely distinguishable from the blue of the ocean.

"No need." Doflamingo’s voice forced his gaze back. The man smiled broadly, shamelessly, amused by what Law knew was visible desperation on his face — no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

They were surrounded.

"The Marines? Are you serious?" he tried to mock, regaining his composure as best he could.

He knew it was futile.

He knew.

"You’re one of the most wanted men across the seas right now, Corazón, after your stunt with Monkey D. Luffy." Doflamingo shrugged — another step. "It’d be careless of me not to be prepared."

The splash of seawater below snapped him back to his senses. His crew. There was no way they...

"Oh, your little friends came back. I like their uniforms, you know?"

Law leaned over the railing — deciding, deciding, thinking, thinking.

Damn it.

"Get out of here!" he shouted with all his strength. "Now! Go!"

Because they were surrounded, because there was no way to fight if the Marines got involved too, if Doflamingo decided they were worth dragging into his game, they were all finished.

Law wasn’t going to let that happen, not now, not ever.

Penguin and Shachi stopped trying to get closer, floating in the water, staring at him in disbelief.
"But Captain—"

"Go! Did you hear me?! I don’t want you here!" he repeated, aware of the single meter now separating him from Doflamingo. "Leave!"

"That’s not a very nice thing to say, Corazón. That must’ve hurt their feelings."

Law ignored the mockery, focusing on his crewmates — his friends. "Go now! If you know where to go, then get out!"

They obeyed the command — his last order.

"Now, now, not so fast, kids." Doflamingo raised his fingers, and threads fell from the sky—

Law jumped, pulling Kikoku to him with his fruit, holding the blade steady and slashing through the air. The blade barely grazed the feathered coat before something invisible blocked his path.

Threads.

He closed his eyes — just for a second — understanding what would happen next.

They wrapped around his arm, then his torso. He felt them bite into his skin, squeezing as if to sever muscle, to mutilate bone.

He tried to cut, to move, to break free — but Doflamingo lifted his hand with a sharp gesture, and the threads yanked Law off the ground, choking the air from his throat.

A whistle sliced through the air, passing dangerously close overhead. Law managed to see a shadow over the water: the first Marine cannonball, exploding far off, to the side of the beach.

Another blast. Closer.

"Seems they don’t know how to follow orders, huh?" Doflamingo growled, eyeing the distance before turning back to Law, smiling with sickly sweetness. "We can take care of that later, Corazón."

Law struggled in the air, kicking weakly until it became impossible to raise his legs. His body was a puppet in Doflamingo’s hands, suspended in the center of the threads.

"First, I need you cooperative."

A fist wrapped in threads, propelled by brute force, struck him square in the stomach. Every ounce of air left his lungs. The Room collapsed with a muffled hum.

Law fell.

The impact against the ground was dry — brutal. He felt something crack inside him, blood filling his mouth. He coughed. He couldn’t move.

The screams of his crew no longer reached him. He could only hear the frantic splash of the ships approaching. And the cannons.

 One after another. Closer and closer, shaking the submarine, breaking the objects resting inside—

And Bepo.

Bepo.

"Bepo."

He turned his head toward the entrance of the submarine, his lips dry, blood dripping down from his brow.

Doflamingo hummed, signalling he had heard — the same gesture Law remembered from when he was a child, when he’d approach him to talk about the plans he had changed despite Trebol’s disapproval, and Doflamingo would listen attentively from behind a newspaper.

"He’s not… he has nothing to do with this," he said with effort. "He’s asleep. He didn’t even fight. He’s just..."

Doflamingo laughed softly. "Your little white bear? I saw him in some photos."

"I’m begging you…" Law found himself saying, not even knowing when he stopped fighting against the humiliation — maybe it was the memories of those early years in Spider Miles, maybe it was knowing he had no other choice, not when he wasn’t in a condition to protect anyone. "Take me. Do whatever you want. But leave him alone."

"You know I can’t do that."

"Yes, you can! You’re doing this because you want to screw with me!" Law’s voice broke, a desperate tone that hurt to use — almost like a burn. But there was no turning back now. "Let him go! He’s useless to you. He—"

Invisible threads wrapped around his mouth, encircling his face and cutting off his speech. He felt himself choke on his own spit.

"You have your answer," Doflamingo whispered — low, deep, reverberating through Law’s body. "Look on the bright side. You’ll have company."

The glossy soles of Doflamingo’s shoes filled his vision, far too close to his eyes — too close—

Law was lifted, slung over his shoulder like dead weight. The crowd had gathered at the shore, drawn by the chaos and the morbid curiosity; the shameless display of violence.

From the metallic spine of the Tang, Doflamingo straightened calmly. He raised his eyes to the sea and lifted a hand, waving with total familiarity at the approaching ships.

A vice admiral, standing tall on the bow of one of the vessels, responded with a restrained nod.

Law could barely raise his head, but just enough to see the scene from where he was — dragged like a trophy. The way Doflamingo addressed the Government men disgusted him.

"Clear the coast." Without looking back, Doflamingo ordered, "I only want the ship intact."

And just like that, the cannons fell silent.

The marines scattered as if they’d received a direct order from a superior. No one questioned. No one hesitated.

And Law understood. He felt it deep within, in a place so buried that not even rage could reach it.

Doflamingo wasn’t just maintaining his power. He was rising — with every damn second, his influence grew.

First as a boss, where everyone followed his commands without question, then as a king of a kingdom condemned to misery, and now as an untouchable. A Warlord of the Sea, shielded by the power of the World Government and bound by no rules.

Doflamingo has something to prove — Law knew it. A goal beyond imagination that he would reach without pausing to consider anything else, because he had nothing to lose. Even if Baby 5 would give her life without hesitation, or if Trebol and Diamante would sacrifice themselves to buy him more time to complete his plans.

Doflamingo never cared about emotional bonds, no matter how much he played at being part of a happy family — Law knew that better than anyone.

As he watched Penguin’s tears run down to vanish into his chin, the muffled sobs of Ikkaku clumsily covered by her gloved hand, Law couldn’t help but envy him. Without the pain of loss, without the bottomless pit in his stomach that refused to disappear, that threatened to devour him whole — Doflamingo couldn’t feel any of it, while Law drowned in guilt, spitting blood on the deck just like the salty liquid from his eyes made it impossible to see clearly.

At some point in his life, Law had stopped believing in karma. There was no distinction between good and bad when life chose to hit you in the face, to destroy you.

While Law lost everything, while Cora-san lost his life lying alone, Doflamingo kept winning. He changed the rules at will, pulled the trigger, and took everything that wasn’t his.

He takes treasures, takes kingdoms, takes lives, and snatched away every last ray of hope.

And the world just kept spinning.

Notes:

While I was listening to the song, I couldn’t help but picture Law — I think there’s even an edit out there with it.

As shown in this chapter, Law has always tried to keep everything under control, securing every piece of ground he can to avoid losing anyone else.
It didn’t work. Not in canon, and not here. Because even if he carefully plans every step, that doesn’t mean everyone else will follow the choreography.

Still, Law does everything he can to keep everyone safe — even if that means sacrificing himself, surrendering, or, like in this chapter, begging.
At least in this story, he does.

I love Doflamingo as a character and how Oda managed to build him. I just hope I’ve done him justice (and Law too, because I really took a risk with that plea).

I hope you enjoyed it — something tells me the next chapter will be a little less dramatic… though, who knows.

Leave kudos and comments!

Chapter 6: Full Speed Ahead

Notes:

I took a bit longer than usual to update, but the good news is that this will be a double update!

"How much longer until we get there?" he asked once more.

Ever since he stepped onto Hancock's ship, he felt like he was starting a new chapter, a new world, the kind Robin liked to talk about. One way or another, it had begun.

Two years had passed.

Excitement bubbled all through his body—he felt like he might burst any moment. Good thing he was made of rubber.

Luffy laughed at himself.

Hancock’s gentle hand rested on his head, brushing aside strands of hair. “You already asked that.”

“But the answer changed, didn’t it?”

Hancock sighed, but Luffy grinned wider, knowing he was right. “Ten minutes to get to the place we’ll drop you off, but around two hours before reaching Sabaody.”

Luffy deflated, pouting—then caught himself doing it and straightened up into a more proper posture—or whatever it was Rayleigh had told him it was called.

Two years had passed. Luffy wasn’t a child anymore, and he wasn’t supposed to act like one.

Through one of the windows, he could see the waters beyond the ship. A large wave rose in the distance, revealing a Sea King and its young swimming swiftly in the opposite direction. If he squinted, the shadow of the massive mangroves that marked their destination could just be seen.

Very soon now.

Had the others changed?

They had — Luffy knew —, growing stronger just like he had. He wondered if they had gotten help or survived on their own. He hoped they had had help. They didn’t deserve to be alone—they deserved the world.

And Luffy was going to give it to them.

“Luffy?” Hancock’s voice pulled his eyes away from the sea. He turned his head slightly to look at her. “I’ve prepared a few things for you.”

“It’s not a wedding, right?”

Hancock blushed, shaking her head to Luffy’s relief. They had talked about it before—many, many months ago—but it didn’t hurt to double-check. “It’s not that, Luffy. Remember, I told you I wasn’t going to pressure you anymore.”

Luffy nodded enthusiastically. If it wasn’t another marriage proposal, then it had to be something fun.

With a hand on his shoulder, she guided him toward the outer deck of the red and black ship. He liked the colors and the snake patterns all around—it was a great reflection of Hancock. She was cool.

He missed the Sunny, and what he’d claimed as his seat—on top of the lion’s head. That spot was perfect for feeling the ocean breeze and having an unobstructed view of the islands they were about to dock at.

Luffy hadn’t paid much attention to other ships before, but he strongly believed they were a reflection of their crew. Hancock’s ship was imposing, just like her. Torao’s wasn’t even a ship—nothing like what the limits of Luffy’s imagination had ever come up with. A submarine, they had told him.

It was unique, colorful—just like Luffy imagined Torao’s friends must be. They had a polar bear, and two guys who were always next to the other captain in funny overalls. They must’ve been a blast.

Luffy couldn’t wait to greet them properly and thank them for making Torao happy.

A cloak was gently thrown over his head. The material was heavy but soft, the short fur brushing his arms pleasantly. The scent was familiar too.

Luffy lifted his head, trying to see Hancock’s face through the hood falling over his hat.

“There might be Marines waiting.” she said, with a worried grimace. “It’s better not to draw attention. Try not to get into trouble, please.”

Her eyes drifted toward the distorted shape of the island. Her eyebrows furrowed, and Luffy felt sad for her. Hancock had been very kind to him—even though he had had to turn her down once he realized how she felt about him.

Actually, it had been Rayleigh who noticed first. But Luffy figured it out too, once he started paying more attention to the things Hancock murmured when she looked at him. At first it had been funny because she blushed a lot and talked without making eye contact—but later, not so much.

Hancock had hoped to have something from Luffy that he didn’t plan to give. Luffy already had someone else in mind and couldn’t even think of letting him go—not ever. He had made his choice, and there was no turning back.

Luffy nodded solemnly, earning a smile.

Hancock might’ve been a little more distant lately, but she was still his friend, and there wasn’t a force in the world that would stop Luffy from trying to make her feel less sad—or stressed, or worried.

He tilted his head when he noticed a huge ball of fabric next to the rest of the women. It looked like it was about to burst at any moment.

“This,” Hancock said, catching his curiosity, “is a backpack for your trip. It has hundreds of changes of clothes, food, creams and soaps, towels, den-den mushi for emergency calls, maps, and sunglasses.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, trying to make the information stick in his brain. He got it, sure, but memorizing all that so quickly... it didn’t matter. He could figure it out once he unpacked.

He’d have to find room somewhere, though. He didn’t think the guys’ dorm could fit all that stuff. Maybe the lockers would work for the clothes—and midnight snacks—under his bed...

Luffy frowned. “My stuff—”

“Your things are in here too. I packed them in one of the inner compartments. Don’t worry, Luffy.”

Patting the big backpack, Hancock wore that same sad grimace again—this time even deeper—paired with a smile trying hard to look cheerful. It hurt Luffy to see her like that, but he knew there was nothing else he could do to comfort her except stay firm in his decision.

"Alright!" he said, stepping forward to put the backpack on his shoulders.

The hands of the clock had moved, inevitably shifting a few lines downward. The hour was approaching, and so were the farewells.

The boat that would take him to Sabaody was waiting several meters below, still tied with a long rope to the ship.

Luffy took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill pleasantly with oxygen.

With one last look at Hancock and the rest of the Snake Women, he jumped over the railing. His sandals landed on the wood, making the small boat rock beneath him.

A new beginning.

A new opportunity.

"See you later!" he shouted, carefully untying the rope that kept him still. The currents would do the rest, taking him to the next adventure.

The farewell shouts echoed from afar, growing fainter with each passing second, but Luffy didn’t look back, too focused on the fish swimming beside him, accompanying him to solid ground.

The distance was shrinking, and so was time, filling Luffy’s heart with crackling anticipation.

The One Piece was waiting.

His crew was waiting.

Torao was waiting for him.

He really wanted to see him, but Luffy knew there was still a long way to go before they met again — somewhere in the vast ocean.

 

---

 

Carefully, Luffy got off the raft, making sure not to touch the seawater longer than necessary. His feet landed on the sand, which stuck to them uncomfortably.

He sighed, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders and pulling the hood over his hat, covering it completely.

There were several ships docked on either side of him, large vessels with people waving from inside toward the island. He couldn’t help but look for one yellow in particular, hoping to catch sight of it.

As he moved through the crowd, his eyes drifted toward the pirates running around with swords in hand, shouting insults and threats. The island had changed since the last time — nothing like the exciting memories of the attractions Luffy held in his mind.

There were fewer vendors along the sidewalks, people walked in fear and unconsciously shielded their loved ones with their bodies. He searched for someone familiar, ignoring the growing feeling of anger rising inside him.

Now wasn’t the time — not yet.

The heat started to become annoying. Sweat ran down his forehead because of the coat from Hancock, the warm temperature of the food inside the backpack, and the people bumping into him with every step he took.

He was glad Torao wasn’t there — he wouldn’t be comfortable, and Luffy just wanted to grab his crew and get out of that place. He didn’t have the headspace for anything else.

He gripped Rayleigh’s vivre card tighter between his fingers, deciding to pick up the pace and not wanting the paper to fly out of his reach. Luffy wondered if they’d give him water at the bar. If they had time, they’d do it — Rayleigh’s wife was very kind, even if she looked mean.

He jumped over a hill, avoiding the need to go around and waste more time. From that height, he could see the place more clearly.

Certainly, something had changed during those two years.

Smoke rose from some areas, but even squinting, Luffy couldn’t see why. Everything looked gray, and there were too many voices overlapping each other. He doubted Nami would be happy to stay longer than necessary, so he finally fixed his gaze on the outer edge of the island toward Rayleigh’s bar — and jumped.

He landed in a cloud of dust, sneezing uncontrollably and inhaling in the process the smell of food coming from some house nearby.

His stomach growled; he was starving and felt like his guts were trying to eat each other.

If only he’d managed to grab one of those delicious candied apples hanging in Hancock’s ship kitchen before he left...

Luffy felt the backpack jolt as it hit someone — but he kept walking, ignoring the growing murmurs his action stirred.

He had promised Hancock not to get into trouble, so even though he knew people were talking about him, Luffy had to lock his curiosity in a little box and keep it shut inside himself.

 

---

 

Luffy felt like he might explode — this time once and for all. So much happiness couldn’t be contained — he didn’t think it was healthy.

The Marine ship’s activated cannons had stopped for some reason — Hancock probably had something to do with it; he’d have to thank her later —, the bubble surrounded them safely, and Nami had stopped giving directions once the Sunny entered a current that would take them down to Fish-Man Island.

His crew had changed — for the better, though. Franky had more metal pieces all over his body, making him bigger and, incredibly, like a dream robot. Usopp had muscles and a pouch filled with plant-based ammunition. Robin looked great, and so did Nami — Luffy thought both of them had grown their hair out, but he wasn’t completely sure. They were stronger, that much he could say for sure.

Brook had become famous, and his crown shone with radiant gold. Sanji was acting weird—Luffy hoped it would pass, but for now, Chopper’s medical skills were helping him, along with the bird friends he had made.

And for some reason, Zoro no longer had one of his eyes. If it made him stronger, Luffy wasn’t going to complain—though he did want to test whether, if he approached from the left side, Zoro would still see him coming. It’d be useful to scare him.

The ocean depths were intimidating—much darker and heavier than he had imagined. He could feel the pressure crushing down on the bubble around them if he closed his eyes.

Luffy focused on finishing his food.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the garden, Luffy did his best to listen to the story Franky was telling them, periodically stretching his arms to dig into the backpack in search of more empty containers.

He didn’t think there were any left.

"Luffy!"

Usopp smacked his arm, his brows furrowed, and he looked at him disapprovingly.

Was Luffy squishing him again?

He pulled his arm away, realizing he had been unintentionally choking Usopp. With a sigh, he jumped to his feet, deciding to walk to the backpack to avoid any more accidents.

He had already knocked over a teapot full of hot water, accidentally hit Zoro and pulled out a chunk of his hair in the process. Nami was going to give him a lump if he kept this up.

Hancock’s backpack was still pretty full, even though most of the food was already out—it was going to be more work for him to keep digging for crumbs like this. The front pockets were wide open, and the empty containers surrounded him, forming a little tower that would make whoever had to wash them suffer.

The good thing was that he was the captain, so he was off the hook.

He smiled, getting ready to dive into the main compartment. He pressed his hands together like swimmers did and jumped in.

"Luffy-san, I don’t think that’s the best way—"

Luffy landed in the pile of clothes that had once been folded and were now just bundles of fabric. He kicked his legs to get out, gasping for air and overflowing the backpack with socks and ties.

"I want to join too!" Chopper ran over from where he had been crouched beside Sanji, eyes sparkling.

Luffy nodded happily. "Come on, Chopper! Help me get all this out!"

Without waiting for another word, Chopper joined him, and together they began tossing piece after piece of new clothing over their heads. Luffy noticed the rest of the crew had begun to gather around them. Franky had gone quiet a while ago. Usopp sat cross-legged beside Nami, who was watching them with narrowed eyes—Luffy mentally filed that look away for his own good. He’d deal with it later.

The sea around them remained as dark as at the start. The shapes of large whales that looked a lot like Whitebeard followed closely, as well as smaller fish and glowing eyes that he assumed belonged to other sea creatures.

He wondered if this view was only visible for him today. The Sunny couldn’t sink like this without the bubble Rayleigh had put on it—it always sailed above the water, not below—not like Torao’s submarine. He thought he’d seen windows on the sides of the submarine, so the view of the sea must have been normal for him and his whole crew.

Luffy was glad. When he saw him again, Torao might show him the ocean depths once more—and many more times.

"Luffy!" Usopp shouted to get his attention. He was digging through clothes too, like Nami, and waved something square in his direction. "Can I keep this album?"

Album?

Luffy shrugged and nodded before continuing his search for food.

"Since when do you have so much stuff, Luffy?" Sanji asked. "We definitely didn’t send you off with that many hand creams the last time we saw you."

"Hancock." he replied quickly.

He thought he’d reached the bottom with one of his feet. The food had to be close.

Sanji muttered something he couldn’t hear, but it made Robin giggle—he’d ask about it later.

"Oh, this chest would look good on my dresser."

"To store more treasure?"

"No, for the new jewelry I bought."

From time to time, when he came up for more air, he could see the rest of the crew gathered at the base of the backpack, chatting and passing things back and forth. It was a lovely sight, one he had missed for many months.

At first, it had been easier. Luffy knew he’d see them again, and Rayleigh’s intense training sessions left him too tired to think much. His presence also helped him remember he wasn’t alone.

But when he left, Luffy really was on his own.

He had to survive by himself, find food, and repeat the same exercises over and over. Many days, he didn’t even have the energy to do them. The seasons passed, most animals were too scared to approach him, and Luffy felt like he was going crazy.

He never liked being alone—his head hurt from thinking too much, and pulling himself out of that place was hard.

It was good that it was over now.

"Eh, Luffy?"

Luffy shook his head, almost physically pushing the memories away. He wasn’t going back there—he refused. "Huh?"

"There’s something here."

He tossed what looked like a tissue box to the side, accidentally hitting Chopper on the head.

"Be careful, Captain."

"Sorry, Robin."

"You hit me!" Chopper had crossed his arms, frowning and whining in his direction.

"Luffy?" he was called again, but Luffy kept throwing more things into the air. He didn’t think they needed him just yet—they’d manage.

"There are... letters in the chest."

He dropped the piece of clothing abruptly, loosening his grip. Nami was looking at him—everyone was looking at him—and Luffy straightened up. His eyes traveled to the chest Nami was holding, partially open.

The dark wood had scratches in some parts from being carried around. The golden hinges and edges stood out, as did the carving on the top—Luffy himself had done it.

He stretched his arms to grab the mast and swung out of the backpack more easily, flying through the air and landing beside Nami. Quickly, he snatched the object from her hands, hugging it tightly to his chest and making sure the contents stayed intact. "It's mine."

Nami raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"Yours?"

"Yeah," he replied, locking eyes with her defensively. "So you can’t have it."

The crew had moved even closer, now fully surrounding him. Chopper was brought down from the top of the backpack by Robin’s arms, and Sanji came up behind him, leaning over his shoulder to try to peek inside the chest—Luffy slammed it shut, the sound ringing in his ears. "Who's been sending you letters?"

"Shut up, cook."

"Shut up yourself, moss-head!"

Zoro distracted Sanji, pulling him away from Luffy's side, and Luffy was able to loosen his grip a bit, now certain no one was going to take the chest from him. He didn’t mind showing them what was inside if they asked—he had even thought about sitting down with Robin one of these days to organize them better—but he didn’t think they’d be careful with the papers right now. Too many things could go wrong...

"Who is he?"

Luffy turned his head to get a better look at Usopp. He still had the album on his lap, now open, holding a small piece of something in his hands—Luffy squinted, narrowing his eyes to see more clearly.

"That’s mine too!" he exclaimed, reaching out to take the photograph from Usopp’s fingers.

That statement got everyone’s attention again, and Luffy sighed, knowing more questions than he could answer were about to be thrown at him. He cradled the photo, considering whether to store it with the letters inside the chest.

"Who is it, Luffy?"

"Let me see!"

"Usopp!"

"I don’t know! That’s why I asked!"

"Lemme see!" Chopper climbed onto him, his hooves digging into his skin and tickling him. Luffy half-patted his head and showed him the picture, flipping it over seconds later so the rest could see it too.

"That’s Torao!" Luffy shouted with a smile.

Contrary to what he expected, no one smiled back. Instead, they looked at him with furrowed brows of confusion.

"Torao?"

"He looks like..."

"He looks familiar," Franky muttered, scratching his chin in thought.

"Poor man... that name must not bring him a good reputation," added Brook in a nearly sympathetic tone.

Luffy’s smile began to fade. He wasn’t sad, just... he’d hoped to share the same joy he felt with everyone else. But they didn’t know the whole story, right?

That was fine—Luffy would tell them!

"Do you know his real name, Captain?" Robin’s voice rose above the rest, allowing him to hear her clearly. She smiled softly at him, her eyes partially closing with a bit of warmth. "I'm pretty sure I know him by another name."

Luffy nodded enthusiastically.

"Law! Tra—" he stumbled. Inhaling deeply, Luffy closed his eyes to try again—the full name really was a tongue-twister. "Trafalgar Law."

"As in Trafalgar Law from Marineford? That Trafalgar Law?" Usopp exclaimed, his eyes wide open. "I don’t remember his face being in the newspaper photos that day, but his name is more than famous."

"He’s also part of the Worst Generation," Robin added. "We saw him at the auction house once."

Luffy had met him a bit before that, but he also clearly remembered watching him fight that day—the first and one of the only times. Torao liked to sit around most of the time, he was very calm and almost always refused to train with Luffy, but his powers were amazing in every way possible, and Luffy had felt them firsthand.

Sometimes Torao would cut his head off and stick it to a tree when he didn’t listen, other times he’d make him float through the air and switch his place with whatever was farthest away—falling to the bottom of the sea had been an adventure... until he ran out of air and Rayleigh had to come save him.

"Oh... he’s scary."

Luffy frowned, crossing his arms. "Torao’s not scary!"

Usopp stuck out his tongue at him, earning the same gesture in return.

He felt hands growing along his arms, gently touching the back of his hand to ask permission to take the photo. Luffy hummed, loosening his grip and trusting Robin’s powers to deliver the image safely to her.

"It seems like you two have a good relationship."

The photograph had been taken by Rayleigh at the beginning of the second month Torao had stayed with them. Luffy had his arms around Law, wrapping him up completely twice and not letting him go like he always tried to do. His hat had fallen to the ground, just like Torao’s, and the small tent could be seen in the background.

It had been a good day—they had gone fishing off the cliff and Torao had watched him train for hours, sitting under a tree. Luffy was still sweaty when the photo was taken, and traces of food could be seen on his cheeks that he hadn’t managed to wipe off in time.

Luffy was smiling widely, happy to have Torao all to himself for the whole day, while Torao was grimacing, still glaring at the camera grumpily.

"He saved me during the war," he said softly, smiling again despite the pain that still hadn’t fully left from the loss he suffered during that time. There were things he couldn’t change, but they brought him new opportunities to discover unimaginable wonders. He missed Ace and Bon-chan, but he knew they would both be happy to see all the new people he had met and who now formed an important part of his life. "He also stayed with me for a while. We’ll see him soon!"

Zoro got up from where he was sitting, uncrossing his arms and leaving his katanas aside to step closer to him. "I guess we’ll have to thank him for that."

"And these letters, Luffy?" Nami asked again, pointing at the chest in his arms.

"They’re from Torao!"

A surprised gasp was heard. "He’s been sending you letters?"

He wanted to say yes without thinking, to tell them that Torao had written to him more than once and that Luffy had kept the letters carefully in the small chest Rayleigh had helped him make. He wanted to say he had slept beside them to make sure nothing happened to them and that he planned to do the same now—hide them under his mattress or his pillow so he wouldn’t lose them. But he knew they weren’t just talking about the time they were on the same island for those two months—they meant the entire two years.

Torao hadn’t written him any more letters, and Luffy hadn’t written either—he didn’t think it was a good idea. They told him it could put Law in danger if he did, and Luffy accepted that. He didn’t want to put Torao in danger—he never would.

That was a long explanation to give, too long, and everyone was looking at him expectantly.

Luffy puffed out his chest with pride and didn’t answer the question. "And I wrote to him!"

"You know how to write?"

"You know how to read?"

"He’s important to you, isn’t he, Captain?"

"Very." Luffy replied, feeling the next words leave his mouth like honey—sweet and slow, warm. "Torao is really good and knows a lot. We’re going to see each other again really soon. He’s waiting for me in the New World, so we have to go fast.”

No one said anything else, simply nodding with trust in his words.

His crew, nine people.

Nine people, each with their own goal — but only one destination in mind: the One Piece.

 

Notes:

I’ve been rewatching One Piece in a completely disorganized arc order, so I waited until I finished Thriller Bark before watching the post-time-skip episodes — that’s why this chapter was delayed.

Anyway, the Straw Hats are back together and none of them know what’s going on!
Luffy is completely in love with Law and has carefully held onto that love for two whole years (the man he is...). I thought it was funny to imagine Rayleigh playing matchmaker while Law was staying with them — the old man needed something to keep himself entertained when he wasn’t watching over Luffy. He took photos and gave Luffy advice whenever he could.

I really enjoyed shaping Boa Hancock and Luffy’s relationship in this chapter. I didn’t want to portray her as the “bad one” because I don’t think she would be — in this case, she fully understands how love works and has accepted that there’s nothing she can do to change someone else’s feelings. So instead, she does her best to appear strong and not lose a friendship as meaningful as the one she has with Luffy. She still cares for him and worries about him, though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Their friendship feels a bit more distant from Luffy’s point of view, but Hancock is doing her best to move on and heal.

I also wanted Luffy’s POV to feel a little more serious in tone than at the beginning of the fic — to show some of his growth (ha!) and development after everything that’s happened. Two years is a lot of time, and you can really feel the contrast between Thriller Bark and Fishman Island, especially in Luffy’s character.

Hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated

Chapter 7: Satisfied

Breathing became harder with each passing day. Not in the same limiting and physically painful way it had been a year ago.

No.

It was the kind that clawed at his brain, at his heart, as fiercely as it was ghostly. Each inhalation added to the weight pressing down on the pit of his stomach—an impossible burden to shed. Those last few months felt worse.

When the pain in his ribs and legs had vanished completely, when hunger was just a distant memory and the sky was once again fully visible to his eyes, Law couldn’t help, no matter how hard he tried, to wander through all the possibilities of where his crew might be.

He didn’t know if they had escaped their captors entirely, if the number of white jumpsuits remained the same; he didn’t know if they drifted among ships, or if they were prisoners under someone else’s control.

Not them—of that, he was sure. Otherwise, the rumor would’ve reached his ears, flung like poison just to see him suffer once more.

Sometimes, when he felt especially hopeful—a rare occurrence that had ceased to manifest the longer time went on—he imagined they had made it safely to Zou. That they were playing among themselves, keeping busy with mink festivities and grand feasts.

If they had recovered the Polar Tang, if they had managed to cross the seas teeming with every kind of creature, if they had understood his message.

(Because that day, Doflamingo cared about nothing and no one else—only him, only Law. Because, in a moment of mercy, he had discarded the yellow submarine when the island’s shores were impossible to make out.)

The seasons changed, the climates shifted, and the world kept spinning on its axis. Twice. Maybe more—Law had stopped counting. He no longer cared, even if calendars still hung from the walls.

The first months had been easier—not more bearable, never that—but at least predictable. He knew what to expect. Just like the sea was blue and the sun rose every day even if he couldn’t see it, Law understood that the beatings and torture would fall upon his body until unconsciousness took him.

The darkness of his cell was familiar, the dampness soaked into his lungs, rotting them, and the seastone on his wrists dug its spikes in until red covered everything. Bepo’s heavy breathing had also kept him sane: a reason to keep enduring and planning.

Law had to get out of there—because he couldn’t let Bepo suffer because of him.

But now, he had none of that.

The sun reflected off the porcelain, its light bouncing onto other surfaces, illuminating everything with intensity.

Blackbeard was easy to understand: a man who ruled through brutality, through sheer and visible force. Mind games weren’t his style. That’s why, when the moldy air of his confinement turned into soft blankets and gleaming tiles, Law didn’t know what to think anymore.

He didn’t have a plan—not really. He had realized the tactic had changed, that whoever had been in charge of him had been replaced. Law was being passed around like a toy in the hands of children far too big and powerful.

It was Doflamingo’s turn to play now, and with him, the moves were always unpredictable.

More dangerous.

He missed the heavy shackles that made his hands weak and useless. Seeing those delicate bracelets, finely carved and tailored to fit him, made his gut twist.

"Can you tell me the story again?"

Law stopped staring at the vast ocean stretching endlessly beyond his window. It was beautiful, glowing under the summer light—a shackle greater than the one already on him.

Bepo’s soft breathing was the only sound in the room—his own had become indistinguishable after so much time in solitude.

"Which one?"

Bepo smiled a little, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable.

It was good to see him like that again. With his white fur clean and bright, no traces of dirt or dried blood staining his pretty coat, Law could almost pretend everything was fine. Without the stiff patches of fur and crippled claws, Law could no longer tell the Bepo from before captivity apart from the one now.

And that was fine.

That was good.

"The one from the night before the fight." Bepo’s cheerful reply made him blink rapidly, trying to focus on the present—again.

Everything seemed to blur together: the walls with the floors, everything white, the chandelier above him threatening to fall, the candles on it and the tall decorations worth thousands of berries. The colors, the shapes, his thoughts—all slower now. The sun outside and the night so deep within him that telling the difference had become a skill he no longer possessed.

Everything felt the same.

Law took a deep breath, the air conditioning filling his lungs. It was cold, even if the sunlight illuminated every surface.

He was glad for Bepo.

"Where did I leave off last time?" he asked, exhaling calmly, letting the cool air leave his lungs in an attempt to relax.

"The Marines."

It was a long time ago, years — a lifetime, on days when he felt especially pessimistic. He remembers when he thought his life would change from that point on.

A step forward, a new beginning.

It was funny to think he hadn’t been wrong.

He had seen a bright smile, and he believed miracles existed. He trusted with his heart because he didn’t have any more time—not despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise.

Time slipped through his fingers like water.

Looking back hurt like an open wound.

He remembers that night—he could never forget it. The dim lights that seemed brighter each time the memory floated to the surface. His eyes had seemed brighter too.

It felt like a dream — maybe it was.

“You look familiar.”

Law leaned on his hand, his cheek resting in his palm. “Do I?”

The food was disappearing quickly. Where there had once been several snacks, small pieces in plenty, only crumbs remained.

Straw Hat was exactly as he had imagined he’d be, and yet, Law couldn’t predict his next move. With that playful energy he hadn’t yet lost, the New World still felt far off for the boy.

Law could tell.

“I think I saw you on a poster… yeah, that must be it.”

There was nothing keeping them in that place any longer. The plate was clean, the drinks finished, and night had settled. He wondered how much longer this little meeting would last—after all, Law didn’t owe him anything, and Straw Hat didn’t either.

“Most likely.”

Straw Hat looked at him properly for the first time. Their eyes met, and his pupils scanned him. Carefree, curious—a complete contrast to Law’s own.

“Tra-tor—” the boy sighed in frustration. “Torao! That’s your name.”

Law raised his eyebrows, incredulous—he couldn’t predict the boy’s next moves, that much was certain. “It’s not. I already told you.”

“Then what was it?”

“Trafalgar Law.”

“I like Torao better. It suits you.”

Law wanted to argue, to insult him and defend his name—but he didn’t. Something simply wouldn’t let him break the stillness, the rare peace he had felt so few times in his life.

He chose to observe. The decision was made, but he still had more to learn about that boy before throwing him into his plans.

“Do you know my name?” Law nodded lightly, but the gesture didn’t stop the introduction that followed—an enthusiastic one that came with the famous straw hat being lifted from messy hair in a kind of polite gesture. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

He hummed, impressed by how the words came out of Straw Hat’s mouth. He wanted to laugh at the excitement—mock the declaration that sounded like something from a small child proclaiming an impossible dream.

A treasure as alive as a legend—but who was Law to question someone else’s reasoning? His own reason for living seemed like a fantasy.

Most days, he thought of it as one.

“And how will you do it?” he asked, smiling mockingly. “Do you have a plan?”

Straw Hat tilted his head to the side, his big eyes opening wider, as if the idea had never even occurred to him. “By finding the One Piece! That’s how the Pirate King is crowned—don’t you know that, Torao? You’re a pirate too, we’re the same!”

“I’m not looking for the same thing you are,” he replied, shrugging.

Doflamingo wasn’t the One Piece, his revenge wasn’t the treasure everyone sought, but it might as well have been for Law. It was about closing a chapter in his life that had kept him in chains, dragging him into the depths even while his feet were still on solid ground—far worse than drowning.

“Yes, you are.”

Law frowned at the boy’s firm words. The playful smiles were gone now, replaced by seriousness and stubbornness.

“I don’t want the One Piece, Straw Hat. Not all pirates do.”

“But you want freedom.” Law couldn’t even find the words to refute him, nor the will to do so. “That’s why we’re the same.”

“Whatever you say,” he almost muttered, tsking, leaving the topic behind, not wanting to think about the implications of that statement. Not now. “Are you just hoping to stumble on Laugh Tale by luck? You’re strong, Straw Hat, but plenty of other pirates are too. What makes you so special?”

There was no silence, no hesitation—not even a second to think of a response, just a joyful laugh. “I’m way better than all of them! There´s a million things I haven´t done. Just wait, Torao!”

And while Law scoffed, almost annoyed at realizing the boy had no plan at all, driven only by impulse, Straw Hat opened his mouth again to start a new conversation.

Law had had plenty of time to think about that declaration made many months ago. In captivity and hunger, he accepted that freedom really was what he longed for most—he found himself hoping to see Luffy’s future.

But it’s not like he could now.

All he had were the scraps of a conversation, the sensation of freedom—the first sip of his goal—that he had picked up unexpectedly that night at the bar.

Law had tasted freedom that day, seen the light of a future far too good to ever be his—yet he found himself believing in hope.

He had flown too high, making the fall all the more painful.

Luffy was going to help him defeat Doflamingo, right?

He had let himself be carried away—hope is contagious. Because if not, how else could such a short conversation have doomed the rest of his life?

Marineford and its aftermath, his location supposedly easy to find despite his best efforts. Law gambled his future—and lost.

But now, confined behind bars no longer visible, he can’t help but keep believing. Straw Hat has that charm, keeping his hope from dying out completely.

Even if Law can’t do anything for himself anymore—he still believes.

He’s going to get out of there—Luffy promised to meet him again after two years.

But that wasn’t what Bepo had asked him, right?

Bepo kept watching him carefully, waiting for him.

“The three of us went against the Marines, each taking on a large group. They were just cadets, tripping over themselves without needing us to do anything.” He began. The image of powers clashing, each one trying to stand out as the best, interwove with the spiral of thoughts. “Eustass-ya and Straw Hat-ya started arguing over who would take down their platoon first. I wasn’t really doing much—I wanted to see those two fight.”

Bepo hummed. “And you chose Luffy. That’s why you went after him later.”

That’s why he threw his life away for him.

Law had no one to blame. He didn’t think he could blame himself either.

“Yeah.” He said softly, tired. “Luffy-ya has a rare fruit with a lot of potential, even if it looks like nonsense. His rubber is moldable in unimaginable ways, touching on aspects I’m not sure should even be possible. If he ever awakened it and gained Haki, he’d be a formidable enemy. It’s better to have him on our side.”

That was one of the reasons he repeated to himself over and over during the months he was confined to the island of women—Amazon Lily. He had seen his transformations grow stronger with each passing day, the beginnings of Haki that Rayleigh was determined to cultivate, and Straw Hat’s stubborn resilience.

Luffy had great potential.

The door was knocked on, the soft, melodic taps echoing through the room.

Law looked up, searching for the golden hands of the clock hanging on one of the walls.

Three-thirty in the afternoon.

With much more enthusiasm than Law, Bepo got up from where the blankets surrounded him on the floor, walking briskly to the doorknob.

“Good afternoon, sirs. The snacks are ready.”

A servant—different every day—pushed in a metal cart covered with plates and pot lids to keep the heat in. The boy couldn’t have been more than sixteen, tall and skinny from a growth spurt. He wore a cordial, youthful smile—he didn’t know how to fight, wasn’t a jailer, and posed no threat to Law’s powers.

If he had any—The delicate bracelets around his wrists felt heavier.

Law wasn’t a threat—weaker than a teenage kitchen assistant. And he hated it.

He hated being reduced to just an angry man in Doflamingo’s eyes, no more troublesome than a persistent fly. These days, that’s all he could be.

His arms were heavy, the bracelets draining his energy and locking away the abilities of his Devil Fruit inside him. After so many years, he was starting to forget the feeling of calm those powers had once brought him—Kikoku had disappeared a long time ago.

The tension in him grew and multiplied with each passing day, like a balloon about to burst—it was only a matter of time, not inevitability. It had started to feel suffocating, the anticipation of Doflamingo’s breaking point. Because at some point, he would.

The man could be patient, playing with his prey for a long while—yet the fatal bite would come. It was only a matter of time.

His visits were frequent, arriving at Law’s quarters with a mocking politeness they both knew was fake. The same time, the same days of the week—Law had to sit across from Doflamingo and listen to him boast about himself. Hints of war plans, updates from the Family, strategies—never too much, never anything truly important.

Gunpowder to spark curiosity—a threat.

And always ending with a reminder of the true extent of Law’s Devil Fruit.

Sleep had become torture. Law knew it was insomnia—he’d had it since he was a child, after all—but this new level was something else. His head buzzed at all hours, worse when light hit him directly, almost burning, and leaving his alertness in ruins, unable to focus on anything. Everything seemed louder, sharper, more intense—his senses were overstimulated to the point that simply living had become agony.

A year had passed already—or so the calendars said, at least.

“Thank you!”

Bepo bowed cheerfully to the boy, taking the cart himself and pushing it toward where Law sat.

He looked well.

Bepo had adapted to the new routine much faster. He spoke politely to the servants who attended them, even got comfortable enough to make his own requests—Law was genuinely grateful that Bepo was doing better than him.

The door closed, leaving them alone once again.

“Captain, eat.”

The lid of one of the plates was lifted, revealing perfectly shaped onigiri wrapped in dried seaweed.

“I’m not hungry. It’s okay, you start.”

Law knew Bepo wanted to protest—if the twitch of a grimace forming on the bear’s face was any indication—but Bepo sighed instead. They returned to their previous positions.

Sitting cross-legged, Bepo settled in front of him, sinking into the blankets and holding cookies between his paws.

Hunger was a problem too, because Law didn’t feel it anymore. It was either due to anxiety or insomnia—it could’ve been both. He ate because he had to, avoiding worrying Bepo during their mandatory lunches and dinners in the mess hall.

It was okay. Law could make an effort for Bepo. He was still the captain, right?

It was okay...

“Luffy’s a good person, right, Captain?”

Law looked up. Bepo was smiling softly, chewing slowly, savoring—Law missed that.

He missed Luffy too.

He wanted to laugh, realizing he really had nothing left to do, and yet the Straw Hat boy still wandered in his thoughts. It could’ve been worse, he supposed—at least Luffy could do something if he remembered Law existed.

Two years had passed, too long for Law to still be present in Luffy’s life. The boy had better things to do—like reuniting with his lost crew, for example.

But he had made a promise.

Luffy had promised many things during his stay in Amazon Lily. He promised to bring Law the best fruit he could find on his daily walks with Rayleigh, promised to learn to dance without stepping on anyone, promised to stay silent while Law studied a new book, promised to fish with him, promised they would meet again in the New World, promised to defeat all his enemies, and promised that Law was someone special to him.

Law wasn’t stupid—he knew Luffy had avoided using the word “friend” on purpose—at least he figured it out one of those nights when the pain was too much to bear. He understood that the dazzling glow and wide smile Luffy always showed him were much more than simple friendship. It couldn’t be, not with the way Luffy had gone out of his way to protect the fruits he gave him from bruising, or how he wiped his dirty hands on his own clothes before touching Law, or how he tried to walk on tiptoe around him when he thought Law was asleep.

It had only been two months of shared time, something that could easily be forgotten.

It’s said that absence makes the heart grow fonder—but could love be born for the first time when the other person wasn’t even around?

It was bold of him to call it love, as if he were sentencing their nonexistent relationship. Law didn’t know how to love—he never had, at least not the right way; always arriving too late or letting fate take it away from him.

Bepo was still by his side.

Luffy would come for him.

If only he were lucky.

“Yes, he is.”

Notes:

While one smiles, another spirals. That’s life.

Law is suffering much more than it seems, and a part of him has already lost most of his faith in himself— and another part is starting to believe he’s falling for Luffy (poor guy).

In canon, Law was willing to give up his life just to defeat Doffy, but in that timeline, he didn’t have to suffer under his hand once Corazon set him free. That’s a huge contrast to this universe, and I’m diving into all the what ifs that would shift his mindset after being captured with no real way to fight back.

I’m not sure if anyone’s wondering who Law is referring to when he says “them,” but in any case, he means both Doffy and Blackbeard, along with a few others Doffy gathered. They’re the closest thing to an “organization” in this version of the story — but I won’t go too deep into that just yet because (1) I might bore you, and (2) I’m planning to reveal more about it in later chapters (maybe? who knows). But that’s the general idea.

I hope you enjoyed the double update! Once I finish rewatching Fishman Island, I’ll bring the next chapter (sorry, but that’s just how life is, guys).

Please comment and leave kudos — I love reading what you think

Chapter 8: No Longer You

Luffy couldn’t say he knew the first island they stopped at would cause such big problems — maybe he should have realized it the moment he woke up coughing up water after the Sunny had been blasted forward, or when they ran into the sea beasts and the kraken, or maybe the moment he set foot in Sabaody. Whatever the case, he was now struggling to hold on to the fin of Weepyhoshi’s brother, trying with all his strength not to be swept away by the current while avoiding the attacks of the villain… the new villain.

His stomach was already asking for food, despite the giant plates Crybaby Mermaid had given him at the Fish-Man Palace — it might be a good idea to tell Sanji to buy some of those plates once the battle was over — The rumbling of his gut could be ignored for now, but they’d all better give him that meat they promised.

He wasn’t about to pass out from hunger for nothing.

Luffy adjusted his grip, feeling his hands give way for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to let go right now; that wouldn’t help anyone and would only slow the fish prince down. Still, a small part of him felt proud that he wasn’t affected by seawater like before.

He could even throw his attacks if he just pierced the bubble!

The den-den mushi in his hands began to ring, catching the attention of the half-fish he was clinging to. To make things easier, Luffy stretched his arm, trying to bring the snail close enough to the brother’s fangs without accidentally having it swallowed.

“Any news?”

The voice on the other end cleared its throat. “We have enough air to completely surround Noah, but that would be our entire reserve.”

“Only one shot.”

“That’s correct, Your Highness. We wouldn’t have another chance if it burst.”

Didn’t sound good.

“Proceed.”

The line went dead and Luffy pulled his arm back, setting the small snail in his lap, waiting for the fishmen army’s next signal.

He raised his head, watching the enormous figure of the ancient ship cast shadows over them. It was impressive — though old, colorless, and covered in dead algae — still impressive, and currently a threat to his crew.

He wouldn’t lie, he didn’t completely understand the tearful brother’s explanation through all his stammering and desperation — really, it wasn’t Luffy’s fault if he thought about it carefully — but he could grasp that the ship was important to the island’s inhabitants and that it was their responsibility to keep it safe from threats until the time came to use it.

It reminded him of Shanks, the hat, and the care he took to keep it safe until the day they’d meet again. Luffy could understand the weight of a promise like that, but that didn’t mean he’d risk his friends’ lives to make an object immortal. If the ship fell, it would burst the air bubble around Fish-Man Island. If that happened, his crew would drown without exception — and be crushed by all that wood.

He wasn’t going to take that risk.

If he had to destroy that ship, he’d do it without hesitation — even if the entire island turned against him. Luffy was a pirate, after all; he was used to being hunted and to attempts on his life. It’s not like marines and pirates sat down for breakfast together every morning.

Still, he hoped Crybaby Mermaid could divert the ship’s course. That would make things easier for everyone, and Luffy could enjoy the banquet they had promised him when they first arrived — without worrying about running from angry crowds.

“I’m sorry to say this,” the fish brother said with an apologetic sigh, “but the rest is in your hands, Straw Hat.”

Luffy nodded, glancing down and watching the dust rise inside the island. His crew was somewhere down there fighting, as tiny as ants from where he was now. They were counting on him.

Not like that was anything new…

He prepared to attack when a sudden, strong current of water blocked their path.

 

---

 

He had eaten a lot — too much. The flavors of meat and sweets still mixed on his tongue, and the acid from the pineapple had left it sensitive and rough. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but it was fun to eat more like that, made the textures more interesting. He rubbed his swollen belly, slipping a fingernail between his teeth to get out a piece of meat that was stuck.

In the end, the fishmen had stopped insulting them and kept their word to give them a great banquet.

The party was still going, even if most people had left the bubble they’d been brought into and gone to a quieter place. Luffy could have spent the rest of the day listening to the singers and the laughter of the drunk, but it wasn’t the same without the rest of his crew, so he had no choice but to follow them to a more secluded area of the palace.

Zoro had fallen asleep, as had Sanji — who looked as gray as stone; maybe he really had turned to stone after all. Brook was still playing a slow, gentle melody, while Robin and Chopper played together sitting on some steps.

He could see Nami’s orange hair at the edge of the floor, staring into nothing, and Usopp and Franky looking over one of the new weapons they had made. Luffy was about to join them, eager to discover the modifications the cyborg had made to his body.

Humming, he returned to his normal form, his belly flattening in a second. He jumped, and with a smile, prepared to catapult himself toward the others.

A figure approaching caught his attention before he could move. Curious, he turned his gaze to see who it was — maybe it was a new tray of food; Luffy wasn’t about to miss that chance.

It wasn’t food, to his disappointment — just a mermaid. Luffy thought he had seen her before; her sharp edges stood out in contrast to the other mermaids he had seen dancing at the party.

“Hi!” he shouted, waving his hand in the air to greet her. “Who are you?”

It didn’t really matter much, but he had always been told to ask before making friends with someone — it could be a well-known Marine, and that would ruin everything. Although Luffy didn’t really understand why. His grandpa was a Vice Admiral and everyone was fine, still alive.

“Straw Hat…”

Luffy tilted his head, thinking. The shark-mermaid knew him, so Luffy must know her too. He searched his memories for that face, wondering if he had spoken to her somewhere.

He shrugged, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Eh, who are you?” he asked again, scratching his head awkwardly.

He had it… almost. Those sharp teeth — he had seen them before.

The mermaid smiled — small, sharp — swimming toward him. Luffy trotted to meet her.

“My name is Shyarly.” The girl’s teeth glinted under the palace’s strange light. “I’m a prophet.”

“Prophet?”

Luffy remembered, raising a finger in triumph. She was the one with the crystal ball who had yelled at him not to touch it back when they first arrived on the island.

“I might have some answers to the questions you have. Consider it my gift for saving the island.”

“Questions?” he repeated, confused. Luffy didn’t have questions — well, of course he did, but they were so casual that anyone in his crew could answer them.

When were they leaving?

Could he eat that last piece of mochi?

Why did mermaids have tails instead of trout heads for heads?

Nothing that had to do with the future. Luffy didn’t want to know about the future and preferred not to think about it — but he had been doing that lately, hadn’t he?

He shook his head to himself. Luffy didn’t need to ask questions, nor did he need a mermaid with powers telling him what was coming tomorrow.

“Everyone has questions, Straw Hat, about the past, about the future. I can see possibilities and facts from all over the world if I wish.” The mermaid swam closer, her tail swaying from side to side. “I can see — I have seen — your goal, how you achieved it, and how I helped you to—”

“No!” Luffy barked, his voice rising above the distant noise of the party. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want shortcuts. That wasn’t what he needed. That was cheating — destroying his dream.

He frowned, stepping back, hoping to put distance between himself and the mermaid, ready to leave. He wasn’t going to stand there if she intended to decide things for him.

“Luffy?” Nami was approaching, walking toward him with a frown of concern at the look on his face. Luffy tried to relax, lowering his tense shoulders, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What’s this mermaid doing here?” Franky asked, his hair changing shape. “Wasn’t she the one who accused us of destroying everything?”

“In theory, we did,” Usopp shrugged, following closely behind Franky and smiling at Luffy.

His crew was gathering, drawn by his discomfort and ready to do something about it. That was nice — that was why Luffy had chosen them, seeing beyond what they claimed to be and figuring out their hearts. He would always feel safe beside them, and they were proving it to him once again.

How he had missed them.

“Though that’s not a world I know.”

Luffy froze mid-step, leaving his foot in the air, swaying almost imperceptibly. He blinked, for a second feeling the sounds fade away, leaving only the mermaid’s voice behind him in his ears.

It was unconscious — curiosity crawling up his body before he could stop it and push it down. He wanted to know exactly what she meant. For just an instant, Luffy thought about turning around, about asking and pulling answers from her that—

No.

That wasn’t him.

Luffy mustn’t.

His dream was at stake, and he wasn’t going to risk it.

He lowered his foot, moving again, walking away.

“I see your palace covered in red.” His fists clenched, hearing her voice once again. “Faces of men who had long believed you’re dead.”

“Hey, mermaid! Shut up!”

“Zoro, be nicer!”

“She’s the one starting it, witch. No means no.”

Zoro walked closer, leaving behind the bottles of liquor cradled against his chest, his katanas tied at his waist, stopping only a few meters from Luffy. Luffy could breathe easier — just a little, just—

Luffy halted abruptly, hearing the next words as distant yet as loud as if they were whispered in his ear, with an almost mocking undertone, like a smile stretching across her face.

“I see the one you are longing for.”

He spun on his heels before he could think, facing the sharp-toothed mermaid once again. She was smiling — not evilly, not angrily — simply watching Luffy closely from head to toe.

Luffy did the same, sizing her up the way she didn’t.

She shouldn’t know—Luffy hadn’t told anyone outside of his friends, his crew. She could be lying, just getting lucky with her guesses. But if she knew something about Law—

"He’s with a man who is haunting," she said, and Luffy’s fists tightened, nails digging into his skin. "A man with a trail of bodies."

Tension spiked, a horrible feeling burning in his stomach. His head began to ache, pressing against his skull, making it hard to think.

"Who?!"

The mermaid laughed, circling him, playing with the nerves Luffy could no longer control. He stayed silent, biting his tongue to keep from asking again, and this time getting answers—to leave the present as it was and the future far away. It wasn’t his place to interfere; he had no right to demand answers about a life that wasn’t his.

Blood stained the walls of his mouth, the salty taste flooding his tongue.

"I see a song of past romance. I see the sacrifice of men. I see portrayals of betrayal, and a brother’s final stand."

"Witch, get away!"

"But—"

The voices overlapped, the spinning made him dizzy, but he couldn’t find the strength to escape.

"I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath."

"Shit, fine, go!"

"Damn it!"

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive." The sharp teeth glinted, dangerously close to Luffy’s face. "But it’s no longer—"

Everything stopped, and air rushed back into his lungs with ease. He was shaking. He felt his hands move, his arms too, the motion throwing him off balance.

He shouldn’t have listened.

He shouldn’t have let her keep talking.

He shouldn’t be poking his nose into Law’s life—no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he felt that curiosity, that longing, to know more about him, so strong it suffocated him.

He should have walked away.

"Luffy, are you okay?!"

Hands gripped his shoulders, tiny hooves, pulling at him for a response.

“What had she done?”

"Blues, what happened?"

Nami gently lifted his chin, searching his face with alarm. Luffy blinked, trying with all his might to clear his mind. He didn’t want to worry them—they were celebrating. It was a time for joy, after defeating a tyrant and his goons. But...

His future shouldn’t be heard by anyone, especially not by him—he could have ruined everything. Predictions of disasters in his life, or in the life of someone he cared about, should never have reached his ears. Because if they were true, there was nothing Luffy could do to prevent them, not with vague phrases and rhymes made of obscure words that meant nothing.

"It was a prophecy!" someone cried.

"A prophecy?" Nami stopped searching his face but didn’t let go of him. Just a second later, she met his eyes again, this time with firm resolve. "Don’t listen to her, Luffy. She also said you were going to destroy the island—fire and some other nonsense. And look how that turned out—we got arrested and ended up saving everyone. She’s just a con artist!"

"A fraud," Zoro’s voice added, closer now, his steps stopping when his presence could be felt radiating against Luffy. "I already got rid of her."

"You didn’t cut her, did you, Zoro?!" Chopper shouted, abandoning his attempt to climb Luffy.

"Luffy, look, nothing’s going to happen," Usopp reassured him, nudging Nami aside and throwing an arm around his shoulders. Luffy could feel the tension in him, the nervousness, the crack in his voice on the last syllable. Still, Usopp kept pulling him close, ruffling his hair. "Those prophecy things don’t happen outside of books."

"Highly unlikely, Captain. From what I’ve gathered, Shyarly does not possess a Devil Fruit, and her so-called prophetic abilities are said to be innate. However, there’s no scientific reliability behind her words. Her predictions are vague, leaning on the subject’s own perception, allowing for multiple interpretations so that the person believes she was always right."

Usopp’s grip loosened as he turned to stare at Robin. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, totally that!"

Slowly, Luffy nodded, exhaling air that he didn't know he was holding.

His crew said it was fine. There was nothing to worry about. Lies would remain lies, and the present would remain the present.

His future hadn’t been ruined.

Luffy smiled.

Notes:

Small chapter, but I think Luffy’s problems are finally starting to show (even if just a little, the seed has already been planted).

We’ve seen in canon how Luffy uses people’s real names when it’s a serious moment or when they pose a threat to his beliefs — Shyarly earned both, bravo!
But since he was already in that tense situation, Luffy started referring to Law as “Law” (that’s the reason for using his name instead of the nickname, in case anyone was wondering).

I’d like to add more interactions between all the Straw Hats, but there are so many of them, and making a conversation feel organic without relying on “she said,” “he said,” “he exclaimed” is incredibly hard (I realized Brook hadn’t said a single thing while I was editing).
So you’ll probably see small groups talking instead of everyone at once.

I finally finished Fishman Island, and now it’s time to rewatch Punk Hazard for the fourth or fifth time (damn).
I’m trying to move quickly through Luffy’s POV so I can keep up with the episodes I’m currently watching — since I watch with my family, it’s not like I can just say, “Hey, so I haven’t gotten to that scene yet in the fic you definitely don’t know I’m writing. Can we just not watch any episodes today?”
I feel like Hamilton because of that.

I wrote this chapter in a single day (it’s not as long as I expected, but even while editing I realized that to make it come out the way I want, I can’t really add more — sorry).
I’m already starting the next Luffy POV chapter to keep the pace, but it’s not the very next one in order, so I’m a bit busy.

I hope you liked it!
Leave kudos and comments if you have any questions or just want to say something — I love hearing from you, even if I sometimes forget to reply to a few comments.

Chapter 9: Legendary

He left one of the papers on the nightstand, without needing to get up. The curtains were drawn, and he felt far too sleepy to keep drawing, even if it was only mid-afternoon.

Bepo stretched, throwing off the blankets that had been holding him down. The day was boring—just like all the others lately. He glanced around at the things decorating the room, searching for something that might keep his mind busy a little longer, at least until dinner.

He didn’t want to bother the captain by going to his room yet again—he’d been doing that every day, and was only waiting for the moment the captain got tired of him.

That’s not going to happen.

Well, you never knew —Bepo preferred to give him space, knowing the human recharged his energy in solitude, like a stray cat.

A soft breeze drifted in through the window, lifting the curtains. Bepo scratched his head; the cold was beginning to seep through the fortress’s foundations—good for him, but also a sign that the season had changed again.

And they were still there.

He looked up at the calendar hanging on one wall, squinting to make out the date. The month was nearly over, and Bepo knew he still had a few boxes left to mark. Winter would be arriving soon.

He made a mental note to turn on the heating in the captain’s quarters. Maybe this year they could decorate for Christmas, bake cookies in the kitchens, and make hot chocolate at night. Bepo could ask for permission—Doflamingo was so kind—

He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek.

Doflamingo was the one keeping them locked up. He was the reason the captain had lost everything he had left when they first met on Swallow Island. He was the reason they had been separated from the rest of the crew, and the captain was suffering.

Doflamingo was not kind.

Bepo sighed, letting all the air leave his lungs, and flopped back onto his pillows. Right now, he just wanted to leave and spend a good day with his crewmates. He pulled the blanket over himself, stretching out a paw to grab one of the fallen pencils as well.

Maybe it would be a good idea to keep drawing. He could finish the map of the islands they had already visited without the time limit he usually had on the Polar Tang—while also trying to keep the submarine on course. He glanced at the pages taped to the walls, assessing the missing cartographic details before starting the legend on the sheet in his paws.

He hummed softly, sketching a new frame in the paper’s corner. Inside, he drew the outline of figures with large mallets and prominent horns.

Two giants—Little Garden.

The adventure on the island of the men of Elbaph had been a long time ago. Bepo remembered being just as scared as he was excited when he first saw it from a distance as they surfaced. The creatures were massive—enormous, at the very least—and incredibly strong. The captain had never wanted to fight, ordering a stealth mission to gather whatever provisions they could find before heading to a new island.

While they were collecting fruit, Bepo couldn’t help but marvel at the shapes emerging from between the trees. His heart pounded fiercely, anticipating the rush of adrenaline if he got to see them fight—the sheer force of their blows shaking the air all around.

A primal instinct urged him to join them, to test his strength against theirs for once. But Bepo knew better than to stick his nose into situations that wouldn’t go in his favor—it would only worry his captain if he ended up hurt. Besides, it hadn’t been a full moon for his mink form to emerge.

It hadn’t been a full moon in a long time.

Bepo flexed his claws, staring in disappointment at how short they had become.

In the depths of the sea, inside the Polar Tang, the light of the full moon couldn’t be seen through the thick layers of water that acted as a heavy barrier. The captain would order them to surface at least one night each month so Bepo could transform, burning off the energy he’d built up by swimming and roaring freely.

He’d play with Shachi and Penguin, diving and winning. Ikkaku would test new weapons on him—with the captain’s approval—and they would send him to catch large prey.

It was fun.

Now, Bepo was kept in a windowless room with the captain every month. At first, he hadn’t noticed, since they’d both been in underground cells, too busy tending to the captain’s wounds. But once they were given their own rooms, the routine became obvious.

Maybe he could take down a few captors if he transformed—Bepo had wondered that more than once. Maybe they were afraid of what might happen if they let him see the moon. Maybe that would give them a chance to escape.

Maybe…

Maybe…

Maybe…

Bepo wanted to be stronger.

He covered his face with his paws, feeling the all-too-familiar sting in his eyes.

 

---

 

Bepo heard the soft sound of a door closing at the end of the hallway; a single click echoed through the space. With light steps, he walked comfortably down the long corridor.

He wore no shoes, letting himself feel the chill of the tiles against the pads of his paws, occasionally scraping the walls with his claws, leaving faint marks that someone would soon erase. The sun had begun its descent, its orange light painting colorful waves across the horizon—he took a moment to appreciate the view.

He leaned as far as he could against one of the windows covered with seastone bars, feeling the sea breeze ruffle his fur. The day looked beautiful.

And the captain was in better shape than he had been all week. It was definitely a good day.

Dinner would be served any moment now—the call had already been made—and Bepo couldn’t wait to eat and then sneak into the captain’s quarters. With luck, he’d get him to tell another story before bed—one about Luffy again. Those always made the captain smile more often.

Bepo hummed to himself, standing on tiptoe and pressing his snout between the bars, narrowing his eyes to catch any unusual movement among the waves, hoping for a glimpse of a sea king or a pod of whales.

Would Bepo be lucky enough to befriend one like Luffy had?

He remembered the huge, scar-covered whale that waited at the entrance to the Red Line—after all, the captain had curiously pointed out the open wounds on the animal’s head. Now Bepo knew they were self-inflicted, born from too much heartache while waiting for a group of pirates who had died on their journey to the New World. The story was moving—far too sad for his taste—but if the adventures Luffy had told his captain were true, it was tragically real.

Bepo hoped he could greet the whale once they completed their journey around the world—this time he would… if they managed to get out of here first.

He could ask the captain to retrace their steps, visiting Skypiea and the famous restaurant in East Blue, the island where Gol D. Roger died, and even the triangle where ships vanished. There were so many adventures to be had, great islands to visit, and monsters to face—just like Straw Hat Luffy had done.

Sometimes Bepo wondered if it was all real. If the world truly held so many dangers… or if only the captain—

Luffy was as strong and powerful as a legend—and Bepo wanted to be like that.

To fight a cerberus and tame it, to face creatures thought to be myths, and to discover new ways to leave his mark on the world. To be able to protect his family without failing like he did now.

His ears flattened unconsciously as he stepped back from the window, making his way once more toward the dining hall.

How much of the stories were real?

How much could Bepo ever achieve?

He was locked in a prison in the middle of nowhere, with only his captain and tales that made his imagination soar.

Where was that savior the captain spoke of?

He turned on his heels to take the next hallway, noticing how the voices grew louder the further he went. Soon, servants and soldiers filled the corridors, entering and leaving rooms Bepo had no access to, talking among themselves or walking briskly toward some specific destination.

There were hundreds of faces that seemed to change every day—but Bepo knew they were the same. There were just so many of them that memorizing each one was impossible.

“Move.”

Bepo jumped to the side, dodging the man before his shoulder could slam into him.

“Sorry.”

No reply—only more silence and murmurs from the other strangers.

He tensed, feeling the dull stares of the humans on him. Every day, it was getting worse—he knew it. He couldn’t ignore that fact.

They had treated him much better than the jailers who had guarded the pits where they’d first been confined—still did, technically. But over time, the politeness and even kindness Bepo had once noticed were fading away. They were getting tired of them—not just the soldiers, but everyone.

Blackbeard showed his face periodically, spitting insults at anyone who dared approach him, always looking for fights. Davy Jones and Shiryu too. Bepo could see it on their faces—how the anger kept growing, doubling with each passing second.

He feared Doflamingo might start showing those signs too—weariness, exasperation.

What would happen if everything started to crumble?

What could Bepo do?

Fight?

He clenched his fists, feeling his claws push out slightly.

Could Bepo protect his captain from them?

Rip them apart—more than once he’d dreamed of doing it. Ending a fight with a victory of his own, with the strength to beat them.

Luffy would—Bepo knew—Luffy could take them down without hesitation, without doubting himself the way Bepo did.

If only Bepo had even half his courage…

But how would that end?

How had it ended for Luffy?

Far out of reach, his whereabouts unknown—could they even say he was alive?

“Where is Trafalgar?”

Bepo jerked his head toward the voice. One of the soldiers, wearing the Germa army uniform, had approached him, leaning down to his level—but just as tall as he was—to look him in the eye, hands in his pockets.

“What?” he managed to say.

“Where is Trafalgar?” the soldier repeated slowly, threateningly.

His nostrils flared at the danger. “Why do you want to know?”

“It’s dinner time, idiot.” A growl. “He’s been acting high and mighty lately. Don’t forget you’re prisoners. We can do whatever we want with him, with you. How much longer do you think he can take? We’re getting bored, teddy bear. Trafalgar needs to—”

“Enough, Daiki.” Another soldier approached them, placing a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “They say the young master is arriving any moment now—you know how he gets when his orders are disobeyed.”

"Young master? You sound like one of his dogs," the first man mocked. "Whatever, I wasn’t doing anything against it."

Nothing else was said before the murmurs began to fade, and the silence among the dozens of people became palpable. Tension hung in the air, making Bepo’s fur bristle in warning — his breathing grew shallow as he felt the overwhelming signature of haki spreading far too quickly.

The soldiers snapped into formation, servants lowered their heads, and the sound of Donquixote Doflamingo’s footsteps echoed powerfully through the walls.

"Told you."

Bepo suddenly found himself alone in the middle of the hallway, the two soldiers having dashed toward a corner to join their unit. He felt more exposed than he had in a long time. His captain wasn’t there — no one was by his side — only cold walls, and Doflamingo was approaching with a smile far too wide to be friendly.

He was much taller than Bepo, wearing a coat that made his frame appear even broader — intimidating, radiating waves of fear.

"Well, look what we have here," Doflamingo purred, his voice resonating deep in Bepo’s chest, vibrating like a drum. "Law’s little bear."

Bepo said nothing. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and thinking was becoming difficult.

With his hands in his pockets, Doflamingo leaned forward until they were face-to-face. "Enjoying your free time? It’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?"

There was nothing friendly in the tone, even if the question pretended to be casual. It was sweet — overly so — but rough and heavy, almost painful to hear.

"Yes," Bepo replied quietly, resisting the urge to cover his ears.

"And Law?" Doflamingo tilted his head, a grin spreading across his lips to reveal perfectly white teeth. "Where’s he hiding today?"

"He’s not hiding," Bepo shot back, almost barking the words.

Doflamingo didn’t seem to care — not about the way Bepo’s claws dug into his own skin to keep himself in check, nor about the rumbling growl building in his throat. On the contrary, every move Bepo made only seemed to feed the man’s mocking amusement.

"Hm..." he hummed, stepping closer and forcing Bepo to retreat to maintain distance. "Is he having a good time... or still wearing that cheap martyr face? Watching him beg was a lot more fun than this. It’s a shame our dear Law is losing his edge."

Bepo’s claws pressed harder into his arms, piercing through his fur and into the first layer of skin. The rush of adrenaline pounded his heartbeat into his skull, his ears, until it felt like it came from every part of his body — mixing with emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

"Funny thing," Doflamingo continued, circling around him like he was inspecting a new specimen — seemingly interested in Bepo for the first time in months. Until now, the man’s attention had been solely on the captain, and more than once Bepo had wished he could redirect those attacks toward himself, give Law some relief — and now, for once, he had it. "He’s treated well, given everything. I’ve made sure of it myself... and yet he acts as if he’s being dragged to the gallows. Humans are so... complicated. They like to suffer for nothing."

"It’s none of your business," Bepo snapped.

He could hear the low murmurs of soldiers. Silence stretched, and adrenaline mixed with fear surged through him.

Bepo could do this.

"Isn’t it?" His outburst was met with laughter. "I think it is. After all, I gave him this life — he belongs to me. Doesn’t matter how much he cries otherwise."

Bepo lifted his head, baring his fangs, ignoring the voice in his mind screaming at him to run. "No."

"And when he accepts it," Doflamingo ignored him, his voice dropped low, slow, savoring each word, "I won’t just settle for the surgery. I’ll take everything... and I’ll make sure he knows exactly who he belongs to while I do it. That dear fruit has too many uses to waste."

Could he do whatever it took to keep the captain safe?

A low growl escaped Bepo, his fur standing on end. "Don’t dare say that about him or you’ll regret it."

"Well… I just did.” Doflamingo’s laugh thundered down the hallway, unrestrained. “What you gonna do about it, champ?"

There was no turning back.

Notes:

I switched the POV! I honestly hadn’t planned on doing that at first, but the narrative just pulled me there — still, getting inside Bepo’s head was fun.

As we can see once again, the two of them have very different perspectives on what they’re experiencing, and giving Bepo Telemachus-like vibes was the best. It adds a small touch of hope and daydreaming to the overall sense of loss, while Law himself is the embodiment of pain.

I love writing Doflamingo, and having his character collide with Bepo’s is something big, since that never happened in canon. To be honest, Doffy is just playing around here — too bored and looking to bother someone — and Bepo became his first victim of the day.

As you may or may not have noticed, there are many more people involved in this little kidnapping (Doffy has connections and a huge dream). Each side has its soldiers and… think of this place as a Marineford, but one of pirates and traffickers. (In case you thought they were in Dressrosa — sorry, they’re not.)

This also gives you an idea of why Law has so little will to move forward right now. It’s not a very hopeful scene.

Luffy is present, even if this isn’t Law’s POV, just to show how important his figure is starting to become — even for characters like Bepo, who have never even met him.

I look forward to your comments and kudos!

I’m already finishing up Punk Hazard and haven’t written that chapter yet — oops! I need to hurry before I lose the details.

Bye, see you soon!

Chapter 10: Open Arms

"Relax!"

"But—!"

"Luffy, this could be a trap!"

"Or maybe it’s not." Luffy retorted, sticking his tongue out at Nami.

The transporter snail hadn’t made another sound after crying and bleeding. Luffy hoped nothing bad had happened to it—he liked that snail. But Robin explained it was only imitating what the people on the other end of the line were doing, and Luffy was set on giving it a big lettuce leaf when it woke up, as a reward for its great performance.

They had left Fishman Island with many promises to fulfill. Jinbe was going to join his crew very soon, and Luffy still owed a ride to the Cry-Baby Mermaid —he’d figure out what to do about that later. Maybe he could take her to the forests of Dawn Island, though he thought it might be too far.

A pod of whales had approached them, and Brook said they must be Laboon’s family. After that, an emergency call had come through, desperately talking about a samurai cutting people down.

There had been a lot of whining, but Luffy had decided to go investigate and help.

It sounded like a great adventure, and the lava spilling from the distant volcanoes pointed that it was going to be one of the most exciting ones.

Nami put her hands on her hips, frowning at him before turning her back with a huff. "Whatever, when we get into trouble, you’re going to remember my words."

"I like trouble!" he replied instead, knowing that no matter what he did, Nami was still going to throw it in his face later.

Luffy shrugged.

"Idiot..."

Sanji came out of the kitchen, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle that looked like it was going to be their lunch. Luffy’s nostrils flared slightly, catching the scent of a grilled clam. He could imagine the juices running, smeared in a sour and sweet sauce—

"The Mini-Merry is ready!"

The packed lunch was handed to Robin, out of Luffy’s reach, and instead, a huge splash of seawater hit him in the face as the boat they were going to use was dropped overboard.

"Please, guys, someone switch places with me. Don’t let me go!" Usopp cried —Luffy leapt over the railing, carrying Zoro over his shoulders.

"Have fun, Usopp!"

"Guys..."

Luffy caught Robin, making sure she didn’t touch the water. She smiled gratefully, offering him the food containers in return. Happy, Luffy hugged them —now they were all his!

"Usopp, hurry up!" he shouted, too eager to start the adventure and hunt as many strange animals as he could find. "I wanna go already!"

Luffy had never seen a sea on fire before; he hadn’t even thought it was possible—but Sanji told Zoro he was dumb enough to burn water, so Luffy preferred not to argue with that. Sanji was the one who knew how to cook, after all.

It was getting hot, and the steam from the water was dampening his hair uncomfortably. He wasn’t even sure if it was sweat dripping down from his strands anymore. He took off his hat, hoping the air would reach his skin to ease it.

The boat began to move forward, following a path of clouds Nami had created, and very soon they were above the blazing flames, flying over the sea.

"This is delicious, don’t you think, Captain?"

Luffy nodded, lost between the exploding flavors in his mouth and the real explosions of fire happening around him.

He was aware of the dangers they would face, something almost inevitable considering the distress call that had drawn them to this island in particular. The man behind it had died, and the chances of suffering the same fate weren’t low—no matter how confident he was in his training and in that of his friends.

Luffy knew.

But he didn’t feel right just sitting still when he could do something. He wasn’t a hero—he didn’t consider himself one, nor did he expect to be one—heroes had rules to follow to keep everyone safe and happy, and Luffy wasn’t after that. Yet an itching restlessness opened up in his stomach at the thought of injustice toward others.

Sometimes he could ignore it, having better things to do, goals to reach, and other people’s problems weren’t his problem. Other times, the feeling clashed with smaller desires that crossed his path, and straying from his long-term goal could even be fun to follow—like right now.

Hopping on one foot, Luffy balanced on the Mini-Merry, stretching his neck to see what awaited them at the end of the burning sea. He could make out a huge gate as they got closer, and a lot, a lot of red.

"Don’t fall off."

Luffy laughed, letting Zoro’s warning sink deep into his brain. Without waiting much longer, he stretched his arms, grabbed the hot gate at the entrance, and pulled himself up with the momentum.

He wouldn’t lie, it wasn’t the best idea he ever had. His fingers hurt from the heat of the metal, and it felt like they could melt off at any moment.

Waving his hands side to side to cool the pain, Luffy lifted his gaze to the different posters stuck on the entrance.

PUNK HAZARD

He tilted his head, thinking about the name. He was pretty sure he’d heard it before.

"You idiot! I told you not to do that."

Luffy turned, abandoning the attempt to make sense of the different symbols drawn before him. "Zoro told me not to fall. I didn’t fall."

"Whatever."

The Mini-Merry stopped, docked by Usopp at the edge of the shore, and the rest of the group joined him.

"This is interesting." Robin murmured, almost humming to herself.

Luffy followed the direction of her gaze, looking at the drawings beside her. They didn’t seem to have any meaning to him, no matter if he tilted his head or not.

He sighed, waiting for Robin to explain what she believed he should know.

"The island is under the supervision of the Navy and the World Government," she said. "I expected nothing less."

"The World Government?!" Usopp shrieked, far too close to Luffy’s ears, though thankfully not loud enough to hurt. "The Marine is inside?! Alright guys, let’s return to the Sunny!"

Luffy deflated. Maybe Usopp was right—certainly Robin was—but the Marines had never been a real obstacle to his actions. What was, however, was the gate blocking their way.

The cloud path was still there, so as long as it didn’t disappear, they could always return to the Thousand Sunny and look for a new island to explore—maybe one everyone would be happy to dock at.

The air sliced through, whipping into a gust that hit objects and people nearby.

Luffy turned, his grin widening as he saw the gate fall, cut down by Zoro’s swords.

"Problem solved."

The hot air struck Luffy’s body even harder as he stepped further into the island —as if the gate had been keeping the heat inside, and with it gone, the temperature hit them full force.

The landscape also came into sharper view. There were reddish mountains and houses that looked destroyed either by fire or by a bomb—a fire bomb.

"Luffy! Wait!"

He could hear his crew calling after him, running to catch up, but Luffy was too impressed by the small lava volcanoes dotting the stone path to really pay them any attention. They were incredible—tiny holes in the ground spilling lava that flowed like rivers between the houses.

He had mixed feelings about the sight, but he couldn’t deny the beauty hidden in its danger. Much like the blister beetle, which, though brightly colored and looking a lot like a grilled sausage, could cause blisters or even kill a person if eaten—Luffy had learned the hard way that the human digestive system wasn’t ready for that poison.

As fascinating as the lava pools were, the heat had become almost unbearable. Luffy pulled off his shirt, tying the sleeves around his waist so he wouldn’t lose it. From the corner of his eye, he saw the others doing the same.

He seriously considered stripping off his shorts too, when a roar tore through the air. Deep, guttural, carrying the kind of echo that marked a dangerous creature.

With his heart pounding in excitement, Luffy snapped his gaze to where the sound came from, eager to meet the day’s first obstacle.

A

Dragon

He blinked rapidly, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again to make sure he was seeing right—Luffy definitely was.

Because the massive reddish figure covered in scales, sharp teeth, tusks, and huge clawed legs had not vanished or turned into something with a better explanation.

"It’s a dragon!" he exclaimed, jumping up and down, not knowing how else to release the buzzing electricity inside him.

He wanted to do something—many things. His hands itched to stretch out and touch the beast’s rough skin, his legs wanted to climb onto its back so it could carry him into the sky, while his eyes longed to get closer to its mouth and see more clearly the saliva-soaked teeth.

Could it breathe fire?

Oh, hell, if it could, Luffy was going to make it the crew’s new pet.

"I-is that a real dragon?"

"That’s what it looks like."

Zoro raised a brow, trying to appear skeptical, but Luffy knew how to read him better. The way his eye followed the creature’s form showed excitement—lots of excitement. "Dragons don’t exist."

"Neither did Skypiea!" he cheerfully reminded him.

Zoro snorted in reply, but his hands let go of his swords, relaxing as he stepped forward to get a better look.

The dragon did spit fire from its mouth, but not in their direction—which made the display far less impressive to Luffy’s disappointment—but instead toward the other side of the path the beast was blocking.

A shout with a strange accent followed.

"Out of my way, beast!"

The fall and dismemberment of the dragon happened too quickly—even with Luffy’s eyes wide open the entire time.

The dragon spewed a blast of fire, only for it to be split in half. The same strike cut through the scaly skin of its head, leaving a wound running from its eye down to its jaw.

Usopp screamed, Robin gasped, and Zoro readied himself to fight.

A roar—and the next thing Luffy knew, the dragon’s neck was severed from its body, crashing to the ground and leaving a massive dent in the earth.

Luffy shouted, stunned by the events.

What had just happened?

Why had the dragon died like that?

It hadn’t been Zoro, because Luffy knew he was still right beside him, and he didn’t believe he had moved at any moment.

"Hey!" Zoro barked, frowning and pointing with one finger toward the distance, past the dust rising where the beast had fallen.

Luffy squinted, and through the haze, the shifting air making the images ripple like water, he managed to see a tall figure approaching at full speed.

With a sword in hand and strange clothes, the figure charged straight at them.

"Hey, wait!" Luffy exclaimed, raising his arms to draw the attention to himself.

His crew and him weren’t enemies; maybe the thing that had killed the dragon was just confusing them with another fantastical creature.

"Is that a samurai?" Robin asked, and Luffy frowned at that.

He had heard something about the samurai—Luffy could almost be sure that’s what had brought them here, but he wouldn’t swear his hands on fire for the idea.

"The samurai?!" Usopp shrieked.

Apparently, they were supposed to know about the samurai.

Could they really blame him for forgetting when a fire-breathing dragon had just gotten in their way? Luffy didn’t think so.

"But—" he started, noticing how Usopp was hiding behind Robin, staring wide-eyed and terrified at what was supposed to be the samurai. "The dragon!"

Luffy was supposed to defeat that creature—or make it his pet, he still hadn’t decided—and then bring its body to Sanji so he could cook up a rich dragon feast.

How were they supposed to do that if someone else had already cut it down?

"Zoro!"

Luffy snapped his gaze to his friend, catching the exact moment when the samurai’s blades clashed with Zoro’s in a screeching sound.

Usopp screamed again, and Luffy reacted, grabbing both him and Robin to carry them to safety.

That wasn’t a normal samurai—or maybe all samurai were that strong, but Luffy couldn’t really make that statement since he had never seen one before. And even though he had full faith in Zoro’s strength as much as his own, he preferred making sure everyone was safe first.

Robin smiled at him the moment he set them down behind a wrecked house. She lifted her hands, crossing them in front of her chest, and with a nod, signed him to go back and join Zoro.

They could defend themselves well enough from there.

The clashing blades rang in the air, the ringing sound making it easier to follow the fight. Luffy moved closer, careful not to get between the two.

"You killed that guy on the snail?!" Zoro exclaimed during the next strike, blocking the blade aimed at cutting one of his arms.

The samurai jumped back, pushed away by the force of Zoro’s defense, but he didn’t fall. His wooden sandals slammed against the ground as he launched forward again. "I’ve killed many people—you’ll be next," he growled in response.

"Why?!" came the shout from behind one of the houses—Luffy laughed, raising a thumbs up in the direction he knew Usopp was hiding.

That was a good question.

But the samurai didn’t answer, choosing instead to slash out an attack that set the air on fire.

Luffy gasped, losing sight of Zoro in the orange blaze. He frowned, searching for something green, but finding nothing.

He braced his hands on his knees, glaring at the samurai’s satisfied smile.

"Leave him to me, Luffy!"

From above, Zoro came crashing down, biting one of his swords while spinning the other two like a fan.

Luffy shrugged. Zoro seemed fine—with all his limbs and not a drop of blood.

This looked like Zoro’s fight. Luffy wasn’t going to interfere unless they asked him to.

Feeling more at ease, Luffy sat down nearby, cross-legged, one elbow resting on his knee as he propped his face in his hand to watch.

Zoro leapt, saying something Luffy couldn’t hear, then came down again, slicing the air with a strike that also destroyed a large house in the distance.

The samurai staggered back, bouncing across walls multiple times to soften the blow. "A formidable opponent..."

"Sure thing, old man” Zoro laughed, readying himself for another move.

Not many seconds later, Luffy saw what would be the final attack. Zoro raised his arms over his head, spinning his blades in sync before bringing them down in a straight line.

The motion made a sharp, snapping sound, followed by the samurai’s body hitting the ground.

Luffy clapped.

It had been an impressive fight, and though blood spilled from several cuts, there wasn’t a significant amount to make him worry for the samurai’s life—after all, he still wanted to talk to him.

He jumped to his feet, gesturing for Usopp and Robin to join them as he approached.

Up close, there were strange things about the samurai. He wore undeniably odd clothes, wooden shoes that couldn’t be comfortable, and a topknot on his head shaped like a stalk of celery.

Luffy crouched down, squatting before him.

"Who are you?!" The samurai didn’t look happy, glaring fiercely at them.

Usopp managed to grab one of his ammo pieces and slingshot from his bag, aiming it at the stranger’s face.

"Who are you?" Luffy asked curiously, ignoring the first question. He was pretty sure he’d already asked that before... maybe not—but he had certainly thought it.

"He’s the samurai who cut down the one who asked for help, Luffy." Robin said softly from behind him.

He shrugged. There could be more samurai here.

This island could be an island of samurai, and they just didn’t know it. "We don’t know that..."

"He’s a samurai!" Usopp argued, stomping his feet in frustration—Luffy pouted.

While they spoke, the stranger studied them carefully, his eyes scanning each of them one by one. Luffy could tell he was sizing them up, and if his sword hadn’t been lying several meters away, he might’ve worried that he’d lunge at their throats to slit them.

"I am a samurai," the samurai finally spoke—giving Usopp the satisfaction that he’d surely rub in his face later. "Kin’emon, from the Land of Wano."

Luffy grinned wide, noticing how Kin’emon’s crushed pride and defeated spirit briefly came back to life when he mentioned his country with his chest puffed out.

“I’m Luffy!” he declared right after. It was only fair to introduce himself back—understand each other before fighting again, if that’s what they wanted later. “And I’ll be the King of the Pirates!”

The moment the last syllable left his mouth, Luffy realized something had changed. The tension in the air was still there, but now it felt heavier, almost as if the world was holding its breath for an explosion. Luffy frowned, glancing around, trying to spot what had shifted.

“Pirates?!”

The samurai’s furious roar was the only answer. He had already been hostile toward them—never friendly—but his strikes hadn’t carried true rage, almost as if they were mechanical. Now, it was as though the emotion inside him had burst open, spilling through every pore like daggers meant to hurt.

The samurai moved as if he wanted to kill them, fueled by the storm of his emotions. He tried to push himself up, hands pressing against the hot ground, but a sudden strike pinned him down.

Zoro growled, slamming a hand against the samurai’s chest, while his other hand held a gleaming black blade just inches from the man’s throat. “Hey, careful with what you’re doing, old man.”

“You’re pirates!” the samurai snarled, not caring about the blade that should’ve been threatening him. He kept trying to rise, but Zoro forced him back, scraping a shallow cut across his skin.

Luffy tilted his head, frowning. “Yeah, we know that, duh.” It was like the samurai couldn’t think of anything smarter to say, repeating himself like a broken record—poor guy. “Now, tell us why you’re here, and why you’re cutting down people.”

The samurai fell silent, lips pressed tightly together, head turning away from them. Luffy groaned at the gesture, poking his side to get his attention. But nothing happened—he stayed in place, mouth clamped shut.

Zoro broke the silence first, his voice a low growl. “I think my captain asked you something.” His sword pressed again, leaving another shallow cut. “If I were you, I’d start talking.”

“I’ll never tell anything to pirates!” the samurai spat, crossing his arms and sinking closer to the ground to keep the blade away.

Why didn’t he want to talk?

Luffy felt annoyed, and for a moment he wondered if Torao felt the same way when he shook him from side to side. But that was fun, and Luffy always ended up laughing and trying to tickle the man, even while taking blows to the head.

“Captain, I fear getting an answer out of him will be difficult,” Robin said as she stepped forward, placing one hand on his shoulder while the other rested firmly on her hip.

“I don’t think so,” Zoro replied, jabbing the hilt of his sword into the samurai’s stomach. “Talk.”

Still nothing.

“Friend or foe?” Usopp complained, pulling the slingshot band tight. “Although I doubt someone who cuts people up could be a friend… no offense, Zoro.”

“None taken.”

“It would be far from accurate to claim the one who called for help was truly innocent,” Robin added thoughtfully. “However, judging from this samurai’s attitude, I’d say his actions don’t favor him much.”

In an instant, the redness in the samurai’s skin flared, and his scowl twisted into a snarl, baring his teeth. “I don’t attack innocents!”

There was a pause, then Usopp threw his arms up and laughed mockingly. “Ha! You’re talking now!”

“I fell for the trap.”

The tension seemed to ease slightly, and somehow that made the other sounds around them clearer to Luffy. He didn’t believe enemies were usually this stupid—well, exceptions existed, but most weren’t. Even though Zoro still held his blade against the samurai’s skin, there didn’t seem to be any real threat left in the moment.

Luffy lifted his gaze, scanning the surroundings again. The dragon’s body still lay sprawled and ready to roast, but through the haze of heat, he could make out four small lumps sagging in the distance, half-sunken in some kind of liquid.

He sighed, shaking his head. “If you’re not a bad guy, then why did you cut them down?”

There was no need to point out what must’ve been bodies—the crew already knew where to look. Gasps and sighs followed, broken by the samurai’s sudden outburst, his voice defending his name and his actions.

“Because I’m looking for my son, and they’ve imprisoned him!”

“A son…”

“Another samurai?”

Luffy was about to ask more questions—like whether the son wore a miniature version of that weird outfit—but Robin raised her hand, signaling him to stop. “Why do they have him imprisoned?”

The samurai uncrossed his arms, looking far more frantic now than even when he fought Zoro—emotional. “He boarded the wrong ship, and they brought him here, but they won’t let him go.”

“So, it’s basically a kidnapping.”

“Yes!” the samurai roared, his voice rising—not with intent to hurt, but to make himself clear. “They have a laboratory, and many children inside.”

“Oh…”

“No, Luffy—”

The bad guys might not really be the bad guys, and the good guys might not be so good either. Just like the Marine was corrupt and pirates followed their own rules, assumptions weren’t always true. Either way, did it really matter who had started the fight, or what dispute had formed, when the life of a child was in the middle?

Maybe yes, maybe no.

“We’re gonna help you get your son back!”

“Damn it.”

There was another curse that Luffy ignored, too focused on catching the small shifts in the samurai’s face. For just a second he’d gone blank, before a rush of euphoria — poorly controlled — lit up his eyes.

“Why would you do that?” Hope — disbelief. “You’re pirates.”

A moment when a belief was shattered.

“Well, ‘cause I want an adventure, and you want your son!”

“But—”

“Don’t expect too many explanations from the captain, samurai.” His words were cut off. “But I can assure you he’s not going to change his mind.”

Zoro sighed, putting his swords aside and standing up, dusting himself off while giving Luffy a displeased look. “If he says we’re gonna help, then we’ll have to see it through to the end.”

It was all jokes, little pushes not meant to hurt — Luffy knew it, his crew knew it. Because at the end of the day, they all backed each other up, never questioning feelings but sometimes actions, always pulling one another onto a better path.

“Yes!” So Luffy grinned, patting Zoro warmly on the back. “Lead the way!”

“Ow…”

 

---

 

 

Things had changed really fast — and Luffy didn’t think it was for the better.

They’d managed not to freeze, stealing coats off some guys with clouds around their legs who’d tried to kill them — if not for that last part, Luffy might’ve felt a little bad about taking them on. The clouds didn’t move very fast anyway, and looked more like diapers than anything else.

They met up with the others in what seemed like a laboratory, and for some reason now had with them a bunch of huge, big-headed kids — Luffy just let it slide. If Chopper and Nami wanted to deal with them, so be it.

Then there was a new target to take down: the evil scientist of the island, the one who’d kidnapped the giant kids and the samurai’s son — now that was something Luffy could understand, something he knew how to deal with.

He vaguely remembered them splitting into three groups. Nami and Usopp stayed with the kids, Chopper, Brook, Sanji, and Zoro went to look for a way to fix the big-headed children, and Luffy, Franky, and Robin went to punch the scientist right in the face.

Didn’t go exactly as planned, but hey, they were good at improvising.

There’d been an explosion the moment they stepped outside their shelter. Sanji’s group doubled back to protect Nami and Usopp — but Luffy figured they’d get back on mission soon after.

What Luffy didn’t figure on, was being chained and locked up in seastone with Smokey right beside him.

Luffy didn’t even know he was on the island too!

“Oh, how wonderful to see all of you here! The star Marine, White Hunter Smoker, and the rowdy pirate, Straw Hat Luffy! What a spectacle you’ll make!”

The scientist was weird. He had horns and a squeaky voice that annoyed Luffy way more than he expected — even more than his laugh.

He floated in front of them, half his body made of gas, darting anxiously back and forth.

He talked too much and mocked them — Luffy just wanted to punch him already.

Luffy huffed, trying to raise his arms, but the seastone quickly drained his strength.

“My lovely Smiley will finally be shown off in all its glory!” The scientist — Caesar — squealed, raising his arms and speaking to the air.

Luffy rolled his eyes, settling more comfortably on the floor. “What’s a Smiley?”

The giant transponder snail, as tall as a tree, let out a strangled sound, mimicking the projection spilling from its mouth. The image was the only thing keeping Luffy from getting too bored. It showed a massive pink blob eating a candy, alongside more people with clouds around their legs, wearing yellow suits.

“My pet!” The scientist pointed eagerly at the candy, which was now beginning to deflate, pink fumes spilling out in waves. “It petrifies the body in an instant so its poison can spread through the nervous system. My lovely Smiley!”

Luffy blinked, not getting how that could be a pet. “Looks like jelly!”

Beside him, Smokey snorted.

“You are thinking of using us as test subjects, am I wrong?” Robin asked, leaning closer so Luffy could rest against her — the seastone was starting to hurt his back.

“Of course I am!” The goat-scientist nodded, grinning ear to ear. “What better way to prove the power of my weapon than with famous figures like you?”

Franky belched, earning a small smack on the head from Robin — Luffy laughed, sticking his tongue out when Franky glared at him from Robin’s lap.

“This is bad!” shouted the girl who’d come with Smokey. “Our soldiers will get word to the Marine Headquarters—To Vergo!”

The scientist cackled, his laugh echoing so hard it bounced off the walls. “Oh, my little Marine, how would they do that?” he sneered. “They have no transponder snails, and besides — Vergo wouldn’t listen to you anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

Luffy could tell something serious was going on, by the way Smokey tensed, his muscles going rigid like never before — and also from the shine in the girl’s eyes, what looked like the start of tears.

“I guess there’s no need to hide it anymore, you’re going to die anyway.” The goat-scientist shrugged, still wearing that wide, insufferable grin. “Vergo works for Joker, his right hand, I dare say.”

The girl sobbed, clumsily covering her mouth with her tied hands. “No…”

“He’s here, in the labs. A little visit to his soldiers won’t do him any harm.”

Smoker growled, the girl cried harder, Robin held her breath, and Luffy felt like he’d missed something important somewhere in the conversation. “I don’t get it.”

Whoever this Vergo was, he had to be well-known—too bad Luffy didn’t usually read the newspapers.

Robin hummed quietly. “It’s Marine business, Luffy,” she whispered, shaking her head with amused disbelief but not drawing attention to herself. “They were betrayed.”

“Oh.”

Luffy wasn’t about to get involved in Marine affairs—he might butt into other people’s lives, willingly or not, but the Marines were a different level. He wasn’t going there by choice. They could figure out their problems on their own. Luffy had already had enough of them with his grandfather through the years to want more.

Ignoring the hiccuping sobs of the girl with glasses and the threatening aura of Smokey, Luffy inspected the place again, feeling that something had shifted. The projected image kept running, showing the jelly-like creature chasing people in yellow suits, the winged girl absentmindedly moving her feathers in a corner, and the scientist flying from one spot to another, pressing buttons and pulling levers.

But there was something else, a change in the structure, in the atmosphere. Luffy blinked, tilting his head from side to side to understand—it was something he felt under his skin, something familiar.

He sensed it before he saw it; at the far wall, one of the entrances to the room, a tiny projectile was launched in their direction.

“Where’s Vergo?! Does he want us to start without him?”

“I believe he’s busy, master.”

The little thing landed on Franky’s face, hitting one of his eyes, but his complaint died on his lips when Robin’s hand covered his mouth. She gestured for silence, glancing briefly at their captors before smiling playfully.

She knew something, and Luffy nodded silently, excited for her to share it.

“With what?!”

“Roronoa Zoro and Foxfire Kin’emon are facing him near the tanks.”

“Huh? Did I hear that right—near the tanks?! Tell him to get out of there right now, it’s way too delicate for him to be there!”

“I will, but I’m sure he knows it already.”

Robin opened her hand, revealing a very crumpled paper ball.

“What’s he playing at?! He should just defeat them.”

Franky grimaced, and Luffy was about to complain about how boring the discovery was when the paper fell to the side, revealing keys.

“Very well, no matter.” The cage started to move, shaking violently and rocking their bodies—Robin clenched her fist tightly, securing the contents in her hand. “We’ll start without him.”

The wall behind them opened. Freezing air and snow blasted against them.

A shadow with blond hair peeked in briefly before vanishing—Luffy grinned.

“Have fun!”

The cage was launched outside.

 

---

 

 

His body vibrated, his blood bubbling restlessly beneath layers of skin and muscle, unable to contain itself. Luffy could feel it—every part of him begging to give that rat Caesar what he deserved.

A clown.

Caesar Clown.

Luffy advanced, Momo wrapped around his neck, through the empty hallways of the laboratory—having already knocked out the lackeys that had shown him the way.

They deserved it. Luffy couldn’t feel compassion for them.

The corridors were frozen, and the sound beyond a metal door a few meters away grew louder. Muffled voices, whispers, bursts of laughter, followed by dull thuds—all crashing into his ears.

Caesar was going to pay for everything.

For locking him in a cage, for endangering his crew’s lives with poisonous gas, and for abusing the children—for using them as disposable tools, playing a cruel game of how long they could survive, with not a hint of remorse.

Momo had told him, and Chopper had begun to suspect it: Caesar was poisoning the children, testing how long each could last before death.

Stripping them of their freedom long before they could even understand what it meant to be unchained.

Luffy walked, each step measured, firm, deliberate. His fingers flexed, fists tightening, coated in armament haki—and every particle of air heavy with conqueror’s.

He heard bodies collapse, limp and unconscious, to the floor. One after another.

Securing Momo around him, Luffy attacked, stretching his arm until Caesar’s gaseous skin broke under his fist.

The crack of bones shattering brought satisfaction, even more so when Caesar’s body smashed into a metal wall, denting it under the force.

“You’re still here, Straw Hat?!” The few cloud-legged people left standing pointed their weapons at him, useless beside the bleeding Caesar. “Monet should’ve killed you!”

Luffy laid Momo’s unconscious body to the side, ensuring he was protected by a metal structure in the corner. He didn’t want anything to happen to him—the kid was already too weak from hunger and the effort of escaping the garbage pit they had fallen into.

Luffy would defeat Caesar, and make sure Momo and all the children could finally rest without worrying about the future.

“Alright then, I’ll deal with you myself…”

Caesar had gotten back up, wiping the blood from his face with his clothes. He still had cuts where the skin had split, and red drops around his mouth.

Luffy hated his voice, his laugh, his figure, and those stupid horns. They drilled into his eardrums like a deafening shriek.

He was going to silence it.

He coated another fist, forcing the pressure in his blood to rise, feeling the familiar heat burning on his now pink skin.

Caesar also readied himself for the fight, stretching his arms out to his sides. "After all, you’re just another one of the Worst Generation."

Luffy knew the limits and reach of the gas power — the Gas-Gas Fruit. He had fought him before, and Cesar wasn’t a good opponent.

He didn’t have a solid body, wasn’t prepared to take hits, didn’t have the strength to deliver them. And even if he was a logia, haki made it easy to catch him.

The only real problem was the oxygen he controlled, cutting it off from Luffy’s lungs with ease — but even that had a limit.

The attack only worked within a specific radius around the user, and luckily for Luffy, he was made of rubber.

He moved back, anticipating the lack of air, and took a huge gulp of it. An instant later, both his fists slammed against the clown’s chest.

Caesar went flying again, his head hitting the ceiling before he turned into gas once more, preventing further damage. But it didn’t stop the blood from flowing, staining his face and body, dripping onto the floor.

Caesar staggered, trying to recover clumsily. "You’re just lucky, Straw Hat, very lucky. But that luck will run out soon. You and all those brats from two years ago are just kids pretending to be adults..."

Kids.

Just kids.

Was that what they’d always see him as?

His grandfather still beat him down, insulted him, belittled his abilities the same way he did the first time he dumped Luffy into the bandits’ forest.

Nami hit him without thinking, speaking to him with overly simple words, slow and exasperated — as if he couldn’t understand otherwise.

Sanji sent him off to “play with Chopper,” kicking him out of conversations before he could say anything.

Franky barred him from the workshop, never thinking that Luffy could follow orders if they just asked.

Luffy knew they had grown — but so had he.

They weren’t kids playing at being pirates. They weren’t kids playing at being adults — Luffy wasn’t playing at anything.

Caesar didn’t finish talking. He opened his mouth again, smiling wickedly despite the wounds on his face. "Look how that turned out for Law. The kid’s worthless these days. Who would’ve thought — with all that crazy aura on his wanted posters, he turned out to be nothing but a rat of la—"

Luffy’s chest rose and fell sharply, lungs sucking air while the blood rushed to his ears, pounding with his heartbeat. Before he could think, his fist smashed straight into Caesar’s nose.

He heard it break, felt it beneath his knuckles — the bone shifting out of place and tearing through the skin.

"Shut up!" he yelled furiously. "Don’t you dare talk about him like that."

Torao wasn’t there; he couldn’t defend himself.

But Luffy could do it — they could badmouth him, insult him, and Luffy would answer each and every one of them with his fists.

But Torao wasn’t there.

He wasn’t with Luffy when the prophet spoke of the future awaiting him, he wasn’t there when the clown dragged his name through the dirt.

But he would be. Because he had promised Luffy, and Luffy had promised him — someday, Law would be at his side.

Law was intelligent, powerful, someone to look up to — Luffy would follow him if that’s what he wanted. Luffy would follow him even if it wasn’t Law’s wish, because he simply was… unique.

A light he had learned to seek out — not like the sun, blinding, scorching, and overwhelming, but the moon: calm, a steady guide, and with golden eyes burning like a bonfire, overflowing with warmth and allure.

He wasn’t a rat, he wasn’t worthless — and Luffy wasn’t going to let anyone call him that.

"Oh? But I’m just telling the truth." Caesar shrugged, though the pain was clear. His hands trembled under his purple gloves, and the gap between his teeth showed where one root had been broken off. "Joker’s enjoying that obedient little dog side of his. And there are plenty of experiments underway thanks to it."

Luffy’s jaw tensed unconsciously. His teeth ground together, threatening to chip under the pressure. "You don’t know what you’re talking about— don’t you dare!"

Caesar laughed at him, raising a brow in his direction.

He smiled as if he knew something Luffy didn’t, as if he could choose what Luffy was allowed to know.

Luffy didn’t like that.

He was sick of people doing that.

"It’s been a long time since you vanished, Straw Hat." Caesar hummed, fixing his yellow eyes on Luffy’s — but they were wrong, hideous. Even if the color was similar, they lacked something, because they weren’t golden, they weren’t bright and warm. "It’s not wise to get on Joker’s bad side. You should know better than that."

Luffy growled, far more annoyed than he had been before.

Joker this, Joker that.

Luffy didn’t care about Joker—he hated him. Because that person was behind the laboratory, because he commanded every person on this island, because he was Caesar’s boss and spoke badly about Law.

Luffy wouldn’t think twice about going against him if he ever crossed his path.

“I don’t care!”

He wasn’t going to waste more time; his patience was already reaching its limit.

He stepped back, running in reverse to gain momentum, and bit into his thumbs, making a small incision.

Caesar must have realized the attack—or maybe it was the waves of haki he couldn’t help but release, pouring out of his body like overflowing seas

Luffy made sure Momo was out of the way.

“Joker controls everything! You’re dead if you’re his enemy!” Caesar shrieked. “He’s got the underworld, the Marines in his hands, and the kingdom of Dressrosa under his power! You’re nothing compared to him!”

There was something there, as if one of those words had reached him before.

A déjà vu, maybe, but Luffy couldn’t put his finger on it.

It sat wrong with him. A hole opened in his stomach, a void dragging him down, almost uncomfortable. Luffy felt like something important—something big—was slipping away from him.

But this wasn’t the time to stop and think, was it?

His fists swelled, despite the itching that told him to pause for just a second more, to put together the puzzle laid before him. Luffy coated his skin with armament haki, turning it into that shining black with purple sparks.

“Let’s think this over, Straw Hat,” Caesar’s voice jumped several octaves, cracking mid-sentence into a pathetic whine. “Joker can still forgive you, I’ll tell him it was all a mistake, but let’s calm down. I can get him to let you see La—”

He didn’t let him finish—the hole in his stomach widened, sending shivers through him and a heaviness he forced himself to ignore—and he struck, slamming his enlarged fists against the clown’s body.

“I told you to shut up!”

The heaviness didn’t fade, and maybe he should have let the clown share a bit more of the information he had. Maybe he’d rushed into action when waiting just a moment longer wouldn’t have hurt much.

Monkey D. Luffy defeated Caesar Clown, sending his body flying out of the laboratory.

Notes:

I think this is the longest chapter I’ve ever written in my life — no idea how that happened. I guess having something to guide me while messing with the original storyline and letting my imagination fly is a lot easier than I expected.
That said, I have to warn you not to get used to it, there’s a very high chance I’ll go back to chapters of around 2,000 words.

As you can see, some things have changed, and even if it was only half a sentence here and there, or just small hints of the most important ones, I’d dare say they’ll have consequences later on.

It wasn’t so focused on Luffy and Law, but I wanted it to make sense — Luffy wasn’t going to be thinking about Law every two seconds, and when he’s on an adventure it’s very likely he’ll forget about everything else.

I came to the conclusion that they would have finished off the soldiers much faster if it hadn’t been for Law turning their legs into animal ones, and if Kin’emon had been in one piece so they didn’t have to go on the mission to recover the rest of his body. And since Sanji is free — and the most strategic of the crew — he had the time to figure out how to get Luffy and company out of the seastone cage without revealing his identity or making a bigger mess.

There also wasn’t all the headache of the lost and swapped hearts (or the roof being cut apart by Law), so they had fewer problems overall.

I hope you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and if you feel like dropping a comment (any kind, really) I’d be very happy — I love hearing from you.

Chapter 11: Scylla

The smoke spread, taking on a pale pink hue from the inevitably mingled particles.

“What’s the damage?”

The transporter snail hummed softly, the deep voice within beating rhythmically against the palm of his hand.

“The Smile tanks are still intact. Only the children and a few rooms destroyed…” he answered, unconsciously lifting his gaze to assess his surroundings.

He couldn’t really see any of the damage or the standing structures; he was still inside that dark cave, accompanied only by groans and gurgles that proved he wasn’t alone. “Nothing important, Doffy.”

Vergo pressed down harder with his foot, keeping it as leverage — a muffled scream.

“Good. Seems we’ve been lucky,” Doflamingo commented, humming. The snail’s face mimicked a wide grin, teeth flashing. “How’s our dear Caesar?”

“Beaten.”

The scientist had been blown into the factory’s interior the moment his energy had barely recovered — he hadn’t come out since. His injuries weren’t fatal, limited to broken facial bones and ribs, so Vergo had let him be.

He would deal with his recovery later.

A playful laugh from Doflamingo. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The gas mask irritated his face, restricting his movements, and the stale stench was driving him insane, nauseated. The marines had worn it, contaminating it with their scent and the filth that would never leave their skin, born of their lineage.

A bloody hand, with bones twisted from irreparable fractures, crawled toward him, stretching its phalanges with the intent of grasping his ankle. Vergo kicked it away, the tip of his shoe colliding with the skin, sending it flying along with the rest of the body.

Thud

“The ship with the children has already set sail; they’ll reach the next island in a few days.” He spoke when the line fell silent, adding more information Doflamingo could probably guess on his own.

“I know, I know…” Vergo nodded, even if the gesture wouldn’t be received on the other end. “We’ll have to relocate the factory elsewhere.”

Vergo knew it already, but the statement weighed heavily on his shoulders. The factory was a massive complex, dozens of rooms equipped with safeguards against radioactive accidents and machines that made experiments easier. Destroying and moving it to another island under their influence would be a headache and a drain on resources.

Another wave of irritating energy coursed through his body, demanding an outlet. Without much thought, Vergo plunged a metal pipe coated in haki into his victim’s open wound.

Smoker screamed at the top of his lungs, likely tearing the vocal cords that remained intact. His former subordinate writhed before choking on his own blood, pouring in rivers from his open mouth.

Trying to survive was pointless — Vergo was going to kill them all, one by one.

The bodies of infantry Marines piled on one another in a misshapen mound at the side of the dark cave. Their insignias the only thing that gleamed on them, stained in places with dried bodily fluids.

G-5 — worthless Marines.

“Ah!” Doflamingo called his attention. “And Vergo?”

He made a sound to show he was listening for the next instruction, easing the pressure on Smoker’s intestines.

“Yes?”

There was a second of silence — a heartbeat.

“Leave no witnesses.”

Notes:

As I said before, there were bound to be some repercussions to their actions—loose ends left behind. Now others are going to pay the price for that.

I know this is a short chapter, and honestly, it was meant to be just a complement to the next one. But some things came up and I couldn’t finish the following chapter, so I’m giving you this in the meantime.

Still, I hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 12: Say No to This

In the spring it burned, so strongly that anyone would have expected it to be summer. The morning rays of the sun struck hard against every surface, increasing the suffocation, shooting it higher, even though it was still the beginning of the year.

Even though many hours had passed since the sun had completely disappeared.

Marek had spent the day locked inside one of the offices, taking care of the paperwork for the week his partner had missed. Delays were not allowed—Vinsmoke Judge would not let it slide, no matter what excuses they came up with.

His eyes hurt from so much time focusing on tiny letters, and the redness in them was starting to become worrying — Merek caught his reflection in one of the cafeteria windows, pausing for a moment before leaving the common room completely.

Most of the lights remained off, the few flickering sources of light came from lanterns behind closed doors, casting deformed figures that decorated the corridors eerily.

Merek had to go to his dormitory; with luck, he would manage to get a few hours of sleep. He prayed to recover what had been lost throughout the week, for Sunday was nearly upon him—or rather, the hands of the clock must have already passed midnight—and his day off as well.

Being transferred to the new business headquarters had sounded like the best opportunity his career could give him when the announcements were made many months before. An island in the middle of the New World, secured with an army of great names, known for their physical and mental power worldwide; the place where the most important decisions would be made, all behind the world’s back, under the table.

Working there could very well have been anyone’s dream: easy, straightforward, being in the right place at the right time to be the first to know the new courses of history.

But it was much more than that.

He realized that from the very first moment he set foot in the port.

Merek had never seen Impel Down, limiting himself to hearing about its infrastructure from others’ mouths or newspapers from time to time; however, the new headquarters was the perfect definition of his imagination.

ENJOYMENT

The underground port, built from thick metals, was the only thing he could see for himself. There was no main door from the surface, only endless walls built to keep an indestructible separation.

The offices were fine, conditioned depending on the soldiers’ original squad, joined in the center of the island through enclosed passages reserved for the highest ranks. And in the center, the main office, a wide space with tall shelves and arranged to be used as a meeting room for the leaders.

Very few had access — Merek did.

Between his fingers, he played with the small metallic square, the material capturing the reflection of the faint night lights. He wrapped the keycard string around his wrist, tying a small knot so it wouldn’t fall.

He would be dead if that happened.

And from there, the rumors — at first, that’s all they were. The bosses used to regularly walk the underground facilities during the first months, where access became much more restricted. Very few had seen beyond the ports, much less the inside of the underwater structure where only specialized guards were allowed to wander.

Some claimed to hear screams, the sound of bones crushed to dust and unmistakable blows coated with unimaginable power.

Long after, the rumors were confirmed.

He ventured into the darkness, descending the stairs to the lower floors. No one would notice the small changes in decoration unless they were aware of where to look. The hollow, thin metal doors turned into thick, fine materials; the bare walls displayed paintings with golden frames.

But the darkness of the night remained the same — so black that details vanished from the human eye.

Merek held the back of his head, feeling the headache throbbing against his skull. The mere movement drained the little energy he had left.

Work was becoming far too heavy, pushing his department into overtime hours without rest for the entire last month. The boss wasn’t there—none of them had been for several weeks—but the ships demanding updates kept arriving, and the investigations in all departments did not stop.

Merek froze, the only sound left behind was his own steps, but still...

What came next was ragged breathing, the air escaping from someone’s lungs before their system could make proper use of it. Merek turned his head, searching for the source of the new presence.

He was supposed to be alone there, that level wasn’t used by anyone except—

From the corner of the corridor, a hand holding the wall was the first thing his eyes could catch. The moonlight cast enough illumination to distinguish the movements, but the details remained unreadable.

Hesitating, Merek took a step forward. His heels echoed against the polished ceramic, and a groan of pain answered him. The person stepped out, moving slowly—that was enough for him to rush to their aid.

He was no doctor, not trained for anything beyond counting numbers and deciphering enemy movements from sheets of paper, but he could tell this person was not well.

The first thing he noticed was the bare feet, unprotected against the cold floor that, even in summer, remained at low temperatures. The clothes were badly arranged, sliding down in some places and the laces hanging in loose knots. He could see pale stains, but the color was beyond his sight.

Trafalgar Law.

The prisoner recently released in an act for which there was no explanation.

Merek held him, grabbing the nearest arm to keep him on his feet. His legs trembled slightly, and he bent over at the stomach, one hand on his knee for support.

“Easy…” he found himself saying, the words leaving his mouth without much thought.

For a good few seconds there was no response, the two of them just staying in the same position until something happened. The other’s breathing slowed, deep inhalations interrupted by coughs after a few seconds.

Trafalgar lifted his head.

Merek couldn’t help but look at him. His face bore no fresh bruises, but large faded green marks covered his cheekbones and crown. His golden eyes met his, shining even in the darkness of the night.

Trafalgar broke eye contact instantly, shifting slightly as his gaze fell to the floor. “I’m sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry.” He said, a reply he was already used to giving despite his real feelings.

Merek didn’t want to be there, not with the exhaustion he felt nor with the little desire he had to talk to a prisoner. That man, still in his arms, had been labeled as nothing more than an insect by his superiors.

And that was how it should have stayed.

He didn’t know what had happened to cause the abrupt change, nor did he feel like finding out. Merek did his job, followed orders to the letter, which had managed to push him into good positions in Germa’s army. He didn’t devote himself to anything else and didn’t intend to do anything that would interrupt his rise.

Trafalgar stirred, pulling his arm away with effort — Merek pressed his lips together, watching the man sway precariously. “It’s fine, I’m better, I can go on my own.”

He wanted to nod and leave, finish the stretch to the stairs and go down a few more levels to where his room was. His throbbing headache had begun to spread to his temples, dangerously close to his eardrums. He needed to sleep, to rest.

But Trafalgar’s feet didn’t rise high enough to complete even a minimal dragged step. His toes clumsily brushed the ceramic and inevitably gravity did its work.

“Damn it.”

Merek lunged to catch the man’s body before he collapsed completely. His hands landed on the lower part of his back, forcing him to bend over so as not to let either of them fall. Trafalgar made a surprised sound, almost imperceptible under the growl in his throat and the little strength left in his vocal cords.

He hurried to put them both in better positions, managing to get Trafalgar to lean both on him and on the wall to his left, distributing his weight evenly.

The beginnings of regret formed into a growing knot in his stomach. Merek was really going to regret this. “I’ll go with you, where are you headed?”

Trafalgar said nothing, stubbornly avoiding his gaze; however, Merek insisted, hiding the irritation in his voice. “Are you lost?”

One, two, three, four… the seconds passed and Merek found himself wondering if there weren’t more people on that level to deal with the prisoner so he could drop the burden. He wasn’t a babysitter, much less altruistic enough to be doing charity work.

“No, it’s just—” Merek shot his eyes at Trafalgar, hearing his hoarse voice crack uncomfortably into something embarrassed — shy. “I was hoping to find a nurse.”

The tone of voice threw him off, a complete contrast to the reports of the ruthless surgeon pirate, known for his sadism and impassive attitude. This person in front of him was faintly illuminated with a red shadow of shame spreading across his cheeks, his nose, and up to his ears.

There was nothing left of the cruel pirate he had been — if he had ever been one — broken down, turned into nothing more than a useless doll.

Something inside Marek stirred.

“You’re hurt…” he found himself saying. The words came out of his mouth without him thinking about what he was saying, focused only on capturing the open expression on the former pirate’s face. “I’m not a nurse.”

The golden eyes darkened under his furrowed brows, forming an annoyed grimace. “I can see that.” It was only for a second, where Trafalgar’s hard look shifted back into wide eyes again, a swirl of emotions that Merek couldn’t decipher at that moment. Maybe if he watched longer, he could break it down piece by piece, separating it as if they were colors in small compartments. “Look, I don’t want to be bother you—”

“There’s no infirmary in this part of the complex, you won’t find one.” Merek shook his head, both for himself and for Trafalgar, trying to make sense of too many thoughts crowding into each other. “That’s what I meant.”

“Oh.”

The other man didn’t seem willing to say anything else, his gaze fell back to the floor, letting the moonlight illuminate his dark hair and profile.

Merek blinked, doing his best to keep the conversation going. “But, there are first aid kits in all the storage rooms, several on each level,” he said, keeping his voice light, almost youthful. “You can use one of those.”

However, Trafalgar grunted in response, so softly that Merek only noticed it by the vibration in his body. “They stay locked.”

“No.” Merek frowned, stopping himself before rolling his eyes or calling the pirate an idiot. “Any kind of key…”

He felt stupid, remembering who he was talking to. The prisoner, Trafalgar, could have been free as a bird now, slipping through the corridors and eating meals prepared especially for his tastes if the rumors were true, but that didn’t erase the captivity he was still in.

A keycard?

Merek doubted the bosses were stupid enough to give him that much access — although...

“I can get you one,” he said, managing a faint smile.

Trafalgar’s eyes lifted immediately, as if trying to measure how far that offer went, surprised by it. Merek simply put more effort into relaxing his muscles, opening his posture to create trust.

“You work here.”

“I know,” he replied with a shrug, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He didn’t like those kinds of people, the ones who said obvious things out loud, too stupid to connect the dots on their own — but he had to shove those emotions down his throat, hiding them for now. “We’ve been ordered to keep you safe, and no offense, but you don’t look good.”

His damp hair clung to his forehead, stray strands covering fresh scars that blended easily into the cinnamon-colored skin around them. Merek briefly wondered how he had managed to keep the bright color so well after so many months under darkness and filth, without a trace of sun on his skin. Maybe it was just his own natural tone, a honey undertone that matched so well with his reddish lips and golden eyes.

The clothes kept slipping off his shoulders, torn in some places, revealing the same color on his chest and back.

“Orders?” Trafalgar repeated, a skeptical edge in his voice. Then he lowered his face, hiding half of his expression under the shadow — a sigh. “Whatever, look, I can wait until one of your superiors comes. I suppose there’s a reason they haven’t given me a first aid kit directly, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I said they’re orders; you heard me yourself,” he replied firmly, feeling his patience reach its limit. He leaned forward, loading his voice with an authority he rarely used. “I’m taking you to your room.”

For the first time, Trafalgar looked at him as if he truly saw him. There was a spark — fleeting, intense — of something he couldn’t decipher. And a timid smile stretched across the pirate’s rosy lips. “You’re too kind, sir”

The corridor stretched in silence, and Merek didn’t know why the prisoner’s presence beside him made him so tense — feeling the muscles of his back move under his grip or the breath that brushed softly against him. It wasn’t fear; it couldn’t be, not with Trafalgar’s weakened figure.

It was something that pushed him to look too much, to register every movement, every breath, as if he needed to find something.

What? He still had no idea.

At the end of the hallway, a white door, made of polished stone like porcelain, appeared marking the destination.

“Wait for me there.”

The tone sounded kind, passive, neither authoritative nor indulgent. Right in the middle point he wanted to project. Trafalgar raised his gaze, a strange glint shining in his golden eyes, but he nodded softly.

He left him at the door and turned toward the adjacent storage room. The handle creaked under his hand, and the metallic, disinfectant smell enveloped him as he stepped inside. The first aid kit waited on the wall, immaculate. He took it in his hands, and for an instant he wondered what the hell he was doing.

It was absurd. Absurd and dangerous. A breach of the rules for which he could pay dearly. But something made him keep moving, stretching his own needs to resolve Trafalgar’s first. Merek knew he didn’t care about him, couldn’t care less if he died from a fatal wound in the next few minutes — he wasn’t going to cry over his death or regret it beyond wasting so much energy helping him walk when he could have been somewhere better.

And yet, he found himself holding the first aid kit under his arm, stepping into Trafalgar’s room with a faint smile and leaving the tension in his shoulders behind, artificially.

Trafalgar was waiting for him, seated on his bed, turning only slightly when he heard him enter. Merek handed him the kit, and a second later its contents were laid out: gauze, disinfectant, and tape.

The ceiling lamp fell obliquely over him, illuminating the marks on his skin, as his fingers brushed lightly over the different materials before choosing one, lifting it gently until it made contact with his body.

Merek stayed watching in silence. Too much. Every movement was meticulous: the sleeve rolled up that soon turned into the shirt being lifted over his shoulders to reveal a torso full of bruises, the fingers pressing firmly against a wound, the concentrated expression.

He had no reason to stay there, and yet he did, because he couldn’t look away.

“Ask, I don’t mind,” murmured Trafalgar, not lifting his eyes from the wound he was disinfecting, though Merek noticed how his hands faltered for an instant.

Merek blinked, caught, yet it only made his smile spread wider. “They look recent,” he commented.

“They are, some of them.” His voice faltered after a few seconds, almost a hesitant hum before speaking again. “Blackbeard came by for a last visit. Now…”

Merek stared intently at him, marveling to see him completely still. A small crease between his brows and forehead caught his attention, making him wonder if it was anger or sadness. He leaned further in his position, trying to catch more details of the pirate’s face.

“They’re suddenly gone. I— I don’t know what to think.” Trafalgar continued, barely a broken murmur.

He finally lifted his head, revealing eyes glistening far more than they already were.

Tears.

The air in his lungs caught, the image felt surreal. He realized what was happening, far more aware of his surroundings and himself than he had been all night

Merek shook his head, remembering who Trafalgar was: a prisoner, a toy of the bosses that no one really knew what to do with. No one would really care if something happened to him. Still, Merek had to think things through first, rest for the remainder of the night, and return the next day with a clear head if that was what he wanted.

“Well, I should head back…” he said, moving toward the exit, the door still ajar behind him.

But his eyes couldn’t leave Trafalgar’s figure, couldn’t help but notice his eyes widening in poorly concealed alarm, the way his cheeks turned red as he awkwardly tried to block the way, placing himself between Merek and the door.

“Stay.” Trafalgar spoke, his lips parting just enough for the sound to come out, shining as his tongue passed to moisten them. “Please.”

Trafalgar had been reduced to nothing more than a damn brat, useless, helpless, and weak.

 

---

 

Merek wished he could say that was the last time, but he couldn’t without lying. That day repeated itself so many times that, by the end of the month, he couldn’t even count them anymore.

Every night, when his steps carried him to that level —where he had no official excuse to be—, a wave of regret bit into him little by little. He hesitated at the doorknob, his knuckles frozen just inches from knocking. And right at the moment he gathered the courage to turn back, Trafalgar opened.

And Merek knew he had fallen once again.

He calmed himself by repeating that none of it was illegal. Nothing forbidden that could cost him his job or his life. Trafalgar could do whatever he wanted —as Merek had quickly learned— as long as his actions didn’t affect the bosses. Even if he still looked just as broken, helpless, as the first time their eyes met.

The cafeteria was overflowing with people, as every evening, soldiers gathering regardless of their units, at large metal tables. His brain was still sluggish, heavy from waking up early and from the first batch of folders he had to drag into his office.

“Hey…” Merek looked up at the whisper, surprised to see one of his coworkers approaching with tense anxiety in his muscles. “Here.”

The movement was invasive, quick, and secretive, Isack’s hands diving into his jacket pocket in a second before pulling it out just as fast.

“What—”

Isack shushed him immediately, forcing normalcy as he poked at his food. Only the worried grimace on his face betrayed him. Confused, Merek patted his own pockets, feeling between his fingers a familiar metallic chill, the usual weight that somehow he hadn’t noticed missing all morning.

How was it possible he hadn’t felt it?

“Something happened,” Isack said, his eyes darting furtively to the sides as if he feared someone could overhear. Merek’s own breath hitched, the sense that something bad was happening gripping him like a dark premonition. “I know it wasn’t you, because I was with you all night doing those reports.”

A knot formed in his throat, precariously lodged where his Adam’s apple showed, making it hard for words to come out.

“It wasn’t me— what the hell are you talking about?” he growled impatiently — a shiver shot down his spine, making the hair at his nape stand on end.

Something important.

Fuck, it was something important.

“Someone broke into the main offices before sunrise,” Isack said in a low voice. “There was an emergency meeting just a few minutes ago.”

The weight of the keycard seemed to increase, dragging down the strength of his body.

“The files were taken out of place, a mess everywhere you looked,” Isack continued, but Merek’s ears felt stuffed with cotton, the sound too far away. “And among the papers… was that.”

Merek’s heart shrank, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. He couldn’t feel his hands, too cold despite the heat of the afternoon, his blood drained from his body, chills coursing one after another, just like the rapid beats of his heart that refused to slow down.

“Who—”

Isack didn’t let him finish, maybe feeling guilty hearing his voice crack, or maybe too focused on ending the conversation before someone else could catch the meaning of their exchanged words. “Just me. I grabbed it before anyone else noticed it was there.”

He didn’t realize what he was doing until the keycard rested in his trembling hands, shaking uncontrollably. His name gleamed in black letters, each one perfectly engraved in the center of the metal, undeniably identifying its owner.

Merek Vioncy.

“I don’t know where you left it for someone aiming to mess with the bosses to get a hold of it, but be more careful, we’re all in the spotlight now.”

Reality hit him like a punch to the gut.

Shit.

Shit on him, shit on his life, and shit on Trafalgar Law.

Because there was no doubt that the bastard had thought himself smarter than he was.

 

---

 

He tore the keycard from his neck, where he had tied it with a string to keep an eye on it. The small loop snapped under the force, unraveling into thin, long threads that danced in the air stirred by the speed at which he was running.

His steps hadn’t stopped for a second since the workday had ended. He didn’t wait any longer before racing straight toward Trafalgar’s room.

His heart raced, from the effort the action forced out of him, and from the innate fury burning in his chest, scorching the fumes until his head was filled with blood, hot, bubbling, ready to burst.

Trafalgar must have felt it coming from the moment his feet stepped onto that level, pounding furiously against the tiled floor, his breathing echoing off the walls. Paying little mind to the few or nonexistent people who might see him, Merek threw the door open.

The sound exploded in his ears, porcelain slamming against the nearest wood, the material trembling on the verge of breaking.

“How could you?!” he roared, the words falling short as he strode forward in long steps until he was face to face with him.

And he saw nothing but the same— intensified.

His eyes were so wide that not a single millimeter of gold was lost between his lashes or the shadow of his lids.

Oh, but he knew.

With that frightened expression, caught red-handed— it was something he couldn’t hide.

Because Trafalgar had never been good at hiding, or at least that’s what Merek had always thought.

Red spread across the man’s bronzed skin, mixing with the rims of his eyes, where the whites were slowly darkening into something deeper.

“No— no, what are you—”

Merek drank in the sight. Trafalgar couldn’t hold on any longer once his voice cracked, letting tears stream down his cheeks.

His clothes hung as loosely as so many times before, wrapped in layers of blankets now tossed aside when Merek had first entered, revealing his figure seated on the bed.

Now he used the sleeves of his shirt to cover his face, trying to wipe away the mess of tears and despair.

Pathetic.

“You dared to think you could steal from me?” he thundered, seizing one of the man’s hands tightly. “That I would fall into your trap?”

“It’s not what you think!”

He was sobbing, his shoulders rising and falling along with his chest, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“Stop crying, goddammit!” he growled, his teeth scraping together in a grind. “Get up!”

One of Trafalgar’s hands tried to grab his, forcing strength to free his other trapped limb. His nails dug into Merek’s skin, and something fierce lit up in his eyes for an instant, catching him off guard.

It was so quick, a single blink that threw him completely off balance.

But once again, Trafalgar went on crying, letting himself be dragged until he was finally on his feet.

“I didn’t know any better!” The door slammed shut, pushed by one of his feet to muffle the shouting in the room. “You were there and I—”

Merek felt blood trickling down his fingers, where the nails had pierced his skin. He stared at the drops through the haze of his vision. When the emotions settled, nothing remained in his ears but emptiness.

“If they find out, I’m ruined.” he said, much softer than before.

He had been lucky.

He had let his guard down.

His shoulders warmed at the presence of another skin covering them. Trafalgar’s breath hit his face, hot, strong, there, so close.

“Please, please.” He heard him say, almost a plea— almost false. “Don’t leave me.”

Helpless.

The softness of his touch, the silence filled by the beating of his heart, little by little made the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.

Merek exhaled, watching reason flow out of him, draining his mind against his will.

“No,” he said, closing his eyes with effort, squeezing his lids until wrinkles formed on his forehead.

“Stay, stay, stay…” like a mantra, Trafalgar’s sweet words reached his ears, sinking in and piercing his mind without restraint.

He felt himself falling.

Once more.

Just once.

Merek should have said no, ended once and for all the loose thread that would lead to his death.

Trafalgar hummed sweetly, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop his eyes from opening, meeting gold. So bright, so close that temptation gripped his precious peak beneath the skin, making the chance to seize the treasure irresistible.

He couldn’t stop himself from coming back.

He couldn’t refuse, even as he realized the implications, as he understood that the glow making the gold so alluring wasn’t what he had believed, and as he came to see their roles for what they truly were.

He didn’t know how to say no.

Not to Trafalgar.

 

---

 

His eyes opened, feeling the cold seep into his body between the blankets and padded sheets that seemed to be everywhere.

Merek turned his head, ignoring the small Christmas ornaments scattered all around and searching for the numbers on the wall clock.

3:47 a.m.

Still far too early for his sleep to be interrupted when his work shift began at eight.

He squinted, wrinkling his face at the bright moonlight striking directly into his pupils, partially hidden by a figure.

Trafalgar Law.

Standing with only a coat thrown over his pajamas, the man leaned against the edge of the window, letting the December snowflakes fall carelessly on his clothes.

His brow was furrowed, his eyes clouded with his own thoughts even if they were fixed on an object in his hands.

The metal keycard, still shining, still carrying his name.

Merek pressed his lips into a thin line and closed his eyes, even if he knew what image danced beneath his eyelids.

He could hear the whisper of the man’s skin brushing against the metal, rubbing it unconsciously from a distance.

Merek sighed, turning in his position to ignore him and try to fall back asleep.

He was good at that, he had realized; at ignoring.

He ignored the way Trafalgar acted around him.

He ignored how, on more nights than not, the keycard had been moved from its place on the bedside table of that room.

He ignored how Trafalgar’s eyes lingered longer than they should on that piece of metal every time he saw him.

He ignored how his life was risked every day for something he didn’t know was worth it.

He ignored the nervousness he felt every hour, waiting for the moment he would be taken to execution.

He ignored how that situation had no way out.

Because he kept coming back anyway, ignoring how his reason begged him to turn around and leave.

But no one had to know, because it didn’t matter — Merek had nowhere else to go.

Notes:

I don’t know why, but it feels easier for me to portray Law from another POV. I originally thought this chapter would be no more than 2,500 words but… I love this song and I just couldn’t leave it out. This is my story and I can do whatever I want with it.

Now, as you can see (just to clarify, in case anyone wondered), Law was playing with Merek from the very beginning. Did he really have wounds when they first met? If you notice, Merek describes him with old bruises, but no fresh, bleeding injuries in sight—even when he takes off his shirt. So no, there was no beating from Blackbeard or anyone else. Law simply came up with an excuse to create that interaction and took the risk.

If you’re wondering “why Merek?”, the truth is there wasn’t much planning on Law’s part. He saw a man who regularly passed by that floor on his way to his dorm, noticed the access keycard that would help him slip into one of the main offices, and went for it. He had a lot of faith in himself—and it worked.

Also, Isack mentioned that the office Law broke into was left in complete disarray. If you think about it, every move Law made showed little to no concern for Merek—so he didn’t mind throwing all the blame on him if anything went wrong. That’s why the break-in wasn’t carried out flawlessly. I wanted to clarify this in case anyone felt it clashed with the careful, calculated actions Law is usually known for—I didn’t want to stray too far from that canon either.

I also wanted to clarify (maybe some of you already caught this) that at the beginning of the chapter it says it’s spring and the start of the year (I decided to follow the Tropic of Cancer’s seasonal calendar because I’m a hopeless romantic and I like Christmas to fall in winter). Then, in the final scene, it’s winter again—so about eight months have passed between the beginning and the end. That’s why Merek says at the start that the prisoners had only just been released.

Chronologically, we’re back in December by the end, and once again in line with the timeline I’d been roughly following.

If you have any questions I didn’t address, or if you’d like me to go over something again, feel free to comment—I love hearing from you. Anything is welcome. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and don’t forget to leave kudos!

(And yes, “Enjoyment” is the name Doffy & co. gave to the prison/evil-plans office. I just wanted to keep playing along with Doffy’s naming style—Smile, SAD… so why not Enjoyment? Besides, it’s ironic, considering the stress Law is going through while being inside. I felt it worked as a fitting mockery from Doffy himself.)