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1. Bepo, Shachi, Penguin
As with all things terrible, no good in Law’s life, it begins with bread.
Law scowls down at his wiggling, squirming sister, who has chosen the living room floor as the battleground for her tantrum.
“I’m hungry,” Lammy whines, her braids already unraveling into a frizzy mess. An unhappy frown tugs at his mouth. He had spent a good chunk of the morning painstakingly pinning them into place, trying to get them just right for her.
“I heard you the first thousand times already,” he mutters, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Frustration bubbles just beneath the surface, but he clamps down on it. I’m not going to act like a kid, he reminds himself firmly.
He won’t forgive dad and mom for abandoning him like this. They both have jobs, but no one should have to babysit a five-year-old, let alone an eight-year-old.
He gestures to the coffee table nearby, where an assortment of chips and fruit sit in a neat arrangement.
“I brought you snacks. You can eat those.”
To his dismay, Lammy’s eyes water, her bottom lip trembling as she looks up at him, on the verge of tears. He lets out a long sigh and directs his eyes toward the ceiling.
“I want my toast. I want my jam,” she whines again, more pitifully this time.
She rolls around the floor before climbing to hang around his left leg like a limpet. “Make me one!” she wails, the pitch in her voice climbing to an almost painful level. He knows that if he doesn’t give in soon, it’ll become a full-blown shriek.
Little sisters are so annoying. Law hates bread. It’s something to do with the texture, he’s sure of it.
“Fine,” he snaps. “Fine! You want toast, you’re getting toast.”
He shoves open the kitchen door and drags Lammy along, who is still latched onto his leg like a little monkey on a mission. He can't help but roll his eyes, which always makes mom laugh at him.
As he opens the fridge, the huge jar of strawberry jam in his hand catches Lammy’s attention, and she starts squirming like a worm on a hook. “Can I eat some first?” she asks, her voice high-pitched and pleading.
She’s always liked to lick the jam off of a spoon, because that seems to be much more delicious than eating it on toast.
Ignoring her the way only an older brother knows how, Law smears some more jam onto the dastardly toast. At least the strawberry scent is nice.
Suddenly, his body tilts.
“Whoa!” Law yells as his whole body stumbles back a step, before glaring down at the culprit. In her frustration, Lammy had grabbed his leg and yanked him with all the force her tiny arms could muster. “Stop pulling on my Sora pants! You’ll rip the stitches!”
“Gimme the spoon!”
“Let me go first—”
In their brief tug-of-war, Law almost drops the jar. Instead, it’s his white shirt that bears the brunt of the disaster, a cold, sticky splotch of red spreading across his chest. He scrunches his face in disgust. “Great, now I look like a walking fruit salad,” he mutters under his breath.
With a wince, he carefully places the jar back onto the counter. He then shoots Lammy a death glare. She wisely takes a few steps back, already sensing that trouble is about to rain down on her.
“You.”
Lammy shrieks.
Just as Law's about to chase her around the house, the loud, insistent ringing of the front doorbell slices through the chaos. He freezes, blinking in surprise, before a wave of warmth floods over him as he suddenly remembers, with a jolt of happiness, that he'd completely forgotten his best friends were coming over today.
He points one last accusing finger at Lammy, a promise of payback hanging in the air, before turning to open the door.
He’d invited them over to hang out and play video games, now that he finally has the whole house to himself for the afternoon. Between the jam disaster and Lammy's antics, the plans had completely slipped his mind.
Standing on the doorstep are three familiar faces. Shachi, with his messy red hair and a reputation for always getting into trouble. Penguin, who looks serious with that gleam in his eyes, but Law knows better—it’s just a distraction. He’s the one who can get into trouble with his parents even faster than Shachi can with his.
And then there’s Bepo, the youngest of the bunch. He’s usually quiet and never asks Law to make him toast. In fact, he also hates toast, the wonderful friend that he is.
“Hey, guys,” Law greets them with a small wave. It’s always nice to have them over.
Bepo takes one look at him then promptly bursts into tears.
Frozen in place, Law's heart starts pounding in his chest as confusion and a small bit of panic flood through him. “What’s wrong?” He demands. “Bepo, what happened? Did someone bully you?”
Shachi clears his throat, his face a little bit green, and Penguin stands so still that Law wonders if he’s turned to stone. He’s always like this when he’s pretending not to be scared, no different from when they watch horror movies together, and Penguin says he isn’t afraid, but his eyes are wide and his hands are shaking.
Seeing the two of them like this tightens Law’s stomach further with unease. Something’s wrong. Really wrong.
“Buddy…” Shachi says, his voice shaking a little. That’s what really gets to Law, hearing Shachi sound so unsure. It’s one thing for Law to think he’s the grown-up one of the group, but Shachi and Penguin are actually, physically older than him. Now they look completely out of his depth, and Law’s stomach does a flip. “No bullying,” Shachi hurries to say when he sees Law getting more panicked. “I guess... uh... Bepo thought you had blood on your shirt. You know how much of a scaredy-cat he is.”
Law glances down at his shirt, and his frown deepens. There’s a red stain, but it’s just jam from breakfast. He lets out a relieved sigh. “It’s jam,” he says, stepping aside to let them in. As he pats Bepo’s back gently, he adds, “It’s not blood.”
Then, he turns a pointed glare at Shachi. “And he isn’t a scaredy-cat.”
Shachi throws up his hands in mock surrender, while Penguin huffs a small, less strained laugh.
Bepo sniffles, wiping his eyes quickly, still visibly shaken. It’s scary, seeing his friend cry for the first time. “Lammy wants some toast, then she makes it hard for me to make her some,” Law explains, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s a handful, I know.”
“I heard that!” Lammy shrieks from inside the living room.
Suddenly, Bepo wraps Law in one of his massive bear hugs, squeezing tightly. “I thought you were hurt!” he wails, his voice cracking.
Patting Bepo’s back awkwardly, Law grumbles, “If I ever get taken out by a five-year-old, just go ahead and put me out of my misery.”
Shachi snickers, clearly fighting to keep his amusement in check, while Penguin steps forward, giving Law a friendly, lopsided grin. “Is it so bad we want you healthy and well?” he teases, before turning to Bepo with a playful scowl. “Now let go, Bepo. I was promised video games and snacks.”
Bepo pulls back but still clings to Law’s sleeve, his face blotchy and red from crying. The tension in the room is starting to lift, though, and Bepo’s calming down, so Law gently tugs him toward his room. “C’mon,” he says, guiding Bepo along. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The jam got you too.”
Bepo looks down at the sticky stain on his own shirt and wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Ew.”
“Exactly.”
Law casts a quick, pointed glance at Shachi and Penguin. “You two better not start without us.”
“No promises!” Shachi calls out with a grin, already heading for the consoles.
2. Usopp
“So, will you be here this weekend then?”
Law purses his lips, weaving through the morning crowd as he walks down the busy street. There’s a lecture in forty-five minutes—an admittedly fascinating two-hour marathon on advanced intraoperative imagings—and after that, a long, grueling shift at the clinic. The kind of shift that promises overworked patients, endless charting, and, if he’s lucky, a vending machine snack that doesn’t taste like cardboard.
The strap of his messenger bag digs into his shoulder, weighed down with medical textbooks and a rattling half-empty water bottle. The icy morning air bites at his exposed hands, and he mutters a curse under his breath for forgetting his gloves in his rush out the door.
Med school, Law thinks dryly. The gift that keeps on giving: sleepless nights, relentless pressure, and a permanent ache in his lower back. He grimaces at the bitter taste of reheated coffee lingering on his tongue. God, what he wouldn’t give for a sip of Baby Five’s overpriced artisan blend. Spoiled brat.
Speaking of. “Is Lammy with Baby Five?”
Cora’s reply is both fond and exasperated, his voice crackling faintly through the phone.
“Yes, they’re out shopping. You haven’t answered me, kiddo.”
“Not a kid,” Law answers on autopilot, sidestepping a tall man setting up a street violin performance. The bow skims the strings experimentally, releasing a bright note into the air. “And I’ll be there. But I’m not playing Monopoly with Doflamingo again, not if you still want to have a brother by the end of the night.”
Cora laughs. It’s a carefree, rueful little thing. A miracle, considering the fragments of their past that Law’s managed to piece together. He knows the brothers were nearly estranged once, though Cora always deflects when pressed for details, and Doflamingo is uncharacteristically tight-lipped about it.
“Fine, we’ll play something else.”
“This isn’t the ’90s anymore. We could just spend time on our phones or watch TV in the same room. No need for board games.”
“But I like them.”
“Yeah, and I remember Jenga. We were one move from winning, and somehow I still ended up losing money to Doflamingo.”
“I already said I was sorry!”
The Starbucks sign comes into view, standing out against the brightening morning sky.
“I’ve got to go now,” he says, pushing the door open to step inside. Warm air rushes over him, bringing with it the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. His phone is still pressed to his ear as he pauses just past the entrance.
“Talk to you later?” he asks, glancing briefly at the line of customers ahead.
“Alright, but don’t be late, yeah? Dinner’s at seven,” Cora says. “Bye, love you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Law murmurs, warmth already seeping into his skin, exhaustion tempered if only for a moment. “Love you too. Tell Lammy not to stay out too late.”
He lowers his phone, the call’s end screen fading out as he slips it into his pocket. Stepping forward in the queue, he lets his gaze wander over the menu while pulling out his wallet.
“Law? Oh my god, it’s you!”
Law’s head snaps up, his expression frozen in surprise.
The barista standing in front of him radiates recognition—and to Law’s horror—teary enthusiasm. Law’s mind scrambles, drawing a frustrating blank as he searches for any clue to place the face. An old classmate, maybe? But surely he’d remember meeting someone with a nose that long.
For a moment, Law debates going along with it, throwing out some generic greeting to escape this situation without revealing his lack of memory.
Yeah man, I haven’t seen you since forever.
That could work. It’s vague enough to cover his bases.
Law resists the urge to groan out loud or bang his head against the counter. He’s a grown man, not some awkward teenager. Surely, he can handle one uncomfortable interaction without resorting to half-truths.
“Hello,” Law says awkwardly. Clunky and stiff. “I’d like one black coffee, please.”
The man in front of him blinks, his expression shifting to one of clear confusion. Law can almost hear the screech of gears grinding in the guy’s brain as he struggles to determine if he’s the one forgetting something.
The silence stretches between them, thick and uncomfortable, dragging on for what feels like an eternity.
Every single second is deeply felt by Law as it hammers another nail in his social coffin.
God, what he wouldn’t do for a cliff to jump off right now.
“Uh… what… would you mind waiting here for a bit?” The man stammers, clearly thrown off by the awkward energy Law is radiating. His name tag reads Usopp, which doesn’t help kickstarting Law’s apparently less than perfect memory at all.
Usopp offers a nervous smile before pulling his phone out of his apron pocket and disappearing into the kitchen like someone just yelled fire. Another employee steps up in his place, all professional demeanor, and greets Law with a polished smile.
Law watches Usopp rush off, feeling about ten times more awkward than he already was. Who is this guy? He can feel himself almost starting to panic. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but the guy had looked at him like he was some long-lost relative or maybe an old friend. Now, all Law can do is stand there, feeling like an idiot.
Usopp looks like he’s seen a ghost, though. That much is clear, not that he can blame him. He’d pulled an all-nighter to finish his assignment, surviving on little more than a Dr. Pepper and sheer spite. Shachi had called to yell at him about it, his voice thick with worry. Same as always, ever since they were kids.
Law doesn’t see the issue. Sure, he burns the midnight oil now and then, but he jogs regularly, eats balanced meals, and generally keeps himself in decent shape. His friends act like he’s incapable of taking care of himself.
“Your order, sir.”
The voice snaps him back to the present. Law takes the cup from the barista with a murmured “Thanks” before casting a puzzled glance toward the kitchen door. Briefly, he considers waiting here for a bit more. Usopp had asked him to, but… he shrugs off the thought and heads for the exit.
City life. Weirder things have happened here.
---
The group call is in disarray.
“What do you mean,” Nami’s voice is razor-edged, “he’s not there anymore?”
Usopp tugs at his hair, letting out a wail that turns a few heads on the bustling sidewalk. For once, he doesn’t care if passersby think he’s deranged.
“Exactly what I said! I told him to wait. Who just walks out when explicitly told not to?”
“Well, it does sound like the contrary bastard that he is,” Sanji chimes in, the clink of dishes audible in the background.
Clearly, Usopp’s call interrupted everyone mid-shift.
A loud yawn interrupts, lazy and unconcerned. Zoro. “You want him to sign up for a pyramid scheme? Just tell him very firmly not to. Problem solved.”
“How is he?” Luffy’s voice cuts clean through the chatter.
Usopp falters, scratching his head. “Law looks… uh, well. Actually, really well.”
“Really?” Nami’s voice picks up in surprise.
“Same, girl. Same,” Usopp agrees with a nod, even if no one can see it.
It had taken less than a year for the Straw Hats to find each other again. To call it a second chance felt wrong, almost dismissive of everything they’d already lived—the freedom, the laughter, the heartbreak. They’d had joy. Home.
But this life? This is something new.
Joy swells in Usopp’s chest in a way it hadn’t in years. His mother is alive, her laughter bright as she tends to her garden. It’s not a second chance; it’s a new chapter. Not perfect, because perfection doesn’t exist, but full enough that everyone he loves feels within reach.
Not so for Luffy.
Even surrounded by Sabo and Ace, even laughing until his stomach hurt, Luffy wasn’t whole. Not yet.
And no one could blame him. The memory of Law’s abrupt and violent departure clung to them like a shadow, surfacing in the silence between conversations and the wary glances they exchanged when his name came up. Whatever connection existed between Luffy and Law—be it a flicker of something new or the embers of something deeper—remained a tightly held secret, wrapped in the unspoken tension that kept the crew from prying.
Each time someone’s gaze lingered on Luffy a second too long, he would flash one of his too-bright grins, deflecting their unasked questions with a cheerfulness that felt just a little too forced.
Zoro had been perfectly understanding; he and Luffy were always on the same wavelength. Robin, too, for that matter—though her understanding wasn’t so much about aligning with Luffy’s thinking as it was with Law’s. Those two creepy people had been very close.
Once, after a banquet that left everyone snoring off their hangovers, Usopp had dared to ask. The details of the conversation were hazy thanks to his ill-advised drinking competition with Zoro, but Luffy’s answer was seared into his memory.
“It’s either that,” Luffy had said, his dark eyes smoldering like ash and ember, filled with helpless rage and grief. A silent wish for more time, another chance to change it all, a fleeting moment to regroup. “Or he made me immortal, which he knows I hate.”
Spat like poison, resentment curling in the edges of his voice. The war had left no room for softer options. Split-second decisions had changed the world forever, and no one had walked away unscathed.
It was hard, seeing Luffy put on a brave face. Harder still to console the Hearts about the inconsolable.
A spark of hope had lit up when they realized Law might have made it to this life after all. Over the years, they had heard nothing of him or the Hearts, but the hope persisted anyway. Their friends had to be out there somewhere, in this vast, noisy world.
The Straw Hats were avid adventurers; sooner or later, they would find him again.
Usopp just hadn’t expected to stumble upon him in Starbucks.
“Hmm. Still had the eyebags,” he muses aloud, “Hair was a mess. Gave me Kaya-during-her-hospital-internship vibes, so maybe med school?”
“What’s with the hmm?” Nami zeroes in immediately, sharp as ever. “What’s wrong?”
“I could be wrong—” Boy oh boy what a terrible thing to be wrong about though. He soldiers on regardless; nowadays Usopp has greater belief in himself. “But he doesn’t recognize me.”
A beat of stunned silence. Then the group erupts.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Usopp winces. “He doesn’t understand why I know his name.” The memory of their encounter is secondhand mortification incarnate. “I don’t think he remembers his past, guys.”
The line goes quiet as they all realize the implications of that.
Robin’s voice is the first to break the silence.
“From here on out, if anyone finds him, keep him there as long as possible and contact everyone else.”
“Especially me.”
“Yes, especially Luffy.”
3. Sanji
“This place looks nice,” Lammy says, humming happily as she takes in the elegant main doors of Baratie.
The restaurant exudes sophistication, from its intricately designed signage to the gentle glow of its hanging lanterns. “Are you sure you can, you know,” she adds, flapping a hand over her shoulders as Law pulls the chair out for her, “afford eating here?”
At least she has enough self-awareness to avoid eye contact with his glare.
“Why are you worrying about it now, when you’re the one demanding I take you out for food in the first place?” Law snarks as he pulls open the menu. He looks up at their waiter. “What would you recommend this season?”
“The Alaskan crab legs are a standout today,” the waiter replies. “If you’re in the mood for something crispy, the fried tilapia is excellent. We also have a new herb-crusted salmon that’s been getting rave reviews, and the roasted sea bass pairs wonderfully with seasonal vegetables.”
“I’ll go with the crab legs,” Law decides, handing back the menu.
“I’ll have the herb-crusted salmon,” Lammy says, smiling as she returns hers. “Thank you.”
“Fantastic choices,” the waiter says smoothly. “I’ll get those started for you.” With a polite bow, he disappears into the kitchen.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Lammy turns on Law. “What do you mean,” she says. “It’s not like I asked specifically for this place!”
“Oh? So you’re not actually mooching off of me like our dear cousin for a change?”
“No!”
Law suppresses a laugh, leaning back in his chair. Despite being in the heights of her teenage years, Lammy has always been refreshingly grounded compared to Baby Five. While their cousin seems to have mastered the art of shameless indulgence, Lammy has somehow remained steadfastly Trafalgar, holding tightly to her own ideals. Beneath her bright-eyed demeanor lies a stubbornness that makes her distinctly herself.
It’s a quality he is endlessly proud of, though he’d never admit it out loud.
It also makes it increasingly challenging to tease her as they get older. He tries anyway.
“Well,” Law drawls, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, “for someone who didn’t specifically ask for this place, you sure seem eager to enjoy the perks of my hard-earned money. Those shifts at the clinic don’t pay that well, you know. Alas, I may look like it, but I haven’t graduated yet.”
Lammy sticks her tongue out at him in a rare moment of childishness, though her eyes sparkle with amusement. “If I didn’t eat here, how else would you ever appreciate your generosity?”
“But of course. You’re doing me a favor, clearly.”
The glowing reviews for once stand true. Baratie’s food is nothing short of excellent. He hadn’t realized how mediocre all of his past dining experiences had been until now. The prices here aren’t outrageous either, no matter how much he pretends to put on airs in front of Lammy.
“That was so good,” Lammy signs dreamily. The staff looks at her briefly as she hands over the receipt for Law.
Ever polite, the man smiles warmly. “We’re glad to hear that, Miss. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing you again soon?”
“Absolutely,” she replies with a wink, her eyes sparkling.
Law gestures toward the door, holding it open for her. “Think we shouldn’t have come here after all?”
“I never said that!” Lammy exclaims, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “It’s just fun today! We’ve both been so busy lately we never really hang out anymore.”
Law shoots her a side glance.
“We met last week for dinner,” he points out dryly. “I called you two days ago, remember?”
“But still! We used to spend all our time together. Now you’ve got work, and school, and I’ve got school and soon-to-be work. It’s a mess.”
It’s hard not to smile then. “Well,” he says, closing the door behind them with a soft click, “why do you think I treat you to something as fancy as this today?”
Without warning, Lammy throws her arms around him in a tight hug. “Big brother! You do care!”
Law awkwardly pats her back while trying to maneuver her out of the way as a man walks toward the door, narrowly avoiding collision. “There’s no need to let the whole world know about it,” he mutters, before glancing at the man standing before them.
He’s tall, with a crisp suit and a cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers, standing out among the casual attire of Baratie’s patrons. He looks as though he’s about to enter, but something about him stops cold at the sight of Law and Lammy. His expression is one of mild surprise, though it doesn’t seem threatening.
“Excuse us,” Law says. He subtly moves Lammy to his left, further from the stranger. “We won’t be standing in the doorway any longer.”
The man blinks, his surprise morphing into a sheepish expression. He clears his throat and straightens up, his demeanor shifting entirely. “My apologies,” he says, his voice smooth and measured, “what an uncouth way to act with a lady present.”
His tone is sincere enough that Law can’t call it phony, but there’s a slight unease beneath it that spikes his curiosity.
The man looks perfectly genuine, though there’s something about the way he glances at them both that makes Law pause. Blue eyes seem just a touch too pale, like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep. For a moment, Law wonders if maybe he’s unwell and needs medical attention.
“It’s just that you look really familiar,” the man continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was a little taken aback, that’s all.”
“Have your family or friends been to the clinic around this block?”
The man blinks again, clearly caught off guard by the question. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I work there,” Law explains. “Maybe you saw me during my shift.”
An awkward laugh. “I see. I see. That seems to be the case.”
Before an equally awkward grimace and possibly rude brush-off could make it out of Law’s mouth, Lammy swoops in to rescue him again. She pops her head in between them, half-shielding Law with a wide grin.
“You dress so smartly for work, mister,” she chirps, her tone light and genuine. Knowing Lammy, it’s not even a courtesy—she means it. “My brother and I just ate here, and I think I’m done for. Everything else I eat is going to taste bland after this.”
At her bright beam, Law can practically see the man swoon. He also notices, with some amusement, the exact moment the man’s focus shifts entirely to Lammy, relegating him to the background.
“The name is Sanji,” he says smoothly, offering a small, graceful bow. His hands sweep in an elegant arc, and his head tilts coyly. “It brings me great joy that my restaurant could please you so. I hope we’ll meet again soon?”
Lammy giggles, clearly charmed. “Of course!” She tugs on Law’s sleeve, pulling him out of his bemusement. “Thank you again for the meal. Have a good day at work!”
As they walk away, Lammy frowns up at Law. “What was that all about?”
Law exhales slowly. “I didn’t fumble that social interaction, so save the lecture.”
“No, no,” she says, glancing back over her shoulder, though the restaurant is already out of sight. “He looked like he knew you. Is he a schoolmate or something?”
“Hells if I know,” Law signs. “Even at school, my head’s buried in guts. I don’t remember meeting anyone who dresses like that.”
“Maybe you have a stalker.”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
---
Sanji would hate to interrupt poker night, but the thought itches too much to ignore.
He leans back in his chair, attempting to sound as casual as possible. “So, I met Law today,” he tosses out, aiming for nonchalance. Maybe if he slouches far enough, his words will drift over everyone’s heads without consequence.
The room doesn’t even give him a chance. Silence descends like a guillotine.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nami slaps a hand to her forehead, and he hurriedly fixes his posture back to normal. It’s rude to man-spread in front of her and Robin.
“Sorry, Nami! Won’t happen again!”
"Judging by the absolute delight plastered on your face," Zoro drawls, sarcasm dripping from his words—a miracle in itself, considering Sanji had always thought irony was far too sharp for the barbarian's limited brain capacity. "I’m guessing you didn’t catch him."
“Catch him?” Jinbe signs. “He isn't a Pokémon.”
“Yeah,” Usopp mutters. “A Pokémon would be easier to catch.”
“My, my,” Robin murmurs, her serene smile never wavering as she studies her cards. But a flicker of frustration lingers in her eyes for just a moment before it vanishes. She glances up, lips still curved, the soft tension in her gaze persisting. “Who wants to volunteer to tell Luffy this time?”
“Not it!”
“Not it,” Zoro and Usopp echo in unison, neither looking up from their cards.
“Damn it.”
“Sucks to be you, Cook.”
---
Sanji is ready. The spread is nothing short of a masterpiece. Bruschetta with ripe tomatoes and fresh basil sits neatly arranged on a wooden serving board, each slice drizzled with just the right amount of balsamic glaze. For the main course, a golden-crusted beef Wellington gleams under the soft orange glow of the kitchen lights, accompanied by lemon-herb grilled chicken with a perfectly smoky char. The lasagna is rich and cheesy, each layer blending seamlessly into the next, while a bowl of buttery, fluffy mashed potatoes glistens with a touch of olive oil, standing as a crowd-pleaser on its own.
Dessert is just as indulgent: warm chocolate lava cakes oozing molten goodness at the slightest touch of a spoon, delicate tiramisu with the perfect balance of coffee and cream, and a bright scoop of lemon sorbet for a refreshing counterpoint.
There’s no need to fuss over arranging everything in a formal order. Luffy will dive headfirst into the whole lot the moment he sees it, completely disregarding the intended progression of courses. But Sanji has his pride. He’s a chef, damn it, and if he’s about to break the news that he let Luffy’s creepy soulmate go—despite Nami and Robin’s explicit instructions not to—he needs all the culinary artillery he can muster.
Stuff Luffy full of food first, and maybe, just maybe, he can delay the impending storm of wide, wounded eyes and endless whining.
Their apartment complex makes these dinners a regular occurrence. Sanji lives right above the unit Luffy shares with Zoro, and it’s easy for their ragtag crew to wander in whenever they smell something cooking. Not that Sanji doesn’t host dinners nearly every day—he does—but Luffy takes things a step further, treating Sanji’s kitchen like his personal buffet. Three a.m. fridge raids? Standard. Late-night meals in front of the TV? Frequent. Luffy always devours whatever Sanji makes with unbridled enthusiasm before crashing on Sanji’s couch, or bed if he’s feeling particularly bold. Sanji grumbles about it, but he never really minds.
Tonight is no different. Sanji slides the tiramisu into the fridge to chill just as his phone buzzes with a notification. A few seconds later, he hears the click of keys and the shuffle of sneakers. Luffy stumbles in, practically bouncing, his grin wide and bright as ever.
“Sanji!” Luffy calls out, his voice full of excitement. “What’s all this? You never make this much on a Tuesday!”
Sanji turns, casually wiping his hands on a towel as he raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, maybe I felt like spoiling myself for once. Not that it matters. You’ll end up inhaling it all before I get the chance.”
Luffy laughs, completely unbothered by the jab, and beelines for the kitchen island where the bruschetta sits waiting. He grabs a piece and stuffs it into his mouth without hesitation, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s as he chews.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Sanji warns. “You’re on cleanup duty afterwards. That’s the price for eating like a king.”
“Worth it!” Luffy mumbles through a mouthful of bruschetta, already reaching for another slice.
Sanji sighs, shaking his head. At least he has the food to soften the blow when the truth comes out. Maybe.
It’s not needless caution for Sanji to tread carefully here. It’s not that Luffy had never mourned someone he cared about before, but the thing was, Luffy had never been normal about Law. And if Sanji’s observations counted for anything, that feeling had been mutual, as complicated and stubborn as the two of them were.
In their… previous life, Luffy had this look whenever Law was within his sight. Sanji doesn’t know the full extent of what their deal was—whether they were a thing (well, not just a thing because Luffy and Law had always had a thing going on) or still dancing around each other for the hell of it. Sometimes, he downright got flustered just being in the same vicinity when Luffy was looking at Law. Despite his love for romance, dramatic flair, and books with prose, it was hard for him to put into words what it was. Still is.
Luffy looked like he wanted to run his teeth across Law’s bones, if that makes sense.
After Law’s death, though, that look disappeared entirely. It was replaced by something quieter. Sadness, unmistakable to anyone who bothered to look. Maybe anger, to those who didn’t know Luffy well enough to tell the difference.
And Luffy never talks about it. Not directly, anyway. Ask the wrong question, and his shoulders would tighten, his eyes would darken, and he’d shut down faster than Sanji could snap his fingers. It left Sanji feeling helpless, and sometimes he would get so incandescently mad at Law for making that choice.
Sanji presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to clear the frustration from his head. Across the counter, Luffy grabs another piece of bruschetta and grins at Sanji like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The sight almost makes Sanji smile—almost. But the pit in his stomach doesn’t ease.
He busies himself with wiping nonexistent crumbs from the counter, giving himself a moment to steady his thoughts. Breaking this news to Luffy isn’t going to be easy, but he has to do it. It’s not something he can just let sit in the air, unspoken. Not when it involves Law.
“Hey, Luffy,” he starts, keeping his tone as casual as he can manage. “Got something to talk to you about. Finish stuffing your face first, though.”
Luffy pauses mid-bite, bruschetta half-hanging from his hand, giving Sanji a curious look. He shrugs, unbothered, and goes back to eating with the enthusiasm of someone who’s just been served his last meal. Whatever Sanji’s going on about, Luffy clearly isn’t in any hurry to find out.
A few minutes later, after Luffy downs a glass of orange juice to wash everything down, Sanji clears his throat. “So,” he begins, then promptly stalls. The word just hangs there awkwardly.
Luffy tilts his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Ew. Sanji’s eye twitches. “Yeah?”
“So,” Sanji nods decisively. Thank Gods his ladies aren’t here. What an unseemly display. “You know Law?”
The moment the name leaves his mouth, Luffy’s whole demeanor shifts. His face loses its earlier excitement, the edges smoothing into something more solemn, sharper. His shoulders hunch slightly under his oversized red hoodie, and his bright, starry eyes dim just a little.
He fixes Sanji with a look that screams idiot. “Sanji, you’re being an idiot,” he says bluntly. “Of course, I know Law. Everyone knows Law. What’s going on? Are you in danger?”
For a moment, Sanji doesn’t know how to respond. It’s always a little disconcerting to see Luffy like this—so grown-up, so damn serious. It’s a side of him that only comes out at certain moments, when the stakes are high or the past threatens to creep too close.
Sanji remembers the younger version of Luffy from their earlier days—larger than life, an unstoppable force of laughter, chaos, and sunshine. Somewhere along the way, Luffy grew into someone broader, taller than almost everyone on the crew, more grounded in his body. In the later half of his previous life, he wore his stubble with pride, his smile tempered by wisdom, and carried himself with the kind of laid-back confidence that reminded Sanji of that red-haired bastard. Shanks, Luffy’s idol.
And yet, the Luffy standing in front of him right now, hoodie slightly askew, orange juice glass still in hand, feels like both versions of himself. The kid who barreled headfirst into life without hesitation, and the man who’s known enough loss to carve an unshakable edge into him.
Sanji sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I’m not in danger, dumbass. This isn’t about me.” He gestures vaguely at the empty plate Luffy just devoured. “Okay, so I ran into Law and his sister earlier in the day.”
“What?”
Sanji winces. “And I lost him.”
Luffy’s mouth drops open. There’s no accusation, no anger, and, thank goddess, no sadness. Just plain incredulity.
“How? Torao’s not that good at disguises or sub—suh—”
“Subterfuge.”
“Yeah, that. How did he get away?”
“His sister distracted me by sending her compliments to the chefs at Baratie. What a delightful lady,” Sanji hurries to explain when Luffy shoots him an unimpressed look. “But that’s not the only reason! It all happened too fast, and I was shocked, okay?”
Luffy nods slowly. “I know. I’m not blaming you,” he replies, looking down at the empty cup in his hand. His voice softens. “Sometimes I forget how hard it must be for everyone to see him again too.”
Sanji forces himself not to think about Law’s last moments.
“Well,” he clears his throat awkwardly, wringing his hand, “now I feel worse.”
Luffy has the audacity to laugh, bright and warm despite everything. As if the world hasn’t shifted slightly off-kilter with Law’s reappearance. “It’s okay, really,” he says, resting his chin on his palm, a big, knowing smile on his face. “I know we’ll meet again soon. I’m sure of it.”
Sanji blinks, surprised by the ease in Luffy’s voice. This is going better than he expected. He slouches onto the stool across from Luffy, blowing out a laugh.
“You reckon his buddies are with him too?”
“Of course,” Luffy declares without hesitation, as if the alternative is inconceivable. “If we’re together like this, that means Torao’s crew must be with him too. And he has a sister,” he adds, eyes lighting up. “I can’t wait to meet her. What’s she like?”
“Not a grumpy bastard like him, that’s for damn sure. Pretty cute too.”
“Come on, Torao’s cute too.”
“There’s no one on this green earth but you who thinks that, Luffy,” Sanji shoots back, shaking his head.
4. Robin
Bepo: Dinner at Wolf’s Grill later?
Law: Sounds good.
Shachi: How about 5?
Law: 5? Why are we eating so early?
Penguin: Jeez, some of us just get hungry earlier.
Shachi: Yeah, must be nice to still be young and have that energy.
Law: Sucks for you guys.
Bepo: You’ve got studying to do, right? 5 would be way too early anyway. How about 7?
Law: 7 works for me.
Law pockets his phone and glances up at the sky. The sun’s out, the sky’s clear, not a cloud in sight. It’s cold, but the kind of cold that comes with crisp, fresh air. A few sunbeams cut through the chill, and for a second, Law just stands there, taking it all in.
It’s a pleasant day.
It’s a short walk to the library, just a few blocks from where he's standing. The crisp air bites at his cheeks as he walks, his boots tapping against the uneven pavement. When the library finally comes into view, it’s as familiar as always. Tall, grey stone walls, towering windows that reflect the bright morning sky, and an old wooden sign hanging above the entrance, Central Library. The large oak doors creak open as he steps inside, the warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. The air smells like aged paper, a mixture of dust and ink, with a faint undertone of coffee from the café on the ground floor.
This library has always been here, as far back as Law can remember. It's the place his father would come to when he first moved to the campus nearby. It’s where his mother once leaned against a shelf, and in an instant, the entire ground floor turned into a chaotic domino effect. It took her an entire week to put everything back in order and to cover the costs of the damage left behind.
It’s also where his parents first met. The librarian, it seems, knows every important moment of the Trafalgar family’s history. She was even invited to his parents’ wedding, of all things.
Not at all here to meet the love of his life like his parents, but to finish his coursework, Law grabs a full stack of books and makes his way over to the nearest table by the door on the ground floor. It’s the only seat left, so he drops his bag beside it and gets comfortable.
At the brief flicker of surprise on the dark-haired woman upon seeing him take a seat at the same table, Law lowers his voice. "My bad. Were you saving this seat for someone else?"
She blinks slowly, before, weirdly enough, her expression softens, a small, genuine smile gracing her face, as though pleased by the unexpected company.
"No," she shakes her head, returning her attention to her laptop. The rhythmic sound of hurried clacking fills the quiet air, though her voice remains calm, almost soothing. "I was just a bit startled, is all. Too absorbed in my work."
Law nods in acknowledgment, then opens his own laptop to get started on his assignment. As his fingers hover over the keys, he flips through the pages of the book he pulled from the shelf, scanning through the text to find relevant information. The distant rustling of people reading across the library and the almost frantic clacking of the woman’s keyboard become background noise, the familiar setting helping him focus. It’s a peaceful kind of concentration, the kind that makes him lose track of time. It feels like he’s spent a good, productive two hours working.
Turns out, that’ll be the only two hours of productivity Law gets.
At 4 p.m. sharp, the door to the ground floor suddenly swings open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. Before anyone can react, the librarian—usually the epitome of composure—lobs a heavy dictionary toward the entrance. It hits with a solid thud, and a wince-induced ow echoes through the room, followed by a sheepish apology.
The young man standing in the doorway is decidedly not dressed for a day of studying, nor for the weather. A red hoodie, blue shorts, and sandals of all things. A straw hat dangles loosely from the back of his neck, his dark hair sticking out with sweat as if he’s been running. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide, and he looks like he’s barely catching his breath.
Law looks back down at his laptop. No matter what, he refuses to be labeled a creep for staring at another person three seconds longer than strictly necessary, no matter how weird and disruptive this particular stranger is.
After a few minutes, an odd tingling sensation crawls up Law’s spine, causing him to glance up.
The Straw Hat guy is staring back at him. He doesn’t seem at all startled to be caught staring either, as Law would have been in his place. If anything, it makes him part his lips a bit further, brightening the shine in his already large eyes.
Then, with no hesitation, he starts walking over toward Law’s table.
There are no other vacant seats, Law thinks as he looks around, only to notice for the first time that the woman from before is now nowhere to be seen. That leaves the only open seat directly in front of him.
Holy shit, this is scary.
The man drops into the chair with an ease that’s almost too casual, then thrusts his hand out toward Law with a grin that’s so wide it’s practically contagious. “Hi!” He pauses, glancing toward the guy at the next table who immediately shushes him, before turning back to Law. “I’m Luffy. Nice to meet ya.”
He looks cute, but for a moment, a thought rises unbidden in Law’s mind: this stranger should look mad instead. Which is a strange thought, given how disturbingly friendly the guy is.
The man’s smile pulls Law’s finger from its stillness on the keyboard, a subtle motion upward before it drops again. For a split second, the urge to reach out and trace the curve of that joy on this stranger’s face grips him. Heat prickles his collar, creeping upward and staining his face. He tries to ignore it, but it intensifies, a pressure in his chest pulling him in.
What’s come over him? What is this?
The thought echoes in his mind, not with the sharp edge of unease, but with the unfamiliar stirrings of curiosity. It’s unsettling, yet almost… compelling. He clenches his teeth, fighting to regain control. But despite his best efforts, his gaze is dragged back to that smile, unwillingly, as if it holds him in its grasp. It makes him want to move, to do something, anything. But he doesn’t know what.
Luffy wiggles his fingers, bringing Law back to the present, and without really thinking about it, Law shakes his hand. “Hi,” he responds, his voice a bit more confused than he would’ve liked. People don’t just walk up to strangers in libraries like this, trying to be friends. That’s what online spaces or social gatherings are for, he’s sure. “Name’s Law.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Law,” his gaze is intense, no other way about it, taking in Law’s face so thoroughly that Law can actually feel a physical trail from the dip of his frown to his mouth, which thins into a firm line.
Law frowns deeper. “Can I help you?”
“Do you remember me?” Luffy asks, and for a moment, it feels like déjà vu.
This again.
Instantly, exasperation fills Law’s face, coupled with hours spent submerged in articles and online documents. He blurts out, too honest to be considered polite, “I swear I’ve been receiving that a lot lately,” he complains. “I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m Luffy,” his impromptu companion helpfully clarifies.
Law throws his hands up. “And? What else? That’s not enough to jog my memory. Did we go to the same high school or something? If so, I’m so sorry for subjecting your eyes to my emo phase.”
Luffy glances at the My Chemical Romance shirt Law’s wearing. “Aren’t you still an emo though?” he asks.
Law gapes at him. “What,” he says. What the hell is going on?
Seemingly not caring at all about how much he just messed up someone's day and mental health, Luffy stands up with a satisfied stretch, then walks to Law’s side to stuff something into his jacket pocket.
“What the fuck,” Law sputters, but before he can react, Luffy’s already walking backward, heading for the door, throwing one last intense look over his shoulder.
“Just wait and see, Torao. I’mma get you in no time.”
“Get me? What does that even mean?” Law whisper-yells after Luffy’s retreating back, but the slam of the door cuts off any chance for answers. He throws his hands up in frustration. “Like a Pokémon? Why won’t you people ever explain yourselves?”
“Shh!”
Law’s eyes flashes. “Jesus Christ, Dave, I heard you the first time!” He hisses, glaring at the guy clutching his coffee like it’s his lifeline.
---
There’s an incoming call from Doflamingo.
Law picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey,” he says curtly. “Some bozos just accosted me at the library.”
There’s a brief silence on the other end, before Doflamingo’s voice finally comes through, smooth as ever. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Law continues, rubbing his temple. “Sandals. In winter. Had a scar under his eye—doesn’t seem like a thug, but honestly, who can tell these days?”
Doflamingo hums, the sound dangerously light.
“What?” Law snaps, catching the undertone immediately.
“Nothing,” Doflamingo chuckles. “Just thinking I might’ve heard wedding bells in your future.”
Law pulls the phone away to glare at it as it personally offended him. “You need to never open your mouth again.”
“Oh, I will,” Doflamingo replies, his voice dripping with amusement. “But, hypothetically... did you happen to give this sandal-wearing mystery man your number?”
Law freezes mid-step, his fingers brushing the crumpled piece of paper in his jeans pocket. Numbers scribbled down in messy handwriting. He can almost feel Doflamingo’s smirk on the other end.
“Or,” Doflamingo continues, far too smug now, “perhaps he gave you his number instead.”
Law’s jaw tightens, his teeth grinding so hard it’s audible over the line. His patience snaps. “Put Cora-san on the phone.”
“Oh, but I’m having so much fun.”
“Now.”
Doflamingo laughs long and loud, before the line goes quiet.
---
Robin looks up as Luffy approaches, the beats of his footsteps growing closer before he drops down onto the bench next to her. She’d stepped away for a few minutes, giving the two captains some space, and judging by the whistle and the wide grin on Luffy’s face, it seems like he’s accomplished whatever he came for. Though, he clearly wants to do more.
When she asks him about him, his response is: “I wanted to buy Torao dinner right away, but he looked a bit uncomfortable, so I didn’t.”
"That never stopped you before," she says, with a bit more humor as she reminisces about the good, brilliant, old days. Then, the possible reason why Luffy didn’t push for more nags at her. "Are you still perhaps angry at him?"
Luffy pauses, his smile fading just a little. He looks at her, his eyes unguarded.
“I was,” he admits, voice low. “But when I see him, I can’t stay mad. I’m just... relieved. Happy, but it hurts.” He bites his lip, looking down. “He just looks so jittery, you know? So I gave him my number instead.”
Letting Law decide the pace first, or at least until Luffy’s patience snaps and he stomps off to pursue him again. Surprisingly thoughtful, but then again, Luffy would know best what to do.
Robin smiles gently, watching Luffy’s easy confidence. She’s also half tempted to ask if Luffy’s forgiven Law, but that isn’t quite right. His anger towards Law isn’t the kind that preludes forgiveness; it’s the kind that aches with every moment of absence, the kind that demands nothing more than to stop feeling the hollow space where Law used to be.
It’s inevitable, the rage born out of grief. At least the former keeps him going. She had seen her captain try to forgive, only for anger to coil around him like a vice, tight and unrelenting, searing his skin raw like his own Gears. His hands trembled, not from fear but from an uncontrollable ache to lash out, even when there was no target.
For once, bitterness stood outside, a quiet specter at the edge of Luffy’s horizon. Every morning, he opened the door and let it in. His grief demanded company, and bitterness was all too willing.
I hate him, Luffy had spat, cold air biting into Robin’s skin as much as the words, before his face crumbled with regret, as if he feared of hurting Law, even now. Knowing Law, this would have torn him apart, but he would have understood why Luffy felt this way. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. I miss him. I don’t ever want to see him again. I don’t want to sleep tonight because I’ll see him, but I also want to sleep because I can only meet him in my nightmares now.
Love angers like no other.
Nami had told her once, laughing despite the sadness, I think the madness started the moment they met and shook hands on taking down an Emperor. Robin never disagreed.
Law’s death didn’t kill Luffy. It would’ve been a desecration of everything Law had fought for, if after that final sacrifice Luffy had let the weight of it drown him. It’d taken the Straw Hats no time at all to understand that.
Luffy had taken months.
The important thing, though, is that he made it. In the end, he lived. Truly lived. Robin can still see his wrinkled skin weathered by decades of battles and laughter every time she closes her eyes, surrounded by friends, and wearing that same fate-defying smile he’d had since she first met him.
“Come on,” she snaps her book shut and stands up. “Let me treat you to dinner.”
The smile she receives is ever blinding and genuine. After all these decades, the essence and novelty of it all never change.
“You’re the best, Robin!”
5. Luffy
The cool sensation of air against his exposed skin wakes Law, closely followed by the warmth of a palm resting gently on his chest.
Blinking blearily, his eyes adjust to the dim light filtering into the room. He doesn’t need to look far to find Luffy, sitting cross-legged by his hips. Somehow, Luffy has already unbuttoned Law’s shirt, the fabric pushed aside without even stirring him awake.
Luffy’s hand rests over Law’s chest, unmoving, fingers splayed across the only birthmark he bears—a straight line running across the skin above his heart. His gaze stays fixed on it, lost in thought.
It isn’t the first time Luffy’s done this since they started dating.
“Hey.”
Luffy jolts, wide eyes snapping to meet Law’s. Caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t even realized he’d woken him.
“Nightmares?” Law asks quietly.
Luffy nods, the barest motion, and that’s all Law needs to hear, really. He opens his arm. In less than a blink, Luffy fills the space, curling against him like a missing puzzle piece. Always quick, almost frantic, when it comes to wrapping his arms around Law, as if he’s afraid the offer would somehow be retracted at the last second.
“Want to talk about it?” Law murmurs, his fingers brushing through Luffy’s sweaty hair.
Luffy’s voice comes muffled, his words almost swallowed by the warmth of Law’s neck. “I hate this,” he admits, the frustration and exhaustion clear in his tone. “I just... I want to stop having them. It’s not like I can change it, so why won’t they stop.”
Law pulls the blanket higher over them, cocooning Luffy in its warmth. His arms tighten around him, because this routine is familiar—a rhythm they’ve fallen into countless times. Nightmares often shake Luffy awake, but the sight of Law, peacefully sleeping one pillow over, always seems to be enough to anchor him.
He knows exactly what Luffy needs to hear in moments like these.
“It’s alright. I’m here.”
“You’re here.”
“I’m here.” Law repeats it with a little more weight, playfully pinching Luffy’s arm, earning a quiet, breathy laugh in return. “If this were a dream, that wouldn’t hurt.”
“Dunno about that,” Luffy mutters, his voice tinged with lingering exhaustion. “Still hurts plenty in dreams.”
Law sighs, his fingers drawing slow, comforting circles along Luffy’s back.
“What happened today?”
Luffy’s breath hitches, his body stiffening slightly, before he speaks again.
“Dreamt I lost you.”
The words hang in the air, heavier than Law would’ve liked. His hand stills against Luffy’s back, his breath momentarily caught in his chest.
It’s not the first time Luffy’s said this. Law knows the nightmares of losing him are recurring. It’s something that worries him, a gnawing concern that Luffy has never fully voiced. As always, Luffy doesn’t offer more, his expression clouded with a sorrow that makes Law hesitate to press further.
Law gently shifts, pulling Luffy to rest his head on his chest. It’s the position that seems to calm him most, where the steady beat of Law’s heart, slow and constant, can ease him back into sleep.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Luffy’s grip twists deeper into Law’s sleep shirt. Within moments, he falls back into a dreamless sleep, his worries easing under the steady rhythm of Law’s heartbeat, safe and alive.
6. Law
Steels glint in the distance as Shachi and Penguin fight back to back, blades flashing through the dimming air. Each swing of their weapons sends enemies scattering, but their movements grow more desperate. The ground trembles beneath their feet as a roar from Bepo in his Sulong form shakes the very earth. Chopper’s howl follows, the two beasts charging forward as if the odds were meaningless.
The sky cracks with thunder, a deafening boom that rattles the bones. In the heart of the storm, Nami stands, her hand gripping the Clima-tact, the weapon sparking with electric fury no different from her billowing hair. Sanji is not far behind, his normally smooth composure now strained, his face pale beneath the intensity of his fury. His kicks lose some of their usual precision as he fends off attackers with unrelenting force. His usual grace is gone, replaced by raw desperation. He’s running on instinct, eyes wild as he keeps pushing forward, refusing to let himself slip.
Law’s lips quirk, faint and bitter, as he watches them all. A snide remark teases at the edge of his mind—Aw, you two do care—but it dies before it ever leaves his tongue.
A sense of guilt flickers through him, quickly buried. They don’t need that right now.
His attention snaps upward, drawn by the distant figure of Luffy standing in the heart of the chaos.
Luffy is a blazing figure against the darkened horizon, an incandescent force that casts a stark contrast to the storm. His presence burns brighter than the sun itself, so intense that the winds around him seem to bow, making the thunder above sound feeble in comparison. His silhouette ripples with raw power, and for a moment, the battle around them falters as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.
Sanji’s voice shatters the moment.
“How do we fix you?” he yells back, gesturing toward Law. His expression is grim as he delivers another crushing blow to an attacker, his fluid movements growing sharper and meaner. The panic that tinges his words is unmistakable. Law, however, just watches, his chest tight with the weight of knowing that not even the best doctor in the world could fix what had been done.
Nami’s voice cuts through the noise, raw with fury and fear. “Seas, what the hell did you just do, Law?” The words hit him like a slap, and his gut clenches in response, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have the time.
The only thing I could do.
Imu’s immortality is tied to the sacrifice of the previous Ope Ope no Mi user, a bond forged in blood and power. Law had always known that it would be his burden to sever, and he’d accepted it. This was the price to take down Imu, to give everyone a chance and to stop the tides of it all from pulling them all under.
He has more than enough faith that they would finish it.
Law doesn’t have time to answer, because at that moment Luffy’s head whips around, his gaze locking onto him. Crimson eyes, wild and glowing, bores into him with an intensity that knocks the breath from his lungs. Behind him, Imu’s form writhes, monstrous and unrelenting, storms twisting at their command.
The space between them collapses in a heartbeat. Luffy’s eyes dart first to Law, then to Imu, and finally to Kikoku, its blade glinting with blood. His blood. The crimson stain on his chest spreads outward, arteries and guts and flesh flayed. His eyes dart up to Law’s again.
Fury isn’t enough to describe what he sees on Luffy’s face.
Law’s stomach suddenly twists, his insides churning as though his blade has struck deeper than just flesh. This has been his gamble, but the realization that Luffy might resent him for it guts him worse than the sword itself.
He would never forgive me.
Law can feel the burn threatening to spill, blurring his vision. Panic claws through his chest, a fire that scorches his insides, yet his outer body feels unnervingly cold, almost detached from the hell raging around him.
“S-sorry—fuck—I’m so goddamn sorry,” Law chokes on his own blood, his voice breaking apart, barely rising above the howl of the storm that batters them both. Spots cut across his vision. Half his body convulses with pain he can’t feel because his heart is fucking breaking in his chest. “Luffy, I’m sorry—”
Under Luffy's terrified, fast-approaching gaze, Law's lips parts around trembling words.
“I hope—“
His body gives out. Law collapses to the blood-soaked ground, the world spinning out of reach, the void pulling him under, dragging him far beyond reach forever. Steals him away mere blinks before he could feel Luffy’s arms around him one final time.
I fear. I want. I need. I hope you know.
---
Law wakes up to the warmth of arms wrapped securely around him, the sensation of clumsy, comforting strokes across his back. The last remnants of the nightmare cling to him, but slowly, they begin to fade, leaving only the raw, lingering emotions.
Terror. The kind that knots up his insides. Desperate fear. And an unrelenting, haunting, inescapable heartbreak.
His chest feels like it’s been stomped on, over and over, by the soles of the sharpest shoes.
“What the hell,” Law gasps, his voice tight with confusion and dread. Luffy’s hands tighten around him instinctively, their pulses pressing together, grounding him. “Luffy, Luffy,” Law chants, panic rushing through his sluggish body.
Maybe he’s having a fever.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Luffy murmurs softly.
“I think, fuck, I just had the worst nightmare.”
Luffy hums. “You remember anything from it?”
Law shakes his head, his body still trembling in Luffy’s hold, the aftershock of the nightmare not quite dissipating.
After a pause, he exhales sharply, coming back to himself slowly. And with it comes the sting of embarrassment.
“No... it just feels,” he continues haltingly, eyes drifting shut for a moment. “It feels bad,” he finishes, the words too inadequate to describe what’s left of the terror.
Luffy’s surprised laughter jostles Law's body, and when he pulls back just slightly to peer close into his face, his eyes are bloodshot and warm like the pulse beneath his skin. There’s an understanding in his gaze, one that softens impossibly when he meets Law’s wide, still-terrified eyes.
“Bad?” he repeats with a small smile. He brushes his hand along Law’s shoulder blades, firm and comforting. “It’s okay, Torao,” Luffy repeats. “You’re okay. I’m here. And I’m not letting anyone take you away from me. Not even some lousy nightmares.”
The weight of Luffy’s words settle over him, his heart slowing as the tight grip of fear begins to loosen, if only slightly. Law exhales, the last remnants of the nightmare slowly slipping away, replaced by the warmth of Luffy’s presence.
“Is this…” Law licks his lips, “Is this what you go through every night?”
A sheepish nod is all the confirmation he needs.
“We might need some medical consultation for this,” Law suggests.
“No need. Just give it time.”
Law snorts, his lips curling slightly. “You’re not that good at waiting,” he teases, lifting his hands to gently cup Luffy’s cheeks. The worry rises inside him, pressing against his ribcage. “I didn’t think yours were this bad, or for so long. I wish I could take it all away.”
He’d do anything to carry the weight for Luffy. He'd give it all up to give him even one quiet night of peace.
It’s always been surprising how well Luffy can read him. Right now, it feels like a double-edged sword, as Luffy scowls, clearly piecing together something from Law’s expression.
“No,” Luffy declares firmly, his voice low and resolute.
“No what?” Law asks, confusion furrowing his brow.
“No,” Luffy repeats, a bit stronger this time. “We’re doing this together. Not shouldering anything alone.”
Bewilderment isn’t even enough to describe what Law’s feeling. He wants to argue, but seeing the distress in Luffy’s eyes, he bites his tongue and nods quickly. “Alright.”
“Torao will tell me if he decides to do something stupid.”
The statement isn’t phrased as a question, and Law can’t help but smirk. “Pot, kettle,” he mutters under his breath, but he nods. “Fine. Of course.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Law echoes, unable to help smiling a bit more as Luffy’s flushed pout is teased to life.
“Okay.”
Rolling his eyes at the absurd, almost childish exchange, Law shifts slightly with a groan, feeling the strain of the long day. The tension breaks. Luffy giggles.
“Torao sounds like an old man,” he teases.
“I resent that,” Law mutters. “I’m not even thirty yet.”
Satisfied, Luffy happily chuffs into the hug that Law pulls him back into, the warm air puffing and swelling between them, tickling against Law’s neck.
"It’s not a bad thing..." Luffy's voice falters, a heavy sigh escaping as his words begin to blur together. His gaze softens, the weight of sleep pulling him under.
"I’ve always... wanted to see Torao grow ol'..."
Each syllable hangs in the air for a moment, barely clinging to the thread of wakefulness before he succumbs, his breathing steadying as his body relaxes into sleep, as if all’s right with the world now that Law’s woken up.
He tapers off into silence, leaving Law’s heart roaring out of his chest and his eyes staring wide-eyed into the dark, thoughts spiraling in a dizzying loop.
That sounded like a proposal.
Surely, Luffy doesn’t mean it that way.
He can’t mean it that way.
Right?
Law hides his burning face in Luffy’s hair to ground himself even as his emotions threaten to pull him under. He worms his arms tighter around this foolish, chaotic, sunbeam of a man, holding him closer in hopes that it could somehow slow down the overwhelming tide crashing over him.
It must be illegal, should be illegal, for him to ever feel this happy.
"I hope," he whispers, his voice catching on a fragile thread pulled too taut. He swallows hard, the words cutting through him, sharp and aching, lodged like a blade through the chest.
Devotion had been an unknown concept to him before he met Luffy.
"I hope you know how much I love you."