Chapter Text
“Hey Law, can I ask you something?”
Law glanced up from his food tray. Gab was standing in front of the table, looking at him with tentative hope.
Law only raised an eyebrow, pointing at him to continue. Gab sat down beside him on the small bench, pushing him to the side and he scooched away until they didn’t touch anymore, almost backing into Monster who gave him a snicker. He just glared back at the monkey before his glare fell back to the man who was already annoying him with his presence.
“I love learning languages,” Gab said.
“Guy knows like twenty languages,” Hongo, who was sitting opposite Law, grinned and pointed at a blushing Gab with his fork.
“Not, like, fluid or anything like that! Just enough to get by! Languages are so interesting, they say so much about the cultures and give you a much deeper understanding and appreciation and-” He coughed, face growing red. “Anyway, I found a book on Flevish and I was wondering if you could help me with some pronunciations?”
For a second it felt like air had been punched out of his lungs. Flevance had always been a rather isolated island. Export of Amber Lead had brought in a lot of money, but they had never been interested in spreading their culture. Integrating into the city was also rather difficult which was why, despite their wealth, there hadn’t been a lot of people immigrating into Flevance. And due to the disease in their genes, everyone who had once been part of the lavish city had succumbed to the disease or had been hunted down by now. As such Law was now one of the only people who could speak Flevish. The only native Flevish person.
Language was a funny thing. No matter how well Law could speak Northern, no matter how good his accent would be, his choice of words would always out him as a stranger. There were phrases, sayings, puns that only a native Flevish speaker would know, a lot that were now lost. Flevance had been destroyed when he had been ten years old and at that age there was still so much he hadn’t learned, still so much of his culture he’d never know now.
Law had accepted the fact he would never speak Flevish with another person again, that his language would probably die with him. He hadn’t been prepared for someone asking him to teach them, quite the opposite. Until now nobody could know where he came from and so he had to bury every last part that might have revealed him, had to hide everything that could lead to his death.
But the Red-Hair Pirates knew, didn’t they? They knew and they hadn’t killed him. Law didn’t have to hide around them.
Gab laughed nervously and stood up. “Ah- sorry, yeah, I- yeah. Touchy subject. I’m sorry, it was probably a stupid question, I’ll leave you alone, I’m-”
“Sit back down, idiot.” Law grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him down. “I can’t have you butcher my language. What words do you have difficulties with?”
A hesitant smile bloomed on Gab’s face. “Well-” He opened a book, a Flevish dictionary of Grand to Flevish. Some of the phonetic pronunciations he could see were already wrong. “Mein Name ist Gab, es freut mich, dich kennen zu lernen?”
A small snort escaped Law.
“That wrong?” Gab grinned helplessly.
“Yeah,” Law said bluntly. He had barely understood what the other had tried to say. “But we can fix that. So, mein is pronounced with an a like in star and…”
--
Gab and Law stayed in the dinner hall for five hours. Their food had grown cold but they hadn’t noticed, too entranced in their language lessons. Hongo had stayed too, not actively trying to learn but catching a few words and sentences every now and again, sometimes trying to pronounce the words to get a laugh out of Law. The only words he actively sought translations for were swear words which Law indulgently provided.
Shanks meanwhile was leaning against the entrance door, a warm smile on his face.
--
“Scheiße.”
Law almost dropped his fishing rod when he heard a flevish curse come from Limejuice who had pricked himself on his fishing hook when trying to attach a bait.
“Gottverdammter Hurensohn.”
“Where the hell did you pick that up from?” Certainly not from Law.
Limejuice gave him a flustered grin. “Uhm- Hongo taught me?”
Law could only stare at him in astonishment. “Why the hell would he do that?”
“Well, he was muttering angrily in a weird language and we wanted to know what the hell he was saying, so he taught us.”
“Us?”
“Well, you know, me, Rockstar, Bonk Punch, and kinda, well… everyone. What can I say, cursing in Flevish is really fun!”
An involuntary grin crawled onto Law’s face. “You lot are so weird.”
“We're just having fun, it's not meant to be an insult or anything-”
“I am not insulted. I was just confused.”
“Then you don't mind if we continue?”
“What, like you would stop if I told you to.” A sudden tug on his fishing rod made him let go on instinct and he watched dispassionately as it quickly sank into the depths of the ocean. “Scheiße.”
Limejuice grinned at him. “Scheiße,” he agreed.
--
“Oi, you!”
Pakkan flinched backwards when the kid suddenly appeared beside him, his presence as quiet as always.
“GOD- how do you keep doing that?!”
Law raised his brows, looking like Pakkan was an insect he had stepped on. Pakkan wondered if being intimidated by a teen several years younger was stupid but immediately threw away that thought. Law was creepy and seemed like he could and would tear your face off for fun. And that was despite his fluffy hat and his oversized clothes- they should probably get him more appropriately sized clothes if he was going to stay longer, Pakkan thought.
“You wanted to spar with me, right?” Law asked and Pakkan perked up before hesitating.
“Aren’t you still injured? Hongo’ll murder me if you tear any stitches because of me.”
“My devil fruit healed me enough,” Law said. His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor and Pakkan waved him forward, leading the way towards the deck.
“Let’s use wooden swords though, I really don’t wanna make Hongo angry. He’s scary.”
“You are scared of everything.”
Pakkan gaped at him in offense. “I’m a brave warrior! A brave warrior of the Red-Hair Pirates!”
An amused twinkle appeared in Law’s eyes and Pakkan realized that the always so serious kid was teasing him.
“You are scared of me though, aren’t you?”
“Well- you punched my throat! I couldn't speak for two days and it hurt for much longer!”
“Stop whining.”
They arrived on deck and Pakkan picked two training swords from the chest near their little forest, throwing one to Law.
The kid caught it easily, testing the weight with a few slashes in the air.
Some of the crew stopped in their work, looking at them in interest. Pakkan felt a bead of sweat when he saw Shanks peer down at them from the crow’s nest. His Captain was watching, he couldn't lose face now.
“You ready?” Pakkan asked.
The devilish smile Law gave him should have prepared him for the next minutes.
--
The kid fought dirty.
Calling whatever his fighting style was, well, a style, would put a name on something too confusing to be called such. It was feral and animalistic, quick slashes that used the kid’s small form to quickly dart around him until the entire ship was their playground. He used everything to his advantage, once throwing a handful of dirt into his face or ducking behind Building Snake to evade a strike. The way he danced around him, the way he twisted away and used the area to his advantage spoke of such situational awareness, Pakkan was in awe. It was clear he hadn't gotten any formal training, it was clear he had started learning how to swordfight in recent years, it was clear he was used to a much longer sword- but it was also clear the bigass sword that had been with him hadn't just been for intimidation or ego.
But Pakkan wasn’t a part of the Red-Hair Pirates for nothing. Law surprised him but he had years of experience on him, had fought with a sword when Law hadn’t even been born- though that probably said more about his own upbringing.
“Pay attention where you’re swinging!” Benn yelled when Law jumped over him, making Pakkan stumble into his superior officer.
“Sorry, man!”
“Sorry, man, my ass,” Benn muttered. “Hey, brat, he’s weaker on his left side!”
“Traitor!” Pakkan yelled.
Law snorted. “I do not need your help!”
Yet his eyes zeroed onto Pakkan’s left side and he grit his teeth when he was forced to dodge, right into Monster who gave him a chittering laugh.
“Get him, kid!” Bonk Punch said.
Traitors, the lot of them.
Law grabbed the raft line and swung around suddenly, kicking him in the chest. Pakkan stumbled back but caught himself, jumping after the kid and managing to give his arm a hefty thwack with his wooden sword. Cursing, Law was forced to let go of his sword and quickly hid behind Building Snake’s wide cape.
“You’re so slippery!” Pakkan huffed, slightly out of breath.
"Getting defeated by a teenager?” Hongo called in amusement. That guy’s obvious soft spot for their prisoner really should get checked out. His amusement quickly turned into disbelief when Law emerged from behind Building Snake, one of his very real swords in his hands.
“Oi, don’t you dare fight with a real sword!” Hongo yelled.
Building Snake patted his side, rolling his eyes when he found one of his sheathes empty. “Yeah!” he said. “Pakkan also needs a sword!”
He threw him his other sword and Pakkan grabbed it out of the air, tossing the wooden training sword aside.
“That’s not what I meant!”
Law launched himself forward with a grin, using a step beside Pakkan in the last second to dive to the side, slashing at him. Barely able to parry, Pakkan jumped backwards, his back hitting the railing. Shit, he thought when he heard some of his friends laugh. This was getting embarrassing. Well, time to bring out all of his stops then. He hadn’t thought he’d need to in a fight against a teenage devil fruit user, they usually tended to rely more on their powers.
Law’s eyes widened, grin slipping off his face, when Pakkan’s speed increased and he was forced to give way, feet carefully stepping back at Pakkan’s relentless sword strikes. He was slowly backed into a corner, only chests, barrels and the little forest behind him. Pakkan could see his eyes flying all over the place, teeth grit in concentration. It seemed he too had something to prove. Both of them were taking this spar too seriously.
Law lifted a mug someone had left on one barrel and sloshed the sake into his face. Pure instinct made Pakkan close his eyes when a heavy object hit him right between the legs.
A collective wince drove through the crew, some leting out sympathetic hisses.
“FUCK-” He almost went down but willpower kept him standing tall, wiping away the alcohol with his shoulder as he threw the sword. As expected, Law was able to dodge and for a second his eyes followed the blade to where it got stuck into the wall. Pakkan used his distraction to kick him hard in the stomach, making him stumble back. His knees hit the lid of the open chest half-filled with wooden swords and he lost his footing, landing right inside. His eyes were wide, focused right at the crow’s nest where Shanks was watching them. Law didn’t get up. Pakkan immediately grabbed the top of the lid and closed it over him, snapping the lock shut, now completely out of breath.
The crew let out lazy cheers, some raising their mugs at his win and he gave them a wonky smile, slapping the top of the lid as an acknowledgement to Law’s skill.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You fight dirty!”
To his confusion the kid wasn’t banging against the chest, demanding to be let out. Instead only silence sounded.
He bent forward and tilted his head. “You sulking in there, kid? Don’t worry, you did great! Honestly, did not expect a devil fruit user to be this good at fighting with a sword. I guess the bigass sword we picked up does make sense. Looked heavy as hell though. Kid? Law? Hey, Law, I didn’t actually break some- FUCK!”
The lock exploded as a heavy kick blew off the lid. Law emerged with wild, blank eyes, sword in his hands, aimed straight at Pakkan’s throat. He was deathly silent, mouth formed around words that Pakkan couldn't read and for a second his life flashed before his eyes. Then, instincts kicked in and he evaded, only his collar being cut by the sword and a little nick to his skin.
A killing strike. The kid was actually trying to kill him. Pure killing intent wafted off the kid, almost enough to make Pakkan freeze on the spot. It was like a wave crashing over him, and he wondered if the others could feel it too, this aura, thick and heavy, almost suffocating to breathe in. He had spent a long time of his life around people only aiming to kill, and yet somehow this made every part of his body scream to run and hide.
The crew let out shouts of alarm and Pakkan really damn wished someone would step the hell in to help him.
Shanks, his savior, appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Law by the collar when he threw himself at Pakkan again, and with a light slap the sword flew out of his hands. Law flailed when he was lifted in the air as if killing Pakkan was his only goal in life.
“Kid,” Shanks ordered and flared up his haki.
Law froze, his unblinking stare still focused solely on Pakkan. Fucking creepy. Creepy, creepy, creepy. God, this would give him nightmares for weeks- how relieving it was that Law slept in the infirmary and not the sleeping quarters.
One slow blink. Consciousness still seemed to evade him. Shanks let him back down onto the ground, however holding the back of his shirt as if fearing Law would attack again. The kid’s golden stare on Pakkan was unsettling, as if he was trying to dissect him. Something about the oppressive atmosphere reminded Pakkan of his Captain, of the power emanating off him sometimes, and he swallowed dryly, only the constant exposure to Shanks’s haki keeping him from swaying. Hell, if this entire situation had happened a few years later, if they had fought against Law when he was an adult, able to wield his powers to their full potential, instead of a scrappy teen who didn't even seem to be aware of his own haki, Pakkan was certain he could have killed at least one of them.
Hongo came to stand beside Pakkan and gave him a quizzical once-over but Pakkan shook his head and jutted his chin towards the kid who probably needed the medic’s help more than he did. Hongo always knew what to do when someone in the crew got something wrong with their mind, when they were stuck in the past and couldn't come back on their own.
With a clap on the back Hongo left to check up on the kid, finally breaking his line of vision and Pakkan felt like he could breathe again.
“Scheiße,” Pakkan summed it up. He had wanted a friendly spar and to get to know the teenager they had attacked and imprisoned, had wanted to make him feel better after his amber lead relapse, not trigger whatever this state was.
“Scheiße,” Shanks agreed. “You good?”
“Nothing happened, really! But-” Pakkan stepped to the side and Law’s eyes followed, tracking him like a predator. Creepy, creepy, fucking god damn creepy- “Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”
Shanks patted Law’s shoulder to catch his attention. Finally Law looked away, at him, and Pakkan breathed a sigh of relief.“Come on, kid, let's get you checked up, aye?”
Law didn't protest when Shanks and Hongo ushered him away, his hostility having gone from Pakkan to Hongo as he kept himself between him and Shanks as if to protect him from their medic. Well. Good luck with that, Boss.
Pakkan flinched when Benn walked up behind him and knocked his knuckles against his temple. “Good fight, kid,” he said and Pakkan pouted at the nickname. At least now he wasn’t the youngest on the ship anymore. A few years really didn't warrant everyone calling him names. Though- looking at Law, a few years maybe did make a difference.
“I didn't want that to happen,” he muttered and Benn nodded. “It's- it’s like what Gab went through a few weeks ago, right?”
“Means they fought in their past and their fight’s still happenin’ in their minds.”
“Will that happen to me too when I get in more fights?”
“Maybe,” Benn said vaguely.
“Does that happen to you?”
Benn’s avoidant silence when he lit a cigarette was enough to answer that question.
“Man,” Pakkan muttered. His idealistic view on what being on sea would look like had already been corrected the first week Shanks had taken him in and everyone had shared stories of their previous travels, but somehow seeing the mental scars he had only seen on his older comrades on a teenager years younger than he was- it was sobering. He didn't want anyone else in his crew to experience something so terrible, it led them to attack blindly, attack their friends.
He went to pick up the sword on the ground and pull the other one from the wall. “Hey Benn. Wanna spar?”
Benn caught the blade. Both knew Pakkan had no chance. “Sure.”
--
As soon as Hongo and Shanks had brought Law to the infirmary, he had ripped himself from Shanks’s grip and had thrown himself at Hongo with newly found intensity (and holy shit, Hongo thought, how much energy was left in the kid?!), getting between the two pirates as if he was protecting Shanks. That had been a while ago. Now Shanks was sitting on the office chair, bored, tapping on his leg as he watched them spar in the limited space. Or rather, Law spar as Hongo did his best to keep any chaos in his infirmary to a minimum. Shanks had looked like he had wanted to step in at the start but Hongo had dissuaded him with a hand wave. Maybe this was what the kid needed right now.
Hongo was only defending himself, batting away Law’s fists as if it was child’s play. The kid probably just needed to release some aggression before he could string together anything approaching a conversation. Hongo had always been one of the only ones on this ship that knew how to deal with panic attacks, trauma-responses and most mental problems. Shanks on the other hand drank his problems away and as such had no idea how to deal with things like this without excessive alcohol.
Law’s fist smashed into Hongo’s open palm before he stopped. A frown shaped itself between his brows and his eyes darted around imperceptibly, to Shanks, the infirmary beds, the open window, to Hongo, back to Shanks where they finally came to a rest, haunted and looking straight through him.
He took a small breath. “Cora?”
“Just lil’ ol’ me.” Shanks gave him a wan smile.
A shudder ran through Law. He blinked and flinched away from Hongo, disbelief written in every twitch of his fingers.
“I-” Law slowly shook his head, dispelling any lingering ghosts. His clothes clung to his damp skin, his bangs were messy and his breath was heavy.
“Damn,” Hongo grinned and shook out his hands with a playful wince. He let himself fall onto the ground where he leaned against a bed as if he was exhausted even though he hadn’t even begun to sweat, even though his breath was insultingly even. “You hit hard.”
“Fuck,” Law said. “Shit, I- I didn’t want to-”
Somehow he looked even angrier than when he had attacked Hongo. Damn. When Hongo had guessed a chest related trauma he hadn’t assumed the kid would react this strongly.
“You here again, kid?” Shanks asked.
“Akagami-ya.” For a second Law seemed like he wanted to say something. Instead his mouth shut with an audible click and he glared down at his hands, balling them into trembling fists. His face grew red with embarrassment. “Pakkan-ya is alright?”
Even if Hongo wasn’t slowly getting better at reading the kid, he could have seen the distraction tactic for what it was. “Just a scratch, kid, don't worry,” he said and proceeded to ignore the aura of don’t ask me don't ask me don’t ask me the kid was giving off. “Wanna talk about it?”
“About what?” Law stepped back and crossed his arms, trying to pull an air of control and casualness around him.
“Kid,” Shanks said and put all his thoughts into that one word. “You just attacked Pakkan and then had a pretty long fist fight with Hongo to protect-” He didn’t finish the sentence but he didn't have to. “Who did you see?”
Law’s eyes fell to the side and he took off his hat to run his fingers through his sweaty hair. He picked at a loose thread on his hat, twirling it between his fingers before looking at Shanks and then at Hongo, lips pursed. His frown deepened (and no wonder he was already developing wrinkles with that constant scowl) and he seemed to debate with himself. The thread got longer and longer to the point Hongo feared the entire hat would unravel before them. After what felt like ages, the kid decided.
“The person I held dearest locked me in a chest to protect me. Then he was killed while I just watched.” He spoke in a clinical tone as if removed from the situation. But Hongo heard everything unsaid.
“That Cora person?” he guessed and Law flinched, rage twisting his face.
Well, that confirmed the theory Hongo had about the mysterious Cora person ever since a feverish Law had confused Hongo for him. He had assumed he was dead, even if he had hoped for the opposite, had hoped Cora was only someone on the kid’s crew. The grief clinging to the kid when he had thought he was speaking to Cora had told him enough.
“Have you ever lost someone dear to you?”
“Everyone here has,” Shanks said, waving his hand with a flippant air. Law’s eyebrow twitched.
“Often pain’s what drives someone to piracy,” Hongo muttered and tried not to think about his brother.
“Have you lost someone?” Law repeated.
Hongo sighed heavily. “Yeah.”
He didn’t elaborate. Law didn’t push.
“Does it get better?”
With a considering hum, Hongo uncrossed his arms, instead leaning with a pair of scissors, offering to cut the thread on Law’s hat. Law blinked down in surprise before giving him a curt nod.
“Not really,” Hongo said. “People die. They don’t come back. It doesn’t get better ‘cause they’re gone. But you learn to live with it. Little by little. Your life expands. You meet people. Make family. The one you lost stays dead. That'll always hurt. But you keep living.”
Out of the corner of his eye he watched his captain shift uncomfortably. The idiot still hadn't figured out how to deal with his issues without drowning it in booze. But his captain was a stubborn man and Hongo a patient one so he would wait and slowly chip away at him bit by bit until his Boss could finally become the mentally healthy man he claimed to be. Or at least something approaching that.
“How?” Law demanded to know. “How can I live when he died for me?! How can I live when the only reason I am breathing is because that stupid idiot gave his life for me?! How am I supposed to keep living when the only reason I am still here is because he is not?! How the hell do I live up to a life that was not mine to begin with?!”
“I don't think you ever really figure that out,” Shanks said truthfully if a bit harshly and Law stopped in his rant, eyes blazing with anger and hatred. “But you gotta live, otherwise you'd both be dead. Congrats. His sacrifice was for nothing.”
“Boss,” Hongo warned.
“It was already for nothing,” Law whispered.
“He must’ve seen something in you,” Hongo pointed out. “If he gave his life for you, that wasn't boring.”
“He did,” Law said.
Hongo let out a long breath. “You find things worth living for,” he said, briefly remembering the time he had drifted in uncaring numbness before the Red-Hair Pirates had taken him in. “They don't replace what you lost - but they help fill the hole. Not the one Cora left. I mean the one you made bigger, because the space didn't feel vast enough for the pain you felt, aye? So you wake up. You live. You make the choice not to die. And then, one day, it’s been ten years. You never stop thinking about the ones you lost, but it doesn’t burn the same way anymore. And you realize hey, maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s okay that you’re still here even if he’s not.”
He made sure to look at both his captain and the kid. They both needed to hear those words.
“It is okay?” Law asked, sounding smaller than he had ever before, and Hongo’s heart broke for this child with dark eyebags and hollow cheeks, this child who had everyone he loved torn away from him.
“It will be,” he said and threw a towel at the kid’s face. Law caught it with an eye roll but patted his hair dry. He seemed to realize Hongo hadn’t even broken a sweat and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Well, what was a friendly, trauma-induced fist-fight between a prisoner and his captor. “What I do know is that you're acting like you've gotta earn the right to be alive. It was a life freely given to you. Gifts aren’t something you gotta pay back.”
“He gave his life for me,” Law said. “The least I can do is give back.”
“Did he ask you to?” Shanks asked and raised his brows. “You think your Cora woulda wanted ya to waste the life he gave ya?
“He would have wanted me to finish what he started.”
“And what's that?”
Law’s lips pressed into a thin line and Hongo knew that the talk was over for him.
“What a waste,” Shanks mused, almost to himself, “letting your grief run your life.”
“Are you not the same, Akagami-ya?” Law asked and Shanks blinked in surprise when the tables were turned against him. “You are following in the footsteps of your Captain, are you not?”
Shanks waved him off. “Been a pirate since before I could walk. Wasn’t much of a choice really.”
“Not that,” Law said. His unsettling, golden stare was now locked solely on Shanks like a spotlight. He came closer, looking over Shanks who only raised his brows. “I know self-destruction when I see it. I know guilt. And you, Akagami-ya, are drowning in it.”
Shanks huffed a laugh. He leaned his head back to flash a big grin. “What, didya decide to change careers and become a therapist?”
“You are a fucking hypocrite. Talk a lot about moving on, when the only things you are living for are the ghosts of your past.”
Shanks’s smile didn’t diminish but Hongo could see the emptiness in his eyes, his carefully crafted mask that always managed to send shivers up his spine. Creepy. Hongo was surrounded by creepy people.
“You really want to throw that at me? For a man who drinks himself to hell and back for atrocities done as a consequence of his captain’s actions-”
“Don't you dare blame Captain for what the Marines did.”
Shanks hadn't moved but his tone had become deadly, his body tense, and Hongo was about to step between them when Law’s fists clenched as if gearing up for another fight.
“Oh please,” Law said with a cruel tilt to his lips. “He had a child knowing full well how despised he was. You said it yourself, did you not? He killed a lot of people, some who did not deserve it. And you - you were right beside him. So why do you get to be alive, when you are the reason so many are dead?! You carry around guilt so heavy, I am surprised the ship hasn’t sunk yet under the weight of it all. So tell me, Akagami-ya, since you love throwing hypotheticals around: Would Gold Roger have wanted you to drink away your sorrows for a grief that is not even yours to carry? Or would he be disappointed if he saw you like that? Would he be happy knowing he took in someone who turned out to be a fucking mess?”
Shanks was sitting completely still. Even Hongo almost flinched at those callous words, said like Law was reading off a chart. Then, to Law’s obvious confusion, Shanks deflated with a sigh and leaned further against the bed, looking up at Law with a tilted head, limbs splayed out on the wood between them.
“What are ya trying to get out of this?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “Do ya just wanna provoke me or is this some kinda way to ask for another spar? ‘Cause hate to break it to ya, you're not hiding that textbook projection.”
Law was left standing in the room, looking ready for a fight but with no enemy to target his anger at. He stepped back, sinking his hands in his pockets, an annoyed “tsk” falling off his lips when he didn't get the desired reaction, whatever that might have been. Maybe he had actually wanted to start another fight with Shanks. Maybe he wanted to rid himself of this weakness by forcing someone down with him. Hongo had seen that enough, after sailing several years in a crew full of people with easily fragmented egos.
“You all treat me like a damn kid,” Law mumbled, looking like the world’s most embarrassed teenager. “I do not need your- your lectures, or- or your comfort or whatever it is you are trying to do. This is not- I am not-” He grit his teeth. “Once we reach the East, I will leave. And hopefully I will not have to see your ugly mugs ever again.”
“Ouch,” Shanks grinned. “Besides, we're not treating you like a kid. We're treating you like a person. You haven't gotten that a lot, huh?”
“Believe me, if you were part of our crew, we’d have done the same,” Hongo said. “What kinda medic would I be if I just threw someone in a room to deal with a panic attack?”
“I am not part of your crew.” Law stared them down like he was trying to win a contest. “And I was not having a panic attack. It was a… momentary lapse in judgement.”
Hongo groaned in annoyance. He would definitely talk any crewmember who wanted to start a family out of having children. “That's what you're focusing on?!”
“Why else-” Law broke off, glaring at them. “Everyone has their reasons. I do not get why you-” He tapped his foot against the floor, gritting his teeth. “I do not understand you.”
“I'm sorry,” Shanks suddenly said. Law stopped, confusion now completely taking over his face. “I've never actually said it, have I? I'm sorry. For kidnapping you. For separating you from your crew. For the cuffs. For the relapse. For keeping you. I know a sorry doesn't cut it. I know I wouldn't have wanted to hear it either. But I mean it. I'm sorry.”
Law looked like he was actively trying to process his words. He made the act of thinking look painful, like it was physically hurting being apologized to. The lines between his eyebrows got deeper, his lips parted, forming words, but no sound came out.
Hongo watched his captain’s confidence falling with every second the kid stayed quiet. “I mean, obviously I still can't let ya free and I'm also sorry for that, and you don't have to accept anything and-”
“Akagami-ya?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah.”
Law was shuffling on his feet, hands buried so deep in his pockets it looked like he was trying to fold himself in to hide from them. “I- uhm.” He cleared his throat. “Cool.”
Shanks nodded, looking anywhere except at Law. “Cool.”
“You two are honestly so stupid, it’s impressive” Hongo said in awe and earned himself two glares.
“Fuck you,” Law said and raised his middle finger, looking slightly relieved that the tension had been broken. “I do not need some stupid apology. Let me off on the next island and I will forgive you, how about that?”
“Not happening, kid,” Shanks said, looking equally relieved.
Hell, Hongo had no idea how either of them had managed to be captain of their crews. Though- Shanks had proven that he was pretty good at dealing with other people's issues and emotions, just not his own. Sometimes. When the stars aligned.
Law stepped back. “Just try to keep me from escaping on the next island.”
Shanks let him extract himself from the situation. He gave him an easy smile. “You sure you don't wanna wait for one with man-eating birds? Or maybe one with a marine base if you're feeling bold.”
“I will make sure to empty your alcohol stash on the way out.”
“With your luck the guy chasing you’ll be vacationing on the next island.”
Law continued to walk backwards towards the door as if breaking eye contact with Shanks would lose him some kind of game. “Be very suspicious of your next drink. Might just be laced with poison. Not enough to kill you of course, just enough to ruin your week.”
“Aww, you don't wanna kill me? That's precious!”
Children. Hongo was surrounded by children. Children who would rather run away than say what they meant, who were more comfortable sharing barbed comments than listen to an apology. Worse, only one of them was an actual child.
“Hey, Akagami-ya.” Law stopped in the doorway, the doorknob in his hand, ready to leave, serious again. He stared at Shanks with a frown, eyes darting over his face as if he was trying to find a hidden crack in it. “Back during the fight- you had a really stupid grin on your face.”
Shanks’s mouth opened and closed like a fish slapped on land. “What kinda insult is that?!”
Law turned his head away with an annoyed huff, angry at something undefined. “It is not. Whatever.”
And with that he left, slamming the door on the way out. Shanks and Hongo were left in silence, basking in the joy of not having to navigate the minefield of a teenager’s emotions anymore.
“Hey, Boss?”
“Hmm.”
“If I ever tell you guys I wanna have kids, please punch me in the head. Hard. Like, concussion-level.”
Shanks grinned. “I think we're making progress! A few weeks ago he’d have thought we’d kill him for attacking someone.”
“What’s your plan?” Hongo asked, serious again. “We can’t take him with us. It’s too dangerous.”
“Same goes for leaving him anywhere in the north. His face is plastered everywhere, his crew is just three children and he refuses to keep a low profile.” Shanks looked tired as he stared out the window, a frown between his brows like there was a heavy weight on his shoulders. It was rare for him to show it, his constant exhaustion, and Hongo knew today would be another one of those days. “Besides, we can't afford to shine a spotlight on us right now.”
“So what, you’re willing to drag him into our fight then?” Hongo asked. “You said we’re getting close.”
“If all goes well it will be on an escort ship when we strike,” Shanks said. “As long as nobody realizes we’re looking for it, there shouldn't even be a real fight.”
Hongo hummed, thoughtful, then turned towards his desk. He reached into a hidden compartment and pulled out a bottle of sake, nudging aside various bags of psychedelic substances he had managed to find from every corner of the world, mostly out of curiosity for their effects. His captain was wearing that look - the one he always had right before locking himself in his office to drink himself into oblivion. Better to offer him a drinking companion now than have to wrangle his unconscious body into his bed later.
“Let's drink to that then.”
--
Pakkan smiled in relief when an angry teenager stomped towards him, as if he was trying to finish the job of killing him. He didn’t sense any killing intent though, so that was good. Probably also the only reason he didn’t immediately dropkick Law on sight.
“Hey Law, good to see you-”
“Your throat. Show me.”
“What? I'm fine, I’m- hey!”
Pakkan flailed when Law grabbed his collar to push it aside glaring down at the tiny cut on his skin with an intensity that suggested Pakkan might drop dead any second.
“You are coming to the infirmary with me.”
“What? No, hey, dude, it's just a scratch!”
Law’s glare, if possible, became stronger. More glare-y. The most glariest glare in the world. Maybe Law had been born glaring. Maybe his first words had been insults. Maybe his first steps as a toddler had been stomps. Maybe one day the lines between his brows would be deep enough to sail a ship through them. Maybe he wasn’t even a real human but three bags of spite and anger stuffed into a shirt. Maybe-
Pakkan raised his hands as if soothing a feral animal. “How ‘bout we just go to the kitchen instead? Grab ourselves a snack, you can make sure I’m okay-”
“I do not care if you are okay.”
“- you can make sure you didn't kill me and we can have a post-spar snack? Win-win?”
Law finally released him. And then, to his obvious horror, his stomach growled. Red colored his cheeks when Pakkan laughed.
“Fine,” Law snapped and stomped towards the kitchen like it had been his idea all along. Stomp, stomp, stomp, there he went, stomping like he was trying to carve his existence into their poor planks through sheer force of will. “Are you coming or not?!”
-
“What is the deal with you anyway?” Law asked later when they were sitting on the railing, full plates in their laps.
“What’dya mean?” Pakkan asked, mouth filled with rice.
“You seem pretty weak to be on a crew like this.”
“Hey!” Pakkan cried in offense.
“Don't go underestimating this guy!” Yasopp leaned beside them and stole a piece of meat off Law’s plate for which he was jabbed in the side. “Ack! Damn, kid, chill with the violence! Wasn’t it enough when ya tried ta kill Pak-kun?”
“I did not want to-!” Law’s face went red as he hunched into himself and Pakkan flipped Yasopp off behind the kid’s back. “I did not want to kill Pakkan-ya. I was- it was…”
“We know, we know,” Pakkan waved him off, “don’tcha worry, man, you're not the first one to try and kill a crewmate around here!”
“I was not trying to kill you!”
“Lightly stab me then!” Pakkan laughed at Law’s growing annoyance. “But yeah, as this ass here said, don’tcha underestimate me! I'm a brave warrior!”
Law looked remarkably balanced on top of the railing, feet dangling high over the water as if a single push wouldn't make him fall and drown. He raised his brows, lips quirking up in a smirk. “No offense, but your fighting style was not really remarkable.”
Pakkan rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, hah, sorry. I'm just not used to keepin’ my opponents alive when I fight against ‘em. ‘S still somethin’ I’m learnin’ here, ya know? ‘Cause Boss doesn’t like it when I accidentally kill. He wants me to only do it when I actually wanna, when I mean it, yanno?”
Law blinked, a horrified realization on his face. “You were more focused on not killing me than actually beating me?!”
“I mean- I mean you’re still good and you fight dirty and stuff but, like, maybe? A bit? Not at the end though, I think that strike coulda actually killed me if Boss hadn’t stepped in.”
Law stuffed a spoonful of rice into his mouth, staring at Pakkan as if he was seeing him in a new light. “And you are the weakest member here?”
“Who said that?” Pakkan whined.
“First time I saw you I punched you in the throat. Every time afterwards you looked terrified of me.” He raised his hand and rattled the cuff on his wrist to make a point.
“‘Cause you punched me in the throat! I'm not the weakest here! I could- I could beat Monster!”
From the crow’s nest the monkey let out a series of offended chatter. Pakkan threw up his hands defensively.
“Well- okay, maybe you would tear off my face in a real fight, but- Building Snake! I could take you!”
“Not a chance, brat.”
Pakkan deflated but celebrated internally when he saw an involuntary smile crawl onto Law’s face. The kid was ducking his head into his collar as if showing his amusement would show defeat.
“You actually understand what he is saying?” Law asked and jutted his chin towards Monster who gave him a toothy grin, revealing all his sharp canines. Strings of meat were caught between them, raw and bloody just like he liked it. Law shuddered with a disgusted grimace, which only seemed to amuse Monster further.
“Well, you learn his language after a while. Gab was the first and then it got easier. Monster’s not big on writing but he’ll do it if he really needs to tell you something.”
“He has a language?!” Law gaped at him. “It is not just- you know, monkey noises?”
“Oi, show some respect for our crewmate!” Bonk Punch called.
“Yeah, that was really rude, kid.” Yasopp crossed his arms. “You should apologize.”
Pakkan shook his head. “Didn't realize you were so prejudiced.”
“What- no, I- I mean-” Law looked hopelessly lost, flustered, as he looked around at them all.
Monster chittered in what Pakkan knew was amusement but would look like disappointed sadness to anyone who didn’t know him.
Law squinted at them in suspicion when Bonk Punch’s lips quivered with the effort not to break into laughter.”
“Fuck you,” Law muttered and stuffed his face with food. He dramatically pointed at Monster. “And fuck you too.”
Monster immediately leapt beside him, grabbed his plate and bolted, grinning the whole way. Law was left to flex his hands in the empty air with barely suppressed anger. “Bring that back or I will turn you into my next anatomy lesson!”
“Well, that's what you get for disrespecting monkey culture,” Pakkan grinned.
Law sniffed and crossed his arms, now freed from his plate. “I could beat him in a fight.”
The entire crew burst into laughter, making Law bristle.
“I couldn't beat him,” Building Snake said. “He’s crazy. He’ll rip your face clean off.”
“Is this entire crew made out of weak looking idiots who turn out to be insanely strong?” Law asked and Pakkan, who was about to offer him his food, decided against it with a pout.
“Ouch, kid,” Yasopp laughed.
“Eh, it just happens when you sail with stronger people - you push yourself to keep up.” Limejuice joined the conversation, leaning against the railing beside Pakkan. “Besides, ‘s not like we recruit based on strength.” He raised his arms to do some unenthusiastic jazz-hands. “We do it based on vibes.”
“What the fuck does that mean,” Law said in disgust, sounding personally offended.
“It means we found most of these assholes in some dirty back alleys and picked them up ‘cause they looked funny,” Benn said from where he and a few of the others were sitting on the grass playing cards.
“And we followed them ‘cause they looked like a bunch of weak bastards who needed help not to die,” Yasopp grinned.
“Who saved your ass in June City?” Benn put down a card with smug precision.
“Hey, I had that under control!”
“Sure you did.”
“How did you pick your crew?” Pakkan asked Law, remembering he was the captain of his own crew.
“We met. Then we decided to set sail together.”
Riveting. Show-stopping. Law should write novels, the vivid details were almost too much to keep up with.
“Guess that makes sense,” Pakkan said diplomatically. “The others on your crew didn't seem all that strong.”
Law glared at him as if he had spat in his face.
“They are still growing and learning,” he grumbled.
“And you picked them because you trust them. Because in the danger of everything, you can trust them to have your back and they can trust you to have theirs. That's how a real crew looks like.” Pakkan grinned at him. “In other words, you picked them based on vibes.”
Law looked like he seriously considered hurling himself into the ocean. “All of you truly are the most annoying people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
Pakkan laughed.
--
Law stared out into the darkness of the ocean, the lamp beside him the only light beside the one glowing in the crow’s nest. By now the crew was used to him sneaking out at night sometimes when the nightmares kept him awake, so they didn’t bother him besides an occasional half-joking warning not to hijack an escape boat.
With annoyance he realized his hands were still trembling. He sunk them back into the deep pockets of his pants. If he had lost his mind like this near his crew they wouldn’t have survived. Especially not if he had his devil fruit power. He would defend his crew’s strength with his last breath but he was aware of the difference in power between them. Law prided himself for his control over his emotion, his ability to make decisions under stress - to have his mind blank, waking up with memories of almost having sliced somebody’s neck, it was harrowing.
He was so fucked.
Law scuffed at the wood underneath his shoe and closed his eyes at the wind on his skin, caressing him like it was trying to lead him away. His situation wasn’t hopeless, not completely. Maybe this capture situation would even work out in his favor. The Red Hair Pirates would sail him away from the North, away from Doflamingo’s reach, and he would be able to get stronger in the East when they let him go. His crew wouldn’t be with him but maybe that was for the best. He didn’t need to pull them into this mess, not with their current strength, not with the enemies encroaching on them. Not if he might be a danger.
“Hey, Pipsqueak!" Limejuice called down to him and he raised his head to look at the crow’s nest. “I’m bored, wanna play chess?”
“I only know the basics,” Law replied. Usually he hated being bothered during these nights, but now he welcomed a distraction from his swirling thoughts. “And do not fucking call me that!”
“That’s fine, I suck too!”
Law threw one last look at the dark ocean. And with a shrug he grabbed the lamp and headed for the mast. “A thousand berry if I win.”
“What?!” Limejuice exclaimed but he was grinning when Law climbed into the crow’s nest. He was setting up the figures, squinting at the king and the queen. Law grabbed them out of his hand to place them on the correct spots. “And what if I win? You don’t have any money.”
“I can tell you where Hongo hides his recreational drugs.”
Limejuice immediately held out his hand. “Deal!”
--
Shanks should probably be worried that the kid somehow always managed to sneak into his office underneath his desk and jump scare him when he wanted to sit down, but that worry was overshadowed by the delight that he had for some god forsaken reason become a trusted figure despite their last argument. He also had no idea how he had managed that. He assumed it would be the opposite considering the, well, kidnapping thing. And the bodily harm thing. And the threatening thing. The entire thing if you will.
"Damn kid, give a man a warning!" Shanks yelped, shoving his chair back before he accidentally kneed Law in the face.
Law didn’t flinch, merely blinking up from the textbook he was reading in the darkness. Shanks would offer him a lamp if he hadn't set himself the goal of coaxing the kid out and making him sit in an actually comfortable space. He could continue hiding from the crew when they got too much if he wanted to, but using his desk was really not the way. Besides having to constantly worry Shanks would accidentally kick the kid, it was also probably not good for the kid's back to constantly be folded up. And it wasn't like he was still avoiding the crew, he actually seemed to become more amicable towards them and their attempts to be on friendlier terms. Progress and all that.
Shanks really had his work cut out for him.
Law was oddly silent, his shadowed eyes never leaving Shanks like he was debating on something. And then slowly he rolled the long sleeve over his arm, the expression on his face a pure challenge, a dare for Shanks to pull back.
The white spots had grown stronger again.
Shanks slid off the chair to sit cross-legged in front of the kid. "Sure," he said with an easy smile and waved the kid closer. "But only if you come out from there. It's starting to get a bit ridiculous."
Law rolled his eyes but carefully shuffled out of the dark space, squinting against the harsh light. He wordlessly held his cuffed wrists towards Shanks, still like he expected to be denied at any moment. Shanks pulled the key from his pocket and carefully opened the lock. Immediately Law snatched his arms back and surrounded himself with the blue bubble after a muttered "room", big enough to encompass himself but not touch Shanks. Without prompting Shanks held out his knife and watched the fascinating procedure of Law healing himself.
“Shambles.”
The operation was no less strange the second time. Watching someone dismantle and reassemble their own body parts had always been fascinating for him. It was a shame Buggy had hated his powers, though Shanks wasn't sure if it was his devil fruit he hated or the fact that it was Shanks who had caused him to have it.
Like last time Shanks was the one to grab Law's arm when too much flesh had been cut off, when too much blood was floating in the air. The kid was breathing harshly when he put himself together again and he yanked his arm out of Shanks's grip, rotating his wrists. The cracks his joints let out were terrible. With the swish of his fingers the flesh and blood were sent into Shanks's almost empty sake mug, not one drop landing on the floor.
"Hey, I was drinking that!"
"I am saving you from a slow death via liver failure, old-man-ya," Law said drily and Shanks couldn't keep up his pretend-anger when the kid finally broke his silence.
"I'm twenty-eight, brat, have some respect for your seniors!"
Law snorted. "Careful, heavy alcoholism is dangerous for the elderly."
Shanks wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye. "Kids can be so mean."
An actual laugh escaped Law who looked as surprised as Shanks did. It was a nice sound, rough and awkward as if the kid didn't have a lot of practice laughing. Well, and if that wasn't just a depressing thought.
Shanks couldn't help the smile from spreading over his lips when the kid avoided his gaze, schooling his expression back into his usual glare. Like last time he let Law rest with his powers activated for a while, the constant frown between his eyes softer now, more relaxed than he usually appeared. It made him look younger, made him look his actual age.
"Heard we are going to dock soon?"
Shanks looked down at the kid from the report he was reading. (An entire Marine fleet following a single ship, guarding from far enough to make it look unrelated - The key to the One Piece was close, so close. It still didn't feel real.) "It's a relatively tiny island. If you hope you can escape, I'll tell you now that there's probably nothing there. Maybe you can steal a tiny dinghy boat. Good luck with that."
The kid raised his middle finger, making Shanks wonder once more who had tattooed the word "death" on a fifteen year old's hand. Maybe, he thought with amusement, Law had decided to get his fingers tattooed so as to not put them back in the wrong order when he cut himself apart.
"Am I allowed to go off board?"
Shanks scratched his jaw and considered. As long as Law couldn't get the seastone cuffs off, it wouldn't matter even if he managed to run off into the island. Shanks could find him easily enough. If he did manage to get the cuffs off however it might come to a fight, and Shanks would prefer to not harm the kid as much as possible.
They had already done that enough.
On the other hand, the Red Force was sailing directly towards a possible all out fight against the Marine and Shanks would very much like to keep Law away from them, to let nobody know that the kid was with them, at least not until he could get Joyboy’s devil fruit. Getting it would be much easier if he didn't have to worry about the kid. The document was also still a problem.
"Change your looks and you can go with someone from the crew as long as you stay in their eyesight."
Law didn’t argue but his dry “Uh huh” had all the conviction of someone humoring an order he had no intention of following. "Change my looks how exactly?"
“How you dressed when the Shark Pirates attacked should be fine- though you were recognized by the shadow guy. Ditch the hat this time, it stands out too much."
Law gripped the hat with a mulish expression but didn't protest.
"It's the hat and the tattoos that shine a bright spotlight onto your identity everywhere you go. Ask Bonk Punch for a cloak and some gloves. Keep your head down and no one’ll look twice."
"Aye aye, captain," Law muttered and stood up to walk out.
The title threw Shanks for a loop, almost stumping him enough not to notice that he was still holding the cuffs in his hands.
"OI- wait a damn minute, brat-!"
--
There was an island in the horizon, visible through the narrow porthole in the infirmary. Law's heart was beating in anticipation.
"Just stick with me and you won't have outside-privileges revoked," Hongo said in a conversational tone. By now Law was getting used to the pirates treating his freedom like a footnote.
"What are we going to do on the island?" he asked, watching as Hongo packed two backpacks, both almost empty except for scissors, twine and some containers. Again with them underestimating him by pretty much pushing a knife into his hands. Though, he was aware that Hongo alone would probably outclass him in a fight, especially without his powers.
"Gathering some herbs and stuff.”
“Herbs and stuff,” Law repeated sarcastically, irritated at the vagueness.
“There's a species of dragon-fly on that island that is said to cure a fever if you dry them in the sun, grind them up and mix them with huckleberries."
Law finally turned from the window. "We are not going into the village?"
"And risk you running off and getting recognized?” Hongo zipped one of the bags without looking at him. “Nobody knows we have you, and I'd like to keep it that way. We don't need the World Government and whatever else is after you to hunt us down. We have very important things to do."
Law zoned in on that. The Red-Hair pirates’ appearance in the North Blue. The fact that they weren’t going straight to the East Blue to check up on their little village but were instead taking a detour. Shanks's protectiveness of his reports any time Law had been in his office and the fact that the reports had been nowhere to be seen every time Law had been alone in the room. Now this.
The Red-Hair Pirates had appeared in the North Blue for a reason.
Not that it was any of Law's business, he had other things to worry about. Like making sure his own crew was alright.
"Nobody will recognize me without my hat," Law said.
"Kid, you're not as inconspicuous as you believe," Hongo said drily. "You have the word death tattooed on your fingers, for fuck's sake."
"I can be inconspicuous if I want to be."
Hongo slung the bag over his shoulder and held out the other towards Law. "An inconspicuous person would not have tattooed the word death on his fingers to begin with."
With a glare Law grabbed the bag. He could however not dispute that argument. Grumbling, he crossed his arms. “I will not try to escape,” he said.
Hongo snorted. “Sure.”
--
The island was even smaller up close than it had looked from the infirmary window. Law felt anticipation tighten in his chest and tried to hide his nerves. Judging by Shanks’s knowing look he must not have succeeded.
"Remember, guys,” Shanks called when they arrived at the tiny port, “this is just a short pit stop to stock up on food. And booze."
"And booze!" The crew echoed loudly.
Shanks looked at Law who glared back. "No escaping, aye kid?"
"Uh huh. Get off the boat already, old-man-ya."
"So mean," Shanks sniffed.
The ship docked and the crew spilled out, either jumping or using the gangway with whoops of unearned excitement. Law didn't get it. It seemed like a routine visit on a rather boring island. But the Red-Hair pirates would always confound him, it seemed.
Law stepped off the ship with shaking knees, still not used to the difference between being on land and on the ocean. It felt like he was still between the waves.
Hongo veered away from the path the others were taking towards the closest city and gestured for Law to follow. “The flora on this island is amazing! It’s the only island on which a plant called Nemesina Tropaeolum grows! Ever heard of it? Hallucinogenic properties, pretty cool!”
“Uh huh,” Law said absent-mindedly as he mapped out a mental path to the village. “Planning on adding it to your drug collection?”
“My drug- wait, were you the one who told Limejuice about it?! I caught him tryna steal my hemp! And then he didn’t believe me when I told him it’s an ingredient for stress relief, pain and sleep!”
Law gave him a mean grin and walked a step behind him. “I lost a bet.”
“That’s not-”
“I read Nemesina Tropaeolum tend to grow on cliffs and near water. I might have seen some when we rounded the western edge.”
Grumbling, Hongo stomped through the forest, followed by a self-satisfied Law. “Never getting a fucking child, I swear to god-”
They arrived at a cliffside, overlooking the ocean. Waves crashed against the rocks, like they were trying to grab at them from down below, and Law made sure to keep away.
“Look at that!” Hongo marveled and skipped to the cliffs. He fell to his knees and looked down, leaning precariously forward. “There! I see some! Orange stems and flowers that look like skulls! They’re so weird looking, Law, you gotta take a look!”
“No thanks,” Law said. “I would rather not fall.”
“Fair enough.” Without looking at him Hongo took off his backpack to grab a rope. “Here, help me tie this on something, I’ll go down to grab a few samples.”
“I will do you one better.” And before Hongo could react, Law kicked him in the back, making him fall off the cliff. Only a scream could be heard, the sound of a body meeting the ocean by the time Law had already turned tail and run. Honestly, Hongo should have really seen that coming, he told himself and ignored the tiny, microscopic tendrils of guilt gnawing at him. Hongo would be fine. Probably. Or, well, he’d survive.
And as for him, it was time to find the village.