Chapter Text
By the third time it happens Ichiji wonders if he’s somehow managed to piss off some higher power out there who is now hellbent on getting revenge by way of embarrassing Ichiji to death in front of handsome tattooed men. Honestly that explanation would be more comforting than the much more mundane answer that Ichiji’s ability to avoid injury has somehow completely disappeared in the span of the past week or so.
It’s a small mercy, he guesses, that he at least manages to keep all his limbs attached and unharmed before his next checkup with the doctor. Ichiji had showed up dreading the appointment, and though the examination of Ichiji’s rapidly healing bruises had gone quickly (barely more than a few minutes), it had been unbearably awkward.
Law had clearly been trying to put on his usual aloof, unaffected air with some casual comments that avoided any mentions of their previous encounter, but Ichiji could tell that the other was tense under his bravado. The other’s wary attitude had set off Ichiji’s own typical reaction to stress, which was completely shutting down. This unfortunate combination led to a few stilted exchanges until they both effectively went quiet save for a few brisk and clinical questions with equally short replies.
The only bright side was that the bruises were doing much better, already turning a yellowish-green color. It looked even more disgusting than before, but they were well on their way to healing. Law had muttered that Ichiji was recovering a lot faster than expected, and Ichiji had just grimaced knowing exactly why his recovery rate was so fast. He’d just replied some nonsense about probably catching Sanji’s kick less badly than they’d thought.
By the time his appointment had ended, Ichiji had all but sprinted away from the infirmary as soon as Law had given him the all clear with instructions to come back in another week. At least his siblings had shown some modicum of mercy after that particular encounter, Reiju offering him a sympathetic smile and Yonji offering Ichiji a power bar from his oversized lunchbox. Even Niji had kept his mouth shut instead of teasing Ichiji (something he’s pretty sure Sanji had a hand in if the way the younger would grind his heel into Niji’s foot every time he opened his mouth was any indication).
Ichiji was pathetically grateful that none of them had brought up his failed attempt at… well, he’s not sure he can even call it flirting. Failing to make basic conversation? That was probably closer. If Ichiji could’ve forcibly erased his memory of the whole incident he would’ve done so in a heartbeat. Unfortunately he wasn’t as much of a robot as his siblings liked to say he was, and thus forced amnesia wasn’t a possibility.
He’s not used to feeling embarrassed. It’s not a pleasant sensation and he immediately tries to repress it every time it emerges. And so Ichiji has to resort to the second best option: avoiding Law and the infirmary like the plague and never interacting the other man for as long as he lived. Even he can admit that it’s not the most mature (or even realistic) response - which would probably be apologizing and having a conversation like a real adult - but every time he thinks about trying to rectify the situation he finds himself even more at a loss of where he would begin apologizing.
Sorry I tried to flirt and ended up sounding like a creep? I just thought your tattoos were cool and hands were warm and somehow that made my brain to mouth filter malfunction?
Yeah, that definitely wasn’t going to happen.
For the first few days after making his resolution to avoid the infirmary nothing goes wrong, though Ichiji is sure not to let his guard down. He’s on high alert during all his stage shows for any potential hazards that could result in him being forced to go back to the infirmary, everything from the sharp edge of the control panel that had already claimed blood to any puddles of water backstage from overturned water bottles or the ever leaking A/C unit.
He knows he’s being ridiculous when he starts giving cracks in uneven pavement a wide berth walking around them, but he really really doesn’t want to have to face Law any more than absolutely necessary. After all, Ichiji thinks, it’s just for a couple more weeks. Then Dr. Kureha would be back and Ichiji would’t have to worry about being judged by Law and his alarmingly perceptive golden eyes. Sure, Dr. Kureha would still judge him (probably more than Law even), but he didn’t worry about impressing her as he was pretty sure she already thought he was an idiot.
Ichiji, however, cannot control everything in his environment and it’s only four days into his slightly more paranoid routine that he manages to injure himself on stage yet again. Yeah, someone out in the cosmos is either pissed at him or thinks he’s the best form of entertainment around. He kind of hopes it’s the latter at this point because then at least one of them would be having a good time.
As it is, all Ichiji can do in the moment after he’s somehow managed to injure himself yet again is let out a long sigh and say, “God damn it.” It comes out slightly stuffed up and clogged.
That day had been going so well too. They’d made it successfully through another show without incident, Ichiji feeling like he was finally in the home stretch for ‘potential accident parameters’ for the day as he and his siblings waited out the end of the meet and greet. He waved at a few of the kids as the last of them were escorted out, only to glance over to see Yonji crouched over on the ground.
Ichiji probably should have been able to figure out the actual cause of Yonji’s actions (his brother’s boot had come untied), but perhaps it was his newly accident alert mindset or past experiences with his youngest brother’s medical issues that had him leaning over Yonji’s shoulder to check the younger’s condition.
“Yonji, are you-?”
He didn’t have time to even think about leaning back when his brother moved. Yonji, not having noticed Ichiji’s proximity, had made to stand up, only for his shoulder to catch Ichiji right in his goddamn face. Almost immediately pain had exploded through Ichiji’s head, centered right around the point of impact on his nose.
“Shit!”
And that led to where they were currently, Ichiji pinching his fingers over the bridge of his newly bleeding nose as Yonji and the rest of his siblings either panic (Yonji, Sanji, and Reiju) or laugh their ass off at him (Niji, of course). At least all the children had already left, because the last thing Ichiji would’ve needed was any screaming, panicked kids added to the mix.
“God damn it,” Ichiji mutters, words coming out muffled.
His hand is already rapidly being stained red from blood, and there’s nothing close by to wipe it on. If he wasn’t so focused on the pain still radiating through his face, he would’ve been utterly humiliated by the situation and how he’d managed to get injured by something so stupid after he’s been so careful. Maybe in addition to hitting the gym more he should work on training his reflexes.
“At least your costume’s already red!” Niji says cheerfully as Ichiji is guided by Reiju to one of the auditorium benches. Ichiji glares at him and flips him off with his free hand.
“Gross,” Nami mutters, staring down at all the blood on the ground. She then grimaces. “Sorry. Usopp’ll get you some tissues.”
Ichiji grunts in thanks. “You guys can all head out. We can handle this.”
“You sure?” Franky asks, looking concerned. “If you need me to drive you to a hospital-“ Ichiji and his siblings all simultaneously wince.
“It’s no big deal,” Reiju says quickly, “Sanji gets these all the time.”
Sanji flushes. “I do not.”
“You so do,” Yonji snickers.
“Go on,” Ichiji says, making a face as a disgusting mixture of blood and mucus slides down the back of his throat. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure…” Nami says hesitantly. After a few more reassurances from Ichiji’s siblings, her and Franky head off, along with Usopp as soon as the other drops a box of tissues in Reiju’s hands.
“Sorry I can’t help more,” Usopp says before he leaves.
“It’s okay,” Ichiji manages, already taking a rolled up tissue from Reiju to stuff up his nose.
Reiju gives Ichiji a hard look then. “You know what I’m going to say.”
Ichiji scowls. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
He hadn’t heard or felt any cracking or crunching sounds from the earlier impact, and Ichiji knows what a broken nose feels like considering he’s had his broken a number of times before. It still hurts, the pain enough to make his head swim at first, but it didn’t feel like there was any lasting damage aside from a bit of tenderness and swelling. That too probably wouldn’t linger for more than a day or so. At least, that’s what he hoped.
“Ichiji,” Reiju says in a warning tone.
“Can’t we just have Mama look at it?” Ichiji asks.
She crosses her arms. “I could have Yonji pick you up and carry you to the infirmary.” Ichiji glances at his younger brother, who looks just guilty enough that he might actually do it without his usual protests.
He sighs. “I’ll go.” He pauses. “Alone.” He’ll be damned before he embarrasses himself in front of an audience.
His sister rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’ll be at the gates like usual.”
Reiju, Niji and Sanji head out as Ichiji gets to his feet, but Yonji lingers behind with a contrite expression on his face. Despite the fact that Ichiji’s the one with rolled up tissues shoved up his nose, he finds himself feeling bad just looking at the younger’s expression.
Yonji grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“It was an accident,” Ichiji says, grabbing the box of tissues, “Just like with Sanji. It’s not like either of you meant to hurt me.”
“I know, but…”
“We all heal pretty fast, remember?” Ichiji says in way of reassurance, “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow evening at the latest.” At least something good came of all the shit that man pulled before he was sent to maximum security.
Yonji frowns. “That doesn’t mean you don’t hurt now.”
“I’ve had worse,” Ichiji says, before wincing as he realizes that probably isn’t what Yonji needs to hear. His fear is confirmed as the younger’s face falls further. “Hey, look.” Ichiji rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe this’ll be a good thing after all.”
Yonji glances at the crumpled up bloody tissues in Ichiji’s hand skeptically before meeting his gaze again. “You think?”
Ichiji sucks up his remaining shreds of dignity to admit the first thought that crossed his mind once his nose started bleeding. “I have a reason to see Law again.”
That statement seems to do wonders for his brother’s mood, Yonji’s face lighting up. “Oh, are you gonna stop being a chickenshit now?”
“Hey,” Ichiji says, though it’s not much of a protest considering he has been a chickenshit for the past few days. He can admit as much at this point.
“I just call it like I see it,” Yonji says smugly, “Can’t imagine you’re gonna look very attractive with blood all down your front though.”
Ichiji glances down, making a face at the few crimson splatters that managed to land on his costume before he’d managed to lean forward far enough to avoid dripping all over the clothes. The costume head would probably have his ass for this later- he glances at the blood splatters on the pavement- not to mention the park cleaning staff.
“I should change out of my costume first,” Ichiji mutters. He can’t imagine going back to the infirmary in the stage outfit again, especially not covered in blood this time.
“You sure?” Yonji asks.
“It’ll take less than a minute to change,” Ichiji says with a wave. “Don’t worry, I’ll be at the gates soon.”
Yonji tilts his head. “I don’t think your appeal will go up that much with your usual boring ass aesthetic, but give it a shot.”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone at this point,” Ichiji says. When his brother gives him a look of disbelief he adds. “Pretty sure he thinks I’m a creep… or at least an idiot with no sense of self-preservation.”
“Neither is completely wrong,” Yonji agrees, dodging Ichiji’s half-hearted swipe.
“You are the worst younger brother ever,” Ichiji announces as he heads backstage, “And I’m including Niji in that count.”
“Love you too!” Yonji says, blowing him an exaggerated kiss before heading out to rejoin their siblings.
Ichiji sighs, tilting his head back slightly as he heads down to the changing room. He can’t deny he feels better though. Even if his nose is still throbbing with pain, at least he got Yonji to smile again.
Staring up at the glass infirmary doors shouldn’t feel as daunting as it is, but as Ichiji regards his own reflection in the door he feels dread pooling in his gut. Part of him wants to just turn on heel and head for the gates without entering, running away like a goddamn coward, but he knows Reiju won’t drive them anywhere until he’s gotten checked over. And so Ichiji gathers his courage and pushes through the heavy doors to the infirmary. He heads straight through the lobby toward the back room, just wanting to get the encounter over with, and pushes open the door to the back after knocking twice.
“Law?” Ichiji says, grimacing at how stuffed up he still sounds.
The man in question stiffens in his chair, and Ichiji feels a flash of guilt at the tense line of the other’s shoulders. “You must have really missed me, Red-ya.” Though the other’s words are said with an air of affected carelessness, there’s that same edge to them from their last meeting. “What happened this-?”
Law spins in his chair, only to freeze when he spots Ichiji. His normal neutral expression falls into one of shock and then concern. He’s out of his chair in a flash, moving toward Ichiji with his eyes locked on his face. “The hell?”
“It looks worse than it is,” Ichiji mutters. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, but aborts the motion when he notices the blood still crusted under his fingernails that he hadn’t managed to hastily wash out in the backstage bathroom sink.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Law mutters, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes Ichiji’s face. On the bright side at least the other is meeting his gaze this time. Well, he might not fully know that he is considering Ichiji’s sunglasses, but Ichiji is still counting it as a win. “How’d you manage it this time?” He sounds almost exasperated, but softer somehow.
“Accidentally smacked into my brother’s shoulder,” Ichiji says, ears heating as Law’s face gets closer to his own. “I don’t think it’s broken though.”
“I can check,” Law says, hand already in motion. He gives Ichiji a brief apologetic look. “This might hurt.”
“It’s fine,” Ichiji says, bracing himself for the pain.
He thinks it’s a bit of a shame that he can’t even appreciate Law’s fingers gently brushing against his face since the moment Law makes contact with his nose a fresh burst of pain explodes through him, wiping out every other thought in his mind. He knows Law isn’t trying to hurt him, but he instinctively flinches backward.
“Sorry,” Ichiji mutters, embarrassment flushing through him.
Pathetic
Ichiji suppresses painful memories as the term surfaces unbidden and echoes around his head. He has to take a second to remind himself that no, he’s not in that terrible operating room in that man’s labs anymore. He’s in the infirmary at a goddamn theme park, while that man is serving seventy years to life with his medical license indefinitely revoked.
Law shakes his head, unaware of Ichiji’s internal conflict. “It’s fine. Just try and stay still for a few seconds. I’ll make it fast.”
When he reaches for Ichiji’s face again, Ichiji is a little more prepared for the pain. He clenches his fists and forces himself to hold still even as he feels the waves of pain once more as Law examines his nose. True to his word Law tries to work quickly, but it still feels like an eternity for Ichiji as he grits his teeth through the pain.
“Looks like you were lucky, Red-ya,” Law finally says, drawing back. “It’s not broken.”
“That’s good,” Ichiji says, certain his face is still screwed up as he waits for the residual pain to ebb.
“Just need to put some ice on it to help with the swelling,” Law says, “I can get you some here, but you should ice it again once you get home.”
He hands Ichiji a tissue to blow his nose before he heads back over to the ice maker sitting in the corner and pulls out a plastic bag from the box on the counter. Ichiji tries to clear out his nose as best he can with the tissue, and he thinks that he at least sounds a little less clogged up once he does. He dumps the bloody tissue in a nearby trash bin.
Law is quick to fill up a bag with ice cubes, zip it shut, and wrap it in a washcloth before handing it over. Ichiji has a sense of deja vu as he nods his thanks before bringing the ice pack to his face. It does help with the pain at least, though he’s sure he still looks like an idiot.
“If that’s all,” Law says, back to not quite meeting his eyes.
Ichiji frowns. Part of him wants to cut the interaction right here, but he knows he’ll regret it more if he doesn’t at least try and rectify the awkwardness between them, especially since it was his fault in the first place.
“Actually,” Ichiji says, “I wanted to apologize.”
The words feel strange coming out of his mouth. He’s never been good at his apologies- the mindset that that man had left him and his siblings with had never truly been eradicated even if they’d all tried to work past it- but he knows he owes the man in front of him one.
Law actually startles, neutral facade momentarily slipping in shock. “Apologize? For what?”
“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Ichiji says, lowering the bag of ice, “I shouldn’t have said something so forward when we’d just met, especially while you were working.”
For a moment there’s just silence as Law blinks slowly at him. Ichiji finds himself becoming more uneasy the longer the silence drags on. Had he managed to misspeak yet again? But no, he did truly owe Law an apology despite any resulting awkwardness. At this point all he can do was wait for whatever verdict Law comes to, as much as it pains him.
Finally Law does speak. “It’s fine,” he says, mouth twisting, “I mean… thank you. For the apology.”
The words are stilted, as if Law is trying to repeat an accepted response he’s heard before. It’s clear that, as unused to apologizing as Ichiji is, Law seems equally unfamiliar with accepting one. The other’s brow is furrowed and he doesn’t look like he knows how to follow his own words up.
“You don’t have to accept the apology if you really aren’t comfortable with it,” Ichiji says. It was something Zeff had taught him long ago.
“No, I…” Law looks frustrated, “I’m just not great at… this.” He makes an all-encompassing sort of gesture that Ichiji doesn’t totally understand. Law seems to pick up on his confusion as he further clarifies, “I don’t get out of the office much.”
That at least makes some sense. Ichiji’s sure that Law spends most of his day cooped up in the infirmary with only occasional disruptions to his solitude from families who he probably interacted with for a grand total of ten minutes, maybe twenty tops.
“That’s understandable,” Ichiji says, “I’m just glad I didn’t do something to offend you.”
Law shakes his head. “No, you’re fine, Red-ya. I know it’s all in good fun.”
Ichiji blinks. “You mean the…?”
“The flirting,” Law says, even as they both wince at the word, “I know it’s just banter.”
“I…”
Ichiji has a few options here. Law is giving him an out, a chance for Ichiji to say that he didn’t mean a single word he said back when he shoved his foot into his mouth. Part of Ichiji wants to leap on it, to quickly agree with Law’s assessment and say that he was just trying to keep a conversation going, albeit with poor execution… but part of him doesn’t want to so easily wave away the intention behind his words.
And god, wasn’t that a daunting realization.
Ichiji’s never been one for romance, never seen any point to it especially at this stage in his life when he’s just about to graduate college, but he’s also never felt as off-balance with someone as he had with Law in their past few encounters. He’s not sure if he wants to commit to anything as serious as saying he wants to date the man, but he can’t deny that there’s some odd pull he feels toward the other, one that has him frequently tongue tied and hyperaware of every move he makes.
It’s a foreign sensation, but not necessarily one he wants to get rid of.
And there’s something else too, something he hears in the tone of Law’s voice. It’s almost like… resignation. It’s as if Law has already dismissed any potential affections, like he’s convinced himself that no one would ever flirt with him seriously or want a relationship with him.
It makes Ichiji strangely sad.
Perhaps it’s this odd empathy that has Ichiji opening his big stupid mouth and making another potential mistake. “I was more apologizing for the timing of it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in a place where you didn’t feel like you could turn me down.”
Because he knows that kind of awkward sidestepping. Reiju and Sanji had gotten more than a few uncomfortable propositions after their shows, requests for risky photos or inappropriately placed autographs. Hell, even Ichiji himself had even been approached while on the job once or twice, and it was always an incredibly awkward situation to let the guest down while still maintaining an air or professionalism. That was the kind of situation Ichiji had felt regretful for creating. If he’d met Law somewhere outside the workplace though…
“What?” Law says, clearly taken aback by Ichiji’s words.
“I’m sorry I flirted with you while you were on the clock,” Ichiji repeats. He steels himself then, deciding to at least try and go for it. If he got shot down, then he got shot down. “I should have waited until we were in a place where weren’t obligated to be polite.”
Law looks uncharacteristically flustered at the words, a flush burning on his ears. At least they can both be embarrassed, Ichiji thinks. “What the hell are you even talking about, Red-ya? Are you saying you would have approached me if I wasn’t on shift?” There’s a challenge in his voice, one that Ichiji kind of wants to meet.
“Surely you know you’re an attractive man,” Ichiji says, not even trying to insinuate anything, just stating facts, “Is it so surprising that someone would try and flirt with you?”
The flush has spread to Law’s cheeks now. “I-I don’t-“ He stumbles over his words, “I can’t handle this shit.” The second Law blurts the words his eyes widen as if he himself can’t believe what he’s just said.
Ichiji grimaces, the words hitting harder than expected, but really he can’t be too mad. Looks like he’d misjudged the situation and pushed too far again.
Who would want a broken failure like you?
“Right, sorry. I’ll try and not injure myself until Dr. Kureha gets back. Thank you for your help, Law.” He turns to leave, feeling oddly dejected. He gets all the way to the door, hand closing on the doorknob when a voice behind him calls out.
“Wait.”
Ichiji turns again, half worried that Law might start berating him for his earlier words or even threaten to report him to the park director, but when he sees Law’s expression the other looks more conflicted instead. “Yes?”
“I-“ Law huffs, eyes darting from Ichiji to the ground and back again in agitation, “I don’t. I don’t hate it.”
Ichiji blinks, confused. “You don’t hate what?”
“You,” Law says, appearing to need a fair amount of effort to force out the words, “This. I don’t hate having conversations with you.”
“But if I’m making you uncomfortable…” Ichiji begins.
He shakes his head sharply. “You’re not.”
That at least is some of the weight off Ichiji’s shoulders. Even if he might have to try harder to tone down his dumb comments (and dumber attraction), it’s still some consolation that Law doesn’t completely despise him for not being able to hold a basic conversation without making it weird. Ichiji will take it.
“I can stop the weird comments,” Ichiji offers. “I should have been more professional anyway.”
“No,” Law says quickly, fast enough that he seems to surprise even himself, “I mean. You don’t have to completely stop.”
Ichiji’s eyes widen. He waits to see if Law will continue, but the other clams up, his face now entirely red. It’s strangely endearing.
“Do you… want me to continue flirting?” Ichiji asks tentatively. He can feel his heart thumping hopefully in his chest despite his attempts to calm it down.
Don’t get your stupid hopes up
“Calling what you said before ‘flirting’ is probably being generous,” Law mutters, but that isn’t a no.
A smile crosses Ichiji’s face, one that probably looks pretty dumb considering his nose is still messed up. As much as he tries to suppress it, the squirming sensation in his stomach increases tenfold. “I’ll have to step up my game then.”
“I’ll settle for you just staying out of trouble for now,” Law says, finally meeting Ichiji’s gaze. He’s still a bit flushed, but it looks like more of his usual sarcastic humor is returning.
“I’ll do my best,” Ichiji promises. “Thank you, Law. I’ll see you soon.”
When he meets up with his siblings again Niji remarks that he looks way too smug for a guy whose nose is starting to bleed again, but it does nothing to dampen the floaty, lightheaded feeling Ichiji’s going through. Part of that might admittedly be the blood loss, but he’s sure that at least some of it is something much more positive. It’s a mix of unfamiliar emotions- relief, excitement and something else that he can’t quite name- humming in his veins like adrenaline but brighter.
He gives vague responses to his siblings’ probing questions, only half-listening to them and instead focusing on what he might say to Law the next time he sees him. He’ll have to come up with something good now that Law’s given him permission to… well, honestly to make a bigger fool of himself than he already has with his flirting. He’s sure he’ll still mess up and misspeak in the future, but for some reason that doesn’t seem as daunting now as it had that morning. After nearly two decades of trying to be perfect all the time, there was something kind of freeing in the prospect of tripping over himself.
After all, he’s sure now that Law would patch him up if he did.