Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Halt villains! Your nefarious schemes end here!”

Ichiji spins, cape flaring out behind him dramatically, and laughs loudly. “Well, well, if it isn’t Sora, warrior of the sea! I’m afraid you’re too late though! The laser is already finished and will soon fire on your pathetic Marine base!” He pauses as the crowd in front of them boo’s and jeers.

“Sora, no!” One child yells over the other voices.

“You fiend!” Sanji says, “I’ll never let you get away with this!”

“We already have!” Yonji says from behind Ichiji, “Behold!”

Ichiji steps away from his spot and moves to his mark further downstage, allowing enough room for the Death Laser to be wheeled out by a few stage hands in nondescript minion outfits. He hears murmurs and gasps from the crowd as the laser is revealed. The oversized prop is rather impressive, standing nearly ten feet tall and still managing to weigh a couple hundred pounds despite being completely hollow inside.

“This laser will vaporize anything in its path to ash in less than a second!” Niji laughs, patting the prop. “You might as well give up now!”

“Never!” Sanji yells, “As long as there is life in me, I will always fight for justice!” The kids in the audience cheer in response.

“Get them, Sora!”

“Don’t give up!”

“Kick their asses!”

Ichiji balks. ‘Holy shit, who taught that kid that word?!’

He sees Reiju’s expression momentarily falter, and Niji turns away from the crowd slightly to hide his laughter. Faintly he hears a mother quietly scolding her child and hurriedly escorting them out of the amphitheater. Ichiji mentally shakes himself, trying to get back into character and remember his next line.

“What nonsense!” Ichiji says, finally remembering his place, “Let’s see what good your justice will do you against the power of our science! Blue, go charge the laser!”

“R-roger that,” Niji replies, shoulders still shaking with barely repressed mirth as he heads back behind the laser. There’s a loud beep from the speakers hanging from the overhanging structures of the outdoor theater, and a large bar on the digital display on the side of the laser slowly begins to fill up with red color.

“Your doom is certain, Sora!” Ichiji says.

“Sora, you have to stop Germa before they finish charging the laser!” Nami says, the large white wings attached to her back flapping and shedding feathers wildly as she speaks. They’ll probably have to buy a new pair soon at the rate these are falling apart, Ichiji thinks idly.

“I got your back!” Franky yells, voice slightly muffled under his bulky robot costume.

“Don’t worry, justice always prevails!” Sanji says. He turns to the audience. “Will you help me take down the evil commanders?”

“Yeah!”

The children in the audience scream and bellow their support, some of them waving flags and glow sticks from the overpriced theme park gift shop.

“What was that? Are you sure you can help me take down the villains?” Sanji repeats.

“Yeah!!!”

Sanji turns back to his siblings. “Prepare yourselves, Germa! Now you face the full might of the Marines!”

Ichiji internally sighs, preparing himself for the final action scene. A glance at the clock hanging on the wall just off stage shows they’re still on schedule. At least he won’t be getting off late that night.

“Bring it!” Yonji yells, dropping into a fighting stance.

“You won’t win, Sora!” Reiju says, striking a pose.

With one last cry Sanji, Nami and Franky all rush toward them. Colorful smoke and sparks shoot from the nozzles at the edge of the stage, and the licensed theme music blasts from the speakers as they all fall into the familiar choreography. The children cheer raucously as Sanji turns cartwheels and backflips across the stage before engaging the rest of them in hand to hand ‘combat’.

Ichiji lets muscle memory take over then, moving on autopilot as he dodges and parries his brother’s punches and kicks. Having done a show a day (three a day during the summer and holiday breaks) for practically a year, makes the routine practically second nature. He’s pretty sure he could do the choreography in his sleep at this point.

Maybe it’s this complacency that leads him to messing up in the end. 

Ichiji steps to the right, already prepared to block one of his brother’s upcoming punches, only to realize a second too late that he’d forgotten to dodge Sanji’s kick first. Sanji seems to become aware of the mistake at the same time, eyes widening in alarm as he meets Ichiji’s gaze, but he’s already in motion with no way to stop himself safely.

The kick catches Ichiji off guard, hitting him hard in the gut, and Ichiji is suddenly painfully reminded that his brother takes kickboxing classes on the weekends as the air is knocked out of him. He staggers back, barely managing to stay on his feet as he clutches his stomach.

“God damn it, Sanji!” Ichiji grunts, low enough that his voice doesn’t carry to the audience of impressionable young children. He pauses for a moment, trying to get his breath back.

“Shit, sorry!” Sanji hisses back, a grimace on his face.

“Get him, Sora!”

“Kick him again!”

‘God, are kids always this bloodthirsty?!’ Ichiji wonders as he tries to push the lingering pain out of his mind. At least none of the guests seem to have noticed them going off script. He looks over to see Reiju shooting him a concerned glance from her fight with Nami, but waves her off.

‘I’m fine,’ he mouths, and she nods and goes back to her own routine.

“Nice try, Sora!” Ichiji says, louder, straightening back up and doing his best not to wince at the sharp ache in his gut. Yeah, that’s definitely going to bruise. “But the laser is already almost finished charging!” He waves a hand at the prop, the meter now filled to the end. “Say goodbye to your precious Marine base!”

“Not so fast!” Sanji yells, quickly falling back into character, “We still have one more thing to stop you!”

“The Admiralbot!” A kid in the crowd yells.

“Form the Admiralbot!”

The cheers from the crowd increase as Sanji, Nami and Franky rush off stage and a snippet of triumphant music plays over the speakers. Seconds later a large clunky robot puppet is marched out onto the stage to deafening cheers.

“Oh no, it’s the Admiralbot!” Niji yells rushing back from the other side of the laser.

“Curses, we won’t stand a chance against it!” Reiju says.

Ichiji pulls the prop gun from his belt. “We have to try, we can’t let them win!” Colorful smoke blasts from the end of his gun, but the Admiralbot continues its steady march forward.

“It’s not working!” Yonji cries.

“For justice!” A voice booms from the speakers.

The large puppet steps next to the large laser prop and mimes smacking its fists against it, booming noises echoing from the speakers. The digital display on the side of the laser shorts out, the power meter rapidly dropping and soon displaying the word ‘ERROR’ in large red font. Plumes of smoke begin to issue from the other side of it.

“It’s destroyed the laser!” Reiju says.

Ichiji scowls. “We have no choice but to retreat! You win this round, Sora, but we’ll be back!” The crowd screams and claps behind them as Ichiji and his siblings run off stage.

“Good work,” one of the assistants, still in their Germa soldier uniform says as he races up to them and begins handing out towels and water bottles.

“Fuck, it’s like a million degrees out there today!” Niji complains before downing half his water bottle in one gulp.

“Right?” Yonji says, “I thought I was gonna melt!” He heads over to a small standing fan in the corner, groaning at the meager breeze he gets from it. “We need better A/C back here, for fuck’s sake.”

“At least it’s the last show of the day,” Reiju hums, dabbing at the sweat on her face and attempting not to smudge her makeup. She turns to Ichiji then. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m-“ he grimaces as the ache in his stomach makes itself known again.

“Oh right, Sanji actually managed to hit you, didn’t he?” Yonji says, looking concerned. “You should probably get that checked out.”

“I’m fine,” Ichiji says through gritted teeth.

Reiju narrows her eyes at him. “No, you’re not. Go to the infirmary after the show.”

“I said I don’t need to-“

“Do you want me to tell Mama?” Reiju says, daring him to protest.

Ichiji winces. “No.”

“Then go to the infirmary,” Reiju says, “If you’re really okay, then it shouldn’t take long. We’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

“Fine,” Ichiji finally sighs.

“Curtain call coming up!” one of the attendants says, before rushing away.

“Think you can hold it together for that long?” Reiju asks. “You can sit out the meet and greet if-“

“No, I can do at least that much,” Ichiji says, before he uncaps his water bottle and chugs most of it. He could only hope this heat wave would pass before long. He definitely wasn’t looking forward to the shows the next day, which was already forecasted to be just as hot if not worse.

“If you keel over, Yonji and I can drag you off!” Niji says brightly.

“And I’m sure you’ll make certain I hit every step on the way down from the stage,” Ichiji responds dryly as he towels the sweat off his face.

“Germa, you’re on soon!”

Ichiji tosses his towel and drained water bottle onto one of the backstage chairs as his siblings do the same. He glances at his reflection in a mirror off to the side, grateful that at least the hair gel is holding and he doesn’t need any last minute touch ups.

“Alright,” Ichiji says, moving toward the side of the stage. “Let’s get this over with.”

The four of them head out for curtain call, smiling and waving at the crowd as a voice over playing on the speakers thank the audience for coming and mention the commemorative souvenirs for sale located in the park’s gift shop. They step down from the stage and stand in a line at the bottom of it, meeting up with Sanji, Nami and Franky who descend down from the other side.

“You good?” Sanji mutters as he moves next to Ichiji.

“Gonna head to the infirmary after this, but I’m fine,” Ichiji says, “Good kick.”

They’re not given any longer to speak as they’re soon swarmed by children and parents asking for photos and autographs. Well, Sanji, Nami and Franky are swarmed. There aren’t as many who want to get pictures with the villains, but Ichiji’s used to that by now.

What few brave kids do approach them he’s sure to smile (non-threateningly) at and pose with as their parents snap pictures before ushering their kids away. Ichiji grimaces as the pain in his stomach begins to steadily worsen as the meet and greet drags on, but he keeps a smile on his face. A part-time stage actor for a children’s play at an amusement park might not be the most glamorous job, but he’ll be damned if anyone ever calls him unprofessional.

Before long the crowds file out of the amphitheater and the actors are finally allowed to retreat backstage to change into their normal attire. He winces as he pulls his costume off, every motion jostling his injury and sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. Ichiji grimaces as he catches sight of his reflection in the large mirror at his changing station and sees a rapidly purpling bruise already spreading across his abdomen. He doesn’t usually bruise that easily, which probably says something either about his brother’s strength or that Ichiji himself needs to be hitting the gym more often. He used to go all the time with his siblings, but he’d been neglecting his exercise routine with the approaching mid-term exams.

“Whoa, he really got you good,” Niji says, double-taking as he spots Ichiji’s stomach.

Ichiji lifts a hand and presses lightly down on the area, only to immediately hiss and draw his hand back. “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” Sanji says again, already having changed out of his costume and back to his normal button up and slacks. He looks genuinely apologetic as he stares at the bruise. “I didn’t think I’d actually hit you.”

“It was my fault,” Ichiji says, “I rushed the choreo.”

He internally braces himself as he holds up his own casual shirt. At least he only had one layer to put on, but he definitely wasn’t looking forward to it. Well, best to get it over with. He lifts the shirt over his head before pulling it down in one swift motion, gritting his teeth through the bolt of agony the action sends through him.

“Shit,” Ichiji grunts.

“Head to the infirmary,” Reiju orders, “We’ll go straight home after.”

“Yeah, alright,” Ichiji agrees. He glances at his younger brother, who still looks like a kicked puppy and sighs. “It was an accident, Sanji. They happen sometimes. Remember that time Niji broke Yonji’s thumb at the Christmas Spectacular?”

“He started crying in front of the kids,” Niji snickers.

“It was one tear, asshole!” Yonji says exasperatedly.

Reiju rolls her eyes. “Go, and I’ll herd the rest out.”

Ichiji leaves to the sound of his brothers still bickering behind him, taking careful steps up the stairs back to the ground floor before heading down the path through the park. It’s only about an hour until the park closes, and he can already see a number of families starting to slowly stream out toward the entrance gates in hopes of beating the rush out of the parking lot.

He beelines for the infirmary, ducking around families and employees. The pain in his abdomen has started to throb in time with his heartbeat, and he hustles as fast as he can without agitating his injury too much. At least the infirmary isn’t too far, only about a ten minute walk away, but even that is a challenge with the high temperature that has him sweating within minutes of stepping away from the air conditioning. He regretfully thinks about how he should’ve grabbed a water bottle before leaving.

Ichiji soldiers on though, keeping his head down as he threads through the crowds. He’s pretty sure some of the kids he passes are pointing at him, his distinctive hair color tends to draw attention, but he pays none of their whispers any mind. He tries to focus instead on what his stepfather and mother might be making for dinner, and the half-finished essay on his laptop that he still needs to write three pages for by the time his eight AM rolls around. Anything to keep him from thinking about the pain too much.

Eventually though he does find himself outside of the unremarkable white building set off to the side of the park’s main avenue. ‘Infirmary’ is written above the doors in bold blue letters, but there are no decorations otherwise unlike the rest of the shops on the row. Ichiji pushes open the heavy glass doors and steps inside, savoring the blast of cold air as he does so, and braces himself to be greeted by the usual infirmary doctor, a forceful older woman named Dr. Kureha.

She was the one usually on staff toward the end of the day, and this wasn’t the first time Ichiji had been on the receiving end of her unique brand of care. Though she certainly knew her stuff regarding medicine, she had the bedside manner of a drill sergeant mixed with fairy tale witch. Ichiji and all his siblings took an absurd amount of care during their shows to avoid having to be sent to her, but accidents did inevitably happen considering the amount of stunts and acrobatics their stage shows involved.

Ichiji feels a slight relief when he sees that Dr. Kureha isn’t sitting at the front desk like she usually is, but he knows that can’t last. He sucks it up like the adult he is and calls, “Dr. Kureha? Are you in?”

His voice echoes around the small waiting area. The whole building is barely two rooms with the front receiving area and a back room that doubled as an examination area and the doctor’s work station. He waits around for a few minutes before moving toward the back room. It wasn’t unusual for Dr. Kureha to not hear someone if she was back in her office. She’d likely be less than thrilled about Ichiji barging in on her, but he was too tired, sweaty and sore to bring himself to care.

“Dr. Kureha,” he says again, pushing the doors to the back room open, “I had an accident at the last show, and I-“ He cuts himself off as his eyes land on the person sitting at the desk. “Oh.”

“She’s out,” the man at the desk says, swiveling around in his chair.

This man definitely isn’t Dr. Kureha.

For one thing he’s clearly decades younger than her (though she’d kill Ichiji if he ever said that aloud in her presence), in fact he only looks a few years older than Ichiji himself. He’s got dark hair, a scruffy beard, several silver piercings glinting from his ears, and a number of black inked tattoos visible on his hands and forearms and poking out from the collar of his shirt. Ichiji blinks when he spots the letters spelling out ‘DEATH’ across the other’s knuckles.

He’s also quite handsome by, well, most standards with a sharp jawline and piercing golden eyes. He’s dressed rather casually in a soft looking yellow hoodie and skinny jeans, and if it weren’t for the white lab coat with the park’s logo on it draped across his shoulders, Ichiji might have assumed the man was just another park guest.

The man double takes when he spots Ichiji for some reason, though he’s quick to school his face back into a more neutral frown. “You need her for something?”

Ichiji quickly gathers his thoughts before he can embarrass himself any further standing in the doorway, gaping at this man like an idiot. “I- Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Few weeks,” the man says, “She’s at a conference.” He stands then, stretching lazily in a way that makes his hoodie ride up just enough to expose the briefest flash of his stomach.

“Oh,” Ichiji says, eyes quickly darting away from the skin. Was that creepy? That was probably creepy.

He is suddenly immensely grateful that his sunglasses are obscuring where he had been staring along with what Niji called his ‘resting murder face’ that keeps him pretty expressionless. He can practically hear his sister lecturing him on ‘objectification’ or ‘the male gaze’ or some other thing she’d seen in a video essay online. At least the other man doesn’t seem to have noticed Ichiji’s wandering eyes.

He tries to get his brain back on topic. “So you’re working here now?”

“I’m filling in until she’s back. Don’t worry, I got all my fancy papers to prove I’m qualified,” the man says, “Trafalgar Law. What can I do for you?”

“I got injured during the show,” Ichiji says, “I work at the Sora stage play. My brother accidentally kicked me during one of the fights.”

“Huh, that sucks,” Law crosses the room toward Ichiji, and a distinctly unhelpful part of Ichiji’s brain notes that the other is a couple of inches taller than him. “Can I see?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ichiji says.

He feels strange and wrong footed under the other’s scrutiny. The other man’s eyes, burning gold, feel like they see far too much. It’s a bit like being a bug under a magnifying glass or bird caught in crosshairs. Ichiji does his best not to flinch under the others gaze and instead reaches for the hem of his shirt. He lifts it up, grimacing slightly as he sees the purple color has darkened and spread a bit more since he’d left the changing room.

Law’s eyes widen as they take in the injury. “I’m just going to make sure nothing’s broken, alright?” He says, lifting a hand and nodding toward the bruising.

“I don’t think anything is, but go ahead,” Ichiji says, feeling oddly embarrassed. He’s usually not one to care much about modesty, a lifetime of living around his three brothers and swimming competitively for years in middle and high school will do that, but under the doctor’s gaze he feels strangely exposed.

Law moves a hand toward his abdomen and Ichiji forces himself not to shrink away. He still sucks in a pained breath as the light pressure of the other’s hand sends a sharp ache through him. Law shoots him an apologetic look but continues his examination.

’At least his hand isn’t cold,’ Ichiji thinks absently. He still has to clamp down on the urge to shiver as the other’s fingers ghost over his ribs.

“Good news, nothing’s broken,” Law says, finally withdrawing his hand after what feels like an eternity, “Your brother got you pretty good though. You can drop your shirt.”

Ichiji lets his shirt fall back into place. “Sanji takes kickboxing classes.”

“Hm, well, you can tell him they’re working,” Law says. He crosses the room over to a small ice machine and pulls a plastic sandwich bag out of a nearby box. He opens the ice machine and begins scooping some of the ice into the bag. “I imagine it’ll take three to four weeks for your bruises to fully heal though.”

Ichiji sighs. “I expected as much.” It’d definitely be a pain in the ass to wait that long, but there was no way around it.

“Here.” Law hands him the plastic bag full of ice, now wrapped in a cheap washcloth. “Put that on your injury for about twenty minutes. Do that a few times a day. I’d say to try and elevate your injury above your heart while you sleep, but given where you got hurt…” he frowns, “Maybe try and put a pillow under your back.”

“Alright,” Ichiji agrees, pressing the bag against his abdomen. Though the cold sensation initially makes him flinch, the numbing feeling it sends through area dulls the persistent aching throb.

“You said you’re in the stage play, right?” Law asks. When Ichiji nods he says, “Talk with the program director about taking out any strenuous choreo or stunts for the next few weeks.”

Ichiji raises an eyebrow. His director definitely wouldn’t be happy with that. “I’ll try.”

Law clearly picks up on his tone, because he scowls, “If he has any problems with that, he can talk to me. You don’t want that getting any worse, Red-ya.”

Ichiji blinks. “Red…? Oh.”

He jolts in realization as he watches the doctor’s eyes widen and flit from Ichiji’s face to his hair and back again. Ichiji raises his free hand to his hair reflexively. Sometimes he forgot that it was dyed, even after all this time.

Back when he started working stage shows he was told that he could use a wig for the role of Sparking Red, but within a couple weeks Ichiji was already tired of messing with the wig cap and far too many bobby pins just to keep the damn thing in place. Eventually he’d opted to just dye his hair red instead of dealing with it, so now all he had to worry about was styling his hair up before the show. Given how often they performed, he’d never regretted his decision even if it earned him some strange looks in his college classes. His other siblings had all followed suit (except Sanji who could just keep his hair natural, the lucky bastard), which had led to far too many jokes from their friends and co-workers about how they all resembled a pack of Skittles when together.

“Sorry, I just- first thing that came to mind,” Law say, looking a bit flustered now.

“It’s fine,” Ichiji says, dropping his hand, “I do play Sparking Red in the show. My name’s Ichiji Vinsmoke though.”

“Right, yeah,” Law says, scratching the back of his neck as he avoids Ichiji’s gaze, “Uh, just keep icing the area, and you should probably come back in a week or so to make sure it’s healing up okay.”

Ichiji nods. “Alright. Thank you, Dr. Law.”

The other makes a face. “Just Law. No need for all that.” He finally glances back at Ichiji. “See you around, Re- Ichiji.”

“You can use Red if you want,” Ichiji blurts. Almost immediately he wants to bite his tongue off because honestly where the hell did that come from. “Not that you have to,” he adds, “You just… it sounded more natural from you.”

Law blinks, and then smirks in a way that sends a flush of embarrassment down Ichiji’s spine. “Red-ya then.”

“Sure,” Ichiji says, the back of his neck burning. His phone vibrates in his pocket. “Hang on, sorry.” He pulls it out and glances at the screen, abruptly grateful for the interruption stopping him from making an even bigger idiot out of himself.

Reiju

Everything alright?

Ichiji

Yeah, be there in a second.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Ichiji says, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“No problem, I was gonna start locking up soon anyway,” Law says, “Don’t do anything to hurt yourself anymore between now and next week.”

“I don’t plan to,” Ichiji says.

He turns and heads back out of the infirmary, pushing the doors open and stepping back out on the overly warm streets of the main avenue. By now there are even more people heading toward the entry gates, and Ichiji can already hear the park speakers calling warnings that the rides will be shutting down soon.

Ichiji shakes his head to clear it from the strange feeling he’s had building in his chest ever since he laid eyes on the new doctor. It was probably just the injury or the temperature or… something. He balks at the cold, wet sensation spreading from the bag through the washcloth and seeping into his shirt. The heat is melting the ice even faster than expected. He’d probably have a bag full of water by the time he made it to their car.

He hurries down the main avenue toward the gate, spotting his siblings’ bright hair when he’s still yards away from the entrance. He quickens his pace toward them, and they all look up as he approaches.

“Everything okay?” Yonji asks, glancing at his stomach with concern.

“Bruising,” Ichiji says, “But nothing’s broken.”

“That’s good,” Reiju says, looking relieved.

“The doctor told me to not be doing any stunts for the next few weeks though,” Ichiji says. 

“Maybe you can switch roles with Niji then,” Reiju suggests. “He’s behind the laser for most of the time we’re on stage.”

“People are gonna be mad that Sparking Red’s not out though,” Niji laughs, though he looks a little excited. Ichiji can hardly blame his brother considering his role had been mostly written out of their latest script.

“They’ll live,” Reiju says with a shrug.

Ichiji glances at Sanji and internally sighs when he sees his brother’s guilty expression once more. “I’m fine,” he says, “We’re just being careful.”

“I…”

“If you don’t stop blaming yourself, I’ll get Yonji to tape all your kitchen utensils to the ceiling again,” Ichiji deadpans.

Sanji gasps, now looking outraged, “You wouldn’t!”

“I absolutely would,” Ichiji says.

“I would too!” Yonji grins.

“You shitty bastards!” Sanji scowls at both of them, but it’s a marked improvement over his previously guilt-stricken frown.

“Boys,” Reiju interjects, “We need to get going. Mama’s already asking where we are.”

That spurs them all to start walking through the gates out to the parking lot. Ichiji internally groans when he sees all the other families doing the same. It’d probably be an extra twenty or so minutes just to get back on the highway.

“So, did Dr. Kureha bust your balls again?” Niji asks.

“Hm?” Ichiji says, “Oh, no she’s out of town for a conference for the next few weeks.”

“Who’s in the infirmary then?” Sanji questions.

“A guy named Trafalgar Law,” Ichiji says, “He’s pretty young.”

“Young?”

“Maybe a few years older than us,” Ichiji says.

“Huh,” Niji says, “Did he bust your balls then?”

“No,” Ichiji replies. He pauses, not really sure how to describe their previous interaction, “He’s fine. Got a lot of tattoos.”

“Woah, really?” Yonji asks raising an eyebrow. “Did you show him yours?”

Ichiji shoots him a dry look. “No.”

“He probably saw part of it though,” Niji says, glancing at the bottom half of Ichiji’s tattoo that poked out from under his short sleeved shirt. He smirks at Ichiji. “Did you want him to bust your balls?”

“I’ll strangle you,” Ichiji replies bluntly. “And I won’t even feel bad about it.”

His brother cackles in the face of his threat. “You’re not strong enough to kill me.”

“Want to find out?”

“He wasn’t rude though, right?” Reiju cuts in.

Ichiji shakes his head. “He was fine. He-“ He almost mentions Law giving him a nickname, but quickly bites that back. “He looked like he was pretty casual about the whole thing. He didn’t even want me to call him ‘doctor’.”

“Hm,” Reiju hums, “Well, I’m glad everything turned out alright then.”

They reach their car, a beat up minivan that their mother had bought used nearly a decade ago and was somehow still chugging along.

“Shotgun!” Yonji calls, quickly hopping into the passenger side and slamming the door in Niji’s face before flipping him off through the window.

“Fucking bastard!” Niji snaps, though he still trudges to the side door and rolls it open. 

Niji drops into one of the front seats while Ichiji slides into the row behind him. Sanji sits down in the same row as Ichiji and slides the door shut. Once they’ve all buckled in Reiju starts the car up, and soon after they’re rolling toward the already forming line of cars toward the exit.

“Are you really okay?”

Ichiji looks over to see Sanji still shooting the bag of rapidly melting ice on Ichiji’s abdomen a concerned look.

He lets out a long breath. “Every single utensil taped to the ceiling. Even the toaster.”

Sanji scowls. “I’m just trying to-“

“I’m fine, Sanji,” Ichiji stresses. “It’s not like you were trying to kick me, right?”

“No!”

“Then it’s fine.”

Sanji huffs. “Alright.”

Ichiji can see the other still isn’t fully reassured, but there’s not much else he can say to make Sanji believe him. Instead he opts to say, “Even the blender. Even the microwave.”

“The microwave’s screwed into the wall, dumbass!” Sanji snaps, brow furrowing as he seemingly tries to figure out the logistics of how Ichiji would tape their microwave to the ceiling.

“I’d get Niji to unscrew it,” Ichiji says with a shrug.

“Can I?” Niji says, a grin stretching across his face.

“If you want Mama to kick your ass,” Yonji snorts.

“Mama would never kick my ass.”

“Only because Zeff would do it for her.”

Ichiji smirks as his brothers start bickering. Soon both Reiju and Sanji begin interjecting into the rapidly devolving debate of exactly how many people their mother could probably convince to commit assault. The number climbs alarmingly high considering how well-loved Sora was in their community. Ichiji shudders to think of exactly how many people would help hide a body in the event that someone did cross their mother.

In that vein Ichiji is definitely not looking forward to explaining to their mother and stepfather exactly how he got injured. He’s sure that he and Sanji will have to endure an hour long lecture about safety and awareness before the night’s out. At least, Ichiji thinks, he could probably still look forward to his mother doting on him a little, even if just for the evening. Though his stomach is still aching and the freezing water dripping from the bag is starting to soak into his pants, that thought alone is enough to bring a smile to his lips.

Chapter Text

The day after Ichiji gets injured is agonizing. From the minute he wakes up and feels the deep ache in his abdomen he knows it’s going to be a long day. It’s a challenge just to get out of bed, his muscles screaming at the mere act of trying to swing his feet over the edge. He’s glad no one else is around to watch the pathetic display as he wriggles around like an oversized sea cucumber as he attempts to free himself from his blankets.

Eventually he does manage to get to his feet and he staggers down the hall slowly, one hand hovering over his stomach reflexively as each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through him. It’s no longer the stabbing pain of the day prior, but an enduring throb that pulses with every breath he takes is hardly an improvement. He soldiers through it though, forcing himself to get through his morning routine with clenched teeth. Ichiji’s glad he tends to be an early riser since it affords him some extra time to make himself presentable without the eyes of his siblings on him.

Dressing himself is a chore, and he opts for a button up that day to reduce how much he has to lift arms during the process. He leans heavily on the handrails on his way downstairs, taking one slow step down at at a time. He can already smell his parents’ cooking as he reaches the landing at the halfway point, which brightens his mood considerably. At least he can count on a good breakfast if he can make it to the bottom.

His stepfather, Zeff, runs one of the most well-known restaurants in the city, if not the country, and he never slacked when cooking meals at home either. Ichiji’s mother was also not one to be shown up in the kitchen, her dishes winning national awards and a column in a well known lifestyle magazine. When they’d announced they’d be releasing a cookbook a year ago with both of their recipes in it, no less than a dozen articles from various food-centric publications had been put up within the day and there had been thousands of pre-orders.

His parents really were a match made in heaven. They’ve been on the same wavelength ever since they met, and Ichiji and all his siblings hold them as pretty much the gold standard of what an ideal relationship is. When he finally makes it downstairs that morning he can already see both of them effortlessly moving around each other in the kitchen, handing each other ingredients or appliances without the other even needing to ask.

“Oh, Ichiji!” His mother brightens as she spots him. She frowns slightly though as she spots his awkward movements. “How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?”

“Sore,” Ichiji manages, finally making it down the last of the stairs and shuffling over to the breakfast table and dropping into one of the chairs. He pauses before adding, “Don’t tell Sanji.”

Zeff snorts. “If that eggplant punished himself any harder I’d think he was about to sink himself in the harbor.”

Sora sighs. “He does put too much on himself…” She steps over to the table and drops a plate with a stuffed omelet and a few sausage links in front of Ichiji. “Here you are, dear.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Ichiji says before picking up his fork and starting to down the food as fast as he can.

He glances at the clock and winces as he sees he’ll have to head out in the next twenty minutes to make it to his classes on time. At least the building was within walking distance of their house. That said he wasn’t looking forward to the journey with how much his body was protesting even the slightest movements.

“Do you want me to drive you today?” Sora asks, still looking worried as she heads back to the kitchen to start on his siblings’ meals.

“You don’t have to-“

“I got it,” Zeff says, waving a hand, “Have to go to the market to pick up some deliveries for the restaurant anyway.” He turns to Ichiji. “You good with that, strawberry?”

“Yeah,” Ichiji agrees, relief flooding him, “Thanks, Zeff.”

Zeff just grunts in acknowledgement. “Hurry up then.”

“Not too fast though, you’ll make yourself sick,” Sora says.

“Eh, he’ll be fine.”

“Honey!”

Ichiji allows his parents’ playful bickering to wash over him like white noise, focusing instead on his meal. He’s glad he made the decision to pack up his backpack the night before so he just has to grab it on the way out. He’ll take every extra second he can get at this point. 

He finishes his meal fifteen minutes later, and soon after he’s grabbing his backpack, planting a kiss on his mother’s cheek before heading out with his stepfather to the beat up pickup Zeff still uses to get around, even though the truck is probably older than Ichiji and they can definitely afford a better vehicle at this point. Ichiji and his siblings have tried to bring up buying a new or even used truck in the past, but Zeff keeps stubbornly insisting on using his current truck until he runs it into the ground. He always mumbles something about getting his money’s worth, but Ichiji thinks the other’s just sentimentally attached to the thing, even if he’d never admit it.

As Ichiji’s leaving he can see some of his other siblings arriving downstairs through the window, and Reiju gives him a wave before the two of them back out of the driveway. None of them have classes starting before ten in the morning, the lucky bastards.

“So you’re still feelin’ it?” Zeff asks after the truck sputters to life and they begin trundling down the road toward the campus.

“Yeah,” Ichiji replies, “Probably will be for the next week at least.”

“Hn, well at least that eggplant’s gym membership is good for something,” Zeff mutters. He looks a little happier at that, probably because he’s the one who pushed Sanji into kickboxing in the first place. “You still working today then?”

“Yeah,” Ichiji says, grimacing at the reminder, “Reiju says I should switch parts with Niji though.”

“She’s right,” Zeff says, “You’re in no shape to be doin’ all those flips yourself.”
Ichiji can’t argue with that. “I’ll talk with the director about it.”

Zeff rolls his eyes. “Don’t let that asshole give ya any grief about it.”

Ichiji smirks despite himself. “I won’t.” They pull up on the curb next to the edge of the campus.

“Try not to bruise up anything else, you hear?” Zeff says as Ichiji gets out, “You nearly gave your mom a heart attack last night when she saw that mess. You looked like someone tried to paint a damn Rorschach test on you.”

“Not like I planned it in the first place,” Ichiji sighs.

Zeff shakes his head. “You brats have given me more gray hairs in the last few years than I know what to do with.”

“Maybe you should invest in some dye, old man,” Ichiji smirks.

“Get the hell outta here,” Zeff says waving him off.

Zeff’s gone seconds later in a puff of smoke. For all his prickly parting words, Ichiji knows the man will be offering to pick him up after his classes as well if he needs it. He feels a flash of gratitude for the man, who was so much better than the one Ichiji had the misfortune to share blood with.

Yeah, his mom really could have done a lot worse than Zeff.

The second time Ichiji injures himself is also an accident. At least he didn’t manage to injure himself two days in a row. He doubts his pride would be able to ever recover from back to back blunders, and god knows his siblings would never let him forget it if that were the case. He has a couple days reprieve between his mistakes, not that the extra time is easy or peaceful by any stretch of the imagination.

As expected, the program director for the park’s stage shows is less than thrilled to learn about Ichiji’s injury, though Ichiji doesn’t take the man’s griping to heart considering Buggy (yes, that’s his actual name, or at least the only one he’s comfortable giving) is usually pissed in general. He does eventually get over it though and agrees with Reiju’s decision to switch Ichiji and Niji’s roles in the stage shows. The transition is fairly painless considering how many times they’ve all gone through the motions. Even though Ichiji needs a bit of extra time during rehearsal to review his new lines and go through his marks, it’s easily done.

The biggest difference on Ichiji’s end is that Niji had been in charge of all the cues regarding the laser. On his first day taking over his brother’s role Usopp, the show’s special effects guy, had flagged Ichiji down to explain the timing and execution of each effect. There weren’t that many to worry about - a few button presses to change the laser’s display and throwing a switch at the top of the control panel to send up the smoke once the laser was ‘destroyed’. Usopp was also considerate enough to tape a piece of paper with the cues written on it to the back of the laser just in case.

“And ask me if you have any questions!” Usopp says, “Or Niji, I guess.”

“I’ll be sure to refer to you,” Ichiji says, “My brother is useless.”

“Go fuck yourself!” Niji calls from where he’s reviewing the script on the couch, “Usopp, help me review this shit. Tell me if I sound as constipated as Ichiji when I do his monologue.”

Usopp snorts, but tries to cover up the sound with a cough when he spots Ichiji’s unimpressed expression. “Uh, I’m just gonna go…” He jerks a thumb in Niji’s direction before scurrying over to the couches.

Ichiji’s still not totally sure how his younger brother, who has the temperament of a wolverine with its leg caught in a bear trap on his best days, somehow managed to befriend someone as perpetually nervous and flighty as Usopp, but they seem to work somehow. Ichiji has a theory that it’s based on their shared love of creating explosives, something that had his mother constantly losing sleep with all of Niji’s various (borderline illegal) experiments. Then again Niji’s fixation was partially her own fault considering her ill-advised purchase of the Mythbusters complete DVD boxset back when Niji was ten.

Back in the present the rehearsal goes smoothly from there, and all the shows go off without a hitch for the next few days. Ichiji can even admit that it’s kind of nice to take a backseat during the performances and let his siblings do all the fancy footwork while he can just chill out waiting for his next cue. After over a year of grandstanding in front of children, he’s more than happy to have some time not striking poses or laughing villainously.

Niji seems to be enjoying the lead role as well, though Ichiji thinks that might partially be due to the fact that the other has a talent for (and takes a measure of delight in) winding Sanji up. He could just be imagining things, but he thinks Niji and Sanji might be trading some real blows during their performance. As long as neither of them get hurt, Ichiji doesn’t mind. The kids seem to love it too, and Ichiji is quickly coming to realize that yes, children really are just that bloodthirsty all the time. Maybe he should prioritize taking self-defense classes if he ever decides to reproduce.

The only downside to having so much free time on stage is that it allows Ichiji’s mind to wander, and more often than not it wanders down the rabbit hole of thinking about that strange new doctor in the park’s infirmary. Ichiji’s usually quick enough to yank it back from that particular train of thought before it goes on for too long, but it worms it’s way back up to the forefront of his mind again whenever he lets his guard down. It’s a bit ridiculous how much he thinks about the other man considering he’s met Law a grand total of one time.

It’s just that Law is like no one Ichiji’s ever met before, and given his younger brothers’ friends that’s saying something. Ichiji isn’t even really sure how to describe the feeling the doctor gives off. Law had been the very picture of arrogant carelessness when Ichiji had first seen him, but once he was looking over Ichiji’s injury he was unnervingly serious and focused. It had felt uncomfortably like being dissected on an operating table and-

Shit

Ichiji shuts down that line of thought off with enough force that he’s almost disoriented when he snaps back to reality. He glances down to see his hands shaking, and he feels cold sweat sliding down his back. Okay. No more thinking about lab tables, experiments or fucking anything regarding medical exams. At least he hadn’t had a panic attack this time. Usually he wasn’t so lucky once he started reliving those particular memories.

“Oh no, it’s the Admiralbot!”

Ichiji’s head jerks up in time to see the enormous puppet emerge from offstage. The audience erupts into cheers. Thank god he hasn’t missed his cue yet. He lets out a long breath, trying to calm his nerves, and blindly reaches for the switch that’s supposed to release the smoke.

His lack of attention turns out to be a grave mistake, his hand overshooting the lever and scraping against the sharp metal edges of the control panel. He hisses under his breath as he feels the metal slice through the thin material of his gloves and dig into his skin. He quickly pulls his hand back down and grimaces at the sight of bright red blood spreading out of a cut  on his pointer finger nearly half the length of the digit. It’s already staining the white cloth, though at least the pain of it hasn’t set in yet.

“Damn it,” he mutters.

He glances up again to see the puppet has already crossed the stage and is lifting its fists up to bring them down on the laser. He doesn’t have time to try and do anything about his injury, instead raising his other hand to throw the switch after the fake robot smacks the laser a few times.

“It’s destroyed the laser!” Reiju yells from the other side of the prop.

“We have no choice but to retreat!” Niji says, “You win this round, Sora, but we’ll be back!”

Ichiji sticks around long enough to cut off the smoke before hurrying after his siblings off stage. His finger is starting to sting now, and he rips his glove off the second he makes it back to the waiting room.

“Damn it,” he repeats, watching more of the blood well out of the cut.

“Good work- Ah!” The assistant backstage balks when she spots Ichiji’s injury, a water bottle and towel half extended in her hands. “Oh- are you-? Um, let me get someone!” She shoves the items into Ichiji’s hands before darting off.

Ichiji sets the water bottle aside and wraps the towel around his finger, trying to put pressure on the wound. It still stings like a bitch, but he’s more worried about the amount of blood coming from it. It’s already staining the cloth bright red.

“Shit, dude!” Yonji exclaims, finally having noticed Ichiji’s dilemma.

“What happened?” Reiju asks, looking concerned.

“Cut my finger on the panel,” Ichiji says, scowling down as the crimson color continues to spread through the towel.

Niji hisses sympathetically. “I’ve done that a couple times. Never as bad as this one though.” He raises an eyebrow. “Were you trying to chop your whole damn finger off?”

Ichiji shoots him as dirty a look as he can through his sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“You think you’ll need stitches?” Reiju says. Both Niji and Yonji visibly flinch at that.

“Hopefully not,” Ichiji says, stomach twisting. That horrible shaky feeling from earlier is back at the thought of bright hospital lights, glinting silver trays, and far too many sharp objects cutting through flesh. His stomach roils aggressively again.

“I’m here!” Usopp barges through the loose circle Ichiji’s siblings have formed around him. He’s holding a bulky white box nearly the size of a briefcase with a red cross printed on the side, and he hurries to set it down on a nearby chair and throw it open.

“Geez, where’d you even get that?” Niji asks, eyeing the large kit.

“Chopper gave it to me,” Usopp says, digging through a myriad of supplies that seem haphazardly thrown together. “I would’ve called him here, but he’s at a conference-“

“The one Dr. Kureha is at,” Reiju says, “Yes, we heard about that.”

“He was so excited to go, and it was just for a few weeks…”

“Hey, it’s not like it’s your fault this dumbass sliced his finger open,” Niji says. Ichiji makes a rude gesture at him with his uninjured finger.

“Curtain call coming up!”

“Ah, shit,” Yonji sighs.

“You’re not going out,” Reiju says, glaring at Ichiji and daring him to argue, “We’ll handle the meet and greet.”

It’s a testament to the pain that’s finally starting to seep more into his consciousness that Ichiji doesn’t even try. “Alright.”

“Germa, you’re on!”

“Try not to bleed out over this,” Niji says, slapping Ichiji on the shoulder, “That’d be really embarrassing to put on your tombstone.”

“Causes of death aren’t usually put on tombstones,” Ichiji replies.

“You bet your ass we’d put it on yours though if this was how you actually died!” Yonji says cheerfully.

“Go!” Reiju says, shoving both of them forward. She glances at Ichiji. “We’ll be back soon.” Ichiji nods as his siblings head out.

“Okay, found the disinfectant!” Usopp says, emerging from the kit with a bottle of liquid and couple cotton balls in hand. The moment he pops open the bottle’s lid, Ichiji’s nose wrinkles at the sharp scent of alcohol. The other man’s expression turns apologetic. “Sorry, this is gonna sting a bit.”

“Just get it over with,” Ichiji grits out.

Usopp is quick to dump some disinfectant on a cotton ball, and Ichiji doesn’t resist as the other grabs his hand. The man offers one last ‘sorry’ before he begins to dab at the wound. Ichiji is twenty one years old, and for that reason he doesn’t scream the second the stinging pain races up his arm, but he does grit his teeth so hard that he can feel the grinding in the base of his skull.

The process feels like it takes an eternity, but eventually ends. The bleeding has at least slowed a bit, enough that Usopp’s able to hand Ichiji a cotton ball and tell him to keep it in place over his wound. Ichiji does so as the other goes back to digging around in his kit, presumably for a bandage. After a minute or two the other man pauses, digs a little more, pauses again, before turning back to Ichiji with a sheepish expression.

Ichiji sighs internally. “What now?”

“Uh, I may have forgotten to restock on bandages,” Usopp says, a hand coming up to nervously tug at the ends of his hair.

Ichiji gives the other the most unimpressed look he can muster. “You have a first aid kit large enough to use as a life raft, and there are no bandages in it?”

“Calling it the size of a life raft is a bit of an exaggeration-“

“Usopp.”

“I’m sorry!” The man cries, bowing his head in apology, “I was going to ask Chopper to restock when he got back, but I forgot to refill it in the meantime!”

Ichiji lets out a long breath. This day just kept getting better. “I see.”

“T-they probably have some in the infirmary though!” Usopp says.

Ichiji winces. Going back to the infirmary right after he was injured a few days ago? The thought was oddly embarrassing. Logically he knew that Trafalgar Law probably couldn’t care less if some dumb co-worker injured themselves twice in such a short span of time, but Ichiji hated the thought that the other would probably consider him careless or clumsy after this.

“Fine,” Ichiji finally says, though his mood is considerably soured. “Can you let my siblings know where I went?”

“Oh, sure!” Usopp says, clearly relieved that Ichiji isn’t about to take his mood out on him. He pauses. “Wait, don’t you want to change-?”

“I don’t want to risk getting blood on the costume if I change,” Ichiji says, though he is less than thrilled about the idea of walking through the park still in his stage costume.

“I get that,” Usopp sighs, “Sorry again.”

“It’s fine,” Ichiji says. It’s not actually fine, but it’s not like complaining about the situation will change it. “I’ll be back soon.”

He heads for the back door, shouldering it open and stepping out into sunlight. He’s momentarily grateful for his sunglasses keeping him from immediately going blind under the change in lighting, but it’s almost worse considering all the strange looks he gets the moment he steps outside. There are a few excited exclamations from children as they tug on their parents’ arms and wave excitedly to Ichiji. He does his best to smile and nod back, but he then walks as fast as he possibly can without running toward the infirmary.

God, he hates his job sometimes.

The infirmary is blessedly empty once again when he walks in, though the front desk is equally deserted. Ichiji doesn’t bother calling out this time, instead walking directly toward the back doors and banging on them with his foot.

“Law?”

“Come in.”

Ichiji wastes no time pushing open the door with his shoulder, standing awkwardly behind it when it swings closed. Law’s sitting at the desk once again and still has his back to him, so Ichiji says, “It’s me. Uh, Ichiji.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon Re-“ Law pauses mid-spin as his eyes dart up and down Ichiji’s body.

Ichiji is once again reminded that he’s wearing his stage costume. “Had to come straight here after the show.”

Law’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, expression unreadable, before saying, “It’s a lot more faithful to the series than I thought it’d be.” He immediately clamps his mouth shut like he hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean-“

“Have you read the comics?” Ichiji asks.

Though it was usually kids who attended their stage shows, it wasn’t uncommon to see adult fans of the Sora series sitting in the audience. The comics had been around for nearly two decades after all. The older fans tended to leave during the meet and greets, but occasionally they would stick around after all the kids had left to speak with the actors (or on one memorable occasion quiz them on their comic knowledge) about the series.

Ichiji hadn’t grown up reading the series himself, but he’d gone through the comics after he was hired for the role in the stage play. It had taken an inordinately long time to get through the entire series up to that point, along with the spinoffs, movies, and alarmingly detailed wiki pages (and that wasn’t even counting the fan theories and YouTube iceberg videos that had wrought havoc on Ichiji’s social media algorithm).

“I did when I was younger,” Law says, though there’s a bit of a curious edge to his voice that implies it’s a half truth.

“Just when you were younger?” Ichiji asks, smirking as his words seem to hit the mark.

There’s a flush burning on Law’s ears as he scowls. “What are you here for, Red-ya?”

“Ah,” Ichiji glances down at his finger, the stinging helpfully making itself known once more, “I cut my finger open on one of the props.”

Law frowns, getting up from his chair and crossing the room to Ichiji. “Let me see.”

Ichiji offers his hand, and is relieved to see when he lifts the cotton ball his finger has mostly stopped bleeding now despite the continued stinging pain. It’s somehow still unexpected when the other gently grasps his hand, despite the fact that Ichiji could see it coming. The idle thought that the other had surprisingly warm hands springs to mind once more, and Ichiji firmly shoves it away.

Instead he focuses on the other’s tattoos, which really isn’t much better for his mental state. The other’s tattoos are as fascinating as he remembers them being, bold black lines with clean edges tracing as far up Law’s arms that Ichiji can see before disappearing where the sleeves of Law’s hoodie are bunched up at his elbows. He rips his eyes away as they start traveling up further before he can be tempted to trace the curves of the half-hidden tattoos curling around the other’s collarbones.

“You’ve disinfected it already,” Law says, snapping Ichiji’s attention back.

“One of my co-workers did,” Ichiji confirms.

Law nods. “Looks like it’s shallow enough that you won’t need stitches, but just barely.”

Ichiji holds in a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“Not a fan of needles?” Law asks with a lopsided smirk.

“Not the medical kind,” Ichiji says. He’s learned in the past that he can handle a tattoo gun just fine, probably because it had looked more like a pen, but anything vaguely sewing needle shaped? Ichiji would likely have to be knocked out before he let that anywhere near his skin.

“Hm, it’s not that uncommon,” Law says, “You wouldn’t believe how many patients have a fear of needles.” He frowns. “You’re up to date on your vaccines though, right? Tetanus?”

“I am,” Ichiji says.

And god, wasn’t that an experience every time he and his siblings had to go through it. Usually Sora and Zeff tried to schedule all of their doctors’ appointments close together to ensure they were all seen around the same time, but doing so had the adverse effect of making the whole house tense and unhappy for the week leading up to it. Niji got unbearably irritable, lashing out at anyone who approached him, and Yonji tended to hole up in his room and only come out for meals.

Sanji and Reiju did somewhat better when faced with medical exams, but both of them would also get stressed out from their siblings’ second-hand apprehension. Ichiji liked to think he was better than Niji or Yonji when it came time for checkups, but honestly he was probably just as bad. The only difference between him and his brothers was that he usually managed to stave off his panic attacks until he was in the safety of his own room so his parents and siblings didn’t notice.

“Good, then you should be fine as long as you keep the cut clean and bandaged for the next week or so,” Law says obliviously. He turns and heads toward the mounted cabinets on the side of the room before beginning to dig through them.

“How long have you read them?” Ichiji asks, trying to take his mind off the darker path they were turning down.

“Hm?”

“The Sora comics,” Ichiji says, “How long have you been reading them?”

Law seems to pause for a second before returning to his task. “Since I was about six. I… my sister read them with me.”

There’s something in his tone and the tense set of his shoulders warning Ichiji not to press further.

“I hadn’t read them before I got the part,” Ichiji says, trying not to let an awkward silence settle in, “When my siblings and I applied they said we looked the part though.”

Law at least looks a little more relaxed at not being questioned further about his own family. “You have siblings?”

“Yeah, we’re all in the show,” Ichiji says, “I have three brothers and a sister.”

Law actually does pause that time, leaning back from the cabinets to narrow his eyes at Ichiji. “There are five of you? Are you gonna tell me that you and your brothers are quadruplets next?”

Ichiji blinks in surprise. “How did you know?”

Law laughs then, loud enough that he seems to catch himself off guard. “Red-ya, are you sure that you and your siblings aren’t actually Germa?”

“I think I’d know if I was the prince of an entire kingdom,” Ichiji responds dryly.

The doctor shakes his head in disbelief. “Whoever hired you must have thought they hit the jackpot. You all fit the roles perfectly.”

“I suppose,” Ichiji says, “The names probably don’t help.”

“What are your siblings’ names?”

“Reiju, that’s my sister is the oldest. Then my brothers are Niji, Sanji, and Yonji,” Ichiji says, “And before you ask, yes that is our birth order and we have heard all the jokes.”
Law gives another huff of laughter. “You know, you’re not doing a good job at proving you aren’t comic book villains. That’s some cartoon level shit.”

“I won’t pretend to know what my parents were thinking at the time,” Ichiji says (even though he’s pretty sure that man had stolen the birth certificates to write their names down before their mother could see them), “But we’re used to it by now.”

“That’s pretty crazy, Red-ya,” Law says, finally pulling down a couple small boxes from the shelves and turning to face Ichiji. “Do you want Hello Kitty or Hot Wheels?”

“What?” Ichiji blinks at the unexpected question.

“Bandages,” Law drawls, shaking the boxes in his hand. “I have Hello Kitty and Hot Wheels. I think there was one with dinosaurs, but I can’t find it so those are your options.”

“…Those are the only options?” Ichiji asks.

“This is a theme park aimed primarily at children between the ages of four and twelve,” Law says with a smirk, “Yes, those are your only options.”

Ichiji internally groans knowing that his brothers will mock him either way. “Hello Kitty.” Might as well give Niji and Yonji all the fuel they can work with.

Law raises an eyebrow, eyes bright with humor. “A bold choice.”

He sets the other box back on the shelf before popping the lid of the bright pink box and pulling out large bandage. Even through the waxy wrapping paper Ichiji can see the hot pink color. Ichiji once again reflects on all his life’s decisions that have led up to this moment.

“Alright, let me see again,” Law says, peeling off the wrapper and dumping it in a nearby waste bin. He crosses back to Ichiji and quickly uses the flaps to wrap the bandage diagonally around Ichiji’s finger.

Ichiji stares down at the green frog character waving against the pink background, surrounded by flowers and butterflies. “Great.”

“It’s good to know you’re secure in your masculinity, Red-ya,” Law grins as he dumps the excess paper in the same bin.

“Niji and Yonji will be insufferable either way,” Ichiji says, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Thanks.” He glances at the clock on the wall and grimaces at how late the time has gotten without him noticing. “I have to get back and change.”

Law hums. “I dunno, I think the costume might be working for you.”

Ichiji snorts. “Ah yes, nothing more attractive than a man dressed as a character from a children’s show.”

“I’m sure some people are into it,” Law says with a shrug.

“Should I count you in that number?” Ichiji’s traitorous tongue says before he can think twice. He immediately regrets as Law’s eyes widen in surprise, a flush burning on his cheeks.

Holy shit, what has he just done?

An unbearable silence descends between the two of them as Law’s mouth drops open, seemingly unconsciously, while Ichiji goes as still as a statue. Ichiji briefly considers the possibility of attempting to hold his breath until he passes out and doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of what he’s just said. After his brain dismisses the idea, Ichiji instead jerkily whirls around toward the door and shoves it open.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. Thanks again. Bye,” Ichiji says clumsily, heading out of the room before he can see anymore of Law’s reaction or say anything even stupider (if possible).

He doesn’t even remember much about going back to the changing room or getting back in his regular clothes, his brain a fuzz of static that sounds vaguely like himself screaming. That eventually turns to a mental berating of ‘oh my god why did I say that’. By the time Ichiji makes it back to the gates he’s pretty sure he looks like he’s seen a ghost, or maybe just the pale shade of whatever remaining dignity he had leaving his body.

“Hey, what took you so-?” Yonji blinks, “Uh, you good there, Ichiji?”

Ichiji gives Yonji a thousand yard stare. “I regret learning to speak.”

“Oh…kay,” Reiju says slowly. “You ready to go then?” Ichiji can only nod in confirmation.

They’re halfway back to the car when Niji spots the pink bandage on Ichiji’s finger. He grins widely. “Is that Hello Kitty?”

“What?” Sanji follows his brother’s line of view to the bandage before he laughs. “Was that all they had?”

“That or Hot Wheels,” Ichiji says hollowly.

“And you didn’t go with Hot Wheels?” Yonji snorts.

“I’m secure in my masculinity,” Ichiji says, parroting Law’s earlier words. Of course, that just has the effect of reminding him of his earlier conversation with Law, which makes him cringe all over once more. He rubs his hand down his face with a groan as a fresh wave of embarrassment hits him.

“You, uh, you don’t sound secure in your masculinity,” Yonji says.

“It’s not my masculinity I’m upset about,” Ichiji mutters.

“Then what is-?”

“Let’s all stop talking now,” Ichiji says. He’s not whining, he’s just frustrated.

There’s a blessed moment of silence.

Then Niji opens his thrice damned mouth and speaks again. “It’s the hot doctor, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know he’s hot,” Ichiji immediately shoots back, only to realize his misstep.

“So he is hot,” Niji smirks, “Don’t worry, I already saw a picture of him.”

Ichiji scowls. “How did you-?”

“Park website.”

“Oh,” Ichiji says in consideration. “Go fuck yourself.”

Niji laughs obnoxiously. “So I was right the other day about you wanting him to bust-“

They’re fifteen minutes late to dinner that night as it takes Sanji and Reiju combined to keep Ichiji from choking Niji out in the parking lot next to their minivan. Yonji is, of course, completely unhelpful throughout the whole ordeal and instead obliviously remarks that he would also have chosen the Hello Kitty bandaids, not because of any statements about masculinity but just because he thinks the frog is cute.

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.

Chapter Text

The evening after Ichiji gets Law’s permission to continue his sad attempts at flirting, Ichiji has a crisis. Well, actually he has several crises that combine into a big Crisis, but he tries to reason through them one at a time for the sake of his own sanity. After dinner he sequesters himself in his room away from his family’s prying eyes for this self-reflection with the excuse of class work that he needs to get done.

And that leads to where he is now, starfished out on his bed (course work untouched on his laptop) as he stares blankly at his white ceiling. If his nose weren’t still sore and prone to bleeding he might be lying face down on his bed trying to suffocate himself in his pillow, but he avoids doing so as that would result in his mother having to do the laundry again and Zeff having to dump his body off the docks.

‘Alright, first order of business,’ he thinks grimly, ‘Liking someone.’

Yeah, that doesn’t sound much more appealing now than it did back in the infirmary. It just feels so juvenile being twenty one years old and having a crush. He knows theoretically that romance doesn’t have an age limit and there are plenty of people out there dating and forming relationships who are decades older than Ichiji is, but it still feels strange.

And it isn’t the only thing throwing him off balance. If Ichiji’s being honest with himself, he never thought that he would be one for romance in general. He’s lived his whole life up to this point without anything more than a passing interest in anyone else, and even those inclinations were easily quashed and forgotten. Sure, he had the vague notion that maybe he’d meet someone nice and settle down maybe a few years down the road, once he managed to take over the business side of the Baratie and get established in his career, but right now? No, that wasn’t something he’d ever entertained.

It’s not like he’s never been on a date though. He’d gone on a couple in high school and one or two in college, but he’d never felt a- for lack of a better term- spark between him and anyone else. All of his previous dates had been awkward conversations over dinner or coffee, and all had ended with half-hearted promises to call afterwards that were never followed through on by either party. He’d never really minded before now, even when his siblings teased him about being a perpetual bachelor (despite the fact that between the five of them the only one who’d managed to have a relationship that lasted longer than a year was Reiju with one of her high school girlfriends).

Ichiji can hardly blame any of his former dates for losing interest though. While he’d at least tried to make things work on all the dates he’d gone on, he could admit he was far from ideal partner. He’s never been the most engaging conversationalist- prone to long bouts of silence and stilted replies- and he wasn’t very good at looking engaged even if he was listening to his partner. He’d even had a girl apologize once for boring him during their dinner even though he’d thought her story about her last trip to her grandparents’ home in Water 7 was pretty interesting.

So yes, Ichiji never thought himself very romantically inclined, and he wasn’t very good at it even if he wanted to pursue someone. It was a pretty devastating combination. Perhaps all those previous failures are the main reasons why Ichiji has been so intent on putting thoughts of any relationships on the back burner and focusing on his education and job instead. It was too bad that his current attraction seemed intent on destroying that carefully drawn boundary.

And this isn’t even considering the third thing troubling him which is that Ichiji has baggage. Like a full airport carousel’s worth. A whole warehouse’s worth of abandoned luggage even. Enough that he doubts it would be fair of him to ask anyone to deal with it when he himself still struggles to process it.

‘No,’ Ichiji thinks, ‘It’s not worth it. Law doesn’t deserve that.’

But as soon as the thought enters his head, his mind goes back to the flustered yet slightly hopeful expression Law had given Ichiji right before he’d left the infirmary. Though the other had clearly tried to hide it, it was obvious that the other man was pleased that Ichiji had expressed genuine interest in him. Even Ichiji, with his complete lack of social grace, couldn’t crush Law’s spirit after the other had worked up the courage to admit his own interest in continuing whatever relationship was emerging between them.

And so Ichiji was left in quite the predicament.

Not knowledgeable enough about romance to pursue a relationship, but not enough of a coward to run away. Was the only way forward just continuing to embarrass himself? Ichiji really doesn’t want to continue down that particular route. Surely there has to be some way to make their next encounter more favorable…

His first thought is to do some research online, but he gives that up after an hour of fruitless scrolling on his phone. Most of the advice on the internet ranges from too generic to be of any use to downright unreasonable (seriously, what kind of advice was to open with spicy book recommendations?). Ichiji thinks he probably should have suspected as much considering no two people, and therefore no two relationships, are the same and thus any advice given by strangers wouldn’t necessarily be relevant. The most useful bit of advice he gets is to communicate, but communication has always been Ichiji’s weak point so that’s not particularly helpful either.

His second thought is to ask someone he knows for advice, but that sounds equally unappealing. His brothers are instantly ruled out. Niji and Yonji would never let him live it down (and he doubts either of them would be particularly knowledgeable anyway), and Sanji’s romantic advice would likely boil down to whatever the other has recently seen in his beloved television dramas. Sanji was a particularly hopeless romantic as well, so he’d probably suggest something sappy like writing a song or another grand gesture that Ichiji would rather walk into the harbor than try to execute.

Reiju is a slightly better option. She had been the only one of them to have a relationship that lasted for longer than a couple months, but Reiju’s ex-girlfriend was very different in temperament from Law, and Reiju herself is also likely to hold this over Ichiji’s head from now until the day they lowered his casket into the ground.

The next best option was, well, Ichiji was at least sure that his mother wouldn’t make fun of him. That said, she was equally as likely to go as far as possible in the other direction, bombarding Ichiji with questions about his boyfriend (because yes, she would immediately refer to Law as his boyfriend even though they were barely acquaintances) and likely trying to set up as many dates as possible on Ichiji’s behalf. It had happened before with his other siblings’ dates, and though Ichiji truly appreciated his mother’s enthusiasm, he didn’t want her inviting Law to the family Christmas before they’d even gone on their first date.

And that just left…

Ichiji’s face twists into a grimace as he imagines telling his stepfather about his current predicament. Sure Zeff might tease him a bit, but he definitely wouldn’t run it into the ground like Ichiji’s siblings would. That said, just the thought of bringing it up to Zeff has Ichiji feeling unreasonably embarrassed. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. In fact, relationships are probably one of the most normal things that people ask their parents about, and god knew that Zeff and his mother had one of the most picture perfect relationships Ichiji had ever seen despite Zeff being as prickly as a durian wrapped in nettles. He was bound to have some kind of advice that Ichiji could use.

As much as Ichiji tries to reason his way through it, he can’t bring himself to get up and actually walk down to his parents’ room. Every time he builds up the courage to get out of bed, he ends up flopping right back down on it as another wave of embarrassment hits him. He lifts a hand to rub it down his face, only to remember that he can’t even do that because of his injuries. This is ridiculous. He’s not some lovestruck teenager, he’s a grown adult. He shouldn’t still be getting this worked up over romance.

Unfortunately both his brain and heart refuse to listen to him, and Ichiji spends the next hour or so chasing his own thoughts in circles. God, sometimes feelings fucking sucked.

“You’re quiet,” Cora says, giving Law his patented ‘I’m worried about you’ look. It’s one that Law hates with a burning passion due to how it usually manages to guilt him into spilling whatever’s bothering him no matter how reluctant he may be to do so.

“It’s nothing,” Law replies vaguely, hoping the other will drop it. When The Look continues but now with an added dash of ‘I just want to help, please talk to me’, Law scowls and glares down at his plate of half finished chicken. “I’ve just been thinking about work.”

“Are things not going well at the park?” Cora asks, frowning. “I thought the workload would be much lighter compared to the hospital.”

“No, that’s not it,” Law says. He bites his lip, then resigns himself knowing that his father won’t give up until he gets the real answer out of him. “It’s just… there’s this guy.” Law huffs, hating how childish the words sound coming out of his mouth.

“A guy?” Cora looks confused for a moment before his expression darkens, “Is he bothering you? What’s his name? What does he look like? Does he live near here-?”

Cora is clearly well on his way to working himself up, standing from the table and looking two seconds away from digging his old rifle out of the hall closet even though Law’s pretty sure the other hasn’t fired it in over half a decade at this point. Law suddenly has a horrifying mental image of Cora tracking down Ichiji and pumping the other full of lead, only to burn the man’s house down afterward for good measure.

He’s torn between exasperation over the misunderstanding and being oddly flattered that Cora seems so determined to defend Law. Even though Law knows deep down that Cora would do anything for him, it still surprises him even after all these years to see it in action (though he’d prefer if that confirmation didn’t come in the form of possible homicide).

“Nothing like that,” Law says hastily before his father can commit a felony. “I mean that there’s a guy there that I’m…” He exhales in frustration as his cheeks heat up. “Interested in.”

Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth he immediately wants to take them back as Cora’s expression does a complete 180. The darkness in the other’s eyes evaporates and his father’s scowl flips upside down into the most exuberant grin Law has seen since the day he’d gotten his medical license.

Law scowls at the reminder of that particular day as he always does, shuddering at memory of having to put up with his father taking pictures for no less than two hours. All the while Cora had been sobbing and proclaiming Law’s accomplishments to anyone who was unlucky enough to stand in his vicinity for longer than five seconds. Actually, Cora looks about ready to bust out the DSLR camera once more, and Law is suddenly very, very grateful that he he’d hidden the camera well after the last incident.

“Oh, Law!” Cora says, and much to Law’s horror he can see the beginnings of tears starting in his father’s eyes. “You- this is-!”

“It’s nothing serious!” Law blurts, though he can tell that his protest is going in one ear and out the other.

“You’re growing up so fast!”

“And you’re making too big a deal out of this,” Law snaps, “I just said that there’s a guy! It’s not like I want to marry him or anything!”

“But this is the first time you’ve ever brought up a boy!” Cora says. His eyes widen. “Oh, wait, I have things for this! Just wait a moment and I’ll-!”

Law watches in exasperation as his father turns and promptly trips over the chair leg. “Cora…”

“No, no, you stay there! I’ll just be a moment!” Cora says, scrambling to his feet.

Cora all but runs back to his bedroom, and Law is left to stare blankly at his plate. He’s sure his food is cold by now, and he pushes the half-eaten meal away from him. He briefly wonders if he should attempt to escape via the window, but he’d have to come back eventually anyway and Cora would just go right back to whatever it is he’s doing now. Speaking of, Law sighs heavily as a cacophony of banging and clattering noises echo from the direction of Cora’s room.

“Cora, everything okay?” Law calls.

“I-I’m fine! Don’t worry!” The words are punctuated by what sounds like shattering glass. Law makes a mental note to pull the broom and dustpan out of the closet before Cora manages to cut his feet open on some glass shards again.

“All I’ve done since I was thirteen is worry about you,” Law groans, but it’s half-hearted at best. He knows his father means well, even if he is clumsy about it. Cora’s clumsy about most things, so Law supposes he should be used to it at this point.

“Okay!” Cora emerges a few minutes later, arms loaded with a tall stack of books. “I found all the stuff!”

“What did you-?”

Law balks as he starts to process some of the titles on the books spine. Cora’s currently holding everything from parenting books to romance novels to what even looks like the latest issue of some magazine aimed at pre-teen girls. Cora drops all the books on the kitchen table, and the weight is enough to make the wood groan in protest.

“This should be everything you need!” Cora says proudly, patting the sizable stack.

“Why do you even have this?” Law asks, picking up the bright pink magazine with a sense of morbid curiosity. His face automatically screws up at the collage of celebrity tween heartthrobs on the front cover interspersed with bright yellow bubbly letters. “What the hell, is this the most recent edition?!” He looks up at Cora in disbelief. “When did you buy this?!” He does all the grocery shopping with Cora, and he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if this had been on the conveyor belt with their food.

“You have to be prepared!” Cora says, snatching the magazine out of Law’s hands.

“Prepared for what?”

“For this!” Cora says, gesturing to the other books on the table. “For romance!”

“I barely even know the guy!” Law reiterates.

“And that’s why this is important!” Cora flips open the magazine. “Alright, question one! Does he go out of his way to be near you?”

Law stares at his father in appalled silence before saying. “What are you reading?”

“Relevant information,” Cora says, flipping the magazine around. Law can see the words ‘Does He Like Me?’ written in chunky letters at the top of the two page spread with a flowchart of pink heart shaped bubbles beneath it leading to four different ‘results’.

“Do I look like a ten year old girl?!” Law barks, horrified.

“Answer the question, Law!” Cora says, shaking the magazine, “Does he go out of his way to be near you?!”

Law throws up his hands. “Oh my god, I don’t know! Maybe! He keeps coming to the infirmary, I guess!”

Cora hums in satisfaction as he looks back down at the magazine. The next ten minutes of his life are something Law swears to never speak of again. Cora obliviously goes through the quiz and Law contemplates piercing his eardrums with the butter knife. It feels like an eternity before the quiz finally ends, but Law somehow manages to get through it. God, he needs a fucking drink.

“Well, it looks like he could like you!” Cora says with satisfaction as he traces a finger down the glossy magazine pages.

“I hate this.”

“But, it also sounds like you need to take more initiative to be sure,” Cora says, ignoring Law’s words and continuing to read the quiz. “Maybe you should try hanging out with him more to see how he acts around you in another environment.”

“I am not taking relationship advice from a magazine that exists to sell makeup and be a conversation starter at sleepovers,” Law deadpans.

Cora looks up from the magazine and sighs. “But this is actually good advice! I mean, this is the same Red guy you’ve been talking about for the last couple of weeks, right?”

Law’s face heats. “I- how did you-?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Cora chuckles, “He’s the only guy you’ve been talking about from work.”

“I-“ Law huffs and looks away. Cora just had to pick now to be annoyingly perceptive, didn’t he?

“From what you’ve told me about him so far, it sounds like the two of you have only spoken in the infirmary,” Cora continues, “Maybe it would help you move forward with your relationship if you saw him in a different context.”

“What do you mean?” Law asks, begrudgingly meeting his father’s eyes once more.

“I mean you should try and go out somewhere else with him!” Cora says, “The park infirmary is far from the most romantic environment.”

“You’re saying I should ask him out,” Law says.

“Well, why not?” Cora asks, tilting his head.

“We barely know each other,” Law mumbles.

“So what? Do you think you’re going to get to know each other better by not making any effort to meet up again?” Cora points out, frustratingly sensible. Law huffs but has no response for that. “Look, why don’t you just try going for dinner or something? The worst that can happen is that you realize there’s no chemistry and you decide to be friends or something.”

Law scowls. “I don’t even know where the guy lives or anything.” It’s a weak protest.

“You know where he works,” Cora says, raising an eyebrow. “Just go find him after both of your shifts are over.”

Law’s mouth flattens into a thin line, but he knows he has no further arguments that aren’t just flimsy whining and excuses.

“Fine,” Law says, only to wince as Cora’s smile widened.

“Good!” Cora drops the horrible magazine back on the table. “Now then, I think it’s probably important we talk about dating safely in all respects-“

“I’m a doctor,” Law blurts, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “I know how it works.”

“And I’m your father,” Cora says, undeterred. “Now as much as I’d love to be a grandfather someday, it’s important that you be responsible and- oh, well I suppose you’re both men so that isn’t as relevant, but still-“

Law groans and drops his head into his hands as Cora continues to ramble. As much as he’s embarrassed (and he is well on his way to being so embarrassed that he just might evaporate off the face of the earth in the next five to ten minutes), he can’t fully bring himself to regret telling Cora about his dilemma. His father really is reliable, if a little over enthusiastic, and it feels good to have someone cheering for him in all aspects of his life including romance.

That said, Law’s definitely burning that magazine when Cora’s not looking. He’s not going through this again, not even for his father’s sake.

Chapter Text

As much as Law wishes he could forget his earlier conversation with Cora and that cursed magazine (he swears if he has to hear one more thing about ‘rising signs’ and ‘retrograde’ he’s going to lose it) it continues to circle his head like a persistent mosquito. Unfortunately there’s no way for Law to swat away this particular pest, and thus he suffers the next couple of days in a mixture of irritation and exhaustion, the process only exacerbated by Cora’s continued insistence on ‘helping’ Law figure out ways to approach his newfound interest.

The only mercy he gets is that Ichiji has not been to the infirmary since the time Law’s crisis began, giving him a safe haven at his workplace where Cora can’t continue hounding him. As well-meaning as his father is, Law needs his own space sometimes to process things. That said, this ends up being less of a reprieve than he’d like considering being alone with his own thoughts has also frequently been a recipe for disaster.

Law tends to put up a strong front. He’s carefully cultivated his cold, standoffish exterior to avoid awkward interactions and present himself as untouchable, but he can admit in the privacy of his own head that he’s a lot more emotionally susceptible than he’d like anyone else to know. It’s something he’s repeatedly tried to shove deep down (something he’s learned to shove deep down). He’d probably be doing the same here, except…

Well, it’s just the first time he’s seen Cora so excited in a long time.

That’s not to say that Law would start a relationship just to make his father happy (even he isn’t a big enough dick to do something like that to another person), but it’s Cora’s level of enthusiasm that makes him think for the first time something like this is actually worth pursuing. He knows that his father just wants him to be happy, and Law’s willing to make an effort to lower the ten-story high walls he’s built around himself just a little if he can at least tell Cora he’s tried.

He’s not expecting much to come of it though.

Law shakes his head, glaring down at his half-full cup of now cold coffee. He was already getting ahead of himself. Before he contemplated anything as terrifying and nausea inducing as vulnerability he’d have to actually talk to Ichiji first.

And god, did even that seem harrowing.

Sure it had been nice to tease the other a bit in the safety of his infirmary- though he had to admit it was still jarring to see a man who looked like he’d sprung directly from the pages of Law’s favorite comics standing in front of him- but speaking to the other outside of that carefully constructed comfort zone? That was enough to have Law on edge.

What if under all that stage makeup and supervillain garb the guy was a complete asshole? What if he was boring? What if they had nothing in common aside from their place of employment? And worst, what if they actually ended up getting along, only for Ichiji to inevitably find out about the shitty, broken person Law was deep down and he ended up rejected once again?

“Dying alone isn’t that bad, right?” Law mutters dryly, tapping the pen in his hand against the notepad in front of him.

The page only has a few nonsense scribbles on it, curling spirals and jagged checkerboard lines. He’s pretty sure he’d sat down originally to start sorting out inventory for things Dr. Kureha would need to pick up when she returned from her conference, but he’s made zero progress on that front for the past half-hour. He huffs and sets his pen aside before ripping the page out of the notebook, wadding it up into a ball and tossing it toward the trashcan. It bounces off the rim before sinking into the bucket.

Law stares down at the fresh blank page in front of him before picking up the pen once more. Logic and reason are what he’s always turned to in times like this, times when his head was a jumbled mess of emotions so thick they felt like they were choking out any coherent thought. He draws his pen down the middle of the page in a solid black line. Over the left column he writes ‘Pros’ and over the right he writes ‘Cons’ before drawing a straight horizontal line under them to construct his table.

He starts with the ‘Cons’ column, one he has no trouble filling up with his concerns.

I’ve only met him a couple times. He seems clumsy. I’m not going to be working here much longer. I’ll probably forget about him in a couple weeks. He looks like a supervillain- yes, that’s a con. He wears sunglasses indoors. He’s a few years younger and seems to be graduating soon. He’s got a big family who’s probably protective. He’s likely going to be focused on getting a job and starting his career. He doesn’t know that I’m-

Law scowls and scratches harshly through the last bullet point. He lets out a breath and looks at the ‘Pros’ column instead. For a long moment the only sound is the hum of the fluorescent lights in the infirmary as his pen hovers over the paper. Finally Law scrawls something out.

He knows about my sister.

He stares at the paper hard enough after that he’s only mildly shocked it doesn’t burst into flames under the force of his gaze.

Why had he written that? (He knows why he’d written that.)

No one alive knew about Lami except for his adopted father. Law had been careful to avoid mentioning her name since her death. Sure there were others who had a vague notion about Law’s past and the death of his family (a certain terrible man with and equally terrible taste in pointy sunglasses and animal prints who knew far more than he should have comes to mind), but the only person Law had uttered his sister’s name aloud to was Cora.

It wasn’t like he’d told Ichiji her name either, but the fact that he’d brought her up at all had been a surprise. He’d mentioned her offhand, without a second thought, when the other man had been standing in the infirmary. Maybe it was because the reminder of the comics they used to read together had brought her to the forefront of his mind, but he was usually so much more careful than that.

He remembers the way it had felt like ice slipping down his back as soon as he’d brought her up. He remembers being terrified that Ichiji would obliviously follow that tidbit of information to ask about his sister, his parents, his past-

Copper and ash and the flames that had licked the sky

But then he hadn’t. Ichiji had gone on to speak about his own siblings and the research he’d done into the comics prior to working at the park. It was like the other had sensed Law’s discomfort and tactfully avoided doing anything to make it worse. It was as if he’d had his own skeletons buried deep in the closet and known what doors to avoid. Despite the awkward conversational missteps they’d had later, Law hadn’t forgotten that moment of consideration.

It was…

As Law stares down at the table in front of him- a dozen reasons why he should abandon his budding interest in Ichiji in the name of self-preservation, and only one reason in the column to the contrary- he makes a decision. He flips the notebook closed, shoves it back into the desk, and sets his pen aside. He glances at the clock on the wall to see that it’s only a little over an hour before closing time. There are never any guests that come in around this time, all of them too busy trying to either ride one last roller coaster or get out of the parking lot and beat the end of day rush.

It also means the stage show should be wrapping up now, and soon they’d be starting the meet and greets.

Law lets out a long breath before standing from the desk. He crosses the room and flips off the infirmary’s lights before heading to the front doors and switching the infirmary sign to “Closed”. If he gets bitched out by the park’s manager for leaving his shift early, that’s just something he’ll have to accept. He locks the glass doors and heads down the cobblestone path toward the outdoor amphitheater.

His heart thuds heavily in his chest as his brain sluggishly catches up with his actions.

Is he really going to do this?

His thoughts war in his mind.

He’ll get in trouble for leaving early.

When has he ever cared about getting in trouble?

He might lose out on professional opportunities.

Dr. Kureha won’t care, and he’s too good a surgeon anyway for something like this to smudge his reputation.

He’s going to make a fool of himself.

He’d rather be a fool than a coward.

He’s going to be disappointed.

Cora would be disappointed if he gave up without trying.

Ichiji’s going to think he’s a creep.

Ichiji had been the one flirting in the first place.

It’s not worth it.

It could be. Maybe, somehow, it could actually be-

The entrance to the amphitheater looms over him, a curving stone archway leading into the rows of benches in front of a large raised semi-circle of a stage. He can see crowds of excited children and their parents inside. Most of them are congregated around a large robot constructed from cardboard and plastic, a woman with orange hair and white wings attached to her back, and a young man with blonde hair wearing a Marine uniform.

Law’s eyes scan further down the stage, and it doesn’t take him long to spot the splashes of red, blue, green and pink. They really do look like they’ve stepped out the pages of the comic books he read with his sister in their living room.

I’ll be Sora, and you can be the seagull!

No fair, you always get to be Sora!

Mom, tell him-!

He shakes himself out of the memory and looks up again. There are very few people around Ichiji and the others playing the roles of Germa’s commanders. Law guesses he shouldn’t be surprised that the villains aren’t very popular, but he does feel a bit bad that none of the kids seem like they want to approach them. The area around them is empty save for a few parents hanging back to watch their kids and thank the actors.

Maybe it’s better this way, Law thinks. After all, the less witnesses there were for whatever was about to happen, the better, right? He huffs. He’s really doing this. Law squares his shoulders, summons his typical bravado like a familiar suit of armor and takes a step into the theater.

It’s a normal day of work, another one where Ichiji does his best to throw himself into his job instead of focusing on his ongoing crisis of emotions. He’s semi-successful at suppressing it considering he’s had a few days worth of practice at this point. He knows his mother would gently chide him about how unhealthy such a thing is, but really Ichiji doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He should talk to Zeff. He knows he should talk to Zeff. It’s just so intimidating to bring it up though that every time he’s given an opportunity where the two of them are alone Ichiji finds the words impossible to get out. It makes him feel like a pathetic coward, an uncomfortable anxiety settling in his stomach every time the chance slips through his fingers.

He has to get it together. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to look himself in the mirror otherwise. He knows his family’s even picking up on his inner turmoil at this point. Reiju, Sanji, and even Yonji are starting to shoot him worried looks whenever he starts getting too far into his spiraling thoughts. Niji shows his concern mostly by making snarky jabs, but Ichiji can tell that he’s just as bothered by Ichiji’s recent disposition.

His sister has even approached him privately to tell him that she’s willing to listen to any issues he’s having. Though Ichiji knows she means well, it just makes him feel like even more terrible now that he’s starting to worry his family. God, who knew so much could get turned upside down just because of some crush?

He pushes his problems to the backseat though as they head down the familiar route to their spots for the meet and greet that evening. Ichiji resolves himself that he has to talk to Zeff that night. He’s been avoiding the necessary conversation for too long, and he’ll be damned if it’s this of all things that starts to drive a wedge between him and his siblings. He swore after he and his brothers got away from that man that he’d never let anything separate them ever again-

“Hey,” Niji whispers furiously, smacking Ichiji repeatedly on the arm, “Hey, hey!”

“What, Niji?” Ichiji says, irritated to be yanked back to reality so abruptly.

“Look!”

Ichiji’s gaze follows Niji’s finger, scanning over the crowd of park guests, only to finally land on- oh, shit. All thoughts of finally finding his nerve immediately evaporate. Ichiji wonders if it would be too undignified for him to sprint backstage in front of all the kids.

What the hell is he doing here?!

“Shit,” Ichiji hisses under his breath, low enough that none of the guests can hear him. He can feel his pulse accelerating in his ears.

“It’s your man!” Niji says, barely contained excitement radiating from him. Ichiji briefly entertains the idea of putting the other in a head lock.

“Stop pointing!” He snaps instead, shoving Niji’s hand down. “And he’s not ‘my man’!”

“But it’s him!” Niji grins, looking like Christmas had come early, “The guy you want to-!”

“What’s happening?” Reiju cuts in, looking between the two of them.

“Hot doctor’s here!” Niji exclaims.

“Do not call him that,” Ichiji says with mounting dread.

“Ooh, hot doctor?” Yonji asks, quickly latching onto the nickname. The younger scans the crowd. “Which one is he?”

“The dark broody guy in the yellow and black hoodie,” Niji says, “Lots of tattoos.”

“This isn’t happening,” Ichiji tries to convince himself.

Yonji lets out a low whistle. “He is pretty handsome…” He glances at Ichiji. “You sure you got a shot?”

“Yonji!” Reiju huffs, smacking the other lightly on the shoulder.

“Ow!” He pouts even though Ichiji’s sure the other barely felt Reiju’s strike.

“Be nice!” She says unsympathetically before she glances back at Law. “He is rather attractive though. I suppose you don’t have the worst taste, Ichiji.”

“Sanji might dispute that,” Niji laughs.

“He’s coming this way,” Yonji remarks.

Much to Ichiji’s horror he soon sees that the younger is right. Though Law looks distinctly uncomfortable to be surrounded by so many kids (and wow, does it feel strange to see the other in the light of day outside of the infirmary), the doctor does his best to soldier through it and start in a very clear path toward where Ichiji and his siblings are standing.

“Oh my god,” Ichiji mutters, slightly strained as Law crosses the halfway point.

“Do we have to give him the shovel talk?” Yonji asks unhelpfully.

“They aren’t even dating yet,” Niji says, “That comes after. We just get to bully him for now.”

“I should’ve absorbed you in the womb,” Ichiji mutters, only to stiffen as he sees Law only a few meters away.

Fuck, should he greet him? Should he try and stay in character? Ichiji has a second of despair as he abruptly remembers he’s still wearing his stupid stage costume. God, he probably looks like a loser. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a warm pressure on his arm, only to relax when he realizes it’s only his sister leaning against him.

‘Relax,’ Reiju’s eyes seem to say when he looks over to her.

Ichiji lets out a long breath, steadying himself, and feels a rush of deep gratitude for his older sister. For all she’s willing to tease him, she’s always been a reliable pillar of support. He manages to wrangle his nerves and looks back up.

Law’s in front of him now, still intimidatingly handsome with his casual charisma and hypnotizing eyes, but Ichiji manages to keep his wits about him with Reiju’s comforting presence reassuringly near. 

“Law,” Ichiji greets, relieved his voice doesn’t come out too strained. “I didn’t expect to see you on this side of the park.”

“You’ve seen my workplace enough times, thought I’d come see yours,” Law says, sounding unruffled as ever. His gaze scans over Ichiji before traveling to the others. “These your siblings?”

“Reiju Vinsmoke,” Reiju says, offering a hand daintily.

Law shakes it after a beat of hesitation. “You all really look the part.”

“Thank you,” Reiju says with a smile. “You must be Trafalgar Law.”

“You’ve heard of me,” Law says, more of a statement than a question.

“Park social media… and personal retellings,” Niji says, with an unnecessary eyebrow wiggle in Ichiji’s direction. Ichiji leans behind his sister to cuff Niji in the back of the head before straightening back up. “Ow, shithead!”

“Ignore him,” Ichiji says over his brother’s pained exclamations.

Thankfully Law just looks amused. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Red-ya’s told others about me. You’ve ended up in the infirmary quite a few times at this point.”

He can see Niji and Yonji mouthing ‘Red-ya’ to each other out of the corner of his eye, matching terrible grins on their faces, and he knows he’ll never hear the end of it once they get home. It’s only out of sheer love for his mother and respect for Zeff that he’ll be able to restrain himself from committing fratricide.

“Yes, he’s had more incidents than normal lately,” Reiju says with a measure of good humor. “Thank you for fixing him up.”

“It’s my job,” Law says waving a hand, “Though I have to admit I’ve been curious about yours.” He looks around the amphitheater. “I’m starting to regret not leaving earlier so I could watch the whole show.”

Ichiji can feel the back of his neck burning. It was embarrassing enough for Law to see Ichiji in his stage costume, it was another thing entirely for Law to watch him do the whole ‘over the top supervillain’ routine. “You don’t have to-“

“You could come tomorrow!” Yonji says brightly, “We do shows every day at 4:15!” Ichiji shoots his younger brother a ‘you’re dead to me’ look that bounces right off him. Yonji even sends Ichiji a less than subtle thumbs up like he’s actually helping the situation.

“I just might do that,” Law says, much to Ichiji’s dismay. There’s even a shine of excitement in his eyes that makes it impossible for Ichiji to want to dissuade him.

“We all go out to dinner after work usually too,” Reiju says, surprising the rest of them.

“Wh-?” Niji begins, only to grimace as she digs her boot’s heel into his foot.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Reiju says cheerfully. Ichiji realizes his sister is actually trying to wingman for him.

“You don’t have to if you have plans though,” Ichiji cuts in, giving Reiju a sideways look over his sunglasses. She just smiles serenely back at him.

“I usually just eat at home after work,” Law says slowly, “As long as you’re sure it’s not an imposition…” He looks so uncertain that something inside Ichiji is screaming at him to reassure the other.

“You wouldn’t be,” Ichiji blurts. “I- we’d be happy to have you.” Reiju gives him an approving look.

Law’s gaze scans them once more to be certain, but he seems to relax after a few seconds. “Alright then. That sounds nice.”

“Great!” Reiju says, beaming. “Oh, it looks like some of the kids over there want pictures with us.” She shoves Niji and Yonji in another direction. “You and Ichiji can pick a place!”

She’s so obvious with her maneuver that Ichiji only barely manages to restrain his reaction of burying his face in his hands. It does the job though, as Law and Ichiji are soon left alone in front of the stage.

“Your sister’s quite…assertive,” Law says, clearly searching for a diplomatic descriptor.

“That’s a nice way of saying she’s a meddler,” Ichiji sighs with a wry smile, “She means well.”

“It’s good you have someone like that to look out for you,” Law says, sounding more genuine.

“Yeah,” Ichiji agrees, “My siblings can be embarrassing sometimes, but they have their moments.”

“So then those were…?”

“Oh, Niji and Yonji,” Ichiji says, realizing what the other was wondering. “Niji’s the one playing Electric Blue and Yonji’s playing Winch Green. Sanji’s over there playing Sora.”

Ichiji nods in the other direction where Sanji is still surrounded by a small crowd of kids clamoring for photos and autographs. Sanji shoots Ichiji a questioning glance when he notices the other staring at him, only for a shit-eating grin to cross his face when he spots Law. Ichiji’s eyes narrow behind his sunglasses. His brother’s expression is all he needs to know that even Sanji won’t be letting him off the hook later.

“I’m a bit surprised that Yonji’s the youngest,” Law drawls, “He looks a lot older.”

“He puts on muscle easily,” Ichiji says, the familiar excuse slipping off his tongue. “Has to eat a lot to keep up with it, so you better watch your plate at dinner. He tends to steal off other peoples’ plates”

“Right,” Law says, seemingly remembering the plans they were supposed to be making. “Do you have any allergies?”

Ichiji smiles despite himself, amused that that is the first question Law asks before any preferences. “None food related. Yourself?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’m not a fan of bread.”

Ichiji blinks. “All bread?”

“All bread,” Law confirms wearily, as if he’s heard this question a dozen times before.

Well, that at least cuts down on their options. Plenty of the nicer places Ichiji’s been to in the past serve bread baskets prior to the main course, but that always leaves the less formal options. Probably for the best, since Ichiji isn’t sure he’s ready for a more upscale restaurant to share a meal at anyway.

“Do you count pizza as bread?” Ichiji asks.

Law makes a face. “I can eat it, but I’m not into the stuffed crusts.” He still looks a bit displeased at the notion, so Ichiji rules that out too. “Sorry, I know it’s strange.”

“Nah, I get it,” Ichiji says, “I can’t eat most fast food, so I know how hard it can be to find something.”

“Just a preference thing?” Law asks, though at least he doesn’t sound judgmental about it.

“Yeah,” Ichiji says, “Something about the smell.”

He determinedly tries not to think about why he can’t eat fast food or why the smell makes him dry heave and break out into a cold sweat. That particular rabbit hole was one he definitely didn’t want to go down while in public.

“You’re better for it anyway,” Law says with a half-shrug, “That stuff’ll kill you.” Ichiji feels a flash of gratitude for Law not demanding he elaborate any further.

“There’s an izakaya a few minutes down the highway,” Ichiji suggests. It was a restaurant Sanji had discovered about half a year ago through a friend’s recommendation, and they’d been going to every few weeks ever since. “Good sushi and tempura.”

Law perks up a bit at that. “Do they serve onigiri?”

“Yeah, but it’s usually an appetizer,” Ichiji says, trying to recall the menu, “You could probably ask for extra as a meal though.”

“No, it’s fine as a smaller portion,” Law says, “I don’t really have a big appetite.”

Ichiji nods. “It sounds like we’re settled then. If you need the address I can text-“ he cuts himself off, realizing he doesn’t have Law’s phone number, “Or-“

“Let me give you my number,” Law says, pulling out his own phone and saving Ichiji from finding an awkward work around.

Ichiji gives Law his number, and watches the other send a text. “Sorry,” Ichiji says, “I’m not allowed to keep my phone on me while I’m working.”

“It’s fine,” Law says. “Just let me know when you get it so I’m not texting some random person.”

“Of course,” Ichiji says.

There’s a silence as they both clearly struggle to figure out how to end the conversation.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Ichiji finally says, hoping he doesn’t sound as uncertain as he feels.

“Tomorrow,” Law agrees.

Ichiji hesitates, but then decides to press his luck. “You want a photo or anything before you leave?”

A smirk crosses Law’s face. “Why not?”

Ichiji soon realizes his mistake when Law sidles up next to him, far closer than they’d ever been before. He tries not to do anything too embarrassing as he feels the other’s warm weight press up against his side. It’s nothing like his sister’s earlier reassurance, Law’s presence near him setting every one of his nerves screaming on high alert. His brain immediately turns to static at the sensation.

“Um,” Ichiji says eloquently. Law smells like smoke and spice and- he really needs to stop that particular train of thought before it gets too far down the tracks and he ends up saying something completely inappropriate.

“Smile,” Law murmurs teasingly next to his ear, and Ichiji tries his best not to shudder at the feeling of the other’s warm breath. He tries to focus instead on the phone screen in front of him, turned now to selfie mode.

Ichiji has no idea what kind of expression he makes as Law clicks the button on the side of his phone, and he can only pray to whatever higher power is out there that it’s not too humiliating. It’s both a relief and a disappointment when Law steps away a second later, the other’s warmth fading all too quickly. Ichiji tries not to feel too bereft.

Law hums in amusement as he flicks through the photos he’s taken. “Looks good, Red-ya.” He says, that teasing lilt still in his voice. His golden eyes flick up to meet Ichiji’s, and Ichiji once again feels like a bug pinned to a cork board. “I’ll send ‘em to you.”

“Thanks,” Ichiji manages, trying not to melt into the ground.

“Take care.”

Law’s gone with a far too casual wave of his hand, melting back into the retreating crowd of park guests as he heads back to god knows wear. It takes a few seconds for Ichiji to process everything that’s just happened, but when he does he leans back heavily against the stage and presses a hand over his racing heart.

God, he’s so fucked.

Chapter Text

Ichiji hovers outside his parents’ room, uncharacteristically uncertain as he stares holes into the wood. It should be a basic task to lift his hand and knock on the door, but even that simple movement feels like an insurmountable hurdle. He’s been standing there for at least five minutes at this point. With every second that passes he knows the risk of one of his siblings coming out of their rooms and seeing him dithering in the hallway increases. It’s that certainty more than anything that kicks Ichiji’s ass into gear.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Ichiji mentally berates himself. ‘Just knock on the door and stop being a coward.’

He lifts his fist again, jaw set, and finally steels himself enough to rap his knuckles against the wood three times. It’s admittedly not very loud, but he hopes it’s enough that either Zeff or his mother will hear him.

“Yes? Come in!” His mother calls through the door.

Ichiji sighs with no small amount of relief as he reaches for the door knob. When he pushes the door open he sees both his mother and Zeff relaxing under the covers of their bed. His mother has a book open in her lap, and Zeff has his reading glasses on as he scribbles something in his budget folder.

“Strawberry,” Zeff greets him, gruffly but not unkindly.

“Ichiji,” his mother says, giving him a smile, “Is everything alright, sweetheart?”

All at once Ichiji feels unbearably awkward. He’s a twenty one year old man, literal months from graduating college, and yet he’s standing in the doorway of his parents’ room shuffling like a six year old who’s too scared to go downstairs and get a glass of water by himself. The familiar burn of embarrassment returns. His fingers dig into the fabric of his sweatpants, and he has the sudden urge to turn around and go back to his room.

“I-“ He hesitates, not sure how to phrase his issue. He winces as both of his parents’ expressions start to become more concerned.

“What’s wrong, Ichiji?” His mother asks, brow furrowing.

Panic floods his veins as he watches his mother’s expression fall, and without thinking he blurts, “Sorry, it’s nothing.” Of course, this has the opposite effect of making both of his parents even more concerned.

“Ichiji-“ His mother begins, now setting her book aside on her nightstand.

“Why don’t you close the door and come in, strawberry,” Zeff says, setting his own work aside, “Sounds like it’s something serious.”

Ichiji wordlessly does so, relieved to have been given some sort of direction. He takes a few steps toward the bed, hovering uncertainly in front of it. His mother sighs and pats the bed at her side, motioning for him to sit down like he used to when he was a child. He’s a little reluctant to do so, but the stubborn look in her eyes has him folding before too long.

“Let me see your eyes, dear,” his mother requests softly.

Ichiji dutifully removes his sunglasses and folds them up, hooking one of the legs around the neck of his shirt. Usually he’d feel uncomfortably vulnerable without the normal barrier between him and the outside world, but the action is less daunting in the safety of his parents’ room.

“There they are,” his mother says, sounding satisfied as Ichiji sits on the edge of the bed. She pats his arm soothingly. “Now why don’t you tell us what’s troubling you so much?”

“It’s stupid,” Ichiji mutters.

She frowns. “If it’s causing you this much distress, then it’s anything but.”

“I swear you boys have your emotions sealed up so tight it’ll take a crowbar to pry ‘em loose,” Zeff sighs.

“You’re one to speak, old man,” Ichiji huffs.

“This ain’t about me,” Zeff says, waving a hand, “Go on and tell us what’s got your pants in a twist.”

Ichiji grimaces. “It’s… I met someone.”

His mother’s face goes through a gamut of emotions in about five seconds- confusion, realization, shock, and excitement- her instincts immediately picking up on the words going unsaid. Ichiji would have thought she had some kind of sixth sense if he didn’t know any better. He’d be more embarrassed to be so easily read if it didn’t save him part of an explanation (and no small amount of mortification).

“Oh. Oh!” One of her hands shoots out to tug excitedly on Zeff’s sleeve. “You met someone!”

“Eh?” Zeff looks confused now, slower on the uptake.

“What are they like?” His mother asks excitedly, “Did you meet them in class? Work?”

“Hang on, Sora,” Zeff says, prying his mother’s fingers out of his shirt and weaving their fingers together instead, “Back up.” He turns to Ichiji. “You met someone…?”

“At work,” Ichiji says, answering both their questions, “He’s working at the park infirmary. He’s filling in for Dr. Kureha.”

“A doctor?!” His mother says, excitement rising, “Well, you could certainly do much worse! What’s his name?”

“Trafalgar Law,” Ichiji says.

“Now that’s quite a unique name,” his mother says, eyebrows shooting up, “I wonder if he’d end up taking yours…”

“That’s- We aren’t-” Ichiji protests, ears burning. He’d barely managed to organize a dinner date with Law. There was no way he was thinking as far out as marriage.

Zeff sighs, coming to Ichiji’s rescue. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. It sounds like they’ve just met after all, and I doubt strawberry would be looking like this if everything was peachy.” He turns back to Ichiji. “Why does this doctor of yours got you looking like someone just spit in your food?”

It’s almost comical how fast his mother’s expression shifts at that, going from exuberant, to surprised, to angry in a split second. “Is he not treating you right?” Her hand clenches Zeff’s so tight that the man actually winces, “I swear, if he’s done something to hurt you…”

“Mama!” Ichiji cuts in, not wanting his mother to get the wrong idea because he knows that she’ll do everything in her power to rain hellfire down on anyone who mistreats her children. He’s seen her do it before. “It’s not like that. We haven’t even known each other that long.”

“I see,” she says, relaxing enough that Zeff looks relieved.

“How ‘bout you start at the beginning, strawberry?” Zeff says. His tone is reassuring enough that Ichiji finally finds the strength to do so.

He tells his parents about how he’d gotten acquainted with Law over the course of his recent visits to the park infirmary. Though his parents had known about his various injuries, he’d neglected to give them any more details about his visits or the doctor before. He goes over the awkward conversations they’d had, the apology he’d made, how Law had seemingly given his own permission for Ichiji to continue visiting for less accident-related incidents, and finally what had happened earlier that day and how Ichiji had plans to get dinner with his siblings and Law the following evening.

The whole time his parents had listened in nonjudgmental silence, only occasionally nodding or making noises of assent to show they were listening. By the end of his account, Ichiji can see that his mother’s eyes are shining and even Zeff looks thoughtful.

“Well, I think you’ve handled it pretty well on your own so far, strawberry,” Zeff says, “Everyone makes a few wrong steps every now and then, but it sounds like you’ve managed not to screw it up too bad.”

“He also sounds like quite the charmer,” his mother says, smiling, “I do hope you’ll bring him over to visit sometime.”

“Only if I don’t scare him off tomorrow,” Ichiji says, though it’s not as self-deprecating as it usually is. If anything he feels a little lighter now that he’s finally brought his parents in on the situation. He hadn’t even realized how much stress he’d been under until now.

“It’s normal to be nervous about a first date,” his mother says, patting his arm with her free hand again.

“I’m twenty one,” Ichiji says. “And it’s not the first time I’ve been on a date. You know that.”

“It’s the first time you’ve been on a date with Law,” his mother points out, “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but this is the first time I’ve seen you actually sound like you’re looking forward to going on a date.”

He can’t say that she’s wrong. All his previous dates were unremarkable, and never ones that he’d initiated. Most of the time he’d either been asked on a date by people he didn’t even know thought that way about him, or he’d gone on double dates with one of his siblings or classmates that had always ended awkwardly. This is the first time he’s ever felt anything more than indifferent toward a date night.

“It is,” he admits, “I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

Zeff snorts. “Doubt you could make a worse impression than you already have.” He grunts as his wife elbows him. “What? It’s true. Strawberry’s already shown up in front of this guy bruised and bleedin’.”

“Zeff!”

“He’s right,” Ichiji agrees with a grimace.

Strangely enough, it’s almost comforting to acknowledge that his stepfather is correct. He had already made a pretty bad impression showing up to the infirmary repeatedly injured. If Law still wanted to still meet up with him after all that, there must be something that Ichiji’s doing right.
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing again,” Ichiji says.

His mother looks sympathetic. “I understand. But you also have to be okay with making mistakes sometimes. You can’t be perfect, Ichiji, and that’s okay. If Law is as great as you seem to think he is, he’ll still like you regardless. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth your time.”

Zeff nods. “Your mom loves me, warts and all. You need to find someone who’ll do the same for you.”

“I… alright,” Ichiji says.

“There’s something else troubling you about dinner tomorrow,” his mother says, reading Ichiji’s expression. “You aren’t going to a fast food place, are you?” Her brow furrows.

“No, it’s not that,” Ichiji says.

“Then what’s still bothering you?”

“He doesn’t know about my condition,” Ichiji says, “It doesn’t feel fair for me to approach him when…you know.”

His parents exchange glances. His mother’s eyes are sad, and Ichiji hates that he’s put that expression on her face just by bringing his circumstances up. He knows his condition isn’t his fault, it’s because of that man, but Ichiji and his family are the ones that have to deal with the consequences.

His mother lets out a long breath. “It would only be your first date, right? It’s normal not to know everything about your partner at that point. If after your dinner you both decide this relationship is something you want to pursue then maybe…” She trails off, swallowing hard.

“Your mother’s right,” Zeff says, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of his wife’s hand. “You’re gettin’ too ahead of yourself. You shouldn’t be worryin’ about things like that when you haven’t even held his hand yet. The two of you can cross that bridge when you decide this is something you want to be serious about.”

Ichiji lets out a long breath. “Wouldn’t that be like leading him on though? What if after he learns he decides it’s a deal breaker?”

“Then he’s a fool,” his mother says with conviction.

“Dear,” Zeff says, sounding both exasperated and amused, “It’s an honest question.” He looks back at Ichiji. “I’m not going to tell you it’ll all be smooth sailin’.”

“Then-“

“But,” Zeff arches an eyebrow, “That should be a decision he gets to make. You shouldn’t go assumin’ the worst beforehand.”

Ichiji frowns. “I suppose you have a point.”

“Give him a chance, strawberry,” Zeff says, “He just might surprise you.”

“I guess,” Ichiji says, standing back up. Despite his lingering doubts about his situation and impending dinner with Law the next day, he feels a little better about the future now. “Thanks.”

“That’s what we’re here for, sweetheart,” his mother says, tugging on his arm. He obligingly leans down and allows her to plant a kiss on his cheek. “What kind of parents would we be if we couldn’t even help with advice for your dates?”

“And if he gives you any trouble afterwards, you come to me,” Zeff says firmly.

“I think Mama would be more scary than anything you could do to him, old man,” Ichiji says, raising an eyebrow.

“Damn straight,” Zeff says with a grin, “That’s why I gotta make sure your mother doesn’t end up with a felony.”

“Dear!” His mother huffs, “You know I wouldn’t leave enough evidence to be arrested!”

Ichiji leaves the room as he listens to his parents lovingly banter. As he shuts the door on the warmth behind him, he finds a smile crossing his face. He should’ve talked to his parents sooner, he thinks as he pads back down the hallway toward his room. He knows it’s a stretch, but deep down he hopes that someday he can find someone that complements him as well as they do each other.

Ichiji’s been to the izakaya a handful of times before with his family, but it feels all too new with Law accompanying them this time. Despite his parents’ encouragement the night prior, Ichiji still feels like ball of nerves as their party of six is led to one of the larger tables in the back and given their menus. It doesn’t help that Ichiji can feel all of his siblings’ curious (or terrifying in Niji’s case) gazes locked onto Law like sharks circling a bleeding fish.

Ichiji makes sure to glare at all of them over his sunglasses, his face screaming, ‘this is dinner, not an interrogation’. Unsurprisingly, it does little to dissuade them.

Law at least seems oblivious to the scrutiny, instead scanning the menu with interest. Ichiji can’t help the way part of him softens when he glances across the table and sees the other’s endearingly concentrated expression over the top of his menu.

“What’s good here, Red-ya?” Law finally asks, eyes flicking up to meet Ichiji’s.

“Hm?” Ichiji balks, caught off guard, but is quick to correct himself. “I usually get the maki rolls here. I think Sanji’s tried half the menu though if you want an opinion on a specific dish. You said you like onigiri, right?”

“Yeah,” Law says, seemingly pleased that Ichiji remembers.

“They have a few varieties here,” Ichiji says.

“The tuna mayo and grilled salmon ones are the best, in my opinion,” Sanji jumps in.

Law hums. “Sounds good enough to me.” He sets the menu aside, and Ichiji can see the other’s eyes widen slightly as he notices the rest of the table staring at him, but his expression quickly slides more toward amusement. “I’m assuming this isn’t just a casual affair?”

“Oh no, it is-” Reiju rushes to say.

“Have you dated anyone else before?” Niji asks at the exact same time. Ichiji kicks his brother in the shin. “Ow!”

“Ignore him,” Ichiji says.

“It’s fine. I’ve gone on dates, but nothing serious,” Law says, “Not much time while I was in school or the first couple years of residency for a relationship.” He glances at Reiju. “And I don’t mind answering a few questions, but you’ll have to do the same.”

“Of course,” Reiju answers easily. “It’s only fair.”

“So,” Law glances around the table, “Ichiji told me you’re all quadruplets aside from Reiju?”

“That’s right,” Reiju confirms, “I’m three years older.”

“My turn,” Niji says impatiently.

“You didn’t even answer a question,” Sanji mutters, rolling his eyes, “It should be Reiju’s turn.”

“Whatever,” Niji waves a hand dismissively, “You’re a doctor, right? What are you studying?”

“I’m studying to be a cardiothoracic surgeon,” Law says. When Niji frowns he clarifies. “A heart surgeon.”

“Oh, shit,” Yonji says, “Sounds serious.”

“It’s worth it,” Law says. He glances at Ichiji. “I never heard what you were studying though.”

“Business, but also focusing on accounting,” Ichiji says, “Our stepfather owns a restaurant. I’ve been helping with the business side for years, so might as well make it official.”

“Oh? What restaurant?” Law looks intrigued.

“It’s called Baratie,” Sanji says, face lighting up in the way it always did when he got to talk about the place. “It’s near the port.”

“Baratie?” Law’s eyebrows raise, “You mean the place you have to wait months to get a reservation for?”

“That’s the one!” Sanji says proudly, “Though we’re trying to cut down the wait time and expand the space to serve more customers. Food should be accessible, you know?”

Law hums. “I do hear it’s affordable at least. Cora’s got a reservation there, but I think we’re still a couple weeks out.”

“Cora?” Ichiji asks.

“My father,” Law says, “Adopted.”

“Well, we can always try and bump you up,” Reiju says.

Law shakes his head. “Nah, we don’t need you to go out of your way. We’re capable of waiting in line like everyone else.”

Reiju nods in approval. “Well, then we’ll make sure when you do get in it’ll be a worthy experience.” Both Niji and Yonji get grins that Ichiji really doesn’t like on their faces. He makes a note to ensure both of them are off the wait staff shifts on whatever day Law’s reservations do come up.

Before any of them can say anything else a waiter arrives to take their orders. Law ends up ordering the onigiri that Sanji recommended and Ichiji gets his usual maki rolls. His siblings all order their respective meals as well aside from Sanji, who’s never ordered the same thing twice in his life. Ichiji sees Law’s eyes widen slightly as Yonji rattles off his order for one of the larger sushi platters. The menu had said it was supposed to serve three to five people, but Yonji doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Plan on having leftovers?” Law asks.

“Huh? Oh, nah,” Yonji says, “Don’t worry, I can clear it!”

“He does every time,” Reiju sighs.

“That’s…” Law trails off.

“He has a pretty fast metabolism,” Ichiji says. It’s another familiar excuse. “He’ll be fine.”

“Don’t think that’s really how metabolisms work, but if you say so,” Law says skeptically. Ichiji can see his siblings tense around the table, but they relax soon after as Law doesn’t pursue it.

The small talk they make after that is casual, but pleasant. Ichiji learns that Law lives with his father in a two bedroom apartment on the east side of town, that he doesn’t have a pet but had wanted a cat when he was little, that he lived in Dressrosa for a couple years before returning to North Blue, and that he has three pretty close childhood friends that he practically grew up with.

Ichiji does notice that Law doesn’t bring up his sister throughout the whole questioning, and so he avoids asking. Instead he rambles about his siblings, his parents, and what life was like growing up working part time at a family restaurant. He’s also grateful that Law avoids asking about his mother’s previous husband.

Though Niji still occasionally interjects with questions that would normally have Ichiji wringing his brother’s neck if they weren’t in public, Ichiji thinks the whole dinner (date?) could be going a lot worse. He even catches Reiju giving Law an approving nod on multiple occasions, and Sanji and Yonji both seem fairly open to the guy. Ichiji just hopes the four of them will keep the teasing to a minimum after the dinner (a vain hope, but one he clings to nonetheless).

Their food arrives before long, and most of the conversation stops as they all dig into their meals. Though Ichiji tries not to make it weird, he finds his gaze drifting to Law like a magnetic pull. The other just looks so pleased with the food in front of him that Ichiji can’t help but find it cute. Law looks younger, cheeks full and eyes bright, and Ichiji has to force his eyes away before his gaze lingers too long. He instead forces shovels more food in his mouth so he doesn’t do something stupid like poke the other’s cheeks.

He does notice that Law seems to be stealing his own furtive glances though, some at Ichiji, flatteringly enough, but more than a few at Yonji. It’d be more disappointing if Ichiji didn’t know why the other was so distracted. Despite the fact that Yonji has three times the portion size as the rest of them, he still clears his plate at an alarming rate. Ichiji can’t help but grin at Law’s half-horrified, half-awestruck expression.

“Yeah, he always eats like that,” Ichiji says, finally breaking the silence, “You should see him on the holidays. I think he forgoes dinner the day before so he can pack half the pantry away. One time Mama even had to go on a grocery run halfway through dinner.”

“I…Where does it all go?” Law asks, bewildered as he watches Yonji shove two sushi rolls in his mouth at once.

“You know, I wonder the same thing,” Ichiji says dryly, “But as long as he doesn’t choke on it, it’s best not to think about it too hard.”

“But he is… that is to say, he’s not… sick or anything, right?” Ichiji freezes and Law grimaces, “Sorry, I just realized how that sounded. I didn’t mean to imply-”

Ichiji cuts off the other’s rambling. “No, I understand. It’s just…” Ichiji pauses trying to think about how best to answer without revealing too much.

“It really is a metabolism thing. I don’t think I’d be able to explain it properly,” Ichiji says, “He’s had it for years. We’ve been to the doctor though, and he said Yonji’s condition isn’t critical as long as he eats regularly. It took a lot of treatments and medicine at first, and sometimes he still gets lightheaded if he forgets to eat, but it’s a lot better than it was when we were younger. Sometimes he’d nearly pass out or-”

He grimaces as a barrage of long repressed memories slam into him.

Ichiji’s fists clench and unclench helplessly as he watches his brother seize and convulse on the dirty motel room carpet. He’s shoved a pillow under Yonji’s head and rolled him onto his side, but he knows there’s nothing else he can do for him beside wait. His eyes dart to the clock on the nightstand. It’s been three minutes since it started.

“Please, please, please,” Ichiji’s fingernails dig into his legs as he watches his brother intently. He breathes a sigh of relief when a few seconds later the twitches finally begin to slow. Eventually they stop and his brother opens his eyes again.

“Yonji?” He whispers, reaching a hand out to stroke his brother’s hair.

“I-I-“ Yonji glances up, disoriented then terrified, “Is F-Father?”

“He’s not here,” Ichiji’s quick to assure the other. “Don’t worry.”

Yonji’s body relaxes slightly at that. They both know how bad a reaction the man would’ve had if he’d witnessed another one of Yonji’s episodes. They know the disgust, disappointment and, worst of all, ‘treatments’ that would follow.

“How are you feeling?” Ichiji asks.

“Tired.”

“I’ll help you get to bed.”

The motel bed is far from luxurious or even comfortable, scratchy sheets and a lumpy mattress, but it’s all Ichiji can offer. He shoots a glance at the bathroom door, still firmly shut from when Niji had panicked and fled into it the moment Yonji had started seizing.

“Ichiji,” Yonji says, uncharacteristically quiet as his fingers curl into the blankets. “I wanna go home.”

Ichiji swallows. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Ichiji?”

He snaps out of the memory, wincing as he notices Law’s piercing gold eyes on him once more, now narrowed with concern. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Are you alright?” Law asks.

“I’m fine,” Ichiji says, trying not to let his memories shake him too much, “Just… not a great time when we were kids. It scared our mother half to death every time it happened.”

“Understandable,” Law says slowly. “I’m glad it’s no longer an issue though.”

“I am also,” Ichiji says, before trying the lighten the mood, “He just has to eat like a garbage disposal now.”

“I heard that!” Yonji grunts from across the table.

“Gross,” Reiju says, nose wrinkling, “Don’t talk with your mouth full! Mama didn’t raise you that way!”

Yonji’s lips tilt up mischievously, but he’s stopped when Sanji kicks him. “Ow!”

“She’s right,” Sanji grouses, “Eat your food and don’t waste it.”

Yonji rolls his eyes, but dutifully swallows. “Like I ever leave food behind. I’m not a picky bastard like Niji.”

“Hey!” Niji scowls.

“Your dinners seem pretty lively, Red-ya,” Law says, though his eyes are shining. At least it looks like whatever awkward tension had been building was temporarily diffused.

“Our parents probably wish they were less so,” Ichiji smirks, “But at this point there’s no way to change them.”

“I think it’s nice,” Law mutters, then balks like he hadn’t meant to say as much aloud. “I just… I don’t usually eat with company. I have to keep odd hours when I work at the hospital, so a lot of times I’m grabbing meals on my own.”

“I see,” Ichiji says. It makes sense with Law’s profession that he would have to work at odd hours, but he can also see how such a lifestyle could also feel pretty lonely. “Well, for as long as you’re working in the infirmary, you’re welcome to come to dinner with us. Even after you leave…” He lets the offer hang there.

Law looks genuinely surprised for a beat, but then he seems to soften minutely. “Thanks. I might just take you up on that.”

Ichiji’s heart thuds loudly in his chest, and he hides his embarrassment by taking a long sip of his drink. A glance around the the table shows their exchange hasn’t gone entirely unnoticed as Reiju is beaming at the two of them and Niji is wiggling his eyebrows in a way that Ichiji is pretty sure is supposed to be suggestive but looks more like some kind of facial spasm. He sets his cup down and narrows his eyes at his brother, though the effect is hampered by his sunglasses.

“So,” Niji starts, only for Ichiji to kick him in the shin, harder than before. “Ow, you shithead! I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“I could already tell it wasn’t going to be good,” Ichiji deadpans.

“Fuck you!”

“It’s been nice to finally meet you, Law,” Reiju says over her brothers’ bickering, “I hope we can talk more in the future. Like Ichiji said, you’re welcome to join us for a meal anytime.”

“Thank you,” Law says politely.

There’s some more small talk and banter as they wait for the bill, and when it finally comes Ichiji insists on paying for Law since he’s the one who invited him out in the first place (and also the one who forced Law to endure a whole dinner with his siblings). Though Law protests at first, he eventually agrees to allow it on the condition that Law pays for Ichiji on their next outing which, holy shit, maybe Ichiji hasn’t totally screwed this all up after all if Law’s willing to go out with him again.

“Although, maybe we should try and go somewhere more private next time,” Law says wryly.

They’re both watching as Niji dares Yonji to try and shove his last maki roll into his mouth in one bite. Yonji looks like he might be choking a bit, but is simultaneously determined to meet his brother’s challenge. Though Sanji and Reiju both look exasperated, neither of them are intervening.

“Are you sure?” Ichiji says jokingly, “We might miss out on a show like this.” He waves a hand sarcastically at his youngest brother who’s currently in the process of proving natural selection.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Law says dryly. “Do you think I’ll need to do the Heimlich?”

“No, we all know how to do it,” Ichiji says. “But I do agree actually. Though I enjoyed eating out with you tonight, I wouldn’t mind going somewhere without my siblings the next time.”

Law looks pleased at that, eyes curving up. “Any ideas?”

“Right now?” Ichiji blinks, not having expected to be put on the spot, “Hm, well, I suppose we should try something new. Are you one for movies?”

“I don’t watch too many,” Law admits.

“What kinds of things do you like to do on your days off?” Ichiji asks.

“Ah well,” Law looks a bit embarrassed now. He trails off rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kind of boring.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Ichiji says, “I spend most of my time off watching documentaries, so I promise you can’t be more boring.”

Law snorts. “Fine. Sometimes I go to pawn shops or antique stores for fun.”

“Huh,” Ichiji says, not having expected that response.

“Was that a good or bad ‘huh’?” Law asks, eyes scanning Ichiji’s face.

“Not bad,” Ichiji says quickly, “Just surprising. Do you buy things, or do you just like to look around?”

“I like collecting coins,” Law says. He shifts a bit uncertainly after the proclamation, seemingly gauging Ichiji’s reaction.

“Oh,” Ichiji nods, “That’s pretty cool. Like from different countries or time periods…?”

“All kinds,” Law says, relaxing slightly, “I do have some older ones, but most of the time I’m just trying to collect from places all over the world.”

“I’m sure you probably have more luck here than further inland,” Ichiji remarks, “Port cities see all types of currency coming through.”

“One of the benefits,” Law agrees.

“So is that going to be our plan for our next date then?” Ichiji asks without thinking. Immediately he flushes. “I mean-“

“Yeah,” Law says before Ichiji can backtrack, “If you want.”

“I do,” Ichiji says. “I’d love to see some of your collection too.”

“I’ll see if I can bring some of my pieces along next time we meet,” Law says. He looks so genuinely pleased at the prospect that it takes everything in Ichiji’s power to not try and kiss him in that moment. Is it too soon? It’s probably too soon.

“Hey, you two ready to leave?” Reiju says. Ichiji looks over to see that she and the others are standing beside the booth now, looking ready to head out. He hadn’t even noticed they’d been moving while he was talking to Law.

“Yonji didn’t choke?” Ichiji asks, glancing at his brother as he slides out of the booth to let Law out.

“Not this time!” The youngest says proudly.

“He was close though,” Niji says.

“But I was stronger than the maki roll!”

“Mama will be so proud,” Sanji drawls, rolling his eyes.

“She should be!” Yonji declares, “This just proves she didn’t raise a quitter!”

“But she did raise a fool,” Niji deadpans.

“Alright,” Reiju cuts in before they get going. “Well, we should be heading out then.”

“I should too,” Law says, “Cora will probably be waiting to interrogate me.” Ichiji grimaces sympathetically since he knows his own mother and Zeff are likely waiting at their own house to do the same. “But for our other plans I’ll text you, alright?”

“Sounds good,” Ichiji agrees.

They both pause then, not really sure where to go from there. Ichiji’s never been good at pleasantries, but he’s pretty sure he should have some kind of parting word to say at the end of a first date. Thank you? I had a good time? Was that too cheesy?

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” is what he ends up saying because Ichiji is actually an idiot.

“Hopefully under better circumstances than they have been,” Law agrees with a smirk.

They part ways not long after, and Ichiji tries to keep his cool on the way to the van as his brain goes through the motions of replaying the whole dinner in slow motion with graded scores for every interaction between the two of them. Thankfully his siblings at least refrain from teasing him until they’re all safely in the car with the doors shut.

“What’s the vibe?” Reiju asks as she buckles her seatbelt.

“He’s hot, but he doesn’t talk much,” Yonji says, glancing at Ichiji, “But you don’t talk much either, so I guess it works?”

“You’re both awkward,” Niji says with a shrug, “But he’s the cool kind of awkward. You’re just a loser.”

“That last part wasn’t necessary,” Ichiji huffs.

“You seemed more into him than any of your previous dates,” Sanji remarks, unconsciously echoing their mother’s words the night prior.

“I… He’s interesting,” Ichiji says, “And I’d like to get to know him better.”

Reiju nods sagely from the driver’s seat. “Well, you could do a lot worse, little brother. But just let us know if he turns out to be an asshole on your shopping date.”

Ichiji grimaces. “You heard that?”

“Of course I did. I hear everything,” Reiju says, “But don’t worry, I won’t do anything to ruin it.” She starts the car and begins to back out of the parking space. “That said, I do expect all the details afterward as payment.”

“Hey, me too!” Yonji pipes up.

“Yeah, you can’t not tell us!” Niji insists.

Ichiji suppresses a groan. “Why are you all like this?”

“None of us currently have partners, so we’re living vicariously though you,” Niji says, waving a hand, “Next question.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“But you’ll still give us the details?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Obviously not.”

Chapter Text

The evening after the first date is hazy, like a particularly good dream that Ichiji is loathe to wake from, determined to ride the high of it for as long as he can. Not even the following interrogation from his mother or the light-hearted ribbing from his siblings do anything to dampen his good spirits. He answers all of his mother’s questions as well as he can and cheerfully puts Niji in one or two headlocks before going about his routine. He feels a bit ridiculous to be so elated over a single successful date, but at the same time he thinks he’s allowed to enjoy it for at least one day. He can come back to reality tomorrow.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone pings as he lays in bed.

Law

I had fun

Ichiji stares down at his phone blankly before his brain jolts into action. Oh right, texting afterward was probably part of dating etiquette. He mentally chides himself. Should he have sent a text first since he was the one who invited Law out? Well, there was no point in dwelling on that since the other had already beaten him to it. The least he could do is respond.

Me

I did too

He hesitates before adding.

Me

Sorry my siblings interrogated you the whole time

Law

It’s fine. Just means they care, right?

Ichiji grimaces. He’s sure his brothers do all care about him somewhere deep, deep down, but he’d be happier if they ever decided to show it in a way that didn’t make Ichiji want to punt them halfway across the city.

Me

Still, looking forward to spending time without them involved

Shit, was that too forward? They’d discussed their next potential date plans already, but how long a time was supposed to elapse between dates? Surely there was supposed to be some time frame in between so they could both process the first date. The typing bubbles popped up and disappeared before reappearing again. Ichiji considers throwing his phone out the window.

Law

Yeah, me too

Oh thank god, now he didn’t have to throw himself out the window right behind his phone. Ichiji sighs heavily. For so long he thought all those teen movies and books were overly dramatic with the characters treating every interaction like it was the end of the world, but now he was finally starting to understand the mindset. Maybe this was just all those years of never really taking dating seriously coming back to bite him in the ass.

Me

When are you free?

Law

Maybe sometime this weekend? Sorry, I gotta help Cora with some errands after work for the rest of the week

Me

Sounds good. And don’t worry, I get it. I have to help out at the restaurant a lot too sometimes.

Law

Cool. We can work out the details later

Law

Gotta get some sleep now, but thanks again for dinner

Me

You’re welcome. Have a good night.

Law

Night

He waits a few minutes, but there are no texts that follow. It’s probably for the best since Ichiji’s well on his way to working himself up and making their conversation into something much bigger than it should be. He tosses his phone aside on his bed and runs his fingers through his hair. He really needs to stop stressing out so much over comparatively minuscule things.

Ichiji forces himself back to his desk to at least start on his course work and hopefully distract himself from thinking about Law too much. It works for about an hour, but eventually he admits defeat and saves his documents knowing he’s not going to be making much progress that night. A glance at the clock shows that it’s getting pretty late anyway and he should probably be heading to bed soon if he doesn’t want to be dead on his feet during his morning class.

He pulls his pajamas out of his dresser and changes quickly before heading down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He’s no longer riding the high he had been when he’d gotten home, but he’s still got a warm feeling simmering somewhere beneath his ribcage that makes him feel more awake than he should be for the late hour.

Later, as he stares up at his dark ceiling still feeling too wired to fall asleep, he practically groans in frustration. This is ridiculous. It was only one date. They aren’t even officially a couple. He rolls onto his side and glares at the glowing red digits on his alarm clock, as if it’s their fault he can’t sleep.

Maybe it’s for the best that it’s taken him this many years to reach this stage though, he thinks bitterly. At least college kids were supposed to have a messed up sleep schedule.

Law’s glaring down at his phone, scrolling through the morning news without comprehending any of it, and pointedly ignoring his father on the other side of the table. The other has been silent for most of the morning, but there are clearly questions he is close to bursting with. Law, for his part, thinks that if Cora wants to know so damn bad he should ask out loud, but it’s clear that his father wants to try and give him some space before overwhelming him. Normally that’d be pretty considerate, but now the extended silence just adds to the tension stretching across the breakfast table.

He internally represses a sigh before lowering his phone and looking up at his father. Cora blinks back innocently. Law breaks first and drawls, “Got something on your mind?”

“Who, me?” Cora asks with forced casualness, badly avoiding Law’s eyes. “What gave you that idea?” He glances back. “Although, if you have something on your mind…” He trails off meaningfully.

‘There it is,’ Law thinks dryly.

He supposes he should be a bit more charitable toward his father. Cora had at least waited until the morning after to heckle Law about his date (even if he had bought a cake for him embarrassingly enough) and given Law time the night before to decompress and process the date on his own. Time that was much appreciated, since Law’s overly analytical brain had decided to spend a majority of the night prior going over every response he’d given to Ichiji’s siblings.

Law’s sure he wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic conversation partner during the dinner, and he knows he gave more than a few one-word answers to some of the more invasive questions, but he thinks the whole thing turned out generally fine. He managed not to say anything off-putting enough to scare Ichiji off at least, and he even managed to secure another date in the end, so he’s taking that as a win.

That said… yeah, he knew Cora was going to want to talk about it all too.

“And if I do?” Law sighs as he responds to his father’s clumsy bait.

“You know I’m always here to listen to you about any concerns, no matter how small!” Cora says. And well, even if Law knows that his father is fishing for information, he also know that Cora means every word. He can’t help but feel begrudgingly fond.

“No concerns,” Law finally says, unable to leave his father in suspense for too long. “It actually went pretty well.”

Cora brightens. “Oh, did it? That’s wonderful!”

“His siblings spent the whole time trying to question me, but I already expected that,” Law says.

Cora frowns. “I hope they didn’t ask anything you were uncomfortable with.”

“Nah, not really,” Law says, “Mostly generic things. What I do for work and in my spare time, preferences and hobbies, basic stuff.”

“Sounds like they’re looking out for their brother,” Cora muses. He sounds approving.

“I thought the same,” Law agrees.

“So then…” Cora gives him an expectant look.

Law sighs. “We have plans to meet up again this weekend.” He can feel his ears heating up slightly at the thought.

“Wh- really?!” Cora looks stunned, then elated, “That’s- oh my god- where are you two going?” He stumbles over his own words in his eagerness.

“Antique shopping,” Law mutters, feeling slightly embarrassed in the face of his father’s obvious enthusiasm.

Cora’s face does a weird spasm, and Law realizes with no small amount of horror that his father looks like he’s about to cry. “He wants to go antique shopping with you?”

“I- Yeah,” Law says. “He asked what I do in my spare time, so… you know. When I brought it up he asked if he could go with me.” Cora sniffles and Law grimaces. He’s never been great at comforting others, especially if tears are involved. “Cora-“

“I’m fine,” Cora says, waving him off, “I’m just so happy! It sounds like he really likes you!”

“You- you’re making a bigger deal about this than it needs to be,” Law says, glancing away, “It’s only the second date.”

“I know, but it sounds like it’s going good places, right?”

“It’s still too early to say,” Law insists stubbornly.

Cora sighs. “You still don’t feel like you can be very open with him, do you?” Law grimaces as his father’s annoying perceptiveness resurfaces.

“I doubt most people are very open after one date,” Law says.

Cora hums in acknowledgement but continues. “I just want you to feel more optimistic about this. It sounds like you’re determined to sabotage yourself when you could be enjoying yourself instead.”

“I’m not- I just don’t want to get my hopes up over nothing,” Law grumbles, though he can privately admit that Cora probably has a point.

It’s not a hidden fact that Law likes to keep his cards close to his chest. In fact he prides himself on the untouchable demeanor that he’s crafted over the years. That said, he also knows that the trade-off that comes with this facade is distance between him and others. The amount of close friends he has he can count on one hand, and even those few only know select information that he’s willing to share.

A romantic partner though… they were supposed to know everything about you, right? All your history and struggles, future plans, hopes, and dreams? The idea of anyone knowing Law that well (aside from Cora) is terrifying. Anyone who had access to that kind of knowledge also had the power to destroy him. He knew that quite well from his past with Cora’s unfortunate blood relation.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing though, does it?” Cora asks, snapping Law out of his thoughts.

And it’s that question that brings Law up short. Did Ichiji seem like the kind of person who would use Law’s past against him? It was clear that the other had a few skeletons of his own in the closet - the way he often went quiet and expressionless in certain situations was as off-putting as it was familiar - but Law could hardly hold that against him. If anything it made Law trust Ichiji more since the other always seemed to know what questions he could push and what topics were better left alone for the time being.

Maybe it was that kind of consideration that had Law sharing with the other more than he’d usually be comfortable with. He’d already told Ichiji far more than he’d ever said to some brief fling or one-night-stand. Perhaps somewhere deep down Law wanted to trust Ichiji with the sensitive information he usually kept locked up in his chest. It wasn’t a full trust yet, definitely not, but was cracking the door open enough to get a better look.

“No,” Law admits, “It feels like more than that.”

Cora beams before reaching out a hand an ruffling Law’s hair the way that he used to when Law was younger. Law scowls the way he always did, though he doesn’t push his father’s hand away.

“I’m proud of you, Law,” Cora says, so genuinely that Law’s heart clenches. “I really hope this works out for you.”

Law sighs, but can’t help the weak fluttering feeling in his chest. “Yeah, I hope so too.”

Ichiji’s never been one to look forward to the weekends before. Sure, he enjoyed having some extra time for himself, but he’s never really been one to relax much. Even on the days he tried to sleep in, his body would naturally wake him up at the usual time. Trying to get back to sleep afterwards was usually a futile endeavor. Occasionally on the weekends he might watch an episode or two of programs he wanted to catch up on, but for the most part he usually spent his free time either finishing up his course work or running errands for his family.

To his siblings he knew he was a bit of a buzzkill, but they all understood that having this kind of a reliable routine and staying busy was actually what made Ichiji happy. Even if he got some ribbing for it from his siblings (Niji especially) no one had ever forced him to go out and ‘have fun’ before, and he was perfectly content with that.

Now though, he finds himself unexpectedly excited for the weekend to come.

His family is quick to notice the difference, even if Ichiji does his best not to give them too much ammo to tease him with. There are more than a few suggestive innuendos from Niji and Yonji (which earns them both a few good smacks on the backs of their heads) and some well-meaning but completely awkward advice from Reiju, but for the most part he gets through it without too much embarrassment.

Sanji at least does his best not to give Ichiji too much hell, and that’s why he’s Ichiji’s favorite brother (not that he competition is particularly steep) though the younger does complain that Ichiji has a date while Sanji is going to be stuck in the kitchens working for most of the weekend. Ichiji does remind his brother that he could probably have more romantic plans too if he just asked out that guy he keeps talking about seeing at the gym during his kickboxing classes, but Sanji just sputters, turns red, and all but throws Ichiji out of his room.

Teasing from his family aside, each hour seems to crawl by, and Ichiji’s almost embarrassed by how on hair trigger he is watching his phone. He practically flinches every time he so much as thinks he feels it vibrate, which is so ridiculous that it makes him want to bang his head against a wall. At least he hasn’t sunk to the level of watching bad rom coms and binge eating ice cream like he’s seen his brother’s do whenever they’d been in particularly turbulent relationships. He knows he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror if he ever did something like that.

That said, the only thing he really can do now is wait. There’s only a few days left until the weekend arrives, and as an adult he knows he can be patient enough to get through those days without complaining too extensively. He forces himself to refocus on his college classes instead, even though he does feel his mind drifting a few too many times in his first lecture of the day. When the class finally ends and he glances down at his notes he grimaces as he finds them lacking in more than a few sections. At least his professor always posts the presentations online afterwards for reference.

The rest of the day follows a similar pattern, Ichiji half distracted as he goes about his daily routine. It’s the least productive day he’s had in years, and yet for some reason he can’t bring himself to be too disappointed. He should probably be more concerned about that, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it for too long before he’s piling into the family minivan at the end up the day and on the way to the theme park.

Part of him entertains the idea of swinging by the infirmary before he heads to the theater, but he quickly dismisses it. All their classes end so late that usually Ichiji and his siblings barely have time to change and get their makeup done before they’re rushing out for final sound checks and show run-throughs. He tries to ward off his disappointment by resolving to stop by the infirmary after the show. At least then he’d probably have more time to chat with Law. His heart does a truly embarrassing flip at the thought of getting to speak with the other again, and Ichiji does his best to stamp it down and refocus on his present responsibilities.

The rehearsal and sound check goes off without a hitch, and Ichiji and his siblings head backstage as the techs scurry around to finish setting up the stage. Ichiji doesn’t think anything of it as he lounges on the backstage sofa, trying to get into character. It doesn’t take too long after over a year of performing as Sparking Red, but the ritual of it has always helped him get in the right mindset. It’s just as he’s finishing his preparations that Niji rushes back from where he’d been peeking around the curtain with the widest and most damning smile Ichiji has ever seen on his face.

Immediately Ichiji’s stomach plummets.

“No,” Ichiji says, not even waiting for his brother to speak.

Niji scowls. “I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“No,” Ichiji repeats, all the more certain that he doesn’t want to hear whatever his brother’s about to say.

“You’re really gonna want to hear this though!” Niji insists.

“No!”

Niji, like always, ignores him. “So your hot doctor guy-“

“Stop talking.”

“Your hot doctor guy,” Niji continues, loud enough that the rest of Ichiji’s siblings are now staring. God dammit.

“What’s this about hot doctor?” Yonji asks, grinning.

“Nothing,” Ichiji says quickly.

“Ichiji’s hot doctor guy is in the audience!”

There’s a brief pause, then all of Ichiji’s siblings turn to him practically in sync. Ichiji feels like a bloody steak thrown to a pack of starving wolves. The tension backstage ratchets up to a whole new level and a mess of disjointed thoughts ricochet around Ichiji’s mind.

Why the hell is Law here?! Wasn’t he supposed to be in the infirmary? Then again, he did say he’d try to come see their show sometime… had he asked for the day off? Oh god, he was about to see Ichiji pretend to be a super villain for a bunch of screaming children! Shit, shit, shit-

“That so?” Yonji breaks the silence, a wide grin spreading across his face to match Niji’s. “We’ll have to give him the best show we can today then!”

“Don’t.” Ichiji has no idea what his brothers are thinking, but he already knows this show is going to be a disaster. He turns a beseeching look on his sister, usually the voice of reason, but she has a mischievous glint in her eyes as well and he feels his heart drop.

“Oh, don’t worry, Ichiji,” Reiju croons in that false sweet tone she’s perfected, “We certainly won’t do anything to embarrass our brother in front of his boyfriend.”

“We aren’t boyfriends yet,” Ichiji says automatically.

Reiju waves a hand. “Semantics.”

“Aren’t you happy he came to see you though?” Sanji says, clearly trying to stay positive. Ichiji looks at his brother, then pointedly down at his costume, then back again. Sanji winces. “Okay, yeah that’s fair.”

“Come on, isn’t this a great opportunity though?” Niji says, laying a hand on Ichiji’s shoulder and squeezing just a little too hard.

“Don’t you touch me,” Ichiji grumbles, but does nothing to push Niji off. He thinks he’s finally starting to reach the acceptance stage of grief.

Niji just laughs like a damn hyena. “Be sure to put on your best performance for him, Ichi!”

Ichiji groans and drops his head in his hands as his stomach flips in a decidedly less pleasant way. There’s no way he can leave now, especially since the stage lights are already dimming to signal the show will be starting soon. Niji’s death grip on his shoulder wouldn’t let him get away without a fight anyway.

God he hates his brother

“Shit,” Ichiji says aloud, since that’s really all he can do.

“Hey now!” Niji says, mock-scolding, “This is a family friendly function!”

Ichiji narrows his eyes at his brother, though he knows the effect is lost behind his sunglasses. “When this performance is over, I’ll show you exactly how family unfriendly I can be.”

There’s no time for any more idle chitchat though. The opening music is already starting and the only option Ichiji has now is going out there and being the best villain possible.

Chapter Text

While Ichiji’s job is far from glamorous, he’s never been ashamed of it per se. Granted, not many people knew about it outside from his family (and most of them were in the show as well), but he’d mentioned it offhandedly before to a few acquaintances at college. While most of them had been surprised at first, it was usually just laughed off with a ‘wow, I can’t imagine dealing with all those kids’ or ‘well, that explains the hair’. Overall Ichiji had never really considered it a big deal since no one around him seemed to.

There were definitely worse jobs out there then making kids smile and rattling off some cheesy dialogue. Honestly even now, with someone he had unnamed and confusing feelings for sitting in the audience, Ichiji still isn’t exactly embarrassed about the work he does. It was an honest living and paid better than minimum wage, so really Ichiji has nothing to complain about.

The only thing was…

“I’m going to make an idiot of myself onstage,” Ichiji mutters, leaning forward on his knees, face buried in his hands.

“You say that like it’s something new,” Niji’s voice says from somewhere above him, though it’s quickly followed by, “Ow!”

“You are not going to make an idiot of yourself,” Reiju says. Ichiji feels the shift of the sofa as she sits down next to him, and she pats him on the shoulder a second later. “You know your part from front to back. You’ve done it a thousand times.”

She’s not wrong, he’s played the role so much that he could do his performance practically in his sleep. At that moment though Ichiji finds it difficult to recall even his opening line, his mind a mess of nerves and anxiety that seem intent on jumping to the worst possible scenarios. He lifts his head as he notices the opening set pieces already moving out to the stage. He’s not even confident he can remember his first cue. With his luck he’d end up going out right in the middle of one of Sanji’s monologues by mistake.

Speaking of Sanji, his younger and most tolerable brother isn’t given much time to add his own reassurances, only able to give Ichiji an apologetic grimace before he’s given his own cue and bounding out onstage. A loud cheer goes up as soon as Sanji hits the stage as it always does, unsurprising considering he’s the one everyone is there to see.

Well, everyone except Law apparently.

Ichiji knows he still has about ten minutes before Germa’s cue comes. Small mercies, though he’s doubtful as to whether he can fully get his shit together in that amount of time. He tries to internalize his sister’s words instead, reinforcing the idea that he’s done his job well already so many times that he’d be hard pressed to mess it up at this point.

Even if Ichiji had known nothing about the comic before he got the role, he’d always done his best to embody the character that so many people knew and loved. Well, maybe not ‘loved’ considering Sparking Red was one of the villains, but at least cared about. And to his knowledge none of the audience members had ever left disappointed due to his performance, so he had to assume he was doing something right. He just had to treat this performance no differently than all his others.

Yeah. He can definitely do that.

“Germa, you’re on in five!”

Ichiji groans. “With my recent luck I’ll probably fall off the stage.”

And really, wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake? It wasn’t enough that Ichiji had injured himself so often that he had to be constantly dropping in on Law the infirmary, now he’d probably end up injuring himself right in front of the other along with a hundred screaming kids.

“You will not fall off the stage,” Reiju sighs, “No one has ever fallen off the stage.”

“Niji did,” Yonji snickers.

“I told you to tell me where the edge was when we were carrying the set!” Niji scowls.

“And I did!” Yonji says.

“Right when I was on top of it!”

“Knock it off!” Reiju snaps at them, “We’re comforting Ichiji now.”

“No, no, let them go,” Ichiji mutters, “It gives me something else to focus on.” Unfortunately, his wishes are not heeded as his brothers turn their attention back to them.

Yonji at least seems to take pity on the older’s sorry state. “It won’t be that bad,” he says, “Just don’t look at him or whatever. You already know where he’s sitting, right?”

“Middle, all the way in the back,” Niji supplies helpfully.

Yonji nods. “Yeah, so don’t look there!”

It’s sensible advice, but useless in practice. Saying not to look at something would only make him overly conscious of Law’s position and probably affect his performance. Even Reiju seems to realize how unrealistic the advice is given the face she pulls, but she doesn’t seem to have any alternate suggestions.

“I could take your role again,” Niji says with a shrug, unexpectedly gracious. “I still know all the lines.”

Ichiji sighs. “No, it’s fine. I just… I need to stop worrying over something so trivial.”

“Hey, it’s not trivial,” Reiju says, “You’re worried about making a bad impression in front of someone you’re interested in. That’s alright. You just can’t let it stop you.”

“And if you do inevitably fuck up we’ll cover you,” Niji says in a half-reassurance, half-insult that makes Ichiji both want to thank and strangle him.

Ichiji squares his shoulders and forces himself to stand up. “I’m going out there. I’ll be fine.” He says it half in an attempt to convince himself.

“You are going to be fine,” Reiju agrees with a firm nod.

“And if you do accidentally look at him, pretend he’s a potato,” Yonji supplies.

It’s a strange enough sentence that for the briefest moment Ichiji is distracted enough by his confusion to temporarily forget how anxious he is. He has an absurd mental image of a potato with Law’s tattoos inked into its skin, and the thought is bizarre enough that it startles a bark of laughter out of him. Yonji at least looks pleased with himself. Ichiji opens his mouth to respond, with what he doesn’t know, but is abruptly cut off.

“Germa, you’re on!”

Immediately the nerves swarm back into Ichiji’s stomach, and he clenches his hands at his sides. A glance into one of the backstage mirrors reveals that he’s about a shade or two paler than normal, but there’s no time to worry about that when the spotlights are already moving.

Ichiji cracks his neck and puts on a brave face, trying his best to get into character. “Showtime.”

Somehow Ichiji manages to get through the first part of the scene without issue. He remembers all his lines (or at least the right words are somehow able to come out of his mouth) and where to stand, and he even throws in a few ad-libbed taunts that get some very satisfying ‘boo’s’ from the audience. Maybe it’s adrenaline or maybe he’s just so stressed that it’s starting to manifest as a state of sheer overconfidence bordering on mania, but Ichiji feels like he’s just gotten a jump start from a generator.

His skin is tingling and he’s playing up the theatrics in ways that he never has before. Even though some of his siblings are shooting him confused looks between their lines, the kids in the audience are eating it up and even some of the parents look more engaged. Their reactions only push him to dial up his performance even more, morphing in a feedback loop of excitement. It’s probably the best show he’s put on all season, and he’d be a lot more proud of his own ability if head weren’t so jumbled that he can barely enjoy it.

He knows that much of his performance is a desperate attempt to distract himself from the elephant in the room. He’s been steadily avoiding looking out into the crowd since the start of the show, as he knows the minute he spots Law he’s going to lose his nerve. The last thing he wants is to completely freeze onstage, especially in the middle of such a good show, so he continues to focus on his lines and play off his brothers as they go through the familiar motions.

(And maybe a little part of him does actually want to impress Law by playing his character well. He’d never say that aloud though.)

He’s thankful that the live show is only about forty minutes long. He has no idea if he’d survive it if the stage play lasted longer then an hour. Even the relatively short performance feels like it’s dragging out as he uses every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the show. He sends a mental thanks to whatever higher power might be out there for making children’s attention spans so short.

He shoots a glance at the clock. Just ten more minutes, give or take a few, and then the meet and greet. That’s hardly anything.

“Prepare yourselves, Germa!” Sanji yells, “Now you face the full might of the Marines!”

“Bring it!” Yonji cries back.

“You won’t win, Sora!” Reiju says.

Ichiji feels a wave of relief flood through him. One more fight scene and he can retreat backstage until the end of the show. It’s not even the longest fight scene, and most of their moves are going to be covered up with the smoke and pyrotechnics anyway. Ichiji steels himself drops into his starting pose before the licensed music starts up over the theater’s speakers. He just needs to make sure his brother doesn’t kick him in the stomach again.

Muscle memory carries him through the choreography, and Ichiji is feeling pretty good about the whole thing for the first few exchanges. Sanji thankfully doesn’t kick him in the gut again, the Admiralbot makes it out onstage without issue, and there’s only a few more moves and lines before the scene’s over.

Ichiji’s starting to think that he just might get through the show unscathed which is, of course, when things go wrong. 

The Admiralbot smacks the laser, and on cue smoke starts pouring out of the top. There are a few cheers from the crowd and Ichiji and his siblings make appropriately outraged noises. Sanji’s delivering his lines about truth and justice or whatever, and everything’s going swimmingly.

And then Ichiji gets blasted in the face with one of the goddamn smoke jets.

In the grand scheme of things, getting smacked with a cloud of CO2 is far from the worst thing that can happen onstage, but it’s enough to temporarily disorient him. His vision is immediately filled with a hazy white clouds and it startles him so badly that he inhales sharply without thinking Then he starts coughing, eyes watering as his eyes begin to itch from the gas.

The air around him goes blurry and indistinct, and the only thing he can make out through it are the stage lights and the vague outlines of his siblings. He’s not sure exactly what happened in his head, but suddenly everything feels far too loud and bright, and the laughter and screams of the audience begin to echo all around him in a horribly discordant clamor and-

“Father, will this-?” Ichiji cuts himself off, his nervous question dying on the tip of his tongue. He knows that questioning his father would only make the man angrier.

Unfortunately Judge has still heard him, the man leaning over the operating table and scowling down at Ichiji. Ichiji wishes he could disappear as the other’s dark eyes bore into him. “What is it, boy?”

The other’s tone is harsh and disapproving. Ichiji grimaces and involuntarily squirms against the restraints keeping him strapped to the table. “It’s nothing. I apologize for distracting you.” He hopes his father will just let it go.

Judge grunts. “Stop moving then. You know better.”

“Yes, Father.” Ichiji forces himself to still, though he can’t help the tension still vibrating through his veins. It has him ready to crawl out of his skin. Through the thin hospital gown he wars, the cold metal table under him feels like it’s freezing him to the bone.

His father finally turns back to whatever he’s messing with on the tray next to the table and Ichiji returns to trying to slow his breaths. Ichiji tries to comfort himself with the thought that at least he’ll be unconscious for this operation. It was a rare luxury for his father to find places where he could actually use anesthesia.

“And how is our lovely test subject doing?”

Ichiji can’t help the grimace that crosses his face as his father’s friend leans over him, his dark mane of hair blocking out most of the light shining down from the ceiling. The man doesn’t seem bothered when Ichiji refuses to answer him, instead laughing loudly and obnoxiously.

“My, what a charmer of a son you have, Judge,” the man says derisively. Ichiji grits his teeth but stays silent. “He must take after you.”

“Stop messing around, Caesar,” Judge snaps.

There’s a horrible ugly scowl that twists onto the other scientist’s face. “Let’s not forget who is borrowing whose lab here,” Caesar hisses at Judge. “And also which one of us is currently a fugitive with a bounty on their head!”

“Hmph,” Judge sounds unimpressed, “You’d never risk turning me in and having your whole little operation down here exposed.”

Caesar makes a few half-hearted threats, but eventually subsides. Ichiji hears when under his breath the man mutters, “Ungrateful bastard.”

The semi-meditative state Ichiji had sunk into is abruptly disrupted himself as the man’s narrowed gaze turns back to him. He hates how his father’s friend stares at him like he’s some kind of bug he’s about to burn with a magnifying glass. Then again, even that might be merciful compared to whatever this man and his father were about to do.

“You look nervous, brat,” Caesar says, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. He lifts a hand and Ichiji sees a plastic face mask hooked up to a tube that trails somewhere out of his line of sight. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”

Though the words are probably comforting on paper, Ichiji feels nothing but dread coursing through his veins as the mask gets closer and closer to his face. There’s already a sickly sweet scent leaking from it, wisps of purple-gray smoke curl out from the tube. Ichiji’s nose involuntarily wrinkles as the scent intensifies.

The mask is unceremoniously shoved over his nose and mouth, held there with a firm hand that he’s powerless against. Despite him knowing that it’s useless, Ichiji automatically begins to struggle against the restraints keeping him strapped to the operating table. Gas spills through the weak plastic seal, flooding over his eyes and making tear up until they eventually spill over. This only seems to amuse the man above him, that annoying loud cackling laugh ringing in his ears again.

He tries to hold his breath for as long as he can, but eventually he’s forced to inhale the gas. Ichiji immediately wants to scrub his tongue of the terrible taste as it pours down his throat. He wonders if he should be grateful for how fast the gas acts though, the world around him quickly going hazy and indistinct. His thoughts slow to a crawl, and he can feel his limbs dropping against the table as if they’re filled with lead.

The last thing he sees before he finally passes out is the blinding glare of the overhead operating lights, the wavering clouds of smoke and the two looming shadows crowding over him.

“Ichiji!”

He snaps back to reality with a gasp, blinking as the smoke clears from his vision. He realizes then that he’s not strapped to an operating table, not staring up at his father, and, most importantly, is still on stage and in the middle of a performance. He has no idea how long he’s been standing there, completely motionless, but it’s short enough that at least the audience hasn’t seemed to notice anything wrong yet.

The only ones giving him concerned looks are his siblings, but Reiju rushes to cover for him. “It’s destroyed the laser!” She says, subtly pushing Ichiji behind her and blocking him slightly from the audience’s view. He stumbles back, unsteady on his feet.

There’s a beat of silence where Ichiji knows he’s supposed to say his line next, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. Yonji seems to pick up on this quickly as well, jumping in to help before the pause drags on for too long.

“We have no choice but to retreat!” Yonji’s eyes dart between Ichiji and Reiju with borderline panic. Ichiji has the sudden instinctive impulse to reassure his younger brother, but his mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. He doubts he can manage to even twitch a finger at the moment, feeling unsettlingly like he’s still rendered immobile by that sweet smelling anesthetic from all those years ago.

Yonji seems to come to some kind of decision and soldiers on. “You win this round, Sora, but we’ll be back!” There’s a wave of loud cheering from the audience, and the noise makes Ichiji flinch backward.

It’s their cue to run off stage but Ichiji stands rooted to the spot, unable to lift his legs. Yonji, who Ichiji is going to have to bake a goddamn cake for at this rate, notices his dilemma and all but picks Ichiji up and hauls him off the stage. It’s lucky that his younger brother has always been the biggest and strongest of them considering Ichiji is basically dead weight at that point.

Thankfully it’s not a long trip, and soon Yonji is dropping Ichiji down on one of the couches, face drawn with worry. At least it’s nicer backstage, the sounds of the crowd more muffled and the lights considerably dimmer. 

“Hey, Ichi?” Yonji says, “You okay, man?” His words sound like they’re coming from the other side of a closed door, faraway and indistinct.

Ichiji tries to respond again, but he still can’t make his mouth move. All he manages is a deep shuddering breath that feels like it’s shaking his whole ribcage.

“Shit,” Yonji mutters.

“Ichiji,” Reiju’s resting her hand on his shoulder. The pressure feels as distant as her words. She tries calling his name again. “Ichiji!”

“What happened to him?” Niji asks, his voice for once devoid of its usual teasing.

“He got hit in the face with one of the CO2 jets and just,” Yonji waves a hand, “I dunno.”

“Ah, shit.”

Ichiji wants to say something, maybe apologize for messing up and making them all worry, but he feels like he’s trapped inside his own unresponsive body. He takes another gasping breath, a mix of adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins. He distantly thinks he’s having a panic attack, but that does little to help him if he can’t communicate it with his siblings. Thankfully though, they all have enough experience with this that they’re able to gather what’s going on without his help.

“Okay, Ichiji can you focus on trying to match your breaths with mine?” Reiju asks, sitting down next to him. She glances up at Niji and Yonji. “Tell the staff to stay away from back here and that I and Ichiji won’t be doing the meet and greet. Fill Sanji in when he gets off stage too.”

“Got it,” Yonji says with a nod before he and Niji depart to do just that.

Reiju turns her attention back to Ichiji then, reaching a hand up to pull off his sunglasses. He’s not really sure what she sees when she looks at him, but she sighs. “Oh, Ichiji. I’m sorry.”

She looks truly upset too, as if his condition were somehow her fault when it couldn’t be further from the truth. He thinks bitterly that he should be the one apologizing for always driving her and the rest of his family out of their minds with worry every time he had one of his stupid episodes. God, all he did was cause trouble for people.

He can’t say any of this though, and just tries to match her breathing instead, focusing on the slow in and out whoosh of air though his chest. It lessens the tight, shaky feeling slightly, and slowly the room around him starts to come into more focus. Ichiji grounds himself by trying to feel the texture of the rough couch cushions under him and the repetitive circles his sister is rubbing into his back.

He’s not sure how long the two of them sit there, but apparently it’s short enough that when he finally does come back to himself his other siblings still aren’t back from their meet and greet. That means it’s been less than thirty minutes. At least this one wasn’t as long as they usually were.

“Feeling any better?” Reiju asks when she notices he’s a little more responsive. He still feels incredibly shaky, but he manages a jerky nod this time. “Good.”

Ichiji digs deep into his chest and forces out, “S’ry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Reiju says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Ichiji shakes his head, but can’t get anything else to leave his mouth. Reiju sighs, though it’s clearly not directed at him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats.

And deep down Ichiji knows it’s not, has had that drilled into his head by his family and therapist, but in that moment he still feels like a huge goddamn failure. What kind of person had a panic attack onstage at a children’s show just because they had some smoke catch them off guard? It was ridiculous. He’s twenty one. It’s been over a decade since his father had been locked away. He shouldn’t still be having all this… all this…

He lets out an aggravated noise, and Reiju narrows her eyes.

“You’re beating yourself up again. I can tell,” she says, “Stop that.” She flicks him lightly on the shoulder, and briefly Ichiji doesn’t know if he’s happy or not that his sister is so perceptive.

“M’ not,” he grumbles just to be contrary.

She rolls her eyes, but he can tell it’s mostly for show. They sit in silence for another minute or so, but it’s less tense than it was earlier. Ichiji feels himself relax in increments, the near violent shuddering in his bones finally leeching out of him. It leaves him feeling drained and uncomfortably vulnerable. He thinks, not for the first time, that he might hate the weak feelings that come after a panic attack more than the ever present fear and dread he experiences during the actual episode.

“Alright?” Reiju asks.

Ichiji lets out a long breath. “Yeah.” His voice still sounds tight, but at least he managed a full word this time.

It’s then that Niji, Sanji, and Yonji reappear backstage, all of them beelining for the couches. Now that Ichiji’s finally back in a more aware headspace he feels a wave of embarrassment hit him once he realizes how pathetic he must look. He grimaces, and Reiju pats his back firmly in reassurance.

“How’re you doing?” Yonji asks as soon as they’re near the couches.

“Fine,” Ichiji says. None of his siblings seem to believe him, but he narrows his eyes back defiantly at their skeptical glances.

“Thought you might pass out onstage,” Sanji says, frowning.

“I didn’t though,” Ichiji says, even though they both know it was mostly a miracle that he managed to stay on his feet. Sanji doesn’t call him out for it though.

“We gonna have to carry you out of here?” Niji asks, crossing his arms.

Not for the first time Ichiji thinks that his younger brother has the absolute worst way of showing he cares about anyone, but at the same time he appreciates the other’s ability to dissolve any tension that the rest of them might try and awkwardly step around. Niji wouldn’t know subtlety if it smacked him in the face, but sometimes a hammer was the most effective tool.

“Touch me and die,” Ichiji says, which is the longest sentence he’s managed since the attack. It figures that he finds the strength to say it out of pure spite.

Niji snorts. “Die then.”

“Dude,” Yonji thumps Niji on the back, and he squawks in protest.

“Hey!”

“Be nice!”

“I am!”

“It’s fine,” Ichiji cuts off his brothers. “It’s weirder when Niji’s nice to me.”

“See?” Niji says, “He’s fine with it!”

“But seriously, how are you?” Sanji asks, expression still concerned.

“Better,” Ichiji replies, a little more honest, “I think I’ll be able to get up in a minute.”

Sanji nods. “Don’t rush. Gives us all time to change at least.”

“Just-“ Ichiji hesitates, the question he’s had since he’s regained his bearings resurfacing. He still feels embarrassed to even ask though.

“What?” Sanji says, sounding thankfully nonjudgmental.

Ichiji musters up enough courage to ask. “Law?”

“Ah,” Sanji’s eyes go wide and he shoots a look at Niji and Yonji.

“He came down to the meet and greet,” Yonji says, “He asked about you and looked pretty worried.”

Ichiji grimaces. He’d worried that might happen, though he’d really hoped that Law might not have noticed his abnormal behavior with how far away from the stage the other had been. “What did you say?”

“We told him you were backstage,” Niji says, “Left out most of the details though.”

“I think he wanted to wait outside for you,” Sanji says.

Ichiji balks. “You told him he didn’t have to do that, right?”

“He insisted,” Sanji says.

Ichiji feels a confusing swirl of emotions mixing together in his chest. He’s not sure if he’s more grateful or mortified that Law seems willing to wait around to check on him. He’s not used to people looking out for him aside from his family. Should he go out and thank the other? But then he’d have to explain what had happened in the first place, and he’s definitely not ready for that conversation yet (he’s not sure if he ever really will be). But he also can’t just leave the other waiting there with no explanation…

“I think it’s sweet,” Reiju says, lips turning upward. She glances at Ichiji. “If you really just want to head home though, I’m can go out to send him off.”

He’s tempted to let her. Ichiji knows it’s cowardly to have his sister dealing with his own - what were they to each other? Definitely not boyfriends yet, but he’d like to think they were more than acquaintances. Friends? Potential partners? Awkward texting buddies? - friends, but Ichiji isn’t sure what he’d say to Law after that whole debacle.

However, the minute Reiju shifts to get off the couch he finds himself shaking his head. “I’ll go talk to him,” Ichiji says.

“You sure?” Reiju asks.

“Yes.”

Ichiji finally forces himself to get to his feet. He nearly overbalances getting up, and both Yonji and Reiju make half-aborted motions to catch him if he falls, but he ultimately manages to stay upright. He still feels a bit shaky, a side effect of the residual adrenaline leaving his system, but he at least doesn’t feel lightheaded or like he’s having trouble breathing anymore.

“I’m fine,” he says after he readjusts. “I’ll just change and go explain things to him. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“If you’re certain,” Reiju says, biting her lip.

Ichiji nods. “I am.” When she still looks uncertain he adds, “I want him to hear the explanation from me.”

Reiju smiles at him then, getting to her feet herself. “Okay. The rest of us will wait for you up at the front gates then.” She even sounds a little proud when she says it, and Ichiji feels his ears heating. “Go get ‘em.”

“At least you can’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have,” Niji adds.

Ichiji gives the other a dead-eyed look. “You could not be less helpful if you tried.”

“Is that challenge?” Niji grins.

“Nope!” Yonji says, wrapping his arms around his elder brother’s waist and lifting him off his feet before beginning to carry him back to the changing room downstairs.

“Put me down, fucker!”

“See ya later, Ichiji!”

“You seriously good going alone?” Sanji asks when just the two of them remain.

“I think I will be,” Ichiji says, though he’s grateful for the unspoken offer.

Sanji runs his fingers through his hair. “Alright then. Just text us if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Sanji,” Ichiji says. “It’ll be okay though.” He can only hope that ends up being true.

Chapter Text

Though Ichiji had talked a big game in the dressing room, he can feel his confidence ebbing with every step he takes toward the side door. He can admit that he’s still not feeling a hundred percent, a bit shaky on his feet and limbs tingling with leftover nerves, and yet somehow he manages to keep moving his feet forward. As unstable as he is (as uncertain as he is) he knows he’d feel worse if he left Law hanging.

It’s a strange mixture of guilt, embarrassment, and fear squirming uncomfortably in his gut as he pushes open the door. Sunlight hits his face along with a wave of heat. He steps outside and glances around, quickly spotting Law milling around against the wall a few yards away. He’s turned away from Ichiji, but he can spot the other’s tension in the rigid line of his shoulders and how his hands are securely stuffed in his pockets.

There’s another impulsive desire to turn around there and then, to run backstage and avoid having the impending conversation, but Ichiji pushes it away once more. Instead he lets the door close behind him, the sound loud enough that Law glances over his shoulder. The other straightens up, hands coming out of his pockets as he walks over to Ichiji.

He looks like he wants to say something, but now that they’re face to face Law’s expression turns more uncertain. Ichiji feels a measure of gratitude for the other who, despite witnessing Ichiji’s very public episode earlier, is still trying to find the most considerate way to bring it up instead of outright asking. It’s that over everything that gives Ichiji the courage to speak first.

“Thanks for coming to the show,” Ichiji says, trying to break the ice.

Law blinks, clearly not expecting that as the opening, but it’s enough to startle a smile out of him. “Of course. I promised I would.”

Ichiji’s mouth moves before his brain does and he follows up with, “What did you think?” He winces almost immediately afterwards.

“I thought it was good,” Law says, either not noticing or more likely not acknowledging the reaction. “The costumes and props were higher quality than I expected and you and all your siblings filled the roles perfectly. I felt like I was actually watching the characters up there.”

It’s a graceful deflection, but Ichiji can tell that the other is still being completely genuine with his compliments. He’s sure that Law wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if he thought that the show was actually bad to spare his feelings (even if he might phrase it a bit more diplomatically), so to hear that the other genuinely enjoyed the production is unexpectedly gratifying.

Of course, they can’t tiptoe around the issue forever. Law gives Ichiji an up and down look, and Ichiji already knows what’s about to follow.

“Are you alright?” Law asks, tone neutral and nonjudgmental. “I saw… it looked like something threw you off on stage.”

Ichiji’s fingers dig into the fabric of his pants. Even though he’d known the conversation was coming, it doesn’t make him dread the explanation any less. It’s not the first time he’s had to give context to others for odd behavior brought about by his past trauma. At least this time he didn’t have to spill his history to a concerned stranger. Though maybe this was even worse considering Law was someone whose opinion he actually cared about and was worried he might scare off.

“I…” The words stick in his throat. Something, a strange weight in his chest, is pressuring him to be honest, while another gnawing fear tells him to pull back. It’s an uncomfortable internal tug-of-war walk that keeps him in limbo.

Law, clearly seeing his dilemma, says, “Red-ya, you know I’m fine if you want to keep some things secret.”

“I don’t,” Ichiji says, “I want you to know. I think you should know if we’re going to keep seeing each other.”

He can’t manage to keep the doubt from his voice, the worry he’s held ever since he and Law had started this awkward dance around each other. What if Law wasn’t interested in going any further than flirting? What if he just wanted a brief fling? What if he didn’t want to deal with someone who had so much obvious baggage? Ichiji’s not good at casual, and never had a chance to start anything serious, but he wants to try.

And he hopes to god that Law feels the same.

“Alright,” Law says, “I…I do want to keep seeing you.” The words sound awkward but sincere.

Ichiji lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding. “I’m glad.” It feels like some of the tension lifts off his shoulders. “Then…”

It’s frustrating how even with the verbal affirmation that Law wants to continue feeling out their relationship there’s still something in Ichiji that’s holding back from being honest. He feels like a coward, perpetually afraid of a rejection before it’s even come. He hates it.

Law is the one who ends up speaking first. “Look, like I said, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. But… I think I might have a guess as to what might be happening.”

Ichiji’s stomach drops. He’d had hope, a naive vain hope, that Law might be ignorant of his situation. After all it was so long ago, over a decade at this point, that he’s sure that most of the general public had forgotten about the incident. Even after it had made headlines, even after there were dozens of television specials, all the spectacle had slowly faded with time.

But then again Law was in the medical field, and Ichiji’s sure that what had happened all those years ago circulated in that area much longer and traveled much further than it would anywhere else. He wouldn’t be surprised if the story of what happened with him and his brothers was some kind of occupational dark fairy tale, and that man the metaphorical monster.

“Feel free to stop me,” Law says. He pauses waiting for Ichiji’s response.

For a second Ichiji entertains the idea of doing so, of cutting Law off before he can ask the dreaded question that’s haunted Ichiji and his siblings since childhood. They’d done everything they could in the years since to distance themselves from those events, from that man, even moving to the other side of the country for a fresh start. Though Ichiji and his siblings still introduced themselves with the names they’d been given at birth, on paper they all had Zeff’s last name as an extra measure of protection in hopes that that man would never be able to find them again, that is if he ever got out of jail within their lifetimes.

Call them paranoid, but Ichiji personally thought there would never be enough walls in the world or days in the calendar that could ever sufficiently separate them from the scars that man had left on their family.

Ichiji lets out a long breath, though it feels more like it’s been squeezed out of him by the pressure building in his chest. “You can ask.”

“Your father,” Law says slowly, “Was his name Judge Vinsmoke?”

Most of the time Ichiji likes to think of what happened to him and his family in the way the news articles and television specials at the time reported on it:

Acclaimed scientist and researcher Judge Vinsmoke lived what everyone had thought to be a completely perfect and fulfilling life, making breakthroughs in the field of genetics and supported at home by his loving wife and five children. He was a genius, a leader in his field, and a family man. Truly, he was noble and highly respected pillar of his community.

That was why it shocked everyone when one day his fourth child (name redacted for the sake of privacy) ran away from home and became lost in the woods. At first Judge clung to the story that his son was going through a rebellious phase, but also began acting oddly the moment his son’s disappearance became public knowledge.

He didn’t seem concerned about the boy’s absence, and his participation in community organized search parties and speaking with law enforcement appeared forced at best. He barely gave more than token answers to officials to give them any idea where his wayward son might have run off to. Suspicions began to grow that Judge Vinsmoke had wanted his son gone and taken steps to make the boy leave.

And then his son had resurfaced, half starved and nearly dead of exposure. He’d been found on the side of the highway by a passing restaurant owner, who had rescued the boy and taken him in. The restaurant owner learned from the boy that he and all his siblings had suffered immense amounts of physical, verbal and medical abuse at the hands of Judge Vinsmoke.

When the charges were brought to the authorities, officers were quickly mobilized to apprehend Judge Vinsmoke and bring him in for questioning. But when they arrived at the Vinsmoke household they found that the head of house had disappeared along with his three sons. His bedridden wife and young daughter had been left behind with barely any food or money to sustain them, hypothermia and illness imminent as the utilities had been shut off after the most recent bill had gone unpaid. Both were immediately hospitalized and treated.

A nationwide search was launched for Judge Vinsmoke and the boys, a seemingly endless cat-and-mouse chase across district lines as the man hid with friends and former colleagues. All the while he continued his heinous experiments on his own children, frequently subjecting them to dangerous drugs and questionable surgical operations, the full extent of which required a complete five-inch binder of documentation to record the range of their injuries.

They were found after nearly a year and a half of searching. The boys were returned to their mother and siblings while Judge Vinsmoke was put on trial for kidnapping, child abuse, and an array of other serious charges. He would claim that he was attempting to create the next step in human evolution for the good of humanity. The court didn’t see it so generously. Eventually he was convicted and sentenced to prison for several life sentences worth of infractions.

The Vinsmoke’s were duly compensated and relocated per the request of Sora Vinsmoke, and the children were put in intensive therapy.

Ichiji liked the finality of these articles, the way they wrapped everything up with a nice bow. They never went into the lasting damage, consequent medical bills, and repeated panic attacks. They never talked about how long it had taken Niji to stop locking himself in his room every time they had guests over of someone raised their voice, or how long it had taken Sanji to gain back all the weight he’d lost trying to survive in the forest after he’d run away to try and get help.

It didn’t talk about the surgery scars that were still visible on their bodies, or the way their mother had been terrified to even send them to school for years afterwards, so scared that one day she might drop them off and never see them again. It didn’t talk about the way that Yonji had suffered seizures for years on end before they found a medication that helped, or how Reiju still hadn’t forgiven herself for things that had been well outside her control.

No, in the news articles they could just be Boys A, B, C & D, Girl A, and Miss Vinsmoke. The public could believe that while the experience had been harrowing at the time, everything had worked out in the end. A happy conclusion to a terrible tragedy. And really, over a decade had passed since then. Surely everything had been resolved now, right?

And Ichiji, for his part, could pretend it happened to someone else.

What a shame that happened to Boy A. Hope he and his family are doing better now. Thoughts and prayers for their recovery.

Life on the run isn’t as exciting as the old movies that played on the fuzzy motel television portrayed it to be. Many days Ichiji wishes it could be, since anything would be preferable to dingy motel rooms and abandoned apartments. They never stay in one place for very long, a month or two here another there, their father constantly moving to avoid catching the eye of local authorities.

Ichiji and his brothers had tried to run away a few times at first, but their father always found them before they got very far. He had thought that there was some way their father was tracking them all. Perhaps there was some device hiding under his skin, but he never saw anything unusual when he twisted this way and that in the bathroom mirror to try and find out of place lumps. Eventually they’d admitted defeat and stopped their attempts after the first few months, especially since the punishments for each attempt were severe.

Their days fluctuated between mind-numbing boredom and indescribable pain, every so often one of them being taken out by their father for some new operation he’d devised to improve their bodies. On lucky days they’d have access to anesthetics for those procedures. They didn’t have many lucky days.

That day found the three of them on the more mind-numbing side of things. It had been nearly five days since any of them had been taken in for a procedure, a rare respite. They never got too comfortable though, as Ichiji could sometimes hear their father on the phone in the other motel room he’d rented for just himself. It sounded like it wouldn’t be long before their father had another idea he wanted to try out.

Fortunately, it looks like that day wouldn’t break pattern. It’s already four in the afternoon, much later than their father would normally attempt a procedure. If there was a surgery to be done, it was almost always done in the morning since then their father could be sure they hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before. He’d likely be stopping by with an early dinner soon though, one that inevitably be inadequate and disappointing.

After half an hour, Ichiji is proven right. The door to the room swings open, and their father’s imposing figure crowds against the door frame. In his hand he holds two bulging bags of fast food and a drink carrier with three sodas. The paper of the bags is already spotting with grease. The smell of it makes Ichiji’s stomach turn as it permeates the tiny motel room. This is the fourth day in a row that it’s been fast food for dinner.

“Eat,” Judge says, dropping the bags on the small scratched table in the corner. “And Yonji…”

Yonji stiffens from where he’s sitting on one of the two beds. “Yes, Father?”

“Don’t eat anything past midnight tonight.”

Yonji’s face immediately pales, and Ichiji’s stomach drops. “Y-yes, Father.”

Their father leaves without another word, the door slamming behind him. There’s a click as the door automatically locks. Ichiji glances at the youngest and sees that he’s shaking, fingers digging into the scratchy bedspread and worrying the holes already in the blankets.

“Yonji…” Ichiji begins but doesn’t know what else to say. They both know what will happen in the morning. He walks over to the bed and sits next to his younger brother. He brushes up against the other’s arm and winces to find it’s gone nearly ice cold.

“I don’t wanna,” Yonji mutters, eyes wide and already glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t-“

“I know,” Ichiji says, hating how helpless he feels.

There’s a loud bang that makes them both jump, and Ichiji spins to see that Niji has disappeared into the bathroom and the door has been shut behind him. Ichiji grimaces and gets to his feet, padding across the room and knocking on the bathroom door.

“Niji,” he calls.

“No!”

“You have to come out to eat before the food gets cold.” As sick as Ichiji is of fast food, he knows it’ll only taste worse (and settle worse in the stomach) once it loses heat.

“I don’t want it!” Niji yells back, “I hate it! I’m not eating it!”

“We don’t have any other food,” Ichiji counters.

“I don’t care! I’ll starve, I don’t care!”

Ichiji’s mouth thins as he hears his brother’s voice crack on the last word. There’s a shuddery intake of breath and stifled sob from the other side of the door, and no matter what Ichiji says after that he can’t get Niji to respond.

Eventually Ichiji gives up and goes back over to the table where the food is. His stomach roils the closer he gets, protesting the thought of another meal of grease-laden burgers and fries. He peers into the bag, gagging as the scent of oil and salt hits him, but forces himself to pull out the meals.

It is, as expected, burgers, chicken nuggets, fries, and a couple packets of ketchup. The soda is the same as always as well. He’s starting to hate the feeling of greasy food wrappers under his fingers, but he peels one open to look at the squashed burger inside. He’s never seen something so unappetizing in his life.

He glances over his shoulder at Yonji. “You have to come eat.”

“Not hungry,” Yonji mumbles, staring unseeingly at the stained carpet.

Ichiji picks up one of the other burgers and walks over to his younger brother, unwrapping the burger and holding it in front of him. “Eat.”

Yonji grimaces as the smell hits his nose. “Not hungry,” he repeats.

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t,” Ichiji says. He wishes with every fiber of his being he had something else he could give his younger brother, hell, he’d even settle for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at this point.

Of course, that only makes him think about all the wonderful lunches they used to have at home before their mother got sick. She’d always made them delicious meals, everything from sandwiches with fresh meat and cheese, to bento boxes with crispy rice and fun shaped bits of egg, to pasta with butter and tomato sauce. Ichiji recalls once bragging to his class that his mother was the best cook in the whole world.

He can’t remember the taste of any of her dishes now.

Ichiji leaves the sandwich in one of his brother’s hands, though Yonji does nothing more than limply hold it. He barely seems to be aware of much at all. Ichiji goes back to the table to pick up his own sandwich.

The first bite tastes horrendous. It’s incredibly greasy and the lettuce and tomatoes taste horrible and slimy. Immediately he wants to spit out the mouthful, but he knows there’s no more food coming. He forces it down past the lump in his throat, trying to ignore the taste and feeling of it hitting his stomach. He manages to keep it down after taking a few deep breaths.

He catches a glance of himself in the cracked mirror mounted on the motel wall. His hair looks limp and stringy, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes have dark rings circling them. He thinks he looks sick, but he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. Horrifyingly, he can feel his eyes stinging. He furiously rubs them on the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Ichiji swallows the sob building in his throat, half furious at himself, half terrified his father might hear him through the wall. He can’t cry in front of Yonji, especially when the other is already scared. He swallows the gross mixture of snot and tears he’s holding back before forcing himself to take another bite of the burger in his hands. He gags involuntarily, but pushes past it.

He can’t imagine finishing the sandwich in his hands, but he’s equally hesitant to throw it away.

“I want Mama,” he hears Yonji sob.

He turns to see his younger brother crying, shoulders shaking as he draws his legs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around them. His own food lies forgotten on the sheets next to him. Yonji digs his fingers into his legs hard enough that it must be painful, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His head lifts and he meets Ichiji’s eyes.

“I want Mama, and Reiju, and Sanji! I wanna go home!” Yonji begins to shake almost violently.

Ichiji quickly abandons his food on the table and goes to his brother’s side. He sits on the bed and wraps his arms awkwardly around his brother in as much of a hug as he can manage. It’s not the first time he’s heard this, not even close, but his response has never changed. “I know.”

“I hate it! I hate moving around! I hate the food and the rooms and- and-!” Yonji takes a huge gulping breath. His voice lowers to a whisper. “I hate Father…”

Ichiji’s eyes dart toward the door, like the man might come bursting through at the admission. When things remain quiet though, he lets out a breath. “I know.”

“Why does he hate us?” Yonji whispers.

“He doesn’t-“ Ichiji pauses. He’s not sure

“He does ,” Yonji insists, “Mama said you don’t hurt people you love. He hurts us all the time, so he hates us! And I hate him!”

“Yonji…” Ichiji squeezes his brother tighter. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sure what exactly he’s apologizing for. He can’t help who their father is or what’s he’s done to them. He can’t get them out of this situation. He can’t even get some real food . All he can do is try and rub some warmth back into his brother’s arms.

“I hate him too.”

“It was,” Ichiji says, back in the present, “But he’s not my father.” There’s a world of pain behind the words that Law seems to pick up on immediately.

Law nods. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“That’s all I needed to know. I won’t press for any more details unless you want to share them,” Law says.

“Just like that?” Ichiji asks, brow furrowing.

“Just like that.”

Ichiji bites his lip. “I’ll tell you. Some day, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay,” Law easily agrees. There’s no disappointment in his voice or any indication that he’s lying. Ichiji can almost believe Law isn’t interested in hearing all the gory details like so many others had asked for over the years.

“…You really don’t have any other questions?” Ichiji asks, just to make certain.

Law shakes his head. “No.”

“And even knowing about- about him you still want to keep seeing me?” Ichiji asks. He’s not even sure why he does. It’s almost like he wants to push Law into admitting that Ichiji’s too much work, that he’s not worth sticking around for. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had come to that conclusion.

Law doesn’t do that though.

“I want to go on our date this weekend,” Law says plainly. “As long as that’s still something you still want to do as well.”

Ichiji stares at him, feeling like he’s stepped into some bizarre alternate universe. Every other person he’s met, even those with the best intentions, had always had follow up questions once they’re realized who Ichiji had the misfortune of sharing blood with. Would Law really be okay not knowing any more about what he was dealing with?

“I do,” Ichiji says eventually. “But my fa-“ He bites down on the word. He hates referring to that man by the term even if it is technically accurate.

Law sighs. “I’m not dating your father, now am I?”

Ichiji can’t help the disgust that crosses his face at the thought. “I’d hope not.”

“Then he is irrelevant to the conversation,” Law says, as if it’s really just that simple.

“I…”

“Do you want to go on our date this weekend still?” Law asks again, expression open.

Ichiji finally decides to be brave. “I do.”

Law cracks a smile. “Good. I do too.”

“And then?” Ichiji can’t help worrying the subject like a sore on the inside of his cheek.

“And then we can talk about anything else whenever you’re ready,” Law says. He tilts his head.

“Alright,” Ichiji finally concedes. He still feels a bit like he’s having an out of body experience, but it’s not completely unpleasant. He feels a bit like he’s floating, but instead of an out of control spiral like it was before, he now has a tether holding him to the ground.

“Are you alright to head out now?” Law asks, scanning Ichiji up and down.

“I…” Ichiji thinks for a second. He still hasn’t fully recovered from his earlier episode, but he feels a little steadier on his feet. He can make it back to his family’s car at the very least. “I think so.”

Law nods. “I’ll walk you to the gate.”

“Don’t you have to close up the infirmary?” Ichiji asks.

Law shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “I… might have already done that so I could catch your performance.”

Amusement bubbles up in Ichiji’s chest despite everything. “Did you now? What would Dr. Kureha say?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Law grumbles, “I know she leaves early sometimes anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Ichiji says, finally cracking a grin. “I suppose you can walk me out then.” He appreciates the way the other’s ears flush at the words. “Such a gentleman.”

“It sounds cheesy when you say it like that,” Law sighs.

“Do you care?” Ichiji half-challenges.

Law blinks, then smirks. “Of course not.” He offers a hand to Ichiji. “Shall we?”

Ichiji hesitates for only a second, wondering if he’s really about to accept what the other is offering. Then he mentally says ‘fuck it’ and takes Law’s hand. Maybe they really can move forward from all of this. Part of him still whispers its doubts, but it’s hard to hear it over the increasing tempo of his own heart.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Despite Law’s earlier reassurances, Ichiji can’t help the small part of him that still expects the questions to come. Surely Law would get curious, every one eventually did once they realized who Ichiji was related to. It might start out small with questions like “where did you grow up?” or “is that why you don’t like fast food?”, but it would inevitably escalate to questions that were far more invasive. He’s not sure exactly why, but perhaps since the circumstances of his past had been so public, others now felt entitled to knowing all the gory details.

It’s always gone down this path, no matter how well intentioned the person asking was. Eventually Ichiji had distanced himself from just about everyone just as a self preservation tactic. Most of the time he didn’t mind not having more than a surface level connection with his peers. It was easier that way, safer that way, to keep everyone at arms length and control how much they knew about him.

But it wasn’t always better that way.

While Ichiji had more than a dozen classmates he could ask about course assignments, he had no one to grab drinks with in the evening. There were people he nodded to in the hallway, but none he texted on the weekends. While he’d had a dozen first dates, he’d never had a follow up. He’d told himself for years that he was okay with that.

With Law though, it was the first time he’d wanted something more. He wanted dinners after work, texts in the evenings, dates on the weekends and so much more sappy embarrassing shit that he’d never admit out loud because he knew he’d never live it down. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to finally have a connection with someone that he was afraid to lose.

‘Does he even know?’ Ichiji thinks bitterly as he lies back on his bed, idly swiping through the same three apps on his phone without absorbing a single thing. ‘Does he know how much he’s thrown me off balance already?’

Probably not. Most people wouldn’t expect this level of attachment from someone they’d only been on one official date with and seen only a handful more times otherwise. He was probably falling too fast, jumping headfirst like a stupid teenager in their first real relationship without any of the caution that experience brought.

But when was the falling supposed to happen? Three dates? Five? More? There wasn’t any guide Ichiji could find on these types of things that weren’t overly soppy to the point it bordered on patronizing. The question of ‘when do we make it official’ felt so incredibly juvenile and cliche that it made ichiji want to drown himself in the ocean.

He checks his messages again. There were no new ones from Law aside from the question of making sure Ichiji had gotten home alright and wishing him a good night. It was polite, and avoided mentioning the incident that had occurred earlier. Ichiji wonders if it’s out of consideration or if Law is still processing the whole thing after seeing how much of a disaster Ichiji is.

“You’re not being fair.” Ichiji can practically hear his mother saying.

He had no reason to doubt that Law’s earlier words and intentions were anything but genuine. Assuming the other was lying to him and waiting for the other shoe to drop was incredibly pessimistic, even by his standards. And yet Ichiji can’t fully erase the doubts that cloud his mind. After all, would anyone really want to be with him after knowing how much baggage he carried with him? He truly hated how much of his life had been affected by that man. Even after that bastard had long since been locked up he was still fucking Ichiji over in ways he never could have foreseen.

Ichiji sets his phone aside on the nightstand before he drives himself insane. The room is instantly doused in darkness with only a thin sliver of moonlight coming through a gap in his curtains providing any light. He should probably be doing what Law said and going to sleep. He flops over in bed and determinedly tries not to think about his phone sitting on the table.

He tries all his usual tactics to fall asleep - rehearsing lines from his performance that he knows like the back of his hand, counting in intervals of five, running through all the mind-numbing business terminology he’s learning in his college classes - but none of it works. Ichiji suppresses a groan as he glares at the blank wall in front of him. He can feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, trying to pull him under, and yet his eyes refuse to remain closed.

Ichiji hopes that being in a relationship isn’t always like this. He’s not sure he’ll survive.

The questions he’s expecting end up never coming. Instead the first text Ichiji gets the next morning is the same ‘good morning’ text that Law always sends, along with him asking if they were still on for their date that weekend. Ichiji stares at his phone for a long few seconds before returning the greeting and confirming the chosen date and time. Law sends back a thumbs up. There are no further messages in the few minutes that followed.

‘Can it really be that easy?’ Ichiji wonders as he goes through his morning routine in a daze. Maybe it’s a little sad that he’s caught so off guard by someone simply respecting his boundaries.

He still feels a bit off kiter as he heads downstairs, greeting his stepfather and mother in the kitchen and sitting down at the breakfast table. Zeff offers to drive him to campus like usual and Ichiji absently agrees. His mother wishes them both a good day as they head out, and Ichiji day commences without a hitch.

Is it strange to be thrown off by normalcy?

He doesn’t have work that evening, which he doesn’t know whether or not to be grateful for since it also means he can’t see Law in person again before their date. That night is another uneventful evening in with his family, though all of them split off to do their own things after dinner. Ichiji considers retreating to his room as his siblings had, but part of him hates the idea. He’s sure he’ll just end up tormenting himself with his thoughts if he does, any attempts at distracting himself with course work ending in futility.

Tomorrow is the weekend anyway and-

And the date

Ichiji doesn’t groan out loud, but it’s a near thing. He instead moves to the living room couch and flips the television to some documentary he doesn’t need to focus on. He thinks it might be something about sea creatures, or maybe a maritime accident. There’s a lot of footage of the ocean. Then he sees someone throw a bucket of chum off the back of a small boat into the water. Maybe it’s a fishing documentary?

He gives up watching and drops his head back on the couch. Maybe he just needs to not think for a while.

He’s not sure how long he spends dazedly watching fish onscreen, but he’s jolted out of his stupor at the sound of approaching footsteps. He hopes it’s not one of his siblings. He doesn’t think he could deal with any of them right now. Ichiji glances over the back of the couch, stiffening as he sees his mother nearing the living room. She has a bowl of pretzels in her hand that she places on the low coffee table in front of the couch before she sits on the other side of the couch.

Just one look at her tells him that she knows something’s wrong. Maybe he looked strange earlier at dinner, or maybe she just had some innate maternal sense for when he was down, but she’s always been good at anticipating when he or one of his siblings needed someone to talk to. Despite the confusing storm of emotions currently inside him, his mother just exudes some all-encompassing comfort. Maybe it’s because he knows that his mother won’t judge him or force him to speak about things that make him uncomfortable if he doesn’t want to.

Truly, his mother should probably get some kind of an award for all she’s gone through raising him and his siblings.

“What are you watching?” His mother asks, glancing at the television.

Ichiji gives her a half shrug. “Not sure. It was just the first documentary that was recommended.”

She hums lightly. “Looks like it might be about deep sea fishing. Zeff would probably like it-“ She pauses as they both watch a shark charge a seal at - what the narrator helpfully explains - thirty five miles an hour. “Alright, maybe not.”

“I think it’s a nature documentary,” Ichiji says.

“Ah, then Yonji might like it,” Sora nods. They watch in silence for a few more minutes, only broken up by the documentary’s narrator and the light crunching of pretzels. Ichiji finally relaxes again as time drags on, which might have been his mother’s goal in the first place.

Eventually he can’t take the silence any more and blurts out, “Are you going to ask if I want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His mother asks. Her tone suggests that she won’t be disappointed either way.

“I…” Ichiji hesitates.

His mother waits patiently, expression open and expectant. Forget an award, his mother deserves a damn all-expenses paid vacation.

“I told Law about… about that man,” Ichiji finally says, the words coming out stilted. Even just remembering what they’d discussed makes his mouth dry and palms sweaty.

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mother says, eyes full of compassion. She doesn’t need to say anything else, both of them knowing the gravity of what Ichiji had confessed to Law. She leans forward and takes Ichiji’s hand in her own. He feels a little bad for how sweaty his palms still are, but she doesn’t comment. “How did he react?”

“Not badly,” Ichiji rushes to say. He knows his mother wouldn’t hesitate to go after anyone who ever made her children feel bad, especially about something like this, and he needs to make sure she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“That’s good,” she says, relaxing slightly, “But something about it’s still bothering you?”

“It’s… it shouldn’t,” Ichiji says, “He said all the right things. He told me I didn’t have to talk about it until I was ready and didn’t bring it up again.”

“But?” Sora prompts.

“I feel like I’m still waiting for him to ask,” Ichiji says, “Even though he says I can tell him whenever I want-“

“You’re waiting to see if he goes back on his word,” his mother gathers.

Ichiji grimaces. “I shouldn’t be assuming that. He hasn’t given me any indication that he would.”

“It’s understandable,” his mother says, squeezing his hand, “In the past… I wish all of you could’ve avoided what the media put you through.”

And Ichiji knows that really that’s what all of this is stemming from. Back when they’d first reunited with the rest of their family after being rescued from their father’s custody, Ichiji and his brothers had landed in the middle of a media circus. Despite the fact that Sora and Zeff had done their best to shield them from the worst of the public spectacle - and the fact that privacy laws and their young ages had protected them from having their identities revealed in articles - it was inevitable that people found out about them.

They’d been questioned by everyone from law enforcement, to journalists, to even nosy neighbors and fellow students. Each one got more and more invasive, and eventually they’d had to worry about being followed at school or people trying to look in through their windows. His parents had had to buy blackout curtains just to maintain their privacy, and before long they were getting everything delivered to avoid going outside. Eventually it got so bad that Sora and Zeff had made the executive decision to move to the other side of the country and change all their names.

Ichiji knew his siblings all still had anxiety about being in the public eye on the same scale they once were. It had manifested in different ways - Sanji and Reiju’s hatred of being photographed, Niji’s tendency to yell whenever questioned, and Yonji’s fear of being physically surrounded - and Ichiji hadn’t been spared. To this day he still went silent as a defense mechanism whenever he felt cornered, and he still flinched whenever he saw a cellphone pointed in his direction anytime he wasn’t performing.

He had had lost count of how many times people would say the same things Law had, only to go back on their promises later. It would start with offhanded remarks subtly trying to pry more information out of him, then a few questions here and there and finally full interrogations so intense that Ichiji wondered if they were trying to traumatize him all over again. After a couple failed friendships in this vein Ichiji had completely closed off to anyone, never letting others see those points of vulnerability again.

Perhaps that was what was happening now, an instinctive desire to clam up at the thought of the past being brought up again. Just imagining it makes Ichiji’s blood run cold. The thoughts of whispers following him and his family, of people trying to cut into him deeper than that man’s many surgical tools ever could.

But it also wasn’t fair to Law to judge him by Ichiji’s past negative experiences. He should be giving the other a chance to prove himself, even if it might end up hurting Ichiji in the long run. Wasn’t trust what relationships were supposed to be built on? He can already feel a slight ache beginning to build behind his temples as his thoughts fall begin to spin their wheels once more.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” his mother sighs, bringing Ichiji back to the present.

Ichiji grimaces. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. It’s normal to be worried about these kinds of things. But it also sounds like you’ve stressed yourself out enough.”

Ichiji almost laughs at the understatement. “You could say that.”

“What is it you think you need to hear from him?” His mother asks.

Ichiji pauses. He’s never really thought about whether there was anything Law could say that would reassure Ichiji enough. He’ll probably always have some hangups due to his past traumas, fears based on not only everything that man did, but the way he and his siblings were treated in the years that followed. Even if Law did everything correct, which he was already doing, Ichiji himself would have to be the one to get past his insecurities.

“I don’t know if there’s anything he could say,” Ichiji admits. “It’s something I have to work through myself.”

His mother nods. “But you don’t have to work through it alone.”

“I… yeah,” Ichiji agrees.

“It sounds like Law wants to help you work through it,” his mother continues.

“Maybe,” Ichiji says, “But what if he…?”

“But what if he doesn’t?” His mother says, not unkindly. She sighs and pats Ichiji’s hand. “You know, it was really hard for me to move on with Zeff back when I divorced your father.”

Ichiji jolts. While his mother was always quick to sing Zeff’s praises and never missed an opportunity to compliment him, she also rarely spoke about those tough couple of years that had followed his father’s conviction and imprisonment. While Ichiji had known they were difficult with the chaos they were all entrenched in, she’d always put on a brave face in front of her children to try and keep their lives as normal as possible.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad about it,” his mother adds, “I just want you to know that I understand how hard it can be to let someone into your heart again after it’s been torn apart.”

Ichiji nods, not sure how to respond. Despite everything though, it’s nice to know that he’s not alone in his uncertainty. To hear that his mother - who had one of the most picture perfect, healthy relationships Ichiji had ever seen - had once struggled in the same way Ichiji currently is… it’s reassuring. It lets that tiny part of Ichiji that craves the connection he’d always been convinced he’d never get finally have some shred of hope.

“How did you let yourself be…?” He searches for the word.

“Vulnerable?” His mother sighs. “It wasn’t easy. It took many years. I’m lucky Zeff is such a patient man,” she laughs lightly, “It’s hard to believe you deserve something good after so much bad has happened. But you have to remember that what happened wasn’t your fault, and you still deserve to be happy.”

“Easier said than done,” Ichiji mutters.

“Trust me, I know,” his mother agrees, “But you do deserve it. You deserve to have someone in your corner. You deserve to have a chance to be vulnerable with someone else. You can’t give up on other people, and I’m sure you’ll find some that surprise you in good way.” She smiles. “You don’t need to come to terms with that all at once, but you need to start on that path.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Ichiji admits.

“Well, perhaps a start would be meeting Law this weekend,” his mother says, “And maybe then you can judge Law’s sincerity a little more yourself.”

Ichiji exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” Ichiji says.

“Good,” his mother smiles and gives his hand one final squeeze before leaning back against the couch cushion. “Now why don’t we watch something a little more cheerful?” She raises an eyebrow as a fish is messily ripped to pieces on screen.

“Sure, Mama.” Ichiji reaches for the remote, “Cooking?”

“Oh, sure,” his mother says, waving a hand, “I could use a good laugh at someone else’s recipes.”

The atmosphere turns lighter as Ichiji flips to a cooking show, some reality competition with a group of people who are cooking a filet mignon far too seriously. Before long Ichiji is snickering at his mother’s snide remarks about the various chef’s techniques and restaurant management. No one would ever guess his mother - ever kind, patient, and understanding - had such a snarky personality, but she was very particular when it came to cooking and it definitely came out when watching these kinds of shows.

Though his earlier anxieties didn’t completely vanish, they feel considerably lighter than they had before as he relaxes into the casual banter with his mother. He’s not sure how his date with Law will end up going, but at least he knows he has a safe place to return to. His family has always been there to catch him before, and he doesn’t doubt they’ll do it again as many times as he needs it.