The heart rate meter was slowly ticking back to a normal rate, yet painfully slowly. At first it would seem to skip a few beats for a few tense moments, then resume, and eventually began speeding up slightly,
little by little. Law's breathing had returned, and though not slower than his heart rate at the moment, it was as if he were taking a deep breath every time he inhaled. Now his heart and breathing had returned to their regular paces. Inside Law's mind, he couldn't tell what he was dreaming about. He knew it to be some memory of his old home town. All he could remember was being cold. He'd just eaten a strange fruit with swirly patterns on it that he'd found on the street. Times were tough,
and the twelve year old was starving. He found, to his disappointment,
the fruit to be very bitter, and he had to force himself to eat the rest of it. He felt satisfied enough now, though he knew he would be hungry again later. He shrugged the thought off though, instead enjoying, for the first time in a long while, the savage cold. It seemed to have lessened a little to him, but he knew he must be imagining things. The boy finally looked at snow in a new way; it was soft and pillow-y on the outside, not to mention freezing, but had the power inside of it to kill millions. He smirked; the snow was almost like him. He was just a little boy on the outside, but on the inside he felt power he hadn't felt before. He wondered what kind of fruit could do that, give him that sort of sense that he was invincible. He was an outcast from the other children; he felt they were too silly. He needed to get away from this town as soon as he could. He died to have an adventure. The boy shivered, not from the frost, but from excitement. He'd heard all sorts of legends and rumors about sea-faring people called pirates. People thought they were cruel killing-machines, yet the boy looked at it differently. They seemed like heroes standing up against the Marines. A pirate's life was free from laws, and a true pirate didn't care what was said about him. Soon Law began living out his childhood following these beliefs, and once he turned twenty he'd decided to begin practicing with a sword. At first he'd bought some cheap katana which broke as soon as he began training with it. Eventually, though, in that town he found the perfect sword that would be comfortable and would look fitting next to his height. He chose a prolonged version of a nodachi sword, and he instantly loved it. It was just the thing to go along with his powers.
Though he'd consumed the Devil Fruit, as he know knew it was called, at just twelve, he hadn't been able to call upon it until he tried. At a few exhilarating moments, a small, blue transparent orb would appear randomly with an ominous sounding 'vwoomh'. He hadn't understood how to control it, and so had left it well alone. This new power made him even more of an outcast, but he preferred it this way. He didn't need the worthless cowards who inhabited the town anyway. He was surviving on his own just fine, without anyone's help. This is where he developed an attitude towards anyone who tried to order him around. He became self-dependent, and thus continued training himself with the nodachi. At age twenty three, he bought a small ship, just large enough to get him to a few islands. He had to search for a ship; then came the crew. His childhood dreams at becoming a pirate were slowly being fulfilled. No one set him off from the harbor, and he was just fine with that. He only trusted himself, which made it a bit difficult to find his crew. Back in the world that lay outside of his dreams, Law's mouth was curled up in a large smile as he recalled all of this, though his eyes stayed closed.
It was the first genuine smile he'd had in for a long time; usually the smiles were just out of amusement, or were faked in a threatening way.
The same with his other emotions. He usually kept a mask, his outward features representing his 'famed cruelty', though inwardly he wouldn't say he was overly cruel. This mask of harshness /was/ a part of his character though, if he was provoked too much or attacked. Though, none of that actually mattered at the moment. He rested on the medical mat peacefully.
little by little. Law's breathing had returned, and though not slower than his heart rate at the moment, it was as if he were taking a deep breath every time he inhaled. Now his heart and breathing had returned to their regular paces. Inside Law's mind, he couldn't tell what he was dreaming about. He knew it to be some memory of his old home town. All he could remember was being cold. He'd just eaten a strange fruit with swirly patterns on it that he'd found on the street. Times were tough,
and the twelve year old was starving. He found, to his disappointment,
the fruit to be very bitter, and he had to force himself to eat the rest of it. He felt satisfied enough now, though he knew he would be hungry again later. He shrugged the thought off though, instead enjoying, for the first time in a long while, the savage cold. It seemed to have lessened a little to him, but he knew he must be imagining things. The boy finally looked at snow in a new way; it was soft and pillow-y on the outside, not to mention freezing, but had the power inside of it to kill millions. He smirked; the snow was almost like him. He was just a little boy on the outside, but on the inside he felt power he hadn't felt before. He wondered what kind of fruit could do that, give him that sort of sense that he was invincible. He was an outcast from the other children; he felt they were too silly. He needed to get away from this town as soon as he could. He died to have an adventure. The boy shivered, not from the frost, but from excitement. He'd heard all sorts of legends and rumors about sea-faring people called pirates. People thought they were cruel killing-machines, yet the boy looked at it differently. They seemed like heroes standing up against the Marines. A pirate's life was free from laws, and a true pirate didn't care what was said about him. Soon Law began living out his childhood following these beliefs, and once he turned twenty he'd decided to begin practicing with a sword. At first he'd bought some cheap katana which broke as soon as he began training with it. Eventually, though, in that town he found the perfect sword that would be comfortable and would look fitting next to his height. He chose a prolonged version of a nodachi sword, and he instantly loved it. It was just the thing to go along with his powers.
Though he'd consumed the Devil Fruit, as he know knew it was called, at just twelve, he hadn't been able to call upon it until he tried. At a few exhilarating moments, a small, blue transparent orb would appear randomly with an ominous sounding 'vwoomh'. He hadn't understood how to control it, and so had left it well alone. This new power made him even more of an outcast, but he preferred it this way. He didn't need the worthless cowards who inhabited the town anyway. He was surviving on his own just fine, without anyone's help. This is where he developed an attitude towards anyone who tried to order him around. He became self-dependent, and thus continued training himself with the nodachi. At age twenty three, he bought a small ship, just large enough to get him to a few islands. He had to search for a ship; then came the crew. His childhood dreams at becoming a pirate were slowly being fulfilled. No one set him off from the harbor, and he was just fine with that. He only trusted himself, which made it a bit difficult to find his crew. Back in the world that lay outside of his dreams, Law's mouth was curled up in a large smile as he recalled all of this, though his eyes stayed closed.
It was the first genuine smile he'd had in for a long time; usually the smiles were just out of amusement, or were faked in a threatening way.
The same with his other emotions. He usually kept a mask, his outward features representing his 'famed cruelty', though inwardly he wouldn't say he was overly cruel. This mask of harshness /was/ a part of his character though, if he was provoked too much or attacked. Though, none of that actually mattered at the moment. He rested on the medical mat peacefully.