a stranger to save you.
They reach the island mid-afternoon the next day. The rain has remained a constant, staining the sky a dreary grey, thunder and lightning dancing across ocean waves. An old man at the docks tells Law that it always rains here—"Temperate island," he declared with a hint of pride. "But it's the cold that'll kill ya."
They organise to stay the night, Franky offering to take prisoner duty as he repairs the ship with the samurai and child, the rest of the crew parting ways surprisingly quickly. Law takes to the streets, pulling his hood over his cap, letting the rain pat, pat, pat on his head. The town is still alive despite the downpour, stalls lining the streets selling all kinds of fish and vegetables. A young girl in a pink dress sells him a Northern plumb—pulls out a knife and runs her blade through it, handing it over in two slices. It's juicy and sweet, reminding him of long cold nights by his crew's side—of days pressed into the dark of the ocean.
She says, "It's almost like home!"
Almost.
He buys three more.
The evening passes rapidly, night falling with even more rain. Soaked and freezing, he finds their agreed meeting place quickly—a small tavern that overlooks the docking bay, made of worn down wooden panels and crumbling stone. Muffled laughter and cheers echo from inside, accompanied by the shrill squeal of metal on metal from above. He looks up to see a small weathered sign swinging on its hinges—reads, Foghorn: "Where Strangers Meet".
Law steps out of the cool rain and into the hazy bar. The smell of tobacco hangs in the air, mixed with meat and booze, stuffiness sticking to his skin. He shakes off the droplets that cling to his coat, and pulls down his hood, taking in the scene carefully. Two men at the bar, one woman pouring drinks. Candles line the walls, flickering dully, fireplace to his right—and in the centre of it all stands Strawhat, on top of a table, surrounded by his crew and an overabundance of food and drink.
Luffy's eyes find his immediately, and he grins. "Torao!"
There is a spark of something in Law, something that warms him and tingles. But it passes too quickly for him to dwell on it—only raises a hand in greeting, before he beelines to the bar.
Strawhat keeps eyes on him the entire time.
"Hey." The barmaid floats like a ghost into his space. "Whaddya want?"
"Whatever you have on tap," he drawls, throwing down a few coins. "Pint."
"Ale?" she asks simply—pours without waiting for his answer. "You with them? Don't worry about paying.'
The next few seconds are agonisingly slow as he waits for her to finish serving, unsure what to say. It's been a long while since he's been in the company of normalcy, and his social skills are dismally rusty. Punk Hazard kept him isolated, Monet's company hardly enjoyable—Caesar's even less so. The outside world felt strangely paused while he stayed on that shitty hunk of rock, buried in books and papers, waiting, waiting—so much waiting.
It's hard to remember to live beyond that.
She places the beer in front of him. Froth spills out over the edges, soaks into the rotted wood bar. Her nails are chipped red, glinting in the candlelight.
"Thanks."
She only winks.
Law takes his drink and makes his way to the group—sits next to Nico Robin as Luffy launches off the table, Chopper screaming, Sanji yelling angrily. The ale goes down surprisingly easily (floral, summery—feels familiar), almost finishing half of it as he watches Strawhat move about the room, engaged in some childish game with his doctor and sniper. They dart in and out from behind abandoned tables, laughing maniacally and kicking up chaos.
Eventually, Nami calls them over for a quick meeting. She has a map spread out before her, tapping it thoughtfully as the crew settles.
She looks to Law when she says, "We'll reach Dressrosa in three days."
He nods curtly.
"We're already in Doflamingo's territory, so we have to be careful." She pointedly makes eye-contact with her captain, then, drumstick bone hanging out the corner of his lips like a rabid dog. "Just because he's expecting us, doesn't mean he will wait for us to make the first move. If we enter around this bay—" Nami's index finger traces the lines on the map before her, edging near the ends of her chartered course, "—then it should all run according to Torao's plan."
Luffy grins wide at Law. "Yosh! This will be—"
"But you haven't been there before, have you?" Law blinks, turning to Usopp. He leans over the table, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. "How do you know Kaido won't be there?"
"Dressrosa is Doflamingo's territory," Law replies calmly, holding his gaze. "He doesn't like to share."
"It wasn't always his territory, though, was it?" Nico Robin now, tilting her head curiously to the side with a secretive smile. "He was from the North Blue, wasn't he, Torao-kun? Like yourself?"
The room closes in around him, suddenly, suffocating. He grips his drink tightly, tries not to crush the glass.
Sanji says, "You're from the North Blue? Where?" at the same time Brook hums, "Oh, Law-san, I have always wanted to see the North Blue!" while Chopper flails at Zoro's side, exclaiming, "I heard they have amazing medical schools there, Law! Did you go to any?"
It's all too much, everything too loud, and Strawhat just stares at him evenly, Robin still smiling that damnable smile. He can feel the tension pulling out of his chest, words not forming on his lips, everyone waiting on his answer.
He recovers quickly, masking his face into ice, downing the rest of his beer in one go. He drawls, as if bored, "I don't remember," ignoring the nervous patter of his heart, the sharpness in his lungs.
"You don't remember?" Sanji presses. "Where did you grow up then?"
"I—" He grips the empty glass, feeling it flex in his hand. "—On the submarine."
Not exactly a lie.
The table falls silent, and Law stands then, the sound of his chair scraping across the wooden floorboards almost too loud in the quiet. He mutters something about refilling his glass, turning to leave: but a hand snaps out of nowhere, gripping the sleeve of his hoodie in a vice grip.
"Torao," Strawhat says, voice low and oddly gravelly. "When you come back, play with me and Usopp."
And just like that, the crew fall back into themselves.
Sanji rolls his eyes, Nami folds her map with a dramatic sigh—Usopp says, voice full of annoyance, "Luffy, Torao-kun will never say yes, just let it go."
"That's not true!" Luffy exclaims, turning to his sniper. Robin giggles and Zoro snorts. "He played with me yesterday!" Luffy looks back to him then. "Didn't you, Traffy? Tell Usopp I won!"
Law blinks, baffled only for a beat, before he pulls out of Luffy's grip. "Leave me alone."
Strawhat just pouts back with a frown.
"What game did you play?" Chopper asks, wide-eyed. "Law would be so much fun to play with! I bet he knows lots of interesting stuff."
Law almost smiles at that, mouth twitching.
"The word game," Luffy says, matter-o'-factly.
Zoro barks out a laugh. "There's no way you won that. Can you even spell?"
"Can you, Marimo?"
"What—"
Law leaves then. Has to, really, before he cuts them all to pieces. He can feel someone's eyes on his retreating back, but ignores it, placing his glass down on the wooden bar and waiting for the barmaid to notice him. She takes her time, talking to one of the patrons, her smile strangely fascinating to watch, wrinkling the corners of her eyes.
She catches him staring with a wry smile. "Ale?"
"Yes—"
He stops.
The ringing is enough to startle her, eyes widening comically—and enough to startle him, too, apparently; stumbling backwards away from the bar as he pulls the transponder snail from his pocket.
She laughs nervously. "Is that—"
It rings an even hum in his hand, over, and over, and over. Like a mocking tune to a sad story, and all he can do is stare, malice, frustration, that disgusting fear crawling its way back into his heart.
Fuck.
Fuck.
"Fuck," Law mumbles—turns on his heel, hesitating for the slightest moment, before sweeping out of the bar.
The shrill scream of the sign in the wind; the rain, torrential, now, emptying the streets and clouding the dull lamplights that line cobblestone streets. A rat scurries across the wooden dock; a fisherman sits on the end of a pier, three buckets by his side. Law can see the Sunny, swaying dangerously on choppy bay waters. Kikoku is still inside, beside Nico Robin.
Law stands in the darkness for—one, two, three, four—five beats.
Then answers the phone.
The silence is deafening.
The receiver creaks in his hold. He considers, for the briefest moment, crushing it with his bare hands.
"What?"
Not the most careful way to start. Doflamingo laughs at that.
"Oh, Law. You have changed."
He hasn't. Not one bit. Law has seen him in newspapers—glimpsed him across the Battle of Marineford, heart in throat. Still too much of him, too tall, too graceful, too commanding. The nightmares are so close to the truth its worrying—and his voice: like viscous, dripping from his thin lips, crawling beneath Law's skin.
He looks up to the grey sky and asks, deadly calm, "Is there a reason you called?"
"To talk to an old friend. To talk to family."
"I am neither of those."
"Yes, you are." Then: "Law."
The clouds swirl above him; they spin and spin and spin. He grips the snail so tight, he's sure it will die, the emptiness in the air building and building until he feels his very breath will shatter the world like glass. There are a hundred words on the tip of his tongue, a thousand things he could say.
But he cannot translate thirteen years of bitterness, hate and regret into words. Not really, anyway.
"I will kill you," he growls, hands shaking uncontrollably. The rain soaks him to the bone, freezing his core—but there is a fire lit inside of him, burning unbearably bright, the world nothing but a low fuzz around him. "I will—"
"What?" That laugh, that laugh, echoing through the night. "You remind me so much of myself, Law. It's flattering."
It is in that moment, Law thinks about throwing the snail through the glass of the tavern window. It is in that moment, Law wants—badly, desperately—to dive into the furious waves; to feel his body slam against the breakwall, completely beyond his control. It is in that moment, he remembers the gunshot, the silence around him, the wooden chest pressing him into four corners, breaths too loud, too short, chest inexplicably tight.
It is in that moment, the receiver is pried from his grasp, the snail clanking loudly as the phone call ends.
And Luffy throws it into the ocean behind him.
"Nyah, his voice is annoying, Torao!" Luffy grins. "What are you doing out here any—"
Law doesn't give him a chance to finish—can't. It's like everything inside of him just snaps, breath leaving him all in a rush, the rain suddenly like sharp pinpricks on his bare skin. Irritating. Just—
—fucking—
He grabs Luffy's ratty vest, wrenches him up close so he's inches away from Law's face, eyes widening in surprise. And then, with all his might, he spins around, slamming Luffy so hard against the stone wall of the tavern, he can hear the bolts of the door rattle through the pouring sky.
"Mugiwara-ya," he hisses, so low he can barely recognise his own voice at all. "What are you doing?"
Luffy frowns. Tilts his head to the side. "His voice was annoying, Torao." He says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. "Next time I want to hear him, I wanna be kicking his ass!"
Law's nails dig into his palms, the fabric of Luffy's shirt tearing beneath his fingers. He can taste blood—realises, absently, that he has been biting his cheek.
"This isn't about you," he growls.
"Yes, it is. Torao, we're nakama."
Luffy is so limp in his hold, so deceptively weak.
"No, we are not." He grips the shirt tighter, leans forward so Luffy's breaths warm his face. "We are not."
Through the foggy window, there is a movement—Law sees Zoro stand from his chair and glance to the door with an empty bottle in hand. And Law wants, suddenly, more than anything, for the swordsman to find them like this. For the Strawhats to see Law for what he really is—sadistic and cruel—a threat, to them and to everything. He wants— badly—for them to fight him, to end it here, now—and then, maybe then, it will all fall into place.
Maybe then he'll be saved.
But Zoro just laughs; turns towards the bar and calls for another drink.
There's nothing but that squealing sign, the pat, pat, pat of rain. Nothing but Luffy's steady breathing against his face.
Then, Strawhat says, voice extraordinarily low, "Do you want to fight me, Traffy?"
"Do I—" Law blinks. Luffy's eyes are as dark as the sky above, sucking him deep. "Do I…?"
"Fight me." His hat splits his face in half, and he looks dangerous—feels dangerous. "Law."
He drops Strawhat.
He falls on his feet with a small oof, mud splashing up his bare legs, sandals sinking into the muck. His hat falls back off his head, resting against his shoulder blades, and he looks up at Law, face still deadly serious.
Law is well acquainted with enigmatic beings. His life with Doflamingo was stumbling through the dark, with carefully chosen words, surrounded by powerful figures ready to crush him at any order. But Luffy is not enigmatic—quite the opposite, actually—and Law feels he can read him like an open book.
To a certain extent.
He runs a palm down his face. "Leave me," Law mutters into his hand, turning in the mud. He has nowhere to go, but he knows he can't stay here. Won't stay here. "Just—"
Then Luffy hits him.
It's very sudden. It's incredibly painful.
Completely unpredictable.
All he sees is the docks, the swirling ocean ebbing and flowing beneath the wood. Law can hear it clearly—the tumultuous waves smashing against the solid stone breakwall—and then, all he can hear is a loud ringing, his head spinning as the world tilts on its axis, exploding into white.
He stumbles, hands out; takes a second to blink back into consciousness. Quick enough to turn and see Luffy readying for another, face feral in the half-light of the streetlamps, eyes flashing with intensity. He goes to say something—then thinks better of it, expanding Room and switching himself with a wine barrel in the alleyway beside the tavern.
The exploding sound of wood shattering beneath Luffy's fist echoes through the night.
"Torao!"
Law steps out around the building, anger rippling through him. "Mugiwara—"
Luffy's fist misses him by a hair. Haki leaks from him, and Law realises, quite suddenly, that there is no reasoning with him. No point to.
He wants this as much as Strawhat does. Needs it.
Law grits his teeth, the fire from before returning with force. Room is up, and he teleports to Luffy's side, slamming his fist into his jaw, hardened with Haki. Strawhat barely stumbles, wiping the blood from his nose and delivering a body shot to his gut before he can even think to dodge.
Air leaves Law all at once, and he staggers, gasping, world spinning. Luffy takes the moment to grab him by the front of his jumper, lifting him from the ground with inhuman strength and throwing him into the building beside the tavern.
His head slams against stone—and he feels it then, he does—the edges of his mind slipping into the abyss. He doesn't fight it, letting fingers of darkness creep in, rain cool on his burning skin.
He sighs.
Law wakes to a dull ache in his head, eyes burning. He keeps them closed for some time, piecing the world together bit by bit through sound alone. There is still the pitter-patter of rain, crashing of ocean waves, his own laboured breathing, and then—ah—a humming by his side.
"Mugiwara-ya." His tongue feels thick and swollen in his mouth, words slurred.
"Huh? Oh! Torao." Luffy's voice is weirdly soft.
"How long…?"
He feels Luffy shrug next to him, their shoulders just touching. He is extremely warm. "No one's been out yet."
So, not that long.
Law lets out a slow breath; leans his head back against the stone wall behind them and opens his eyes to the sky. The freezing rain stings his face, pooling around him, tempering the painful pounding of his head. The waves remain a constant, steady beat—and the world feels so centred, then, like a laser, pointed on him and Luffy alone, with nothing beyond them.
Law shivers, and Strawhat moves closer.
"That was fun, Traffy," he breathes.
He seems to deflate, and Law's head lolls to the side, eyes half-lidded as he stares at Luffy. He looks… wonderfully peaceful. Calm, almost. Words he thought would never attribute to the man, and yet.
Blood trickles down the side of his face, curves his jaw, glints in the light.
Law almost swipes it away. Almost touches him.
Almost.
The surgeon listens to the ocean, slamming against stone and wood; lets seconds drag to minutes as he watches the ticking of Luffy's pulse, thudding against his ribcage, shadowed by light. Law feels his body sigh, eyes nearly sliding completely shut, everything so … still.
"Oi, Torao?"
He opens his eyes. "Yeah."
There is a significance to this otherwise ordinary moment, a thrumming in the atmosphere that feels ready to be shattered. Law thinks if he opened Room, he could scan the air; pinpoint exactly where the tension weighs, crackling like electricity.
Then Luffy says:
"I get excited thinking about you."
He turns, with that look in his eyes, wide and warm and bold. Law just holds his gaze back. Says nothing at all, can't think of anything to say, because he's not even sure if Luffy knows what he said—if he even knows what he means himself.
Eventually, Law finds his voice; manages through the slapping of waves and weight of Strawhat's eyes, "Excited how?"
"I don't know." Luffy shrugs. "Like… I'm waiting for something." Then, he straightens his shoulders, and smiles, grin spreading from ear to ear. "And I get even more excited when I think about kicking Mingo's ass!"
Anticipation.
That's what Strawhat is trying to describe, Law realises. Anticipation for a fight, for defeating Doflamingo. And with how little he knows Luffy, Law can only guess it is the uncertainty of their alliance that has him fluttering now—the elation of friendship with a dangerous stranger, with a fellow captain.
Luffy twists his body right around to face Law, and crosses his legs, swaying with the cold wind. His smile is excruciatingly bright.
Law lets the silence draw between them, looking at somewhere past Luffy, to the ocean of stars ahead. His shoulder is cold in his absence, and he shivers again, a movement that shakes his whole frame. He rubs at his arms absently, listening to the waves, the steady breathing of Strawhat by his side. Deep and content.
"Are you excited?" Luffy asks, minutes later.
So late at night with the air so chilly and his head so full of cotton wool, Law almost laughs at Luffy's gross underestimate of Doflamingo's power.
"Something like that," he mutters after a beat, voice dull.
Law struggles to a stand, leaning against the wall for support, head spinning dangerously. He stares down at Strawhat, holding his gaze for an incredibly long time, nothing but the crashing of waves between them.
Law's heart stops for a moment, and it almost slips out, a chip in his impeccable resolve.
"I—" He clears his throat. Looks away with a deep breath.
I'm scared.
Law lets it hang in the air; then lets it fall with the rain—manages a small sigh through the night as he returns his eyes to Strawhat.
"I'll be on your ship." He re-opens Room, Shambling Kikoku back into the crook of his shoulder. She fits perfectly, as always, grounding him back to the present, to the now. He offers Luffy a faint smirk, and says, "G'night, Mugiwara-ya."
Luffy smiles back. "Night, Torao."
Law walks away, heading towards the Sunny, breathing in deep the salty ocean air. But before he disappears into the dark, Law turns—sees Luffy still watching him across the docks, legs crossed, the ocean endless behind him.
Law stares back, eyes lingering for a moment too long, heart curiously still.
It feels like the start of something, he realises.
Something important.
A/N: sorry if it takes me a while to reply to PMs or reviews - but thank you so much for your support! i hope you liked this chapter. if you would like to read ahead, there is more on ao3 (i'm just trying to catch up here aha)