Chapter 7

After Sengoku-san's visit, Law's mood turned better. Of course, he wouldn't have been himself if the talk with Rosinante's father hadn't provoked a new cascade of remorse along with the impression he didn't deserve any warmer feelings. And yet... he felt somehow comforted. He couldn't but wonder at the fact that over the years Sengoku-san had become so fond, so strongly attached to him. The very thought bewildered him... and brought a foolish smile onto his face. On the other hand, he was mad at himself that he hadn't noticed it at all. He'd been so focused on his own situation that he hadn't even considered - he might have unconsciously sensed it, at the very most - that Sengoku-san might have visited him for something else than just reminiscing about Rosinante. The old admiral had had to almost say aloud that he cared about him so that Law's eyes opened.

He didn't deserve it. He was an egoistic git who could only hurt people around him... and yet Sengoku-san was able to see something else in him, something that he couldn't see himself. Law knew well that there was no use in arguing with somebody's love; one could only humbly accept it. It was a phenomenon he couldn't comprehend and logically explain, no matter how much he tried. He still couldn't find any reason why Sengoku-san might love him - the man who had brought death to his son - but he thought he probably would never find them. What amazed him the most was the fact there were people capable of such strong feelings out there; for him, it was something unattainable. Even if he was certain that it was love that he'd felt to Corazon, it still seemed laughable and insignificant when compared to that hurricane he'd been given. With some part of his mind, he knew it was pointless to compare the feelings, but he couldn't help it.

Now he could see clearly that his own attachment to Sengoku-san had long since exceeded the bounds of respect and gratitude for the man who had brought up Rosinante, Law's benefactor. He'd always been able to open to the old admiral, and could accept his concern without any protest, which wouldn't happen with anyone else. Moreover, Sengoku-san was someone whose approval Law unconsciously yearned and whose opinion he appreciated. Maybe he really needed such an authority figure, someone older and wiser, someone akin to a father, after he'd lost his own father too soon, and Cora-san had become one only for a short while. Sengoku-san not only had provided him with it, but also had grown attached to him like his own son, even though it had taken Law many years to understand it. Well, they used to say that better later than never, he decided now ironically... and with warm sensation in his chest.

They parted in good mood, promising to meet again the next year. Nothing really changed in their relation. Even if they'd grown closer, the time that either of them wished to play a family had been long since past them. Frankly speaking, Law had suggested the old admiral to move to Raftel, but Sengoku-san didn't feel like abandoning his house and his island, at least not yet. It was, in fact, all right, for Law feared he wouldn't be able to please Sengoku-san in case the latter wished for a more intense relation. His life was filled with work, and he didn't plan to change it; then, if they both were glad with the state of affairs, then Law wouldn't wish any more. He didn't need Sengoku-san to be near; what mattered to him was to know that someone, halfway around the world, cared and thought warmly about him.

It hadn't solved his all problems, but at least for a short while it made his life a bit better. So, if November had been the month he'd spent in foul mood and generally wished to forget altogether, then December started in much better spirit and almost optimistically. To know he was being loved could miraculously heal wounds. He preferred not to think that sooner or later it wouldn't be enough and all nightmares would return to his life, for they were intertwined with his very psyche. He wasn't deluded; he knew that Sengoku-san had managed to drive them away only for a moment, and that they kept lurking just over the border of light and shadow, now invisible, but still real.

Now, however, his good mood was a fact. He had more energy, talked more and was more cheerful. He treated others with composure and didn't feel disconcerted by what they said. His relation with Bepo returned to normal as well; he could accept that the mink, whom he considered as his best friend, could care about him, just like he'd done always. Actually, Bepo clearly strived to avoid any comments to Law's lifestyle, and he rarely blurted something that proved he still didn't approve his workaholism, but, to be frank, Law would worry if Bepo stopped to comment on it altogether.

His good mood didn't escape Clione's attention, either, and the psychiatrist used to cast him questioning looks whenever they met in the corridor. On Law's next psychiatric day, Clione tried to continue their previous conversation during their dinner, but Law answered that everything was fine and there was no need to talk about those old matters, which he considered to be true. The psychiatrist settled for that, and they spent time discussing more general topics.

December continued pleasantly amongst the familiar routine and without greater deviations. There were no disturbing events in the vicinity, no disasters. The weather was passable; snow would occasionally fall, but never stayed for longer. The patients kept arriving on due dates - no-one came too late - to be then discharged healthy. The hospital expansion project gathered pace, and the initial sketches of the new wing were made. Another reporter from the global newspaper appeared in the clinic to request an 'exclusive interview' with the director, but he wasn't granted even the most ordinary one; it had been Law's policy from the very start to refer the journalists either to his deputy or the press secretary of the hospital, and he was generally forgiven. It wasn't about his personal reluctance; he really didn't have time to speak to the media.

The medical cases were diverse. For the most part he dealt with all too familiar neoplasms, but there were also two genetic disorders he hadn't seen before. Through Kaya, he ordered the paediatric residents to make the case reports from both and send to the medical journals. Himself, he didn't write any papers - there was no point, since his treatment methods could be repeated only by the next doctor with the Ope Ope no Mi - but he encouraged and even demanded that other doctors analysed every medical case in the Corazon Memorial Hospital. After all, the best clinic in the world didn't use solely the Ope Ope no Mi, but also conventional medicine, often in innovative way. It was extremely important to devise such treatment methods that any 'ordinary' doctor could use; it was possible only through careful observation and mental work. The hospital on Raftel wasn't only the last resort for the terminally ill; the work done here benefitted the whole medical world.

In general, Law had no reason to complain. With every passing day, he made sure that he finally had regained his psychical balance after a few difficult weeks. Of course, such state made him feel that something would happen soon, and he usually was right. It was nearly mid-December when he once again learned that even the greatest doctor in the world shouldn't blindly believe in his own infallibility, not that there was any danger he would do so, at least not anytime soon.

One morning, during breakfast, Bepo inquired, "Do you remember that boy I asked you to examine some two months ago?"

Law frowned, straining his memory. "That one with a mother?"

"If we're speaking about the same boy with a mother, then probably yes," Bepo replied pointedly and then muttered, "I can't figure your train of thought. If it weren't you, I'd think that lady caught your eye."

"Don't be stupid," Law said impolitely. "Then? What about him? He couldn't possibly be here again...?!"

Bepo nodded. "He is, and with a fracture again," he confirmed. "This time of a forearm, both bones were smashed to smithereens. I admitted him yesterday and almost cried when looking at the X-Ray. He says he tripped on a kerb. A kerb!"

Law had involuntarily clenched his teeth and only now relaxed the muscles. He hated such situations. They happened rarely, but they always filled him with guilt. "Bepo, I swear to you I didn't find anything upon examination," he stressed. "His bones were perfectly normal, no pathology in the tissue. No neurological disorders. A healthy kid."

"Come on, it's not like I'm blaming you," Bepo replied. "I checked the genetic test you'd ordered then: full norm. I've no idea what's wrong with him. Now I start to suspect that someone keeps harming him, myself. It's not normal that a healthy kid breaks his bones after tripping over a kerb."

Law nodded silently, drinking his coffee. He recalled the talk with the boy... and his mother; for some reason, they came as a set in his mind, and he could do nothing about it. Now he remembered how they'd looked and that there'd been no air of deceit around them, even if, before meeting with them, he'd considered that the boy's mother would be the cause of his recurrent hospitalisations.

"But you saw him yourself," he muttered. "Nothing in his behaviour indicated that he'd been subjected to violence. I talked to him, and I'm sure he doesn't hide anything."

"Maybe he... doesn't remember?" Bepo suggested.

"He doesn't remember someone is beating him?"

"You know it sometimes happens... People block traumatic events, forget them altogether."

Law said nothing. He knew such incidents really occurred... but he found it difficult to believe it was such a case. He sighed. Apparently, he preferred to trust his judgement. He was suspicious by nature, so digging for hidden layers came naturally to him. At one time, it was only his paranoia he could count on; he'd come as far as a pirate because he'd always been prepared for any eventuality... On the other hand, when working with patients, he had to rely on their words, for it was their illness he cured, and thus being overly suspicious wasn't advisable. Thanks to this, he'd managed to temper that habit in his daily life.

Still, he shouldn't exclude any possibility... especially not because of his pride. The good of the patient was always the key priority. Even if it seemed to him the boy didn't hide anything, he wasn't a specialist in the matter of human mind; fortunately, he had some on his disposal.

"Let someone from Seven talk to him," he ordered. "If it's really some kind of amnesia, then they are the only ones to have any chance to find it."

"Okay. But you have to drop by him anyway. This time he won't do without the Ope Ope no Mi," Bepo informed. "I told you, it's a terrible fracture... two or three centimetres of bone were smashed. Even the surgeons wouldn't be able to do anything. If he'd been an adult, they would've put an implant, but the kid is still growing."

Law nodded. "I'll see him. I'm going to the paediatrics anyway," he promised, then finished his coffee and got up. "See you."

On his way to the ward, the thought he'd overlooked something when examining the boy last time, wouldn't leave him. It could be so, even if the possibility was microscopic... It had happened before that some patients would come to the hospital again, but Law had been able to find the disease only during the second time. He wasn't happy about it... but of the two, he'd rather blame himself than his Devil Fruit. The option that the Ope Ope no Mi wasn't perfect, filled him with such terror that he immediately forbade himself from considering it. He hoped the day he stopped trusting the Ope Ope no Mi would never come.

Since the fractures, comparing to other conditions, didn't require much time, he went to the boy right away. When he closed the door behind him, the patient's mother stirred on her bed. Law activated the Ope Ope no Mi and put her in a deeper sleep before she waked up. Then, he anesthetised the sleeping boy and got to work. The fracture was nasty indeed; the tiny fragments of the two bones were stuck in the surrounding soft tissues, and all area was inflamed. Law removed all pieces and stimulated the osteoblasts to produce new bone tissue - just like Bepo had said, over two centimetres needed to be filled - which he then supplied with nerves and blood vessels. It took him just one moment.

Before leaving, he scanned the boy's organism with his Devil Fruit, only to find no pathology that might explain his recurrent fractures, just like two months earlier. As a doctor, he hoped the psychiatrists would find something that might indicate foul play, although he jibbed at it as a human being. He really didn't like the idea he had misses - or would miss - some medical condition in his patients. Until now, he'd been certain the Ope Ope no Mi had made him a perfect doctor and every ill person could trust him fully. What would happen if he learned that the reality wasn't so bright? Trafalgar Law would lose his footing, to say nothing of the crowd of his patients or patients-to-be.

Yet, it was too early to make such assumptions. He still should believe that the Ope Ope no Mi wouldn't let him down. When he stopped by the bed of his next patient - an infant with a heart defect - he no longer thought of that problem, only focused fully on his work. Even if the unpleasant impression would return to him between the patients, he every time managed to push it away from his mind.

Until noon, he performed all six surgeries he'd had in his schedule. He could be pleased with himself, especially after the last operation on the nearly thirty-year-old man with a degenerative brain disease. The man was really lucky to have been referred to the hospital on Raftel; if he hadn't, according to Law's diagnosis, he would have died within six months. At first, he'd been treated as a psychiatric patient because his apparent and reported symptoms had been insomnia, anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts, followed by concentration and memory problems. He'd been referred to the psychiatric hospital, but his condition would only deteriorate, despite medication: he'd started to hallucinate, and his level of arousal had alternated between agitation and stupor. The subtle neurological symptoms - speech impairment, tremor and hypersensitivity to external stimuli - had been considered to result from the psychiatric condition. It hadn't occurred to anyone to send him for a head scan or, at least, do an EEG.

The history would have ended tragically if not for the parents of the young man, who had visited him in the hospital and had been terrified by his state. At that point, the patient could no longer move, not even speak. Against the doctor's advise, the parents had transferred their son to another hospital where he'd been immediately diagnosed with encephalopathy of unknown origin and urgently forwarded to Raftel. When Law had scanned him with the Ope Ope no Mi, he'd found the cerebral atrophy in every lobe, which explained the psychiatric symptoms. He'd also discovered numerous deposits in his nervous system; examination had told him that they were formed by the pathologically built and acting proteins. He'd found them in other tissues as well. He'd never seen anything like that before, but thanks to his Devil Fruit he'd known it was that protein that had caused the disease.

Treatment was difficult because it didn't take only to remove the pathological deposits and regenerate the brain tissue, almost completely in this case. Law also had had to modify that pathological protein and remove the mutation responsible for its occurrence from the genetic code. It was a time-consuming operation, and thus he'd divided it in three parts and scheduled for three consecutive days, and knowing that additional procedures might be necessary, too. However, he was certain everything would be all right, for today, before the third and presumably last stage of treatment, he found the patient conscious and in contact, although completely confused and disoriented, and with severe memory disorder. Well, it didn't come as a surprise in the case of the man who'd required to have most of his cerebral cortex built anew... It would be good if he remembered who he was, to begin with, although the personality change was pretty likely. Law never guaranteed his patients and their families that after his treatment they would be just like they had been before coming here; he only guaranteed that they would be healthy.

Then, he had a reason to be satisfied... but he didn't manage to enjoy it any longer. This day would pass into history as a very unfortunate for him. When Shachi moved the patient out of the operating theatre, and Penguin started to fill the medical record, the room suddenly went black, and it was the last thing Law remembered.

He waked up on the hard examination bed, which made him guess he was in some doctor's office. The dim light was filling the room, but then it became brighter.

"How do you feel?" asked the voice belonging to the hospital's only reindeer-doctor.

Law looked to the side to see the head of the internal department sitting on the stool. Bepo was standing in the door, and it was him who had turned the lighting on. Law swore inwardly, sensing the storm. Maybe he should forbid people to call Bepo in such situations... not that he planned them.

He focused on present. "Normal," he answered Chopper's question, then activated the Ope Ope no Mi to make sure he was fine, indeed. "Everything is fine with me," he informed, sitting up.

The reindeer nodded. "I didn't find anything, either, at least not in general examination. But I heard from Bepo it was the second time you fainted within a short period of time...?"

"At least, I was called two times," Bepo slipped in an emotionless voice. "It may be that-"

"Two times, Bepo, no more," Law interrupted him and looked at Chopper again. "The previous one was after I'd been using the Ope Ope no Mi for almost twenty-four hours straight," he explained. "After that catastrophe on Segvel. I hardly ever slept then, so no wonder I passed out."

Chopped nodded again. "And now?" he asked in a serious voice.

Law said nothing. He had no idea why he'd lost consciousness again. He didn't have rapid pressure drops, and he cared about keeping the proper glucose level in his blood. He had no head problems, so it couldn't be the neurological problem, either.

"Overworking," Bepo said from his spot by the door. "Your organism can no longer handle such an extensive using of the Ope Ope no Mi."

"Rubbish," Law replied at once. "My organism is in perfect condition."

"Then, your psyche is protesting," the mink decided.

At that, Law only snorted.

"Is it true?" Chopper asked with a polite curiosity. "You're overworking yourself?"

The silence fell. Law hoped Bepo wouldn't tell the internist about his lifestyle... and then he asked himself why he should fear that. He wasn't doing anything wrong...? Apparently, the criticism he'd experienced this autumn had stayed in his head and made him assume that everyone would only blame him... especially his colleagues.

Bepo, however, kept silent, even though Chopper's question was still in the air and gave him the great occasion to get yet another affirmation that Law should care about himself better. Law had no doubt that the chief of the internal medicine would support the mink in his opinion... Yet, he understood that Bepo didn't want to be disloyal to him... or didn't want to risk his bad mood, especially after what had happened the last time they'd talked about it.

He looked at the internist, who was still awaiting his answer. "No," he said. "I'm not overworking myself. My organism is modified. I can work much longer than normal person. I have enhanced physical and physiological endurance."

Chopper nodded slowly. "And you probably... constantly make better and better use of your Devil Fruit, and operate more than before...?" he guessed.

"That's true," Law affirmed. "I can use the Ope Ope no Mi more efficiently. Over the years, my surgeries have become shorter, so nowadays I can treat more patients in the same period of time."

"Only, you're not getting any younger," the internist pointed out, "quite the contrary."

"My age doesn't matter here," Law muttered. "What matters is how I function."

"Speaking of which," Bepo said, and Law hunched inside at his voice. "Today you collapsed right after the treatment... I wonder if the third time wouldn't occur during it. You know what will happen then?"

"There's no point talking what ifs," Law responded edgily, not really looking at him. "It's not going to happen."

"If you collapse when treating, say, a surgical patient," Bepo continued, ignoring his remark, "and the Ope Ope no Mi is deactivated, there's a substantial risk that patient will die on your operating table, Trafalgar Law," he said solemnly. "You're a doctor. When performing a surgery, you hold human life in your hands. How can you be so carefree? It's very unlike you."

Law stared at him in silence. If it were anyone else speaking, he would've undoubtedly heard impatient reluctance or open disappointment in their voice, yet Bepo talked calmly, without emotions, but stressing every word, as if he wanted to convince him, show him a lucid solution. Law could barely comprehend it; it was he whom people always considered a common sense incarnated... Still, he mused over what the mink had said, for even if he trusted his own opinion, he didn't use to automatically disregard everyone else's... and it wasn't like Bepo spoke on a whim.

That was true: if he collapsed during the operation, it would endanger the patient's life. He wasn't going to deny it, only... He'd never fainted when using the Ope Ope no Mi, only after. He'd never - never! - lost consciousness when operating, and he'd rather believe that in normal circumstances the Ope Ope no Mi protected him from any harm. They weren't speaking of the situations when he used his Devil Fruit for over twenty hours straight; in that case it would be logical if he exhausted his all energy. But he was perfectly certain that there was no risk in the normal daily work mode.

As for his syncope... Well, for some reason they happened, and ignoring them wouldn't let him find out why. But he knew that his health was perfect, so he couldn't imagine working less, and it was what it was all about. For his part, he'd rather work even more than now.

"Can you guarantee me that if I work less, such a situation will never happen again?" he asked. "No. But I know what can be guaranteed: that more people will die, waiting for my treatment," he pointed out, trying to speak in a calm manner.

"So you'd rather take a risk?" Bepo asked. "Risk a patient's life... or that incredible cure statistic of this hospital?"

Law shook his head. "It won't happen," he said. "I'm all right," he repeated.

"What if the Ope Ope no Mi is wrong?" Bepo asked.

Law looked up at him. The mink's words, though he would've considered them a blasphemy any other time, reminded him his earlier concern and confused him for a moment. He quickly got over it. He didn't plan to return to what had been gnawing at him the whole morning.

"Ope Ope no Mi is never wrong," he declared. It sounded too overbearing, which he immediately realised. "Look, I know you're worried," he said in a softer voice. "But tell me: how many patients has the Ope Ope no Mi cured until now?" Bepo shook his head. "I've no idea, either. Buy I know I can cure many many more. It's the only thing that matters."

He really didn't want this conversation turn into the same terrible fight they'd had back in October. He'd promised himself he would never let it happen again. Only, Bepo was so stubborn... What should he say? What arguments use in order to convince him? Judging from his expression, the mink seemed completely unconvinced... and inconvincible.

"I also think that slowing your pace of work is a good idea," Chopper spoke; in the meantime, Law had managed to forget him. "You should take a long weekend from time to time."

Those words almost made Law moan, and even Bepo seemed as if he'd just suppressed a cry. A long weekend? For Trafalgar Law, who never took a single day off in the whole year? Bepo must have had the same thought: they mustn't make the head of the internal medicine department aware of the hospital director's lifestyle; he would be much happier, staying in his delusions.

"Um, a free day every now and then would be good," Bepo muttered, scratching his neck and looking everywhere else but the doctor-reindeer.

"Dr Chopper, thank you," Law said. "Sorry for the trouble. I won't keep you."

The internist beamed and jumped down from the stool in a very energetic way. "Asshole! Don't think I'm happy when you call me a doctor!" he declared with a clear joy, walking to the door.

"What else should I call you?" Law asked, rolling his eyes. "We're all doctors here..."

"Jerk!" the reindeer said and left, and Law thought he could always count on the lack of the proprieties with him, and found it refreshing.

Now that they were alone, Bepo stared at him in a serious manner again, and Law prepared for the worst... for the fight.

"We can't leave things like that," the head of the emergency unit decided.

Law frowned. "What...? You're going to nag me about it every time we meet?" he suggested.

Bepo shook his head. "Even if you're a superhuman... I know how you'll be feeling in the situation that the first patient dies in your hands," he said in a lower voice. "And I know I don't want to see it. If you're not going to do anything about it, then I must."

Law realised he couldn't be mad with Bepo even if he wanted to. He felt like tousling his hair in frustration. Yes, Bepo, of all people, certainly knew. He believed they were the best friends... so it was obvious he didn't want to allow the situation that Law suffered. No matter how much it deviated from Law's personal opinion, he couldn't remain indifferent. Apparently, he had to make some concession, even if he really didn't want to; otherwise, Bepo wouldn't leave him be, and he seemed determined enough to do something that would turn Law's life upside down... although Law had no idea what it might be. Anyway, he had to prevent it at all cost.

He gave the mink a solemn look. "I promise that, if I faint once more during work, then... I'll consider your proposal," he muttered with reluctance, but then he added with emphasis, "I promise you that, Bepo."

Instead of being happy, however, the mink shook his head again, his eyes filling with sadness and... disappointment. He said no more, only took his leave. Law felt like running after him and asking what he planned to do... but then his anxiety receded, replaced by the calm realisation that there was nothing his friend could really do about it. Nothing.

Two days passed, and nothing happened... Bepo behaved like always, but Law couldn't forget what his friend had said during that conversation. Obviously, Bepo planned something, and no matter how Law tried to convince himself that no-one was able to influence his decision, he still couldn't shake the thought something might be happening behind his back, something concerning him, and he had no idea what. He knew, however, that asking about it was pointless... and, besides, he didn't feel like doing so. He'd already made a fool of himself in his friend's eyes, so he'd rather avoid any pathetic behaviour from now on.

What deepened his paranoia even more was the fact that, again, his more or less close colleagues began to make the comments about how he should take care of himself. And here he'd thought he'd got over with it... He started to suspect that the news about his collapse had spread in the hospital, although he was sure that neither Bepo nor Chopper had told anyone. Still, he wasn't exactly in the position to ask about it. 'Hey, Ikkaku... Have you heard that I fainted in the operating theatre the other day?' If they didn't know after all, he would blab it out himself, which would defeat the purpose... Well, there was nothing he could do about it, and worrying about it wouldn't do. Apparently, the rule 'Ignore it and it will go away?' was pretty sensible in this case, too. It could also be that the reason for the others' more open attitude towards him was that he'd been more cheerful recently; something like that encouraged contacts.

Nevertheless, even if he assumed that the hospital workers might know about his syncope, it would never cross his mind that the matter could have become larger that that. Later, he would come to the conclusion that this history should teach him to pay attention not only to medical affairs. On the third day, in the evening, when he was doing a paperwork and planning the next day surgeries, Sengoku-san called him. The old admiral was one of few people that had his personal number, that was the direct number to his office. He rarely called - mostly because of the time difference between Raftel and the region he lived in - and thus the very first emotion welling up in Law was anxiety.

"You're not asleep yet?" the former Fleet Admiral asked in a normal voice. "I know you go to bed late."

"Sengoku-san? Did anything happen? You hardly ever call..."

"Nothing happened here," Sengoku replied reprovingly and then showered him with questions, "What's with that fainting? Do you feel unwell? Are you ill?"

Law thought he'd heard wrong. How could Sengoku-san, halfway around the world, know about that? He couldn't possibly use telepathy...? "How... Where..." he uttered before he managed to gather his thought after the initial shock that had deprived him the ability of coherent speech. "What are you talking about, Sengoku-san?" he asked in a bit calmer tone.

"Ah, right, it's yesterday evening in your place, so you can't know... They write about it in today's paper. That Trafalgar Law, the greatest doctor in the world and the director of the Corazon Memorial Hospital et cetera et cetera, collapsed at work! They of course prophesy the worst... practically the apocalypse. I almost choked on my breakfast tea, seeing the headline: Is it the end of the Miracle-Doctor, question mark and two exclamation marks."

Law felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and hoped it was just a bad dream... even though he'd long since stopped seeing dreams. In the newspaper? In the global daily? It went beyond the limit of absurd.

"Law? Hey, Law? Are you there?" he heard the pressing voice in the receiver. "Say something 'cause I'm worried. I'd have ignored it altogether if they hadn't referred to your local press."

"I hear you, Sengoku-san..."

Law clenched his fists and then relaxed them. He took a deep breath and ordered himself to remain calm. And then did it once more. What had happened, had happened... and, in fact, nothing had happened at all. He'd survived much worse things, right? Something like this was but a trifle... And since Sengoku-san knew... since everyone knew... there was no point hiding it. Now, this very moment, the most important was to allay the concerns. Sengoku-san had said straight he was worried...! After their recent talk, Law knew it was true... and he didn't want to worry him, especially without reason.

"I'm all right," he said in a composed voice. "I assure you, Sengoku-san. It's true I briefly fainted the other day, but I suspect it's just... overworking," he almost spat out the word that normally didn't register in his dictionary. "There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not ill... I'm fine. You believe me, don't you?" he asked somewhat anxiously.

"Why should I not believe you?" came the answer that filled him with warmth. "If you say so, then it must be so. I don't consider you to be someone who would lie... even though sometimes one can't avoid lying," Sengoku muttered absently, but then he added. "In any case, it's good to now you're fine. I knew that the press made a mountain out of a molehill... Like always. Only... Take good care of yourself, would you?"

Despite his frustration, Law felt like smiling. "Don't worry. Miracle-Doctor has no intention to stop curing people," he said. "The Ope Ope no Mi is alive and well."

"To hell with the Ope Ope no Mi... It's your health that matters, moron!" Sengoku scolded him. "Okay, I won't bother you any longer. It's almost midnight in your place, right? Goodnight! Don't overwork yourself!"

"Sengoku-san...!" Law called before the old admiral hung up. "Thanks... for calling," he said sincerely in a soft voice before putting down the receiver.

He rubbed his face with both hands and wondered what to do about it - and if anything. His eyes caught the pile of the newspapers on the very edge of his big desk. His secretary would bring him the local daily every morning, only to once per week take all of them away, unread. He browsed through today's issue of 'Raftel's Voice', then grabbed the yesterday's... Right on the front page it wrote: 'The dark side of the Corazon Memorial Hospital. Director Trafalgar Law seriously ill? Read more on pages 2-3. Only here!' The photograph of the hospital facade in the sunlight was somewhat at odds with the darkness in the headline, but it could be the intended effect, too.

The first thing that amazed Law was how they'd been able to make a two-page article out of a single syncope, but he probably underestimated the journalists. He began reading, trying to fish up the meaningful content between the substantial amount of exclamation and question marks. He quickly threw the paper aside with disgust. Just as he'd expected, the article consisted mostly of the author's various speculations and assumptions - 'Is it the end of the medical miracles?' and 'What would happen to the population of Raftel and the Four Islands?' he asked among other things - and the sole fair fragment was the information about Law's collapse itself, although it, too, was presented in the manner typical for the media, that was sensational and dramatising. The journalist cited a person, a former patient of the hospital, 'who wished to remain anonymous' and had seen how 'unconscious and pale as death Director Law' had been carried out of the operating theatre and had required the attention of 'many doctors'. It proved what he'd believed himself: that neither Bepo, nor Chopper, nor anyone from the personnel talked about his collapse. It was probably the only one positive thing in the whole affair... or, at least, the only thing that mattered to him.

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, trying to take it all. The situation was so absurd that it didn't even anger him; rather, he felt like laughing it down. With a little good will, he could understand that the news about his possible illness might cause the reaction on a larger scale. It didn't surprise him, either, that the journalist considered it a scoop, especially that Law himself was absent on media. In a way, he was a famous man, and yet people knew hardly anything about him; it was obvious that any piece of information would cause excitation. As for that patient, who had witnessed his indisposition and had dared such indiscretion... Well, he or she must have succumbed to the temptation of gaining some fame - and maybe even some material gratification - which could be understood, too. Such was a human nature, and Law didn't feel like blaming anyone.

Well, even if he regularly gave the interviews, such news would cause a stir anyway, he concluded. So, there was no reason to give up on his policy of avoiding the journalist, that had been working great for the last decade and even longer. There were many causes for it, the most important of them being lack of time Law could spare on talking to the media. As for the rest... He wasn't a celebrity. His life was filled with work, and Trafalgar Law didn't exist outside of medicine. He didn't have so called private life; moreover, he didn't consider himself to be interesting enough as a person so that the stories should be made about him. He wanted to focus solely on treating patients and didn't see anything wrong about it.

Should he react to that article...? He quickly decided there was no point in doing so. He knew it was but a load of rubbish, aiming at causing a sensation. Patients and staff, and anyone visiting the Corazon Memorial Hospital could see with their own eyes that Director Law was fine and working like always, although the article didn't mention that. No, he shouldn't bother his head. He'd developed the immunity to the public opinion long ago, back in times when his wanted posters had circulated the world, with one of the highest bounty in the history, so he would cope with this kind of 'fame', too.

Then, however, he realised that the official statement was needed. The information had got in the global newspaper, which meant that the hospital would be flooded with the calls asking for commentary, and maybe even the Ministry of Health would request an explanation... Law would have to ask his deputy and the press secretary to compose a formal letter to the authorities and the media, correcting the false information. Even if he considered it a bother, he couldn't ignore the concern and anxiety that article would arise in normal people, his potential patients. It wouldn't do if something shook their belief that there was a place they could seek help in need and be certain they would recover. For the public good, it was important that Trafalgar Law was at full strength, he decided.

The next moment, he winced and asked himself sarcastically since when he'd started to say his own name and 'the public good' in the same sentence. well, it was true that he did some good for the world, he and the Ope Ope no Mi; he shouldn't deny it. That thought made him think of Sengoku-san, and now he really felt angry, mostly because the stupid journalists had made the old admiral anxious for no reason. On the other hand... Sengoku-san had called him, and that filled him with warmth. It'd been nice to hear his voice again... and be reminded of his concern and affection, even though those were the only positive aspects of that affair.

In the end, Law decided there was no need to think of it any longer, not now that he had work to do. With an ironic realisation that medicine was easier than any other area, he once again plunged into the clinical cases he would treat tomorrow.