Demon

Characters: Law, Shachi, Penguin, Heart Pirates. Rating: T. Warnings: Character death, blood, injury, torture

The air was toxic, catching in Law's lungs every time he took a breath and leaving a burning sensation behind. The purple fog clouded his vision, leaving him stumbling through the ruined city, tripping over rubble and corpses alike. Some of the bodies hadn't lost the last of their life yet, releasing pathetic moans as his toes stubbed against them. Their faces were blurred, unimportant in the grand scheme of things as he pushed forwards, not knowing what he was hunting for but knowing there was something in the wasteland that he needed to find.

Groans and moans were drowned by screams as he pushed forwards further, the sounds drawn from hoarse throats as if they'd been screaming for hours. The stench of death and the metallic tang of blood hung in the air, but still he forced himself forwards, towards the source. Somehow, he knew, what he wanted, what he needed, would be there.

Shadowy figures emerged through the fog, tall and upright in contrast to the bodies crumpled at and around his feet. Many were motionless, stuck in the approximate shape of an X, and Law knew he'd found the centre of everything – the pain, the suffering, the screams. The less static figures flailed, beating on their still counterparts to pained groans and screams, filling Law with a rage that bubbled up inside him, rising from his stomach to his heart and then up his throat to his head, dying his vision a violent red.

He tripped again, this time failing to catch himself before he crashed to the ground, and found himself staring into the mostly-closed eyes of Ikkaku, the woman writhing in muted agony on the bloodied ground. Her clothes were littered with gashes and gouges, dyed with the unmistakable crimson of blood. Her hair had long since escaped its confines, tangling itself up like vines of ivy clinging to a tree, securing her to the rubble surrounding her. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. His vision cleared, showing him body after body dressed in the same clothes, bearing the same yellow jolly roger as they writhed on the ground, unable to escape the clutches of whatever was in the air.

Law's throat grew tight at the sight, reaching out to hold her, them, whoever he could reach, but it was as if he had eaten the Sube-Sube no Mi as his fingers slipped from them no matter how hard he tried. Those of them with their eyes open stared past him, unseeing and unresponsive as he frantically waved a hand in front of them, or snapped his fingers by their ears. His Room was no more effective, expanding out as he intended but equally unable to interact with any of his crew.

Stumbling forwards again, he moved from nakama to nakama, desperately trying to find anyone, just one that he could touch, could help. With each failure he grew more frantic, moisture building in his eyes and his breathing growing more and more uneven, until he tripped over Uni's leg, sprawling out on the ground and sobbing into the churned-up earth. His fingers dug into the blood-soaked soil, clawing at it until it forced its way up under his nails. Small stones chipped at them until cracks appeared, oozing muddied blood, but his grip didn't relent.

A large foot crashed to the ground in front of his fingers, narrowly missing them, and Law pulled his face from the dirt to see a giant of a man swing a blade. His mind supplied an identity – Jack the Calamity – as a choked scream sounded from above his head.

He froze. He'd never heard it in such a pitch before, but he knew that voice.

Turning his head away from Kaido's subordinate, he registered the wooden cross roughly impaled into the ground in front of his face and dragged his gaze up it reluctantly, already knowing what he would see.

Shachi hung limply, suspended by his wrists and his toes dangling a foot from the ground. His hat was long gone and his shades were shattered, the frames hanging from one ear, leaving his face exposed to the elements. A savage gash tore at his cheek, matted ginger hair clinging to it as if it were trying to seal it back up. The rest of him was in no better state, his boiler suit patched through with deep red and accompanying slashes, many of which still bleed sluggishly. Like the rest of his nakama, his breath was coming in ragged, pained gasps, uneven and broken as tremors wracked his body. His fingers quivered like leaves in a breeze, long since weakened beyond the point of the defiant fist he knew the ginger would have originally sported.

Besides him, as always, was Penguin, his state easily as sorry as Shachi's, if not worse. Likewise, his hat was gone, and his hair clung to wounds in matted clumps. He hung even limper, ragged breathing faint as even involuntary trembling slowly began to cease. If Shachi's clothes had been patched with blood, Penguin's was soaked, the once-yellow jolly roger on his breast tattered and oozing red. The sight made Law feel ill, his head going light for a moment before another scream from Shachi and an accompanying new gash opening up across his chest snapped him back to the sight in front of him.

Jack's sword dripped with blood – his nakama's blood – and Law dragged himself to his feet, forgetting that he'd been able to do nothing for the rest of his crew as he planted himself between the ginger and his aggressor. He saw a flash of orange, muted by the same red that painted everyone else, out of the corner of his eye and the nausea returned, knowing that Bepo was in the same state, his pure white fur matted and dyed with blood that would take forever to wash out. Occasional deep grunts from behind him told him where his last nakama was, Jean Bart's shadow reaching out to cover him, and Law's imagination was more than willing to conjure up visions of the former slave's current condition.

He didn't turn around, though. Not when Jack's jaw had stopped quivering, repeating whatever it was he was demanding of Law's nakama, and the sword was raised high again. Law groped for Kikoku's hilt blindly but failed to find it, his cursed sword having abandoned him when he needed her the most. Desperate, he charged as much armament haki into his arms as he could, crossing them into an x shape as the blade whistled through the air towards him – towards Shachi.

It passed straight through him as if he didn't exist, and another choked cry came from behind him. Whirling around, he saw the blade still buried in Shachi's abdomen, the ginger coughing up blood, too much blood. Jack pulled his weapon back with relish, and Shachi's body jerked forwards, morbidly trying to keep its hold on the blade. As the latest wound was exposed to the world it gushed more of the precious crimson life down onto Law's feet.

The blood was the only thing that touched him. He felt the warm spray on his hands as he lunged forwards, trying to stem the bleeding with his fingers because that was all he had, but like with everyone else his hands could find no purchase. They dyed themselves redder and redder, but Shachi's blood was the only thing he could touch.

Another gurgle of blood from the wounds and Shachi's head lolled forwards until his chin was resting gently on his bloodied chest. His eyes, previously squinting in pain, relaxed slowly until they were half-open, exposing the colour so rarely seen. There was no recognition in them, not even a flicker.

No, that wasn't right.

There was nothing at all. No light, nothing but dull sightless eyes. His chest stuttered in its heaving before it didn't rise again.

Law screamed, but his voice made no sound. He could feel it though, the vibrations in his throat and the pain of a voice stretched too far. This couldn't be happening. His crew were supposed to be safe, hidden away on Zou, and yet-

His heart stuttered and failed for a split second as he caught sight of Penguin again. The older man's chest, too, was no longer moving. Lifeless eyes stared at the ground as the bloody jolly roger on his chest grinned at Law accusingly. You weren't here. You abandoned us. You sent us to this fate.

An involuntary step back, and he crashed backwards, falling, falling, falling, with the dead bodies of his nakama taunting him – blaming him – all the way down.

He landed in his bed, his sorely-missed and comfortable bed in the darkness of his bedroom in the Polar Tang. For several moments, there was nothing he could do except let his breathing run its course, as ragged and broken as his nakama's had been.

Logic told him it was a nightmare, induced by the previous day's revelation of what had really happened on Zou.

Irrationality crushed logic, reminding him of the sightless eyes and still chests, and he all but flew from his bed, stumbling in the darkened room with only half his senses intact before he wrenched his door open with his working arm and staggered into the dimly-lit hallways.

He had to find them. He would never know if it was real if he didn't.

Ikkaku's room was closest to his, and his haki found her breathing peacefully – normally and regularly without the torture of poison entering her body with every breath. He stayed there for several minutes, sensing her even breathing and syncing his own to it. He only moved on once his body relaxed at the familiar pace, repeating the same exercise outside each bunk door. Not once did he dare to open the door, the fear that his haki was lying to him and that inside he would only find a corpse too great to risk.

Near the end of his round, a door opened as he approached. Shachi stood there, a dim figure highlighted barely by the low lighting, and called to him, pulling his unresisting body into the room. His hands were warm, his breathing was regular, and his eyes – for once not covered by shades, and Law realised that he'd been woken by Law's own wanderings – were full of concern, love, life.

He hadn't finished his round. Bepo was in the next room, and he hadn't confirmed him to be still alive, but as his nakama pulled him into bed with them, surrounding him with their warm bodies and serenading him with the sound of their still beating, alive, hearts, he calmed until he didn't need to anymore.

I got asked what nightmare Law had back in Silent (chapter 40). Here's the answer. Of course, the nightmare isn't strictly accurate to what actually happened, but Law only knew some of the facts (they were tortured, poison was involved, Jack was involved, he saw the remains of the city). His subconsciousness filled in the rest for him.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari