Nimble

Characters: Law, Shachi. Rating: K. Warnings: None

Law was getting fidgety, not that he dared let it on to his three new companions. With the pain finally fading away to nothing in the aftermath of the White Lead, many things that had slowly been stripped from him as he grew weaker and weaker were once again within his grasp, if only he would reach out and take them.

Many things, he had. Exercising his body, forcing it back to the peak it had been during his time as a Donquixote Pirate before his strength had ebbed away and then going on to push it further, to get stronger, because he was truly on the run now, and his life wasn't the only one he was responsible for now. More simple tasks, like reading and writing. The feeling of being able to grasp a pen between his fingers and not have it slip out as he fumbled from a surge of pain, the thin paper of pages turning under his fingertips. Law hadn't realised how much he'd missed the simple actions.

There was one thing left, something that found its origins back in Flevance as his father suggested a method for limbering up his fingers. It was nothing Law had ever expected, but with a willing Lami he'd gone through with it, noticing the difference over months. He'd done it again, wishing it was Lami but making do with an easily manipulated Baby 5, a couple of times in the Donquixote Pirates (and turning viciously on Buffalo when the other boy laughed, because what did he know).

It had grown rarer and rarer as his body seized up in pain more often than not, ebbing away to nothing once he was travelling with Cora-san, both because of his illness and the lack of suitable company. Now, with the pain finally fading and his fingers stiff from lack of use, he wanted to reach out again, to help his fingers regain the nimbleness they'd had when he was a child, before everything turned to hell.

There were two problems. The first was that he wasn't sure he trusted his new companions not to laugh at him like Buffalo had done, and he didn't want to beat them up, not now they were officially a crew. The second was a more practical one… there was no-one to use.

Well, Law pondered as he eyed a sleeping Shachi, sprawled out in a chair comfortably and snoring gently from the uncomfortable angle his head had settled in, that wasn't strictly true. While not the length of Lami's or Baby 5's, the ginger hair was arguably long enough for his purposes.

Penguin and Bepo were in the control room, their turn on shift as the four of them adjusted to the Polar Tang's controls, and Law found himself slipping forwards, towards the sleeping ginger. He'd shed his hat, the unusual absence the final trigger for Law's itching fingers as they crept forwards, tangling themselves gently in the hair. It wasn't soft like Lami's, nor did it have the smooth feeling of Baby 5's, but the coarseness held its own appeal as he let the strands run over his fingers for a moment.

Shachi didn't stir, remaining fast asleep and oblivious, so Law got to work. His fingers were clumsy to start with, dropping strands and mixing them up as he fumbled, but it wasn't long before the muscle memory kicked back in. Across, over, under, across. Shachi's hair wasn't long enough for him to get into the rhythm completely before he ran out of hair, so he simply started again, watching his fingers flash through the ginger hair with more and more confidence. The repetitive action had its own calming influence, and by the time he considered himself finished his nerves had settled.

It didn't matter if they laughed at him. If they found out. Shachi was still snoring away, and the other two were still navigating the Polar Tang across North Blue elsewhere. With a satisfied smirk, and fingers that felt more limber than they had barely half an hour earlier, Law slipped out of the room.

Shachi's exclamation could be heard loud and clear through the metal corridors of the submarine when he eventually woke. Law hid a smirk when Penguin was blamed for a prank, despite the older boy's protests, amused that Shachi seemed incapable of even suspecting him.

It was harder to hide the smile when Shachi, despite his vocal complaints, made no move to unravel the many braids in his hair.

Over time, it became routine, and by the time Shachi finally cottoned on to who the real culprit was, Law's fingers were back to the dexterity he expected of them and the braid attacks (as Shachi had taken to calling it) began to cease.

It took Law much longer to realise that braiding hair wasn't standard practice and that it had been his father's way of manipulating him into simply spending more time with his sister.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari