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Chapter Text

When the Polar Tang broke the surface of the water, its paint shining underneath the sunlight, Law had shut himself in his personal study, scribbling notes into the margins of a medical book. A noise like fur on iron rustled at the door, hesitated, rustled again as if making to leave, and then stopped rustling altogether, as if trying to remain hidden. He frowned. 

"What is it, Bepo?" he said without turning around. "If you have something to say, say it. Don't stand there staring at me."

"Sorry," Bepo said despondently. "Just reporting that everything's ready."

"Good. I'll be ashore in a moment."

"Captain, are you going to see Zoro again?"

His pen screeched to a halt. He turned away from his desk, only to find half his crew staring expectantly at him. When did they get here? "What makes you think I want to see him?"

They began talking over one another. "Well, you spend all your free time with him... you call him by his actual name… you don't frown as much when he's talking…"

"That's not…" he thought he had been more subtle. 

"Don't let him break your heart, Captain! You're too good for him!"

"I'm not--"

"But if being with him is what you want, we'll help you!"

"It isn't--"

They erupted in a chorus of "We want you to be happy, Captain!" and "We support you, Captain!"

"Get out," he said through gritted teeth. "Go to your posts. Stop speculating about my personal life."

"Are you saying he's wrong?" Ikkaku said.

The split-second hesitation gave them his answer.

"I get it," Bepo said, slamming a furred fist down into his palm. "Captain isn't sure what he feels! We can help you with that! Captain, does it fill you with warm and fuzzy feelings when he smiles at you?"

"I don't care who smiles at who!"

He gaped at his first mate. Why was he submitting to this inane line of questioning?

Bepo's expression collapsed into contrition. "Sorry."

"Why are you going to see him, then?" Uni asked.

Silence stretched out, taut as a sail in a headwind. "I can't visit an ally without interrogation from my own crew?" he said icily.

Bepo perked up. "So you are interested?"

"It's obvious we're beyond that stage, Bepo," Penguin whispered. 

"Sorry," Bepo mumbled again. 

"Here's my advice," Ikkaku said. "Don't talk. You two suck at that. Let your actions lead the way."

Had they lost their minds? For weeks now, his crew had gossiped amongst themselves about his relationship with the other swordsman. There wasn't one, of course. They did spend a disproportionate amount of time together, but only because Roronoa had such a terrible sense of direction that he found his way to him, instead of his own crew, all the time. Wherever he turned he was there, offering a wry, crooked grin or a tankard full of ale. Certainly, he was easy company--didn't talk much and usually slept half the day away when there was no emergency on board--but easy company does not a relationship make. It didn't help that Law showed this kind of interest so infrequently that when it happened, the busybodies among his crew believed wedding bells were imminent. 

"If he hurts you, we'll take him down for you," Bepo vowed. 

"Don't be foolish. You wouldn't get within an inch of him if you tried," he bit out. 

They were too bored. He clearly wasn't working them hard enough. This was insubordination, surely. What made them think they could talk to him like this? 

The "helpful" advice continued. 

"Hold his hand!"

"Look into his eyes!"

"Tell him how you feel!"

A vein throbbed in his forehead. "You're all ridiculous. I'm leaving."

Before he could change his mind about not punishing them for insubordinate speech, he strode out of his study and toward the awaiting ladder. 

There was no way to hide the sake he had prepared as a gift.

Once he was safely behind the treeline, he spared a glance back at his ship. Bepo pumped a furry fist and mouthed you can do it as the rest of his crew gave him a thumbs up, except for Ikakku, who smirked, and Jean Bart, who merely folded his arms and gave him an approving nod.

"Tch," he muttered, aggravated.

Law found the swordsman napping under the shade of several tall bamboos, the picture of casual relaxation. As soon as he sensed someone approaching, he cracked his one eye open, his hand already on the hilt of one of his swords.

"Oh, it's you." A lazy grin spread over his face, and he stretched, not unlike a cat. "Luffy's gone for provisions with Usopp."

He did his best not to interrogate what he felt toward the smile (which looked so... genuine, unaffected, but definitely did not fill him with any feelings that could be characterized as "warm" or "fuzzy"...well, perhaps warm, but not fuzzy), and expertly ignored the way the muscles of the other man's chest strained against the fabric of his shirt as he raised his arms above his head. "I'm not here for him."

He raised an eyebrow, and completed his stretch. "Me, then? What do you want?"

"I just want to talk."

One silver eye pinned him with a penetrating, deeply suspicious glare. "What do you really want?"

Too late, Law remembered "I just want to talk" didn't usually mean "I just want to talk." To deflect attention, he tossed the bottle of sake at Zoro's head. 

The swordsman caught it without taking his eye off Law. His face broke out in another appreciative grin. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I think I like it." 

"I really just want to talk."

He had already uncapped the bottle with his teeth and started chugging it. "Huh? You never talk."

"Which is why I'm doing it now." 

Zoro gave him a puzzled look, wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and said, "Alright. Talk."

Damn it. What did he want to say?

I want to get to know you better, he thought. Your crew has done well so far, despite your captain's best efforts. If the opportunity arises, let's cooperate more in the future. Yes, those were all reasonable things. 

"Your physiology is unusual. I'd like to study it," he blurted out. 

He froze. 

What the hell was he saying? 

"What the hell are you saying?"

"That's what I want to know," he muttered. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "your captain, Straw Hat-ya, is resistant to toxins because he fought Magellan and developed specific antibodies. You didn't, correct? And yet you still show some modicum of resistance. I'd like to find out why. It may prove useful."

Zoro's expression looked just as bewildered as one would expect. He squinted at him, and he did his best to meet his gaze with a resolute nonchalance. "Uh… okay. Do you want to take a blood sample or something?" 

"A blood sample," he said. Why was Roronoa going along with this? "Yes, that'll be helpful." Pointing at the sake, he said, "This wasn't a bribe. You're free to refuse any procedures that you do not feel comfortable with. If at any point you feel coerced--"

"Yeah, I got it. Don't flatter yourself. You can't force me to do anything."

He nodded, expression blanked and jaw set to hide the fact the conversation had sprouted limbs, jumped the rails, and plunged into a canyon to get away from him. 

Why did it have to be him? His own crew seemed to think he liked this. If only he could choose the ones who seized hold of his attention and refused to let go. Zoro was too direct and uncomplicated, and Law was anything but. He couldn't help feeling exposed. 

His gaze, searching desperately for somewhere to land that wasn't the smug expression on his face, happened to fall on the flask partly submerged in the river. 

"Are you still drinking that water?"

He shrugged. "Was fine the last time I drank it. There's not enough freshwater to go around, we left our last batch with the town."

He ground his teeth. This was why pirates weren't supposed to do good deeds. "Did you not notice anything wrong afterwards?"

His face shifted into the expression of the hard-of-thinking--hand on chin, eyebrows scrunched, steam practically rising from his temples. The look was almost endearing on him. "No. Tasted like dirt, but everything here does."

Law schooled his expression into a calculated disinterest. The contaminants in the water could incapacitate a man twice his weight. Was he playing it off?

No, this was Zoro. He took painstaking care of his blades, but not himself, and suffered criminally few consequences for his actions. Why wouldn't he drink dirty river water? Perhaps it only made him stronger. 

(Earlier, Law had offered the (shocking) medical opinion that drinking polluted water was, in fact, not good for one's health. Zoro had nodded, drank from the filthy river anyway, and had the absolute audacity not to fall ill. 

...At least he was staying hydrated. Thankfully, Bepo didn't partake of any of it, having learned his lesson from Wano fish.)

"Where's your equipment?" 

Law stared down at him. "What?"

"For taking the sample," Zoro said. He was starting to look even more suspicious. "What's going on with you?"

"Ah, of course," he said. "Very well. I'll borrow your ship's physician's supplies, if he's willing."

He regarded him with a deep skepticism. Then he shrugged again. "Alright."

In a haze, Law watched dark fluid flow up a translucent tube from an arm that felt like a bundle of metal wires. 

"Keep firm pressure on the puncture wound for three to five minutes," he heard himself say. 

Why the hell was Zoro putting up with this? A favour to an ally? That's not his nature. Chopper only agreed because Law suggested it was a health risk to let him continue to consume ludicrous quantities of heavy metals without figuring out how he survived them. Apparently, they just took it for granted.

As if in a dream, he ran the tests in Chopper's laboratory using equipment modified for hooves instead of hands. The reindeer stared at him the entire time, confused but intrigued.

The tests showed nothing out of the ordinary. Of course.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said, his voice cool and even. "It looks like you're not accumulating the metals. Ideally, I'd gather more data-- for example observing you as you complete your everyday activities to see if there are any effects. Again, you're free to refuse."

For some reason, Zoro didn't. 

When he returned to the Polar Tang, he held the used vial up like a shield against interrogation. "Before you make any assumptions, I was only satisfying an academic curiosity that might help those affected by this climate. The Straw Hats were good enough to cooperate. That's all."

Bepo looked despondent. "Yes, Captain. So you have all the results?"

"No, I--" He frowned. "I'll need to run more tests."

Bepo's eyes sparkled. "So you got a second date?"

"What? No!"

The following day, Law found his test subject in the crow's nest during one of his interminable workouts. Again, his test subject acquiesced to his instructions, and all the readings came up normal.

Zoro set his weights down with a thud after he completed his 935th set. He had forgone his shirt, as usual, but unusually, had chosen to drink fresh water today. Law eyes traced his throat as he swallowed and the curve of his bicep as it flexed.

"Got enough data?"

He felt himself nod. He made no move to leave. Zoro blinked owlishly at him.

"What are you still doing here?"

Damn his bluntness. Bless it, too, because it broke the spell gluing him to the floor. "Why did you agree to let me test you?"

Zoro furrowed his brow quizzically. "Felt like it," he said at last. "Seemed important to you."

That caught him off guard.

Important to him. 

Did he give off that impression?

"Do you need something else?" the swordsman said.

He snapped out of his daze. "You asked me to spar a while ago," he said. "I'll accept your challenge."

His eye lit up. "Finally got off your high horse, huh?" He stood, and slid his three blades home. "I've been waiting for this."

"Sparring with live steel?'

"I don't plan to get cut," he said, flashing a grin so utterly confident it heated his blood, "and don't worry, I won't hurt you."

He suppressed a snort of disgust. "Spare me the condescension. Let's go."

He watched as Zoro cleared a space, tossing the giant weights around as if they were made of foam. Honestly, this was probably the best conclusion he could expect to a conversation in which he asked another man for his blood in two different ways.

At some angles and in the correct lighting, Roronoa could be considered attractive. He buried this observation under layers of deflections, wrapped it in denial and clinical detachment. 

An arm came into view--burly, the muscles bulging without effort--

He stopped his train of thought there. 

Attractiveness never mattered to him. Beauty was, to paraphrase the common phrase, an external superficiality. He knew what everyone looked like under the skin, and it wasn't pretty. It was difficult to elicit any kind of emotion from him. He once held a hundred beating hearts with his bare hands, and felt nothing.

But some combination of factors had clicked in his head, making him consider how superficial looks complemented the rest of the person before him. He'd been led, against all odds, to care about all of him. Even though--and he wasn't sure why he was disappointed--Zoro put on a shirt before the match.

He stepped into position, and relaxed.

"Room," he said, and Zoro had already leapt away from the filmy circle forming at his fingertips. He glanced at the walls around him. Not load-bearing, but at sea, it was best not to deal any damage to the only thing keeping them from drowning. He widened the blue dome, and Zoro dashed away from it. 

He levelled his weapon at his opponent. "Are you just going to dodge?"

Zoro growled, a low rumble of frustration, then relaxed his stance. He deliberately stepped into range. 

Hm. 

Law sent an experimental slash toward him, which he made no move to avoid. A hum like iron caught in a magnetic field filled the air. 

Then nothing.

"Impressive," he allowed. His haki was strong enough to resist one slash from Kikoku. "Shambles." 

Two of Zoro's swords switched places with his weights. His stance shifted instantly to accommodate the change in balance. "You sure you want to me to beat you with these?" he said around a mouthful of white hilt, a vicious gleam in his eye.

The swords dropped back into his hands.

"This isn't fair to you," Zoro said, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "You're too uptight to risk the ship just to beat me. You're not going all out."

"Neither are you." He thought back to the ruins of Pica's stone body. Most of it had crumbled, but the larger chunks had one flat edge, as if something had sliced, straight as a razor, through its grain. 

Zoro dropped every sword except the one clenched in his teeth--the one he always carried with a care closer to affection than reverence.

"One sword each," he said. "No powers, Haki or Devil Fruit."

That sounded fair. He nodded. 

A split second afterward, he dodged a strike aimed for his sword arm. 

Zoro's first move was a rapid offensive that forced Law on the retreat, as if paying him back for the dodging he had to do earlier. As soon as he fended off one blow, another slashed at an undefended side, an exposed limb--

Zoro didn't fight like a human. It was animalistic, those catlike reflexes, the sinuous way he moved, like a serpent--

Though none of it was for show, he made his techniques look... elegant, almost. Like art. What was on display was not...

Undesirable. 

And when he held a sword, it became exquisite. 

Such brutal power could only belong to some kind of beast, but his tactical acuity could only belong to a genius of swordsmanship. Every time Law's footwork landed him in an awkward place, Zoro pounced on the mistake. He wasn't going in for the kill. He was toying with him--trying to unbalance him, bait him into an opening, casually parrying the few attacks he threw his way, and then backing off. 

He swung his blade up to block a downward slash, and their swords locked. 

"Stop thinking. Focus on beating me," he growled, breaking the stalemate with a twist of his wrist.

The strikes only increased in frequency and intensity over time, and he showed no signs of tiring, even as his skin began to glisten with sweat. To his chagrin, Law had to admit that his opponent's stamina and raw strength was superior to his own. Withholding haki posed no significant disadvantage to Zoro if Law didn't use his Devil Fruit. At full health, with three swords and no self-imposed restrictions, he would be even more of a menace.

As the spar progressed, he realized just how rusty his basic sword drills had gotten. He'd melded his techniques with his Devil Fruit, and he had to actively suppress the urge to use his abilities. Even as he slipped back into the rhythm of instinct and muscle memory, he felt slow. His guard was flawed. He--

"What's wrong? Lost your focus again?"

Block. Pivot. Strike. He couldn't put enough power into his blows to shake his opponent, so he opted for his strong suit-- deception. He shifted his leg back, as if preparing for a retreat, and thrust forward to glide along his blade, aiming for his heart. 

And then Zoro read his feint, evaded him with a sidestep, tapped the blunt side of his blade almost casually against his hip at the apex of his lunge, and unbalanced, he and Kikoku clattered to the floor. 

The point of a blade came to rest beneath his chin. His gaze travelled its length to rest reluctantly upon his opponent's smirk.

"I told you," he said, chest heaving from exertion, a thin sheen of perspiration and satisfaction on his face, "I won't lose to another swordsman."

For a second, he thought he saw something other than triumph in his eye, but it faded.

They ended up agreeing to meet again the next day. Law didn't think it was appropriate for his reputation to fail at the blade of a mere first mate of another pirate crew, and Zoro was more than happy to reinforce his victory. 

Law lost again. He felt a flash of brilliant pride when he disarmed him for the first time--only to have his own blade taken from him immediately afterwards. Zoro challenged him a third time--he was convinced he wasn't trying hard enough.

The sparring sessions became a daily fixture in their lives. Communication was regrettably easier during their matches than outside of them. They fell into lockstep in an instant without a cloud of words obfuscating the truth. When his sparring partner was frustrated with the way the war was heading, his footwork took on a restless quality, his parries more desperate force. When he felt content with his crew's performance, more languor showed in his movements, and he parried the blade with a smooth, gentle precision, as if guiding a boat down a narrow river. Law learned how to read these subtleties in his stance and motions, and communicate with his own. 

After particularly ferocious duels, Zoro would look at him and say, "Luffy screwed up one of your plans again, didn't he?"

He would nod wearily. "Even the ones I didn't tell him about."

Afterward, they would cool down from the exercise. Sometimes they meditated. Sometimes they merely sat next to each other. They were equals in those moments. 

Neither of them would admit it, but the routine was comfortable. 

As they lounged together in his dojo after sparring, Zoro studied the other man in a way he hadn't before. 

Zoro would be the first to admit he didn't know much about love, but in his opinion he knew all that he needed to. Listening to the cook had taught him enough to make him sick of it. He heard no end of ribbing in bars, and saw the dumbfounded looks on Johnny and Yosaku when he rejected what he thought were dull-looking people. They thought he had high standards. That smoking hot strangers (their words, not his) weren't his type. But he just didn't have a type. He never understood why he needed one, or why that confused other people so much.

The only romance he ever lived through was Skypiea, and that wasn't exactly a spring picnic. He had his crew, and that was enough. He'd die for them without hesitation, spend the rest of his days with them without question, and he trusted them to do the same for him. That was enough. 

Every so often, he'd find someone who understood the world in the same way he did. Every so often, someone blurred the line between nakama and...that strange realm he thought belonged only to silly people who could do absurd things like fall in love. It was like spending a lifetime without needing water, and suddenly learning the meaning of thirst.

He rarely noticed the attractiveness of even the closest people around him, but this surgeon was an exception. Before he got to know him, he hadn't noticed the colour of his hair, how glossy it was when freed from that hat, or how gold his eyes were. They matched the earrings.

His smile also looked a lot less creepy when it was real. 

It would be embarrassing to be caught staring at his sparring partner's head, so he searched for something else to look at. He found the hand tattoos, which he thought looked tacky. You don't need to tattoo death on yourself or force it into your nickname when your very presence suggests it. The one on his chest was more interesting, swooping up and curling in the shape of a heart.

Staring at his chest would also be embarrassing, so he moved his eye away from the heart. There was a bit of meat on him, but next to himself, Law looked downright scrawny. 

Slender as a twig. He could break him.

Zoro frowned lightly at the thought. It was unfamiliar. He could break him in more than one way, and he didn't want to.

And what did the surgeon want?

If he wanted to be his only priority, it wouldn't work. They were pirates, and they would go their separate ways soon. If he just wanted someone to keep him company, maybe…

It wouldn't be fair to the surgeon if he wanted more. 

This was treading into a territory he didn't like, examining nameless, uncertain things. It was discomfiting and formless, not like the unpredictable thrills that came with piracy--shifting tides, winds carrying the sharp tang of metal and gunpowder--no, that only excited him. 

He usually dealt with this kind of discomfort by working out until he couldn't feel his limbs, meditating until his mind emptied of all thoughts, sleeping until he forgot what day it was, or if all else failed, drinking until everything unpleasant blurred together into a pleasant buzz. But this didn't seem to be the kind of problem he could solve that way. He never had to wonder what he wanted from people before. He didn't want to fall in love. He wasn't sure he could, even if he did want to. But he wasn't sure if he was satisfied with remaining friends. 

The only thing he was sure about was that he wanted to keep seeing him. 

That was enough for him, he decided. He'd let Law take small, unimportant parts of him. It was all right if all he lost was blood. But anything further, and it would be like carving out his own heart and handing it to the former warlord. That just wasn't something he would do.

But was it enough for Law?

The question kept him awake long after the sun rose again in the sky.

Law found Zoro dozing in his dojo at their agreed meeting time. 

Law, who was well-acquainted with insomnia, had seen him up in the crow's nest, a lone figure silhouetted against the night sky, for hours after sunset. A twinge of irritation struck him. Who made him keep watch for so long? 

He had almost made up his mind to leave when his uninjured eye cracked open and he murmured, "Oh, you're here." 

Their spar took a shorter time than usual, his opponent more sluggish. Law decided not to ask a question at the end of it. After towelling off and stretching like a cat, Zoro settled into his typical pose for meditation. Law mirrored it, though he didn't plan on meditating. Zoro's one healthy habit didn't come easily to Law. In quiet moments, with nothing to do with his mind, his thoughts tended to get...crowded. 

The cook with the strange eyebrows insinuated that the swordsman found meditation simple because his head was already empty, but Zoro was more intelligent than people gave him credit for. He just didn't often show it.

Whenever Law asked him questions of more weight than usual, he'd answer with an immediacy that could either signal ignorance or unusual clarity of thought. Law even put up with the intrusions of his other crew members (and why did he think of it as intrusion, when he was the one encroaching on their ship?) in order to see its full range. 

"If a tree falls in the forest, and no one's there to hear it, does it make a sound?" Brook had mused once when he joined them in their sword drills. "And if I heard it, does it really count if I don't have ears?"

With his eyes shut, Zoro said, "Of course it does. Things just are, whether you hear them or not." 

Yes, things just are. 

With Zoro things were simple. Either you pass or fail, live or die, do or do not. It was so straightforward, so easy to follow. Amid the subterfuge and connivances of their fellow pirates, the Straw Hats lived without guile. There were so few ulterior motives to worry about.

Law had gone past the point where he could pretend his interest in Zoro was purely academic. If he merely wanted the mental stimulation of decoding an enigma, he could pry into the abstruse mind of the Straw Hats' archaeologist. She was brilliant and refined, unlike the rest of her crew. Her slightly chilly demeanour and macabre sense of humour made it very easy to interact with her. There was an unspoken understanding between them--a child of Ohara and a survivor of Flevance both knew, on a visceral level, the true rot at the heart of the World Government. They were inconvenient reminders of its fallibility. 

He wasn't interested in Zoro because of his secrets, but because he had nothing to hide. 

What was that nothing? 

Law knew everything about him--name, background, abilities, bounty--which amounted to not much at all. 

He was easy to read. He hid almost nothing of his personality, and rarely did anything he wasn't willing to stand behind. He never used feints--he trusted his blade to do what needed to be done without misdirection. If Zoro were ever offered the title of Warlord, he most likely could not swallow his bile long enough to play the role of government dog. His principles were so unshakeable that no matter what happened to him, no matter what acid scoured him, the core of his being would remain unchanged. He could swim in a river of corruption and emerge unscathed. If he had any hidden depths, they would look exactly like the surface.

But even a simple man like him had secrets. It was easier for him to keep them, when they were small and private. The whole Straw Hat crew knew Law's secrets now--they were too ungainly to hide. 

Zoro was so uncomplicated and Law's life had been nothing but complicated for so long. Even now, years after he removed the last trace of amber lead from his body, he could never shake the sense of contamination. A few white patches remained to remind him that the world had once corroded his trust until he wanted to eviscerate anyone who dared to live and be happy in his presence. It had once reduced him to a pit of gnawing, twisting, burrowing, bitter vindictiveness.

But that was before he came to his senses. Before Corazon set him free. Now, Corazon's killer was rotting in the hell he deserved. Now, he could contemplate a life beyond annihilation. 

He wanted to know what it was like to be uncomplicated.

His musings were interrupted when Zoro tipped over with a snore and nestled his head into the crook of his shoulder.

He went still. 

Zoro opened an eye to glare balefully at his neck, muttered "Too bony," and then plopped his head into Law's lap. 

As Law stared straight ahead, he kept his expression perfectly neutral.  

Part of him wanted to rap Zoro on the skull and tell him to move. The other part of him wondered if his hair felt like moss, too.

This was the first time Zoro trusted Law enough to fall asleep in his presence. 

Law chanced a glance at Zoro's sleeping face. He looked so...peaceful. At ease, despite the tiny crease in his brow. Full of a calm that settled into him as well.

He took another chance, and reached over to stroke a stray tuft of green hair.

Not as soft as it looked, but softer than he thought it would be. A strange colour, but it oddly suited him.

The crease smoothed out, and he smiled. 

A pattering of hooves up the ladder startled him, and he reflexively tapped Zoro on the side of the neck. The other swordsman tensed in alertness. By the time the tanuki doctor made it to the top, they sat a respectable six feet apart. 

"Zoro, Sanji says if you keep falling asleep during lunch, he won't cook your share anymore," he said, his little face scrunched up in genuine distress. Chopper hated conflict between his friends.

Zoro yawned, scowling at the mention of the cook. "Yeah? Well, tell him I don't give a shit." He stood up, cracking his neck. "I'll just cut through that lock he put on the fridge."

"But Zoro!" Chopper wailed, hugging his leg. "Luffy will eat everything if you do!"

His expression softened when he looked down at the reindeer. "Chopper, he's all talk. Don't let him get to you." 

Chopper relaxed, though he still clung to his older crewmate's leg. He spotted Law, and his expression inexplicably lit up. "Oh, Doctor! Why don't you eat with us?" he said, beaming. Chopper was fond of their ship's swordsman, and appeared to have transferred some of that fondness onto Law, despite his habit of calling him a raccoon dog. 

Zoro turned to him and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

"I'll eat with my crew," he said.

Chopper's face fell. "Oh, okay…" 

They headed down in silence, and he heard the raucous chatter of the Straw Hats before he saw them, sprawled out on deck with their platters of bamboo shoots and wild game. It was a more modest meal than they were used to, but none of them seemed unhappy. Carrot bounded toward the musician, requesting some song he'd never heard of, and the captain...

"Meat, meat, meat, meat--" Luffy chanted exuberantly. 

At least, that was what Law thought he was saying. His mouth was full of meat. There was a minute chance he was reciting the words that would undo time itself and bring about the end of the known universe, but Law had no way of knowing. He didn't mind never finding out.

He focused instead on Zoro, who was arguing heatedly with the cook over his tardiness. He traced the emotions in his features--from irritation, to incredulousness, to sheer rage. He found himself appreciating this crew, despite their skull-melting inanity. They were the only ones who could so easily bring these expressions out of him.

"Hey, Torao. Why are you staring at Zoro? Is there something on his face?"

"Be quiet, strawhat."

That was his cue to leave. 

As he made his way toward his submarine, a shadow detached itself from the white railings of the Sunny.

He dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement. "Nico Robin."

"No need for such formality," she said, smiling softly, leaning over the rails so her voice would carry. "I'm only passing by."

"I was leaving as well."

"It seems to me you care a lot about our swordsman," she said, the enigmatic smile never leaving her face, "but struggle to articulate it as it doesn't fall neatly within the bounds of being crewmates, friends, or romantic partners."

He narrowed his eyes, and lowered his hat as he turned to leave. "This conversation is over," he said stiffly. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not sure about that. I'm in the business of possessing forbidden knowledge and reading the indecipherable."

He stopped, and ground his teeth. "Are you going to tell me to leave your crewmate alone?"

"You're doing a good enough job of that on your own," she said, curling one hand under her chin. "You've been keeping him at arm's length. If I may ask, why is that?"

He didn't have to answer her. Her blue eyes bored into his back.

"He's our crewmate," she said, by way of explanation. "It's natural for us to be curious."

He sighed. If nothing else, no matter how much they aggravated him, he could rely on the Straw Hats to care for each other. 

He had no place here. He could give him nothing he didn't already have with his crew. And yet he still chose to waste his time with him, look at him with that rare mirth in his eye.

"Do you find this entertaining?" he said, an edge in his voice. "I thought you'd have more sense."

"You misunderstand. However funny it is, there's a point where the same joke is no longer amusing." She was no longer smiling. "What are your intentions?"

He could hear the steel unsheathing in her question. "To do no harm," he said.

She nodded. "I thought as much. Hiding behind ambiguous phrases is satisfying, isn't it?" 

How much did she know? He stared at the periscope of the Polar Tang, just visible in the distance.

"If you place a poisoned plate in front of him," he said, the words laborious and reluctant, "he would eat it."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "And you're the poisoned plate?"

"Don't jump to conclusions."

"I take it I'm correct."

Of course she was. "Wouldn't you rather he select another dish?"

She shook her head. "That's up to him, I'm afraid. He's rather stubborn, if you haven't noticed."

I can't help someone build a life, he thought. I only save them, and take them. I can't make him happy. Is he immune to that kind of poison?

All he said was, "That fool will do whatever he wants."

"If you don't trust him to make the right choices, and you don't trust yourself to be the right decision, how can you expect him to trust you?"

She was right again. But if he admitted that Zoro was reasonably intelligent, that would mean his interest in him might also be reasonable, and that was a dangerous path to tread. 

"Why are you placing the burden of determining the boundaries of the relationship on yourself?" 

He suppressed a flinch at the word relationship.

"From what I understand of him, you were right to make the first move. But you are not the only one who needs to make an effort. There are two parties involved, and both of them need to be present for the discussion."

"I'm not interested in getting lectured by you."

She smiled faintly. "Good luck, Doctor."

"Alright, spill the beans," Nami said. There was a gleam in her eye, like when she'd spotted a way to make a lot of berries fast.

"What?"

"There's something going on between you," Nami said, gesturing at the retreating Law with a fork. "Even Luffy noticed."

"What did I notice?" Luffy asked around a mouthful of pork.

"Something...going on between us?" Zoro said flatly. 

"Don't play dumb," Nami said.

"Oh, Nami-swan, I don't think he's playing," Sanji snickered.

"Shitty cook," he muttered. He glanced over at the rest of the adults in the crew, hoping for some sensibility.

Franky said, "It's super obvious." 

Brook chuckled to himself. "I can see it too, which is funny, because I have no eyes." Even Jinbei, who he trusted to have a brain, was nodding. 

Brook adjusted the tuning on his violin, humming serenely. "If you ever do need a bard to serenade your beloved," he said brightly, "all you need to do is ask." 

"Shut up," he scoffed, trying to avoid looking into the hollow pits the skeletal musician had for eyes. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Maybe you've been at sea too long. You're seeing things."

"What am I seeing?" Luffy demanded, banging his spoon against the table. His cheeks were so full his eyes were barely visible. "I don't see anything!"

Usopp leaned in to whisper something in his ear. 

"Whaaaaa?!" Luffy yelled, sending their sniper cringing away from him. "You're not going to leave us for him, are you?" he said, eyes welling up with betrayal, pointing his eating utensil at Zoro. 

"Leave you for who?" he said, utterly baffled. Luffy launched himself across the table and attached himself to his side, scattering a few dishes along the way.

Sanji glared. "Oi, mosshead, stop making a mess out of our meal."

"It's not me who made the mess," he grunted in annoyance, fending off a Luffy who babbled on about sticking together through thick and thin. "You're the ones saying all kinds of weird crap. The hell did you do to rile him up, Usopp?"

Usopp whimpered at the raw wave of aggression directed his way. "Nothing! I just told him you got a new friend," he said, waving his hands frantically.

The others sighed. "Friend," when spoken in a certain tone, was family and crew combined for Luffy. No wonder he misinterpreted.

"You're going to help me become--"

"Sit down, Pirate King," he growled, stuffing Luffy into a seat next to him. Luffy's extra-elastic arms stretched, still wrapped around Zoro's shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere. He's right, we're just…"

Friends. What the fuck did that even mean?

While he was distracted, Nami whacked both of them over the head, hard enough to leave welts. "You two are hopeless. Stop ruining our lunch."

Chapter Text

It was a cloudless day. The country they helped save slowly rebuilt itself, the pieces of its fragmented government reconvening to clean out the festering rot left in the wake of the great war.

Over a breakfast of fresh-squeezed melon juice and various delicacies on toast, Luffy announced--with a mouth full of ham--the end of the Straw Hat alliance with the Heart Pirates. According to his muffled statement, the captain of the Heart Pirates felt that they had achieved most of their goals, and it was time to part ways. They planned to leave in a week.

Zoro's fork dropped with a clatter on his plate. His chair scraped violently against the deck as he wrenched himself out of his seat and stalked away from the table. They heard him thumping across the ship, swearing as he lost his way down an easily navigable passage before thundering up toward the crow's nest. 

"What's with him?" Luffy wondered aloud, smacking his lips and reaching for a piece of fish jerky on Nami's plate.

"Idiot. Why'd you tell him that?" she snapped, slapping his hand away. 

Sanji shook his head, and lit a cigarette. "Nami-san, you're too kind to that mosshead," he sighed. "It's his own damn fault he can't handle the news like an adult. I say we leave him to stew." 

"Stew?" Luffy's head snapped up, eyes sparkling and mouth already watering. "You made stew? What flavour?"

"Luffy, I think you made Zoro upset," Chopper said, eyes brimming with worry.

"I did?" Luffy swallowed his last mouthful of food, his brain now freed for limited thinking. "Hmm, now you mention it…"

"Who knew he was that sensitive?" Carrot said with innocent wonder. 

"Shh! Keep your voice down, he might hear you!" Usopp hissed. "He'll be even more annoyed if he knows we're talking about him and his boyf- his fr- him and Law behind his back!" He scratched his head. "What are they, anyway...?" 

"Boyfriend should be right. They go on dates every day," Nami whispered. 

"I thought they were just sparring," Chopper gasped.

"I thought when people love each other, they never want to be apart," Carrot added in a normal tone, making Usopp facepalm at her lack of discretion.

"That's puppy love, Carrot. For people going steady, what they have is plenty. Or had," Nami amended. 

"The beauty of a sunset is that you can only see it once a day," Brook agreed, giving his violin case a wistful look. "He never did ask me to serenade him. Oh, to see strife between lovers...It breaks the heart I don't have."

"Hmmm..." Luffy shoved a slice of toast into his mouth, and swung his arms until they wrapped around the mast. "I'll be back!" 

"Oi, Luffy! Bring his plate with you!" Sanji called irritably after him. 

But Luffy had already slingshotted himself out of sight.

Sanji scoffed, and turned back to the table, his expression darkening. "He better not waste this food."

Zoro was halfway through a bottle of sake when Luffy's mop of black hair appeared above the railing. Luffy propelled himself toward his first mate, setting his hat back onto his head once his arms snapped into place.

"Found you!" He grinned a crumb-encrusted grin, though it faded when Zoro didn't return it.

Luffy leaned in, close enough for Zoro to smell the fish on his breath, and in a moment of disturbing perceptiveness, said, "Zoro, are you sad that Torao is leaving?"

"Who the fuck would be sad about that?" he snarled. 

With a tone usually reserved for speaking to very small children, he said, "You. You're friends and friends are sad when one of them leaves."

"Shut up."

"You didn't say no," he crowed, clapping his hands. He stopped when he noticed Zoro's disgruntled silence and the way he slumped low against the wooden wall. Luffy frowned, scratching at his cheek. "If you're sad, why don't you come back and eat some meat? You can't be sad if you have meat."

"I'm not sad."

"Then you're mad," Luffy declared, pounding a fist into his palm. "I know! Wanna find Usopp and arm-wrestle him for dish duty?"

"Go away, Luffy."

Luffy's frown deepened. He squatted next to Zoro, who didn't look at him as he quaffed his sake. He scrutinized his first mate, his large, expressive eyes uncharacteristically pensive. "Is Zoro mad at me?"

"Why?" he mumbled into the mouth of the bottle.

"I said we're not teaming up with Torao anymore, and now you're here by yourself instead of eating with us."

"I'm not mad."

"Mmm, you look mad." Luffy rocked back on his haunches, arms dangling over his knees. "It's okay, Zoro. If you wanna punch me, you won't hurt me."

"I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at him!" he shouted, and a flock of birds took off in a nearby copse of trees. He slouched back against the wall.

Luffy's eyes lit up in understanding. "Ohh, I get it! Usopp told me about this," he chuckled. "Zoro's funny."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"Want us to come with you to beat him up?"

"I can do it myself," he grumbled. "And no, it's nothing."

Luffy pouted. "But he made you--"

"If you say sad or mad one more time, I'm going to cut you," he snapped, tossing the empty bottle half-heartedly at Luffy's laughing face.

Luffy ducked, still laughing. "What about…" he scrunched up his nose. "Sad and mad? 

"Luffy," he growled, lurching upright and launching himself at his chortling captain, who slipped out of his grasp.

He never did finish his breakfast, but Luffy took care of that.

Their next spar ended early, with Zoro disarming Law after an especially vicious bind. He didn't bother to offer a hand to help Law up afterward, and left to fetch himself water. Law didn't need to be a genius to see that Zoro was preoccupied with something.

This was new. Up until now, the only place Zoro never got lost was in thought. 

The air between them prickled with irritation as they rejoined each other.

"Luffy would let you come with us if you wanted," Zoro said, taking a slow sip from his flask. 

"Excuse me?"

"He thinks we're friends now," he said matter-of-factly. "You and all of us."

"Friends," he said in a monotone. He didn't know if he liked the sound of it. "No, we're not friends."

Zoro shrugged, and Law caught sight of something unidentifiable surging over his features. "You must be happy that the alliance is breaking up soon, then."

Was he?

Not dealing with the mercurial but loathsomely indispensable captain would be nice, but…

"I won't miss it," Law said. That was close enough to the truth. 

Again, a flash of something that looked like-- almost like disappointment. Then it was gone.

Zoro shrugged again. "Screw you, too." 

This wasn't going right.

"That's not to say," and it felt like he was pulling his own teeth, "that I wouldn't disagree there wasn't merit to my initial decision."

The quadruple negative seemed to throw him off. "Huh?"

"The arrangement came with its benefits. Affairs were not resolved unsatisfactorily."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow."

Law's words rankled Zoro. He wasn't used to the feeling--like a tangle of thorns in his chest, scraping at his ribs. He could only do a quarter of his usual number of bicep curls before he lost patience and had to leave the stifling air of the dojo.

He leapt off the Sunny and onto the deck of the Polar Tang, finding their navigator painting over a patch of faded metal on the outer shell of the submarine. 

"Hey, Bear!"

Bepo's ears quivered as he faced him. "You mean me?"

"You see any other bears around here?" 

Bepo blinked, then swung his gaze from side to side. 

"That wasn't a serious question!" he roared. 

Bepo hung his head. "Sorry. Captain is out discussing things with--"

"What's wrong with your captain?"

"What?" Bepo bristled, suddenly defensive.

"Why the hell can't he say what he means?"

"Captain does say what he means," Bepo said stoutly. "You just have bad reading comprehension."

He gritted his teeth. "How am I supposed to read what he's saying?"

"See?" Bepo said. "You can't do it, can you?"

"What the hell are you--"

"Can you explain what you mean?" Bepo burst out. "What are you talking about?"

"Oii!" Luffy rocketed towards them both with a jubilant laugh. "Why are you making so much noise? Did you get lost on the way to the Sunny?" 

Zoro deflated. He knew he was being ridiculous. If Law wanted to leave them behind, that was his choice. But that...scraping at his ribs intensified until it was almost painful.

"It's nothing. Let's go," he said, fuming. They left the bewildered navigator behind.

Bepo scratched the back of his neck, a mixture of shame and indignation swirling inside him. The green-haired man seemed distressed over something Law had said. If they had any failures of communication, Bepo was convinced Law wasn't the only one at fault. It wasn't like Zoro was an open book himself. All Bepo knew about him was that he liked swords, sake, and sparring with the captain. 

When Law returned to their submarine, he informed them about his plans for the alliance, and Bepo suddenly understood far too much of his talk with Zoro.

"But Captain! What about--"

He clamped his paws over his mouth. What if he said something wrong again? 

"Never mind," Bepo said, shrinking into himself. Law could handle this. Right?

In the middle of the night, the Straw Hats heard a loud thud, a yell, and an eerie silence. 

A few minutes later, Carrot, who had taken first watch, shook awake a drowsy Chopper, and they disappeared into the crow's nest. They emerged, helping a pallid Zoro down to the infirmary, a white patch of gauze pressed against his shoulder to stem the flow of blood.

At their next scheduled spar, Zoro showed up injured. As usual, it was because he had been careless, and reopened an old wound--the one he received defending Law in a skirmish. As usual, his nonchalant manner irritated Law beyond belief. 

Zoro picked at his bandages, eyeing his weights with a calculation that transparently conveyed his intentions. 

"Do you ever think about retiring from piracy?" Law said bluntly, seating himself on top of the largest dumbbell. Zoro could lift it and him along with it with one arm--but the statement was clear.

"What, you want to get rid of your competition?"

"I wouldn't need to resort to such juvenile tactics to get rid of you," he said, a touch sharper than intended. "I was just wondering. What happens when you achieve your ambition?"

He shrugged, and to his mild relief, sat next to the weight. "I'll keep Luffy out of trouble. When he becomes Pirate King, he'll face a lot more heat. Someone has to look after him." 

"Is that so," he murmured. 

"Why so many questions?" 

"It's only a matter of curiosity."

"Didn't know you were so nosy."

"Anyone would be, if they found out your ambition was to babysit that brat."

He stopped pulling at his bandages long enough to glare at him. "Oi, that's our captain you're talking about. We're the only ones who can say that about him."

"You have to have other goals."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Have you ever thought of starting a family?

The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He held a breath, not trusting himself to release it evenly.

Zoro only scoffed. "Already have one. Don't need another."

He let out the breath. "You're good with children," he observed. O-Toko and O-Tama were proof enough. But after taking care of the Straw Hat, any child was child's play.

"Eh, the brats are all right," he said, but it was with a faint smile. "Seriously, why the questions?"

"There's nothing else for us to do," he pointed out. "If you had more self-control, that shoulder wound wouldn't have reopened."

He huffed and crossed his arms with an aggravating petulance. "Yeah, yeah."

"What were you thinking?" he said, letting a hint of his frustration bleed in. "If you keep training like this, you'll give yourself an injury you can't come back from."

He frowned. "If I'm so weak I die from training, I deserve what's coming."

This attitude was not uncommon. It was useful in moderation, dangerous in large doses, and so deeply ingrained into Zoro's being that there was no separating them. Law had seen it, firsthand, in the stunning alacrity with which he put himself in between his crew and danger, in the feverish devotion he had to his sword art. In Zoro's mind, refusing to train after a wound meant he was giving in, accepting his weakness. Good wasn't good enough if you wanted to be the best.

As a doctor, Law thought this was unhealthy. As a pirate, he thought it was inevitable. Zoro had made a conscious decision to tie his life and worth to his blades. It gave him a purpose, like the fire in a forge. If that flame ever went out, it would have to be rekindled. It wouldn't be a forge without one. But fire was fire, and didn't care if it had to use your flesh as fuel. It could either consume you, or launch you to the stratosphere.

Law knew exactly what it was like to give yourself entirely to a goal, body and soul. But he at least was cautious about it. He scowled. "Injuries shouldn't be ignored. You know this. They could put you out of commission permanently." 

"Yeah, but this won't," he snapped. "Stop nagging."

"No one's going to take care of you when you ruin yourself beyond repair."

"Don't need you to."

He gave him a sharp look. He never ended up saying what he wanted, but somehow Zoro could tell what he meant. "Yes, you have your crew. They'll indulge your idiocy, to their detriment, and--"

"What is your problem?" he snarled, rising to his feet. "If we're all such idiots, you should've left sooner."

He paused, the next acid retort burning in his mouth. Zoro sounded genuinely enraged. 

The dissolution of the alliance, he realized belatedly. Zoro was upset that Law didn't tell him before he told Luffy. No wonder he seemed so restless during their spar yesterday, and trained so hard he tore open his shoulder. Why didn't he say anything? Had he really been so distraught over the news? If he just asked for clarification...

In lieu of an apology, Law slid off the weight. "I spoke out of turn. Forget it."

He received a disgruntled hum in response. The silence gathered in the air, thickening like fog.

"How's your shoulder?"

Another hum.

"I'm not dissolving the alliance entirely," he said, and that regained Zoro's attention. "I only suggested to your captain that we don't need to travel together. I may not help your crew with all your infantile plans in the future, but I don't intend to declare war on you anytime soon."

Zoro blinked, and the iron rod of his spine relaxed. He held his tension so subtly that Law didn't notice it until it flowed out of him.

"So, your shoulder?"

"'s fine," he mumbled, settling down again.

Of course he would say that. Perhaps it was the truth, but Law could never be sure. He would have an easier time getting blood from a stone than a straight answer.

It wasn't that Law didn't respect his resilience. He wouldn't ask him to compromise his sense of honour, or offer help he didn't need. But if Zoro encountered anything disastrous, he would handle it himself, never saying a word, and it would be like nothing happened.

It shouldn't bother him, but it did. If nothing happened, he wanted to know.

"I heard of your duel with Mihawk."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"You lost."

"That old bastard." Zoro lay back, cushioning his head with his good arm, exposing the uppermost stretch of the scar cutting crosswise from his pectoral to his hip. "He earned his title, alright, but he's had it long enough. I'm going to enjoy taking it from him."

"You trained with him."

For a second, something flashed in his visible eye. "Yeah."

"What if you died?"

"I didn't," he said, with all the cocksure swagger he came to expect. "And if I did, it's because I wasn't strong enough. I just have to get stronger."

The resolution in his voice was firm, though his logic was so circular it put spheres to shame.

"There's no room on this ship for a weak swordsman. As long as Luffy needs me, I'll be here."

Law stared down at him. "You're a fool," he said. "You're willing to give up your ambition for your captain's?"

"You don't get to call me a fool. You don't understand."

He broke eye contact. No, he did. Too well. "I didn't think you of all people would follow a captain who would ask you to die for him."

"He doesn't need to ask." His voice was meditative, distant. "If I can't do something as simple as that to protect my crew, I don't deserve to call myself the greatest."

Against his will, Law thought of Bartolemeo, the Straw Hat fanboy. Over the course of their journey together, Law had been forced to overhear a number of his endlessly fawning stories. One of them involved a small knife, a Warlord, and an upstart who didn't pull his heart away from the blade about to pierce it.

"What is it that makes you choose death over defeat?" Law asked, almost to himself.

"I'm not a coward."

"Recklessness is not bravery. It isn't courage, it's the inability to admit to yourself you're in over your head. You're so concerned about appearing weak you allow yourself to be weakened."

Zoro was starting to look grumpy again.

You're a fool for trusting me, Law wanted to say. You're a fool for handing me the tools to take you apart. 

And Law was a fool for attempting a conversation where they couldn't convey their tacit understanding through a shared glance over locked blades, or test boundaries with the precision of a scalpel. His words were a blunt weapon, and he didn't wield them with any tenderness.

"The way you go about achieving your dream is nonsense," Law said, internally despising the harsh contours of his own voice. "You've redefined success to justify your shift in priorities. You measured yourself in comparison to your goal, and determined correctly that you fall severely short. Yet despite this quintessential inadequacy, you still believe you're impervious to mortality."

He scowled at the influx of polysyllables. "Don't know what you're suggesting, but yeah." 

"You're a fool," he repeated.

He scoffed. "I don't give a damn what you think."

Yes. Zoro didn't care if his dream made him a fool. The vast gap between him and Dracule Mihawk bothered him, but he considered it surmountable. Hawkeye's existence should be a constant reminder of his inferiority, but this didn't seem to impinge on his arrogant self-assurance. Law loathed and admired this in equal measure. 

"I will give you one thing. You're loyal," he said. "You were willing to risk your life for me because your captain ordered it--"

"No," Zoro cut him off. "I do things my way. I saved you because we're allies." 

"You can do your duty by your allies without dying for them."

He gave a noncommittal grunt. It sounded vaguely affirmative. 

"So why?"

"I made a promise." His voice was rougher than usual, though steady and almost fond. "I'll be the greatest swordsman. Can't let something like this hold me back."

His gaze flickered to the thin scar that cut across one eye. You tempt death, he thought, but when death comes for you, you're headed in the wrong direction. "Were you never afraid that you'd break that promise?"

"No," he said. He didn't even pause to consider the question.

"And if you--"

"If I died there, I wouldn't know what to say to her. So I couldn't. Even if Mihawk killed me, I'd crawl my way back up out of hell." His face twisted in disgust. He reached for one of his swords, the white-hilted katana--but all he did was hold it like a lifeline. "I knew there was a chance I wouldn't make it out of there. But if I never even tried, she'd be disappointed in me."

Law glanced at him. "She?"

He didn't appear to register his question. "I'd rather let him kill me than run away and spend the rest of my life being second-rate."

Like dulling a blade, he softened his tone. "Who was she?"

His eye was fixed on an unseeable point on the horizon, somewhere far in the past. "Better than me."

Law was not compassionate. He was not nice. But Zoro had just shown him a glimpse of...something. A chip in his armour, a single vulnerability. That was rarer than desert rain, and it seemed almost sacrilegious to ridicule him for it.

Every parent he'd ever had would say I'm sorry, and I'm here for you, but in his mouth those words would only sound like mockery. They were pirates, after all. People only ever asked them for their strength. No one ever asked them for their weakness, not without planning to use it against them.

So all he did was slide as close as he dared, let his hand drift close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Zoro's.

"I don't expect strength from you," he said, picking out the syllables piece by piece.

Zoro's gaze suddenly snapped to him. "Are you saying I'm weak?" he growled.

"No. That's patently false. But…" How would someone with a softer heart and hands that haven't held a hundred still-beating hearts say it? "You don't have to appear strong all the time."

There. That was the closest he could get. 

Confusion seeped in, washing out the anger, and then Zoro turned his head away. "Sure." His voice was tight.

He'd never seen him shed even a single tear--of pain, joy, or loss. 

Another never, he thought. 

Law had wondered where he stored his emotions. Did he suppress them, sublimate them--did he feel them at all? Perhaps the neural signals did simply get lost on the way to his brain. Now he knew that Zoro did have emotions. He just wasn't privy to them. 

For some reason, he didn't like this.

If you trust me, trust me fully, he thought. Don't do things by half-measures. Tell me about her, the one so precious to you that you can't even say her name, or reject me so we won't have to deal with the confusion. Show me what you hide from the world, even if it's nothing. 

The words were there, a weightless pressure in his chest, and he couldn't say them. What right did Law have to demand this from him when he himself wasn't willing to give up even an inch of control?

It was easier to do that during their spars, where he could allow his opponent to put live steel at his throat and feel nothing but grudging admiration.

He exhaled slowly, trying not to slide back into the morass he had fallen into all those years ago as he remembered the part of him that had burned away with Flevance. 

"I had a sister," he managed, and his voice died in his throat.

Zoro nodded slowly, a grave and solemn gesture. He understood. 

Zoro was lost. In the figurative sense. He didn't know what the fuck was going on. 

Law was asking him personal questions.

Nobody asked him personal questions--except maybe the rooster guy, but he stuttered through half of them and that made the conversations feel longer than they were.

After sparring, they didn't often speak to each other. They were alike, in many ways. They carried themselves similarly-- distant, aloof, polite when they had to be, quiet even when they didn't have to be. Sometimes it felt like they didn't need to talk to understand each other.

But today, they couldn't spar, and that threw their differences into sharp relief. Law was analytical, scheming, in many ways unfathomable, and his questions had needles in them. He got the sense that the surgeon was trying to dismantle him, see what he was made of. And for some reason, he let him.

Normally, he reserved this kind of rumination for the night, when he was free to stare at the moon and let his mind wander in the past without anyone seeing him. The moon didn't have any questions, or gold eyes that could pass right through him. But it was too late to back out now.

Zoro held Wado Ichimoji, testing its balance-- though he didn't have to; it was more familiar to him than breathing. He ran his thumb over the hilt, and every ridge was a memory. 

Family. What did he think about family? 

He didn't think much about his biological parents. He never felt the urge to seek them out. It didn't seem worth it. If they didn't want him, he didn't need them in his way. They made their decision. His only family, in his opinion, was his dojo and his crew. 

He told Luffy about Kuina once, after Mihawk and one too many run-ins with Tashigi. He didn't say much. "She was a good friend," he said, and Luffy understood. He was uncannily good at that sometimes.

He couldn't do any justice to her, or what she meant to him, with words alone. None could capture how driven she was. How gifted. The whole world would fall at her blade if she ever raised it against them, and he was convinced they would do it together.

And then she died.

He only vaguely remembered the first few days--or was it weeks?--after her funeral. He trained like he wanted every tendon in his body to snap from the strain. Every stray clatter of a practice sword against hardwood made him spin around. A tiny, treacherous part of him expected to see her with her arms crossed, ready with a dry retort--and she was never there. 

As the days wore on, he got used to it, or at least acted like he did. No amount of training could stifle the sense of wrongness roiling inside him. No matter what he did, it felt wrong. The rocks felt too light, the ropes too stiff, and the dummies broke too quickly under his blows. When he had someone to fight, he searched for her in their well-practiced stances, the determined set of their brows, in every strike that came close to disarming him. He saw glimpses of her in every opponent--but they always lost, and the illusion shattered.

When the sun set, there was no one left to fight. No distractions. Nothing but him and the sky and an open field that mocked him with its emptiness when he stomped outside, sick of the silence in the dojo. 

However selfish and irrational the sentiment, he had felt ...betrayed. It burned cold and hot at the same time, like a fever. 

She promised. She was supposed to be his final opponent, and he never had the chance to beat her.

It was unfair. She deserved a better life than that. She deserved a better death than that. Gods couldn't exist, because no god worth worshipping would snatch her away before she could fulfill her vow. It was even more unfair that he couldn't prevent it. He felt angry at his powerlessness, frustrated at every too-easy victory, and... guilt, because she wouldn't have gone to fetch that whetstone if not for him-- 

That was the first time he didn't know what to do with himself, with the ugly pressure in his chest. It was too much, and too sudden. She was the first family he ever had, and the first he ever lost. Everything felt wrong, even though he wasn't doing anything wrong, because she wasn't there with him.

So, one month after she died, he sat under the moonlight, in the field where they last fought together, and cried.

He set his jaw. Trust Law to make him think of death.

He pushed that part out of his memory years ago. All that mattered now was their promise. When he wielded her blade, his victories no longer signified her absence. Her spirit was with him, and each fallen enemy brought them closer and closer to their goal. But it had taken a long time before he could think of her without a stab of regret in his chest and a twist in his gut. He didn't have much to lose, so everything and everyone he could lose took on that much more value.

He had loved her, he realized. Like a sister.

He'd never told anyone he loved them, and no one had ever told him they loved him. Not in those words. He never thought that was a skill he would need.

He blinked. He had to stop thinking about that. He'd already said too much, and Law was starting to look at him strangely. 

So he thought about the family he still had.

His eye narrowed imperceptibly. He had almost lost them, too. Sabaody had been a wake-up call. It reminded him of what he had, what could always be ripped away if he wasn't strong enough. When Kuma splintered his crew, he was the first to go. It was...

Shameful. He couldn't believe he could be so weak.

Muggy Kingdom brought murderous baboons and hollows that tugged old and unwanted memories out of their place. It still unnerved him, and enraged him, how easily they warped his ambition into a doubt so crushing that an apology didn't feel like enough of a penance for daring to exist. 

It had been a long two years. Even Perona took pity on him after a while, and though he was allergic to pity, he didn't complain when she eased off the hollows.

He hated those ghosts. They couldn't be cut, couldn't be touched, and as soon as they passed through him they froze his insides together, undid the clamps in his mind that kept his thoughts from mixing in the wrong ways to remind him that he was not enough, he might never be enough, he already failed so many people and his presence could only ever be someone else's burden--

He shook his head. He had trained for this. One moment of weakness did not make him fragile. The fact that Perona's powers worked on him meant that the thoughts they made weren't his.

Back then, he wasn't good enough, but he swore he would make his name reverberate where Kuina could hear it, so he had to change. His captain ordered his crew to meet after three days, and then two years, so he did what they needed him to do. Over time, he came to see in each of them--even that damn cook--the same hungry flame that once burned in Kuina. It beckoned him to match its unwavering intensity. If the price of their ambitions was his life, so be it. The world can't stop him. It doesn't have what it takes to break him.

He made a promise.

And now for the final piece of the puzzle. Law.

Zoro saw the flame in him, too, but things were different with Law. He didn't know how, but they were. He had carved a space for the other swordsman in his future, and he couldn't make out its shape. Where did he fit? Why did it feel so necessary for him to be there? He was--

Yeah, he needed another word for it. Someone had to invent it if it didn't exist.

He never had to think about any of this before. Nami often told him that he had the emotional intelligence of a brick, and he never considered that a problem. But...

Maybe he overreacted a little when he thought that Law left him behind. Maybe he should have asked. Maybe he should listen a little more closely to the man next to him, who kept looking at him with hidden pain in his golden eyes.

I had a sister.

He knew a little of Law's past, and it curdled his stomach. It was an unimaginable burden to bear, and Law made it look almost easy. Almost.

Law would never accept his pity, so he didn't push it. When he was ready, he would talk. Despite their differences, they really were alike.

With a deliberate effort, Zoro cleared his mind. It was harder than it was supposed to be. He had finished thinking, and his thoughts should know better than to bother him when he didn't want them to.

He leaned back against the dumbbell, its hard edges providing just enough physical discomfort to ground himself, and let the silence settle over them both like a blanket.

Law sat beside him, and said nothing, but he was there, and that was enough.

Against his better judgment, Law accepted an invitation to the Sunny for the "End-of-Alliance Mourning Feast." The atmosphere didn't seem mournful in the slightest--multicoloured streamers hung on every available surface, and tables were piled high with roasted fowl, mashed potatoes, and giant bowls of soba noodles. Their skeletal musician played a maniacally cheerful tune on his violin. The only one crying was the Straw Hat shipwright, Franky, and he blubbered at almost anything.

As soon as Law stepped foot on the grassy deck, confetti sprayed down on his entire crew. A giant banner unrolled itself, bonking him on the head. In sparkling, oversized characters, it read, "GOOD BYE TRA GUY (AND OTHERS)!" 

His crew erupted in cries of dismay and indignation at the disrespect. 

His eye twitched. "Idiots. They sewed your names underneath."

The indignation faded into shock, and then they joined Franky in blubbering at the kindness of their hosts. 

The strains of the welcoming violin gave way to a snazzy guitar riff. "All right!" Luffy bellowed, arms outstretched upon the figurehead. "Let's get the party started!"

A cheer went up, like the first wave of a tsunami. The ship exploded into a dancing, chanting, whooping frenzy of activity that made the previous five minutes seem like a calm walk at the beach. The Straw Hats practically buried them in food, and Bepo had to explain to Carrot that only he could garchu his captain. Jimbei gave him a sympathetic look after he extricated himself from her attempt to nuzzle, then bite, his cheek.

That's it, Law thought. He had to sneak away and find someplace quiet before his eardrums burst. With music blasting into every corner of the ship, it would have to be very far away.

A heavy, familiar warmth enveloped him as Zoro hooked an arm around Law's shoulders to pull him back to the feast.

The Heart Pirates and the Straw Hats halted and stared. He tried not to look at their expressions of mounting glee. 

"Yay, you made up!" Carrot cheered, and Usopp slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Shush! Don't just say that! You want them to kill you?!"

Zoro began to eat, oblivious to the chattering of both crews and the meaningful looks some of the more mature ones exchanged around them.

"You shouldn't be moving that arm so much," Law muttered, staunchly ignoring Bepo's attempts at muffling his own delighted squeals. "Are you really that incapable of basic self-care?"

"You're one to talk," he scoffed, slurping up a bowlful of soba. "You look like you never sleep."

"That's different. It can't be avoided."

He hummed. "You could wear a basket over your head."

"How will that help me sleep?"

"Who said anything about that? It'll cover the bags under your eyes."

Law levelled an unimpressed look at him. 

"And if that doesn't work," he continued, more quietly, "you can come to our ship. Brook's got lullabies."

A slow, mocking smile spread across his face. "Lullabies, Zoro-ya? How do you know about them? Do you listen to lullabies to fall asleep at night?"

Zoro choked on his noodles as what he just implied sank in. "What? No!"

"I'm proud that my music stirs even your stalwart heart, Zoro-san," Brook said, doffing his hat and holding it to his bony chest. "Knowing that brings a tear to my eye, not that I have one, yohohoho."

"No wonder you sleep so soundly," Law drawled, enjoying himself a little too much.

"I think it's sweet," Robin said in her tranquil, elegant way as her crewmates burst into raucous laughter. 

Zoro reddened like a ripe berry. "Shut up! All of you, it's not funny!"

Despite himself, Law felt like laughing.

The party fizzled out as the food and drink dwindled, and even Luffy ate his fill. The Straw Hat captain declared the morning portion of the mourning feast over and made them all promise to return in the afternoon for more partying before falling asleep in an empty soup pot. 

As for Law, the time for their final spar had come. 

Zoro was waiting for him in the crow's nest, greeting him with the crooked little smile he'd come to look forward to. "Ready to get your ass kicked?"

"No. You're still injured. I have...a different proposal."

Suspicion glinted in his eye. "You're not going to experiment on me, are you? 

He exhaled. "No."

"Okay." He folded his arms. "Spit it out, then." 

There was a pinch in his throat, as if his own body wanted to constrict the words out of him. "I am only going to say this once. If I'm to be honest, I don't know any other way to put it. We're not friends, and we certainly aren't… anything else. But I would put up with the rest of your crew to continue to be near you, so what does that mean?"

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Sorry, I didn't know you were making such a sacrifice to be here."

"If you could rein in the sarcasm just for a moment, I'm trying to be sincere," he said in exasperation.

He glanced at him, caught off guard. "You're serious?"

"Deadly," he said.

He shifted in place, worked his jaw a few times, but no sound came out. "It's not like we're crewmates," he said finally, looking as uncomfortable as Law felt. "If we're not friends, I don't know what you want from me."

"What do you want from me?"

He looked away. "I don't know." His tone was blunt, overly so, as if trying to fend off uncertainty through adamantness. 

He nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

He nodded again, keeping his expression blank. "Thank you," he said. "Your help was invaluable these past months." He spun around, a little too quickly to be smooth. 

"Stay," he said, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible. 

Law stopped in his tracks, heart pounding.

"After the alliance dissolves," he added. "That's what I want you to do."

Law turned to face him, searching his features for deception. He found none. "Do you want to…"

His voice trailed off. He wanted a life with him in it, without the hierarchies of subordination in a crew, without the cloying mush and legal tangles of marriage--as lasting and meaningful as family, as friendship, but different. He wanted the effortful, gratifying synchrony they had in their daily spars, the implicit reliance they had on each other in battle, and the moments of trust, where they gave up slivers of the control onto which they clung so tightly.

Law had no idea if it was romantic. Perhaps it was. That was only a word, and what they had didn't stay within its confines. Perhaps they didn't need a word for what they had--a mutual respect, growing understanding, presences that felt like home, absences that hurt like physical wounds. What mattered was that they had it.

Law took a step toward him. And another. And another, until he had closed the distance. One hand slid over the nape of his neck, his fingers pausing to stroke one teardrop-shaped earring. 

He lifted his eyebrow, and got a small nod in return.

Letting his eyes slide shut, he travelled the remaining distance, tilted his head, and kissed him. 

Zoro stilled, his entire body taut as a bowstring. It was obvious he hadn't had any experience in this area, or at least lacked the overwhelming dominance he had on the battlefield. It was the most chaste kiss he could muster--little more than a glancing touch, his mouth pressing against Zoro's for a moment before drawing away. And yet, a furious heat flared to life in Zoro's cheeks.

He hadn't ever seen that look on him before. He decided that he liked it. 

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, the swordsman took hold of the front of his shirt and yanked him to his chest. Calloused fingers tangled themselves in his hair, insistent but not painfully so. The lips on his were dry, but they molded to his mouth and he forgot their texture. He drank in their warmth instead, all the promises they could not find the words to convey, all the unspoken wishes and desires of a future that didn't yet have a name. They tasted like salt and sake. 

When they broke apart for air, Law said, "Well?" 

"I think..." he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. He wet his lips, looking self-conscious for once.

"This is a good look on you," he said, idly brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. "I'd like to see it more often."

The blush didn't fade. If anything, it spread to his ears. But he met his gaze with a firm, steady one of his own, and nodded.

He leaned into the other swordsman's warmth, and allowed himself a smile.

Chapter Text

Flashback: Love Languages

The Flower Capital. A glittering, blossom-laden city, filled with cloud-soft music, built on the backs of countless starving, poisoned people. Although they looked nothing alike, it reminded Law of another city, one with pure white towers and streets. It never failed to disgust him how much corruption can look like beauty. 

He stared at the petals swirling in his path, eyes hard, as if that could force the veneer to crack. 

It didn't, of course. He resumed his stroll.

When the Straw Hat captain made landfall on Wano, everything went to shit.

They floated down the river, ostensibly looking for potential enemies stationed on either side. But Luffy was no good for reconnaissance, more focused on tearing into the slab of meat in his lap. Why did he even insist on coming along? And why did that ridiculous swordsman never close his shirt? 

As he prepared to interrogate his allies, Law congratulated himself on retaining his composure. He'd foreseen this. 

"Why the hell did you bastards engage the enemy in the open instead of infiltrating quietly like you were supposed to?!" he said calmly. 

"They have red bean soup," Zoro said, as if that explained everything. 

Luffy nodded, his eyes wide and resolute. He'd seen the same expression on him before in Dressrosa. It would not yield in the face of an oncoming meteor.

Law almost pitied Kaido. Straw Hat was like a bacterial superinfection. If you didn't eliminate him with one round of antibiotics, he only came back stronger. 

"You-- you're both children," he said. 

Luffy blinked. "But it's not fair that Tama goes hungry and these--"

"You can't help her by targeting them. Even if we take down Kaido--"

"When we take down Kaido," Luffy corrected. 

"Things won't immediately improve. Taking down these people does the opposite of what you want--it alerts our enemies to your presence, and decreases the chance of our plan ever succeeding."

"We're not doing this because it'll help with the plan. We're doing it because they deserve it," Zoro said, with a sullen, almost petulant stubbornness. 

A vein pulsed in his forehead, and he rubbed it reflexively. "You--"

Insufferable. Wholly insufferable. They were so naive it was sickening, and he wanted nothing more to do with them.

"Do you really think picking a fight with these small fry can fix this rotten country's problems?"

"It worked before."

"It doesn't always." He surprised himself with his own vehemence.

"It will when it's us. Trust me," Luffy said, and nearly blinded him with a smile. "It's gonna work out."

(And damn them, it did. They were all so selfish they ended up being selfless.)

As they sailed on, Luffy tried to explain in more detail why they alerted Jack to their arrival. The explanation got worse as it went along. The Straw Hats might be reliable, but they would be single-handedly responsible for the early graying of his hair. 

Idly he began to wonder if he couldn't simply Room them off the edge of the boat. Just for a while. Roronoa could swim. 

"And that's why Kin'emon doesn't like cabbages," Luffy said triumphantly, with another smile that turned half his face into teeth. 

"I don't care," he said. "Just don't screw anything else up."

"You know, Kanjuro can be a jerk. I challenged him to an eating contest and he totally made my cabbages bigger..."

His fingers twitched. It would be so easy. One small dip. It'd soothe his headache better than any medicine. But that would send the wrong message, so he closed them in a fist instead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Roronoa snickering at him. Amused to see his captain run circles around him, no doubt.

How did it even start? Law wondered to himself. Enies Lobby, which put the Straw Hats on his radar? Sabaody, where he met them? Punk Hazard? He had pledged himself to an alliance that would send him to an early grave. What possessed him to do that? What inexorable forces pressed him into such a terrible fate?

(He knew, of course, but he had to deny that he did.)

In their quarters, he lay against Bepo's smooth boiler suit as the bear dozed lightly. A breeze streaming between the slats of the dilapidated walls ruffled the tufts of hair that emerged from under his hat. How was he going to handle them?

The sound of a match and a fire roaring to life caught his attention. He opened his eyes, and saw--

"Zoro-ya?"

The swordsman was nonchalantly grilling and eating his way through a bucket of fish. He was attired like a ronin, his hair in a chonmage, a splash of jade-green foam on the hem of a pure white yukata. The clothes fit him well. 

"Couldn't find my own place," Zoro said by way of explanation, and carried on tearing chunks of fish from the bone with his teeth. 

Law didn't find it within himself to kick him out.

"Clean up after yourself," Law said after a while, and closed his eyes again.

The first time he saw Zoro fight in Wano, Law was filled with fury.

Rough, he thought, as his eye tracked the movement. Far too rough. His manners were nonexistent and he had no sense. The three-sword style shouldn't be physically possible. 

But…

A swordsman could recognize another swordsman's skill. Zoro flowed into action with a grace he never possessed elsewhere--how duplicitous of him. Looking at the hulking, harsh lines of his body, one would expect he was capable of nothing but indiscriminate, brutish aggression. Instead, he combined raw, uncontainable power with an impossible finesse. He could deliver a strike that cut through a leaf floating upon a stream and leave the surface of the water undisturbed--or one that could carve a new riverbed. The arc of his blade was not erratic, not as directionless and unthinking as its master. No strike was without purpose. 

His opponent searched for openings, for blind spots, for obvious failings. Like Law, they found nothing. 

You have to work harder than that. 

His muscles rippled under his skin, his eye lit with a manic gleam, and suddenly he was a beast again. A beast with superhuman control over himself. 

His body slipped into position like a dancer on a cue, and he lunged forward, executing his technique with a decisive finality and flawlessness that could only be described as…

...beautiful, but he refused to use that word on him. It was silly, and frivolous, and much too small. No word and nothing in the world could contain the spectacle and perfect symphony of force and artistry before him. Even if it didn't make any sense.

It didn't matter to him before. As long as he did his job, he didn't care how he looked as he did it. But now…

It was like learning a new language, and finding, on the cusp of fluency, that he could suddenly decipher what used to be meaningless patterns. 

The swords made a shimmering noise as they slid home in their scabbards, and Zoro joined his side, heat rolling off of him in waves. The ronin bore a jagged, pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his own performance.

How dare he. How dare he flaunt how effortlessly he turned his simplicity into elegance, and elegance into something terrifying. 

What the hell did you do to me? 

Zoro turned the smile on him, and his thoughts dissolved like sugar in hot coffee.

Despite his protestations to the contrary, working alongside the Straw Hats did something to Law's cynicism. If he had to indulge in metaphor, he'd describe the feeling as this: a sailor, drenched in a tempest, spying a glimpse of a lighthouse's beacon.

Zoro had also cut through uncountable storms. He lived as if he were indestructible. As if everything he knew could burn down around him and he would erupt, unharmed, from the embers. 

It was unkind. So very unkind. Law didn't want to trust. He didn't want hope. He did not want evidence of his supernatural prowess. He did not want to be swayed, like the other Straw Hats seemed to be, into believing in his invulnerability. He knew he was mortal, though he wished he were not. 

When had he let him take so much of him away, and why didn't he feel diminished? Sensations he normally would have strangled in their infancy had now grown so familiar that he couldn't get rid of them without feeling hollow. 

But there was no time for that. As soon as the hunting party returned to their Kuri Castle camp, he prepared to inform them of the rest of the plan.

"There's something I must tell you-- Where the hell is Zoro?"

"He got lost following us up here," their redheaded navigator explained with a sigh that sounded almost as exasperated as he felt. She folded her arms. "We should really tie a bell around his neck. Usopp, make one for him!"

Eventually, they located the swordsman. He was halfway down the hill, hauling the carcass of a large tiger by the scruff of its neck. 

"I found dinner," Zoro said.

"Is that creature from around here? Throw it away before you poison us all."

He shrugged. "Your loss." He gave the tiger an unreadable look. To Law, it seemed almost like pity. 

As Zoro was about to trudge away, Nami barked, "Hold it right there!" and dragged him by the ear up to the castle.

Law found him interesting now, so consumingly interesting. It was like falling into quicksand. At first, it was easy not to notice the sponginess of the earth or how far your foot sank into the muck. You could float on its surface to avoid drowning, but the instinct was to let gravity draw you down. If you let it go on long enough, you could not escape. 

He was simple, and that in itself was difficult to understand. How did a man with such a simple life and humble upbringing make it to the Grand Line? How did he obtain this skill from training alone? 

Law's image of him had been...imprecise, though he could blame his first impressions on the florid descriptions in the World Economy News. They depicted him as a beast, a demon, as little more than a sentient blade--all sharp edges and implacable strength. They had no excuse for his bursts of rare and inexplicable kindness. They had no explanation for why only one out of his swords always remained the same. 

In some ways, they were right. He was a blade, one so keen blood rolled right off him. And he washed the reindeer doctor's back when the little one couldn't do it himself, and he cared for children whose fingers where calloused from overwork and still couldn't find enough food to eat.

He was too many things to keep track of. 

In some ways he was the most deceptive of them all. He lied by telling the truth, by showing only one side of the many he possessed. 

That is the treachery of quicksand. It tricks you into thinking it has no depth.

The swordsman was like a new and foreign language, and he had only picked up a few words. The way to understand him, he thought, was to consider him made of angles. Not only in the physical sense, though his training had sculpted his body into--

He stopped that train of thought there, because there was nothing worthwhile lying beyond it. 

From one angle, he was a wanted criminal, and from another, a hero of the people. He had a reputation for cold pragmatism and mercilessness, and he let children take his share of the dessert. His entire demeanour projected ironclad competence, and he could get lost down a one-way street. He was a pirate hunter and a pirate, and...

In the distance, Nami released Zoro's ear. The swordsman tripped over his sleeping captain and faceplanted into the soil. 

Above all, he was an idiot.

"Why are you always watching me when I fight?" Zoro asked, as they ate a meal of purified tiger meat and, to his surprise, a series of rice dishes.

Was he really that obvious? "Would you like me to stop?"

"Nah," he said. "Just curious."

There was a perfectly sound explanation: he was one of the most dangerous people in the worst generation. Of course he would have to keep an eye on him. "You're interesting to watch," he said. "That's all."

He gave an indistinct hum. "You don't seem to leave me alone. Like Hiyori and Toko," he said, making a face. "Clinging to me all the time. Dunno why people do that."

"I imagine it's because you make them feel secure. They trust you."

"Them. Not you."

Perceptive, he thought. "Trust is hard to come by in this world."

Something in Zoro called for others to put their trust in him. Maybe it was his steely conviction. His deliberate loyalty. His unthinking adherence to doing the right thing. He could bark out orders to take control of chaos, then yield to his captain without a lick of excess pride. Without fail, he completed every mission set before him, no matter what it cost him. 

Around you, I know I will be safe, but you won't be, he did not say. "But you don't mind me watching," Law said.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He felt his gaze land on him. It evaluated him coolly, without judgment. 

"You're you."

He shouldn't have expected anything else. 

"You have a stick up your ass, but you're not bad."

"Oh?" he said dryly. "I see. I don't know what to say in the face of such glowing praise."

Underneath the snark, he knew the fact that Zoro chose to spend time with him was endorsement enough. His trust was as difficult to win as his own. Not for the first time, he wondered how he managed to gain that trust.

Zoro shrugged. "I trust my own judgment." 

He took a wedge of onigiri, and took a bite. The flavour was light and unobtrusive.

"You like onigiri?"

He tried not to think of the earlier display of prowess, and failed. "It's... acceptable."

Zoro nodded, apparently satisfied by that answer. The wind stirred his hair, jingled in his earrings, and Law was struck by the sudden thought that sometimes beauty is not a veneer. 

The Straw Hats usually didn't sit around gossiping about the love lives of their crewmates. But this was Zoro. Zoro didn't get into relationships. He didn't look twice at a picture of Boa Hancock, and didn't seem interested in people of any other gender, either. They were half-convinced that he, like Luffy, had a congenital blindness to beauty--a sense lost along with his sense of direction. 

And the other half of this strange duo was Trafalgar Law. The Surgeon of Death. The youngest person to be made a Warlord of the Sea. A high-calibre tactician and doctor, and about as cold and distant as the moon. If nothing else, it made for good entertainment. 

"Did you see that? Law made an excuse to help patch him up. He didn't even look like he was enjoying his pain!" Nami said, scandalized, as she flopped next to Carrot at the tea table. Franky was conferring with other shipwrights, Luffy was raiding their rations, and Sanji was stopping him from raiding their rations. Jimbei had not yet met up with them.

Carrot's ears twitched. "Aww, how sweet! Under that steely exterior beats a heart of tofu." 

"No, I'm pretty sure under that steely exterior is more steel," Usopp said, and tightened his grip on his slingshot. 

"Steel with the consistency of tofu," she insisted. "Why is that so unbelievable?"

"He's the Surgeon of Death!"

"He sounds misunderstood."

"I didn't know he had a heart," Brook said. 

"He can have as many as he likes with that power of his," their archaeologist added, before Brook could make another skull joke. 

"Not helpful, Robin."

"I don't think he's that scary," Carrot said. "Think about it. If he's a good surgeon, then his patients don't die. If he's a bad surgeon, then what are you worried about? He's no good at his job!" She beamed.

"Carrot, it doesn't work like that," Usopp said.

"Shush, something's happening!" Nami hissed.

They watched Zoro seethe visibly at Chopper and Law. No doubt both doctors had advised him to lay off training and alcohol. Chopper stormed off in a huff to gather more bandages; Law folded his arms and coldly met Zoro's accusatory gaze. The pair held the gaze long enough for Law's eyes to gain some warmth and Zoro's to lose its sharpness. 

"Maybe this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. They fall in love and turn into jelly," Nami murmured. 

"Do you think Torao realizes Zoro's trying to protect him?" Usopp said. 

"No, probably not. Otherwise he wouldn't be on his tail all the time."

"Does Zoro know why he's always on his tail?"

"Definitely not."

"Should we tell them?"

"And spoil the fun?" Nami said. "Yeah, probably. If they get any denser, they're going to break through the hull of the ship. Who wants to go talk to them?"

They exchanged glances.

"Let's draw straws," she said. 

A few moments later, they each held the results. Sanji would speak to Law, and Nami would tackle Zoro. Robin had been taken out of the pool, as she already had a crack at Law to very little avail.

"Nami-swan, I'm so sorry you have to deal with that brute," Sanji cooed. "If only we could draw lots again… I'd beat some sense into that grassy head of his…"

"Forget it, Sanji, it's fine. I'm going to make it worth my while." Nami's smile grew more mischievous as she scribbled another charge to add to the swordsman's debt.

Nami found Zoro ambling down the hall, frowning mightily. 

"Did you get lost on the way to your room again?"

"I'm not lost," he sulked. "Everything else moved."

She heaved a sigh. "Seriously? Even after we painted labelled arrows on the walls?" 

"Shut up. They're confusing."

She smiled inwardly. A contest of wits with him made her feel like the intellectual equivalent of a Logia in the East Blue--utterly untouchable. "Look, I need to tell you something, and I hope it gets into your thick skull," she said, rapping her knuckles against the back of his head. "You've been causing lots of trouble."

"What are you talking about?"

"I knew it, you're oblivious," Nami sighed. "Haven't you noticed Law babysitting you on the field? Stop charging into things or you'll give him a heart attack. We'll be down a doctor, and you won't believe how much one of those costs. It'll triple your debt."

"Witch," he muttered. 

Her expression softened. "You really can't see it?"

"See what?"

She looked at him so pityingly he bristled.

"I know what you're saying. He doesn't think I'm strong enough," he said reluctantly, the deep furrow in his brow deepening further.

"How can you-- that isn't it! He just doesn't want you to die."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Is that so hard to believe? You're one of our main damage dealers, and more importantly, he cares about you."

He stared at her, his mouth hanging slack. 

Poor thing, she thought, that much thinking must've broken his brain. 

"Why?" he said.

"That's as big of a mystery to us as it is to you." She pursed her lips. "You're keeping tabs on him too, aren't you?"

"Like you said. Doctors are important," he said. "He's got his own crew to worry about. He shouldn't be on the front lines."

And you think this why? she wanted to ask. But she knew if she did, he'd sidestep that as well. 

If she were even a sliver less strong, Nami would've died of frustration long ago. At times Zoro seemed unfamiliar with softness. It wasn't that he didn't have any softness to him, he practically babied Chopper and god forbid anyone harm an innocent person in his vicinity, but he did just act baffled that someone from another pirate crew could, shock horror, want him to live because he liked him. 

Maybe this conversation was a mistake. Telling him the truth straight on was worse than deliberately misleading him. She knew him well enough by now--his reasoning followed a garden path that led nowhere near a reasonable conclusion. It was hard to keep track of, even for a world-class navigator like her. He assumed that others saw him the way he saw himself, and the only reason he would fear for his own life was if he was too weak to survive. 

Near the beginning of their journey, they once asked Zoro about his birthday, and when they found out it was yesterday he was still perplexed to find gifts from them all on his hammock in the evening. Honestly, it was strange he even knew the date. What 19-year-old with responsible parents ever became a bounty hunter, after all? He did everything he could to rid himself of softness, and it showed. 

It was worth the berries she spent to see his normally unshakable frown ease into a mild befuddlement, until he looked a little like a lost puppy. 

"Why?" he had asked. "It's not even my birthday."

"That's the point! We missed it because you didn't tell us, dummy!"

"Why would I?"

Luffy had been dismayed at the lost opportunity for a feast, and clung onto Sanji with great big pleading eyes until the cook caved and agreed to make the food. 

After they finished the cake that Nami had to cajole and flatter Sanji into making, Zoro took one of the candles and stared at it, as if he could read the future in the drippings of its wax.

Clearly, he had not been raised to interpret such gestures as kindness. His caretakers showed care in different ways. They involved swords, not birthday candles on rum cakes.

In fact, the way half the crew thought about things was pretty backwards. People called them monsters, demons, irredeemable dregs of society--and they wore those names as badges of honour. If calling him a monster was a compliment, maybe doing something nice for him was like punching him in the face. Insinuating that people could be concerned about him out of genuine compassion and appreciation for him as a person? Why, you might as well spit on his nonexistent grave. 

She sighed, pressing one hand against her temple. There was no changing him. He'd come to an understanding at his own impossibly slow pace. If this was something he truly wanted, he would find a way to accomplish his goal. 

"You're too good at dodging questions," Nami said. She gave him a condescending pat on the head and left.

Meanwhile, Sanji found Law in the kitchen. The Surgeon of Death had been attempting to make himself some elixir of life, i.e. coffee.

They sized each other up for a few moments, Sanji lingering at the doorframe and Law holding a cup of lukewarm coffee. He raised one questioning eyebrow. 

Sanji felt a little sorry for the man. He was going after someone as dense and unromantic as Zoro, after all. Their swordsman also needed to be careful, getting himself involved in these entanglements at sea. Pirates were by definition untrustworthy types, and what Zoro did could affect the entire crew. Sanji had to keep an eye on them just in case. (And, though the cook wouldn't admit it in a thousand years or more, he didn't want anything bad to happen to any of his nakama.) 

The mosshead owed him a huge favour for this.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So…" He stubbed the cigarette under his dress shoe. "Him, huh? Does his stupid green hair not put you off?"

"You're asking me about your swordsman? His appearance is none of my concern."

"Really? Well, it's lucky for him that you don't mind uglies."

The normally unruffled Law frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, there's no way you like him for his personality."

Law continued to stare unblinkingly at him. 

"Oh god, you like him for his personality?"

"Are you insinuating that you're interested in him for his body?" he said, in his infuriatingly smooth drawl.

He choked. "What? Me? That shitty mosshead? No way! His face looks like a cave-in covered in algae! You totally misunderstood--"

"You're awfully defensive, Black Leg-ya." An unsettling smile crept across his face. "If you're concerned about how I view him, I tolerate him for his usefulness. I'd advise you to be honest with yourself about why you came to speak of this to me."

Sanji was left sputtering bad excuses, and Law evaded this attempt to induce self-reflection. 

Franky was chosen next, after Sanji muttered something about Law being impossible to talk to. He was a sucker for love stories, though he would never say that out loud. He knew his ship inside and out, and found the man sipping his coffee at one of the small tables tucked in a quiet corner. 

"Zoro-bro is a little prickly but I'm sure you can make it work," he said, as encouragingly as he could. "He's got big muscles, but he's also got a big heart."

"The heart is also a muscle. Why the negation?"

Franky, unfortunately, had underestimated Law's uncanny knack for weaselling out of a conversation. 

He took a second too long to think of a response, and the surgeon stood and walked past him. "I hope he gets treatment for his cardiomegaly."

In the end, Brook cornered Law by not cornering him at all. He simply appeared, like a sudden change in key. 

Another one? Law thought, turning. "What exactly is it that you all want?"

The musician laughed in his boisterous way. "Ah, don't mind us. We're just looking out for our allies." 

Law got the sense that if the skeleton had eyelids, he would be winking right now. "I've already spoken to four of you. You honestly don't need to bother."

"If that were true, Robin-san would've been enough for you to realize what's going on," Brook said, doffing his hat in that deceptively polite manner. "Zoro-san cares about you in his own way. Don't let his words fool you."

I know, Law thought. "Is that all?"

"We should probably tell him the same," Brook continued. "You're not an easy man to read, Trafalgar-san."

I know. "I'll be going now."

"Life is often far too short. I'm glad you young people are getting a chance to live it to the fullest."

The tone was airy. The words sounded like a warning.

The night before the raid, tension coiled in the camps like so many serpents. Law had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with Zoro about the plan. In hindsight, it had been unwise to suggest that Zoro remove himself from the front lines. It was too sensible an idea, and rife with unfortunate implications.

Zoro took out Wado, examining it for scratches. Law watched him as closely as he would a heart monitor. 

"Why not?" Law said.

"I don't know. Why are you trying to bench me?"

"I'm not. It's only a strategic--"

"Cut the bullshit. You don't trust me."

"If I didn't trust you, I'd tell you to stay out of it altogether. I'm only suggesting that you avoid taking on Kaido directly. Is that really too much to ask?"

"Yeah. I do things my way."

"Yes, you do."

He scowled. "Oi, watch your tone." 

"You're not totally oblivious. You know you can die."

"Uh-huh. Your point?"

"Listen to yourself," he spat. "A life is not a trifle you can throw away as you wish. Many would do worse than kill to live again."

"Trust me," he said. "I won't go down like that."

Trust did not come easily. 

"Besides, you can carry out the plan without me."

"Are you daft?"

"We can always find another swordsman," he pointed out, infuriatingly calm. "We can't find another person with your Devil Fruit."

Sometimes he was downright tiring, this blade of a man with his single-minded impulse to improve, to get stronger, more invulnerable, until nothing could pierce that shell of untouchability. He treated everything with a cold, pitiless pragmatism--and he would not hesitate to turn that sharp judgement against himself. Of course he had to protect them with his life. His life was all he had to give them. 

But that didn't mean he could force everyone else to bend to his logic. Why was he so hell-bent on substituting his reality for the truth?

"You're right," he said through clenched teeth, "except for one thing. You are not a rusty gear we can discard and replace as we wish. You will be the greatest, yes? Tell me, where will we find that?"

Zoro turned his sword over and continued to polish it, his movements methodical and unhurried, expression utterly blank. But--and Law was learning, slowly, to read him--his jaw tightened. He hadn't been expecting this. 

"Bravery won't save you from death." 

"You've got it twisted," he said, with his brand of exasperating bravado. "Death needs saving from me."

That was so ridiculous he nearly burst out laughing. But he didn't. "As long as you're alive, you'll be useful. You can't do anything if you're dead."

"What, are you worried about me?" he said with a tinge of irritation, his posture stiff. Someone had dared question his immortality, and he took concern as a grave insult.

"Do you even value your life?"

The rag paused. "What kind of question is that?"

"Why do you act like you don't?"

Zoro finally returned his gaze, studying him with a pensive thoughtfulness. He seemed more perplexed than angry, unused as he was to people doubting him. To him, the answer was simple. Over time he had collected a long list of things he considered worse than death, and this served as an antidote against fear.

"You've never considered this, have you?" he said darkly. "You and your code. You think the only way to care for people is to die for them. You haven't found people you would live for."

"Are you insulting my crew?

"Is that what you think I said?" 

"What else does that mean?"

"I meant…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. If he let it run to its conclusion, he feared he could never turn back. 

He sighed. "Never mind."

"Weirdo," he scoffed under his breath. He carried on polishing Wado Ichimonji, the rag gliding noiselessly over the metal. 

Law examined his expression. It betrayed nothing of what lay beneath--the best and worst of humanity, tied up in one neat package. 

An interesting man. If nothing else, Roger taught them that interesting men did not last long. 

You're not even trying, are you? he thought. You hide in plain sight. If he reached out and touched him now, would he only find unyielding steel? 

Then all movement ceased. The blade caught the light, and gleamed. 

"Don't be a hypocrite," he said, his voice low. 

"What?"

"You could die too. We all can. So don't give me that crap." He turned so he could look straight into his eyes. "We're here because we're ready to make any sacrifices we need. I forfeited my life a long time ago."

There was no hint of a smile on his mouth. He was the picture of solemn certainty.

"You're the devious one. You're more important to the plan, and you know it. So act like it."

He tipped his hat down over his eyes. "If you think that means I should stand by and treat you like a disposable--"

"I know you're a doctor and doctors have to stick their noses in everyone's business, but I'm not stupid. Don't put your standards on me."

"Trust me, I don't," he said. "You'd never meet them."

"And I know how to take care of myself, so don't lecture me," he continued.

"We need you," he said. He almost forgot to use the plural we.

"What for?" There was an edge to his voice. "Remember what we're doing here. If I risk my life, it's only because it has to be done."

He clenched his teeth. Stupid, he chastised himself. He was trying to solve him like a math problem. He didn't let himself hear what Zoro was actually saying. If only Zoro did what he did for glory, power, money--for vain and empty things. No, he just had to have a good reason. Of course he wouldn't react well to someone calling his resolve, his motives, and his ability to protect his crew into question.

Zoro softened his tone. "Stop worrying so much. We're strong."

"Strong enough to defeat an emperor?"

"We'll see."

Silence. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a surprising light squeeze.

"You think too much."

"You might be right about that."

The silence after that spoke volumes. 

"For the longest time, I didn't have anyone to look after. I got used to being alone," Zoro said at last. "Now I'm not. They're all counting on me."

"Yes, we are."

"Then you get it," he said calmly.

"Yes," he said. 

"Good."

"Just don't die," he said irritably. 

He grunted, and sheathed his sword. "You too."

A day later, the supernovae faced Big Mom and Kaido on the roof of a skeletal fortress--caught, as it were, between Scylla and Charybdis. The twin sovereigns of the sea ascended to their oceanic throne, and celebrated their coronation with a blow that could snuff out the stars.

But it didn't. Zoro had blocked the way. 

Before Kaido could strike his teammate down, Law teleported himself in Zoro's place, and dealt Kaido a surprise hit.

When the dust settled, he locked eyes with the man he saved. In his gaze was a wordless, indignant question. Why?

"I took pity on hell," he said. "Sending you back there would be too cruel to its masters."

Zoro pulled himself upright, and some of his fragmented bones crunched. Blood spurted over his hidden eye.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't meet his gaze. "To take Kaido's head."

"In your state? What use are you to us dead?"

"What use am I to you alive if I can't do this?"

And he leapt toward their enemy like a panther, or perhaps an avenging angel, plunging after prey. Not for the first time, Law wondered if all his blood was human. A bit of devil must have made its way in. 

He lifted his hand, but it was too late to call him back. The gates of hell had already opened. Even they had determined that it was better not to keep such an animal caged.

Behind him, Luffy faced Kaido, cape rippling like a sail on the flagship of the new era. His hands slowly closed into fists. He stared Kaido in the eye, as if they were equals, and launched himself forward. 

Dread closed like claws around Law's heart. Something harsh and unkind--foreboding, perhaps--clamped a hand on his shoulder and murmured, in a cold, soothing whisper, He is Icarus. Do you not see his wings? 

Zoro struggled to pull himself upright. 

All his bones broken? A fair estimate, if the waves of nauseating pain were any indication. He was breathing more blood than air at this point. A cold blankness pressed at the edges of his consciousness, and his sensei's words reverberated through his aching head.

Humans are fragile.

He wasn't stupid. Mihawk cut through any delusions he had with that butter knife he kept around his neck. He wasn't good enough, but his crew had no time for his hesitation. People relied on him to be unbreakable. He had to live up to their expectations. If he didn't, well...

This was the only way he'd overcome his weaknesses, and be worthy of the promise he had made.

Behind him, eyes as golden as a hawk's pierced through the gloom, burning with either heat or cold. They reminded him why he needed to survive, whose lives were at stake. 

Breathing heavily, he tore his gaze from the surgeon and fixed it upon the emperor.

"If I don't make it, it's up to you," he said, and he hoped the apology was audible over the rumble of blood in his throat. 

His heartbeat roared in his ears. Whatever ligaments still untorn and whichever bones still intact cooperated long enough for him to drag himself into a halfway decent stance. He couldn't tell if his vision was turning black from too much blood or not enough of it, but a spark had taken hold of him, the thrill of the hunt, of a cornered animal, of a dead man's last game. All he thought of was how to land the next blow.

He drew his weapons. A blade in his mouth and two at each hand unfolded into nine. 

He had no time to hesitate. 

If I doubt myself, where will that leave you?

Kaido stumbled. 

Not a single scale cracked elsewhere on his body. He stirred, and regarded the gash that now marred him with rage boiling in one bloodshot eye. 

"It'll scar," he rumbled, and the sound carried for miles.

Zoro's life passed before him like a pebble dropped in the ocean. The waves rippled, and grew calm again. Absurdly, right before his mind gave up its grip on consciousness, the last face he saw flashing before his eye was his own, reflected on a fallen sword.

Law found him afterward. 

If not for his swords, he wouldn't have recognized him. His hair had turned red, his flesh swollen enough to hide the scar that crossed his left eye.

Zoro wasn't invulnerable, even if he gave that impression. Even if it seemed like he turned adversity into fuel for victory, as if he couldn't fight unless he tasted iron. 

The wall had crumbled, exposing its innards, and his body lay as still and unmoving as the broken stone slabs settled around him. No limbs twisted out of place, but the skin looked odd, as if the bones had been powdered within the flesh. White dust wreathed him like a shroud. 

Flevance had been this white, and so had the snow. 

Law dug his fingers into the scar ringing his right arm, hard, and let the pain blot out the memories. Then he raised Kikoku. 

It took a few seconds for the translucent film to expand into a blue dome. A flash of light, a few quick movements, and he cleared the stone and dust before it could drag him back into the past.

Just don't die. 

"You stubborn fool," he said, his fingers trembling slightly as he lowered his sword. They shook even more as he reached to close around his wrist. "If you can't even follow...such simple directions…."

When he found the heartbeat, his own nearly stopped. 

A pulse, faint but present. One that hadn't yet realized it shouldn't exist. 

Law, betrayed by those who sold their lives to justice, had been ready for death since he was a child. Death was everywhere, in motes of dust, in old barnacles whose inhabitants had long since rotted away, in ominous cracks along a mast, in the whistling of cannonballs. It had drenched his hands, soaked into his marrow. To be a pirate was to live on the threadlike boundary between life and death, only a few inches of metal hull away from drowning. But here he was, unprepared to lose another person he cared about. 

He took only a second to collect himself. He had no more time to waste. Their enemy was barely winded, and would strike again soon. He directed his thoughts elsewhere, detached himself from them, and stood. 

As he prepared to transport them both to his submarine, he felt like Atlas, holding up the sky, but he was light as a feather, a mere thread away from snapping, and if he ever realized what he was doing, he would collapse. Like Alexander, presented with another Gordian knot, that couldn't be cut.

All he could do was trust.

On the Polar Tang, the clamour outside his operating room, muted like speech underwater, sharpened into uncomfortable clarity. 

Before his crew could say a word, he held up a hand. He was a doctor, and this was his domain. He did not take his eyes off his patient. People always died when his back was turned. 

"Scan," he said. 

The lights glimmered, numerous as the stars, as black as old blood.

It could be worse.

That was a useless sentiment. Pain was pain, and he didn't enjoy the suffering of anyone he cherished, no matter how mild.

Swordsmen with lofty ambitions usually lived as if they were already dying. It was like an illness with an unknown etiology. Whatever encumbrances weighed Zoro down left their marks so long ago, there was no way of telling scar from flesh. He had a lifetime to adapt to them, but they were still there. They explained, in some small way, why he was so willing to discard his life for others. Somewhere along the way, someone taught him that was the only way he could achieve worth. 

You're a blade and you treat the world like your whetstone. Please, for once, will you find one that won't shatter you?

"I'm just saying, what do you see in him?" Clione said.

"At the moment, massive internal hemorrhage and complex bone fractures," he said. "Focus on the surgery!"

Kaido should have pulverized every organ, shattered every bone. But somehow, under his bloodsoaked gloves, a heart was beating. 

They were witnessing a miracle, and all his crew members could do was question his taste in men. 

"It's fine, I'll sleep it off," Zoro said, his voice hazy but coherent. 

Their heads whipped around.

"More anesthesia," Law said through gritted teeth. "Something he isn't going to metabolize in seconds."

"I can smash him over the head with a two-by-four," Penguin offered. 

"That's medically contraindicated. The planks are over by the furnace, do it quickly."

After that disaster of a surgery, Law prepared to re-enter the battle. Penguin was bragging that he knocked out the formidable pirate hunter with a single blow. In reality it had taken quite a few whacks, the wood broke in half, and Jean Bart had to step in. 

His head was unusually clear.

Deep down, he never believed Zoro would actually die. The gleam of his eye looked too much like a flame that could never be extinguished, and his word was worth more than gold. He said he would not die, and Law believed him. 

Damn him. He was following this illogical foolishness to the end. 

His throat was tight, and his vision blurred. 

Bepo glanced at him, and stepped back in alarm. "Captain, are you…"

"Not another word." It came out as a hiss. 

Bepo, to his credit, clammed up, and he allowed his first mate to steady him as they went back to the battle. 

The Emperors, so used to their throne, were deposed.

When the world found out about what happened here, it would be too late. The balance of the seas had shifted, and a new king would rise above the dawn on two shining wings. Law had some foresight, and knew the flavour of poison the cogs of government machinery would spit out. He could predict what kind of reckoning they would face. The Straw Hats would sail out of a storm and into a maelstrom. 

When the ink dried on the history books, posterity would likely find Law silly for ever doubting them. They never doubted themselves. Did a drop of rainwater doubt its ability to reach the earth?

There was nothing in the world more dangerous than a Straw Hat determined not to outlive any of their friends.

Epilogue

Usopp was the first to notice with his keen marksman's eye (and a pair of high-powered binoculars) the duo kissing in the crow's nest. "Are they...?" he said in a strangled voice. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

"In front of us, too," Nami said, elbowing him aside so she could take the binoculars. "Did they see us?"

Luffy looked eagerly toward the same direction as his friends, and looked away, disappointed it wasn't a large fish or chunk of meat.

"Well, good for them," Nami said after a while. "I guess they didn't notice the window was open."

"Do people actually like kissing?" Luffy asked. "It doesn't look like fun."

Chopper nodded vigorously. "It can be very unsanitary."

"I don't know what the big deal is," Luffy said. "It's like hugging with your mouth, right?"

"Don't ever describe it again," Robin said. 

There was an air of relief on the Polar Tang when Law announced the delay of their departure. 

"We're glad you're not arguing anymore!" his crew cheered. 

"There was no argument, just a minor misunderstanding. I don't know how he misconstrued me."

"Ah, Captain, you see, when you want people to understand you, you sometimes have to talk to them using your words," Uni explained. "You can do this by forming sentences and speaking them aloud to the person you want to communicate with."

He was in a good mood, so he chose to ignore the sardonic tone. "I did."

"What exactly did you say?" Ikkaku said, deadpan, as she wiped grease off her hands with a rag. 

He told them. They looked at him with immense disappointment. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"You used a quadruple negative."

"If something as simple as that confuses him, it's not my problem."

"But the message you're sending is that--"

"I'm not entertaining this line of questioning."

Penguin and Shachi both shook their heads. It was a fool's errand to attempt to teach their captain social graces. 

Zoro's wounds rehealed. They kept sparring as the days counted down. Law had refined his skills to the point where he could duel Zoro reliably to a stalemate. Of course, with his Fruit, he could disarm him any time he liked--but it's the principle that mattered.

Words were few and far between. Speaking was no longer necessary. They had a new vocabulary to work with, and more than enough time to themselves. Thankfully, ever since Yamato broke out of the council meetings Momonosuke invited him to and all but forced his way onto the ship, the Straw Hats spent more time feasting and revelling with him than paying attention to the new couple. 

Whenever they finished sparring, in the brief lull of calm before they had to return to their work, Zoro had taken to laying his head on his lap. Surprisingly, given that he didn't seem to be a touchy person most of the time, he showed his affection in more tactile ways--an arm around a shoulder, a nose pressed against his neck. Law found, much to his amusement, that he liked being scratched just behind the ears. Kind of like a cat. 

Cute, he thought. It was cute. He didn't fight the thought anymore. At some point it stopped being useful to lie to yourself. 

They had left the window open to let in the sea breeze. The main sail snapped taut in the wind. A violin played an ostinato, then slid smoothly into a nocturne. 

Brook's "lullabies" were... not bad. 

"This is new," Law said, for lack of things to say. 

Zoro made a roughly affirmative noise. 

"You've never had a partner? A romantic one," he clarified. 

"No."

"And you never wanted one?"

"Never had any use."

"Do you now?"

His gaze drifted to him. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Admittedly, there wasn't much hair to run his fingers through, more a layer of close-cropped fuzz, but he made do, massaging gently into the scalp. That elicited a noise that almost sounded like a purr. 

"You know," he murmured, "it really is like moss."

He growled, jerking his head away from his hand as he sat up. "You're spending too much time around the cook."

To appease him, Law cupped his face, as if he could melt his icy crust with the contact. It seemed to be working. After a moment, Zoro nestled his cheek into his hand, and leaned back against his chest.

He took a chance and laced his fingers loosely with his, leaning over so their faces were inches apart. "May I?"

The beginnings of a blush appeared at his throat. It bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded. 

He pressed a kiss to his temple. "I want your vivre card. If that's alright."

His eye widened in surprise. That was cute, too. It was easy to take him off his guard.

He recovered his composure with characteristic nonchalance. "Ask Luffy," he said evenly. "You'll have to convince him you can keep it safe. If someone takes it, they'll get our coordinates."

"Are you doubting my abilities?"

"Are you doubting mine? Why would you need it?" he retorted. "When you get it, you better not come for me when I'm in trouble."

"Who said anything about that? Maybe I just want to see you."

His neck turned the colour of a beetroot. "Then you give me yours," he countered. "It's only fair."

He could feel heat rising up his own neck, though he trusted his complexion to hide it. "For a hardened pirate, you fluster easily."

"Shut up. You're one to talk."

Apparently not. He smiled. "Fine. It's a deal."

Looking down at him--a faint red blush still visible on his cheeks--he could imagine, with vivid intensity, giving his life for him. 

He could stay here forever, he thought. With a comfortable, solid warmth in his arms, and the ticking machinery in his mind slowed to a crawl.

"Come on. Why do you really want it?" The other swordsman said. 

"I told you already."

He scoffed. "When are you going to say what you mean?"

"When people find a cure for dreams." 

"Stop talking in riddles." 

Law finally realized why it had taken him so long to understand him. Zoro was a pool of clear freshwater. Law had been looking at the surface of a river, and seen himself reflected. 

"Your dream isn't foolish. You are," he said at last. "If one day you fall in a blaze of glory, I will not be there to see it because you wouldn't tell me."

"Well, you don't tell me a lot of things," he mumbled.

"I don't want to lose you," he said, and then his jaw snapped shut. This was too much honesty for one day. 

For a moment, nothing stirred but the creaking of the ship, the whirring of distant machinery, and the wind. 

Then a knuckle brushed past his cheek. 

"You shouldn't worry so much," he said. His way of saying he wanted him to be happy. 

"I'll try," he said. And despite himself, he was happy.