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There’s a sob and a hiccup, just behind the crackle of the snail transponder and the god-awful snicker that could only be Luffy. Idly, he thinks it must be Nami. Nami must be standing beside Luffy right now. He stares at the stupid straw hat on the stupid snail, his gaze drifting down to its wide grin. A poor imitation, really.
The submarine lights blink, in and out, in and out. He needs air.
Law hangs up.
Law weaves his way through the city. It’s not unlike the many other rich countries he’s visited. There are walls, tall ones. Luffy, for all his abashedly heroic piratism, couldn’t even free his home country.
He keeps his head down, his crew following quietly behind him past the drunk nobles, past the fervent celebrations, past all the variations of “Thank God they’ve captured that stain upon the Goa Kingdom.” Law tightens his grip on Kikoku.
He had come this deep into the city out of curiosity. What was the island like that spawned some of the most notorious figures in history? What was so special about it? He was expecting something less cookie-cutter. A country ruled by arrogant nobles? Seen it. Walls? Been there. He purses his lips. It’s so starkly un-Luffy that it’s unpalatable.
But that’s not important, anyway. Through the narrow side streets, they make it to the lower district, and when the cobbles turn to dust they find the man of the hour. It’s easy to slip through the crowd. There’s hushed murmuring and then stagnated silence. A flash of red hair in one corner, a long nose in the other. Law looks away.
The chains are being lowered now. It’s all he can hear. Loud and obnoxious, followed by something even more. The ramp drops onto the dock, and there he is. Being led by a stoic Smoker, Luffy disembarks the navy ship with messy black hair and a grin.
“It’s been so long, Smokey! Look at us, back in the East Blue,” Luffy reminisces. Smoker’s lips disappear into a thin line, and he pulls Luffy’s sea prism cuffs forward in response.
“Okay, okay. I got it,” he acquiesces with a short laugh, turning his attention to the crowd. His smile begins to drop. Law stops breathing.
Luffy’s eyes harden and he halts their advance, kicking up dust. His voice is low. “Smoker. Don’t tell me there was another fire here.”
At this, the vice admiral finally snaps and yanks the chains. “Straw Hat! Keep moving!”
After defeating Kaido and Big Mom, there was a massive celebration. They always seem to follow the Straw Hats goddamn ship, like some sort of touring party. There were loud cheers and songs and fireworks, all in time to the steady beating of the drums.
Law was leaning against the wooden wall of a home, observing the bonfire the townspeople had kept alight since the fire festival. The flames had leapt up to a considerable height, bright against the night sky. A passing man from Ebisu chuckled at Law’s evident concern. With flushed cheeks, he raised his cup, sake spilling from the rim. “Our lost ones are celebrating with us!” Law left it at that.
Then, there was a warm weight pressing into his side, and a meat skewer shoved into his vision. Law knew by then that it was just easier to accept it, and his hands had brushed against smooth skin.
Luffy laughed. The flames glowed brighter, warming Law’s face. Luffy bit at his skewer, and with his mouth full, began, “I heard what that old man said to you.” He slid down the wall into a squat, unaware of his yukata catching in the wooden panelling. “What do you think about it?”
There was that quality to his voice that Law recognised immediately. It was what compelled him to answer truthfully, despite the strange conversation topic.
“I have never had a good relationship with fire,” he said, twirling the skewer between his thumb and index finger. After all, it was what prevented him from saving Lami. It was what made his famously white hometown char into a hideous black.
Luffy looked up at him. “Me neither,” he chewed, mouth still full. Law dodged the bits of meat flying toward him and freed the snagged fabric, dropping it into place by Luffy’s side. “But I like what he said. It’s like everyone is still standing with you. It makes it more beautiful.”
Law knows now. The land they stand on, perpetually grey in every direction besides the dense forest, glittering sea, and oppressive walls, is razed to be this way. It explains the trash piles they keep in the lower district, close to the gates for easy expulsion. There’s some history here that Luffy keeps to his chest.
Nonetheless, Luffy and Smoker’s descent down the ramp continues and they begin their stride through the wide corridor in the crowd. Luffy’s eyes are still hard. Whispers start up again, some hostile, some reverent. Law scans the crowd, catching sight of Eustass Kid leaning against the outer wall with Killer, hiding in poorly made disguises. Drake and Captain Koby stand guard at the navy ship. He spots the rest of the Straw Hats individually, all with solemn expressions.
To Luffy’s credit, he doesn’t drag his feet. Not that anyone thought he would, but he makes it to the base of the podium in no time at all.
“Ah, if I had my powers I could shoot up to the top of this thing,” Luffy laments, upset about missing out on this final bit of fun. Law thinks they should let him have it.
Instead, Smoker shoves him up the stairs. “Take this a little more seriously, Straw Hat.”
Luffy pouts. Smoker rolls his eyes, and through his cigars, grumbles, “I’m asking for too much.”
Each step on the steel stairs reverberates, followed by the grating sound of dragged chains. Law feels his heart beat in time. Bepo wrings his hands. A bead of sweat rolls down Penguin's forehead. Luffy’s back shrinks further and further away from him, somewhere unreachable. Exhale, inhale. Law steadies his heart.
Finally, Luffy reaches the top of the podium. There, he turns on his heel, smiling wryly with his hand thrown up in a peace sign. Something in him catches when his eyes rise from the crowd to the distance, and Law watches in wonder. What is he looking at? What does he see?
It must be the sea. The one that started it all.
Luffy laughs and settles down on the podium, arm draped over his knee. A breeze rustles the straw hat slung around his neck. He looks at home. Law supposes he is.
He tears his gaze away and follows Luffy’s. They must be the only two people here with their attention elsewhere. And Law agrees, the view never gets old. From atop a treehouse, to the figurehead on a ship, or the top of a podium, it must be the same. Even though the waters in the East Blue are lighter than Law’s own North, he still finds his dreams lingering there in the way it glimmers. They don’t fade, not even in the moonglow. There’s something romantic about it.
“Hey, Torao.”
Luffy stood up, dusting off his clothes. He came face to face with Law, picking at his teeth with his empty skewer. With steely eyes, almost aflame, Luffy continued.
“I won’t let that fire go out.”
There’s a commotion. The executioners are dragging Luffy to his knees. It’s closer now, and Law can feel the crowd becoming antsy. The sun beats down on them, and Law tugs on the collar of his shirt. If he looks carefully, he can see the heat waves rising from the platform. The executioners wipe the sweat off their brows. Luffy raises a hand, shielding his eyes from the sun as if looking for something.
“When will they do it?” a boy murmurs from behind.
A woman growls. “He’s too dangerous, just cut off his head already.”
“What are you waiting for?” a man yells from the dock.
At that, ten heads turn to the dock, eyes ablaze. But only a single voice can quieten the crowd. He must have found what he was looking for.
“Don’t worry, the party will start soon,” Luffy grins in response, hands dropping to his front. As if on cue, the executioners lower their weapons impassively. An ‘X’ hovers over his neck, mirroring that of his chest. It glints silver in the sunlight.
‘X’ marks the spot. That was where Luffy found the One Piece.
Law had laughed. He really laughed—belly hurting, an almost floor-rolling worthy guffaw. He dragged his hand down his face, wiping a stray tear, and sighed. When he opened his eyes, he found Luffy, surrounded by friends. There were arms thrown around him in a tangled mess, and there was yelling and crying. Luffy just stood there, though, and in his hands were lavish gold necklaces and charms. His head was turned, and he was looking at Law with a lopsided smile, and the gold had slowly slipped from his grip, onto the sand.
It was on Laugh Tale when Luffy asked to talk. Law immediately knew something was wrong.
He led them to a cliff. The grass had swayed in the wind, and they were surrounded by nothing but the sea. Satisfied with the location, Law turned to face Luffy, who had been following him with an idle hum. A cold breeze blew, bringing a slight blush to Luffy’s cheeks. His grip on Kikoku tightened and he waited.
“I’m on borrowed time,” Luffy spoke into the wind.
Law frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Luffy laughed, almost hysterical.
A wave crashed into the cliff. It seemed so distant, miles away, and yet Law felt the spray on his cheek. A stick broke under his foot as he stepped forward automatically, naturally, with Kikoku already unsheathed.
He pointed the sword under Luffy’s chin. His steady hand wavered. “Mugiwara-ya, I don’t like games.”
Luffy raised his hands in surrender, head tilted slightly. The smile never left his face. “This isn’t one.”
Law’s nose scrunched, and he growled. “Then I’ll do it.” He pressed the blade further, drawing a thin line of blood. With his free hand, he pulled down the brim of his hat. “I’m serious.”
There was a beat, then—“The strong choose how they die, isn’t that what you said?”
Law laughed helplessly, his grip on Kikoku weakening. It fell with a dull thud, disappearing into the grass. “Something like that.”
Luffy breathed. “I’m strong,” he declared, arms crossed over his inflated chest.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again, and into the wind—“I know you are.”
Luffy bent down to a knee, picked up Kikoku, and tossed it into the air. Law watched its perfect arc, the blade reflecting the sky, the sea, the forest. Luffy and Law. Law and Luffy. Luffy. The sun. It landed in his outstretched palm. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, steady and true.
“Then pick up your sword.”
There’s a child’s voice. It's quiet, but it carries across the silent crowd. It asks: “Is it real? The One Piece?”
Black hair flits in the wind as he raises his head, and a smile emerges that rivals the sun. “You betcha!”
That’s when it happens. The marines had learnt from Loguetown and Marineford, but that doesn’t stop the excited whispers erupting from the crowd.
Law sees it in slow motion. The blades driving down, Bepo yelling, some mountain bandits breaking through the crowd and into the corridor, Zoro’s blades glinting, and Usopp’s weapon drawn taut. He can hear Nami crying. Hands are sprouting from the ground, incapacitating the guarding marines. Fires break out, and then there’s more. A whole fleet. Columns of water shoot up, and there’s a blade and ice and a growing reindeer, and he can hear a laser beginning to shoot. Marines draw their weapons, and he sees some of them hesitating. Smoker turns away.
Law finds his own hand thrown up, a small blue sphere bubbling into existence. He can reach there in time. He knows. All he needs is—
When he looks up, Law is pinned by Luffy’s eyes, by his smile.
“You can have it. You can have it all, if you find it.” Luffy’s grin widens, eyes bright. "Just don’t let it go out!"
The fire crackled, sending embers flying up into the sky and into the stars. Drums were playing in the distance. Law met Luffy’s gaze.
There was a silent question. Will you?
“No,” he answered. “I won’t either."
It’s a twinkling little thing, Luffy’s laugh. The fire dances in time.
The growing sphere shrinks into nothing. Luffy’s still looking at him, something soft. There’s still that stupid grin. The blades make contact, slicing the twine that tethers the straw hat to his neck. It flies off into the wind, above the crowd and into the sea, far, far away.
“Tch.” Law turns away, pulling down the brim of his hat.