Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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They left Vergo in the SAD room, closing the doors on his fruitless rambling.

Good riddance to bad rubbish. Smoker was still smarting over how someone like Vergo had managed to fool them all.

“Was that justice?” Law was looking at him sideways, that tawny gaze sharp as ever as they turned to leave.

No, justice would have been taking Vergo in–all the pieces of him that they could find–and wasting a lot of time court-marshalling him. The traitor was not worth the effort in Smoker’s mind. Leaving him to die in a fiery explosion was very obviously personal. For both of them.

One more thing he knew about the enigma that was Trafalgar Law.

He had seen Trafalgar Law only once before—roughly a year ago when he had been promoted and there had been the usual pompous ceremony at HQ. Smoker had thought about skipping it but went through with it in the end. His men needed to see New Marineford and the shiny apparatus of the militant arm of the World Government grinding away after all the shit that went down in the Summit War.

A bunch of new buildings and shiny coat buttons on the newly promoted marines were not enough to sway Smoker. They had inducted Law as the new Warlord right after Sengoku passed the baton to Akainu and that was proof in his eyes that the corruption still remained. Working with pirates compromised everything he actually valued about the Navy.

Which was a list that was gradually shortening by the minute.

They had accepted Vergo—that bastard had been his base commander. Turning a blind eye to reports of missing children just to facilitate that sicko’s experiments so that they could have a steady supply of drugs to sell to an Emperor. No-one in their right minds would entrust a child to Vergo but he had evidence now that Law had encountered that fucker when he was younger.

Smoker had seen Law’s face when he fought Vergo. Sliced him into pieces despite Doflamingo’s inane ranting via snail. There was a history there that Smoker was not privy to. If what Vergo and Doflamingo had been implying was true–and Smoker’s instincts were already screaming–Law had a reason to want Vergo dead.

He still gave his unlikely ally an out though.

“You’re a Warlord–it’s your job to deal with pirates,” Smoker growled. And Vergo had been a pirate first, he had to remember that.

“Not gonna be a Warloard once you make your report,” Law observed, a spark of malicious humour creeping into his normally humourless mein.

It was absurd that Smoker did not feel his usual aversion to pirates whenever Straw Hat appeared. Doubly so when this pirate with his unclear motives did not set off his alarms. A hundred still-beating hearts, Smoker reminded himself. A hundred and one if he had not made a deal to get his heart back.

“I am already behind on paperwork,” Smoker ground out as he fished out two new cigars.

But it was partially true and what with having to deal with the injured and taking the children off this icy rock, it would be a while before he could write a full report or even call HQ. If he could find a snail large enough to call HQ at this rate.

“I don’t even have a base commander to report to.” At least one very convenient excuse had emerged out of this shit show. Smoker did not state the obvious—in Vergo’s absence, he was base commander by default.

“Well sorry for messing up your precious processes of justice,” Law said, not actually sounding sorry at all. “You don’t have a reputation for following orders from your superiors though.”

Smoke had to snort at that as he picked up the pace. They still had to get out of this death trap.

In the end, Smoker was not very sorry about how things turned out with Vergo either.

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It had been a long journey by naval standards. First, they had to bring the children to the nearest marine base—which was G-5–and then there was the small matter of the base commander being MIA.

Smoker and Tashigi had tacitly agreed never to reveal the truth to the men—one more thing Vergo had to atone for. Not that there was much of him left after the SAD manufacturing plant blew up. Probably not even a hand left to scribble out a hasty note of farewell and something about younger sisters in need of care. It made him sick that he had to lie by omission to protect morale and cover up the scandal. Nausea did not even cover what he felt about indirectly protecting Vergo’s reputation.

But the knowledge that that snake was dead was enough for him to keep his mouth shut and his reports brief.

Justice would have been to drag the traitor back in chains. But it hadn’t been naval justice that ruled that day.

Oh, and Smoker was well out of commission after Doflamingo almost sliced him into ribbons. As the next highest ranking officer, Tashigi managed as best she could, but the thing about G-5 was that it was very badly equipped to handle a bunch of abnormally large kids even when the men were cooperating for the sake of the children.

It had been a fight and a half to get himself discharged after a week of enforced bed rest. The medics had their revenge though—light duties for a month. Which hardly sat well with him even as he stubbornly recuperated aboard the same ship taking the kids to Vegapunk while still sporting an alarming number of bandages.

And that was after Tashigi had got in contact with all the parents based on the missing persons files. The kids had tearful reunions via snail, which meant that they had to get them cured before they could go back to their parents.

That was the right thing to do after letting Vergo creep into the ranks. It was the only thing he could be sure of on the voyage, which lasted longer than expected because no training had ever taught any marine about how much food giant children consumed. They had to stop every three days to resupply and Smoker took a certain savage satisfaction at putting everything on the Navy’s tab.

Withdrawal symptoms aside, the kids were mostly cooperative. Which made it easier when they were rerouted to G-14, where Vegapunk had allegedly come up with a medical regime to get them all back to their correct sizes.

It still counted as “light duty” and the marines of G-14 were far more tolerable than most. No, it was everything else that was frustrating the hell out of him.

After a month of practically frothing at the mouth while the foundations of the world shook and everyone had been shocked at the news from Dressrosa, Whole Cake Island and Wano, Smoker had almost launched his ship out of the dock single-handedly using the first flimsy pretext he could find.

A distress call had come in. It was a general distress call and not directed at the marine presence in the area. A small community not usually prone to reaching out to the World Government authorities had asked for help. Any help.

There had been a report of something in the forest. Some beast or creature that had been sighted dragging what looked like a human body. The normally independent settlement would have handled it themselves except that they were recovering from a bad storm that had taken out a number of their most able-bodied villagers.

Now that sort of thing was usually farmed out to some junior captain or commodore to settle, but Smoker had called in to say that he would handle it.

It had been the way the news had been relayed along to the ships in the area that had made him do it. This dinky settlement out in the middle of a small archipelago, of no importance except that it was a two-day voyage away from Hachinosu and had enough anchorage points for a flotilla of warships. The strategists back at HQ had it earmarked as a staging point in case hostilities broke out with Blackbeard’s wannabe country full of pirates.

That fact alone had Smoker making it his business. If people needed help, they did not have to be located strategically for the Navy to intervene. And if he happened to go a little further along, in the approximate direction of Blackbeard’s domain . . . Well, pirates were pirates and marines did not negotiate with pirates. Not anymore anyway. One good thing had emerged from the Reverie at least.

Granted, SWORD was not under anyone’s jurisdiction and no-one was obligated to go help them, but Smoker was not unaware of the implications of marines going up against an Emperor. It was also starting to look like a valid career option at this point.

If the upcoming shit show that the top brass were desperately trying to stop actually happened, they might get desperate enough to promote him again. And he had been trying so hard to do a Garp without actually attracting that much attention. The mess at Punk Hazard should have bought him some time, but one never knew with the current Fleet Admiral. Sengoku at least had the good sense to never put him down for duties like babysitting attendees at the Reverie or required him to actually obey commands from World Nobles.

Regardless of what HQ thought, things were coming to a head fast.

Smoker had not been surprised by the outcome in Wano. No-one should have been. Straw Hat Luffy and his crew were a mobile catastrophe waiting to happen to any island in their way. Toppling the ruling powers of three countries consecutively while taking down a Warlord and two Emperors was probably just incidental to whatever halfcocked scheme they were enacting.

Scheme? No, that was giving the kid too much credit—Straw Hat had no plans, unless they were drawn in crayon and featuring mostly stick figures. And the goal of becoming King of the Pirates written in all caps, probably with several exclamation points tacked on.

(Funny how that goal did not seem so far out of reach now that the Navy had designated him an Emperor based entirely on how much trouble he could cause. Which was a lot, Smoker could attest to.)

Now Trafalgar Law, that was a pirate with fingers in several schemes. Running with the Straw Hat Crew probably derailed those plans somewhat, but he had done what he had set out to accomplish. Mostly successfully, if Smoker was any judge.

He only wished that he could stop trying to scan the news for mention of that one particular pirate. But Smoker had read every single memo from Headquarters about everything that had occurred from Dressrosa all the way to Wano just to keep tabs on Straw Hat and Trafalgar Law’s name always popped out despite his best efforts.

Now without news of either pirate, Smoker was desperate to do something. Even sail out to respond to a distress call from a place that might not welcome marine interference.

They made good time to the small archipelago and it was everything the reports said it was—isolated, shallow water in between islands and deeper water on the outer coasts, populated mainly by fishermen and farmers. Near the Calm Belt but not quite there yet. They probably had to be tough to eke out a living in New World waters without direct protection from an Emperor.

Smoker directed the launch to dock at the harbour of the main settlement of Pol on the largest island of Sula and took a small patrol out himself. The men needed the experience—and by that he meant handling the small population of islanders instead of being a bunch of trigger-happy morons. And these were G-5 marines he was trying to train up so that they could avoid excessive complaints of brutality.

It had been an uphill task so far. G-5 generally got sent marines who were approximately one or two steps away from becoming pirates. But their hearts were in the right place—probably.

G-5 aside, the marines that basic training turned out these days were shockingly unused to de-escalation, which was symptomatic of other problems Smoker could not help but notice post-Marineford. A calm, rational group of largely ordinary people could turn into an angry mob at the drop of a hat–he had witnessed enough of that in Alabasta. They might actually need this island archipelago for a staging point if everything went to hell in a handbasket later on, but that was not Smoker’s main priority.

The leader of the fishing hamlet met them at the largest dock available—barely enough for a trading vessel. She did not look very pleased to see their uniforms, but Smoker had brought his medic along and she was hard pressed to kick them out. Smoker noted the presence of several fishing boats that looked like they had been through a wood chipper—the storm had done a lot of damage.

Headwoman Ardana was naturally stoic and uncooperative towards authorities like the World Government, but she was practical enough to bring them to the communal building that was currently serving double duty as a hospice for the wounded. The only physician in the village was an old lady who also served as a midwife and she was pretty overworked from what Smoker could see.

Once his medic and his assistant appeared to be actually doing their jobs, the Headwoman tackled her other problem, tersely explaining to Smoker that she had not seen whatever it was in the woods, but he could check with the witnesses.

The inhabitants of this collection of small wooden houses were the descendants of people who had decided that they did not like paying taxes to their rulers, counting amongst their number other political exiles and criminals who had chosen to retire somewhere peaceful. A marine Vice-Admiral would have better luck squeezing water from a stone than getting anything useful out of them.

Not that Smoker had the patience for that sort of thing—he had junior officers he was looking to promote eventually. So he had the less rough-looking ones who knew how to smile and charm old grannies questioning potential witnesses before making a show of marching out in roughly the direction of where the sighting had occurred.

The villagers still kept their children indoors when they marched through—and that did hurt because it spoke volumes about what they thought about the Navy in these parts.

Once clear of the settlement and the none-too-friendly eyes, Smoker had his men fan out quietly. The details had been scant as usual, so they would have to do a systematic search..

He knew a little about forests and animals—a little more than the town kid he had been before he joined up—and that was the fact that most creatures were drawn to water sources eventually. Finding a river or a stream would be his best bet.

He was prepared to vaporise to cover a greater area when he heard the rushing of water when his haki alerted him to the presence of two sentient individuals nearby. One very familiar to him.

Dispersing into smoke, he drifted past the last few trees before the forest gave way to where a river fed the rocky shallows under an embankment with a small cave. A polar bear was the last creature he would have expected on this island, but a polar bear supporting a human with very distinctive tattoos in the knee-deep water managed to render him temporarily speechless.

“—but Captain,” The bear had a voice that was at odds with its size. A Mink then. Obviously in bad shape and wearing the torn remains of a boiler suit with a Jolly Roger that Smoker instantly recognised. “The water’s too cold! For humans!”

“I-I can tell, but g-gotta try to wash the sea off . . .” A women’s voice—unfamiliar. But that accent was known to him.

Smoker’s haki was telling him that Trafalgar Law was right in front of him. His eyes were trying to reconcile that with the woman who was rapidly turning blue as she tried to submerge herself in the shallows.

Well, they were in a particular part of the New World after all. Smoker had seen some fairly crazy shit out here, but this did take the cake.

“We should find shelter and something for bandages first,” the bear whined. “A few hours rest will probably get you back to normal!”

“Bepo, I need to be able to—“

“Still stubborn, I see.” Smoker materialised because he hated to see idiocy in normally smart people. Or so he told himself. “You’re going to freeze first, Law.”

A hissed curse and the woman who was definitely Trafalgar Law straightened up, over-balanced and fell backwards as the polar bear Mink let go out of shock.

He almost rushed in to fish the bedraggled pirate out of the water but the bear had moved faster, snatching his captain up and snarling in an unsubtle way.

“Bepo, c-calm down,” Law managed to mumble into one furry ear. “If Smoker here wanted to take advantage of the element of surprise, he would have already.”

Smoker snorted, jerking his chin at the bank. “You didn’t even sense me—how badly injured are you?”

“F-fuck if I know,” Law retorted as the Mink hauled him bodily out of the river. “I don’t suppose you could just look the other way while we get off this—“

“Can it.” Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Smoker shrugged off his coat and shoved it into Law’s shaking hands. Explanations could wait. “You’re not going to be able to get far in that state. Stay put—I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Smoker—“

He ignored the oddness of that voice using his name and sped off, using a stray breeze to help him along.

Smoker always preferred action over lengthy speeches. Which was why it was so much easier to go back to his men, order them to set up a temporary command post and squirrel away a number of supplies instead of asking himself what the fuck he was doing.

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Chapter Text

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Punk Hazard had been both a disaster and a victory. They had saved the children and captured a dangerous weapons inventor. They had discovered a traitor in the ranks and dealt with him.

But Smoker had allied himself with pirates again. Not just Straw Hat this time, but with the notorious Trafalgar Law. The Surgeon of Death—who thought up those melodramatic titles anyway?

That was still a disaster in Smoker’s book. He was also starting to notice the pattern of Straw Hat stumbling into conspiracies and uncovering Warlord misbehaviour in addition to starting all out wars. The fact that his beliefs were shaken with each meeting was something he was loath to admit to.

Perhaps that was why he had pursued Law, fully intent on pestering him about why he had revealed his next destination despite being closed-mouthed about everything else.

“You’re nosy,” Law complained, folding his arms and leaning against the metal wall of the hold. The walls of the tanker partially muted the noise of children partying with both pirates and marines. Smoker had not had the heart to tell them to stop.

“And you’re suspicious,” Smoker retorted. “What are you planning to do with Caesar?”

“If you really wanted to know, you should have bothered Straw Hat.” That intelligent yellow gaze sharpened, boring into Smoker’s face from an uncomfortably close remove. “You know he can’t lie to save his life.”

“As if you would tell him anything important!” It was also highly unlikely that the kid would remember any key details. Smoker’s pursuit of the Straw Hat Crew had taught him a lot about their madcap captain—it did not explain how they had survived so long.

“Oh right, you actually have a brain,” Law said with a chuckle. This was a facade–Smoker was suddenly certain of it.

A hundred still-beating hearts. A score of kids who had the drugs cut out of them without a mark. None of it made any sense. Unless Law had been playing a long game since Marineford . . .

Smoker never felt this frustrated at a pirate except when Straw Hat was involved. “I have eyes, brat. You have something against Doflamingo.”

“And it’s none of your business, White Hunter,” Law sneered. But Smoker knew that he was close from the way Law’s shoulders tensed minutely.

“You’re on my turf, so I can make it my business.” Smoker meant to loom over the pirate, but doing so put his face almost a foot away from Law’s.

Intentions aside, he had not been prepared for what happened next.

At first, Smoker put it down to narrowly surviving death by an experimental weapon of mass destruction. If pressed to recall what had happened, he could not confirm who had moved first, except that they probably had the same idea.

It was probably a bad idea. But Smoker was not thinking about that when he was kissing Trafalgar Law, pressing him back against the metal walls of the hold. He was just vaguely surprised when Law gave as good as he got.

The gentle thunk of the nodachi being leaned against the wall barely registered. What did register was Law’s hands gripping the lapels of his coat as they collided in a battle of tongues and teeth.

When they finally came up for air, the fleetingly perplexed expression on Law’s face told Smoker that this was not part of his plans, nor was this a last ditch attempt at distracting him. But that did not stop Law from tugging Smoker down again. Inadvisable as it was, Smoker let himself be guided.

(In retrospect, Smoker would eventually realise that Law was going to Dressrosa fully prepared to take down Doflamingo or die trying. A solitary fumble with a marine would not slow him down.)

Perhaps Smoker thought that the inexplicable pull might fade if he indulged in the soft skin of Law’s neck as he pulled aside the high collar of that coat. If he made Law moan while carefully sucking a bruise into the skin above his collarbone while nimble fingers clutched at his neck and head.

The taste of his skin was addicting. So much so that Smoker nipped experimentally at the base of Law’s neck. The gasp it produced prompted him to do it again higher up just to hear it again.

But it was not enough. He wanted to explore what was under that long coat but the hold of the tanker was far too cold and lacking in any amenities for what they seemed to be heading for. While Smoker was fine with the temperature because of his power, Law could not shed his layers.

With a frustrated grunt, Law pressed closer, bracing his hands against Smoker’s chest, his hips all but grinding against his uniform pants.

They should stop. Logically speaking, Smoker knew that this was the wrong place, the wrong time and probably the wrong person, but logic went clear out the window when he felt the hard length against his thigh through several layers of clothing.

It was hardly ideal, but Smoker backed himself towards the nearest wooden crate, his hands all but carrying Law by the waist.

Law caught on quickly enough, hiking his coat up and swinging his legs up so that he was seated on Smoker’s lap as he settled down on the crate.

“I didn’t think you would be into pirates.” Flushed and obviously hard, Law nonetheless was back to being a snarky little shit. His hands lingered for a moment on Smoker’s chest before settling around his shoulders.

“Pirate? I just see some kid in over their head.” Smoker was not above giving as good as he got. He was also starting to miss Law’s hands, chilly as they were.

Law glared at him from under the brim of his hat. “Oh yeah? If it wasn’t freezing in he—”

“I didn’t mean that,” Smoker sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead against Law’s. “You’re trying to mess with a Warlord.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” The fleeting trepidation that flashed through that tawny gaze gave him away. But Smoker was distracted when Law tightened his hold around his neck. “Now are we doing this or not?”

Smoker stared at the pirate in his lap, struggling in the grip of too many confusing emotions. He wound up coaxing Law’s chin up and the kiss this time was slower and oddly tender.

But Law’s restless shifting on his lap reminded him of his own trapped erection. He had never daydreamed about entertaining a lover, but humping in the dusty hold of a tanker was not exactly the stuff of pleasant fantasies.

It was not even gentle, what with the grip Smoker had on Law’s hips and the frankly obscene way Law was straddling his thighs, strong fingers digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his jacket. But this was apparently not a detriment to their mutual desire. Law rubbing against him like a cat in heat was just that erotic, driving Smoker to bury his face against his neck to try to warm up that chilly expanse of skin.

The noises that Law made were unmistakably encouraging.

While Smoker was exploring the other collarbone he had not marked yet, Law reached between them to fumble at his coat, opening it up enough to reach the fastenings of his jeans.

Unable to look away, Smoker drew back to watch Law as he heaved a sigh of relief after wrangling his erection out of his jeans. In the dim light of the hold, the gleam of wetness told him that Law was practically dripping. Smoker tried not to think about getting his mouth on him and failed. If he was not using both hands to support Law, Smoker would have tried to get his belt open. But Law was almost one step ahead of him.

Pausing for a moment with his hand on Smoker’s belt buckle, Law looked up at him clearly seeking consent. Almost breathless with anticipation, Smoker managed to nod, surprised by the fact that the pirate actually had manners.

Deft fingers made quick work of his belt buckle and zipper. Despite his eagerness, Law was trying to be gentle even when he encountered the additional barrier of his boxers. Smoker did jump a little as Law’s hands were still cold, but that minor discomfort was swept aside as Law gave an experimental stroke.

The unsubtle way Law looked at Smoker’s dick was making him regret not having lubrication and a more comfortable place to put that lubricant to use.

As it was a bit too late for that, all Smoker could do was support Law’s weight as he used both hands to bring their erections together, smearing the precome over them. Those nimble fingers created a cocoon around them both and Law started to move his hands.

The sensation alone made him groan against Law’s neck, sliding his gloved hands down to grip Law’s ass. His breathing grew ragged as Law’s hands tightened fractionally in response.

Smoker had been in the navy for half his life and this was not his first furtive hand job in an empty hold. But he had never tried it with a pirate, especially not a pirate who was nudging his jaw, trying to get Smoker to kiss him again.

He had to oblige, especially when confronted with Law’s flushed face and his invitingly parted lips. The moan that Smoker felt more than heard went straight to his dick. Feeling him twitch in his grip made Law lose his rhythm for a moment but he picked up the pace, pressing closer, working his thumb over the head of Smoker’s cock.

“‘M close,” Law managed to gasp in his ear when they had to stop trying to break the record for how deep their tongues could reach. And that just made Smoker hold him tighter as Law’s impending orgasm built up.

He felt Law tense up and buried his face in the exposed skin of his neck, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

Law jerked in his grasp, his hands suddenly stilling. Smoker felt rather than saw Law’s orgasm as the pirate buried his cry in the tasselled epaulette of his coat and a warm liquid splatter coated the exposed skin of his abdomen.

This was not something they could reveal to anyone outside, but Smoker was somewhat put out because he had not heard or seen Law’s climax.

He did not have time to grouse about it because Law took a deep breath and started moving his hands again, this time focusing on Smoker alone.

It was true that someone else’s hand felt different and Law seems to be intent on figuring out how to make Smoker come undone.

Being the focus of that attention was terrible for Smoker’s self-control. So he let himself indulge when he was close, coaxing another kiss from Law. Far from objecting, Law reciprocated, humming contentedly against Smoker’s lips.

It was enough to send Smoker over the edge. His mind went blank as he spilled all over Law’s clever fingers, momentarily lost in the sensation. Enough to make him forget just what sort of situation they were both in.

“We’re gonna be missed soon,” Law muttered in Smoker’s ear after a peaceful interval where they had not moved, temporarily satisfied and content to just stay in the moment. Some intangible bubble in which the fact that Smoker was a marine and Law was a pirate did not matter.

Reality intruded quickly enough.

“It’s not like Straw Hat’s gonna look up from the food to notice,” Smoker grumbled. But he sat up reluctantly, already feeling the post-coital lassitude slipping away. More observant members of the pirates and marines would definitely notice—especially if they looked like they had been knocking boots in a musty hold, injuries and scuffed clothing aside.

Climbing off his lap, Law looked at the mess smeared on his hands and coat and scowled. Before Smoker could say anything, Law had summoned his Room.

“Oi,” Smoker began but the odd sensation faded as quickly as it came. Glancing down, he noticed that his pants and abdomen were clean and free of any residue. The evidence of their tryst was gone. As though it never happened.

That sat ill with Smoker. “Give some warning first,” he growled while fastening his belt.

“It’s faster—and it’s not like I use it for cleaning often,” Law stated calmly. “Would have Shambled in a mattress—except there aren’t any onboard.”

“You looked?” Smoker’s brows rose up even as he realised that he was not the only one thinking about it.

“For lubricants as well,” Law said with a shrug. “Engine grease wasn’t quite what I was looking for.”

Smoker had been in that sort of situation before and knew that saliva was a terrible substitute as well. But he was still slightly put out about the lost opportunity. Law took his silence as astonishment at his brazenness.

“Immoral pirate, remember?” The smirk was back. Smoker really wanted to kiss that smug face until he could see what Law looked like when he was close to being undone.

“Still a brat jumping headfirst into the shark tank.” Cursing his own traitorous thoughts, Smoker blew out a breath irritably and reached for his cigars. “And I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with the Straw Hats.”

“It’s just a temporary alliance. Who knows if we wind up betraying each other?”

Pirates had codes of their own, Smoker knew. And they adhered to them about as much as the marines did—which was whenever was convenient for them.

Some of his thoughts were obviously showing on his face, because Law made a show of straightening his coat before saying, “Worried about a bunch of pirates, White Hunter?”

Smoker deliberately took his time lighting his cigars, trying not to think about how he preferred Law using his actual name. “More worried about what I let loose on the Grand Line.”

“You did it before, didn’t you?” Law’s expression was suddenly alight with curiosity. “You met Straw Hat before and you worked together.”

The sound of his teeth grinding down on the hapless cigars was audible in the silent hold. “I let him and his crew escape.”

It still rankled. To this very day, he could never shake the feeling that he had let them off in Alabasta by choice rather than just repaying a debt.

“And you’re doing it again.” Law was amused by this, but the genuine humour in his eyes was a strange balm on Smoker’s battered ego. “I’m shocked you never considered going back on your word. His bounty is higher now. And you’re still letting us go with Caesar of all people?”

Oh Smoker had a while to think about it. Caesar Clown and his dangerous knowledge of how to destroy entire islands in an exceptionally horrible way. In the hands of the World Government. He would rather have pirates conveniently lose the bastard somewhere in the New World than trust in justice to deliver him to the depths of Impel Down. Or the swift end that Caesar might not actually deserve. An unknown number had died for his twisted experiments.

His men had almost met the same fate.

What he was choosing to do now, letting them take Caesar . . . Law did not know the half of it.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going after Straw Hat after sending the children for treatment,” Smoker grumbled around a mouthful of smoke.

“You’re a terrible marine, White Hunter,” Law said knowingly before Smoker could add him to the list.

Unfortunately Smoker knew that all too well.

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Subterfuge was not his strong suit but the Navy had to be seen to do something. Smoker set up more patrols to the other side of the village and headed out with his purloined supplies as his men scrambled to obey. They were used to him going off on his own at all hours—a habit he had cultivated early to avoid questions and people trying to find him at inconvenient times.

But the noise of an altercation drew his attention to the makeshift hospice before he could leave the village proper. His medic and the rather wet-behind-the-ears assistant were facing off with the Headwoman and the old midwife.

“It’s the only option! The limbs will rot and gangrene will spread! Amputation is required!” The medic, Doctor Galway, was a veteran of the seas and a surgeon with many years of experience. He was probably telling the truth, but no-one liked hearing about the need for amputation.

“No surgery without consent,” the Headwoman stated firmly. The assistant, Blenkins, hid behind Galway in the face of her towering disapproval.

“But there’s not much time left!” Doc Galway was a man of few words and he hated arguing with patients. Dealing with the families of patients was well out of his wheelhouse.

“That might be so, but we’ll ask the families first.” The old midwife was even more adamant despite her age.

Smoker had to step in. Physically because Doc Galway looked like he wanted to keep going.

“That’s enough. We’ll not interfere if they don’t want your services,” Smoker said pointedly as he inserted himself between the two parties. Blenkins looked both grateful and about to faint. He needed more seasoning if he was going to survive G-5 and the Grand Line.

“Vice Admiral!” Galway protested.

“They’ll decide,” Smoker sighed as he ushered Galway and Blenkins away. “It’s someone’s livelihood on the line.”

Out here, losing a limb meant that a fisherman was pretty much unable to work. A sailor might be able to continue on with a peg leg or wooden arm, but it was never easy. The veterans in the Navy were lucky to come out of it with most of their limbs attached and Smoker had seen what had happened to those who had not. It still shook him to the core whenever he remembered the eyes of men who still grasped at their phantom appendages

“Some of them might lose their lives if the wound fever progresses,” Galway muttered darkly. The man was a decent medic, but had no real bedside manner—perfect for G-5 but not so great outside the base.

“That’s their call.” It was stupid to delay when lives were on the line, but Smoker did not want to be in the Headwoman’s shoes right now. Being responsible for all those lives was something Smoker already did every day and he trusted Galway’s judgement most of the time.

“Just do whatever you can, Doc.” Having to bolster the morale of his medic and his assistant was not something Smoker had to do often, nor was it his forte. Little wonder the marines of G-5 had wound up being friendly with the Straw Hats.

Warning the nearest sergeant to keep an eye on the situation, Smoker made haste and disappeared into the forest the moment he was out of sight of the village.

It was easier to find them now that he knew where the river was. They were ensconced at the back of the small cave, well out of sight, when he returned with the field tent, blankets and first aid kit.

The white bear eyed him warily for a moment before looking over the supplies. “Oh good,” the Mink said in that high-pitched voice that reminded Smoker more of a beagle than a polar bear. “I can clean the superficial wounds up and bandage them. You can help, if you want.”

This seemed perfectly reasonable until the bear unfurled a sleeping Law from his coat, laid him down on said coat and started to take his clothes off.

Smoker almost swallowed his cigars when he realised that Law without his tank top on now was not the same as Law without his tank top on then.

He knew Law had a chest piece. Everyone who read the news knew about his tattoos. But now those bold black lines arced across the curves of a pair of perky breasts.

The last time Smoker had been in the proximity of a semi-naked torso with breasts was on Punk Hazard. Tashigi had Words with him about that Thing on Punk Hazard. While he was laid up in a hospital bed and unable to escape the very heartfelt tirade she unleashed on him.

“Now I know you had no bad intentions at all, and that you were just as uncomfortable being in my body as I was in yours, but it was still very shocking to have my superior officer tearing off my bra,” she said, fists clenched and red in the face from a combination of mortification and determination. “Inappropriate even.”

Smoker was not dense despite his outwardly callous exterior. He knew that buying her a new bra was not what he should offer at that point. So he had listened. And made no comment until she was done. He had no ill intentions, true enough, but he still apologised to her as she stood there trembling in anticipation of anything but that.

So it should not matter that Law was currently like this at the moment. He was injured and in need of the objective attention that the Mink was giving him. Smoker was fairly good at field dressing after so long in service, so he focused on cleaning the dried blood off bruised skin. Nothing seemed to be broken as the Mink examined each limb with professional expertise, large paws putting just enough pressure to check for swelling and unevenness.

The bear declared that they had checked earlier and everything had been mostly okay. Smoker just wished that he had not added the worrying caveat that he did not know if there were internal injuries.

Smoker still had to remove himself with the mumbled excuse of fetching clean water when Bepo made to peel off Law’s jeans. Pirate or not, there was still something wrong with seeing someone stripped of their dignity while laid low and unconscious. No matter their sex.

After that, he went to collect dry branches that could be used to build a small fire. The cave curved a bit at the end so there was little risk of the light being seen or of a stray breeze putting the fire out. Starting the fire in a shallow hollow in the ground took long enough for the Mink—Bepo—to finish with the bandaging and he tucked Law under the blankets atop the tent canvas before taking care of his own wounds. Smoker’s height meant that he had no problems helping to sterilise the scraps and cuts all over the bear’s hide.

The Mink’s tongue loosened considerably during his ministrations and Smoker learned just what had occurred after the Heart Pirates left Wano.

Blackbeard was turning out to be the most dangerous of the Emperors. His crew had been amassing Devil Fruits, some of them even had two now. And the mythical treasure of Gol D. Roger was looking more real if every pirate was harrying after some map no-one except perhaps Nico Robin could read. Piecing all that together with what had happened to Eustass Kid’s crew left only Straw Hat Luffy’s whereabouts unaccounted for. The fate of Law’s crew remained up in the air and that was probably Law’s greatest concern at the moment.

“So I swam and swam until I found land,” Bepo squeaked around a mouthful of jerky from the ration packs. He probably needed more food after swimming in open water for so long. “Captain’s been unable to use his powers.”

Smoker had to suppress a shudder. Any Devil Fruit user would be weakened after being submerged in the ocean for almost two days while being towed by a polar bear. He had been there before—the insistent pull of the water around him, promising only death in the depths for the crime of eating a Devil Fruit. In those seconds that had stretched into eternity, all Smoker could do was drown. But that was before Roronoa Zoro had hauled him out and he wound up indebted to a pirate.

“He needs to rest,” Bepo whined worriedly. “I think Blackbeard did something to him!”

Blackbeard’s powers were nothing to scoff at, that much Smoker was aware of. What he had done at Marineford had frightened pirates and marine alike. Something to do with stripping the abilities of a Devil Fruit user.

Thankfully Bepo had the common sense and self-preservation to get Law as far away from Teach’s claws as possible. How Blackbeard extracted Devil Fruits from their users involved their death as far as anyone in the Navy knew.

Without his frankly overpowered Devil Fruit abilities, Law would have been a sitting duck.

The very thought of Law meeting his end at Teach’s hands made Smoker’s gut clench. But he had survived to deny Blackbeard another potential tool. In the wrong hands, that power could do more harm than one hundred still-beating pirate hearts. It still did not explain Law’s current predicament.

“What do you call this then?” Smoker nodded at the prone shape of the pirate captain—a former Warlord of the Sea.

“That was some other Devil Fruit power! But the captain defeated the disease before!”

“The captain would like to reassess everything,” Law said groggily from under the blankets.

Bepo flailed and rushed to help Law as he struggled to sit up while still cocooned in fabric. Tired yellow pupils darted back and forth, noticed Smoker and widened in surprise. “You’re still here . . . And you’re not a woman so this pathogen is no longer contagious.”

“I’m not a girl either,” Bepo declared, reminding Smoker about the more bizarre parts of his tale. “You probably weren’t contagious two days ago.”

“Right,” Law muttered, slumping against the Mink’s side. “So maybe a mutation, if Devil Fruit spawned diseases can actually mutate—“

“You should be resting,” Smoker said, too distracted by how out of it all Law was to hide his concern.

“I can still think,” Law retorted wearily. “I can probably nullify the pathogen with enough haki—“

“Which you can’t do right now,” Smoker finished. He passed over the canteen of water, changed his mind and poured the liquid out into the attached cup. Bepo took over and supported Law as he made a stab at drinking it.

“I am well served by nursemaids,” Law muttered acerbically after he had drained the cup. “Bepo, you should eat more—you swam for two days.

“I ate a lot,” Bepo said, looking sheepishly at the pile of discarded ration wrappers. They had a mess tin of rehydrated soup going on the fire as well.

Law frowned at the rations. “Not enough protein.”

“He can fish—there are fish in the river.” Smoker wanted to avoid questions and trying to buy a whole day’s catch of fish in the village would have raised some eyebrows. “You should eat.”

The Mink backed him up and Law was bullied into drinking the soup. He did complain about the taste though. “Even your rations are shitty,” Law said as he made a face over the edge of the mess tin.

Smoker knew that—which was why he seldom consumed them even when he was out on manoeuvres. But they allegedly had enough nutrients to keep a body going in an easily digestible form. Law was probably dehydrated and they had gone without food for two days—solid food would not serve him well now.

Unsurprisingly, Bepo fell asleep sitting up just after Law finished. Smoker tried not to gawk too openly at the almost gentle expression on Law’s face as he wrangled the bear down onto his side at his request.

But the peaceful moment was short lived when Law turned his sharp gaze onto Smoker. “Why are you still here?” he demanded.

Because he wanted to make sure Law was alive.

“I was responding to a distress call. Turned out to be a bunch of villagers spooked after a storm.” He nodded towards Bepo’s softly snoring bulk. “They thought he was a sea monster.”

“Hmmph,” Law grunted, seemingly offended on his bear’s behalf. “Bepo saved me. He’s my crew . . . You’re not turning me in? Three billion Berries not enough to tempt you?”

“What would I do with that money?” Smoker asked mildly. He had kept an eye out for information on Trafalgar Law, even contacting his peers working at HQ to sound them out. Trafalgar Law was a pirate of interest not only because he had allied himself with the Straw Hats. The rumour was that the higher-ups were interested in tracking him because of his Devil Fruit.

Knowing just what Law could do when he was at full strength, Smoker supposed that his Devil Fruit was desirable to all parties, pirate and marine alike. But he had an uneasy feeling about all this attention being directed Law’s way. There was something else beyond an exceptionally rare Devil Fruit . . .

“Oh yes, money cannot buy justice after all.” Law’s cat-like smile was different on this face and Smoker finally finally had to acknowledge that he was attractive as a woman.

Very attractive. Not that he had not been attractive in his original body, but Law’s face now was softer and less severe even after his ordeal.

“I suppose it can’t,” Smoker admitted, knowing full well the injustices committed with money and for money. Injustices committed by the people the marines were supposed to defend.

“You know why you frown so much?” Law said after a long moment spent staring at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “You know you’re on the wrong side and you’re just struggling to justify it to yourself.”

“I’m frowning because there’s an injured pirate on my coat,” Smoker growled, trying not to stare at those lips. He was not here to have his motives poked apart by that piercing gaze. Even if said gaze was now a large pair of gorgeous golden eyes farmed by long dark lashes.

“You let me have the coat,” Law pointed out. “You’re a terrible marine, letting your uniform go like that.”

“It was an emergency.” Smoker was used to this from Law—but the familiar back and forth lacked bite.

“And I thought you were just allergic to shirts,” Law mumbled, looking steadfastly at his face rather than his absence of a shirt.

“That’s enough. You should rest,” Smoker said, refusing to rise to the bait. It would be sunset in a few hours and he would have to go back to the village to show his face.

“This floor’s not that comfortable.” Smoker caught the slight shiver under the blanket as Law shifted about on top of his coat.

He was going to regret this. With a sigh, Smoker got up and moved over to Law’s makeshift bed of coat and tent canvas.

Law gave an undignified squawk as Smoker scooped him up, blanket and all. He settled back down when he realised that Smoker was arranging them so that he was lying closer to the fire pit. Law did not shrink away as Smoker spooned him from the back to keep him warm with his body heat.

“Better?” he asked when Law remained uncharacteristically silent.

The dark head in front of him nodded curtly but Smoker saw the slight reddening of Law’s ears and had to quash the sudden desire to bury his face in that soft hair.

They had been in a far more compromising position on Punk Hazard, but this felt far more intimate. It was all Smoker could do to keep his breathing even and his hands still as he listened to Law slowly but surely succumb to exhaustion.

As he was the only one awake, he had to stay on watch and the lumpy ground was great for keeping him up for all that he had slept in less comfortable conditions. Smoker’s back and neck started complaining past the first hour, but he remained motionless, using his haki to sweep the forest outside for any unwanted visitors.

During his watch, Law almost roused twice. All Smoker could do was hold the body that was twitching and mumbling unintelligibly in the grip of a nightmare, hoping that his presence could sooth Law. The second time it happened, Smoker spent a good ten minutes stroking Law’s hair, smoothing sweat-drenched strands away from his furrowed brow.

The nightmare eased off as the shadows lengthened, but Smoker did not drop his vigilance even when Law looked like he was sleeping normally. He was committing this moment to memory. Because he was never going to speak about this. Ever.

So engrossed was he in his watch that Smoker almost did not notice Bepo stirring awake. Beady black eyes blinked open and the bear let out a massive yawn.

There was an awkward instance when Smoker and the bear shared a long look over Law’s slumbering form.

Smoker reluctantly dissipated into vapour and relocated himself on the other side of the fire pit. “I need to go back,” he informed Bepo.

“All right. You did a good job getting him to sleep. He can be very stubborn—“ The Mink clapped a paw over his mouth as though he had said too much.

“I know. I’ll be back later with more food,” Smoker said and left before he could say anything more. Bepo’s reminder of “no bread” followed him out of the cave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Text

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was nothing much to say after they emerged from the hold—separately. Smoker chose to escape as vapour and drifted away to solidify further away from the tanker.

And he still did not know why Law had dropped that one hint about his next destination.

Adding the Straw Hats into the mix meant that there would be trouble—more than anything Law could anticipate. But he could not arrest them now after they had saved his men. He had tried to warn Law after all.

Stubborn pirates were the bane of his existence. Outside of paperwork.

When they had eaten and rested, Tashigi loaded the children onto the tanker while the G-5 marines made a hullabaloo and talked shit about the pirates that they were now apparently friends with. His men were not subtle and like a certain pirate captain, rescuing and feeding them went a long way towards earning their trust.

Smoker only caught glimpses of Trafalgar Law amidst the chaos of the tanker’s departure. Before he knew it, Straw Hat Luffy was waving at him from aboard his ship while the men of Unit 01 who were staying back to rescue their peers waved back enthusiastically.

He fancied he saw a familiar furry hat just behind the skeleton before the ship sailed into the chilly fog around the island. There was probably no need for goodbyes. Whatever it was that happened back there in the hold had no bearing on the present.

Or was there?

Fortunately for his restless thoughts, there was lots to do while waiting for their ride back to G-5. The affected pirates and marines needed to be saved. He needed to compose another bullshit report about how he had foiled Caesar’s horrible scheme, saved the kidnapped children and somehow let Trafalgar Law and the Straw Hat crew get away scot free after treating the kids to get rid of the drugs in their system. And a reindeer had discovered the cure for petrified pirates and marines alike.

Smoker was not at all knowledgeable about medical matters and he had a certain reputation for not knowing when to shut up and accept a promotion, but there was only so much incompetence HQ would accept from a Vice Admiral.

The very idea of that bogus report brought out the procrastinator in him. So he spent most of the wait supervising the combined marine and pirate rescue operations while thinking about how much he could leave out of his report without arousing suspicions. Especially if he left in the detail about Law going to Green Bit.

That had not been a casual slip. Law wanted him to hear it. And do what? Be a good marine and chase him down?

His ruminations were interrupted by a pair of flying heads returning to their respective bodies and the alarmed cries of his men.

Then Doflamingo appeared like the demon they named him and Smoker knew only dread.

He was not skilled enough to take on this Warlord. He knew this even as Doflamingo’s haki knocked out dozens of his men as he landed in their midst. Conqueror’s Haki—only the strong-minded could withstand that.

The Warlord was in a fine temper. Indiscriminately yelling and lashing out at anyone near him, screeching about where his quarry had gone as his haki flared around him like a psychic halo. Even his feather coat was bristling as he rounded on Smoker in his pointy-toed patent leather shoes and demanded to know why he had let them go in a manner reminiscent of a Celestial Noble’s tantrum.

Which proved that money could not buy taste or restraint. Fucker was powerful but had the personality of a nine-year old villain on steroids.

Perhaps he should not have sassed the bastard by bringing up Vergo, but if Doflamingo was out to eliminate all witnesses, they did not stand a chance in the first place.

At least Tashigi had taken the children away first. At least they would not be scarred for life when Doflamingo started the massacre. Those were his last thoughts before Doflamingo attacked.

So quickly–he did not have a chance to react against that speed and the viciousness of invisible strings coming at him from all directions. His Logia powers were nullified by the Warlord’s haki and he was struck down by what felt like a wall of razors.

Out here in the Grand Line, Smoker knew himself to be outclassed. He was probably never going to make it to Greenbit.

Bleeding out the icy ground, Smoker had around a million regrets, chief amongst them his inability to protect his men from this monster. Straw Hat and Law had better be far away from Punk Hazard. Otherwise this madman looming above him in a gaudy feather coat and even uglier capri pants would undo everything they had achieved here in seconds.

But it was not his time yet.

His men had started shouting about Aokiji and the blow never fell.

Kuzan had saved him. Smoker had looked up to Kuzan when they had been younger. Admired the man when he had been made an Admiral. He was the obvious choice for Fleet Admiral after Sengoku.

But Kuzan had given up on the Navy after that fight. Here on Punk Hazard. They had razed the place—and for what? It should never have happened—Kong should have heeded Sengoku and made the call instead of having Kuzan and Sakazuki duke it out. They lost a good marine because of some idiots playing stupid political games.

The unexpected rescue on Punk Hazard only cemented just how badly they needed Admirals who could stare down a Warlord and make him back off.

Kuzan even confirmed that the Navy would need to mobilise against Doflamingo—he was that much of a threat. A threat that Straw Hat and Law were dead set on challenging.

Torn between wanting Straw Hat to punch Doflamingo hard enough to break his garish sunglasses and for the Navy to do their damn job for once, Smoker had made his report by snail the moment he was on a marine warship. He spoke to HQ directly with his recommendation for an admiral to handle Dressrosa even as his medic scolded him for trying to work while injured.

Smoker kept his expression neutral behind the bandages when he heard that neither Borsalino nor Aramaki had been sent to Dressrosa. There was a chance that the truth would come out after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost sunset when Smoker jetted back to the village. His men had not started a riot or got into any fights. Not a religious man by nature, Smoker thanked whatever fickle deity that was watching over his posse of delinquent marines and whoever watched over the village of Pol.

Or perhaps his men were sobering up to become proper marines and the villagers were really keen on keeping out of their way. His sergeant reported that whoever was not laid up after the storm or taking care of the injured had been smoking fish and tending to their crops.

Thankful for small mercies, Smoker squared his shoulders and went to speak with the Headwoman. She relaxed fractionally when he requested to buy food and water, even taking the initiative to point out suppliers of local produce.

There was no doubt that Sula was a resupply station in these waters and the villagers of Pol got some income from it. They probably counted pirates amongst their customers. Smoker’s presence on the island was probably making them antsy. Unless he offered them money to make up for the lost trade.

The men needed something more than standard rations anyway. They greeted the announcement with a cheer but quieted down when he restricted them to one pint of beer each. This was not a holiday after all.

He bought some seasonal fruit and paid for dinner to be brought to his men. Anyone would be grumpy if they had to eat rations for all three meals and Doc Galway always stressed the importance of fruit in the diet.

Managing to secure a pot of savoury seafood stew for himself, he was prepared to make himself scarce when the Headwoman unbent a little more and offered a room for Doc Galway and Blenkins to stay the night. They had helped with the injured after all. Smoker did not ask for anything more. The island was a tropical one and if it rained, his men would have to make do with the tents.

At least Law and his bear had a mostly dry cave. Leaving his men to nurse their single pints, Smoker ferried away more food to the forest—with an entire smoked fish and no bread. The locals were not accustomed to yeast-risen bread and ate a kind of mashed yam dish or rice with their meals.

In the cave that was barely half a kilometre from the edge of Pol, Law was leaning against the bear like he was a furry backrest by the faint embers of the fire pit. Sula was warm even after sunset and they would not need a large fire to be comfortable as night fell.

They had tried to do some housekeeping by spreading out their damp clothes out to dry. The bloodstains were probably never coming out.

They were definitely ready for more solid food. Bepo downed his share of the stew in one gulp. The fish was practically inhaled and the bear looked sheepishly at the bones.

“It’s fine, Bepo,” Law told him reassuringly. “You can go hunting once I check you over.”

Smoker finished his meal without comment and accounted for all the crockery he needed to return. He did not stay too long because he knew what his men were like.

Even after one pint of beer, the marines of G-5 could raise hell.

But his expectations were confounded when he discovered more people outside that evening when he reached the main hub of the village.

There were younger villagers out and about. Some of the women were definitely flirting with several smitten marines.

It was mostly true that being at sea for long periods of time made sailors horny. It was doubly the case when it came to the G-5 marines—most of them did not have sweethearts waiting at home, nor much luck with anyone. Tashigi had been fortunate that most of them treated her like a younger sister they had to protect.

“I’ll put a stop to that,” Smoker sighed when he spotted the Headwoman watching the going-ons from the porch of her house.

But the Headwoman shook her head, dark eyes alight with humour. “They are searching for a man for just one night, Vice Admiral. Your men will be gone tomorrow but perhaps some children of the sea will remain.”

Oh, this was one of those places. Islands with small villages that avoided the whole inbreeding problem by having children with passing sailors. Apparently their dislike of the Navy did not stop them from trying to get something out of visiting marines.

“Children of the sea,” Smoker echoed flatly. Complications that might wind up knocking on a marine’s door in future.

“Unless you forbid it, Vice Admiral,” Ardana replied diplomatically.

He blew out a long stream of smoke irritably and knew that he would be a hypocrite twice over if he denied his men some down time. This was not an island affiliated with the World Government. There was no law forbidding marines from associating with civilians if it was consensual. The regimented lives of enlisted men allowed very infrequent breaks and he had no doubt that plenty of them did not wait for their day off to get off. Sometimes with each other.

It had been part of life in the Navy even when Smoker had been a green recruit. There were stories about that guy with a girl in every port—he was usually broke or in debt because he had five different women demanding money for his illegitimate children. Only the most foolhardy marine sowed their wild oats with abandon under Smoker’s command. He despised the fact that careless fathers would never bear the responsibility if they impregnated someone while passing through on patrol.

“Only if you let them know the consequences,” he said at last. “And if they agree to having no claim on whatever children result.”

“You don’t need to worry, Vice Admiral.—the children of the sea are not looked down upon here.” Ardana shook her head at the look on his face. “My first man was a sailor who washed up here after a storm. My eldest daughter is sweet on a boy raised by a pair of fishermen.”

Smoker supposed that there might be places where illegitimate children were welcomed with open arms. He only hoped that this place, out of reach of the World Government and probably out of reach of senseless conventions, might be kinder to those born of a single night of passion.

The very thought of his men, his unpolished men, wooing the locals gave him the beginnings of a headache. He really hoped that none of them would wind up nursing a broken heart after this.

“You’re scowling enough to frighten the fish away,” the Headwoman commented lightly. The beads in her braids clacked together softly as she motioned away a young woman who was approaching. “I’ll put out the word that you’re not to be disturbed.”

Smoker very carefully kept his jaw from dropping.

“Some of them like leaders,” Ardana continued, probably because she was enjoying the sight of Smoker trying not to squirm. “And you’re good looking enough that they’ll overlook the white hair.”

It was time for a strategic retreat. Smoker was not running, he was merely walking very quickly. Collaring his sergeant again, he gave terse orders that they would leave in the morning, regardless of whatever happened at night.

He did not even reach the edge of the village before he dissolved into vapour. Remaining as a mostly opaque grey fog, Smoker did not bother to change back as he approached the embankment.

Which was why he caught the tail end of the conversation as he wafted into the cave.

“—so nothing matters now but getting the crew back,” Law said, a hint of steel in his voice that reminded Smoker of the Warlord back on Punk Hazard. Had it only been just over a month ago?

“Yes, Captain—they’re tough. Maybe some of them also got away?”

“Maybe. But once we get them all back . . .” Smoker could hear the indecision in his voice. The doubt that haunted the better leaders of men. Weighing the lives of his men against the dangers of the New World. “We have to find another ship.”

“Or build one!” Bepo was endlessly optimistic.

“Or build one. Which might mean we’re already out of the running to find the One Piece,” Law pointed out. He did not sound particularly upset about it though. He had sounded more concerned about the fate of his crew.

“Oh. There’s bound to be other treasures out there!”

Smoker let his boots hit the gravel underfoot and strode forward.

“You look like you ran here in a hurry,” Law observed. If he was surprised by Smoker’s return, he did not show it. He was tucked into a ball under the blanket and still using his navigator as a backrest. The bear had been scratching some shapes in the earth and was surreptitiously trying to erase them.

“I’m not staying in Pol,” Smoker grumbled. It was better that he did not know about their plans.

“Not welcoming to marines?” Law queried, all honey-coated sarcasm.

“Too welcoming,” he shot back as he sat down with his back to the cool stone wall and lit his cigars. This was turning out to be a very long day. “I’d rather not know what my men are up to now.”

“Ah . . .” Blinking as he processed this new information, Law covered his mouth to hide his mirth.

“What’s going on in the village?” Bepo asked, looking from Smoker to Law and back again.

“It’s . . . Well, it’s like how you said you’ll go back to Zou one day.”

The bear nodded. “To visit and maybe find a mate,” he said bashfully. “Oh! That’s normal then!”

“It’s slightly more complicated with humans.”

“It’s always more complicated,” the Mink complained even as a loud gurgle emerged from the vicinity of his stomach. “Captain—can I go?” Bepo asked plaintively.

“Sure—be careful out there. Don’t depopulate the river.”

“Okay!” The bear waved at them cheerfully and bounded off to find more food. It probably involved fishing.

Law and Smoker watched the Mink go in silence.

Deprived of his furry backrest, Law flopped down on his back on the muddle of canvas and Smoker’s former coat. “He might be a while. It was a long swim. But the drug’s probably out of his system by now.”

“‘S dangerous to mess with stuff like that.” Inhaling a soothing stream of tobacco-laced smoke, he pondered the mystery of the Minks and their moon-powered transformations. The Navy did not have much intel on Minks . . .

“Yeah, but it worked. I think Chopper is a better doctor in terms of coming up with novel cures.”

Seeing as the men of Unit 01 and the rescued children owed their lives to the pirate doctor, Smoker supposed that Law was right. He still hated the idea of being indebted to a pirate though. Which was why he had let them go back on Punk Hazard.

That line of thought just made him wonder why he was here in a cave in the company of one of the highest bounties on the Grand Line. He no longer owed Law anything. But he had taken his men and come here on his own volition. Stayed for longer than he should have. Lent a wounded pirate his coat.

Said coat was fairly unrecognisable at this point. Law was still lying on it, so Smoker was prepared to give it up as a lost cause.

“Your coat’s never gonna be the same again.” Law had noticed him staring.

“I’ll report it as damaged during a fight,” Smoker said dryly. “It’s not like I don’t have another one.”

A spare coat that he did not bring along on this detour because he had not anticipated using it as a towel and alternative bedding for an injured pirate.

“You sure? I thought you were all about justice.”

“Justice isn’t just a word stitched on a coat,” he admitted. He always told his men that wearing justice on their backs and not actually carrying it out was rank hypocrisy. It had been a struggle to reconcile the fact that the World Government’s version of justice did not overlap with Smoker’s as much as he would have liked.

“No wonder you never liked following orders,” Law said with a glimmer of his old snarkiness. “You really mustn’t let your superiors see that look . . . They’ll think you’re about to stage a mutiny.”

That was probably the main reason why his request to be posted to G-5 got through so easily. An insubordinate officer with his current rank was best kept out of sight on the most unsightly of marine bases and kept busy dealing with unruly marines.

Smoker did not want to discuss his job with Law and wordlessly ground his cigars out on the edge of the fire pit. There was a rustle of fabric as Law sat up without assistance.

“It’s not a bad look,” Law told him and Smoker practically jumped out of his skin when a soft weight pressed against his arm.

He dared to glance down to where Law was leaning against his side. The blanket had been pushed aside and there was just bare flesh and bandages. The smooth expanse of tanned skin that Smoker had not been privy to on Punk Hazard was on full display,

He finally let himself take in the differences. Law’s body was not the one Smoker had on his lap in that empty hold. This body was shorter, slimmer and curvy instead of bony and angular. The ink was the same and Smoker could not help but follow those black lines that graced his chest to commit them to memory.

“You like them?” Law cupped his breasts and Smoker nearly had an aneurysm as he lifted his tattooed flesh up. “They’re not bad—probably give me a backache if they were larger.”

Smoker was absolutely not imagining larger breasts. Because he was already having trouble processing the pair that Law was sporting. It was just like Law to turn what should have been an uncomfortable experience into something like this.

“Oh, you do like them.” Law grinned at Smoker’s frozen expression. “I thought you marines joined the Navy to find—”

“Law,” Smoker managed to croak out. “Just don’t—“

“Not even for good luck before we both leave to do inadvisable things?” Which was a sentence that really really should not come from those lips on that appealing face.

“You’re injured,” Smoker objected. For someone who called himself a doctor, Law’s attitude towards his own body was disturbingly cavalier.

“I’ll get better. Once I can use haki again, this will all be gone,” Law said, shamelessly indicating the body that was not the one Smoker was familiar with but he was definitely more than interested in now. “And you’ll be gone, chasing after your justice.”

That last part was barely a whisper, but Smoker heard it loud and clear. Law too would be gone, chasing after his lost crew. The looming conflict that would engulf the world would definitely sweep them up in its wake. There was a chance, a very large chance, that they would never see each other again. Or clash while on different sides. That thought troubled Smoker more than it should.

They risked their lives everyday out on the Grand Line, death being a constant companion on the seas that were anathema to Devil Fruit users. This day should be no different. And yet . . .

Smoker gave in. If Law wanted to try it in this body to gain some sort of ownership over his changed flesh, he would be a willing accomplice. He turned to kiss him and discovered that Law tasted the same even if the body pressed against him was softer, less angular and not as bony. His kisses were no less demanding as his lips parted to draw Smoker in.

His hands, finally given free rein, started exploring the curves that had not previously been there. He had to be careful as he skipped over the bandages and soaked in the groans that escaped when he sucked at Law’s pulse.

His fingers finally reached the underside of those breasts that Law had been flaunting. They were every bit as soft to touch and Law shuddered as his thumbs brushed against his dusky nipples.

Trying his best not to jostle an injured man, Smoker pressed Law down carefully onto the blanket and his coat before descending on him. Tracing the dark lines of that chest piece with his tongue, Smoker followed them over the swell of one breast, working his way to the centre. The noises that Law made as he sucked gently on his nipple were probably a revelation to them both.

He was more than happy to tease each nipple until they were hard in his mouth. Glancing up at Law’s face, Smoker was struck by how flushed and dazed he looked with his plush lower lip trapped between his teeth. He was hard as a rock by this point but he pushed it all aside to slip his hand between Law’s legs.

“Ah—fuck!“ Law muffled his gasp behind his hand as Smoker’s fingers grazed his labia, feeling the wetness caused by his ministrations. More than just slightly giddy with desire, Smoker shifted Law’s hand aside so that he could kiss him deep and sloppy even as he explored the source of the fluids coating his fingers. Swallowing most of Law’s moans, he massaged the entire length of his pelvis even as strong thighs clamped around his wrist and their owner ground down on his hand with a loud groan.

Curiosity made him go slow. He slid his fingers between slick and sensitive folds, teasing but not quite entering as he confirmed for himself that this was an entirely different body.

He would have been impressed by this particular Devil Fruit power if he did not want to personally destroy Blackbeard and his shitty crew.

Law’s overwhelmed gasps distracted him and he bent his head to indulge in those inviting soft lips.

“So I take it that you’re familiar with this?” Law asked breathlessly when they came up for some much needed air. He was consciously trying to relax, opening his thighs to give Smoker’s hand more room to manoeuvre.

“I wouldn’t say I’m that familiar—haven’t had a refresher course in the past few years,” Smoker confessed, knowing that Law would rightly pin everything on his workaholic tendencies. “Are you?”

“In theory, yes,” Law murmured as he carded restless fingers through Smoker’s already mussed hair. “And I’ve overseen two births. Tried it once with some girl before—back when I was clueless. A long time ago . . .”

“So you roughly know how this works.” Smoker was not about to call Law out for being revenge-obsessed to the point where even the thought of sex was secondary to a man his age.

“Maybe I need a refresher course,” Law whispered, staring up at Smoker from behind those long lashes. From this angle, he could see that Law’s pupils were dilated and his face was flushed..

Smoker had to laugh at that. Law flushed even harder but he did not object when Smoker stole another kiss before getting down to familiarise himself with every inch of his body. After all, he might never see those breasts again and that was a crying shame.

He took his time licking and caressing his way down Law’s chest and abdomen, relishing every small hitch of his breath as new sensitive spots were discovered. The hollow of his throat, the underside of his wrist—and those nipples. He lost some more time buried in that softness and never regretted it.

Law’s thighs were shaking by the time he reached the trail of dark hair that led between his legs. He kept eye contact with Law as he slowly spread his thighs apart and lowered his mouth down.

The gasp that Law failed to choke back when Smoker licked between his folds went some way towards soothing the disappointment of not being able to see or hear him on Punk Hazard. He definitely liked it when Smoker’s tongue lapped across his clitoris if the bucking of his hips was any indication.

Delving deeper with his tongue, Smoker barely registered the smooth thighs that were clamped around his ears like a vice. Law’s hands tangled in his hair for a brief moment before they disengaged, probably to muffle the pleasure-filled moans as he played with the hood, massaging the small nub with his tongue.

Law’s responsiveness was gratifying to say the least as he buried a groan at the taste of him on his tongue. Perhaps he was not as rusty as he thought.

So intent was he on drawing out those noises from Law that he almost did not feel the sharp pain in his scalp.

“Smoker—“ Law was tugging on his hair frantically. “I—I think I’m gonna—“

He sucked hard on the sensitive node and rode out the thrashing that followed as Law’s thighs tightened around him, his entire body convulsing even as he managed to stifle his cries. It was probably for the best given the marine presence on the island. But Smoker still wondered what Law would sound like if he could vocalise his pleasure freely.

Carefully untangling himself from Law’s legs when they finally loosened their grip, Smoker looked up to see that he had bitten down on the sleeve of his coat to stop himself from yelling. The taste of him still lingered as Smoker sat up to survey his work. Law was panting around the fabric in his mouth, sweaty but none the worse for wear. None of the bandages had been disturbed either.

Satisfied that Law was all right, Smoker got up and took care of himself. It did not take much, just the sight of Law’s body splayed out in post-coital languor and a few strokes had him spilling against the back wall of the cave.

Tucking himself back in, Smoker turned back and looked for something to clean up.

“You’re good at that too,” Law mumbled, still flat on his back on the sad mess of his coat. “So you’ve been pursuing something other than justice after all this time.”

Smoker had to snort at that assumption. The girls where he grew up had been streetwise and most of them had been taught how to not get knocked up by knuckle-dragging teenage boys. They had to get creative back in the day. “Haven’t had the time to. Thought I was out of practice.”

Law flung an arm over his face but Smoker could still see his tired smile from where he was rummaging through the supplies. “Well whoever taught you how to do that . . . I think I need to send her a fruit basket or something.”

“You want her address?” She had been one of the girls who had grown into a woman who had decided on a lucrative line of work that most respectable folk would never approve of. They remained friends though they seldom communicated. Last Smoker heard, she had her own business and mothered her girls with a firm hand. He sometimes envied her for attaining her goals long before he did. But she always had been the more practical one.

“You’re not afraid we’ll compare notes?” Struggling upright again, Law stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re not gonna shock her. Are you going to complain?” Smoker looked up from where he had found the wet wipes. “I can get a survey form if necessary.”

“You’re no fun to tease,” Law complained.

“She charges by the hour, just so you know,” Smoker said as he finished cleaning his face. He shifted over and proceeded to wipe Law down. The bits that were not covered by the bandages anyway.

“Might be worth it,” Law mused as he turned slightly to let Smoker clean his back.

“She’ll make you buy her drinks too,” Smoker warned him, his hands lingering over the Jolly Roger that covered Law’s upper back. It was with some reluctance that he finished cleaning that golden-brown skin.

“Could use one right now . . .” Law looked back at Smoker over his shoulder. “Got anything like a bottle?”

With a put-upon sigh, Smoker pulled out the hip flask that Kuzan had got him for his last promotion, back when he was still an Admiral. It contained a pretty good whisky gifted to him by Hina.

“You’ve got good taste,” Law observed after taking a swig before passing it back when Smoker sat cross-legged beside the makeshift bed.

“It was a gift—I don’t usually spend that much on a drink.”

“Well here’s to better gifts then.” Law pulled him close and kissed him before he could take a sip, the taste of the alcohol mingling with the taste of himself on Smoker’s tongue.

It was all Smoker could do not to drag Law down for round two. He schooled his face into an approximately neutral expression when they broke apart before taking a shot of the whiskey. The liquid burned its way down his throat and he prepared to spend the rest of the night on watch.

But Law invited himself into his space, leaning against his chest and burying his face in the collar of his jacket.

“You took my coat and now you want my jacket as well?” Smoker asked even as he hoped that Law did not realise that his heart rate had picked up again. There was just the flimsy barrier of the blanket between their bare skin now.

“Mmm . . . Pirates steal stuff, right? But I don’t want your jacket—it’s ’cos you’re warm,” Law told him as he settled down with his head tucked under Smoker’s chin.

“I’m not your bear.” He put as much exasperation in his tone as he could but doubted that Law was fooled.

“I noticed.” Smoker felt those soft lips curve into a small smile against his collarbone. “Bepo’s not here right now though.”

“If you’re looking for pillow talk, I’m probably not the best at it.”

“You’re not asking me what I’m about to do next,” Law whispered against his chest even as he moved his hands—still chilly—to Smoker’s abdomen. Smoker suspected that Law knew just how much he had heard from earlier.

“You’re not asking about the scars,” Smoker pointed out and those fingers stopped their roaming for a moment before they resumed their leisurely mapping of those hairline scars that were almost hidden by Smokers’ natural pallor.

“We’re both very bad at pillow talk.” Law agreed. While Smoker could only see the top of his head, he had definitely felt Law’s body tense up for a second.

“So you should sleep,” Smoker said gruffly. “I’ll keep watch until Bepo gets back.”

“Don’t you have a job to go back to?” Law asked as he stifled a yawn.

“We’re leaving in the morning.” At that moment, he envied Kuzan’s freedom and Issho’s integrity. Whatever happened to the man who had told his superiors to screw off when they wanted to give him an undeserved promotion?

He was going to go back to his job and he would compose another brief report about what he did not find on Sula.

“Ah, I hope your men had enough t—"

“Don’t,” Smoker ground out, staring at the glowing embers of the fire.

Even though Law probably could guess at the root of Smoker’s sudden dark mood, he did not say anything more. He only curled himself more tightly in the blanket and drifted off with one hand resting on Smoker’s chest.

He could have gotten up. He could have turned into smoke to escape. Smoker knew that did not have to be a cushion for this pirate.

And yet . . .

Smoker remained seated on the hard ground of the cave and leaned back against the stone wall. He had until morning. He could keep watch until then.

The fragile peace was interrupted by a wet polar bear emerging from the river and shaking himself off before entering the cave.

Bepo stared at Smoker and before things got awkward, the Mink mimed something at him. It was unmistakable. The Mink really was making a stroking motion with his paw and a cradling gesture with the other.

Sighing inwardly, Smoker complied so that the Mink would not keep trying to have this silent conversation.

The polar bear gave him a thumbs-up and a grin when he started stroking Law’s head and back. It was probably the only praise he was ever going to get for his part in all this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Text

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, he did get chewed out by the Fleet Admiral for letting Monkey D. Luffy and his crew escape. Again.

Two Warlords and two notorious bounty heads—of course Sakazuki got involved.

Yes, it would be a black mark on his record. An extra one for losing his ship as well—or letting it be destroyed. And it was really lucky for him that he had been partially responsible for exposing the schemes of those two Warlords.

Smoker did not intend to correct Sakazuki over the snail while on bed rest. He still did not know the full extent of Law’s plan for one thing. Damned if he could even guess at what would happen when Monkey D. Luffy threw himself into the mix with his usual reckless abandon.

Barely getting a word in edgewise, Smoker sat ramrod straight against the headboard. Tashigi was a silent shadow by the door. He was glad that the bandages around his face made it difficult to talk without pulling on the razor thin cuts. Galway said that they would not scar as much as the first scar on his face.

Akainu did indeed bark like the dog they named him. Smoker being the subordinate dog in this situation meant that he had to listen. No longer some imprudent Captain in the East Blue, he sort of did owe Sakauki for letting him transfer to G-5.

But fuck if this dressing down didn’t make him feel like a bitch. Smoker took malicious enjoyment in the fact that Akainu was feeling even more frustrated with his job as a glorified desk jockey for all of ten seconds. Kuzan had probably dodged the proverbial bullet there.

But Akainu had taken Kuzan’s leg. Destroyed his career. Caused the Navy to lose a good man–

By the end of the call, Smoker felt like a well-chewed bone. Only a quiet simmering anger kept him stoic to the end.

Not a word about the kidnapped children. Or the marines of G-5 who had survived two Warlords and an evil genius terrorist. But Sakazuki must have read the initial report in order to approve of the plan to take the children for treatment and the extra funds required.

Smoker unclenched his teeth as Tashigi wheeled the terrarium with the big snail out of the medical suite.

Doc Galway bustled back into the private ward, muttering about people who never took their bed rest seriously. He even pinned Tashigi with a glare when she slipped back in. But she was unobtrusive as the doctor checked Smoker over and he eventually drafted her in to pass him his tools.

Grumbling and muttering under his breath, Doc’s ceaseless litany of complaints was more soothing than speaking with the Fleet Admiral on a good day when he had something positive to report. Galway was thorough and brisk without being rough. The medic had other patients to deal with and an assistant to train. He made sure the both of them knew before bustling off.

The men in the general ward outside groaned out loud enough for Smoker to hear them as the doctor approached but were silenced by the reminder that “Smoyan’s still resting!”

Smoker exhaled slowly. He really wanted a cigar. Just one. Galway had cut him off for at least a week.

“It’s unfair,” Tashigi said at last. It was a shame that his subordinate would probably help enforce the cigar ban. “No-one was doing anything about the children until those pirates sailed to Punk Hazard!”

Smoker could tell that was one part guilt and another part dismay. Guilt at not realising something was wrong at G-5. Dismay at having to rely on the Straw Hats again to achieve the justice they sought. Even more guilt at how Monkey D. Luffy and his crew did not appear to hold a grudge for what went down at Marineford. With a sprinkle of shame thrown in for good measure—it was difficult to deal with pirates being the bigger individuals and in possession of the moral high ground.

He knew it all too well. Tashigi was also beating herself up for not being there when Doflamingo tore him into bloody rags.

She would have died there. If Kuzan had not been there just in the nick of time . . . If those pirates had not insisted on the children being taken off Punk Hazard before they left . . .

No point ruminating on what could have been now that they were relatively safe. Relative because he had to account for Doflamingo’s ability to fly using his powers. They should get going soon. A ship on the Grand Line was harder to find than a marine base and they had a lot of living evidence of Caesar and Doflamingo’s wrong-doings.

Speaking of the children . . .

“You should check if the men have been preparing the ships,” Smoker said without responding directly to her words. He was not about to encourage casual discussions about the top brass at this stage.

Tashigi probably would have fared better under a less obstinate superior. Someone better at manoeuvring the political currents at HQ. Someone less likely to request reassignment to a base like G-5. Then again she was just as stubborn and had the pesky sort of integrity that marines did not get promoted for.

Tashigi’s mouth compressed into a tight line but she saluted and left the ward.

She had her hands full making sure the children were cared for in addition to overseeing the men while he was on bed rest. Those calls to their parents could not have been easy.

Because of this, he took Tashigi’s tirade in stride. She waited until they were all safely on the way to Vegapunk before laying into him about that thing with the body switching after all. It was magnanimous to a fault.

He even sat through the cotton candy party that his men threw for his return to duty with the kids in attendance. Sunglasses firmly on as he pretended not to look at every face, glad that they were alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in the night, Smoker must have drifted off. Being a marine had taught him to get rest whenever he could. In whatever uncomfortable position he happened to be in at the moment. His body’s conditioning after decades in the Navy meant that it even woke of its own accord in anticipation of an alarm.

It was still dark outside when he finally looked. Their fire was down to a couple of dim coals only because Bepo had fetched more deadwood to burn before falling asleep. But Smoker knew that it would be dawn soon.

It would not take him long to return to the village. He could live in denial for an hour longer. They were both leaving to do inadvisable things after this. Too dead set on doing what they thought they had to do.

The pirate leaning against him started waking up before half an hour had passed. Smoker registered the slight uptick in his heart rate several moments before he moved. With a muffled yawn, Law opened his eyes and blinked at Smoker as though surprised that he was still there. The meagre light from the fire gleamed off his earrings and tawny pupils as he checked his own body to ascertain that the change had not reversed itself overnight.

He was not best pleased if the sulky downward turn of his lips was any indication. Turning to check on Bepo, Law’s expression definitely softened as he espied the slumbering pile of fur.

Then he swivelled around again to look at Smoker thoughtfully before reaching up to kiss him.

They both probably had morning breath, but neither of them seemed to mind. Smoker noticed that Law seemed to run cold and enjoyed warming his hands on him if the chilly fingers on his chest were any indication.

“I think this is it,” Law said against Smoker’s jaw. “I don’t have any more time to sit around.”

“Whatever it is you’re gonna do—”

“Is really none of your business, White Hunter.” And there it was—the use of that title to put more distance between them. “There is a war coming.”

“Any wet behind the ears pirate on the Grand Line would know that by now,” Smoker growled to hide his own unease This talk of the events of the wider world was just another reminder that their time on the island was not a part of the greater conflict brewing. That everything that happened here in this cave would never be acknowledged once they were outside it. “There’s been talk since Wano of sending the fleet after all of you. ‘Cept Straw Hat’s an Emperor now.”

“And out of the three crews that left Wano, only Monkey D. Luffy’s remains at large.” Law’s hands slid up and tightened fractionally on Smoker’s shoulders as his eyes narrowed, remembering something from the not-too-distant past. “I know what I saw on Onigashima. In Wano. They’ll be after him now.”

Smoker knew about the updated bounties. Still too low for that rubber menace in his opinion. “No shit—he causes trouble just by standing still.”

“And breathing,” Law agreed. “But he has the highest chance of finding the One Piece now. Him and Blackbeard if Shanks doesn’t step in.”

The clash between those crews would probably shake the Grand Line in ways that it had not seen since the time of Gold D. Roger and his contemporaries.

Law shut his eyes briefly at the memory of his own run-in with that particular pirate. “They also know too much. There’s a secret the World Government will kill to keep. More than one if Nico Robin’s right—but I know she’s right and they’ll want to eliminate her too. If the Navy interferes—”

“I’ll do my duty—you know that.” Smoker pressed a hand down Law’s back to sooth the sting of that admission. Law had never asked anything of him. Goaded, threatened, bargained, sure—but he had never asked him to be anything other than himself.

“Sometimes I wish I didn't know you were a stubborn ass.” Law’s voice was soft but steady as he leaned against Smoker’s shoulder. “If it comes down to a fight, don’t hold back.”

Smoker knew it was pointless, but he had to try. Because he was a stubborn ass. “The world’s a big place. Big enough for you to stay out of trouble with your crew.”

Law buried his amusement in Smoker’s jacket. “That’s the thing—I’ve got trouble as my middle name.”

And he whispered his own secret into Smoker’s ear.

“So you see there’s no way I can escape if I want to find out whatever the Will of D means,” Law finished. “It’s practically fate.”

“There’s no such thing.” Smoker did not set a great store by names. The Navy had always tried to obscure Gol. D. Roger’s true name on the bounty posters—it became sort of a lost cause by the time Luffy and Teach showed up. There were no world-shaking revelations every time one of them announced themselves and made a mess. But every holder of that name had been the centre of the storm.

It dawned on him belatedly that he had fought three individuals who possessed that name. According to prevailing wisdom and wild hearsay, it was practically a miracle that he was alive to notice the fact.

Was this Law’s way of warning him off? That he would always be on the opposite side? That he would go out laughing like the former King of the Pirates? Or was it something else entirely . . .

It reminded him of what had transpired since Punk Hazard. Smoker already knew that Kuzan was on Blackbeard’s crew. Steeling himself for an eventual confrontation with his former friend and colleague had been something he had done in theory . . . But he did not actually know if he had the will to put it into practice. Except he really wanted to hear the reasons for Kuzan’s latest change in allegiance out of his own mouth.

“You better not be comparing me to Monkey D. Luffy,” Law groused, bringing him back to the present.

“I’m beginning to see the similarities.” He knew, deep down, that Law had changed his mind on Punk Hazard because of Monkey D. Luffy and his crew’s chaotic heroism. Could that be another effect of the name they both shared? “Just as long as you don’t start declaring you want to be the King of the Pirates.”

Law actually made a face at that. “Perish the thought—and I think that’s someone else’s destiny now.”

“I don’t believe in stuff like that,” Smoker reiterated.

“I thought that once, but I’ve seen some shit.” If Law was anxious about his eventual fate, he did not show it as he tugged Smoker’s head down again.

This all felt like a very final farewell. With hints about destiny and an apocalyptic end thrown in. World Government conspiracies, now that Smoker could believe—there was an era known as the Void Century after all. Vague suppositions about the meaning of a name that connected the most troublesome pirates on the sea sounded like a myth he was in no hurry to unravel.

Trafalgar D. Water Law—hell of a mouthful, in more ways than one, but it did fit the contrary pirate in his arms.

They lingered like that for a while longer, exchanging languid kisses and giving Smoker enough time to suck another mark into Law’s skin. It was with a certain reluctance that they separated before things could get out of hand.

The blanket fell away as Law pushed himself away and stood up, giving Smoker an eyeful and more, bandages notwithstanding. “Take a good look. Might be the last time.”

Law stretched, stared at his hands thoughtfully before clenching them. There was a beat before he gritted his teeth and Smoker felt the pulse of his haki before the transformation reset.

The burst of haki was enough to startle some birds in the trees outside. It was unlikely that anyone was sensitive enough to feel it from the village despite the strength behind it. It did require a strong will and Smoker was secretly glad that Law had recovered some of his spirit after that run-in with Blackbeard.

Same goatee, same sharp featured face screwed up in concentration. Correct height and hair. But he was broader across the shoulders from what Smoker remembered. The chest adorned with the inked lines he had become rather familiar with was more well-defined. He wanted to check if Law’s biceps felt different.

He wanted a fucking lot more. He knew this even as his gaze drifted lower. But he wasn’t going to ask.

“I missed my dick too.” Rolling his neck and completely unabashed by his nudity, Law picked up his tank top and jeans with a frown—they were not in good shape even after an attempt to dry them. ”The tits were fun for a little while though.”

It was probably the most memorable experience Smoker had in months, neatly superseding Punk Hazard. Hina and Tashigi would blame it on his inability to fill in a leave application form.

Smoker’s train of thought was derailed by Bepo rousing due to the use of haki and the bear jumping up to hug Law, vocally glad that his captain was back to normal.

Mostly back to normal. Law’s recovery reminded him that Devil Fruit users healed faster on average—one more advantage that might potentially outweigh the risk of drowning. Or not according to some instructors back in Smoker’s time in training—that particular comment was usually for him.

Law tested his abilities after getting dressed, summoning a palm-sized Room before trying to expand it. He was visibly sweating by the time he got the sphere large enough to cover himself but he looked relieved.

Blackbeard’s ability to nullify another Devil Fruit user’s powers was probably temporary. But knowing how horrifying it was to be without his powers in a dire situation, Smoker surmised that it might have felt very much like drowning. It explained the slight hesitation in Law’s movements that he pretended not to see.

More pragmatic than his first impression of the bear, Bepo had a couple of river fish speared on thin sticks cooking upright in the fire pit after a brief foray outside. They made quick work of the food and started erasing all traces that they had ever been there.

With more apparent confidence, Law summoned his Room and rechecked Bepo first before making sure of himself. They were getting ready to move on.

Smoker did not need to look at his watch to know the time when the sun started making an appearance. He had pondered a certain course of action since yesterday. It was now or never, he supposed. Their time on the island was all but over.

“Listen, Law, there’s a village due east of here,” Smoker began, even if he was technically aiding and abetting a pirate’s wrongdoing. He also mentally apologised to his medic. “They have injured people—serious enough for amputation. If you can—“

“Heal them in exchange for a boat?” Law was quick to catch on. “But will they prefer my big fat bounty instead?”

“They don’t like the World Government and the Navy.” It was a risk but he was due to leave in an hour. “And money can’t buy a working arm or leg unless they can get some super genius like Vegapunk.”

The chances of anyone on this island knowing a good surgeon or a tech whiz like Vegapunk was little to none. But Law could probably work a miracle or two here.

“You’re awfully confident that I can restore a couple of limbs,” Law commented. But he was not rejecting Smoker’s idea outright.

“I’m confident you could probably outrun them if things go south.” He really hoped that was not the case. Bepo probably could look intimidating if he did not speak, what with being a large white bear who was taller than Smoker.

“I could just steal a boat—“

Pirates were pirates after all. But Law was antsy about the fate of his crew. Enough to be hasty.

“Most of them are damaged.” Sketching out the approach to the village with the hand not holding the cigars on the ground, Smoker recalled the layout the best he could. “You’ll need their help to patch up one of them.”

Law’s powers were handy for slicing ships up but Smoker doubted that he could piece together fishing sloops that were missing important parts like intact masts and rudders.

The disgruntled noise Law made was the precursor to a grumbled agreement that he would explore other options before stealing an unseaworthy craft. Hopefully he might use his brain to come up with something more feasible.

And that left Smoker with just enough time to get back to the village to gather his men. He was just going to leave because he felt the beginnings of something really awkward brewing.

But it wasn’t Law who spoke up first.

“Uh, I guess this is good-bye, but we Minks have a tradition—”

“Bepo—“

“—that Captain says humans aren’t used to, but I think you can handle it,” Bepo continued as he gave Smoker a literal bear hug. “Garchu—you’re not a bad marine at all.”

Smoker honestly froze up at that point as he was engulfed by all that fur. His eyes slid sideways to Law, who was hiding his face behind his hand. His shoulders might have been shaking slightly as well.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Bepo was done fairly quickly and Smoker unfroze himself, keeping his face neutral the entire way.

“Oi Smoker,” Law said when he started to vaporise. “Maybe I’ll look you up someday.”

Smoker did not say anything that as he diffused into a passing breeze. The oceans were wide. Perhaps a pirate could be free enough to track him down one day. Assuming they both survived their inadvisable plans.

The twenty marines he brought with him to Pol saluted mostly in time when Smoker blew in. The villagers were not armed with the local version of pitchforks, so he assumed that no-one had overstepped.

Until he heard the yelling. It wasn’t the Headwoman, who was overseeing the scene with a slightly bemused smile. No, it was his medic. Smoker hurried over and hoped that the doctor had not tried to convince the villagers again about performing amputations.

As it turned out, the good doctor was concerned about other matters.

Doc Galway, like any long-time veteran of the Navy, had mastered the knack of sleeping anywhere and usually slept like the dead. Smoker did not blame him—it was a stressful job. The villagers were not even letting him do his job at the moment.

A job that also involved finding out that Blenkins had left their shared room last night for a drink of water and never returned to his borrowed sleeping mat.

“I cannot believe this!” The doctor was in full lecture mode as he harangued his assistant on the way to the dock. “I told you about prophylactics, I know I did! On the day before your first voyage!”

Red in the face with embarrassment, Blenkins could only mutter something about how the enlisted men had been up late last night.

Doc Galway would have rounded on the men and indirectly insulted the villagers if Smoker had not hurried him onto the launch. He had to promise the doctor that he would assemble the entire crew at noon-watch for a lecture about safe sex just so that he would let his men work on setting sail.

From the docks, a few villagers waved at them. Some of his men waved back, so Smoker knew just how things had gone for them last night. Blenkins was one of them. Smoker deliberately exuded more fumes to block Galway’s line of vision.

“At least you were sensible, Vice Admiral,” Doc Galway muttered as the sails filled up with the wind. “I heard you patrolled the forest all night instead of cavorting like those ruffians.”

Smoker grunted in a noncommittal fashion. He really was getting worse at his job.

Galway complained about the marines for a bit longer before he took himself off to check the supplies he had left. Blenkins stayed on deck, still sneaking glances at the island growing smaller behind the wake of the launch.

Smoker strode up to him and because he could not do what Blenkins was doing, he tried not to sound too exasperated when he spoke to Galway’s assistant.

“It was only one night—they do things differently there.”

“It wasn’t like that, Vice A-admiral,” Blenkins snivelled. “It really wasn’t!”

Behind the blubbering, Blenkins was quite young. Barely twenty-one if Smoker was any judge. A fine candidate for losing his heart to the first comely girl to smile at him.

“Kid, you might never sail this way again,” Smoker tried to rationalise with him.

“That’s why it’s so s-sad!” Blenkins exclaimed. And before Smoker could stop him, the young man was off.

Blenkins really had been searching for some water last night. He hadn’t wanted to bother anyone. The only place he knew of that had drinking water in those big ceramic jars was the communal hospice. He had met the girl there. She had been taking care of her father, one of the fishermen who had sustained injuries during the storm.

Smoker did not ask for this. He really did not sign up for this—but he got the entire story anyway.

Her name was Zhen, which meant “pearl” in some regional dialect out here in the New World. They had started talking and then Zhen had wanted to walk outside because it was depressing to see so many people she knew laid out and in pain. Blenkins had agreed to it immediately because he too found the hospice oppressive.

That probably did not bode well for Blenkins’ career in the Navy, but the guy was obviously too distraught to care that he was unloading on his superior officer.

They had talked a lot while sitting on the hillside overlooking the village. Apparently they shared some things in common. They were even practically the same age—Smoker’s guess had not been too far off. And nothing, absolutely nothing untoward had happened between them.

Smoker had to nod along at this point because Blenkins had that slightly unhinged look in his eyes that spoke volumes about how long he would go on about it until he was believed.

Blenkins had indeed fallen in love on the spot. And he thought that Zhen felt the same way. So he had proposed just before they went back down to the village. Smoker actually winced inwardly just before Blenkins got to the part where the girl rejected his proposal—he could see it in the assistant’s face from the beginning of the tale. She had not actually rejected Blenkins’ proposal—she just could not leave her family, what with the current crisis on her hands.

“She’s such a g-good girl! But I might never see h-her again!” Blenkins started tearing up again.

Smoker could not tell the kid that it was only puppy love when he was practically about to flood the deck with his woes. Even more worrying was the fact that Blenkins had not gushed about how pretty the girl was. Not a word about how her eyes were the windows to her soul or her bust size (Smoker knew that he had been hanging around the men of G-5 too long), making it difficult to put it all down to Blenkins having a superficial crush on a girl he just met.

“I k-know you’re going to say I only knew her for a d-day, but I think—”

“Kid—Blenkins, if you feel so strongly about the girl, then go find her. Convince her to go with you or stay in that village with her—after you hand me your resignation,” Smoker said with a sternness that felt forced to him. “I’ll have no desertions on my watch.”

And he had to leave because he could not be honest and watch the island receding in the distance the way Blenkin was.

If Smoker hoped that getting back on his warship was going to help him focus on his job, he was unpleasantly surprised when he was ambushed by urgent dispatches from HQ.

Monkey D. Luffy was on Egghead. The Navy had mustered a fleet of warships to blockade the island—the largest in recent history after Marineford. And they had to change the maps because Lulusia did not exist anymore according to the World Government.

Chapter Text

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Bepo had never actually planned on following his brother and becoming a pirate-–he had just wanted to see his brother again when he had climbed down Zunesha’s leg. But life was funny that way.

Sitting in the quiet grove that Pedro had brought him to remember his brother, Bepo strove to recall what Zepo smelt like. It was difficult because Zepo had left Zou so long ago. Bepo had been eight when he had been swept away.

He had studied navigation to get back home to Zou one day. Even if the standard rules barely applied on the Grand Line and did not apply to Zunesha at all. It was just a feeling—always a feeling, pointing the way home. So he was really happy when Law said that they would go to Zou as part of his plan to take down a Warlord. But that was before he found out that they were not actually doing anything other than maintaining a safe distance from Punk Hazard and Dressrosa.

Their Captain was always like that. Diving head first into the type of danger that he would never allow his crew to challenge. They were strong for all that they were not Devil Fruit users. Law always liked to say that they did everything he could not do—which was to be better than average swimmers and mechanics to keep the Polar Tang running—but they had to be able to fend for themselves as well.

They had fought with the Minks on Zou against the forces of Jack the Drought, but were unable to turn the tide in the end. Bepo could tell that Law was displeased that they had been in danger, but relieved that they had avoided capture and torture.

Their Captain did not want blind followers. Law valued initiative in his crew. Even if it meant that some of the crew disagreed with their Captain’s alliance with another crew. Bepo was undecided as he did not know enough about the Straw Hats.

But what he did know was that if half of the Straw Hats had not sailed to Zou while their Captain had been in Dressrosa, the Minks and his crew would not have been saved from the poisonous gas Jack had unleashed on them.

Bepo realised that the Straw Hats were sort of like the Heart Pirates—little wonder Law had decided to work with them. They argued a lot like his crew, but they always seemed to be able to work together again. And like the Hearts, they had chosen each other.

Mainly because they had been alone. Orphaned and abandoned—Bepo tried not to think about it too much because it made him depressed and he would just say anything on his mind so that one of the others could yell at him. They could forget, just for a while, that they weren’t a bunch of misfits Law had brought together in the shape of a crew.

Pedro, aware that Bepo’s thoughts had inevitably drifted, sighed and told him that it was not wrong to feel closer to his crew than the Minks. But they continued to seek him out to fill in the gaps in his education. There were so many things that Bepo had missed out on.

The first time they took him aside to speak to him alone, they had been trying to ascertain that Bepo had not been enslaved. Minks were very desirable slaves outside Zou. Bepo knew this because Law often told him and Jean Bart to lie low at certain ports and islands where slavers operated. Sometimes they did not even disembark. Giants and Minks—they had rarity value to those who collected living beings like objects.

They were rightfully concerned. Jean Bart had been a slave—what little he spoke of his time before he was freed made everyone on the crew angry and kinda sad.

So Bepo had to reassure the Minks that the Heart Pirates were his crew and his family. That they were not the awful type of pirates who were slave traders as well. If it meant that he had to scent-mark his crew a bit more or get into the odd squabble, Bepo was fine with it.

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When they had managed to reach the first island of the archipelago after almost two days of nothing but ocean and the odd rock formation in the middle of the sea to rest on, Bepo almost cried with relief. Without anything but his instincts, Bepo had struck out for Zou. But they reached land before he exhausted himself chasing after Zunesha.

There were humans here—he could smell the familiar scent of human habitations and less politely speaking, human sewage and refuse that inevitably piled up whenever there was a settlement.

It was not a big polluted city by any means—oh those stank to the heavens—but there were definitely people with boats and a number of domesticated animals here. Fishing and farms at the very least.

They avoided the human settlement at first because Law was still injured and could not summon his abilities to defend them. Bepo himself was feeling all kinds of shaky—either from swimming almost without rest for the length of time he did or from the aftereffects of the drug Dr Chopper had given him.

Experimental drugs. Law had given him an earful about the dangers of untested drugs even when he was drenched in sea water with every passing wave on the long swim.

”I am going to—” Ker-splash. “--check you once—” Sploosh. “--once I can get my—” Cough. “--Room up again–”

Bepo saved his breath for swimming. He had to get the Captain away from that Blackbeard guy before he did something rash again. Like in Wano, when he had offered himself up in exchange for Bepo, Penguin and Shachi.

They had screwed up—the Captain did not have to do that. Bepo regretted that more than the fish he had eaten out of that dreadful river.

He honestly did not regret the special pills that Dr Chopper had shared with him. Not that he was able to say so because he was still busy trying to keep them both afloat.

Law was thankfully too tired by that point to nag him while Bepo dragged them both inland, glad to not be swimming for a while at least. He followed his nose to a river—clean water at last—and tried to get the Captain to drink. Dehydration was probably the most pressing concern after almost two days at sea.

His Captain managed a few mouthfuls before he had to stop and rest. Bepo did the same—it would do them no good to overdo it and throw up. They drank a bit more before setting off again—Law being stubborn and insisting that he could walk.

If walking meant staggering, Law was definitely managing that. Ikkaku or Clione would have called him out, but Bepo was feeling the effects of being on a tropical island in addition to his injuries from the fight. He would save his energy in case they needed to run for it—there was only him left to guard the Captain now.

As they followed the river’s path, Bepo noticed that Law smelt like old guilt and pain—plus a lingering trace of something dark that made Bepo’s hackles rise. He had first come across that scent on Blackbeard and his crew. It reminded Bepo of the black miasma that Blackbeard had conjured up to surround them during that last fight. That attack was worse than the force that could split the land under their feet and squash them like bugs.

He could not see or hear Law at that point. But what was worse was the lack of smell. Like there was nothing living in that void—not even dust. It had been the single most terrifying experience in Bepo’s eventful but short life—his crew and his Captain could have been screaming for him but he would never know.

Bepo still shuddered at the memory of being trapped within that void.

When they reached the shade of the trees, they found a primary forest that reminded Bepo of Zou. It was cooler under the trees as well. Bepo was starting to become more optimistic-–if they could find some food, they could rest and heal up—

But it was never that simple with Law. He wanted to access his Devil Fruit abilities. Wanted to summon enough haki to reverse the contagion that was currently plaguing him. It probably felt super weird to be in a different body. Bepo had only changed for a very short time—he had not examined just how different it was for him.

WIth an inward sigh, Bepo assisted his Captain in his endeavours with their limited resources. Which involved making sure he did not drown in the knee-deep shallows as he tried to wash the sea off.

But they were interrupted by the marine who could become smoke. He managed to sneak up on them because of his Logia abilities and his Captain’s current lack of haki.

Hackles up and teeth out, Bepo was prepared to fight but Law stopped him.

Perhaps it was luck or something else, but they had found help at last.

Bepo had a very keen nose—better than humans, of course. Nekomamushi had told him that it was normal for humans to not understand the language of scent. Minks communicated just fine on all levels—humans had to rely on visuals and vocals. They hardly touched anyone outside their own families and their young—it was a miracle they managed to get along. Or not get along as Bepo had seen. Nekomamushi had reassured him that there was nothing wrong with trying to scent-mark all his crew. He might have to explain it to them a few more times though.

The marine Vice Admiral looked aggressive but did not smell like he was about to attack. The Captain knew him—this was the marine from Punk Hazard that had sort of been threatened into cooperating with pirates. Bepo knew that it was probably Law doing the threatening—he always did a lot of that to build up their reputation as really ruthless pirates.

They hid in the river-side cave until the marine returned with supplies that were rudimentary at best but better than nothing out here in the forest.

Bepo got busy with bandaging the Captain. The marine Vice Admiral smelt of cigar smoke and a hint of embarrassment, taking himself off when Bepo started taking Law’s jeans off. He knew from his time with the Hearts that humans got all funny about being without their cloth coverings. Even Law was careful to be clothed while lying on Bepo despite being all right with going into the hot spring baths together on Wano.

Bepo supposed that Law might not want to be so exposed in front of a marine, but he had to do what he could at the moment. So he did not say anything about it and made sure to cover Law up while whatever was left of their clothes dried.

There was food, which was very welcome after he got most of his wounds seen to. The marine seemed more patient than his gruff demeanour suggested and listened to his tale of woe throughout it all. Law might not like it, but the crew were not here, lost at sea or potentially captured by Blackbeard—Bepo needed to vent a little.

Nekomamushi had been a good listener for all that he was distracted by falling leaves sometimes. This marine, Smoker, seemed to be the same, even if he did stare at the Captain from time to time. He was worried about the Captain, Bepo realised. This made him so relieved that he finally eased his vigilance and slipped away into an exhausted doze.

When he woke up, the marine was still on watch and keeping an eye on the Captain. Which was good because Law slept better when he was leaning on someone. The Captain liked sleeping on Bepo best, but Bepo was injured at the moment. So he tried to be encouraging—it was not an easy job but someone had to do it.

Law definitely permitted the marine a lot more liberties than most people were allowed. As the day wore on, Bepo noticed the undercurrent in that small space and scented what was mostly unsaid.

Oh. Well Bepo knew about that sort of thing even before Nekomamushi had commiserated with him about the complexity of human relationships. He lived in cramp conditions on-board the Polar Tang after all. Growing up with teenage human boys as they all muddled towards adulthood, sometimes in caves like this one, Bepo had become quite familiar with their scents. He always noticed the changes whenever they were interested in anyone-–a fact he learned not to say out loud because humans were funny about that as well.

Compared to the others, Law had been a lot less interested in indulging his hormones growing up. His Captain had two rules for that sort of thing—not with one of the crew and no attachments afterwards because he had certain goals to achieve. Which was a bit sad really.

Perhaps Law had changed his mind after Dressrosa.

As his metabolism had burnt through all the food the marine had brought to heal his injuries, Bepo felt well enough to go fishing. He could leave Law and the Vice Admiral to sort themselves out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While on Zou, Pedro had told him of his brother’s demise after he requested to speak to Bepo alone. He had been very apologetic, blaming himself for leading the Nox Pirates to Totto Land and into the disaster that befell them there.

It was difficult to be sad when he could barely remember his brother’s scent.

Nekomamushi had said as much. Bepo’s scent was mingled with that of his crew. He had another family now. But Nekomamushi took them in while they waited for their Captain, explaining that he had lived amongst the humans and that he had been part of a pirate crew, once upon a time. The great feline sounded very fond of his humans. They had been a rowdy but fun lot according to him. A lot of yelling and fighting had been involved.

Bepo and the rest of the crew also yelled at the Captain a lot whenever they got worried about him. It was mostly justified. When Law had reached Zou, the crew saw the extent of the damage and flipped out spectacularly once they got their Captain to themselves. Bepo understood why—if the wounds were that bad after a few days at sea and the Captain had been using his abilities to heal, how life-threatening had they originally been?

Doflamingo had ripped Law’s arm off—they got the whole unvarnished truth out of the Straw Hats. But Luffy had dealt with that guy eventually. So they did not need to go back for revenge and probably get wiped out for their pains. The Hearts were strong, but they were not like the Straw Hats—even Bepo could sense the combination of strength and unpredictability in them.

Yet Law looked lighter than he had in years despite the bandages he had been sporting. He even smelt slightly different.

It was like Nekomamushi said during one of his chats with Bepo in the forest—that you sometimes needed someone else to help with whatever you were struggling with. People were strong in different ways after all. The Minks had been lucky that they had help. Law had been beyond lucky in his choice of alliances and Bepo supposed that there were no better people to head to Wano with.

The Heart Pirates knew that they would come up against the Emperors eventually. Law had fought Big Mom, not for Zepo’s sake, but because they had been part of the alliance to take down Kaidou. Later, Law told the crew that they had done well to revive Luffy to turn the tide of the battle. Bepo had been both thrilled and scared that they had played some part in the demise of two Emperors. Maybe they could be strong enough to challenge the New World.

But they had not been strong enough in the end.

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The marines left in the morning. The Vice Admiral was not one for farewells and Law could not even say when they might meet again. Bepo supposed that Law could not promise anymore than that.

Not right now anyway.

Sweltering under the heat of the late morning sun, Bepo tried his best to scowl and look menacing when Law approached the woman he had ascertained to be the leader of the village. But he was a navigator and not the kind of pirate that took heads—not that Law allowed them to do anything like that. Penguin and Shachi always said people would never take him seriously if he spoke.

The Headwoman, a tall human who wore her responsibilities like a cloak, weighed the situation and came to a decision within five seconds after Law’s ultimatum. Apprehending them was out of the question, so she sensibly agreed to their proposal.

It just took one demonstration of Law’s Room and the Headwoman sent people running for the docks to patch up the most seaworthy craft they had.

He watched as his Captain moved skillfully amongst the patients. This was his Captain in his element. He didn’t have the pieces of paper that said he was a surgeon, but there were certified doctors in the world that Bepo would not trust to diagnose him with a runny nose.

No doctors could do what Law could in his Room.

Dead flesh being cut away before it could rot and spread. Setting a new cast on a fractured arm. Detecting a ruptured spleen that would have killed a man. Checking over a woman who might have a concussion.

In his role as Law’s assistant, Bepo was not concentrating on reading their expressions but he knew from experience that the watching villagers would range from scared to impressed.

Then Law asked him to hold a limb steady and Bepo did, just like he had trained for.

There was a bit of yelling but that was bone realignment for you. Some among the watchers turned green but no-one was sick and no-one fainted. They seemed tough—these people had to be pretty hardy if they refused the marine medic’s help to amputate.

They probably buried a lot of people, with or without their bodies, Law told Bepo later. The seas here were merciless.

The sea had been kind to Bepo when it had eventually taken him to the island he had met Law. The seas had been helpful in putting more distance between themselves and Blackbeard. But he was not his Captain, who would have sunk like a stone if Bepo had not been carrying him. Something about the ocean just caused people like Law to go limp or motionless the moment they were submerged in it.

They needed that boat if they were to even try to get their crew back.

Fortunately for everyone, the villagers were really grateful that some of them did not need to lose their limbs—or lives. Bepo was showered with all the fish he could swallow when they finally took a break from their labours. Law was almost too tired to eat, but Bepo kept an eye on him until he managed to finish most of the fish porridge. It was pretty obvious that Law was worn out after continuous rounds of surgery, but no-one bothered them when they were taking a break outside the hospice.

“Never seen a Mink so far from home before,” the Headwoman said as she came by to peer into the small open-sided shelter they were resting in. It had probably served as a vegetable stall whenever the farmers brought their goods in to trade because it smelt like green leaves and carrots.

“I’ve been back home, but I’m still a navigator,” Bepo told the woman, still lounging because Law was taking a nap on him. She looked stern and intimidating at first but seemed to have softened up after they had dealt with the more urgent casualties.

“You’re lucky you missed the marines that were here.” Her gaze was shrewd as she looked them over. “That Vice Admiral—big fella with white hair, he was out in the forest all night—did you see him?”

Bepo yelped as Law’s bony elbow got him in the side as he turned over.

“That guy? He just smoked a lot,” Law said, his eyes still closed even though Bepo knew that his Captain hated being caught off guard or caught napping. “We saw him. Doubt he could see anything through that smoke.”

The Headwoman made a neutral sound that did not indicate if she believed any of that. Bepo just focused on being grumpy—he could keep a secret! He had not said anything when he came back from the river last night—he had a working nose and they had not been subtle at all.

“You should get moving before sunset—other pirates use this place for resupply sometimes,” she told them. “We’ll throw in some water and food for you two.”

“Thanks,” Law muttered, opening his eyes to look at the woman at last. “You’ve been pretty good to someone who took advantage of your bad situation.”

“Maybe we’re lucky we got an actual surgeon,” the Headwoman said with a shrug, “But if you really want to help, we could always use a doctor here.”

There were no hospitals out here and people with medical knowledge appeared to be few and far between.

“Granny Vina is eighty-five already and would like to retire,” she continued. “She says bringing out babies is hard enough without having to bury them later.”

“She did well enough so far,” Law replied, which was high praise coming from him. “If you need a doctor, pray that the next ship has a medic and hope they fall for one of your people hard enough to stay.”

The Headwoman stared at Law for a long moment. “Looks like it’s not our lucky day then. Unless the bear can be bribed with more fish—”

“If he wants to come back some day, Bepo’s free to do so.” Law stood up and at his full height, he could look the tall Headwoman in the face. “But we’ve got people waiting for us, so I’ll take a look at that boat now.”

“We’ve got some space for a clinic,” the Headwoman continued, undaunted by this refusal as she led them to the docks. The tide was almost at its peak—they could be out of sight of the island by sunset. “Could build a few more houses.”

They passed through the main thoroughfare of the village of Pol and discovered a tired News Coo taking a long drink of water on the sheltered perch set out for that very purpose. Some older kids were already running to get some fish to feed it as the Headwoman made a slightly surprised noise at the sight.

“It’s a day early,” she muttered as she retrieved the papers from the bird’s satchel. She scanned the headlines for a moment and looked over the top of the paper at the two of them thoughtfully.

“Bad news?”

“I suppose that depends on the person,” the Headwoman said gravely and passed Law the paper. “You can return it before you leave.”

Then she was briskly snapping out orders to provision the fishing sloop, leaving Law to stare at the newspaper in his hands.

“What the hell? A change in maps? Freak storms all over the place—Luffy’s on Egghead . . .” Law’s eyes narrowed.

Reading over Law’s shoulder, Bepo knew what his Captain was thinking even as he thought it.

“There’s a Naval blockade, Captain,” Bepo said quietly.

“They’ll get out—I’ve bet on worse odds before,” Law said with the most conviction Bepo had heard from him all week. Bepo knew the feeling—if anyone could do the impossible, those guys could.

“You want to find them.”

Law looked at Bepo with equal parts hope and concern. “Can you do it?”

“I can try.” He had to—their crew’s lives depended on it. And that was dependent on Bepo navigating his way to Egghead and finding the Straw Hats. Law would have to convince them to help. Against an Emperor who had proven that he was stronger, they had to find powerful allies.

Bepo got to work, sketching out the route on a patch of dust. Most humans did not understand his maps anyway. Law knew how he operated and left him to it.

Around an hour later, the Headwoman came to tell them that the sloop was ready. Several children finally overcame their shyness to approach Bepo for good-bye hugs. The Headwoman had to warn them to never brag about meeting a Mink.

Bepo waved at the villagers who watched them sail away on the fishing sloop. “They seemed nice . . .”

“She knows we’re pirates, Bepo,” Law told him as the wind filled the sail overhead. “I doubt she wants that part of us in her village.”

Meaning that the trouble that they would inevitably bring would outweigh any benefit of having actual medical care.

“Maybe we could come back here again,” Bepo mused as he manned the tiller. “Just to check on them.”

“Assuming we make it back.”

Meaning alive, with the rest of the crew.

“I told you to have faith in them, Captain.” They had to be alive. Bepo had to believe in what he said.

They had to be strong enough for this.

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