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He isn’t getting involved.
Bad enough to have been swept up in things the last time Strawhat caused a ruckus on Sabaody; his loud and chaotic return in an obviously stolen marine ship, filled to the brim with people wearing ragged prisoner clothing, is so far removed from anything of Law’s concern that he should, by rights, be shifting himself and his crew to the far side of the archipelago in the interests of not becoming bystander casualties of whatever happens next.
...that said.
“You totally want to know what the hell’s going on,” Shachi scoffs, and scoffs again when Law aims a middle finger in his direction. “It’s not like we don’t, boss, so c’mon, lets go get a better view already.”
They’re already off the beaten path, well away from the main thoroughfares of Sabaody where most civilians handle day to day business. Someone, probably not Strawhat, decided that avoiding inciting a panic would be the best way to skip drawing a fresh round of Admiral or Warlord appearances. Law can approve of that much at least.
He takes a winding path through the large trees and over a couple of footbridges, Shachi and Penguin and Bepo close on his heels, paying attention as best they can to the mob of cheering, ecstatic escaped prisoners slowly spreading out from the ship’s gangplanks. Where in the world did they all come from, Law is tempted to wonder - either every marine-run jail and prison on half the log pose routes through Paradise must be empty, or...
No. Strawhat might be crazy enough to punch a Celestial in the face, but even he couldn’t pull off an escape from Impel Down.
(...could he?)
“-said I don’t CARE!”
And speak of the devil.
It’s an odd assortment, when Law reaches a decently hidden spot to observe from. Two flamboyant and brightly colored individuals, one with a massive head and risque clothing choices. Two men in prisoner’s garb, one blue-haired and red-nosed, the other with dark hair carefully styled into the shape of the number 3. And two Warlords, past as well as present: easy enough to recognize Sir Crocodile, who failed some sort of takeover attempt in Alabasta recently, and Jinbei, Knight of the Sea, who has no logical reason to be here at all and yet has put himself right at the front of the group-
-attempting to slow down Strawhat Luffy.
“You are still recovering from your injuries,” the large fishman rumbles, voice low but carrying. “And even if not, even if you were at your full strength right now, you are not a match for the forces of the Holy Land!”
What.
“I already told you, I don’t care!” Strawhat shoves, knocks Jinbei’s hands away from his shoulders, tries to keep going with his run deeper into the trees. “I’m NOT going to let anything stop me, I CAN'T let anything stop me! I have to go get Ace!”
...Firefist Ace? Why would he-
“He wouldn’t want this, Luffy,” Jinbei snaps, reaching, catching Strawhat’s arm and yanking him to a stop. Law can feel something deep down inside of himself sit up and take a greater interest. “For as long as he’s been my friend, Ace’s greatest source of joy has been talking about you, things you’ve done and things he hopes you’ll get to see and achieve! Do not do him the dishonor of throwing your life away like this-!”
“I’m not!” Strawhat howls, again tearing himself free, breathing hard. Even from this distance, it’s easy to see how wide his eyes are, the way his lips are pulled back to bare teeth like a wild animal. “But I’m not throwing HIS life away either! Stupid nobles already- they took Sabo! Took him away from us! I won’t let them take Ace too, do you hear me?! I won’t let them TAKE MY BROTHER!”
Fuck.
The force that rolls out of Strawhat with those words, crashing against everyone nearby with the force of a tidal wave- Law staggers, drops to one knee as he tries to keep breathing. Muted thumps behind him draw his attention, to where Penguin and Shachi have outright collapsed, Bepo on hands and knees. Far closer, all six of the people trailing after Strawhat stagger, drop, or otherwise lose their composure. Even the cacophony of joyous prisoners is silenced, that wave of power traveling outward, bringing down any and everything that might keep Strawhat away from his goal.
A goal of, apparently, charging straight to the gates of the Holy Land, and tearing the place apart to get back Firefist. His brother. The Whitebeard pirate who’d been slated for public execution in a few more days, only to be snatched out of Impel Down by a Celestial looking for a high-profile pet.
With Jinbei forced backwards and the rest of his tagalongs suitably distracted, Strawhat starts running again. Towards what, Law can’t tell. Maybe he’s on a direct course to the Red Port as if he can walk across water to reach it, maybe there’s a ship waiting somewhere around here, but whatever the target is, the teenage pirate doesn’t get there.
No, he gets to a spot maybe ten steps away from where Law is kneeling, and between one step and the next, something gives.
More correctly, something gives out.
Mid-step, Strawhat collapses, a full-body impact against the ground. He doesn’t bounce back up. He tries, after a moment of stunned silence - tries pushing at the ground with hands and knees, and when that doesn’t get him very far, the guy outright tries crawling, clawing at the grass and dirt with bloodied hands.
He’s not crying, technically, but it’s the next best thing. Snot spilling from his nose, ugly, wretched noises spilling past those bared teeth, furious eyes full of moisture that refuses to fall. “Ace,” he gasps, quiet enough Law thinks he might be the only one to hear it. “Ace-!”
Law isn’t getting involved.
He’s not.
But he does, after another moment spent pulling himself together, open a Room.
Bepo makes an alarmed noise. A few surprised shouts go up from the group who’d been following on Strawhat’s heels, who look to mostly be composed again but drew up short when he fell.
With a twist of his fingers and a whispered “Chambers,” Law swaps himself with a pebble directly in front of the teen’s grasping fingers.
Up close, it’s a lot more obvious how harshly the younger pirate is struggling to breathe, along with the scent of blood. There’s a fair amount of damage on his body, scrapes and punctures, signs of burns and frostbite even, all sorts of injuries that Law would normally take the time to catalogue and treat one by one.
But he isn’t getting involved.
He is meeting Strawhat’s intense gaze as the other captain looks up, on the verge of a full meltdown, encountering yet another obstacle. “Get out of my way,” he growls. Means it, too. Even collapsed and at the end of his strength, Strawhat Luffy is fully serious in trying to continue onward.
“How about I help you out, instead,” Law says, which earns one single, startled blink, before using his Room to exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide in a few key locations. A moment later, as the effect kicks in, Strawhat’s eyes roll up and his head drops to the grass.
“Luffy!”
“He’ll be fine.” Standing slowly, leaning into nonchalance to disguise just how badly off-kilter he feels from that wave of power (haki, it was haki, how the hell does a teenager who’s only been in the Grand Line for a handful of months already have haki that strong-) Law gives the approaching fishman Warlord a sharp look. “But I’d bet anything in the world he’s going to try again as soon as he wakes up.”
Jinbei sighs, an exhausted non-verbal agreement. Carefully, he bends down and scoops Strawhat into his arms, taking care that the item responsible for his moniker isn’t squashed along the way. “Your assistance is, appreciated, Surgeon.”
“This wasn’t assistance,” Law snorts, already turning away. “This was just me feeling bored.”
Bored, and curious, but that second part he’ll keep to himself.
I won’t let them take my brother!