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"Hnnngh," Luffy grouches, hands scratching at his head, "A mushroom?"
"As if!" Usopp chops at Luffy's head. A familiar, useless correction. Not that he could expect much of Luffy in the first place.
"Looook closely," Usopp drawls, gently prying apart the clustered little flowers, "it's not spots, but many flowers bundled together."
"Woah, you're right." Luffy leans in so close his nose nearly brushes the soil, his dark eyes wide. "Heh~ this flower has so many friends,” A grin fractures his face, bright and blinding, “Let's help it make more, Usopp!"
"We’ll have to ask Robin about that, ya know. This is her flower bed and all."
A beat, and a hand sprouts from behind to poke at Usopp, fingers wiggling before making an 'OK' sign. Leave it to Robin to be in the know of all that happens around the ship. Permission granted, the two break into mirroring wide grins. Usopp looks around, trying to recall where he left his shovel. He would have succeeded, too, if Luffy hadn't immediately chosen that exact second to propose blasphemous methods for regrowing the roots. The ensuing lecture on the delicate art of floriculture drives the shovel completely from Usopp's mind.
Behind them, Law leans against the railing, watching the exchange. The brim of his hat casts a long shadow over his face, hiding the gold of his eyes.
It is a strange thing, he reflects, how quickly the erratic rhythm of this crew has become a familiar weight. A norm, despite an alliance only weeks old.
The casual exchange entirely in their character—the effortless, terrifying ease with which they welcome a stranger into their embrace. Becoming friends without a vocalised agreement. Making space in their lives, their habits, their home for their new friend.
The rambunctious duo tended to the flower bed in the background, the slap of hands resounding from time to time–Usopp keeping Luffy from killing their only specimen, surely– and bickering now melding into comforting background noise. Somewhere along the way, Luffy makes his presence known, skidding and crashing onto the railings only because Law had had the foresight to dodge the human rocket.
The rubbery teen recovers, nonchalant, as if crashing into the railing is his bread and butter. He adjusts his signature straw hat as he turns to Law, a smile in greeting.
"Torao! Here." A bundle of small red flowers invades his vision.
"Usopp said you were being 'emo' again."
Damn Nose-ya and his…nosiness.
"I wasn't."
Luffy hums. "Anyway! The flower is pretty, so I wanted you to see it."
He shoves the blossoms forward until the petals brush against the dark fabric of Law’s hoodie, right over his chest.
Right over his heartbeat.
Law eventually receives the offering, only because Luffy had no qualms holding it and staring Law down until he did so. Satisfied, Luffy turns to lean against the railing, elbows propped up and nudging at Law's wrist.
"Usopp says flowers don't grow well in places that are too quiet," Luffy adds carelessly, turning his gaze back towards the flower bed where Usopp gently patted the dirt from the roots, his work no doubt more efficient without Luffy at his side.
The red blossoms sway with the breeze, as if nodding along to Luffy's statement. "But I think yours just need more sun."
Law stares down at the tiny crimson smudges cradled in his hand. Yours.
If Law's heart was a garden, it would look nothing like the Straw Hats' open, sun-drenched fields.
His would be a ruined thing. A plot trampled over just as the young buds were beginning to open, to breathe, to reveal their existence to the world. A place defined by subsequent years of deliberate neglect, now culminating in a choke of weeds and tangled overgrowth.
And if Law scraped at the greens— nails catching on soil, fingers numb—he'd unveil a few survivors.
Stubborn flowers that were concealed beneath his mess of a garden.
Stubborn flowers that stared him in the eye, proving him wrong with their vitality.
He doesn't hesitate much when he snaps the buds from the stems. He leaves the roots— always the roots, because a part of him still foolishly hopes the stumps will mend— and gathers the flowers.
It's a messy thing, his bouquet. A consolidation of ill-fitting colours, of contrasting shapes, of mismatched lengths.
A bouquet which he ends up concealing behind his back, because trust simply doesn't come easily to him, the same way a butterfly spots a wilting blossom, hovers over doubtfully before it eventually drifts away in search of one better.
A bouquet which never does make it to another's hands, vulnerabilities tugged to his chest as he hunches over and closes his arms around them, adjusting to envelope and shroud them whole—the way morning glories curl in on themselves in an attempt to retain what little moisture they have from the predatory sun.
The flowers do however, make it out of Law’s hands. When they finally slip from his grip, they are no longer beautiful; crumpled, tinged with the dark, bruised colours of decay, damp from the sweat of clenched fingers.
He buries the corpses back in the dirt. (He wished he could have done the same for his city. His family. Cora-san.)
When he looks back, the garden has accumulated a hill of corpses, mangled, unrecognisable of even what flowers they used to be.
Law pulls himself out of the dark. The imagery fades, leaving him standing on the sunny deck, elbows still propped on the railing and Kikoku's familiar buzz beneath his palm. His expression entirely unreadable to anyone else on the sea.
Anyone except the boy in front of him.
Law tests the waters, keeping his voice steady. “I think my flowers are fine where they are, Mugiwara-ya.”
Luffy hasn't looked away. He isn't looking at Law’s hands or his posture, but staring directly into Law's eyes, past the glare of the sun, past the cool defiance.
He looks at Law the way he looks at a closed door he intends to break down. He knows there is something rotting behind it, something Law is trying to keep hidden in the dark, and Luffy has never liked the dark.
“They aren't.” The declaration breaks the silence, Luffy's eyes still boring into Law’s with that terrifying certainty. “Gimme them, and I’ll eat them.”
Law feels his internal gears sputter. A momentary friction before they work the way they should. He blames it on the sleep deprivation.
“...Pardon?”
A raised eyebrow, “I said I’ll eat your flowers, Torao.”
“I highly doubt they look delectable, Mugiwara-ya.”
“But they’re still flowers, right?”
Were they? Law didn't know anymore, if those yellowing smudges could still be worthy of being called so, likely even bringing a stomach upset to anyone that ingests them from how the long-neglected petals have dried and soured.
Luffy quirks an eyebrow, gesturing to make a point, “Even if they look a little different from how they used to be. I mean, just look at how Sanji transforms food from live food to food food. But they’re still food.”
Law doesn’t even have it in him to conjure a response to that. Not that it matters, because Luffy continues anyway. “And they’re your flowers, Torao.”
As if that single sentence explained why Luffy, even if dropped into the vast ocean of choices not unlike the vibrant Dressrosan flower field surrounding Kyros' house, would still comb every nook and cranny until he found himself at the single, ugly, wilting, undesirable flower that was Law, cradle it in his palms and hold it close the mottled scar, right above a strong heartbeat.
“There are better foods to fill your stomach than that—” Law deflects, but his words collide with how they both spoke at the same time, Luffy additionally drawing both his hands in the arc of a growing plant, “So I eat them! Then they’ll grow in my garden—”
Luffy whips his head to face Law's, the sudden spotlight causing Law to swallow the flummoxed gasp that almost bubbles out of his throat.
“—And you,” A flurry of movement appears from Law’s periphery, causing him to incline his head towards the motion, and process that the rubber man has performed some balloon craft mastery, hands contorted a flower and subsequently stuffed in Law's face, “can eat my flowers in exchange!”
Law tries to convince himself that it’s just Luffy being Luffy, who has food at the forefront of his life priorities, and hence already derailing from the point at hand. (He fails, because Law also knows that Luffy could be frighteningly intuitive at times, casually pulling out facts about Law that even Law himself didn’t want to admit agreeing to).
It occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, Luffy did understand the metaphor. The brunt from said realisation comes as if Luffy had spiritually shoved a handful of petals down his throat, crushing any vocal rebuttal and even stunting some nerve responsible for brain activity.
And, because Luffy is the yappertron that he is, it takes a second for Law to realise that he has already missed some crucial parts of Luffy’s chatter when the cotton in his ears dissipates and he processes all too clearly a “Torao has probably eaten his friends’ flowers, but not realised it!”.
Now, Law liked to think of himself as someone who stayed ahead of others. Someone who planned ahead, considering a myriad of possibilities so as to be prepared for anything that comes his way. But like any and every single one of his collusions with the Straw Hat captain, he finds himself left in the dust. It’s no different at this moment, where Law is left wordless at the wave of dust arising from how Luffy runs–not jumps, because Luffy does explain his point of view but no sane person comprehends it in time to see the distinction–to conclusions.
A tangerine conveniently chooses that moment to strike Luffy, eliciting a prompt yelp from the teen. A snicker breaks out of Law before he realises it. Shaking his head fondly, Law watches as the tangerine rolls away from them, slowing to a stop about a meter away. The orange fruit no doubt caused a break in Luffy’s runaway train of a thought, and Law takes the opportunity to gather his bearings. He methodically unravels the mess of rubber fingers, relishing in the meditative nature of the action.
Hands now back to normal, Luffy sniggers, fingers relishing its newfound freedom. Much like someone trying to regain the feeling in his hands as soon as possible. Which means—
“Room,"
—That those hands are now fully free to lunge for the fruit that’s rolled behind Law. He hates how he felt Luffy's reaction in his bones, knew the younger captain’s next move even without observation haki. “Takt.”
The tangerine floats—“Hey! That’s cheating!”—and settles on Law's palm.
"Am not!" Law promptly rebuts, but realises that the damn Straw Hat Captain has strung Law up along with his pace again, and pauses. Recomposes himself. “I don’t want to hear that from someone who was just a millisecond away from grabbing it thanks to his stretchy arms.”
Luffy bats a petulant tongue at him.
Rolling his eyes at his ally's childish antics, Law lifts his gaze to meet Luffy’s. “What you were saying just now—” his voice betrays a hint of fondness, holding his gaze as dexterous hands moved to peel the tangerine, “—Explain.”
Luffy perks up, returning a toothy grin.
“Torao loves his crew, doesn’t he? And his crew loves him too,” Luffy says easily.
“And I’m sure Torao is loved by more than just his crew.”
And because Luffy is a certified professional at spoiling the mood, “So he has eaten many flowers in his lifetime, but probably didn’t know.”
“...How can I not know when I’ve eaten?”
“If you’re reaaally hungry. Dadan used to say that I have a monster in my stomach. Maybe that monster possessed you. Then un-possessed you."
“Then I would still know if I’ve eaten, since I'd feel better after eating.”
“But some foods are evil! They make your tongue all jumpy and your stomach all rumbly!”
Maybe Law was overestimating himself when he thought a few minutes ago that he could follow this interrogation through. Thankfully, Luffy processes Law’s unimpressed stare, and supplements his claim. “Like Chopper’s weeds—”
“Herbs,” Law interjects. The correction unsurprisingly flew past Luffy's head.
“—they make you feel all nasty and woozy! But Chopper says that you have to think of the weeds as friends, so that your body won’t fight and the weeds will make friends with you.”
Tangerine now peeled, Law starts pulling the pieces apart into small edible chunks. Hands ever quick, Luffy miraculously only steals a piece, popping it into his mouth. “So Torao ate the flowers, but didn't know they were flowers because they felt evil to him.”
And because Luffy is psychotic in the sense that he eats everything, by that including parts you're not supposed to eat, he swallows the seeds. “And then! The flower poops the seeds in Torao’s garden, but Torao doesn’t know that he ate flowers, so the flowers grew without Torao knowing.
Shachi is always telling Law to be more optimistic, and Law chooses to be optimistic at the fact that they have almost unraveled Straw Hat’s logic while creating some additional knots and snipping some strings in the process. He, for once, wished that Robin was here to first and foremost explain to Luffy that flowers in fact do not poop, period, and following that, to help decipher the last bits of Luffy’s logic for him.
Speak of the devil, Law thinks, Robin coming into vision as he enters the galley. Luffy had run off to fish with Usopp and Chopper, leaving Law free to roam.
A spread of tea snacks adorn the table, no doubt meticulously prepared by Sanji, and a book accompanies her for the afternoon.
"Torao-kun," Robin lifts her gaze from the pages, the hint of a smile gracing her voice, "Tea?"
Law nods in response. The light scent of Jasmine wafts as Law approaches, and he takes a seat opposite her. Though Robin was initially alone, there had already been another unused cup situated next to the pot.
It was rather characteristic of the Straw Hats, Law observes. That they always made the space to welcome new company even though nothing was planned beforehand.
Robin makes quick work of the cup, now filled with tea, and nudges it in Law's direction. Law lifts the cup to his lips, the gentle notes of the Jasmine tea welcoming, senses roused by the warmth of the drink.
"The flower we saw this morning," Pages filled with sketches of said flower finds its way into Law's vision, "it's called Achillea. Or more commonly known as Yarrow."
Law mulls the name over. "Achillea… Achilles?"
The connection earns a smile from Robin, appreciative that Law happened to be more well-versed in stories and mythology than most of her crewmates.
"It's said that Achilles carried the plant to battle for medical purposes," Robin makes a knowing grin at Law at the medicinal coincidence, "especially effective for blood coagulation, pain relief, reducing infections and so on."
Law hums. It was a lucky find, if this one plant could indeed serve as a hemostatic, analgesic and antiseptic, all in one. "Tony-ya would like that." They'd have to collect the seeds and grow more of it.
Robin nods, reaching over to flip to the page detailing its medicinal uses. The short section on its floriography somehow catches Law's attention, and he quickly sweep his gaze over the paragraph.
Courage, war, heartache and healing.
"The perfect pick-me-up for someone who's been under the weather, or fought their way through a difficult situation," Robin recites, continuing the paragraph and Law mentally curses at how the archaeologist knew exactly what had ensnared his attention. If she'd sensed his unease, whether from the current moment or from the past week ever since their departure from Dressrosa, she doesn't mention it.
They make some small talk over the tea snacks, and Robin eventually asks about his morning. Law acquiesces to her with the truth, dropping interesting quotes from Luffy but omitting details that made him look like a sap.
"Luffy said that?" Robin verifies, halfway between a giggle.
He's not sure which part exactly amused her—whether it was the way their sentimental conversation went haywire, or Luffy's (mis)understanding on flower defecations. Turquoise eyes crinkle in amusement, and the two bask in comfortable silence as Robin takes a sip of her tea. Book back in her hands, she traces the sketch of the flower on the worn book cover.
"I would think he tacitly understood your analogy rather well— about how flowers represented how we each expressed love. That, Torao-kun had been shown love in certain ways, and those manifested as an integral part in how you show love to others, unbeknownst to yourself," Robin lifts a hand to her heart, "How we are all able to love, and express our love, because we were once on the receiving end."
Robin isn't wrong. That is the worst part. Law had to accept it—that the seeds were always there, planted by hands that loved him before they were gone.
His mother, whispering stories of the world while his father read over medical journals, the two memories culminating in the bedtime stories he used to tell Lami.
Cora-san, clumsily pulling up the blankets whenever Law kicked them off in his sleep. A habit Law now repeated, entirely against his own cynical will, on nightly patrols through the Polar Tang, finding his own crew knocked out on benches and shambling blankets over their shoulders.
His crew, delivering a steaming cup of coffee to his room on mornings after a bad night. No questions asked, just a cheery, loud update to keep the shadows at bay, leaving him with a warmth that lingered long after the cup left his palms.
And now what, knowing that Doflamingo is no longer a threat looming over his head? Now that his thirteen years of vengeance had seen closure. Now that he'd avenged Cora-san, and was left a blank as to what he should do next.
"And perhaps then," Robin looks towards the door to outside, "it's our turn to sow the seeds and spread the flowers."
"Torao, look!" Luffy waves him over excitedly from where he was squatted in front of the newest plant species on the Thousand Sunny—physically buzzing with anticipation as to Law's arrival.
Unfortunately, Law considered himself one of the few proper adults on the Thousand Sunny, and hence made no move to hasten his steps. Though, he couldn't deny that Luffy's gaze was rather persuasive, and made to tug his hat down, obscuring Luffy from his vision.
(Or so he convinces himself, pushing down the nagging voice that it was to hide a quickly-crumbling composure at Luffy's bright eyes— his buzzing excitement, his undivided attention on him.)
Luffy continued staring at Law's languid gait. "Toraooo," he whines, and unsurprisingly loses the contest of patience. Law lifts his gaze from the wooden deck just in time to witness the two seconds it took for Luffy to pinch at the flowers and rockets over to Law's. His well-honed battle senses were all that prevented Luffy from crashing headfirst into him. Unperturbed, Luffy invades his vision whole, hands outstretched and a joyful declaration, "A ladybug!"
…Huh. How did that bug find its way all the way here, out at sea?
"Nishishishi. It has spots just like Torao's hat," Luffy snickers, shifting his gaze between Law and the bug, "so if Torao was a beetle, he would be a good beetle!"
Law pretends he doesn't feel the warmth rising to his ears. "That's not for you to decide, let alone decide one's morality on the sole basis of having spots."
"Booo," Luffy pouts, disapproval evident at the methodical answer. The ladybug—perhaps because Luffy's chatterbox of a power was effective across all species—sought some peace, and hence began crawling from Luffy's palm to his fingers. Luffy rotated his palm and unfurled his fingers accordingly to suit the bug's course.
The bug eventually settles at the tip of Luffy's index. Law wished he could break the news to the bug, that Luffy's volume would be no different with the mere 9cm difference between its initial and new positions.
On the other hand, Luffy beams at the bug's movement, and being the gremlin that he is, goes to elevate and drop his hand repeatedly, the same way a parent pontificates an airplane to a baby. The bug shivers its wings, as if to protest and ready itself to find a better spot than on Luffy.
Empathising with the bug, Law gives it a mental nod in support.
He overlooks the fact that he is equally doomed as the bug the moment Luffy grabs Law's wrist all too easily, all too naturally, and leads them back to the greenery. The distance passes in a haze, and the scene cuts to Luffy bending over to reach the plant, nudging the bug to return to the leaf.
The same way Luffy, despite adamant denials as to being a hero, has never broken his promises.
Promises to strangers to get their homes back from the bad guys.
Promises to return them home.
"It doesn't have to be complicated," Luffy suddenly says, breaking Law out of his thoughts. Luffy straightens, gaze still trained on the fluttering ladybug. "If you're a good person, then you're a good person."
"That's circular reasoning," Law points out, even though Luffy's statement barely qualified as reasoning in the first place.
"But," Luffy skips over the comment, "There's also bad beetles. Makino used to grow some flowers, and one day we found this beetle that ate all her flowers!"
It's strange, Law thinks, how Makino is now a familiar figure in his mind, one woven together from the many late-night stories, stitched together by the steady, erratic thread of Luffy's voice.
Stories that he only ever hears when the dark gets too heavy. When sleepless nights claim him whole and drive him out the aquarium and towards the deck of the Sunny— a luxury he had never had in the claustrophobic belly of the Polar Tang, entrapped by the deep sea. He'd stand at the railing, letting the salt air bite his skin and the rhythm of the waves drown out his thoughts.
And sometimes, the inevitable sound of sandals against wood. Luffy would appear, greeting him with a grin and pointing up towards Sunny's head. An invitation. The first time, Law had refused. He had expected to be left alone. He had learned the hard way that Luffy simply didn't understand the word no. A rubber arm would snap out, hauling Law up by the scruff of his neck. And there, while Law's heart hammered against his ribs from the sudden drop in gravity, Luffy would simply laugh, settle back, and begin to talk. He would talk until the nightmares receded.
Now, under the bright afternoon sun, that same voice brings him back to the present.
Law focuses on the boy in front of him. "What happened to the beetle?" he asks, half-expecting some tale of childish revenge taken in Makino's honor.
"Makino said to leave it be," Luffy recalls, "because that the beetle would be me if I was a beetle."
"Because you gobble up all the food in the vicinity?" Law hazards a guess, amused.
The hypothesis earns a pout from Luffy. "Not you too, Torao."
"And Makino was right."
"But that's still a bad beetle."
"And imagine you were that beetle— feasting on Kuroashi-ya's food and some giant kills you for feeding yourself," Law reasons, ignoring Luffy's affronted "I'm stronger than that!", and decides to conclude the argument. "Not to mention. As if pirates are any better than bad beetles?"
Luffy beams. And that was all the closure they needed.
The ladybug chose the moment to reveal its boredom with the two captains, and flutters away to another flower. Luffy pipes up. "The beetle has good taste. Finding Sunny and those pretty flowers."
"Oh." Luffy perks up and swirls to face Law.
"Me, beetle," Luffy says, pointing a finger at his own chest. Then, he shifts it to Law, "You, flower."
The words hang in the space between them, heavy and ridiculous and entirely too bright.
Law freezes. The world seems to tilt on its axis, the weight of an unintentional confession dropping like an anchor in his chest. A pick-up line. A declaration. With Luffy, it was impossible to tell the difference.
Law forces his gaze away, focusing instead on the world around them.
The afternoon sun is blinding, baking the wood of the Sunny’s deck until the scent of sea salt and warm timber is thick enough to taste. The wind catches the brim of his hat, tugging at it, a reminder of gravity, of reality. Below them, the sea roars—a constant, rhythmic heartbeat of sapphire and foam. The world is too loud, too vibrant, too alive for Law to succumb to the sudden, dizzying warmth creeping up his neck.
He anchors himself to the mundane. To the noise. To the sheer absurdity of the boy standing in front of him. And the absurdity that he is helplessly caught up in that boy's rhythm.
Law’s lips unknowingly quirk up. "And you'll be the good beetle?"
"Good beetle!" Luffy chirps in affirmation. "We'll beat the bad beetles, and plant many flowers!"
"Beetles don't plant flowers—" Law interjects, though his words are already lost on Luffy, who was currently dashing back towards the galley, his sandals resounding across the deck.
"Saaanji, I'm hungry!" Luffy booms, earning a muffled Damn it! beyond the door, "What's for lunch?"
"You just had lunch an hour ago!" Sanji's shout resounds from indoors.
Luffy's laugh reverberates across the Sunny, uncaring as to his cook's distress. He comes to a stop just short of the door, and turns his head behind. "Toraooo, hurry up!" Luffy says, but Law could already see his arms getting ready to stretch and give him the Zoro treatment. Law quickly tosses the tangerine peel next to Luffy and shambles himself over.
The rubber arm, already partially stretched in its previous attempt to catch its target, withdraws itself. Except, the pivot of the arm starts to swing towards Law instead, and Law finds himself coiled within, rebuttal dead on his tongue.
Luffy, that menace, only gives a smirk. Triumphant, relentless, and entirely satisfied.
"Let's go, Torao!"
The door yields, and inside, the world is loud; the steady, rhythmic chop of Sanji’s knife against wood, the casual, thrown-out greetings of the crew, the bright, booming resonance of Luffy’s laughter. The warmth of the galley washes over him, heavy and inescapable, as the hinges creak and the door shuts the rest of the world away.
Law does not fight it. This time, he stays entirely awake to the shift.
He feels the seeds scatter. He feels them nestle deep within the dark of his garden. The soil closes over them. This time, not to hide, but to protect.