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The Heart Pirates weren’t strangers to chaos; it was rare for them to enjoy a peaceful shore leave.
The quaint seaside village where the Polar Tang gently rested felt like a dream – a reprieve from tempestuous seas and endless battles with other pirate crews and marines alike.
Cobblestone streets wound between large brick buildings and connected bustling market districts to one another, with vendors hawking their wares by means of loud calls from beneath fluttering canopies. The townsfolk appeared cheerful as they went about their day, parting effortlessly as the large pirate crew made their way to the centre of the small island up the main thoroughfare, white boiler suits stark against the colours and patterns of the world around them.
Law, at the front of the group, walked with his usual reserved air, Kikoku braced against one shoulder. His golden eyes continuously scanned the surroundings from beneath the rim of his hat; a habit he would never grow out of, no matter how ‘charming’ a place appeared to be. Behind him, his crew laughed and chatted, clearly enjoying the rare chance to relax. To his left was Rosinante, towering above him, despite his hunched shoulders. He kept his strides slow and loping in order to match Law’s sharp pace, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit, and cigarette puffing between his lips; to the inhabitants of the island, he probably looked the very picture of laidback.
(But Law knew the older man was far from it; he, too, found it difficult to relax in strange, foreign environments.)
As they wove through the market stalls, Law caught Rosinante’s eye, his lips tilting in a barely-there smile. The blond’s crimson gaze softened, his large hand brushing against Law’s shoulder as they stopped to let a cart pass at a crossroad. The contact lingered, Rosinante’s palm warm through the fabric of Law’s blue coat. The feeling sent tingles down his spine.
It was still new, this… thing between them. So many months of unspoken feelings culminating in a heartfelt confession, laden with regrets that spanned years but, more importantly, promise – of a better future, together by one another’s side. Every day was a new I love you, but even without their feelings spoken aloud, it was there in the quiet moments, in the glances that lingered a beat too long, and in the subtle touches that said what words couldn’t. Their relationship had changed – kisses were new, as was the occasional sharing of a bed, for cuddling and… not much else – and yet, it was like they had always been as they were; two souls intertwined, so tangled you couldn’t tell one from the other.
“This town is nice,” Rosinante murmured, his voice low enough that only Law could hear. His fingers twitched against Law’s shoulder blade. “Reminds me of the ones we visited, all those years ago.”
He ended his comment with a wink, the painted heart under his eye wrinkling in the adorable dimples of his smile. Law’s own cheeks warmed, and he turned his head away – though not before Rosinante caught the faint blush dusting his face. The older man bit back a laugh.
“Cora-san, I seem to recall those towns a little differently to you,” Law replied, his tone clipped but lacking its usual bite.
Rosinante hummed and tapped his chin. “Maybe. Wonder if they have a hospital here…”
The glare Law levelled at him was most definitely ruined by the adorable tilt of pouting lips, but Rosinante wasn’t going to tell him that.
~*~
They made their way to the heart of the town square, congregating beside the large central fountain; water hung heavy in the air as it cascaded from ornately carved statues of trumpet-wielding angels. The crew lingered in place, crowded around their captain, as they awaited his orders. Perched on the ledge of the fountain with long legs crossed, Law glanced over each of their faces, his expression stern but not unkind.
“We’ll be here for a day, setting off at first light tomorrow,” he said. “Get what we need for the ship, and then you can enjoy your time.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t make a nuisance of yourselves.”
“Aye, Captain!” came the enthusiastic chorus.
Penguin raised a hand, grinning. “Permission to hit the tavern, Captain? It’s just down that street, and I’m sure they’ve got some local brew we ought to try.”
Shachi clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, hell yeah. I need to be doted on by some cute barmaids.”
“Fifty Berry on Ikkaku getting all the cute barmaids, and you dealing with the barman trying to crawl into your lap,” Kujira piped up, flipping a one of his twin plaits over a shoulder and grinning at Shachi’s splutter. Ikkaku cackled nearby, high-fiving Clione. “Don’t think we’ve all forgotten what happened last time.”
Law sighed, the sound lost amongst the rowdy laughter of his crew, but he gave a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t start any fights.”
A cheer went up among the crew, along with a few other shouted requests and suggestions. Bepo was heading towards the butchers’ quarter, with the aim of having their freezer restocked with meat from land, sea and air, whilst Jean Bart was leading a small cohort to the nearby smithy for new weapons. Most were, of course, heading for the tavern.
However, even as everyone began to disperse in all directions, Rosinante remained close, his tall frame leaning slightly toward him as he gazed down at Law. “And what about you?” he asked softly, the cigarette wiggling with his words. The feathers on his hood fluttered in the low breeze, momentarily distracting Law. “What have you got planned?”
“I don’t have anything in mind.” Law tilted his head, studying Rosinante for a moment. “…Why don’t you decide?”
Rosinante’s lips quirked into a small, shy smile that made Law’s heart trip and stumble in its rhythm. “Well… I saw a quaint café near the dock earlier. They had these fancy pastries and cakes in the window. I thought maybe we could go there. Just the two of us.” He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “If that’s okay with you…?”
Law’s heart gave another flutter. Rosinante’s suggestion was so earnest, so simple, yet it carried a weight that Law couldn’t ignore. It was practically a date, something they hadn’t had the opportunity – or ability – to even discuss, let alone do. In the grand scheme of things, it was usually the first step for new lovers; the closest Law and Rosinante had come to a date was overseeing the night shift in the Polar Tang’s control room. And whilst the ambience was there, the presence of crewmembers tended to wreck any chance of romance.
Especially when they all kept making heart-eyes at them.
“That sounds… acceptable,” Law replied, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Rosinante’s grin widened. “Great. It’ll be nice to get some quiet time together.”
Law opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his throat. His body stiffened, his hand automatically tightening on Kikoku’s sheath; her tassels swayed, brushing against the back of his neck as if to alert him.
The air had shifted. His Observation haki flared.
“…You feel that too?” Rosinante asked, his voice low and serious, instincts kicking in immediately. Terracotta eyes darted around from beneath a growing scowl, scanning the crowd. The lively chatter of the marketplace had dimmed, replaced by an eerie stillness – although there was a disturbance lacing the air. Even the Heart Pirates had stopped in their tracks, obviously perturbed by the civilians, who were backing away from the edges of the square, faces pale with fear. “Something’s not right, Law.”
As if drawn by the blond’s words, figures began to emerge from the shadows of alleyways and side streets – heavily armed men and women emerged from the edges of the square, stepping out of alleys and from behind stalls, their movements deliberate and coordinated. The cheerful bustle of the marketplace evaporated in an instant, replaced by murmurs of fear and the shuffle of townsfolk retreating to safety. And, it appeared, these new arrivals were not concerned with the actions of civilians, allowing them to dart around and past their advancing forms.
Law was instantly on his feet, neck twisting as he took in his surroundings, the encroaching figures in their environment.
These newcomers were noticeably armed – heavily so, with swords and other bladed weapons, others with crude pistols – and patchwork armour; almost as if it had been scavenged or stolen without much thought for aesthetics or uniform. Their sheer numbers was enough to send a jolt of unease through Law. These weren’t mere bandits or common thugs. They moved with purpose, encircling the Heart Pirates and cutting off any escape routes; predators, attuned to hunting prey as a pack. It forced his own crew to slowly retreat, to huddle closer together, protectively surrounding their captain.
Then, their unexpected foes… stopped – a good hundred metres away. Breaking away from the ranks, however, a man abruptly stepped forward, someone who exuded smug confidence like a bad smelling perfume. Broad-shouldered and clad in mismatched armour, he carried himself like someone who believed he’d already won. His dark hair was slicked back, and a jagged scar cut across his jawline, leaving a grizzled dent in the muscle there. In one hand, he held two pieces of paper aloft, their edges fluttering in the breeze.
Law’s scowl deepened as the man’s booming voice echoed across the square.
“Well, well. What do we have here? The Surgeon of Death and his merry little band of misfits. Didn’t think we’d ever have you grace our shores, but I’m never one to look a gift shark in the mouth.” His grin widened as he turned one of the papers toward the gathering crowd, displaying a wanted poster with Law’s face. “Three billion Berry for Trafalgar Law,” he drawled, letting the number linger in the air. He flipped to the second poster, revealing Rosinante’s face. “And a nice, cosy five hundred million for the Donquixote.”
Rosinante’s jaw clenched, his crimson eyes narrowing. Law’s expression hardened as he shifted closer to the taller man, his hand still tight on Kikoku.
“Bounty hunters,” the blond spat.
“And the rest of you?” The bounty hunter captain flicked his fingers toward the other Heart Pirates with a sneer. “Not worth the hassle of handing you all over to the Government. We’ll get a tidy half a mill’ for each of you at the Auction Houses, no problem – and that fuzzy one’ll fetch a fortune.”
Bepo let out a low, threatening growl, his claws flexing. Penguin and Shachi both stepped back, flanking Law instinctively. The redhead’s distinctive grin was gone, replaced by a scowl, and Penguin’s hands twisted around the shaft of his spear. The rest of the crew mirrored their vice-captains, slipping into fighting stances with quiet efficiency.
The hunter captain’s grin didn’t falter. Taking his time, he folded the posters into neat squares and tucked them into his belt, before spreading his arms wide. “Let’s not be hasty, however. I’ve got numbers on my side, after all. Tell you what… we can make a deal. All I really want is the Surgeon of Death.” He gestured toward Law but grinned salaciously up at Rosinante. “Hand him over, and the rest of you can walk away.”
~*~
Rosinante carefully watched his captain as these new foes appeared, focus flitting back and forth between Law and this supposed leader of bounty hunters. His instincts were screaming at him – protect, attack, flee – but he remained still, a stalwart presence at Law’s back. He would wait for his captain’s orders, even if he desperately wanted to grab the entire Heart crew and escape.
But when that scarred jackass started talking about slavery, about bounties-?
White hot rage bubbled up within the ex-marine, his mind swimming with horrific visions of Law shackled in twisted chains, at the mercy of some repulsive wannabe privateer, to be hauled off to Impel Down for an eternity of suffering – losing every ounce of freedom he had worked so hard for. Rosinante’s throat burned with acidic nausea as the idea snagged barbary thorns within him and, unconsciously, he shifted his body closer to Law. Shit, he wanted to touch the younger man, to reassure (him or himself?) but he held back.
Law would set the pace, as he had always done.
The blue aura of a Room shimmering faintly into existence jolted him back to the present. It encompassed the square in an instant.
“You want me?” Law murmured, his voice low and deadly. His sharp grin was obvious in his tone. “Come and take me.”
~*~
The fight was bloody.
Shachi and Penguin broke off to engage the nearest wave of attackers, their movements fluid and precise. Bepo barrelled into a group of three, his claws flashing as he disarmed them with brutal kicks. Rosinante was already reaching for his pistol, red eyes pin-pointing potential targets; his aim (pun notwithstanding) was to cover the other Heart crew, although with the horde that appeared to come directly for him, that plan went straight out the window. With a huff, he flicked his cigarette away.
Law teleported across the battlefield with practiced ease, dismantling weapons and disorienting opponents with his abilities. His amber eyes flicked constantly between his crew, ensuring no one was overwhelmed. The bounty hunters had numbers on their side, but their lack of coordination was evident. The Hearts, at least, had some kind of kinaesthesia for a battlefield, retaining awareness of their comrades no matter the chaos.
“Watch your left, Shachi!” Law called, slashing his blade through a hunter’s body and sending his upper half away with a flick of his fingers, before teleporting to Jean Bart; the giant was slowly becoming buried beneath a growing number of hunters, with men practically crawling up his body. Odd. “What are you doing? Don’t take these guys lightly!”
“Sorry, Captain!” came the distant apology, even though Shachi was only a stone’s throw away.
Something wasn’t right. Thing was… Law couldn’t put his finger on it; a pulse that refused to be found or taken.
He skidded to a stop, head whipping around as he surveyed the state of the battlefield. He had utmost trust in his crew; he may not have taken them on his quest to take down Doflamingo, but that was more about that asshole’s psychopathic obsession with using people’s weaknesses against them, rather than their skill in a fight.
But the bounty hunters weren’t giving up easily. Despite the Heart Pirates’ skill, the sheer volume of enemies began to wear them down – but it was also that something wrong that tugged at Law’s awareness. He huffed out a breath, the sound echoing oddly in his ears, contradictory with the clash of weapons and gunfire before him. Every action was simultaneously swift and yet the world moved like it had been coated in a layer of molasses. Cuts and bruises marred the crew’s determined faces, scarlet and grime tarnishing their suits; even Bepo, usually tireless, showed signs of fatigue.
A flash of panic, deep in his gut. Where was Cora-san?
He caught a glimpse of maroon, gold, black amidst a sea of white and metal – heart fluttering between his ribs at the sight of the older man dispatching an entire row of men with a swift kick of those long legs, a domino-effect of falling bodies.
(The man had the audacity to glance over at him, wink, and hold up two fingers beside a broad grin. Seas, Law loved the idiot.)
And that proved to be his mistake – becoming preoccupied by his utter infatuation of his beloved Cora-san.
A critical distraction.
He hadn’t noticed the enemy captain – who had not yet entered the battlefield – until it was too late. Law barely had time to register the sudden presence to his left, eyes snapping to the scarred captain as he swaggered towards him, clenched fists glowing with a rippling pulse of pure energy. A Devil Fruit user, shit. That was the wrong that laced the air.
But Law had no time to decipher what powers this man possessed. A wave of distortion surged outward, warping the air like a heat haze. It hit Law with an invisible force, and his world immediately spiralled into chaos.
The ground beneath him felt like it had tilted on its axis. No – tilting wasn’t the right word. It spun, twisted, buckled. He staggered, struggling to stay upright as his equilibrium betrayed him. Kikoku fell from his grasp, flying into the air no, clattering to the ground as his hands shot out to steady himself, but there was nothing to hold onto.
“What’s the matter, Surgeon?” the captain sneered, his voice echoing strangely in Law’s ears. It sounded as though it came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Law tried to summon a Room, but the distortion twisted the space around him. His usual precision was useless – his vision blurred, and the lines of his Room flickered and collapsed as he struggled to determine up from down, left from right, in from out. Teleportation, his ace in combat, became a liability. If he couldn’t trust his sense of space, he risked porting himself into solid stone – or worse.
“Let me show you what it’s like to lose control,” the man growled. With a flick of his wrist, the distortion deepened, an abyssal bass reverberating in every cell of his body. Law fell to his knees, his body lurching as though gravity itself had turned traitor.
“Captain!” Penguin’s voice rang out, but it sounded unrecognisable, isolated, faraway. Law couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
The bounty hunter’s laughter was a sharp, grating sound that only amplified the chaos in Law’s ears, in his mind. “You’ve got nowhere to run, Trafalgar Law. You… are mine.”
He crumpled to the ground, his body limp like a marionette with cut strings. Body shaking, nausea ran torrid and uncomfortably visceral throughout his entire body, further perplexing his senses. Laughter rattled around him unnaturally, bouncing off walls in disorienting waves and punching deep into his very bones. Pain began to blossom within every synapse of his nerves, his mind evidently so confused, it simply fired signals of agony everywhere.
“You see, Trafalgar,” the captain taunted, voice sounding like it attacked him from every angle, “even the great Surgeon of Death is just another helpless pirate without his tricks. Your crew will fetch a good price… but you? You’re going to make me rich.”
Powerless, Law awaited that final blow, shocked that it would end this way – taken out by some no-name bounty hunter. He had opposed Warlords and Emperors, walking away with only minor injuries and fatigue; this was how it was going to be? He tried to dig deep for that tether on his power, to try at least to create a Room big enough to teleport somewhere, but it was like trying to scramble for a single grain of sand in a rain-soaked hourglass.
All he hoped was that Cora-san could escape to safety, along with his crew. Awaiting his fate, he lay in the silence-
…
His brow wrinkled in a sharp scowl, eyes flashing open with a wheeze. The reverberation and distortion was gone. His body pulsed in the absence of that overwhelming chaos. There was nothing, now. Just… silence. Air hitched deep in his lungs. His heart stuttered in its rhythm. Yet his own gasp and the pulse in his ears were… muted, softer, no longer grating. The unnatural stillness felt suffocating, like the world itself had been subdued.
No, not suffocating. Never suffocating. It was true calmness. It was comfort in a mad world. It was home. It was-
~*~
Rosinante found himself in the heart of the action, his haki-enhanced strikes sending attackers sprawling and his Silenced pistol confusing others when they were unexpectedly hit with bullets. Most opponents assumed he wasn’t quick, what with his size, but there was a reason he had been top of his class back in the marines – he had mastered several elements of Rokushiki before he stumbled out of his teens, and he’d been praised by his superiors for his proficiency with Observation haki.
Of course, his Navy days were far behind him, and he wasn’t as spritely as he used to be – considering he was now toeing the line between his thirties and forties – but he thought he was still a formidable foe.
Still, his focus remained split – every time Law flickered out of sight, Rosinante’s eyes darted around the battlefield until he caught sight of him again. His captain was more than capable of looking after himself, but damn if Rosinante wasn’t absolutely shit scared of Law getting hurt.
“Cora-san!” came a shout from nearby, and Rosinante immediately aimed the barrel of his gun at the big lump of muscle bearing down on Ikkaku. With bullets raining down on his back, the bounty hunter faltered and Ikkaku was able to land a synchronised strike against the thick cords of his neck with her twin blades. “Thank you!” she called, touching the tip of one dagger to her temple in a salute.
He returned to the fight, moving through the battlefield with calculated efficiency, his Silence somewhat masking his presence despite his sheer size. The bounty hunters swarmed like gnats, but he dealt with them easily, his haki-infused blows landing with the weight of cannonballs. Each punch and kick sent men sprawling, his movements deliberate and controlled, the crack of his pistol hushed and imperceptible, untraceable.
And yet, a nagging sense of unease clung to him.
It wasn’t the sheer number of opponents – that wasn’t unusual for pirates. No, this was different. Something in the air felt wrong. His instincts, honed over years as both a marine and a pirate, prickled with the sensation of a threat he couldn’t yet name. It wasn’t a direct attack; it was subtler than that, an invisible ripple that unsettled his balance and made his stomach churn.
The Silence made it better, reducing the tang of copper in the back of his throat. Everyone around him, though… it wasn’t right. Rosinante had trained with Law’s crew, over the last few months, he knew they were good fighters – proficient in defensive, counter-strike strategies – but in the state they were in, fighting within the once-peaceful town square…? Their reflexes were just a millisecond too slow, lefts and rights becoming seemingly muddled, weapons uncoordinated despite their expertise.
His brow furrowed as he knocked out another trio of attackers with a single sweeping kick, sending them crashing into a nearby stall. He straightened, his eyes scanning the square for Law. He found him standing near the centre, his sword drawn, teleporting Bepo out of harm’s way before taking down another assailant with a clean, efficient strike.
A smile ghosted over Rosinante’s lips, relief washing through him at the sight. Even in the chaos of battle, Law’s precision and focus were unmatched.
Rosinante’s lips curled into a wider grin, and he couldn’t resist. He turned slightly, catching Law’s eye, and winked, holding up two fingers in his habitual sign of peace. Law’s lips twitched in response – amusement, exasperation, adoration even crossing his face in equal measure, and not a single flicker of irritation. It only made Rosinante smile grow, a brief moment of levity grounding him amid the madness.
But then, within an instant, his amusement evaporated.
His eyes widened in horror as the rippling distortion finally revealed its source – a burst of unnatural energy emanating from a single figure entering the battlefield. It surged outward, washing over the arena like a tidal wave, and Law was caught directly in its path.
“Law!” Rosinante shouted, his voice raw and desperate.
The ripples hit Law hard, his body jerking unnaturally as if the ground beneath him was twisting and shifting. Kikoku slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground as he staggered. Rosinante watched, helpless, as Law fell to his knees, his equilibrium stolen.
It was wrong. All of it was wrong.
For a moment, Rosinante froze, rooted in place by the sheer wrongness of the scene before him – because that was the only word in his head. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Seeing Law crumpled on the ground? His mind raced, unbidden memories flashing behind his eyes.
A tiny, feverish boy curled against his chest, trembling with weakness as a horrific disease ravaged his body. Law’s shallow breaths as Rosinante held him tightly, murmuring promises that everything would be okay. His helplessness as he tried to cool Law’s burning forehead, unable to do anything but watch as the child’s life hung in the balance.
The memory struck like a dagger, a visceral reminder of the vow he’d made so many years ago: I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you never feel powerless again. You will always remain free.
And yet, there Law was, vulnerable and exposed, at the mercy of a man who dared to swagger toward him with the gait of a voracious predator. When Law attempted to force himself up onto his hands and knees, the bounty hunter captain laughed, his very aura dripping with syrupy malice as he loomed over Law’s trembling form. Rosinante’s blood boiled, his vision narrowing to the captain’s smirking face.
How dare he? How dare this arrogant fool think he could harm Law? Think he could reduce him to this?
Something inside Rosinante snapped.
The wrongness around him only fuelled the fire that roared to life in the centre of his chest, his own abilities – Rokushiki, haki, Devil Fruit alike – all but exploding in a wildfire throughout his entire body, almost to the point of discomfort. It battled against the rippling distortion that clawed at him, pulling at his equilibrium and sending his instincts into instinctual overdrive; survival, at any cost. His fists clenched at his sides, his breath steadying even as his heart pounded with the memory of Law collapsing, powerless and vulnerable.
Not again, he thought, eyes narrowing as the captain turned to regard his advancing form. Never again.
The bounty hunter sneered at Rosinante’s approach, a flick of his hand sending another pulse of distortion through the air. It rippled toward Rosinante like a crashing wave, the ground beneath him warping as the captain grinned with smug satisfaction.
But Rosinante didn’t falter.
Instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, centering himself. The wrongness of it all – the chaos, the imbalance – grated against his very being, and he rebelled against it. It felt like the very moment he’d taken a bite of his Fruit, all those decades ago, a frightful world growing calm – he needed that moment again. He needed it for Law.
He could only picture the feeling that arose within him as reaching into an icy sea and grasping a warm hand; a cool touch on burned flesh; the sun breaking over a storm-damaged ship. Tranquillity, placidity, true serenity… Ataraxia. The word echoed in his mind, sounding strangely like Sengoku’s tempered way of speaking, when he would lecture Rosinante on the philosophies of meditation, of freeing one’s mind from the shackles of emotional strife.
True Calm. Elevated Silence.
When he opened his eyes again, he felt them blaze with determination, an invisible shift spreading through the air with the force of an exploding star; supernova. The rippling distortion vanished the instant it collided with Rosinante’s energy, dissolving into nothingness. The warped air stilled, the vibrating cobblestones settled, and the oppressive chaos lifted, replaced by an overwhelming calm that permeated the battlefield.
Every sense was soothed. The harsh light of midday softened, the biting wind gentled, and even the scent of blood and sweat seemed muted, distant. The Heart Pirates, previously stumbling against the disarray, found their footing steady again, their movements fluid and precise as they began to successfully fight back.
The bounty hunters nearest to him recoiled, their bravado crumbling under the sheer intensity of his presence – the unnerving flare of his haki and the absence of being from his powers. But Rosinante wasn’t looking at them. His entire being was focused on one thing: the man who had dared to lay a hand on Law, who dared threaten the very freedom he’d nearly died to protect.
His lips curled back in a snarl, the world shrinking to a single point.
With a speed that belied his size, Rosinante closed the distance, haki crackling down his arms like sharp pinpricks of lightning. That man was going to die today.
~*~
Cora-san.
Law groaned as he struggled to lift his head, his body uncooperative as he struggled to reorient himself.
The chaotic distortion that had rippled through the square vanished. The oppressive tension dissolved, replaced by something entirely new – a profound, unnatural calm. The air no longer vibrated with the bounty hunter’s power, and even the faint tremors beneath the cobblestones stilled.
Law felt the shift as surely as he felt the blood on his skin, and it left him bewildered. His golden eyes blinked open, focusing as best as he could through the haze.
And then he saw him, the embodiment of peace amidst chaos.
Cora-san.
The towering man moved forward with purpose, his frame seeming to radiate power. His face was a mask of quiet rage, the smeared-heart on his cheek stretched taut with the intensity of his expression. Each step was deliberate, his boots crunching softly against the cobblestones, a sound that somehow carried despite the oppressive calm blanketing the battlefield.
Even in his dazed state, Law recognized the power coursing through the square. This change in atmosphere wasn’t the bounty hunter’s doing; this calm was Rosinante’s. He didn’t understand how – when did Cora-san awaken something like this? – but he wasn’t surprised. Of course, it was Rosinante. His Cora-san was strong, fearless, and so much more than he let the world see.
The bounty hunter captain faltered as his power failed to answer his call. He flicked his wrist, again and again, but the distortion didn’t return. The smirk fell from his lips, replaced by a growing look of dread as it finally clicked in his mind where the source of the calm was coming from – or rather, who.
Rosinante’s approach was slow, methodical, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the square. Law couldn’t look away. Despite the haze of pain and fatigue clouding his mind, he was utterly captivated. There was something fearsome (breathtaking? striking? beautiful?) in Rosinante’s rage – a quiet, simmering fury that promised devastation to anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But Law wasn’t scared. He knew without a doubt that none of that rage was meant for him.
He was safe.
The bounty hunter captain, however, was not.
He barely caught the sight of Rosinante’s large hand shooting out with how swiftly the blond moved, seizing the captain’s face with unrelenting force. Fingers nearly spanning the entirety of the scarred man’s skull, Law could see the strength in which Rosinante gripped, taking peculiar delight in the strangled cry the man let out. He wondered if bone would crack, if eyes would bulge, if brains would spill. The idea – that Cora-san would do that to a man for him? It left him breathless.
The man flailed in Rosinante’s grip, hands clawing desperately at the ex-marine’s wrist, but his struggles were futile. Movements chillingly graceful, Rosinante slammed the man into the ground, impact cracking the cobblestones beneath them and sending a shockwave rippling through the square. The captain’s body crumpled, his limbs twitching weakly as he teetered on the cusp of unconsciousness.
“You think you can try and hurt my captain?” Rosinante growled, his voice low and venomous, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
Law shivered at the sound, though not from fear. Laughably, it was most definitely not fear rolling through him, sparking his nerves with heat. There was something raw in Rosinante’s tone – something protective, unyielding, primal.
The captain practically jolted back to life, flailing helplessly as Rosinante’s grip tightened; heels scrabbling for purchase against cracked rock, hands frantically grappling for any hold on his captor. Nails caught the soft give of Rosinante’s skin, an errant backhand caught the blond across the cheek, blood smearing a macabre smile from lips to ear – just like his make-up of old. The sight made Law freeze, air frozen in his chest, heart skipping several beats, even as his pulse thundered in his ears.
And between his legs.
“I won’t allow you to lay a finger on him,” Rosinante continued, his voice steady despite the fire burning in his sunset eyes. “He’s worked hard to be free. If you want to take that away-...”
The bounty hunter whimpered, his struggles growing weaker as Rosinante pressed him further into the ground, bone and rock creaking ominously.
“You’ll have to go through me!”
~*~
He couldn’t look away.
The snap of bone and dulled splat of fist meeting flesh had echoed ominously around the square for minutes on end. The bounty hunters had fled, cowards turning tail and fleeing at the sight of their captain on the verge of death – if not already deceased. Law wasn’t sure. He also didn’t care. He could only kneel there, braced back on his heels, transfixed at the sight of Rosinante laying punch after punch into the bloodied, pulped mess that once was a powerful bounty hunter captain and Devil Fruit user.
His blackened fists were shiny and iridescent with a crimson sheen, the pale skin of his face splattered with errant flecks of scarlet. The ground beneath was cracked and cratered. And still, he continued – only stopping his onslaught when there was no further movement, no whimpers or pleas from the man caught in his fury. The man was dead.
…Well, he had been dead the moment he tried to claim Law as his.
Still, Law could not look away from the utter magnificence of his Cora-san. The world may have remained calm, but the ferocity of Rosinante’s actions lingered in the air like the aftermath of a storm. He couldn’t even be drawn away at the feeling of two people either side of him – Penguin and Shachi, hauling him to his feet with arms tight around his waist when his knees buckled.
“Captain, you good?” Shachi asked, his tone carefully neutral, though his wide eyes betrayed his own shock from behind cracked lenses.
Holy shit, I love you, his mind babbled, still centred on his saviour, too dazed to care how easily the words nearly surfaced on his tongue. I love you so much, Cora-san.
“…Fine,” Law managed, his voice hoarse, still not looking away.
Penguin followed Law’s gaze to Rosinante, who remained at the centre of the square. He’d risen to his feet as well, although he had been unaided, the white of his suit splattered scarlet, and knees dusted black from the grime of the cracked cobblestones. His large chest heaved as he glared down at the captain’s corpse. The sight of Rosinante’s tall frame silhouetted against the debris-filled square, his expression a mix of fury and protectiveness, sent a ripple of awe through the crew.
Penguin let out a low whistle. “Oh boy, he’s going to be thinking about this for weeks, isn’t he?”
“Captain or Cora-san?” Shachi snarked back.
“Shut it,” Law idly muttered, though he felt the redness on his cheeks deepening.
And still, he couldn’t take his eyes away from the blood-splattered man before him, his gaze fixed on Rosinante as the blond finally turned toward him. Their eyes met; Rosinante’s fierce expression softened instantly, worry and tenderness replacing his earlier rage.
The square felt smaller as Rosinante crossed it in a few long strides, his attention wholly on Law. He was only vaguely aware of Penguin and Shachi letting go of him and stepping back, hands hovering when Law wavered-
But Rosinante was there in an instant, an arm curling around Law’s back. “You’re okay?” he asked quietly, his other hand hovering near Law’s face, hesitant yet full of intent.
“I’m fine,” Law muttered, though the wrinkle in his brow from the thumping headache betrayed the truth. Rocking up onto his toes, he gripped Rosinante’s wrist to pull that hand close, finally giving them skin-to-skin contact; the blond’s large palm was warm, slick with another man’s blood. The feeling made him shiver. I love you, he thought, even as his lips said, “Thank you.”
Rosinante’s thumb swiped over the arch of his cheek. The motion was careful, almost reverent, and Law found himself leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as his lips parted. Rosinante leaned down, pressing their foreheads together firmly.
“You’re free,” the older man whispered in a near-hiss. The statement washed over him, like the puffs of air from Rosinante’s heaving lungs, rich with the smoky tang of nicotine. “No one will ever own you or shackle you. You belong to no one-”
“What about you?” Law breathed back. “If I want to be yours?”
The barest stutter of a sharp exhale. “Only if I am yours.”
“Captain’s blushing,” Shachi teased quietly as an aside, although Law definitely heard him and, tragically, it broke him from that trance. He threw a sharp and very dirty glare over his shoulder, causing his vice-captains to wither. “Sorry, Captain.”
Rosinante’s low chuckle was warm and grounding in his ear, prompting him to turn back, gold eyes fluttering upwards to take in the soft tilt of Rosinante’s face. His smile had, once again, turned shy, although his eyes remained sharp; not quite torn from the frenzy of the battle, likely still caught up in the anger that had ensnared him before, unable to sink into the very calm he had manifested.
“Let’s go back to the Tang,” Law whispered, wanting to draw the older man as close as he could physically manage – ideally in the privacy of his quarters, with a locked door and a comfy bed. “I’m done with this town already.”
He could feel the disappointment radiating from his crew around – although they wisely remained quiet – and he was able to ignore it. He couldn’t, however, ignore Rosinante’s pout, plush lips puckering and brow tilting.
At least that dark spark was fading from terracotta eyes.
“So, no café?” Rosinante mumbled. “I was really looking forward to spending time with you…”
Law drew in a slow breath, ready to oppose the idea, to lecture the entire crew about safety and there could be reinforcements or retribution and they should leave while they can and Cora-san you must be tired-
~*~
…He was never going to be able to say no to his Cora-san.
The quaint little café Rosinante had mentioned earlier was quiet now, tucked away from the bustle of the town square where the Heart Pirates' celebration carried on. It was a white-painted building, overlooking the gentle sea with a patio that was framed by a flower-wrapped pagoda; its vibrant blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, shielding the space below from the bright afternoon sun.
Reclined in a cushion-strewn wicker armchair, Law’s posture was uncharacteristically relaxed. His dark coat had been shed, leaving him in just his soft, yellow shirt and spotted jeans, the sleeves rolled up to expose the tattoos on his forearms. The events of the day were behind him, and he was fully in this moment, but his golden eyes still flicked toward the distant square occasionally, watching his crew as they celebrated.
Not far off, the crew were likely nursing tall mugs of beer as they sat at the open-fronted tavern, their boisterous laughter mingling with the cheers of some local townsfolk. Penguin and Shachi would be attempting (key word) to seduce any number of barmaids, and Bepo was probably asleep in a corner somewhere with crew leaning back against his furry side, a platter of food balanced precariously on his belly. The Hearts hadn’t ended up at their intended tavern, but it hardly mattered. The impromptu festivities were in full swing, and the townsfolk, grateful for the defeat of their tormentors, were more than happy to toast their unlikely heroes.
But here, on the patio, it was quiet, with no one else around. Even the hostess was leaving them be. It was calm. It was perfect.
Rosinante sat on the sun-warmed decking, his broad shoulders nestled in the cradle of Law’s thighs, long legs sprawled comfortably before him and crossed at the ankle. His head tilted back into Law’s lap, exposing the line of his throat and the sharp angle of his jaw. His blond hair was a mess, strands sticking out in every direction since the removal of his maroon hood, but the serene look on his face made him utterly irresistible. He wasn’t even smoking, so relaxed and at peace.
Law’s fingers worked deftly, a damp cloth in hand as he wiped away the streaks of dried blood and ruined make-up from Rosinante’s face. The ex-marine watched him with half-lidded eyes, his gaze soft and adoring. A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips.
“You’re staring,” Law murmured, his voice teasing as he dabbed carefully at Rosinante’s chin.
“Can’t help it,” Rosinante replied, his voice low and warm. “You’re beautiful.”
Law rolled his eyes, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks betrayed him. He shifted slightly, gesturing for the blond to raise his hands, beginning to clean them; one then the other. They were still stained with blood – some his, most not – and Law focused on gently scrubbing them with tender precision, cleaning each finger, knuckle and nail with deliberate care.
“You’re ridiculous,” Law muttered, though there was no bite to his words.
Rosinante hummed contentedly, his head sinking further back against Law’s hip. “And you’re perfect.”
Law bit back a smile, opting instead to toss the dirtied rag away – there was a growing pile by Rosinante’s feet, ones he’d used on his own face and hands – before reaching for the small tray of pastries balanced on the side table. He selected a delicate, icing-topped cupcake, holding it to Rosinante’s lips.
“Eat,” he ordered softly, his tone more affectionate than firm.
Rosinante chuckled but obeyed, taking the entire cake into his mouth and sighing blissfully as the sweetness melted on his tongue. Law couldn’t help but watch him, utterly enamoured by the look of sheer contentment on his handsome face.
“You’re like a big kid,” Law said, his voice softer now.
“And you love it,” Rosinante replied without missing a beat, his grin widening.
Law didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for the cup of cooled tea, pressing it into Rosinante’s hands. The blond took a sip, his fingers brushing briefly against Law’s as he did, and Law felt his heart stutter in his chest.
For a long moment, Law basked in the moment – Rosinante nestled against him, gently sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup, the rowdy din of the town fading into a distant hum. Above them, the blossoms on the pagoda swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant petals catching in the sweet, salt-tinged air. Gulls cried out as they swooped overhead, mingling with the gentle crash of waves just beyond the low, stone wall.
Law’s fingers found their way into Rosinante’s hair, brushing through the damp, stained strands with a tenderness he never showed anyone else. Rosinante leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and Law felt a surge of affection so powerful it left him breathless.
“Cora-san,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Rosinante’s eyes opened lazily, meeting his with a gaze so full of love it made Law’s chest ache.
“Hm?”
Law hesitated, his fingers stilling in Rosinante’s hair. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and – before – they would have felt too big, too raw to say out loud. Now, however, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Rosinante’s forehead.
“I love you,” he breathed, lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile.
Rosinante chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Law’s heart feel impossibly full.
“I love you too,” the blond mumbled back, grinning up at him. “…I’d also love another cake, as well.” Law pulled away enough to shoot him an unimpressed glance. Rosinante simply doubled down with a broader grin, eyes wrinkling shut. “They’re nice!” he protested. “…and I like having you feed me. It’s cute,” was added as a mumbled afterthought.
Law retaliated with a swift swipe of buttercream icing across the blond’s nose before shoving the cake between protesting lips, snickering when Rosinante ended up cross-eyed, cheeks bulging around the sponge.
(He tried not to watch too intently when, after swallowing the sweet treat, that long tongue snuck out to catch most of the frosting in a single lick, the rest being wiped away with the back of a wrist.)
“Brat,” Rosinante muttered, although the pouting tone was ruined by the upward kick of his lips.
“Your brat,” Law pointed out with a snicker, the words pouring from his lips without much thought.
The blond was twisting around in an instant, nearly knocking over the little table in his haste to face Law. The porcelain plates and cups clinked warningly, tea sloshing across the polished wood. Weight canted on one hip, Rosinante frantically scrabbled to lean forward into Law’s space, eyes almost comedically wide.
“M-Mine?” Rosinante whispered, before his smile turned brighter than the very sun. “Yeah… my brat. My Law. And…” There was that shy smile again. “I’m your…?”
Law couldn’t stop the indulgent smile from dimpling his cheeks, even if he wanted to. “You’re mine, as I am yours,” he answered, finally. “My Corazón. My Cora-san. Mine.”
Brushing their noses together, he pressed their lips as one in a firm kiss – something he’d been wanting to do for hours. Rosinante tasted like he usually did - the slightest trace of nicotine and peppermint – but now with the fresher tang of tart sugar and citrussy Earl Grey, which only grew with every brush of Rosinante’s tongue against his. And he couldn’t help but think-
Yeah, Cora-san was right. The cakes really were nice. However, they were even better tasting from his lover’s lips.