The One that got Away

by PK_chu

Summary:

On the run with your adopted son, Law, you return to East Blue City for safety. There, you reunite with your old crew, facing the ghosts of your past and feelings you’ve tried to bury deep within the sand.

Shanks, your best friend who shattered your heart years ago. To him, you were the one that got away. To you, he was the reason you left. But both of you have changed.

While Shanks sees this as a second chance, he isn’t the only one vying for your heart. Buggy hopes to dazzle you with his new flashy self, while Mihawk has decided to stop lingering in the shadows and pining from afar.

Though, they have a bigger problem than each other; Law. Still mourning Rosinante, your 'grumpy gremlin' kiddo is determined to gatekeep your heart. But amidst the support of your old nakama and the warmth of the community, you and Law might finally stop running and start living.

Chapter 1: On the Run

Author Note:

Welcome to my first contribution to the One Piece Fandom. This is my second story featuring the Reader insert troupe. I really hope you find the twists on One Piece events in a Modern AU setting with a hint of Mafia AU, interesting and enjoyable to read.

Now, the prologue contains brief mention of depression and suicidal ideation. If you are personally struggling with depression, passive or active suicidal ideation please seek help. In the US, just as 9-1-1 is universally known for use during emergencies, like a heart attack or car accident, 9-8-8 is for people experiencing a mental health crisis. It’s 24/7 and provides confidential support. You are worth it, you are beautiful, and you are important. Stay safe and take care - Let us begin ~

 

Through this maze of ugliness and greed

And I′ve seen the sign up ahead at the county line bridge

Sayin' all is good and nothingness is dead

We run until she′s out of breath

She ran until there's nothing left

She hit the end, just her window ledge

Hey, hey, hey

Come on, try a little

Nothing is forever

There's got to be something better than

In the middle

But me and Cinderella

We put it all together

We can drive it home

With one headlight

~ One Headlight by The Wallflowers

 

The roaring night life of Dressrosa City was fading quickly into the distance in a blur of multicolored neon flashing lights. It wasn't until you were fifty miles out of the bustling metropolis that your white knuckled grip upon the steering wheel relaxed. 

Slightly.

Paranoia had you peering into the dark rearview mirror like an ocular tick. Yet the bumpy and dusty country road you had chosen was devoid of headlights.

Reaching out your bruised right hand, you gingerly angled the rearview mirror to gaze back at the two slumbering occupants in the backseat of the stolen tan beat up chevy truck. Taking up most of the space was a large white furred Great Pyrenees. The only hint of a small teenage boy's existence was the black spotted white furred hat poking out from where he cuddled the dog.

Adjusting the rearview mirror back to position, you caught a brief glimpse of your ruffled self. A large welt was swelling on the top right side of your head. 

You touched it tenderly, hissing at the pain.

‘Damn it Vergo, you brute.’

At least your black hoodie would be able to hide it so you wouldn’t draw further attention to yourself.

Sighing, your gaze returned to the dimly lit road ahead. Seeing the pair safe in the back renewed your spirit to push on. But in the silence all your mind could dwell on was how the hell you got yourself in this mess? 

Your gaze fell to the dashboard. Well, you still had a half a tank and nothing to do until you reached the next town to refuel, so, you might as well start from the beginning.

You were born in…okay, well maybe not quite that far into the past. Luckily Vergo’s attack didn’t give you amnesia.

But honestly, you felt like life began anew when you moved in with your aunt and uncle. Your parents had died in a motor vehicle accident, leaving you orphaned and spiraling with grief. But your aunt and uncle stepped up, whisking you away to the peaceful city of East Blue.

There was something special about the warm seaside city that seemed to heal the soul. Maybe it was the gentle ocean, or the green rolling hills. But the people, the warm tight knit community made you feel like you belonged. That you were a part of a nakama.

But as with anything too good to last, things came to an end, with heartbreak. You needed to get out of East Blue, so after graduating from Grandline High, you moved away to attend the prestigious New World University. While you never formed a nakama, you channeled all your efforts in excelling at Math, Finances, and Computer science. You found little side jobs here and there for extra cash. It was one venture into cyber security that you started to notice work arounds, holes in people’s security networks one could exploit. Soon you began a little risky side enterprise, bots - viruses. They moved money around, just enough to go unnoticed. And you only targeted the filthy rich. 

You started to feel a lot like Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich and transferring it to the poor. Gawds you had been blind by your success. Should have realized you were more like Icarus, flying too close to the goddamn sun. But, hindsight is 2020, and a bitch. One of the filthy rich you decided to steal from turned out to be Donquixote fucking Doflamingo. 

Now you were the mouse cornered by the cat. If that cat was a forebodingly lanky man with short blonde hair, a bone chilling smile, and white framed glasses with glaringly orange to red lenses that made it impossible to see his eyes. 

Doflamingo offered a deal, work for him, or be found guilty for your crimes and locked up in Impel Down. You were scared and alone, so you chose to work for Doflamingo -thinking he was the lesser of two evils. 

Wrong again…

You were now bound to work until you paid off what you stole. At first, you thought you could solve this quickly. Shift the decimal point here and there. Slip through networks like a cybernetic ghost. But Doflamingo had his eyes on larger targets, with tighter security networks that made you feel pitted against the world class chess Grandmaster, rather than you sank my battleship.

Shit!

Longer hours were spent holed up in the small electronic room deep within the confines of the Donquixote estate. Soon days morphed into weeks, and then like a snake, weeks silently slithered into months. Your stomach began to twist into knots once you realized Doflamingo added interest each year. You knew, you saw the numbers -you’d never be free.

How long has it been since you were cut off from all friends and family? Did no one issue a missing person’s report? Did anyone come looking for you?

Did they think you were dead?

Soon your troubled socially isolated mind began to have darker thoughts. Intrusive whispers that maybe it would be better that way.

You found yourself looking down from one the estate’s highest balcony. It was now or never as you took a deep breath and…

“You’re not going to jump are you?” An unfamiliar deep male voice asked, scaring the beejesus out of you.

“Fuck!” You screamed and slipped. Your body lurching forwards over the railing.

“Oh shit!” He yelled and lunged to catch you.

Large strong arms wrapped around your middle, nearly performing the Heimlich maneuver from the sheer force and urgency of the situation.

You were enveloped by the scent of smokey cigarette, spicy clove, and a warm masculine musk. 

“The hell were you thinking?” The man breathlessly sighed as your feet touched the stone floor, before he whipped you around. 

In front of you was the tall younger brother, Donquixote Corazon Rosinante.

You gazed up, dumbstruck, as you took in how shaggy golden blond hair framed his handsome face. The artistic smile of his red lined lips. And the painted blue starburst eyeliner around the lower part of his right eye. Speaking of eyes, those deep mahogany orbs held a warmth you did not realize Donquixotes were capable of.

At that moment Rosinante seemed angelic.

Finally you found your voice.

“You, you can talk?!” You breathed, wide eyed in astonishment. 

You had minimal interaction with Rosinante. Based on your observation around the estate, the younger brother appeared aloof, clumsy, hated children, and was mute. You would notice he seemed to linger in any rooms you were in, but you brushed it off as keeping tabs on you for his brother. But Rosinante never seemed malicious or rude like Doflamingo.

Now you’ve discovered a few new things about him. Rosinante was not a mute. He had a lovely deep voice. Plus, the young man was still holding you round the waist…and you were quite enjoying how large and comforting his hands were.

“Oh!” He gasped upon realizing this. 

Upon releasing you to take a step back, Rosinante tripped over his own feet, stumbling backwards with flailing arms. You leaned forward, trying to catch him, only for his large hands to grab a hold of you like a lifeline, and take you down with him.

“Ouff!” He wheezed, somehow holding you up so that he may heroically take the brunt of the fall.

It was absolutely silly!

Maybe it was the adrenaline thrumming through your veins, but you burst into a fit of laughter at the whole ordeal. You had not realized that once again Rosinante’s hands had found their way back upon your waist.

Warm, comforting, strong.

“Your laugh,” Rosinante remarked softly as he looked up at you with a dazed grin. “I’ve never heard it before. Nor seen you smile. It’s quite lovely.”

Your heart did a weird wobbly backflip as your cheeks warmed. The last time you felt like this was…back home.

Your cheeks rose to flaming heat levels when you realized that you were straddling Rosinante. Not that he was doing any better as it dawned on him like a burning sun that he was keeping you anchored upon him with his hands.

Scrambling off of each other, you both politely coughed, and fixed your outfits. But when you sheepishly peered up at him, you were pleased to find a shy, but true smile gracing his lips.

Something new and wonderful was formed that day. And soon you shared more secret moments like these on that balcony while Rosinante smoked and you chatted away.

Occasionally worry bubbled within you that you were just talking the young man's ear off. However Rosinante never appeared bored or annoyed. As he leaned against the railing, lit cigarette between his lips, he seemed truly interested in the conversation. Nodding or shaking his blonde shaggy haired head as you went on. Sometimes, he seemed so invested in what you were venting about, that he'd nearly burn himself with the cigarette. 

Yet, you were still cautious. You would have been a fool not to be as the younger Donquixote could have been sent to keep an eye on you; see if you had finally cracked and would betray the family. 

Rosinante could sense that you continued to keep him at arms distance. But, he wanted to close that gap. A desire to hold your soft body against his again, to deepen this bond you two had formed. And so Rosinante finally confessed his deepest secret and proved to you that he was working with the Marines and under Fleet Admiral Sengoku orders.

Soon your friendship with Rosinante deepened with a common goal, to bring down Doflamingo from the inside, while you both maintained your covers. Rosinante, the clumsy mute and you, the unsmiling antisocial computer whiz. 

Well, not that antisocial. Rosinante had pulled some strings and got you a puppy as an emotional support animal. However, he didn’t realize that while the fluffy white puppy seemed tiny in his large hands, it was actually a Great Pyrenees. And would soon grow to the size of a small pony.

Bepo, you had named your staunch companion.

With renewed hope for the future, you began ghosting through cybersecurity to feed the Marines intel on Smile’s inner workings. Everything was going so smoothly, until 3 years ago, when a boy named Trafalgar D. Water Law entered both of your lives. Suddenly the numbers weren’t adding up anymore. The boy was an inherent chaos, and a key to something greater that the math couldn’t reveal. You summoned Rosinante for an emergency meeting.

You needed to get Law away from Doflamingo. But with his Amber Lead Syndrome, how can you help the dying boy? It was Rosinante who hatched the plan and after 3 grueling years, Rosinante finally obtained it, the Ope Ope no Mi cure. Law would be saved! Fuck, you could’ve kissed Rosinante, and throwing caution to the wind, you finally did -surprising both of you as your warm lips met his.

Rosi’s surprised expression settled into pure bliss as he groaned into your mouth, eagerly deepening the kiss as your lips melded between his perfectly. His large warm hands grabbed around your waist, kneading the soft flesh causing you to gasp and shiver at his touch.

In a moment you both pulled apart, panting for breath, before Rosi pressed his forehead against yours.

“Once the three of us get out of here, I’m taking you to the beach,” Rosi sighed in a moment of deep contentment.  

“Well, the four of us if you count Bepo,” you grinned. “You promise?” 

“Promise.”

Then all hell sprung loose…

The flashing empty gas light blinked warningly up at you from the dashboard, shaking you out of your reverie.

Shit!

Luckily the looming glow of a small town was nearing closer.

You pulled into the gas station, quietly fueling the car, and stifling your own yawns behind the bruised hand.

The mutinous grumble of your hungry stomach reminded you that sustenance was needed. You were sure Law’s stomach would be growling soon. 

“Hey Law,” you softly chirped, gently nudging the boy awake.

“Mmmm,” He groggily mumbled, but piercing grey eyes peeked out from fluffy white fur.

“I’m stepping into the shop for a moment. Stay with Bepo and keep the car locked, okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered, before he sank back into Bepo.

Tossing the hood to cover your head, you headed towards the quiet convenience store. The door’s bell tinkled as you crossed the threshold. Chewing your lower lip in contemplation, you grabbed an Ace wrap, a few Onigiris, and cans of dog food. A few other bits and bobs filled your handcart before you wandered towards the cashier. 

You passed by the magazine rack and a familiar colorful comic caught your gaze.

“Sora, Warrior of the Sea - Issue #50, Germa 66 Strikes Back!”

Smiling, you snatched the comic into your cart knowing that Law was a huge fan of Sora.

As the cashier rang your items up, your mind wandered through the fog of thoughts swirling in your head, until a white shadow raced by your periphery.

Shit!

Was that Bepo? Had Law been taken? Was Bepo running after the kidnapper?!

Heart thumping and blood whooshing against your ear drums you threw money down while yelling, “Keep the change!”

Dashing outside with plastic bags swinging awkwardly about, you came to a sudden stop at the scene before you.

Law escorting a leashed Bepo to a green patch of grass. Or, more like, an eager Bepo dragging Law bodily along as the dog happily sniffed about.

“Law?!” You gasped against the anger and fear bubbling within as you had instructed the teen to stay in the car.

“Bepo had to pee. I locked the car and stayed with him just as you said,” Law stated matter of factly.

“I…” You breathed, hand pressed against your chest, just above your racing heart. Then you sighed, shaking your head. 

“Looks like Bepo’s done. Come on you two.”

Soon tires crunched along the graveled lot of a dingy motel. A place that would ask few questions and a wad of berries would waive the need to see formal ID. The accommodation was sparse, but clean.

“It’s not broken,” Law stated as he carefully examined your bruised right hand after the three of you settled into the one bed room.

“Happy to hear that kiddo,” you beamed while watching Law expertly bandage up your wrist with the Ace wrap.

This kid was going to be an amazing doctor.

“You need to get some ice for that,” Law added as his silver gaze flitted to the large welt upon your head. 

Law’s expression remained mute, but his stormy eyes became glossy. You could practically hear his thoughts scream - ‘It’s my fault you’re hurt, It’s my fault Cora-san is…’

“Hey, hey, kiddo,” you gently whisper to stop the screaming thoughts in Law’s head.

“Thanks for patching me up, it really helps, and look what I got!” You reached into your duffle with the left hand, withdrawing an onigiri and comic book. Immediately Law’s eyes shone with happiness as he took both in hand and settled further on the bed, leaning against Bepo.

Huffing a smile, you rose to your feet, taking the ice box with you. It took you a moment to find the ice machine and you softly hummed a tune as you collected ice into the canister.

Then the sound of gravel being crushed by tires met your ears. You froze as a Marine patrol vehicle entered the lot. Slowly, you stepped into the shadow of the building as you watched with bated breath. Had someone called the Marines or was this a part of their usual patrol?

A part of you had thought to go to the Marines as Rosinante was a Commander, maybe you could somehow reach out to Sengoku. But, Vergo was a Marine vice admiral and he might intercept your message. Plus, who knew how many spies Vergo had within the Marines. They could easily make sure you and Law disappear without a trace.

No, your best bet was to get home. 

Home was where it was truly safe.

You pressed yourself against the shadows, watching the Marine car rove through the graveled lot. Shit, you hope they weren’t running plates for stolen vehicles.

Sweat began to bead upon your forehead even though you clutched the icebox to your chest.

The Marine car exited the lot, and continued down the road. You waited for its tail lights to disappear before stepping out of the shadows. 

With a deep sigh, you quietly made your way back to the room. Halting in front of the paint chipped door, your left knuckles knocked against the wood in the special pattern Law would recognize.

The door clicked open.

The teen nodded, then returned to his spot on the bed, finishing his onigiri as he turned the page of the comic book.

Silently you munched on yours, barely tasting any flavors as you pressed the bag of ice gingerly against your head.

“Alright, lights out,” you chirped and awaited Law to situate himself on the bed before tucking him in. 

Removing Law’s fur hat, your gaze roved over the white patches along his tanned vitiligo skin. The remnants of his battle against the Amber Lead Syndrome. His tired eyes were already closed, highlighting the dark bags underneath.

Soon, Law will be safe. Then he could have a healthier and happier life he deserved.

“Night Law,” you whispered, patting the teen’s dark haired head before turning off the nightstand lamp.

“Goodnight,” he softly mumbled back, already drifting off to sleep.

You pulled over the heavy armchair to sit in front of the door, your back to the bed where Bepo and Law peacefully laid.

Settling in, you perched Rosi’s gun in your lap. Your throat tightened as the shine of the cold weapon made you recall the young man’s final moments before you escaped with Law. The cold fingertips of your right hand trembled as they lightly touched your lips, remembering the ghost of Rosi's desperate kiss.

His last kiss.

Hot tears prickled against your tightly shut eyes as you pressed your wrapped up hand against your mouth to muffle any noise that might awaken Law.

It was going to be a long night…

 

Author Note:

Whew! A lot happened here to set up the story. I hope I executed it well. Per my research, Law was 13 years old when Rosinante died, and Rosi was 26 years old. So we are roughly about 13 years in the past of the characters’ post time-skip ages. I’ll post a rough age approximation later on where I’ve subtracted about 13 years. So our Strawhats are kiddos! And the Red Haired Pirate crew are in their mid-20’s and so are you as y'all grew up together. 

Hope you enjoyed this story and if so please consider leaving me a comment if you liked it! I really thrive on positive feedback (´◡`)

I also have a supernatural ghost murder mystery featuring Ace x Reader x Sabo in the planning phase, so keep an eye out for that! ʕಠᴥಠʔ

This story is crossposted on Wattpad (PK-chu). You can find me on Tumblr: @FromAthelasToVeritaserum ٩(⁎❛ᴗ❛⁎)۶

(DISCLAIMER) I do not own nor claim to own any of the One Piece Franchise or Eiichiro Oda's brilliant and long running work. Only my additions are from my own madness. And please do not feed my work into AI apps.

Chapter 2: Safe & Sound

Summary:

The world lost an angel that day.

And you vowed to find a way to make the devil pay.

Notes:

A deeply appreciative thank you to those who've kudo'd, commented, and subscribed (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) I was worried about how this story would be received, but your support helped me churn out this 4k chapter! ʕಠᴥಠʔ

Added a new tag: multiple POVs. I’ll probably dipped into Law’s and other characters’ POV. Family and friendship to help get through hardship is definitely a strong theme in this story; I hope I do it justice. There'll be many cameos sprinkled in. One of my favorite parts with AUs is seeing how other favorite characters (major and minor) pop up and are woven into a completely new story.

Bang bang, he shot me down

Bang bang, I hit the ground

Bang bang, that awful sound

Bang bang, my baby shot me down

~ Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) by Nancy Sinatra

 

Your fingers nervously drummed against the worn leather steering wheel. Meanwhile your intestines busily tied themselves into anxious balloon animals.

The time on the dashboard glowed 1150.

You and Rosi had a plan. Divide and conquer. Rosi was to treat Law with the cure then sneak him out of the estate. On the other side of the estate, you released a virus to cause general chaos, fried the computer, snuck out with Bepo, and secured a getaway vehicle. 

You found this old car. No GPS, or any embedded electronic device. Nothing potentially hackable and trackable. And a full tank of gas. Perfect.

Doflamingo didn’t allow you a phone, and you had very little personal items in your possession. It didn’t matter. You shoved essentials into a duffel bag for you, Rosi, Law, and Bepo.

1155

It was a good plan. Solid. Simple.

Soon you’d be on the road to freedom. Together.

Bepo released a low whine causing you to worry your lower lip as you gazed down at the dashboard.

1200 

Rosi and Law were officially late to the rendezvous point.

Shit.

A nervous acidic burp escaped your mouth. Something was wrong, you could feel it deep within your anxious bones.

“Bepo, watch the car while I’m gone.”

The dog jumped into the front driver’s seat and gave you a confirming ‘BOOF’.

Blood pounded against your skull as you crept down the dark alleyway. Suddenly, your foot struck metal, unleashing an unholy, echoing racket. You froze. A sharp breath hissed through your nostrils to cool your frantic heart. You nudged the traitorous object that had tried to wake the dead, a long cold metal pipe.

You snatched up the pipe. Muscle memory kicked in, guiding your hand through a couple of sharp swings and twirls. It had been eight years since your shinai training at the Shikkearu dojo. Compared to the bamboo sword, the lead pipe was awkwardly weighted and cold. But heavy or not, it was a weapon, and you knew how to use it.

You made your way towards the empty kid’s park Rosi and Law would have crossed through. The sound of scuffling punctured through the silence. Your heart lurched, battering against your ribs. In the dimly lit space you spotted Law hiding inside the jungle gym set, crying.

“Cora-san!” His babbling voice hiccupped.

Beyond the jungle gym danced two shadows locked in a fist fight.

Rosi and Vergo.

Gleaming guns laid on the ground from their reach. Each fighter prevented the other from getting the upper hand.

Fuck!

Vergo’s back was to you, and you watched in horror as he delivered a vicious high kick right to Rosi’s face, making the young man fly across the playground.

“I can't believe we had a rat like you in our Family,” Vergo hissed like a venomous snake. The animosity he harbored radiated like a crackling fire.

Rosi groaned in pain as he lay sprawled on the ground.

Anger coursed through your veins as you pulled back the lead pipe, and whipped it around, slamming it into the man’s side with all your might.

Vergo grunted. Just fucking grunted. 

What the hell was this man made of, meat bricks?!

The scum of a man whipped around, smacking you painfully across the head. For a moment you were blinded by sparkling stars as pain flared across your head. The clanging of the lead pipe hitting the ground rang in your ears.

“Ah,” Vergo chuckled darkly.

Before you could stumble away you felt Vergo latch onto your right hand and lift up off your feet. Dangling like a ragdoll, while your brain still spun within your skullcap.

“So, it was you who crashed the network. Figured.” He squeezed your right hand. The crushing strength made you wince as you tried to gulp down a whimper. 

“Hey!” Thundered Rosi’s furious deep voice. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

Vergo turned, surprised by Rosinante’s booming voice, only to be met with a vicious upper cut that snapped the man’s head back.

The man’s unconscious body crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes, letting you go. 

You almost fell along with Vergo, but Rosi grabbed you, pulling you flush against him as he tilted your chin up to survey the growing welt on your forehead. 

His face was bruised and bloodied. But desperate mahogany eyes searched yours.

Are you alright?  They wordlessly asked.

With a shaky breath you remarked, “I’m oka…”

Before you could finish, Rosi’s warm lips crashed upon yours in a desperate kiss. 

Smoky, with a hint of cloves and a bite of copper.

Through the searing kiss, Rosinante poured his hopes, love, and wish that you would be safe.

You could feel it. 

A wordless goodbye.

No! 

Your fingers clung onto him, wrinkling Rosi’s bloodied pink-hearted shirt, trying to claw under his skin to prove you wouldn’t be able to physically leave without him.

You couldn’t!

Something cold and metallic pressed against your chest before Rosi released you. Clutched in your hands now was his gun.

“Go!” He breathed as he pushed you away, making you stumble to catch yourself.

The sound of incoming cars, tires screeching to a halt, and furious shouts of men filled the air.

Law was at your side, clutching at the hem of your hoodie, worried as to what was happening.

“Rosi! Come with us!” You begged.

But the shaggy blonde just shook his head. And you knew what he was going to do.

“Go,” he urged again, checking the other side of the park which would soon be overrun with Doflamingo’s men.

But you promised… 

An all too familiar pain ached in your chest.

“I love you,” You breathed too quietly into the night air.

The realization caused more cracks in your splintered heart. 

“I love you!” You exclaimed with more fervor.

Rosi whipped back around, taken by surprise by your declaration. Then his expression melted into heartwarming joy. He smiled, mahogany eyes warm and bright. It was the happiest you had ever seen him.

How long has it been since someone told Rosi that? And it took you until today to bear your soul to him. To tell Rosi that he was loved with all your heart.

You thought you had more time…

“I love you both,” Rosi breathed, gazing at you both longingly; committing you and Law to memory with a knowing nod.

Then he turned. A finality with each movement of a man who has accepted the last chapter of his tale.

Rosi lit his last cigarette, the warm ember making his golden hair glow like a halo.

He was your angel.

“Cora-san!” Law screamed, rivers of tears flowing down his tawny vitiligo cheeks as you dragged him out of the park. You urged the teen to retreat to the truck. Tears were threatening to cloud your vision, but you had to get Law out of here. Rosi’s sacrifice couldn't be in vain.

You started the car, just as multiple gunshots cracked through the air like furious echoing thunder.

No, no, no, no!

Heart shattering, you slammed on the gas, nearly clipping the corner of the alleyway as you sped out onto the dead street.

On and on you drove while Law cried and hiccuped into Bepo’s soft fur.

The world lost an angel that day.

And as the clunky truck skidded onto the interstate, you vowed to find a way to make the devil pay.

You hit a jagged pothole, gasped, and jolted awake.

Soft sunlight was filtering through the cracks in the blinds, warming your skin.

You had overslept.

Shit! 

Rubbing drool from the corner of your mouth, you rose from the armchair.

“Hey kiddo,” you chirped while nudging Law’s sleeping form. “We need to hit the road soon.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair with canned dog food and leftover onigiris. The smoked salmon rice ball was flavorless in your dry mouth. The joy of food but a ghost you swallowed down. You just needed fuel in your stomach for another long drive.

By the end of this you and Law would have matching bags under your eyes. At least then more people would accept him as your son. Fewer questions the better.

You drove on with the rising sun. The bare stretch of flatlands became more textured in topography, heralding the shift into the East Blue territory. Rolling hills sprouted vibrant green grass. Even Law was transfixed by the rolling landscape dotted with cows, sheep, and horses grazing lazily about in the warm midday sun.

You rolled down your window, catching Bepo’s eager attention as the dog poked his head out, huffing the air deeply. A fresh salty breeze flowed into the truck. 

Eagerly Law rolled down his window, attracting a blur of white fur.

“Oi, Bepo-ya!” Law grumbled as the dog tried to climb over the teen towards the window. You chuckled, watching the duo from the rearview mirror, jostling for the prime spot at the car door.

“The East Blue is a huge portside city,” you began aloud over the wind, knowing the teen’s thirst for knowledge.

“It was established by the trading barren Gol D. Roger, and has flourished since. It also became a popular vacation destination.”

You left out the infamous piece of history about Roger’s untimely death. Execution by the Marines for piracy. You hadn’t arrived until afterwards, but Buggy and Shanks were there and witnessed the trial, both at the age of fifteen.

Maybe that’s why you three bonded so well. Not only being the same age, but going through grief. You had just lost your parents and they had lost Roger, someone akin to a father for them.

Then kinder warmer memories resurfaced in your mind. Long hours spent playing on the beach hunting seashells, swimming into the waves, and bonfires that glowed against the starry night sky.

The beach holds a special place in your heart. Rosi had known that…

“Hey Law,” you chirped, gaining the teen’s attention as farmland slowly turned into suburbs. “Once we settle in and figure things out, I’ll take you and Bepo to the beach.”

A slight upturn in the corners of his mouth was the closest you had ever come to seeing Law smile. And for the first time in the past few rough hours, your heart felt a little lighter in your chest.

There was still more to drive, but East Blue was a sprawling vibrant city. Unlike other concrete jungles, it blended its urban crawl with a beachtown vibe with warm hued buildings and tall palm trees. Even the view of the sea was protected with limitations to building heights, allowing one to see down to the sparkling boat filled marina. The bustling shipyard was the city’s main lifeline. But tourism helped establish numerous green parks, modern shopping malls, luxurious resorts, and a bubbling night life.

The downside of this beautiful and popular city was traffic. From industrial shipment carriers to flocks of photo clicking pedestrians and speedy mopeds zipping about. Even the occasional horseback riders wove through traffic causing excitement amongst children. So it wasn't until sunset that you managed to get through to the more quiet low key shoreline side where your aunt and uncle lived.

Muscle memory took you right up the graveled driveway of a quaint two story stone cottage that was covered in ivy and slightly weathered by the sea. A lone light shone in the living room window, indicating someone was home.

You gulped as you turned the car off. Its been long, too long. Did they even live here still? What if you knock and it’s another family. Everyone you knew, gone.

“You okay,” Law asked, making you jump in your seat, narrowly hitting the roof of the car.

“Ah, well, I’m feeling a little anxious, champ,” you confessed. You were always honest with Law. 

Honesty is the best policy.

“I learned that breathing techniques are helpful,” the teen offered with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah?” You smiled gently. “Can you show me buddy?”

Law nodded, and unbuckled himself before climbing into the front passenger seat besides you.

“Alright. Breathe in, keep going,” Law instructed. “Okay -stop! Hold it 1-2-3-4. You can breathe out” Patiently, he continued guiding you through the steps two more times. The anxious knots in your belly gently loosened with each breath.

“Hey,” you exhaled with a gentle smile. “I do feel better. Thanks kiddo.”

Law nodded. Unsmiling, but his grey eyes had softened with a pleased feeling of being able to help you feel better. 

“Alright,” You nodded solemnly. “Let’s go.”

Law tugged the duffle bag out of your hand, wordlessly taking the weight. You managed a small smile and led him and Bepo up to the house. The grey front door was weathered but well cared for. Steeling your nerves, you knocked a familiar rhythm against the wood. It was the tune you learned from your Uncle, the same one you used with Law. 

You took a step back and waited.

You almost didn’t register the tug on your hoodie; Law was gripping the hem. You were anchoring each other, holding fast against the pull of the stormy sea.

There was a sound of movement coming from inside. Slow, calculated, cautious.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall muscular man with slicked back shoulder length snow white hair. A couple silky white strands fell in front of his round lensed glasses, nearly obscuring the long scar across his right eye.

Dark slate grey eyes widened in surprise. And his prominent beard fed by five lines upon his chin wobbled as his mouth gaped open in shock.

He breathed your name in a low hush, akin to a prayer

“Uncle Rayleigh, I…Hi?”

Then, it hit you. A wave of exhaustion swept in like a riptide, dragging you down into the depths. It was the realization of safety; after running on fumes for so long, your body was finally allowing itself to crash.

Your vision wavered and your body wobbled.

All you were last aware of was both Law and Rayleigh shouting your name before the deep quiet undertow pulled you down into the darkness.

Earlier that evening, Rayleigh was partaking in his ritual. A glass of fine whiskey in one hand, a thriller noir novel in the other, and his ass comfortably cushioned in his favorite arm chair in the living room.

Yet the sound of an unexpected car daring to make its way up the driveway had him snap the book shut as he continued to listen. Rayleigh had half a mind to grab one of his old swords off the mantle just to give the possible solicitor a good scare.

But when it was your knock upon the door, Rayleigh froze. He couldn’t believe it, instead daring it to be a hallucination. For it couldn’t be…you?

Carefully he made his way to the front door to find you staring back at him. Your skin was pale and cheeks hallowed. Eyes bleak with worry while darkened skin underneath exposed deep exhaustion. A large ugly bruise blotching the skin upon your forehead while your right hand was wrapped up.

Your name seeped from his mouth as naturally as breathing. But then he realized you weren't alone.

A child stood by your side, and behind you both a large white dog. Rayleigh surveyed the vitiligo tawny skin and malnourished appearance of the kid. The way the child tightly held onto your sweater like a lifeline, with a haunted expression behind those piercing silver eyes.

What kind of hell did you three travel through to get here?

“Uncle Rayleigh, I…Hi?” Your tired voice called his attention back. Your form wobbled precariously upon unsteady legs.

Then both he and the kid yelled out your name as you keeled forwards, before Rayleigh caught your limp form.

“Whoa there, hey now, I’ve got ya’ lass,” Rayleigh stated smoothly as he picked you up into his arms. 

You are home now.

“Let’s get you guys inside ya’,” Rayleigh guided, letting the child close the door.

“Ya’ got a name kid?”

“Trafalgar D. Water Law-ya, she calls me Law-ya.”

“Can I call you that too or you’d rather something else?

Law shrugged, “It’s fine.”

“What about the dog?”

“Bepo-ya.”

‘Hmmm,’ Rayleigh murmured as he carried your tired body up the stairs with Law and Bepo quietly trailing behind. 

They entered a small but colorful and warm room. There was your basic furniture of a bed, dresser, and desk. But most surfaces were decorated in photos, crafts, trophies, and numerous pushies. A homage to your history growing up in the East Blue.

Rayleigh gently laid you down on the soft bed and a sigh escaped from your lips. Even unconsciously your body knew it was home. Rayleigh, carefully brushed stray strands of hair from your face. A part of his heart felt warm, thankful, to have you home again -but the other half still ached at seeing you in such a condition. He didn’t know how deep those wounds truly were.

Then he remembered the kid, and turned to Law. “We have a guest room if you want to -”

“I want to stay with her!” Law rushed to answer, already climbing up on the bed to lay down besides you; clearly not liking the idea of being separated. 

Even the dog settled itself at the foot of the bed like a sentinel.

“Alright then. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Retreating downstairs, Rayleigh sighed as he ran fingers through his grey hair. Quickly he called Shakky. “Hey dearest,” he began.

“What’s wrong?” Shakky immediately ascertained. The ruckus of babbling voices and lively music of the bar filled the background.

“She’s back.”

“She’s…SHE’S BACK?!” Shakky’s voice jumped an octave or two. “I’m on my way. How is she?”

“Rough,” Rayleigh replied, peering up at the ceiling where your room was. “Tread lightly dear.”

“Tread lightly? I’ll show you tread lightly, like a bull in a porcelain shop. She disappears on us for god knows how long and you want me to…” she growled.

“Shakky,” Rayleigh warned.

“Shit,” there was a pause on the line. Only the bustle of the bar with clinking glasses, muffled conversations, and occasional guffaws could be heard. 

“Its that bad?” Shakky breathed softly.

“Just, come home.”

“On it,” followed by a click, leaving the living room in total silence. However the presence of more filled the space making it feel like ghosts had moved in. 

How long has it been since you were home? 

How long since the last message from you?

You had dropped off the face of the world. Sending Shakky and Rayleigh besides themselves. Hells, all your friends were in a tizzy. It was a group investigative effort searching for you. And yet nothing. 

Your dorm untouched, no sign of a struggle. Homework midway done sprawled about your bed.

They checked hospitals, Marine stations, even morgues. But not even the slightest clue was found.

It was like you disappeared from existence. 

And now you were back from the dead looking like you had marched through hell itself with a boy at your side and a large dog trailing behind.

What the hell had happened?

Rayleigh sighed, rubbing his hand down his face.

It was going to be a long night…

---

At the center of town, amongst the hubbub night life of Shakky’s bar, was Shanks.

Once again making his way through his fifth, no, seventh? Maybe ninth pint of beer. His rosy cheeks were flushed and brain buzzed warmly like an uncaring honeybee.

Yet this bee requires more honey!

“I’m off for another lads!” He cheerfully slapped the table his comrades sat around before wobbling as he stood.

“We’ll see if you can walk straight!” Lucky Roux’s muffled voice jested from between bites of a giant turkey leg.

“Let alone get one foot in front of the other!” Yasopp barked a laugh, causing a hearty roar of guffaws around him.

“Gents, you wound me so, to think that I can’t hold my alcohol,” Shanks playfully chided.

“It’ll be your ninth one Shanks,” Benn informed him dryly.

“Ah! Knew it was a prime number!” He winked his scarred left eye in return.

“Then you should also know it’s time to start drying your lips,” Benn deadpanned back.

“Boo, you spoilsport,” Shanks pouted through tingling lips. Before sauntering away.

“Oi! He can walk straight!” Limejuice praised, as if Shanks was walking on water. 

“Ye of little faith!” Shanks huffed with a dramatic wave of his empty flagon.

His smile curled at the corners like a cat about to get cream, for Makino had left the tap at the bar unguarded. 

Oh lucky me~

Leaning over the bar, Shanks sneakily reached around to fill his glass with the precious amber liquid. 

The urgently hushed conversation between Shakky and Makino wiggled his ear, though he couldn’t make sense of any part save for, ‘close up for me hon.’

Strange, Shakky was always the last to leave. One, she wanted to make sure nobody skipped out on their tab. And two, avoiding the memories that awaited her back home.

Memories of you.

Eight years you’ve been gone. Three of them at Uni, stating that school kept you too busy to visit. And then you were gone without a trace; like the world had swallowed you up, leaving nothing behind. Any leads Shanks found came to dead ends and after a few years the heart became brittle. He always listened, continued to hope, and had never moved on.

A ghost of your smile flitted across his mind, causing Shanks to blink as you materialized before him, leaning playfully forwards on the other side of the bar. Your form shimmering softly like a gentle mirage with your chin resting upon the palm of your right hand.

‘I think you've had enough sailor,’ Your voice gently chided Shanks through his drunken haze.

“Not you too,” he grumbled, pushing harder on the tap’s spigot to increase the flow of his self-medicating brew.

The echo of your musical laugh caused his bleary eyes to gaze back longingly at you. A bright smile graced your lips, just as he remembered. Your ghost hadn't aged, with soft hair framing a youthful face, and a mischievous glint within those vibrant eyes that promised excitement.

Like a high he would chase and never get enough of. Until he messed it up…

‘You still miss me, huh?’ 

“Clearly,” Shanks sighed, tearing his gaze away from your ghost, before muttering darkly, “And clearly, I’m not drunk enough.”

Closing his eyes to not see your teasing smile while he filled his drink. The alcohol usually dampened the habitual evening ruminations of ‘what could have beens’. 

‘Shanks?’

“Shanks!” Makino hissed.

Dark honey brown eyes jolted open just in time to see Makino try to snatch the freeloaded pint of beer.

“Makino!” Shanks whined as he danced out of the black haired woman’s reach. 

“You free loader!”

“Come now Makino, Shakky won't miss one little drink~”

Actually, they both doubted that.

“Anyways, what was all that about with Shakky?” Shanks inquired after a deep gulp.

Makino suddenly looked nervous. Her brown eyes darted to the door Shakky had sprinted out of, then onto Shanks. Clearly she was calculating if it was her place to say.

“Makino?” Shanks questioned gently, feeling his buzz fade at the barmaid’s worry. It wasn’t like Makino to not share her concerns, news, or juicy gossip. Something more serious must have happened. 

“Has something happened to Rayleigh?”

Shank’s old mentor had been enjoying his retired life. But, then the stress of your disappearance seemed to have taken years off of Rayleigh’s lifeline and turned him into a bit of a recluse. The elder barely made an appearance in the bustling city anymore, spending most of his time living like a hermit at their seaside cottage.

Makino shook her head, gulped, released a shuddering breath and stated, “She’s back.”

“Whose back?”

Makino whispered your name, and a heavy silence rippled through the bar like a cold tidal wave.

Then the piercing sound of crashing glass shook Shank’s back to the present. He had dropped his beer.

“I’ll…I’ll go get the mop,” Shanks mumbled in a daze. His head was swarming with the buzzing news.

You had finally come home…

Notes:

Hope you’re enjoying the tale so far, if so please consider leaving a kudo and a comment - no matter how brief, hearing from you warms my heart and helps me continue writing, plus I love chatting with readers ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

This story is crossposted on Wattpad (PK-chu). You can find me on Tumblr: @FromAthelasToVeritaserum (❁❛ᴗ❛)

(DISCLAIMER) I do not own nor claim to own any of the One Piece Franchise or Eiichiro Oda's brilliant and long running work. Only my additions are from my own madness. And please do not feed my work into AI apps.

Chapter 3: No More Running

Summary:

‘Ghost’, Doflamingo called you.

Now you felt like it, a ghost.

A shadow of who you once were…

Notes:

Oh my goodness, this chapter took on a life of its own. I was so excited to write and share it with you. Thank you again for all your support! 🎉 May you enjoy another 4k word behemoth while I guzzle down more coffee! 😆

My body's on the line now

I can't fight this time now

I can feel the light shine on my face

Did I disappoint you?

Will they still let me over

If I cross the line?

“The Line”, Twenty One Pilots, Arcane & League of Legends

Rayleigh knocked back the last of his whiskey, letting the alcohol burn down his throat just as Shakky entered the living room.

“They're upstairs,” he exhaled the alcoholic fume. 

“They?” Shakky repeated with a frown as she set down her purse.

“She had a kid and a dog with her. The boy's name is Law.”

“A kid?!” Shakky whisper-yelled. “We have a grand-nephew?!”

Rayleigh shrugged as he wondered the same. But the timespan of your disappearance and Law’s apparent age didn’t add up.

“What did she say? Where has she been?!”

“Wow, slow down dear,” Rayleigh held his palms up in a pacifying gesture. “Our niece passed out on the threshold. Brought her up to bed. Didn't want to interrogate the kid. He looks pretty rough as well…”

Sharp brows furrowed in deep thought. Shakky withdrew another cigarette, completely forgetting the currently lit one pressed between her lips.

Rayleigh gently removed the fresh cigarette from her fingers and clasped Shakky’s hand between his. “We'll learn more in the morning. The important thing is that she's alive, and home.”

“Yeah,” Shakky sighed wearily. “I'm, I'm just going to sneak up there. You know, take a peek. It doesn't feel real otherwise.”

Upstairs you were out cold, sprawled out spread eagle on the plush bed. The boy curled up into your side.

The dog lifted its head and wagged its fluffy tail upon seeing Shakky, but otherwise didn't make a peep. As if knowing to keep quiet while its people slept.

Tears prickled at Shakky’s obsidian eyes. It was you. Even in the darkness she could see your features by the soft glow of filtering moonlight from the window. 

She longed to hold you, hug you.

But Shakky could wait. You were alive and home, and that's all that mattered. 

 

---

 

Home…

“The weather is always perfect, the sand is soft and warm between your toes. Oh, and the freshly caught fish -grilled to a juicy and crispy perfection!” You described East Blue to Rosi as he leaned against the railing listening. 

The shaggy blonde seemed enraptured by your animated hands miming reeling in a fish you had caught. “And it was this big!” you swore, extending your hands. “It nearly snapped my pole in two!” The memory returned of how the fish would have dragged you into the ocean if Buggy hadn't caught you around the middle while Shanks clung tightly to him.

Lost in thought, your arms slowly lowered back down to your sides. A soft chuckle of fondness at your past adventures escapes your lips, before a gentle sadness descends as you recall the wonderful friendships you once had.

“You love the beach?” Rosi’s deep voice beckoned your attention back to him. He talked sparingly, and only during private moments. But his voice was like soft velvet caressing your ears.

“Yeah, I love it," you replied fondly, gazing up into those warm mahogany eyes. 

A shy smile played upon his painted lips, and for a moment you weren't sure you were talking about the beach anymore.

With cheeks flushing with pink warmth, you awkwardly clear your throat. Turning away to gaze back out at the sprawling gardens of the Donquixote estate.

Then smoke filled your nose, something was burning. 

Your head snapped back to the blonde.

“Rosi! Your coat!”

The black feathered coat was on fire, again! You scrambled for your water bottle. Tossing it all at the burning feathers, the cigarette, and part of Rosinante’s face.

“Heh,” he chuckled nervously while wiping away the damp blonde hair from his eyes. “You saved my life again.” Rosi remarked with a sheepish grin.

A loud un-ladylike snort escaped you as your eyes rolled. After the first burning accident, you’ve taken to keeping a bottle of water with you. It felt only natural to do so.

You didn’t realize how deeply it meant to Rosinante.

Silently, he leaned down, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair, like a delicate secret, before retreating back into the building. Leaving you stunned in silence, staring at his tall sauntering form.

The lingering smell of burnt feathers tickling your nose.

…Actually, the smoky smell continued as you sniffed the air.

But it smelled, tastier?

…salty, savory…Bacon? 

Eyes fluttered open. You blink, and the room comes into detail. It wasn't the sparse motel room or Doflamingo’s tech droning prison.

You were surrounded by warmth, color, and a happy history. All frozen in time, just as you had left it before heading off to uni. 

We made it. 

Relief washed through your body as you sighed. Yet it was short lived. An icy knife sliced into your numb heart as you laid there.

Rosi…

Your eyes closed tightly, tears burning behind the curtains. You didn’t want to stare at the happiness, the love, the good times. Not when you couldn't share it with Rosi. 

In some dark twisted way it felt at odds to feel happy. Safe yes, but with the grief drowning your heart, there just wasn't enough air for happiness to breathe.

Noises from below tried to shake you out of the spiraling stupor. Law and Bepo, your purpose, and promise to Rosi…

And echoing from the dark corner of your mind, Rosi’s warm voice encouraged you,

‘Come on, get up…’

‘One foot in front of the other…’

‘Keep moving forward.’

You clung onto his words like a small lit candle, guiding you through the dark tunnel. 

Silently, you changed into a soft simple T-shirt in your favorite color, paired with loose light blue pants. You didn’t pause again until your reflection stared back in the bathroom mirror. Nearly didn't recognize yourself.

‘Ghost’, Donflamingo called you. From the ease of how you flitted through computers. Nearly an untracked presence. An untouchable shadow. Gone by the time the chaos you sowed exploded. 

Now you felt like it, a ghost.

A shadow of who you once were…

Sighing, you fixed your hair. You brushed carefully; the right side of your face was throbbing. The bruise is now a mottled mix of purple and yellow.

‘Keep moving forward.’

 

 

---

Bare feet padded against the cool wooden floorboards as you descended the stairs. Law and Bepo were eating breakfast along with your Aunt and Uncle. The warm scene at the round kitchen table was so domestic it ached. It was a piece of life you had missed, yet you froze in the doorway, feeling like a stranger on the outside, staring in through the glass.

You're a ghost…

Suddenly, a warm embrace engulfs you. Shakky’s presence beckons you out of the numbness as she hugs you tightly. “I waited all night!” Your aunt cooed, leaning slightly back to tilt your chin up. Shakky always loved looking into your eyes.

Because you shared your mother's eyes.

Shakky's gaze softened, “Missed you little lady.”

“Missed you too, Auntie,” you replied, a genuine warmth flooding your soul.

“Now eat up,” Shakky directed while pressing a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and slices of crispy bacon towards you.

Meanwhile Rayleigh passed you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

And just like, it was as if you never left…

“Well we’ve met Law,” Shakky stated as she placed a slice of golden browned toast on Law's plate, but he quickly passed it on to you. In return you transferred an extra helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. A quiet understanding between you two.

Shakky blinked at the silent exchange, then arched a questioning brow.

“He doesn’t like bread.” 

“I don’t like bread.” 

You both state at the same time, even blinking in unison.

Shakky and Rayleigh exchanged meaningful glances. You could feel the heavy tension in the room, centered on the question that desperately needed to be answered.

“Is Law your child?” Shakky asked point blank. She was never one to beat around the bush.

“He's as good as,” you replied defensively. Then, letting your voice and gaze soften, you added, “I’ve adopted Law.”

At your words, the teen snuck a glance at you from under his fuzzy brimmed hat. Cheeks blushed at your words. That you had accepted him as family.

Your attention returned to the plate of warm breakfast; the food was excellent. A home-cooked meal made with love. You tried to sigh in content, but the pain from the bruise made you grimace, your fingers itching to massage the ache on your head. With the adrenaline wearing off, your body was aching and hurting with renewed fervor.

“Look, finish breakfast, and then I'm taking you to the clinic to get that checked out. Then we'll have a proper talk,” Shakky stated with a flick of her cigarette.

You looked at the teen. “Law?” you inquired, waiting for his opinion.

“I'll be fine,” the teen stated, giving a little nod before digging hungrily into the extra scrambled eggs you’d given him.

“I'll stay home,” Rayleigh nodded. He placed a warm hand on your shoulder, his knowing look both comforting you and silently stating, We’ll discuss this later.

“Okay then,” you acquiesced. 

---

 

You quietly waited in the bright, fluorescently lit patient room. The sharp smell of bleach and clean linoleum tickled your nose. The small community walk-in clinic had grown considerably since you’d been gone, but the patient rooms themselves remained frozen in time.

“Well well well,” drawled a familiar male’s voice as the door opened.

Your gaze snapped up to stare at a tall dirty blond, with sharp grey eyes, and a roguish smile. The shimmering silver of a scar that sliced down the left side of his forehead, nicking the brow. A forever reminder that some mischievous teenaged endeavors result in consequences. Though the hairstyle was new. A half pony-tail leaving the underside trimmed with a buzz cut. It suited him rather well.

“Hongo?” You asked with surprise bubbling in your tone.

Smiling widely, Hongo sat on the doctor’s stool, balancing a laptop on his thighs. “Should have seen my face when the MA told me who was in this room.” 

Besides Shanks, the closest members of the Red Hair crew you considered friends were Hongo and Benn. They were both levelheaded and clever, though Hongo always had a scholastic drive on par with yours. Probably why the two of you got on so well; in fact, you had thought he would be attending New World University with you.

Then he decided to stay in East Blue. 

Now an older wiser Hongo sat before you in light blue scrubs and a well worn white coat. The gleaming badge showcasing his name, followed by M.D.

He had done well.

Far better than you did…

“Hey,” Hongo’s voice gently called your attention back to his softened smile. “How are you feeling?”

“As good as I look,” you huffed, about to roll your eyes when a twinge of pain made you grimace.

Hongo’s gaze instantly sharpened, the relaxed air turned serious as his professional persona took control. Studious eyes examined you as he remarked, “I can get a report filed. Are you somewhere safe?”

“I am safe now. As for the report -it won’t do any good, in fact, I don’t want to catch their attention.”

The nicked brow arched questionably at your words so you added. “A powerful family. Best not to tango with further.”

Hongo hummed noncommittally, tucking you words away for later. 

“Hongo,” Your voice sharpened. “Nothing we speak of leaves this room, correct?”

The corner of his lips curled into a smile, as Hongo saluted, “Patient confidentiality. But it’s not me you have to worry about. It’s the locals that love good gossip. You remember how it is, The booze of East Blue keeps everyone's lips loose.”

You rolled your eyes at the famous saying for the area, but then winced in pain.

Hongo frowned in turn and scootched the stool closer. “Alright. Let's check you out.”

He guided your eyes to follow his fingers about, before shining a bright light that made your pupils contract. Retrieving a silver medical tool he called a hammer, Hongo tested your reflexes here and there. Then he began unwrapping the bindings upon your right hand.

“Any headaches?” He asked, examining the skin.

“No, just tenderness at the bruises and occasional pain with the muscles around it.”

“Well, you're made of hardy stuff.”

“You mean sheer stubbornness,” you corrected with a chuckle.

Hongo smiled in turn, easing back into the way you two had always naturally bonded, just like old times. “Luckily, nothing’s broken. Bone bruising, soft tissue inflammation, and mild post-concussion syndrome is possible, so you need to limit activities that could lead to a second concussion.”

“Well, there goes my plan for the evening,” you sighed dramatically, earning a hardy laugh from Hongo.

“As for your hand,” Hongo added as he held your bruised hand within his warm ones. “A sprain with bruising, looks like the swelling has gone down dramatically. I’ll prescribe you a short course of a potent NSAID to help with the pain, but have you been doing RICE? Rice, Ice, Compression, and Elevation?”

“Yeah, Law came to the same diagnosis and patched me up.”

“Law?” The nicked eyebrow quickly arched again, as curiosity gleamed within his grey orbs.

“He’s my 13 year old step-son.”

Hongo blinked, his mouth slightly slackening, though he still held onto your hand. You could practically hear his brain ask, ‘A step-son, when, and more importantly, with who?’

But, you weren’t going to give Hongo any more information, at least not yet. And he realized that the door was firmly shut.

For now…

“Well, he sounds like a very smart kid,” Hongo hummed, watching how your expression simmered into a maternal pride. 

“He is, the moment I met him I…I could just feel that he was special.” You chuckled, more at yourself, because it sounded like something straight out of those Sora comic books of Law’s.

“He’s going to do some amazing things Hongo, just watch.” You added, your small smile widening. “Law’s going to be a brilliant physician. Maybe he could shadow you? Gain some experience. Build up his resume and…what?” You frowned, for Hongo had been staring, while you babbled, with a knowing smile widening playfully on his face. 

Unknown to you, Hongo watched how the glimmer of your old self began to glow again as you gushed about Law. Then you squinted at Hongo. “Why are you staring at me like that?” you added, with a pout.

“Oh, just how you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“You're here for a health check up with a sprained wrist and soft injury to your skull with bruising, and all you can think about is how to help another out. It's…it's very you, and we've missed that, we've missed you.”

Oh…

Hongo sighed, holding your hand as he massaged little soothing circles into the skin.

“You left, dropped all contact, it…it hurt.”

You gulped down a tightening knot in your throat as Hongo continued. You’d be damned if you didn’t hear him out this time.

“I know you were hurting too. But then you completely disappeared and…we thought the worst. Shanks was besides himself.” 

Your breath shuttered and fingers twitched at the redhead’s name. 

Hongo noticed and paused his ministrations with a sigh. He placed his other hand upon yours and gently confessed, “I’m just glad you’re back.”

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. You knew his name would surface eventually, but you hadn't realized how quickly your heart would pound just at the sound of it.

But right now, you had to confess and start making things right.

“Hongo, I was a shit friend. I’m sorry.” Your uninjured hand squeezed his, eliciting a soft understanding smile on the blonde’s lips. “It’s good to be back,” you promised, “and this time, I’m staying.”

No more running…

---

On the other side of town, Law studied your room, his well-rested and sharper mind finding it entertaining. He was curious about the past you rarely spoke of. His silver eyes roved about the space, appraising the handmade crafts and gleaming trophies, then settling on the classic guitar leaning against the corner.

Law didn’t know you played a musical instrument. He wondered if you sang as well. 

Would you play for him, if he asked?

Tearing his gaze away from the guitar, Law examined the dozens of photos artfully scattered across the walls - a homage to your history.

One in particular caught his eyes. You were at your youngest, standing in front of two individuals that weren’t Shakky or Rayleigh. But there was a familiarity, the three of you shared. 

Your parents… 

Your hair was styled in pigtails, paired with a bright toothy grin. The man behind you was of strong stock, but seemed like a gentle soul. Meanwhile the woman bore the same smiling eyes as she wrapped an arm around you and your father.

Rosi had let slip that you had lost your parents. Law felt a kinship toward you, seeing a reflection of his own sorrow, a bond that was only cemented by the subsequent loss of Rosi.

You were older in the next picture, nestled between two other teens, your arms wrapped around them. One teen had short red hair, wearing a golden straw hat. The other had a round crimson nose and seemed to hide his hair beneath a red cap, though wispy blue tendrils snuck out in the ocean breeze. They each had an arm around you, their free hands grasping fishing poles. All three of you were grinning, radiating happiness that could rival the sun.

The next picture showed you in the traditional black garb for a Kendo match, your cheeks flushed from exertion. You stood smiling beside another teen wearing the same keikogi. He possessed dark, spiky, stylized hair and piercing golden eyes that made Law feel as if he were being actively judged.

He wore a gold medal around his neck, while you wore silver. Even coming in second, you looked ecstatic. The other teen, meanwhile, seemed cold and aloof, but a smirk played on his lips as he subtly leaned into you, mimicking the V-for-Victory sign you made with your fingers.

These three teens surfaced repeatedly. Though other friends appeared, even Shakky and Rayleigh occasionally. The three teens clearly formed a central group you journeyed with on various adventures.

Silver eyes continued to study the photos that told your story over time. A group outing at a campsite where you toasted marshmallows. Part of an intense regatta race upon the open ocean as you assisted with the headsails. 

Flushed from competing in a swim meet. Grinning widely besides the red-haired teen. Both of you with the imprint from the swimming goggles still marking your faces.

Then another picture where you were smiling besides the red nose, blue haired boy. He was in full costume for a Theater production. He was Peter Pan, with blue hair tucked up in a pointed green hat. Meanwhile you wore Wendy’s outfit.

Another photo was of you helping direct chaotic children through kata moves with their bamboo swords. Meanwhile the other dark-haired teen artfully dodged a rogue swing like a breakdancer.

Other snapshots flitted here and there, but the three individuals were a constant in your life asides from Shakky and Rayleigh.

Who were they? You never spoke of them… 

Then something caught Law’s eye. A photo had fallen from the wall and slipped behind the desk. Law retrieved the picture: it showed a darkening sky, a beach party surrounding a glowing bonfire. This seemed to be one of the more recent photos, judging by how much older you and the two teens appeared. Law wondered as he appraised the scene if it was nearing the end of your high school years.

The red-nosed teen had nearly filled the frame as he took the selfie. Yet, behind him, you and the redhead were sitting with your backs against the glowing bonfire. You were wearing the signature yellow straw hat this time. But the most shocking element wasn't the hat.

You seemed to be in the middle of playing the guitar when the photo was snapped, and were caught by surprise as the redhead leaned towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your right cheek.

With your mouth agape in wonder, cheeks blushing pink, and a pleased shine in your bright eyes. You were glowing with happiness in a way Law had never seen.

Law frowned.

Who was this redhead you never spoke of?

A spark of anger bubbled within the teen. But it was quickly dosed by a cold sadness.

He had rarely seen you genuinely smile. Your smiles around him were like the flutter of butterfly wings: small, delicate, and fleeting, reserved only for when you were alone. Your room, however, was a testament to how brightly you had smiled in the past. And now you would have that chance. But that chance would vanish if Law stayed. He was the harbinger of woe and ill tidings, and you were anxious for him.

Law won’t let the dark shadow that follows him linger upon your sanctuary.

‘I have to go.’

Law quietly gathered his meager belongings, stuffing them back into the well worn duffle bag. The Sora comic book was carefully placed between folded clothes like a prized possession.

Cautiously he sneaks downstairs, the house seemingly empty until…

“Boof?”

“Oi Bepo-ya, quiet!”

“Boof!” Bepo barked even louder with an excited wiggle of his large form that could shake the house’s foundation.

“Shh, stay, Bepo-ya, quiet!” Law hissed, trying to dissuade Bepo from following. He crossed through the large side garden, hoping to slip out unnoticed.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

Resting on a moss covered stone bench in the shade of an oak tree, was Rayleigh. Wearing gardening gloves and muddied trowel in hand.

They both silently stared each other down.

“I'm leaving,” Law stated, adjusting the strap of the duffle bag on his shoulder.

“Hmmmm,” Rayleigh hummed but made no movement to stop Law.

“Alright, but before you go, care to help an old man get these last few weeds out? My back isn’t how it used to be,” Rayleigh sighed. He emphasized the point with a dramatic arch of his back and grimace, clearly selling the back pain plaguing him.

Law anticipated resistance. Perhaps shouting, or even a physical attempt to drag him back to the house. This reaction, however, was entirely unexpected.

Sighing, but unwilling to abandon the manners taught by his late family, Law acquiesced and dropped the duffel bag.

“You know, she helped me tend this garden too. She loved fresh fruits and vegetables—though she loves bread,” Rayleigh chuckled as he lazily leaned back the bench. Meanwhile Law dutifully dug weeds out of the dirt. Soon, though, the teen was listening intently to the elder tell tales about you. So much Law didn’t know about you.

“She was a lot like you when we brought her home.”

Law remained silent, his mind racing to find any common traits you two shared. You were brave and selfless. He vividly recalled how you had taken on Vergo to protect Rosi, and how you pushed onward in the escape when leaving Law behind would have been the easier choice.

Instead Law became a burden. And he was what, unsmiling, small, sickly?

“Lost.”

Law’s body froze, though his eyes darted up to the elder’s face. Dark slate eyes stared knowingly back at him.

“She needed a place to belong, to set down new roots and let them grow around friends and family again. And you, Law, were brought here for that very reason.”

Rayleigh stood up, stretching his back and eliciting a few crackling noises from his stiff old bones. “Ugh, still got to harvest the tomatoes,” he sighed, rubbing his white beard in contemplation at a nearby basket, before gazing back at Law. “Hey, care to help me pick them, or do you have someplace you gotta be?”

Law glanced at the packed duffel bag, then grabbed the basket. “I can help you this time, old man.”

“Pffftt,” Rayleigh guffawed, “So you do have some lip on ya! Well, come over here small beans, let's get picking before the ladies come home.”

“We need to get some more food in ya!”

“No bread.”

“Ya ya ya, no bread.”

 

---

 

Returning home, you walked up to your room, assuming Law would be hiding there with his comic book. Instead, you found the room empty; Law and the duffel bag were both gone.

‘No!’ Your heart painfully beats against your chest like a battle drum. He’s gone. He’s left. 'I knew I should have stayed or taken Law with me!' Cursing at yourself all the way down the stairs, you nearly tripped over your sandaled feet as you propelled yourself out the back door.

And instead, you found the trio in the garden. Rayleigh’s booming laugh rang out as Bepo tried to sneak bites of the tomatoes from Law’s basket. Meanwhile Shakky leaned against the patio’s railing, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile.

“Your uncle hasn’t laughed so brightly in too many years,” she sighed, dragging on her cigarette. “Why don’t you give them a hand so we’ll have some tomatoes left for lunch?”

A relieved smile graced your lips as you descended into the open garden. 

For a moment, within the garden's greenery, under the warm sun, you rediscovered that old, healing sensation of the peaceful East Blue life.

Then a familiar, deep male voice, raspy and smooth as whiskey, called out your name, sending a warm thrill down your spine.

Just as it always had…

You turned instantly, without question or thought, as though answering a siren's call. Then you froze, eyes wide, seeing the last man you were prepared to encounter in all of the East Blue.

Shanks was marching towards you as if preparing for battle.

And this time you couldn't run away…

Notes:

But then you turn around, grab the duffle bag in one hand, Law in the other, and run off again! Shanks hot on your heels! ~JK JK 😅 But I hope you’re pumped for the next chapter; it’s going to be a ride! 🙌😁 I greatly appreciate kudos and love hearing your thoughts on the story. Both are fantastic motivators, and getting to chat with readers is wonderful. Subscriptions keep you updated when a new chapter is posted 💌 Thank you for your support in keeping this story going 🙏

(DISCLAIMER) I do not own nor claim to own any of the One Piece Franchise or Eiichiro Oda's brilliant and long running work. Only my additions are from my own madness. And please do not feed my work into AI apps.