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If Mjosgard hadn’t decided to go to Fishman Island, he never would have found Law again.
This wasn’t to say this was due to his cousin’s intellect, or cunning, or that he’d even intended for it to happen. Mjosgard hadn’t even intended for him to be on the ship in the first place, and had been quite put out when he’d appeared, shouting orders to the crew that had run their ship aground (awater, as the case were) on Fishman Island but not resulted in the casualties that would have happened otherwise.
But it had to be said that without Mjosgard’s trip down off of Mariejois, he wouldn’t have had cause to descend in the first place; wouldn’t have recovered his past. Wouldn’t even have finally had the last crucial pieces that had unlocked the rest of his memories along with the treasure chest in his dreams, inside which was the name attached to the face that had been haunting him.
Mjosgard had certainly said it at length.
Crucially, without Mjosgard’s insistence on traveling to Fishman Island, Rocinante wouldn’t have had been able to begin his search with a crew like the Sun Pirates, which was the most important thing.
It would take an eternity for a hammer to track down a submarine, of all things.
When Rocinante had been able to scrape his jaw off the floor at the news of Law's chosen vessel, he’d started laughing. Smart boy. There would be no birdcages to trap him underneath the waves, and no clouds overhead for Doffy to hook his strings into and swoop down on the crew.
Clever, clever kid. The exact kind of brilliance that Doffy would want back in his treasure hoard.
Thinking about it like that, Rocinante had to go find a quiet part of the ship to go practice breathing exercises in.
In any case, if it was making this much trouble for a skilled crew of Fishman pirates to track him down, it could only be harder for Doffy’s Devil Fruit-heavy Family. Law had managed to keep himself alive while Rocinante had been useless up in Mariejois.
Three times they'd nearly caught up, but the submarine was quicksilver fast in the water, and as cagey as anything. It had slipped away each time before they could force it to the surface, and gone to ground that much more each time as it became clear they were being pursued. Rocinante was caught between pride and exasperation at the delay in seeing Law again.
The third time, the submarine had revealed that it had torpedoes, which planted the Sun Pirates firmly in the annoyed camp.
Unfortunately, it was giving Rocinante’s anxiety about the meeting that much more time to sink in its claws.
“You’re not going to have any feathers left on that if you keep it up.”
Rocinante looked up at Jinbe's voice from the fabric in his lap. Apparently Mjosgard had fetched him for at least part of the journey back to his homeland, because his coat had been stuffed in a supply closet and promptly forgotten about until Rocinante had found it while searching the wreck for supplies. He'd been plucking feathers out in nervous energy as he tried to go over what he'd say to Law.
It smelled like the brand of North Blue cigarettes he’d used. Rocinante’s fingers had been itching for them before he’d even known he was in withdrawal.
Rocinante forced a smile. “He’ll remember the coat.”
Jinbe’s expression had been carefully neutral for nearly the entire time Rocinante had known him, barring the one look of shock that he’d allowed himself when Rocinante had gotten on his knees in front of the Ryugu royal family and begged for passage to search for Law. Rocinante couldn’t blame him. He knew why Mjosgard had been on a trip down to Fishman Island. There was only so much goodwill that clocking his cousin over the head could buy.
“Aladine was able to spot the submarine. They’ve made land on the next island- not at the docks. Part of the island looks to be deserted; they went there. They’re trying to avoid notice while they restock, most likely.”
Clever boy again. And that meant that Rocinante’s time to figure out an explanation was done.
Would Law be angry about him being a marine? He’d apologized, but he had firsthand experience with the kid’s grudges. And after how the marines had handled Flevance…
Rocinante shut that line of thinking down. He’d be there for the kid any way he could. There was no sense in worrying about it this far in.
He stood. The coat felt more familiar across his shoulders than any of the fine silks and jewels his aunt had tried to drape him in. “Thank you. For everything. I never would have come close to finding him again without your crew.”
Jinbe’s polite neutrality didn’t waver. “I’m happy to obey my king in anything.”
His eyes flickered to the papers that Cora-san offered him, painstakingly drawn over the course of several nights’ voyage back to the North Blue. “The little princess told me that your crew formerly sailed under the captaincy of Fisher Tiger.” Shirahoshi had been quite taken with the man who had rescued her mother, to the consternation of everyone else. It had been nice to listen to her.
The Fishman’s neutrality strained to its breaking point at this, unable to fully conceal his tension. He accepted the papers reluctantly, giving them a glance that froze as he registered its contents.
“My father took us out of Mariejois when I was a child, but I did have the last three years to reacquaint myself with it. I hope this helps.”
Jinbe didn’t look away from the maps of every potential weak point in the Holy Land Rocinante had discovered since his return. He hadn’t been trying to find them, but apparently a spy was a spy whether they could remember it or not.
Rocinante grinned at him. “I figured your crew would find them useful."
Jinbe came back to himself with difficulty. The mask wasn’t gone, but that was fine. Rocinante’s place was with Law, and the rest of the world could do what they needed to with what they had. “Right. It’s time to meet these new pirates.”
There was no spotted hat on top of the bobbing submarine when they came into sight, though two youths were crouched at the top of the vessel making repairs. In an abundance of well-deserved caution after having lost the sub three times so far, the Sun Pirates had waited until the paranoia (completely justified caution, Cora-san, not everyone’s a freaking giant) of the captain had had time to wane. Some of the crew would be on land now, gathering supplies. Law was probably among them.
Rocinante refused to let this bother him as he put one sweaty hand on the ladder after the other.
“-hope Captain comes back with an actual mechanic this time.”
“Shut up, Shachi, I’d like to see you do better.”
With the skill of a Fishman in the water and the Calm Calm Fruit, they were able to get the small skiff over to the submarine without a single glance in their direction. Law's crew was canny and good at escapes already, but they looked like kids and lacked the advantages of haki and experience. The boys didn't notice their approach until they practically were on top of them.
Rocinante had rehearsed what he would say to Law, when they finally caught up with his new crew. He’d gone through scenario after scenario, an old habit borne of Sengoku’s coaching to first combat his paralyzing childhood anxiety and later to survive among his brother’s crew.
None of the scenarios he’d prepared for had involved a lanky youth in a hat taking one look at him and going white. “Shit!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet.
They had also never involved his redheaded companion throwing the wrench in his hand directly at Rocinante’s head. “Take that, you feathered FUCK!”
Rocinante wanted it on the record that his clumsiness was, in fact, an act. Despite all Law’s insistence to the contrary. He was able to dodge the wrench with ease. Dodging the toolkit that swiftly followed it was much harder, especially given that it had been open.
But it was an act, as evidenced by him also dodging the scattering tools. The problem wasn’t his agility.
The problem, it turned out, was that a hammer came to a stop directly under his foot, promptly sending his feet skyward, and that didn’t prove anything.
“Ah.” Rocinante said.
“Did he trip?” he heard, followed by “Oh shit, that’s-” and then the sea closed over his head.
It was very fortunate that he had come with a crew of Fishmen after all, he thought as he plummeted down into the currents.
“I am so sorry!”
“What are you apologizing for?” This was the non-wrench-wielding member of the crew, the one whose hat brim hid his eyes. His hat had a little penguin on it. It reminded Rocinante of Sengoku. He could never tell Law. “You didn’t do anything.”
This was directed with a very pointed look at the redhead, whose guilt was inversely proportional to his Mink companion. “Yeah, Bepo, quit crying or you’ll drown him again,” put in the redhead.
“Ah! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Penguin-hat swatted the redhead on the back of the head.
Rocinante laughed, waving off the tearful polar bear Mink. “It’ll take more than that to finish me off,” he promised.
All three of the kids looked skeptical at these words.
They’d relocated to the hull of the submarine. The boys- barely old enough to be called adults- were just as drenched as the rest of them. They’d dived in after Rocinante a split second after he’d hit the water, and been blasted right out of it again just as quickly by a prompt application of Fishman Karate from Aladine.
They’d been good sports about it when everyone had calmed down, though they’d be sporting some impressive bruises tomorrow. In fact the redhead was watching Aladine with interest. Aladine, who’d had to brush off a burst of water from that the kid had spat out at him underwater in a way that a human’s lungs couldn’t quite manage, was eyeing him just as speculatively. Rocinante had a fleeting thought about the possibility of the kid being part Fishman, but he couldn’t spare much attention for it. His attention was commanded by the fact that they’d finally done it; they’d caught up with Law’s ship and made contact with his crew, and they’d said he was in the town but he’d be back soon.
“We thought you were Doffy,” the Mink explained apologetically. Rocinante had to suppress a jolt at the name- only the elite of the Family had been allowed to call his brother by that nickname. But Law had been his protégé, and Doffy had allowed him more than most. “The bounty posters can’t get a good close up of him. We just knew about the coat.”
“Doffy’s coat is pink,” Rocinante said, still a little caught up on the implications of that, “Sorry, do you mean you thought I was Doffy so you thought a wrench-”
The redhead threw up his hands. “Maybe he was trying something new, how was I supposed to know? If he shows up I’m not going to be asking about his fashion choices. Aren’t you supposed to be dead anyway?”
Penguin-hat whapped his companion on the back of the head harder this time. Rocinante barely noticed. “Has Doffy been going after Law?!”
He would, if he thought the odds were good. There wasn’t another way he could achieve immortality. Hadn’t he told Rocinante just before he’d shot him that his plan was to find him again?
He barely had time to register the enormity of the scale of danger before the three began waving their arms in their effort to convince him it wasn’t the case.
“No, he hit the Grand Line before we left Swallow. But Law gave us this whole grand speech before we shipped out about how Doffy might come back for him once we started making a name for ourselves, and we should run if he ever showed.”
They had very much not run, despite that. Instead they’d tried to take out Donquixote Doflamingo with a wrench and a toolkit, and the redhead looked very much like he wouldn’t mind trying it again given the opportunity.
Shachi huffed as if he could read Rocinante’s mind. “Like running was every on the table!” he grumbled, but with his own hat being wrung out to dry Rocinante could see his ears turning red. Rocinante felt warmth swell up in him at the sight.
Bepo handed out coffee in mismatched cups to warm them all up. Jinbe and Aladine unthawed enough to accept their own cups.
“But Captain always gets so tense about it when we go near what used to be one of Doffy’s territories, and then you just appeared out of frickin’ nowhere.”
“Captain’s gonna kill us if he hears we almost drowned his Cora-san,” concluded Bepo, covering his snout with his paws, missing Rocinante jerking so hard that Jinbe had to rescue the cup of coffee he’d been passed.
“What’s with this we shit?” demanded Penguin-hat, aghast, “This is Shachi’s fault.”
The redhead shrugged. “Bepo already apologized so I don’t see why I should have to.”
“We would never have thrown the toolkit at you if we knew it was you,” Bepo told Rocinante with water-logged sincerity, “We didn’t realize until you tripped.”
“Um. Cora-san?” Rocinante said, because the only way they could know that name was if-
“Captain told us all about you!” Bepo said earnestly, “You saved him! He wouldn’t have been able to cure the Amber Lead without you!”
And Rocinante would have loved a moment to come to reconcile that info; that the kid who’d had to be dragged to hospitals and refused to disclose his illness had grown enough to share it with his whole crew.
But the thought barely began to process before Penguin-hat was nodding. “Yeah he told us all about you: tall, blond-”
“And a total klutz!” finished Shachi, snapping his fingers and nodding to the spot of the harbor Rocinante had fallen into.
“That was an act,” Rocinante said stiffly, “To maintain my cover.”
“You broke all the glass tankards in the mess hall on the way here,” murmured Jinbe, choosing a hell of a time to abandon his neutrality dammit.
“And you were always smiling!” Bepo put in. “That’s why our Jolly Roger is what it is!”
Penguin-hat jabbed a thumb proudly at his boiler suit. Rocinante had not had time to look at the Jolly Roger. His brain short-circuited a little bit looking at it now. “Why else would we be called the Heart Pirates?” Penguin-hat asked, which did not help him to recover At All.
“The Heart Pirates-”
“He could have stood to tell us a little more,” Shachi was still grumbling. “Captain spent so much time saying shit like ‘Cora-san saved my life’, and ‘I’m going to avenge Cora-san’ when he should have been saying, ‘my savior looks like a carbon copy of Doffy’s bounty poster and has the same fashion sense’, so if anything this is Law’s fault-”
Cora-san fumbled his cup so badly it dropped into the ocean. Every single person sitting on the submarine clocked it. Shachi elbowed Penguin-hat and muttered, “oh it’s so him.”
“Back up,” Rocinante said, coughing as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. “Law’s what.”
“Oh.” Shachi sat up from his slouch. A sly grin was growing under his dripping hair. “Oh this is going to be so embarrassing for him.”
Law’s crew was deeply loyal. In the few minutes he’d known them, it was clear to Rocinante that they’d fight away Law’s demons to the death with whatever was on hand. He couldn’t have handpicked a more loyal crew.
It was equally clear that if presented with the opportunity to tease their captain, they perked up like bloodhounds.
“Just one childhood story,” wheedled Shachi, hands clasped, “Quick, before he comes back. I’ll tell you about the time he switched his hand with his foot and couldn’t figure out how to switch back for three days.”
The Mink, who'd gone to rescue Rocinante's cup, shook water out of his fur like a dog, spraying everyone else. The other two boys immediately started carrying on in a way that was as loud as it was comical. It was equally rote, the edges worn off the words to the point of a familiar inside joke, despite the profuse apologies of the Mink boy. Rocinante could hardly believe that grim, fatalistic Law had made a crew of such rowdy, goofy kids. They were everything he'd insisted he hadn't needed on their hospital trips, everything he'd said there was no point in a soon-dead kid having.
They were the furthest thing from the Donquixote Pirates he’d ever seen.
Delighted, relieved laughter started bubbling up in his throat. Rocinante couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this overjoyed. Law had lived. From the crew he’d found, he’d thrived. It was everything that Rocinante had hoped for, and everything he’d been afraid the world would be too cruel to allow.
Before he could begin to tell Shachi about how Law had stabbed him, blue washed over his vision. The Sun Pirates stiffened, but the Heart Pirates only perked up as a figure popped into existence between them and the adults.
“It’s Shachi’s fault!” declared Penguin-hat and Bepo at the same time.
“Fuck you both-” Shachi began, but then Rocinante was scrambling to his feet to stare at the boy who’d appeared, so much taller and older than he’d dared to imagine him, and frozen as he’d registered Rocinante there, eyes going wide and grip on his sword faltering.
There would be time for Rocinante to take in the fact that Law was grown, nearly an adult now. There would be time for him to delight in the growth spurt that had shot him up several inches, and the tattoos poking out of his sleeves amid clear, healthy skin. All signs of the three years his boy had managed to wrest from a world that wouldn’t have allowed it to him, against all odds and hope. But at the moment, the thing that was filling him to bursting with joy was not any of that. So what burst out of him at the sight of Law’s open shock, before his boy could tuck his hope safely back behind his suspicion, was “Law! Law, you found such a wonderful crew!”