𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄

                               this  wasn’t  the  first  time  he  noticed  it.  he’d  picked  up  on  it  back  on  punk  hazard;  when  sanji  had  lit  a  cigarette  while  unwittingly  standing  within  the  far  edge  of  his  operating  room.  it  had  been  nothing  more  than  a  fleeting  information  dump  of  muscles,  sinuses  &  emotions  that  had  culled  itself  the  second  sanji  stepped  out  of  his  influence  &  all  he  was  able  to  read  was  an  oddity  in  the  man’s  lumbrical  muscles.  at  the  time,  law  had  paid  it  no  mind  —  he  had  no  connection  to  these  people  &  frankly,  he  hadn’t  cared.  

                              &  now,  as  he  sits  here  ;  attention  more  so  on  the  man  serving  them  than  that  of  the  food  itself,  he  finds  himself  observing.  tracking  the  fluidity  of  sanji’s  body.  it  was  minute;  practically  unnoticeable  to  the  untrained  eye  &  truth  be  told,  law  presumes  that  the  symptoms  could  easily  pass  as  something  as  simple  as  nicotine  withdrawals.  which  fell  in  line  with  sanji’s  habits  well  enough  but  —  

                              the  second  cup  of  coffee  is  accepted,  though  left  largely  untouched.  merrily  simmering  away  just  aft  of  his  elbow  as  he  finds  himself  giving  in  &  taking  that  beforgotten  hand  into  both  of  his.  it’s  a  lapse  of  judgment.  perhaps  he’s  truly  gotten  comfortable  on  this  ship  with  these  people.  to  allow  himself  the  indulgence  he’d  typically  only  have  with  his  own  crew.  

                              no  matter,  what’s  done  is  done  &  law  easily  shifts  into  work  mode.  turning  sanji's  hand  over  so  that  the  palm  faces  him.  &  without  any  preamble,  he’s  pressing  the  flats  of  his  thumbs  into  the  joint  of  the  man’s  wrist  &  dragging  them  upward.  applying  enough  pressure  to  physically  map  out  its  structure  at  first  &  then  repeating  the  action  with  a  lighter  touch  to  sooth  the  integrity  of  the  other’s  muscles.  thoroughly  massaging  at  the  places  where  his  own  skilled  hands  have  discerned  the  main  underlying  factors.  digging  in  &  working  through  the  cords  of  sinew  only  to  pull  back  &  pass  over  them  more  delicately.  

                              he’s  careful  in  his  touch,  keeping  sanji's  appendage  steady  as  he  traces  through  the  man’s  palm.  kneading  in  with  intent  only  to  lessen  the  pressure  &  smooth  it  out  across  the  cusp  of  interossei  muscles.  it’s  all  for  naught;  however,  as  he  suspects  that  he’s  hit  a  rather  sensitive  spot  &  when  sanji  pulls  back,  law  lets  him  go  freely.  

               it’s  deliberate  ;  the  way  in  which  he  seeks  her  out.  side  stepping  a  literal  game  of  tag  along  the  way  —  he  swears  here  &  now  to  never  let  the  mugiwara’s  get  too  friendly  with  his  own  crew  less  the  younger  members  manage  to  wrangle  his  own  into  their  tomfoolery.  a  sigh  breaks  the  silence  as  he  finds  himself  within  her  company.  seating  himself  against  the  floorboards  a  foot  or  so  away  from  the  woman  ;  leaving  her  to  whatever  task  she’d  been  busing  herself  with.  content  to  soak  in  the  sun  in  a  fleeting  moment  of  peace.  

                   law  pegs  him  the  very  second  he  steps  foot  into  the  establishment  —  after  all,  he’s  an  hard  man  to  miss  even  without  the  entourage  that  used  to  trail  after  him  like  a  lost  herd  of  chicks  back  on  punk  hazard.  with  a  breath,  law  disregards  the  bowl  of  udon  &  leans  back  ;  letting  one  arm  rest  against  the  chair’s  spine  while  the  other  absently  toys  with  the  binding  on  kikoku’s  hilt.  “something  i  can  do  for  you,  smoker-ya?”  

                  “blackleg-ya.”  it’s  said  in  way  of  a  greeting  as  he  enters  into  the  chef’s  domain  —  seeking  salvation  from  the  blonde’s  rambunctious  crewmates.  a  breath  is  given  ;  relief  rolling  through  his  muscles  &  momentarily  alleviating  a  peculiar  headache  ;  though  the  brief  respite  is  a  welcoming  one,  it  does  nothing  to  cull  a  certain  itch.  the  need  to  do  something  with  his  hands  summating  &  while  tony-ya’s  medical  collection  of  vials,  herbs  &  books  was  impression  it  still  left  law  feeling:    lacking.    stationary.      inert.    a  moment  passes  &  law  moves  further  into  the  galley,  gaze  skimming  over  the  plethora  of  utensils.  “would  you  like  a  hand?”    

                        “i  don’t  think  you’re  here  to  blatantly  gripe  about  the  bloody  mess  i  left  at  your  doorstep.”  something  dark  &  knowing  flashes  across  his  countenance,  twisting  his  lips  up  into  something  akin  to  that  of  a  smirk.  “are  you,  fist-ya?”  

                               upended  chaos  ;  that’s  what  these  sort  of  things  turned  into  when  mugiwara-ya  involved  himself.  tearing  through  another  land  with  the  calamity  of  change  chasing  swiftly  in  his  wake.  his  crew  is  much  the  same,  he’s  long  since  learned  ;  digging  their  heels  in  &  standing  their  ground  on  behalf  of  someone  else.  admirable  if  not  ill-advised.  &  law’s  stuck  somewhere  in  the  in-between.  forced  to  aid  in  a  battle  he’d  otherwise  avoid  for  the  sake  of  an  alliance  he  had  forged.

ridiculous.    

                              that  being  said,  the  fight  itself  is  a  farce  ;  a  joke  &  he’s  not  overly  needed,  not  when  the  mugiwara’s  have  the  battle  in  their  collective  hands.  in  fact,  he’s  taken  to  flanking  the  rear  —  keeping  tabs  on  the  other  captain’s  crew  as  they  advance  through  the  pitiful  ranks  opposing  them.  

that  is  —  until  she  screams.  

                              his  demeanor  abruptly  changes.  the  sod  in  front  of  him  is  met  with  the  cold  steel  of  kikoku’s  blade-edge;  his  head  leaving  his  body  in  one  clean  sweep.  “shambles”  &  all  at  once,  the  upturned  pebbles  at  robin’s  feet  are  whisked  away  &  kikoku  sings.  her  weight  effortlessly  swung  into  the  space  before  her  —  at  the  devil  fruit  user  who  had  dared  to  touch  one  of  his  own.  

@deathbore​ continued from X

There was no such thing as anyone simply saying they wouldn’t scream at how the child looked. The white ever so presents on his skin growing more with each day, time, and gnawing away at the life he had left for him. Hearing that SOMEONE wouldn’t scream seemed like a cruel joke in his eyes. Imagine actually finding someone like that….well a few didn’t only after he told them to stop. He was tired, and he knows better to be carrying this around(the knife), but right now he is lost. So lost…he didn’t know where he was or were even Corazon was. 

Keeping his guard up, he faltered a little once he saw this bubble? A ROOM ? It went as far as his eyes could see, it reminded him a lot of Corazon’s when he simply used calm, allowing him to sleep the night away in peace. He wouldn’t let his guard down though, this was a stranger trying to get him into letting his guard down. 

“So you know.”

A statement nothing more-nothing less. The young child ignored his question about his age completely. Someone else who knew about the events, and it did nothing, but made him feel bitter. Everyone knew, EVERYONE KNEW, yet no one wanted to help. No one wanted to take the time to understand that this DISEASE would hurt no one, it couldn’t hurt anyone. Their simple brains couldn’t understand that, no no they had to let the fear take over them before ill rumors started to spread. 

False claims that everyone he cared about died. 

His only twelve currently, he has been with Corazon, hospital after hospital. Facing the hate, the fear, the comments. It brings everything back to him. A monster. A freak. He should have died like the rest.  He tightened his grip on his knife, a hardened gaze of staring up at the adult.

“ ….you know so, are you going to try to kill me because I’m what-a monster? If you think that I’m going to let you kill me you’re wrong. Wrong. I’ll kill you…..”

He grips the knife tighter before he starts a running start at the stranger. It’s like the child has gone mad now.

“I’LL KILL YOU !!!”

He’s yelling at this point, trying to get at least a cut into the other. His mind is just utterly blank into taking a life. He isn’t thinking that Corazon might be upset with him. He’s not worried about his own safety. He’s just a child…a child trying to take his anger out on someone else. It hurts so much, the rage is making me drown and no one is here to help him calm down and focus for once. For Law….he’s alone, so utterly alone, with only rage as his companion. 

                                    “ah  —  i  know.”    knows  the  unending  sensation  of  dread  that  clung  day  in  &  day  out  to  his  person.  knows  the  overwhelming  weight  of  self  -  loathing  that  consumed  him  each  &  every  time  the  doctors  removed  them  from  their  pristine  little  hospitals  &  he  had  to  watch  cora-san  scramble  to  the  next  location  all  while  trying  to  keep  law’s  hopes  alive.  

                                    everyone  was  always  too  enraptured  by  their  own  fears  &  misconceptions  to  help  a  child  in  need.  too  lost  in  the  belief  that  he’d  to  become  an  abomination  seeking  to  destroy  their  way  of  life.  they  couldn’t  even  understand  their  own  ineptitude.  never  once  realizing  that  their  medical  knowledge  was  lacking.  

                                    it  sets  his  teeth  on  edge  —  he  was  never  able  to  tell  cora-san  that  it  was  okay.  that  he  had  long  since  accepted  his  fate.  nor  was  he  ever  able  to  properly  thank  the  man  whose  very  actions  had  resulted  in  saving  his  meager  life.  a  fact  that’s  managed  to  chase  him  throughout  his  years  ;  haunting  him.  &  now,  staring  down  what  he  knows  to  be  his  younger  self,  he’s  once  again  reminded  of  it.  

                                    the  cold-warmth  glinting  against  the  hue  of  law’s  eyes  snuffs  out.  replaced  only  with  the  sad  remnants  of  anger  as  he  watches  the  kid  advance  on  him.  knife  poised  &  aimed  to  maim.  

                                    it  doesn’t  get  far  though  ;  despite  the  fact  that  law  lets  the  younger  version  of  himself  encroach  upon  his  personal  space.  a  wicked  grin  displacing  his  features  as  his  fingers  twitch.  “shambles”  &  just  like  that,  law’s  affronted;  not  with  a  knife,  but  with  the  head  of  some  poor  child’s  rubber  chicken.  it’s  stupid  little  squealing  squeaker  sounding  utterly  pitiful  in  the  wake  of  intentions.