Archive of Our Own

“Well,” Hakugan intones a bit nervously, staring past the water streaming down the surfacing sub’s windows at the awful wreck. “Happy Birthday, Captain? I found us a ship to loot.”

“Hey, include me in this too, it’s a joint gift,” Uni pipes in from beside him. They’re both sitting at the control panel, navigating the sub deftly through the drifting chunks of hull and mast that float across the waves.

“Thanks,” Law says dryly, instead of repeating for the hundredth time that it isn’t even his birthday yet, or for the millionth that he doesn’t need everyone scrambling to give him something each year. Even if those gifts have had less and less effort put into them over the years. Really, if they’re so intent on this being a sort of competition, they should be trying harder. So far, Bepo has won best gift three times in a row, with this year’s being that he found out about a new project Water 7’s been trying out, subsidizing a mentor-mentee engineering program to get skilled folks from all over the world to flock here and supplement their shipyards, and dragged them here for it.

They’re three days out from the city now after having a discounted check-up negotiated by the bear, with a smoother engine and an entirely replaced propellor, and there’s nothing around for miles but a shipwreck on an empty ocean and sea-traintracks bobbing just under the water parallel to their path. The wreck is far enough away from the tracks to not have been caused by a collision. Perhaps it was the storm that accosted them all last night, then, or a scrappier passing pirate crew. 

Law teleports onto the largest section of the wreck, swapping with a dented tea kettle, before the rest of his crew can unload out of the sub. It looks to be a mostly intact living space connected to a portion of the starboard deck, with personal items strewn all about, and a few rolling berry coins glinting in the gray, clouded afternoon sun. There are a number of bodies here too, which is why Law came to them first. Arm held out and fingers laid flat, he murmurs, “Scan,” to see whether they’re all corpses, or if at least one shows any signs of life. What he finds instead, halfway through the scan, is a sudden hiccup from a bundle at his feet. 

A blanket lodged into the crook of a dead man’s elbow crawls onto his shoe— crawls?— and shudders, and then proceeds to let out the most ear-splitting wail Law has ever heard in his life.

“Aargh!” Penguin calls from back on the Tang, hands clapped over his ears under the flaps of his hat. “What is that?” 

The others climb faster onto the wreck. Law crouches and brushes the blanket off the bundle, and comes face to face with a pair of giant, teary eyes. 

The baby wails harder, paralyzed atop his shoe, expression screwing up so tightly at the glimpse of his face that its eyes shut fully. It doesn’t recognize him, clearly, but it was also just in the arms of a corpse, so there is nowhere to crawl forwards or back. Law makes the swift decision to pick it up and hold the shivering body in his arms, untangling the cold, wet blanket away from it.

“Someone come grab this baby!” He shouts back at his crew, and then performs a full Scan of all its vitals. It seems fine, surprisingly enough, despite the chills wracking its small frame. Her small frame. She’s definitely very hungry, though, so they should figure that out soon.

Shachi makes it to him first, so Law hands off the baby and kneels before the corpse at their feet, rooting through the stiff, cold body for information… aha. There’s a wallet with an identification card in one pocket, with the man’s photograph, full name, and carpentry license. The image of Water 7’s iconic fountain-like cityscape is printed onto the corner. 

“Bepo,” Law calls, looking back to where the navigator is gingerly hopping from one piece of bobbing driftwood to the next. “Turn the sub around. We’re going back to Water 7.”

The crew has taken to calling their new baby Kitty, because the blanket she was found wrapped in, which Shachi took care to bring back, wash, and dry, is printed with the patterns of many cats engaged in a wide variety of activities, from singing to napping to playing soccer. Law thinks it’s a stupid name. The crew thinks him slightly evil and extremely lacking in whimsy for it, but they also think he can basically do no wrong in general on most other days, so their morals seem confused. 

Kitty takes to them nicely, regardless of all the unfamiliar faces. Perhaps it’s the trauma of the experience she went through, that now makes her desperate for any sort of living human connection at all. Or perhaps it’s just because she’s a baby, and that’s how babies are.

In the immediate aftermath of her discovery, Clione finds exactly one intact baby bottle among the wreckage, and then 21 people crowd into their kitchen to fumble through thoroughly disinfecting the bottle, warming some milk from the fridge, and feeding it to Kitty. That stops her wailing for long enough that Ikkaku has the time to give her a bath and fashion one of her crop tops into a dress for the baby, and for Hakugan to tie a cloth diaper for her. Then they all reconvene in the kitchen again for dinner.

Dinner aboard the Polar Tang has never been an entirely collective affair. They all filter in and out to eat in groups at a variety of times, because they’re all adults and can handle themselves. Today is different. 

Law wishes Sanji were here. He’d know something about nutrition, or even about baby food, probably. He’s clever like that. Knows probably anything and everything that has to do with diet, and a whole lot beyond that too. It used to be nice to be able to rely on that on the occasions they were physically together, but now that they are no longer romantically together, the physically together visits have drastically decreased. Not that those visits were ever frequent enough anyway, considering they’re both on separate crews with separate agendas. The missing hurts worse when you’re counting your time together like it’s a finite resource and you’re a desperate conservationist. That’s the reason they decided to end things, after all. 

Sanji isn’t here, so Law makes do. The crew helps. Jean Bart’s got more experience than any of the rest of them under his belt, though he refuses to explain whether it’s because he’s got a child of his own out there somewhere, so he starts boiling some fruit to turn into mush while the rest of them get resourceful. They consult the psychology textbook Law finds in his bookshelf, turning to the Stages of Cognitive Development chapter, going to the first few pages about physical development prefacing it, and manage to luck out by finding a chart with detailed growth milestones. Solid foods starting at 6 months, then make the switch from breast milk or formula to cow’s milk starting at around 12 months. Kitty appears to be near that age or a little older, given her ability to blurt syllabic pseudo-words at them— mehbah! mehbah! for her bottle of milk, and eee ah guh! for her blanket— and her ability to crawl around the kitchen countertop while waiting for her mushy dinner to be made. And there’s also the way she manages to stand bipedal with Hakugan’s help, holding his hands to sway in place and occasionally attempt these awkward, land-bound jumps that are really more sudden, giggly jolts whenever someone comes in to play with her. It’s all very relieving to deduce, considering they don’t have any formula around.

The crew is fully fascinated by the baby. Law finds her amusing, but is mostly just reminded of Lami. 

He was never that much older than his younger sister, so his memories of her infanthood are scarce and vague at best, but there’s a feeling of familiarity in the particular motions Kitty takes. Perhaps it also has to do with her tendency to crawl back towards him in a higher frequency than anyone else here, likely due to him being the first to find her, which also reminds him a little of how clingy Lami used to be. He doesn’t much mind being imprinted on like that.

“She kinda looks like you, Cap,” Shachi says, poking her soft cheek, making her stop chewing in favor of eyeing him. 

Penguin looks between Law and Kitty with a grin. “Oh, shit. You got something to tell us, Captain?”

Law rolls his eyes and ignores them. He supposed he understands the view, though. She’s got feathery soft black hair that curls around her ears just like his own, and skin the same shade of brown as his too, though her eyes are a giant obsidian that look caramel in the right light, and her nose is a little button of a thing. 

“I see it,” Ikkaku says, feeding Kitty another spoonful of apple and carrot mush. “But she’s way cuter.”

“Obviously,” Law scoffs. “She’s a baby.” And also, Law isn’t cute at all. The only people that have ever held that sentiment were probably his parents and Cora, who all only knew him as a child, and Sanji, who was so deeply infatuated with Law that he also baby-talked him on occasion, because that man is an insane person unafraid of consequences. Not that Law would have ever enacted real consequences onto him, or that he really minded the baby-talk, but still. The sentiment stands. Law isn’t cute in any capacity, and Sanji was insane for ever calling him that. 

Once Kitty’s had her mush and a bit of spaghetti from the giant vat someone started on the stove for everyone, it’s time to figure out sleeping arrangements. Ikkaku, Hakugan, and Jean Bart all want to take her, but they also all live with three other roommates in bunks, so Law gets the honor of bringing her to his room. It’s for the best anyway. He’s already a poor sleeper, so he’ll be up enough to check on her through the night and be less bothered if she wakes him up. He’s proven correct in that assumption when she starts wailing a bit past midnight.

Law drags himself away from his desk, where he was unsuccessfully attempting to read through a thin text on neonatal disorders he found in the crate beside his bookshelf full things he’s been meaning to rehome for the past few islands, in an attempt to find something more about child development. It was buried under an old bootleg Warrior of the Sea action figure. It’s technically a Germa grunt figure, and Sanji always looked displeased whenever he saw it, so Law decided to dump it for him. Technically, since they aren’t dating anymore, there isn’t really a reason to sell it off or trash it anymore. They are also technically still friends, though, even if it sometimes feels like that line is blurred into meaninglessness when they see each other in person and the air between them grows thick and sweet like suffocating molasses in the lungs; and beyond that Law still has so much love in his heart for Sanji, with nowhere else to funnel that but into the dumping of a silly little figurine. 

So. Law sat there distracted from his reading by his stupid heart missing his stupid ex-boyfriend, which has never been unusual for him as long as he’s known Sanji, until Kitty started crying.

The desk lamp is already on to act as a dim night light in the room, for her sake more than his, since Law finds it difficult to sleep in anything but utter blackness. He angles the lamphead to see better and picks her up from the bed, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks with a thumb. He checks her diaper first and… hm. That is nasty. She’s in need of a change, so Law lays a towel down and does his best to do it the way Hakugan taught him just a few hours ago, though it takes longer. Her wailing still doesn’t stop, so it’s a good thing his room is in another section of the ship from the others. 

Law Shambles them both into the kitchen and flips some lights on, squinting against the bright lighting. Kitty cries harder at the harsh change. He holds her close to his chest and tries to bounce her like Ikkaku was doing before dinner, while he grabs a carton of milk from the fridge and the clean baby bottle from their dish rack. 

“Aren’t you getting lightheaded, crying that much?” Law asks her.

Kitty just cries harder.

Law doesn’t blame her for it, even as he winces against the sting of it right next to his ear. She’s been through a lot in her one year of existence.

When the bottle’s at a nice temperature, he nudges the nipple to her mouth, and she refuses it the first few times until she figures out what it is. When she finally latches, it only takes a few suckles for her to calm down. 

Law’s heard on multiple occasions that babies radiate a sense of calm into those surrounding them. Most of those mentions have been from women with their own kids, people he’s treated who long to have their children at their sides even while sick or injured, but the rest are from enough of a variety of folks that the statement seemed to hold weight. 

He’s not feeling particularly soothed now. Just a bit cranky. 

She is cute though, when she’s quiet like this and resting her head on his shoulder, soft hair brushing his neck and the bottle-end bumping his collarbones as she holds it to her mouth on her own. The weight of her in his arms is nice. Rather, he determines, the quiet and comfortable companionship is nice, since it requires none of the complexity that companionship with other adults brings.

She starts dozing off in his arms just like that, without even finishing the bottle. Maybe he shouldn’t have filled up all eight ounces. She did just have dinner not too long ago. 

He stores the bottle back in the fridge and teleports them to his room, and goes to put her to bed again, but as soon as she feels him setting her down she starts to wake up and whimper. 

Law stares up at the dimly lit ceiling and heaves a sigh.

He gathers her in his arms again and grabs his book, then sits on his bed propped up by pillows and lays her on his chest. “You’re a heavy little cat,” he tells her, feeling the way his chest pushes up against her weight with each breath. He’s not sure how big a baby her age is supposed to be, but she feels around the weight of those twenty pound bags of rice they always buy. Looks a bit chunky too. Sanji would be pleased. Sometimes he’ll start chattering with tavern owners about their children running around the place, or stealing bits of food off of orders they’re supposed to be delivering, and laugh about how it’s better that way anyway. Just means their kid’s a good eater. And then he’ll make fun of Law for being a picky eater.

At least now Law won’t have to deal with being made fun of on dates. That’s an upside to this whole separation. Sort of. 

Maybe Law is insane too. Sanji may have had the audacity to call him cute, but Law still thinks fondly back on being insulted by him with longing.

This is ridiculous. He’s never been through a breakup this bad. He’s never liked someone this much, rather.

Law awakens to the soft sounds of giggling coming from his bedside.

“No,” someone whispers harshly, “you have to get them both in frame! Gimme—”

“Shh! Shut up, guys!”

“Aw, she’s so cute—”

“He’s waking up!”

Law blinks up to find a small crowd has congregated around his bed. 

“Hi Captain,” Shachi says sheepishly, holding a snail-camera up at him. Penguin’s trying to wrestle it away. The snail seems exhausted by them both.

Law groans.

“Nooo, don’t go back to sleep!” Ikkaku says. “It’s already lunchtime!”

Law’s stomach growls on cue.

Something babbles out a constant stream of dadadadadadadada on his chest and slaps his face repeatedly with sticky hands, hard enough to actually sting. Law squints down at Kitty, who seems to be having a wonderful time talking to him in a language only she understands.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep at all,” he grumbles, pulling her hands away. “Co-sleeping’s dangerous. I could have rolled over and killed her.”

Half the room gasps. Bepo shrieks, “Captain, you can’t just say that!” and Jean Beart says, “I’ve never had a problem with that,” which seems to confirm that he did indeed have a child once upon a time, but he refuses to elaborate further.

Law hands Kitty over to the others and begins his own day, brushing and shaving and showering, and finds that his ever-present under eye bags are less awful today than usual. What wonders sleep can do for one’s complexion. He hasn’t looked this well rested since… well, not the last time he saw Sanji, but the time before that, back when they were still involved. Maybe the key to Law actually being able to sleep through a night is something to curl up around. He does tend to get a better nap leaning on Bepo than in bed. Law resolves to seriously consider getting a stuffed animal the next time they get to port, as embarrassing as the prospect might be. He barely even had any when he was a child, always preferring to be gifted books or building sets rather than soft toys. 

When he arrives in the kitchen, he finds yesterday’s group gathered around the countertop again, feeding a freshly washed and groomed Kitty bits of egg and toast. Jean Bart’s managed to sew a little onesie for her— how does he even know all these things?— and Ikkaku’s put as much of her hair as she can into a pineapple ponytail. As soon as Kitty spots him, she makes grabby hands towards him and starts babbling again. 

Law sighs, long-suffering, and takes her from Hakugan. 

“What?” he asks, noticing the way he’s being watched.

“N-nothing.” 

Hakugan hurries away to check on whatever’s boiling in the pots on the stove. Law stares after him for a moment while Ikkaku keeps hand-feeding Kitty, until he notices Penguin staring at him too. He raises an eyebrow. Penguin shrugs. 

“I thought it was a little chilly this morning too,” Penguin says lightly, then follows Hakugan. 

Yeah, so did Law, that’s why… ah. Law closes his eyes slowly. Normally when he gets a little cold, he throws a hoodie on over his shirt and calls it a day. Today, he grabbed the cardigan draped across the back of his desk chair because it’s soft, and warm, and also Sanji’s, and he’d been missing Sanji an awful lot lately. The issue is that it’s also a shade of lavender that Law would literally never buy on his own, so it must be strange to everyone around him, and obvious to those who are observant enough to have seen Sanji wear it before, and clever enough to connect the dots. 

At least Kitty is oblivious. Law immediately decides he likes her better than anyone else in this crew.

Law is tempted to take back that statement. Kitty simply will not leave him alone. She goes easily into the arms of others for the most part, but the second he leaves the room she starts screaming and crawling after him. 

“I don’t know anyone as clingy as you,” he tells her sternly, holding her up above him in the air. They’ve remained in the kitchen while the others have gone off to help around the ship for a bit, so the baby and he are on pot-watching duty. It’s chicken and dumplings in one, and rice in the other. He’s started the third burner to make some chicken soup for himself without the doughy additions. 

“Agah,” Kitty giggles, kicking her legs out and aiming for his face. He brings her down so she doesn’t do that, but then she starts whining and shrieking in displeasure, so he holds her up again and simply lets her continue to kick at him.

“Nor as demanding,” he mutters, before thinking better of it. “Actually, Sanji’s probably worse on both accounts. At least you let me go shower this morning.”

“Bababababababa!” she says. “Bababa. Agah!”

“Very insightful. Thank you, Miss Kitty Cat.”

His arms start hurting so he goes to lower her again, but she screams again, so he keeps her up there for a little longer. Really, he should learn to say no, but she’s very cute and fragile, and it hurts to see her cry. It reminds him a bit of the way Bepo weaponizes his shiny bear-cub eyes sometimes to act cute and get things out of him. Only it’s far more frustrating when Bepo does that, on account of him being an adult and not an infant.

People start filtering in for lunch soon, and Law manages to hand Kitty off for long enough to grab his own meal. Then it’s lunch time for her, and that’s when the real nightmare starts.

She doesn’t like the chicken. She doesn’t like the dumplings, nor the soup, nor even the plain rice. They try milk again, but she refuses that too, and then try some frozen strawberries thawed in warm water, then some fresh blueberries, then the apple mash from yesterday, but she just won’t eat it. She keeps spitting it out or knocking the mash to the floor, and none of them have any idea what’s gone wrong. 

“But you like it, remember?” Ikkaku says desperately, piloting a spoonful of mushy apple towards her like a little bird. “Mmm, yummy! Here comes lunch!”

Kitty slaps her hand onto the spoon and sends the mush splattering everywhere. 

“Maybe she was just really hungry before,” Bepo posits nervously, paws clasped together. “Maybe she doesn’t even like apples at all!”

“What do they feed their babies in Water 7?” Shachi asks, looking around at the rest of them. 

“Probably the same thing as everywhere else,” Penguin mutters. 

Finally, after trying scrambled eggs just like this morning and about a dozen other things, she manages to get down almost half a little bowl of yogurt, and they determine that enough to give up for now. They shouldn’t force her to eat if she doesn’t want to.

They disperse for their duties like normal, and Law carries Kitty with him as he goes from room to room to check in on things around the sub, in hopes that it’ll help with her grumpy mood. He’s just taken her to visit the laundry room when she starts crying again, gnawing at his shoulder. Uni and Law stare at each other for a moment to the tune of the tumbling washing machine and Kitty’s wails. 

“You should probably take care of that,” Uni says, pointing vaguely at the baby. He’s been one of the crew members more eager to watch than to handle, and Law respects his discomfort.

“Right. I’ll… go to the kitchen. I guess she’s finally hungry,” Law says, and it both comes out more like a question than he intended, and also more miserable.

He was probably right anyway, because she eagerly eats the rest of her yogurt, though she makes a mess of it all over her face. Law wipes it away with a wet towel and wonders if he should hand her over to Ikkaku for another bath again, or wait until after dinner, when he remembers he hasn’t checked her diaper in a while. There’s just so much to be done. Taking care of a baby is really a full time job.

He’s in the middle of getting that sorted out when she starts tearing up again.

“You’re miserable all the time, aren’t you?” he asks her, exhausted. The poor thing has started flailing her little fists in time with her cries, and kicking in a manner that makes it difficult to finish wrapping her new diaper. What a pair, the two of them make. Both miserable often. Both terrible eaters. Both missing people who aren’t here.

It feels a bit uncouth, in the end, to compare him missing his ex with a baby missing their presumably dead father, even though he himself has a dead father, and mother, and sister, and even a dead Corazon and city itself all to miss as well. At least he can still comfortably compare their physical discomfort. Everything is always bad anyways for him, and it seems for her too.

“What is it this time?” he asks, opening a small Room around her. She’s been fed and changed, so surely it should be nothing, only when he presses his fingers into her little stomach, it’s hard to the touch. 

Oh shit. He totally forgot. They were supposed to be burping her all this time, weren’t they?

“Sorry, kid,” he says, feeling genuine remorse looking at her little pained face. He lays her against his shoulder and pats her back, over and over again, until she finally lets out a loud burp. Then keeps at it for a little longer, just in case. 

Eventually, she settles enough to fall asleep just like that. Law sort of wants to join her. His arms are tired from holding her up all the time, and his soul is tired in general from all this. He still has to actually captain their vessel, though, so he finds someone free to drop her off with— “I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Clione says, “happy early birthday, by the way!” because he’s clearly scrambling for a gift this year— then does the rounds, staying a bit longer in the cockpit when Bepo mentions their radar noticing a few ships above them. The best part of traveling in the Polar Tang is the option to avoid these sorts of encounters entirely, thanks to the stealth afforded to them underwater. Any other pirate ship would basically be obligated to fight, or parlay, or something of the sort. They don’t even have to engage. 

It’s just as he’s heading back to his room when Clione rushes down the hall to find him, a sobbing Kitty in his arms. Not again.

“Captain! Captain, she won’t stop! I don’t know what to do,” he cries out, handing her over. As soon as she’s in Law’s arms, she settles a bit, cries slowing down, before she seems to remember she was upset about something and starts up again. Of course. It could never be that easy. Clione goes on about all the things he’s tried already, and Kitty starts to make biscuits on Law’s shoulder like she really is a cat, gnawing on him again with tiny teeth, which is just a bit painful…

Wait.

“I have an idea,” Law says, interrupting Clione. “Room. Shambles.” He swaps all three of them with dining table chairs, and Ikkaku, who was just about to sit down with a hot mug of tea, startles from right beside them.

“Captain. We need to make you wear a bell or something, you can’t go around doing that without warning!”

Law ignores her and makes for their freezer, pulling the pack of frozen strawberries out again.

“I thought that didn’t work last time,” Ikkaku says, both Clione and her trailing after him. Law ignores her again and offers one to Kitty without even bothering to wash the ice crystals off. “Wait—”

As soon as Kitty’s teeth close around it, her tears trail off into sniffles. She starts silently chewing on it, using her own tiny hands to hold it to her mouth.

“Woah,” Clione says with awe, staring at her. “How’d you do that?”

Law lets loose a small, smug smile. “She’s teething. It hurts coming in, so she wants to chew on cold things to help ease the pain. That’s why she didn’t like these when we thawed them earlier.”

Ikkaku leans up on her tiptoes to get a better look at Kitty, where she's perched high in Law’s arms. “Huh. Crazy how you just knew that. Y’know, I think you could actually be a pretty good dad, Captain.”

“For real,” Clione agrees. “I mean, she likes you the most anyway.”

“Like I haven’t had enough experience dealing with you bunch,” Law mutters, but doesn’t humor it beyond that. The others go back to work. Law takes Kitty back to his room with more frozen berries in a bowl with ice, so he can finally rest his legs, and wonders how the hell his own mother and father ever managed this whole parenthood thing, on top of being full-time doctors. Then again, maybe that’s exactly why it worked for them.

Both require resilience, diligence, and a certain level of compassionate bedside manner. If he couldn’t deal with an ailing, cranky, always miserable patient, then he’d never be able to deal with an always-miserable baby, or even live with an always-miserable himself. That level of care is exhausting, though. Law can handle performing it in small doses for patients, can ignore it mostly for himself, but the prospect of having to do that every single hour of every single day with a little life he’s fully responsible for is so much. He could handle it, of course, because he can handle almost anything, but he may not be happy about it. How is it that parents find that level of work fulfilling? Is it because their child is particularly cute? Law will admit, a peaceful Kitty is an enjoyable Kitty, and he likes having her silently play with the wrinkles in his cardigan while she teeths on a strawberry in her other hand, but surely the rest of today isn’t worth all this. There’s already a headache radiating from the base of his skull. 

Maybe it’s better in the company of another. Law tries to imagine that. Taking care of a child with another person. Well, taking care of a child with Sanji, because who else would he be imagining, as pathetic as he’s been about missing his ex lately. 

Sanji would probably enjoy the baby and even the taking care of it, to a certain extent. He’d be much better about the food thing, for instance. He could probably whip up a meal that she’s sure to like within the first few tries, instead of having to go through the entire pantry like they did. But other than that, Law can’t imagine it being too much easier. He’s already getting help from the rest of his crew, afterall. They’re watching her so he can shower and eat, bathing her, playing with her, helping out in whatever way they can, which isn’t much more than Sanji would be able to do if he were here. The only real difference it would make is that Law would just be happier with his presence, simply, and that’s about it.

The next day, Shachi and Penguin come to him with matching frowns. Law immediately knows he won’t like this conversation.

“We were thinking,” Shachi starts, watching the way Kitty claws at the tattoos peeking through the low neckline of Law’s shirt and scratches his skin red with a wince. “What if, when we get back to Water 7… you know…”

“There isn’t anyone for her to go home to,” Penguin finishes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Either we drop her off at an orphanage, or we keep her, right?”

Law doesn’t particularly like the idea of either. He leans back on the couch, takes a long draft of his third cup of coffee today, and sighs. “What would you two prefer?”

Shachi and Penguin sit across from him and look at each other in a long moment of silence. “Well,” Penguin finally says. “I can’t say I’m really a fan of orphanages.”

“But also, we are a pirate crew. The Polar Tang’s safer than most others, actually, which is pretty nice, but the idea of raising a baby aboard is…” Shachi trails off, leaving the statement incomplete. “I mean, I don’t want to, uh, discourage you, Captain, it’s your choice in the end, and you’re the one really taking care of her anyway.”

“And like he said, the Tang’s super safe underwater!”

“It is! But we just. Uh.”

“Want to know what’s goin’ on in that head of yours.”

“Right.”

Law stares at the both of them. Kitty babbles something unintelligible in the silence, as though she thinks it’s her turn to fill in the gap in conversation. Then she hits her first onto his chest as though it’s his turn. 

“You both came here to stage an intervention, because you think I want to be a single dad?” he asks them slowly, gravely, clearly.

Penguin sucks in air through his teeth. “Well, when you look at me like that…”

“I sense we’ve made a mistake,” Shachi says, standing. Before he can leave, Penguin yanks him back down.

“Listen, we just thought, she likes you a lot and you seem really good with her, y’know, even though we all expected you’d start complaining and hand her off crying to someone else, so obviously we’d suspect you liked the whole arrangement.”

Law stares them both down again in silence, taking another long draft of his coffee. They start to squirm a bit on the other couch.

“I’m taking care of her because I don’t shirk my responsibilities,” Law tells them eventually. “She’s a helpless child, and if she ended up in my care, then it’s my duty to take care of her the same way I would any other patient. That doesn’t make me a parent. It just makes me a decent human being.”

Corazon comes to mind, of course, as he says this. When he was younger he used to imagine what it’d be like, if Cora managed to survive that day and had been there to take care of Law through childhood, teenagehood, and on. Now, around the same age as him, he can’t imagine the burden that’d be. Cora could never have replaced his father and mother anyway. Law wouldn’t wish the task of trying that onto anyone else.

Shachi and Penguin leave soon after that, but Law can’t help but turn the conversation over in his mind beyond that. What will he do, really, if Kitty has no one to turn to in Water 7? An orphanage is out of the question. Maybe the ones on this particular island are fine, but enough of his crew members have spent time in awful ones for Law to not be fond of the idea. But then that leaves him to take care of her. Law cannot imagine that. These few days alone have been exhausting. He’s not the sort of person who’s made for this, maybe. She’s a sweet child, and he’s admittedly grown attached to her, but to completely give himself up to the dedication of a growing human like that is unimaginable. 

Law has been responsible for many people before in his life. Lami, on the occasions when he’d walk her to and from school, or take her out to play, or watch her when they were home alone for brief periods at a time while his parents were both at the hospital. Then Bepo when they were all younger, and even Shachi and Penguin, though they’re older than him, and though the two might disagree. The rest of his crew as it grew and grew with new additions, considering his captainhood, which is not a title he takes lightly. These people are all dear to him, and he considers their safety and happiness important parts of his duties to them, in exchange for the loyalty they’ve shown him.

Sanji, in part, when they were together. Law is unsure if he ever felt the same or even conceives of romance in the same way, but a part of their relationship to him has always been an agreement of shouldering responsibility for half of each other’s wellbeing. Sanji’s happiness for Law’s own.

Now, Kitty’s wellbeing for nought, because she is a literal baby who owes him nothing. That’s how real parenthood should be. The parent, expected to sacrifice everything about themself, and the child, who must be set free. 

The prospect of tying himself to that for the rest of his life seems soulless. He’d do it, certainly, if it came to that, but he can’t say it’s what he imagines for his future.

Kitty is a menace by day and a blessing by night. Law has never slept so well while also always being so tired at the same time. By the third day his arms have gone stiff from always holding her, because she’s just so reluctant to let him go, and his patience is wearing thin with the others, and he can no longer stand always feeling sticky and gross from spit up and drool and whatever other substances she manages to transfer to him. He just wants a second to breathe alone for once, without another person trying to wear him like a second skin. Law hasn’t had this much physical contact with someone else in months. 

“We’ll be there in just a few more hours,” Bepo tells him after lunch on the third day. “The sub’s going as fast as it can. Um. Captain?”

“What?” Law asks, unable to put much inflection into the question.

“Do you want me to take her for a little while, so you can clean up before we arrive? She’ll go to me, I think, for at least long enough for a shower. ‘Cause she likes my fur, see?”

This is why Bepo is Law’s favorite.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, handing Kitty off to pull at Bepo’s thick coat, who giggles at the way his fur tickles her when he nuzzles her cheek.

Law feels just a tiny bit more alive when he remerges to take her again. She’s even napping, which gives him enough time to read a little and recharge. It’s unreal, how wonderful that feels. Law’s been missing that so badly. He normally has time each night to read for leisure and relax, and having to forgo that routine lately’s been throwing him off. 

“Who knew taking care of a human child would be so much more difficult than raising a cat, Cat?” he asks her as she starts to stir awake on his chest. “Wonder if you’ll remember me when you grow up. Wonder if you’ll have to grow up here.” The possibility’s nerve wracking. Law doesn’t want to think about it. What would Sanji think if he saw? Forget that, what would Law even do? The same as he is now, maybe. His whole life ahead of him, lost to a baby girl. He’s too young to be a dad.

There’s a tinny knock on his door. “Cap’n,” Jean Bart calls. “We’re ahead of schedule. Bepo says we’re almost to port.”

No use worrying about this now. Law sighs and gets up. Time to face the music.

They’ll dock at Franky’s shipyard, in the same slot on the far side they always do, among the smaller caravels facing the front of the house on stilts. At high tide, the water floods all the way up to the top, splashing the porch with salty waves. At low, it leaves the home a comical sight, balanced so high above on spindly legs, without the cast of other renovated Water 7 homes further in the city to match it. 

Before Bepo navigates them into their usual spot, Law leaves Kitty with the others and teleports himself outside the home ahead of the others, so he can tell Franky the situation and hopefully get him to pass the message on to Mayor Iceberg, to help search out where the family the ID card he found is from. There’s no answer when he knocks on the door, though. Instead, a husky voice calls to him from above.

“Well, what do we have here? You’ve returned early.”

Law blinks up at her in surprise, even though nothing about her should really surprise him anymore. “Nico Robin.”

“Surgeon of Death,” Robin greets, smiling down at him from the scalloped roof tiles of her home. She’s sitting facing the wharf, balanced on the zenith of the slope beside a lion shaped weather vane, at an angle that would be impossible to manage for most other people without the ability of flight. “I hope you can forgive my nosiness, but I was taking a look around, and noticed the newest little member of your crew.” A few eyes blink at him from their places along the home’s siding. “She's quite cute.”

“I don’t forgive you, but yes, she is.”

Robin crosses her arms over herself and sprouts latticework wings off her back, hands and fingers woven together with flutters of flower petals that scent the air sweet. They carry her to the ground beside him with a few elegant flaps. Law is reminded of Sanji’s much simpler skywalk, which is less flashy to use and also more appealing in his completely unbiased opinion. The effortless way Sanji always seems to hover in the air with a simple kick is beautiful. 

“What’s her name?”

“The crew’s been calling her Kitty, but we don’t really know.”

“Interesting. Is she not yours?”

Law grimaces. “Why would you assume that? We just found her in a shipwreck a few days from here.” He hands her the ID card. “No survivors, except her. This was on the man who was holding her.”

“I’m not familiar with this family,” she says, “but I could ask around.” 

She heads inside to retrieve a notepad and pen, and Law follows her into her home without hesitance. He’s been here often enough, even if most of those times were with Sanji for company. The books crammed into every space possible, the eclectic mechanisms and strange clash of decor, from bright spots of color and geometric murals to gothic mirrors and a coat hanger fashioned such that the twisting wires look like ravens, all somehow come together into a homey blend.

Robin hands the ID card back to him after writing down the details, and her eyes flutter closed for a second. When she opens them again she’s smiling. “Your little friend is here.”

Sure enough, when they head back outside and walk down the dock, the rest of the crew is making their way up. Kitty shrieks as soon as she spots him, trying to wriggle out of Ikkaku’s arms. It’s only when Law takes her that she settles, staring at Robin curiously. 

“Hello, Kitten,” Robin says, sprouting a hand from Law’s own shoulder to wave in the baby’s face. A flower petal floats onto that tiny nose. Robin’s deft Devil Fruit fingers pluck it away. 

“Eh-eh,” Kitty says in response, unfazed.

Robin’s smile widens, pleased. 

It’s decided among them that the rest of his crew will go out searching for Kitty’s family, while Law and her remain here with Robin, at least until she’s had a snack. She ate poorly at lunch today.

Law sits at the dining table and sets Kitty on his lap, letting her fumble around with some slices of banana Robin cut for her. She’s doing a wonderful job of mushing them in her fists before slamming them into her mouth. Robin and Law both watch her in silence with matching mugs of coffee, because if anyone else understands his need for caffeine, it’s her. 

“What’ll you do if you can’t find her family?” Robin finally asks after some time. “There’s no guarantee the person who had her before is related to her.”

Law is so tired of this question. “That’s on a need to know basis.”

“And I don’t need to know?”

Law levels her with a flat look. 

They lapse into silence again until Kitty decides she’s done eating and starts playing with her food instead, smashing it into the table and smearing banana all over the hand-carved wood. “Don’t do that,” Law admonishes, picking up her grubby hand and prying the mush out of it. Then he stands and brings her over to the sink, to hold her awkwardly above it and wash her hands and mouth clean with water. When he brings her back around, he notices Robin observing him with a poorly hidden amusement.

“What?” he asks, wary.

“Nothing.” Robin’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Just that Sanji likes children, you know. He wouldn’t mind that you managed to adopt a little girl in your time apart. I dare say the sight of you two would outright melt his heart.”

Law rolls his eyes. That much is obvious, even if the inferred suggestion that it would also magically repair his and Sanji’s relationship and get them together again isn’t. Everyone around them already thinks it’s inevitable that the breakup is temporary and that Sanji and he will be together again forever, which, to be fair, would be nice. But they decided to call it off for a reason, and it’s that the circumstances surrounding them are too difficult for the relationship to give them more happiness than pain. Long-distance sucks. Long-distance on the high seas where his beloved’s loyalties lie first with his captain, second with his crew, and then third with Law sucks even more. “That’s not what I'm afraid of.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be,” she hums. “Though I doubt you’re afraid of much at all.”

The statement hangs so sour in the air that Law can’t bring himself to respond. He sits Kitty on the dining table instead and dries her face, dreading the prospect of having to do this for the rest of his life and, for all his relative cool in the sub, quick-acting anxiety starts eating at him here. Maybe the weariness from the last few days is starting to get to him. Robin very easily notices something’s wrong.

“Traffy,” she says, suddenly serious, “I think you’d be a fine parent for her, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I know I’d be a great dad,” Law snaps, trying not to glare down at where Kitty’s blinking innocently back up at him, flexing her whole tiny hand around his thumb. “Obviously. But the amount of myself I’d have to sacrifice to achieve that wouldn’t be worth it.” It’s the first time he’s really said that out loud and it feels a bit lame to do so. Maybe he’s sort of a bad person. Not that he’s ever thought of himself as particularly moral before now. 

“Huh.” Robin says. He can tell she’s thinking this through as she stares at him. The contemplation feels more like scrutiny, and is a bit unbearable. He breaks first.

“I’m not like Sanji, or you, or any of the other Straw Hats. You’re all so nice, and selfless, or whatever. I’m sure you’d like nothing more than to give your all to the next generation, but I can’t imagine anything more…”

“Unappealing?”

“Laborious.”

It might be an awful excuse, but he really just can’t sustain this for so long. 

Law has always known there was something wrong with his body, even if he can’t actually blame it on one easy cause. 

When he was younger, the answer was simple. White Lead ravaged everyone in Flevance, and it took his body from him in colorless, crystallized chunks, arthritis of the joints and involuntary contraction of muscles and a shortness of breath. Then he managed to cure himself with the Op Op fruit, and that wrongness took another form. 

No longer held back by disease, his body was able to develop properly, and he finally grew taller, and stronger, and managed to arrive at a feminine puberty, which, when combined with the transness, was obviously hell. But even after fixing that, after years of hormones and transition and surgery, the feeling of wrongness persisted. The older Law grew, the more he managed to find and fix something wrong with him, and none of it seemed to help. 

He figured out the terminal illness. Cool. He figured out the transness. Cool. He figured out the bread and pasta and general gluten thing. Cool. That all helps him not feel like total shit sometimes, but it doesn’t make everything go away. He still has trouble falling asleep at night. He still always feels tired, for the most part. He still has a back that aches to sit up straight and knuckles that pop-crack too easily and eyes that just can’t switch focus when he looks at things further away after reading something close to his nose, and his knees still creak when they bend. Which would all be fine and normal parts of growing older if he hadn’t been dealing with them all since he was a teenager, and in a more severe capacity than most, and if he wasn’t constantly piling on new things. 

The scar wrapped around his arm from when Doflamingo ripped it off in Dressrosa still hurts like a bitch sometimes, no matter how nicely those Tontatta sewed it up. That time he got slashed in the thigh a few months ago, now makes it hurt to sit. Again, nothing excessively egregious here, so maybe the issue isn’t that Law’s body was left ravaged and unusually, pathetically weak after the White Lead, but rather that he’s weak of mind for being bothered by all these little things, but either way there’s been something wrong with him since he was, like, 10 years old, and will remain that way forever unto the future. 

That’s fine. He’s lived with it all his life. He can continue to live with it, and still experience a pretty pleasant existence despite it. 

His crew is used to him coping with the insomnia by reading in random parts of the sub at ungodly hours of the night, and coping with the subsequent tiredness in the morning with many cups of coffee. 

Sanji is— was— used to him being of willing heart but not flesh for intimacy, and is— was— more than happy to do all the work, or to force him into naps with varying success, or to spend time together in silence while Law recharged in his own ways. That level of consideration is something Law loves more than anything. Honestly, even on the days where he gets sick of living inside the stupid sack of flesh he must call his own body, on the days where he would say that the only thing he doesn’t dislike about it are the tattoos and maybe the height— thank you to his mother for being exceptionally tall for a woman, and his father, too— Sanji could convince him otherwise. He enjoys Law’s body enough for both of them, even when that body keeps him trapped in bed until noon the next day on occasion.

Kitty had seemed more than happy to stay in bed with Law until noon the past few days, but that won’t do as she grows older. She, or any potential future child of his, should not have to get used to that or all the rest of it, and Law would not let them anyway, because there is nothing he’s grown more used to doing in all his years of existence than pushing past his limits even if it makes him miserable. He’s very, very good at that. He can push his Devil Fruit past its bounds if he needs to, even if it makes him pass out after. He can push his body far in a fight as well, no matter how much it complains, and withstand serious pain much better than most other people he knows. He’s sort of proud of that. Sanji is not, even though he understands the sentiment very well himself.

So. Law’s certain he’d make a very good father, because his own parents were wonderful role models growing up, and because he has the discipline necessary to be attentive and give his all for a growing child. But also, as that would strip him of all the time for doing the things he enjoys and all the energy for not being absolutely miserable constantly, he really doesn’t want that. There’s no fulfillment in that, for him. He’s more than happy to remain childless forever, please, and to simply deal with himself. 

But that might not be a choice he gets to make very soon, and he dreads having that taken from him.

“Well,” Robin replies. “That’s as valid a reason as any, I suppose. You don’t have to be a parent if you don’t want to. I’m sure we could figure something out.”

“I’m going to head out,” Law says. He picks Kitty up and throws her bag over one shoulder, making sure to tuck her blanket around herself. 

Robin hands him a baby transponder snail before they leave, so she can communicate any updates to him, and stops him at the door for a second.

“The rest of my crew should be here later today or tomorrow, by the way,” Robin tells him. “In case you needed to know. Do with that what you will.”

“I’m not avoiding Sanji,” Law says. It’s a dumb assumption to make, given her earlier teasing about them getting together again. She just shrugs. Law frowns, because he greatly dislikes her way of talking around things. The point is, though, that her tidbit of information actually excites him. Law is, as always, really looking forward to seeing Sanji again. Surely he’d like to meet Kitty. And Law has that little bottle of unique spice he bought a few islands ago to give him as well, left back on the Tang, which is sure to make him smile in that particular way he does whenever he talks about cooking or the All Blue. Law misses that smile. 

“Goodbye, Kitten,” Robin says, waving. Kitty waves bye back, though she probably doesn’t know what it means. “Bye for now, Traffy.”

Law hasn’t made it one hour looking around the local markets and transponding with Bepo about how the manhunt for Kitty’s family is going, when he’s stopped by a familiar if unexpectedly early blip in his observation haki.

His heart stutters. His footsteps stop. He turns around and finds Sanji looking back at him from across the market, past vendors and colorful stalls and the painted sails of passing boats, with the most gorgeously tragic expression gracing that lovely face. Blonde hair faintly fluttering in the wind, the tails of his untucked dress shirt following suit, he’s undone in every way that matters. There is yearning written across every inch of him. Law knows that must be mirrored on himself.

Sanji skywalks over the canal to him, hands fluttering before him nervously. Law hopes for a moment that he’ll be hugged, or at least touched in some way, but those hands flit down and wring together instead.

“Law,” Sanji says, with all the repressed emotion of a tea kettle about to burst. He clears his throat. “It’s… really good to see you again.”

I missed you too, Law doesn’t say. Instead, tight-voiced: “You too. How are things?”

“You know. Same as usual. I’d, ah, ask you the same, but. You’re holding a baby. She’s not…”

“I did not make a child,” Law confirms, a bit snippy. “You know better than anyone why that wouldn’t work for me.”

“Right. Uh. Um. The child?”

Law has grown to hate telling this story. By the time he finishes, they’ve migrated under the shade of a restaurant awning, near a table occupied by a couple and their own baby about Kitty’s age. The two are babbling at each other nonsensically. The couple looks amused. Law is doing his best to ignore the situation, because he and Sanji are trying to have a serious conversation, thank you very much. To answer your question, Sanji, no, Law is not planning on keeping her if he can help it, but if he must then he will.

“You’d be very good at it,” Sanji tells him of fatherhood, sliding all his canvas totes of groceries back up his elbows as they slip. “But it’d be asking so much of you…” He looks up at Law in that sweet, concerned way of his, and says, “You do enough already. I think it’s okay if you’d rather keep some of yourself, just to yourself,” and Law has never felt more seen.

“Yeah,” Law replies, and the single syllable comes out more vulnerable than he intends.

Sanji raises a hand again, like he’s about to reach out, and Law eyes it like water in a desert when it retracts instead of making contact. “No matter what happens, it was good of you to pick her up,” Sanji says, smiling in the melted-heart way that Robin knew he would. 

“It was common decency.”

“Well, yes. But let’s just call it both.”

Kitty jerks in Law’s arms, trying to leap away. She’s eyeing the ice cream a waitress has just brought out for the other baby sitting behind them. Law holds her back and tries to turn her away, but it’s a bit of a struggle. 

Sanji grins at him and nods at the restaurant entrance. “Why don’t we head inside?”

Law loses track of how long they stay there, just talking. 

Sanji and the other Straw Hats came here earlier than Robin predicted, thanks to a nice tailwind giving them extra speed on the last leg of the journey. They seem to be here just for general repairs for the Thousand Sunny, and to pick up Franky and Robin again for a new expedition, though Sanji stumbles a bit as he explains it. He spends the rest of their time asking about Kitty instead, watching her eat the gelato he ordered for her, and even calls her a good eater while looking pleased. It’s predictable enough to make Law smile, even if he must inform him that no, actually, she’s quite picky herself. Sanji proceeds to pry all the details of the past few days from Law. 

Conversation always flows easily with Sanji, maybe because he’s stubborn enough to pull it from Law word by word, or because Law’s just grown used to that treatment and manages to divulge without all the work now. Sanji’s never made him feel anything but safe when they speak— well, correction, a Sanji hampered by romantic feelings for Law has never made him feel anything but safe, because there were definitely a few times early on where they butt heads. Either way, the relationship they’ve built between them is one inimitable to Law at least, and it’s something he’ll value until the end of time if they can manage to keep being civil with each other like this. 

He’s sad to cut that conversation short when his baby transponder snail gurgles, until he realizes who called and why.

“Traffy!” Franky’s voice booms. “I found your baby mama!”

The address Franky gives them isn’t too far from the restaurant. On the twenty minute walk over, Law’s palpable relief slowly morphs into dismay at the thought of having to say goodbye to Kitty so soon. It’s irrational, given how recently he was dreading having to keep her, but it’s still how he feels. The emotion’s such that once they get to the apartment, he wonders whether Kitty will want to stay with him longer too, given her attachment to him. 

He’s proven immediately wrong when, as soon as the door opens to reveal a woman around his age with brown hair and familiar, obsidian eyes, Kitty starts squirming and trying to leap straight out of his arms and into hers.

“Ma!” she calls. “Ma! Mama!”

Law gives her over as the woman sobs in relief, hiccuping out variations of “thank you”, “my baby”, and “oh, Katalina”, which Law deduces is probably Kitty’s real name. Not too far from Cat, actually, so perhaps it was never that poor of a nickname afterall. 

The woman lets them into the house behind her, where Franky is already sitting on a chair that’s comically small for his size, and where a whole flock of teary-eyed people are staring at Law in awe. It is so deeply uncomfortable. What might be worse are all the decorations around the place. Streamers, balloons, and even a cake on a table. A handdrawn banner behind the setup reads, Happy 1st Birthday, Katalina!

Kitty being exactly one year old as of today is a little unexpected, since Law and his crew all thought she was a bit older, but he supposes she was just an exceptional baby in both development and size. What’s a bigger surprise is the realization that he and she both share a birthday. 

“Her dad was supposed to bring her home today from visiting his parents at the island over,” Franky tells Law and Sanji in the corner, hushed for once, as the party-turned-vigil behind them converses tensely, broken only by a few sniffles or sobs. “The ship was hit by a storm in their waters, probably, banged into some sheets of rock that used to be part of their clifface, and drifted for maybe a day or less until you guys found it, Traffy. The rest of the family didn’t get the memo until I came here.”

“Well,” Law says, unsure what there even is to say. “That’s how these oceans go, I suppose.” He hands Kitty’s father’s ID card to Franky. “If you could give this to them…”

“I got it,” Franky says. “You guys probably want to get out of here.”

“Feels a bit rude.” 

Law still glances at Sanji as he says it. Sanji looks back at him, hesitates a bit, and then grabs his hand for the first time in months. It’s a little jolt of electricity all through him. 

“C’mon,” Sanji says. “We should at least talk to her mom a bit and let her know we’re heading out.”

Law lets him lead them over, and also lets him lead the conversation. 

“You don’t know how grateful I am that you brought my baby back to me,” she says. “I wish I could thank you in different circumstances, but—” Her voice cracks. She pushes through it. “Here.” She hands Kitty off to the elderly woman on the couch beside her and grabs a pen from the coffee table, grabbing Law’s hand to write on the back of it, only to pause at the tattoos taking up all the space.

Without missing a beat, Sanji lays his hand over Law’s instead. “You can write it on mine. Your transponder snail number, right, or…”

She nods, inking it neatly onto Sanji’s unmarked skin. “If you could call me, I’d like to meet with you again before you leave, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Sanji promises for him. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

They weave through the rest of the crowded living room, nod goodbye to Franky, and then make it out the door… only for a familiar cry to go off as soon as Law steps foot outside.

His heart clenches. Law looks back inside to see Kitty staring after him, reaching out for him with grabby hands from all the way across the room.

“Oh my gosh,” Sanji whispers from behind him. “That is just precious.”

Law can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed.

He waits at the threshold of the doorway as Kitty gets passed from hand to hand until she finds her way to him, upon which she immediately slaps at his face and goes buh-buh! in a strict manner. As though she’s chastising him for attempting to leave.

“Stop that,” he tells her very seriously. “I need to go now. I can’t always be in the same room as you.”

“Uh! Nuh!”

“No—”

“Nuhnuhnuhnuhnuh nuh! Ba! Babababa ba!”

“Okay. I understood that very well.”

He looks over her little head exasperatedly, to where her mother has come to them.

“You’ll see him again, Katalina. It’s just a bye for now, not a bye forever. Remember?” She holds Kitty’s little arm up and waves. “Bye for now.”

“Aaaahhhhhahh! Ah!”

Her mother’s face crumples.

“C’mere, baby,” she says, taking Kitty from Law, who seems back to normal until Law steps back outside the door. Kitty starts screeching again and reaching for him, and he’s so weak to her, so he almost folds and steps right back inside until he sees her mother shaking her head.

“She’s just like this,” she says, tired. “Don’t mind it. She’ll calm down in a bit so please feel free to go, I know you must have things to do. Ah, but please do call me later.”

“Of course,” Sanji tells her, and holds Law’s hand again, for the second time in only a few minutes, and drags him bodily away from the door.

“Babies are just like that,” Sanji says, trying to comfort him as they walk side by side down the dark street, the canal glimmering like ink from the buildingside lampposts. The sun’s already set by now, and it’s late enough for dinner, though he doesn’t have much of an appetite. 

“Yeah, guess so. This is on me for getting attached to someone that won’t even remember me when she grows up.”

“Hey, you don’t know that. You could keep visiting, if you wanted. I don’t think her mom would mind letting you stay in her life, after you brought her back to them and all.”

“I don’t even know if I want that,” Law tells him honestly. 

“I think that’s alright too.” 

There’s a chill breeze whistling between the buildings, stirring up the reflective water murmuring past them. Sanji adjusts his bags again, as they keep slipping down his elbows, catching on his wrists. Law knows he probably doesn’t even feel the weight of them, but he still wants to help. 

“Give me a few,” he says, fingers brushing as he tries to transfer one out of Sanji’s grip.

“Uh,” Sanji says, grip only tightening. “That one’s— well. I guess… I was hoping to find a better time for it, but I guess there isn’t any, with everything happening today. Here.” His grip loosens enough for Law to take the bag. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh.” Law’s sour mood suddenly lightens. “You didn’t have to.”

Sanji shrugs nervously. “I wanted to. It’s— I mean, part of the reason we came here now, instead of later, was because I heard you guys scheduled maintenance for your sub here and thought maybe we could catch you before you left. Then I thought we’d just missed you guys by a few days, but you came back.”

Law’s throat is dry. “It would’ve been easier to meet up if you’d mentioned it. We could have planned for that.” Not that they’ve done anything of the sort since the break up.

“Thought the surprise would be nice. Guess it’s for the better anyway, since you guys managed to find the shipwreck. Ah, wait,” he says, watching Law start to open the bag, blood rising into his cheeks. “I need to warn you, it’s not much. Honestly, I probably should’ve just given it to the baby while we were back there, I felt so bad about going to her birthday party with this in my bag, but. It’s. I mean, I got it for you.”

Law reaches in and feels something soft yet weighty, and pulls it out to see in the streetlight. 

“It matches your hat,” Sanji rambles on, “and I was kind of worried, since I know you only ever slept well when we were together, and… this is sort of stupid, I know, but I thought it might help. It’s weighted, which is supposed to be nice for stuff like this, I think.”

Law turns the spotted snow leopard stuffed animal over in his hands, squeezing it between his fingers. It’s exceptionally soft. Quite cute too.

“Sorry,” Sanji says. “You don’t have to take it.”

He reaches for it, but Law holds it back out of his reach. “No. I like it.”

Sanji stares at him incredulously. “There’s no way.”

“There is. Thank you. I’ll… try it out tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay! Do that. And find me again tomorrow, okay, I want a report on whether it works or not.”

“What’ll you do if it doesn’t?”

Sanji splutters unintelligibly, face flushing further pink.

Law softens. “I’m just teasing you. Even if it doesn’t work, I’m tempted to say you’ve won best gift this year.”

“Oh, god. Don’t say that about this shitty plush toy, Bepo’s going to kill me.”

“I’m saying it. I’m surprised you even remembered my birthday.”

“Of course I did,” Sanji says, looking up at him with offense. “I could never forget you.”

And that’s a better gift than anything else could be.