Darling Typhoon [One Piece Law x Luffy]

5. The Brunt of Contempt

THE FLUORESCENT CEILING LIGHT OF THE BATHROOM PAINTED LAW'S FEATURES A WARM YELLOW, but his expression was cold. His shallow pants filtered through the empty stalls. He peered at the dark grey eyes staring back at him in the mirror. These eyes never wavered, never gave away even the faintest glint of hesitation or ambivalence. If anything, they were the most bistable devices he knew. There were only two options—on or off, open or closed, and whenever his eyes were open, they never waned.

Now they did.

There were bags under his eyelids, so dark their shadows cast shadows, and his skin looked dry from dehydration. The watch on his left wrist showed that his BP was slightly above normal, but his heart rate teetered back and forth between green and yellow. Law tried raggedly to catch his breath—his hand reached up to placate his chest, and he closed his eyes.

The exit to the bathroom still had a draft of air floating around it, the door only having closed a minute ago. Yet, the presence of that intruder still lingered in Law's frenzied, panicked mind.

This really had been too much. Who would've thought that out of all the people from The Family, Law would run into him of all people here? Just what vacation was this that Corazon had planned so carefully? And why was everyone and their grandma pushing him around today?

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[2 hours earlier]

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If boarding the plane was like escorting souls of the damned to the gates of Tartarus, de-planing was akin to prison break, except the path to the large crater in the side of the prison was the width of a straw.

Joints cracked, old bones creaked, fingers cricked—mumbling, sighs, and huffs of impatience filled the air, as one-by-one, the 20 something passengers filtered out of the plane. While others stood impatient, waiting for their turn, Law sat with his lips in a straight line, eyes calmly shut, determined not to intersect or interact at all with the young man next to him who was bouncing in place.

Apparently he still had enough tact to hold his tongue—maybe he would finally unleash all of his pent up hyperactivity the minute he landed in customs—maybe the youth would even stir enough trouble to be deported or escorted to a correctional facility right then and there. The customs officers would take one look at him, and take one look at Law's half-dead, insipid disposition dragging behind, and immediately tell, whoever this young man was, he had to be a high-level threat—a mob leader, or a member of the mafia maybe. Whatever it was, he had to be detained immediately.

Law couldn't help the light scoff he made at the thought, yet when the time finally arrived, Customs was surprisingly lax. The entire affair lasted aout 20 minutes; and by the time Law blinked, he was walking past baggage claim, exited the airport, and was waiting solemnly just a distance outside the sliding doors. To call the Alafia International Airport an airport really was too generous. The entire building looked like it was the size of Law's high school, save for the large, open expanse of runways spread across the back.

If he even so much as dared to look up the total square kilometres of the building in total, he feared his hospital might fare better.

Scattered throughout the airport on the way to the exit were signs indicating that the waiting area for the bus to the resort was at the front, and each symptoms officer, as well as overhead announcements informed them that said bus was departing at 23:30.

When the bus finally arrived. Law felt mild confusion, as the young Straw Hat was nowhere to be seen. Still, he treated this moment of confusion as a moment of respite instead.