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nehswritesstuffs · 2 months

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It is time for me to inflict my depressing fanon on everyone yet again!

2646 words; hats off to everyone who projects with celiac!Law but this is my take; fairly gen but also has slight LawSan and/or LawBin if you put the shipping goggles on; mostly wrote this surrounded by wee weebs so shout out to my fiancé’s students (especially the young lady who convinced me to put in Robin (it was not a difficult sell lol); blanket warning for Law’s backstory I guess

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cold. It was cold.

Part of him wanted to say of course it was cold, it is the North, but it still seemed a bit much. It was so cold that the slightest breeze cut through him, through his cloak and to the school uniform that was now filthy and ratted and way, way too thin. Another small burst of wind and he remembered that his cloak wasn’t even a cloak, but an old, thin bedsheet he had found covering a corpse in the woods.

He wasn’t in the woods anymore. It was a different country, so very apparent thanks to how colorful everything was around him. Even the bricks and stones that made the buildings didn’t have the pastel sheen he was accustomed to, that he expected. Hiding in an alley, he stayed crouched until the nearby street grew quiet before making a move. Restaurants were always sure to have scraps, and he found what looked like a halfway decent one. He put his hand in the wastebin and found that there was nothing he could grab and run with…

…nothing except some moldy, soggy white bread. Again. How many times was it now…?

Stomach churning, he knew he had no choice and shoved the slices—now more mold and mush than anything—into his mouth. His gag reflex caught and he tasted bile on top of everything else. He still swallowed everything down, knowing that he did not have the luxury of choosing where he got his sustenance. Law kept rooting around in the garbage, eager for something else to eat.

He gagged again, the bread and bile falling to the pavement this time.

Fuck.

It was still cold.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Law, come here.”

Doflamingo curled his finger, beckoning the child to his side. Law put down his book and walked past Baby 5 and Dellinger—both of whom stopped playing—to stand in front of their boss. The only other adult in the room was the Corazón as he sat next to his brother, a pad of paper torn by scribbles.

“Giolla tells me you refused to eat the lunch she made you earlier,” Doflamingo said, voice calm and even. “Is this true?”

“What of it?” Law scoffed. Doflamingo’s face didn’t even twitch.

“Now that you’re officially one of us, you need to eat to gather your strength and become the high-level member of the team that I can see in your potential.”

“I can do that without bread,” Law stated. “As long as I get the nutrients from elsewhere, I’m good.”

“No, that’s not good at all.”

“Cora-san doesn’t eat bread,” Baby 5 piped up. Law bristled—he didn’t need her assistance to make a point. They watched Doflamingo consider this.

“Cora-san is an adult,” he said eventually. “Law needs to eat properly.”

“I don’t want any.” The boy was getting adamant now, nearing on a tantrum. Doflamingo was about to snap at him when he felt the end of his brother’s pencil poke him in the arm. He turned and saw the pad of paper getting pushed towards him.

If the taste came back for you, it might for him.

“Hmm… you’re right…” Doflamingo scowled before he stood, towering over Law. “Don’t think this is over. You’re going to grow up about this eventually.” He then left the sitting room, the children all staring at Corazón, who in returned flipped them off and flashed the paper.

Brat

“No more than you are,” Law fired back. “Fuck off.”

Law stormed from the sitting room, knowing that he didn’t have to be there. He stomped all the way back to the room he shared with the other kids, flopping face-down on his bed.

He didn’t want bread. He didn’t need bread. He didn’t plan on even touching bread again for as long as he lived.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It wasn’t long before their food supply began to run out, Cora realized. He looked inside the bag with their meager belongings and frowned.

“I have to go into town,” he decided aloud. Law coughed in pain on the other side of the cave, curled around himself and blankets.

“Just you this time?” he asked.

“Yeah—I need to get us some food. Do you want me to look for anything specific?” Law whimpered something and Cora crouched down low. “What was that?”

“Good bread.”

Oh. Cora frowned and brushed the brittle, sweat-soaked hair from the boy’s brow. Who was he to deny a dying child? “I’ll see what I can do.”

Cora carefully went into town and began to look around for some groceries while trying to not cause more attention than necessary They needed things that were easy to carry and did not take much effort to prepare, if at all. Nothing that spoiled quick and nothing that was too tough on Law. He got some smoked meat and cheese, fruit, a bit of rice that just needed to be heated over the fire…

Stopping in front of the bakery, Cora stared at the wares on display in the window. It was so odd for Law to request bread, and so timidly at that. The kid’s aversion towards bread was one of the things that he could clock from a mile off—it was the same reason as him, he knew it. He often caught the look in the kid’s eyes when he stared down a sandwich or Dellinger chased him around the compound with a dinner roll; it wasn’t an allergy, nor was it a texture thing, but something much more insidious than that.

Before he realized it, Cora was standing inside the bakery, not quite fitting under the still-higher-than-normal ceiling and awkwardly staring at the breads. There were all sorts of things, such as pastries and full loaves and bagels and… ah, there were some smaller miniature loaves and rolls. At least if Law didn’t finish what he bought it wouldn’t be such a waste…

“Can I help you, sir?” He glanced up and saw the clerk standing there on the other side of the display case.

“Just looking.” Something then caught his eye: a double-roll that was baked together. The bread looked so dark it was almost black, and it made him think back to his own childhood. One of his uncle’s slaves baked rolls like that, and it was honestly some of the best he’d ever had. “Actually, what’s that?”

“Some Flevance-style rolls,” the clerk replied. “They’re not a good seller, but the owner spent summers there as a kid—it’s a pet project of his.”

“Thought they looked familiar; went on vacation there a couple times. Shame, really. Can I have a pair?”

After paying for a double-roll (and getting four, as the clerk insisted no one else was going to buy them), Cora went back to his shopping. He then made sure no one was following him and returned to the cave. Law was sitting up, having scooted himself closer to the fire he was poking with a stick to keep alive. Cora didn’t even need to ask and he threw a couple more bigger bits of firewood on the pile.

“How’re ya feeling, kiddo?”

“Fuck off.”

“That good, huh?” Law grunted, causing Cora to roll his eyes. “I got some bread like you asked for—the clerk gave me a bit extra.”

“Flirt.”

“I did not!” he gasped, almost insulted. “They just don’t sell many of them, is all.”

Law looked away and pouted as he hugged his knees. There was nothing he he really could say, was there?

“Well, if you don’t like it, we’ll figure out something.” Cora put down the rest of the shopping and sat next to Law with the bag from the bakery. He took a double-roll out and held it towards the teen in offering. “Let’s try it together.”

Slowly, Law turned back towards Cora, only for his eyes to go wide at the sight of the roll. He reached out and touched it gingerly, almost unsure it was even real. Both of them pulled on their respective part of the double-roll and it broke apart with ease.

“Where did you get this…?”

“A nostalgic baker.” Cora shrugged and watched Law as he cradled the bun in his hands like a precious gem. “I saw it in the window; the clerk confirmed it was a Flevench recipe.”

“How… how did you know…?”

“My cousin’s house had these a lot; some of the kitchen staff were from the North, and I remember there was at least one person from Flevance. Go on. Eat.”

Law nodded and took a small bite. He chewed slowly before swallowing, a hiccup wracking his body. Tears formed in his eyes as it turned into a cough, shivering as Cora placed a large hand on his back to steady him. The teen continued to let tears fall from his eyes as he ate, not stopping until the entire roll was gone.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaked. “That… that was good.”

“I’m glad,” Cora replied. He silently offered the second roll, but Law shook his head in refusal. The boy hugged his knees again and hid his face as he sobbed uncontrollably. Cora tried to place his hand on his back again, but drew it back quickly when Law flinched.

The kid was going to have to get through this on his own, he figured, and turned his attention back to the bun still in his hand. It was so small compared to when he was a child—younger than Law’s sister had been, if he heard the story correctly—despite the fact everything else was the same. The feel, the smell… Cora popped the entire roll into his mouth with ease, hoping it was as good as he remembered.

Soon as the soft, chewy texture hit him, Rosinante was back in Mary Geoise, sitting with Doffy and Josy at the table in the kitchen where they had their secret snacks. They would kick their feet in their chairs as Uncle’s kitchen staff fed them whatever they wanted; Doffy and Josy always ate the bread hot out of the oven, yet Rosi often let it cool…

Fuck. Cora swallowed the bread and wrenched his eyes shut as he tried to not break into his own tears. It wasn’t as good as the ones in his memories, but better. Thoughts of his childhood weighed heavily against his heart; what he wouldn’t give to have his parents back, to have his brother back…

…but they weren’t coming back. Just like Law’s parents. Just like Law’s sister. Just like everyone the kid had ever known, and all that was left might have looked a lot like Doffy, but nothing in the past four years was recognizable as the brother he used to sit at the table with, plotting with their cousin about all the fun adventures they would have wandering the halls of their homes.

Neither of them ate more bread in the prior two years than they did that night, finishing off the entire bag before falling asleep by the dying fire.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I don’t like bread,” Law reiterated. He glared at the Straw Hat cook as he kneaded some dough in preparation for baking. The younger man was far-less pristine than his usual self, with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and covered in smudges of flour. It was a struggle to not gag from the sight and smell of the dough alone, and it was all he could do to not let it show on his face.

“I didn’t mean this bread, you moron,” Sanji scoffed. “This is white for the losers, and Nami-swan and Robin-chwan get a more delicate and nutritious wheat—and I guess Momo too since the little shit’s growing—but I think I’ve got something you might like.” Law stared sourly as Sanji plopped the dough back in its bowl to rise and wiped his hands on his apron. “You’re from the North Blue, right?”

“…as is well established. So are you. Your point?”

“I knew some excellent cooks and bakers as a kid, so maybe this might help.” Law raised an eyebrow and watched Sanji pull a breadbasket out of the cupboard and placed it on the counter. A cloth covered the contents, keeping them protected from the air and out of sight. “Well, more like I grew up in kitchens in both the East and the North, and know that people from the latter can get… picky when it comes to this shit. Go on. Open it.”

Once the cook motioned towards the basket for emphasis, Law lifted the cloth and took a look at the bread. There, sitting plain to see, was a pile of Flevench-style double-rolls, so dark they were nearly black. He picked up a pair and stared at it, the only reason his mouth did not drop in awe was thanks to years upon years of practice.

“You… you made rye buns…”

“Yeah. I remembered one of the bakers in the North making these a lot, so I’d help her when I could,” Sanji beamed. “Nothing beats a taste from home, does it?”

“What makes you think this is home?”

“You picked it up and haven’t put it back down.”

Law’s face felt hot with blush as he Shambled away in a panic. Fuck, Blackleg-ya was a bit too perceptive for comfort. The other man must not have said anything to the others, he figured, since no one seemed to be treating him differently. Was it the accent? Did he resemble a Flevench migrant from the blond’s childhood? Whatever it was, he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

Oh. Wait. That was right; the double-roll was still in his hand. He felt around with Haki and figured that no one was watching, allowing him to slip into the mikan grove undetected. Carefully, he took the double-roll in both hands and pulled them apart, the smell hitting him just as it did all those years ago when he’d share one with Lami at the dinner table… when he shared them with Cora-san in the cave…

Taking a bite, Law sighed as he realized this was no joke. Blackleg-ya had truly been able to do something he’d never been able to do over the years, something that his crew had never been able to replicate. For the first time since he was thirteen and dying, he was eating a roll of bread—Flevench-style bread—and silently crying. It was more than he could have ever asked for and yet there it was, just as good as it had ever been, the right color and texture and as though nothing had ever changed. He trembled as he finished the first roll; it was as though he had taken it straight from the bakery on High Street…

Just then, movement caught the corner of his eye, causing him to flinch. There, sprouted on a branch, was an arm holding a handkerchief and a handwritten note towards him. Law used his Observation Haki to locate Nico-ya, finding that she was on a lower deck with the rest of the ship’s inhabitants. He took both items and watched as the arm stayed. Opening the note, he read:

I’ll keep them down here. Don’t worry, Torao-kun. Take your time.

He touched the arm and it dissolved into petals. Of course Strawhat-ya’s crew would have someone who knew how to make him cry with bread, as well as the only one who possibly understood how frail his connection to his past truly was. He sank down to the floor and leaned against a tree trunk, letting the tears flow as he savored the second roll like a man being allowed his last meal.

That night at dinner, he got onigiri just like always, as though nothing had ever happened. At least he kept his dignity through it all, he supposed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: The bread I based this on is called röggelchen, which is most often found in Western Germany/eastern Belgium.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #fan fiction #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Rosinante #Donquixote Rocinante #Straw Hat Pirates #my birthday present to you dear reader #pls let me have this all I want is for these two to bond over how bread was ruined for them via trauma #Trafalgar D. Water Law

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