Arisa had no recollection of ever waking up. It was as if she had always been here, always sitting on that bench waiting for... something.

Eventually she stood up and looked around the empty platform. Her surroundings were static and nondescript. Strangely muted in color, as is typical of most train stations. Faded brick, concrete pillars, and drab worn tiles. There was a large puddle near the edge of the platform, which she deliberately stepped around as she ventured a few paces down before returning to that bench.

She looked for a sign but could find none. No clock either.

A damp breeze rustled the foliage hemming the train tracks, punctuated with light taps of rainwater dripping from the leaves -

Footsteps registered from her right, and Arisa turned to see a young man walk up to wait next to her. He was dressed inconspicuously in traveling attire, carrying a bag and an umbrella.

She knew it was rude to stare, but she watched him closely as he set the bag down to check his watch. He was achingly familiar in a way she couldn't quite articulate. Maybe it was something about those amber eyes, the kind yet haggard face. The slow, tentative flutter of his lashes whenever his gaze sank down to his feet.

But her mind only came up blank whenever she tried to summon his name.

Their eyes met once. There was not a trace of recognition in that distant, courteous way he smiled at her. No trace of familiarity in the way he nodded once in greeting. Then they both looked away as they were supposed to, just like the strangers they were.

The man never spoke a word that entire time. But there always remained a tiny, inexplicable tug at the depths of Arisa's consciousness, a nonsensical glimmer which gave her the vaguest sense of what he might sound like.

Say something...

That idea took root in her mind, formulating into something much more distinct and concrete. Arisa stifled a small wince the more she dwelled on it, fighting to assign some sort of meaning to it.

His voice.

She could have sworn to have remembered his voice - or at least what she imagined it to be. Low and quiet and pleasant, sometimes made raspy from cigarette smoke. If she closed her eyes, she could recall everything with intricate clarity. The cadences in his speech, the expression he liked to use, the gentle lulls in his breathing. Every rhythm, every timbre - it was all there, cloistered at the furthermost recesses of her consciousness as transient illusions of a memory.

...why won't you say something, damn it?

She pictured a face to accompany those words. Envisioned the furrows etching into his brow, his lips tilting to form a sharp, frustrated scowl. She internalized the clanging of metal, the sound of him raising his voice.

Look at me, Risa...

I'm yours.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, signaling an arrival. The man looked up, his expression still inscrutable, and picked up his bag.

The train roared over the tracks from the far distance, growing louder by the second.

Arisa felt her face scrunch up in growing confusion as she watched the man step away towards the edge of the platform.

I'll always be yours.

A vicious pain cut through her chest, and she began to tremble.

What is this? Arisa asked herself as the first couple carriages emerged into view from the surrounding greenery.

Another whistle blared over the roar. Sparks bled from the train's tires as it applied the brakes.

I'll do anything to make it up to you.

How could she hear his voice? ...and why did it hurt so much to hear it?

The man stood with his back to her as he waited for the train to stop. The wind tugged against his coat as the train skidded to a standstill. Watching him there suddenly evoked a gripping rise of dread. She still didn't have the slightest clue as to who he was to her, why he was there, or where he was going. But whether it be due to paranoia or a legitimate sense of foreboding, Arisa was struck with the fear that his departure would mark the beginning of something awful. Something irreversible.

Wherever he was planning on going, she wouldn't be able to follow him.

She would be forced to remain here alone.

No. Don't go.

The man lowered his wristwatch, looking up as the doors sprang open with a hydraulic hiss. There were no other passengers inside.

He began to approach the nearest carriage.

Please, don't leave me here by myself -!

Her breath stalled at the back of her throat.

Arisa took an impulsive step forwards, blindly reaching out after him.

"Wait -!"

──────────────────

Her eyes flickered open; in the next instant she was curling into herself with a muted gasp, her hands clenching against her abdomen in a useless attempt to throttle back the sharp waves of pain emanating through her body.

It took several moments for her to regain her composure. Her breaths still stuttering haphazardly past her airways, she finally dared to look around the simply furnished walls enclosing her.

This was... Shiori's spare room. Arisa felt her muscles slacken in relief as yesterday's memories came tumbling back. So she must have drifted off during mahjong...

She winced as she peeled the covers off of herself and crept out of the futon. The place was completely quiet save for the sound of birds chirping from outside. No surprises there. Shiori was a morning person and always made a habit of leaving the house early regardless of if she had any pressing appointments to keep.

She paused and let out a deep breath. Right. Appointments. That only reminded her of the past day's events and how many responsibilities she'd pushed to today in that moment of childishness.

A spare set of clothes was left next to the futon, along with a note from Shiori saying that there were some leftover rice balls in the kitchen if she was hungry. Arisa recognized the kimono - it was an old one of hers that she must have left behind from one of countless times she and Riyu had crashed Shiori's couch during their student days.

She mulled over her priorities as she quickly bathed and changed, though was forced to pause in the middle of getting dressed upon catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her fingers fumbled multiple times securing the proper width of the kimono with the sash.

Once she was done, Arisa smoothed the fabric down her front and took one final look in the mirror to ensure that nothing was amiss. Thankfully, the garment had done more than a sufficient job in obfuscating her true figure. She'd always had a more athletic build, but even then the kimono did wonders in concealing just how much weight she'd lost in the past several months. The simple russet fabric provided a sharp, clean contrast to her blue eyes, and though her face was still unmistakably rather thin, the slight flush which remained from the bath provided a tinge of much-needed color to her cheeks.

Arisa straightened her posture and forced a small smile at her reflection.

She looked healthy enough.

That was all that mattered.

The plate of onigiri Shiori had left her in the kitchen didn't preoccupy her for more than five minutes. After half heartedly scarfing one down and draining a cup of barley tea, Arisa left the house and entered the street, inwardly cringing at the position of the sun in the sky. So it was already close to noon. A part of her was a little annoyed at Shiori for not bothering to wake her any earlier, though she quickly dismissed the misgiving with a sigh. It seemed Arisa herself had underestimated how much stress she'd put herself under for the past week for her to have already burnt out to this degree.

Her first thoughts were of course on the matter of the alliance. Remembering Ikkaku's outburst last night, all Arisa wanted to do at that moment was to head back to Takanotsume, rejoin Riyu and Himuro, and explain herself to the crew the best she could. But a small voice in her head urged for her to have more restraint. Like it or not, Arisa's own past with the Nightingale wasn't the only complicating factor in play - not when there was still the question of Law's Devil Fruit and the artifact of Yatagarasu to consider.

The fact that Uzuki Misokatsu had been so infuriatingly vague in his prescriptions also nagged incessantly at the back of Arisa's mind. Her great-uncle wasn't a cruel man, but he wasn't exactly known for his magnanimity either. Arisa knew that along with most other modern yōgari, his own personal investment in facilitating a Primordial Awakening was close to nil. Still, he had to have his own reasons in offering to help Law. Knowing the elder, said reasons were most certainly for the betterment of Amenoka-ji's standings amongst the clan remnants, though one couldn't be so certain if they would be mutually beneficial to the Hearts.

The best course of action then, she decided, would be to speak to Misokatsu directly to get some much-needed clarification on his intentions. Arisa was acting as his surrogate technically speaking, and if this alliance had any chance in going forwards she needed the Hearts to trust in her to some degree. There was no easier way to shatter whatever confidence they'd had in her than to go barging in with statements that directly contradicted her superior's position.

She was part way through dialing up the main shrine on her miniature Transponder Snail when a flash of indigo hair caught her attention from the corner of her vision. Arisa looked up, startled, her eyes narrowing in recognition when she spotted a small kimono-clad figure scurrying along the sidewalk on the other end of the road.

Is that...?

"...Tatsusada?" she called out.

The little boy looked up and seemed to recognize her. He made a grimace and quickly swung back around as if to keep going.

Arisa hurried into the street, weaving her way around a passing vendor's cart as she made her way across. Tatsusada hunched his shoulders forwards and quickened his pace, but it was clear the strain of exertion was inhibiting him. She overtook him in no time, stopping in front of him to impede his path.

Tatsusada scowled up at her and immediately made to scurry around her.

"Hey now." It only took one swift step sideways to block him off again. "I know you aren't allowed to be out here by yourself. Where's your mother?"

Tatsusada shook his head obstinately.

"What about Ito?"

He opened his notebook.

don't know!

don't care.

Arisa frowned.

"You can't keep sneaking out on your own, Tatsusada," she said. "Remember how worried your mother was?"

Her expression softened when the boy clenched his fists and shook his head again.

"...why'd you keep trying to leave, anyways?" she asked in a gentler voice, kneeling to be at his level. "Are you homesick?"

Tatsusada huffed and scrubbed at his eyes with his free fist. Arisa waited patiently for him to start writing again.

no

Theyre talking about me again.

Treatment and stuff

It makes Mother sad.

Dont like it

so I left...

"Waka-sama!"

Arisa looked up upon noting a head of burnished hair flash into her peripheral view. At her side, Tatsusada stiffened and shuffled behind her as Ito came hurrying down the street.

"There you are!" the maid exclaimed. "Oh, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"He didn't nearly get as far this time," Arisa said, cracking a small smile as she moved aside to prod the little boy ahead of her.

Ito bowed her head in greeting.

"Thank you for keeping an eye on him!" she exclaimed. "And on behalf of Koga-sama, I'm very sorry for all this trouble; he wasn't supposed to leave the yard..."

Tatsusada pouted, stubbornly remaining by Arisa's side. He flipped to a new page in his notebook and began to write a lengthier message.

Arisa glanced over to the maid as they waited for him.

"Is she out looking for him as well? Koga-sama, I mean."

"No," Ito paused and flushed. "She... ah, she doesn't know about this yet, actually..."

"She doesn't?"

"It was careless of me, I know." The maid's flush deepened. "I didn't think to tell anyone, I just ran out to look for him once I noticed he'd taken off..."

Arisa had to bite her tongue to keep her annoyance at bay. If that was truly the case, then careless was an understatement. This place was no short walk from the guest houses, especially for a child as delicate as Tatsusada. It seemed shortsighted - borderline negligible - to fail to inform the parents of what was going on, especially considering the scare they'd had the day before yesterday.

All these things were on the tip of Arisa's tongue, but seeing how frazzled and apologetic Ito looked, all she could muster was a halfhearted sigh.

"Well, at least you've found him now," she said, glancing down when Tatsusada gave her kimono an insistent tug and presented the notebook.

don't want to go back, he'd written.

Want to see grandpa

"I know you do," Ito answered with a small chuckle, reaching down to ruffle his hair. "You just have to be a little more patient, okay? Remember what your father said last night? We'll be here one more day until we leave for the main shrine tomorrow morning. Then you can see Grandpa!"

Tatsusada didn't look too convinced, so Arisa mustered a smile and chimed in.

"She's right. Let's head back for the time being before your parents get worried."

Ito nodded, holding out her hand. But Tatsusada only sidled further back and ducked behind Arisa again. Catching the slight strain in the maid's smile, Arisa considered for a moment before looking down at the boy, taking in the caged expression he wore with concern.

"Well how about I come along?" she urged, offering her hand. "I have plans to meet with your uncle anyways."

That was a lie, but neither of them needed to know that. At the very least, Tatsusada seemed to be reassured for whatever reason. He shot Ito a quick cautious look, before assenting with a slow nod and venturing closer.

Ito shot her a grateful look.

Thank you! she mouthed as Tatsusada took Arisa's hand.

──────────────────

"Drat! There will never be an end to all this work, that's what you've got to accept!" Rakko chanted to himself, lugging a sizable basket of fresh produce down the street.

It wasn't even noon yet, and the overdramatic cook was close to reaching the end of his tether. Really, it felt like everything was falling apart. First, the unexpected meeting Captain had called yesterday afternoon had delayed Rakko's final one-over of the food inventory, making it so that he hadn't noticed until just this morning that his crewmates had forgotten to purchase several essential items during their resupply run the day before yesterday. Not just one or two - several!

Second, Gol-Dough-Roger Version 3.0 - that was what the cook had named his coveted sourdough starter (his pride and joy!) - had mysteriously gone missing again. Of course, he had extra dehydrated samples that could easily be revived... but that was a separate matter! The intention behind the crime was always the real concern!

And of course to top things off, breakfast prep had been a complete nightmare without the part-timer there to help. Maybe it was a little embarrassing to admit this when he was a seasoned professional and she'd only been around for a little over a week, but... well, damn it, was it a crime to admit that he missed her company? And while he didn't have lunch to worry about that day - Azarashi and Hakugan had stepped up to organize some off-shore fishing with the rest of the crew - Rakko shuddered to think of the chaos that was sure to ensue come dinnertime.

It didn't help that everybody now seemed to be on edge. That Himuro bastard's evaluation of Captain and the ambiguous fate of the alliance ensured that.

"Now what else did those numbskulls forget? Asparagus? Rye flour? Soy bean sprouts? More coffee? Well, of course that's a given..." Rakko groaned aloud and shook his head. "Gah, I should've written it all down!"

He continued to mumble grievances beneath his breath as he trudged through the village, making no effort to hide his petulance for having been stuck with the errand. Otherwise, he would be spending this time searching for Arisa with Shachi and Penguin. The pair had left Takanotsume early that morning with that aim in mind, ignoring Riyu's warnings that aneki probably still wished to be left alone.

Rakko wished he could join them. Ikkaku did have a point about the Nightingale... but then again, he couldn't deny that he had genuinely grown to like Arisa. She did seem a little strange in some respects, but the cook had spent enough time with her to have learned to recognize whenever her genuine personality shone through the cracks in her usual stoic, ritual-bound demeanor.

Besides, regardless of who her parents were, she herself hadn't done anything to hurt them yet. And maybe Rakko was being too softhearted in thinking this way, but until she did, it was almost impossibly hard for him to fault her in any way.

Rakko let out a heavy sigh. He wondered if Shachi and Penguin had found Arisa by now... not to mention if she would even listen to them if they had.

"Hmph, those idiots better not mess this up!" he muttered to himself.

But of course, Rakko wouldn't be surprised if she refused to listen to them - not without someone like him there to mediate!

Not to put Shachi and Penguin down, but Chidori - no, Arisa-san and I, we've both gone through the ringer! Haven't we endured enough picky dietary adjustments and kitchen-related tribulations to be considered kindred spirits?

Speaking of tribulations... Rakko slumped his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself in irritation. Ah, that only reminds me of my poor Gol-Dough-Roger (Version 3.0)! Where could you have gone? Could it be that Bepo accidentally threw you out in the trash again?

Goddamn it, how many times do I need to chew that fool out for him to learn not to mess with my sourdough starter?!

I swear, it's almost as if he's going out of his way to do it!

Hell, you could even tell me someone was paying him to sabotage me and I wouldn't be surprised -

He stopped short, looking around in confusion at the pristine array of walled houses which now bordered the street. In all of his stewing, he hadn't noticed that he'd long left the commercial bloc and had ended up on the complete opposite end of the village.

The pirate turned in a slow circle to take in his surroundings. Judging by the look of the place, it was a residential area. Rather affluent-looking, too. The style of the structures here matched that of the rest of this island - curved, tiled roofs, quaint stone walls, and papered windows - but the atmosphere was definitely cleaner, more refined. A glimpse past several of the open gates revealed tidy, well-kept gardens and spacious courtyards.

Rakko's eyes widened ever so slightly.

Say, is this anywhere near the place Clione said that Dr. Yotsuji was staying at? Because it certainly looks that way...

"Well shit," he muttered out loud, turning helplessly as he adjusted his grip on his purchases. "How am I supposed to get back from here...?"

The rattle of a sliding door cut short his train of thought. Rakko looked up, mildly startled upon detecting a murmur of voices from one of the houses.

One in particular was very familiar...

Wait. Could that be...?

Rakko hesitated. He looked up and down the empty street, before darting past the open gate and creeping closer to the house where the voices were emanating from. .

He eventually discovered that the side entrance fed into an inner courtyard that was thick with decorative shrubbery. The sliding door to that entrance was left partially open, lending a slender view into one of the drawing rooms within. fed into an inner courtyard.

Concealing himself the best he could behind a bush, Rakko craned his neck sideways to peer through the open doorway without giving himself away.

His eyes immediately popped wide open in shock.

Eh? Captain?

──────────────────

The tension in that drawing room could very well be considered tangible in its potency. Part of this no doubt could be attributed to the unorthodox makeup of the guests gathered there.

"You... completed all of this in a single night?" Hachinobe Mototatsu lowered the sheaf of papers in his grip, staring in disbelief at the man residing across the table. Contained within were pages upon pages of handwritten notes, with some containing supplemental sketches and anatomical diagrams, all meticulously labeled and annotated.

It was a detailed proposal of a surgical procedure.

Trafalgar Law only nodded once in response. For a brief moment his gaze flickered over to Dr. Yotsuji, who had retreated to the corner of the room to study one of the pages. No amount of scrutiny could evoke a trace of a reaction from his expression as he pored over the drawing.

Law shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to the father. Tatsuhito, who stood back a few paces near the doorway as if to stand vigil over his brother and sister-in-law, silently observed the ensuing exchange with a distrustful scowl on his face. Seeing the two brothers up close together, it was clear that the physical resemblance between them was only surface level. Despite having inherited the same hair and eye color, Mototatsu was considerably shorter and stockier in build than his younger brother. His facial features too were more squarish and rugged, with deep set eyes, wide, angled jaws, and bold eyebrows which seemed to amplify their owner's inner sentiments with every minuscule twitch they made.

Now, those very same eyebrows were scrunched close together in a mixture of wonder and perplexion. Mototatsu gingerly set the papers down and leaned slightly over the table.

"So if I were to go through with this procedure as the donor," he began slowly, shooting a furtive glance over to his brother, "you're saying for certain that you could save my son?"

Law nodded again.

"Yes," he answered briefly. "At this stage, I believe that a transplant is the only feasible option."

Koga looked up nervously. She had been silent up to this point, listening to the surgeon's explanation with a pale face and drawn lips. Her voice shook a little as she spoke up.

"But everywhere we've gone, we've been told that Ta-chan's case was inoperable," she began, her voice uncertain. "That surgery would endanger his life unnecessarily..."

"I know." Law's answer was as impassive as it was succinct.

Koga faltered and cast a desperate look over to Yotsuji, before pressing both hands against the table and leaning in as well.

"Dr. Yotsuji has already explained to us how dangerous the standard procedure is on its own," she said. "But here you're saying that you can handle both the donor and recipient surgeries on your own..." She swallowed. "How can any reasonable person look at something so unbelievably risky... and call it a cure?"

Law steadily met her fraught gaze but said nothing.

"If we were to keep up with his current treatment," Koga went on quietly, "he can... he can still survive for a few more months, right?"

She paused for a beat, pressing her free hand up to her mouth to quell the shaking in her voice.

"...we can be with him for a little while longer... right?"

Tatsuhito took a deep breath and looked away. Law narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he trained his stare down to the papers on the table, still keeping his silence.

"Ta-chan is still only eight years old. And to have to subject him to something this terrifying...!" Koga let out a muffled sob. "If something were to go wrong and he were to die under the knife, we would just have to accept that, right? How can you expect us to make such a cruel decision -?"

"Listen, Koga," Mototatsu began earnestly, placing a comforting hand on her arm, "if this is the only way to give him a chance, then perhaps we should seriously consider it."

She shook her head.

"I'm not prepared to lose him like this!"

Mototatsu looked over to Yotsuji as Koga buried her face in her hands.

"...what do you think, Doctor?"

Yotsuji sighed and removed his glasses with his free hand, the one bearing the drawing finally descending fully.

"I asked this once before, Trafalgar, but I'll ask you again. Why are you involving yourself in this case?"

Law frowned in annoyance.

"I already told you, didn't I?" he answered bluntly. "I despise the sight of invalids."

Koga visibly winced, and Mototatsu's hand froze over her arm.

"You bastard...!" Tatsuhito hissed from between clenched teeth, starting to step forwards. But Yotsuji interrupted him with a loud voice.

"Is that why you became a doctor then?" he challenged, platinum eyes flashing. "Because you despise looking at invalids?"

The surgeon's scowl deepened.

"What are you trying to get at?" he demanded. He gestured over to the papers. "If you have something to say about what I've proposed -"

Yotsuji laughed dismissively and came over to set the drawing down on the table.

"No, don't worry. There's nothing left I wish to say to you." He turned to Mototatsu and bowed. "My lord, my lady. I apologize profusely for wasting your time with this miscreant. Please disregard everything he said."

"What are you...?" Law snapped, half-rising to his feet. "Oi, Yotsuji-ya!"

"It was my mistake for indulging in my own curiosity," Yotsuji went on coldly, his face hardening. "I should have known better than to humor an unqualified pirate in a matter as intricate as this."

Mototatsu wordlessly looked at him then back at the internal physician, clearly bewildered.

"I don't understand," he said. "...what do you mean by this, Yotsuji?"

Yotsuji began gathering the papers up from the table.

"Yesterday, one of my students alerted me to some concerning stories about the Surgeon of Death's exploits in the North Blue," he said briskly. "Of course, these sorts of things often tend to get overblown, so I decided to look into it further last night."

He aligned the papers together with a single tap against the table, and dismissively jutted them out in Law's direction.

"I called up a few of my old associates from the Navy, who unfortunately were able to confirm much of the rumors."

"...what?" Law took the papers, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Mototatsu looked over to him, clearly disconcerted.

Yotsuji smiled coldly and simply raised his chin.

"It really is unfortunate that the one time I give someone the benefit of the doubt, it turns out they're the sort of doctor that I despise the most." He too narrowed his eyes. "I've met several of your ilk from my time with the Marines, Trafalgar. Surgeons who only care about fame and money, who willingly take advantage of people's desperation to suit their own twisted needs."

Law clenched his jaw, a flicker of genuine anger kindled in his gray eyes.

"What are you trying to imply?" he repeated snappishly.

Yotsuji ignored him and turned to Mototatsu.

"My lord, don't listen to a word of what this man has to say. He only intends on using you and Waka-sama as nothing more than human experiments."

Koga's face visibly blanched. Mototatsu looked blindsided.

"Human experiments?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Law snapped, rising to his feet. "Why are you backtracking now? A transplant is the only shot we have for the brat to get a chance to live - you know that yourself, Yotsuji-ya!"

"That's your playbook, isn't it?" Yotsuji retorted scornfully. "This is the only way tainted surgeons like you know to hone their skills. Pushing dangerous procedures onto unsuspecting patients, butchering them as human guinea pigs to satisfy your own sick curiosity and sell a popular case study to the public."

"That's bullshit!"

"It doesn't matter to you whether or not Waka-sama lives or dies. He's nothing more than a means to an end, just like all those patients who mysteriously disappeared under your care!"

A stunned silence followed as Yotsuji's words slowly sank in. Tatsuhito went rigid at the doorway. Koga shrank back, undisguised horror written out over her features as she looked between the two doctors.

Law froze momentarily, before letting out a disdainful chuckle and shaking his head in disbelief.

"...missing patients?" Mototatsu repeated anxiously.

"You heard me right." Yotsuji's voice flattened to a terrifying degree. "This 'doctor' is responsible for the disappearances of over a dozen civilians across several islands in the North Blue, all of whom were said to have been his former patients." He raised his voice when Law started to speak up. "Don't try to deny it! This is all well-documented - both by first-hand accounts and Navy investigators."

The surgeon's face had grown closed off.

"No," he answered, shaking his head again. "This is complete bullshit."

"Then tell us! What did you do with them?" Yotsuji smiled scornfully. "Experiment on them like you're trying to do with Waka-sama here? Toss them aside and sell their organs on the black market once you were through with them?"

"I treated all of them," came the icy response. "Successfully, I might add. That's it. There's nothing more to the story."

"Really, now?" Yotsuji sneered. "How convenient. Why won't you tell us where they went if you're so certain that you don't have innocent blood on your hands?"

"Because whatever my former patients chose to do afterwards is none of your business!" Law scoffed and raised the papers, narrowing his eyes in challenge. "Now quit fear mongering and wasting their time with all these overblown speculations! If you don't even have anything constructive to say about the actual procedure -"

"No. I already told you - I think we're done here." Yotsuji glanced over to Tatsuhito. "Tatsuhito-dono. If you could please escort him out, please."

The latter quickly stepped forwards, shooting his brother a conflicted look.

"You -!" The surgeon cut off short and ground his teeth together in frustration. He turned to the parents. "You're going to get the brat killed at this rate!"

Koga let out a wounded sound and buried her face in her hands again. Eyes blazing in anger, Yotsuji began to speak up again, only to be silenced when Mototatsu wordlessly shook his head at him.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly, drawing an arm around his wife as he turned back to the surgeon. "...but how can we trust you over Dr. Yotsuji?"

Law started to answer. But the door suddenly rattled open, cutting the surgeon's rejoinder off short and gripping the attention of everyone in the room.

"Dr. Yotsuji!" Shiro's face was marble-white. His hands trembled a bit from nerves as he pushed his thick-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Please come assist! Waka-sama just came back from his walk with Ito-chan - she says he's having some difficulty breathing again! Tsubu's with him now, but -!"

Koga let out a small gasp and immediately rose without another word, hastening for the door with Mototatsu and Yotsuji at her heels. Law grabbed his nodachi and began to follow, only for Hachinobe Tatsuhito to block his path.

"Get out of my way, Blue Hair-ya," Law snapped.

Tatsuhito shook his head.

"I can't let you see Waka-sama."

"I'm the only one who can help him!"

"I'm sorry." The instructor's eyes gave off a dangerous glint as he placed a hand over the katana at his side. "My brother's word is final."

"Have him leave the premises immediately," Yotsuji said coldly, turning to shoot them one final look from the threshold. His eyes gave off a spiteful gleam as they locked with Law's. "Don't bother trying to interfere again."

"Yotsuji-ya...!" Law ground his teeth together in frustration. "I'm telling you, you're making a huge mistake!"

The doctor only smiled grimly and shook his head.

"No. My only mistake was to humor you for as long as I did."

──────────────────

It was close to evening when Arisa was finally able to depart from the Hachinobes' guest house. She hadn't intended on staying for long, but Koga had been so distraught over Tatsusada's latest episode that she felt compelled to stay with her and Ito until Yotsuji came back to consult her on her son's condition.

Once outside, she was mildly taken aback to see that Law was still waiting by the front gate. He stood leaning against the wall with his nodachi propped beside him, a bundle of papers crumpled loosely in his grip and his chin sunken low into the fabric of his coat. He looked up sharply when he'd heard the gate door unlatch.

The two froze momentarily when their eyes met, both knowing full well how their last encounter had gone.

An awkward silence elapsed as Arisa carefully closed the gate behind her. She stood there somewhat stiffly, looking at him with wary eyes. Yotsuji had told her how their earlier meeting had gone, not to mention his many suspicions regarding the rumors plaguing Law from the North Blue. Arisa herself still didn't know quite what to make of his accusations yet, so seeing the surgeon in person now left her feeling more conflicted than anything else.

Law presently sighed and directed his stare back out to the dimming streets.

"How is he?" His voice was brusque. Irritated.

"His condition has stabilized, thankfully," Arisa answered slowly, still eyeing him uneasily. She moved away from the gate several paces and came to a stop again.

"His heart is going to fail at this rate." Law abruptly pushed off the wall, his voice steeling over with a renewed sense of urgency. "I need to speak to Mototatsu-ya again. This time without Yotsuji-ya."

"He isn't here. He and Dr. Yotsuji left with Tatsuhito about fifteen minutes ago to meet with one of the elders."

"Where?" Law stopped himself, shook his head with a dismissive scowl, and turned back towards the entrance. "Koga-ya then. She's still here, right?"

Arisa frowned and quickly stepped back in front of the gate.

"Trafalgar, wait -"

"I have to persuade one of them before it's too late." Law brushed past her and started to unlatch the gate.

"You're prohibited from going anywhere near Waka-sama!" Raising her voice, Arisa reacted on instinct. Her hand shot out to grab his, stopping him from opening the metal hasp all the way.

She'd expected at least some amount of scuffling to get him to back down, but the pressure against her grip slackened near instantly. Law had gone very still. He kept his eyes fixated to the gate with the frustration on his face still very evident, almost appearing to look entirely past the clasp, the sight of her pale, thin hand which was now held uneasily over his tattooed one.

Arisa drew in a deliberate breath and steeled her voice.

"Mototatsu-sama has made his decision. I'm sorry."

Wary that he might attempt to open the gate again, she waited for a few moments longer. But when Law didn't move an inch, she hesitated before fully retracting her hand.

The surgeon eventually huffed out a sigh and drew away entirely. She blinked after him in confusion as he merely returned to his original position against the wall

"What are you -"

"They'll come back at some point, right?" Law answered stubbornly, propping the nodachi next to him and folding his arms. "So I won't be leaving until then."

"But Yotsuji will be with him again."

"Doesn't matter. It's better than nothing."

"What makes you think you can convince them this time? Clearly none of them trust you."

Law didn't answer. Leaning his weight against the wall, he merely affixed his stare up to the darkening skies. Arisa hemmed another sigh and reluctantly moved to stand next to him.

The papers he held in his free hand caught her attention.

"Hey..." She nodded down to them when he flicked a perfunctory look her way. "Can I take a look?"

"You wouldn't understand any of it," Law answered, his voice dismissive. But after a moment's thought, he seemed to have a change of heart and handed them over.

"Making assumptions now, are we?" Arisa murmured in mock sarcasm, flipping through the pages and squinting at the scrawled notes through the growing dark.

He was right though; most of the terminology went completely over her head. Accuracy aside, what she could appreciate was how painstakingly thorough he'd been in his work. Beyond outlining the entire surgical procedure, it seemed he'd listed every possible complication he could think of that could result from the operation, each accompanied with a multitude of ways to counteract them. Every step was described with meticulous detail, every figure and diagram densely annotated in the surgeon's scrawled handwriting.

You did all of this in one night... for someone you haven't known for more than a day or two?

Arisa slowly lowered the papers and reflected for a beat. At some point she found herself mirroring Law's pose, leaning back against the wall and staring up at the sky as she collected her thoughts.

It was hard to tell how long they remained there, standing side by side as the shadows lengthened over the streets and the lamplights slowly began to flicker to life around them.

"...Trafalgar," Arisa finally said aloud.

Law pointedly remained silent, peering over at her through the growing dimness with a mildly questioning look.

"Won't you accompany me for a little bit?"

Notes: Annnd we are back with another episode of "Nobody Trusts Law." Fun times.

Tsubu was originally slated to be included in this chapter.... but I sorta gave up because I was juggling enough characters in that scene as is. Not to mention the fact that the obnoxiousness levels would have been off the charts, and I don't think many of you would have appreciated that haha.

Oh, and Gol-Dough-Roger Version 3.0 is from an old discarded oneshot idea I had for the Heart Pirates. May or may not have been a crackfic - make of that what you will. xD

Thanks for reading & see you next chapter.