Law never did well in the heat, which made sense. He grew up in the North Blue, the coldest sea in the world; he wasn’t used to the harsher climates of the Grand Line.

Law stood on the deck of the Polar Tang, along with the rest of his crew. He raised his hand above his head, effectively blocking out the sun’s rays from his scowling face as he mentally cursed the hot weather.

His shirt had already been discarded and his inked body was slick with sweat, his breath came out in small pants as he tried to push through the tortuous temperature.

He hated it. He hated the heat with a pure passion.