The first time it happened, you assumed it was luck.An enemy’s blade came down too fast, too close—then the world snapped, and suddenly you were behind Law instead, his “Room” dissolving around you like mist.

He didn’t look back.Just blocked the strike meant for you and growled. “Watch your surroundings.”

The second time, it was no coincidence. Smoke from the burning buildings choked the air, and you slipped on the rubble. Before you could hit the ground, Law’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you upright.He didn’t release you right away. Just held you long enough to be sure you were steady.

“Tch. Reckless.”

By the fifth time, the pattern was undeniable.

A chunk of rooftop collapsed where you’d been standing—Law’s hand gripped your wrist, yanking you into safety at the last possible second.A blast of fire spiraled too close—Law teleported between you and the flames, coat whipping behind him as he took the hit himself.An enemy tried to strike from behind—Law’s sword sliced through the air before you even realized the danger.

He was everywhere.Always just close enough to intervene.Always stepping in front of you without hesitation.

During a brief lull in the fighting, lantern light flickered across the soot on his face. He turned toward you, chest rising and falling with hard, controlled breaths.His expression wasn’t anger.It wasn’t annoyance.

It was fear—raw, sharp, and quickly buried.

“You’re staying in my line of sight.” He said quietly. “That’s not up for debate.”

He didn’t explain why. He didn’t need to.

Because every time the flames rose, every time the battle surged, he was already moving—cutting a path toward you, pulling you close, risking himself without thinking.

Not because it was strategy.Not because it was duty.But because somewhere along the chaos of Wano, you had become the one thing he refused to lose.