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Viennese Waltz
Viennese Waltz: danced at about 180 beats per minute as opposed to the English waltz, 90 beats per minute. The Viennese waltz is a rotary dance where the dancers are constantly turning either toward the leader's right (natural) or toward the leader's left (reverse).
In an infinite world built and broken by the chaos of the storm at sea, how did these two find each other? Probability gone awry, random chance made more random by the happenstance of a happy-go-lucky captain intent on mixing oil with water. He managed to put them both in a bottle and shake constantly, so they never had a chance to realize how diametrically opposed they really were.
Law thought about these things when he observed the swordsman and the cook. Today, the vessel they called their ship, which to Law was a creation made by too many minds that disobeyed too many rules, was sinking. In a routine pass by of a remote island, they had hit one of those rocks that jutted out of the sea and poked its head out not enough to be seen, just enough to be a pain in the ass. The catastrophe of a ship had shuddered and groaned, and the Strawhats jumped into action.
The swordsman woke instantly, diving overboard to survey the damage. The cook burst out of the galley to make certain the Devil Fruit users were accounted for, before doing the same. Law curiously peered over the side of the ship to watch them, communicating without words, orbiting the shipwright and providing assistance in an intricate dance made more picturesque by the currents of water swirling around their figures.
When they both surfaced after successfully fixing the damage, they immediately began arguing about whether the swordsman truly understood the difference between left and right. They bickered for the next half hour, though their actions betrayed the tone of their voices. Law observed the cook shrug off his jacket and pass it to the swordsman, who seamlessly hung it up, straightening it carefully to make sure it did not dry wrinkled. The cook continued berating the swordsman about confusing cardinal and body relative directions as he took a towel and softly ruffled green hair, wiping gently at an eye permanently closed by a scar. Complaining that the cook needed to work on his sign language, the swordsman knelt to help him remove his shoes, lining them up neatly on the sunniest part of the deck. They continued moving with synchronous harmony, the swordsman guiding the cook to their quarters and both reemerging in comfortable t-shirts and pants, before falling asleep in a tangle of limbs, their dance completed.
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Paso Doble
Paso Doble: double step, represents a bullfight. Movements are sharp and confident, with heads and chests held high.
Like many mornings before it, this morning Law was woken by the sound of steel and splintering wood. He sighed, trying his best to go back to sleep as the swordsman and the cook fought with the ferocity of bulls. Sometimes, they stopped quickly, usually when the navigator’s voice joined the fray. Today, their fight continued, and Law blearily decided to rise and at least get some caffeine.
He paused when he encountered the two early morning duelists on the deck. Frenzied and fanatic looks on their faces as they collided and retreated, clashed and withdrew. At points, the cook was in control, a haki-hardened leg pinning the swordsman against the side of the ship, a smirk on his face as he ground his knee into a solid chest. With the strength of old mountains, the swordsman would push the cook back. At other points, the swordsman had the upper hand, the hamon of a blade shimmering as he held the edge to the cook’s throat, never breaking skin, all feral gnashing teeth. With the elegance of rippling air, the cook would find an impossible path out of the hold. They smiled at each other during these moments when they collected their breaths back into their lungs. Tender as bruises, their mouths curved in a way that made them both seem like boys who had never known violence, play-fighting in front of sandcastles. Then they began again.
This was just another dance they did, more communication without words. Even a stranger like Law could read the subtleties underlining their fights. You are my equal. We make each other stronger. We are two disasters that form a blessing. I love you.
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Slow Dance
Slow Dance: dancing slowly.
Law slept in spurts, an hour snatched here or there from insomnia’s grasp. Tonight, he watched the moon from the upper deck of the Thousand Sunny, situated above the galley. He was thinking about sickness and despair, loss and revenge, when the door to the galley suddenly burst open and the swordsman and the cook emerged.
They were dancing. Really dancing. The cook laughing as the swordsman pulled him across the deck, turning and swirling in dance steps of his own making. Finally, after the cook protested weakly about dizziness, the swordsman slowed down, still holding onto a thin waist and slender fingers like they were lifelines keeping him afloat in a merciless sea.
Law ached at the sight, but couldn’t beg his eyes to stop watching as they swayed to music only they could hear, composed of waves, whispers, winsome strings connecting the two irrevocably.
The swordsman leaned forward to dip the cook, who laughed, trusting him to support his weight as he raised a hand to cradle his partner’s face, a thumb ghosting across a cheek.
So this is joy, Law thought, as he watched them sway. This is what happens when a wildfire meets a hurricane. Negated forces finding peace in each other’s holds in tiny moments like these, before whirling to continue dealing out their destruction.
They had observation haki but were so lost in being together they danced like no one was watching. Law, with a sudden realization that he was not supposed to see this, quietly retreated to the back of the ship, slumping down and gazing at the Sunny’s wake. In an infinite world built and broken by the chaos of the storm at sea, these two found each other, found out they loved each other, found out how to love each other through dances paced fast and slow, switching off as leading partners, but always finding the universe in the space between their fingertips. Law closed his eyes and marveled at twists of fate, as faint snatches of the silent music the swordsman and the cook danced to drifted into the wide world and disappeared in the wind.