3. Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils

STRABISMUS, ALSO KNOWN COLLOQUIALLY AS 'crossed-eyes', was an eye-condition whereby one eye turned in a different direction to the other, and both eyes were focused on different points. This condition, which was usually inherited or an abnormality in the neuromuscular control of the eye's movements, was not something Law particularly suffered from. However, he might as well have, as his eyes stared, nearly cross-eyed, half out of focus, half out of mentally checking out, as the passenger before him fumbled with his luggage.

Thunk!...

...

Thunk!

.

.

Da-thunk!

The sound echoed through the cabin.

A flash of red—, thin, toned legs—a faded yellow straw hat—all of that blocked Law's right peripheral field of view, as the young man before him struggled to shove his overweight and overstuffed carry-on into the small overhead bin. It was like watching a toddler force a square block into a circular hole, except they were repeatedly bashing the block with the abnormal strength of a grown adult, shaking the entire plane as they did so. A flight attendant watched on in horror from the end of the row, and was about to squeeze through the tight space of people in the aisle to save the boy from his own incompetence, before Law let out a long sigh.

He refocused his eyes to clearly witness the foolishness before him as he got up. Straw Hat, who was attempting to shove his horizontally turned carry-on into the narrow space, suddenly paused and craned his head up to greet Law.

"Ah, you're the guy from earlier!" He chuckled, then glanced worriedly at the line of people behind him who were waiting to board the plane. "Sorry old man, but I'll talk to you later; I gotta get this bag into—" he cut off abruptly as a large shadow loomed over his face.

From behind him, Law reached over his head, swiftly heaved the suitcase up, re-oriented it so it was vertical, and it slid into the small space like a glove. He didn't even glance back at the young man as he sat back down, and Straw Hat, who seemed momentarily dazed, returned to his (limited) wits and quickly sat down in the aisle seat across from Law.

Seat numbers 8C and 9D were so perfectly arranged, that all that separated Law from eternal damnation was the steady flow of passengers as they soullessly boarded the plane. You could be flying to the most exciting place on earth, but the boarding process would easily suck away any anticipation you held for your destination. Perhaps if it had been a 2-3 hour flight, but these people would very much be seeing the sun set before they reached their destination.

As varying colors of handbags and backpacks passed by, interspersed by the openly curious looks Straw hat kept giving him, Law very much felt like this mirrored the scene in The Shining, except there was an overhead light flashing as Straw Hat Nicholson's grin appeared and disappeared through the splintered door. In this case, the flashing of people passing by was an apt visual metaphor, and less so was the openly wide grin Luffy cast him, as finally, the last person walked by. Immediately, the man leaned forward and zealously said, "Thanks!"

Law's profile ignored him. It didn't even twitch.

Instead, Law opened the small hand luggage he had carried with him, and took out a book—this month's edition of The Lancet, and he quietly turned to the page he last recalled reading. It was an exposé on the thin line between individual and collective ethics. It mainly gave examples unrelated to day-to-day activities in a hospital, and instead referred to triaging in disaster zones, at war, and most importantly, during infectious disease outbreaks. Law felt that these examples were too rare, and made the reader feel as if this article didn't apply to them, but he still found the core idea provoking.

Lately, a lot of Law's interests in medicine were less so practical, and less so theoretical, to a certain extent. He very much dwelled, more so than he had in the past, on the ethical and philosophical undertones to his profession. While he himself rarely found that he came upon any such quandary, where ethical and moral responsibilities interfered with his ability to do his job, Law began to wonder if it were that no such situation had arisen, or that he simply had not realized when it happened.

In his profession, especially as an ER Physician, they constantly weighed the gravity of every patient's circumstance. They had to quickly triage numerous patients each day, and they only had a number of seconds to do so. Law realized, as time went by, they very much didn't have the energy to weigh too many moral and ethical scruples besides what was rightly due—he knew he hadn't done anything to warrant such intense introspection, after all, Law was confident that every decision he had made on the floor so far was justified, and had no such experience where a patient died or was seriously hurt due to such an adjudication. But Law couldn't help but worry for all that he knew he didn't know.

As he stared intensely at the page—lost in his thoughts, a voice rang from his right. "What's that you're reading, old man? It looks complicated." There was a deliberative hmm, as Law saw the young man craning his neck over the aisle, bending to angle his head low so he could read the cover of the book. "The Lance...huh? Oh! I think I know this one!"

This caught Law's attention. A boy who could barely fit a carry-on into an overhead compartment read medical journals? He raised his eyebrow and glanced at Straw Hat, and he seemed satisfied that Law was finally meeting his eyes. An arm stretched over the aisle. "My name's Luffy!"

Law's cold eyes appraised the hand, and he asked, "How do you know this journal?"

Luffy frowned in confusion, but let his unshaken hand drop. "My friend reads it all the time!" He considered for a second, as a flight attendant walked in between them. "Though they're usually complaining about how the expos….expo-says…? have gotten worse? Whatever that means!"

Law raised a brow, but couldn't help but silently nod. He had a feeling that maybe he would get along with this friend. Wait a minute. Friend? How on Earth was such a person friends with this reprobate who could hardly even read?

Law shook his head, adamant that it was none of his business. He turned back to the article, but another question was asked.

"Do you know if they have food on this thing?"

Law grit his teeth and said without turning. "Once we're at a comfortable cruising altitude, food and refreshments will be served."

Luffy didn't understand. "Cruising what? You say pretty funny stuff sometimes, old man. We're clearly on a plane," he laughed, but gathered enough that Law just used more words than necessary to probably say 'Yes'. What a strange man.

Law quietly read his article, and Luffy fidgeted in his seat, reaching the pinnacle of his boredom right when the Pilot announced that they were going to begin take-off.

Now the young man seemed excited. As he made conversation with the woman next to him and her son—who looked to be about 7 or 8, Law snuck a glance at him, out of a sort of morbid fascination. It was like watching a trainwreck, but being unable to look away. Straw Hat wore knee length cargo shorts, filled with pockets, and a sleeveless red top with a crew-neck cut—the type Law would wear to the gym, except Luffy's was made out of cotton. He very much looked like he was about to go on a quick jog, not sit for 13 hours more than 40,000ft above the ground, in a cold, frigid plane. Law grimly grinned to himself—sooner or later the poor kid would get cold. He just hoped he didn't bother him for a blanket or ask him for help.

As opposed to Straw Hat, Law was reasonably dressed in some comfortable black slacks and a plain grey t-shirt. Over that he wore a comfortable black hoodie, and even in his backpack, he brought a small blanket (Corazon's insistence) in case he got cold.

Another announcement went overhead, and Law intuitively expected this to be an announcement for preparation to take-off, however, what was said instead flustered him.

It seemed to fluster the very man saying it.

"Um- Excuse me passengers, as we'll detour to make a brief stop to board 3 additional passengers-" the intercom clicked unceremoniously, and the plane made slow veers towards the left as outside, airport crew organised to connect yet another boarding tunnel to the entrance of the plane.

Some murmurs erupted amongst the 20 passengers who had been impatiently seated.

'What extra 3 passengers?" one man said, and a woman somewhere to the front was raising her hand to call over a flight attendant. However, the flight crew looked just as confused as everyone else.

Law glanced to his left, finally acknowledging the two other people he was sharing a row with. In seat 8A, was an old woman, about 60, who was calmly looking ahead, observing the passengers and staff as she knitted something in her hands—perhaps it was a self-soothing gesture. To her right, in the middle seat, was a young lady, perhaps 24, Law guessed, whose eyes flitted to him the minute he glanced at her, having felt his gaze. Law looked away, feigning disinterest, as he too looked ahead at the flight attendant who was walking towards her coworker. She had dark brown hair in a ponytail, and she was quite taller than the average woman. Law guessed she must have been somewhere around 5'11 or 6' with the heels on.

"What's going on?" she hissed to her coworker, and Law couldn't read the lips of the other party's response, as his back was turned. They glanced at the passengers, and disappeared behind the small nook between the cockpit and the main body of the plane. Every now and then gesticulation could be seen, as they waved their hands around frantically, but still their faces were obscured. Even if they weren't, Law was certain confusion, panic, and indignance marred their features.

Outside the window, the passage to the plane had already been arranged, and Law caught a glimpse of 3 figures and 2 airport personnel walking towards the front of the plane.

Mildly curious as to a certain person's reaction to all this, Law glanced to his right at the young man with a straw hat. "Really? You're from Panama?" came Straw Hat's infectious laugh, "I'm actually from Brazil! But I left when I was younger so I don't remember much besides falling and scraping my knee a lot!" The older woman next to him laughed, and the young boy replied equally as animatedly. Again, Law felt a pang of jealousy, or perhaps a more apt word was revulsion. He felt fraudulent just looking at them.

Soon, the door to the plane opened, and a head barely emerged above the rows of seats. It was a rotund man, with black, bowl-cut hair, and stubble splattered across his chin. Law didn't dwell any further on trying to make out their features, he only glanced out the window to see that the plane had started moving. He ignored the curious glance of the woman next to him. She seemed unabashed in her staring at his profile, and Law met her gaze with the flick of his eyes.

She smiled and outstretched her hand. Her voice didn't sound like a young woman's at all. It sounded very sultry—very mature. "Shakky," she said, and Law dropped his magazine in his lap and shook her hand. "...Trafalgar Law."

Glancing back ahead, she observed the other 2 passengers who came into view, and her eyes glinted with amusement. "This is your first visit?" she asked, and Law paused, glancing curiously at her. What could she possibly mean by first, as if you were allowed more than one visit to Poneiro Island. Law clearly recalled seeing on the Tourism Department's website that only 1 visit was allowed per person, with rare exceptions. He refocused his gaze on her. "This certainly isn't theirs," she hummed, gesturing with her eyes to the three figures at the front of the plane.

Finally in full view, Law observed the new passengers. They stunk of wealth. The first man, rotund and stout, had inky black hair, clearly dyed pitch black to hide the telling greys. His nose dripped with snot, as if eternally afflicted with a cold, and though he looked well into his forties, the man's general posture and disposition heavily resembled that of a spoilt, snot-nosed brat.

Next to him was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with thin, platinum blonde hair and white go-go boots. Behind them, hunched, was a towering man, who tried his best to seem small despite his height. He cowered and tucked his head down, hands behind his back, as he avoided the openly curious gazes of the passengers. The short man walked towards the first row on the right, stared at the person in seat 1D, and like clockwork, the tall female flight attendant from earlier rushed forward and asked the passengers to give up their seats.

"I'm sorry, those in rows D,E and F, please move back one ro—" she broke off, glanced behind her at the little nook she had left her coworker in, and soon, a formal announcement was said over the intercoms.

"Pardon the announcement; all of those in seats D,E or F, please move back by 1 row. I repeat, all passengers in Seats D,E, or F, please move back by a row—"

The man at the front of the plane, sniffling his mucus, but unashamed in how undignified he looked, then turned to look at the row to the left of the plane. And immediately, an amendment was made. "I'm sorry, all passengers, please move back by 1 row. I repeat, all passengers."

Shakky let out a derisive laugh, and reached underneath the seat in front of her to grab her bag. Wordlessly, she glanced at Law for him to get up and move.

To Law's right, finally the young man looked up from his animated discussion with the little boy, and peered at the front, his brows furrowed in perplexion. "What are we getting up for?"

Law's gaze lingered on the man at the front—somehow, he seemed familiar, but he couldn't place from where he knew him. Considering his landmark facial feature of a perpetual trail of snot, Law found it unfathomable that he couldn't place his face. Suddenly his hoodie was tugged.

"Hey old guy! What are we moving for?"

Law tsked and scowled at the younger man. He grinned widely, knowing very well what he did.

"Just get up and move," Law retorted. He attempted to yank his hoodie out of the man's grip, and when it didn't budge, he firmly ripped his arm away, and was surprised with what extra force he had to apply to do so.

Soon, all of the passengers had successfully relocated one row backwards. The plane had more than enough room of course, with a vacant 10 or so rows stretching behind them. Once the 3 new guests were seated, despite the silent mumblings and complaints of the passengers, the pilot announced they were going to prepare for take-off.

"Charlos," Shakky said from beside Law, finally speaking after they had been seated. "The walking mucus membrane over there," she said, without even needing to indicate to whom she was referring. Law soon understood.

"This isn't your first trip to Poneiro."

The corner of her lip curled minutely, but Law saw the slight change regardless. "You're rather perceptive. I live there."

This confounded him. If she was a returning resident, wasn't she then taking the spot of a possible visitor?

Shakky reached across Law's lap, grabbed The Lancet, and began flipping through the pages. At the front of the Cabin, the flight attendants were giving the pre-flight safety briefing. She spoke a bit lower, in an attempt not to disturb other who were listening to the demo carefully.

Her next words seemed to have read his mind. "In each flight there are 20 passengers, but there is no specification if they are visitors or residents. Residents get first priority, and then visitor slots are determined after that." She stopped on a page with an advertisement for a pharmacy, before flipping past it again. "You might think this Island's admission is something left to chance, but its selection process is far more gruelling…" At her words, Law looked around him, and finally observed the other selected individuals around him. Old and young, each with their own distinct features—and not one person seated close to the other seemed to be of the same ethnicity.

"Have you heard the story of Poncia of Poneiro Island'?"

Law replied that he had not. He saw a link to it on the website, but didn't care enough to click it.

Unsurprised, Shakky revealed that it was a story readily available on the web if you looked hard enough, but the true telling was one passed down orally amongst locals as a bedtime story to children. "Once, there was a woman known as Poncia. She was born to the Goddess of Fire as her mother, and her mortal father was the chief of a small island, held up on the backs of water-averse semi-devils and demi-gods. Despite being one herself, she loved to sail the seas, and explored the ocean on her father's small, makeshift boat. On that small craft, it is said that she discovered numerous island chains in the south east pacific. For every island that she especially loved, she erected a mountain, and channelled magma through it, in dedication to her mother." At the sudden end to the speaking in the background, Law realized that the briefing was over. Now, the flight attendants could no longer be seen standing. The plane began to move a bit faster.

"One day, however, her boat capsized in the midst of a violent tempest. Born to the personification of fire, Poncia would grow weak in water, but she could not die, sink, or be extinguished. She drifted to Poneiro on a spare piece of wood, but the island was completely dry. All around it lay hundreds of peaks and valleys, numerous mountains, each with a crater at its crown. But, no magma lay beneath it, and despite the raging storm, all the water seemed to seep from the island and back into the ocean. All the islands to whom Poncia had blessed with life, had stolen it from Poneiro. Now, all that remained was a barren, fruitless shell." Shakky glanced meaningfully at Law. "Online, the story ends with Poncia meeting an island native, falling in love, and the passion of their love ignites the numerous dormant volcanoes around the island, heats the soil anew, and life is reborn."

Shakky's smile was dry. "However, what it doesn't include, is the fact that Poncia knew full well what her offerings to her mother did, and she knew exactly where Poneiro was."

Gradually, Law could feel his body being pressed into the back of his seat as the plane began to accelerate down the runway. Despite his skepticism, he remained quiet and listened.

"Revered as a goddess, Poncia soon relocated numerous demi-gods and semi-devils to her island, Poneiro, now built on the back of mortals. Her husband became afflicted with blindness, and soon passed away, and the numerous visitors soon exhausted the island's people and its wildlife. In a final appeal, her father visited her one day in her throne room, trying to reason with her. She tossed him out to sea on a piece of driftwood, and when the tempest came, the sea swallowed him whole, then sputtered him out on his island, which had now become dry and indistinguishable."

Law was silent, barely noticing that the plane was slowly tilting upwards. His shoulders dug into the back of his seat, he had to use considerable effort to glance at Shakky.

"That was an awful story."

She laughed. "The ending isn't quite as climactic as you would have thought, isn't it?"

Law snatched The Lancet back from her, and placed it in the small pouch attached to the seat in front of him. "Is that the romantic story behind why Poneiro Island is such a perfect spot for finding love?"

Shakky raised her brow. "Why do you seem disappointed?"

bU-DuMp!

There was a slight bump, as the plane made its final thrust upwards, and its wheels finally retracted as it soared up into the sky. Across the aisle, there was an unabashed "WOWWW!!"

Law didn't need to turn his head to know it was Straw Hat. He ignored him and looked at Shakky. "The website conveniently leaves this out. The romantic story at the center of their marketing is actually about a petty power struggle between a father and daughter."

Shakky smiled, amused. "Is that what you see it as?"

"Ah?" Law muttered, raising his brow in a challenge. "Then what is the point of this bedtime story?"

The woman glanced past him, up at the front, to the 3 empty seats, and 3 occupied ones, being comfortably warmed by the snot-nosed beach ball and his 2 shadows.

"Aren't you curious about whether or not Poncia was ever overthrown?"

Law hadn't been the least bit curious about this, it just so happened. His lack of a reply spurned Shakky on further. Looking straight ahead, she enunciated clearly. "Right up there, are your demi-gods," then she pointed a finger between the two of them, "and here, we have our semi-devils."

'

'

'

Interspersed by minor turbulence, was the numerous headaches that plagued Law's brain—the perpetrator being the mind-numbingly boring conversations he overheard to the right of him.

Despite the numerous banal discussions that lulled the cabin, Law continued to repeatedly single out the young man's voice. Maybe it was the way he spoke with such clarity, or the way the pure frankness of his voice cut through all the pleasantries and pretenses of all the other garbled speaking around him.

"My husband was the one who applied in the first place, he really wanted to go too," the woman in the window seat said across the little boy to Luffy. Her voice had a Spanish lilt to it. If Law recalled correctly, she was originally from Panama. "But he is a firefighter; he could not make it."

Luffy seemed completely oblivious to her despondency. Tactlessly, he blurted out, "That's stupid! If he wanted to go, he should just go!"

Law felt his blood pressure rise.

The woman, on the other hand, laughed good-naturedly. The little boy who sat in between them huffed in annoyance. "Not everyone's unemployed like you, Luffy!"

Luffy sounded chagrined. "I'm not just sitting around doing nothing! I'm a film student!"

At this, the pangs in Law's head momentarily stopped. At once, an image appeared before him, the lanky youth sitting in a large University classroom—suddenly he had astigmatism because he was wearing a pair of prescription glasses. His roguish gym-wear turned into a warm sweater and he had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. The thought disappeared just as quickly as it appeared—the very imagery was so contradictory, it could hardly stabilise itself long enough to exist even in an imaginary space.

Curiously, Law's gaze flickered sidelong, before focusing back on the movie on the screen before him. The audio was as close as it could get to zero, and the brightness was one tap away from pitch black. Shakky glanced at the sight with mild amusement.

"Film!?" The little boy sounded ecstatic. "Do you know Narvel? Or BC? You make movies like that?"

Luffy's manner of speaking matched the child's as he said, "Nah, but those movies are really cool! Hey, have you seen Piederman?"

Law couldn't help the pft that left his lips. He shifted subconsciously and adjusted his prop earphones.

He wasn't the only one that laughed. The little boy's laughter cut through the muffled sounds of the plane like a knife. "It's Spiderman, not Pieder—"more breathless laughing.

Luffy ignored the blatant mockery, sounding nothing short of aggrieved as he pouted moodily and attempted to defend himself, "You don't get it! If Usopp was here he'd explain to you, I can't bother going over why that's his name. It makes sense!—" Unconvinced, or perhaps completely unaware of the explanation, the little boy continued to gasp for air as he clutched his stomach. "...Man, Usopp should have been on this flight…" he muttered, speaking to himself, as his eyes erred to his left. Then remembering his brief run-in with the taller man, Luffy leaned across the aisle once more.

"Hey o—"

"I'm not old," Law cut in.

Luffy seemed surprised that he replied so quickly, then his eyes squinted as he smiled. "Hehe, you sure act it though, old man! Haha!"

Law grit his teeth, and his earlier relaxed posture became rigid. "How old are you, to be addressing me like that," he argued, and Luffy, seemingly happy that the man was asking him a question for once, answered cheekily.

"Well, I'm in my sophomore year of uni—though, I really wanna drop out..."

Law couldn't understand why the young man didn't just reply with a number. "That doesn't answer my question."

He leaned even further across the aisle, and wide, dark eyes peered up at him—they were blindingly frank—too frank, so Law couldn't help but lean back and look away. Luffy's eyes peered at the dark, indiscernible screen of Law's supposed movie.

"I thought you were watching a movie?" he said, grinning. "Maybe you need glasses with how dark this is!"

The older man couldn't help but feel slightly panicked, perhaps for being caught in a lie—then he sombrely realized that the young man most likely hadn't even the faintest idea that Law had been eavesdropping the entire time. Now he really felt criminal. A drop of sweat trickled past Law's deep-set, worried brows, as he replied with more annoyance than needed, "I don't like bright lights," then by the slim chance that the boy was any level of keen, he added, "I don't like loud sounds either."

Luffy laughed loudly, louder than before, and ignored the many glances shot his way. "What a coincidence!" he boomed, "I like them too!"