[ the more cora speaks, the worse law feels. he hadn't even thought it'd be possible, to feel even more like a failure, but when cora speaks of a real chance at life and following his own dreams... ]
Damn it, [ law mutters, his breath hitching dangerously until he swallows down the urge to cry again. sengoku had been right. all cora had wanted for him was to live. instead —
well, he had lived, so at least there's that. and he had followed his dream; only, it hadn't been anything cora would have wanted for him. ]
... you gave me a life and a heart, [ he says quietly, having admitted as much to sengoku so it's only with slight difficulty that he gets the words out here, ] I owe you everything for that. That's why...
[ no, he can't tell him about how everything he'd ever done in life for the past thirteen years was for his sake. better if cora thinks it was just for revenge that he went after doflamingo and the family. if there's even the slightest chance of cora feeling guilty because law went and decided to dedicate his entire life to his memory and legacy, then it's better he say nothing at all about it.
it's funny, how many things it seems he can't say anything about: the way he'd decided to live his life, or the way he'd decided to give it up at dressrosa if he needed — his plans were always succeed or die, or succeed and die, as he'd calculated the chances of him making it out alive and they'd come up close to zero. but it had been something he'd been willing to do... and when he'd made it out against all odds, how long had he lived? hah, cora would be upset about that, too. that instead of deciding to live his life freely, he'd gone on to help liberate another country, consciously and willingly angering one of the yonko.
no, best he not speak much of his death, either.
so what the hell does that leave, then?
a memory flashes in his mind, one he's relived over and over and over again, both asleep and awake — a treasure chest, the lid closing, his voice gone. unable to say —
no. no. never again. if this is all a dream, or a figment of his imagination, or something that'll disappear on him soon... whatever it is, reality or not, law won't have regrets. not anymore. this might be the only chance he has. ] You didn't wait, either.
[ for what? well. he draws a breath, and though his voice is barely more than a whisper, it's there nonetheless: ] ... I love you too, Cora-san.
well this was a rollercoaster and a half
Damn it, [ law mutters, his breath hitching dangerously until he swallows down the urge to cry again. sengoku had been right. all cora had wanted for him was to live. instead —
well, he had lived, so at least there's that. and he had followed his dream; only, it hadn't been anything cora would have wanted for him. ]
... you gave me a life and a heart, [ he says quietly, having admitted as much to sengoku so it's only with slight difficulty that he gets the words out here, ] I owe you everything for that. That's why...
[ no, he can't tell him about how everything he'd ever done in life for the past thirteen years was for his sake. better if cora thinks it was just for revenge that he went after doflamingo and the family. if there's even the slightest chance of cora feeling guilty because law went and decided to dedicate his entire life to his memory and legacy, then it's better he say nothing at all about it.
it's funny, how many things it seems he can't say anything about: the way he'd decided to live his life, or the way he'd decided to give it up at dressrosa if he needed — his plans were always succeed or die, or succeed and die, as he'd calculated the chances of him making it out alive and they'd come up close to zero. but it had been something he'd been willing to do... and when he'd made it out against all odds, how long had he lived? hah, cora would be upset about that, too. that instead of deciding to live his life freely, he'd gone on to help liberate another country, consciously and willingly angering one of the yonko.
no, best he not speak much of his death, either.
so what the hell does that leave, then?
a memory flashes in his mind, one he's relived over and over and over again, both asleep and awake — a treasure chest, the lid closing, his voice gone. unable to say —
no. no. never again. if this is all a dream, or a figment of his imagination, or something that'll disappear on him soon... whatever it is, reality or not, law won't have regrets. not anymore. this might be the only chance he has. ] You didn't wait, either.
[ for what? well. he draws a breath, and though his voice is barely more than a whisper, it's there nonetheless: ] ... I love you too, Cora-san.