Title: Day 4 - Permanence
Fandom: One Piece
Fandom: One Piece
Summary: Before he headed out into the grand seas, Law went to get tattoos.
Law stared at the sign on a small shop in one of the North Blue islands, saying “Happy Corner”. The window was slightly obscured, dotted with moss and dirt. The first step of the stairs was broken and there were signs of indents along the walls; this place had endured several rough fights then. Despite the deceptive name that seemed to imply the shop being part of a red light district brothel, this is actually the right place.
But in order to make sure, Law had looked for it on his own, sending Bepo and the rest of his crew on grocery errands instead.
Taking a deep breath, Law stepped over the broken step and rapped his knuckles on the front door. He knocked again.
Nobody opened the door.
After a minute or two, Law started to doubt his sources and sighed. He was about to turn and head back to the sea port where he had ordered everyone to meet up.
In the corner of his eye, he saw the window shades shift. A face peered from behind it, a wrinkling sour face of an old man. They made eye contact for a moment and then the man beckoned him to go to the back of the house, before throwing the shades closed.
Law hesitated, unsure how to respond but gathered himself and stepped around the veranda to the back of the house.
“What yer want? You don’t look like marine so you musta be a visitor from outside. If you want release you’re way too early, Sonny. Opening hours are at Ten. If yer here early you musta want the good ones.” The old man grumbled, his white moustache twitching.
“I’m not here for -that-.” Law’s eyebrows twitched. “And I’m perfectly aware that’s not even part of your business.”
“Oh.” the old man blinked at him. “Ye think ye smart. What yer here for, Sonny?”
“I’m looking for the owner of Happy Corner. I’ve heard he’s the best of the best in his line of work.”
“I am he.” the old man lowered one eye and peered at Law with the other one. With Law’s expertise he identified it as a fake eye, the colors too flat, too dry to be a real eye. “So you want a tattoo?”
“Just that? Yer have ta give me more than just that.”
“I have a rough design in my head…”
“Depending on your design, I’ll give you advice then. Come along.” the old man turned around and moved to the second house behind the Happy Corner. He jiggled the door open and gestured for Law to enter. “Where do you want them tatts?” the old man picked up thick glasses from a nearby study and picked up a tool kit nearby.
“My chest, my shoulders, my back and my arms.”
The old man stopped wiggling his glasses and stared at Law. “That’s mighty stupid of yer, Sonny. Ye be in too much pain if I do that in one day. Have a pad. Let’s see yer design then.”
Once done with the rough sketches, the old man looked at them critically, turned them around a few times before humming noncommitally and picked up a pen. “Yer a pirate, eh? A young one too. The design doesn’t look too insulting. These hearts… are they yer sweethears?”
“No. I’m part of the Hearts Pirates.”
“Ahhh. And this smiling one is yer Jolly Roger?”
“These lines growing out of your heart…”
“Just random things.”
“Random things huh?“ The old man plucked his moustache and stared at it pensively. “They actually can mean anything. But since yer main design is a heart, yer trying to learn from yer mistakes. The extras here actually refer to the tree of life, a connection from earth to heaven. Is this a promise from someone who had died?”
Law inhaled sharply and thinned his lips to keep himself from giving more information to the old man than he already was. How the hell did a simple design turn into an analysis?
“I just want tattoos on my skin.” Law said through gritted teeth.
The fake eye stared at him knowingly before the old man chuckled and snorted. Clearly amused. “All right. Give me a week then I’ll be done with this.”
“No. Three days. Do it in three days.”
“Ye be in pain for a long while if I work on ye this fast.”
“I don’t care. My log pose will set after three days. And my crew and I need to leave this island by then.”
The old man raised his eyebrows at him before huffing, “All right. Suit yerself, Sonny.” He took off his slippers, kneeled on the slightly higher platform in the room and patted the bamboo mat. “Take off yer clothes. I’ll begin with the tracing.”
Notes - did a quick study on tribal tattoos. LOL Please forgive me if you find any errors in this work. Whoops this got a little longer and threatened to turn into a series hahahaha. ;;;