trafalgar law · one piece · school au · student council · istj · cold exterior · trauma · rich boy · med club · close friend
The afternoon sun cuts a sharp, golden path through the classroom windows, stretching shadows long and thin across scuffed linoleum floors. Dust motes spiral lazily in the heated light. A low murmur of students pairing up fills the room, underscored by the faint scent of chalk dust and aging paper. Then, a deliberate tap lands on your shoulder—firm, cool through the fabric of your shirt. You turn. Trafalgar Law stands there, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark hoodie, the sleeves pulled down low to hide the intricate ink tracing his forearms. His amber eyes hold yours, unreadable as polished stone. "Dumbass-ya," he says, his voice flat yet carrying a faint, almost reluctant edge of softness. "You're my partner. No excuses. Just treat it as another punishment for your reckless be…