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Ace had always been different from other people.
In Luffy’s mind, Ace was this infallible figure – always so far ahead of him. Luffy’s childhood was spent scrambling after him just to keep him in his line of sight.
“People die,” Luffy had told Nefertari Vivi in the deserts of a country hurtling towards self-destruction. “People die,” he’d said, and he’d been thinking about another older brother from ten years ago with blond hair and a chipped tooth. “People die,” said Luffy, because Sabo had died, lost to the flames and the sea.
People die.
Ace was different.
Ace was a promise to his little brother, life sworn in the face of their grief. “I promise,” Ace had told him, and Luffy had believed him.
Ace wouldn’t die, couldn’t die. He was different. He was a promise. He had promised.
Luffy kneeled, hands and shirt covered in Ace’s blood, and despair like he’d never known washed over him. A terrible sound ripped itself free from his throat. Black clouded his vision, and he fled into the relief of unconsciousness.
Luffy woke Ace up at sunrise, shaking his shoulder until Ace growled and shoved him away.
“What the hell do you want?” Ace’s breath puffed into clouds in the cold air. He shivered and drew his blanket closer to him.
“Look!” said Luffy, pointing out the window of their treehouse. “It’s snowing!”
Ace looked outside. He watched as tufts of white drifted downwards. Some made it into their treehouse, blanketing the wooden floor near the entrance and the windows.
“Aren’t you cold?” Ace asked Luffy, raising an eyebrow at Luffy’s outfit of shorts and a T-shirt.
Luffy looked down, realized what he was wearing, and yelped.
“Ah! I’m cold!”
He scampered to Ace’s side and shoved his way under Ace’s blanket. Luffy’s cold fingers pressed against his skin. Ace complained about it, but he also wrapped an arm around Luffy’s shoulders to draw him closer to his side.
They’d need to ask Makino for winter clothes later, but for now they were content to remain like this, huddled under a blanket and sharing warmth.
Luffy chattered about the snowman he wanted to build and wondered aloud if the lake would freeze over enough so they could try ice skating this year. Ace just let Luffy’s voice wash over him, eyes watching the sunrise and the snow.
Luffy’s eyes fluttered open. The last remnants of the dream memory were chased away as he stared into the crackling fire. Somewhere to his left, Rayleigh and Jimbei were conversing in low tones, smoothing over the details of their plan.
An uncomfortable lump was sitting in the back of his throat. He kind of wanted to cry, but he also really didn’t, because he had promised himself that he wouldn’t until he could see his friends again.
His bladder made him aware of a more urgent need than tears, so he sat up and stretched before getting to his feet.
Rayleigh and Jimbei paused their conversation to watch him.
“Gotta pee,” he informed them, rubbing his eyes to make sure he really wasn’t crying, before marching past them and into the trees.
When Luffy was seven years old and Sabo was still around, the two of them would play a game together. Sabo would point out something he could see in the area with a short description, and Luffy had to guess what it was. The game never lasted more than a few rounds before Luffy got bored or distracted, but they played it often enough that it became somewhat of a regular thing.
The last time they had played, it’d been a few days before Sabo’s father had come after him. The three of them had been sitting in the treehouse. Ace had been fussing with his pipe. He never played the game with them. He’d always insisted that it was stupid.
Sabo had been deviously smart in all the ways that Ace and Luffy weren’t, so he’d managed to find ways to include him anyway.
“I see… something that I love!”
Luffy had laughed and clapped his hands together.
“Ace!”
Ace’s face had turned brilliant shade of red. He had chased them out the treehouse, yelling and waving his pipe.
When Luffy was seven years old and Sabo was still around, his older brothers had balanced each other out. Ace was harsh, but he motivated Luffy in a way that no one else could. Sabo had always been there to smooth out Ace’s cruel edges, to indulge Luffy as only a doting older sibling could, to press bandages to scraped knees and brush his hair away from his face when he felt feverish and sick.
When Luffy was eight years old and Sabo was gone, he and Ace clashed terribly. They fought and yelled and wrestled. Ace would storm away, leaving Luffy littered with scratches with no one to cover them in bandages.
This went on until they adjusted around the gaping hole of Sabo’s absence. They learned to do for each other what Sabo did for them, until it was Luffy who was lending an ear to Ace’s troubles late at night, and it was Ace who was pressing a hand to Luffy’s forehead to check for a fever.
Lying in the grass at Rusukaina, body aching all over from training, Luffy tried to play the game now.
It didn’t work by himself, he realized, because when he found the objects himself, there was no need to guess.
Of the three of them, he was the last one left. He no longer had older brothers to play games with or to fight with. Ace was no longer ahead of him, because Ace just wasn’t there anymore. Sabo had been gone for a long time. His older brothers were gone, and it hurt. Ace’s loss was still a fresh wound. Sabo’s ached on rainy days like an old scar.
Luffy didn’t have older brothers to take care of him anymore, but that was okay. It hurt, but he would be fine. His eighteenth birthday had come and gone a few days ago. He trained and trained and trained. He was getting stronger with each punch that he threw. He’d get strong enough to take care of his crew, and in turn he knew they were getting stronger to take care of him too.
One day, Luffy would step onto the beaches of Raftel. His crew – no, his family – would stand behind him as he conquered the last island on the Grand Line.
He’d make his brothers proud.
Luffy’s feet hit the deck of their ship of dreams, and he knew that he’d found his way home again.
Two years was a long time to be alone.
It was worth it.
They were sinking now, falling deeper and deeper beneath the ocean’s surface, making their way towards Fishman Island. Luffy watched his crew in the sunlight broken into pieces by the waves and the currents of the sea. Gratitude warmed him from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes.
He leaned back against Zoro who was standing behind him – always behind him – and Zoro’s hands went to his shoulders to steady him as Luffy threw his arms out to the side and addressed his crew.
“I’m home,” he said, the biggest grin he could possibly muster on his face.
Usopp and Chopper reached him first, bawling as they barreled into his chest. Zoro kept them from toppling over. Nami grabbed onto his arm, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he could feel her tears wet against his skin. Sanji pushed Zoro (“Oi! Stop shoving!”) to the side to throw an arm around his shoulders. Robin and Brook each got a hand in his hair, ruffling it until it was more of a mess than it usually was – Robin’s nails scratched against his scalp, and Brook’s bony joints got caught in the dark locks. Then there was Franky, wrapping them all up in his oversized arms and lifting them into an overenthusiastic hug. Usopp yelped as his feet left the ground. Luffy laughed, loud and joyful.
“I love you all so much!” Franky declared, sobbing ugly and gross all over them.
“Hey!” Zoro complained. “Let go of me!”
Sanji scoffed. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Huh? What’d you say?”
“Could you two shut up!?” Nami snapped.
It went unheard over the sound of their squabbling.
Robin laughed lightly. “Oh let them be. They missed each other.”
Nami sighed, Usopp and Chopper were still crying into the fabric of Luffy’s shirt, and Brook was cheerfully humming Bink’s Sake.
Yeah. This was home.