Archive of Our Own

“Even if you're not next to me

Even if I wake up from a long, long dream

I'll still be singing for you today

Every time I gather up the overflowing words

Memories become darker and more colorful,

as if they're sinking into my eyes

If you were crying, I wish I could cry too

I just want you to leave half of your heart with me

If this is already a dream, I wish I were a bird

Because then I could fly to you”

Someone is crying.

His eyelids are heavy, but he manages to open his eyes, slowly. He doesn’t recognize where he is.

A metal ceiling, the beeping of machines; a sword taking vigil by his side.

Saltwater fills his mouth. For a moment, he thinks he’s drowning — until he notices he’s tasting his own tears.

Even through his blurry vision, he captures a movement near his bedside, and he reaches out, rubbery and wounded fingers wrapping around a slim wrist.

“Don’t… go,” he rasps, voice raw and muffled by the oxygen mask. He’s talking to that person by his side now, but the image of his brother burns in the back of his mind, overlapping with everything — so he asks, his voice small like a child’s, as more tears spill down his cheeks, “don’t… leave me alone.”

That person isn’t his brother, and it hurts.

But that person stays. And holds his hand back, and doesn’t go, and doesn’t leave.

Somehow, it’s almost like that person understands.

“I’m here.” A squeeze to his hand. “I won’t let you die, Straw Hat-ya. You have to live.”

-

Someone is crying.

His eyelids are heavy. Slowly, he opens his eyes. A hand rests over his chest.

Little by little, Torao’s face comes into focus. And yet, Luffy’s not sure he has woken up — because he always dreams of Torao, and always drags Torao into his dreams. Sometimes, even when he is awake, it’s hard to tell the difference: he watches Torao’s profile as they lean on Sunny’s figurehead, steady and strong by his side, or he stares at Torao on the bed, breathless and beautiful, and Luffy’s sure he’s dreaming awake.

Now, he reaches out. To touch Torao’s face, make sure he is real.

I thought I would never see you again, Luffy thinks, but he doesn’t know why.

“Why…” his voice is hoarse, rasping his throat, “…Why are you crying, Torao?”

Torao shakes his head, covers Luffy’s hand with his own. His grip is strangely weak. He presses a kiss to Luffy’s palm.

“Just… a nightmare,” Torao says, in a low voice, smiling at him, drawling the words in his mouth. “But… it’s over now.”

Something’s wrong, Luffy’s instincts tell him. Then, he notices, Bepo by Torao right’s side, crying silently, looking at his paws. Zoro is by Torao’s other side, not looking at him and Torao, biting his lower lip, hands clenched in tight fists. Chopper, next to Luffy, lets out loud sobs. Others are there too, his and Torao’s nakama, close to them. Weeping.

Luffy sits with ease, his body lighter than it has ever been, like it shouldn’t be, not so soon, not after the fight he had been at Laugh Tale.

“Guys… Torao… why—”

A hand cups his cheek. Torao brings their lips together in a kiss. He tastes the saltwater of Torao’s tears in his mouth.

“I’m not sorry,” Torao whispers when he pulls away. Slowly, he traces the scar below Luffy’s eye with his thumb. “But I hope… you can forgive me.”

Torao smiles.

“I… love you… Luffy-ya.”

He falls into Luffy’s arms.

-

“What was that?”

Torao doesn’t look up from the checklist in his hands, as he goes through the medicines in the infirmary of his ship. He answers the question with another, distracted, “What was what?”

From the sick bay, Luffy sways his legs and says, “That song. I heard you sing it sometimes. But it isn’t Grand. It looks like… Northern? No, but it’s different from that too.” Luffy hums the melody. “See? That one, Torao.”

Putting down a bottle of medicine, Torao takes a deep breath, his back still turned to Luffy. “…I didn’t notice I was singing.”

“You have a nice voice, Torao! I like it. And I don’t understand the lyrics, but the song is pretty, too.”

For a minute, Torao stays still as a statue, in silence. Then, “…It’s a lullaby. From where I came from. It was…” He swallows. “It was my sister’s favorite song.”

Luffy frowns at Torao’s back.

Stretching his hands, Luffy wraps his limbs around Torao, dragging him next to the infirmary bed. Torao gasps and curses, as he is manhandled to the spot in front of Luffy. Rubber arms snap back, but he holds Torao by the shoulders and, for good measure, he wraps his legs around Torao, too.

“Luffy-ya!“ Torao snaps, surprised and scowling, “What the—”

“Hum!” Luffy smiles, nodding. “Finally you’re looking at me, Torao. A grumpy face suits you, but not a sad face, shishishi!”

At that, Torao’s expression crumples in an instant. He buries his head on Luffy’s shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re a handful,” Torao groans against his shoulder, and Luffy laughs, snaking an arm on Torao’s back and pressing him deeply into the embrace.

He pats Torao on the back, in the same way Ace used to do when they were kids and Sabo’s absence was too overwhelming. Clinging to Ace, and those rhythmical pats on his back, was the only thing that managed to comfort Luffy on those days.

He feels Torao relaxing in his arms, breathing easier. Resting his chin on the other captain’s shoulder, he asks, “Ne, Torao... Won’t you teach me your language?”

Torao stills in the hug. He draws back, just enough to meet Luffy’s gaze.

“It’s a dead language, Luffy-ya,” Torao says, his face and voice blank, in that tone Torao uses when he pretends that he isn’t hurt. “Nobody speaks it anymore.”

“You do, though,” Luffy says, gently, tugging at his hand. And with a grin, trying to make Torao smile, “It can be our super secret code.”

Torao snorts, but he rests his forehead against Luffy. He closes his eyes, as if trying to hold back his tears. Luffy’s heart aches at the sight, and he presses small kisses to Torao’s eyelids, before pressing their foreheads together again.

“Help me with Eastern, then,” Torao mutters at last, his voice slightly hoarse. “It’s always useful to know one more language.”

“It’s a deal, Torao,” Luffy agrees, sealing it with a quick peck to his boyfriend’s mouth. “We could begin with that song, what do you think? I’ve always wanted to know what it means, shishishi!”

Torao slides his head from touching Luffy’s forehead to rest it on his shoulder again, arms around his back. For a while, he stays silent and Luffy thinks that maybe they will do this later, but Torao begins, in a low tone, a bit hesitant at first, “Sing, nightingale, sing… you, who have a cheerful heart.”

The melody is familiar to Luffy, but this time, the words are in Grand, and he can finally understand the meaning behind the lyrics. Torao’s voice trembles a little from emotion, but somehow it doesn’t go out of tune, the sound remaining clear; his voice is beautiful. “You have the heart to laugh; I have the heart to cry.”

The voice brushes his ear now, “I have loved you for a long time.” A nuzzle to his cheek, “I will never forget you.”

The song and Torao’s voice enter Luffy’s ears, spread through his whole body, filling his being completely. It’s a gift, what Torao is sharing with him at this moment. And being a pirate, Luffy recognizes a treasure when he sees it.

“It’s beautiful, Torao,” Luffy says. He holds the song close to his ears and heart, and holds Torao tightly in his arms. “How do I say it? In your language?”

“It’s Flevish,” Torao tells him. And his mouth lets out curling, pointed yet warm words, slowly so Luffy can follow his voice.

Luffy tries to repeat the words, but he knows he has probably butchered the sounds, and his accent is all wrong — and yet, Torao chuckles, arms curling even more around Luffy, pressing his mouth to Luffy’s shoulder, and he whispers, “That’s it. You’ve got it.”

The language lessons begin like this. Weeks and months pass, and they exchange Flevish and Eastern whenever they meet, or through den-den mushi calls. It’s also strange, and wonderful, to hear Torao speak in the language Luffy has known since he was a kid.

And it’s funny, too.

The first thing Luffy teaches Torao in Eastern is also a song. He doesn’t tell the meaning of the lyrics at first, saying the words in Eastern, and making Torao repeat them. He sniggers and giggles all the way through the lesson, so by the time they reach the middle of the song, Torao is raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him, clearly suspicious of Luffy. And Luffy can’t hold in anymore; he sort of collapses to the ground, rolling on his back, clutching his sides, laughing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Torao asks dryly, “So, will you tell me what you really made me say?”

And Luffy tells him that it’s a song he came up with while on Skypiea, his masterpiece, the Moron Song, and he translates part of the lyrics into Grand, the islands in the south are warm, heads all a swoon-swoon, buncha fools, and so on — but he tells that to Torao with difficult to breathe, in between laughs and wheezes, and how Torao manages to understand anything at all that Luffy’s saying in that state, well, there is only one explanation for that: Torao is smart.

It's not so much that the lyrics are funny (though they are; Luffy is the one who made them up, after all), but it’s the combination of the lyrics’ silliness and Torao’s seriousness that has Luffy tearing up.

By the end of Luffy’s butchered-by-guffaws-phrases, Torao rolls his eyes at him and says, in a flat tone, “Really,” which only makes Luffy laugh harder.

Tired of waiting for Luffy’s laugh attack to taper off, Torao straddles his hips, taking Luffy’s wrists in his hands and pinning them to the ground, hovering over Luffy. Torao is holding back his own laughter, Luffy can see it in the corner of Torao’s mouth, in the glint of the golden eyes, and warmth spreads through all Luffy’s body — and maybe he will turn into a puddle of laughter and warmth under Torao’s gaze and touch, just like this, and this wouldn’t be bad, it wouldn’t be bad at all.

“You’re a menace, you know,” is what Torao says before he leans down, his smirk pressing into Luffy’s laughter, and he finally, effectively, and softly, shuts Luffy up.

They have so many languages in common now: Grand. Eastern. Flevish. Touch.

When it comes to Flevish, Luffy’s favorite words are still the first he had heard, from that lullaby, and sometimes Torao asks him to sing it — because, Torao had pointed out, the learning process for Luffy would be more effective if he had fun, and a more concrete goal.

Luffy is terrible at singing. He pitches sharp, he goes off-tune, his voice isn’t as nice as Torao’s. None of it ever stopped him from singing, though, because he loves to sing, and music is part of a pirate’s life. Still, his heart flutters anyway when Torao asks him, fingertips grazing his face, “Sing for me, Luffy-ya,” and as Luffy does, the golden eyes grow warm, and Luffy looks back at him, can’t look away.

“I have loved you for a long time,” Luffy sings, and that’s true — not because much time has passed between the beginning of their alliance and where they are now, but it’s true because it’s a promise, because he wants to love Torao for a long time, he wants to love him forever.

He doesn’t think he won’t have enough time.

-

“Torao…?”

Torao is resting his head against Luffy’s shoulder, body leaning on his.

(Ace, his head on Luffy’s shoulder, dying in his arms—)

Trembling, Luffy uses Observation Haki.

And Torao’s presence is fading away as each second passes.

“Torao!” he shouts, his voice breaking, the realization of what Torao did crushing him, shaking him to the core.

Everything flashes before his eyes: that stupid operation Mingo and the World Government wanted Torao to perform, Luffy’s fight against Laugh Tale’s guardian, the Tree Guy, and finding the One Piece, and then fighting against Blackbeard, the darkness dissipating and Luffy passing out from his wounds, maybe dying. And waking up to his and Torao’s nakama crying, and Torao’s tears—

Torao, he— in order to save Luffy, he—

“Undo it!” he screams, holding Torao, tears smearing his vision. He lifts his head, searching, “Someone, please— Chopper! Chopper, Chopper, please, save Torao, he’s—”

And Luffy bites the word back, with so much strength that it draws blood from his lower lip, and he can’t say it, he can’t, this can’t be happening.

“Luffy,” Chopper breathes. He’s crying, but he stares Luffy in the eye. “There was…” A sob cuts his words, and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Luffy… there was nothing I could do, not to save you earlier, and not… not to save Torao now, too…” He bites his lower lip, “His Devil Fruit, that surgery, it was the only way to save you, and the e-effects on Torao… I… I-I’m so sorry…”

And Luffy never heard Chopper sounding so small, and something in him breaks even more.

“…Luffy-ya.”

His attention snaps back to the man in his arms. Torao’s eyes are half open now, as if it’s a struggle not to close them. The golden eyes that Luffy adores are opaque, not shining. Torao places a hand on Luffy’s cheek.

“It’s… okay,” Torao tells him.

Luffy pants, sobbing harder, tears dropping on Torao’s face. “I-it isn’t.”

“Luffy-ya,” Torao repeats, and his voice is so, so weak, “You… my crew… thank you.” A small, real smile surfaces on his mouth. “I was… happy.”

“Stop,” Luffy asks, please, stop saying goodbye, don’t say it, don’t go, don’t leave me, “Torao, stop— stop talking, you have to keep your energy, we’ll think of something, you’ll see—”

“Sing… for me… Luffy-ya.”

It’s Luffy who stops.

Luffy is holding Torao in his arms, his Observation Haki wrapping around them, but he can feel it — Torao slipping away, leaving him, going somewhere Luffy can’t reach him. Torao is going back.

Torao is thinking of home.

He closes his eyes.

“I have… loved you…” The words drip from Torao’s mouth, frail, in Flevish, “For… a long time…”

Luffy is shaking.

But for Torao’s sake — and through the lump in his throat, Luffy’s voice rises, and he sings, completes the stanza, with the Flevish that Torao shared with him, “I will… never…” He swallows down a whimper, “…forget you.”

Torao’s smile grows. He exhales; his chest stills.

His hand drops from Luffy’s face.

It is not real.

Torao’s breathing—

Torao’s heartbeat—

Torao’s Voice—

Torao’s presence—

Torao.

Torao.

Torao.

Where are you?

A wail rips the air, voice piercing through his throat, tears streaming down his face, the world blurring; the scar on his chest burns. He embraces Torao tightly — but Torao is not here, Torao is not there, not anywhere in this world anymore.

The person he loved the most in his life. The person he wanted to protect the most.

Other voices, and other hands, they try to reach Luffy, try to hug him, try to make Luffy release Torao so they can take care of him, but Luffy growls, shaking his head, Torao still warm against him, and even that is slipping away, so please, please, let him have this—

“Just,” Luffy croaks, and the hands stop, and the world goes silent to hear his cracked voice. He tightens his hold on what’s left of Torao’s warmth, “Just a little bit more.”

-

They leave bouquets of flowers at the feet of Ace’s and the old man’s graves.

Plopping down on the grass, Luffy puts three cups over the wooden box placed before Ace’s tombstone. Torao passes the bottle of sake to him, which he accepts with a smile, and pours the booze into the cups.

He takes one of them and raises it high.

“Hey Ace, long time no see! I came here to tell you that I’m going to Laugh Tale,” Luffy looks up at Ace’s hat, the sky so wide behind it, and says, “Soon, I’ll become the Pirate King! Just you watch, Ace, wherever you are!”

He peers at the sake and drinks it in one gulp, the alcohol burning down his throat. Luffy makes a face, “Blergh!”

Behind him, Torao huffs out a stifled laugh, and Luffy pouts at him. But a grin quickly replaces the pout on his mouth, and Luffy stretches his arm to grab Torao, stumbling him forward, the motion followed by an exasperated and half-hearted grunt.

Turning his eyes to his brother, Luffy beams, “I want to introduce you to someone, Ace!” He squeezes Torao’s hand. “This is Torao. Guess what?” He snickers. “He is my boyfriend, shishishi! I love him a lot!”

He glances back, only to find Torao already staring at him, the look on his eyes soft. Torao clears his throat and steps forward, standing by Luffy’s side. He straightens his spine as he looks at Ace’s hat.

“Trafalgar Law,” Torao nods. “Your brother is a menace, though, so he calls me ‘Torao’.” Luffy protests, “Oi! You like that nickname!”, only for Torao to ignore him and continue, a smile spreading on his lips, “But I promise I’ll take care of him. And as you probably know, Luffy-ya has a good crew. We all will make sure that he becomes the Pirate King, Ace-ya.”

Luffy blinks. His heart swells with the rush of affection he feels for the man by his side.

“I wish I could have met him,” Torao says quietly, eyes set on Ace’s hat.

And maybe it’s because Luffy’s made of rubber, but his heart stretches and grows at the thought, like it’s filling all of his chest.

How would Ace and Torao get along? Luffy’s sure they could be good friends. Ace would probably tease Torao; Torao wouldn’t get spooked by Ace’s unpredictable sleep patterns, and he would probably get that nerdy, adorable look he wears when it comes to medical stuff — that would be fun to see.

It would be the best thing, two people he deeply loves getting to know each other.

And the other way around, too, all of Torao’s important people that Luffy doesn’t know yet — how would Torao’s parents look like? Was Torao more similar to his mom, or to his dad? And Lami, Luffy bets she would be adorable too, from the way Torao talked about her, in the few times Torao allowed himself to share a bit more about his family. And Cora-san, the man who saved Torao’s life and heart — Luffy just knows the guy must have been funny, just from looking at Torao’s tattoo, with that goofy grin.

“I wish I could have met your family and Cora-san,” Luffy tells him.

Torao gets that look — warmth and grief melted in the golden of his eyes, something almost gentle. They both know it’s an impossible wish; yet, they can’t help but keep yearning for it.

They’re pirates through and through, and can’t help but be greedy.

Torao leans down, dropping a kiss to the top of Luffy’s head. He withdraws before he says, “You two probably have a lot to catch up. I’ll be waiting for you at the village, Luffy-ya, along with the others.” He strokes Luffy’s cheek and whispers a curly, foreign word in the air – Flevish, Luffy recognizes, now used to the sound of that language, even if he still has a lot to learn yet.

Luffy asks, “Hey Torao, what did you call me just now? You still didn’t teach me that word!”

Ignoring his question, Torao chuckles and walks down the hill, waving a hand at him. “See you later, Luffy-ya.”

Luffy sticks his tongue out at him and sulks from the spot where he’s sitting. A second later, though, he says to himself, giggling, as he watches Torao walking away, “He’s so mean sometimes.” His eyes flick back to Ace’s grave, and he tells his big brother, “But Torao is amazing, too.”

He leans forward, his hand curling like a shell around his mouth, in the shape of a secret, “After I become the Pirate King, I’m going to marry him, you know. Shishishi! But I want to make a surprise, so don’t tell him, Ace! Just between the two of us for now, okay?”

Ace’s hat flutters with the wind, and Luffy laughs, hoping his voice can reach Ace in the sky.

-

After—

It’s all a blur. Maybe it’s Jinbe who carries him back to the Sunny. Zoro and Usopp take him to the bath, cleaning the dried blood and grime from his body, and Luffy watches it vaguely as if it’s all happening to somebody else. Chopper checks his condition, but the surgery did not leave a single wound behind for his doctor to treat. Sanji tries to make him eat, but Luffy doesn’t lift his head, and the smell of food only makes his stomach twist in nauseating knots.

A bony hand, and a metal hand presses to his shoulder. Nami hugs him, and Robin holds his hand. Chopper curls on his lap. The rest of the crew gathers around them. They all sleep together on the floor of the boys’ dorm.

And Luffy — he drifts.

It’s like he’s chained with seastone and all strength has left him; like he’s sinking in the ocean, drowning in the dark, and he can’t breathe.

But the worst of all it’s that the morning still comes. The sun filters through the window, and it’s beautiful. A golden light, as golden as—

Luffy screws his eyes shut. The lump in his throat grows.

Later in the morning, their walk to the improvised wood cabin where the Heart Pirates are holding a wake for their captain is quiet. Before they leave the Sunny, Sanji tries again to make Luffy eat something, but Luffy only has the energy to shake his head, and put a foot in front of another.

“Straw Hat,” Bepo greets him when Luffy steps inside the cabin. Bepo looks terrible, all the Heart Pirates look, and Luffy knows he’s in not a better state. Not that he ever minded how he looked like before; not that he minds it now.

Bepo gestures to the candles around the coffin, some of them shining with a faint light, others remaining unlit.

“We thought it would be nice to have some of the Flevance customs. From what we know, anyway… it’s not much, but—” Bepo dries his eyes, and his voice trembles, “Sorry.”

Memories of a silent vigil, tattooed hands lighting candles, and a faint flame reflecting in golden eyes come to his mind. Luffy’s bottom lip quivers, but he pats Bepo’s arm, and offers a nod.

Slowly, he walks towards the coffin. Each step feels like walking a mile, like Luffy is coming from far, far away — and at the same time, the distance is too short, shrinks too soon. Death, those cherished hands spell; but it wasn’t his time yet, it shouldn’t be. It was too early.

Impossibly, Luffy wants more time.

Luffy stands by the coffin and lights one of the candles, following memories of inked hands doing that same gesture.  It’s not like I believe in this anymore, he told Luffy once. But there isn’t much left of where I’m came from… and I want to remember what I can.

His gaze finally falls on the man lying still inside the coffin.

Torao looks like he’s sleeping. His face is soft, his expression like the one he wore on those mornings when their crews sailed together for some days or weeks, and it was the first thing Luffy saw as he was waking up. Luffy wants to jump inside the coffin, curl his body beside Torao. He looks like he could wake up at any moment. Reaching out, Luffy brushes Torao’s cheek with his hand.

Torao is cold at his touch.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

Luffy blinks, making tears fall. He pulls his hand away from Torao’s face, moves it to cover his own eyes. His shoulders shake.

From far away, a thunder roars.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

Drums pound in his ears, deafening, and clouds condense around him, fluttering like a veil, circling his arms and shoulders; his hair and his clothes turn into a bright white. And Luffy—

—he throws his head back, and laughs.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

Torao, dead — this can be only a bad joke, a terrible prank!

He cackles, louder and louder; he laughs so much that his belly and his chest begin to hurt. Swimming in the air, he floats in circles, clutching at his sides, laughing.

Sing for me, Torao had asked him before, so Luffy does. Flevish floods from his mouth, with the first words he had learned in that language. “Sing, nightingale, sing! You, who have a cheerful heart,” his eyes turn momentarily into musical notes, and Luffy lets out a giggle and gets right back to the song, “You have the heart to laugh; I have the heart to cry.”

Torao liked hearing him sing. Sometimes, he would even sing with Luffy in the privacy of Torao’s quarters at the new Polar Tang or the then-renewed captain’s cabin at the Sunny, their voices tangling together, carrying the same song. Luffy liked how his voice sounded with Torao’s, and Luffy usually ended up laughing at some stanza, giddy from such a small pleasure. Torao would just shake his head and stroke his cheek, and Luffy would sing again, joining him in the music.

Sometimes, Luffy even managed to get Torao to dance with him, and they would sway in the middle of the room, slow dancing, a song and a smile on their mouths. Luffy would inevitably stumble on something or knock a book on the floor, and Torao would laugh — a chuckle, really, something soft and precious, something Luffy managed to get out of Torao more and more as time passed, a sound that Luffy wanted to record on a tone dial so he could listen to it whenever he wanted.

It was Luffy’s favorite sound in the world.

Sing for me, Luffy thinks now. Torao is listening, isn’t he? So Luffy sings, and it’s a bit like a plead, a bit like a prayer, sing with me, Torao.

“I have loved you for a long time.”

He drifts next to Torao, once more.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

But Torao stays still, even if Luffy is singing. Torao doesn’t sing with him. Torao doesn’t dance with him.

Torao doesn’t open his eyes.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

Torao won’t open his eyes.

Luffy stops singing.

Instead, he bursts out laughing again.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

(This sound—

What is it? A thunder; a drum. Maybe it’s his heart, beating.)

He laughs and laughs; he dies laughing. He laughs until his laughter turns into a sob, he laughs until he’s tearing up.

Doom-dut-da-da, doom-dut-da-da—

(No, not his heart beating. This sound is—)

“It’s my fault,” Luffy breathes, and he repeats, the words tasting like salt and ash in his mouth, “it’s all my fault.”

(—it’s the sound of his heart breaking.)

He falls to the ground, on his knees, an arm stretched over the coffin. His hair, his clothes, his eyes — they return to their original color, the white fading out.

He buries his head on Torao’s chest, trembling. Tears soak Torao’s shirt, and it muffles Luffy’s hiccups. He cries.

He doesn’t think he can stop.

“Straw Hat—” A hand rests on his shoulder, “Straw Hat, hey, come on, listen to me.”

Someone pulls him from over Torao, and Luffy is so drained that he doesn’t fight it. Penguin holds Luffy by his shoulders. Shachi and Bepo are there, too, sitting on their knees, close to them.

“Straw Hat,” Penguin repeats, and his grip gets tighter. “Straw Hat — Luffy. Please, listen to us, okay? Come on, look at me.” Penguin doesn’t say anything else, not until Luffy gathers the strength to look him in the eye. Torao died because of Luffy, he tells himself, and the least Luffy could do is not run away from Torao’s crew. So he stares at Torao’s nakama and Penguin takes a deep breath, before saying, his voice soft, “It’s not your fault.”

Luffy is too stunned to reply. When the words sink in, all he can do is shake his head, as more tears spill over.

“It’s not your fault,” Shachi repeats, gently, as he holds Luffy’s hand. “We don’t blame you. None of us do. Captain… Law, he wanted to save you. He chose to do this, Straw Hat. It’s not your fault.”

“No,” Luffy rasps, shaking his head once more. I wasn’t strong enough, he thinks. Again, I wasn’t strong enough. But all he manages to say is, “No.”

Luffy is pulled from behind, until his back meets something soft. A paw on his shoulder holds Luffy in place.

“It’s not your fault,” Bepo repeats, his voice choked. He’s crying, too. “And it isn’t Captain’s fault, either. Captain… Law, he— he loved you a lot. So, if he wanted to save you… how could we blame him?” A tear drops on Luffy’s hair. “And how could we blame you? He loved you so much. He loved you more than anything, Straw Hat. And we know that, because… we all have been together for so long. When he was with you...” Bepo cries a little, but he smiles, too. “Straw Hat, I’ve never seen him so happy. So, really… thank you. Thank you for being there for him when we couldn’t, when he pushed us away. Thank you for taking Doflamingo down.” A squeeze to his shoulder. “Thank you… for loving him. Thank you for making him happy.”

Luffy’s eyes water even more.

Torao made him happy, too. Torao saved him; Torao. This feeling — he only learned what love was because of Torao.

But he wanted to love Torao so much more.

He wanted to love Torao for the rest of his life.

Tears run freely across his cheeks.

The tears finally get the best of Bepo, too, and it takes two deep breaths before the mink is able to say, “Sorry,” which is stupid; he has nothing to apologize for.

Luffy shakes his head. Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo seem to take the gesture in the wrong way, and look ready to speak more – or maybe they got Luffy’s gesture the right way because it still feels like is Luffy’s fault, but it isn’t because of this that Luffy shook his head, this time.

Luffy looks at them, at all the Heart Pirates inside of the cabin, Torao’s nakama, Torao’s most important people. Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, sitting on the floor, next to Luffy. Not so far, Ikakku, Uni; Jean Bart, close to the door. And others, some of them whose names Luffy still gets wrong sometimes (he has never been good with names, but he’s working on it, because they’re Torao’s nakama, which means they’re his nakama, too). His eyes flicker back to Torao’s oldest friends.

Somehow, Luffy manages to say, his voice hoarse, “It wasn’t… just me.” The corners of his lips curl up, and it’s a wobbly and watery, but real, small smile. “Torao… he was happy because of you guys too, you know. He told me that.”

Penguin’s, Shachi’s, and Bepo’s faces all crumble; like all they have been holding back finally overflows, the dam breaking. Their eyes shine with tears. There, on the ground, Luffy finds himself in the middle of a big hug. Arms holding on to each other, shared tears, sobs muffled by shoulders. It’s a language they have in common: they all loved the same person; they all lost him. And it doesn’t make it hurt any less— but they aren’t alone.

A wave of exhaustion crashes over Luffy, and he leans on Bepo, burying his head on the mink’s boiler suit — the gesture so automatic, so familiar by now, from all the times he and Torao took a nap together on Bepo before, that he can almost feel Torao’s arms winding around him, before Luffy sinks into unconsciousness.

-

Luffy clings to Torao when they sleep together. He likes it when Torao holds him from behind, arms circling his waist, his breath tickling Luffy’s ear, which makes Luffy giggle, and the giggle blooms into a smile. He places his hands above Torao’s, squeezing them.

He likes it better when it’s the other way around and Luffy is the big spoon, even if Torao is taller than him — that way, Luffy can use his whole body to wrap all he can from Torao in a hug. He tucks his head to Torao’s tattoo on the back, or he nuzzles at the nape of Torao’s neck, breathing him in.

Sometimes, he plops on top of Torao, like a weighted blanket. Torao grumbles beneath him, but he never pushes Luffy off him or to the ground. Instead, tattooed hands run through Luffy’s hair, and Luffy sighs, resting his face on Torao’s heart.

It’s because of this, of the way Luffy is always plastered over Torao when they sleep, that Luffy wakes up when Torao has nightmares. Torao is usually quiet, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat, but his whole body shakes, mouth gasping in a silent scream, like he has forgotten how to use his voice.

But sometimes, Torao does mumble in his sleep, things Luffy didn’t understand at first. Now that he is learning Flevish, though, he finally recognizes the words Torao lets out in his dreams. Mom, and Dad, and my little sister is still there, I have to take her out, please, let me enter, and you said he wouldn’t kill you, Cora-san, and Bepo, we can’t leave them behind, and Torao’s voice is haunted, strangled.

Luffy wishes he could punch Torao’s bad dreams like he punched Mingo. But as it is, he tries to fight Torao’s nightmares the best he can: he holds Torao tighter, breathes his nickname, over and over, the word beloved in his mouth. Sometimes that is enough, and Torao stops shaking in his arms; when it isn’t, he wakes Torao up, wraps his arms around him. Luffy reminds Torao that he isn’t alone, that Luffy is there with him, and he rambles about anything, even if it’s silly, trying to drag Torao away from the nightmare.

“They’re all safe, Torao. Yesterday, Penguin and Shachi wore each other’s hats, remember? That was so mean, shishishi! I kept getting the two of them wrong.”

And Torao finally calms down, relaxes in his arms. He says quietly, “I remember,” and Luffy hears the relief and the softness in his words. So Luffy stretches his arms, limbs completing a loop around Torao’s body, and Torao huffs out a sound that is too low to be a laugh — but it’s genuine and real.

Luffy has his own share of nightmares, too. Shaken, panting heavily, he wakes up to Torao’s golden eyes, to his hands holding him by his shoulders. “Breathe with me, Luffy-ya. Listen to my voice,” Torao says, and Luffy follows his voice, inhales, exhales, until the weight beneath the scar on his chest fades out, replaced by warmth, as Torao rests their foreheads together. “It’s just a nightmare. You are not alone, Luffy-ya.”

There are nights when Luffy doesn’t want to go back to sleep after a bad dream, as if the energy is struck and choking him from the inside out. So Torao makes them take a walk around the ship, and they raid the kitchen in the middle of the night. As Torao passes a plate to him, Luffy says, “You’re the best, Torao.”

The other captain snorts, “You’re only saying that because I’m feeding you right now,” and Luffy can’t help but laugh.

But there are times when the nightmares visit him, and they are sailing apart — those are the hardest. Not that Luffy doesn’t know how to deal with them by himself, but he got so used to Torao holding him together through all of it, that it’s jarring when the nightmares find him alone. On those nights, Luffy looks at the ceiling of the boy’s dormitory, sweat prickled across his forehead and rolling down his back, and he wonders if Torao is sleeping well, if Torao is doing okay with his own nightmares too — Torao’s absence suddenly too solid.

When they’re together, they try to keep each other’s nightmares at bay and exchange only a few words about them. Torao whispers, “Cora-san,” or “Flevance,” or “Him,” or “Winner Island.” Luffy murmurs, “Ace,” or “Sabo,” or “My nakama.”

One night, when Torao releases him from a bad dream, Luffy’s lost eyes rest on him for an instant, and on the next he pulls Torao to him, fingers digging on his back, knuckles white and tight and desperate.

“Torao,” Luffy croaks out, and Torao holds him back, asks him what’s wrong. “Torao. Torao,” he repeats, blinking away the tears, tucking his face to Torao’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

-

“TORAO!”

Unmoving, Torao lies on the ground, his body battered, red pooling underneath him. Luffy’s knees fall on the puddle of blood, his hand trembling as he reaches out to his ally, gripping Torao’s shoulder, rolling him over his back.

“Torao, what happened here— Hang in there, Torao—” Luffy bites down his bottom lip, something in his gut twisting as he sees how much blood the other captain had lost. “Torao, can you hear me—”

“Law is dead,” Mingo says behind him, voice mocking. “Can’t you tell by just looking at him?”

Luffy’s hand still shakes — but this time, for a different reason. He’s gentle when he lets Torao rest on the ground. But when Luffy climbs to his feet, fury now pulsates in his veins. He turns, and—

No one else is there, only the darkness stretching everywhere his sight can reach.

He frowns, his forehead creasing.

“Where are you hiding, Mingo?!” Luffy shouts, turning his head to the right and to the left, searching, fists ready to throw a punch. “You hurt Torao! I won’t forgive you!”

But Mingo is nowhere to be seen.

“Torao is not dead!” Luffy yells, his throat tightening. Heat builds up behind his eyes. Harshly, Luffy wipes them. “Torao… he isn’t… he can’t be…”

“—Straw Hat-ya, listen to me. Don’t turn around.”

Luffy freezes, breath caught in his throat, heart pounding in his ears. That’s Torao’s voice. Luffy swallows hard, hands trembling, eager to reach out; the longing is almost overwhelming.

But he doesn’t turn around. For once, he listens to Torao.

Silence hangs in the air. Behind him, Torao doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t say a word.

Minutes pass, until Luffy can’t take it anymore.

“Torao,” he breathes. “You’re supposed to say… that you’re alive, and…” Luffy tries to smile, “That you have a plan, remember?”

Because Luffy remembers. That’s what happened when they were in Dressroba. That’s how things are supposed to be: Torao making plans, Luffy upending them, and things working out anyway because they’re strong, and even stronger when they fight together.

“…Luffy-ya.”

Hands come from behind him, covering Luffy’s eyes. He doesn’t have to look to know those hands carry tattoos on their back, on each finger. Luffy carries the map of those hands on his fingertips, on his palm, on his skin. Knows them by touch alone.

A sob escapes from his mouth as he reaches out, hands curling around those inked hands.

“Torao,” Luffy chokes out, marking Torao’s hands with tears.

“Luffy-ya,” Torao repeats, nuzzling the strands of Luffy’s hair. He takes a deep breath, as if he’s trying to inhale Luffy’s scent.

Luffy hiccoughs. His face is a mess, his nose running with snot, tears staining his cheeks. But Luffy doesn’t care.

Because Torao is here.

Even if…

“Torao… this is a dream, isn’t it?”

Torao takes some time to reply. But he admits, quietly, “…Yes.”

“…Then I don’t want to wake up,” Luffy says, fingers curling tightly on Torao’s hands. They’re so warm. His chest aches. “I’ll stay right here with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Luffy-ya. You can’t do this,” Torao says. Despite his words, though, his tone is gentle and somewhat sad.

Luffy doesn’t like it. He is about to remind Torao that he doesn’t order Luffy around, that they’re equals, so Luffy will stay with him — but Torao presses a kiss to the crown of his head, and all the words fade in his mouth, the touch so tender it brings Luffy near to tears again.

“Luffy-ya, you aren’t supposed to be here. You have to go ahead,” Torao whispers, pressing words to his hair. “Don’t look back. Don’t turn around.”

And even though Luffy’s holding the hands covering his eyes, Torao lets go, releasing him.

“No— Torao, please—”

Luffy turns around.

A huge tree stands tall, meters away from him. It’s bigger than the Whale Tree from Zou, bigger than buildings, bigger than any tree he has seen before. His eyes widen. He raises his head, and he can’t see the limit the branches can reach, because the longest of them climb onto the clouds, as if the tree has roots digging into the sky. Around those branches, others circle them, each one carrying a different season. One type of branch blossoms into many flowers; another carries leaves full of a fresh, deep lemon-green; another sways with dry leaves, in shades of red and yellow and brown; another remains standing tall, rising in the air even if it’s bare, as an open hand, enduring the snow and the harsh wind.

At the feet of the tree, a child is staring at the entrance carved by the tree’s giant roots. It’s a boy, Luffy realizes. The next thing he notices is the spotted hat the boy is wearing, and it’s like Luffy’s heart is being squeezed with a fist.

The boy turns in his direction. His skin is sickly fair, instead of tanned, and the white and wide patches scattered across his face make him look even paler. His face is at the same time familiar and unfamiliar to Luffy, and his eyes—

Luffy would recognize those golden eyes anywhere.

“Torao—” He calls out, but Torao doesn’t hear him, doesn’t even seem to be able to see him. Instead, Torao lifts his head, watching petals, leaves, and snow swirl in the air.

A petal blinds Luffy for a second, or perhaps he blinks — and suddenly in the place of Torao as a child, Torao stands there as he was the last time Luffy had seen him: a pirate, a captain, a doctor, his ally, his lover; his Torao.

Head still dipped back, Torao closes his eyes. A snowflake falls on his cheek, and it melts like a tear.

He flutters his eyes open.

“Someone,” Torao says, dazed, as he faces the entrance once more. “Someone is calling me.”

“Torao!” Luffy shouts, desperate, trying to make his legs run, but they don’t move, don’t obey him. He reaches his hand out, stretching his arm, “Torao!”

But no matter how much he lengthens his arm, Torao and the tree only get further and further, the distance between them and Luffy growing, as Torao steps toward the entrance.

Luffy screams and screams and screams.

The branches of the tree sway with the wind, and in the rustling of leaves and flowers and bare branches, Luffy can hear the voice of each plant, each animal, each person. They rise, deafening, even languages Luffy doesn’t know, even sounds he has never heard, until they all merge into only one, tangled together.

“No,” the Voice says. “The price was not paid yet.”

Torao disappears into the darkness framed by the tree’s roots, and Luffy can’t reach him.

“TORAO!”

“…TORAO!”

With a jolt, with his hand stretched out, Luffy wakes up, breathing hard.

Behind him, Bepo sits up as Luffy is leaning against him, and the mink places a paw on Luffy’s back. “Straw Hat, are you okay?” He rubs his back, while Luffy’s gasps shift to quieter breaths.

“…I… I don’t have much time…”

Ikakku crouches in front of him, pushing a glass of water into his hands, which he accepts out of reflex. Chopper rushes to his side, fussing over Luffy, taking his pulse and temperature.

“No, you just passed out for, like, one hour? The wake will go for…” Ikakku shoots a glance over Luffy’s shoulder to look at Bepo, as if confirming something, “…More one hour, I think. So just take it easy, okay, Straw Hat?”

Luffy doesn’t reply, not hearing her, the Voice tuning out everything else.

Even outside of the dream, the Voice resonates in the air, loud. It enters through his ears, and echoes inside of him like a heartbeat.

It was a dream, his instincts say, but it was real. It is real.

Something fierce settles in his chest, anchoring him; he knows what he has to do now. Everything inside of him still hurts, but he doesn’t push the pain away — he always had been good at fighting through the pain, with pain, after all. He rises to his feet, stretches one arm to catch his hat, the other closing into a fist, and steps toward the door.

But Chopper grabs his hand before he can leave, his paws gripping him with urgency.

“Luffy, wait! Your heart— your heart, you have some sort of arrhythmia, your heartbeat is too irregular right now! Please, let me run some tests, I need to examine you better—”

That’s a long and complicated word, but Luffy somehow gets what Chopper is worried about. He places a hand over his chest, and underneath his palm, his heart is thumping ba-dump, and doom-dut-da-da, and ba-dump again, over and over.

He pats Chopper on the top of his hat.

“Yeah, my heart is beating in a funny way. But it’s only because I used Gear Fifth earlier, Chopper.” He smiles kindly at his doctor. “Besides, after Torao’s operation… it’s not like I can die anymore, right?”

Chopper’s eyes get all watery. “Luffy…”

And suddenly, Luffy understands. Earlier, too numbed by his own grief, he didn’t notice what Chopper needed. But he can’t leave him like this. Luffy stretches his arms, sweeping Chopper off the ground, and wraps the small reindeer in his arms.

“Chopper,” he says, his voice soft, “It’s not your fault. You did your best.” Chopper trembles in his hug. “I’m the Pirate King now, so it makes sense I have the best doctor ever, right? And you, Chopper… you are the best!”

Sniffles and sobs are tucked against his neck, mumbles of this doesn’t make me happy at all, you jerk, and Luffy squeezes the bundle of reindeer in his arms. He walks out of the cabin, his and Torao’s crew following him and gathering around them.

“Sorry, Chopper. I’ll have to let you go now, okay?” Luffy looks up to the sky, the memory of the strange tree still printed to the back of his mind. “I have to hurry. I don’t have much time.”

“…Okay,” Chopper whispers with a nod, eyes red, blue nose running with snot. As Luffy puts him down, he asks, “But where are you going, Luffy?”

Their nakama have their gazes fixed on him, holding their breath. Like they sense something changed, by the way Luffy is acting, though they can’t understand it yet.

Luffy adjusts the straw hat on his head, making sure is secure. Stretches his arm, and the other, until his palms find a firm grip on what feels like some solid trees. He takes some steps back, to add strength to his launch, and the corners of his mouth curl up.

It’s the smile Luffy wears that precedes trouble, chaos, or a storm.

Seeing that smile ripples a wave of reactions in his and Torao’s crew. Nami and Usopp are already saying, their knee-jerk reaction to whatever chaos Luffy is about to do, “Luffy, no—“, and Robin and Jinbe are smiling, and Zoro has a feral grin on his face, and Sanji is cursing under his breath, “Oi Shitty Captain, what are you going to do,” and the Heart Pirates, at this point already used to Luffy’s antics, are either panicking or grinning at him, and Shachi, looking like he’s torn between hope and grief and exasperation, parrots Sanji’s words, “Straw Hat, what the hell are you going to do—”

The thing is: Luffy is probably about to do something very stupid.

But he will do anything to save Torao.

“I’m the Pirate King. I already have the best doctor, but I need the best surgeon too.” His grin gets bigger. “I’m going to get Torao back, shishishi!”

Surprised gasps and screams from the crews follow him as he releases his grip, launching himself over some trees. When he lands on the grass, the path he has to take is clear, as if the Voice is opening the way for him. The wind blows in his ear, bushes and branches curl in a certain direction, animals stop to watch him run.

His steps take him to a clearing, similar to the one where he and Torao met Laugh Tale’s guardian, the Tree Guy, for the first time, hours before Blackbeard disembarked on the island.

“I’m here,” Luffy says, voice unfaltering. “I’ll pay the price, so—”

Roots rise from the soil and cut off his words, grabbing his ankles. Despite his surprise, Luffy doesn’t fight the roots’ grip and braces himself when the earth swallows him whole, shrouding him in the dark.

-

“Your Cora-san,” Luffy says, breaking the comfortable silence of the captain’s room in the Sunny, calloused hand splayed on a tattooed chest, which trembles underneath his touch. “He is here, isn’t he?”

Nodding, Torao replies, in a quiet voice, “Yes.”

Luffy follows the lines of the ink with his fingertips. When he finishes tracing the tattoo, Luffy’s grin is just like the ink smile on Torao’s chest. Torao covers Luffy’s hand with his own, thumb caressing the back of the rubber hand.

“Ne, Torao… we kinda match, don’t we? Shishishi!” He takes their clasped hands and presses them to his own chest. “We carry people we love right here.”

With a small smile, Torao shakes his head. His fingers trail over the scar tissue on Luffy’s chest— a tickling, tender touch.

“Your brother,” Torao says.

“Yeah,” Luffy nods, “But not only him.” The other man raises his head to look at him, a question in his golden eyes. Luffy replies, “This scar makes me think not only about Ace… but about you too, Torao.” He smiles. “Because you saved me, and this scar is proof of that.”

He receives a scoff as an answer, and laughs a little when Torao ducks his head, ears red, “I told you before, I only did it on a whim.”

Leaning down, Torao places a kiss in the center of Luffy’s scar on his chest, and Luffy’s heart skips a beat under his partner’s lips.

 “You saved me, too,” Torao mutters, breath and words warm against his skin.

Luffy breathes out, heart pressing against his ribs, mouth pressing into Torao’s hair, “I would do it again.”

That makes Torao pull away, hands holding Luffy by the shoulders, as Torao levels him with a serious gaze.

“I’m not so weak that you’ll have to save me all the time, Luffy-ya.”

With a pout on his lips, Luffy bounces his head a bit to the back, and forth, striking Torao’s forehead with his own, making a string of curses leave Torao’s mouth.

“—the fuck, Luffy-ya?!”

“Stupid Torao,” Luffy says, still wearing a sulk. He glares at his partner. “I know that. You’re one of the strongest people I know, Torao.”

But—

Luffy still has nightmares.

From Dressroba, Torao on a pool of his own blood, Mingo saying Law is dead, Mingo saying, ‘Straw Hat-ya’, that’s what he used to call you, isn’t it? He never told Torao, but on one of those calm days after the birdcage fell, in the cabin of Rebecca’s dad, Luffy woke up in the middle of the night, out of breath, heart in his throat. He crawled on the bed because everything still hurt too much, until he dropped his body on the edge of the mattress so he could stretch out his hand, to reach out for Torao, who was sleeping on the floor. Then he grabbed Torao’s wrist and felt his pulse, a steady heartbeat thrumming under his fingers. Relief, and something like warmth, rushed along with the blood in Luffy’s veins; only then he was able to sleep again.

From the aftermath of Winner Island, Bepo carrying Torao in his arms, asking for help. How Luffy never left the Sunny’s infirmary, waiting for Torao to wake up, holding his hand, almost like a prayer. The longest, endless days.

“But a world without you,” Luffy confesses, his voice small, “I don’t like it.”

His hand clenches Torao’s open shirt.

“So if one day you need me, then I will—”

Torao cups Luffy’s face in his hands. Understanding, and an apology, are reflected in his golden eyes. He leans in, slowly, catching Luffy’s words with his mouth.

I will save you again.

Torao makes them also his words. “Me too,” he promises when he draws away. Nuzzles at Luffy’s cheek. “I will save you too, Luffy-ya.”

-

He falls—

(his nakama need him and he can’t reach them, his nakama scream and he can’t save them, his crew torn apart, and Kuma sends him flying far away, away from them—)

He falls—

(Thank you for loving me, Ace says, and Luffy’s holding him, Luffy’s losing him, Luffy wants to say, you promised me you wouldn’t die, Ace, so don’t go, don’t leave me—)

He falls—

(I love you, Luffy-ya, Torao says, falling into his arms, and it’s his fault, it’s all his fault—)

—and the soil spits him on the ground underneath the ground, and he gasps, pulling air to his lungs like a drowning man finally finding shore.

His whole body shakes like a heart, and it’s not only because of the fall.

“It’s not pleasant to come here,” a calm voice says, “You’ll always remember the moments when you wanted to die. Even if it were for only an instant, this place reminds you of that, when you enter here. I suppose it’s fitting, in a way.”

Catching his breath, Luffy lifts his head. The dim light of the underground cave is not enough to show all of the being before Luffy, but he recognizes it.

The creature, almost human-like, has skin that reminds Luffy of the texture of a tree’s trunk; yet, it looks somehow ageless, though its green eyes show all the years it has lived until now. White long hair frames an impassive face, and two branches rise from above the ears. Its robes are covered in shadows.

“Tree Guy,” Luffy says, rising to his feet. Yggdrasil’s guardian, a voice in his mind supplies, sounding very much like Torao.

“Still insolent after all, Pirate King,” Tree Guys counters, though its features don’t betray any emotion. “Ah. Or I should say now… Nika.” It tips its head to the side, peering at Luffy. “You’re really different now... So you used the Ope-Ope no Mi’s bearer, in the end. Immortality fits you well, Nika. It’s almost like how you used to be, from Before.”

“I don’t get what are you talking about. And that’s not my name,” Luffy says, jaw clenched. “I didn’t use Torao. I would never use him.” He throws a look at the creature. “You were not the one who called me.”

“No. It was Yggdrasil-sama’s Will,” it says. “She heard your song and was moved by it. That’s why she showed you your lover’s crossing; that’s why she called you here. It’s a unique chance. Don’t think it will happen again.”

A light floats close to Tree Guy’s head. Now that Luffy can look at it better, he notices it’s a firefly. That’s where the light is coming from, from all the fireflies drifting inside of the cave. In the space where the insect traces a curve, a root sprouts from the cavern roof, placing something round on Tree Guy’s palm.

Luffy’s eyes widen.

“It’s a Devil Fruit,” he says.

“That’s how the mortals call it, yes. Though it’s a term below Yggdrasil-sama’s Fruits.” Tree Guy twirls the Devil Fruit in his hand, studying the black stripe patterns and the yellow color of it. “The Tora-Tora no Mi, the Tiger Fruit. It seems there were no plums nearby when the bearer died. Very well; go wherever you want to go, whenever you want to go, Child.” Tree Guy says, raising the Devil Fruit in his hand, as a root stretches and drags it to the soil walls.

As the Devil Fruit is being absorbed into the earth again, Tree Guy comments, “You know, the  Ope-Ope no Mi still hasn’t come back here yet, due to Yggdrasil-sama’s interest in you.” Its eyes flicker to Luffy, whose heart pounds at the mention of Torao’s fruit. “The Ope-Ope no Mi, that Child, they don’t like being reborn in the mortal world. The few times the Ope-Ope no Mi did it, many of their bearers often shared the same fate. But that Child keeps trying in the end, for their dream.”

Luffy tips his head to the side.

“Do the Devil Fruits have dreams?”

“Of course; every Fruit carries the dream of a Tree. But each Child has a different image of the Tree.”

Luffy frowns, “…it’s weird, but I think I get it. In a way.” He steels himself before asking, “Hey, Tree Guy. If the Ope-Ope no Mi hasn’t come back, this means I still have time, right? If I pay the price, can I get Torao back?”

Tree Guy nods, solemn.

“Yes.”

Luffy opens a large smile, and immediately gets on his knees, curving his body in a bow, “Shishishi! Alright, then! I’ll pay the price, so please let Torao go back now!” His eyes crinkle at the guardian. “You’re not a bad guy after all, Tree Guy. Thank you, really!”

Stunned silence follows Luffy’s words.

“…You don’t even know what the price is, Pirate King. Or the rules. And you shouldn’t thank me; I’m only carrying out Yggdrasil-sama’s Will.” Tree Guy’s voice hardens. “Rise. This is unbecoming of the one who conquered the One Piece, Pirate King.”

Luffy blinks owlishly at Tree Guy, but stands up, patting the dirt off his knees. Unfazed, but determined, he holds the guardian’s gaze.

“I don’t care about what happens to me, Tree Guy. I will save Torao.”

For a long minute, Tree Guy regards him with an unreadable expression.

“…Very well. But there’s a price, and there are rules,” Tree Guy says at last. “The price is giving up the gift granted by the Ope-Ope no Mi — your immortality. And on top of this… ten years of your remaining mortal life.”

“Done,” Luffy agrees, in a heartbeat.

“And these are the rules: you will walk through this path, and the one you love will follow you. You cannot look back. No Haki, and no Fruit’s power, can assist you. Should you break any of these rules, the person you want to save will be lost forever.”

Luffy nods, “Okay. I got it.”

“There’s one more thing,” Tree Guy tells him. “Even if you pay the price and follow all these rules… the choice, in the end, will be of the person who died. Just like her Children choose the time to be reborn when they come back home, Yggdrasil-sama wants the person to have a choice, too. Even so, knowing all that… do you still want to do this, Pirate King?”

Luffy nods again.

“I do.”

“Very well. Put your hand forward, and close it.” Luffy does as Tree Guy says. “Now, let it go.”

Shuddering, as if a part of him is being pierced, Luffy opens his palm, revealing a small point of light — a firefly. It flutters its wings and dives from Luffy’s hand to the air. It’s different from the others, though: more than a firefly, it looks like a firework, a tiny piece of the sun.

The luminous insect rests briefly on Tree Guy’s outstretched finger, before flying higher and higher until it’s welcomed by a root, which dissolves the firefly into stardust.

“It’s done.”

“Okay. Thank you, Tree Guy.”

“Do not thank me yet. You will certainly wish not to, soon.” Tree Guy studies him with a strange look. “Now, you have another choice ahead of you. Pirate King, you can choose for whom you paid the price: your lover,” it says, “…or your brother.”

Luffy freezes, the air in his lungs no longer enough, as if he received a punch on his chest.

“…What?” Luffy says, voice choked, something wrenching inside of his ribcage. He shakes his head. “I— I can’t choose—”

The leaves on the branches of Tree Guy’s head sway with the wind. Tree Guy is laughing at him, Luffy realizes.

“In your heart, you already did. Now go, Pirate King.”

Luffy stares at the guardian, clenching his hands.

“That was not cool, Tree Guy. But still… thank you for the chance.”

Walking ahead, his feet come to a halt before the point where the darkness of the cavern is denser. He doesn’t turn around.

“…Ne, Tree Guy. What’s the Ope-Ope no Mi’s dream?”

A beat. Then, “That Child always wished to grow to their utmost potential, and at the same time… they wished their bearer would not be used because of it, of the immortality that Child could gift; they wished their bearer not to be seen as a means to an end. But mortals are too greedy. Again and again, that Child was crushed.” A pause. “I supposed you could say that… in a way, that Child only wished to be loved.”

Luffy nods and begins to walk again, when Tree Guy’s voice stops him.

“…I wonder if Yggdrasil-sama thinks you can make that Child’s dream true.” It stops for a second, and continues, “…I apologize for the additional earlier test. You’re a strange one, Pirate King. The path ahead of you is difficult, and the choices you both will have to make are even harder. But I wish you good luck… Monkey D. Luffy.”

Luffy doesn’t reply: he steps forward, down the tunnel, the darkness only slightly dimmed by the faint light of the fireflies.

At first, silence unfurls around him — filling the air, filling him, filling everywhere.

The fireflies fly by his side, and some ahead of him, casting fleeting shadows on the stone walls. But that weak light isn’t enough, and sometimes Luffy has to follow the stone walls with his hands, to try to find his way in the dark.

It’s like Luffy is stepping into a black, almost starless night. A place meant to rest; a place meant to sleep.

And Luffy wants to dream awake.

He wants to wake up from this nightmare and find Torao’s eyes, looking back at him, telling him it’s only a nightmare, that it’s over.

That he isn’t alone.

He walks on.

The fireflies’ light blinks, and that’s when Luffy hears them, for the first time.

“…Where is this light coming from?”

“…it’s him, it’s him…”

“…The sun.”

“Nika…”

“…Joyboy…”

“That’s not my name,” Luffy says, as he keeps walking. Knitting his brow, he asks, “Who are you?”

The shadows projected on the walls twist, silhouettes deforming, until their outlines turn back to their original shape.

The voices don’t come exactly from the walls — but the echo of the cave makes the sound look like it’s coming from everywhere.

“It’s been so long since I saw it…”

“…the daylight…”

“…ah, how we missed you, Nika…”

The frown on his forehead deepens. “Hey, I told you, that’s not my name. I’m Monkey D. Luffy, the Pirate King!”

From somewhere, a breeze blows, like the breath of a pause. Then:

“…Luffy-ya.”

His heart clenches.

Fire replaces the blood inside of his veins, his hands balling into fists.

Luffy says, tone hardening, “You don’t get to call me that. Only Torao can call me like that.”

Mocking laughter echoes in the tunnel, until it dies down. The voices shift into a more serious tone.

“But you can’t take him away…”

“Law has always belonged with us…”

“…he does, he does…”

“This is his place…”

“…We’ve been waiting for him all this time.”

“No,” Luffy says, “He doesn’t belong with you. He belongs with his nakama. With me.”

He walks on.

“But he has been living on borrowed time.”

“Law should have died a long time ago…”

“When the hospital burned to the ground…”

“When the soldiers shot down all those children…”

“When Cora-san was killed…”

“When the Amber Lead tried to finally claim him…”

“When Doflamingo cut off his arm…”

“When Blackbeard destroyed his ship…”

“But Torao didn’t die,” Luffy says. “He survived all of this. It wasn’t his time yet. And it isn’t his time now.”

This can’t be the end.

Torao has to come back to his crew, to Luffy. Torao has a whole world to see yet. And now that he found out the meaning behind of the D., Torao has to find a new dream.

Luffy wants to dream with Torao.

There’s still so much to live for.

And when Luffy walks on, it’s to seize that future.

“But, Monkey D. Luffy…”

“…Did you know?”

“Law is…”

“…He is so tired.”

“Tired of loss…”

“Tired of grief…”

“…Tired of living.”

“Actually, when he saved you… he wanted to die.”

“For a long, long time…”

“…he has always been searching for an end.”

Luffy stalls. He tries to take a deep breath, but the air hurts his lungs.

The corners of his eyes sting.

“You don’t get it,” Luffy says, throat tight. “You don’t understand. Torao, he— Torao is strong. One of the strongest people I’ve ever known. He’s brave. Lots of bad stuff happened to him, in his life, but he survived; he fought. He isn’t defined by what happened to him. Torao is so much more than that.”

Torao is everything, Luffy thinks. His heart tightens.

Everything.

“Once, before… Torao wanted to die. At Dressroba. I noticed it. But that was so stupid. So I didn’t let him die. So I saved him. And he— he didn’t want to die anymore. Because that’s who Torao is, in the end.”

He swallows. He lifts his head.

“When Torao did that stupid operation on me, he didn’t do that so he could die.”

Luffy places a hand over the scar on his chest. And even though his eyes are wet, even though the guilt is eating him alive, his voice doesn’t waver.

“When Torao did that stupid operation, it was because he wanted to save me. It was because—” Luffy breathes, fingers digging into his scar, “because he loved me.”

The shadows fall silent.

Luffy presses his lips into a tight line, and draws the back of his hand across his eyes. Breaths in, and out.

And Luffy walks again.

The path is steep underneath his feet. Silence and time stretch in front of him, to a point where in the silence he can only listen to the sounds of his own body, heart beating, lungs pulling the air in, feet walking; to a point where time dissolves in the dark, losing its meaning, and Luffy can’t tell anymore for how long he has been walking.

There, the borders of his body feel less real. Sometimes, he has to look at his hand as he walks, just to close his fist, so he can remind himself of keeping Haki inside of himself, of not using his Devil Fruit, and the faint light from the fireflies flickers — and in that fleeting instant, his hand looks like a trick of light.

But he keeps walking.

He can’t hear Torao’s steps. He can’t hear Torao’s breathing. He can’t hear Torao’s Voice. He can’t feel Torao’s presence.

It’s too much like that moment when Torao died in his arms.

It’s almost unbearable.

Don’t turn around, Torao told him at Dressroba, in his dream.

Don’t turn around, Tree Guy warned him, and showed him this path.

He wants to see Torao. To hear his voice. To hold his hand. To turn around—

Hand on his chest, his nails dig half-moons on his scar, until they draw out blood. The pain clears his mind, pushes him forward.

He walks on.

The fireflies are gone. When he takes one more step, he understands why — he can finally see the end of the cavern. He can’t tell what there is beyond the veil of light.

Just a little more.

Just a little bit more.

Torao has to be following him.

He has to.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Remember: he has a choice…”

“…He didn’t say anything all this time.”

“You’re alone…”

“Why would he follow you?”

“…when Law is finally, finally home.”

“After all this time, he finally met them again…”

“His parents…”

“Lami…”

“…Cora-san.”

“He has missed them for all his life.”

“He loved them.”

“He lost them.”

“And now he has them again.”

“Will you take this from him, too?”

“Will you separate them once more?”

“You’re so cruel…”

“…So, so selfish.”

Torao didn’t tell him everything.

And Luffy didn’t need Torao to tell him. He didn’t want to force Torao to tell him, or something stupid like that. One day, if Torao wanted to talk, then Luffy would listen.

Still, he knew enough, from the little Torao did tell him, from Torao’s nightmares, from the way Torao wore his heart on his ink. They carried the same kind of pain, the wound of losing someone you love. Torao was there in one of the worst moments of his life, saving him at Marineford; Luffy was there on Dressroba, where the cause for one of Torao’s worst nightmares finally fell down by his punch. They saw each other raw, and maybe that’s why a certain kind of understanding, something they couldn’t explain even for themselves, grew between them.

Torao would want to see his lost loved ones again; Luffy knows that, because they are the same.

He would want to see Ace again, too.

Luffy smiles, as he steps towards the light.

“…Hey, Torao. We’re pirates, remember? We can do whatever we want. So, whatever you choose — it’s okay. Because you’re free, Torao.”

The light, golden as Torao’s eyes.

“But! The thing is, I’m greedy. So I’ll be selfish. I’ve always been, right? Shishishi! I’ll also just do what I want, say what I want, okay Torao?”

The light is so bright that it hurts; so beautiful that his eyes well up with tears.

“I love you, Torao,” Luffy says. If Torao makes another choice, if this is going to be the last words he says to him, then he wants Torao to hear it one more time. He says, “Torao. Law. I love you. And I want— I want to live with you—”

To enter the world is like being born again, and crying as one cried the first day they were born—

.

.

.

…and Luffy cries, too.

-

“If we’re going to do this, you have to understand. I won’t be your follower. I will keep being your ally, but I’m not part of your fleet. We’ll sail independently. So we probably will only manage to meet each other from time to time.”

Luffy nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.”

Torao stares carefully at him, apparently disarmed by Luffy’s reaction.

“That’s it? And you still— even so, do you still want to be with me?”

Luffy tilts his head. “Yeah? You being part of my fleet is stupid, I never wanted that. And you’re free, Torao. You have your own path, I get that.”

Those words don’t seem enough to Torao, a troubled weight still lingering behind the golden eyes. Torao asks, “…And what if our paths are too different, Luffy-ya? Do you really think we can go on like this?”

Luffy gazes at him for a long moment. A smile curls his lips.

“You’re free, Torao,” he says again. “But even when we’re apart, you’ll always be mine. And I’ll always be yours. Shishishi! Don’t you know that?”

An almost smile reaches Torao’s eyes. He shakes his head.

“It can’t be that simple, Luffy-ya.”

“But it is! I love you, and you love me. It’s simple like that. We can make it work,” Luffy says, and he doesn’t miss the red creeping on Torao’s cheeks at Luffy’s words, I love you, and you love me, and the way Torao tries to disguise the blush with a grimace over his features. This thing between them is still new, but Luffy doesn’t think he will ever get tired of the cute, embarrassed faces Torao makes. Warmth settles in his chest, and he adds with a grin, “You think too much, Torao. Sometimes you are so smart that it makes you dumb, you know?”

Torao makes a noise of disagreement, with a hint of amusement. It’s Torao’s soft, subtle chuckle, and Luffy’s heart twists fondly at that sound.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. You just don’t think enough,” Torao scoffs, shoving an accusing finger at Luffy’s chest, which brings out Luffy’s laughter.

Luffy takes Torao’s poking hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and uses the grip of their clasped hands to pull Torao towards him.

Ah, Luffy thinks, despite what he said earlier. He knows Torao’s free; that Torao has his own journey, his own adventure. But on the next day, when they both will sail in opposite directions—

—Luffy also knows he’ll miss Torao.

He already wants to see him again.

“Ne, Torao,” Luffy whispers into the shrinking space between their mouths, “Come back to me, okay?”

Instead of replying, Torao closes the gap between them, and kisses him.

-

—The sky. Blue merging with hues of pink and purple. Luffy doesn’t know if it’s dawn, or dusk.

The faint sunlight still manages to warm his skin; the heavy ocean air wraps around his body. He’s somewhere at the edges of Laugh Tale, where the exit of the cave had led him.

He doesn’t turn around.

Tears have dried on his cheeks, on his jaw.

He waits.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know.

Then:

“…Luffy-ya.”

His breath hitches. His heart aches.

He still doesn’t turn around.

“Turn around,” that nostalgic voice says, fond, and a bit hoarse, “Don’t you trust me?”

I do, Luffy wants to say, but there’s a lump in his throat, nothing but a whimper coming out of his mouth.

Slowly, shaking, Luffy turns—

And Torao. Torao is right there. Standing and alive. Looking back at him, a bit far away, which is actually too far away, and when Luffy comes to he’s already running to shorten that stupid distance, crying and panting, and Torao is also rushing in his direction, his golden eyes glistening with light and tears, and he opens his arms—

And Luffy is inside Torao’s hug. In his arms. Surrounded by Torao’s warmth. They collapse to the ground, to their knees, arms curling around each other.  Luffy’s saying, “Torao, Torao, Torao,” between sobs. Torao is crying, Torao is saying his name over and over, running his hands over his back, his arm. Kisses Luffy’s ear, hair, cheek. Holds Luffy’s jaw and turns it to him, and kisses his mouth, too. Steals his breath and at the same time makes Luffy feel alive.

Torao is alive.

It is real.

Luffy pulls away a bit to also touch Torao with his eyes, hands still clutching to Torao’s shirt, not letting go of him. He’s never going to let him go ever again. Torao cups Luffy’s face in his hands, and Luffy says, “Hi,” his voice wet, smiling.

Torao laughs through a sob, “Hi.”

“You’re so stupid,” Luffy sniffs. “Don’t do that ever again.”

“Then,” Torao says, thumb gathering a tear out of the corner of Luffy’s right eye, “don’t die too, Luffy-ya.”

The words make Luffy stop.

“…But you did. You died,” Luffy says under his breath, voice cracking, lower lip wobbling. “You died for me. Just like…”

…Ace, he doesn’t say, but the name hangs in the air all the same, and Torao senses it too, staring at him, hand pausing its caress on Luffy’s cheek. “Luffy-ya…”

It’s stupid. It’s dumb. Torao is right here; Torao is alive. What happened, happened, and what matters the most is that Torao is with him now, but—

It’s still vivid. The weight of Torao’s lifeless body leaning against his; Torao’s warmth slipping through his fingers.

A question, choked in his throat:

What if Torao does that operation on him again?

He can’t bear it.

“You don’t understand, Torao. You can’t… you can’t do that stupid surgery on me again. Never. If you do it again— I can’t take it, Torao.” His hands curl into fists on Torao’s shirt. “I can’t. I won’t be able to die, but I can’t live with it too, not knowing it cost your life, I can’t—”

Luffy doesn’t know what is showing on his face, but Torao is looking at him with stunned eyes, full of concern, of emotions he can’t name, passing through them. Slowly, Torao reaches out for the back of Luffy’s head, pulls him again into an embrace. Presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, Luffy-ya,” Torao mumbles, and that makes Luffy begin to cry again, hands clutching to Torao’s back, sinking in the hug. After a while, when Luffy calms down, other words come out of Torao’s mouth, in a quieter tone, “Luffy-ya. I don’t regret what I did. But I’m sorry that I hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt you. I… I found you there on the ground, and nothing me or Tony-ya did was working, and— I just wanted to save you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

With a tug at his heart, Luffy realizes Torao’s hand on his back is trembling.

“I can’t lose more people I love, Luffy-ya,” Torao says, voice as tight as the grip on Luffy’s back. “Winner Island was almost the last straw for me. And if I lose you too… and I almost did, and— I can’t lose you.”

His grip tightens, but what hurts Luffy is to hear the pain in Torao’s words, in Torao’s shaking hand.

The same pain he had witnessed while trying to wake up Torao from his nightmares.

The scent of the sea coils around them, and Luffy is seven years old again, on the coast of Dawn Island, lying on the grass, pulling his hat down to helplessly hide his tears, making Ace promise him that he won’t die.

But Luffy can’t make the same promise to Torao. He can’t make Torao promise that to him.

Because even if they don’t want to, that promise was always meant to be broken.

He knows better now.

He pushes Torao, who lets out a surprised gasp and uses his arms to support his weight. After making space for himself, Luffy climbs to Torao’s lap, before placing his hands on Torao’s shoulders, staring right at the golden eyes.

“Torao. We’re strong. We can take care of ourselves,” Luffy says. “But when you need me, I will always try to save you. And you will always try to save me, won’t you?”

It’s not a question, but a fact. So Luffy doesn’t wait for Torao’s answer and continues, words and hands on Torao’s shoulders still firm:

“But when we try to save each other, we always have to try to live too,” he says. “And you have to promise me you won’t do that stupid surgery on me again, Torao.”

Wide-eyed, Torao watches him. He lowers his gaze, a frown forming between his brows, at the same time the corners of his mouth curve a little. He places his hands on Luffy’s waist and glances at him once more.

“It’s not so simple, Luffy-ya.”

Luffy’s face brightens at Torao’s words. “Shishishi! It isn’t,” he agrees, nodding. “But we have to try anyway. I want to live with you, Torao.”

Torao stills. He swallows, and manages to say, “—That’s. That’s what you said, while we were crossing back to this world.”

“Yeah. Because that’s what I want,” Luffy nods again, and nudges Torao’s nose with his own. “Ne, Toraooo,” he whines, barely containing a grin, “Come on, promise me.”

An exasperated groan and a curse in Flevish escape out of Torao’s mouth.

“You’re so selfish,” Torao snarls, his face scrunched up in a scowl, his fingers digging into Luffy’s sides. “You drive me crazy.”

Luffy’s laughing, now.  Unrepentant, his hands slide from Torao’s shoulders so he can circle his arms around Torao’s neck, getting closer.

“You can’t be so reckless like you were when fighting Blackbeard, or like when you gave up ten years of your lifespan on the spot for Yggdrasil’s guardian, then. You have to try. Promise me.”

Laughter tapering off into a sure smile, Luffy nods — serious, unyielding. “I don’t regret giving up those years for you, Torao,” he says though, mirroring Torao’s earlier words. Still, he doesn’t want to be a source of pain for Torao, if he can help it.  “But okay. I’ll try. I promise.”

Torao lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. But his words are resolute as he says, “I promise, too.”

“Torao!” Luffy can’t help himself, he hugs Torao, arms wrapping so tightly around his neck that Torao nearly chokes. He has to hit Luffy on the back to release him. When Luffy notices, he immediately pulls away, as Torao coughs and glares at him. “Ooops! Sorry, Torao.”

“I just got back,” Torao wheezes when he gets enough air in his lungs, “And you… nearly killed me now. I think I almost saw Yggdrasil again.”

Luffy scratches the back of his head, laughing. “My bad, my bad.”

Still with furrowed brows, Torao shoots him a strange look, and Luffy thinks that maybe he’s still mad for Luffy almost strangling him with a hug — but an inked hand rests on his shoulder.

“I need to tell you something, Luffy-ya,” Torao says, tone shifting to something serious, careful. Luffy blinks at him, and Torao adds, “While I was there… I met Ace-ya.”

Mind blank, processing Torao’s words, Luffy lets his hands drop to his lap.

“He said you don’t have to worry about the guardian’s words.” Golden eyes roam over his face. “And he said… that he’s proud of you.”

Inside of him, something wells up at hearing those words. It overflows through tears falling down his cheeks, through a smile threatening to split his face from ear to ear.

His laughter comes out wet, weightless. Warm.

“Shishishi! Really?”

Torao’s finger is warm, too, as he wipes some tears from Luffy’s face.

“Yeah. Really.”

It dawns on him, then, the implications of what Torao said. He looks at Torao, mouth agape.

“—Wait. Torao, does this mean…?” He tugs at Torao’s clothes. “Did you— did you meet them too? Your family? Your Cora-san?”

This time, it’s Torao’s eyes that water. His voice is thick with emotion as he replies, with a smile, “Yes.”

Seeing Torao cry makes more tears fill his own eyes, too. With his free hand, Luffy reaches out for Torao’s face, also smearing his tears. He thinks he understands; it’s something sad, but something happy, too.

There are no words for this.

Watching the expression on Torao’s face makes him remember the shadows’ voices on the crossing, saying how selfish Luffy was, for wanting to take Torao back when he finally met his lost loved ones.

Luffy stares at him.

“…Torao. Was it hard? To come back?”

A nod. A tattooed finger pushes a dark strand of hair behind Luffy’s ear.

“It was hard,” Torao admits, “But in a way… it was simple, too.”

He holds Luffy’s face, and Luffy covers Torao’s hand with his own, presses his cheek into Torao’s palm.

“You were there,” Torao says, so much warmth in his eyes that Luffy’s also get warm. “And I just wanted to come back to you.”

You are alive, Luffy wants to say.

I love you.

I found you, I found you. I won’t let you go.

Words, words, words. None of them manages to get out of Luffy’s mouth, curled in a wobbly pout, dark eyes wet as the sea at night. Torao is still cradling his face and he chuckles, and Luffy puffs up his cheeks, wants to point out that Torao is not much better than him, his face all damp too. But Torao says, “Cora-san said he didn’t want to see me there until I was full of all the gray hairs you would give me, and my family agreed with him,” and Luffy lets out a wet laugh, nodding, because Torao’s family and Cora-san can totally count on him for that. “I have to keep my promise to Ace-ya, too. That I will take care of you.”

Words won’t shift into sounds, words won’t do like this now, so Luffy uses his grip on Torao’s shirt to yank him forward, to kiss him. To pass the words directly from his to Torao’s mouth, Torao’s tongue, to reach Torao’s heart, hoping he can understand. When their lips part, their breaths mingle, and Luffy can almost taste the sweetness of Torao’s mouth curling into a smile.

Torao brushes the words to the corner of Luffy’s mouth, the words now not only Luffy’s, nor only Torao’s — but theirs.

“You found me, Luffy-ya.”

Later, it’s Bepo and Sanji who meet them first. They shout “Captain!” and “Shitty Captain!” and they run to Luffy and Torao, and soon the others are there too, calling out for their captains, surrounding them in tears and hugs and shoulder pats; and in the midst of it all, Shachi holds Luffy’s face, crying and laughing, sniffling and saying, “Holy shit, Straw Hat, you pulled out another miracle, you really did it — thank you, thank you—”

It turns out it’s dusk, after all, their crews waited for hours, back to the cabin or surrounding it, until Bepo yelled when Torao’s body disappeared, and Sanji yelled because he could sense something with his Haki.

And now it’s Luffy who yells, “Sanji, food!” because he hasn’t eaten anything since all of this began and he’s starving, the request followed by his stomach’s roar, and their crews burst into laughter. They eat and talk and Torao is hugged way more than he usually allows others to do, but he makes peace with it for now. And Luffy grins — because their bellies are full, their hearts whole, their eyes filled with hope and future.

Deeper into the night, in the captain’s quarters of the Tang, they drop on the bed, exhausted. Luffy watches as Torao closes his eyes.

“I can’t sleep if you keep staring at me like this,” Torao mumbles after a while.

“Hum. Sorry.”

“You’re,” Torao deadpans, “a terrible liar.”

With his mouth curled in a pout, Luffy supports his chin on Torao’s chest. “I didn’t lie about being sorry that you couldn’t sleep, silly Torao. You should sleep more, you know,” he says, stretching a finger and poking at the bags under Torao’s eyes.

Torao groans and swats the offending finger without a second thought, which snaps back to a rubber hand, Luffy snickering. Torao opens his eyes and glances pointedly at him. “You are not sorry about the staring.”

“Nope!” Luffy agrees, and Torao’s snort could be either from the answer or from the press of Luffy’s nods on his chest. “It’s just— you’re here, Torao! I can’t help it, shishishi!”

Another snort, blush spreading on Torao’s sun-kissed skin. Luffy also lays a kiss on it, and climbs over Torao, rubbing his nose on Torao’s cheek. Torao’s hand comes up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangled at his hair, a soft sigh escaping through Torao’s lips.

“Ne, Torao?”

“Hum?”

Luffy gives him a wide, warm smile. “Welcome back.”

Torao shifts his head on the pillow, to face Luffy. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” Torao replies in Eastern, pressing their foreheads against each other, “I’m home.”

Luffy’s smile grows. His legs tangle with Torao’s, eyes shut, their breaths slowing down.

They dream together.