Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shanks, now in his second year as Mayor of the largely beautiful city of Midpoint, the capital of the Republic of Grand Line, moved through the narrow alleys leading to the East Slums, his face concealed beneath a dark wig and a flowing black cape. With way too many people living in the most horrific conditions imaginable, the East Slums were a place where chaos reigned unchecked—an area so lawless that even organised crime had been unable to establish dominance. The air was thick with rot and despair, the distant echoes of suffering hanging over the streets like a curse, a tangible reflection of a society on the brink of collapse. It was a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, where survival itself was a daily battle against the overwhelming darkness.

Beck, his closest friend and advisor, had called him at eight in the night, on a Saturday. His voice had been tense, his words clipped. Despite all the support programs, the substitution facilities, and the food distributions, things had only worsened. Beck and other advisors developed the habit to personally check on the people, especially those in the slums, who are the most vulnerable of them all.

Now, seeing it with his own eyes, Shanks understood exactly what Beck had meant earlier.

It was a catastrophe.

“I think I saw a woman’s body back there on the dirt, maybe she's high, maybe she's dead, I don't know,” Shanks murmured, his voice tight. His eyes flicked to the alley behind him. “She should be removed before someone… does something vile.”

Beck, already pulling out his phone, nodded grimly.

Shanks exhaled and looked around, his gut twisting at the sight before him. The filth. The hopelessness. The suffocating weight of despair.

And then, something else caught his eye.

A small girl sat on the ground, her frail body wrapped in tattered clothes. A battered sign lay across her lap.

Anything for food

Shanks stopped. His breath hitched.

“Beck, Beck, do you see that?” He grabbed his friend’s arm, his pulse spiking.

Beck turned and paled. “Oh God,” he whispered, absolutely horrified.

Without thinking, Shanks spun around and ran to the nearest food stall. His hands shook as he paid, stuffing bags full of warm food into his arms before rushing back.

He knelt before the girl. “Here. For you.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, frozen in place. Her tangled black hair framed a face that, in another life, might have been adorable. But this wasn’t a dream. This was the East Slums.

“…Will it hurt?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“God, no! Just eat. And put the sign away so no one hurts you,” Shanks said, pressing the three bags of food into her tiny hands.

She hesitated. “Does this make me feel funny?” Shanks’ stomach twisted. He felt physically ill.

“No,” he said, steady but firm. “I just bought it. If you want, we can go together, and you can watch them pack it fresh.”

She studied him for a long moment before shaking her head. And then, out of nowhere, she smiled.

It was the most beautiful, pure, and sincere smile Shanks had ever seen—so utterly out of place in the East Slums that it nearly shattered him. For a second, he forgot to breathe. It felt like his heart had stopped.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Then, gripping the food tightly, she stood and walked away.

Shanks frowned, watching her. She couldn’t be taller than 80 cm. How old was she?

He followed immediately. But before he could call out, voices echoed from the next alley.

“Is someone coming, Lu? My fingers are already twitching,” a teenage voice muttered.

“No, food. Here,” the girl—Lu—responded.

“Thanks, Lu. You’re the best,” another voice said. “With this much, we won’t have to jump some old perv today. Maybe the person who gave you food will come back, huh? I say we go home, and I’ll read you something, okay?”

Lu let out a delighted squeal.

Against his better judgment, Shanks followed from a distance. Soon, he saw them—three children disappearing into a shack beneath one of the smaller bridges near the East River.

His jaw tightened as he pulled out his phone.

“Hongo, didn’t we implement free medical programs for kids and teens in the East Slums? Nami approved the funding, right?”

“Yeah,” Hongo replied. “Dr. Hogback submits reports regularly.”

“And the orphanage?”

“Moria told me some time ago that kids in the south keep running away. Or disappearing entirely. But we never had the resources to investigate.”

Shanks gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Shit, Hongo. Get over here. I don’t know what to do. I’m sending you my location.”

He ended the call, his mind racing. Something was very, very wrong in the East Slums.

Behind a dense bush, barely concealed in the shadows, three grown men crouched in silence.

Hongo and Beck exchanged uneasy glances before slowly turning their heads toward Shanks, who was staring into the distance, looking far too serious.

Then, out of nowhere, he whispered, “I think I’m in love. Beck, do you remember that gi—”

“Shanks… whatever you’re about to say—don’t. I swear to God, if you finish that sentence, I will quit our friendship and my job right here, right now,” Beck interrupted him.

Then Beck and Hongo looked at Shanks like he had completely lost his damn mind.

Shanks blinked, snapping out of his trance. “Oh—NO! That’s not what I meant! What I meant to say is that I want to adopt that kid. Or at least get her into a proper home. She doesn’t belong here. She's special.”

Beck exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “You scared the hell out of me, idiot.”

Shanks ran a hand through his hair. “She’s living in that shack over there with two boys. One of them mentioned they usually rob pervs to survive.” He clenched his jaw. 

Beck and Hongo exchanged another glance—this time, in relief. Thank god their boss wasn’t some creep who deserved to get robbed.

“I wouldn’t approach her at the shack,” Hongo advised. “Wait until you run into her on the street again. Talk to her then.”

Shanks nodded, and the three men rose from their hiding spot, moving towards the dirty plaza where Shanks had first seen the girl.

But just as they stepped into a narrow alley, a group of men appeared from the opposite end. And each of them carried nail-studded baseball bats.

Shanks tensed.

One of the men sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “It’s about time those two little rats learned their place.”

Another chuckled. “We could make real money off the girl.”

“Yeah,” a third man laughed, dark and cruel. “Some guys would pay extra for something like her and when she gets too old and we've had our fun, we'll sell her.”

Shanks’ entire body went rigid. Beck and Hongo had never seen him this still before.

“We need to turn around. I have a really bad feeling about this,” Shanks whispered. His voice was too calm. Too controlled.

Beck and Hongo didn’t argue. They followed his lead as he trailed the group, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His worst fears solidified when the men stopped in front of the shack. The shack where she lived. Shanks could barely breathe.

“Urchins, come out and surrender,” one of them barked.

Silence.

“Have it your way.”

One of them struck a match. The shack went up in flames, instantly.

Shanks moved. Beck and Hongo grabbed him before he could lunge forward, barely holding him back.

“Shanks, WAIT!” Beck hissed.

“What if she’s in there?!” Shanks snarled, struggling. His voice was on the verge of breaking.

Beck only pointed. Shanks followed his hand. On the bridge, a blonde boy was carrying the girl. Beside him stood another boy with messy black hair.

The blonde boy spoke, then gently set the girl down, grabbing a metal pipe instead.

Shanks watched as the two boys moved like ghosts. They climbed onto the railing. And then, they jumped onto the thugs.

Shanks sucked in a sharp breath.

They landed on the thugs shoulders with perfect precision. And the moment their target went down and their feet hit the ground, they attacked the others.

Brutal. Precise. Unrelenting.

Shanks, Beck, and Hongo could only watch as the two boys ripped through the thugs like seasoned fighters. They fought with the kind of desperation that came from a life on the edge. A life where losing meant dying.

Shanks had never seen kids fight like this before. And then suddenly came a high-pitched scream from the bridge.

The boys froze. The hesitation lasted less than a second but it was enough.

A thug swung his bat and the blonde boy barely dodged. Another grabbed the dark-haired one’s arm.

A figure moved from the bridge straight towards them. Shanks’ eyes widened and something inside him snapped.

“Sorry,” he muttered—and ran.

Lu sprinted past him, tiny legs moving as fast as they could. Shanks didn’t even think. His fist swung, connected and the man collapsed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shanks said softly, turning to the girl. “You’re safe now.”

She looked up at him, breathless—and recognition flickered in her wide, dark eyes.

Beck and Hongo ran up, and Lu instinctively shrank back. Shanks crouched. Lowered his voice.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “These two are my friends. You can trust them. They’d never hurt you.”

She hesitated—then turned to Beck and Hongo.

And just like before, she smiled. That same beautiful, pure, heartbreaking smile.

“I’m Shanks. What’s your name?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

“Luffy,” she said. “But Ace and Sabo just call me Lu. They are my brothers.”

“I’m Beck.”

“My name’s Hongo,” the other man introduced.

Shanks hesitated. “Where are your parents?” Lu only shrugged.

“No family?”

“Ace and Sabo are my family,” she answered simply.

Shanks felt a sting in his chest.

“No other relatives?”

Lu tilted her head, thinking. “Ace says Jiichan left me with him.”

That sentence shattered them.

“…Luffy, how old are you?” Hongo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lu held up two, then three fingers.

Shanks’ stomach dropped. She was three. She was a toddler. And she had been living like this.

“Luffy, run!” two boys yell.

Shanks opened his mouth—but a sudden, blinding pain exploded in his skull.

Everything blurred and he heard yelling until everything finally went dark.

Shanks slowly drifted back into consciousness as he felt a firm grip on his shoulder, shaking him.

“Wake up. We need to get out of here,” Beck’s voice cut through the haze in his mind.

Shanks groaned, blinking against the dull ache pounding in his skull. Everything around him was blurry at first—the bridge. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened. The brothers.

Before he could move, Hongo’s voice reached him, dry and resigned.

“Don’t bother checking for your wallet. We were completely robbed.”

Shanks let his head drop back against the wall and exhaled long and slow.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough, before pushing himself up.

The moment he stood, the world tilted. His vision swam, legs unsteady beneath him.

Beck caught him before he could stumble.

“Easy,” he muttered. “You probably have a concussion.”

“We’re stopping at a hospital first,” Hongo added. “Then I’ll call a driver to pick us up. You can go and look for her again tomorrow.”

Shanks groaned but gave a small nod, letting Beck keep him steady as they made their way out of the alley.

Luffy was fuming, pacing back and forth with clenched fists, muttering to herself. Normally it's better to hit first and ask questions later—or not ask at all. But usually, men are bad. These men were nice though, and maybe, just maybe, the nicest man would’ve bought them food again. 

She gritted her teeth, her voice dropping as she continued, "Shanks... but no money. That’s okay."

Once Ace and Sabo were asleep in their latest hideout, Luffy quietly grabbed the wallet and phone that belonged to the nicest man and slipped out of the cramped hideout. She stood outside for a moment, thinking about how to return the items. After a brief moment of contemplation, she decided she could give them to the police. She once heard a woman say that he found her child at a police station, so the things should be fine at a police station. They'd surely help—and some of them were nice.

The police station Luffy saw earlier when she and her brothers ran here, was just around the corner. Luffy walked up to a young officer, holding out the wallet and phone. She looked up at him, her expression serious but tinged with uncertainty. "Found this," she said, barely above a whisper.

The officer, a young man with white hair and a cigar dangling from his mouth, looked at her in shock. "Holy shit," he muttered when he checked the insides of the wallet, eyeing the child before him. "Where the hell did you stole this?" he barked, his voice sharp.

Luffy’s lip trembled, and she instinctively stepped back, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't steal."

An older, larger officer with metal in his face stepped forward, his voice booming. "What’s going on here?" he demanded.

"This kid stole from a very important person," the younger officer said, his voice tense as he looked down at Luffy with disdain.

"In the cell with her," the older officer snapped, pointing toward the holding cells. "We'll wait for the victim to claim their belongings. Call them."

Before Luffy could react, another officer grabbed her by the neck, carried her and threw her into a cold, empty cell. She hit the floor with a thud, her heart racing, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she looked up at the steel bars above her.

Hours passed in silence, the air thick with the oppressive weight of the station's monotony. As the first light of dawn crept through the small window, Luffy’s sobs echoed through the empty, cold cell. Every so often, something, a piece of stale bread, an empty bottle, was tossed her way in a futile attempt to calm her. Luffy remained curled in on herself, face hidden behind her hands, her cries growing louder. It was a desperate release, her body wracked with emotion she couldn’t control.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, and her sobs softened as she drifted into an uneasy, restless sleep. The silence was almost suffocating, but the weight of her tears finally gave way to the stillness.

And then, the usual noise of the station stopped altogether. The shuffle of footsteps, the chatter of officers, it all faded away, leaving a thick, unnatural silence.

“It’s an honor to greet you this early in the morning,” a gruff voice cut through the quiet, breaking the tension in the air. “I think you’ll be glad to leave here quickly. There’s no reason to stay.”

“Here,” the officer muttered, clearly ready to be rid of the matter.

Shanks, standing tall in the cold, dimly lit room, took the items in his hand and immediately looked up, his voice steady but with an underlying tension. “Where did you get these? Is it just my stuff, or are there two more wallets and phones?”

The older officer said nothing.

Shanks’ expression tightened, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not asking again. Where did you these?” he said, his voice calm but unmistakably firm.

Still, the officer remained silent, avoiding Shanks’ gaze.

Finally, the younger officer cracked. “A child brought them,” he admitted, his voice reluctant.

“A child? Seriously?” Shanks asked in disbelief, his gaze sharpening as he processed the words. The two officers nodded, confirming what seemed like a bizarre twist.

“Is the child still here? Can I thank them?” Shanks’ tone softened as he addressed the officers, his concern shifting toward the unexpected helper.

The younger officer shrugged. “It’s a young girl, I think.”

Shanks’ jaw dropped. “Is she here?” His voice broke slightly as he looked from one officer to the other.

Both officers nodded, and without another word, Shanks’ urgency became clear. “Take me to her, now,” he ordered. Without waiting for permission, he moved toward the hallway, his determination unwavering.

Less than a minute later, Shanks found himself kneeling in front of Luffy’s cell, the soft sound of his boots echoing in the stillness of the prison. The girl looked worse than yesterday, now sporting bruises on her legs and face. He took a breath before speaking, voice firm with conviction. “Let me in. She didn’t steal from me. I know her.”

The officers exchanged a glance, but the older man sneered. “We’ve seen this girl around. The sooner we lock her up, the better. If not for theft, then for prostitution. It’s a filthy little thing. She’s not worth your time. No need to thank her.”

Shanks could feel his pulse quickening as rage built in him. “Do you even hear yourselves?” he growled, the anger bubbling up in his chest. “You’re talking about a three-year-old like she’s an animal. No. I’m taking her out of here right now. And if you don’t let me, I’ll make sure your station gets a full audit. Starting with the fact that you threw a TODDLER in a CELL!”

The older officer scoffed, but the younger one faltered, glancing at his partner. Finally, with an irritated grunt, the older officer unlocked the cell.

Shanks didn’t wait a second longer. He moved quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he crossed the threshold into the dark, cold room. There, curled up in the corner, was Luffy. She looked smaller than before, bruised and broken in a way that made Shanks feel like someone had just punched him in the gut. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, and her eyes were distant, barely registering his presence.

His throat tightened. “Luffy,” he called softly, kneeling in front of her. “Lu, wake up.”

Her body twitched, her eyes fluttering open, but she seemed confused, as if the world around her was too much to take in. “Hm? Ace?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse.

“No, it’s Shanks, Lu,” he said gently, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. It’s me.” He reached out, his hand resting on her shoulder, but she flinched away, trembling as if she couldn’t recognize him.

Luffy’s wide eyes locked onto his, fresh tears welling up. “Your hair?” she asked, her voice fragile and full of uncertainty. “Where... where’s your hair?”

Shanks blinked, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I wore a wig yesterday, Lu. I’m sorry I didn’t show you, but it’s really me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

For a long moment, Luffy just stared at him, her small face clouded with confusion. Then, her body shook again, the weight of everything suddenly hitting her. “I must go to Ace and Sabo,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s... so cold...”

Shanks’ heart shattered as he slowly, carefully, gathered her into his arms. She didn’t resist, but melted into him, her tiny frame trembling with exhaustion. He held her close, rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back. “It’s okay, Sunshine,” he murmured, his voice tight. “You’re not in trouble. I’m not mad at Ace or Sabo. I’m gonna get you something to eat, and then we’ll go see your brothers, alright? They must be so worried about you.”

Luffy sniffled, the sound pitiful and raw. She nodded slightly, but then, her voice cracked again. “Do you have water?” she asked, her words breaking. “I... I didn’t have any... since... yesterday. I’m... I’m really thirsty.”

Shanks closed his eyes, his chest tightening painfully as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll get you something to drink, okay? We’re leaving this place. You’re safe now. You’re with me,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper, though the emotion in it was enough to drown him.

Luffy’s face, still filled with a mixture of confusion and fear, softened slightly, but she still clung to him, as if afraid he would disappear if she let go. “Okay,” she whispered back, her voice tiny and fragile, as though every word was a struggle.

Shanks stood, cradling her against him as he made his way to the door.

As they exited the station, one of Shanks’ men handed him a cap, a silent signal that they were preparing to leave. 

Less than an hour later, they were standing in front of the shabby hideout.

Squeezing Shanks’ shoulder, Luffy’s face lit up, and she shouted with pure joy, “SABO! ACE!”

Inside, frantic shouting filled the air. “Luffy! Where were you?” Sabo’s voice rang out, filled with panic.

“Were you kidnapped?” Ace’s voice cracked with worry as he rushed toward her.

Luffy looked up at her brothers, a mischievous glint in her eyes, then giggled. “Did I wake you?”

Shanks chuckled at the scene, watching the boys' concern slowly turn into confusion. “Looks like they’ve been asleep and didn’t notice you leaving. But don’t worry. Your sister gave me back my things, and I brought you breakfast,” he said, a wide grin on his face. “And I’ve got another offer for you.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, his defensive stance apparent. “What do you want from us?”

Shanks’ smile faltered for a moment, his expression turning serious. “I want to give you all, especially Luffy, a better future,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

Sabo scoffed, his usual sarcasm returning. “You’re not the first to ask if we’d sell Luffy.”

Shanks was taken aback, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not here to buy anyone. I know Luffy wouldn’t come with me without her brothers. So I’m offering you all a place with me. You’ll be safe, and I’ll take care of you.”

Luffy’s eyes widened with a mix of hope and confusion, looking from Shanks to her brothers.

Sabo cocked his head, his curiosity piqued. “If we come with you, what happens then?”

Shanks’ smile was warm, reassuring. “We’ll go to my place. You’ll wash up, eat…” He paused, watching Luffy’s eyes light up at the mention of food. “And then a friend of mine looks for immediate health concerns and we’ll talk to my lawyer about getting custody of you.”

Luffy, her voice bright with excitement, added, “Meat?”

Shanks chuckled. “Yes, meat. And you'll get new clothes, maybe some dresses? Does that sound good, Luffy? Then we’ll sort out the details. I know Luffy’s three, but how old are you two?”

Ace and Sabo exchanged looks. “We’re both seventeen,” Ace said with a slight defensiveness in his voice.

Shanks blinked, surprised. “Seventeen? I thought you were younger, like fourteen or so.”

Sabo grinned. “We get that a lot.”

Shanks shook his head with a smile. “Alright. I’ll call my lawyer and my associates to get everything started. Is there anything else you want, aside from meat?”

Ace and Luffy shook their heads. Sabo, however, added, “A blue top hat.”

Shanks paused for a moment, then shrugged with a grin. “Well, who am I to judge?”

As they walked away together, Luffy felt a small spark of hope begin to grow.

Three vehicles rolled up the long driveway to Shanks estate, the sound of their tires crunching against the gravel breaking the morning stillness. As they came to a stop, the grandeur of the mansion became more apparent. The sleek black cars parked with precision as someone opens the door and Shanks stepped out of the lead vehicle, holding Luffy in his arms. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy’s wide eyes took in the impressive sight.

“Why do you live in a place like this? Are you rich?” Ace asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice. He glanced around, clearly overwhelmed by the opulence.

Shanks smiled awkwardly, shrugging as he set Luffy down gently. “I live here for a few years. It’s... provided to me. I’m probably rich, but honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. The three of them stared at him, exchanging confused glances.

“I’ll explain it to you later. For now, let’s go inside,” Shanks added, his tone shifting back to its usual ease as he motioned for them to follow him.

The group walked through the grand front doors, and the sound of their footsteps echoed through the vast entryway. Luffy, still clinging to Shanks, looked up at him, trusting him completely as he carried her between the large columns that framed the hall. As they passed by various employees, they threw curious glances their way, some pausing in their work to take in the unusual sight of the three newcomers.

“Lucky it’s the weekend,” Shanks said, his voice light. “It’s not too busy around here.” Ace and Sabo exchanged puzzled looks but didn’t comment. The grandeur of the mansion had left them speechless, and they simply followed Shanks deeper inside, unsure of what to expect next.

They made their way down a corridor, and Shanks stopped in front of a large set of doors. “Alright, here we are,” he said, pushing them open. “These are my private quarters. Only I, my closest friends, and the house keeper under supervision are allowed in here.”

The room was spacious, elegantly furnished, with large windows letting in the soft morning light. A comfortable sitting area was arranged by a fireplace, and shelves were filled with books, trophies, and various knick-knacks. There was a sense of warmth in the space, despite its size.

“The bathroom is just through here, and then to the left,” Shanks said, gesturing toward a door. “Everything you’ll need is inside.” He turned to Luffy, gently patting her on the head with a smile. “You’ll be fine. Go on, follow your brothers.”

Luffy, still slightly dazed from the whirlwind of events, gave a small nod and, with determination, scampered off after Ace and Sabo. Her short legs carried her quickly, and Shanks couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he watched her run ahead, her excitement bubbling over.

With that, Shanks stepped back, giving them space to explore as he made his way to a desk across the room.

“This is insane,” Ace muttered under his breath, still processing it all.

“I know,” Sabo agreed, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and awe as he opened the door to the bathroom.

About twenty minutes later, Shanks, Beckman, and Hongo were sitting on the large couch, several bags of clothing piled next to them in varying sizes. Both men got their belongings back, without the money though.

They weren’t sure what would fit the boys or Luffy, so they’d brought a bit of everything. The room was calm, the sounds of the dryer hum filling the silence, until suddenly, a loud shriek pierced the air.

"YOU HURT ME!" Luffy’s voice rang out, followed by frantic splashing.

Without a moment’s hesitation, all three men jumped up in alarm. They rushed towards the bathroom, Shanks bursting through the door, only to be met with a sight that left them frozen.

There, in the massive bathtub, were Ace and Sabo, both soaked, as they carefully worked to untangle Luffy’s long, wet black hair. Luffy was sitting in the middle of the tub, her face scrunched up in frustration, as her brothers tried their best to calm her down.

"Ah, Mister, good you’re here!" Sabo called out with a relieved smile.

Shanks blinked in confusion as he looked from Sabo to Ace and then to Luffy, who was still pouting. "Do you... need help?" Shanks asked, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine concern.

Sabo glanced up at Shanks, still holding a knot of Luffy’s hair. "Well, do you have a pair of scissors? We’ve got some knots here that we just can’t get out," he explained with an almost apologetic look.

The three men exchanged glances, a bit stunned by the request, but Shanks nodded after a brief pause. "I’ll be right back." He quickly left and returned a minute later with a pair of scissors in hand, passing them to Sabo.

"Thanks, Mister," Sabo said, giving him a small nod before turning back to Luffy’s tangled mess of hair.

Shanks, Beckman, and Hongo stood by the door, watching intently as Sabo carefully worked. The atmosphere was a strange blend of tension and curiosity as Sabo slowly gathered Luffy’s long, damp hair into a neat braid. The sound of scissors snipping was followed by Luffy’s giggle as she seemed to take great delight in the attention.

"Alright, Lu. Problem solved," Ace said with a grin, giving Luffy a playful poke.

Luffy giggled again, brushing the water droplets off her face. Sabo set the now-cut hair aside, the once-long strands now cut at shoulder-length.

The three men stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of how to react to the intimate moment unfolding before them. But Ace, ever the sharp one, broke the silence with a smirk.

"I know we should apologize for knocking you out earlier," Ace said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but if you keep standing in the doorway watching us bathe, we’ll treat you the same as those pervs who thought Luffy was really being sold." His eyes glinted, daring them to make a move.

Shanks, Beckman, and Hongo exchanged awkward glances, then stepped back slightly, realizing they had indeed been hovering far too long. Without another word, they tactically retreated down the hallway, leaving the bathroom door to close behind them.

About ten minutes later, the door creaked open, and Sabo peeked out, his face still slightly flushed. "Mister, you said we could have some clothes, right?" he asked, his tone polite but with an undercurrent of excitement.

"Oh, yes," Shanks replied, quickly standing up and gathering the bags of clothes. He walked toward the bathroom door, carrying the bags with ease.

Back in the living room, Beckman and Hongo were lounging on the couch, listening to the soft hum of the hairdryer mixed with the occasional sound of Luffy's giggles. The sounds coming from the bathroom were strangely comforting, and as Shanks came back, they shared a quiet smile, amused by the situation, but they couldn’t help but chuckle at the besotted expression on Shanks’ face.

Not long after, the bathroom door creaked open, and the first to emerge were Sabo and Ace. Sabo had changed into a crisp pair of blue slacks and a neat white button-down shirt, looking surprisingly formal, while Ace wore loose orange cargo pants and a black t-shirt, embodying a more casual vibe. They stood for a moment, both taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, but it was the entrance of Luffy that truly caught everyone’s attention.

Luffy stepped out last, her face radiant with excitement as she twirled in her new dress—a white fabric adorned with tiny, bright sunflowers. The moment she caught sight of Shanks, her eyes lit up, and with an exuberant shout, she rushed toward him.

“Shaaaaaanks!” she cried, her voice high-pitched with joy. “Look how pretty my dress is!” she squealed, spinning in circles to show it off.

Shanks couldn’t help but smile, though there was an almost amused disbelief in his expression. Luffy’s infectious enthusiasm filled the room as she bounced over to Hongo and Beckman.

“Hongo! Beck!” she cried, stopping in front of them with a joyful twirl. “Look at my new dress!”

Beck chuckled and gave her a warm smile. “Very pretty, Luffy. Hongo picked that one. You look like a princess,” he said, his voice light and amused.

Luffy froze, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Princess?” she asked, her small hands coming to rest gently on Beck’s knees as she sought his confirmation.

Luffy’s tiny hands gripped Beck’s pants as she blinked up at him, her little face scrunching in confusion. She shifted her feet, looking at her dress, and then back at Beck, her brow furrowing slightly. “But… but I not a princess,” she mumbled, her voice soft and unsure.

Beck chuckled gently, tilting his head as he looked at the little girl. “Why not, kid?”

Luffy bit her lip, her fingers twisting nervously at the fabric of her dress. She finally managed to speak, her voice quieter this time, almost like she was trying to convince herself. “Men say... say I'm filthy,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the ground. “Princesses are not filthy…”

The room went silent. The soft, heavy atmosphere thickened as everyone absorbed her words.

Shanks' face hardened, his jaw clenching in anger. He could barely keep himself from snapping at the thought of anyone calling Luffy filthy. Ace’s eyes narrowed with frustration, his fists curling at his sides. Sabo’s posture stiffened.

Hongo, sensing the tension, crouched down to Luffy’s level, his expression softening. “Luffy,” he said gently, his voice calm and soothing, “those men? They were wrong. Very wrong.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to catch her eye. “You’re not filthy. You’re a bright, wonderful girl. Don’t listen to them.”

Luffy shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting his eyes. “But… books say... princesses have castles. Pretty dresses. I… I never had pretty a dress before…” She tugged at the fabric of her dress, her tiny voice faltering.

Shanks’ heart softened, a warmth flooding his chest. He knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Luffy,” he said softly, his voice full of affection, “being a princess isn’t about dresses. Or castles.” He smiled, his eyes shining with love. “It’s about who you are. You are kind, you’re strong, and you never give up. That’s what makes you a princess. A real one.”

Luffy blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes, processing his words. “Who… me?” she asked quietly, almost in disbelief.

Shanks nodded, his smile widening. “Yes, you, sunshine. You’re a princess. And you’re more real than any one in those books.”

Luffy’s mouth fell open in awe, and for a moment, her expression was one of pure wonder. “Real?” she whispered, eyes wide with amazement.

Beck smiled warmly. “Yep, real. And way cooler than the ones in the books.” He ruffled her hair gently, his voice teasing. “You’re a... mhm... You're a pirate princess!”

Luffy’s face lit up, and she immediately jumped up, her arms flying in the air in excitement. “Pirate princess!” she shouted, her little feet stomping as she spun around in a dizzying circle, giggling with glee. “I’m a pirate princess!”

Ace smirked, watching her spin around. “Sounds about right,” he said with a playful grin, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Shanks watched her, his chest swelling with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. He groaned dramatically, as if the weight of being the ‘pirate princess’s’ father was suddenly too much. “A pirate princess, huh? What am I gonna do with you?” he muttered, but there was a softness in his voice that only Luffy could hear.

Luffy didn’t miss a beat. She stopped spinning, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and ran over to Shanks, throwing her tiny arms around his neck. “You stay with me!” she declared, her voice full of pure, unfiltered joy.

Shanks blinked, his breath caught in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I will, Luffy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll stay with you.”

Standing up, Hongo composed himself and made his way over to the boys. “Hello,” he began with a playful grin. “I’m Dr. Blonde Hongo, but you can call me Hongo. I’m one of Shanks’ oldest friends, a doctor at the Central Hospital and work as a consultant for the Health department. Shanks asked me to give you a quick check-up, if that’s alright. I’ve got everything I need with me. I figured you don't want to visit a clinic.”

Sabo and Ace exchanged a look, then stepped forward, shaking Hongo’s hand. “We’re sorry for what happened yesterday,” Sabo said sincerely. “We thought you were bad news, but we were just looking out for Luffy.”

Hongo chuckled softly. “No need to apologize,” he reassured them. “You were just protecting your sister. It’s completely understandable.”

Beck, holding Luffy in his arms—who had insisted on being carried—stood up and made his way over to the boys. “I’m Benn Beckman, advisor to the redhead over there,” he said with a casual nod in Shanks’ direction. “But feel free to call me Beck, just like Luffy does. And don’t worry about what happened yesterday. You didn’t know the situation. You were just doing what any good big brothers would.”

The tension between the boys seemed to melt away, and they smiled, grateful for the understanding. They exchanged looks of relief, now feeling at ease in the presence of these unexpected allies.

Shanks clapped his hands together with a bright smile, standing up from the couch. He made his way over to Luffy, who giggled and reached out for him with eager arms. “Come here, sunshine,” Shanks said softly, his voice full of warmth. “I can carry you much better than the stinky Beck.”

Luffy laughed, her giggles ringing through the room. “Shishishishi, Beck is not stinky! Beck is great!” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Beck, trying to keep his usual calm composure, couldn’t help but grin at Luffy’s playful nature.

Shanks, still holding her, beamed down at the little girl. “Alright,” he said, turning to the boys. “Now, it’s time for food. After that, we’ll talk about some important things. Is that alright with everyone?”

After dinner, the six of them gathered in the living room once again, sinking into the comfortable couches. The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, though Luffy, still exhausted from her night in the cell, had drifted off to sleep in Shanks' arms. Her small form was curled up against his chest, breathing softly, completely at peace.

Shanks absentmindedly ran a hand over her messy black hair before clearing his throat. "I suppose I should properly introduce myself now," he said. "My name is Silvers Shanks. I’m 36 years old, and I’m currently trying to make this City a better place as its Mayor.”

The boys stared at him, wide-eyed, as if he had just grown a second head.

“The Mayor?” Sabo asked incredulously.

Shanks nodded, his expression amused but serious.

Ace and Sabo exchanged glances, clearly trying to process this new revelation.

Shanks leaned forward slightly, his tone softer now. “Can you tell me a little about yourselves?” he asked.

Ace was the first to speak. “My name is Ace. I was told I was born on January 1st, so I turned 17 earlier this year. I don’t know my parents or anything about them. Right after I was born, Luffy’s grandfather, he's an asshole, gave me to a group of bandits living in the hills behind East River." His jaw tightened slightly before he continued. "Luffy was born on May 5th. She just turned three. Her grandfather gave her to the bandits when she was only four days old, but they didn’t even bother buying her formula. How could I leave my sister there? So we ran away two days later, three years ago, and that’s when we met Sabo.”

Sabo nodded, picking up where Ace left off. “My name is Sabo. Unlike Ace, I do know my parents, but I don’t consider them my family. They burned my birth certificate right in front of me and erased my name from every record. After that, I ran away. Officially, I don’t exist anymore. Therefore I’m an undocumented orphan, just like my siblings. I was born on March 20th, and I turned 17 this year too.”

Shanks listened carefully, his face unreadable. Then, after a pause, he took a deep breath and spoke. “Boys… I want to adopt you and Luffy. You would become Silvers Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. Of course, I’ll ask Luffy when she wakes up, but if you refuse…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I honestly don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sabo narrowed his eyes slightly. “Do you want us for PR? The merciful Mayor taking in three orphans?” His voice was skeptical, guarded.

Shanks blinked, looking at Sabo as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “To be completely honest? The moment I saw Luffy on the street, I knew I wanted to take her in. You two just happen to be part of the package,” he said bluntly.

Sabo studied him for a long moment before nodding slightly, as if he could sense that Shanks was telling the truth.

Ace, on the other hand, seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he looked up and asked, “Would I have to go to school? I’ve never been to one before.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “Yes, you have to go to school. No matter what you want to do or become in the future, you need at least the basics. You don’t have to go to university, but I’m sure we’ll find the right path for you.” His voice was calm, reassuring.

Ace considered his words before giving a slow nod. "Alright," he said.

As Ace processed Shanks’ words about school, Sabo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry too much,” he said. “I went to school for nine years, and I’ve already taught Ace the basics—reading, writing, math, history, all that. He’s not as far behind as he thinks.”

Shanks blinked in surprise, then let out a quiet breath, his admiration for the blond boy growing. “You’ve really taken care of your brother, huh?” he said, a grateful smile tugging at his lips.

Sabo shrugged, but there was warmth in his expression. “Of course. We only had each other.”

Before Shanks could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called, and the door swung open to reveal a tall, imposing man with piercing golden eyes.

Shanks grinned widely. “Mihawk! It’s been too long.”

The newcomer stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing on the small girl curled up in Shanks’ arms. He barely seemed to register anything else. “She’s sleeping,” Mihawk observed, his voice quieter than usual.

Shanks chuckled. “Yeah. She’s still exhausted.” Then, looking at the boys, he gestured toward Mihawk. “This is Dracule Mihawk. He’s my lawyer. We’ve known each other since we were kids—we met at a kendo tournament, and he kicked my ass.”

Mihawk scoffed. “You exaggerate.”

Shanks smirked. “Do I?”

The boys exchanged looks before offering their introductions again, explaining their situation briefly. When they got to the part about their nonexistent legal identities, Mihawk’s brows furrowed slightly.

“So, Sabo was erased from all records, and Ace and Luffy were likely never registered at all,” he summarized.

Sabo nodded. “Yeah. I don’t exist, and they probably never did.”

Mihawk let out a short breath, shaking his head. “That actually makes this easier. If all goes well, the adoption should be finalized within three months.” He then turned to Shanks, his expression sharp. “Until then, do not let the public know about them.”

Neither Ace nor Sabo questioned it—they understood the importance of secrecy.

A small sound suddenly broke the moment. Luffy stirred in Shanks’ arms, stretching slightly before blinking blearily. She let out a soft, sleepy giggle before her gaze landed on Mihawk, who was now seated beside Shanks. Her tiny body tensed, eyes widening in surprise.

Shanks rubbed slow circles on her back to soothe her. “It’s okay, sunshine. This is your Uncle Hawkey.”

Luffy blinked up at Mihawk, then back at Shanks. “Uncle Hawkey?”

Shanks grinned. “Mhm. He’s helping make sure that soon, you and your brothers will officially be my kids.”

Luffy tilted her head, her sleepy gaze flickering between Shanks and Mihawk, as if trying to process this new information through the lingering haze of her nap. Then, with a tiny gasp, she beamed, her whole face lighting up like the sun.

“Uncle Hawkey makes you my dad?” she repeated, her voice high-pitched with excitement.

Before anyone could react, she reached out her small arms toward Mihawk, wiggling her fingers in invitation. “Thank you, Uncle Hawkey!” she chirped, her eyes shining with pure, unfiltered joy.

Dracule Mihawk, one of Grandline's most composed man, the feared 'Hawk-Eye-Lawyer', stiffened slightly, clearly caught off guard. His golden gaze softened just a fraction as he watched the tiny girl all but wriggle in Shanks’ arms, overcome with happiness.

For a brief second, his hand twitched, almost reaching out, almost resting atop her fluffy, freshly cut hair.

But then he caught himself, fingers curling back as he leaned away ever so slightly. “…Hmph,” was all he said, his voice barely more than a quiet exhale.

Shanks, still recovering from his near-death experience at Luffy’s words, blinked rapidly. "Yeah, Mihawk, aren’t you lucky? Luffy’s already adopted you, too.”

Sabo snickered, Ace smirked, and Luffy just grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself.

Mihawk, meanwhile, merely gave Shanks a deadpan stare before redirecting his gaze back to the little girl. “You are… quite small.”

Luffy giggled. “I’m big! I'm three!” she insisted, throwing her arms up dramatically.

Mihawk exhaled through his nose, something almost like amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. “If you say so.”

Chapter Text

As the evening stretched on, the tension finally began to settle. Mihawk had said his goodbyes, his presence fading into the shadows as easily as he had appeared.

Hongo wasted no time. The moment they were alone, he crouched down in front of the kids, his trained eyes scanning them quickly for any signs of injury. Scratches, bruises—nothing too serious. But still…

“You’re all fine for now,” he finally said, standing up. “But we should get you to a hospital next week. Blood tests, general check-up, just to be safe.”

Ace and Sabo groaned in unison.

“A hospital? Ugh.” Ace crossed his arms. “I feel fine.”

“I hate needles,” Sabo muttered under his breath.

Before either of them could argue further, Luffy suddenly stepped forward.

Shanks blinked as she squared her tiny shoulders, puffing out her chest like a warrior ready for battle.

“I’m brave,” she announced, dead serious.

Then she turned, grabbing both Ace’s and Sabo’s hands in her own.

“I’ll hold your hands, so you don’t get scared.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Shanks and Hongo burst out laughing.

Ace and Sabo looked down at her, at the sheer determination in her big, unwavering eyes, they couldn’t help but smile.

Sabo ruffled her messy black hair. “Alright, Lu.”

Ace smirked and gave her head a gentle pat. “If you’re coming with us, then I guess we’ll have to be brave too.”

Luffy grinned.

And just like that, the hospital trip didn’t seem so bad anymore.

As the group settled down, Shanks leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced at the boys.

“So,” he said casually, “is there anything you guys want or need?”

Ace and Sabo just stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“…Huh?” Ace finally muttered.

“We can just ask for stuff and you'll get it just like that?” Sabo asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Shanks chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s kind of the whole point.”

The boys exchanged another glance, still skeptical.

“Anyway,” Shanks continued, waving a hand, “Beckman is setting up an appointment for Sabo at the hatmaker’s tomorrow. And if you guys want, I'll get you a laptop each so you can look how you’d like your rooms set up and whatever. You'll need one either way.” He gave them a lazy grin. “You can do it with Lu too, if she wants to help.”

At that, Luffy perked up, turning to look at him.

Shanks tilted his head. “Are you excited to have your own room, Lu?”

Luffy blinked.

“…What’s that?” she asked.

Silence.

Shanks felt his chest tighten. He saw Hongo stiffen beside him.

Sabo rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, while Ace simply sighed, his expression unreadable.

“We’ve been sleeping together ever since I got Luffy,” Ace finally said. His voice wasn’t defensive, just matter-of-fact. “Or, well, on the floor together. She’s never slept alone. And I’d say we’re not starting now.”

Shanks inhaled sharply, pushing down the lump in his throat.

He nodded. “Alright. Then I’ll still set up the rooms, but I’ll make sure the beds are big enough for at least one of you to sleep with a toddler in there.”

Before he could say anything else, Luffy suddenly launched herself at him.

Shanks barely had time to react before her tiny arms wrapped around his waist, holding on tight.

“Thank you.” Her voice was small, but so full of warmth.

Shanks smiled, ruffling her messy hair.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Luffy tugged at Shanks' sleeve, her big eyes shining with curiosity.

“Can we look at the house?” she asked eagerly.

Shanks grinned. “That’s a great idea.”

With that, they set off, making their way through the house. Shanks took his time showing them each room, pointing out where things would go, where they could play, where they could read—if they ever felt like it.

As they walked, they encountered some of the house staff. There were only two working this afternoon, but Shanks made sure to introduce each of them properly.

“This is Miki,” he said, gesturing to a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes but a warm smile. “She handles a lot of the cleaning and helps keep things running smoothly.”

Miki nodded, offering a small wave. “Nice to meet you.”

Next was Jonas, a quiet but kind man who took care of maintenance. “If anything breaks, he’s the guy to call,” Shanks said.

“Hopefully, you kids won’t break too much,” Jonas added with a good-natured chuckle.

The introductions finished, they finally made their way to the last stop of the tour—the kitchen.

Luffy eagerly ran ahead, only to come to a dead stop.

Her excitement faded as she looked around. Her eyes scanned the countertops, the large fridge, the cabinets… empty.

Her shoulders slumped. “There’s no food…” she mumbled, voice small.

Shanks chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Benji already went home. Don’t worry. One of your new uncles is coming soon to bring us some snacks, he wanted to meet you. He's a fantastic chef.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up again, the sadness forgotten in an instant.

Less than an hour later, the front door opened.

Lucky Roux strolled in, Beck right behind him, both carrying massive bags of food.

The moment Luffy spotted the big man, her jaw nearly hit the floor. Her eyes widened, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement.

“THAT’S THE FOOD UNCLE?!” she gasped.

Lucky threw his head back and laughed, setting the food down on the table. “That’s me, kid.”

Luffy had zero hesitation. Within seconds, she ran straight up to him, absolutely no sense of personal space, and threw her tiny arms around his leg.

Lucky blinked in surprise before grinning wide.

Sabo and Ace stepped forward next, a little more reserved but still polite. “I’m Sabo,” the blonde said.

“Ace,” the freckled boy added.

Luffy grinned up at him. “I’m Lu! But you can call me Luffy!”

Lucky laughed again, hearty and warm. He bent down, patting Luffy’s head before gesturing to the table.

Hongo and Shanks exchanged a look before simultaneously pouting.

“Oi, oi,” Shanks whined, arms crossed. “You haven’t even offered to let us call you by your real name yet. Is it because he brought you a banquet instead of just snacks?”

Hongo huffed dramatically. “Yeah. What makes him so special?”

Luffy blinked up at them, tilting her head in confusion. Then, without missing a beat, she turned back to Lucky Roux and grinned.

“Call me Luffy, Food Uncle!” she repeated cheerfully.

Shanks and Hongo gasped in betrayal.

Lucky Roux burst into laughter, slapping his thigh. “Ahaha! Looks like I’m just that charming. My Name's Lucky.”

Sabo and Ace smirked at the two sulking men, clearly enjoying the show.

“Well, Luffy,” Lucky continued with a wink, “you’re officially my favourite niece.”

As they all gathered around the table, Hongo quietly observed what and how much the children ate. He noted that while Sabo and Ace seemed familiar with a variety of foods and picked at different dishes, Luffy zeroed in on one thing.

Meat.

It took barely a second after Lucky Roux asked, “So, did you guys like any of the dishes?” for Luffy to practically scream,“MEAT!”

Sabo and Ace pointed to different dishes on the table, but Luffy had already abandoned her seat. She now stood in front of Lucky Roux, eyes sparkling, staring up at him as if he held the key to heaven itself.

“Uncle, do you have more meat?” she asked, practically bouncing in place.

Hongo sighed, already expecting this. “You can have more tomorrow, Lu,” he said gently. “For now, you should let your stomach get used to regular meals again.”

Luffy pouted but nodded, not entirely happy, but accepting it.

A few moments later, she perked up again. Looking at Lucky Roux with deep curiosity, she asked, “Uncle, why are you so good at cooking?”

Lucky Roux chuckled, leaning back. “Because I own a lot of restaurants. It’d be pretty bad if I couldn’t cook, right?”

Luffy’s entire body vibrated with excitement. “YOU HAVE RESTAURANTS?!”

Lucky laughed even louder. “That’s right! And you can come visit anytime.”

He then threw a glance at Shanks, as if checking something, before looking back at Luffy. “In fact, what if I show you my biggest restaurant tomorrow when Shanks leaves? I can even pick you and your brothers up!”

But before he could finish, Luffy’s face suddenly fell.

She swallowed hard.

“…Shanks is leaving us?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shanks blinked, confused by the way her fingers clenched the hem of her new dress.

“Luffy, no, I just have to—”

But then she nodded. Just once. Slow. Resigned.

“…okay,” she murmured, staring at the table.

Something cold curled in Shanks’ stomach.

Ace and Sabo immediately looked over. “Luffy?” Ace said, brows furrowed.

Luffy gave a tiny, wobbly smile—the kind that wasn’t real, the kind that tried to be brave but failed miserably.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I knew we couldn’t stay.”

Shanks felt his chest tighten.

“…What?”

Luffy rubbed at her eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nobody wants street kids,” she mumbled. “That’s what the ladies in town always say.”

Shanks felt like he’d been punched.

Ace looked furious. “Luffy, that’s—”

“We should go,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “If they get mad, they’ll be mean.”

The defeat in her voice shattered something in Shanks.

“Lu,” he said, moving closer, kneeling down so he was at eye level.

But she wouldn’t look at him.

“You gave us clothes,” Luffy said, looking at the big house around her. “And food. And…” Her voice wobbled. “And being with Daddy Shanks was nice.”

Shanks’ breath hitched. His daughter. His.

He reached for her, gently prying her clenched fists open, holding her trembling hands in his much larger ones.

"I really liked it here," Luffy whispered, her voice so small it was almost lost in the space between them.

Ace exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists. He turned his face away, as if trying to hide the tightness in his jaw.

Sabo pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, his own breath coming out uneven. "Luf…"

Luffy swallowed hard. Then she forced herself to look up at Shanks, stretching her lips into a wobbly smile, one that wasn’t real. One that tried to be brave but failed miserably.

"…But it’s okay," she said, blinking rapidly against the sting in her eyes. "We’re used to it."

Shanks felt something crack open in his chest. He didn’t think, he just moved.

His hands found Luffy’s small face, his rough fingers tilting her chin up so she couldn’t keep looking away.

"Lu," he murmured, his voice impossibly gentle.

She hesitated but finally let her gaze meet his. Her big, round eyes were glossy with unshed tears, wide and uncertain, like she was standing at the edge of something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have.

"Listen to me, princess. You’re not leaving."

Her lip wobbled.

"…But—"

"No buts," Shanks interrupted, his voice gentle but firm, an anchor in the storm of her doubt. "You, Ace, and Sabo—you’re staying. This is your home now, if you want it to be. That's why Uncle Hawkey visited earlier. You said it yourself, he'll make me your dad."

She stared at him, her breath hitching in tiny, uneven gasps.

"Your Uncle Hawkey is really working hard to make it official," Shanks continued, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to slip down her cheeks. "So soon, you’ll be Silvers Luffy. Daughter of Silvers Shanks. Sister of Silvers Ace and Silvers Sabo. No one can take that away from you."

A strangled sound escaped Ace’s throat. Sabo inhaled sharply.

Luffy blinked, stunned. Like the words didn’t make sense. Like they weren’t meant for her.

Shanks leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, speaking softly. "You’re not going anywhere, squirt. Ever."

Her small hands clutched at his shirt, trembling. "…Really?"

Shanks’ throat felt tight. "Really, sweetheart."

Her breath shook. "Even if we steal?"

"You’re not gonna need to steal anymore. You just have to ask if you want something."

"…Even if we make trouble?"

A slow, soft smile tugged at Shanks’ lips. "That’s what kids do, sweetheart. And I bet we can make even bigger trouble together."

Luffy made a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a laugh.

And then she broke.

With a sharp inhale, she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him as tightly as her tiny limbs allowed.

The first choked sob left her mouth as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Then another. And another. Not loud. Not wailing. Just quiet, broken relief.

Shanks cradled her close, rubbing her back, his voice nothing more than a murmur against her hair. "Everything’s fine. You’re stuck with me now, Lu."

Ace exhaled shakily, shifting just a little closer. Sabo sniffled once, rubbing at his eyes again.

Hongo looked away. Beck was suddenly very interested in his drink. Ace and Sabo sat frozen, their expressions tight.

Lucky Roux, who had been stuffing his face this whole time, spoke up, casual, easy, as if nothing had just happened.

“So, Luffy,” he said. “Wanna watch me grill meat tomorrow?”

Luffy hiccuped, lifting her head slightly, still clinging onto Shanks.

“…Real meat?” she sniffled.

“The best meat,” Lucky confirmed with a wink.

Luffy blinked up at him, still teary, still shaky, but there was a spark.

Shanks felt her tiny fingers grip his shirt tighter.

“…But some meat for Daddy, too.”

Lucky’s brows lifted in amusement, but he didn’t say anything.

Shanks felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Luffy wasn’t even looking at him. She was still focused on Lucky Roux, still negotiating extra meat like it was the most important thing in the world.

Shanks felt his throat tighten, felt his grip on her little body soften.

He had barely known these kids for more than two days, and yet she had decided.

Lucky Roux grinned. “That’s my girl. Tomorrow, you’re getting the best meat of your life.”

Luffy sniffled again but gave a small, genuine smile.

Shanks exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers once more, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

“You’re really gonna be the death of me, kid.”

Luffy just giggled.

Lucky laughed. “She’s gonna be my best customer, I can feel it.”

But Shanks barely heard him. His mind was still stuck on that tiny word.

Daddy. Luffy's Daddy.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Shanks felt like crying.

"Luffy, come on." Ace tugged gently at her waist, but she only clung tighter to Shanks.

"No."

Sabo tried from the other side, slipping his hands carefully under her arms. "Lu, we can sleep in the guest room."

"No," she repeated, firmer this time. Her tiny fingers clutched at Shanks' shirt like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Shanks, who had been watching the entire exchange with mild amusement, finally sighed. "It's fine, she can sleep with me."

Luffy's head shot up, her eyes sparkling like the night sky. "Really?!"

Ace and Sabo, on the other hand, both stiffened.

Sabo frowned. "No."

Ace crossed his arms. "You’re a grown man. It’s weird."

Shanks blinked, then chuckled. "You two can sleep here too."

That seemed to catch them off guard. Ace and Sabo exchanged glances, their postures still tense.

A few moments of silence passed. Then Shanks stretched and casually suggested, "How about we bring a mattress in here?"

Sabo hesitated before nodding slowly. "…That could work."

Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine."

It didn’t take long for them to drag a spare mattress into Shanks’ room, setting it up beside the bed. Just as Ace and Sabo were about to settle in, they both froze.

Shanks had taken his pillow and blanket from the bed and was moving toward the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Sabo asked, confused.

Shanks smirked. "Sleeping on the mattress. That way, you three can have the bed."

Luffy immediately whined, throwing her arms around him again. "Stay with Daddy!"

Ace, still skeptical, rolled his eyes. "You’ll sleep on the bed. Sabo and I will take turns waking up if Luffy needs something."

Shanks studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright, if that makes you feel better."

Luffy let out a sleepy yawn, rubbing her eyes. "Night, Ace. Night, Sabo. Night, Daddy."

Shanks felt something warm settle in his chest.

"Goodnight, princess."

Ace and Sabo exchanged one last wary glance before getting comfortable.

Shanks laid down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at his lips. Yeah. He could get used to that.

Shanks was jolted awake by a small hand patting his face.

“Daddy,” a tiny voice whispered in the dark. “Gotta pee.”

Shanks groaned, blinking blearily at the clock. Too damn early. With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, c’mon, squirt."

He carefully maneuvered himself and Luffy around the mattress, stepping over Sabo’s arm and dodging Ace’s sprawled-out leg. Both boys were out cold, their breaths deep and steady. Shanks had to bite back a chuckle.

“Taking turns when Luffy wakes up, my ass,” he muttered under his breath.

Luffy, too sleepy to catch the joke, just clung to his hand as he led her to the bathroom, her tiny steps sluggish.

Once inside, Shanks helped her onto the toilet, still half-asleep himself, leaning against the wall to keep from dozing off.

“Do you know when your last accident was?” he asked through a yawn.

Luffy shook her head, blinking up at him with drowsy eyes.

Shanks sighed. "Guess we'll have to keep track then, huh?"

If someone had told Shanks three days ago that he’d be standing in a bathroom at an ungodly hour, making sure his toddler didn’t fall into the toilet because they didn’t have a proper seat yet, he would’ve laughed in their face and said, "Never."

Yet, here he was.

Once she was done and her hands were washed, he scooped her up and carried her back to bed.

But the second he tried to put her down, she clung to his shirt.

“Sleep on Daddy,” she mumbled against his chest.

Shanks sighed, already too exhausted to argue.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, adjusting so she could curl up against him properly.

The weight of her small body settled over him, warm and trusting, and before he could even process it, she was already snoring softly.

Shanks’ alarm buzzed hours later, pulling him from sleep. He groaned, shifting slightly, about to get up—until he realized something.

Luffy was still exactly where she had fallen asleep, draped over him like a little starfish.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Shanks blinked, his brain still sluggish from sleep. Hadn’t they been on the mattress?

At some point in the night, Ace and Sabo had shuffled closer. No, not just closer, but onto the bed.

Yet here they were. Sabo had an arm slung over Luffy protectively, while Ace had curled into his other side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shanks blinked at the ceiling, stunned.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “So much for needing space.”

Carefully, he shifted, trying to move Luffy off of him.

“Lu, baby, I gotta get up,” he whispered, gently peeling her from his chest. “You can stay with your brothers and sleep a little longer, okay? Lucky will come get you later.”

Luffy barely stirred.

“Meat,” she murmured sleepily.

Shanks huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

Beside them, Sabo shifted at the noise, cracking one eye open. “What’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Just getting up for work. Lu woke me up during the night to go to the bathroom, I thought you should know,” Shanks explained quietly.

Sabo blinked sluggishly, then nodded, not really awake enough to process much more. “Thanks…” he mumbled, then turned, tugging Luffy closer. “Luf, go back to sleep.”

Luffy hummed, already melting against her brother.

Shanks watched as the three of them instinctively curled together, peaceful and safe.

Something warm settled in his chest.

With a soft smile, he stood, ruffling Ace’s hair before heading out to start his day.

By the time Shanks walked into his office at half past eight, he was already running on fumes. He had barely stepped inside when Beckman glanced up from his coffee, smirking like he had been waiting for this moment.

“Hard night?”

Shanks just snorted, dropping into his chair with a groan. He didn’t even bother fixing his hair—it was a hopeless case.

“Turns out I’m a human mattress now.”

Beck grinned, leaning forward. “You know, your daughter might be the only female to not run from you immediately. Guess your charm’s working in new ways.” He took a slow, exaggerated sip of his coffee, clearly enjoying himself.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Let’s get to work, we've got shit to do.”

Shanks managed to get through exactly two reports before his phone buzzed.

Lucky (08:17): Just woke the gremlins. No casualties.

Shanks smirked. Yet.

At 8:54, another ping. This time, a picture.

Luffy, mid-bite, syrup glistening on her cheek, eyes practically sparkling as she devoured a mountain of pancakes. But the real highlight was Benji, the cook, sitting beside her, staring blankly at the plate like he had just witnessed the impossible.

Shanks barked out a laugh, flipping the phone around for Beckman to see.

Beck raised an eyebrow. “Poor guy. Think he’ll recover?”

Shanks shook his head. “Doubt it.”

At 9:48, his phone vibrated again—this time, an incoming call.

Luffy.

Shanks answered instantly, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”

“Daddy! Look!”

The screen flipped, shaking wildly before settling on a very lopsided drawing of a ship.

Shanks blinked. “Wow. That’s… uh, a ship, right?”

Luffy pouted. “It’s our ship!”

Shanks squinted. “Ah. Of course. I totally see it now.”

“Ace said it looks like a banana.”

A muffled “Because it does!” came from somewhere off-camera.

Shanks smirked. “Well, I think it looks amazing, squirt. Frame-worthy, even.”

Luffy giggled. “Okay! Gotta go, Lucky’s taking us out now!”

And just like that, she was gone.

Lucky (10:33): Heading into town with the kids. Luffy’s officially 'Anchor' now.

Shanks frowned.

Me (10:35): Anchor?

A photo followed.

Luffy stood proudly in a dark blue skirt covered in white and red anchors, paired with a white t-shirt featuring a big blue anchor with red ribbons attached.

Shanks huffed a quiet laugh. Of course.

Lucky (10:52): Boys got laptops & phones. Ace complained, but took it anyway.

Lucky (11:49): Sabo got a blue top hat. Looks kinda weird but suits him. He even tried haggling. It worked. 

Lucky (12:52): Sabo is way too good at bargaining. I think he just made me pay less for fruit by guilt-tripping the vendor at the wholesale I've bought from for 13 years now!!!!

Shanks nearly choked on his coffee when he read the message.

Lucky (12:53): I got a good deal, but I’m pretty sure I’m banned from that stall now. I’ve never seen a vendor look so personally attacked by someone asking for a discount.

Shanks pinched the bridge of his nose. Naturally.

Lucky (13:11): Anchor just convinced a vendor to give her extra candy by telling him she’s “really small and really hungry.”

Lucky (13:11): Ace looked like he was gonna combust.

Shanks exhaled through his nose, trying not to laugh. They’re doomed.

Lucky (15:07): We lost Anchor for five minutes. Turns out she was just staring at fish. Crisis averted.

Lucky (15:07): Ace nearly lost his mind.

Shanks sighed, shaking his head. Five minutes? A lot can happen in five minutes.

At 15:41, another call.

Luffy again.

Shanks answered. “Hey, squirt, what is i—”

“LOOK!”

The camera flipped.

And there, standing beside Luffy, was a huge, fluffy dog with a lolling tongue and bright eyes.

Shanks blinked. “…Luffy.”

“Found a dog!”

A muffled groan came from the background. “She means she kidnapped a dog.”

“Ace! He followed me!”

Shanks rubbed his temples. “Squirt, please tell me you didn’t actually steal someone’s dog.”

Luffy huffed. “No! He likes me.”

“Luffy, you are not taking the dog home.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

A long, defeated sigh. “Okay… but can I stay with him a little longer?”

Shanks chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t bring him home.”

Lucky (17:42): Kids are all fed. Heading home. Ace and Sabo are worn out, but Luffy’s still running on pure chaos.

Lucky (18:54): Ace is reading something on his new laptop. He won’t tell me what it is, but he’s very focused. Maybe he discovered porn? Make sure to get some antivirus software.

Lucky (19:07): Sabo has already figured out how to change everyone’s ringtones. My phone now plays Anchor chanting "Meat, meat, meeeeeat!" when he calls.

Lucky (19:42): Luffy is trying to train the neighbour’s dog through a fence. He seems interested.

At 20:27, the final call came in. Luffy. Again.

Shanks picked up with a smirk. “Hey, squirt, do you—”

“DADDY GUESS WHAT.”

Shanks chuckled. “What, sweetheart?”

“I DID A CARTWHEEL.”

Shanks blinked. “Oh. Uh, good job?”

“Sabo says it was barely a cartwheel, but I did it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“Okay! Bye-bye!”

And then the call ended.

Shanks just stared at the phone for a moment, shaking his head. This kid. After all the adventures Lucky went on with his kids today, he was practically vibrating with impatience.

He had work. Paperwork. Important things to do.

But all he wanted was to get home.

As Shanks opened the front door, the warm glow from the big living room on the ground floor greeted him. The kids were sprawled on the massive couch, the soft hum of the TV filling the background. Luffy was dozing peacefully, curled up on Sabo’s lap, her tiny body rising and falling with every slow breath. Ace was leaning back, his eyes half-closed, clearly on the brink of sleep too.

Shanks smiled softly at the sight, then knelt down in front of Luffy, careful not to startle her as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Anchor, come on, you’ve got to go to bed,” Shanks whispered, his voice warm and soothing.

Luffy stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open, and she blinked up at him, her face still drowsy. “Daddy?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” Shanks said, smiling. “Lucky gave you a cute nickname.”

Luffy pouted immediately, her tiny brows furrowing. “My name is Luffy,” she declared, her voice muffled by sleep.

Ace and Sabo both snickered softly, clearly entertained by her little protest.

“Well, since I haven’t been allowed to call you by your real name until now—unlike Lucky—you’re ‘Anchor’ from now on,” Shanks said with a playful grin.

“No, Luffy,” she insisted, squirming a little as she tried to wiggle closer to Shanks’ chest.

Shanks chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, Anchor. Let’s go to bed.” He gave the boys a subtle signal to get up, and with a soft grunt, he carefully lifted Luffy into his arms, cradling her close.

Sabo yawned and stretched. “Are you gonna be gone that long tomorrow, too?”

“No, tomorrow won’t be as long,” Shanks said as he stood, glancing down at Luffy as she snuggled deeper into his shirt. “Mondays are the busiest because I have to plan the week. I’ll usually be home by 6 or 7 Tuesday through Friday. But tomorrow morning, Beck is coming over to take you guys around some schools and kindergartens for Luffy.”

Luffy perked up at the mention of school, her sleepy face lighting up for a moment. Sabo, clearly excited, grinned at her. “Wow, Luffy, maybe you’ll meet some new friends tomorrow!”

Luffy nodded lazily, but instead of responding, she buried her face deeper into Shanks’ shirt, clearly not wanting to leave the comfort of his embrace.

Sabo and Ace exchanged amused glances as they followed Shanks down the hallway.

As Shanks moved up the stairs, Luffy still nestled in his arms, he turned to look at the boys.

"By the way, tomorrow night, you're going to meet my parents," he said casually.

Luffy blinked sleepily, her face still pressed against Shanks’ shirt. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice muffled.

Shanks smiled softly, his heart swelling just a little at the innocence in her question. “They’re my mommy and daddy,” he explained gently. “Your grandparents.”

Luffy thought about this for a moment, her eyes squinting slightly as she processed the new information. “Like Gramps?” she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Shanks froze mid-step, his expression briefly tightening. He hadn’t exactly prepared for that comparison. He looked down at her, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he sighed, forcing a small smile. “Similar, but better,” he said, his voice a little softer, almost wistful.

Luffy gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer, and snuggled deeper into his arms, too tired to ask anything more.

Shanks didn’t mind. He just held her a little tighter, grateful for these quiet moments.

He could hear the boys behind him as they followed up the stairs, whispering and laughing softly, but his attention was focused solely on Luffy, her small, steady breathing against his chest.

“Tomorrow's going to be good,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You’ll see, Lu. You’ll see.”

Shanks adjusted Luffy in his arms, smiling softly. “Sleep tight, sweetheart. Big day tomorrow.”

The quiet hum of the house, now filled with the gentle sound of his kids shuffling in bed, felt strangely comforting. They were all his now, his family.

The next morning started late—at least for Beckman. When he showed up a little after eight, the kids still looked half-asleep, despite Benji serving them a proper breakfast. Luffy was sluggishly spooning her cereal, while Sabo was already halfway through a book, and Ace was absently stabbing at his eggs with a fork.

“You guys ready?” Beck asked, sipping his coffee as he leaned against the counter.

“No,” Ace muttered, finally taking a bite of his food.

Sabo sighed. “Ace, we’re just looking at schools, not moving into one today.”

Ace only grunted. Luffy, meanwhile, perked up slightly. “Are we seeing pirate schools?” she asked hopefully.

Beck chuckled. “No pirate schools, Anchor. But maybe you’ll like one of the kindergartens.” 

Luffy frowned but kept eating.

Beck had lined up a few more schools for the boys, wanting to make sure they had solid options before making a final decision.

Their first stop was a large, prestigious-looking school with tall windows and neatly trimmed hedges. It was modern but had a serious, academic atmosphere. Sabo immediately seemed interested, nodding along as the principal explained the curriculum, extracurriculars, and advanced placement options.

“This is great,” Sabo said, adjusting his glasses. “They have debate teams, an extensive library, and even language programs.”

Ace looked unimpressed. “Yeah. And absolutely zero personality.”

Beck smirked. “Not feeling it, huh?”

Ace shrugged. “It just looks… like school. Nothing cool about it.”

Sabo rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Their next stop was an unconventional-looking school, built in a circular structure with a futuristic design. Large, dome-like windows and metallic accents made it resemble something out of a sci-fi movie. The moment Ace saw it, his eyes lit up.

“This one. I like this one.”

Beck raised an eyebrow. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”

“Don’t care. It looks like a spaceship.”

Sabo sighed. “You’re picking a school based on how it looks?”

Ace grinned. “Yeah, and?”

Inside, the school was just as impressive—modern classrooms, open spaces, and even a few experimental learning environments with hands-on activities.

“I guess it’s not bad,” Sabo admitted.

Ace just smirked, already sold.

The third school had an old, prestigious feel—high ceilings, long hallways, and a history of top-achieving students. The moment they stepped inside, Sabo’s expression darkened.

“No,” he said immediately, voice firm.

Beck raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Sabo shook his head. “I don’t want to be here.”

Ace frowned, glancing at him. “Why?”

Sabo looked away, shoulders tense. “Stelly goes here.”

Beck didn’t need to ask who that was. He knew of Sabo’s past and the way his voice tightened around the name said more than enough.

“Understood,” Beck said easily, turning on his heel. “We’re leaving.”

Sabo blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. Shanks won't force you into a place that makes you miserable.”

Sabo let out a small breath of relief, but Ace still looked pissed. “If I ever see that guy, I’m—”

“Not causing a scene,” Beck cut in, giving him a knowing look.

Ace just scowled but didn’t argue. Luffy, meanwhile, didn’t really understand what was going on but clung to Sabo’s hand anyway. He squeezed it gently in return.

The next school was a breath of fresh air. It was modern but had a strong emphasis on individuality, creativity, and personal growth. There were flexible schedules, student-led clubs, and even mentorship programs.

Sabo seemed to relax. “This… could work.”

Ace shrugged. “It’s not as cool-looking as the UFO school, but I guess it’s not bad.”

Sabo shot him an unimpressed look.

Beck smirked. “So, you’re saying this is on the list?”

Sabo nodded. “Yeah. This one’s a maybe.”

Ace sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m still picking UFO school.”

Beck chuckled. “Noted.”

After the boys’ schools, they started looking at kindergartens for Luffy. The first was bright and colorful, with friendly teachers and lots of fun activities. The second had a huge playground and even small animals the kids could help take care of.

Luffy, however, was slowly growing more and more disappointed.

Beck noticed her sulking. “What’s up, Anchor?”

She pouted. “None of them look like a pirate ship.”

Beck blinked, then chuckled. “That’s your standard?”

Luffy crossed her arms. “Ace gets an UFO school, but I can’t have a pirate one?”

Ace, hearing that, burst out laughing. Sabo tried to suppress a smile.

“Life’s unfair, huh?” Beck teased, ruffling Luffy’s hair.

Luffy huffed. “Super unfair.”

Beck smirked. “Well, you’ll just have to be the first pirate at whatever kindergarten you pick.”

Luffy thought about it, then nodded decisively. “Okay.”

Luffy’s mood, however, was steadily dropping with every kindergarten they visited. No pirate themes, no treasure chests, not even a decent-looking ship decoration.

At one point, she crossed her arms. “This is dumb.”

Ace snickered. “Told you school is dumb.”

Sabo sighed. “Ace, you’re not helping.”

Beck rubbed his temple. “Luffy, what do you want in a kindergarten? If we can’t get a pirate ship, what’s the next best thing?”

Luffy frowned, thinking hard. “Big playground. Nice teachers. No naps.”

Beck huffed a laugh. “I can promise two out of three.”

Luffy pouted but trudged along. Eventually, they found a kindergarten with a massive playground, friendly staff, and an activity-based learning system. Luffy was still a little grumpy, but when a group of kids ran past her laughing, she tilted her head, watching them curiously.

Beck noticed. “You can meet them tomorrow if you want. See if you like it.”

Luffy thought about it, then sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Beck smirked. “That’s my girl.”

With that, they wrapped up the morning, each with a little more clarity—but also a lot to think about.

Shanks got home earlier than expected, stepping through the door just before five. He barely had time to shrug off his coat before three sets of eyes turned to him, all varying levels of surprise.

“Daddy!” Luffy was the first to react, launching herself at him.

Shanks caught her easily, laughing. “Hey, Anchor. You guys ready to go?”

Sabo and Ace exchanged a glance, both a little hesitant. “Do we have to?” Ace muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Shanks ruffled his hair. “You’ll be fine. They don’t bite.”

Sabo snorted. “Are you sure?”

Shanks just grinned. “No promises.”

The car ride was mostly quiet, save for Luffy excitedly kicking her legs in her seat, clearly the only one genuinely excited about this meeting. Ace and Sabo, on the other hand, were still a little wary.

As the car pulled up to the grand estate, Ace and Sabo both stared out the window, taking in the sheer size of the mansion in front of them.

“Wow,” Sabo murmured. “They live here?”

Shanks chuckled as he put the car in park. “Yeah. Mom and Dad like their space.”

Luffy, who had been swinging her legs in her seat, pressed her face against the window, eyes wide. “It’s so big!”

Ace crossed his arms, still holding Luffy’s hand. “Do they have a reason to live in a place this huge?”

Shanks just grinned. “You can ask them yourselves.”

As they stepped out of the car, the front doors opened, and two figures walked out to meet them.

Rayleigh, tall and broad, stood with an amused glint in his eye, hands in his pockets. Beside him, Shakky smiled warmly, her eyes sharp but kind.

“Well, well,” Rayleigh said, looking the three children over. “These must be the troublemakers.”

Shakky sighed playfully. “Shanks always did attract chaos.”

Shanks rolled his eyes. “Good to see you too, Mom, Dad.”

Ace and Sabo straightened up slightly, unsure of how to act. They exchanged a glance before stepping forward, more polite than usual.

Sabo was the first to speak. “Good evening. My name is Sabo.” He gave a small bow, his noble upbringing peeking through despite himself.

Ace followed suit, nodding. “I’m Ace. It’s nice to meet you.”

Luffy, still holding onto both of her brothers’ hands, rocked on her heels before grinning. “I’m Luffy!” she said brightly.

Shakky’s smile grew. “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Shakky, and this is Rayleigh.”

Before anyone could say more, Luffy tilted her head curiously. “So, are you Grandpa and Granda?”

Shanks blinked. Sabo and Ace stiffened slightly, unsure of how that would be received.

Rayleigh raised an eyebrow before bursting into laughter. “Grandpa, huh?”

Shakky smirked. “That’s a new one.”

Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! You’re old but not too old, and you’re nice. So, you’re like a Grandpa and a Grandma, right?”

Rayleigh chuckled, placing a hand on his hip. “Well, if you want to call us that, I certainly don’t mind.”

Shakky leaned down slightly, her expression fond. “I think it suits us just fine.”

Ace and Sabo still looked a little unsure, but Luffy had already made up her mind. She let go of Ace’s hand and reached for Rayleigh’s instead, looking up at him with bright, trusting eyes.

“Grandpa, do you have meat?”

Rayleigh blinked before letting out another booming laugh. “Oh, you really do take after Shanks.”

Shanks groaned. “Please don’t encourage her.”

Shakky smirked, looping an arm through her son’s. “Come on inside, kids. Let’s get you settled.”

As they stepped into the mansion, Shanks exhaled, watching as Luffy happily skipped ahead, still holding onto Rayleigh’s hand.

“She really does remind me of you when you were little,” Rayleigh murmured to Shanks as they walked.

Sabo and Ace both turned to look at Shanks with wide, incredulous eyes.

Shakky chuckled. “Oh, didn’t you know? Shanks is adopted.”

Ace blinked. “…Huh.”

Sabo looked back at Shanks, then at Luffy.

“…That explains so much.”

Shanks let out a soft laugh. “…And that’s how I met them. We’re family now—will be, as soon as Mihawk finishes his work.”

Rayleigh nodded thoughtfully. “Family, huh? Well, I’m happy to have you all here.”

Ace and Sabo didn’t respond right away. Sabo’s fingers curled slightly against his sleeve, and Ace crossed his arms, glancing away.

Shakky leaned back in her chair, her gaze settling on Luffy, who was comfortably pressed against Rayleigh’s side. “Luffy, sweetheart, do you know your grandfather’s name? Or do you know, Ace?”

Luffy blinked up at her, lips pursed in thought. “Gramps…”

Before she could answer, Ace spoke up instead. “The thugs I was living with always used to curse some guy named Carp, Gard, Card, something like that. It got worse after he left Luffy there.” His voice was even, but there was an edge to it. “Not that they had any right to complain. They didn’t even feed her.” He frowned slightly.

The room fell quiet, just a beat too long.

Shanks, Rayleigh, and Shakky remained perfectly neutral. Too neutral. Like a door had just silently, collectively shut behind their expressions.

Sabo, ever observant, narrowed his eyes slightly. He had spent enough time around aristocrats to recognise when someone was hiding something. “…Is everything alright?”

Shanks blinked, all innocent. “Of course.”

Rayleigh smirked. “Must be your imagination, kid.”

Shakky took a slow sip of her drink. “Yeah. Total coincidence.”

Sabo didn’t look convinced, but before he could press the issue, Luffy tugged on Rayleigh’s sleeve, eyes shining.

“Grandpa, do you leave the house like Daddy?”

Shanks looked at Rayleigh, chuckling under his breath as he leaned back into the couch. “Well, Grandpa's an important man and Grandma owns a couple of bars around here.”

Luffy’s eyes grew wider with each word. “Bars?! You mean like a pirate bar?”

Shakky laughed, clearly amused by Luffy’s excitement. “Sort of! I’ve got a few places where people gather to have a good time. Not quite pirate-themed, but... it’s close enough.”

Luffy gasped, eyes shining. “Do they have meat?”

Shakky chuckled. “Lots of it.”

Luffy grabbed her hand. “I wanna go.”

Shanks sighed. “You’re three.”

Luffy turned to her with big, hopeful eyes. “Please?”

“No.”

“Pleeease?”

“No.”

She pouted, but her disappointment lasted only a second before she turned back to Rayleigh. “Grandpa, what do you do?”

Rayleigh smiled, proud of his position but humbling himself for Luffy. “And I work as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of our Nation, making sure everyone follows the law and all the good people can be free to do what they want.”

Sabo looked at Shanks, raising an eyebrow. “Is that why you became a lawyer, Shanks? To try and impress your father?”

Rayleigh’s laugh echoed in the room. “Shanks always wanted to outdo me, even as a kid. But let’s just say, he’s got a long way to go.”

Luffy, completely unphased by the adult conversation, raised her hand. “I’m gonna be better than you, Grandpa!” she exclaimed with absolute confidence.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, surprised by her boldness. Rayleigh chuckled and glanced over at Shanks, who was watching Luffy with a bemused smile.

“Well, if that’s what you want, Luffy, I’m happy to teach you a few things,” Rayleigh said with a wink.

Luffy grinned. “I’m gonna be the best! Good people should always be free.”

Shanks laughed softly, shaking his head. “At this rate, Luffy’s going to have us all working for her.”

Rayleigh’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll see, son. We’ll see.”

And with that, the room was filled with lighthearted laughter, as Luffy’s boundless enthusiasm continued to win over even the most experienced and serious of people.

Chapter Text

Over the next week, Ace and Sabo slowly settled into their new routines at school, each adjusting to the unfamiliar environment in their own way.

Sabo had been placed in the 11th grade, which seemed to be the perfect fit for him. 

On the other hand, Ace wasn’t quite as thrilled with his placement. Ace could logically understand why he was placed in the 10th grade, even if it didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t like he had been attending school regularly before. He’d never been in an actual classroom, never had a steady routine or a consistent education. The fact that he was placed in the 10th grade—considered a standard education for that grade—was actually surprising. But the reality of it still frustrated him to no end. And he wasn’t the type to hold back his feelings, and everyone could tell he was displeased.

“I know, I know,” Ace grumbled to Sabo as they walked out of the school building one afternoon. “But damn, it's a waste of time. All these kids are only one year younger than me but Luffy's already smarter than all of them combined.” He sighed heavily. “I should be with you.”

Sabo chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Relax, dude. 10th grade isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Without Beck threatening them, as politely as he did, it could have been the 8th grade.”

Ace shot him a sideways look. “Yeah, you know what? Fuck you, 'Bo.”

“I’m sure you’re handling it better than you think,” Sabo teased, nudging his brother. “You’ve got the life experience, remember?”

Ace snorted. “Yeah, experience being left alone with thugs, punching perverts and getting yelled at for things I didn’t even do. And, oh yeah, raising a new born baby on my own?”

Deep down, Ace knew Sabo was right. But it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Maybe it would take some time to adjust.

Meanwhile, Luffy’s kindergarten frustrations were a little different, but no less intense. Her kindergarten, while bright and pretty, left a lot to be desired in her opinion.

“I hate it!” Luffy grumbled one morning after dropping her backpack near the door. “Nobody wants play! They’re reading their books.” She folded her arms across her chest dramatically, glaring at the ground. “I want to find bugs and birds! I want to treasure hunt, not read. And the teachers are always "SHHHHHH!" All the time!”

Shanks, who had been preparing to leave for work, kneeled down in front of her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep his tone light. “I know it’s not exactly what you thought it would be like, Baby. But you’re making new friends, right? Maybe they’ll join you for an adventure soon.”

Luffy huffed, clearly unconvinced. “I have no friends!”

Sabo, hearing the commotion from the hallway, leaned against the doorframe with a grin. “Maybe we can convince them to have a ‘Pirate Day’ or something? I’m sure they’ll get it when you show them how cool treasure hunting is.”

Luffy’s eyes brightened at the idea. “Pirate Day,” she said with a small smile, but then her face fell again. “Not the same. They don't let me have chairs to built a pirate ship. Nobody wants to play!”

Shanks nodded understandingly. “I get it, sweetheart. But hey, this is part of growing up. You’re still figuring things out, just like Ace and Sabo.”

Luffy pouted, crossing her arms. “I don't like it.”

Shanks smiled, a little amused by her determination. “Alright, alright. But maybe this will help a bit.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pirate figurine, holding it out to her. “It’s not a ship, but it’s a start.”

Luffy’s frown didn’t disappear right away, but her eyes softened as she reached out for the figurine. “A pirate?” she asked, her voice a little more hopeful.

Shanks nodded. “A pirate.”

Luffy grinned wide, her pout vanishing completely. “Thanks, Daddy!” She clutched the little figure tightly in her hands, her excitement now bubbling over.

Shanks laughed and stood up. “Alright, I’ve got to get going now. But remember—if you want to make your own treasure maps or go hunting for bugs after school, we can do that together, okay?”

“Okay!” Luffy agreed, though she still wore a somewhat disgruntled expression.

Sabo laughed from the hallway, raising an eyebrow at Shanks. “Maybe she’s the one who should be teaching us about adventures.”

“Well, she’s definitely got the right idea,” Shanks said with a chuckle. He turned to Luffy, kneeling again. “How about this? You show me the best places to go treasure hunting later, and I’ll promise we’ll find a way to treasure hunt tonight. Deal?”

Luffy grinned widely. “Deal!”

Shanks leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers idly on the armrest. It had been a long week, and now all he wanted was to talk through the mess that had been haunting his mind ever since he visited his parents. He grabbed his phone and dialled their number. He needed answers—or at least, a few more theories.

The phone rang twice before Rayleigh answered, “What’s up, kid?”

"Hey, old man," Shanks greeted. “Listen, I need to run something by you guys. Something that’s been bugging me.”

His father chuckled softly. “Sounds serious. What’s on your mind?”

"Shanks sighed. “It’s about Luffy’s grandfather. I asked Ace about him, about what Luffy’s grandfather looks like. Ace said he has black and grey hair, sometimes wears a creepy dog hat, is big, and has that intimidating, tough-guy presence. Ace said his punches hurt. I have some theories, but to be honest, I don’t want them to be true.”

“Oh, ‘Carp-Gate,’” Shakky’s voice came through, amused.

Shanks blinked, surprised. “You guys have been talking about this too?”

Rayleigh answered, “Of course. First, Luffy’s our only granddaughter. Second, this man abandoned two children in the slums—our granddaughter and our eldest grandson. Third, it’s a hell of a mystery. We’ve all been coming up with theories. You need to hear these.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Alright, lay it on me.”

His mother cleared her throat. “Alright, first theory—Commissioner Garp. It’s gotta be him. You know, Monkey D. Garp. ‘Carp’ could be some kind of code or Ace simply didn’t catch it right.”

Shanks let out a low whistle. “Exactly my thought.”

“Yep,” Rayleigh confirmed. “Seems like the type who could have a family, even if no one knows about it. We still don't know who's Dragons mother.”

“Alright, we’ve got the theory that it’s Garp,” Shanks muttered, his voice tense with frustration. “But here’s the real question: How the hell does Garp end up with a granddaughter in the first place? We all know his son, Major Monkey D. Dragon, supposedly died a long time ago, overseas, in service... officially. But, dad, you always said you never bought that story.”

Rayleigh let out a low hum, his brows furrowing in thought. “Just another damn mystery. What if she’s not his granddaughter, though?”

Shakky’s expression darkened as she leaned forward. “You’re suggesting she’s his daughter? But… if she’s his daughter, why would Garp hide that? Why keep it a secret? Unless the circumstances surrounding her birth were... something he didn’t want anyone to know about. Maybe he’s been paying women ‘hush-money’ to keep quiet. I don't know if he’d do that.”

Shanks’ frustration only deepened, his voice shaking with uncertainty and disbelief. “Let's say Anchor is his daughter, why the hell isn’t she with her mother, then? Why is she here, with us? I mean, I’m not complaining, but it’s strange... it doesn’t make sense. And don’t get me started on Ace. He’s always referring to Garp as ‘the old geezer’ or ‘Luffy’s grandfather,’ but never as his own grandfather. I don’t know what’s going on there, but something’s off.”

Rayleigh spoke again, his voice laced with a knowing bitterness. “Ace’s relationship with Garp… that’s a curious thing. Makes you wonder if Garp has somehow managed to confuse him, make him think there’s some kind of connection to him, even if it’s not real.”

Shakky’s tone turned sharper, almost cold. “Could be that Garp didn’t want Ace to know the truth about him—or maybe about himself. The whole situation reeks of manipulation. Garp’s always kept things hidden, especially when it comes to his family. If he’s behind this whole mess, well, it’s a disaster.”

Rayleigh tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze distant. “Do you think Ace could actually be Dragon’s son? Dragon would have been 20 when Ace was born. If that’s true, Garp would have had even less of a reason to abandon Ace in the slums than he did with Luffy.”

Shakky paused, considering the possibility. “You think Dragon had a kid before he went off on his own, Shanks? Do you remember if he had a girlfriend back when he was at University with you—before he joined the Marines?”

Shanks couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Dragon? A girlfriend?” He let out a short chuckle. “Man, Dragon was the single most awkward guy. I don’t think there was a single girl in the world who’d have given him the time of day back then. He was always attractive, sure, but he… well, he was Dragon, you know? I don’t remember him ever talking about any girls.”

Shanks sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Though, if I had to guess out of these two, Ace is probably Dragon’s kid. Makes more sense than Luffy being his daughter.” He shook his head again, as if trying to dispel the thought. “I mean, think about it. How does someone like Monkey D. fucking Dragon—this serious, brooding, jerk—end up having a daughter like Luffy? A literal walking, talking ray of sunshine? Literally, the most perfect being on the planet?” He paused, laughing dryly. “There’s no way Dragon's personality could’ve created someone like her. But... Ace? Yeah, I could see it. Ace is just as moody as Dragon.”

Rayleigh frowned. “If Ace is Dragon’s son, Garp abandoning him in the slums doesn’t add up.”

Shakky leaned back, her frustration growing. “Garp was always protective of Dragon, even when he was a pain as a kid. He’d make a fool of himself just to be there for his son. But when it came to his daughter and grandson? He left them in the slums, with thugs who would’ve let Luffy starve if Ace hadn’t stepped in. He was willing to humiliate himself for Dragon, but for them? He let them rot.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Rayleigh snorted, shaking his head. “So that theory doesn’t hold up either.”

Shakky sighed, leaning back, her arms folded across her chest. “Yeah, it’s like we’re just chasing shadows at this point. Every theory we come up with makes sense in one way, but it doesn’t explain everything. Garp has too many damn secrets. The more we think about it, the messier it gets.”

Shanks ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “Exactly. At the end of the day, we’re just left with more questions than answers. Ace’s relationship with Garp is... confusing, to say the least. And the whole thing with Luffy—her being Garp’s granddaughter... There’s too much we don’t know.”

His father’s voice was calm and measured. “What do you want to do about it, son?”

Shanks snorted. “Nothing until they’re officially mine. What am I supposed to do? March up to Garp and say, ‘Hey, old man, did you forget you had a daughter? Or were you just hoping no one would notice until some Pedo kills her?’ He’s not the type to just give out answers. That man plays his cards close to his chest.”

His mother’s tone softened. “Shanks, think about what you want to do and what benefit it would have. Think about the children. Would they benefit from it?”

Shanks sighed, clearly torn. “I don't know... I’ll figure it out. But for now, I just have to watch over Luffy. I can’t let anything happen to her.”

“She'll be fine, son,” his father said with calm authority.

Shanks gave a short, uncertain laugh. “Yeah, well… we’ll see.”

The silence stretched for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in.

Shanks leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. “Thanks, Mom. Dad. I’ll keep you posted.”

After a few more goodbyes, Shanks ended the call. He stared at his phone for a while, mulling over the conversation. One thing was clear—whatever Garp was hiding, it was bigger than any of them had realized. And Shanks wasn’t sure if he was ready for the truth.

Over the next few weeks, Ace became friends with a kid in his class, Bellamy. Despite Ace’s usual cool demeanor, something about Bellamy’s loud and reckless nature seemed to draw him in. Bellamy was the kind of guy who didn’t think twice before speaking his mind, and Ace found it a welcome change from the often calculated and reserved nature of the other students. But not everyone shared his enthusiasm for the friendship.

Sabo was cautious, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Bellamy’s track record with trouble was already well-known. 

One evening, Sabo approached Ace after school, his expression serious. “Ace, can we talk for a minute?”

Ace, who was already in a bad mood after dealing with a frustrating day, threw himself onto the couch. “What’s up?”

Sabo took a deep breath, sitting down across from him. “I’ve been thinking about Bellamy.”

Ace immediately crossed his arms, a defensive look crossing his face. “What about him?”

Sabo hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to phrase his words carefully. “I’m just worried about Bellamy. He has a tendency to get into trouble. I was told that last time he had an issue, it was with the principal. I’m just not sure if he’s the right influence on you.”

Ace bristled, his frustration quickly bubbling to the surface. “Come on, Sabo! You’re acting like he’s some kind of bad guy. He’s just a little... rough around the edges.”

Sabo’s voice remained calm, though the concern in his eyes was evident. “I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but you’ve got to think about the bigger picture. People like Bellamy have a way of dragging others down with them.”

Ace’s temper flared. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not like I can’t handle myself. I’m not a little kid, Sabo. Maybe you’re just jealous that I’m making other friends.”

The words hit Sabo harder than he expected, and for a moment, his expression faltered. But instead of rising to the bait, he took a step back and spoke quietly. “It’s not about jealousy, Ace. It’s about you getting hurt. Bellamy’s a wildcard. I just don’t want to see you get caught up in something you can’t handle.”

Ace stood up abruptly, the tension thick in the room. “I don’t need your approval, Sabo,” he said, voice tight. “I’ll make my own decisions. And I’ll figure this out without you.”

Before Sabo could say anything more, Ace turned and stormed out of the room, leaving his brother staring after him with a mixture of frustration and concern.

As the weeks passed, Luffy’s frustration with her kindergarten only grew. Every few days, Shanks would come home to find yet another letter from the school waiting for him. Each one detailed some new offense Luffy had committed, and while he knew she wasn’t the easiest kid to handle, the sheer absurdity of the complaints was starting to make him question what kind of place this was.

That evening, just as he came back from work, Luffy stomped up to him, a crumpled piece of paper in her tiny fists. Her lower lip wobbled dangerously as she shoved it at him. "They hate me," she mumbled.

Shanks sighed, unfolding the note.

To the Unofficial Guardian of the Unregistered Child, who identifies as a 'Luffy',

(Note: Our records indicate that the child remains under the supervision of Child Protection Services. Any official decisions regarding its placement should be directed to the appropriate caseworker. We must also reiterate that the lack of a legal surname continues to present significant difficulties in maintaining proper documentation. It is highly irregular for a child of its age to remain nameless in any formal capacity.)

It is with growing concern that we find ourselves once again compelled to address the ongoing behavioural deficiencies of the child. Despite the extraordinary privilege of attending a facility of this caliber—one that countless families of far more suitable backgrounds aspire to access—it has demonstrated a complete inability or unwillingness to conform to even the most basic expectations of a structured learning environment.

Most recently, during Quiet Reading Time—a crucial period designed to foster early literacy, discipline, and focus—the child outright refused to remain seated or engage with the assigned material. Instead, it climbed onto the furniture in an unsanctioned display of defiance, loudly declared itself ‘Captain Luffy’, and proceeded to run chaotically around the classroom, disrupting the learning environment for students who were diligently following instructions. When repeatedly reminded of the importance of reading, it shouted ‘Pirates don’t need books!’ before attempting to drag others into its nonsensical games.

This ongoing disregard for basic classroom structure is not an isolated incident. The child routinely refuses to participate in guided activities, resists all attempts at structured learning, and has been overheard encouraging its peers to abandon their assignments in favour of ‘bug hunting’, ‘treasure maps,’ and other wholly inappropriate distractions. It has shown no ability to sit still for appropriate durations, dismisses books as unnecessary, and fails to grasp even the most elementary aspects of structured education.

More concerning still, the child has spoken on multiple occasions of its past experiences ‘treasure hunting’ while living on the streets with its… brothers. While we acknowledge that a background such as its may have led to certain unsophisticated behaviours, we must stress that this institution is neither the place nor the time for such delinquent fantasies.

Given the exceptional prestige and academic rigour of our kindergarten, it is imperative that all students demonstrate a willingness to integrate into the structured learning environment we provide. We have already extended considerable patience and accommodation in this matter, but the child’s continued resistance to discipline leaves us with few remaining options.

We strongly advise that immediate corrective action be taken to ensure that it develops the self-control, discipline, and social awareness necessary to function in a real educational setting.

Failure to address these concerns in a timely manner may require us to reconsider whether this institution is an appropriate fit for the child moving forward.

Shanks blinked. Then he read it again. Slower this time.

“…What the hell kind of kindergarten is this?”

He stared at the paper like it had personally insulted him, then looked down at Luffy. She was curled up on the floor, hugging her knees, looking as miserable as he’d ever seen her.

Shanks knelt in front of her. “Luffy,” he started carefully, “are you telling me they actually make three-year-olds have Quiet Reading Time?”

Luffy nodded dramatically. “For sooooo long!” she whined. “And when I tried to tell them about my treasure map, they got mad! Again!”

Shanks ran a hand down his face. “I—okay, but like… you’re three. What do they want from you? A book report? A tax return?” He glanced at the letter again and muttered, “‘Pirates don’t need books’… Pfft.” Okay, that was funny.

Luffy sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “They always say ‘SHHHHHH!’ Even when I just talk a little bit! And nobody wants to play treasure hunt or chase bugs! They just sit and read. Or color inside the lines!”

Shanks’ brows furrowed. “Wait… so they don’t even let you pretend to have adventures?”

Luffy shook her head.

Shanks exhaled sharply, sitting back on his heels. What the hell kind of dystopian preschool was this? Three-year-olds were supposed to run around. To learn through play. Not be treated like tiny office workers with mandatory reading quotas.

And this letter—the way they kept calling his daughter "the child", like she was some paperwork burden instead of an actual person? That snide remark about Child Protection Services, like he was just some random placeholder? And the part about her not having a last name—like she was an administrative inconvenience instead of a kid? His grip on the letter tightened.

Luffy sniffled again, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “I don’t wanna go back.”

Shanks’ heart clenched.

She’d been so excited about kindergarten at first. But now? Every morning was a battle. Every evening, he came home to his daughter looking like this. Miserable. Worn down. Crushed.

That settled it.

“Alright,” he said, finality in his tone. “I don’t think this is the right place for you, Lu.”

Luffy perked up slightly, sniffling again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, ruffling her hair. “I think we need to find somewhere that actually lets you be three. Because this?” He held up the letter. “This is insane.”

Luffy’s pout faded into something hopeful. “Does that mean I don’t have to sit still anymore?”

Shanks chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll find a place where you can run around, find treasure, and maybe—maybe—even have a pirate ship chair, okay?”

Luffy grinned for the first time that morning, launching herself into his arms. “Thank you, daddy!”

Shanks caught her easily, still shaking his head. He had a lot to figure out now, but one thing was crystal clear, his kid did not belong in a place that treated imagination like a crime.

And honestly?

He was definitely stealing ‘Pirates don’t need books’ for later.

Shanks was losing his mind.

He had spent the entire week searching for literally any kindergarten that wasn’t obsessed with turning toddlers into miniature salary men. And the more he looked, the worse it got.

Every school he called, every brochure he read, every painfully condescending conversation he had with administrators—it all led to the same thing:

"We believe in early academic excellence."

"We prepare children for future success."

"Our structured environment ensures discipline and focus."

She’s THREE! Shanks wanted to scream. What future is she preparing for? Paying taxes?! The worst part? They were all proud of it.

One place even boasted about their "Award-Winning Quiet Time Policy", and Shanks had nearly hung up on the spot.

Meanwhile, while he was drowning in a sea of overachieving preschools, Luffy was having the best week of her life.

Lucky and his Mom had taken turns watching her, and every day when Shanks came home, she greeted him covered in dirt, grinning from ear to ear, and bursting with stories.

"Daddy! Today we found the BIGGEST bug ever!"

"I climbed the fence but Grandma said I shouldn’t do that. But I did it anyway!"

"Lucky showed me how to roll dough! It’s like playing with treasure mud!"

Shanks had never been so relieved in his life. This—this—was what being three was supposed to look like.

And it just made it even more obvious: There was no way in hell he was sending her back to some soul-crushing, joy-draining institution. His daughter can do that herself as soon as she joins the workforce and has to enter an office building every day.

But if all the kindergartens around here were the same… what was he supposed to do?

By the time he sat down with Beckman and Hongo that afternoon, Shanks was exhausted. He slumped against the table in their usual bar, rubbing his hands down his face.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I need help.”

Beck raised an eyebrow, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Not used to hearing that from you.”

“It’s about Luffy.”

Both men immediately straightened.

Shanks exhaled, then launched into the story—the letter, the nightmare that was Luffy’s kindergarten, the insanity of every other option he’d found.

“I’m telling you, it’s like they all aspire to be that goddamn place. ‘Early academic success’? She’s three. You know what she wants to do? Eat dirt and chase bugs.”

Hongo winced. “Yikes.”

Beck took another drag, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “So, what now? Keep her home?”

Shanks groaned. “I wish. But I still gotta work, and Lucky and Mom can’t watch her forever.” He leaned forward, hands in his hair. “I just—she needs a place where she can be a kid. Somewhere that actually lets her have fun instead of treating her like some… untrained office worker.”

Beck hummed thoughtfully, then frowned. “...Wait.”

Shanks looked up. “What?”

Beckman took a slow drag of his cigarette, smirking. "Sounds like you fit right in with the other filthy rich parents."

Shanks lifted his head just enough to glare. "Don’t start."

Hongo grinned. "No, no, Beck’s got a point. Imagine, you sitting there with the rest of the city’s elite, all nodding along about ‘early childhood discipline’ and ‘the importance of structured cognitive engagement’ while secretly wishing you could take a sip out of your flask."

"Bet you even got a fancy brochure," Beckman added.

Shanks sat up abruptly, jabbing a finger at them. "I swear to god—"

Hongo leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "What’s wrong, Chief? Didn’t feel at home among your people?"

Beckman let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, must be tough. All those perfect, put-together parents in their designer suits, discussing their children's future."

Shanks’ eye twitched. "You both know my parents. For over twenty goddamn years. You really wanna pull this shit?"

Beckman shrugged. "Hey, doesn’t mean it’s not funny."

Hongo grinned. "We should get you a blazer. Maybe a tie. Really help you blend in next time. You should wear a suit more often. Aren't you thankful you got elected?"

Shanks groaned and let his head fall back against the chair. "I hate both of you. Deeply. Passionately."

"Right back at you, Chief," Beckman said smoothly.

"Anyway," Hongo said, leaning back, "if you’re done having an identity crisis, I might have a lead."

Shanks sat up instantly. "Please, for the love of god."

"You remember Yassop’s kid?"

Shanks blinked. "Yassop has a kid?"

Beckman sighed. "I swear, you’re useless sometimes. I think his name is Yusopp or something like that."

Hongo nodded. "He's around Luffy’s age. But Yassop’s deployed, and I have no clue how to reach his wife. Still, might be something to look into."

Shanks frowned. "Okay, that’s… something. Maybe."

"I can also put out some feelers," Hongo continued. "I know a few people with kids, nurses, doctors, but not necessarily rich snobs, who might have recommendations. I’ll just say I’m looking for a fun-loving kindergarten for my three-year-old niece."

Shanks stared at him. Then, to his horror, his vision blurred.

“Shit.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Nope. Nope, not crying. Shut up.”

Beck smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Shanks sniffed. “You don’t get it. I have spent a week talking to dead-eyed rich assholes about their genius toddler factories. And now you’re telling me there might actually be a place for her?”

Hongo snorted. “Yeah, man. There are normal parents out there too, y’know.”

Shanks groaned, but this time in relief.

“Alright,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s do it. Call your people, Hongo.” He took a deep breath. “I just want my kid to be happy.”

Beck chuckled, shaking his head. “Man. Who knew finding a place to let a three-year-old act three would be the hardest mission of your life? You’re getting way too emotional over this."

"You try coming home to a miserable three-year-old every day and see how you handle it," Shanks shot back.

Beckman smirked. "I’ll pass. I like my peace and quiet."

Shanks let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. "Alright. Hongo, work your magic. Beck, you let me know if you figure out how to track down Yassop’s wife. In the meantime, I’m gonna go home to my happy, non-corporate, dirt-eating kid and pretend this week never happened."

Beckman and Hongo exchanged a glance, shaking their heads with matching smirks.

"Yeah," Hongo muttered as Shanks stood up, "totally not a rich guy."

The next morning, Hongo made his way to the pediatrician section, scanning the bustling hallway for Dr. Kobato. He found her finishing up with a small child who was proudly showing off a colorful sticker. As soon as she sent them on their way, he stepped forward.

"Dr. Kobato," he greeted with a polite nod.

She glanced up, surprised to see him. "Dr. Blonde," she replied with an amused tilt of her head. "Didn’t expect to see you in pediatrics. What can I do for you?"

Hongo sighed. "I need a favor. My niece is miserable at her kindergarten, and I’m trying to find somewhere better for her."

Dr. Kobato gave him a curious look. "Your niece?"

"Yeah." Hongo hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "She’s three. Lively. A little whirlwind, honestly. But she’s the most adorable kid you’ve ever seen."

At that, Dr. Kobato’s expression softened. "I see. And what exactly can Dr. Blonde tell me about this unhappy little whirlwind?"

Hongo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well… she’s got more energy than should be physically possible. She loves running, climbing, yelling—talking, oh god, does she talk. Absolutely obsessed with Pirates, it's ridiculous. She’s got the loudest laugh, the biggest smile. Just full of life, y’know? But she’s stuck in some stuffy, uptight place that expects her to sit still and be quiet all day. It’s killing her spirit."

Dr. Kobato hummed thoughtfully, then nodded to herself. "She sounds like she might be a good friend for my son, Koby."

Hongo perked up. "Yeah?"

Dr. Kobato smiled. "He’s a little shy, but he’s kind. His kindergarten is structured but encourages curiosity and play. Maybe they should meet first? Koby could tell her about it himself."

Hongo grinned. "That sounds perfect. When’s a good time?"

Dr. Kobato took out her phone and glanced at her schedule. "How about tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sounds good," Hongo agreed instantly. Then, with a smirk, he added, "Just a heads-up—don’t be surprised if my two nephews come along too."

Dr. Kobato raised an eyebrow. "More kids?"

"Not exactly." Hongo chuckled. "They’re already seventeen, but they’re ridiculously protective over their little sister."

Dr. Kobato laughed. "I see. Well, the more, the merrier. Let’s see how the kids get along."

"Perfect. See you then, Doc."

The moment he stepped out of the hospital, he was already dialling Shanks.

Hongo leaned against the playground fence, watching as Dr. Kobato gently nudged her son towards the eager little girl in front of him. Koby, a small, round-faced kid with pink hair and wide eyes, hesitated, clutching the hem of his shirt like it might save him from whatever whirlwind of energy Luffy was about to unleash.

Luffy, for her part, was practically vibrating with excitement. “Hi! I’m Luffy! What’s your name?”

Koby swallowed hard. “K-Koby.”

Luffy grinned. “Koby! Cool name. Wanna play?”

Koby blinked at her, hesitating. “Uh… w-what do you wanna play?”

Luffy’s face lit up like she’d just been handed a lifetime supply of meat. “PIRATES.”

Hongo held back a laugh. Koby looked like he had just been hit with an entirely new concept of existence.

“Pirates?” Koby repeated nervously.

“Yeah! You can be on my crew!” Luffy declared. “We gotta go find the treasure!”

Koby fidgeted. “B-but where’s the treasure?”

Luffy’s grin turned absolutely devious. “We gotta FIND IT!” Then, without waiting for further discussion, she grabbed his wrist and took off, dragging him full-speed across the playground.

Koby yelped but didn’t let go.

Hongo glanced at Dr. Kobato, who was watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and fond exasperation.

“She’s fast,” she remarked.

Hongo snorted. “She’s relentless.”

On the playground, Koby had, against all odds, found his footing and was now actively running alongside Luffy as she shouted about evil bandits and buried gold. His initial shyness seemed to melt away as Luffy declared him the ‘Navigator’ and insisted he lead them to safety.

Dr. Kobato chuckled. “He’s never played like this before.”

Hongo raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nodded. “He’s always been a quiet kid. He likes books and puzzles, but he’s never really had someone to just… run around with.” She shook her head, watching Koby chase after Luffy with a smile that was pure joy. “Looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Hongo crossed his arms, smirking. “I was worried for a second. If my nephews had come, they probably would’ve scared the hell out of him.”

Dr. Kobato gave him a curious look. “I see. That would have been… a bit much.”

They both turned their attention back to the kids.

Koby, breathless and red-faced, was laughing—actually laughing—as Luffy led him up the slide (the wrong way) shouting about how they had to escape the ‘sea monster.’ The fact that other kids on the playground were giving them odd looks didn’t bother either of them in the slightest.

Hongo shook his head, amused. “Well. I think it’s safe to say they get along.”

Dr. Kobato smiled warmly. “Yes. I think they do.”

Koby was panting. He wasn’t used to this kind of relentless energy—Luffy had dragged him through every possible adventure scenario in her head, from escaping sea monsters to raiding an enemy ship (the jungle gym). But despite the exhaustion, he was grinning, completely caught up in the whirlwind that was his new friend.

Luffy, of course, was still full of energy as she marched them back toward the adults, practically hauling Koby behind her. He was still catching his breath when they reached Hongo and Dr. Kobato.

Hongo barely glanced at Luffy before asking, “Hungry?”

Luffy beamed, as if he had just asked the most obvious and wonderful question in the world.

Dr. Kobato let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Alright, now I really understand what you meant.”

But before anyone could say anything else, Luffy suddenly froze, her eyes widening like she’d just remembered something incredibly important.

Hongo raised an eyebrow as she let go of Koby’s hand and quickly straightened her posture. Then, very seriously, she bowed deeply in front of Dr. Kobato.

“I’m Luffy! Three years old!” she announced, voice full of exaggerated politeness. “Daddy and Sabo say it’s rude not to say hi to parents.”

Dr. Kobato crouched slightly to be at Luffy’s level, smiling warmly. “Thank you for showing such respect, Luffy. You’re a very polite young lady. My name is Dr. Kobato. I’m Koby’s mom.”

Luffy blinked up at her, lips pursed in deep concentration. “Ko… ba…” She scrunched up her nose. “Ko-ba… bo…”

Dr. Kobato waited patiently, clearly used to small children struggling with her name.

Luffy huffed, then suddenly gasped like she’d made the greatest discovery of her life. “Boby!”

Hongo immediately turned away to hide his laughter.

Dr. Kobato blinked. “Boby?”

Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! ‘Cause it’s like Koby but with a B! You match!” She turned to Koby, eyes sparkling. “Your mama’s name is Boby!”

Koby turned bright red. “Th-that’s not her name!”

But Luffy was already giggling uncontrollably. “Boby and Koby! That’s so funny!”

Dr. Kobato sighed, shaking her head with a small, amused smile. “Well, that’s new.”

Hongo, barely holding it together, muttered, “Better accept it now. If Luffy names you, it’s permanent.”

Dr. Kobato chuckled, ruffling Koby’s hair. “Alright then. I guess I’m Boby now.”

Luffy grinned even wider, her earlier excitement returning. “I’m the best, huh?” She looked to Koby for confirmation, and he nodded, his face still flushed but his smile growing.

“That’s right,” Koby whispered, his cheeks still a little pink, but he seemed to be warming up to Luffy’s infectious energy.

“See?” Luffy said, grinning proudly. “I’m the best!”

Dr. Kobato chuckled at the exchange, and with a smile, she said, “I’m glad Koby’s found a new friend. You two seem to be getting along quite well.”

Koby, finally starting to relax, looked up at Luffy with a shy smile. “I like running with you.”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “I like running with you too, Koby!”

Koby turned bright red. “U-uh—”

Hongo snorted. Dr. Kobato covered a smile behind her hand.

Luffy beamed. “Now can we eat? I’m starving!”

Koby, still looking like he wanted to sink into the earth, hesitated before tugging at his mom’s sleeve. “C-can we get meat? Luffy really likes meat…”

Dr. Kobato—Boby—laughed, nodding. “I think we can manage that.”

Luffy cheered, grabbing Koby’s hand again as they all headed off while Dr. Kobato accepted her new name with surprising grace.

Hongo, watching the two kids interact with a small, satisfied smile, couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to turn around for Luffy.

Two weeks had passed since Luffy had started attending the same kindergarten as Koby, and the change was nothing short of miraculous. Every day, she came home bursting with energy, her face glowing with happiness, and her eyes sparkling as she excitedly recounted her adventures. Today, she skipped through the door, her small feet practically bouncing off the floor as she ran straight into Shanks.

“Daddy! Ace! Sabo! I made new friends! Koby and I went on a treasure hunt!” Luffy’s voice was full of excitement, and she didn’t even stop to catch her breath.

Shanks, who had been lounging on the couch, looked up, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Happy child, happy life,” he chuckled, his voice warm and amused as he reached down to ruffle her hair.

Luffy’s giggles filled the room, contagious and pure. “My new friends are great!” She was practically bouncing with joy as she hugged Shanks tightly.

Ace, who had been sitting at the table, couldn’t help but grin. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, the sight of Luffy’s happiness brought a sense of relief to him. “Yeah, yeah, we get it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “But don’t forget about your older brothers, princess.”

Shanks shot a playful look at Ace. “Don’t tease her, Ace. Let her have her moment.”

Sabo, who had been leaning against the kitchen counter, a soft smirk on his face, couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief. Seeing Luffy so genuinely happy made all the chaos they’d been through feel worth it. “Maybe we should get her something nice,” he suggested, his tone light but sincere.

Shanks laughed and shook his head. “At least someone’s thinking about the future.”

Ace leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, his expression softer now. “It’s just... so good to see her this happy.” He let out a sigh, glancing over at Sabo, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Sabo added, his voice calm but filled with a warmth that was rare for him. “We’ve been through a lot. But seeing her so happy, it makes it all feel worth it. She’s the light of our lives, after all.”

Shanks watched them both, his own smile growing at the sight of the boys genuine relief. “I’m glad she’s finally in a place where she feels safe.”

Luffy, completely unaware of the weight of the conversation, looked up at the three of them with her wide, innocent eyes. “Can we go on an adventure today? Please, please, please?”

Sabo chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Sure.”

Ace leaned back in his chair, a genuine smile on his face as he looked at Luffy. “Alright, alright. Adventure it is.”

Shanks grinned, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he’d been longing for.

Later that day, Ace was lounging on the couch, his head resting on his hand. “Asshat, you were right,” he said, clearly still irritated. “I showed Bellamy a picture of Luffy in her new kindergarten uniform, and he just... stared at it like it was some kind of joke. He said she looked ugly. Totally killed the vibe.”

Sabo laughed softly from the other side of the room. “I told you, Ace.”

Ace sighed. “I know, I know. What's the name of the kid in my class you told me about?”

“Deuce, he is really nice,” Sabo said, giving a shrug. “He’s calm and good with people. He might be able to teach you a thing or two about reading the room.”

Ace rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a small grin. “Haha, funny. I’ll talk to him. Can’t hurt.”

It was just another ordinary weekday when Shanks received a message. He had been expecting it someday soon, but that didn’t make the situation any less nerve-wracking.

Anchor's Uncle Hawkey (13:19): CPS will be conducting the house visit in 30 minutes. They don’t give much notice. Sorry. If everything goes well, the finalisation hearing could happen next week.

Shanks leaned back in his chair, staring at the message as the weight of it settled in. This was the next step—the step that would make everything official for him, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. This visit could mean everything they’d been hoping for, he'd been hoping for since finding Luffy.

With a sigh, Shanks quickly grabbed his phone, dialling Beck to pick up his daughter and his secretaries to excuse him from meetings for the day. Work could wait; today was too important. He then called the school and the kindergarten.

As the calls ended, Shanks ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the nerves that had suddenly crept in. It was all in motion now, and there was no turning back. All he had to do right now, was driving  home.

The clock on the kitchen wall seemed to tick louder than ever. Shanks paced back and forth, his mind running through every possible scenario. The CPS visit was only minutes away, and while he had everything set up, the weight of the moment made his nerves feel like a live wire.

Just as Shanks was starting to feel the tension coil tighter in his chest, he heard the front door open. Ace and Sabo rushed in, looking as if they'd been in a race to get home.

“Six minutes left,” Ace muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and urgency. “I thought we were gonna be late.”

“You’re not late yet,” Shanks said quickly, trying to calm himself—and them. “Beck's picking up Luffy. We'll be fine. We just need to make sure everything’s set up here. It’s just a house visit, not a big deal.”

Sabo, clearly just as nervous as Ace, went straight to the window, peering out through the blinds. “But what if something goes wrong? What if they think we’re not ready or—”

“Stop,” Shanks interrupted, holding his hands out in a calming gesture. “We’ve been through this. You’ve been through a lot worse. Luffy’s happy. That’s what matters. They’ll see that.”

But as the words left his mouth, a loud knock echoed from the front door.

The three of them froze, eyes wide. Time seemed to slow.

“They're too early, doesn't matter. We need to get this together,” Shanks said, moving to the door. He gave his brothers a quick, panicked look. “You guys, get the tea ready. Make it look… nice. We need to make this place seem as cozy as possible.”

Chapter Text

The door opened, revealing two CPS workers, a sharp-eyed woman in her late thirties and a younger man clutching his clipboard a little too tightly. Both looked momentarily surprised as they took in the man standing before them.

“Mayor Silvers?” the woman asked, glancing at her files with a raised eyebrow.

Shanks chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hello. Please, come on in.”

The two social workers exchanged a glance before stepping inside. Shanks led them through the mansion, showing them the boys rooms, Luffy’s space, the kitchen, and the living area, introducing the present staff along the way. Everything was spotless—almost suspiciously so, considering the usual chaos of three minors living here.

By the time they returned to the living room, the CPS workers seemed more at ease. They sat down across from Shanks, Ace, and Sabo, their expressions professional but not unfriendly.

“So,” the woman began, flipping open her notes, “before we get into the formal questions, let’s talk a bit. Ace, Sabo—how do you feel about living here? Do you feel safe and supported?”

Ace, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance before shrugging. “Obviously.”

Sabo sighed, giving the social workers a more diplomatic smile. “Yeah, we’re good here. It’s a real home.”

The younger CPS worker smiled. “That’s great to hear. And you both go to—”

BANG.

The front door slammed open with the force of a cannon blast, shaking the walls.

“DAAAAAAAAADDY!!!”

A tiny, unstoppable force came barreling into the house, moving at a speed that should have been impossible for someone her size. Luffy, her backpack barely hanging onto one shoulder, launched herself forward like a missile.

Beckman appeared in the doorway a second later, looking slightly out of breath, shaking his head in exasperation. “I swear, I blinked, and she was gone.”

Shanks barely had time to react before Luffy crashed into him at full speed, wrapping herself around his torso like a koala. He caught her effortlessly, laughing as she clung to him.

The CPS workers stared, completely stunned.

“Hey, Anchor,” Shanks greeted, ruffling her hair. “Have a good day?”

Luffy beamed up at him, her little face shining with excitement. “YES! We played pirates, and I was the captain, and Koby was my crew, and we found buried treasure but then the mean teacher said it was just the sandbox but she’s wrong, ‘cause treasure can be anywhere, right, Daddy?”

Shanks grinned. “Absolutely.”

Luffy nodded, satisfied, before finally noticing the two strangers staring at her. She blinked, tilting her head like a curious puppy. Then, with zero hesitation, she turned to them and grinned widely.

“Hi! I’m Luffy! I’m three! These are my Daddy and my brothers Ace and Sabo!”

Ace groaned, slouching down on the couch and covering his face with his hands. “Luffy, why.”

Sabo coughed into his fist, trying very hard not to laugh.

The female CPS worker, quickly recovered, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. “Nice to meet you, Luffy. I’m Ms. Hopkins, and this is Mr. Clark. We're here to get to know you and your brothers.”

Luffy gave them a long, thoughtful look, as if deciding whether or not they were important. Then, just as suddenly, she turned back to Shanks.

“I’M HUNGRY,” she declared with the urgency of a very small person in a very big mood.

Ms. Hopkins chuckled. “We’ll get you a snack soon. But first, can we chat for a bit?”

Luffy eyed her, suspicious but intrigued. “Okay,” she said slowly, then flopped dramatically into the nearest cushion.

Ms. Hopkins smiled and gently asked, “Do you like your kindergarten?”

“Mhm,” Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “It has paints and squishy dough and big blocks. I made a house once but Koby said it was a barn.”

Mr. Clark smiled politely. “Do you have any friends there?”

“My bestest friend is Koby!” she said proudly. “He’s got pink hair and he’s really fast at puzzles. And Boby is his mom. She’s very nice.”

“That sounds nice,” Ms. Hopkins said, clearly amused. “How did you meet them?”

Luffy grinned. “Uncle Hongo found them! At the playground. Then we had noodles. With meat.”

Shanks added, “She means Dr. Blonde Hongo. He's like a brother to me, we know each other for more than 20 years. Koby's mother is a paediatrician.”

Both CPS workers paused.

“Dr. Blonde Hongo?” Mr. Clark echoed, exchanging a surprised glance with Ms. Hopkins.

“Yeah!” Luffy said happily. “He yells at the big boys, who are mean at the playground, but not at me ‘cause I’m smol, he said.”

Ms. Hopkins smiled, nodding along. “And how are things here, at home? Do you like it here?”

“Yup,” Luffy said, flopping sideways into the pillow like her work here was done. “Sabo reads me stories. Ace doesn’t let me eat stickers. Daddy makes toast but not jelly because he says I get it in my hair. It’s okay. I like butter more now.”

“And your dad… he takes care of you?”

Luffy nodded. “Uh-huh. He makes hot chocolate and lets me sit on his chair even when I don’t ask.”

Ms. Hopkins shared a glance with Mr. Clark, who made a note on his clipboard.

Luffy looked at Shanks. “Are we done now? Can I get a snack? I'm really hungry, daddy.”

Shanks chuckled, adjusting Luffy so she was sitting more comfortably on his lap. “Of course you are. My little glutton.”

Then he looked at the social workers. “You mind if I grab her something real quick? Or should one of the boys go?”

Ms. Hopkins smiled slightly and shook her head. “Actually, if you don’t mind, we’d like to speak with Ace and Sabo privately for a few minutes.”

Shanks arched a brow but didn’t argue. He got up and took Luffy's hand. “Alright.” He turned to the kitchen. “Beck, let's grab a snack. I'll make you a coffee before you drive back to the office.”

Beckman, still leaning against the doorway, smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He motioned for Luffy to follow him, and she ran after him without hesitation, chattering happily about what kind of snack she wanted.

Once she was out of the room, Ms. Hopkins turned her attention fully to Ace and Sabo. “Alright, boys, I know this process can feel a little formal, but we’re just here to make sure everything is going well. So, tell me, how do you feel about living here?”

Ace leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. He wasn’t usually one for these kinds of conversations. But he sighed, deciding to just be honest. “It’s… good. Way better than before. Not just because it’s a nice house or anything, but because, you know, we actually have a home now.”

Sabo nodded in agreement, his expression more serious. “Yeah. I think… we’ve had a lot of bad luck before this. And I don’t know if we would have ended up somewhere good if Luffy hadn’t—” He stopped, frowning as if trying to find the right words. “Luffy’s the reason we’re here. Shanks took us in because she wouldn’t stop demanding it. And at first, we thought, ‘Alright, maybe it’s just temporary. Maybe it’s just because of her.’ But…” He glanced at Ace before looking back at the CPS workers. “It’s not just because of her anymore.”

Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, Luffy’s the reason we got through the door. She’s the reason we’re even sitting here right now. But Shanks… he didn’t have to keep us. He could’ve just fought for her and let us go somewhere else. Instead, he actually wants us here. And it’s weird, y’know? We’re not used to that.”

Ms. Hopkins studied them both carefully.

Mr. Clark made a few notes before looking up again. “Can you tell us more about Luffy? She seems… energetic.”

Ace snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

Sabo chuckled. “Luffy is… the light of our lives. And an absolute menace.”

Ace smirked. “Yeah, we’d die for her, but we’d also like to throw her into a pillow fort sometimes just to get some peace and quiet.”

Sabo nodded, a fond smile on his face. “She’s our everything. She’s loud, messy, impossible to keep still and somehow the only reason we even are a family now.”

Ms. Hopkins tilted her head slightly. “And her relationship with Mr. Silvers?”

Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance before Ace leaned forward. “Luffy loves Shanks more than anything in the world. I hate to say it but I think she loves him already more than us.” He smirked. “She imprinted on him like a baby duck.”

Sabo laughed. “And he’s just as bad. He spoils her rotten. She’s his kid, through and through.”

Ace rolled his eyes, grinning. “Yeah, I mean, look. Luffy’s never had a dad before. I had to work very hard to convince her to not call ME her dad. I didn’t have family either until Sabo and Luffy came around. And Shanks? He just… fits. It’s weird, but it works. She calls him ‘Daddy’ like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Sabo hummed. “He's the happiest when he comes home and Luffy climbs him like a tree, demands piggyback rides and bedtime stories.”

Ace grinned. “I honestly can't imagine him as Mayor Silvers. I only know Daddy Shanks, who lets a toddler put stickers all over his face because she thinks it’s funny.”

Sabo snickered. “He got teary-eyed the first few times Luffy called him ‘Daddy.’”

Mr. Clark raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Ace leaned back, his smirk turning softer. “Yeah, the guy acts all cool, but those first few weeks? Every time she told him she loved him, he looked like he was about to break down.” He paused before adding, quieter, “Guess none of us were really used to that kind of thing.”

Ms. Hopkins tapped her pen against her clipboard thoughtfully. “How did you all meet him, exactly?”

The boys looked at each other before Ace groaned. “Okay, that’s a story.”

Sabo grinned. “You won’t believe it, but Luffy got detained.”

Mr. Clark blinked. “She what?”

Ace snorted. “Yeah. Our little three-year-old tornado somehow was thrown in a cell. And you know why?”

Sabo tried to keep a straight face. “Because she tried to return Shanks stolen wallet to the police station. Pardon my French, but the Cops in the Slums, at least the East Slum, are absolute bastards.”

There was silence.

Ms. Hopkins blinked. 

Ace shook his head. “We still don’t know how she pulled it off. Luffy grabbed it, marched her tiny butt down to the nearest police station, and somehow got detained for it.”

Sabo grinned. “They thought she was trying to pull a scam.”

Mr. Clark looked at them like they were insane. “She is three.”

Ace threw his hands up. “We know! But you ever tried arguing with Luffy? She’s three, but she probably walked in there acting like she owned the place.”

Sabo nodded. “And then Shanks showed up to get his stuff back, saw her in the cell and somehow walked out with her instead of just his wallet.”

Ace smirked. “We didn’t trust him at first. Thought he was just another pervert trying to take advantage of a kid from the streets.”

Sabo grinned. “Yeah, because the first time we saw him, we thought he was some rich creep trying to take advantage of Luffy.”

Ms. Hopkins raised an eyebrow. “What exactly happened?”

Ace groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, in our defense, we had no idea who he was and we’d spent our whole last years looking out for Luffy. So when she came running up to us all happy, talking about how this ‘red-haired guy’ had given her food, we assumed the worst. But it was very much food so we kinda ignored it until we saw him in front of Luffy.”

Sabo chuckled. “So we did what any overprotective brothers would do.”

Mr. Clark blinked. “Which was?”

Ace smirked. “We jumped him.”

Silence.

Ms. Hopkins stared. “You… attacked him?”

Sabo grinned. “Not just him. Mr. Benn and Dr. Blonde too.”

Ace snorted. “Yeah, we ambushed all three of them.”

Mr. Clark looked both horrified and mildly impressed. “And… how did that go?”

Sabo winced. “Well, we did get a few good hits in.”

Ms. Hopkins looked torn between disbelief and amusement. “So… you attacked them and then what?”

Sabo grinned. “Then we robbed them.”

Mr. Clark choked. “You what?”

Ace smirked. “We stole their wallets and phones.”

Sabo laughed. “And then we ran. With Luffy.”

Ms. Hopkins pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me get this straight. You assaulted the mayor, beat up his men, stole their stuff, and—what, just left?”

Ace crossed his arms. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Sabo nodded. “And then, somehow, instead of pressing charges, Shanks just found us and asked if we wanted to come live with him.”

Ace threw his hands up. “I swear to god, this guy isn’t real.”

Ms. Hopkins stared at them like she was reconsidering every life choice that had led her to this moment. “…And you said yes?”

Sabo shrugged. “He didn’t seem mad. Just… tired. And kinda sad about what happened to Luffy, actually. Like he got why we did it.”

Ace huffed. “And Luffy already loved him. That was the real problem.”

Sabo nodded. “Yeah. Once Luffy decided Shanks was ‘Daddy,’ there was no going back.”

Ace sighed dramatically. “So now we live in a mansion with a mayor who lets a three-year-old terrorise him daily and loves it. Somehow, this is our life. So, yeah. He’s… he’s a good guy.” He huffed a small laugh. “I mean, he’s kinda ridiculous, but yeah.”

Mr. Clark, who had been quietly taking notes, finally spoke up. “Has he ever made you feel unsafe since you're here? Or ignored your needs?”

Ace shook his head. “No. If anything, he’s annoying about it. Always asking if we’re good, if we need anything. He backed off a little when we told him to chill, but yeah, he listens.”

Sabo smirked. “And he lets us make decisions. He doesn’t just tell us what to do—he actually asks what we think. I don’t think we’ve ever had that before.”

Ms. Hopkins nodded, making a few notes. “And how do you feel about the adoption being finalised?”

Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance.

Sabo was the first to answer. “I think it’s what we want.” He shrugged, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his voice. “This is home. There’s no question about that.”

Ace exhaled, looking down for a moment before muttering, “Yeah. I mean… I don’t need the papers to tell me that. But if that’s what it takes, then yeah, let’s get it done.”

Ms. Hopkins and Mr. Clark shared another glance before Ms. Hopkins smiled. “Alright. Thank you, boys. You’ve been very helpful.”

Just as she finished speaking, Luffy’s voice rang from the hallway.

“DADDY, BECK GAVE ME TWO COOKIES! THAT MEANS I WIN! SHISHISHISHISHI!”

Ace groaned. “Oh god, she’s back.”

Sabo just laughed.

The CPS workers exchanged a glance, Ms. Hopkins tapped her pen against her notebook.

“We should ask Luffy a few questions as well.”

Right on cue, Luffy came bounding back into the room, Shanks following behind her with a cup of juice in his hand. She had somehow managed to get cookie crumbs on her eyebrow, and her little fists were clenched in determination as she marched up to the couch.

Ms. Hopkins smiled. “Luffy, can we ask you some questions? Alone?”

Luffy blinked up at Shanks, confused. “Why?”

Shanks straightened slightly on the couch, eyes narrowing. “Wait, alone? Why?”

Mr. Clark, tall and impassive in his beige jacket, answered smoothly, “It's standard procedure. It’ll only take a few minutes. Just some questions about her environment and how she’s feeling at home.”

Shanks glanced down at Luffy, who was now holding tightly onto his sleeve, wary and silent. “She's three. You really think she should be answering questions alone?”

Ms. Hopkins offered a placid smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Silvers. But it's very common. This way, the child feels less influenced by a guardian’s presence.”

“She’s three,” Shanks repeated, sharper this time. “Barely old enough to spell her own name. You said she’s just supposed to feel safe. You think this is how?”

Mr. Clark adjusted his clipboard, then said flatly, “Three is the minimum age for individual interviews, per child protection guidelines. And minor girls are always interviewed alone.”

Shanks stared at him, dumbfounded. “But the boys—Ace and Sabo—they were interviewed together.”

“They’re both male,” Clark said simply. “The policy is different for girls.”

Shanks opened his mouth to argue, but he could already feel the corner tightening—like they weren’t giving him a real choice.

He looked at Luffy. She squinted suspiciously at the two adults, then up at him, clearly trying to figure out if this was another game or something serious.

He crouched next to her, brushing a smudge of crumbs off her cheek with his sleeve. “They just wanna talk to you for a bit, Anchor.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“They said it’s rules,” he said gently, swallowing his discomfort. “I’ll be just outside the door, okay? Answer their questions just for a couple of minutes.”

She gave the CPS workers a side-eye only a three-year-old could make look like a criminal accusation. “Already did,” she muttered.

“I know,” Shanks said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. “But they wanna ask you again. Like a big girl.”

Still clinging to his sleeve, Luffy finally let go after a long pause, but not before glaring once more at Mr. Clark.

Shanks stood up slowly, dread knotting in his gut. His hands flexed at his sides, resisting the urge to grab her and tell them no. But he knew what would happen if he did.

So he nodded, stiff and silent.

Luffy’s lip jutted out, and she looked at Ace and Sabo. Ace sighed. “You got this, Lu.”

Sabo nodded. “We’ll be back soon.”

Still not happy, Luffy gave a small nod. “…Okay.”

Shanks hesitated, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “I’ll be right outside, okay? You'll do great, I know it.”

Luffy huffed but nodded. “Okay.”

With that, Shanks, Ace, and Sabo stepped out, and the door clicked shut behind them. The room felt suddenly too big, too quiet.

The sound of it closing behind him felt like betrayal.

Luffy sat on the couch, her legs swinging, arms crossed. Her face was scrunched in a little frown, clearly not happy about being alone with the social workers.

Ms. Hopkins smiled softly. “Alright, Luffy. It’s just us now.”

Luffy didn’t answer.

Ms. Hopkins softened her tone. “We just want to talk for a little while, okay?”

Luffy shifted on the couch, gripping the cushion with both hands. “…Okay.”

Mr. Clark leaned forward slightly. “Do you like living here?”

Luffy frowned a little, looking up. “…Yes.”

Ms. Hopkins smiled. “What do you like the most?”

Luffy didn’t hesitate. “Daddy.”

Ms. Hopkins blinked. “Oh?”

Luffy nodded, her face lighting up. “Daddy’s the best! Daddy’s always here. He gives hugs. He plays with me. And he carries me when I’m tired. I love Daddy!”

Mr. Clark chuckled. “That sounds nice. What about your room?”

Luffy shrugged. “It’s nice but I stay with Daddy.”

Ms. Hopkins tilted her head. “And Ace and Sabo?”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Ace and Sabo too! They’re my brothers! They fight good, but they never hit me, only play. I love them.”

Ms. Hopkins nodded and made a note. “Do you go to kindergarten?”

Luffy’s face scrunched. “Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

Luffy hesitated, then nodded. “…Yes, this one. The other one was bad.”

Ms. Hopkins made another note. “What was bad about it?”

Luffy frowned harder, kicking her legs. “They were mean. But this one’s better. I have friends, like Koby.”

Ms. Hopkins smiled. “That’s good. And do you ever get scared here, at home?”

Luffy’s expression faltered. She bit her lip and looked away. “…No.”

Mr. Clark watched her closely. “Are you sure?”

Luffy looked at the door nervously, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”

Ms. Hopkins softened her voice. “We just want to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart.”

Luffy nodded quickly, her voice firm again. “I’m safe with Daddy. And Ace and Sabo. And Grandpa and Grandma.”

Her mood shifted as she brightened up. “Daddy’s the best. He's always nice, not like the bad men before.”

Ms. Hopkins raised an eyebrow. “Bad men?”

Luffy nodded firmly. “Yeah. When I said no, they hit me until my brothers came. But Daddy, Ace, and Sabo, they never do. They love me.” She said the last part like a chant, her voice growing stronger. “They love me. They hug me. And they never hurt me, no matter what.”

Ms. Hopkins pressed gently, “And if you ever do something bad, does Daddy get mad?”

Luffy shook her head immediately. “No! Daddy doesn’t get mad. He talks to me.”

Ms. Hopkins continued. “But if you broke something or hurt someone, would Daddy be upset?”

Luffy froze, her small fists tightening on the cushion. “I don’t do bad stuff…”

Ms. Hopkins’ voice was calm but persistent. “But what if you did? What would happen? Did Daddy ever raised his voice at you or... made you feel scared?”

Luffy’s eyes started to fill with tears. She shook her head violently. “NO!” Her voice was getting louder, more defensive now. “Daddy never hurts me! He’s not like the bad men! He’s not like them!”

Ms. Hopkins leaned forward a little, trying to reassure her. “We just need to know you’re safe. Very bad things can happen to nice girls like you. We just need to make sure you’re happy and safe here.”

Luffy’s face scrunched in frustration, and her lip quivered. “I am happy! I don’t want to go back there... I don’t want to go back to the bad men!”

Her little body trembled, and she clung to the couch cushion for support. “Daddy is not like them! He’s not! Please don’t take me away from him! I don’t want to go! I don’t want to…”

Luffy’s face flushed with frustration, the tears started to fall. “I am! I’m safe! Daddy’s safe! Ace and Sabo are safe! They’re my family! And they love me!”

She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She was shaking so hard, it seemed like her whole world was crumbling.

Before anyone could react, Shanks burst into the room, his eyes fierce with concern.

The moment Luffy saw him, she screamed, “DAAAADDDYYYY!” and bolted into his arms.

Shanks bent down on his knees, caught her easily, lifting her up and holding her tightly against his chest. Her tiny hands clung to him as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Please don’t let them take me away! Please, Daddy!”

Shanks' face hardened as he looked at Ms. Hopkins and Mr. Clark, his voice low but firm. “I'd rather hurt myself than harm any of my kids.”

Ace and Sabo stood at the door, both visibly upset but silent, not daring to speak out of turn.

Luffy clung to Shanks with all her might, her sobs quieting slightly as she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, Daddy… I just don’t want to go back there… I don’t want to leave you…”

Shanks’ voice was gentle but firm as he rocked her in his arms. “You’re not going anywhere, Anchor. You’re home.”

Ms. Hopkins and Mr. Clark exchanged a look, but neither said anything. They were still, as if uncertain of what to say next.

Luffy clung to him, her face hidden in his shoulder. “They said bad things about you. But I told them! I told them you’re the best! That you love me!”

Shanks didn’t take his eyes off them. “That's right Anchor, I love you. Ms. Hopkins, Mr. Clark, I think we’re done here. If that’s all. Please don't let them take me.”

Ms. Hopkins hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I think that’s all for now.”

Shanks nodded curtly. He stood up, holding Luffy close as he walked towards the door. Ace and Sabo followed behind.

Luffy, still in Shanks’ arms, sniffled quietly, her tiny arms clutching him tightly. “Daddy…”

“I’m here, Anchor. I’m always here,” Shanks whispered, kissing the top of her head as they left the room.

As they reached the door, Sabo glanced back briefly, studying the faces of Ms. Hopkins and Mr. Clark. He couldn’t read anything from their expressions. There was no emotion, no sign of what was going through their minds. Just a cold, unreadable look.

Ms. Hopkins turned towards Mr. Clark. “We’ll give our recommendation to the court and they'll contact your lawyer. The court will let him know about the hearing date.”

With that, Ms. Hopkins and Mr. Clark exited the house, leaving the door to close behind them.

Shanks gave a sigh of relief, stepping into the hallway and holding Luffy even closer. Ace and Sabo followed closely behind as they made their way out.

Luffy’s sniffles softened, and she finally spoke, her voice shaky but firm. “Daddy… don’t let them take me… I'm sorry.”

Shanks squeezed her gently, kissing her head again. “I won’t, Anchor. I promise.”

With that, the door clicked shut behind them, and the house finally felt like home again.

Luffy had cried herself to sleep in Shanks lap.

Her little fists were still curled in the fabric of his shirt, her cheeks tear-streaked, lashes damp. Shanks sat still on the couch, one arm wrapped protectively around her, the other hanging limp at his side. His eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, just the far wall, blank and unmoving, like the rest of the day.

He flinched when the knock came. Two sharp raps.

His heart jumped.

He eased Luffy’s weight slightly to one arm and got up carefully, trying not to jostle her. Her small hand tightened briefly on his shirt even in sleep.

He opened the door to find Mihawk standing there, eyes already scanning him like a hawk. His expression didn’t change.

“I got the call,” Mihawk said simply. “They’re gone?”

Shanks nodded once. His voice was low and hoarse. “Yeah.”

Mihawk stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. His gaze landed on the small figure nestled against Shanks’ chest.

“She asleep?”

Shanks looked down at her. “Yeah… finally.”

Mihawk’s tone was almost clinical. “They interviewed her alone?”

Shanks grimaced. “Yeah.”

Mihawk’s jaw ticked. “She’s three.”

“I know, Mihawk.” Shanks’ voice cracked. “They said it was protocol. She cried so hard and they weren't even done, I—” He shook his head, looking down. “She just buried her face in my neck and was afraid they took her away from me.”

Mihawk’s eyes lingered on the sleeping girl, softening just slightly. “Did she say anything?”

Shanks hesitated but returned to the sofa to sit down again. “She asked if the bad people were going to take her away. Said she told them the truth, but they didn’t like it. She kept apologising. She thought she said something wrong.”

Silence.

Mihawk finally stepped closer and crouched slightly, just enough to see her face. As if sensing him, Luffy stirred, her brows knitting in sleep. Then her eyes blinked open, sluggish and unfocused.

She looked at Mihawk.

Recognition was slow, but it came—half-formed, more feeling than memory. She blinked again, and a tiny whisper escaped her lips.

“You… you make Daddy.”

Shanks blinked, surprised.

Mihawk didn’t respond right away. “That’s the plan.”

She nodded faintly. Then, without a word, she wriggled slightly in Shanks’ lap and reached for something by the cushion. A soft, worn lion with a slightly squished face and a loose button eye.

“Sunny,” she mumbled, holding it out toward Mihawk. “For you.”

Mihawk blinked, just once. Slowly, he accepted the lion like it was sacred. Shanks swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” Mihawk said quietly, voice softer than Shanks had ever heard it.

Luffy gave a tired little nod, then curled up again on Shanks’ chest. Her fingers caught his collar like a lifeline.

Shanks exhaled, eyes damp, brushing her hair back. “She remembers more than I thought.”

“She’s smart,” Mihawk said, eyes on the lion. “And resilient.”

“Yeah,” Shanks whispered. “She’s everything.”

They sat in silence for a while—Shanks on the sofa, Mihawk in the armchair across from him, Sunny the Lion resting in his hand like a contract sealed.

Finally, Mihawk said, “The hearing will be a success.”

Shanks nodded, jaw clenched tight. “It must.”

Mihawk glanced down at the girl in Shanks’ arms. “What does she like to do?” he asked, voice quiet but not unkind.

Shanks looked down at her, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “She likes playing pirates,” he said hoarsely. “And eating meat. Always meat.”

As if summoned by the word, Luffy stirred. She looked blearily at Mihawk. “Did someone say meat?”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “I might’ve.”

Luffy sat up in Shanks’ lap and stared at him. “Sunny likes you,” she said, blinking again.

Mihawk nodded solemnly, holding up the stuffed lion. “He’s keeping me company.”

Shanks chuckled weakly. “Better guard him, he’s fiercely loyal.”

Luffy tilted her head. “Do you know where meat is?”

Mihawk glanced at Shanks, then back at her. “I do. Want to come get some with me? That way, your daddy doesn’t have to cook after such a long day.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up like the sun. “MEAT?”

“Yes,” Mihawk confirmed with a faint smile.

Without hesitation, Luffy flung her arms up toward him. “UP!”

Shanks barely managed to keep from choking. “Are you serious?” he sputtered as Mihawk stood and gently lifted the tiny girl into his arms like she was made of glass. “Anchor, this is mutiny!”

Luffy was already resting her head on Mihawk’s shoulder, looking content as anything. “He likes Sunny,” she mumbled, as if that explained everything.

Shanks ran both hands through his hair, looking half-wrecked, half-bewildered.

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered.

“I won’t,” Mihawk said dryly.

Their eyes met for a beat.

“Take a nap or a drink or both,” Mihawk said again, quieter this time.

Shanks gave a slow nod. “If I hadn’t had her…” His voice cracked, and he didn’t finish.

Mihawk looked down at the little girl in his arms. “She’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, his voice raw. “But I’m not.”

Mihawk gave him a long look. “You will be.”

There was a pause.

Then Luffy piped up, “Do they have sauce?”

Mihawk turned toward the door. “I’ll make sure they do.”

And just like that, he carried her out, small arms wrapped around his neck, stuffed lion dangling from one hand, leaving Shanks alone in the living room, staring after them like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, or follow.

The house was quiet again after Mihawk took Luffy out for food. Shanks stepped out of the hallway and into the den where Ace and Sabo were still sitting, curled up on opposite ends of the couch, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. They looked up when they saw him, both visibly worn out from the CPS visit.

Shanks dropped onto the armrest beside Sabo with a long sigh. “You two okay?”

Ace shrugged, arms crossed over his chest. “I guess. That was weird.”

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed softly. “Some things just felt… I don’t know. Off.”

The room fell into a thoughtful quiet.

After a while, Shanks pushed off the armrest. “I think I’m gonna lie down. Mihawk took her to get meat. Said I shouldn’t have to cook after today.”

Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance.

Sabo cleared his throat. “Um… can we come with you?”

Shanks paused, halfway down the hall, then turned. “To the bedroom?”

Sabo shrugged, suddenly shy. “Just… we don’t want to be alone. Not after that.”

Shanks gave a choked laugh and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Of course you can. What kind of question is that?”

He stood slowly, brushing a hand over Sabo’s shoulder as he did. “You’re my sons. No matter what those CPS people say.”

Ace looked at Shanks, almost stunned, before glancing to Sabo. Then, as if gathering courage, he said quietly, “Thanks… for giving us a home… Dad.”

Shanks turned without hesitation and sank down in front of Ace, arms wrapping tight around the boy’s waist as he pressed his face against him. The sobs came freely.

Ace froze at first, then gently hugged him back, resting his chin on Shanks’ shoulder as Sabo came to sit on the other side, his hand curling around Shanks’ back.

Shanks stayed there, kneeling in front of Ace, forehead pressed against the boy’s stomach as silent tears soaked into his shirt. His shoulders trembled, breath hitching, and for a long moment there was  just a father, overwhelmed and grateful beyond words.

“Ace… Sabo…” His voice cracked under the weight of it all. “Thank you. Thank you for raising her. For keeping her safe. For being there when I didn’t even know she needed someone.”

He looked up at them, eyes red and shining, expression raw. “You're both here. You’re alive. And she’s still smiling because of you two. I don’t... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for that.”

Ace swallowed, visibly moved, and reached out to place a hand on Shanks’ head.

“We just…,” Ace murmured, his voice quiet, careful. “She’s our sister.”

“She’s everything,” Shanks whispered back. “All three of you are to me. I love you.”

The plaza was loud. Too loud.

Flashing lights, blaring music, the smell of fried things. Mihawk already regretted proposing a stopover downtown to Luffy AND let her choose the walking route. He should’ve known better the moment she spotted the massive glowing structure across the square.

The spinning wheel. Except it wasn’t a wheel, it was the wheel. Ten feet tall, neon-lit, rotating slowly above a massive booth decked out in sparkles, speakers, and far too many humans.

A crowd swarmed the front like moths to a flame, a dozen people deep, all jostling to get a chance to spin.

Luffy gasped. “IT’S SO BIG.”

Mihawk didn’t stop walking. “Keep moving.”

But Luffy had already ducked into the throng, weaving through legs and shopping bags with terrifying speed.

“Luffy—” Mihawk muttered, sighing as he reluctantly turned and followed. The bass thumped through the pavement. A fog machine puffed to life for no reason.

“Excuse me,” he said flatly, pressing through the bodies like parting a sea of glitter and teens. “Coming through.”

By the time he reached the front, Luffy was standing triumphantly at the rope divider, grinning up at the attendant like she owned the place.

“I WANNA SPIN!”

The woman behind the counter looked mildly startled. “Uh… sure, kid. One spin.”

Mihawk finally reached her, just in time to see Luffy step up on her tiptoes and yank the oversized lever with all her might. The massive wheel spun, lights blinking wildly, music blaring louder with each click.

Then—gold.

The crowd actually gasped.

The woman’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What’d I get?” Luffy asked, totally unfazed by the drama.

“VIP tickets,” the woman breathed. “To the game. This afternoon.”

Mihawk raised a brow. “I heard it was sold out.”

“It is. These are the last two tickets, sponsored by NetworkTV. VIP tickets. They’re worth—” she paused, squinting at Mihawk like she was doing the math “—a lot.”

Luffy blinked. “...Do they have meat?”

“SOOO MUCH MEAT AND AS MUCH AS YOU WANT,” the woman declared, now fully invested in this small child’s joy.

Luffy’s face lit up like she’d just been handed the One Piece. She turned to Mihawk, eyes wide. “WE GOTTA GO!!”

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Of course we do.”

The woman grinned, pulling two shiny, black-and-gold envelopes from under the counter. “These come with all-inclusive food and drinks plus front-row lounge seats.”

They started heading out of the madness, the spinning wheel still glowing behind them like a boss fight. Luffy skipped beside him, hugging the shiny envelope to her chest.

A glance at the tickets confirmed it, kick-off was in two hours.

As they walked back toward the car, Luffy bounced along the street, clutching the tickets like treasure. “What’s American football?”

Mihawk looked at her. “A very good question. I have no idea.”

“I’ve heard there are cheerleaders at the start,” he added as if that explained everything.

Luffy squinted. “What are cheerleaders?”

“Women and sometimes men who dance in flashy outfits,” Mihawk said dryly, side-eyeing her.

Luffy gasped. “LIKE PRINCESSES?!”

“…Sure,” Mihawk said, because it wasn’t worth the argument.

Luffy threw her arms in the air. “I’m gonna see dancing princesses AND eat meat?! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!”

Mihawk chuckled under his breath and muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Then followed her, returning to the car to drive to the stadium.

But Luffy just spun in a circle, tickets clutched to her chest. “FOOTBALL!!”

The sharp chime of Shanks’ ringtone sliced through the quiet, dragging him from a deep, dreamless sleep. He groaned softly, eyes cracking open in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It took him a second to orient himself — the soft weight against his side, the warmth tucked in beside him.

He looked down.

Ace was curled up at his right, one hand still lightly fisted in Shanks’ shirt like he hadn’t wanted to let go in his sleep. Sabo was draped over his other side, half-on top of the blankets, his hair a mess, face peaceful.

Shanks blinked. They must’ve carried him to bed after he passed out on the couch.

A sleepy smile tugged at his lips. His chest ached in that full, gentle kind of way that made it hard to breathe for a second.

His phone buzzed again. He carefully reached for it, making sure not to disturb the boys.

Mihawk (15:09): Luffy spun a prize wheel on the street and won two American football tickets. Please don't ask me how she did it. I'm now on my way to the stadium with her.
Mihawk (15:09): It’ll be late. We didn’t make it to the store. Food and drinks are included in the tickets. I'd suggest you order food.

Shanks stared at the message, then let out a quiet, half-laugh through his nose.

Me (15:11): You’re a lifesaver, Uncle Hawkey.
Mihawk (15:12): Strike one.

Shanks couldn’t help it, a real laugh slipped past his lips, low and warm. Sabo stirred slightly at the sound, but didn’t wake.

Shanks leaned his head back against the pillow, phone still in hand, and closed his eyes again. The smile lingered as the weight of his kids around him kept him grounded.

“Yeah,” he murmured, barely audible in the quiet. “This is good.”

Luffy bounced in her seat like she was sitting on a trampoline. The VIP lounge was lush, padded leather seats, glowing buffet counters. And in Luffy’s world, none of that mattered right now.

Because the cheerleaders were coming. Anytime soon.

She kicked her feet against the seat’s edge, gripping her popcorn bucket like it might fly away. “WHEN DO THEY START?!” she asked for the third time.

“In about five minutes,” Mihawk said, glancing at his watch, then back to his wine.

It was red, expensive, and not quite strong enough.

He leaned back in his seat and took a long, slow sip, trying to breathe through the fact that he was at a crowded sports event, surrounded by noise, sponsored meat smells, and—

He paused mid-sip.

His eyes swept the lounge again, suddenly sharper. He’d clocked a few local celebrities earlier, some minor actors, a city council member. Nothing of consequence.

Now he spotted the cluster in the far corner. Four men and one woman, all well-dressed in tailored dark coats, standing with their hands folded neatly in front of them, backs straight, eyes scanning.

Police. High-ranking.

Mihawk’s jaw tightened slightly.

And among them, olaughing at something one of the others had said, was a face he’d recognise in any court or headline.

Commissioner Monkey D. Garp. Of course.

He took another sip of wine, slower this time, as he watched them. They hadn’t seen him. They weren’t even looking in his direction. Yet.

Luffy tugged at his sleeve. “Uncle Hawkey,” she whispered dramatically, “I think the cheerleaders are almost HERE.”

“Do you.” He didn’t look away from the police officials.

Luffy pointed excitedly to the stadium floor as a line of dancers began to file out of the tunnel entrance. They hadn’t even reached their positions yet and she was already clapping, her face stretched into a wide, thrilled grin.

“So many princesses there are,” she declared, bouncing again. “I see pink! And blue! And sparkly!!”

Mihawk hummed, but his eyes never left the far side of the lounge.

Luffy didn’t notice anything around her, too focused on the glittering pom-poms now catching the stadium lights. The crowd roared. Music swelled. Luffy gasped again, “IT’S STARTING!”

Mihawk lowered his wineglass.

Luffy’s eyes were wide as saucers as she watched the cheerleaders perform. She leaned forward, clutching the armrests with both hands, completely entranced by the bright pom-poms and rhythmic moves. The music, the lights, the energy.

After a few moments, she turned to Mihawk with a serious expression.

“I wanna be a cheerleader!” she declared, eyes still glued to the dancers. “I wanna do all the twirly spins and the jumping and be sparkly!”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, taking another sip of his wine, “maybe you should tell your daddy that. He’ll be thrilled.”

Luffy blinked at him for a moment, then nodded seriously, as if the decision had already been made.

Meanwhile, the police officials in the corner, including Garp, had taken their seats. Mihawk’s eyes flickered toward them briefly before returning to Luffy.

“Listen, Luffy,” Mihawk said quietly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Under no circumstances are you to tell anyone your name here. Understand?”

Luffy tilted her head, staring at him with an intensity that Mihawk wasn’t quite used to. After a long, deliberate pause, she raised her right hand in a solemn gesture and said, “Pirates’ Honor.”

Mihawk blinked, completely thrown off by the statement. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, realising that this was probably the best answer he was going to get. He just nodded, even though he had no idea what "Pirates’ Honor" truly meant.

A few moments later, as the game began with a loud cheer from the crowd, Luffy’s little voice piped up again.

“I’m hungry, Uncle Hawkey…” she said, with a look of pure, innocent expectation.

Mihawk sighed, setting his wine glass down. “Of course you are.” He stood up and adjusted his coat, looking around the lounge briefly.

Luffy, however, didn’t wait. She immediately stretched her arms out to Mihawk, looking at him with wide, expectant eyes.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, but without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms, careful not to spill his drink as he did. He could feel every pair of eyes in the VIP section turning to look at them—perhaps because it was a bit odd to see someone so composed carrying a small child through the room.

Mihawk’s gaze swept over the crowd, but he didn’t care. The polite whispers, the curious glances—none of that mattered now.

Luffy grinned up at him. “Let’s get some meat!”

With a sigh and a small smirk, Mihawk made his way towards the buffet, Luffy giggling in his arms as they passed by the still-watching crowd.

A few more glances. A few more murmurs.

As Mihawk and Luffy arrived at the buffet, the noise of the stadium seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by Luffy’s excited chatter. But just as they were walking to the plates, Mihawk felt a presence behind him. He turned slightly to find one of the police officers approaching them.

Luffy froze instantly, her small body going rigid in Mihawk’s arms. Her wide eyes locked on the officer.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, perplexed by her reaction. He turned fully around to face the officer, his gaze cool and collected, but inside he could feel the tension rising.

The man was young, with an unusual weathered look and a cigar clutched between his teeth, giving him a slightly intimidating air despite his casual stance. He took a long look at Luffy, then squinted at her, as if trying to place her.

“I know you, don’t I? What was your name again? Lila?” he asked, his tone casual and devoid of malice, but Luffy didn’t seem to buy it. She only clung tighter to Mihawk’s coat, her small hands gripping the fabric so tightly her knuckles were white.

Mihawk’s lips thinned as he glanced down at Luffy. Without missing a beat, he stood a little taller, his voice as calm as ever, but with an edge of authority.

“I believe this is none of your concern, officer,” Mihawk said coolly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He could feel the subtle shift in Luffy’s grip, and he knew she was extremely distressed. But he had to keep calm—he could feel the eyes of several important people around them, including the ones watching from the police force.

He turned his attention back to the officer, speaking slowly, his voice dropping to an almost formal tone. “I am not obliged to allow her to engage in conversation with anyone without proper context. Her answers are not owed to anyone outside of a legal or parental context.”

The officer, for a split second, looked as though he was about to argue, but then he seemed to reconsider. He took a long puff from his cigar, giving Mihawk a nod of understanding. The conversation was over.

Mihawk placed his hand gently on Luffy’s back, as though to assure her everything was fine, before taking the opportunity to pivot and move forward. “It’s okay, Princess,” Mihawk murmured softly, his voice calm and reassuring.

Luffy, still tight in his arm, slowly relaxed as they approached the buffet with a plate in Mihawk's other hand, but her eyes remained warily trained on the officer for a moment longer. Mihawk stacked it with meats and other treats before returning to their seats.

As he glanced over at the police section, he noticed Garp, still sitting there in his usual stern manner, along with the younger officer. Both were staring directly at him now, their eyes locked on his every move.

Mihawk’s gaze held steady, but inwardly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that no further move this evening would go unnoticed.

Mihawk had just settled back into his seat, Luffy nestled comfortably on his lap with a drumstick in one hand and a half-eaten slider in the other. The crowd cheered at something happening on the field, but Mihawk barely registered it—his focus was on the food, Luffy’s safety, and scanning for any more unexpected run-ins.

Then the stadium announcer’s voice boomed from the speakers:
“And let’s check out which celebrities are in the house today!”

Mihawk froze.

He stiffened, eyes narrowing as the massive Jumbotron above the field lit up with live video footage from the celebrity cam, bouncing between actors, a famous singer, and then—

“Hawk-Eye-Lawyer Dracule Mihawk, the rockstar of legal minds, undefeated Supreme Court litigator, in the adorable company of a toddler.
Even the sharpest minds can’t resist a little joy.”

The video focused on Luffy. Sitting squarely in the center of the frame, Luffy on his lap, half a chicken wing in one hand, the other covered in sauce.

He had never wished so deeply to be holding anything but a wine glass. Fortunately, he had just set it down.

Luffy blinked, glancing up at him when she felt him stiffen. “What happened?”

Mihawk slowly raised his finger, pointing upward at the blindingly large video screen.

Luffy turned.

The camera was still on them.

Luffy’s eyes went huge. She gasped. Then, with no hesitation at all, she stood up on Mihawk’s lap—he instinctively caught her to steady her—and she grinned at the camera like it was Santa Claus. “HI!!!” she shouted, waving both arms.

The crowd cooed. Somewhere, someone aww’d.

Mihawk, on the other hand, sighed deeply, resigned to his fate.

The camera cut to a different pair, some actor and their partner, and the lounge returned to its usual murmur. Luffy still beamed, riding the high of her accidental stardom.

“I was on the big TV!” she whispered.

Mihawk gave her a dry look. “Yes. Congratulations.”

Not twenty minutes later, Luffy was back to chewing on her third hotdog when Mihawk felt a presence directly in front of them. Someone had pulled themselves up over the short railing at the front of their section—an impossible act for anyone not determined and lightly unhinged.

Mihawk’s hand twitched toward Luffy’s side, immediately protective, but before he could move—

“Hey, my little baby princess.”

The voice was gravelly. Familiar.

Luffy gasped, delighted. “GRANDPA!!!”

Mihawk blinked, then actually laughed—a soft, stunned sound—just as Rayleigh, in a crisp custom suit, a team-coloured tie, and what looked unmistakably like stage makeup, swung one leg over the railing and plopped himself beside them like he hadn’t just scaled security.

“Nice seats,” Rayleigh said, clearly pleased with himself.

“You climbed the VIP railing,” Mihawk deadpanned.

Luffy launched herself at him with a squeal, hotdog forgotten. Rayleigh caught her with ease, lifting her like she was made of clouds. She clung to his neck, nuzzling in under his chin with a soft, happy sigh.

“I saw you on the big screen,” he teased, “and I thought—there’s my girl.”

Mihawk shook his head, still chuckling, and raised his wineglass at last. “This day just keeps getting better.”

Rayleigh shrugged, utterly unfazed. “They wouldn’t let me through the front. But I HAD to say hi.”

The entire VIP section was watching. Conversations had stilled. Someone took a picture. Several someone's, actually.

Rayleigh glanced around, suddenly aware of the attention. “Grandma's downstairs, sweetheart,” he offered Luffy vaguely, then gave a lazy wave to the spectators . “Don’t mind me—just wanted to say hi to my granddaughter.”

And that was that.

Luffy snuggled in against his shoulder, Rayleigh smoothing down her hair like he had all the time in the world.

Then the real security showed up—two guards in pressed suits moving briskly down the aisle, their earpieces flashing.

Rayleigh spotted them just as they opened their mouths to speak.

“Well, duty calls,” he said cheerfully, and without another word, he kissed Luffy’s head, gave Mihawk a wink before putting Luffy on his lap again and vaulted the railing in one graceful movement.

Silence.

Then Mihawk raised his glass. “You know,” he said aloud to no one in particular, “it never gets boring.”

Luffy giggled in his lap, still watching the railing like Rayleigh might come back. “Grandpa sparkled.”

Mihawk took a long sip of wine. “He always does.”

Chapter Text

Murmurs rolled through the VIP section like a ripple on still water.

They’d all seen the man—suit, tie, glitter and all—vault the railing like he owned the place. But now their attention had shifted, following the direction from which he’d come.

There, near the lower aisle, a woman stood with two fingers pressed to her temple like she was deeply reconsidering every choice that had led her here.

Unmistakably Shakky.
Unmistakably not in costume.

“Isn't that Judge Silvers wife?”
“Do they have kids?”
“Oh my god—is that the kid?”
“Why is the kid with that guy?”
“Is Dracule Mihawk… Judge Silvers’ son?”

And just like that, the speculative engine had ignited. Mihawk sighed, his name already hanging on the wind, whispers circling like sharks.

He reached out and pulled Luffy gently back onto his lap. She blinked at him sleepily, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. Her hotdog lay abandoned, teetering on a gold-rimmed plate.

Down the row, Mihawk’s gaze briefly locked with the group of officers again. Garp’s face had changed. His expression wasn’t cold now. Nor disinterested. There was something… else in it. Recognition. Maybe regret.

But Mihawk didn’t flinch. Because this wasn’t about Garp. Or the cameras. Or the whispers that were quickly becoming rumors, tangled between bloodlines and legacy.

This was about the girl in his lap, who was fighting off sleep and back to clutching a crumpled VIP envelope like a treasure map.

He turned his attention fully to her, brushing a crumb off her cheek with one finger.

“Luffy, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Do you want to go home to Daddy?”

Luffy rubbed her eyes, her voice small and foggy. “Mhm, tired…”

Mihawk nodded.

He stood smoothly, cradling her against his chest. She was already halfway asleep, one arm wrapped loosely around his neck, the other still clutching her envelope.

“Come on then. I'll call a driver to get us home,” he murmured, his tone a softness no one else alive had probably ever heard from him.

As he stepped into the aisle, the murmurs resumed, quieter now, reverent and curious. None dared to talk to him directly, to stop him.

They left the VIP box in silence, the roar of the stadium fading behind them, swallowed by the quiet hush of velvet-lined corridors. Outside, the city lights shimmered as Mihawk carried her to the car—footsteps calm, unbothered, the wine-dark fabric of his coat catching gold in the headlights.

About two weeks after that fateful game, on a Saturday morning, the front door of Shanks house swung open with a force that made the entire house tremble.

“ENOUGH!” Mihawk stormed in, radiating annoyance. His hands were full with a thick stack of colorful envelopes and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw Shanks and the kids lounging casually on the couch.

Ace squeaked in surprise as the door slammed against the wall. Sabo jumped off the couch with a start. Shanks didn’t even glance up until Mihawk wordlessly hurled a half-dozen colorful envelopes straight at his face.

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH!”

And Luffy—Luffy shot up from her coloring page like a meerkat on a sugar high.

“UNCLE HAAAAAWKEY!!!”

She bolted toward him, moving at a speed that would make a hurricane jealous. Mihawk braced himself like she was a cannonball of pure affection.

“Hello my sweet princess,” he muttered as she collided with his legs, instantly climbing him like a tree. He knelt, groaning under her weight as she scrambled up to throw her arms around his neck.

“I missed you!!” she chirped with the enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster.

His voice softening against his will. “And I missed the only person in this family who doesn’t stress me out, Luf.”

“Rude,” Shanks grinned from the couch, still rocking pyjama pants and a hoodie that proudly proclaimed #1 Grill Dad.

Mihawk stood to his full height, Luffy now on his shoulders, grabbed into his pocket and tossed the second half of crumpled envelopes right at Shanks’ face.

“WHAT IS THIS?” Mihawk roared. “WHAT. IS. THIS?”

Letters bounced off Shanks’ forehead, and one splashed directly into his coffee.

Shanks blinked, holding up an envelope. “Uh… looks like mail?”

“It’s the eighth batch this week!” Mihawk snapped. “They’re calling me, emailing me. I have two voicemails from God knows who, one from a blogger who wants a ‘Chief Justice of the Federal Court’s grandchild interview,’ and worst of all: fashion brands.”

“I can’t take it anymore!” Mihawk growled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have no time for some modelling circus!”

Shanks chuckled, still lounging, tossing his jacket aside with a casual flick. “Is that really such a problem, Mihawk? She is adorable, after all.”

Mihawk gave him a sharp glare. “No. You need to fix it. These letters—” he gestured to the pile, “—keep coming. And half of them are requests for Luffy to model children’s clothes. They keep asking if she’s my daughter!”

Shanks burst into laughter, wiping his eyes. “Wait, don’t tell me you actually considered sending her? You could pocket that money for her future. Maybe buy your daughter some books for when she goes to university?”

“I considered sending a bomb instead,” Mihawk deadpanned, dropping onto the nearest chair, settling Luffy on his lap as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

Ace snorted. “You do kinda look related.”

“Don’t help,” Mihawk said flatly, his eyes narrowing.

Shanks was practically dying of laughter now. “Still bitter that people think she’s yours?”

Mihawk sniffed, clearly offended. “That child has far too much glitter in her soul to be mine. And way too many drawings of meat.”

“I DREW YOU TOO!” Luffy interrupted proudly, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. The drawing was a crude stick figure in black, with knives for arms and a glass of wine labeled 'HAWY.'

Mihawk took it from her with a solemn expression. “Frameable,” he said seriously, as though it were the Mona Lisa. “An excellent work of art princess, thank you very much.”

He turned back to Shanks, tossing a smaller envelope onto the coffee table with precision.

“I’m thrilled for the day when you are legally her guardian,” Mihawk snapped, walking past him toward the kitchen.

Shanks started laughing again, picking up the envelope. “Ah, is your real problem that people think you’re my brother?”

Mihawk didn’t answer right away. He sniffed, visibly offended, then dropped into a nearby chair as though the weight of the conversation had aged him a decade. “That’s actually one of the two reasons I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“The hearing’s been scheduled,” Mihawk said, rubbing his temple. “Five days from now. Friday.”

Shanks' grin faded. “That soon?”

Mihawk nodded. “Family court. 10 a.m. Be there with your father complex and don’t dress like a shipwreck survivor. I know you own suits. Wear one that doesn’t have holes.”

Luffy, curled in Mihawk’s lap like she was born there, blinked between the two men. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Mihawk said gently, brushing a curl out of her eyes, “someone’s going to decide if you stay with your daddy and your brothers.”

She nodded slowly, thinking about it for a moment, then scooted off Mihawk’s lap and toddled over to Shanks.

“Five days…” Shanks muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “If that goes sideways, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to show up to Nami and Pauly’s wedding on Saturday. Fuck.”

Luffy giggled at the curse, and Shanks winced. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

But she just climbed back into his lap, snuggling into his shoulder like nothing in the world could touch her.

Mihawk looked at them—this absurd, chaotic, infuriating family—and sighed again.

“…I’m bringing coffee to court,” he muttered. “We’ll need it.”

But Luffy just smiled sheepishly. “Can Uncle Hawkey stay for lunch?”

Mihawk sighed and sat down next to them, Luffy immediately curling up across both their laps.

“I brought wine,” he said dryly. “I’m not staying sober for lunch.”

Shanks grinned. “God bless you.”

Mihawk glanced down at the sleeping child in his lap, already halfway to dreamland. His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“She better win that judge over,” he murmured. “Because I swear to god, Shanks… if I get one more letter addressed to ‘Mr. Dracule's Daughter’ or ‘Ms. Dracule,’  I’m buying an island and taking her with me.”

Shanks raised a brow. “You’d really run off with her?”

Mihawk didn’t even hesitate. “In a heartbeat. She's the best that ever came from you.”

By Tuesday evening, Beck stopped pretending he wasn’t worried.

He showed up with a duffel bag, a toothbrush and enough takeout to feed a small army.

Shanks blinked at him from the hallway, bleary-eyed and wearing one of Ace’s hoodies for some reason. “Are you… moving in?”

“Yes,” Beck said simply, brushing past him.

Shanks blinked again. “Wait, seriously?”

“I saw you cry this morning because your coffee tasted like betrayal,” Beck replied, already setting bags on the counter. “Your secretaries asked me if you have cancer and die, Shanks. People are worried.”

Shanks looked offended. “I feel like it.”

“You’re the mayor, Shanks. Get your shit together.”

“And yet!” he said, throwing his arms up. “My own children will end up in therapy!”

Beck turned, calm but firm. “I don't see a problem with that, maybe you should try that. But you don't. That's why I’m staying here. Because you’re one sugar cube away from a meltdown and I’m not letting you pass that anxiety onto those kids.”

Shanks blinked at him again. “You think I’m making it worse?”

“I think they’re smart and they know something’s wrong. And I think if you collapse into a heap during bedtime stories one more night, someone’s going to start drawing tear stains on the picture books.”

Shanks rubbed his face. “I can’t lose them, Becks. If the judge decides—”

“No one’s deciding that,” Beck said firmly. “But if and that's a very big if something happened, then you need to know they won’t go into some system.”

He crossed his arms. “I'd take them. I’ve already talked to your parents, they'd try as well. Mihawk’s prepared too, not that he’d admit it without a legal draft and three witnesses. One might think the idea of adopting Luffy seems appealing to him. The point is, those kids are loved. The youngest especially. They will never end up anywhere unsafe or unloved.”

Shanks’s eyes were glassy again. “You really think they’d let you—?”

“They wouldn’t have a choice,” Becks aid with a wry smile. “We’d fight God and your fathers' Court, heck, your dad would fight himself, if he had to. Besides, you’ve got a village, idiot. We’re not going anywhere.”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the sound of Luffy yelling “BECK!!!!” from the other room, followed by thundering footsteps.

And then she tackled his legs like a glittery, tiara-wearing bullet.

Beck caught her with ease, scooping her up as she beamed. “You’re staying here?” she asked, nose practically pressed to his.

“Yep.”

“Good,” she declared. “Daddy burnt dinner, again. He said we'll order meat.”

Shanks groaned and leaned against the doorframe. “This is humiliating.”

“It’s parenting,” Beck said, bouncing Luffy on his hip. “It’s not supposed to be dignified. It’s supposed to be worth it.”

Friday morning was an unusual quiet kind of chaos.

Mihawk had been there since seven, immaculately dressed, completely focused. He had handled Luffy like a sacred task: helping her into the little sailor-like dress with crisp white fabric, blue trim, and a red ribbon that matched her perfectly tilted beret. He brushed out her hair, and, after a shared breakfast of toast, fruit, and a single croissant, carried her down the hall with steady hands.

He didn’t knock. He simply nudged the boys’ door open with one foot and crossed the room.

Luffy blinked up at him, still clutching the last bite of croissant. “My bruvvers are sleepin’.”

“Not for long,” Mihawk murmured, and gently deposited her onto the foot of their bed like a wind-up toy with one mission.

Within seconds, Luffy pounced.

“WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP! It’s the day! It’s the DAY! IT'S DADDY DAY!” she squealed, landing squarely on Ace’s stomach and elbowing Sabo in the ribs in her excitement.

Ace yelped, Sabo groaned, and Luffy giggled triumphantly as both boys blinked at her in sleepy confusion.

“Daddy day!” she screamed. “AND I have a HAT!”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Shanks stood silently by the coffee machine.

He was dressed already, more or less. Shirt ironed. Pants clean. Tie still loose around his neck. His eyes were dry, but red-rimmed, like he hadn’t quite remembered to blink since sunrise.

He stirred his coffee. Then stopped. Then stirred again.

Beck watched him from across the table, a mug of tea cradled in his hands. “You okay?”

Shanks nodded. Then shook his head. “I told Luffy I love her six times since breakfast.”

“Only six?”

“I’m pacing myself.”

There was a beat of silence before he looked up, voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose them?”

“You won’t be alone if something goes wrong,” Beck said.

Shanks exhaled shakily. “I know. You. My parents. Mihawk. I just… I don’t want it to come to that.”

From the hallway, a thump and a delighted shriek echoed “SABO FELL OFF THE BED!” followed by giggling and Ace's tired cursing.

Shanks managed a small, watery laugh. Then wiped his face.

“I love them,” he said again, almost to himself. “God, I love them so much.”

“Yeah,” Beck said gently, rising from his chair. “I know. We all know.”

Shanks straightened his tie with trembling fingers, glancing toward the hallway as little footsteps thudded closer.

He plastered on a smile just in time for Luffy to barrel into the room again, this time dragging Sabo behind her by the sleeve and Mihawk following them in a sedate pace. “WE’RE READY! You look pretty, Daddy! Like a prince!”

Shanks’ breath caught.

“I love you guys,” he said, for the seventh time that morning, and bent to kiss her forehead.

“We know,” Sabo said, smirking.

Ace, appearing a second later, rubbed his eyes and mumbled, “Better tell us one more time just in case.”

“I love you,” Shanks said again, choking out a laugh.

And Luffy beamed, arms wide. “We love you too!!”

Becks leaned in the doorway, watching them with something between pride and ache in his eyes.

Mihawk passed behind him, expression unreadable but eyes sharp, and paused just long enough to murmur, “They’ll be alright.”

Shanks nodded, clutching Luffy close as though her tiny heartbeat could keep his own from shattering.

“I just have to make sure the judge knows that.”

The courtroom was quieter than Shanks expected. No gavel. No shouting. Just the muffled rustle of papers, the shuffle of dress shoes on old wood, and the thunderous beat of his own heart in his ears.

He sat at the front, flanked by his children and Mihawk, who looked like a weaponised version of calm in a tailored dark grey suit with a red silk pocket square.

Behind them sat Beck, Rayleigh and Shakky. Rayleigh's in a crisp suit that's not 'sparkly' enough for Luffy's taste. Lucky Roux behind them had brought snacks and Hongo had brought tissues. The whole gang was there. The Uncles. Even some uncles the children didn't know yet.

Luffy nestled between Sabo and Ace, who sat next to Shanks, swinging her legs and clutching her little sparkly purse like it held state secrets. She looked around in wide-eyed awe, waved at the judge, then gasped when she spotted someone across the aisle.

“BOBY!!” she whisper-shouted, waving excitedly.

Dr. Kobato, sitting among the observers, blinked and gave a small, professional wave. Luffy beamed like that alone had made her morning.

The judge entered—an older woman with stern eyes and a no-nonsense bun that could probably be used to break glass. Everyone stood. Shanks stood too fast, nearly knocked over a chair, and Mihawk caught it without even glancing.

Legal proceedings started. Papers were shuffled, affidavits were read, and Shanks tried to keep breathing while people used words like suitability and stability and preexisting guardianship arrangements.

Then the doors at the back opened. Two uniformed officers entered the courtroom.

Ace froze mid-fidget. Sabo’s eyes widened.

Shanks’ stomach dropped. Mihawk turned his head, eyes narrowing.

Captain Morgan, with that ridiculous metal jaw and the younger cop Mihawk and Luffy met at the game.

Shanks recognised him as them as the cops who had detained Luffy months ago after she’d given them his belongings.

Luffy spotted him, blinked once, and then visibly shrunk into her seat.

Shanks’ fists clenched. The boys leaned into their sister on instinct.

Rayleigh let out a slow, dangerous exhale.

The two officers made their way toward the front, where the court assistant met them with confusion and a hushed exchange began.

The judge looked up. “Good. We can start with the hearing now. Please take a seat.”

The courtroom had settled into a tense but quiet rhythm when the judge spoke again.

“I’d like to hear from Child Protective Services first.”

A woman in a grey blazer rose from her seat and approached the stand. She was composed, hands folded, voice steady.

“Your honour, we conducted a home visit to Mr. Silvers residence,” she began.

She glanced briefly towards the family. Shanks seated with his three children at the front bench, Luffy nestled between her brothers in her sailor dress and red beret, still swinging her legs.

“During our visit,” she continued, “the household was found to be stable, clean and child-focused. The children were engaged, fed, emotionally expressive, and visibly attached to Mr. Silvers. We found no indication to make a second unannounced visit.”

She paused. “We saw no indication of neglect or danger. Quite the opposite, there was a strong sense of emotional security and affection. The children were enthusiastic about their daily routines, especially the youngest, who appears particularly bonded with Mr. Silvers.”

The judge nodded. “Any concerns noted in your reports?”

“None that would affect custodial suitability. Mr. Silvers has complied with every procedural requirement. He also benefits from a robust community support network.”

Her colleague took the stand next. His tone was warm but professional.

“I’d like to emphasize,” he said, “that all three minors identify Mr. Shanks as their parent, in word and behavior. While the legal guardianship began with an informal arrangement, there’s no evidence of coercion, negligence or instability.”

He added, “We found no red flags in the children’s health, education or emotional development. In fact, they are thriving.”

“Any agency objection to continued custody?”

“None. We recommend formal guardianship be granted.”

Shanks closed his eyes for a brief second, exhaling so quietly only Mihawk noticed.

The judge adjusted her glasses, eyes focused. “Mister Silvers. You may speak freely. Please explain, in your own words, how your guardianship of these children began.”

Shanks stood slowly, adjusting his tie, crimson of course and moved to the front. He gave a polite nod to the judge and sat down, the chair creaking faintly under him.

He took a breath. Then another. And began.

“It started as part of my job, technically,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “There was a new initiative from the city council—a set of support measures for vulnerable areas in the East Slum. I went out to see how they were being implemented. Just a check-in.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the children, Luffy, Ace, Sabo. Then back to the judge.

“Benn Beckman, my deputy, came with me. We didn’t expect anything unusual. But then we saw her.”

He swallowed hard.

“There was this little girl sitting on a curb near a closed laundromat. A cardboard sign in her lap said: Anything for food.”

The courtroom was still.

“She looked...” He blinked. “She looked pitiful. And I just… I couldn’t walk past her. So I bought her something to eat. Gave it to her without asking questions. I didn’t want to scare her. Or make her think she owed us anything. I didn't want to imagine what other men might have asked her to do for food.”

He paused again.

“But then we followed her. Not too close. Just… wanted to be sure she was safe. And we saw her go meet two boys, teenagers. They split the food. No arguing. Like they’d done this before. I realised that the boys used her as a bait to rob pedophiles.”

He leaned forward slightly. “I imagined what might happen when the teenagers can't get to her fast enough. That’s what broke me, I think.”

A few people shifted in their seats. Someone sniffled, probably Lucky.

“They went into a shack under one of the old bridges. That’s when I called Dr. Blonde Hongo. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to call the police, not without knowing what they’d be walking into. Not after how many kids fall through the cracks.”

He drew in a slow breath. “Dr. Blonde told me to take it slow. Gain her trust. Be consistent. So that was the plan. We’d leave food. Try to talk to her the next time. Make sure no-one with ill intentions get too close to her when she just wants something to fill her stomach.”

“But before we could leave, some men showed up. Thugs. Looking for the kids. They found the shack. Set it on fire.”

Mihawk shifted, his jaw tight.

“The boys, Ace and Sabo, they fought them off. I’ve never seen anything like it. Two street kids, protecting their own. And one of the men—” He faltered, then clenched his fists. “One of them went after Luffy who hid on the bridge. Tried to hurt her. I stepped in.”

A beat.

“I handled it and she was safe.”

The courtroom was silent now.

“We tried to calm Luffy down. Me, Mr. Benn, and Dr. Blonde. But somewhere in the chaos, we got hit from behind. Knocked out. When we came to, our phones, wallets—gone.”

He let out a huff that could’ve been a laugh, could’ve been a breath away from tears.

“The next morning, I got a call from a precinct in the East Slum. Someone had turned in my phone and wallet.”

He looked up at the judge again.

“When I got there, I asked who returned them. They were cagey. Embarrassed. Said it was nothing I should concern myself with because people like her end up in jail regardless, mostly convicted of theft or prostitution. And then I saw her. Luffy. In a holding cell. Just… lying there. A toddler in a cell. Which respectable police officer puts a TODDLER in a cell? I'm sorry but it still makes me mad. She's THREE!”

He didn’t bother hiding the emotion in his voice now.

“I insisted she'd come with me. We left the station. Got some food. She was quiet, but… she trusted me.”

He smiled, just barely.

“And then she took me back to the boys. Told me they were her brothers. I asked them all if they wanted to come with me. They said yes.”

He looked over at the kids again—Sabo’s knuckles white on the bench, Ace biting his lip, Luffy smiling at her sparkly purse like it was the most important thing in the room.

“They’ve been with me ever since. And I haven’t had a single day, not one, where I wished it different.”

He turned back to the judge.

“I didn’t set out to be a father. But I became one that day. I love them more than life. They are my home. And I’m asking the court to let me keep being that for them.”

The judge glanced down at the file in front of her, then up again.

“Captain Morgan. You were stationed at the East Slum precinct during the incident Mister Silvers described. You may approach.”

Morgan strutted to the stand with the stiff posture of a man who thought a courtroom was a parade ground. His uniform was pristine, his metal jaw gleaming unnecessarily under the lights.

He didn’t sit until prompted.

The judge folded her hands. “Please confirm the events surrounding the detainment of the minor referred to as Luffy. Were you present?”

Morgan sniffed. “Yes. I was. The child appeared at the precinct to turn in a stolen wallet and phone.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug.

“We didn’t know who she was. She looked like every other street brat that comes through our doors. Dirty, unsupervised, no ID. Could’ve been running a scam for all we knew.”

A faint ripple of outrage moved through the benches behind Shanks. Mihawk, notably, did not move a muscle—but the air near him felt about five degrees colder.

Morgan continued, unbothered. “She didn’t answer questions. So yes, we held her until we could figure out what to do.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Did it occur to you to contact child protective services? Or a social worker?”

Morgan scoffed. “With respect, Your Honor, we don’t have time to babysit every alley rat who shows up with a sob story. If every filthy kid with a piece of bread and a sad look got a caseworker, we’d never get anything done.”

Beck let out a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a death threat. Mihawk didn’t blink—but his fingertips rested lightly on the armrest, like they were testing its durability.

The judge’s voice dropped a degree. “So you confirm the child was not charged. And remained in custody for hours.”

“Yes,” Morgan said flatly. “We released her when Mayor Silvers asked to take her. She wasn’t our problem anymore.”

The judge scribbled a note. “You may step down.”

Morgan did so with a satisfied smirk.

The judge looked to the next name on her list. “Officer Smoker, please approach.”

Smoker stood slowly. Unlike Morgan, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He made his way to the front, not meeting anyone’s eyes—not even the kids.

He sat when prompted, eyes flicking briefly to Luffy, who was now holding Ace’s hand tightly in both of hers.

The judge adjusted her glasses. “Officer. You were the reporting officer on the wallet and phone recovery, correct?”

“…Yes, Your Honor.”

“You encountered the child Luffy at the station?”

Smoker nodded once. “I did.”

“Please recount the interaction.”

He exhaled, slow and heavy.

“She came in holding the wallet and phone like they were made of gold. Walked right up to the front desk and asked the receptionist to ‘please return them to the nice red man.’ That’s what she called him. Or something like that.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“She wasn’t scared. Just… focused. And then she just stood there. Wouldn’t leave.”

The judge gave him a moment. “What did you do next?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was ordered to put her in a holding room. I… didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t hurt. Wasn’t in trouble. But we couldn’t exactly let her run around. I meant to call child services, but—” he stopped, jaw tight.

“I didn’t.”

The courtroom was quiet.

Smoker finally looked up, guilt sharp behind his eyes.

“She cried herself to sleep.”

He exhaled again.

“She is three. And I put her behind a locked door.”

He turned toward the judge. “That was a failure. On me. I should have done better.”

No one spoke.

Then the judge spoke, soft but firm. “Thank you, Officer. You may return to your seat.”

Smoker nodded and walked back slowly, not looking at the family as he passed them—but when he reached the row behind Mihawk, he paused for half a second.

“…She’s lucky,” he said under his breath. “To have you. And I'm sorry.”

And then he was gone.

The judge glanced over her notes, then looked to the front row again. Her tone softened, just barely.

“Ace? Would you come up here, please?”

Ace blinked. Then nodded once and stood.

He was dressed in a  blazer, button undone because Shanks couldn’t get him to keep it fastened and his hair was only kind of brushed, but he walked with steady steps to the witness seat. Luffy made a quiet “go get ’em” fist under her chin as he passed.

Once seated, the judge smiled, just faintly. “Can you tell me your full name?”

Ace shrugged. “Just Ace.”

“No last name?”

He shook his head. “Never had one.”

“Do you know anything about your parents?”

Another shrug, more stiff this time. “No, ma’am.”

The judge nodded, her tone careful now. “Where did you grow up?”

Ace looked her straight in the eye. “With thugs. In the East Slum.”

A ripple of tension moved through the room. Even Captain Morgan shifted in his seat.

The judge kept her composure. “Can you explain what you mean?”

“I lived in one of the storage basements behind that old factory near the East Wall,” Ace said, clearly rehearsed but not recited. “They made me do lookout and carry stuff. Sometimes I got food. Sometimes I didn’t. When I got too slow, they hit me. But it was… better than outside.”

She scribbled something down. “And how did you come to live there?”

He hesitated.

“I was dropped off. By a man.”

The entire courtroom seemed to still.

The judge’s pen paused. “…Do you know this man’s name?”

Ace shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

The judge continued. “How did you meet Luffy?”

Ace’s jaw tensed. “Same man dropped her off, too. Fourteen years later than he left me there. Said he was Luffy’s grandfather.”

His voice dropped, low and bitter. “The thugs didn’t want her. Didn’t feed her. She cried a lot the first days. They told me to make her shut up but wouldn't feed her. She was a newborn.”

He looked up again. “So I took her and ran.”

Mihawk’s hand curled around the arm of the bench, knuckles white.

The judge’s voice was quiet. “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.”

“And where have you been living since?”

“Wherever we could.” Ace’s voice was steady now. “We knew where to get day-old bread, and how to keep away from the gangs. I kept her warm and Sabo read her stories. She likes pancakes, but hates oatmeal. She talks in her sleep and kicks off her blankets.”

The judge blinked. “Sabo?”

Ace nodded, already turning slightly. “Sabo and I knew each other from before. We ended up on the streets at the same time. We’re brothers now. We found each other again, and took care of her together. All three of us. Before Dad found us.”

There was a long pause as the judge wrote, her expression unreadable.

Ace didn’t look at her anymore. He looked at Luffy.

She was still beaming at him, as if this was the greatest courtroom drama of all time and he was her main character.

Ace straightened just a little more in his seat.

The judge looked up from her notes. “Sabo? Please come forward.”

Sabo stood with quiet confidence and took the seat. His posture was straight, his expression calm.

“Full name?”

“Sabo,” he said clearly. “I had a last name, but I don’t use it anymore.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

He folded his hands. “Almost four years ago, my parents burned my birth certificate in front of me. They said I was no longer their son. So I stopped being their child that day.”

A small pause followed.

“Where did you go after that?”

“I ran away. I met Ace way before but then we always sticked together. We looked out for each other. We didn’t have anyone else.”

The judge nodded slowly. “And Luffy?”

Sabo’s face softened. “Met her when Ace brought her with him.”

“You’ve helped to raise her since?”

He nodded. “She’s our little sister. She always has been.”

“And now?”

He looked over at Shanks, then back at the judge. “Now she’s home. We all are. Shanks Silvers is our dad.”

The judge blinked once, then made a small note on her pad.

“Thank you. You may return to your seat.”

Sabo stood, walked back to the bench, and without a word sat beside Luffy. She leaned into him, her hand finding his.

He held it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The judge looked over her glasses again. “Mr. Dracule?”

Mihawk stood smoothly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Could you please bring the youngest forward?”

He nodded once and turned to Luffy, lowering his hand. “It’s your turn, little one.”

Luffy clutched her sparkly purse tighter and slid off the bench, shoes tapping softly. “Do I have to talk?”

“Just a little,” Mihawk said. “And I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding big. She took his hand with both of hers.

Mihawk helped her into the witness seat. Her red beret slipped a little to the side, and she reached up to fix it with great concentration before folding her hands in her lap. Her feet dangled far above the floor.

The judge smiled. “Hello there. What’s your name?”

“Luffy.”

“Do you have a last name?”

Luffy thought about it for a long second. “No. Just Luffy.”

She gave Mihawk a quick glance to check. He nodded once, and she turned back to the judge with full confidence. “Yep.”

The judge chuckled gently. “Do you know why you're here today?”

Luffy nodded. “You wanna know if I can stay with my daddy.”

“That’s right. Can you tell me who your daddy is?”

“Shanks!” she said immediately, eyes wide. “He’s my daddy. He’s nice. He’s funny. He always hugs me. And he lets me help stir pancakes even when I make a mess.”

A soft ripple of laughter moved through the courtroom. Shanks was already dabbing at his eyes with the tissue Beck had shoved at him earlier.

“Do you like living with him?”

Luffy blinked at the judge. “I love it,” she said very seriously. “We got matchy socks. And bedtime stories. And toothbrushes that match.” She held up three fingers like it was the pinnacle of luxury.

The judge nodded, amused. “Do you remember where you lived before?”

Luffy’s smile faded a little. “It was loud. And cold. There were bad people. I didn’t like it.”

“Do you remember how you got there?”

Luffy paused before answering quietly. “Ace said a man left me there. I don’t remember.”

Her eyes darted sideways toward Mihawk, then quickly back. “Ace is my big brother, he and Sabo take care of me.”

“That was kind of them,” the judge said softly. “Do you feel safe now?”

“Yes,” Luffy said instantly. “Daddy keeps me safe. And Sabo and Ace too. And Uncle Hawkey is scary so bad people go away.”

A few quiet chuckles behind them. Mihawk raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

“And what do you want to happen after today?”

“I wanna go home,” Luffy said, very small. “I wanna go with my Daddy, Ace and Sabo. Uncle Hawkey, Lucky, Beck and Uncle Hongo. Grandma and Grandpa and the other Uncles.”

Her voice dropped even lower. “I don’t want anyone take me away.”

The judge’s face softened. “Why not?”

“I’ll miss my daddy,” she said, eyes glassy. “He loves me. He tells me all the time. Even this morning. Seven times. And I counted.”

There was a long silence in the courtroom. Luffy clutched her purse tighter and added: “I love him more than jelly. Even meat.”

The judge nodded, taking note, before her expression softened even more. “Luffy, I have another question. Can you tell me how you met your daddy, Shanks?”

Luffy’s face lit up a little, a big smile spreading across her face as she remembered. She shifted on the chair, her legs swinging back and forth.

"Uhm... Daddy gave me food!" She said it proudly, like it was the best part. “He had food. And then he bought me food. I was hungry. And then… he looked at me for a long time.” She paused, thinking hard. “I was hungry.”

The judge tilted her head, her pen ready but still listening carefully. “And what happened after that?”

Luffy furrowed her brow, her small finger tapping the desk in thought. “I ate it, and I was so full!” Luffy smiled at the memory, clearly happy with the moment. 

The judge nodded but asked again, her tone gentle but probing, “Do you remember what happened next? How did you end up with him?”

Luffy tilted her head, looking slightly puzzled. “Well, I ate! And then the bad people came!” She gasped, her hands tightening on the edge of the stand, eyes wide. “They wanted to hurt me! And Daddy came! He saved me, like a hero!”

She paused again, her thoughts clearly jumping between memories.

“And after that... we ate pancakes!" She said it like it was the best thing in the world. "We went to breakfast after we left the scary people with the cold room and the white unicorns and then he took us home.” Luffy beamed. “He said we could stay forever, and then we said okay! And we’re all family!”

The judge raised an eyebrow, looking at Luffy thoughtfully. “Did you trust him right away, Luffy?”

Luffy’s smile faded a little as she thought about the question. She nodded slowly. “Yes... He didn’t make me scared.” She looked at Shanks, then back at the judge. “I love him. He’s my daddy.”

The judge remained quiet for a moment, jotting down some notes, her gaze never leaving Luffy. She could tell the little girl wasn’t rehearsed, wasn’t coached—she was speaking from the heart, sharing whatever came to mind. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest.

The judge let out a slow breath. “Thank you, Luffy. That was very brave.”

Luffy looked up. “Did I do good?”

“You did wonderfully.”

She beamed. “Okay! Can I go back now?”

Mihawk stepped forward and Luffy launched herself at him. He caught her with one arm and carried her back to the bench like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ace and Sabo immediately scooted in so she could sit between them. She gave them both a thumbs-up.

Shanks, watching her with damp eyes and a heart that was basically a puddle, mouthed: I love you.

Luffy mouthed back: Too.

The judge glanced toward the next witness stand. “Dr. Kobato, thank you for joining us. You’ve interacted with Luffy before, is that correct?”

Dr. Kobato nodded politely from the witness stand, her voice calm but warm. “Yes, Your Honor. Luffy was introduced to me and my son by Dr. Blonde Hongo, a colleague of mine, several weeks ago.”

“And in your professional opinion as a paediatrician,” the judge asked, “what were your impressions of her?”

“She struck me as a very spirited child,” Dr. Kobato said with a gentle smile. “Bright-eyed, imaginative, talkative—a little chatterbox, really. But most notably, she was deeply attached to her family.”

She let out a soft chuckle, her expression fond. “Luffy is… impossible to forget. She’s curious, bright, and endlessly creative.”

She paused for a moment. “But what stood out the most wasn’t just her energy—it was how grounded she seemed. She’s only three, and at that age, children are often either withdrawn or wildly uninhibited. I learned that Luffy can be shy with strangers at first, particularly around unfamiliar men, but once she feels safe, she’s remarkably self-assured.”

The judge leaned slightly forward. “And what makes her feel safe?”

“Her family,” Dr. Kobato answered without hesitation. “The moment she talked about home, her entire demeanor changed. She mentioned her brothers, Ace and Sabo and her ‘Daddy’ with such clear affection it felt like she was reciting a fairy tale she fully believed in.”

The judge nodded slowly, thoughtful. “Would you describe that attachment as healthy?”

“Exceptionally,” Dr. Kobato said. “Considering what I now understand of her history, abandonment, instability, trauma, it’s remarkable. Luffy displays none of the emotional distress I’d expect. She’s trusting, emotionally expressive, and full of resilience. That kind of stability only comes from consistent love and safety.”

“In Mr. Silvers’ home?”

“Yes, without question. But her brothers play the biggest part in it. A child that young can’t fabricate that kind of emotional security. She doesn’t just want to stay, she knows she belongs. That’s where she feels safe enough to laugh, play, learn, and rest. And it shows.”

A quiet pause followed. The judge glanced at her notes again.

“Thank you, Dr. Kobato.”

For the first time that morning, the courtroom was completely still.

No whispers. No scribbling pens. No tapping shoes.

The judge sat in silence, flipping slowly through her papers. Occasionally, she made a note in the margins or underlined a sentence with quiet deliberation. Her brows furrowed. Unfurrowed. She sighed once, then turned another page.

Shanks didn’t dare move. Ace had wrapped one arm tightly around Luffy’s shoulders, and Sabo’s fingers were curled around the hem of his brother’s blazer. Mihawk sat utterly motionless, his expression unreadable.

Even Beckman had stopped tapping his foot.

After what felt like forever, but had only been five minutes, the judge finally set her pen down, looked out over the courtroom, and folded her hands neatly over the documents in front of her.

She took a breath.

“This court has reviewed all testimony and written documentation concerning the proposed adoption of the minors known as Luffy, Ace and Sabo.” Her voice was clear. Measured. But not unkind.

“The facts presented have shown consistent, credible evidence of neglect and abandonment in the children’s prior environments. Equally compelling is the testimony concerning their current living situation. It's marked by safety, emotional stability, and strong familial bonds.”

Her eyes moved to Shanks.

“In accordance with municipal and federal child welfare codes and under the authority granted to this bench, I find that it is in the best interest of the minors to grant full and legal guardianship and custodial adoption to the petitioner, Mr. Shanks Silvers.”

A breath left the room.

“Effective immediately,” the judge continued, “Luffy, Ace and Sabo will be recognized as lawful children of Mr. Silvers, with all legal rights, protections, and obligations such designation entails.”

She paused to glance down at another sheet, signing it with a swift, practiced hand.

“Final adoption decrees will be mailed to the Silvers residence within five to seven business days, along with all supporting documents necessary for issuance of new birth certificates, identity cards and passports bearing the legal names: Silvers Luffy, Silvers Ace and Silvers Sabo.”

Lucky Roux audibly sniffled. Rayleigh let out a long breath. Ace blinked several times in quick succession.

The judge gave one last nod, her voice softer now. “May this home continue to be one of peace, love, and laughter. This court thanks you for your honesty and your care. We are adjourned.”

The gavel fell once.

Just once.

And then all hell broke loose, in the best possible way. Luffy let out a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around Ace and Sabo. Shanks finally let himself breathe and reached out to wrap all three of them into one shaking, laughing, tear-filled hug.

Mihawk stood and very subtly allowed himself a small, rare smile.

Beckman muttered, “’Bout damn time,” and pretended not to be wiping his eyes.

Then Shanks pulled away, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his sleeve, laughing breathlessly as Luffy launched herself into his arms with all the force of a very tiny cannonball.

“Daddy!!”

“I got you, sweetheart.”

And then, without a shred of shame, ceremony, or warning, Shanks spun on the spot, hoisted Luffy high into the air, and declared to the entire courtroom:

“THIS IS MY DAUGHTER!”

He beamed like the sun had come up just for him. His voice rang out across the marble and old wood, full of pride and love and sheer, tear-soaked joy.

“SILVERS LUFFY!!”

Luffy squealed with glee, legs kicking in the air, both arms stretched like wings. “I’m flying!!”

The crowd laughed, Rayleigh actually cheered and Beckman muttered, “Oh, he’s gonna do this at every family gathering now.”

Even the judge allowed herself a small, rare smile, watching as Shanks spun his daughter once more.

Shanks, still beaming, still holding Luffy aloft like she was the crown jewel of the universe, turned toward the boys—his boys—who were watching him with expressions that hovered somewhere between amusement and horror.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice bright with love and just the tiniest hint of chaos. “I can lift you two too if you want.”

Ace immediately grimaced. “Please don’t. You’ll throw out your back and then cry about it all week.”

“I do not cry about, okay, maybe a little—”

“Also,” Ace added, with the absolute confidence of a teenage older brother, “it’s kinda Luffy’s moment. Let her sparkle.”

Shanks laughed, still holding Luffy, who was now gleefully flapping her arms like wings. “Fair.”

Sabo crossed his arms with a crooked smile. “Honestly? A passport with my name on it works just fine. You don’t have to prove you love me.”

Shanks looked mock-offended. “You say that now, but how could I ever love you enough?”

Ace snorted. “You’re the only person I know who’d turn adoption into a full-body sport.”

Their smiles gave them away.

The judge adjusted her notes one final time, eyes sweeping over the now slightly chaotic courtroom where the energy had gone from tense to almost festival-like.

“Mr. Silvers,” she said, trying not to smile, “I’m truly happy for you and your family. But if it’s not too much trouble… I must ask that you and your very enthusiastic support network clear the courtroom. The next hearing is about to begin, and I doubt it involves this much glitter.”

Before she could finish, Luffy perked up. Her head turned sharply to Lucky Roux who had a small, festive paper bag resting neatly in front of him on the floor like it had been waiting for its moment to shine.

“Uncle Lucky?” Luffy asked, eyes sparkling.

Lucky stood up, reached for the bag with a theatrical flourish, and held it out to her with a deep bow.

“As promised, your Royal Highness.”

Luffy gasped dramatically, grabbed the bag with both arms like it was sacred, and immediately marched toward the bench—her boots making soft thud-thud-thud sounds on the wooden floor.

She came to a determined stop, looked up at the judge with big eyes, and very carefully placed the bag on the edge of the desk.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice small but clear.

The judge blinked, surprised. “What’s this?”

Luffy rose to her tiptoes, whispering like she was telling a secret. “My favorite cake. From Uncle Lucky’s bakery. It’s pink with cream and has the corner strawberry.” She beamed. “You helped me. So I wanted to say thank you.”

The judge seemed genuinely touched. “Thank you very much, Miss Silvers.”

Luffy nodded with utmost seriousness, then turned and ran back to her family, where Mihawk caught her again mid-air and spun her like he’d done it a hundred times.

As the family made their way towards the doors, the judge curiously peeked into the bag.

Inside was a pristine cake box tied with a soft ribbon, and tucked right on top was a cream-coloured folded card with a gold fork-and-spoon sticker sealing it.

She opened it.

To the presiding judge from the Silvers adoption process,

If you're reading this, then it means something truly wonderful has just happened—my best friend, my brother in all but blood, has been allowed to do something he’s already been doing with his whole heart: be a father to three incredible kids.
Thank you for seeing what we see. For understanding what love looks like when it’s real and loud and messy and patient. For giving this family the gift of being recognised not just by each other, but by the world.
Those kids, Ace, Sabo, and especially our sweet little Luffy, they mean the world to us. And Luffy... that little whirlwind with a smile too big for her face and a voice too bright to ignore? She is the sun that everyone in our circle orbits without even realizing it. She's all glitter and crumbs and impossible questions. She's joy.
I don't have the words for what it means to me that she gets to stay with the only people she’s ever really trusted. But I can say this: thank you. A hundred times, thank you.
As a small token of gratitude, please accept this invitation. Any of my establishments, whichever suits your taste, is yours for the evening. Simply mention that the reservation is for the judge from Luffy's case. The maître d’ will understand, and we’ll make sure there’s a table, even on short notice. Bring whoever you’d like. The whole evening is on me.
You’ll find a little something in the bag, too—Luffy's favourite. She insisted.

With all my thanks,
Lucky Roux
Founder, Roux & Crumble™

P.S. In addition to Roux & Crumble, this invitation extends to any of the following restaurants under my apron string:
- The Bone & Barrel
- Casa Violina
- Paradise & Co.
- Lantern & Lotus
- The Gold Spoon (my new restaurant, where you tell the servers what you like and don't like and where the chefs don’t follow rules, only instincts—and somehow it works)

Just show this letter. We'll handle the rest. And if you ever come by Roux & Crumble, please ask for the Princess Special. It's not on the menu. But we all know what it means.

The judge stared at the note for a long moment, her hand resting gently on the edge of the bag.

Outside the doors, she could still hear the family laughing, Shanks saying something about pancakes and crown fittings, Luffy squealing happily.

She smiled.

And then, with one hand still on the cake, she moved to the next case. But not before jotting a very small note in the corner of her planner:

“Call The Gold Spoon — table for two.”

Chapter Text

As the Silvers family exited the courthouse, the energy finally shifted from the tense proceedings to a feeling of victory and relief. Shanks held Luffy close, cradling her in his arms as she giggled, her little arms wrapped around his neck. Shakky and Rayleigh flanked Ace and Sabo, guiding the boys as they walked towards the cars, ensuring that no one could approach them.

Outside, the policemen waited. The officers’ eyes lingered on the Silvers family, but none made a move to approach.

Shanks didn’t look their way. His focus was entirely on getting Luffy to the car, where she would be safe with the family. Rayleigh and Shakky kept a sharp eye on the officers, their presence a quiet but unspoken warning.

As they neared the cars, the boys slid into the backseat with a few encouraging words from Shanks, who checked on them one last time before turning to put Luffy into her safety seat. There was no confrontation, no words exchanged with the waiting officers. They simply got into the cars and left, the air still buzzing with the energy of the moment.

Morgan muttered something under his breath as he watched the cars drive off. “Gutter rats got lucky…”

Before Smoker could respond, Morgan stormed off, his frustration clear in his body language.

Smoker stood for a moment, watching the cars disappear into the distance. 

The warm, familiar feeling of Shakky and Rayleigh’s home welcomed the newly-expanded Silvers family the moment they stepped through the door. Without a word, Shakky and Lucky peeled off toward the kitchen to prepare lunch.

Luffy hadn’t let go of Shanks since they’d left the courthouse. Her tiny arms were wrapped around his neck like a koala, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as if she could soak in safety through his shirt.

Then she saw Rayleigh and Mihawk standing in the middle of the room, both holding boxes, both looking very pleased with themselves.

Shanks leaned down with a smile. “Looks like someone has a present coming.”

Rayleigh took a step forward and held out a large gift box, wrapped in red paper and tied with golden ribbon. “Since we did miss your birthday, princess,” he said warmly, “we thought today was a fine time to make up for it.”

Mihawk crouched beside her, holding a smaller, matching box. “This one goes with it.”

Shanks gently set Luffy down, and she took both boxes like sacred treasure. Then, with the dramatic flair of a stage magician, she destroyed the wrapping paper.

Out came a tiny red-and-gold cheerleader outfit and seconds later, matching pom-poms.

She screamed with joy, held the outfit to her chest, then turned and tried to wiggle into it right there in the middle of the room while yelling, “HELP ME, DADDY, I GOTTA DRESS NOW!”

Shanks laughed as he helped her change, while Rayleigh turned to Ace and Sabo with a grin that meant trouble.

“Now then,” he said, pulling two elegant white envelopes from his jacket and handing one to each of the boys, “your grandmother and I figured you two wouldn’t be as thrilled about pom-poms…”

Ace opened his envelope and blinked. “Driving school?”

Sabo opened his. “Wait—is this… for a car?”

Rayleigh nodded. “Each of you gets one. Full prepaid course, no excuses. And confirmation from the dealership. Once you have your license, go pick up your ride. Not brand new, but solid cars. One for each of you. Trust me, you’ll need them for shuttling our girl here to gymnastics, dance class or wherever else she demands to go.”

“...You’re joking,” Sabo muttered.

“I never joke about transportation,” Rayleigh said, grinning.

Ace gawked. “Like… a real car? Almost new cars?”

Rayleigh gave him a look. “Do I look like I would give my grandkids junk boxes to drive around?”

Sabo just whispered, “We’re gonna die in traffic.”

Rayleigh smirked. “You’ll survive. And more importantly—she needs a ride.”

Sabo turned to look at Luffy, spinning in circles with pom-poms flying in full cheerleader regalia and absolutely no sense of indoor volume.

Rayleigh watched her fondly, then added with a wink, “She’s got plans.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You think she’s walking to Kindergarten? Or ballet soon? Or gymnastics? Wrong. You two are her official chauffeurs now.”

Sabo’s jaw dropped.

“Welcome to your new part-time job,” Rayleigh confirmed, clapping them each on the back.

Ace just held up the envelope like it had betrayed him. “This is a trap.”

“You’re legally a big brother now,” Rayleigh said cheerfully. “Act like it.”

And in the background, from the kitchen, Lucky’s voice rang out: “Soup’s on in ten! And yes, there are pancakes!”

Luffy gasped. “PANCAKES?!”

Pom-poms went flying again.

In a quieter corner of the room, Ace sat on the edge of the couch, envelope in hand, watching Luffy spin, then turned to Mihawk—who was sipping tea like a man entirely unaffected by the whirlwind child in the background.

“Hey,” Ace said casually, “do you know a good place for martial arts training? Like… Karate or Muay Thai, maybe?”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “Striking arts were never really my focus.”

He set his teacup down gently. “But if you’re serious about it, you’re welcome to come by the Kendo studio sometime. It’ll teach you control. Focus. And how not to get knocked out in a hallway brawl.”

Mihawk added with a glance, “It’s how I met your father, actually.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Shanks, who had just been dancing with Luffy, froze mid-movement. Without a word, he dramatically crawled across the floor toward the group, arms stretched out as if he were on a heroic quest. From the floor, he groaned: “Finally, someone acknowledges my glorious past...”

Before Ace could respond, he heard more dramatic shuffling across the carpet.

“Et tu, Ace?!” Shanks called, his voice overly theatrical, as he dramatically collapsed in front of Ace. “Why follow the Kendo master, when you have a father who can create a shower of splinters with a single swing? A true master of the blade!”

“You go to him?” He pointed a shaky finger at Mihawk. “Do you not remember the legendary footwork of your father in his prime?! The flowing hair! The sound of wood on wood as I—I—danced across the dojo floor like a crimson tempest?!”

Mihawk didn’t even blink. “You sprained your wrist doing that spin.”

“I was committed to the drama!” Shanks barked, then collapsed dramatically at Ace’s feet, head bowed. “I ask for so little... just for my son to respect my legacy!”

Ace looked down, unimpressed. “Focus on being a girl dad, old man.”

Shanks fake-cried. Mihawk raised one eyebrow, already grinning.

Ace gestured lazily toward Luffy, who was now in the middle of choreographing a routine that included jumping off the coffee table and shouting “I’M THE STORM.”

Mihawk snorted, then let out a sharp, genuine laugh.

Ace nodded toward Luffy, who was now halfway through a choreographed pom-pom battle-dance routine that looked like Sailor Moon had joined a biker gang. “By the time she’s done with you, you’ll be in ballet, gymnastics, pottery, treasure hunting and dirt bike racing.”

“Dirt bikes?!” Shanks choked.

Rayleigh strolled by and clapped him on the back. “You’ll be hot-gluing rhinestones onto a Hello Kitty helmet before the month’s out.”

Still grinning, Mihawk added, “Honestly, I don’t understand how you two aren’t related by blood. Luffy and you’re basically the same person.”

Shanks sat bolt upright, looking personally blessed by the gods. “Is this—wait—was that a compliment?”

“It wasn’t,” Mihawk replied flatly.

Shanks ignored him completely. “Because if you meant that—if you truly meant that—I swear to everything, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Mihawk sighed and took another sip of tea and said nothing.

Ace turned to him. “Sabo, you in?”

Sabo, who’d been hiding behind a comic book, slowly lowered it and said, “I’ve met me. I’ll stick to books and not concussions.”

Mihawk nodded approvingly. “Smart.”

He checked the time. “Next week. Saturday morning. We’ll head to the studio. I’ll make sure a beginner instructor’s there—someone patient. But no slack. You’ll sweat.”

“Perfect,” Ace grinned.

Meanwhile, Shanks had crawled back across the floor to Luffy, who immediately looped a pom-pom around his wrist and said, “YOU’RE ON BASE.”

“Finally,” Shanks whispered reverently, “a role worthy of my talents.”

“DADDY! LOOK!”

She struck a pose, one foot high in the air, then launched into a chaotic routine of spins, stomps, and high-pitched “HIYA!”s that looked like a cheerleader had fused with a warrior princess.

Shanks propped himself up and beamed. “Astounding! Unmatched! Who choreographed this masterpiece?!”

“ME!” Luffy declared proudly. “I’M THE CHOREOGRAFY!”

She pointed a pom-pom straight at Mihawk. “UNCLE HAWKEY. WATCH.”

With a resigned sigh, Mihawk adjusted his seat and gave her his full attention.

Then Luffy raised her arms dramatically. “HOLD ME HIGH, DADDY!”

Rayleigh leaned back with a low chuckle as Shanks scrambled to lift her into the air with the grace of a clumsy ballet dad. Pom-poms flew, glitter scattered somewhere from a mystery pocket, and Luffy shrieked, “I’M A METEOR!” as she posed midair.

Shanks looked like he might weep from pride.

Shanks sat on the living room floor like a man facing a firing squad.

Ace and Sabo were sprawled across the couch with mugs in hand, mid-conversation when Shanks cut in with a heavy sigh.

“Okay. Nami’s wedding is on Saturday,” he said, already rubbing his temples. “Do either of you want to come with me?”

Both boys blinked, then exchanged a look.

“I’m not going without him,” Ace said, jerking a thumb toward Sabo.

“Same,” Sabo agreed. “We’re a unit.”

Shanks groaned like they’d personally doomed him. “You’re killing me.”

He flopped back onto the floor with a dramatic thud. “I just want one normal person with me to talk to during this nightmare. Someone who won’t flirt with me or ask what I do for a living like I didn’t already answer that question in the group chat.”

“People flirt with you?” Sabo asked, amused.

“God, constantly,” Shanks muttered. “And I can already feel it in my bones—it’s going to happen again. I just know it. Half of the guest list will be strangers with wine teeth and too much perfume who want to ‘network’.”

He made air quotes with visible spite. “And Mihawk, that bastard, will show up wasted to the ceremony just to spite me. Probably with a cigar and sunglasses and zero context.”

Ace tried not to laugh. “That sounds like him, yeah.”

“I’m not kidding. He’s probably already drunk. He scheduled it.”

Shanks sat up and pointed at them. “That’s why I need someone normal. Someone I can sit next to and make passive-aggressive commentary with. I can’t do this alone.”

Ace leaned forward. “And yet you still invited us?”

“I had hope,” Shanks deadpanned. “Stupid, fragile hope.”

Sabo shrugged. “Dad, you know we come as a package deal.”

“Unfortunately, Nami didn’t upgrade my invite to a plus-three. Typical. Stingy bitch.”

Ace raised a brow. “Why not just ask her?”

“Because she’s Nami,” Shanks replied flatly. “She’s damn good at her job, I’ll give her that—but outside of work, she’s a greedy, materialistic nightmare. She spends hours tracking other people’s money and won’t spend a cent of her own. She's like a squirrel. With a savings account.”

Ace winced. “Yikes.”

“And I can’t even cheap out on the gift,” Shanks added. “Because she’s exactly the type to keep a spreadsheet of what everyone gave her and I’ll never hear the end of it if I underperform.”

Sabo blinked. “Why do you go at all?”

“I know the groom,” Shanks said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “His name's Pauly. We went to college together. And I have a conscience. And Nami knows where I live. I'm her boss.”

“What’s he doing now, anyway?”

“No clue. Something with construction. Or finance. Or boats. I stopped keeping track when he started wearing hemp shirts.”

Ace sipped his tea. “And he’s marrying her?”

“God knows why. I assume he wears earplugs at home and stares at her collarbone so he can ignore what she’s saying.”

Sabo grinned. “You sound so supportive.”

“She’s technically pretty,” Shanks muttered. “But her personality ruined her face for me.”

Ace snorted. “So who are you taking?”

Shanks groaned again. “I don’t know. I was gonna drag one of you. But if you’re a set, I’m screwed.”

Sabo thought for a second, then smiled. “Take Luffy.”

Shanks blinked.

“She’ll cheer you up if it gets bad,” Ace added. “She’ll be excited about the food, ignore all the drama and say something unhinged just loud enough to make you laugh.”

Shanks considered that. And then he smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, already feeling better. “Yeah, that’s actually a good idea.”

He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright. I’m taking the goblin.”

“Bold move,” Ace said.

“She’ll eat everything, demand cake three times and probably call the bride a magpie,” Sabo added.

Shanks grinned. “Exactly. It’ll be perfect.”

The venue was already buzzing with voices and soft music when Shanks and Luffy arrived, both dressed to impress in matching outfits: dark red and gold accents on crisp a dark suit and dress. Luffy wore a tiny version of Shanks jacket, modified into a cropped, sparkly version complete with tiny gold epaulettes and a star pin on her collar.

Shanks adjusted his cuffs as they walked up the steps. “We look amazing.”

“We look like treasure!” Luffy chirped, spinning in a circle before clutching his hand again.

Waiting just outside the entrance was, unsurprisingly, Mihawk—sunglasses on, leaning against a pillar with a matte black flask in one hand.

Shanks smirked. “You know, people might mistake you for a functional alcoholic.”

Mihawk didn’t even blink. “I don’t care. As long as it keeps me from thinking too hard about what I’m about to hear.”

He took a slow sip from the flask. “I’m already dreading the vows. I bet Pauly’s going to thank Nami for funding his life the past month. For reasons that I don’t know and frankly don’t want to understand. Poor bastard.”

Then, without missing a beat, Mihawk lowered himself to Luffy’s height, scooped her up in one arm, and squeezed her tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, my little angel,” he murmured into her hair.

Luffy giggled, practically glowing in his arms.

Shanks raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Wow. She really is the antidote to your entire personality.”

“I’m drunk on serotonin,” Mihawk said dryly, nuzzling her.

Together, the three stepped into the venue, Luffy perched proudly on Mihawk’s arm like the world’s tiniest monarch. Inside, round tables were decorated with white-and-orange flowers, and groups of guests were already scattered across the room. Shanks immediately spotted a handful of familiar faces from Pauly’s side, a clump of firefighters, some men in crisp police uniforms—including, unfortunately, a tall, broad-shouldered figure he and Mihawk recognised instantly.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” Shanks sighed. “That’s Officer Smoker.”

Mihawk exhaled through his nose. “Great.”

Luffy, meanwhile, had frozen as Smoker made direct eye contact—and then, to everyone’s horror, started walking toward them.

Shanks glanced down. “You good, Anchor?”

Luffy blinked and tightened her grip on Mihawk’s jacket.

Smoker stopped a polite distance away. He didn’t smile, but he wasn’t scowling either—a significant win by his standards.

“I won’t take much of your time,” he said, voice low and even. “Just… I have something. As an apology.”

He held out a large paper bag toward Shanks.

“She mentioned at the hearing that she likes playing pirates with you and brothers,” Smoker continued. “And pirates, obviously, need a ship.”

Shanks took the bag carefully, his expression unreadable. “Thanks.”

Smoker gave a short nod and turned on his heel, vanishing into the crowd as quickly as he’d appeared.

“…I’m actually curious what the good officer came up with,” Mihawk said, raising an eyebrow and taking a gulp from his flask.

“Same,” Shanks muttered.

They finally approached the seating area, only to find their assigned names not at the same table.

“No,” Mihawk said flatly.

“They split us up?” Shanks looked scandalized.

Luffy gasped. “BUT WE’RE A TEAM.”

“Exactly,” Mihawk agreed.

With a sigh, Shanks rolled up his sleeves and began casually rearranging the place cards.

He plucked the one that said 'Silvers +1' from a table that looked suspiciously like the 'Politics & Public Image' section, tucked it into his jacket, and swapped two unfamiliar names—Khalifa and Alpha—into the empty seats.

“God bless those poor souls,” he muttered. “Khalifa and Alpha. May your day be unmemorable.”

It only took a minute to finish the silent rebellion.

With Luffy firmly seated between them, swinging her legs under the table and sipping from a juice box Shanks had stashed in his jacket pocket, the world made sense again.

Shanks leaned over to Mihawk, grinning. “This is the most peaceful I’ve felt all day.”

“We’re thirty seconds from someone asking us if we’re her divorced dads.”

“I’d tell them yes.”

Mihawk raised his flask. “Cheers to that.”

Luffy blinked up at them and whispered, “Do we get cake before or after the screaming starts?”

Shanks and Mihawk exchanged a look.

“…After,” Shanks sighed.

“Hopefully.”

The music shifted.

Conversation across the hall quieted as the officiant took their place at the front of the room. The lights dimmed just enough to make the overdone white-and-orange decor look even more dramatic.

“She’s going full soap opera,” Shanks muttered. “Of course she is.”

At the far end, the wedding procession began.

Nami entered last, radiant in a sleek ivory gown with enough sparkle to be seen from orbit, an orange ribbon corset laced tightly at her back. She held her bouquet like a queen holding court, chin high and eyes scanning the crowd—calculating, if anything.

“She’s glowing,” Mihawk commented.

“Like her last tax audit,” Shanks muttered.

And then Pauly stepped into place.

There was a brief, stunned pause at their table.

“…He’s not wearing the goggles,” Shanks whispered, genuinely surprised.

“Maybe someone hid them,” Mihawk said. “Or burned them.”

Pauly’s beige suit, however, was less of a win. It looked like something that had once been a curtain at a bad motel and now haunted weddings. Paired with a neon-orange tie, it somehow managed to make even Shanks' adventurous fashion sense cringe.

The officiant cleared their throat and began.

“Dear friends, family, and distinguished guests…”

Shanks reached for the flask Mihawk wordlessly offered him and took a long sip.

And then—too soon—the vows started.

Nami went first, eyes shining with theatrical conviction:

“Pauly, you’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met. You’re strong. You work hard. You’re dependable—at least, when you have a job. You don’t spend much money. You always take my side in arguments even when I’m objectively wrong. And that’s love. I look forward to spending every day making sure you never leave the house without sunscreen, a proper lunch, and my card.”

Shanks slowly leaned forward, eyes wide. Mihawk took another drink.

Then it was Pauly’s turn.

He cleared his throat, obviously nervous. His hand trembled slightly as he pulled a folded paper from his pocket.

“Nami. You’re… intense. But in a good way. You know what you want. You fight for it. You’re terrifying and smart and you have great taste in furniture—most of the time. You make me laugh and you yell at me only when I deserve it. Which is… fair.

Thank you for always supporting me. Especially… well, especially when I’m between jobs and have no income.

You make that… not scary. You make it… entertaining.”

There was a pause.  Shanks and Mihawk turned to each other, completely deadpan. They raised their glasses and clinked.

“To the entertainment budget,” Shanks muttered.

“Cheers,” Mihawk said.

For a heartbeat, the venue was quiet—guests unsure whether to clap or scream.

Then, just as it quieted again, a high-pitched little voice piped up between them. “…They look like tangerine cheesecake.”

Mihawk froze. Shanks blinked.

Luffy, sitting between them with her legs swinging under the chair, was watching the couple with deep concentration.

“Sorry, what?” Shanks asked, grinning.

“They look like a tangerine cheesecake,” she repeated matter-of-factly, pointing toward the couple. “And the man is the bottom of the cake.”

Mihawk choked on his drink.

Shanks snorted so hard he nearly dropped his glass.

“The bottom of the cake?” Mihawk wheezed.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded confidently. “All beige and squishy. But she’s the fruit and cheese part.”

The two men lost it.

Mihawk buried his face in his arm, shoulders trembling with silent laughter, while Shanks tried very hard not to burst out loud.

Across the room, Nami turned briefly to squint in their direction. Mihawk straightened immediately. Shanks threw on his most diplomatic grin.

Luffy blinked. “Was it funny?”

“Extremely,” Mihawk said, wiping his eye.

“Too accurate,” Shanks added.

“Are we clapping now?” Luffy asked.

“Not yet,” Mihawk said. “We wait until someone cries or kisses.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She sat back and drank from her juice box.

The gentle clinking of silverware against porcelain marked the beginning of some in between course—dainty slices of cake, suspiciously perfect finger sandwiches, and mini tartlets that Luffy immediately distrusted on principle.

She perked up anyway, eyes scanning the trays moving between the tables with a focus honed through countless chaotic family dinners.

Or at least, she was alert—until she realised that food and speeches were happening at the same time.

Her little face scrunched in displeasure as a server placed a triangular white plate in front of her, carrying a cucumber sandwich cut with surgical precision and something pink she refused to acknowledge. “Why do we have to listen and chew?” she muttered, stabbing a tartlet like it owed her money. “Why can’t we do just one thing really well?”

Mihawk bit back a smirk. “Welcome to adulthood, my dear. It only gets worse.”

Shanks leaned in, dropping his voice with mock gravity. “You don’t have to listen if you chew loudly enough.”

“Challenge accepted,” Luffy whispered, immediately biting into the tiniest cake square with the energy of someone trying to drown out the sound of taxes.

The lights dimmed slightly as a tall, lanky man with wild blond hair took the stage, dressed in an almost-fitting suit and a tie that had clearly been tied by someone else. His smile was gentle, eyes a little distant, like he was still not sure how he ended up here.

He tapped the mic. “Hello—ah—yeah, hi. I’m Donquixote Rosinante. Rosinante, but most folks just call me Rosi.”

Luffy slowed her chewing, mildly intrigued by the name.

“I met Pauly when he was just switching careers. He had left the fire department, said he wanted to try something ‘less flammable,’ and somehow ended up on the force right when I was still figuring out how to... be a person again. We had that in common. And duct tape. We really bonded over duct tape.”

Some laughter rippled through the crowd.

“I got to know the real Pauly,” Ros continued. “The kind of guy who’s grumpy ninety percent of the time but will drive across town at 2 a.m. to fix your sink if you say your kid’s afraid of the noise.”

He paused. “Speaking of kids... I also owe him for one more thing.”

The room quieted slightly.

“I wouldn’t have met my son—Law—without him.”

Now Shanks and Mihawk were both fully tuned in.

“Pauly was volunteering with a security team at a shelter and I was called there... not really a good place. There was an attack. Some kids were in danger. Law was one of them. And Pauly, he ran straight into it, no hesitation. Got that kid out himself. I started visiting the shelter more, eventually met Law again, and... the rest is adoption papers and a lot of therapy. And that’s how I ended up with the most stubborn, clever, terrifying now ten-year-old I’ve ever loved.”

There was a pause. Then Rosi smiled faintly. “So yeah. I’m standing here because of Pauly. Law has a dad because of Pauly. And even though he looks like a pissed-off breadstick in that beige suit... I’d trust him with my life.”

Polite laughter echoed around the room.

Rosinante continued, holding up his glass. “To the weirdest guy I know and the woman who decided that was somehow a plus. To Pauly and Nami!”

A wave of applause swept the room as glasses clinked.

Mihawk and Shanks clinked their glasses against her tiny box.

“Cheers,” Shanks said. “We’re not making it out of this night normal, are we?”

“Not a chance,” Mihawk replied, already bracing for the next speech.

The next hour passed in the gentle chaos only wedding downtime could bring—guests milling about, cake being refilled with varying enthusiasm, and the bride and groom ushered off for their golden hour photo shoot. That left plenty of room for small miracles to happen.

Like two terrifying men in suits helping a three-year-old assemble a toy boat on the edge of the reception hall.

Mihawk had the instruction manual spread out like a battle map, brow furrowed in exaggerated focus, while Shanks helped snap the last of the bright red pieces into place. Luffy hovered at their sides like a very small forewoman, supervising the entire operation with a plastic cup of apple juice in one hand.

"Well I'll be damned," Mihawk muttered, twisting a soft sail onto the plastic mast. "He actually bought something age-appropriate. I'm impressed."

Shanks nodded, equally surprised. “Colour-coded, even. Man did his research. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

Luffy, who had been crouched beside them, stared at the finished boat with an almost reverent awe. She reached out, ran a finger along the glittery sticker of a skull on the side, then sat back on her heels with a thoughtful expression.

“I want to say thank you,” she said solemnly, like it was a mission.

Shanks blinked. “To whom, sweetheart?”

“To the boat man. Grandpa said if someone gives you something nice, you always say thank you, even if you’re scared.”

Mihawk and Shanks exchanged a glance. There was no real way to say no to that.

And so, moments later, Shanks found himself walking across the venue with Luffy’s tiny hand curled in his, while Mihawk followed a step behind, carrying the now fully assembled, frankly impressive toy boat in his arms like a groomsman holding a newborn.

The table of off-duty officers saw them coming and immediately froze.

Because what do you do when these two well-known, well-dressed men and a toddler approach your table with zero warning? Exactly—absolutely nothing. You sit very still and wait to see what happens.

Smoker, to his credit, was the only one who didn’t look alarmed. A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rose from his chair and stepped forward, crouching down to Luffy’s height.

“Thank you…” Luffy said, soft and wary, then immediately half-hid behind Shanks’ leg again, peeking out with wide eyes.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Silvers,” Smoker said gently. “My name is Smoker Chaser. I'm glad you found a great family.”

Luffy studied him for a long, long moment. Then, as if reaching a final decision, she stepped forward, gave his shoulder a gentle pat like he was an old friend, “It's okay, Smokey Boaty.”

Shanks choked down a laugh. Mihawk’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders twitched in amusement.

Then Luffy turned, tugged on Shanks’ pant leg and lifted her arms. “Up, Daddy.”

Without hesitation, Shanks scooped her up into his arms, balancing her easily on one hip.

“Thanks for the boat, Smokey Boaty,” she added shyly, voice muffled into his shoulder.

Smoker smiled a little more. “Any time.”

A child seated beside Rosinante blinked into the sudden silence and asked, a bit too loudly, “Why's everyone so quiet?”

Rosinante cleared his throat and leaned over. “That’s Silvers Shanks,” he said quietly. “And apparently... his daughter. Also Dracule Mihawk.”

Law gave a skeptical look. “Who even are they supposed to be?”

Rosinante just nodded toward the group. “The kind of people you don’t mouth off to, kid.”

An officer leaned towards Mihawk. “Isn’t that your daughter? I swear I saw you two at a football game.”

Before Mihawk could speak, Shanks laughed. “He wishes.”

“I’m her favourite uncle, maybe second favourite, depending on whether she's hungry or not,” Mihawk said dryly.

Luffy gave a firm, happy nod, like it was the truth of the universe.

Her gaze scanned the table, curious and bright, until it landed on a boy with dark, messy hair and a guarded look in his golden eyes. He seemed way older than her. Luffy tilted her head. “You look really cool, your spots are awesome,” she said with a shy little smile.

Law, sitting across from them with his arms crossed, barely looked up from his glass. His voice was cold and unbothered when he spoke. "And you look like a spoiled little princess who’s never seen anything real, probably doesn't even know what pain feels like, except maybe from some TV show. Like you never had a real problem in life, except for being too late for ballet or piano lessons.”

Luffy blinked, her bright smile faltering. She shrank back slightly, clutching Shanks’ shirt tighter, her small hands balling into fists at his side. “Sorry,” she said softly, blinking quickly, eyes dropped to the floor, her usual sparkle dimming for just a moment.

Shanks looked down at her, his hand rested lightly on her back, giving her a reassuring squeeze. He didn't say anything, letting the moment pass. But his eyes were hard, staring at Law now, as his lips parted to speak.

Before he could react, Smoker set down his drink and cut in, calm but clear. “Law. I like that you speak your mind, but there’s a time and place for everything. That wasn’t it.”

Law didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, his face expressionless, but his words were still sharp, as if they were meant to cut. “Whatever. Little kids are all the same, they live in their little bubble of delusion. The world is a cruel place.”

Mihawk, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke, his voice calm but pointed. “You should think about how your words might affect those around you, especially those who have done nothing to deserve them.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You should also consider,” he said quietly, “whether your impulsive bitterness might someday have consequences for the people who care about you. Your father... or grandfather especially.”

Law stiffened, the words hitting harder than any raised voice.

Rosinante didn’t say anything. But the way he exhaled spoke volumes.

Luffy, who had been holding back her tears, looked up at her father, silently asking for comfort. Shanks lifted her up to his chest and said softly, “Don’t mind him, Anchor. You’re perfect just as you are and he'll bite his ass when he's older, I give him fifteen to twenty years until he comes crawling to you.”

Luffy snuggled against Shanks' neck. “Can we go now, Daddy?”

Shanks gave Mihawk a glance before he gently started walking toward the photographer’s area. “Let’s get a picture, Sweetheart. Just you and me, for the office, yeah?”

Mihawk followed behind them, his expression impassive. “Of course. I’ll want one too, for my office. Framed and signed.” He didn’t look back at Law or anyone else. Instead, he adjusted his collar, already planning how to deal with the situation later.

Luffy, clinging to her father’s neck, murmured with a soft giggle, “Can I sign it with stickers?”

Shanks laughed quietly, a warm, fatherly sound. “Of course, Baby. Best autograph there is.”

Back at the table, the mood had settled into something quieter. The plates had been cleared, the ambient lights had dimmed to a warm glow, and conversation had turned low and sporadic.

Rosinante leaned in toward Law, his large frame curling around his untouched coffee. “You were out of line,” he said, voice low but not unkind.

Law rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I don’t care who those people are. My adoptive grandfather’s the Minister of Justice and you're a Police Captain. They don’t scare me.”

Rosinante blinked once. Then he chuckled, quietly at first, then full-bodied, his shoulders shaking like someone who knew how ridiculous that sentence really was.

“What?” Law snapped.

Rosinante leaned back in, his tone somewhere between amused and amazed. “Kid. You just mouthed off in front of two out of the three people your grandfather could actually lose sleep over.”

Law looked at him sideways, skeptical. “...What do you mean?”

Rosinante nodded, almost smug now. “You see the man with the golden eyes? That was Dracule ‘Hawk-Eye-Lawyer’ Mihawk. Your grandfather calls him ‘the courtroom butcher.’ He’s never lost a case.”

He leaned in a little, voice lowering like he was sharing a secret no one wanted on record.

“When word gets out that Mihawk is taking a case, everyone and I mean everyone, starts triple-checking their documents. Prosecutors, defense, even the judge. Doesn’t matter what side you’re on. If you’ve got sloppy paperwork, or a hole in your timeline, or even one witness who might crack? You fix it. Fast. Because the moment he walks into that courtroom, it stops being a trial—it’s a dissection. And no one wants to be the one bleeding. And the guy making silly faces for the kid you just insulted?”

Law blinked, clearly rattled now, but Rosinante was already moving on, tipping his chin toward the other man in the matching suit.

“These days they call him Mayor Silvers. But until two years ago, he was known as Silvers ‘Akagami no’ Shanks. He could find the smallest stain of blood on a man’s record, sniff out guilt like a bloodhound. Didn’t matter how small your stain was—he’d drag it into the light and lock you up with it. Nobody with a guilty conscience walked into a courtroom if he was sitting across the aisle. I'm not sure if the name's based on his hair colour alone or the colour of blood, too.”

Law frowned, visibly processing that.

Rosinante leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. “Oh, and the third? Great, that you're asking son. That would be Silvers Shanks’s father. He's the Chief Justice of our Country's Supreme Court. Silvers ‘Dark King’ Rayleigh. Your grandfather might be powerful, Law, but he's elected and trust me, he watches his step veeeeeery closely when those three are around.”

Law glanced down at the table, jaw tight. He didn’t say anything, but his face had lost its earlier smugness.

Rosinante let the moment breathe before leaning forward again, resting his forearms on the table, his voice low and deliberate.

“I'm serious, Law,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “This wasn’t just some bratty comment. You mouthed off in front of Dracule Mihawk and Mayor Silvers. And you didn’t just embarrass yourself—you potentially damaged the public standing of your grandfather, the sitting Minister of Justice. That’s not a footnote, Law. That’s a headline.”

Law frowned, shoulders stiffening, but Rosinante wasn’t done.

“And I'm afraid neither of them will forget about that,” he continued, quieter now, more cutting. “Dracule Mihawk doesn’t forget. Ever. He’s the reason entire legal departments get nervous. Secretaries resign. Prosecutors pray they’re not the one assigned. If he wants to be petty—and he usually doesn’t, but if—he could make sure your name gets flagged on every university application in the country. You think your grades will save you then?”

Law’s jaw clenched.

“And Mayor Silvers?” Rosinante gave a soft, almost pitying laugh. “He might seem like the easygoing one, but he’s ruthless where it counts. You insulted his kid, Law. His daughter, to his face. You don’t think he’s already made a note of your name? All it takes is a word in the right place, and the path you thought you were on? Gone. Doors don’t slam. They just never open, no matter who your grandfather is.”

He leaned back again, the quiet weight of his words settling like a stone in the space between them.

“So yeah,” he said, with a humourless smile, “I will be telling your grandfather. Not because I want to get you in trouble, but because he deserves to know what kind of fire you played with. And maybe he’ll be able to patch some of it up before it gets worse.”

Law stared at the table, his face carefully blank, but his hands had curled into fists in his lap.

From further down the table, Smoker spoke up, his voice low and even, “And if you're lucky, those men will chalk this up to youth and arrogance and let it slide. But don’t count on it. Not when it comes to her.”

“It’s not my place to lecture you, Law. Sorry Rosi. It's absolutely not my place to tell their story but it's a important lesson and they embrace their story of braveness, strength...” Smoker continued, flicking ash from his cigarette. “But Law, you’ve had more luck than her. You got to know your parents. You had people who gave a damn from the start. You think she’s spoiled because she smiles easy and wears sparkly clips? That’s not softness, Law. That’s survival.” 

Law looked up at him, guarded.

Smoker didn’t flinch. “Little Miss Silvers over there was four days old when she was left alone. Four days, Law. Imagine that. She would’ve starved if a then fourteen-year-old hadn’t shown up and taken her out of there himself. That poor boy essentially became a father that day. She should’ve died there. And plenty of people were fine with letting that happen.” He exhaled slowly. “If you think you’ve seen ugly, Law, you haven’t seen what people will do to a baby no one’s watching or children who live on the street, trying to see the next morning.”

Law’s mouth parted, something flickering in his eyes.

Smoker gave him a long look, something softer in his expression now. “That girl might’ve been born unlucky, but don’t ever mistake her joy for weakness. And don’t forget who’s in her corner. I got her story wrong once. I misjudged her. Made assumptions. I’d give a damn lot to take that back.” He exhaled slowly, smoke trailing from his nostrils like steam from a freight engine. “But I can’t. So now I’ll defend her wherever I can. Because no kid should ever be left carrying the weight she was. Or her brothers.”

He ground out his cigarette. “So yeah, next time you think about saying something clever, make sure it’s not aimed at someone who’s already been through more than you’ll probably ever face.”

No one at the table said anything after that. And in the distance, Luffy’s laughter rang out, high and bright, as she and her dad tried different poses in front of the photographer.

Law was quiet for a long moment, then said, almost grudgingly, “...Should I apologize?”

Rosinante pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a slow exhale through it. “Not tonight,” he muttered. “If your apology sounds anything like the tone you used earlier and let’s be honest, you’re not great at sounding sincere even when you mean it, you’ll just dig the hole deeper. Especially with people who don’t know you well.”

Law frowned. “So...?”

“We write a letter,” Rosinante said firmly. “Tomorrow. A proper one. You’ll apologize to Mayor Silvers. And to Dracule Mihawk. We’ll make sure it doesn’t come off like some half-assed excuse.”

Law looked like he wanted to protest, his brow twitched, his mouth opened just a bit but before he could speak, Rosinante held up a finger.

“That is the bare minimum,” he said, eyes narrowed. “If your grandfather thinks it needs more? Then every single gift you’d have gotten over the next two years—birthdays, holidays, random ‘you passed a test’ bonuses, all of that will be converted into something for little Miss Silvers. Toys, college fund, puppy ranch—whatever she wants. You good with that?”

Law stared at him, then slumped back in his seat like the weight of reality had finally landed on his chest. “...Not really.”

Rosinante smiled. “Great. Then let’s not make it worse.”

As the dinner wound down and the first chords of a new song floated through the air, the emcee announced the opening of the dance floor.

Before anyone else could move, Mihawk was already out of his seat. “Finally,” he muttered, standing tall and smooth like he’d been waiting all evening. He reached over, scooping Luffy up from her chair with the same ease one might pluck a feather off the ground.

“Time for a real dance,” he said, carrying her toward the dance floor. “Finally, a pleasant partner who doesn’t step on my feet.”

Luffy giggled wildly, arms around his neck. “Let’s do the spinning!”

From his seat, Shanks barked a laugh and lifted his phone, pointing the camera toward the duo as they reached the center of the room. “Make it count,” he called after them. “You’ve got a tough act following. Me.”

Mihawk didn’t turn around, but lifted one hand dramatically into the air as if acknowledging a worthy rival.

Their dance started with grace, controlled and smooth, with Mihawk guiding Luffy through careful, elegant spins. She squealed with joy as he dipped her low, then brought her up into another twirl. The crowd, mildly surprised at first, began to soften into amused smiles and low chuckles.

“Not bad for a Lawyer,” Shanks murmured, half to himself, recording every moment.

As the song ended, Mihawk carried Luffy back like a prized treasure, stopping in front of Shanks’ chair. “Your move,” he said, presenting the girl with mock ceremony. “She’s all yours—if you think you can follow that.”

Shanks cracked his knuckles theatrically. “Stand back. I’m about to raise the bar.”

He scooped Luffy up and strutted to the floor like a man with something to prove. Mihawk, ever the observer, leaned casually against a nearby pillar, now with Shanks’ phone in hand. “Smile for the camera,” he called out.

Shanks didn’t disappoint. Their dance was louder—goofier—more animated. He spun Luffy like a windmill, did a ridiculous two-step, and lifted her high in the air, making her shriek with laughter. At one point he even tried a fake moonwalk, which earned loud snorts from nearby guests and an eye-roll from Mihawk behind the lens.

When the song ended, Shanks bowed low with Luffy still in his arms, like they’d just performed a grand finale at a royal ball. Applause broke out here and there, partly amused, partly charmed.

Mihawk raised one brow. “Moonwalk? Really?”

Shanks just grinned. “Had to raise the stakes.”

“Then I suppose I’m up again,” Mihawk said, already stepping forward. “She deserves an encore.”

And so it went—one song after another. Mihawk returning to the floor for a second dance, this time slower and more elegant; Shanks retaliating with exaggerated drama and flair. All the while, Luffy was radiant in the center of it all, laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

Around them, the guests watched with varying levels of disbelief and entertainment. Seeing those two men, usually intimidating, and rarely in one room, basically auditioning to be crowned Luffy’s favourite through interpretive dance was not something they were likely to forget.

But in that moment, on that dance floor, it was clear: they weren’t trying to impress anyone but her. And she was thrilled.

By the end of the third round, Luffy was so tired from laughing and spinning that she could barely sit upright in her chair. Shanks pressed a kiss to her hair as she leaned against his chest, and Mihawk passed her a glass of water like she’d just finished a marathon.

“That was the best wedding ever,” she declared with a sleepy grin.

As the music softened, the guests began to drift toward dessert tables or slower dances, Luffy woke up from a short nap. Shanks and Mihawk exchanged a glance. Time to do the polite thing.

“Alright, let’s go say hi to the happy couple,” Shanks murmured, adjusting Luffy in his arms. She was still a little flushed from all the spinning, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling.

They crossed the venue slowly, weaving between groups of chatting guests, until they reached Nami and Pauly—still glowing, still radiant, still taking congratulations like seasoned politicians.

“Congratulations, you two,” Shanks said with a warm smile as they reached the newlyweds. “Beautiful ceremony. Can’t believe Pauly survived it.”

“Shanks! Mihawk! And—wait, is this her?” he asked, already beaming at Luffy. “This must be the famous daughter.”

“I'm Luffy and I'm three!” Luffy said proudly, reaching out to pat Pauly’s tie. “You look like cake.”

“I… thanks?” Pauly laughed, delighted.

Nami turned around—and immediately froze at the sight of Luffy.

“She’s gorgeous,” Nami said, practically vibrating. “Shanks, you have to let her model. I’m serious. That money face, those eyes—brands would fight over her.”

Shanks groaned softly. “Nami, please.”

“She could fund her own college education in like, two years max,” Nami added, already scheming. “I’m telling you, it’s easy money if you have the right look. Which she does.”

“Regrettably,” Mihawk cut in dryly, “there have already been inquiries. Some magazine editor asked for a portfolio. Remember, Shanks, last weekend you said I should let her model, when people still thought she were mine.”

Shanks glared at him. “Not helping.”

“She’s a walking brand,” Nami continued, crouching to Luffy’s level and taking her in like a jeweler appraising a flawless gem. “The cheeks. The eyes. The curls. You’re not using her. Why aren’t you using her?”

“I’m not using my child,” Shanks replied, baffled.

“You’re wasting potential!” Nami stood up, already in planning mode. “Have you seen the new winter collection from Little Miss Vicious? They’re desperate for kids who look interesting and not like AI renders. You give her a paper crown and a velvet cape? Boom. Holiday cover girl.”

Mihawk tilted his head, visibly considering it. “She could wear a crown.”

“Do not encourage this,” Shanks snapped.

Nami had already pulled out her phone. “I’m texting... No, wait, that woman who runs the baby cola campaign. You’ve seen the one with the baby dressed like a cherry? Luffy could do citrus. Tangerine realness.”

Luffy, who was now distractedly poking at one of Nami’s sparkling sequins, looked up with wide eyes. “I like cherries.”

“She speaks in branding opportunities,” Nami said, utterly delighted. “Do you think she can say ‘hydrating’?”

“No,” Luffy informed her.

“So she’s modest,” Nami whispered, impressed. “I love that.”

Shanks ran a hand over his face. “We came over to congratulate you, not build a media empire.”

“But why not both?” Nami asked, already typing furiously. “Do you know what kind of discounts you can get if you walk into stores with a child model? I once saw a woman get half off a purse just because her baby sneezed adorably. Luffy could bankrupt Gucci.”

“Please do not take my child to bankrupt Gucci.”

“We’ll start small. Vintage boutiques. Maybe a high-concept ice cream shop. I already know a stylist who wants to dress toddlers like seventies French pop stars.”

“She likes overalls with fish on them,” Mihawk offered.

“Minimal effort retro aesthetic. Perfect.”

Meanwhile, Luffy had been staring at Nami with huge, unblinking eyes. Her gaze was locked not on the woman’s face, but on the glittering gown she wore, which shimmered every time she moved. Her hands twitched like she wanted to touch it, but was holding herself back.

“That’s so sparkly,” she whispered, clearly in awe.

Nami grinned and bent down just slightly. “You like it?”

Luffy nodded solemnly. “I wanna get married too.”

The words dropped into the moment like a bomb.

Shanks and Mihawk both blinked—and then turned to look at her in perfect sync.

“Absolutely not,” they said together, deadpan and with zero hesitation.

Pauly burst out laughing so hard he had to grab Nami’s arm for balance. Even she smirked, holding up a hand as if to say, not my battle.

Luffy pouted. “Why not?”

Shanks kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk about it in thirty years.”

“Minimum,” Mihawk added, already steering the conversation elsewhere before Luffy could protest again.

Nami blinked, then smirked. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She’s got time to get scouted before the wedding.”

“I will fake my own death and move us into the woods,” Shanks muttered.

“And I’ll fund the lumber,” Mihawk said without missing a beat.

“I’ll still find you,” Nami chirped, already drafting a mock portfolio in her head. “She’s too pretty to be hidden. People will ask questions.”

Luffy looked between the adults, blinked once, then turned to Pauly with the earnest wisdom only a toddler could possess. “She's sparkly and loud.”

“I know,” Pauly said, grinning. “Isn’t it great?”

Shanks and Mihawk exchanged a look of pure disbelief as Nami whispered something about "sponsorship tiers" to herself and adjusted Luffy’s hair for “light capture.”

“But seriously,” Nami said, pivoting with purpose and her wine glass only half-full (a dangerous omen), “if you’re not going to let her do any commercial stuff, at least let her model for the city. We could use her for municipal campaigns.”

Shanks blinked. “Municipal—what now?”

“I’m the city treasurer, Shanks. Do you know how much we spend on photo assets every quarter? Stock images are a scam, and models charge by the hour. But this,” she gestured dramatically at Luffy, “this is authentic, local charm. She radiates civic engagement.”

Shanks raised a brow. “You want to use a three-year-old for propaganda?”

“She’s not propaganda, she’s branding,” Nami corrected. “Do you have any idea how much public sentiment shifts when a cute kid is involved? Picture this—Luffy in overalls, holding a watering can. Tagline: ‘Green City, Happy Future.’ Or she’s crossing the street—‘Stop. For Smiles.’ Or my personal favorite: little construction vest, tiny hard hat, big thumbs up: ‘Yes to Safer Roads.’ I am literally solving our PR crisis and trimming my budget.”

“She’s not even potty-trained without incentive snacks,” Shanks muttered, baffled.

“She’s got potential. I have to agree wholeheartedly,” Mihawk said, completely serious.

“I mean, just look at her,” Nami said, already reaching. “That dress? The hair? The glimmer in her eye that says ‘I know my public.’ She’s basically a campaign poster waiting to happen.”

Before either man could intervene, Nami had swept Luffy up like the city’s youngest asset and was striding towards the photographer with the efficiency of someone who regularly restructured annual budgets for fun.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Nami cooed. “You and I are going to build your portfolio. It's gonna be magical!”

Luffy, always down for any adventure with the word “magic” in it, squealed, “Do I get to pose like a superhero?”

“Absolutely,” Nami said. “But first? Adorable civic angel.”

The photographer, a woman who’d been quietly trying to snap candid guest moments, froze as Nami descended on her booth like a bejeweled storm front.

“I’m commandeering your services,” Nami declared. “This is Luffy Silvers—Mayor’s daughter. She’s three. Adorable. High energy. Possibly a future icon.”

“I—um—is this…?”

“You’ll want natural light, soft shadows,” Nami continued, guiding Luffy into position like a seasoned Vogue director. “And try to shoot slightly from below—it emphasizes her hero pose.”

Luffy struck something between a pirate and a daisy.

“She’s not even wearing pirate gear today,” Shanks mumbled as he and Mihawk finally caught up, watching helplessly.

“Nope,” Mihawk agreed, crossing his arms. “Just a blue dress. And the future of municipal marketing, apparently.”

As the camera clicked again and Luffy beamed with unfiltered joy, Nami turned her head slightly—just enough to side-eye Shanks, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the whole situation unfold like a man witnessing a coup in real time.

“You do remember you’re the mayor, right?” she said, casually brushing a strand of hair off Luffy’s shoulder. “Public perception matters. A daughter the city adores? That’s practically an electoral asset.”

Shanks groaned. “I didn’t bring her here to launch a political campaign.”

“Well, you didn’t not bring her here to do that either,” Nami shot back, all innocent smile and lethal intent. “You think your approval ratings won’t skyrocket after this wedding? You're a single dad who dances with his daughter in matching outfits and lets her pose for wholesome photos. Do you have any idea what kind of emotional mileage that gets us?”

“I have a rough idea,” Mihawk murmured beside him, phone still out, recording Luffy’s third pose.

“She’s not a political pawn,” Shanks tried again, weaker now.

“She’s a blessing,” Nami corrected. “Let the public fall in love with her and they’ll vote for you until you're in a retirement home with a bench named after you.”

Before Shanks could protest again, Nami crouched next to Luffy and asked brightly, “Sweetie, what do you love doing most?”

Luffy didn’t miss a beat.

“Being a pirate!” she chirped, throwing one fist in the air, nearly knocking over a light reflector.

Shanks sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well, yeah, she is a pirate, after all.”

Nami’s mouth twitched. “Right. Of course. What else?”

Luffy paused, thinking hard as she tilted her head, furrowing her brow. “Hmm...” She glanced up at Shanks. “What’s your job, Daddy?”

Shanks blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “Well, I’m the mayor, sweetie.”

Luffy scrunched up her face, clearly not satisfied. “No, no! The other one. Like Grandpa or Uncle Hawkey.”

Shanks chuckled, figuring it out. “Ah, I remember. You mean lawyer. Grandpa's a judge though.”

“Yeah!” Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “I'll be the best lawyer!”

Shanks stared at her for a moment, blinking in disbelief. “You still want to be a lawyer?”

Luffy nodded, completely serious, as she threw a fist in the air again. “The best!”

Nami, clearly amused by the turn of events, leaned in closer. “You know, we could totally use her for some campaigns—get her in front of the right photographers. The way she talks about being a lawyer? Marketable.”

Shanks shot her a look. “She’s not becoming a model, Nami.”

Luffy, caught up in her excitement, “But I’m also gonna be the best cheerleader! I already have the pom-poms!”

Shanks couldn’t help but laugh at that, though he still looked slightly concerned. “Alright, alright, cheerleading I can get behind. As long as she’s happy, and it’s something she wants to do, I’m in.”

Nami’s face lit up. “You’re really okay with it?”

“Sure,” Shanks said, shrugging. “If she’s gonna be a cheerleader, I’ll support it. It’s better than, I don’t know, getting her into modeling.”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “I’m gonna be the best cheerleader!”

Shanks gave her a proud smile. “That’s the spirit. Whatever makes you happy, kiddo.”

Nami raised an eyebrow, still scheming. “You know, I could take her out shopping for those cute little cheerleading outfits—maybe even get her some press photos. The city would love it.”

Shanks looked at her, half-sighing, half-smiling. “Absolutely not.”

“Just imagine the possibilities, Shanks,” Nami said, with a grin that was a mix of mischief and excitement. “She’s got the charm, the look, the energy. She could be a hit!”

Shanks just laughed and ruffled Luffy’s hair. “Cheerleading, yes. Your plans, no.”

Luffy beamed, not hearing the adults’ conversation at all. “I’m gonna be the best cheerleader!”

Rosinante had just taken a sip from his half-full glass when something shifted at the edge of the table, a quiet warning sign.

A tiny hand. Then a small foot.

And then, with all the determined wobble of a toddler on a mission, a tiny menace hoisted herself up onto a chair.

She stood unsteadily, still a little rumpled from her nap, dress askew, black curls wild. Her arms reached out for balance, eyes sweeping across the table.

Several officers went still. One actually flinched.

Law, who'd been poking at the condensation on his water glass, looked up and visibly stiffened. Luffy glanced at him, just a passing, blink-and-you-miss-it look, then dismissed him entirely in favour of far more important matters: untouched dessert.

There it was. A delicate cream puff tower, still pristine and glistening in the candlelight. Luffy’s eyes lit up.

“What the hell?” one of them muttered.

“Don’t. Move,” Rosinante said under his breath, like someone trying to avoid setting off a very cute, very sticky landmine.

With surprising speed for someone with marshmallow legs, Luffy grabbed a spoon, scrambled onto her knees, and began eating.

No plate. No hesitation. Just pure, joyous consumption. Between mouthfuls, she happily babbled to herself, the frosting making her cheeks puff out with every bite.

Luffy chewed with gusto, cheeks full and sticky fingers grabbing the next spoonful even before she'd swallowed the last. She was talking too, or trying to—through bites and frosting and unbothered confidence.

“Mm’brudders... sh’be here... but Daaaaddy said... Aunty Sparkly... no fun!” she mumbled through cake and cream, barely intelligible but clearly emotional about it.

She swallowed triumphantly and went on. “Love ‘em! Se’s... strrrng... an’ pwet’ an’ ’bo’s smar’... super smart... like maps-n-books-an-stuff an’ pwet’.”

Her eyes were shiny, lips sticky, her voice rising with passion between enthusiastic bites.

“An’ Daddy—Daddy’s the best! He’s the bestest Daddy ever-ever-EVER. I love Daddy!” She nodded hard, nearly tipping over, and caught herself with one syrupy hand on the table.

The dessert was rapidly disappearing.

“Unca Hawkey’s sooo coo’,” she mumbled through another sticky mouthful. “He’s got swo’ds an’... he’s, like, shiiiny.” She blinked slowly, chewing. “Lucky always laughs! He gots snaaacks. An’ Hongo—he’s sooo fast! An’ good at hide’n’seek!”

She paused, spoon hanging from her mouth, and looked up at the table of officers with wide, curious eyes.

“An’ Beck! He’s taaaall. I love all my Uncas. Dunno all the names. Love ‘em anyway.”

The officers were frozen mid-bite, some hiding their laughter behind napkins. Several exchanged looks—Hawkey, Lucky, Beck… these weren’t just nicknames. These were names. Of people. People they recognized.

A brave soul leaned in, grinning. “So, uh... how old are your brothers?”

Luffy blinked slowly. Then, with a mouth still halfway full and a dramatic gulp, she said, “Se’teen. Big big brudders.”

She gave a decisive nod, wiping her mouth with her wrist.

The table went still. The detective looked confused. Rosinante leaned over and murmured softly, “You’ve always been with them?”

Luffy turned to him, still chewing a bit, and nodded seriously, then dove right back into her bubbly rambling:

“Gonna be big an’ strong like dem! An’ smart! Like—like school but not boring! An’ I’ll be a cheer... cheerleaper? No, cheeeerleader!” She raised her arms above her head. The officers were biting their lips now, shoulders shaking with amusement.

One of them lifted a tentative hand. “Uh... Miss Silvers?” He gave her a soft smile. “I think I’ve met one of your uncles. Dr. Hongo Blonde?”

Luffy perked up instantly, face bright and alert.

“You know Uncle Hongo?! Is he doctor for reals?”

The officer chuckled. “He operated on my knee. He did an amazing job.”

Luffy’s whole face lit up with pride. “He’s the best!” she declared, a bit of powdered sugar clinging to her nose. “He’s my Uncle!”

“You’re very lucky,” the man said sincerely.

“Mhm!” Luffy grinned, puffing out her little chest proudly. “I got Grandpa too! He gave me my cheerleadin’ dress an’ sparkly pompoms. Grandpa an’ Hawkey picked it out!” She made a twirling motion with her arms, sending imaginary glitter into the air. “It goes shhhhhh—” she demonstrated with wiggling fingers, “—when I move! It’s so sparkly!”

She paused dramatically. “When I’m big I’ll cheer for everybody. Daddy. An’ my brudders. An’ all my Uncles!”

Smoker watched in baffled silence as the three-year-old demolished half the dessert with shocking efficiency while talking. When she finally seemed satisfied, she set the spoon down with exaggerated care. Then she turned toward Smoker, cheeks puffed out and sticky.

She pointed at him.

“Up!” she demanded, her voice slightly muffled.

Smoker blinked. “Me?”

She nodded. Repeated herself. “Up!”

There was no room for negotiation. Smoker sighed and stood up, stepping closer. He picked her up carefully, like she might spontaneously combust.

Luffy beamed and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, her little hands patting his shoulder like she was giving him reassurance. Then she pulled back just enough to look him square in the face and said, with great importance, “Smooookey Boaty. Dance?”

Half the table choked.

Rosinante was already dragging his phone out of his pocket. “You better say yes,” he murmured, not even looking up. “Because if you don’t, you might get blacklisted at restaurants, Orthopedic Surgery or actually lose your job.”

Smoker exhaled like a man heading for the gallows, then adjusted his hold on her.

“…Fine. Just, don’t tell anyone.”

Luffy giggled and gave a triumphant little bounce in his arms.

Too late.

Cameras were already rolling.

Shanks, from across the room at the bar, turned just in time to choke on his drink.

Mihawk didn’t even look up from his glass. “I owe you fifty,” he muttered calmly.

Shanks wheezed. “You bet she’d ignore him for the rest of the night!”

“I also bet he’d refuse,” Mihawk said. “I was clearly wrong on both counts.”

Back at the table, Smoker stared at Luffy like someone who’d just been hit with a very small, very sparkly meteor.

“I’m not—” he started, then sighed. Deeply.

Luffy grinned and wiggled her hips a little, clearly interpreting his hesitation as negotiation.

Rosinante sat back, blinking in disbelief.

“He's really doing it?” Law muttered.

“He’d let that kid lead him to war if she asked nicely,” Rosinante said, stunned admiration in his voice.

Smoker stopped at the foot of the table, Luffy on his hips. “You gonna get down so we don’t break anything.”

Luffy landed with a small “oof!” before immediately running onto the dance floor.

The music shifted, upbeat, a jazzy rhythm and Smoker, stiff at first, let her take the lead. She twirled dramatically, nearly falling, and he instinctively caught her hand before she could stumble. Then she laughed, bright and genuine and he exhaled through his nose, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his scarred face.

A few people applauded.

Luffy didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to teach Smoker how to “wiggle like Daddy” while twirling in tight circles and humming along with the music.

Shanks, doubled over at the bar, wiped tears from his eyes.

“She’s doing the ‘sparkle cannon twirl’,” he wheezed. “He’s gonna die.”

“I think he’s managing,” Mihawk said dryly, though even he had a ghost of a smile.

Back at the table, Rosinante watched quietly, the earlier tension still settling in his shoulders. Then he shook his head, smiled faintly, and reached for his coffee again.

“Gotta admit,” he murmured to no one in particular, “she’s got good instincts.”

Chapter Text

Sengoku sat on the couch, idly nipping on his drink. Garp was across from him, boots up on the coffee table, half a glass of scotch forgotten in his hand.

They both looked up as the front door opened.

Law stepped inside, shoulders stiff. Rosinante followed, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d just walked through a very polite war zone.

“You look tense,” Sengoku muttered.

“We had a… complication,” Rosinante said.

Garp squinted. “What kind?”

Rosinante exhaled, already unzipping his coat. “Well. There was a girl.”

That made Sengoku glance up. “What kind of girl?”

Law shot Rosinante a sharp look. Rosinante ignored him and plucked a bottle of water from the fridge. “Silvers.”

Sengoku closed his eyes and said something under his breath that might have included the words “not again” and “red-haired menace.”

“Little girl,” Rosinante continued. “Real young. Maybe four or younger... or older, I don't know. Danced with Smoker, ate the not touched desserts on our table, declared she wanted to be a cheerleader and told Law he looked cool. Not necessarily in that order.”

Sengoku blinked. “And?”

Law muttered something that was not intelligible.

Rosinante sighed. “Law responded with: ‘You look like a spoiled little princess who doesn’t know pain.’”

Garp’s glass paused mid-sip.

“She nearly cried,” Rosinante added.

Sengoku put down his glass slowly. “Why, Law?”

“Because he’s emotionally constipated, dad,” Rosinante said flatly. “And thought giving a probably four-year-old a lecture on the futility of innocence was a productive move.”

Law didn’t look at either of them. “I said she doesn’t have real problems.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Sengoku snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “She’s a toddler!”

There was a silence. Then Garp let out a low chuckle and said, “So what happened next?”

“Dracule Mihawk,” Rosinante said, lips twitching like he couldn’t decide if the memory was horrifying or hilarious, “looked at Law and said he should consider, and I quote: ‘whether your impulsive bitterness might someday have consequences for the people who care about you.’”

Law flinched slightly, but didn’t interrupt.

Rosinante went on, more amused now. “And Silvers? Just held the girl tight and told her not to listen. Called her perfect and said Law would bite his own ass about this in fifteen years.”

Sengoku snorted, then immediately caught himself. “And this girl… she’s Shanks’ daughter?”

“Yes. Miss Silvers,” Rosinante said. “That’s what Smoker called her. That’s all we got. She talked a lot. About her dad, her brothers, her uncles. Said her brothers were both seventeen. Strong and smart. Kept going on about her grandma and grandpa and her sparkly cheerleader outfit.”

He pulled out his phone and flipped to a photo, holding it out.

It was the girl mid-laugh in Smoker’s arms, icing smeared on her cheek, grinning like someone who’d never been told ‘no’ in her life.

Garp leaned forward to look. He stared at the image for a long time. His face didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted. “She reminds me of someone.”

Rosinante glanced at him. “Your son?”

Garp didn’t respond.

Sengoku set down his cup. “So. Now what?”

Law didn’t answer, but the tension in his shoulders made it clear he was thinking the same thing.

Rosinante sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We need to apologize.”

“To Shanks?” Sengoku said, scandalized.

“To the child, dad. Come on, I know you detest them but be smart for once,” Rosinante corrected. 

“And how exactly do we do that?” Sengoku asked. “Send flowers? Glitter glue? What’s the etiquette for not emotionally crushing poor a Silvers heir?”

Garp hummed. “Cookies.”

Sengoku gave him a look.

Garp shrugged. “Little girls like cookies and she looks like a glutton.”

Rosinante chuckled. “I mean, she did eat an entire tower of cream puffs.”

Law finally spoke, low and reluctant. “I could write something.”

Sengoku raised a brow. “A letter?”

“Great idea! A drawing,” Rosinante suggested. “Make it cute. Maybe a teddy bear and a sad apology bubble. And glitter stickers.”

Law looked like he wanted to die.

Rosinante grinned. “Hey, that's better than facing Dracule again who seems to love this child very much. Right?”

They all fell quiet again for a moment, the photo still lit on Rosinante’s phone.

Garp looked at it one more time, then stood, drink forgotten. “I’m going home.”

“You good?” Sengoku asked, watching him go.

“Yeah,” Garp muttered. “Just… thinking.”

He didn’t say what about.

Didn’t say that the girl’s face was still sharp in his mind. Didn’t say how much her smile looked like someone else’s. Or that her eyes reminded him of someone long gone.

The knock was sharp—three precise raps on the polished wood of the office door.

Shanks looked up from the stack of reports on his desk, one eyebrow quirking. His first appointment wasn’t due in for another hour.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened, and for a split second, Shanks’ expression flickered into surprise. Then it settled into something unreadable.

“Commissioner Monkey D. Garp,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t think I’d see you here without a wall being punched in first.”

“I had an appointment made,” Garp said gruffly, stepping into the room with a deliberate sort of calm. “Figured your admin would appreciate not being shouted at.”

Shanks chuckled. “She would, very considerate of you. Want to sit?”

Garp didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled something out—a flat, neatly wrapped package.

He placed it on Shanks’ desk without a word.

Shanks stared at it for a moment, then back up at Garp. “What’s this?”

Garp exhaled through his nose. “A peace offering.”

Shanks’ eyes narrowed just a touch. “You’re here about my daughter.”

"I was at Senny’s place last week," Garp said casually. "Ran into that weird brat squad. The younger one looked like he’d aged ten years in just a week."
He let out a breath, shaking his head. "Went by Senny’s again yesterday. Told them I’d be seeing the mayor today. The little shit looked like he’d seen an angel—so damn relieved he didn’t have to show up himself." Garp snorted. "He gave me this to bring you. I picked out the cookies myself, though—don’t tell them."

Shanks smirked.

Garp didn’t smile back. “He felt bad.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, then slowly picked up the package.

“He drew something?” Shanks asked dryly, already unwrapping it.

“He did,” Garp replied. “Rosinante made him.”

The wrapping came off in one smooth pull, revealing a piece of stiff, high-grade art paper. A drawing was scrawled in thick, uneven colored pencil: A tiny, grinning stick-figure version of Luffy in a sparkly cheerleader outfit with pompoms, standing atop a glittery cupcake tower. Next to her was a grumpy cartoon Law with big round eyes, holding a sign that said “SORRY” in all caps. The words “LITTLE KIDS ARE COOL, ACTUALLY” were written across the top in shaky lettering.

Shanks stared at it.

“…He drew the pompoms,” he muttered after a beat, surprised.

“He did his homework,” Garp said, then crossed his arms. “If she doesn’t like it, feel free to tell Senny yourself. But between us, the little asshat looked like he’d rather get stabbed in the liver than show up in person. It was hilarious.”

Shanks stared another moment longer.

Then, he laughed.

It started low in his chest, then grew until he was wheezing, setting the drawing down gently on his desk like it was a priceless relic. “I’ll hang it in her room. She’s gonna love this.”

Garp only grunted.

Shanks stood and turned towards the wide window behind him, watching the city lights shimmer. “She didn’t cry after that,” he said softly, almost like he was admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else. “But the next morning, she asked if she looked weird. It took the whole family to convince her she wasn’t a monster before she finally believed us.”

Garp’s jaw tightened, just slightly. After a beat, he broke the silence, voice gruff but quieter now. “So… you have a daughter.”

Shanks didn’t turn right away. He just smiled to himself, eyes on the sea. “Yeah. She's probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

There was something warm, something deep in the way he said it.

Garp glanced over. “She always like that? Making a mess?”

That made Shanks chuckle. He turned, walked back to the desk. “She’s… herself. She's the sun and we all orbit around her,” he said, lifting up a frame from his desk. “This was at the wedding.”

He handed it over.

Garp took the photo carefully, gaze dropping.

It was Shanks in a blue suit, smiling lazily with his arm around a tiny girl in a matching blue dress, black curls tumbling wild down her back. She was beaming, all teeth and stars in her eyes, one hand in his, the other raised into the air. Shanks was looking at her, not the camera, like she was the only thing that mattered.

Garp stared at the picture for a long time.

“She reminds you of Dragon?” Shanks asked casually, leaning back on the edge of the desk.

Garp didn’t look up.

“No,” he said finally. “She reminds me of someone else.”

He turned the photo slowly, studying every inch. “I knew a little girl once,” he murmured. “Tiny thing. Full of light. The kind you spend your whole life trying to protect.” His voice dropped even further. “Didn’t get the chance. She died before she even had the chance to grow up.”

There was a pause.

Shanks tilted his head slightly. Something in his expression shifted.

“My daughter’s three,” he said softly. “Her name is Silvers Luffy.”

Garp’s head shot up so fast it was like someone had struck him. His eyes locked on Shanks, wide. Disbelieving. Almost wild, furious. 

Shanks met the look calmly. Seeing the chaos just behind Garp’s silence, he stood again, this time walking over to a small table where his coat was draped. He dug into the pocket, pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and walked back.

He turned the screen toward Garp.

“This is them,” Shanks said, voice quiet. “My three kids. Silvers Ace, Silvers Sabo… and Silvers Luffy.”

The photo on the screen was candid, taken in a garden. Luffy in a mud-covered dress, sitting cross-legged between the two teenagers with matching wild hair, all three of them mid-laugh. Sabo was holding a book, Ace had a popsicle stuck to his cheek and Luffy was wearing a foam crown like she’d declared herself royalty.

Garp didn’t speak. He didn’t blink either.

His hands lowered slowly, and he looked at the picture like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

Then, without warning, he started to cry. Not loud, not shaking, but sudden. Silent tears trailing down scarred cheeks, eyes fixed to the screen like it was something sacred.

Shanks didn’t say anything. He just stood there with him, letting the moment happen.

Garp’s fingers were trembling as they clutched the edge of the chair, knuckles white. His eyes were still on the phone, but they didn’t seem to be seeing the image anymore, just ghosts behind it.

“She’s... my granddaughter,” he rasped, as if saying it made it real. “Dragon’s kid.”

Shanks didn’t react, but his silence was louder than any words.

Garp went on, voice thick and uneven. “Her mother is a criminal I guess, but I didn't ask. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want the details.” He let out a bitter breath. “Didn’t want to look too long at what mess Dragon had left behind for me to clean up.”

Shanks stayed quiet, arms crossed, gaze steady.

“Ace…” Garp said after a long moment, his voice raw, “He is the son of someone just as hated. A name that weights even heavier than my son’s Alias. And I…” He trailed off for a second, then pressed on. “I thought I could do something. Maybe not right by them—but something. But when I left them there, in that slum, it wasn’t meant to be forever.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked at Shanks then, pleading, like there might still be a version of this where he didn’t have to say it aloud.

But Shanks’s expression didn’t soften. His voice came cool and sharp.

“You didn’t leave her,” he said. “You abandoned her. Ace too. You dropped them in hell and what? Told yourself they’d be strong enough to crawl out? One of them nearly didn’t make it and the other… hates you for it.”

"No, I started looking right after," he admitted. "I was never gonna leave them there—I knew I couldn’t. But I knew someone. A young woman, her father was an old comrade of mine before he opened a bar. Good people. No ties to bloodlines or enemies. I was planning to ask her to take them both. If that didn’t work out, I would have asked her to take the girl at least. Just Luffy. Then I would’ve found another place for Ace. The people I left them with kept pressuring me to finally take them away."

Shanks’s brows knit slightly, but he didn’t speak.

“I never got the chance,” Garp continued quietly. “By the time I got there, I’d already gotten the message. The people I left her with said she was gone. They told me Ace took her. Said he’d probably sell her off for money, maybe to traffickers. That she was as good as gone. Not their problem anymore.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “And I believed them.” He closed his eyes, breath shaking. “They said she wouldn’t survive long anyway. Too small. Too soft. And I believed it. Telling myself she hadn’t made it… it hurt less than believing she might be out there, suffering.”

His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Because that was easier.”

Garp dragged a shaking hand down his face. “She was barely a baby. I shouldn’t’ve left her there. I knew it wasn’t right—knew it when I walked away.”

Shanks’s voice was low. “You’re lucky Ace was there and saved her, she was days from starving.”

Garp nodded miserably. “Yeah.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Shanks said then, quiet but firm, “she doesn’t know about you. Or Dragon. And she doesn’t need to. She’s mine. And she’s happy.”

“I’m not going to take her from you,” Garp said, voice hollow. “I know I don’t deserve even to ask.”

Shanks turned back to him, his gaze still measured. “Only three people know she's your family. Me and my parents. Ace knows your face so he might figure it out sooner or later. And that’s how it’ll stay. She’s my daughter. She’s loved and she’s happy. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

He leaned forward a little, voice low and razor-sharp. “But if the truth did come out… if anyone ever dug up the adoption trial records, the only thing they’d find is that two of the kids had been left with known thugs and criminal neglect. No names. Just pain. The system almost failed them completely.”

Garp gave a trembling nod, wiping at his face roughly, like he could scrub the emotion away. “And she’s got two brothers?”

“Ace and the other one's Sabo,” Shanks said, with a flicker of a smile. “They adore her. She’s their whole world.”

Garp gave a hoarse laugh, then looked at the picture again. “Of course she is.”

“I just…” he started, then stopped. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

“She’s more than okay,” Shanks said gently, voice softening as he glanced toward the photo again. “She's my whole world, too.”

Garp stared at the photo again, tears dripping silently down his cheeks again.

“If...” he mumbled finally. “But… if she ever asks, if she ever wants to know, will you tell her about me?”

Shanks hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “If she asks… I’ll tell her she had a grandfather who made terrible choices. But who loved her. Eventually.”

Garp exhaled shakily.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Shanks didn’t smile. But his voice softened. “You’re welcome.”

Then, after a beat, he added, “But if you want even a chance at being part of her life, it’s going to be on her terms. And especially Ace’s. You don’t get to ask anything of them.”

Garp nodded. “I understand.”

Garp bowed his head, not from shame, but from something that looked an awful lot like gratitude—his eyes drifting once more to the girl with the foam crown, as if he were silently asking for a second chance.

“Mayor Si—fuck it! Shanks, brat... can you send me that photo?” he asked, his tone low, almost hesitant. “The one with your kids. Please.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, that familiar, smug grin tugging at his lips. There was something knowing in his eyes, like he already knew the answer.

“Sure thing,” he said, voice casual, but with that edge of satisfaction. “But you’ll have to save your number first. That way, I can send it to you immediately.”

Garp’s lips tightened as he typed in his info, muttering under his breath. “Thanks…”

His hands felt heavy as he typed, still trying to absorb everything. Ace wasn’t the villain he thought he was. And Luffy, his granddaughter, had been saved, was loved and cherished by Shanks in ways he never could’ve imagined. It made the old police man feel smaller than ever before.

After a long moment, he handed the phone over with a quiet sigh. “Here.”

Shanks didn’t say anything for a second, simply taking the phone with that trademark smirk. Without a moment’s delay, he sent the picture straight to Garp’s phone.

“You’ll have it in a second,” Shanks said, his tone light and playful.

“Thanks,” Garp murmured, his voice almost a whisper now. He looked at the picture again, unable to hold back the quiet breath that caught in his throat.

Garp’s hands were still shaking as he stared at the photo on his phone, the image of Luffy surrounded by her brothers. His throat felt tight, and he had to swallow hard to keep his composure. There was so much he hadn't known, so much he hadn't even considered, about Ace, about Luffy.

“I never… I didn’t know,” Garp mumbled, barely audible, his voice rough and small.

Shanks, standing across from him, let the silence linger for a beat before his expression softened just a touch. He tapped something on his phone and before Garp could say anything, another picture appeared on the screen.

It was Luffy again, this time with a toy ship in her hands, looking just as bright and confident as ever. 

“Here,” Shanks said quietly, his voice almost gentler than before. “This one was from the wedding. Nami insisted on doing a setcard for Luffy. Completely unnecessary, but Luffy loved it.”

Garp’s eyes grew misty again as he looked at the photo, his heart a mix of tenderness and guilt. The last time he had seen Luffy, he had thought of her as nothing more than a helpless newborn lost in the world, abandoned. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes once more. He clenched his fist around the phone, his breath shallow.

“Shanks,” he choked, his voice thick. “I… I’m sorry. I should’ve done more. I—”

Shanks let out a soft sigh and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a glass. He poured a scotch, the amber liquid shimmering in the low light of the office, and then set the glass in front of Garp.

“You’re gonna need this, old man,” Shanks said, his voice calm but with that familiar, knowing smirk. “Don’t apologise. You can’t change what’s happened. Just start fresh.”

Garp stared at the glass for a moment, hands trembling, before slowly lifting it to his lips and taking a small sip. It burned, but in a way, it was grounding, something real amidst the turmoil of his emotions.

Shanks glanced at the clock on the wall, then sat down across from Garp, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms and let the moment settle before speaking again, his voice taking on a deeper, more reflective tone.

“I met Luffy when...” Shanks began reminiscing, his gaze distant, as he told Garp about his kids.

Garp nodded slowly, listening to every word Shanks tells him. His body heavy with the weight of the truth. “I’ll try to make it up to them,” he said, voice tight with emotion.

Shanks smiled faintly. “I know you will. Just one thing, Ace's interested in martial arts though. Brace yourself when you meet again.”

The morning sun was just beginning to stretch across the courtyard of the Shimotsuki Dojo, casting long shadows across the old stones. The wooden gates creaked as Mihawk pushed them open, and Ace stepped in behind him, stretching out his sore shoulders with a low grunt. The air smelled like dew, fresh-cut bamboo, and tradition.

It was almost peaceful.

“RAAAAAAARGH!”

A small green-haired child came screaming across the dojo yard, barefoot and furious, wooden sword raised high like he was leading a battlefield charge. He bolted between Ace’s legs with the chaotic grace of a squirrel on espresso.

Ace jumped back. “What the—?!”

Mihawk didn’t even flinch. He took a long sip of his coffee.

“That’s Zoro,” he said calmly, like a man describing the weather. “The sensei adopted him. Some distant family line or other. He's been here ever since. And also... the absolute bane of my existence.”

Ace turned, watching the small hurricane of child try to chop a tree in half with a bokken. “How old is he?”

“Not even five,” Mihawk said flatly. “Next month. He has two speeds: fight and sleep. And he only does one of them willingly.”

Zoro, mid-swing, tripped over his own feet, faceplanted, bounced back up, and immediately attacked a nearby broom.

“He’s like Luffy,” Mihawk added, “but backwards. All fight, no glitter. All chaos, no choreography and not adorable at all.”

Ace laughed under his breath. “So basically: unarmed Luffy is still more dangerous because of cuteness?”

“Exactly.”

The sliding doors to the dojo opened, and a man in a navy blue gi stepped out. The beginner instructor bowed. “You must be Ace. Come on in. We’ll start slow.”

Ace followed him in with a suspicious look at the neatly polished wooden floors and very intimidating racks of bokken lining the wall.

Forty minutes later, “start slow” was a lie.

Ace was soaked in sweat, legs shaking, hands cramping from gripping the practice sword. His hair stuck to his face, and he swore his bones were vibrating.

Kendo was no joke.

Mihawk, now seated in the corner with his arms crossed, watched every move with the quiet intensity of a hawk assessing prey. He didn’t speak much. Just nodded when Ace made a good block. Frowned when his footwork slipped. Occasionally muttered things like “not terrible” or “you’d already be unconscious.”

Every time Ace looked over, Mihawk looked less like a semi-professional swordsman and more like a proud, extremely judgy uncle.

During a water break, Ace limped out into the courtyard and all but collapsed on the bench outside. He dragged his sleeve across his face and groaned, “Why did I think this would be fun?”

From inside the dojo, he could still hear the steady rhythm of swords clashing as the next beginner pair took the floor. Mihawk was talking with the instructor now, voice low and calm, probably suggesting terrifying new drills.

Ace took a long drink from his water bottle.

A shadow fell over the bench.

He looked over just in time to see Zoro hop up beside him, plopping down like a tiny sack of rocks. His bokken rested across his lap, and his brow was furrowed in intense thought.

“You wanna fight?” Zoro asked without preamble.

Ace let out a dry laugh. “No thanks, kid. I’ve gotta play pirates with my little sister later.”

Zoro blinked. “That’s so childish.”

Ace gave him a sidelong look. “She’s three. It’s like her full-time passion. Why not? Monday to Friday she’s playing pirates and treasure hunting in kindergarten. On weekends, the family gets roped into all her adventures.”

Zoro looked genuinely confused. “What kind of kindergarten lets you play pirates?”

Ace grinned, softening. “A really good one. Her name’s Luffy. She’s probably the best person you’ll ever meet—maybe. She used to be in one where everything was rules and routines. Now, according to my dad, her days are just snacks, naps, and chaos. Sometimes glitter. Definitely some unexplainable bruises.”

Zoro stared at him, wide-eyed, like Ace had just described an alternate universe. “…You’re making that up.”

“I swear I’m not. She’s wild.”

Zoro was quiet for a beat. “I think I wanna meet her.”

“You’d probably like her. You could swordfight while she screams battle cries and rides a cardboard dragon and twirls her new pompoms.”

“She has a dragon?!”

“Only on weekends.”

Zoro nodded seriously, like this all checked out.

Before he could say more, the dojo door slid open again.

“Ace!” the instructor called. “Let’s go—next round.”

Ace groaned dramatically and got to his feet. “I’m dying.”

Zoro looked up. “You gonna fight better this time?”

Ace gave him a lopsided smile. “Let’s hope so. I’ve got a pirate raid at noon.”

He disappeared back inside, leaving Zoro sitting on the bench with a furrowed brow, poking the dirt with his sword.

“…I wanna play pirates.”

Two weeks after Ace’s first training session, the day finally arrived for Luffy to accompany him to the dojo. The bright morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Rayleigh, with his trademark smirk, walked Luffy toward the Shimotsuki Dojo, her tiny, bouncy figure almost outpacing him with her infectious energy.

“You ready, princess?” Rayleigh asked, glancing down at the girl bouncing next to him, clutching her pom-poms like they were the most important things in the world.

“YEAH!” Luffy squealed with an enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster. “I’m gonna be the best cheerleader ever, grandpa!”

Rayleigh chuckled. “I’m sure you will be. Let’s get you introduced to everyone, then.”

As they walked through the dojo’s sliding doors, the sound of wooden practice swords clashing and feet shuffling on tatami mats greeted them. Ace was already there, practicing his stances with the instructor, sweat glistening on his forehead as he focused. He didn’t notice them immediately, so Luffy waved her pom-poms wildly in the air, as though announcing her grand entrance to the whole dojo.

“HI EVERYONE! I’M LUFFY! I’M GONNA BE A CHEERLEADER!” she announced, proudly standing in the middle of the room, her voice carrying across the space.

Rayleigh, standing just behind her, could only shake his head with a fond smile. He knew Luffy well enough to know her antics were never far behind. As the students paused in their training and the adults in the room took notice of the small, cheerful girl, Rayleigh approached one of the older instructors, an elder with silver hair, and a calm demeanor.

“Rayleigh! Is this... is this your granddaughter?” the elderly man asked, eyeing Luffy with a curious but warm gaze.

Rayleigh puffed his chest out proudly. “Indeed, she is,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Luffy, Ace, and Sabo—they’re my grandchildren. Ace's over there, training hard I see. Sabo’s not here today, but these two are enough trouble to keep me busy.”

The instructor gave a knowing smile as his eyes traveled to Luffy, who was now attempting to swing her pom-poms in a circle. “Well, I’ll say this—she’s definitely his daughter.” He chuckled under his breath, looking back at Luffy, who was currently in the middle of a loud "woohoo!" and waving her pom-poms around as if she had just won a championship.

The murmurs of the other students spread quickly, and soon enough, the room was filled with soft, amused whispers.

Luffy’s energy was unmistakable, and as she danced around, there was no denying the resemblance to her father. She wasn’t just full of energy, she exuded the same unpredictable, lively spirit that made Shanks the figure he was and the dojo slowly began to realise it.

Ace, who had been watching Luffy with a slight smirk, walked over to his grandfather, standing near the edge of the dojo.

“Did she seriously just walk in here, announce she’s a cheerleader, and start swinging those pom-poms around?” Ace muttered, still holding his practice sword.

Rayleigh smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What? Not the usual dojo entrance? Luffy doesn’t do things by halves, Ace. She’s got your dad’s heart and spirit, after all.”

Suddenly, Luffy, in a fit of excitement, ran up to Zoro, who had been training in a corner with his usual scowl. She stopped right in front of him, still waving her pom-poms in his face.

“Hey, you! Wanna be a cheerleader too?” Luffy asked brightly, her eyes wide with excitement.

Zoro blinked at her, taken aback by her sudden appearance. He was a bit older than Luffy—about to turn five—but his gruff demeanor made him seem even older.

“What?” he asked, sounding like he’d just been hit by a flying battle-axe.

Luffy grinned even wider. “You just have to swing the pom-poms and shout with me! We’re gonna be awesome!”

Zoro stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to react. Ace was watching from a distance, still chuckling to himself. He’d told Luffy the dojo was fun, but this was a whole new level.

“What’s the point of waving pom-poms around?” Zoro asked, folding his arms.

Luffy pouted a little and held up the pom-poms in front of him. “You have to do it for fun! You know, like this!” She proceeded to twirl in a circle again, her pom-poms flying in all directions. “WOOHOO!”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was more confused or amazed by how much energy this tiny person had. The dojo, meanwhile, was starting to realize just how much she was like her father—not in looks, but in personality. Luffy’s loud, vibrant attitude was a perfect reflection of Shanks’ youthful exuberance.

“She’s just like him,” one of the older students whispered, watching Luffy now drag Zoro into her impromptu cheer routine.

"Yeah, no doubt," another one replied, shaking his head. "She’s got that same... presence."

The dojo instructor, watching the scene unfold, turned to Rayleigh and smiled knowingly.

“It reminds me of Shanks and Mihawk when they were young,” the instructor said, chuckling as he looked at the two tiny troublemakers.

Rayleigh smirked, nodding. “Yes, the more things change, the more they stay the same."

Luffy’s cheerleading routine, whether Zoro liked it or not, became the most entertaining spectacle the dojo had seen in weeks. And as the morning went on, even the most serious of practitioners couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes and quiet laughs as the little girl spun and kicked, pulling them all into her whirlwind of joy.

It was the evening of November 11th, and the Shimotsuki Dojo was winding down for the night. The sun had already dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows over the courtyard, and most students had either gone home or were packing up their gear.

The peaceful air was promptly shattered by the front doors flying open with a dramatic BANG.

“I’M HEREEEE!” Luffy’s voice rang through the dojo like a tiny, extremely cheerful war horn.

She stormed in, pom-poms bouncing in her backpack.

“ZORO!! ZORO!!” she called, spinning in the middle of the dojo, scanning left and right like a storm looking for its target. “I HAVE A SONG FOR YOUUUU!”

Behind her, slightly out of breath and already waving at the first few stunned instructors, came none other than Shanks—barefoot, coat half-on, hair windblown, grinning like a man dragged into chaos by love, like he’d lost all control of his life but enjoyed that.

Shanks gave a helpless shrug to the instructor by the door, mouthing a sheepish "...sorry..."

It took the room three seconds to process the redhead at the door.

“…No way,” someone whispered.
“Is that—?”
“Oh my god, he is real.”

Students and instructors alike straightened up, and a few of the older swordsmen gave subtle nods, recognising him not just as Prosecutor or Mayor Silvers, but as Shanks. The red-haired prodigy whose pictures are still on the wall. The man who used to duel Mihawk everyday, for fun.

“Evening, everyone,” Shanks said with a wink.

A few of the elders chuckled and returned the gesture. “Nice of you to drop by, kid. Your old man was here not too long ago,” one called.

Luffy, completely unaware of the ripple her dad’s presence had caused, had already stormed deeper into the room. She twirled dramatically and began a personalized musical rendition of “Happy Birthday,” complete with off-key shouting and rhythmic stomps that had absolutely nothing to do with the beat.

“Happy birthday to Zo-ho-rooo!
He’s strong and grumpy toooo!
He’s gonna be five nowwww!
And I brought gifts for youuuu!”

Before anyone could recover, she found her target—Zoro, who had just exited the side hallway with a towel slung around his shoulders.

The buzz in the dojo turned from nostalgia to mild panic.

“She brought pom-poms again.”
“Get the good mats, she’s gonna stage a musical.”

Shanks stifled a laugh as Luffy spun around in a wide circle, holding a giant, glitter-stickered box that was almost half her size in both arms.

“There you are!” Luffy cried in triumph. She plopped the box down in front of him with the pride of someone delivering royal treasure. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZORO!”

Zoro blinked, frozen in place. “…Thanks?”

Before he could even attempt to respond properly, a girl with sharp eyes and confident steps walked over. She looked to be a bit older than Zoro, maybe seven or eight, and she regarded Luffy with interest. “You must be Luffy,” she said. “Zoro’s talked soooo much about you. I’m Kuina. Zoro’s sister. Adopted. Doesn’t matter. He's stupid either way.”

Luffy’s face lit up like a supernova. “I’m Luffy! I’m three years old and that’s my daddy!” she announced proudly, pointing at Shanks like he was a rock star and not currently leaning against the wall, rubbing his temple and trying not to laugh.

Kuina glanced over—and blinked. “Wait. That’s your dad?”

Shanks gave a mock bow. “The one and only.”

Zoro, meanwhile, had started unwrapping the gift. Inside the sparkly box was a foam Kendo practice sword—clearly handmade—with the grip wrapped in purple and green glitter tape, and tiny red stars drawn all over the blade. It looked absurd. It also looked kind of awesome.

“…Thank you,” Zoro said, holding it up and turning it over in his hands, completely unsure how to process what was happening.

Behind him, Shanks broke into a loud, amused laugh. “Now you don’t have to just dance with her, kid. You can fight her too.”

Luffy beamed, practically vibrating with pride as Zoro examined the glitter-grip.

Kuina leaned over to get a better look and grinned. “Honestly, it’s a pretty good idea.”

Zoro, cheeks slightly pink, glanced sideways at his sister.

Shanks, noticing the flicker of bashfulness, crouched down beside him. “Don’t worry, kiddo. That’s not your only gift.”

He held out a small envelope. Zoro blinked and took it, turning it over in his hands.

Inside were five colourful cards, all signed in bright crayon handwriting: 'LUPY ARPOWD'. Each one had a tiny drawing of Mihawk and Zoro fighting, or possibly just yelling. One had a shark with a sword for some reason.

“There’s five fight vouchers in there,” Shanks said, grinning. “All redeemable for duels with Mihawk. I had to bribe him with wine and guilt. Luffy signed them all herself.”

Zoro stared at the vouchers, eyes wide. His hands were practically trembling.

“Against Mihawk…?” he whispered, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yup,” Shanks said, proud and smug and full of chaos. “One-on-one. Supervised, obviously. But still—you versus the legend.”

Zoro’s entire body seemed to buzz. If he had been capable of flying into orbit from sheer joy, this would’ve been the moment. He clutched the envelope like it held the One Piece itself.

“You’re welcome,” Luffy said with a grin, then poked him in the chest with one of her pom-poms.

The following Saturday, another child arrived at the dojo—a gentle, pink-haired boy named Koby. At first glance, he couldn’t have been more different from Luffy's new friend Zoro.

Where Zoro was intense, Koby was cautious. Where Zoro dove headfirst, Koby checked the water twice.

But somehow, with Luffy bouncing between them like a living firecracker, the trio clicked into place like puzzle pieces. They fought, they trained, they argued, they laughed—within a month, the dojo couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t a trio.
Zoro brought the fire. Koby brought the balance. Luffy brought the chaos. And together, they worked like a crew that had already seen a hundred seas.

It didn’t take long before weekends turned into a rotating schedule. Some days they spent at the dojo, others at Luffy’s home, and often with Rayleigh and Shakky, who never minded the extra noise.

Dr. Kobato was more than a little grateful for it; it gave her time to recover from hospital shifts and, more importantly, the comfort of knowing that Koby was surrounded by people who saw his heart before his nerves. He was still awkward, still hesitant, but he was learning to defend himself, even if it was clumsy, even if he stumbled through every block. That alone made his mother tear up more than once on her walk home.

There was music, food, dancing, shouting, more food, and at least three people who had declared themselves “King of the Grill.” Someone had set off fireworks early, Rayleigh had fallen asleep on a beanbag with a sparkler still in hand, and Lucky Roux had somehow ended up with glitter stars duct-taped to his back. Luffy had weaponized confetti.

By the time midnight rolled around, the whole family had gathered in a big, mismatched circle in the backyard—blankets, lawn chairs, even a hammock someone dragged in last-minute. Shanks had Luffy curled against his chest, sparkler in one hand, juice in the other. Sabo was coaching Franky on how to launch a proper firework with only minimal threat to life and limb. Someone was singing.

“Three! Two! One!”

BOOM.

The sky lit up with fireworks. Cheers exploded. Glasses clinked. Laughter rang out through the warm night.

And then, right on cue:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ACE!”

The chorus came from every corner of the yard—loud, loving, chaotic. Ace was immediately buried under a pile of hugs, slaps on the back, and way too many gifts. Someone shoved a slice of cake into his hand. Someone else tried to light the candles with a blowtorch.

He laughed, bashfully at first, flushed and warm from the attention—but as the noise settled, as the circle slowly turned toward him again with open smiles and expectant eyes, he felt his heart start to hammer.

Now or never.

He stepped forward, shifting awkwardly. His palms were sweating. His voice came out too fast.

“…There’s something I wanna say.”

The music softened. All eyes turned to him.

“I’m—” he swallowed. “I’m gay. . And if—if anyone here has a problem with that, it’s fine, I can go. I’ve lived on my own before. I’ll figure it out. You don’t—”

“What’s that mean?” Luffy asked, blinking up at him, brow furrowed.

Ace blinked. “It means I like men. Not women.”

Luffy’s brow furrowed deeper. “Like… Sabo?”

“NO,” Ace choked, nearly spilling his drink. “Not Sabo! He’s my brother. So are you! Ew! No. Other men. Men who are not family!”

Luffy tilted her head. “Okay.” And looked back to Shanks, "Can I have a snack now?"

And just like that, the tension broke.

Shanks let out a soft breath and ruffled her hair. “Ace, do you really think I give a fuck? Sorry, Anchor. Swear jar. That one was important.”

Luffy giggled, reaching towards the candy bar Shanks pulled from his coat pocket.

Hongo raised a hand. “Did Shanks already give you the talk, or do I need to draw diagrams?”

Ace looked horrified. “NO. OH MY GOD—NO.”

Beckman leaned over, amused. “So. You seeing anyone?”

Ace flushed immediately. “I—what?!”

Sabo—vibrating with energy—jumped to his feet and yelled: “I KNEW IT!”

“I have a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, cheeks burning. “His name’s Deuce.”

Shanks raised a brow, casual as ever. “Then invite him,” he said, settling Luffy more comfortably in his lap. “If you want. Your sister could use a new playmate. Or victim.”

He didn’t even look up, just stroked Luffy’s hair while she clutched her frog plush like a goblet of power.

Ace stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re serious?”

“Always,” Shanks said, a little smile tugging at his mouth.

Ace looked around the yard. At the string lights and scattered confetti, the warmth of firelight, his family still watching him with nothing but love. 

He’d never been more himself. And he’d never been more home.

“…Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll call him later.”

Deuce stood at the foot of the long path, staring up at the mansion like it was about to eat him alive.

He was early. Of course he was. Who shows up late when they’re meeting their boyfriend’s entire family for the first time?

He’d rehearsed polite hellos and neutral expressions. He’d worn his least-wrinkled shirt. He’d even memorised all the names Ace had speed-mumbled the night before. It would be fine.

Then the gate creaked open and a tiny girl in a frog hoodie came stomping down the path like she owned the pavement, fists clenched, her energy screaming mob boss in a preschool drama.

She halted dead in front of him and squinted up with suspicion so intense it knocked every word out of his brain.

“You Deuce?” she asked, like he owed her rent money.

“I—yeah?”

She narrowed her eyes further. “The one who bear emoji? Twice?”

Deuce blinked. “It was—I—like cute—”

Luffy raised a hand. He shut his mouth instantly.

“You here for Ace?”

“…Yes?”

She got even closer, nose almost touching his leg. “You ever eaten glue?”

“I… no?”

“Do you know how to fight a goose?”

“I… what?”

She leaned in dramatically. “Would you still like Ace as sea cucumber with legs?”

“…I think so?”

“Good.” She nodded solemnly. 

Deuce blinked.

Before Deuce could fully process what was happening, the front door swung open and Mayor Silvers Shanks stepped out, completely disheveled and holding a half-unfolded napkin.

“Anchor, Baby, come here, you’ve got jam on your cheek again—just hold still for a second—”

“No, Daddy, intinogation is happening!”

“I know, it's interrogation Sweetheart, but you can’t look like you’ve been licking windows. Come here! Just your face, Baby, I’ll be fast—”

“No! Deuce has to answer the hot dog question first!”

Deuce blinked again, utterly lost.

This was the Mayor?! The man who ran the town? Who did press briefings? Who once delivered a speech that made a minister cry?

Now standing barefoot, wearing an apron that said “World’s Okayest Pancake Dad”, chasing his three-year-old with a wet wipe while she decided his fate like it was a mob trial?

Shanks gave Deuce a quick, frazzled smile. “Sorry about this. She gets real serious about emotional vetting.”

“I can tell,” Deuce croaked.

Luffy whirled back to him. “Hot dog. Sandwich or no?”

“I—I don’t—”

“Answer wrong and you get no hot dog.”

“Sandwich???”

Luffy stared.

Then grinned. “Okay.”

From the doorway, Ace was actively dying, half-hidden behind Sabo, who looked so pleased with himself.

“I told him,” Sabo whispered with a huge grin, “if he liked you, he gets the whole circus. I also told him that the little one is our director and we all dance to her tune.”

Shanks finally gave up on the jam and picked up Luffy with one arm. She shrieked in protest and kicked wildly, but he just planted a kiss on her messy cheek anyway.

“I’m still doing the internogation!” she yelled, flailing.

“You can interrogate him later,” Shanks said, tossing the wipe into a passing laundry basket like a basketball champ. “Right now, he needs juice.”

“I want juice too.”

“You get juice because you threatened someone,” Shanks said, already carrying her towards the kitchen. “Daddy’s very proud.”

Deuce just stood in the entryway, still stunned, as Monster poked its head out from behind a plant and threw a gummy bear at his foot.

Ace finally came over, cheeks pink, voice sheepish. “So. Uh. Welcome to the family?”

Deuce blinked at him. “Ace, your mayor dad just kissed jam off his daughter’s face and called her ‘Anchor’ while she threatened to starve me?”

“Yeah,” Ace said with a grin. “Isn’t she great? She's the best person in the whole world. I love her so much.”

Luffy stood in front of Deuce, toy hammer in hand, eyes narrowed in determination. “Okay! You are going to tell everything!” she announced, a serious little frown tugging at her lips.

Deuce blinked, totally thrown off. “Uh, what?”

“Tell me,” Luffy said, lifting her hammer dramatically. “Why are you here?” She swung it down in front of him with a firm thwack, like she was about to make him confess some great crime.

“I—uh—just came to see Ace, and eh, to meet you! Ace told me how much he loves you.” Deuce stammered, looking at Shanks for some sort of direction. Shanks nods approvingly.

“Ohh!” Luffy shouted, pointing her hammer at him like she’d cracked the case. “Object! You are not telling the truth! I think. You stay until you tell the truth.” She slammed her toy hammer down with a flourish.

Shanks, leaning back in his chair and watching proudly, gave her a thumbs up. “Great job, Luffy! But remember, you gotta keep him here until he admits it.”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow. “She’s already handling detention protocols. She’s doing better than many lawyers I know.”

Luffy turned around to look at the men, her brow furrowing. “I need more words, Daddy,” she said seriously. “I don’t know all the words.” She looked at Shanks for help.

“Words?” Shanks scratched his head. “Okay, let’s break this down, Anchor.” He leaned forward, his voice taking on the seriousness of a seasoned prosecutor he is. “You gotta remember, Prosecutor Silvers, it’s not just about accusing him of stuff. You need to know how to question him.”

Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “Oh! Question! That’s the thing! Question him more!”

“Exactly.” Shanks grinned. “Now, when someone says something that isn’t true, we say they’re lying.”

“Oh!” Luffy’s eyes lit up. “So I should say, ‘You’re lying!’” She turned back to Deuce. “You’re lying!” She poked him in the chest with the hammer. “You’re a big liar!”

Mihawk chuckled, his hands folded calmly in front of him. “Very good, Luffy. But there’s also something called evidence.”

Luffy blinked at him, clearly not understanding. “What’s... evilence?”

Shanks quickly jumped in, “It’s proof! Like, a thing that shows you’re right.” He looked at Mihawk. “Maybe you should explain it to her.”

Mihawk sighed, rubbing his chin. “Alright, alright. Evidence is when you have something that can prove the truth. Like, maybe Deuce has a receipt for why he’s here.”

Luffy’s eyes grew wide. “A recipe!” She raised her hammer again and pointed it at Deuce. “You got a recipe for stealing my brother?”

Deuce was now deeply confused. “I—what?! I’m not stealing anyone!”

Rayleigh, chuckling softly from his corner of the room, leaned forward. “She’s doing an excellent job, isn’t she? But I think she’s got the basic concept of discovery—figuring out what’s going on.”

Luffy nodded as though it made perfect sense. “Yes! I’m discovering! Like a pirate!” She turned to Deuce and pointed at him again. “You! You’re a brother thief! And you got no recipe!”

Deuce was nearly losing it at this point. “I don’t need a receipt! I’m just—”

“No, no, no!” Luffy cut him off, shaking her hammer in the air like a true interrogator. “You’re lying, I know it!” She then turned back to the men, looking to them for more. “What else do I say? I need more words, Daddy!”

Shanks leaned in, practically glowing with pride. “Alright, alright. Let’s throw in a little cross-examination.”

Luffy nodded eagerly. “Cross-lamination...?” She repeated the word slowly, savoring it. “Cross-lamination! I need to... laminate you from cross!”

Deuce, now unsure whether he was on trial or in a circus, raised his hands. “I’m just Ace’s boyfriend, I swear! I’m not stealing anything!”

Rayleigh chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s got the spirit, even if she hasn’t quite nailed the terms yet. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Mihawk grinned. “I think she’ll be the best attorney this world has ever seen. I might just make her a partner at my firm.”

Shanks stood up now, clapping his hands. “Alright, Anchor, give him one last final statement.”

Luffy looked at him, her brow furrowing as she thought hard about it. “Final statement... Final statement..." She tapped her chin with the hammer, clearly serious. "Okay. I say... you’re guilty of stealing Ace! You’re so guilty that you’re gonna... gonna... go to Super-Special Maximum Jail!” She pointed the hammer at him one more time, her face full of determination.

Deuce gulped. “I really don’t know what’s going on right now. Am I going to jail or...?”

Luffy turned to Shanks, Mihawk, and Rayleigh for confirmation. "Am I saying it right?"

Shanks beamed. "Absolutely! You’re on fire, Anchor!"

Mihawk laughed softly. “You’ve done more for his defense than anyone could ever have expected.”

Rayleigh grinned. “She’s got a future in this, no doubt. Let’s see if she can get her first conviction.”

Luffy looked back at Deuce and, after a moment of silence, put the hammer down. “Okay, fine. You can stay. For now. But no stealing my brother, okay? I love him very much.”

Deuce, completely overwhelmed, gave a nervous laugh. “I wasn’t planning on it…”

Luffy smiled at him, proud of herself. "Good. And if you do try... I’ll just ask you more. With my hammer."

Shanks clapped his hands. “That’s my girl. She’ll be the future of law.”

Deuce blinked, utterly confused. "I... I don't even know what just happened."

Ace, from the other room, came running in and stopped when he saw the scene. “What’s going on in here? Is this an interrogation or a circus?”

“I win,” Luffy said with a grin, her hammer still in hand.

Ace laughed, ran over, and lifted her high into the air, spinning her around once. “That’s my girl! I’m so proud of you, Lu! You're going to be the best judge—or lawyer—or whatever you want to be!”

Sabo, who had just walked in behind him, ruffled Luffy’s hair with a big grin. “No doubt about it. You’ll be an amazing lawyer someday.”

Deuce, still standing there, found it all a little strange. No one corrected her. No one tried to explain the difference between a judge and a lawyer. They just... went along with it, celebrating her like she had already won the biggest case in the world.

Chapter Text

After Ace's birthday, winter passed quietly.

Evenings were gentle—Shanks dozing off mid-book, Ace half-asleep in a blanket pile, and Sabo always finding reasons to lecture someone about fire safety.

It was all warmth and rhythm—until one Thursday afternoon, the phone rang in Shank's office at the town hall.

Shanks picked up, balancing a mug between two fingers and tucking the phone to his ear. “Silvers Shanks speaking.”

“Ah, hello, this is Ms. Eri from the kindergarden,” the voice said, calm but cautious. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Shanks sat up a little straighter. “Not at all. Did something happen with Luffy?”

“Well,” the teacher hesitated, “we’ve just had a few… curious observations. Nothing alarming, I assure you. But for nearly two weeks now, Luffy has been talking about someone she calls her ‘Monkey Dad’.”

Shanks blinked. “Her what now?”

“Monkey dad,” the teacher repeated carefully. “She says she speaks with him at night, through her music box. She's very secretive when it comes to this topic.”

Shanks felt his heart skip a beat. “I—uh—I don’t know anything about that.”

The teacher hummed gently. “Imaginary friends aren’t uncommon, of course. But Luffy isn’t quite the type. She’s… very grounded. Loud, yes. Creative, absolutely. But not prone to fantasy in this way. And she mentioned, rather seriously, that she promised not to tell you about him. Said that he told her he wouldn’t be able to come back if you found out.”

Shanks went very, very still. He stared across the room, where the winter sun cast warm amber light through the curtains. Outside, the snow glittered softly.

“I see,” he said eventually. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll talk to her.”

That evening after dinner, Shanks sat Luffy down on the couch, her legs swinging in oversized penguin pyjamas. Ace and Sabo flanked her like twin bodyguards, except both were already trying not to laugh.

Shanks crouched in front of her, hands on his knees. “Alright, Anchor. We need to talk. Kindergarden called.”

Luffy blinked. “Did I punch ‘gain?”

“No—wait, what? No. You didn’t punch anyone. This is about... Monkey Dad.”

At that, Luffy immediately brightened. “Oh! You know him now too?”

Ace and Sabo exchanged a look that was pure what-the-hell-face.

Shanks blinked. “You’ve really… been talking to him?”

“Mhm!” Luffy nodded excitedly. “He lives in my music box. But not all the time. Only when the stars are hiding, he said. That’s when he comes and talks to me.”

“Luffy,” Sabo said gently, “why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because he said he’s super duper secret,” she whispered, looking serious. “I had to promise! Cross my heart and hope to super die.”

Shanks flinched at that. “Did he… say you couldn’t tell even me?”

Luffy nodded gravely. “He said if I tell people, then he has to go away forever and we can't talk anymore.”

Shanks swallowed hard and tried to keep it together. “And what do you two talk about?”

Luffy hummed. “Lots! He asks what I learn at kindergarden. I told him I can tie my shoes now but only when they're not double knot. And he tells me things too! Like… that he’s always watching and he loves me and he’s sorry he can’t come visit because he has ‘world things.’”

“He says I’m brave. And funny. And I ask good questions, even when they're all backwards.” She wiggled proudly. “And he says if I’m ever scared, I should whisper into the box and he’ll know and a mean old man will save me. Because he’s always watching.”

Ace leaned toward Shanks. “That’s not ominous and stalker-creepy at all.”

Shanks’s mouth was dry. “And he told you to call him Monkey Dad?”

Luffy nodded, all matter-of-fact. “Yes. He said names are for people who don’t have stars to hide behind.”

Sabo whispered, “What does that even mean?”

Shanks didn’t answer.

Then Luffy added, “Oh! And he said he knows you.”

Shanks blinked hard. “He what?”

“He said you were loud and shiny all the time. He saw you at the library sometimes, but he liked upstairs 'cause it was quiet and cold. He said you always talked a lot. And you weren’t good with computers, but really good at beer.”

Ace started wheezing. Sabo clapped a hand over his mouth.

Shanks ran a hand through his hair, somewhere between horror and high-key emotional crisis. “Okay, okay, so he’s watching us. Watching her. Through a hacked music box, probably. Using stars as an encryption metaphor. Why not.”

“Anchor,” Shanks exhaled slowly, “has Monkey Dad ever told you anything about who he really is or what he does?”

“Nope!” she said cheerfully. “Only that he can’t be here, but he’s always watching and if anyone bad tries anything, he’ll go zap-zap-boom! And he knows Uncle Hawkey.”

Shanks blinked. “Mihawk?”

“Uh-huh. He said Uncle Hawkey still walks like he’s holding in a really mean fart.”

Sabo fell off the couch wheezing. Ace slapped the floor.

Shanks just buried his face in his hands. “That is exactly how Mihawk walks.”

“I know,” Luffy said brightly. “Monkey Dad is very smart.”

“Apparently he’s also very bold,” Shanks muttered.

“I think he’s magic,” Luffy added dreamily. “He knows so many secrets. He even knows I like strawberry milk better than banana and he never gets mad when I ask the same story five times.”

Shanks looked up at her, his expression softening. “...Do you like talking to him, Anchor?”

Luffy nodded, eyes sleepy. “He makes my tummy feel calm. Like when you hug me after storms.”

Ace’s smirk faded. Sabo went quiet.

Shanks exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? But I’m glad he makes you feel safe.”

“Uh-huh.” Luffy yawned. “He said he picked the music box 'cause it was pink and sparkly like me.”

Ace whispered to Sabo, “His taste is impeccable.”

Shanks kissed her forehead and whispered, “Alright. Enough mystery for today, law partner. It's bedtime.”

“Okay,” Luffy mumbled. “Tell Monkey Dad I didn’t snitch. Just explained.”

Shanks nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

As he tucked her in, he went and took the tiny box off the shelf.

Shanks came down the stairs with purpose, turning to Ace and Sabo. “I need my car keys.”

The boys blinked at him.

“Why?” Sabo asked slowly, already sensing the incoming chaos.

“I just—” Shanks snatched the keys from the hook, glitter-covered music box in his hand like it was evidence in a criminal case, and headed straight for the door. “If she wakes up, tell her Daddy’s fixing the... satellites. Make something up. Lock the door before you go to bed. Don’t wait for me.”

“Satellites?!” Ace called after him.

Sabo frowned. “Do we even have satellites?”

“I thought he was a mayor, not a spy!”

The door slammed shut behind Shanks. Silence settled over the house as Ace and Sabo turned to look at each other.  Outside, Shanks was already dialing.

Garp answered on the third ring, voice gruff. “You better have a good reason for calling this late.”

Shanks didn’t waste time. “Give me your address. We need to talk. It’s important.”

“I’m at Senny-oh-goku’s.”

“Do you even have a home? You know what, don't answer. Does he know about your son’s... situation?”

There was a pause. Then Garp sighed. “Yeah... he knows.”

Shanks exhaled sharply. “Fuck this.”

“Language,” Garp warned automatically.

“Don’t care. Give me his address.”

There was another pause, then the sound of Garp rattling something off. Shanks punched the coordinates into his GPS with military precision.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.

Shanks tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, but a beat later, he picked it up again. One more call. He needed backup.

Rayleigh answered after half a ring. “You driving somewhere angry again?”

“I need you at Sengoku’s.”

A pause. “...Oh, I guess it's important?”

“Yes.” Shanks took a sharp turn, tires skimming the edge of a curb. “A certain someone who calls himself 'Monkey Dad' has apparently been hacking my daughter’s music box. I’m not walking into that madman zoo without at least one person in the room who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

Rayleigh whistled low. “Alright. Want me to bring anything?”

“Sanity. Maybe duct tape.”

“Got both. Be there in ten.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Shanks hung up again, jaw tight, grip white-knuckling the steering wheel. He floored it.

Two cars pulled into the long, quiet driveway almost in sync—one a sleek black limousine, the other a beat-up old convertible that looked like it had survived six midlife crises and a hurricane.

Rayleigh stepped out of the convertible, calm as ever, unbothered by the chill in the air. Shanks climbed out of the sedan, slamming the door a little harder than necessary, his jaw clenched and eyes stormy. "Good thing you bought the boys presentable cars, dad. I was afraid your car breaks down on your way up here."

At the end of the driveway, the front door of the modest but well-secured house creaked open.

Sengoku was already waiting, arms folded tight across his chest, eyes narrowed behind square glasses — like he’d been preparing for a brawl rather than a conversation.
“Well. If it isn’t my least favorite father-son duo.”

Rayleigh gave a lazy wave. “Evening, Sengoku.”

Shanks didn’t bother with greetings. “We’re not here for pleasantries. Take me to Garp.”

Inside, the living room was dimly lit, warm in that worn-down, over-lived-in way. On the couch sat Law and Rosinante, each with a matching mug in hand and wildly mismatched expressions: Law looked like he was considering all fifteen ways to melt into the upholstery, while Rosi — in an oversized hoodie and worn slippers — visibly flinched the moment the front door closed.

Shanks noticed and gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, come on. If we were here to start trouble, you’d know.” He swept a hand in a casual arc. “Besides… everyone in this house looks like they’re doing their best with severely limited resources.”

“We’re going to my office,” Sengoku said, turning on his heel. “And stop insulting my family.”

Shanks smirked as he followed. “Sure, sure. Just give me your Wi-Fi password — I need a secure line to show you exactly why we’re here.”

Sengoku shot him a look, but handed them over without a word.

Rayleigh smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I’d suggest we move our phones to the next room, or the hallway, or somewhere else. What Shanks is about to say... it can’t be recorded.”

The men exchanged confused looks but complied without protest.

Shanks hooked up the music box to the Wi-Fi, placing it right in the center of Sengoku’s desk. “Wakey, wakey. Luffy didn’t rat you out. She just wanted you to know that.”

There was a long pause before a familiar voice rang out from the pink, glittering box.

“Hello, Shanks. Thanks for raising my daughter. I’ve been watching her for years via CCTV, but I didn’t want to hack into your network or her music box without a good reason. The image my father sent me was enough to make me check in on you. I'm glad to see my daughter thriving. Thank you again.” The voice paused. “Don’t worry, Uncle Senny. Your network was already compromised long ago, so don’t blame Shanks for it. Cybersecurity is actually a thing.”

Shanks smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know you could talk so much at once, Dragon.”

“For Luffy. I don’t know how I fathered a kid who talks this much,” Dragon replied, amusement in his voice.

Garp and Sengoku froze. Garp’s eyes widened in realization, and he shot a glance at Sengoku, who looked like he was trying to wrap his brain around the whole thing.

“You fucking idiot…” Garp muttered, staring at the music box in disbelief. “You stalk your daughter? My granddaughter?”

Sengoku’s face paled. “No... no way. This can’t be real.”

Shanks sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

Sengoku gritted his teeth, looking like he was about to snap. “I’m not about to have an aneurysm, am I?”

Shanks shook his head, still amused. “Nope.”

Garp looked at Shanks and pointed to the box. “Luffy talked to him? She’s been talking to him?”

“Yeah,” Shanks said casually, “Luffy doesn’t know who he really is, though. She just calls him ‘Monkey Dad.’ I think they talk every night before bed. She's very very fond of you, Dragon. Good job.”

Sengoku rubbed his temples. “So you’re raising his kid, Silvers?”

Shanks gave him a dry, unimpressed glance. “Yeah, clearly listening comprehension isn’t a requirement for your job. My daughter catches more nuance and she still thinks court is a place where you shout ‘Objection!’ for snacks.”

Garp muttered under his breath. “Dragon, you damn bastard.” His fists clenched, and his voice grew louder. “You think it’s fine to stalk your daughter like this? Watching her every damn day? What kind of father does that?”

Dragon’s voice came back through the music box, smooth but with a hint of irritation. “I’m not stalking her. I’ve been keeping an eye on her because I’m not there to actually protect her.”

Garp’s face turned red. “Protect her? You call this protecting her? Hiding behind a music box?”

“I didn’t want her to know who I really am,” Dragon explained, his voice calm but getting defensive. “I didn’t want to put a target on her back. But I wanted to make sure she was okay, at least from a distance. That's more than you ever did.”

Sengoku narrowed his eyes, still processing the words. “So you’ve been spying on her at Shanks' place, huh?”

Rayleigh, who had been quietly watching, finally burst out laughing. He wiped a tear from his eye, trying to stifle the chuckles.

“Well, this amazing,” he said, barely able to contain himself. “The officially deceased Monkey D. Dragon, hiding behind a glittery music box while Shanks here does all the parenting.”

Sengoku shot Rayleigh a sharp look. “This is not funny, Rayleigh.”

Garp, still angry, turned back to the music box. “That’s not right, Dragon.”

Dragon’s tone hardened. “What’s not right? Tell me, Monkey D. Garp. You’re the one who left my daughter to rot in the slums. I gave her to you, thinking you'd keep her safe. How dare you now lecture me about being a father when you abandoned her? You should be on your knees—thanking the boy who saved her and Shanks, who now raises your granddaughter. You're a fucking hypocrite, nothing else.”

Sengoku looked over at Garp, his expression unreadable. “Is this true?”

Shanks leaned back in his chair, grinning. “So, you’ve been watching over her all this time... yet you only want her to know you as Money Dad?”

Dragon sighed. “She doesn’t need to know the truth. To her, I’m just someone looking out for her. She once called me a fairy.”

Sengoku blinked, his mind reeling. “Let me get this straight... Dragon has a daughter, who he gave to you, Garp, to raise. As in, your granddaughter. Born as Monkey D. Luffy, now called Silvers Luffy. You apparently abandoned her? The girl’s been adopted by Silvers and all the while, Dragon’s been watching over her from some... music box. The younger Silvers has been raising her and I’m stuck here trying to make sense of this absolute mess?”

Rayleigh laughed louder now, almost in tears.

Dragon’s voice softened, though there was still regret. “I never meant for it to get this complicated... but I’ve been trying to keep her safe from afar. I didn’t know how else to do it. I couldn’t just show up and say, ‘Hey, that’s my daughter and oh, by the way, my other name’s associated with civil wars and whistleblowers.’”

Garp was silent for a moment, his anger mixing with something else—maybe jealousy, maybe regret. “Why didn’t you tell me she was alive? Why did I have to find out from Shanks? I never even got the chance to talk to her.”

Dragon’s voice came again, louder and sharper. “WHY DID YOU LEAVE HER WITH PEOPLE WHO LET HER STARVE? WHY DID YOUR MINIONS THROW A TODDLER IN A CELL? Did they face consequences for detaining a fucking three year old, dad? I hope you're proud of yourself.”

Rayleigh shot a knowing glance at Garp. “You’re jealous, aren’t you, Garp? That your son talked to her, I mean.”

Garp muttered under his breath, turning away, avoiding Rayleigh’s gaze. “I’m not the one hiding behind a damn music box. I’ll try to make it right... somehow.”

Sengoku, looking defeated, sank into his chair. “I can’t... I just... I can’t even deal with this right now.”

Sengoku didn’t say a word more. Not one. He simply stood up and walked out of his office without so much as a glance at the others.

Law and Rosinante watched him with raised brows as he crossed into the living room, crouched in front of a cabinet, shoved a few things around, and finally pulled out a bottle from the back.

Rosi gave a low whistle. “Absinthe, Dad? You're having that much fun with the Silvers?”

Sengoku shot him a flat look, nodded once, and then turned his gaze on Law. “Law. If you cause one more problem with Silvers Luffy, I’m sending you to boarding school. Abroad.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “And you're going with him, Rosi.”

Rosinante’s mouth dropped open in protest, but he wisely said nothing.

Sengoku started to walk away, then paused again, looking like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “You don’t understand. Just thinking about you and Luffy in the same sentence makes my fingers itch. There’s this buzz under my nails already. And she’s only three.”

Law blinked. “She’s a snot-nosed toddler. What the hell do you think I’m gonna do? Give her a juice box?”

Sengoku narrowed his eyes. “Exactly. That’s how it starts.”

Law blinked. “You’re completely paranoid.”

“Paranoia,” Sengoku said, lifting the bottle, “is the only reason I’ve survived this long.”

He turned to leave, but paused again, his voice sharp. “God, I hope that girl doesn’t grow up to be beautiful. Last thing I need is you falling head over heels and losing your damn mind.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “You want me to be gay or something?”

Sengoku waved the bottle dismissively. “At this point? It’d be a damn relief.”

“Zero chance,” Law muttered. “Not my thing. I've seen women, I like them.”

Sengoku’s glare returned, hotter this time. “Then here’s what you’re gonna do: if you ever see her again, walk the other way. Ignore her. Pretend she’s a ghost. Got it?”

He leaned in just slightly, voice low. “And let me be absolutely clear, don’t even think about getting close to her. I don’t care if she’s three, twenty-three, or eighty-three. Stay the hell away from that girl. You’ll burn yourself and her family will burn us. Alive.”

Law looked like he wanted to argue, but Sengoku had already turned on his heel and marched out, muttering something about absinthe, little monkeys and the apocalypse.

The moment the bottle hit the table, Shanks and Rayleigh both burst into laughter.

Sengoku poured himself a drink, sat down heavily, and said in a tired voice, “Now what? What the hell are we supposed to do with all this information?”

“I didn’t hear or see anything,” Rayleigh said smoothly, that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I had a brief chat with the little shit on your couch. That’s my story,” Shanks added with a grin. Then he looked at the music box in the center of the desk. “I have no issue with you wanting to talk to Luffy, Dragon. As long as you keep your identity hidden. You did give her to your father thinking he’d take care of her. But I’m asking you—keep the contact strictly through the music box. No other surveillance. And tell her she’s not allowed to mention any of this to her friends.”

He glanced at Garp.

“But her grandpa, Rayleigh, her grandma, her brothers, and I... we’re allowed to know what you two talk about.”

“Understood,” Dragon’s voice replied. “I’ll send a message if anything important happens.”

Garp remained silent.

“Father,” Dragon added softly, “I told Luffy that if anything bad ever happens, she should talk to the box. That a mean old man would come help her.”

There was a beat of silence, then Garp gave the smallest, reluctant smile.

“And what about me?” Sengoku asked dryly.

“I don’t give a shit,” Shanks said with a shrug. “Just keep your grandson away from my perfect daughter.”

Sengoku took a long sip of his drink.

“Actually, Uncle Senny, Luffy was pretty upset after her run-in with Law,” Dragon said calmly. “But... she really liked the picture he painted. She’s shown it to the camera a few times.”

He paused, then added with a touch of fondness in his voice, “She still doesn’t understand why the ‘cool-looking boy’ was so upset. She thought his spots were awesome. And she marvels about his golden eyes—said he looked like a superhero.”

Shanks snorted. Rayleigh laughed out loud.

“Maybe she’s got a soft spot for idiots,” Shanks muttered.

“Runs in the family,” Rayleigh added, grinning.

The door to Sengoku’s office creaked open and the Silvers emerged, Shanks still holding the absurdly pink, glittering music box in one hand, a crooked grin on his face. They spotted Law and Rosinante lounging uncomfortably on the sofa and made a beeline toward them.

Shanks didn’t say a word at first—he just walked up, crouched in front of Law, and held the sparkling music box up to his face like a cop presenting evidence.

Law blinked. “...What.”

Rayleigh chuckled behind Shanks, arms crossed. “I still don’t understand what my granddaughter sees in you.”

Rosinante opened his mouth to respond, maybe to defend Law, maybe to tease him, but Law cut him off with a sigh. “It’d be better if she just forgot about me.”

Shanks barked a laugh. “Yeah, that would be ideal.”

He stood back up, grinning wider now. “But no chance in hell. She’s already decided you’re cool. That’s a death sentence.”

Law’s expression tightened. “She’s three.”

Rayleigh raised an eyebrow. “And yet she apparently talks about you like you’re a superhero. Honestly, it’s a little concerning.”

Shanks’s smirk widened. “Well, it's safe to say it’s not your charm that’s got Luffy so intrigued. I’m more curious about you, kid. What do you think your future's gonna looking like? You have any grand plans?”

Law furrowed his brow, irritated but confused. “I’m ten years old and sick. What future am I supposed to have?”

Shanks’s eyes narrowed, his smile never faltering. “You’d be surprised how much a ten-year-old can plan. My daughter is three and knows what she wants. So, tell me, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

The question hung in the air, and Law shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.
“I want to be... a doctor,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I already go to the hospital a lot. I need dialysis sometimes. And I’ve got Vitiligo. So... I think I’d be good at it.”

Rayleigh leaned forward slightly, squinting at the pale patches on Law’s skin. “Huh. The spots are kind of cool-looking. Luffy's right,” he said thoughtfully. “Might be the only thing that gives you a shot with her someday.”

Rayleigh grinned, his look full of amusement, while Shanks gave a snort. “But still, a doctor?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Luffy needs someone a little more... interesting than that.”

"Ah, dad, we don't have to worry about him," Shanks finally said, waving a hand as if brushing Law aside. “Luffy won’t find him interesting later on.”

Rayleigh chuckled again. “She’ll have a whole army of admirers one day, all fighting for her attention. You won’t even be on her radar anymore, kid.”

Law stared at the two of them like he was trying to figure out if they were speaking in a language he didn’t understand. "What... what are you talking about?"

Shanks and Rayleigh exchanged a look that spoke volumes more than words could. "Don't worry, kid," Shanks said with an amused smile. "Just forget about her. Goodbye."

Sabo had owned his car for two months now, long enough for the car to accumulate a questionable amount of crumbs. But confidence? That part still lagged behind.

Which is why he stood in the driveway, eyes narrowed at the vehicle like it might bite, while Shanks came out of the house, tossing a beach towel over one shoulder and calling, “Alright, birthday boy, you’re driving!”

Sabo turned to him, incredulous. “Seriously?”

Shanks grinned. “Dead serious. You’ve had that car for weeks and you still drive like the brakes might disappear. You need practice. And nothing gives a man focus like having his whole family in the car.”

Ace snorted from the porch, carrying a bag full of snacks. “Sounds more like emotional blackmail.”

“It’s not blackmail,” Shanks said, waving him off. “It’s incentive.”

“I’m not ready for this,” Sabo muttered, already walking to the driver’s side.

“You’re eighteen,” Shanks said. “If you’re old enough to vote for me, you’re old enough to drive your siblings to the beach.”

“I wanna sit in the front!” Luffy yelled, running out with sunscreen smudged on her cheeks and a beach bucket on her head.

“You’re three and full of nonsense,” Ace said, grabbing his sister mid-jump and buckling her into the backseat.

“Front seat’s mine anyway, Anchor,” Shanks said, slapping the roof of the car like he was christening a ship. “I’m gonna be right here giving you calm, relaxed, helpful advice.”

“Those are three lies in one sentence,” Sabo muttered as he started the engine.

Shanks leaned in, grinning. “Look at it this way: today, you’re not just driving a car. You’re driving the future of... whatever Ace decides to be, the inevitable cheerleading empire of Luffy and good old me. No pressure.”

Sabo’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here we are. Let’s hit the road, Captain Caution.”

And so they did, Sabo pulling out of the driveway at approximately five miles per hour, jaw tight, palms sweaty, as his family yelled beach songs behind him and Shanks gave overly dramatic driving commentary the entire way.

Hours later they arrived at the cozy little holiday house near the coast, Shanks had rented. The kind with creaky floorboards and the salty smell of sea breeze baked into the wood. The moment they parked, the kids tore their shoes off and ran straight to the sand.

For Sabo’s birthday the next morning, Shanks had a surprise: a private surf lesson. Solo, just him and the waves. Sabo lit up like someone had handed him a golden treasure map.

But none of them expected who would be waiting on the beach with the surfboard tucked under one arm.

“SHANKS!” came the thunderous roar from down the shore.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with skin like stormy water and eyes deep as the sea itself marched over with a grin that could split the horizon.

“Jinbe, hey!” Shanks laughed, bracing himself just in time for the bear-hug. “You still cracking ribs with those greetings?”

“Only the ribs that matter,” Jinbe chuckled, stepping back and giving the group a once-over. His gaze softened when it landed on the kids.

Ace blinked. “You’re huge.”

“Are you a pirate?” Sabo asked, awe already creeping in.

But Jinbe’s eyes had settled on the smallest one. Luffy stood beside Shanks, her hand curled around two of his fingers, wearing a matching straw hat and a dark red tank top that perfectly mirrored her father’s.

“She’s your kid,” Jinbe said, voice almost reverent.

Luffy beamed up at him. “We’re matchy today!” she declared proudly, bouncing on her feet. “Daddy said we have to look good when meeting a special friend!”

Jinbe crouched down to her level, smiling with a gentleness that didn’t match his hulking frame. “You sure are. And that makes you very special.”

“You know my daddy?”

“We used to be... colleagues,” Jinbe said with a sly look toward Shanks. “Let’s call it that. My quiet life nowadays? I owe a lot of that to him.”

Shanks grinned, hands in his pockets. “Quiet, huh?”

Jinbe raised an eyebrow. “Comparatively.”

Luffy tilted her head. “Do you surf too?”

“Not really. I prefer the sea under me, not crashing over me,” Jinbe said with a chuckle. “But I’m teaching your brother today.”

Sabo stepped forward, suddenly looking a bit more serious. “Alright, let's go!”

“Alright,” Jinbe said, giving him a wink. “Let’s see what the sea thinks of you, birthday boy.”

Ace stood frozen on the edge of the beach, arms crossed, biting his lip as he watched them go. His weight shifted from foot to foot in the sand like he was trying to stop himself from bolting forward.

Shanks caught it immediately and smirked. “You’re squirming.”

“I’m not,” Ace said, clearly lying.

“You wanna go too?” Shanks asked, nudging him with an elbow.

Ace hesitated. “Maybe.”

Shanks slung an arm around his shoulders. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got a joint lesson for you and Sabo booked for tomorrow morning. Whole hour, just you two and the waves.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “Wait—seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Shanks said, grinning. “But if you’re feeling brave today, you could start teaching your sister how to swim.”

Ace blanched. “I think I’ll get a drink from the kiosk first.”

Shanks barked a laugh. “You coward.”

“Hydration is important!” Ace called over his shoulder, already halfway up the beach.

Shanks shook his head fondly and looked down at the tiny hand still curled around two of his fingers. Luffy was staring at the ocean, eyes wide like she was trying to drink the whole horizon in.

“Anchor,” Shanks said softly, kneeling beside her, “wanna go see how the sea feels today?”

Luffy gasped, already bouncing on her toes. “Really?!”

“Really really,” he said, scooping her up and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of the world’s happiest potatoes. “Let’s see if the ocean likes you as much as you like it.”

“I’m gonna be best friends with the ocean!” Luffy declared, legs kicking wildly. “And maybe a fish too!”

“Well, we better go say hi before it gets jealous of Jinbe,” Shanks chuckled, carrying her down the beach toward the shore.

Behind them, Ace reappeared with a soda in each hand, squinting out at the waves with a hint of longing.

Tomorrow, he’d get his turn.

But for now, it was Luffy and the sea—and Shanks right there, like always, ready to introduce her to the next great adventure.

The sun hung high above, painting the beach in golden warmth the next day as the boys enjoyed their joined lesson.

Shanks, meanwhile, had claimed a large towel under the shade of a swaying umbrella, stretching out with all the elegance of a man who’d earned a nap. Luffy had flopped beside him, giggling as he dramatically groaned about “food comas” and “old pirate knees.” For a moment, it looked like father and daughter would drift off together into a peaceful, sun-drenched doze.

But unlike her father, Luffy was three years old and powered by a nuclear core of sugar, mischief, and wonder. And Shanks, bless him, snored like an old dragon guarding treasure.

The moment he let out a particularly loud "grrooooonk" into her ear, Luffy wrinkled her nose, sat up, and declared nap time over.

Shanks didn’t stir as she peeled herself away from the towel and toddled off across the warm sand, her straw hat tilted back on her head and her bucket swinging at her side. She wasn’t going far—just exploring. There were seashells to find, maybe a crab to poke, and maybe if she was lucky, a cool-looking rock to add to her collection of Very Important Things.

She wandered further than she realized, little sandals slapping lightly against a wooden boardwalk that cut between tall dune grass and led to the quieter end of the beach. 

The smell was the first thing that caught her attention.

Warm, salty, with a hint of garlic—fried rice? Or maybe grilled fish? Whatever it was, it smelled amazing. And Luffy, only three years old, toddled along with the determination of a little explorer, her tiny sandals slapping against the cobblestones as she followed the scent.

She wandered further than she realized, down a narrow alleyway between buildings. The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows. The bustling market sounds had faded behind her, replaced by an eerie silence that only made the knots of anxiety in her stomach tighten.

Then, she realised—she was completely lost.

The street noise had vanished, swallowed by the maze of alleys Luffy had wandered into. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Daddy?” she called, the word cracking in her throat. No reply — just the quiet drip of water from an overhead pipe.

She turned in panicked circles, the world spinning around her. Her chest tightened. “Daddy!”

A flurry of motion, she ran, as fast as her little legs would take her, deeper into the alleys. The stone walls pressed in, unfamiliar and cold. She turned another corner, slipped on a patch of moss, and fell hard, this time onto her elbow.

A sharp cry ripped out of her as pain shot through her arm. Her pajamas tore at the sleeve. Her scraped skin burned. She clutched her arm to her chest, sobbing, knees drawn to her chest.

People passed by.

Some glanced at her, uncomfortable. Others didn’t look at all. A woman with shopping bags crossed to the other side of the alley. A man in a suit stepped around her like she was nothing but garbage in his path.

Luffy sniffled. “Please… I just want my daddy…”

An older vendor paused beside her — not unkind, but brisk. He looked down at her for a long moment, then reached into a paper bag and pulled out a still-warm boiled egg. Without saying a word, he pressed it into her hands and moved on.

Luffy stared at it, confused, but grateful. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the egg like it was something precious.

She stood, still trembling, still lost. Her scraped knees stung. Her arm throbbed. But she kept walking.

Eventually, the alley opened into a wide terrace overlooking the harbor, where the scent of food drifted on the breeze. Lanterns glowed. Laughter echoed. And there, at a table overflowing with plates and bottles — sat three towering men.

One had a thick crescent mustache, his presence like a mountain. One wore a scarf that covered half his face, and the third had hair that looked like someone had tried (and failed) to tame a storm.

Luffy hesitated. She clutched the egg tighter.

The mustached man was the first to notice her. His voice was gravel and thunder.

“What the hell is this…?”

Luffy stepped forward, barefoot and shaking, clutching the egg like an offering. Her eyes shimmered with fear, but she stood tall as she could. “Hi… can you help me find my daddy?” she asked, voice small and hoarse.

The men blinked, caught completely off-guard.

She took another step. Her arm still hurt. Her bottom lip trembled. She lifted the egg slowly, holding it out with both hands.
“You can have this,” she said, almost pleading. “Just… please help me find him.”

Silence.

And then Whitebeard stood, rising like a tidal wave. “What’s your name, little one?”

Luffy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her breath caught. Her knees locked. His voice — loud and rumbling — rolled over her like thunder, and she froze in place.

The egg wobbled in her hands.

Luffy backed away, trembling. “No… no… no, no,” she whimpered, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to scramble away.

Katakuri’s expression softened. He rose from his chair, walked toward the girl, and knelt down in front of her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

But Luffy only shrank back further, her hands pressed over her ears. “No!” she cried, her voice small and frantic. “I want Daddy! I want to go home!”

Whitebeard and Katakuri exchanged a glance, unsure what to do with that crying child.

Marco stepped forward, having watched everything unfold. He sighed, clearly realizing they needed a different approach. Kneeling down beside her, he kept his expression calm but serious.
“Hey, I’m Marco,” he said gently. “I’m a doctor. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Luffy’s wide eyes shifted to Marco, then darted back to the others. They were all so big, so unfamiliar. Even Marco, despite his calm voice, made her stomach twist with fear.
“No…” she whispered. “I want Daddy…”

Marco crouched lower, scanning her quickly. His eyes landed on her swollen arm.
“Hey there, what’s your name?” he asked. “If you tell me your name, I can help you find your Daddy.”

Luffy sniffled, looking up at him with watery eyes.
“Luffy,” she mumbled. “I—I was hungry… and I got lost… and then I fell, and I couldn’t find Daddy…”

Marco paused, a frown tugging at his lips. Luffy. The name clicked. Could it be?

“Luffy… You have an Uncle called Hongo, don't you?” he asked gently.

She nodded, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.
“Mm-hmm,” she whispered.

Recognition flashed across Marco’s face. “Well,” he said with a soft smile, “your Uncle Hongo’s told me a lot about you. He never shuts up, actually. I’m a doctor too. I also know Doctor Kobato—or Boby, like you call her.”

At the mention of those two names, Luffy suddenly wailed louder, her cries turning into full-blown sobs. When Marco tried to get a closer look at her arm, she screamed and squirmed, trying to push him away. 

Marco blinked, frustration flickering across his face. Gently, he reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number, Hongo’s private line.

It rang. And rang. No answer.

“Dammit, Hongo,” Marco muttered. He switched tactics and dialed the hospital. “This is Dr. Phoenix Marco. I need to speak to Dr. Blonde Hongo. It’s urgent.”

A pause, then the receptionist’s voice: “Connecting you to Dr. Hongo’s emergency line. Please hold.”

Marco glanced back at Luffy, still trembling and curled up near the wall, trying to be as small as possible. Her sobs were quieter now, but no less heartbreaking.

A moment later, the line clicked. “What?” came a groggy, overworked voice.

Marco didn’t waste time. “Hongo, it’s Marco. I’ve got Luffy. She’s hurt. Looks like a broken arm.”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end.

“What?!” Hongo barked, his voice suddenly thunderous. “What do you mean she’s hurt?! Where is she?! She was supposed to be on the beach! What the hell happened?!”

Marco sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’ve got her right here. She’s terrified. I don’t know how she got here. I need you to calm her down.”

Hearing Hongo yell made Luffy flinch. She looked up, eyes full of fear. The voice was familiar—but the shouting scared her more than anything.

Marco let out a breath and put the call on speaker. “Hongo, you’re on speaker. She can hear you.”

“Luffy?” Hongo’s voice softened immediately. “Luffy, princess, are you there? It’s me. It’s Uncle Hongo. I’m here, okay? Just breathe for me, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Luffy’s wide, tear-soaked eyes locked on the phone. That voice was safe.

She slowly reached for the phone, her small hand trembling as she took it from Marco. “I’m scared…” she whispered. 

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Hongo said gently. “You’re okay. Listen, I’m going to call your Daddy right now. He’s coming to get you. You’re not alone, okay?”

Luffy hiccupped. “You promise? There are big, scary men… Someone gave me an egg.”

“I promise,” Hongo said, warmth in his voice. “You stay close to Uncle Marco until your Daddy gets there, alright? He’ll keep you safe. And hold onto your egg.”

“Okay… okay,” she whispered.

Marco watched the scene unfold, his heart heavy but calmer now that she was in contact with someone familiar. He gave a small nod to Whitebeard and Katakuri. She was going to be okay.

“I’m calling her Dad now,” Hongo said, his tone switching to full doctor mode. “Stay with her, Marco. Don’t leave her side. And text me your location.”

Marco looked down at Luffy and gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Luffy. Everything’s going to be alright now.”

Whitebeard, who had been quietly observing her, took a slow step forward, his massive frame casting a shadow, but his gaze was surprisingly soft. His usual booming voice had quieted, turning into something gentler, filled with warmth and a touch of awe.

“Luffy, huh…” His deep voice was now a low murmur, almost like a distant rumble of thunder. “What a precious little thing…”

His thick crescent-shaped mustache twitched as he leaned down slightly, eyes sparkling with an uncharacteristic tenderness. He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, more like a giant being charmed by a tiny, delicate flower.

“I’m Edward Newgate,” he introduced himself, his tone reverent, almost as if she were some kind of delicate treasure. “But most people call me Whitebeard. You can call me Grandpa Ed if you’d like.”

Luffy’s eyes widened a little. The softness in his voice, the way he spoke to her like she wasn’t just a lost child, but someone truly special—it made her feel just a tiny bit safer.

She blinked, unsure at first, but then her small hands loosened from her ears as she gave a hesitant nod. Maybe... maybe it was okay to trust him. He didn’t seem scary like before. Her little voice broke through the quiet, a bit more sure now. “Grandpa Ed…” she whispered, as if testing the name.

Whitebeard’s grin widened at her use of the name, and his heart seemed to soften even more. He chuckled softly, a gentle rumble in his chest. “That’s right. Grandpa Ed.”

It was enough to make Luffy hesitate, her mind still racing from the fear she felt. But there was something about the way Whitebeard said it, something comforting in his voice, that made her feel she could share just a little more. And so, very tentatively, she spoke again.

“My grandpa is big too, but not as big as you,” she said quietly, her voice still trembling slightly, but a spark of recognition flickered in her eyes. “He’s nice. Grandma is nice too. This is for you.” She held up the egg and Whitebeard took it gently.

Whitebeard’s eyes softened even more, and he nodded understandingly. “I bet they are and thank you very much,” he said, his voice deep with appreciation.

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest as he looked over at Katakuri. “She's a lively one, huh? Cute as a button, too.”

Katakuri, nodding, crouched down once more and asked softly, “Luffy, you’re hungry, that’s why you got lost, right?” His voice was kind, offering no threat. “Do you want something to eat? We have plenty and you’re welcome to it.”

Luffy’s stomach growled in response, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment. The smell of the food, the same one that had caught her attention earlier was almost too tempting to resist. Rice, grilled fish and soft, sweet buns that looked as if they had been freshly made.

Her small hands fidgeted in her lap, and for a brief moment, she considered it. But fear still held her tight, and she shook her head.

“No… no, thank you…” she whispered, barely audible. The thought of eating was comforting, but the fear of being surrounded by these towering, strange men was still too strong. She wanted to go home. She wanted her daddy.

Whitebeard saw her hesitation and gave a soft, understanding sigh. He straightened up and looked at Marco, signaling for him to stay close. Then he turned back to Luffy with a soft smile.

“Would you like to sit on my lap, little one? That way, I can give you some food and you're not on the dirty floor,” Whitebeard asked gently, his voice still calm and filled with a tenderness that was hard to resist.

Luffy blinked up at him, her small brow furrowing in hesitation. She glanced over at Marco for reassurance, and when he gave her a small, encouraging nod, she shyly nodded in return.

“Yes… but Uncle Maco has to come too,” she said softly, looking to Marco as if to make sure he would stay close.

The men laughed quietly, a soft chuckle passing between them. Marco gave Luffy a warm smile and replied, “Of course. I’ll sit right next to you.”

A few minutes later, Luffy was sitting on Whitebeard’s lap, nibbling on a large piece of lobster that he gently fed her. Her small hands shook slightly, but she seemed to relax a little with each bite, forgetting the fear that had gripped her earlier. Katakuri, on the other side of the table, was slicing a donut into small, manageable pieces and passing them over to Luffy, careful not to make her feel rushed.

“Here you go, Luffy,” Katakuri said, handing her a small piece. “I thought this might be easier for you to eat.”

Luffy looked up at him, her eyes wide with gratitude and took the donut eagerly, savoring the sweet taste as it helped her forget the pain in her arm. Marco, standing just a little ways off, took out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the moment, sending it off to Hongo with a quiet chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Hongo,” Marco muttered to himself. “She’s having a greeeeeeat time.”

After Luffy had finished both the lobster and the donut, she looked up at the three men, her eyes a little less fearful and a little more curious. The three men watched her, almost expectantly.

Katakuri, with a smirk, raised an eyebrow and asked, “So, Marco... how do you know little Luffy?”

Marco smiled at the question and replied, “I’m a colleague of your uncle’s,” he said casually.

Katakuri raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Her uncle?”

“That’s right,” Marco said with a wink, turning to Luffy. “And you know what? You’re not the only one who has a little surprise coming. You’re gonna love this, Luffy. We all know your dad, too.” He grinned mischievously, his tone light but teasing. “But, no telling! It’s gonna be a fun surprise.”

Whitebeard, hearing this, leaned forward with a chuckle. “What a mischievous bunch we have here,” he said with a grin. “Now, Luffy, would you like to be my granddaughter? I always wanted one.”

Luffy blinked at him, her mind a little hazy from the food and the calm that had settled in. But she liked the idea of having a grandpa like him. His warmth was undeniable. She smiled shyly and nodded, “Okay… I'd like that. You have great food.”

The men laughed and Katakuri pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at Marco with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you already have enough sons to inherit your businesses? Your eldest is sitting right next to you. Do you really need to pull in some random girl now?”

Whitebeard, his smile broad and amused, simply shook his head. “I can’t say no to little girls, especially ones as adorable as little Luffy here.” He leaned down slightly, his voice full of affection. “She’s got spirit and that’s all I need.”

Luffy, content with her food and momentarily forgetting the pain in her arm, looked up at the men with wide, innocent eyes, as if they had all been her protectors for as long as she could remember.

Shanks appeared on the terrace of the upscale restaurant looking like a man who had just lost a wrestling match. His clothes were rumpled, his hair an unruly mess, and his coat buttoned unevenly. None of his usual composed confidence remained, only a panicked look in his eyes as he scanned the scene before him.

Marco spotted him first and grinned, clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

But Shanks froze when his gaze finally landed on the table.

Whitebeard—Edward Newgate himself—sat like a mountain carved into human form, gently feeding Luffy with a tenderness completely at odds with his size and reputation. His massive frame dwarfed her, but his expression was full of warmth and quiet affection.

Across from them, Katakuri, stoic Katakuri, was calmly slicing a donut into precise bite-sized pieces.

Shanks blinked, not trusting his eyes.

The last time he’d seen Charlotte Katakuri had been in a courtroom, when he was the lead prosecutor who brought down Charlotte Linlin for tax evasion, labor exploitation, and the systematic use of underage workers in her candy empire. Katakuri had been his star witness: calm, composed, a son turning against his mother to expose the rot. And Katakuri hadn’t stopped there. Under his leadership, Charlotte Sweet International had clawed its way out of scandal and into respectability—not just stable, but thriving. Efficient. Profitable. Still sugar-slick, but no longer rotten underneath.

And now here he was, calmly cutting donuts for Shanks’ daughter like it was just another Tuesday.

Marco sat beside Luffy, watching the whole thing with a smug, satisfied smile, like he’d orchestrated the whole absurd scene for his own amusement.

A beat of silence passed.

Then Shanks let out a loud, incredulous laugh.

“Mr. Newgate. Mr. Charlotte. Dr. Phoenix…” he greeted as he stepped closer, bowing his head. “Thanks for looking after my daughter.”

He stood beside Luffy, brushing back a strand of hair. “Sweetheart, how did you even get here?”

Luffy looked up at him with big, honest eyes and answered in her signature style: “You were snoring and I got hungry.”

Shanks exhaled a helpless laugh. “Classic.” He shook his head, then softened. “Uncle Hongo said you got hurt. Want to see the doctor?”

Luffy nodded and leaned into him, wincing slightly as she cradled her arm. “Arm ouchie, Daddy. Can Uncle Maco and Grandpa Ed come with us?”

Shanks went rigid. Slowly, he turned to Whitebeard. Then Marco. Then back again.

Marco couldn’t hold back the laughter. “Just a little family bonding, Mayor Silvers,” he said, completely deadpan.

Shanks stared, slack-jawed, trying to process how his daughter had just casually adopted the single most powerful man in global logistics as her grandfather.

He cradled Luffy close, her small head nestled against his shoulder, and took a long breath. “I adopted her a few months ago,” he said, mostly to himself. “I’ve got three now. The other two are with Jinbe—learning to surf.”

Whitebeard laughed, deep and booming. “A little firecracker like her? You’ve got your hands full.”

Then his tone shifted, a touch more serious.

“Actually,” he said, leaning in slightly, eyes still twinkling, “when do I get to see her again?”

Shanks blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I want to see her again,” Whitebeard said sincerely. “She and I agreed, she’s my granddaughter now. You’re welcome at any of my ports. This one too—hell, I own it. None of my sons ever wanted kids and I always dreamed of a daughter or granddaughter to spoil. I’ve raised enough stinky boys. I want a little princess now. I’m at that age where legacy matters. She gave me an egg and now we're family.”

He swept a hand toward the horizon, the skyline, cranes, container ships, all of it.

Whitebeard didn’t just run the harbour, he was the harbour. The industry. MSC, Mærsk, PSA, DHL, UPS—rolled into one man. He owned more routes than some countries had roads. His name was etched into the arteries of global trade.

Shanks blinked again. “You own this harbour?”

Whitebeard grinned. “And all the others in this country.”

Katakuri leaned back, a faint smirk on his face. “Careful, Mister Silvers. Your daughter’s charming one of the world’s most powerful men—one donut at a time.”

Shanks looked down at Luffy, half-asleep in his arms, thumb in her mouth, her tiny bandaged arm slung across his chest like she hadn’t just rewritten global power dynamics in an afternoon.

“She has no idea what she’s doing, does she?” he murmured.

Marco shrugged. “That’s the magic.”

Whitebeard’s voice softened. “Take good care of her. And if she ever wants to visit Grandpa Ed, my doors are always open.”

Then he turned to Luffy. “When’s your birthday, sweetheart?”

“Fifth of May,” she mumbled.

Whitebeard nodded solemnly. “I’ll have a present ready. And if you want to come to my birthday too, you’re invited.”

Luffy’s eyes fluttered open. “Can I be sparkly?”

Whitebeard laughed, delighted. “If you want sparkles, you’ll have sparkles. On your cake, your clothes, the whole damn harbour if you want.”

Shanks stared at him. “You're joking.”

Whitebeard met his gaze evenly, voice steady and low. “I don’t joke about family.”

Shanks mouth opened slightly, like he meant to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He looked like a fish out of water, completely out of his depth. The kind of stunned where your brain knows words exist, but your mouth has temporarily forgotten how they work.

“You’re… really serious about all this? About my daughter?” he finally managed, though it sounded more like a question to himself than anyone else.

Whitebeard didn’t blink. “Dead serious.”

Shanks let out a short, breathless laugh, not amused, just overwhelmed. He rubbed a hand down his face and turned half away, trying to collect himself, trying not to look like the entire foundation beneath his feet had just shifted.

“She gave you an egg,” he mumbled, as if the absurdity of it would ground him.

“She offered what she had,” Whitebeard said, softer now. “That’s more than most.”

Shanks exhaled through his nose. Long. Shaky. He was still reeling, still trying to catch up to the moment, to the idea that these men had shown his daughter more kindness in five minutes than her biological grandfather ever had.

Katakuri reached for another pastry. “You’ll let us know where to send donuts for her birthday, right?”

Marco laughed.

Shanks groaned. “She’s going to get a yacht before she gets a bike, isn’t she?”

Whitebeard beamed. “A small ship. With her own crew.”

Shanks kissed Luffy’s forehead. “God help me. But now I need to find a doctor to get her treated.”

Whitebeard leaned back, arms crossed. “No need to run all over the city. Marco can take you both to the harbour clinic—just down the dock. Fully equipped. We’ve had our share of workplace accidents.”

Shanks blinked. “You’ve got your own clinic?”

“Naturally. You don’t run the world’s busiest shipping network without a few scraped knees. And your little one’s already family.”

Shanks opened his mouth, but Whitebeard cut in, a grin tugging at his mouth again.

“And since she’s my granddaughter now,” he said, “you might as well drop the formalities. Makes you something like an honorary son, doesn’t it?”

Shanks stared. Open-mouthed. Speechless.

Marco snorted. “Congrats, Pops. Welcome to the family, brother number sixteen.”

Katakuri chuckled again.

Shanks pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Great. That’s… wow. Thanks. That’s really something.”

But even as he said it, he was already getting to his feet. “Okay then. Harbour clinic. Sounds perfect. Let’s get this sorted before anyone else joins the family.”

As Marco turned to call ahead, Whitebeard leaned back with a thoughtful hum, stroking his mustache.

“Well then,” he said, eyes twinkling again. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? Whole family.”

Shanks blinked. Still adjusting. “Tempting, but we’ve already got plans. Meeting my parents, the kids have school in the morning, and Luffy’s got kindergarten. Once the doc checks her out, we’re heading to the summer house. The boys are packing up. Late check-out means a fee.”

Whitebeard chuckled. “Ah, the joys of civilian life.”

He waved an assistant over and exchanged a few quiet words.

“Then I’ll see her on my birthday,” he said, offering Shanks a gleaming envelope. “Black tie. The invitation’s already on its way to your office.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Whitebeard laughed. “Of course, son. My assistants have their ears everywhere.”

Marco stepped up. “This way,” he said with a wink.

Shanks shot him a glare. “Let’s go.”

Luffy stirred again, murmuring, “Daddy… I want sparkly cake…”

Shanks sighed, dry as salt. “You might just get a full fireworks show at this rate.”

Whitebeard only grinned wider. “For my granddaughter? You bet.”

Chapter Text

The sun was warm as Shanks strolled through the narrow shopping street, Luffy’s small hand tucked securely in his. Every few steps, he had to gently tug her back when something sparkly in a shop window or a stand stacked with rainbow-colored candy threatened to steal her attention completely.

“I still can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his face as they passed a boutique with more zeroes on the tags than he was comfortable with. “Of all the people in the world, you had to charm Whitebeard into being your grandpa.”

Luffy didn’t reply—she was too busy happily munching on a chocolate-covered rice cracker he’d bribed her with earlier. Shanks was grateful for her unspoken deal: as long as she had food, she didn’t complain. It made shopping trips like this bearable, even pleasant.

They drifted in and out of a few stores, most of which were far too formal, too stiff, or just outright boring. Luffy didn’t want anything “itchy” or “gray” or “like old people stuff,” and Shanks was determined to find something that was both chic and sparkly enough for Whitebeard’s black-tie birthday party.

“I’ve still got three more shops on the—Luffy? LUFFY!”

Panic lanced through him. He spun around.

She was gone.

Of course.

“Luffy!” he barked again, already storming back the way they’d come like a man chasing down a rogue seagull in a storm. Shoppers parted around him, some startled, others amused.

It took less than two minutes, but it felt like an hour before he spotted her again, standing dead still, chocolate-smudged fingers glued to the front of a nearby shop window.

Her eyes were locked, wide and reverent, on the most atrocious, glitziest hot pink dress he’d ever seen. Sequins. Rhinestones. Cut-outs. Tulle that looked like it could double as insulation.

“Baby,” Shanks said, catching his breath as he crouched beside her, “that’s for adults. You can wear something like that when you’re older… and if you still like that kind of thing then.”

Luffy looked up at him with the most betrayed eyes he’d ever seen.

He sighed. “How about we go inside and see if they have anything like that in your size?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Okay, but first—your fingers. Give me your good arm, Anchor.” He pulled out a pack of wipes like a magician drawing a sword from his sleeve. “And your face, come here. You’ve got chocolate everywhere.”

Once the emergency cleanup was handled, they stepped inside—and Shanks immediately realised his mistake.

It wasn’t a boutique. It was a second-hand store.

There was no polished marble floor or perfectly curated spotlight displays—just mismatched racks, old-school price tags, and a little bell above the door that jingled cheerfully as it closed behind them. Shanks blinked.

“Huh,” he said, looking around. “Well. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

They wandered deeper into the shop. As expected, the hot pink glitter dress didn’t exist in kids' sizes, but then—miraculously—Luffy pulled something from one of the lower racks with a triumphant “Daddy, LOOK!”

It wasn’t sparkly. It wasn’t frilly. It didn’t even have rhinestones.

It was a simple, elegant red dress for children. The same deep, rich shade as his own hair.

Shanks stared at it, and slowly, a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he said, crouching to her level, “I’ve got a tie that matches this exact color.”

Luffy beamed, clearly thrilled by this idea.

“Well then,” Shanks declared, handing the dress to the cashier. “Let’s get you some shoes. And since your dress doesn’t sparkle…” He leaned down with a conspiratorial wink. “You get a sparkly bracelet. Deal?”

Luffy squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “Deal!”

Shanks hoisted her up with a chuckle. “I hope Whitebeard’s ready for this fashion icon you’re about to become.”

Luffy, already imagining her bracelet sparkling under the lights, kicked her heels excitedly.
“Grandpa’s gonna love it!”

Shanks just shook his head, smiling. “Yeah, sweetheart. I think he really will.”

It was Saturday, the 6th of April, and the long, winding driveway up to Whitebeard’s estate looked less like a private road and more like something carved into a cliffside in a royal drama. Shanks gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as the trees gave way to the first glimpse of the house.

No. Not a house.

A castle.

He’d seen wealth. He’d lived in privilege. But this? This was something else.

Luffy, strapped in her car seat in the back, pressed her chocolate-stained fingers against the window and whispered, almost reverently, “Is this a fairytale?”

“Mhm,” Shanks replied, mouth dry.

As they pulled up to the grand front entrance, two sharply dressed staff members were already making their way toward them. One, a young man trying very hard to appear professional, moved to Luffy’s door with practiced ease—until he came face to face with the car seat buckle.

He blinked. Tugged. Clicked something wrong.

Shanks was already out of the driver’s seat and striding around the car. “Here, please take the keys. Thank you,” he said, offering the fob with a practiced smile as he deftly unbuckled the seat in two smooth motions.

He lifted Luffy out of the car and into his arms, her little red dress fluttering in the breeze, the sparkle bracelet on her wrist catching the light. Together, they stepped into the grand foyer.

The ceilings were cathedral-high, polished marble floors gleaming beneath towering chandeliers. Shanks took in the crowd—some faces familiar, others completely foreign. Political elites, shipping magnates; a strange and powerful mix of people who had no business being in the same room and yet… here they were.

“Why are we seeing each other again so soon?” came a voice at his elbow.

Shanks turned to find Sengoku standing beside him, eyebrow arched, drink in hand.

Shanks grinned. “Oh, you’re going to love this.”

“Daddy, who’s that?” Luffy asked, tugging on his collar.

Sengoku looked down at her—and his expression cracked for the briefest moment. His eyes widened, then softened. “Oh my…”

“My name is Sengo—”

“Bird,” Luffy interrupted cheerfully, pointing directly at the seagull-shaped hat on his head.

Shanks howled with laughter, nearly doubling over.

Sengoku just stared at her in stunned silence, then blinked and gave a small, reluctant smile. “You’re not wrong.”

“This is a nice Ossan, baby,” Shanks said, stoking her hair, “but we’ve got someone else to say hello to.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. She twisted in his arms and squealed loud enough to turn heads. “GRANDPA ED!”

From across the hall, a deep, booming voice echoed, “Did I just hear my name?”

There he was, Whitebeard himself, rising from his chair like a mountain standing to attention. His arms opened wide.

“The guest of honor has arrived!”

Conversations faltered. Glasses paused mid-air. Every gaze in the room turned toward the child with the sparkling bracelet.

Whitebeard approached them slowly, a surprisingly gentle smile on his face. “May I hold her?” he asked Shanks, voice low and careful.

Shanks crouched slightly to speak directly to his daughter. “Anchor, can Grandpa Ed pick you up? Is it okay if you’re not with Daddy for a bit?”

Luffy nodded without hesitation, already holding her good arm out toward Whitebeard.

“I’ll bring her back the moment she wants it. I promise,” Whitebeard said, already reaching out—but with exquisite care. His huge hands moved gently around the cast on her arm as if it were the most fragile treasure he’d ever seen.

Luffy let herself be lifted, giggling softly as she settled against Whitebeard’s shoulder.

Shanks stepped back, watching the scene with something in his chest tightening—not in fear or worry. But awe.

"How the fuck did that happen?" whispered Sengoku in full disbelieve.

Whitebeard stood tall, Luffy resting against his shoulder as if she had belonged there all her life. His deep voice carried through the hall, steady and proud as he addressed the sea of gathered power—politicians, CEOs, admirals, old pirates in suits, and new blood with sharp suits and sharper smiles.

“This,” he began, his voice deep and resonant, “is my granddaughter.”

A wave of murmurs rolled through the crowd, heads turning, cameras subtly lifting, analysts already composing headlines in their minds.

“She’ll be four years old next month,” Whitebeard continued, his gaze tender as he looked down at her. “And though we share no blood, I’ve claimed her as my own.”

“I saw her, once, completely by chance. Big eyes, bloody knees and more spirit in her little body than half the people in this room combined. And I knew.” His voice lowered slightly, warm but weighted with gravity. “I knew I couldn’t go back to a world without that child in it. She reminded me what all of this is for. The legacy, the work, the empire, what good is any of it if not for those who come after?”

Luffy, oblivious to the seismic shift her existence was creating, was busily playing with the corner of Whitebeard’s collar.

“I spoke to my sons,” he continued. “Every last one. They agreed—should the time come, and her father allow it—she will be installed as my heir.”

A hush settled. The weight of that statement rippled through the room like a stone dropped into still water. Every politician, every CEO, every wannabe rival, every ally—they all turned their eyes toward one man.

Shanks wasn’t rattled, not exactly. But he was absolutely aware of the magnitude of what had just been said.

He gave a lopsided, deliberately noncommittal smile. “Well… as with all matters of succession and long-term strategic inheritance planning, I’d prefer to take the appropriate time to consult legal counsel, cross-reference the relevant precedent and thoroughly review all options available to my daughter.”

It was the most lawyerly “maybe” ever spoken.

Whitebeard let out a thunderous laugh. “Didn’t expect anything less, son.”

Luffy suddenly leaned up and whispered something into Whitebeard’s ear. He tilted his head, listening closely. Then his deep laugh rolled out again, rich with amusement.

“You want your hair down?” he asked gently. “Then take it down, child. For me, you don’t have to wear a bun. Especially if it makes you uncomfortable.”

With a gleeful squeal, Luffy tugged at the hair tie, releasing her thick, wild black curls, which spilled down in messy waves. She shook her head like a lion cub, the locks bouncing freely around her round cheeks.

The sight alone melted the last remnants of stiffness in the room.

The sparkle bracelet on her wrist flashed in the light as she wiggled in Whitebeard’s arms.

At that moment, Marco stepped forward, having watched the entire exchange from the sidelines. The corners of his mouth twitched with a smirk as he approached.

“UNCLE MACO!” Luffy squealed, twisting in Whitebeard’s arms to wave at him with both hands.

Marco laughed, genuinely, and stepped closer to ruffle her hair. “There she is. How's your arm, sweetheart?”

The crowd didn’t speak, didn’t whisper. They just watched, completely taken aback by the ease with which this child moved through titans. The Mayor. Whitebeard. Marco. And apparently, she called the most fearsome man in global trade Grandpa like it was nothing.

From where he stood, Shanks nursed his drink more out of habit than need. The sweet burn of aged liquor was a dull afterthought compared to the real spectacle unfolding before him.

Luffy, firmly cradled in Whitebeard’s arm like a beloved treasure, had been chatting away—mostly about cake and pirates and whether or not her grandpa's ship had a swimming pool—when something across the room caught her eye.

And then she gasped. Loudly.

So loudly that Whitebeard instinctively gripped her a little tighter as she nearly wriggled herself sideways right out of his arms.

"WHOA!" she cried, pointing across the room with sticky fingers and wide, awestruck eyes. “LOOK!!”

Shanks looked too, already bracing himself.

The object of her fascination was easy to find.

Izo had just entered through a tall side door, cutting a quietly elegant figure in a plum-colored kimono embroidered with silver cranes. His face was adorned with sharp, glittering kabuki makeup—red lines sweeping dramatically across his pale skin, brows arched, lips a deep carmine. His dark hair was perfectly arranged, his steps silent and sure. He moved like poetry.

Luffy’s whole body vibrated with admiration.

“SO pretty!” she whispered, reverent. Then, louder—because volume control was for strangers—“IS THAT A PRINCESS?!”

Whitebeard snorted, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. “Careful, little one,” he said, adjusting his grip as she tried to sit up in his arm. “That’s Izo. He’s one of my sons, your uncle. Not a princess.”

Luffy frowned, squinting at the shimmering kimono and perfect eyeliner.

“Then he’s a prince,” she declared matter-of-factly. “Prince Izo.”

Izo paused mid-step, his gaze sliding gently toward the child who had just dubbed him royalty.

He smiled, slow and soft and almost indulgent. “Finally someone who appreciates beauty.”

He walked forward with the kind of quiet gravity that made grown men get out of his way. When he reached them, he gave a graceful half-bow toward Luffy. “It’s an honour, little one. Your grandpa told me about you.”

Luffy beamed. “You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Besides Daddy.”

Whitebeard laughed again, louder this time, and Izo chuckled with him.

Meanwhile, across the room, Shanks was being slowly swallowed by a different kind of storm.

“Well, Mayor Silvers,” said one man in a sleek navy suit, “it seems the next generation has good taste.”

“A child that comfortable with Edward,” mused another, sipping wine like it was poison, “must come from exceptional parenting.”

“Yes, remarkable,” added a third, eyes flicking between Shanks and the room like he was calculating stock prices. “Tell me—how do you manage such poise in a child?”

Shanks smiled politely. “Snacks and dumb luck, mostly. My daughter is simply perfect.”

That earned a few forced laughs, but the crowd around him didn’t loosen. They hovered, keen, strategic, as if proximity to Luffy or worse, to Shanks might give them some advantage they couldn’t name yet.

But Shanks was watching his daughter light up a room full of monsters and men with nothing but honesty and big eyes and a glitter bracelet.

From where he stood, Shanks swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his gaze drifting over the room—but not in search of more company. In fact, the exact opposite.

He spotted Sengoku standing off to the side near an ornate pillar, arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between polite annoyance and deep calculation. No one dared stand too close.

Perfect.

Shanks excused himself from the latest wave of compliments—something about how “the child’s emotional intelligence must be a reflection of yours”—and beelined for the one man who wouldn't try to sell him anything.

Sengoku raised a single brow as Shanks stepped beside him.

“Slumming it?” he asked dryly.

Shanks chuckled under his breath. “Just needed a place to breathe. You tend to keep the air nice and clear around you.”

“Hmph,” Sengoku grunted. “That’s because I don’t indulge fools.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, both watching as Whitebeard cradled Luffy like she was spun glass.

Sengoku shook his head, his mustache twitching. “That child’s going to rearrange the entire balance of power without even trying.”

Shanks hummed in agreement. He took a sip from his glass, eyes still locked on his daughter as she declared Izo the prettiest person she’d ever seen, apart from her Daddy. Again.

Then he leaned a little closer to Sengoku, lowering his voice just enough.

“Looks like your grandson has even less of a shot now.”

Sengoku froze for half a second before turning his head slowly to squint at Shanks, who gave him a devilish smile and raised his glass in mock sympathy.

“Bastard, as if I'd want to be in one family with you damned Silvers and especially that foolish Monkey,” Sengoku muttered, almost fondly.

Shanks just chuckled, already picturing Garp losing his mind.

He'd found his safe harbour for the night.

The moment Judge Vinsmoke approached, the shift in the air was subtle but undeniable.

“Edward,” he said with a regal dip of the head. “A pleasure. I thought it time I introduced myself properly.”

Whitebeard inclined his head, but his expression remained unreadable. “Vinsmoke.”

“I’ve brought my children,” Judge continued, gesturing behind him, where four sharply dressed children stood like matching figurines and a woman in a wheelchair beside them. “Five, in total. I imagine they’d make fine companions for your granddaughter.”

Whitebeard said nothing for a beat, then looked down at Luffy, still in the crook of his arm.

“What do you think, little one? Want to meet them?”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “I like more friends!” she chirped.

Whitebeard smiled. “That’s what I thought.” He carefully lowered her to the ground and motioned Marco over.

“Keep an eye on her?”

Marco gave a nod. “Of course.”

Luffy stretched her arms up, adjusted the glittery bracelet on her wrist, then trotted over to the group with no fear at all.

“This is my wife, Sora,” Judge said curtly. “And our children—Ichiji, Niji, Yonji, Reiju—and the youngest, Sanji, hiding behind his mother.” He added before leaving his family.

Sora offered a tired smile. “Hello, dear. Don’t be shy. You can talk to them.”

Marco crouched beside Luffy. “Everything okay?”

“I’m thirsty,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“I’ll go get you some water. Stay right here, yeah?”

Luffy nodded and turned back to the children as Marco moved off toward a server across the room.

The introductions began stiffly. Reiju gave a kind smile, Yonji grinned too wide, and the older boys barely blinked.

Yonji leaned in and said, “You’re really pretty.”

Luffy giggled. “Thank you!”

“I have brothers too,” she said happily. “But they’re not here.”

Reiju crouched down slightly. “Really? What are their names?”

“Sabo and Ace,” Luffy said. “They were my only family before Daddy found me.”

That caught their attention.

“What do you mean, he found you?” Ichiji asked, a faint note of disdain in his voice.

“Daddy found me,” Luffy repeated matter-of-factly. “On the street.”

Niji raised a brow. “Wait… like actually found you on the street?”

Sora tensed. “Boys—”

“Be quiet, Mother,” Ichiji said sharply.

Luffy didn’t seem to notice the shift. “We didn’t have a house before. Just each other. And then Daddy came.”

Ichiji laughed under his breath. “So you're a street rat.”

“That’s not nice,” Luffy said, her voice going small.

Niji smirked. “How’s it feel to be charity?”

“Stop it,” Sora said firmly, but quietly.

Yonji leaned closer. “You don’t even look like a real Silvers. You sure he’s your daddy?”

Luffy’s lips quivered.

“Hey,” Reiju said, turning to her brothers. “That’s enough—”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” one snapped.

Luffy stepped back a little. “You’re mean,” she whispered.

“Aw, don’t cry, street princess,” Ichiji said, grinning.

“What is going on here?” Judge’s voice sliced through the air.

He had returned just in time to see the tears welling in Luffy’s eyes.

He turned to his wife. “Sora. Explain.”

“The children… were unkind to Miss Luffy,” Sora said quietly, trying to keep her tone measured. “I was handling it—”

“Why didn’t you intervene?” Judge snapped, taking a step closer. His voice wasn’t loud—but it was sharp enough to make Reiju flinch.

“I did—” Sora tried, but the words died in her throat as Judge’s hand rose. His towering presence eclipsed her.

The look in his eyes made the air around them crackle.

Luffy had seen that look before. Too many times. In another life. Before Daddy.

So when Judge’s hand lifted, fingers ringed in heavy metal, intention written all over him, Luffy moved.

She squirmed forward, fast, tiny fists gripping the edge of Sora’s lap, slipping between them just as the hand came down.

There was a crack—the kind that silenced a room.

And then a smaller one, as Luffy collapsed to the marble floor.

She didn’t scream at first. Just sat there, stunned. Her good hand clutched her forehead as her little body hunched forward.

And then, finally, a wail burst from her lungs.

The entire ballroom stopped.

All eyes turned towards the crying child on the ground, the frozen woman in the wheelchair, one hand raised like she might still shield herself, the towering man looming above them, and four children standing in a crooked line behind him, three of them laughing.

Luffy sobbed, her hair fell back enough to reveal the angry red mark blossoming across her temple—already swelling, the skin beneath her eye discoloured where Judge’s rings had caught her tiny skull.

Across the room, Marco dropped the glass of water and sprinted.

But he was not the first.

Shanks was already moving, like fire on the wind.

He knelt, arms already around his daughter. “I’ve got you, Anchor. I’ve got you.”

“It hurts,” she sobbed. “I landed on it.”

Someone gasped. It was Reiju.

“Blood,” she whispered.

A thin line of red trickled down from beneath Luffy’s dark hair, curling over her temple and down her cheek in a soft, terrible streak.

For a second, no one moved.

Then the world erupted.

Whitebeard stood so suddenly his throne groaned under the shift. His sons rushed to him immediately, arms raised as if physically holding him in place.

“Pops, please.”

“Marco is already with her.”

“Let the doctor handle it.”

Whitebeard’s eyes were locked on the tiny form on the floor, the blood, the silence that child had shattered with her light and the man who dared snuff it out.

Meanwhile, Marco slid to his knees next to Shanks.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, checking Luffy’s eyes. “Can you look at me?” He turned to the attendants and yelled "THATCH, get me a first aid kit!"

Luffy nodded through her tears, her voice shaky but present. “It hurts.”

“I know, I know,” Marco said, looking closer at her fresh wound and the blooming bruises. “Head wounds bleed more than they should. You’re okay. You're okay. The bleeding will stop soon.” He took a few seconds later, gently inspecting the cast. “It’s not broken. Just jolted. Everything's fine.”

Shanks pressed his forehead to her shoulder, whispering steady, calming nonsense, while around them, the room boiled with movement. Security guards were whispering into headsets. Attendants backed away from Judge, unsure if they should intervene or bow.

But all eyes kept flicking back to the wound that's now being tended, Thatch crouched next to Marco to give him the things he needed.

Shanks finally spoke. “Sweetheart—” he breathed, “what happened?”

“She said she was thirsty,” Marco said as he stepped beside them, his voice quiet and grim while dabbing the blood with a cloth. “I left for water.”

“He's mean…” Luffy hiccuped, cheeks wet. She looked up, lips trembling. “That man is mean, Daddy. He screams with his eyes and wanted to hit the nice lady.”

Judge’s face didn’t change. Not much. But the atmosphere around him did.

Shanks slowly straightened, positioning himself between Vinsmoke Judge and his crying daughter and her two new Uncles. His voice, when it came, was a blade wrapped in velvet. “If this is how you treat your family,” he said coolly, “I can only imagine what your subjects endure.”

Whispers rippled through the room. Eyes darted. Mouths pressed shut.

Then Shanks turned his gaze to Sora. “Do you want to leave this place with him?” he asked, voice suddenly sharp. “Or should I be concerned for your safety as well?”

Sora opened her mouth—and the tears finally fell. Her body trembled, hands gripping the armrests of her chair like she could hold herself upright through sheer will.

Before she could answer, a small voice burst from behind her.

“Please help Mommy!” Sanji cried, stepping out, fists clenched at his sides. “Mommy’s legs don’t work because of father!”

Gasps broke out around the room.

Shanks looked down at the boy, then slowly back to Sora. “Is that true?”

Sora gave one sharp, shaky nod. She couldn’t speak.

The murmurs became a low roar now, rippling outward in waves.

“That’s enough.” Judge’s voice rumbled like thunder. “Children. We are leaving.” He didn’t look at Sora. Or Sanji. Just turned sharply and began walking away.

The green-haired one followed first, then the blue-haired brother, then the redhead. Reiju hesitated, eyes flickering between her mother and younger brother, before she finally turned and followed the others.

Silence lingered in their wake.

Sanji stood where he was. He looked at Luffy in Shanks’ arms, still sniffling but blinking at him.

“Thank you, Miss Luffy. I'm Sanji,” he said softly.

Luffy gave a wobbly smile. “Do you wanna be my friend? You look nice.”

Sanji nodded instantly.

Shanks looked across the room. Sengoku was already shaking his head.

What a goddamn debacle.

The last of the Vinsmoke children disappeared through the towering ballroom doors and the silence they left behind was heavy, thick with shame, fury, and the kind of quiet that only truly follows when something sacred has been broken.

Marco finished wrapping Luffy’s wound with expert hands, gentle but efficient. A clean white bandage now circled her head, slightly crooked from her messy hair and the way she kept leaning into Shanks' chest, small fists bunching into his jacket.

The room parted for him instinctively, as if the very air recognized that this was not a man who moved often without reason. His sons trailed behind, ready but silent, watching as their father crossed the ballroom with a gravity that pulled every gaze to him.

He stopped in front of Luffy.

Shanks stood, keeping one arm around his daughter, gaze wary—until Whitebeard bent ever so slightly at the knees, lowering himself to Luffy’s level.

“You,” Whitebeard rumbled, voice deep and hoarse but kind, “are brave, little one.”

Luffy blinked up at him, eyes wide and glossy. “I just didn’t want the pretty lady to get hurt. Sanji is brave. He helped his mom.”

Whitebeard’s throat moved like he swallowed something thick.

“Even so. That was very courageous of you,” he said, and then he smiled, rough and proud. “Not many people would stand in the way of someone like Judge. But you did. You protected someone else.”

Luffy sniffled, rubbing her eye carefully. “My brothers always said I should protect people.”

Shanks’ brow twitched, and Marco stilled.

Whitebeard nodded solemnly. “They must be a very smart young men.”

“Yes,” Luffy said seriously. “They taught me how to punch, too.”

That earned a low laugh from the old man. He reached one massive hand out, slow and gentle, and tapped one thick finger to the tip of her bandaged head. “And next time, I bet you’ll be even faster.”

Luffy giggled. Then winced. “Ow.”

Marco immediately stepped forward again. “Alright, hey, let’s take it slow, yeah?” he said, brushing his knuckles over her hairline again. “If you feel dizzy, or sick to your tummy, you tell us right away, okay?”

“Okay,” Luffy mumbled.

Then Sanji crept closer.

He stood awkwardly a few feet away, one hand wringing the other. “Can I…” He glanced at Marco, then at Shanks. “Is it okay if I… sit with her?”

Marco gave him a quick once-over, then nodded. “You can—but sit down too. No sudden moves and if she says she’s tired, you give her space, got it?”

Sanji nodded fast and practically tiptoed over, sitting cross-legged beside Luffy on the polished floor. She looked at him and gave a tiny smile.

He smiled back.

Whitebeard straightened slowly and turned to Shanks, his expression more serious now.

“I’d like to offer you a room here tonight,” he said, voice low but firm. “The girl needs rest. Marco and I can take turns watching over her. If that’s alright with you.”

Shanks nodded. “That’s very generous. Thank you.”

Marco stepped a little closer and leaned in, speaking just for Shanks. “If you’re more comfortable, we can also call Hongo,” he murmured. “He should still be on his free weekend, but I doubt he’d mind. Head wounds stress you more than they should.”

Shanks let out a slow breath, nodding again. “Yeah. Good call. Let’s keep that option open.”

Marco gave him a quick pat on the arm before turning his attention back to Luffy and Sanji, now sharing a cookie one of the attendants had snuck to them during the chaos.

For a moment, things felt calm again—like after the eye of a storm.

Whitebeard took one long look around the ballroom.

The music had long since died.

The decorations shimmered uneasily in the silence, as though even they weren’t sure what to do in the wake of what had happened.

Dozens of powerful guests stood frozen in place. None dared to speak.

So Whitebeard did. His voice rose like thunder over the sea.

“I never thought,” he began, steady and slow, “that one of my birthdays would end in tears.”

He didn’t look angry. Not exactly. He looked disappointed—a far heavier weight coming from a man of his size and presence.

Murmurs stilled instantly.

“I’ve celebrated many years with this family. With friends, with comrades, with enemies-turned-allies. I’ve seen laughter. Fights. Toasts loud enough to shake the ceiling.” His gaze swept across the crowd. “But I’ve never watched a man raise a hand to a woman under my roof. Not once.”

He paused.

“And I never thought… that when it finally happened, it would be my granddaughter who stood up to stop him.”

Every eye turned. To the girl.

Tiny. Bandaged. Cookie crumbs on her cheeks. Sitting cross-legged on the ballroom floor with her friend Sanji and the eldest of Whitebeard’s sons crouched nearby. Her small hands had broken her half cookie into neat four pieces, one for herself, one for Marco, one for the lady in the wheelchair and one for her Daddy.

Whitebeard watched her and smiled, slow and proud.

“That little girl put herself between violence and someone who could not run,” he said. His voice was quieter now, but somehow carried more weight. “She stood where grown men stood frozen. Where pride and status and fear kept others still, she moved. That's exactly the spirit I spoke of earlier.”

Luffy looked up just in time to see him watching her.

She smiled. Soft and sleepy. A piece of cookie sticking to her chin.

Whitebeard raised his glass—not to the heavens, but low, level, so he was looking straight at her.

“To courage,” he said. “To kindness. And to the smallest Edward, who reminded all of us what true strength looks like tonight.”

The crowd didn’t cheer. They couldn’t.

Instead, they watched as Luffy toddled up onto her knees, held out her cookie piece first to Sora, who blinked down at the crumbly offering as though it were gold, then to Marco beside her and finally to her Daddy, who knelt and took it like it was the most important gift he’d ever received.

Luffy giggled. “Sharing is caring, Sabo said.”

Whitebeard’s heart could’ve burst. “And may she never lose that wisdom.”

Even Sengoku, watching from across the hall, let out a quiet breath and offered a nod.

Because no one could look away from the girl who had just changed the course of an evening with nothing but her heart, her bravery, and a broken cookie.

Sengoku had been standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed, shoulders tight, watching everything unfold with narrowed eyes. He hadn’t moved even when Whitebeard gave his speech, just muttered under his breath:

“Always the fucking Monkeys…”

But as the crowd began to breathe again, he slowly stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with a quiet sigh.

Before he could even say a word, a small voice called out cheerfully: “Bird-Ossan!”

Sengoku blinked. Hard.

Luffy was smiling at him, face still a bit blotchy from crying, but bright-eyed as ever. She pointed straight at him like she’d just spotted a funny-shaped cloud. “Bird-Ossan, come here!”

Shanks burst into laughter behind her, nearly doubling over as Marco looked between them with twin expressions of confusion.

“You know him?” Marco asked, brows lifting.

“She does,” Shanks murmured.

Then he smirked. “Anchor,” he said to Luffy, “I think Bird-Ossan wants to be your grandpa too. He told me earlier. He can't think of something better than being part of our family.”

Sengoku’s eye twitched violently. His jaw clenched like he might implode.

Before he could protest, Luffy chirped brightly, “Birdy Gramps!” and held out a crumbling piece of cookie Sanji gave her towards Sengoku with both hands.

Sengoku stared. Then sighed.

And laughed. Just a short, low chuckle that slipped out before he could stop it.

“Birdy gramps! Here, cookie!” Luffy chirped, holding out the smallest piece of her snack with sticky fingers, as if it were a royal offering.

Sengoku stared at her, at the bright eyes, the bruised temple, the fearless grin and sighed like the weight of the seas had landed on his shoulders.

“…Thank you, Luffy. But if you must give me a nickname, just call me ‘Senny.’ There’s… someone else who likes to call me Senny. It fits.”

Sengoku glanced sideways at Shanks with a look that practically screamed 'I will end you,' and Shanks just wiggled his fingers in a lazy wave.

Sengoku knelt down, not quite touching her but closer now, his voice lowering as he addressed Sora gently. “Misses Vinsmoke… would you like to file a formal report about what happened here tonight? It would ensure everything is properly documented for legal use. If you pursue charges or a divorce… eyewitnesses help, yes—but evidence matters more.”

Sora looked up, startled, but thoughtful.

Shanks shifted slightly behind her. “It’s smart,” he said gently. “Only documented things count in court. If this goes to trial—or custody, or divorce—you’ll need proof. And there are more than enough witnesses in this room.”

Shanks head Sengoku and joined the conversation. “He’s right. If you want this to hold in court, even just to protect yourself later on, it has to be written down. Here and now, you’ve got dozens of people who’ll testify. Best moment to act.”

Sora looked between the men. Luffy, until now sitting beside her son and now resting a small hand on the edge of her blanket.

She nodded once.

Sengoku looked to Shanks, who gave a small, careful nod in return.

“I’ll make the call right now,” Sengoku said.

And as he stepped aside to pull out his phone, Luffy leaned back against her Daddy’s legs with a satisfied sigh.

“Birdy Gramps is funny.”

Shanks grinned. “He’s going to love that name being on public record.”

Roughly thirty minutes later, the heavy double doors at the back of the ballroom slammed open, nearly flying off the hinges.

Commissioner Monkey D. Garp stood in the doorway, panting hard, like he’d jogged the whole way up the hill in full uniform. Behind him, Smoker and a second officer stumbled in, both trying to catch their breath and look professional at the same time.

The room, already on edge from the earlier chaos, turned to see what fresh madness was about to unfold.

“SMOKEY BOATY!!” chirped a high, thrilled voice.

The entire ballroom turned toward Luffy, who had just spotted Smoker like it was the best thing that had happened all night.

Still perched on a pillow between Marco and Thatch, her bandage slightly crooked and crumbs around her mouth, Luffy lit up and waved her arms. “Hi!!! You came!!”

Smoker blinked. “Oh no.”

Luffy scrambled up and trotted over, wobbling a little. Marco made a quiet move to follow, just in case, but let her go. She skidded to a stop right in front of Smoker, looked up, and said with deep regret, “I’m so sorry, Smokey Boaty… we don’t have cookie left. But—!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a single broken crumb. “This one survived. You can have it.”

Smoker stared at the crumb like it personally offended him.

Shanks, behind them, leaned casually against a column, arms crosse, grinning.

Luffy continued cheerfully, “Also, I made a new friend! His name is Sanji, and his mommy is nice and pretty and she can't walk, and she smiled at me like this—” Luffy did a dramatic exaggerated smile, “—and I think she needs cookies too. But I don’t have any. I have another grandpa, his name is Birdy Gramps.”

Smoker blinked. “…What happened here?”

Marco stepped over to him, voice low. “She got hurt. Stepped in between Vinsmoke Judge and his wife. Took the hit herself.”

Smoker’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Officer,” came a deep voice from behind Luffy, smooth and thunderous, “Do you know my granddaughter?”

Smoker turned around and immediately paled.

Edward Newgate was seated near the head of the ballroom, broad shoulders draped in a white and gold coat. His gaze was calm but firm.

Smoker’s face went blank with terror. He stood up straighter and bowed deep. “Sir. I… I wasn’t aware the child belonged to you.”

“Now you know,” Whitebeard rumbled, watching him. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”

Smoker nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. An… exceptionally lively one.”

Behind him, Garp was still standing frozen in the doorway. His expression was one of pure, abject horror. The air around him vibrated with dread.

“Is he… okay?” Marco asked in a whisper.

“No,” Sengoku muttered behind him. “No, he is absolutely not.”

Then, as Garp finally moved one foot forward, Sengoku casually reached out and grabbed his coat, stopping him.

“You’re not allowed to flee the scene. You, indirectly, made this child,” he whispered. “You deal with the consequences.”

Shanks, watching the entire exchange from the side, barely contained his snicker.

Luffy didn’t notice any of it. She smiled wide and offered the crumb to Smoker again. “It’s small but brave. Like me.”

Smoker stared at her for a beat, sighed, and gently took it. “Thanks… kid.”

Garp took a small step closer to Luffy, his large figure towering over her as he offered her a kind smile. His chest felt tight, but there was a warmth in his heart that he couldn’t ignore.

“You’re a brave little Monkey,” he said, watching her. “Standing up like that. Not many grown men would’ve done what you did tonight.”

Luffy’s sugar-fueled energy made her bounce in place, her eyes wide with excitement. She was practically buzzing. “Really?!” she asked, her voice full of wonder and joy.

Garp chuckled, though there was a slight heaviness in his laugh. “Yeah, really. And I’m proud of you for it.”

To take his mind off those thoughts, Garp reached into his coat and pulled out a small packet of crackers. He offered them to Luffy, the crinkle of the packaging catching her attention.

“Here,” he said with a warm smile, “You’ve earned these.”

Luffy eagerly grabbed the packet, opening it and munching away without hesitation. Luffy grinned ear-to-ear, clearly pleased with the praise and the crackers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she waved a cracker in the air, holding it out to Garp. “Do you want one?” she asked, as if the word had just come to her.

Garp paused for a moment. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotions he didn’t often express.

His mind wandered back to the day he’d left her, to the life he hadn’t given her. But in front of him, there was only his brave little girl and he couldn’t help but be proud of her.

“Well, Lu, thank you,” he began, voice a little more hoarse than he’d like. “What do you think about how calling me Gramps, huh? Only if you want to, of course. Senny over here told me you call him Gramps.”

Luffy looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Gramps? Okay! Gramps! Gramps! Cracker Gramps calls me Lu!” she chirped, bouncing in place.

Garp’s heart soared despite the pang of guilt. He chuckled, his smile wide and genuine now, as he accepted the cracker she handed him. “Cracker Gramps, huh? You really know how to make an old man feel good,” he said with a soft laugh, the weight of the moment lifting slightly.

Luffy giggled, clearly delighted by the new nickname she’d come up with. “Want more, Gramps?” she asked, holding out another cracker, her enthusiasm never wavering.

“I think I’ll take a few more, yeah,” Garp replied, his voice gruff but filled with warmth. “You know, I’ve got a lot of respect for a kid who’s this strong.”

He took the cracker, his eyes never leaving her face. For a moment, all the doubts, the guilt and the mistakes he’d made seemed to fade. All that mattered now was this little girl, her innocent joy, and the connection they were starting to build.

Shanks, standing just a few steps away, watched with a soft, knowing smile. His eyes flickered toward Sengoku, who was still hovering nearby, but there was a quiet amusement in his gaze. He’d never seen Garp so tender, not even with his idiot son.

“You’re really making an impression on her, old man,” Shanks teased, his voice light with humor.

Garp shot him a look, his smile widening. “What can I say? She’s a special kid,” he replied, the pride in his tone unmistakable. “And I’m not perfect, but I’ll try to be here for her now. That's all I can do.”

Sengoku, who had been watching closely, spoke up. “She's a force. A testimony to her family.”

Garp gave a soft grunt in agreement. But even as the conversation continued around him, his focus remained on Luffy, her infectious energy, her ability to find joy in the smallest things, and the way she seemed to light up every room she entered. She had no idea of the past, of the things he wished he could change, and perhaps that was for the best.

As Luffy handed him another cracker, Garp ruffled her hair gently. “You’re something else, kid. And you can call me, anytime you want. I’ll be there.”

Luffy beamed at him. “Gramps, Gramps, Gramps!” she chirped again, without a care in the world, the simple joy of the moment filling the space between them.

Garp's face split into the most genuine, joyful grin anyone had ever seen. It was a rare sight, his joy contagious, and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to blur out. He looked like he might burst with pride, and the words barely escaped his lips: “You’re gonna kill me, Lu…”

For Garp, it was the start of something new. Something he hadn’t expected, maybe even didn’t deserve, but something he wasn’t going to let go of.

“Looks like you’re gonna be making a lot of memories with her, Garp,” Shanks teased, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Garp chuckled again, this time a little lighter. “I hope so,” he muttered under his breath, but it was clear he was grateful. In a world full of regrets, moments like this were worth holding onto.

And in that moment, with Luffy happily munching on crackers, it was as if everything else faded away. There was only this—her laughter, her presence and a second chance to make things right.

The entire room had fallen silent for a second, watching the interaction. Garp, the City Police Commissioner, seemed almost… flustered by a little girl. And in that moment, it was clear to everyone present that something rare had just happened.

Whitebeard’s deep laughter rumbled through the room as he approached the little circle forming on the floor. His presence was impossible to ignore—commanding and warm, like an old oak tree that could shelter and crush in equal measure. He lowered himself with a grunt to sit beside them, knees creaking but eyes twinkling.

Luffy looked up, her cheeks puffed from her last cracker bite. She blinked once, then twice, as if realizing she was suddenly surrounded by an entire council of towering men.

She raised one tiny arm and pointed enthusiastically as she counted:

“Cracker Gramps,” she said, pointing to Garp, who looked like his soul might melt out through his eyeballs.

“Grandpa Ed!” she declared next, finger landing on Whitebeard, who raised his brows with pleased surprise.

“Birdy Gramps!” she chirped, gesturing toward Sengoku, who looked personally victimized and one muscle twitch away from leaving the country.

“And DADDY!” she finished, both arms shooting up now as she turned toward Shanks, whose laughter practically knocked him off balance.

Shanks wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “You three better remember,” he said between chuckles, “the little monster’s birthday is on May 5th. That means cake, chaos—” he shot Sengoku a very deliberate grin, “—and of course, her Birdy Gramps has to come too. With entourage. So the little shit can apologise in person.”

Whitebeard raised a thick brow. “Apologise?”

Sengoku groaned, already dreading it. “I’m not bringing him—”

“Oh, but you are,” Shanks sing-songed.

Luffy beamed, utterly pleased with herself.

Garp, on the other hand, looked like someone had just handed him the sun. His mouth parted slightly. His eyes were glassy. He hadn’t dared to imagine ever being part of something like this. Not after what he did. Not after how badly he failed her.

But now he was invited to her birthday.

He was her Cracker Gramps. And she had said it with joy.

Garp turned his face slightly away, blinking furiously.

Whitebeard watched him with the quiet awareness of a man who’d seen many kinds of grief—and a few rare kinds of healing. He said nothing. Just gave Garp’s shoulder one solid, grounding pat.

Chapter Text

It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, the kind that felt like sunshine and childhood. Laughter echoed through the lush garden as Luffy, in a red velvet cape and a crooked gold paper crown, dashed barefoot across the grass. She held a wooden sword in one hand and yelled out orders like a pirate captain.

"Zoro! Sanji! Koby! To the treasure tree!" she barked with a grin that could split mountains.

“Aye, Captain Luffy!” the three boys shouted back, running after her in a flurry of grass stains and skinned knees, their makeshift pirate flags flapping behind them.

A short distance away, on the patio under the awning, a group of adults watched with equal parts amusement and pride. Shanks leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, grinning like a fool. Rayleigh, Shakky, Mihawk, Sora and Dr. Kobato stood or sat nearby, chuckling at the spectacle of the little pirate queen and her loyal crew.

"Where’s the cake?" Shanks asked as Sabo appeared from the house, hair a little ruffled and cheeks flushed.

“It’s not ready yet…” Sabo replied, glancing over his shoulder. “Dad, can you come with me? Now?”

Shanks straightened, instantly alert. He stood, brushing cookie crumbs off his shirt. Sora and Dr. Kobato chatted softly, but Rayleigh, Mihawk, and Shakky instinctively quieted and turned their heads towards the house.

“Ace just opened the door to a man and... ehm, then punched him in the face,” Sabo muttered under his breath.

Mihawk choked on his wine. The man who never flinched in court was already halfway to the door. Shakky exchanged a sharp look with Ray and they followed.

Inside the hallway, the atmosphere was tight.

Garp stood near the entrance, a red mark already blooming on his cheek. Ace glared at him, fists clenched, chest heaving. Sabo stood between them, tense.

"Let’s go to my office," Shanks said quickly, stepping in. He turned to Ray. "Dad, grab him a cold pack."

Ray nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

Upstairs, once the office door closed, the tension practically buzzed.

Ace didn’t wait. “What kind of sick joke is this?!”

Shanks held up a hand, but Garp spoke first, voice tired, words heavy.

“Ace, I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. I was... I was cruel. I gave up when I shouldn't have. But I thought—" Garp's voice cracked slightly, “I thought Luffy was dead. Or worse, that you had sold her to traffickers.”

Ace’s face drained of all color. “What the fuck did you just say?!”

Ray returned and handed Garp the ice pack. The old man pressed it against his cheek, voice hoarse.

“Dadan told me that... that you ran with her. That you took her. I thought that was better than the alternative. I couldn’t bear the idea of her being hurt every day. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

Garp took a breath, the kind that hurt on the way out. “There was a place for both of you. Makino, remember her? She and her father brought you clothes once. They were ready to take you in. Both of you.”

Ace didn’t look convinced. Didn’t look anything but betrayed.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Garp went on, slowly setting the cold pack on the desk and rising to his feet. Then, with a creaking groan, he got down on his knees. He lowered his head to the floor in a full bow.

“I can't make it right. I’ll never be able to. But I don’t want to be part of the problem anymore. Hate me if it helps. I deserve it. But please—please—let me be part of Luffy’s life. I know I don’t deserve her either, but I want to be there for her. Even if I couldn’t be for you. Please let me be the best Cracker Gramps for her.”

There was a long silence.

Then Ace’s voice, low and shaking. “If you ever disappoint her, I will kill you. I don’t care if I end up in prison. I will end you. Trust me.”

He turned to Shanks. “Dad, please apologise to Luffy for me. I... I don’t want to come back down. Not today. Could I get my dinner brought up?”

Shanks pulled him into a hug, planting a soft kiss to his forehead. Ace let himself lean into it for just a moment.

“I’ll send her up later with a candle on your slice, okay?”

Ace nodded, quietly. “Thanks, Dad.”

And then he was gone.

Shanks turned to Sabo, who had just entered the room again with wide eyes. “Sabo,” Shanks said, dryly, “if a loud, unbearable man with an afro shows up at the front door—send him up here. Bring the kid and maybe one of the adults into the garden. I really don’t need a scene on her birthday.”

Sabo blinked, then nodded quickly.

Shanks added, almost offhandedly, “Also, if a very large bald man shows up… just bring him straight here. Please.”

Rayleigh looked toward the cabinet in the corner.

“Well...,” he said with a sigh, walking over. He pulled out six glasses and a bottle of aged Scotch.

By the time the glasses were full and the scotch breathing in the quiet of the study, Garp had grown uncharacteristically still. His hands wrapped tight around the glass, eyes scanning the room. Mihawk sat on the arm of a chair, silent. Shakky leaned back, her gaze sharp as ever. Rayleigh stood at the window, drinking slowly. Shanks hadn’t touched his glass.

Garp inhaled deeply, filling his lungs like a man preparing to walk into a storm.

He turned toward them, voice steady but low. “Would you protect Ace… if his parentage ever came to light?”

The room tensed—until Shanks broke the silence with a soft, certain, “Of course.”

Mihawk nodded once. Rayleigh didn’t move, but his hand tightened around his glass. Shakky said, “Always.”

Garp nodded, like he needed to hear it said aloud.

Then he dropped it. “Ace’s full name is Gol D. Ace.”

Every glass stopped mid-air.

Shakky’s brows shot up. Mihawk’s eye flicked open wider. Rayleigh slowly turned away from the window.

“Wait…” he said, his voice hollow. “The firecracker is Roger’s son?”

Garp just nodded once.

Shanks couldn’t get a sound out, his mouth open, disbelief flooding his face.

Rayleigh’s face contorted, then exploded. “FUCK, GARP!” he bellowed, the glass in his hand clinking dangerously. “He was my best friend! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“I know!” Garp snapped, matching his fire. “But did you ever think about why he didn’t give Ace to you?”

Rayleigh froze, breathing hard.

“He trusted me,” Garp continued, his voice cracking with the weight of it. “He called me himself, told me he got some girl pregnant and that both their lives were in danger. He said he didn’t have time. That the walls were closing in.”

“Still doesn’t mean you—!”

“He trusted me!” Garp roared, slamming the glass down. “You think I’ve had a good night’s sleep since?! You think it didn’t eat me alive to leave that kid?! You think I don’t live with that shame?! Fuck you, Rayleigh, if you think I didn’t care. He called me, Ray. Late at night. Said he’d gotten someone pregnant. That he was in deep. That there were people, governments, after them both. How could I not help?”

Rayleigh stared at him. “Fuck you,” he muttered, but the heat had cooled, at least a little. Shakky put a calming hand on his arm.

Shanks finally found his voice, quiet but curious. “…Was Ace’s mom in the cartel?”

Garp shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “No. She was a foreign intelligence agent. Government type. Dangerous life. They compromised each other and I don’t know how long they were together. Roger just told me what he had to. That she was pregnant. That they were both being hunted. That he didn’t want the child to be found.”

Shanks was still frozen near the fireplace, eyes dark and distant. “That's the reason… everything blew up?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Garp nodded grimly. “Yeah. He was supposed to infiltrate and report. Officially, he was a travelling journalist interested in Wildlife, as you know. Just some charismatic hobo going wherever he wanted. But Roger never did anything halfway.”

He ran a hand through his greying hair.

“He dug too deep. Got close to a woman embedded in the same target cell. Didn’t know who she really worked for. She didn’t know who he was either. Until they figured it out… and by then, they at least had sex. Please don't ask me if they were in love. I didn't ask and frankly, I didn't care.”

Mihawk leaned forward, voice low. “They compromised each other.”

Garp gave him a grim smile. “Exactly. And when it fell apart, Roger did what he always did: raised hell. He leaked everything. Names, ledgers, offshore accounts, photos, voices. He dumped years’ worth of dirty secrets into the world’s lap. Everything he’d dug up, everything she’d told him—public.”

“And the world spun it.” Shakky said bitterly.

“Exactly,” Garp replied. “Said he’d fabricated it all. That he was unstable, trying to sow chaos. He became the villain overnight. Several governments declared him an international criminal. Half the names in those documents disappeared within a month. And the rest? Declared anyone with Gol D. Roger’s bloodline an enemy of the state.”

Rayleigh collapsed into a chair, stunned. “So Ace…”

Garp nodded. “In at least five countries, Ace would be arrested on sight if they knew the truth. Some places, shot. Just for being his son. In our own, too. Especially ours. The narrative was spun too well. Too thoroughly. To some, Roger’s name is synonymous with treason.”

Shakky swore softly. Rayleigh’s hands clenched on the glass.

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed. “And you’ve kept that quiet all this time?”

“I’ve had to,” Garp barked. “The woman, Ace’s mother, managed to disappear. She was already pregnant. She reached out to me, begged me to keep the boy safe. She didn’t make it six months after that. I don’t even know where she was buried.”

His voice cracked again, softer now. “So I took the kid. I hid him as best I could, until I he was gone. And I lived with that guilt every damn day.”

Mihawk took a slow sip, watching everyone through the rim of his glass.

“Did you… speak to Roger often?” Shanks asked softly.

Garp looked up. “Once every two or three months, I’d say. Secret lines.”

There was something fragile in Shanks’ expression now, like hope chasing a ghost. “Did he ever ask about me?”

The silence dragged.

Garp shook his head slowly. “After he told me about leaving you and the shitty clown with Ray and Shakky… he never mentioned you again. Not once.”

Shanks didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Garp said quietly. “But he knew you were safe. That you were loved. I think that was enough for him.”

The silence after that was suffocating.

“That's not all,” Garp continued. “My son is alive, as some of you know. Dragon, my quiet, disciplined, brilliant idiot of a son is alive and entrusted his daughter into my care. And I failed another child.”

Everyone stilled again.

“Roger was his hero,” Garp said simply. “Dragon idolised him. The truth-seeker. When the government called him a traitor and burned every record of what he exposed… it broke something in him.”

He swallowed hard.

“The day Roger died, Dragon said to me: ‘If they can silence someone like him, they’ll never stop coming for the rest of us.’ A week later, he died in service. By the end of that year, his network had its first foothold. That’s what really radicalised him.”

Mihawk blinked, genuinely surprised. Shakky let out a breath like she’d been holding it for years.

Garp looked at them all again, letting the silence breathe this time.

“I’m telling you all this,” he said slowly, “because I can’t carry it by myself anymore. I shouldn’t. These aren’t just secrets. They’re burdens and they belong to the people raising these kids.”

He looked at each of them, gaze unwavering.

“You’re all their family,” he said. “Luffy’s. Ace’s. More than I’ve ever been. And if something ever happens to me, I need you to know the truth. To protect them, if you still can.”

No one moved for a moment.

Then Shanks gave a quiet nod. Mihawk followed. Rayleigh raised his glass.

“To truth,” he said.

“To the kids,” Shakky added, voice quiet but certain.

Garp breathed out, shaky, and nodded.

They drank until suddenly, from downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Everyone flinched.

Shanks exhaled slowly, pushing up from his seat. “That better not be who I think it is.”

“Well, well, well. How the turn tables,” Rayleigh muttered. “Might as well pour another round before the next revelation kills us.”

He opened the bottle, poured five generous glasses.

Two minutes passed in near silence, save for the occasional clink of whiskey stones settling in Rayleigh’s glass as he took another sip. The tension hadn’t fully dissipated, but the weight of what had just happened was still circling the room like a storm cloud deciding whether to break or blow over.

Then, the door opened with the kind of dramatic flair that came from a man deeply fed up.

Sengoku stepped into the room, his coat flaring behind him. He took one look at Garp kneeling on his chair with an ice pack on his cheek and the empty glass in Shanks’ hand.

“Oh, hell no,” Sengoku said, voice dry and full of dread.

Rayleigh, Shakky, and Mihawk all burst out laughing.

Shanks was wheezing. Even Garp cracked a sheepish, bruised grin though he didn’t get up to greet his friend.

“You old fool,” Sengoku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What happened this time?”

All eyes turned to Garp.

Garp sighed and finally pushed himself off the floor, groaning as his knees cracked on the way up. “Senny, remember when I told you I had an adopted grandson? One I left in the care of extended family?”

Sengoku narrowed his eyes. “Yes. The one you said you ‘lost track of.’ I assumed that meant he was a teenager now and didn’t return your calls.”

Garp scratched the back of his head, then gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “His name is Ace. He’s Luffy’s big brother... well, not by blood. He’s one of Shanks’ kids.”

Sengoku stared at him. There was a full beat of stunned silence.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Rayleigh choked on his drink. Mihawk turned away, shoulders shaking. Shakky cackled into her glass. Shanks just leaned back in his chair with a smug little smile.

“Nope,” Garp said with a grimace. “Not kidding. He just decked me downstairs.”

“Good,” Sengoku muttered reflexively, before rubbing his face. “You really lost your marbles, huh?”

Shanks raised his glass. “He really did.”

Garp didn’t argue. “Look, I’m trying to fix it. I’m not asking for a gold star. Just a chance.”

Sengoku groaned again. “You’ve created a family web so chaotic, a soap opera writer would give up trying to untangle it.”

Shanks grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, it gets better. Do you remember she calls you ‘Birdy Gramps’ now?”

Sengoku looked like he might combust. “Don’t start.”

“Welcome to her fifth birthday,” Shanks added with mock cheer. “Hope you like cake and emotional damage.”

Rayleigh finally handed Sengoku a glass. “Drink. Trust me.”

Sengoku took it. He downed it.

“God help me,” he muttered. “You’re all out of your goddamn minds.”

Then the doorbell rang again. Everyone froze.

Shanks let out a long groan and looked at Ray.

“Please tell me it’s not someone worse.”

Rayleigh smirked. “You want me to bring more glasses?”

“And the whole bottle,” Shakky said.

Mihawk set down his glass with a smirk and moved toward the door. “If this is another emotionally loaded surprise,” he muttered to no one in particular, “I swear I’m moving to the woods. With Luffy.”

The door creaked open and then a deep, unmistakable rumble echoed through the hallway.

“Move aside, boy.”

A moment later, Whitebeard, all ten feet of broad, weathered and unmistakably 'done with everyone’s shit,' squeezed his way through the doorway with the kind of effort that made the hinges complain. 

Mihawk's glass paused halfway to his lips and blinked. Shakky arched a brow.

None of them said anything, but the unspoken “what the actual fuck” was deafening.

Shanks, for his part, was already cracking up.

The old man stood fully in the room now, arms crossed, coat sweeping behind him like a cape. His eyes immediately locked on Shanks.

“Son.” The word was half growl, half sigh. “What the hell am I doing here?”

Shanks raised both hands innocently, but he was grinning ear to ear.

“I want to see my granddaughter, not sit in a room full of people I go out of my way to avoid during the week,” Whitebeard rumbled.

That sent Shanks into a fit of laughter so strong he had to lean against the back of a chair.

Rayleigh glanced at Mihawk. Mihawk glanced at Shakky. Shakky just raised her glass and took a long sip.

“…He’s got a granddaughter?” Rayleigh finally asked, low.

Shanks wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and tried to pull himself together. “Yeah. He’s Grandpa Ed.”

Mihawk blinked again. “The little one? Luffy? He's the 'Grandpa Ed' Luffy talks about nonstop?”

Whitebeard turned then, his voice instantly softening in a way that made the whiplash almost comedic. “She calls me that,” he said, almost fondly. “Only one allowed to.”

Rayleigh just muttered, “I need another drink,” and poured himself another finger of scotch.

Sengoku had yet to say a word. He just stared, like the universe had finally given up trying to make sense. And Garp was grinning like a man who’d won the lottery, surrounded by the people he never thought would all be in one place. Accepting him as part of at least Luffys life.

Shanks stepped on his toes, stretched his arm and clapped Whitebeard on the shoulder, gestured toward the door. “She’s in the garden playing pirates. I’ll take you down.”

Whitebeard grunted, but didn’t protest.

As they headed out, Shanks turned and called over his shoulder, “Try not to die of shock while I’m gone. And someone please pour Birdy Gramps a second drink.”

Sengoku held up his glass without a word. “Fuck this fucking family. I can't tell you how much I hate every single one of you. Except you, Misses Silvers.”

As Whitebeard and Shanks stepped into the garden, they were met by the familiar chaos of a pirate gathering gone partially feral—laughter, clattering toy swords, and the occasional high-pitched cry of mutiny.

Whitebeard scanned the scene with fond amusement until a blur of red cape and paper crown came charging at him.

“GRANDPA ED!” Luffy hollered, flinging herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, the corners of his mouth lifting into a rare, full smile. “There’s my angel,” he rumbled.

“I made Koby walk the plank!” she declared proudly. “And Sanji said he’s gonna make a cake with sparklers!”

Whitebeard nodded solemnly. “Sounds like a productive day for the Queen of Pirates.”

Luffy beamed, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Also, I got, like, five flowers and a crab. The crab pinched Zoro.”

Shanks snorted behind them. “That’s what he gets for trying to name it after himself.”

As Luffy kept chattering, Sabo approached, his shirt bore signs of icing and someone’s glitter cannon.

Sabo offered a polite nod. “Sir.”

Whitebeard looked up, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You must be the older brother.”

Sabo nodded. “Sabo. I—uh—I wanted to say thank you. For… everything you’ve done for her. She never stops talking about you.”

“She calls me Grandpa Ed,” Whitebeard said with a chuckle, still holding Luffy steady on his shoulder. “Wasn’t exactly expecting that one.”

“She’s good at surprising people,” Sabo said, then hesitated. “May I?”

Whitebeard gently lowered Luffy back to the ground, showing Sabo that he can handle a delicate young lady just fine. She darted off again with a shout of “ZORO, I’M BACK TO ARREST YOU!”

Sabo watched her for a moment, then turned back to the towering man beside him. “She’s tougher than she looks,” he said, quieter now. “Used to get into fights with stray dogs from time to time. Scrapes, bruises, at least one broken finger. We—me and Ace—we did what we could, but we didn’t have bandages, you know? No adults and the clinic was rather unwilling to help us. We just… learned.”

Whitebeard straightened slightly. “…No adults?”

“We were on our own for a long time. Street kids. She was on the streets as soon as eight days old. We, especially Ace, raised her. Helped her survive. Before we ended up with Sha-Dad. Dad.” Sabo glanced over, as if double-checking Luffy was still laughing. “That first night we were here? She cried when she thought we were asleep. Not ‘cause she was scared. Because she didn’t believe it was real. She still sleeps with one of us, afraid it was just a dream and she'll wake up in our shack again.”

Whitebeard stared at him, stunned. “You… she…”

“She had no one but Ace and me. It was always just the three of us,” Sabo said simply. “And now she has everyone. And as much as I love it when she clings to me, I’m glad she finally has a family looking out for her. I’m glad Ace and I aren’t the only ones carrying that anymore.”

A long silence passed. Then Whitebeard slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the terrace, exhaling like a mountain settling into the sea. “I would have never thought.”

“She’s too busy being happy now.”

Whitebeard looked down at his massive hands, then back out to the garden where Luffy was now making Zoro kneel before her pirate council. His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “What do you want to become, boy?”

Sabo blinked. “Me?”

“You’ve got a head on your shoulders,” Whitebeard said. “That story… didn’t come from someone soft.”

Sabo hesitated, then looked at Luffy again. “A doctor. Maybe. I always patched her up, back then. And… I don’t know. After my birthday in March, when she broke her arm, when she met you, I just kept thinking—I couldn’t have helped her. If something bad happens, I'd have no idea what to do. That scared me more than anything.”

Whitebeard let out a long breath through his nose, then looked towards Shanks, who had just returned with a drink in each hand.

“I’ll fund it,” Whitebeard said gruffly. “His education. Training. Whatever he needs.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“If the boy wants to help keep Luffy safe,” Whitebeard muttered, “then I can’t think of a better cause.”

Sabo’s eyes widened. “Sir—I—I didn’t say it to ask for anything—”

“I know,” Whitebeard interrupted. “That’s why I offered.”

A slow smile formed on Sabo’s face. “Then… thank you.”

Whitebeard didn’t reply, but he reached up and gently rested a heavy hand on Sabo’s shoulder—solid and approving. The gesture made the younger boy stand a little taller.

From the garden, Luffy’s voice rang out again, shrill and delighted: “GRANDPA ED! SABO! DADDY! COME HELP ME MAKE SANJI WALK THE PLANK!”

Shanks laughed and clapped Whitebeard on the back. “Better answer the Queen’s call.”

Whitebeard sighed, but his smile lingered. “Aye, Captain.”

Just as the last traces of tension dissolved into the warm afternoon air, the doors to the terrace bursts open with a dramatic flair.

“YOOOOO!!!” Lucky Roux bellowed, beaming, as he proudly marched out with a towering cake balanced on a tray in front of him. Four big candles flickered at the top, nestled between sugary seashells and frosting waves.

“Make way for sugar and joy!” Gab laughed, carrying an enormous gift basket that looked like it had eaten two smaller ones for breakfast.

Behind them came Beckman, Hongo, Limejuice, Bonk Punch, and Monster, all grinning like the proudest uncles, arms loaded with gifts wrapped in colourful, uneven paper, some even tied with fishing net.

“Birthday delivery for our favorite menace!” Hongo called out.

Luffy’s eyes grew wide. “THAT’S FOR ME?!”

Sabo, already kneeling beside her, scooped her up easily and lifted her into the air. “Alright, birthday girl,” he said with a smile. “Make a wish and blow them out.”

Luffy’s face scrunched in intense concentration. Then—with a deep breath and a mighty puff—she blew all four candles out in one go. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

But the cheer was promptly interrupted by a crash that could only be described as “grandparental.”

Rayleigh followed behind the other elderly men, tripped through the terrace doors, giggling with a Scotch in hand and promptly domino’d into Garp, who lost balance and took Sengoku down with him in a loud, thudding pile. Shakky and Mihawk appeared in the door, looking utterly exhausted. 

Everyone stared in stunned silence.

“GREAT,” Hongo muttered, already on his way over. “We’re gonna need a medic for the geriatrics.”

Dr. Kobato followed fast, panic in her eyes. “WHY are they even drinking together?! WHO thought that was okay?!”

But the three just lay in a pile, laughing their asses off.

Luffy lit up like a firework.

“UNCLE HAWKEY!! CRACKER GRAMPS WITH OUCHIE!! BIRDY GRAMS!! GRAAAAAANDPAAAA AND GRAAAAAAANDMAAA!!”

Sengoku groaned dramatically, pushing himself upright first and brushing grass from his long coat. He walked over to Luffy and wrapped her in a warm, solid hug.

“Happy birthday, Luffy. I'm glad to be here,” he said with a rare, sincere softness.

Garp stood up next, cracked his back like a whip, and then without warning tossed Luffy high into the air, eliciting a scream of delight.

“Up you go, brat!” he cackled, catching her easily. “Still light as a feather!”

Rayleigh, now sitting in the grass with his legs stretched out, raised his drink in a lazy toast. “Y’all carry on, I’m taking a nap in the sun.”

Garp handed Luffy back to Sabo with a grin. “Your eh, grandpa needs a time-out.”

Shanks laughed. “Don’t we all.”

Then came the gifts.

Box after box, basket after basket, Luffy sat cross-legged on a picnic blanket while the others piled presents in front of her like she was a tiny pirate empress.

Shanks knelt beside her, helping her untie the more stubborn knots.

“There’s… there’s so many…” Luffy whispered, overwhelmed. “Are you sure these are all for me?”

Beckman handed her the first one—wrapped in red foil and tied with actual fireworks (which Shanks quickly removed).

“Training pom-poms,” he said with a shrug. “Real ones. Gold, sparkly, unbreakable.”

Luffy gasped. “I CAN CHEER WHILE FIGHTING?!”

Bonk Punch gave her a box that glowed faintly. Inside was a custom megaphone with settings ranging from “pep talk” to “ear-splitting rally cry.”

“I CAN BE A CAPTAIN AND A CHEERLEADER?!”

Lucky Roux handed her a cheerleading outfit in her colours—red and gold, with “MEAT!” embroidered across the back in sequins.

“I’M THE COOLEST HUMAN ALIVE!”

As each gift was opened, the crowd clapped and whooped like she was scoring goals at a world championship.

In the back, Whitebeard stood silently. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, not out of anger, but uncertainty. He shifted his weight. Then leaned towards Shanks.

“…Do you think she’ll like it?”

Shanks looked up at him. “Your gift?”

Whitebeard nodded slowly. “It’s not shiny. It’s not loud. It doesn’t make noise or sparkle. I thought it’d mean something. But what if it’s not... enough?”

Shanks raised a brow. “What is it?”

Whitebeard hesitated, then mumbled, “…I bought her a beach house.”

Shanks blinked. “You… what?”

“It’s not… a big house. It’s only about 200 square meters. She’s still small, y’know. Didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

Shanks blinked. “That’s a house. For a child.”

“Marco told me she liked the harbour,” Whitebeard went on, almost nervously. “So I made sure it’s near the docks. She can sit and watch the ships if she wants. She said she liked that.”

Shanks’s smile softened. “She’ll love it.”

Finally, Whitebeard stepped forward and handed Luffy the envelope. She ripped it open and the second her Grandpa Ed explained her what it is, she screamed in delight and latched onto his leg like a koala. Everyone laughed. Even Garp gave a proud grunt.

In the back, Sengoku slowly stood from where he’d been pretending not to listen. His eyes tracked Whitebeard like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He moved closer, watching Luffy now bouncing from gift to gift like a glittering pinball. He leaned toward Whitebeard, voice low.

“…Is this serious?”

Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Luffy,” Sengoku said, arms crossed. “You… you bought her a house. You’re acting like she’s your granddaughter.”

Whitebeard gave him a flat look. “She is my granddaughter.”

Sengoku stared. “So, you’re serious.”

“Of course.”

Sengoku blinked, nodded slowly.

“I have a grandson,” he began carefully. “Very smart. Wants to be a doctor. And considering how prone little Luffy is to injuries…”

Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed.

“…someone like him,” Sengoku continued, “would make an ideal partner. For your... heir.”

Before Whitebeard could respond, Shanks snorted into his drink.

“Please. The only good thing that rude little bastard has ever done for Luffy was that apology drawing.”

Whitebeard raised a bushy brow. “Apology drawing?”

“He told her she was a spoiled princess who didn’t know real life,” Shanks said, dry as sandpaper. 

Sengoku rubbed his forehead. “He is ten, Shanks.”

“And my daughter's three, now four. Your grandson's already an asshole as a child,” Shanks shot back. “That’s a red flag.”

Whitebeard huffed a low laugh despite himself, shaking his head.

“I was just saying,” Sengoku tried again, a little more defensive now, “that my grandson would make a good match. He’s intelligent. Steady. Practical.”

Whitebeard leaned back, arms crossing, watching Luffy now trying to stuff three plush Sea Kings into one oversized gift bag.

“I’ve got a hundred young men,” he said casually. “Good hearts. Strong backs. If my girl ever wants a partner, I can ship a dozen at a time straight to her door.”

Shanks laughed so hard he nearly dropped his cup.

“She’ll never need them,” Whitebeard added, with absolute pride. “But if she ever wants one… she’ll have options.”

Sengoku blinked. “You’re just going to… recruit her a husband?”

Whitebeard grinned. “Only if she asks.” He paused, voice dropping into something quieter, more reverent. “But until then, she’s got the world.”

Shanks clinked his glass against his. “To the girl who doesn’t need saving.”

Whitebeard grinned back. “To the one who’ll change it instead.”

The hallway was quiet now. Most of the adults were outside, deep in drink or laughter or both. The house, once a battleground of flying gift wrap and pirate flags, had stilled.

Luffy padded through the hallway barefoot, holding a plate with a generous slice of cake in both hands. Balanced on top were two unlit birthday candles: one pink, one blue. Her brow furrowed in focus as she carefully turned the doorknob to Ace’s room.

“Ace,” she whispered as she slipped inside.

Ace looked up from his bed with a tired but genuine smile. “Hey, birthday girl.”

“I brought you cake!” she announced proudly, marching over to him. “And two candles. One for me, one for you.”

Ace chuckled. “Smart,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Did you bring something to light them with?”

Luffy blinked. “Nope.”

He vanished for a moment, the sounds of rummaging and a soft click-click echoing from down the hall. When he returned, he held up a silver lighter like a magician revealing his final trick.

“Don’t tell Dad I know where he hides this,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Luffy giggled.

They sat cross-legged on the bed. The candle flames sparked to life, warm and wobbly in the still air. Ace held the plate between them.

“Okay,” he said, lowering his head. “Big wish. On three.”

Luffy leaned in, her face lit by candlelight.

“One…” she whispered.

“Two…”

“THREE!”

They blew the candles out at the same time, the flames vanishing into little wisps of smoke.

Ace placed the plate carefully down on the side table and turned to her. “So. How’s your big day going? Are your guests being cool?”

Luffy bounced on the edge of his bed. “So cool! Grandpa Ed got me a house! And Cracker Gramps fell off the porch!”

Ace snorted. “He fell?”

“Like—thump!” She mimed it with her whole body.

Ace grinned. “Good.”

There was a pause, and then Ace leaned forward, eyes sparkling with that Ace-specific brand of mischief and sincerity.

“I got you something too,” he said.

Luffy looked up, eyes wide with excitement. “Another cake?!”

Ace snorted. “No, dummy. Something even better.”

Luffy’s eyes went wide. “Really?!”

“Yep. Something very special.” Ace turned away from her slightly and pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the foot of the bed. “Okay. Can you read what this says?”

On his right shoulder, the skin was still a little pink around the fresh black lines of a new tattoo.

Three bold letters, standing side by side: A S L.

She leaned closer, pointing carefully to the top of the first letter.

“A,” she said. “Like Ace.”

“Right.”

She traced the next letter with her fingertip. “S… like Sabo.”

“Very good.”

“And L,” she grinned, touching the last one, “like me! Luffy!”

Ace glanced back over his shoulder, proud. “That’s right. A-S-L. The three of us. Forever.”

Luffy looked at the tattoo in awe. “And what’s that under it?”

Ace smiled, voice gentler. “That’s a hand.”

She tilted her head. “Your hand?”

“Nope,” Ace said. “Yours.”

Luffy’s eyes went round again.

“Remember when we were painting with watercolors? When we made handprints on that big paper?”

Luffy nodded slowly.

“You put your hand in orange and slapped it down so hard it splashed. I took that print and brought it to a guy I know. That’s your hand, Lu. You—right there—with me. Always.”

Ace chuckled. “It is. You kinda hold the three of us together, you know. You’ve always been the glue.”

She looked at the tattoo again, awe-struck. “It’s the best thing I ever saw.”

He turned back toward her, his eyes warm. “Well, I wanted something that’d stay. Even when you grow up. Even if we’re not always in the same place.”

She reached out again and lightly touched the shape of it, as if she couldn’t believe it was real.

“I want one too,” she said quietly.

Ace looked back at her with a soft grin. “When you’re older,” he said. “We’ll get matching ones.”

Luffy lit up.

“Maybe not exactly the same,” Ace added thoughtfully. “But something that’s ours. We can decide together. When the time’s right.”

Luffy nodded seriously, like this was a sacred pact.

Then Ace reached over and pulled her into a warm, familiar hug.

And there they sat, brother and sister, flame and spark, quiet in their bond while the rest of the world buzzed on outside.

Later that night, when the laughter from the garden had faded into quiet music and soft clinks of dishes being washed in the kitchen, Shanks padded up the stairs, barefoot and calm. The hallway was dim, lit only by the low amber glow of a side lamp. He paused outside Ace’s room, then knocked gently.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s just family now. If you’re up for it… we’re eating.”

No answer. Just the faintest shift of movement behind the door.

He pushed it open slowly.

Ace was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tight around them like they were the only thing keeping him together. His face was turned toward the window, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

Shanks walked in, slow, and sat beside him. The silence between them was warm but heavy, like air right before a summer storm.

“Your sister told me you’ve got a black hand on your back now,” he said, teasing gently. “She’s convinced it’s cursed. Probably waiting for it to start glowing in the dark.”

Ace snorted, a sound too thin to be amused. “She’s dramatic.”

“You really did it?”

Ace rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. I got it done a few days ago. I, uh, went to that tattoo parlour Building Snake always talks about.”

Shanks whistled low. “You went there? Damn, son. Snake doesn’t half-ass anything. That place charges by the heartbeat.”

Without a word, Ace pulled off his shirt and turned. On his right shoulder, sharp and fresh, the black letters: A S L. And beneath them, the small imprint of a child’s hand.

Shanks exhaled softly. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

Shanks laughed. Ace didn’t.

Then he turned back, shirt half-on, and something in his face cracked.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

The words came out small. Crushed. Like he hadn’t meant to say them.

Shanks looked at him gently. “Want to tell me what that means?”

Ace stared down at his hands. “I’ve never… had a plan. I didn’t think that far ahead. I just knew I had her. I had Luffy. That was enough. Everything in me, every good thing I ever became, everything real—it was for her.”

His voice caught.

“She was the one thing that made me feel like I was worth anything. Not a burden. Not a mistake. Not a fuck-up. Just… her Ace.”

Shanks’s chest ached. Ace kept going.

“She was the only thing I ever did right. The only thing I didn’t ruin. I held her hand through everything and I thought…”

“I was her Ace,” Ace whispered. “That meant something. It made me something. And now…”

He swallowed, jaw tight.

Shanks didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

“And now,” Ace went on, “I feel like I’m disappearing. Like she’s moving forward and I’m stuck here, trying to be what I used to be and I can’t catch up.”

His throat tightened.

Shanks said nothing. He let him keep going.

“I’ve been lying awake for months,” Ace confessed. “Staring at the ceiling. Waiting for her to come in like she used to. Curl up beside me. Knock her forehead against my ribs like a cat.”

He let out a laugh, hollow and sharp.

“She doesn’t. Not anymore. Why would she? She sleeps with you now. She’s got a warm bed and bedtime stories and nightlights and coconut oil on her scrapes. She giggles at night and I can hear it—like she’s yours now. Like she’s safe now. Like she doesn’t even remember that she used to need me to breathe.”

He looked over at Shanks, eyes glassy and furious. Not at him. Not really.

“And I want to scream.”

Shanks swallowed thickly. Still silent.

“I feel like an empty fucking house,” Ace said, voice breaking. “I feel like I was built to hold her, to keep her warm, and now she’s moved out and left the lights on.”

The words echoed.

“I hate myself for feeling this way,” Ace choked. “But it’s been almost a year, and I feel like I’m disappearing. Like I’m becoming a ghost in my own story. I don’t know who I am if I’m not Luffy’s whole world.”

He turned, burying his face in his hands.

“Sabo has a future. He’s always known, he's book smart. But me? I built my whole identity around being her shield. Her home. Her everything. And now I’m not. Now it’s you. It’s this whole life that’s better and brighter than anything we had before. And I’m happy for her, I swear I am, but I feel like I don’t matter anymore unless I’m bleeding for her.”

He wiped his face angrily. “I don’t know how to matter without her needing me.”

Shanks was silent. Ace kept going.

“For so long, all I wanted was for her to be safe. To not have to live like we did. And now she’s safe. She’s happy. She’s growing.”

He looked up at Shanks, eyes bloodshot, raw. “And I don’t know what to do with myself now that she doesn’t need me the same way. That’s all I ever was. The one who caught her when she fell. The one who fed her when we had nothing. The one who gave her my coat when I didn’t have a shirt left for myself.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “If I’m not that, then what am I?”

“Now she sleeps next to you and doesn’t even look back. I'm just a guy down the hallway.”

His jaw clenched. His whole body trembled with the force of keeping it all in.

Shanks swallowed thickly, heart aching for his son.

Then, very quietly, he said, “I know what that feels like.”

Ace scoffed, almost a snarl. “You have no idea.”

“I do,” Shanks said, calm and low. “You ever heard me talk about my brother? Buggy?”

Ace frowned, still breathing hard.

“He was my brother,” Shanks said. “Not by blood, but that didn’t matter. We grew up together. We were rescued by the same amazing man who dropped us off at Mom and Dad's place. In a trash can I have to add. We dreamed stupid dreams together.”

His voice was rough around the edges now.

“And somewhere along the way, we just… drifted. He hated the way I changed. I hated the way he stayed the same. He always got into huge fights with Dad. One day I turned around and he was gone. Dropped out. Disappeared. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

Ace said nothing.

“I told myself I didn’t care. That he was a clown with terrible taste and worse ideas. But I was lying. Because that was the person who knew me best. Who shaped me. And when he left… it felt like someone had cut something out of me that wouldn’t grow back.”

Shanks looked away.

“I know what it’s like to live for someone. To wonder if they’ve outgrown you. To feel like they’re still the center of your world and you’re just a satellite they no longer orbit.”

He turned, gently, and laid a hand on Ace’s shoulder—right over the ink.

“But I promise you this: Luffy hasn’t outgrown you. She’s just expanding. Because of you.”

Ace’s voice was paper-thin. “Then why does it feel like she doesn’t need me anymore?”

“Because you made it safe for her not to. You built a world where she doesn’t have to need you to survive. And now she chooses to love you. Ace, she wouldn’t even exist without you.”

Ace folded forward, hands over his face. Shaking.

“I don’t want to be jealous,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be this bitter, broken thing.”

“You’re not,” Shanks said. “You’re a kid who’s been holding up the world alone for too long. And now that someone, apart from Sabo's helping you carry it, you don’t know where to stand.”

“I don’t want to be jealous, Dad” he whispered. “I don’t want to be bitter. But I miss being her gravity.”

Shanks leaned closer, voice thick. “You still are. You always will be. You don’t stop being the sun just because the planet found more stars.”

Ace shook his head. “You don’t get it. She looks at YOU like she looked at ME!”

“She looks at me because I come home. Because I read bedtime stories and make dumb voices and act like an idiot to make her happy.” Shanks’s eyes met his. “But she lives for you. She talks about you like you invented fire. You’re the one she brags about. You’re her Ace.”

Ace swallowed hard.

“You feel like you’re being pushed out,” Shanks said gently. “But she’s not replacing you. She’s blooming around the love you gave her. That’s not distance. That’s legacy.”

He pulled him into a hug. Tight, strong, certain. Ace didn’t fight it.

“You’re not obsolete, Ace. You’re the reason she’s still got a heart big enough to love a whole family. You taught her that. She’s not replacing you. She’s showing off what you gave her.”

Ace’s arms finally wrapped around him.

“You’re her brother,” he said quietly. “Her Ace. The boy who carried her through hell. The boy who never let go.”

Ace let out a shaky breath, blinking hard.

Shanks kept going. “You know what she tells me every night? Every single night before she’ll let herself sleep? She tells me what you did. What you said. What made you laugh. What made her laugh. What you ate. What you wore. Who you told her about.”

Ace huffed a tearful laugh through his nose.

Shanks smiled softly. “She doesn’t sleep unless she’s replayed her whole day with you in it.”

Ace pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“You’re not being replaced, Ace,” Shanks said gently. “She’s just adding more love to her life. That doesn’t push you out, it builds on what you already gave her.”

“I’m jealous,” Ace admitted, voice cracking. “Of you. Of the way she looks at you. I feel like a failure.”

“You’re human,” Shanks said. “But you didn’t fail her. You saved her. You were her whole world because you had to be. That’s not a fair weight for a kid to carry, Ace. You didn’t fail her by giving her more love. You saved her.  And now she’s blooming. And yeah—it hurts. The garden’s gotten bigger. But you’re still the roots.”

A beat.

“And don’t tell Sabo,” Shanks added, “but one time she told me she loves you a tiny bit more.”

Ace let out a shaky breath.

Shanks’s hand lingered on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to be unsure. You’re allowed to grieve. But you’re not alone.”

Finally, Ace leaned into him fully. Let the weight out.

Ace leaned into him, a little.

Then, more.

Until his forehead was pressed to Shanks’ shoulder and his body shook silently with everything he’d held inside for months.

Shanks didn’t rush it. He just held him.

“You coming down eventually?” he murmured after a while.

Ace didn’t move.

“I’ll tell her you’ve turned into a brooding, grumpy, tattooed emo who needs to be fed upstairs. We wouldn’t want that to become her type, would we?”

“…fine.”

He reached for his shirt. Wiped his face.

Shanks squeezed his shoulder again.

“You’re not losing her, Ace,” he said one last time. “You’re just learning how to love her in a world big enough for all of us. And I love you, too, Ace. Don't forget that.”

And Ace followed him downstairs, barefoot and a little broken but maybe, finally, not alone with his dread.

“I love you, Dad,” Ace said softly.

Chapter Text

The dining room was a beautiful disaster: paper crown in the middle, frosting fingerprints on the tablecloth and a pile of half-opened presents like a small, chaotic shrine to Luffy. She sat at the head of the table with chocolate on her cheek, a crooked smile, and the kind of posture that said, ‚I am now royalty.‘

That’s when Mihawk, seated a few places down, cleared his throat.

“I’ve been doing some research,” he said, adjusting his cuffs.

The table hushed immediately. Mihawk’s research was the stuff of legends: methodical, obsessive, and occasionally terrifying.

He looked at Luffy. “About cheerleading.”

Luffy gasped, eyes wide. “YOU DID?!”

He nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, the local program doesn’t start until age seven.”

“Nooooooo,” Luffy groaned, melting theatrically across her chair. 

“Yes, but I had a thought,” Mihawk said, with the measured ease, “I conducted some research—discussion boards, obscure blogs, even a few antiquated coaching manuals in PDF form.”

The table blinked at him.

“And?” Shanks asked, already grinning.

Mihawk set the bottle down with deliberate care. “Several sources proposed ballet as a preparatory discipline, rather unusual but some achieved passable results. A more refined form of movement, I should add. One that emphasises strength, flexibility, posture… and an admirable degree of discipline. Ballet.”

Luffy, who had frosting on her cheeks, gasped like someone had offered her the moon.

“Ballet?!”

She screamed. Pure joy. Then launched herself at Mihawk’s legs like a cannonball, knocking his chair slightly. He just patted her head.

“I’m gonna be a ballerina cheerleader pirate princess!” she shouted, spinning in glee.

Luffy froze, like something divine had been whispered to her.

“...I could start now?” she whispered.

Mihawk gave her a rare, slight smile. “I’ve already booked your first class. Thursday. Studio L’étoile, Downtown.”

“HAWKEY, I LOVE YOU,” she screeched, hugging him so hard she nearly knocked over his wine glass.

Shanks, several glasses of wine in, leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Are you kidding me?! Little ballet recitals?! I’ll buy an embarrassing dad-cam! I’ll frame her play bills! I’m going to sob so loud they’ll kick me out of the theatre!”

“You’re gonna break your foot, Lu,” Sabo muttered from the end of the table, half-laughing, half-alarmed.

Ace, already pulling out his phone, frowned as he typed. “Okay. Studio L’étoile. Sounds bougie. Oh, this is the one with the fancy window display downtown.”

Shanks peeked over his shoulder. “The one with the sparkly leotards in the window?”

Sabo leaned over his other shoulder, already skeptical. “Does it say anything about age minimums?”

“Three and up,” Ace read. “So she’s good.”

“Do they tape their toes or something?” Sabo muttered, worry written all over his face. “I’ve seen those videos. Tiny feet aren’t supposed to bend like that.”

“She’s four,” Ace agreed, still scrolling. “Her bones are barely legal.”

Then he paused.

“Yo. This place charges one-hundred-seventy-five Berries an hour?” His eyebrows flew up. “What the hell are they teaching them? How to levitate?”

Across the table, Mihawk let out a low, knowing chuckle. He didn’t even look up from his glass of wine.

“She’ll be trained by a Bolshoi graduate. Third-generation. If anything, we’re underpaying.”

Ace blinked. “You think four-year-olds need a high-level ballet coach?”

“Your sister?” Mihawk looked at him with a ghost of a smirk. “Yes.”

Shanks, meanwhile, was tearing up again. “She’s gonna wear a tutu. A real tutu. I’m going to buy binoculars. I’ll clap like an aristocrat.”

“I want sparkles!” Luffy yelled, zooming past them. “And a crown! And shoes that make that clicky sound!”

“You don’t get clicky shoes in ballet,” Sabo corrected gently. “That’s tap—”

“CLICKY SHOES!” she repeated, louder.

Ace ran a hand down his face, laughing despite himself. “God, we’re doomed.”

Mihawk took another sip of wine, calm and satisfied.

Luffy spun dramatically. “I’m gonna be the best ballerina-cheerleader ever!”

And Mihawk, ever the picture of composure, simply nodded. “Only the best for you,” he said.

Rayleigh chuckled low from the other side of the table. “Well, colour me impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you to care this much for another person, Hawk.”

Shakky tipped her wineglass toward him. “If you’d shown that kind of dedication to your ex-wife, you might still be married. Maybe even have a kid of your own in ballet slippers.”

Rayleigh snorted. “Imagine that. Mihawk at a recital, front row, clapping politely while his mini-me curtsies.”

Everyone chuckled. A visible shudder passed through Mihawk.

He set his glass down with surgical precision. “First of all,” he said, tone glacial, “the child might have looked like her.” He looked genuinely pained. “And thank God I didn’t reproduce with that shrieking banshee. Can you imagine?”

Shanks was already howling.

Rayleigh wiped his eye. “So… that’s a no, then?”

“A mercy to the world,” Mihawk muttered.

Then, softer, his gaze drifted to Luffy, now balanced on her chair, arms above her head in a wildly inaccurate ballet pose.

“Luffy is the first person I’ve met,” he said, almost to himself, “worth investing time in after a long day. Someone I actually want to spend time with.”

Shakky chuckled. “Sweetest, most backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard.”

“Entirely intentional,” Mihawk replied.

Then Shanks barked a laugh so loud he nearly fell out of his chair.

Rayleigh raised his glass. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Cheers to Luffy,” Shakky added, clinking his glass with hers. “The first woman to make Dracule Mihawk give a damn.”

Mihawk didn’t smile.

But he did tuck a stray curl behind Luffy’s ear when she climbed into his lap to and he didn’t move her for the rest of the meal.

On Thursday afternoon, Mihawk sent a message that he was stuck in files. Shanks had back-to-back meetings. Sabo was preparing for an exam tomorrow.

Which left Ace.

Luffy was ecstatic. She bounced beside him in the car, narrating her future career with breathless excitement.

“I’m gonna be the best cheerleader ever. And then a ballerina-cheerleader. And then maybe a ninja-ballerina-cheerleader who’s also a detective!”

Ace couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re gonna take over the entire world.”

“Yup,” she said. “But only if you watch me.”

Half an hour later, he stood in the doorway of Studio L’étoile, wearing cargo pants, a ripped hoodie, and a look that said 'I do not belong here.'

Luffy, on the other hand, walked in like she owned the joint.

She was in a pale pink leotard Mihawk brought on Thursday, white tights, and a tutu with actual glitter in the mesh. Her hair was pulled into a wobbly bun, held together by four clips and blind confidence. She clutched her tiny dance bag like it held state secrets.

“Hi!” she beamed at the instructor. “I’m Luffy!”

The other little girls—maybe ten of them, all around her age—stared.

Then Luffy turned dramatically and pointed at Ace, who had just sat down on the bench by the wall.

“That’s my brother,” she declared. “His name is Ace. HE’S THE BEST. He’s the coolest person in the world and he’s mine. Not yours. Just mine.”

Ace’s heart made a small, unfamiliar noise. Something soft and dangerous.

Ace blinked. A few of the girls gasped. One audibly whispered, “Is he a movie star?”

Luffy turned back, satisfied. “Okay. I’m ready to twirl now.”

Class began.

Ace watched through the glass. At first, it was adorable, tiny children wobbling like ducklings, arms in uneven circles.

Luffy threw herself into her first pliés with the reckless joy of a hurricane. Every position she attempted came with full intensity and absolutely zero grace. She flailed. She beamed. She spun like a blender. And every time she looked Ace’s way, she smiled like he was the sun.

Luffy was a whirlwind of motion, her small frame gracefully navigating the dance floor with a focus that would’ve impressed even the most seasoned ballerina. Her tiny feet struggled to keep up with the demands of the pirouettes and plies, but there was something undeniable in the way she kept trying, each mistake followed by a determined correction. When she stumbled, she straightened up and tried again, fierce and undeterred.

And Ace, who had carried her through war-zones of childhood, felt something shift in his chest.

He’d been there for all of it her first steps, her first words, the first time she got knocked down and stood up again. He’d held her hand through nightmares and whispered her to sleep during storms. He’d taught her how to protect herself, how to be tough. But watching her now, in this moment of pure, innocent effort, he felt his heart swell in ways he couldn’t explain.

Luffy was still his. Still his little sister, the girl he promised to protect. But there was something new, something undeniable in the way she was becoming her own person. And it was beautiful.

Around him, a small crowd of mothers and one very enthusiastic grandma gathered, their eyes locked on Luffy’s every move. The older women were utterly transfixed, exchanging whispered compliments and expressions of awe.

“She’s so serious about this,” one mom murmured, her eyes softening as she watched Luffy concentrate. “So focused. And so adorable.”

Another mom, glancing at Ace with a mischievous glint in her eye, said, “And I must say, your daughter is a real cutie, but you…” She let her gaze sweep over him, pausing with a smile, “I see where she got that from.”

Ace blinked, caught off guard. Then, he laughed—a genuine, almost embarrassed sound. “My sister. She’s my sister.” He shook his head, grinning. “But yeah… she’s my whole heart.”

One of the moms actually clutched her chest. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The grandmothers and moms around him practically melted, their eyes brimming with admiration. “She’s precious, you know,” one of the older women said, watching Luffy as she jumped in place, preparing for another try.

Another mom, her clothes clearly very expensive and polished, leaned in to get a better look at Luffy, her eyes narrowing with recognition. “Wait…” she said, tapping her chin. “Doesn’t your little girl look familiar? I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

Ace’s eyes flicked to the woman for a split second, then back to Luffy, his expression unreadable. He shrugged casually and gave her a wry smile. “We hear that a lot.”

Ace’s face softened, his chest tight with something both painful and sweet. He couldn’t help but watch as Luffy tried once more, her determination evident in every movement. She wasn’t just his little sister anymore. She was something more. And in that moment, he was so proud it almost hurt.

“She’s gonna be something amazing,” Ace said quietly, his voice full of awe as he stared at his sister, who was now spinning with all the grace of someone twice her age. “She already is.”

When class ended and Luffy came running out, barefoot and radiant, he opened his arms without hesitation.

“Did you see me?!” she cried, breathless.

“I saw everything,” Ace murmured, lifting her off the ground. “You were amazing.”

She beamed like she’d won an Olympic medal, grabbed his hand, and started dragging him toward the door.

“I wanna go back forever,” she declared.

Ace kissed the top of her head. “Good. Because you’ve got fourteen more prepaid classes.”

“…fifteen?” he muttered, looking over her shoulder at the price list on the wall again.

“You’re coming next week, right?”

Ace, still dazed, still melting, nodded like he’d been enchanted.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

From somewhere in the back of his mind, Mihawk’s voice echoed: Only the best.

Ace sighed.

But his heart was full.

Ace hadn’t planned on stopping by Mihawk’s law office.

But Luffy, still buzzing from her first ballet class and wearing the ballet set Mihawk had picked out himself, had asked, “Can we show Hawkey my twirls?”and really, what was he supposed to say to that?

So he stopped in his tracks on their way to the parking garage, took her sticky hand in his and looked up the directions. Twenty minutes later, they walk through the sleek glass doors on the 30th floor of some high rise building in Downtown.

The receptionist, a woman with aggressively neat bangs and the energy of someone who once yelled at a child for touching a waiting room magazine, looked up.

“Hello,” Ace said, smiling with all his teeth. “We’d like to visit Mr. Dracule.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Does he have an appointment?” Ace countered, grin widening. “I don’t think we need one. We’re the Silvers kids.”

She looked them both up and down. Luffy waved, glitter catching in the overhead lights.

“I don’t care who you are,” the woman snapped. “You can’t just walk in here. This is a legal office, not a—a daycare! You need clearance. You need a reason. You need—”

She kept going. Ace tuned out about halfway through, his attention shifting to the sudden absence of a tiny hand in his own.

He glanced down.

Luffy was gone.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic. Just calmly turned his head and scanned the hallway, as the receptionist ramped into minute three of an increasingly heated lecture about professionalism and hygiene and the sanctity of mahogany floors.

Then, from somewhere down the corridor, came the sound of a door creaking open.

Followed by a delighted squeal.

Then a giggle.
Then another giggle.
Then silence.

“WHAT?!” the receptionist barked, whirling around.

A second later, Mihawk’s low voice came crackling through the intercom: “Perona, bring the young man to my office.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “You heard him.”

Perona, because of course that was her name, looked like she’d just been personally betrayed by the universe. Still, she stood and began to lead him through the marbled halls.

Perona opened the heavy office door with a practiced dramatic flair—ready to roll her eyes at the scruffy big brother and get back to more important things, like ignoring emails and plotting the aesthetic murder of her enemies.

What she did not expect was the scene inside.

Mihawk. At his desk.

With a glittery four-year-old on his lap.

With a gold-plated dessert tray on his desk.

Feeding Luffy chocolate truffles.

With his hands.

She was sprawled sideways across his lap, giggling every time he gently popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. Her tutu was slightly crooked. One sock was missing. Mihawk was stroking her hair absentmindedly with one hand, and she was beaming like she was being serenaded by angels.

Perona made a small, strangled noise.

Her Boss—the same man who once glared at her for unwrapping a cough drop during a meeting—was now holding a delicate truffle between two fingers, feeding it to a sugar-sticky child like it was some sacred ritual. His other hand gently threaded through her uneven bun, correcting a crooked clip without ever looking down.

“You don't like this, Angel?” Mihawk asked when Luffy scrunched her face in disgust.

“Spit it out, you don't have to eat it,” he said, holding up his bin like this was all part of the routine.

Luffy shuddered after discarding the offending treat, then spotted Ace and waved, her mouth full of something new. “ACE!!”

Mihawk looked up, entirely unfazed. “She found the office herself.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Did she teleport?”

“She said I looked lonely,” Mihawk replied, not missing a beat. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Perona, still rooted to the floor, watched in unspeakable horror as Luffy—grubby, sparkling, blissfully unaware Luffy—wiped her chocolate-covered fingers on Mihawk’s collar.

And he didn’t even flinch.

Perona’s breath caught in her throat, not from rage, but from the aching, nauseating swell of something worse: longing.

That was her fantasy.

She wanted to be the one on his lap, lounging sideways, curled in the space carved by his stillness. She wanted his fingers in her hair, fixing something delicate, absentmindedly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She wanted the weight of his gaze, the brush of his knuckles, the indulgence in his voice.

She wanted to be the one who could call him lonely and be rewarded with a kiss on the cheek.

Instead, she stood there, a ghost at the feast, watching him give away all that quiet, hidden tenderness to someone else. Someone who didn’t even know what she had.

“Perona, why didn’t you send them through immediately?” Mihawk asked, cool, composed, not even looking up as Luffy demanded another truffle.

Her voice failed her.

Her soul had left her body.

“That’s everything,” Mihawk added, with a faint flick of his fingers. “Please leave us.”

Perona didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

She just stood there, frozen, her entire posture unraveling. Her glare at Luffy was no longer just irritation, it was pure, seething envy. Because this child had everything Perona wanted and didn’t even know it. The care. The attention. The affection that Mihawk gave without hesitation, without ceremony.

Still not sparing her a glance, Mihawk stood, Luffy clinging to him like ivy, and lifted her with ease. She squealed with delight, arms thrown around his neck.

He kissed her cheek.

No thought. No reluctance. Just a quiet kiss, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

And then he walked to the door.

And closed it. Right in Perona’s face.

Ace looked around as the door clicked shut behind him.

The office was big. Like, absurdly big. High ceilings, soft light filtering in through floor-to-ceiling windows, and everything, really everything, was minimalist and monochrome. No clutter. No warmth. Just sharp lines, cold steel, dark wood, and silence. Even the air smelled expensive.

It was intimidating in that way rich people’s spaces always were—carefully curated to make you feel like a little bit of dirt on imported tile.

Except.

There was one thing that didn’t fit.

On the far wall, above an understated console and a discreetly placed bonsai tree, hung a painting. Huge. Nearly two meters wide, surrounded by custom lighting that made it impossible to ignore.

Ace squinted.

It was a portrait.

Of Mihawk.

And Luffy.

In the portrait, Mihawk was seated on a high-backed chair, legs crossed, posture regal and effortless. Luffy sat sideways on his lap, one hand curled loosely into the lapel of his jacket. Her tiny feet dangled, shiny shoes catching the light. Her head leaned against Mihawk’s chest, and her expression—soft, calm, safe—was one Ace hadn’t seen very often outside of naptime.

Mihawk, meanwhile, wasn’t looking at the viewer. He was looking down.

At her.

Ace swallowed.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Mihawk smirked from behind his desk, not looking up from slicing a chocolate truffle in half with an actual silver knife. “Commissioned it last winter.”

Ace didn’t turn. “That’s from the wedding, right?”

“It was a significant day,” Mihawk said smoothly, stepping to his side. “She looked perfect. The moment deserved preservation.”

“You commissioned a literal masterpiece,” Ace muttered. “For a four-year-old.”

“She was three,” Mihawk corrected gently. “She is unlike any other.”

Ace tore his eyes from the painting and gave him a look. “You could’ve just taken a picture like a normal person.”

“That’s what I gave the artist.”

Ace ran a hand through his hair, somewhere between overwhelmed and impressed. It looked like something that belonged in a museum. Or a private gallery. Or a cult.

“She’s perfect. Why wouldn’t I want to look at her all day?”

Ace stared at the painting. Then at Mihawk.

Then at the tiny, chocolate-covered creature curled in Mihawk’s chair now, sucking chocolate off her fingers and humming.

“…She looks like she’s gonna leap out of the frame and take over the country.”

“She will,” Mihawk said simply.

And then, because he had to, “Don’t you wish you were on a wall?”

Ace shot him a look. “Man, I am on a nightstand. In dad’s room, on Luffy’s side of the bed. Right next to a unicorn poster. That’s prime real estate.”

Mihawk didn’t answer. Just leaned back, perfectly smug, as Luffy pointed at her own portrait and whispered, “Look, that’s me!” like she couldn’t quite believe it either.

Ace sighed, muttering under his breath, “Weirdest flex I’ve ever seen,” but he didn’t stop smiling.

Mihawk just folded his arms, a faint smirk on his face. “Greatness always starts young.”

About fifteen minutes later, Perona appeared in the doorway like she hadn’t just spent the better part of an hour reevaluating her entire life.

“Your next appointment’s here,” she said, voice clipped.

Mihawk didn’t acknowledge her immediately. Instead, he looked down at the small, chocolate-streaked child now dozing in the crook of his arm, long lashes fanned across sticky cheeks. Carefully, he rose from his chair and walked over to Ace, who stood quietly by the window.

“She fell asleep after her fifth truffle,” Mihawk murmured, handing her over with surprising gentleness.

Ace took her, adjusting her weight on his shoulder. “She’s out cold.”

Without a word, Mihawk crossed the room, opened a sleek, barely visible cabinet, and pulled out a fresh shirt—crisp white, still pressed. He changed efficiently, discarding the chocolate-stained one into a hidden laundry chute Ace suspected led directly to garment hell.

As he buttoned the cuffs, he asked, “Would you like me to call a taxi? You won’t have to carry her the whole way.”

Ace blinked. “I—sure, that’d be great.”

“In fact,” Mihawk continued, retrieving his phone, “if you plan on coming by again next week, have Perona give you the third parking card. We have one spare.”

Ace squinted. “You’re bribing me with parking?”

“I’m extending basic courtesy,” Mihawk replied smoothly.

Ace didn’t argue. “Thanks.”

Together, they exited the office. In the waiting area stood Mihawk’s next clients: a round, balding man with sweaty palms and a very oddly styled woman wearing a hat that looked like it could receive satellite signals.

Both stared at Luffy as Ace passed them, asleep and glittery in his arms.

Their eyes lingered too long.

“Is there a problem?” Mihawk asked, his voice calm, but laced with warning.

The man jumped. “No, no! She just...looks familiar, that’s all.”

Mihawk didn’t blink. “Right. You two take care,” he said, giving Ace a solid clap on the shoulder.

Ace didn’t say it, but he knew Mihawk had just dismissed them. He walked off without looking back.

Once the door shut behind him, Mihawk turned to his guests, face unreadable.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he said, offering his hand. “How can I help you today?”

The woman puffed up with importance. “I’m Didit. This is my husband, Outlook III. We’re here because our son, Sterry, was wrongfully denied entry to the Royal University of Saint Poplar.”

“Prestigious, very prestigious,” Outlook added. “He’s incredibly gifted. We’ve submitted all relevant documentation to your email.”

Mihawk said nothing. He simply walked over to his desk, sat down, and opened his laptop.

With a few keystrokes, he decrypted a file titled “KIDS.”

While Outlook and Didit launched into a tirade about their son’s exceptional debating skills, water polo record, and ancestry dating back to some meaningless noble house, Mihawk filtered through memory logs—meticulously typed transcripts from conversations with Ace and Sabo, every detail tagged, cross-referenced, searchable.

He typed: Sterry.

Multiple hits. All from Sabo. Mihawk tilted his head slightly.

“And your names?” he asked, without looking up.

Didit sniffed. “Outlook III and Didit,” she said, clearly offended at having to repeat herself.

He typed their names next.

More hits. All tied to Sabo.

Mihawk closed the laptop with a soft click.

“I’ve decided,” he said, voice silk-wrapped steel.

“And?” Outlook asked, already smug.

“I’m afraid I can’t take the case.”

Didit bristled. “Excuse me?”

Mihawk didn't glance up as he began speaking, tone flat and flawlessly bored. “I’ve reviewed the circumstances surrounding your son's application. Based on the information available, I have reason to believe that the university's decision to deny admission was both procedurally sound and substantively justified.”

Outlook leaned forward, indignant. “Excuse me?”

Mihawk clasped his hands, the perfect picture of professional detachment. “While I have not conducted an exhaustive analysis of every document in this matter, frankly, I found it unnecessary, the pattern of administrative response is consistent with internal benchmarks for admissions integrity.”

“Wait, you didn’t even—”

“I didn’t need to,” Mihawk said, finally meeting their gaze. “The decision-making process is protected by academic autonomy and reinforced by discretionary review clauses. You’re welcome to read the bylaws. They are... dry.”

Didit sputtered. “But our son—”

Mihawk’s voice sharpened slightly, a sliver of disdain slipping in like the edge of a blade. “If Saint Poplar declined him, they weren’t rejecting talent. They were rejecting liability.”

The couple stared, slack-jawed.

“You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t have to,” Mihawk said smoothly. “I’ve spent significant time with young men who’ve overcome poverty, violence and systemic barriers without becoming insufferable. And I don’t litigate mediocrity swaddled in entitlement.”

He stood.

“This meeting is concluded. Please do not return.”

“But—!”

“Do. Not. Return. And if you choose to seek representation elsewhere, may I suggest someone with more patience for—how shall I put this—delusions of grandeur. Good day.”

Outlook III and Didit stood, faces flushed, and shuffled out like nobles disgraced before the throne.

Mihawk reopened his laptop and sent Perona an E-Mail:

Outlook III,  Didit, Sterry - decline. Permanently.

Then he sat back, laced his fingers together, and smiled faintly to himself. Their absence afforded him the luxury of returning to more dignified pursuits—like finding matching slippers and tiaras in miniature sizes.

Perona stormed into Mihawk’s office on Monday morning, her heels clicking against the marble floor with the kind of precision that could only belong to someone on a warpath. Her fury radiated in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. Without even knocking, she threw the door open, and the tension in the room became palpable.

She didn’t say a word as she marched toward his desk, but the papers in her hand told a story of their own. With a sharp, enraged movement, she slammed the newspaper onto Mihawk’s desk with a force that made the entire room seem to quake. The paper fluttered and crinkled under the impact.

"Here. Have a read," she hissed, her voice dripping with frustration and disbelief.

Mihawk didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. The paper was already there, lying before him. Still holding his coffee in one hand, he casually reached for the newspaper with the other, his fingers brushing against the crinkled edges. He unfolded it, his expression blank at first, then gradually morphing into something more amused, even intrigued.

The headline hit him with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Is Mayor Silvers Raising Dracule Mihawk’s Lovechildren?

Mihawk let out a low chuckle, the sound smooth, almost mocking. But he didn’t stop there. He scanned through the article, absorbing the words with the detached amusement of someone who had long since grown accustomed to such absurdities. The piece sprawled across four pages, laden with ridiculous photos—Luffy at Whitebeard’s side, blurry paparazzi shots of Shanks and Luffy rifling through a secondhand store, the already known pictures from Treasurer Nami's wedding and, at the bottom, a poorly drawn sketch of the painting that hung on Mihawk’s wall.

The information regarding the portrait came from an anonymous source who claimed to have seen the painting in Dracule Mihawks office.

Perona stood there, rigid, her eyes burning with a fury that could have set the paper aflame. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her stance defiant, demanding a reaction. Yet Mihawk, unfazed by the entire thing, took another sip of his coffee, his amusement growing.

“Is there something you wish to express, Perona?” Mihawk inquired, his voice cool and unhurried, untouched by the storm brewing before him.

The article stretched across four pages, replete with poorly taken photographs, some more absurd than others. But the worst part? A paparazzi shot of Ace and Luffy, walking together, hand-in-hand, just outside the building where Mihawk’s office was located. Luffy, of course, in that adorable ballet outfit. The angle was terrible, the lighting harsh, but it didn’t matter.

"How can you just—" Perona started, her voice rising in disbelief. “How can you just laugh about this?! Do you see what they’re saying? The implications? They’re calling you—”

She stopped herself, unable to even finish the sentence. Instead, she jabbed a finger at the article, practically trembling with rage.

“An anonymous source claims to have seen the children and their father, Dracule Mihawk, in his office, raising suspicions of a connection far beyond that of a typical business relationship. Could the Mayor of Silvers at least be raising Mihawk’s daughter? The source claimed that he seemed on very good terms with a young man, whose name is said to be 'Ace,' who carried the daughter out of the office.”

Mihawk, still amused, lowered the paper slowly, looking up at her with that infuriatingly calm expression. He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“You find yourself distressed by this?” he asked, tone light and edged with amused detachment. “Really, Perona. It is hardly the first time I’ve been the subject of farcical speculation. At the very least, I commend the imagination at work.”

“Imagination?!” Perona snapped, her frustration escalating. “They’re calling you some—some playboy who lets others raise his children in secret, and—”

“Do you truly believe anyone with a functioning mind would lend credence to this?” Mihawk asked, his voice almost indulgent. He set the paper down with exacting care. “It’s a tabloid, Perona. A theatrical pamphlet masquerading as journalism, meant solely to entertain those with a fondness for the absurd.”

Perona opened her mouth to protest, but Mihawk raised a hand, silencing her.

“You, Perona, are far too invested in the opinions of those who have nothing better to do than stir the pot. If you think this changes anything, you’re mistaken.” His eyes were sharp, his tone taking on a more serious edge. “And if this constitutes a ‘crisis’ in your mind, then I strongly suggest you reassess your priorities.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick in the air. Perona stood there, her face flushed with frustration, watching as Mihawk, still calm and composed, picked up his coffee once again, as though nothing in the world could faze him.

“I have endured worse,” Mihawk said with an air of finality, his eyes gleaming with faint, wry amusement. “Let them spin their tales. In the end, such things hold no consequence.”

Perona gaped at him, incredulous, while Mihawk only laughed softly, his voice rich and full of dark amusement.

“This,” he added, giving the newspaper the faintest of shakes, “is but noise. And I’ve always found it remarkably easy to ignore.”

Then Mihawk picked up the newspaper once more, briefly scanned another absurd paragraph, and chuckled softly.

“They’ve even quoted an anonymous ‘eyewitness’ who claims to have seen a child call me Papa,” he said with dry amusement. “An impressive feat, given I’ve never heard her say anything of the sort.”

He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window, his expression unreadable. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Though I do occasionally wonder,” he added, voice quieter now, almost contemplative, “if I would even bother correcting her—should she choose to do so in private.”

Perona didn’t move.

She stood frozen, staring at him—not in anger anymore, but in something brittle and unraveling. For a heartbeat, the room felt like it had lost all air.

He hadn’t spoken like that about anyone. Not even about the woman he once married. Never with that quiet fondness. Never with that kind of indulgence.

And now here he was, musing aloud—genuinely—about letting a child call him something as intimate, as foundational, as Papa.

It broke something in her. Some last thread of fantasy she hadn’t even realized she’d been clinging to. That maybe, if she just stayed close enough, long enough, he might someday look at her like that. With softness. With attachment.

But Mihawk didn’t even glance her way.

Perona swallowed hard, her eyes burning now for a different reason. She muttered something inaudible, not even sure what it was, turned on her heel, and stormed out—though the sharpness of her exit couldn’t hide the way her shoulders shook as she went.

Mihawk, utterly unbothered, took another sip of his coffee, then returned to the paper with the faintest of smiles still playing at his lips.

Some things were just too easy to let go of.

Every morning, a new piece of nonsense hit the stands, each one somehow worse than the last.

“Luffy’s Secret Father? Inside Mayor Silvers’ Inner Circle”
“From Ballroom to Bloodline: Who REALLY Fathered the Girl?”
“She Called Him Hawkey: Witnesses Speak Out”

The centrepieces of every article were the same: either a grainy but oddly tender photos from Nami’s wedding—Mihawk, terrifying in his tailored suit, one of him dancing slowly with Luffy, her feet on his shoes or one picture from the football game. She was laughing in the second shot. He was looking down at her with the smallest smile on his face.

But the worst came that Friday.

A woman claiming to be Luffy’s biological mother stepped forward. She called a press conference in front of a strip mall nail salon and sobbed through thick mascara, dramatically insisting her baby had been “ripped from her arms by high society wolves.”

She showed blurry photos of a toddler in a supermarket and a worn plush octopus as proof.

People ate it up.

By Monday, Mihawk sipped his espresso in deliberate silence, eyes fixed on the bonsai by the window like it might spring to life and save him from what he knew was coming.

He didn’t glance at the clock.

He didn’t have to.

Perona was punctual in her chaos.

And right on cue—the door slammed open.

But this time, there was no furious stomping.
No accusatory finger.
No murder in her eyes.

She was laughing.

“You’re going to want to see this one!” she cackled, waving the newspaper above her head like a trophy. “This is the one, Boss. This is the one!”

Mihawk raised a brow and held out a hand. She dropped it in his palm like a winning card at a high-stakes table.

The headline was a blessed change from the usual chaos:

Silvers Daughter Scandal Manufactured by Bitter Clients: New Evidence Reveals Truth Behind Dracule Mihawk Rumours

Sources now confirm that the wave of recent headlines about Mayor Silvers' alleged ‘secret children’ began with false rumors spread by two disgruntled former clients of Dracule Mihawk—Outlook III and Didit, parents of Saint Poplar university reject, Sterry.

Multiple independent investigations have verified the pair’s motivations, citing frustration after Mihawk refused to represent their son’s case. Notably, the reports clearly state that none of the corrective information was provided by Mayor Silvers or Dracule Mihawk themselves, but instead originated from an unnamed third party with access to confidential academic and legal documents.

“The truth speaks for itself,” one source close to the investigation noted. “Those two were sloppy. The real damage was to their credibility—not anyone else’s.”

Mihawk read it once. Then again. Then slower.

At the bottom was a still image from a security camera—Outlook and Didit, leaving his office building, their faces twisted with self-righteous entitlement.

Perona was beaming like she'd just personally summoned divine justice. “The idiots just impale themselves,” she smirked. 

But Mihawk didn’t answer.

His phone buzzed once on the desk. He glanced down. Just a single message.

Unknown sender (08:34): You’re welcome, Hawk. Glad to see you can apparently laugh. Keep looking after my girl. —D

Mihawk stared at the text for a long, still second.

Then he reached for his coffee.

The corner of his mouth twitched—barely a smirk. But it was there.

Luffy would sleep a little safer again.

Sabo slammed the car door shut, the stale air of campus parking lots and fried brain cells still clinging to his clothes. The exam had been hell and he hadn’t slept more than four hours in three days.

And all week, hovering behind everything, was them. The headlines. The noise.

The speculation about Luffy. About Ace. About Shanks. About Mihawk.

About his family.

He’d seen the first article Monday morning on his way into class. Almost tripped on the curb when he saw Luffy’s cute face splashed across a gossip site next to the words LOVECHILD OF DRACULE MIHAWK? And from there, it had spiralled. Photos. Interviews. Conspiracy threads. Those wedding pictures.

He hadn’t had time to process any of it. Hadn’t even been able to call.

All week, his brain was divided—half school, half screaming “what if this hurts her?”

But now he sat in his car, phone glowing in his palm, and read today’s headline. Names. Outed. Outlook III and Didit.

Exposed as frauds. Discredited, their “anonymous tips” unraveling like wet paper.

Sabo let out a breath he’d been holding since Monday.

His laugh came out sharp and disbelieving. The kind that punches out of your chest when exhaustion finally meets relief.

His biological family—so smug. So sure. So entitled. And yet they couldn’t even manage a smear campaign without tripping over their own egos.

Sterry, that pathetic worm of a brother, had once tried to push him out of a moving car. And now he was a punchline on national news.

It was poetic. It was perfect.

Sabo scrolled to his messages, thumb hovering for a moment.

Then he typed:

I’m glad I ended up with you. Love you, Dad.

For the first time in days, Sabo leaned his head back against the seat and let the silence fill his lungs like peace.

The headlines had quieted. The chaos had dulled to background noise. For the first time all week, the world wasn’t screaming the names Silvers, Dracule, or “lovechild conspiracy.”

So Lucky Roux decided it was time to celebrate. Not just his birthday—but the peace. And this year, he was throwing the biggest one yet, soft-opening his brand-new French fusion restaurant: La Barrique Rouge, a high-concept culinary dream he’d built with Zeff, who had only reluctantly agreed to co-own if Lucky promised to “stay the hell out of the actual kitchen and contribute eighty percent of the initial capital.”

It was early still. The sun hadn’t finished setting behind the ornate glass windows, and guests hadn’t begun to pour in.

But Miss Sora had arrived.

He’d been thinking about Miss Sora ever since Luffy’s birthday, when she’d sat in her wheelchair at the edge of the garden in her soft blue dress, clutching a glass of lemonade and watching her son—Sanji, shy and bright-eyed—stare longingly at the dessert table.

They’d talked. She was funny. Sharp. And totally unaware of just how stunning she looked when she laughed.

So this time, Lucky invited her early. Said he had something special planned for her boy.

Lucky met her himself at the front, beaming as she wheeled in, regal and radiant despite the subtle, polished wheels beneath her long navy skirt. Her posture was perfect. Her smile, gentle but guarded. And her hand rested warmly on the shoulder of a small blond boy, suit vest slightly crooked, nerves humming off him like steam.

Sanji.

Lucky’s grin widened. “Welcome, ma’am. You look… well. You look like the part of the evening that makes everyone else wish they’d tried harder.”

Sora chuckled, graceful as ever. “And you seem to have only invited us to flatter me.”

Lucky gave her a mock bow and offered her a delicate glass of lavender spritz—just as requested. “I’d never dream of anything less.”

Then he turned to Sanji.

“You ready to meet the chef? Your mom told me you wanna be one in the future.”

Sanji nodded fast, eyes wide. “The real one?”

“Oh yeah. The realest.”

He gave Sora a wink. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t go falling in love with the sommelier while I’m gone.”

As she laughed and shook her head, Lucky led Sanji through the kitchen doors, where the heat rose in waves and the air was rich with garlic and butter.

Zeff was already moving between stations, snapping orders and rearranging sauces with the fury of a man who thought perfection was owed to him personally.

The kitchen of La Barrique Rouge was already alive with movement. Steam curled from copper pots, knives tapped a rhythm against polished boards, and the smell of brown butter and thyme clung to the air like perfume.

Zeff was at the center of it, all bark and blistering precision.

“More heat under table three’s lamb, less on the risotto! It’s not porridge, you simpering amateurs!”

Then the door swung open.

In stepped Lucky Roux, big as ever and carrying a boy in his arms like a tray of the most precious cargo.

Sanji looked around the kitchen with wide eyes and an even wider heart.

“This,” Lucky said, “is where the magic happens.”

Zeff squinted. “I told you—”

“They’re just looking,” Lucky cut in smoothly. “He’s not touching anything. Swear on my stomach.”

Zeff scowled but didn’t bark again. Lucky walked Sanji in a slow loop past the prep stations, giving the boy a front-row seat to the culinary ballet. Sanji was glued to every movement—watching flames, slicing techniques, seasoning flair.

Until, with a kind of reverent awe, he whispered:

“How do you make the sauce stick like that?”

And Zeff snapped.

“That’s it. OUT. Lucky, I told you no questions, no kids, no curious little mouths in my kitchen!”

Sanji flinched like he’d been slapped.

Lucky didn’t even argue this time—just turned, scooping Sanji a little closer as the boy’s breath started to hitch. The door swung shut behind them.

Sitting at a nearby table, tucked into the window light like a portrait, Sora looked up from her drink.

Sanji wiped his cheek with his sleeve and tried to look brave as Lucky gently set him down beside her wheelchair.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured.

Sora reached out, stroking his hair. “You asked a good question, sweetheart. That’s never wrong.”

The kitchen door creaked open.

Zeff stood frozen in the doorway, as if someone had shoved him there—his arms stiff at his sides, his hat crooked, eyes locked on the small figure wiping at his eyes beside the woman by the window. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was radiant, like the kind of warmth you feel when sunlight breaks through a storm.

His breath caught in his chest.

Sora looked up and their eyes met.

Zeff’s mouth opened, but the words felt trapped. “You are, uh—” He swallowed, his throat dry. “Is he—? Is the boy yours?”

Sora offered the smallest, most genuine smile. “Yes. That’s my youngest. Sanji.”

Zeff took a step forward but halted abruptly, unsure what to do with his feet, his hands, anything. His eyes darted to the side as he fidgeted with his apron like he was trying to adjust something that didn’t need adjusting. “Right. Uh, okay. Got it.”

Lucky Roux, lounging nearby with a drink in hand, looked like he was watching the finest romantic tragedy unfold, quietly savoring every awkward moment.

“I—I’m sorry for earlier,” Zeff stammered, his voice tight, running a hand over the back of his neck like it could somehow calm the storm of embarrassment swirling inside him. “Didn’t know you were here. Or that he was yours. I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Sora interrupted gently, her tone soothing. “He gets excited easily.”

Zeff chuckled, but it came out too loud, like a nervous bark. “Yeah, well. He’s got heart. And a good eye. Real instinct. That’s rare,” he muttered, still looking at Sanji like he was the most interesting thing in the room. Then he looked back at Sora—his heart seemed to skip a beat, and his words fumbled. “Takes after you?”

Sora’s smile softened, just a touch. “Depends who you ask. He’s been obsessed with spices since he was two though. Tried to make tea out of oregano and hot sauce once.”

Zeff couldn’t help it; he barked a laugh before he could catch himself. “That’s... uh, that’s ambitious.”

She glanced at her hands, then met his gaze again. “I have four others. Three boys and a girl. Though... they’ll probably stay with their father.”

Zeff blinked, processing the words, but all he could focus on was the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke, the way her voice seemed to wrap around him like a comfort he didn’t deserve. “Four? That’s—wow, that’s impressive.”

Sora tilted her head, as if she weren’t sure what to make of his reaction. “You think?”

Zeff stared at her for a beat, his brain scrambling. “You raise five kids and still look like that?” His face burned with a sudden heat—what the hell was he saying? “I mean, not that that’s the point, I just—hell, I’m out of practice.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them awkwardly searching for something to say. Zeff’s mind raced; he was probably twice her age, and she was stunning in a way that made his hands feel uncomfortably clammy. She probably wasn’t even interested in a man like him. He was a grumpy chef with a rough past. What did he have to offer her?

Sora cleared her throat, and it felt like the air shifted. “So, um… I should probably mention, I’m in the middle of a divorce.”

Zeff blinked, thrown by her sudden change in tone. His mind struggled to keep up. “Oh. That’s nice—I mean. That’s—uh, that’s totally fine. Not great—I mean, divorces suck. But, uh... clean slate, right?”

She let out a soft, almost nervous laugh. “I didn’t mean to drop that on you like an appetizer.”

Zeff rubbed his face, his ears flaming. He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. God, why is this so hard?“Listen, if they’re like that little guy—” He jabbed a thumb at Sanji, who was staring at the ceiling like he was trying to disappear into it, “—I’ll take ‘em all. Teach them to sauté. Hell, I’ll open a daycare in the kitchen.”

Lucky Roux nearly choked on his drink. “Chef, please. You’re killin’ me.”

Sora chuckled softly, her smile shifting into something more wistful. “They’re... probably staying with their dad, though. It’s… easier that way, I guess.”

Zeff shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to move closer but wasn’t sure if he had the right. She was beautiful, and kind, and—well, far too perfect for a guy like him. He was half-worried she could see how awkward he was, how completely out of his element. “That can’t be easy.”

Sora shrugged a single shoulder, her gaze turning inward. “It’s not. But I try not to make my problems Sanji’s problems.”

Zeff swallowed hard, his voice low but sincere. “Sounds like you’re a damn good mom.”

Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. Then a small, shy smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Thanks. I try. Sometimes I fail spectacularly.”

“Well, then we’ve got something in common.” Zeff gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t done this—” he motioned vaguely between them, “—in a long time. I’m outta practice.”

Sora smiled, now a little more genuine, a little crooked. “Me too. Like, ‘I forgot how to flirt and now I’m oversharing about custody arrangements’ out of practice.”

Zeff chuckled again, his eyes darting downward as he tried to avoid meeting her gaze. “You’re doing better than me. I just offered to raise your whole brood after three sentences.”

“Technically,” she teased, tilting her head playfully, “you offered to open a daycare.”

He groaned, flushing deeper. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? It was cute,” she teased, her smile warm and inviting.

Zeff peeked at her, his smile twitching on the edge of his lips, but still unsure. “You think this is cute?”

“I think you’re cute,” Sora said, meeting his eyes without hesitation.

Zeff’s mind went blank. He scratched his head awkwardly, a little unsure how to process her words. “You think so?”

“I do.”

Lucky Roux slapped his hand on the table, grinning ear to ear. “Right, that’s it. You’re both terminally awkward and adorable. I’m booking you two a dinner at The Old Spoon for Tuesday—private table, low lights, soft music. I’ll talk to Shanks. Kid, how about a sleepover at Luffy’s? You visit the same kindergarten, right?”

Zeff’s face was now an alarming shade of red, and for a second, he thought he might faint. He shot a quick glance at Sora, but the sight of her soft smile made him stumble for words.

“I—uh—I don’t really date much,” Zeff mumbled quickly, standing up straight, as if somehow trying to distance himself from the situation. “Too busy.”

Lucky raised an eyebrow and winked. “Guess it’s time to multitask, then.”

Zeff gave him a look that screamed ‚I will strangle you later‘, but didn’t outright object. Instead, he turned back to Sora, his fingers nervously adjusting the edge of his apron. “Only if... you’d want to.”

Sora hesitated, biting her lip, and for a brief moment, Zeff thought he might’ve misread the situation entirely. But then she looked up, her eyes meeting his again, and she smiled. “...I think I’d like that.”

Zeff nodded slowly, his chest tight. “Yeah. Me too. A lot.”

Sanji tugged on Lucky’s sleeve, whispering with wide-eyed curiosity: “Is he gonna kiss my mom?”

Lucky snorted, shaking his head. “Not tonight, kid. But maybe next time.”

Zeff crouched in front of Sanji, locking eyes with him with a seriousness that made the little boy blink in surprise.

“Little eggplant.”

Sanji’s eyes went wide. “…Me?”

“Yes. You like food, yeah?”

Sanji’s grin was huge. “I love it.”

“Good. You show up early next Saturday and I’ll teach you properly. We’ll start with potatoes. Then we’ll see if you’ve got hands worth seasoning.”

Sanji’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly.

Zeff turned back to Sora, his tone softening, as though he was careful not to overstep. “With your permission, of course.”

Sora nodded, her face flushed, but still smiling. “He’s yours.”

Lucky let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Best birthday gift I’ve ever given myself.”

Zeff ignored him. But when he reached for Sanji’s hand, it was gentle and firm—like a promise he wasn’t ready to break.

And just then—

“LUCKY!!!”

The door practically flew open.

A whirlwind in a red vest and shorts tore into the room, one sandal missing, hair a chaotic crown of black curls. The girl skidded across the floor with wild purpose, crashing directly into Lucky Roux’s side.

“Uncle Lucky, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him with the force of a cannonball. “Daddy said we could come late as long as I didn’t scream but I screamed anyway because WE SAW A JELLYFISH.”

Zeff instinctively took a half-step back as the tiny human thunderbolt latched onto the large man.

Lucky didn’t even flinch—just hoisted her up with one arm like she weighed less than a sack of flour. “There she is! My chaos incarnate.”

Behind her, the restaurant doors opened again, and the rest of the Red-Haired crew began filing in—Shanks first, carrying a sleepy Ace, followed by Sabo, Benn, and a few others, all shaking sand out of their boots and trying to look like they hadn’t just chased a four-year-old through a tidepool.

Zeff raised an eyebrow. “That her?”

Luffy squirmed in Lucky’s arm and turned to face Zeff, grinning wide. “It’s Uncle Lucky’s birthday!” she declared proudly. Then she squinted at Zeff like she was trying to figure out what kind of animal he might be. “You’re the kitchen boss?”

Zeff blinked at her. “I am.”

“I like kitchens,” Luffy said. “Especially when they have cake. Do you have cake?”

Sora sighed behind her hand. “Luffy…”

Zeff glanced over at Lucky, still slightly stunned. “Luffy, huh?” He scratched his beard, staring at the girl. “Wait. Luffy. As in… the girl you never shut up about?”

Lucky beamed like a sunrise. “The one and only.”

Zeff exhaled like that explained everything.

Across the table, Sanji had frozen in place the second Luffy came through the door. He was halfway behind Sora’s wheelchair, hands fidgeting at his sides.

Sora leaned down, whispering, “You gonna say hi?”

He gave the tiniest nod.

Luffy had already spotted him. “SANJI!!”

Sanji flinched as she ran toward him—but this time, he managed to hold his ground.

“H-hi, Luffy,” he said, barely louder than the clink of a fork.

Luffy didn’t even hesitate—she wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, like they hadn’t seen each other in a year instead of one day.

Sanji turned scarlet from his neck to his eyelashes. He hugged back—but only for a second before wriggling free, cheeks aflame.

“I—I gotta help my mom,” he blurted, and bolted behind Sora’s chair.

Sora blinked as he ducked behind her again. “I don’t need help, sweetheart.”

“I do anyway,” Sanji whispered, peeking out. His face looked like it had been dunked in tomato sauce.

Lucky scooped her up again before she could launch another tackle. “Jellybean, go let your uncles spoil you for a while. He needs a break.”

“I do not!” Sanji called back, indignant—but didn’t budge from his hiding spot.

Sora looked down at him. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Sanji didn’t answer. He just kept staring at Luffy like she was a living comet.

“Oh no,” Sora whispered, grinning. “That’s a look.” She nudged Zeff with her elbow. 

Sanji turned even redder and tried to disappear into the folds of her dress.

Zeff crouched next to him and whispered, “You’ve got taste, little eggplant. She's extraordinarily adorable.”

“She's not! She's loud!” Sanji hissed, mortified.

Luffy was spinning in circles, announcing she could smell birthday stew and she wanted it now, while Shanks offered apologetic gestures at the chaos trailing behind her.

Lucky raised his glass again. “To nieces, crushes and kitchens full of trouble!”

Zeff grumbled under his breath—but he was smiling.

Sora leaned in, voice low. “You sure you still want this daycare in the kitchen idea?”

Zeff gave her a sidelong glance. “At this point, it’s either that or open a circus.”

Sora grinned. “Then we better start training the lions.”

And amid the laughter and mayhem, little Sanji peeked again at the girl with the missing sandal and the voice like a thunderclap and didn’t stop blushing all evening.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun bathed the coast in golden light as the convoy of cars made their way up the winding road. With the ocean glimmering in the distance and pine trees swaying in the breeze, the summer house came into view. Perched on a hill, rustic and warm, with wide windows and an inviting porch.

Sabo’s car led the charge, Luffy practically vibrating in the backseat beside Shanks. She had her hands and face pressed to the window, bouncing in place like she might rocket through the glass at any moment.

Behind them, Ace and Deuce’s car rolled along with the windows down, music playing and snack wrappers flying. Mihawk and Lucky followed, their car noticeably quieter, with Lucky half-napping and Mihawk deadpan behind the wheel. Bringing up the rear was Shakky and Rayleigh, their windows cracked open.

The moment Sabo parked and Shanks opened her seatbelt, Luffy leapt out, sprinting toward the house with a wild cry of joy. “WE’RE HEEERE!”

The summer house itself was a welcoming sight, a two-story building with an expansive porch, surrounded by lush greenery. 

Thatch stood at the door, a welcoming grin spread across his face as he watched Luffy run toward him at full speed, her laughter carrying on the wind. As the others got out of their cars, stretching and unpacking the supplies, Luffy reached Thatch, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Uncle Thatch!” she cheered, grinning up at him. “This place is amazing!” He caught her with ease, spinning her once before setting her down with a theatrical groan.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite tornado!” he said with a smile. “I’m glad you like the house, Luffy,” he said warmly.

“You’re heavier! What’ve you been eatin’? Whole roast chickens?” He added teasingly.

“Three!” Luffy chirped, not even remotely denying it.

“Bet you’re all ready to kick back and eat everything in sight,” Thatch said with mock offense. “Also, couldn’t let you all arrive to an empty kitchen. Took the liberty of making a little something.”

“A little something?” Lucky perked up immediately.

Thatch grinned wider. “Grilled shrimp skewers, garlic bread, citrus rice, and I baked a damn pie.”

“That’s not a little something,” Ace said, walking past with his arms full of duffel bags. “That’s a feast.”

“Semantics,” Thatch said, waving a hand.

As everyone started hauling luggage inside and taking in the summer house’s breezy charm, Thatch reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope.

“Ah, before I forget, this is for you, Luffy,” he said, handing it to her with a smile. “From Grandpa Ed. He wanted me to give it to you as soon as you arrived.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Grandpa Ed?” she said eagerly, taking the envelope and peering at it curiously. “What’s inside?”

“Open it and find out,” Thatch said with a wink. “He’ll be stopping by to visit when he's in the area too.”

“Ehm, Uncle Thatch,” she said, “can you read this for me?”

She held out an envelope, carefully opened but still crisp. 

Thatch crouched down, taking the letter gently. “Of course, kiddo. Let’s see what the old man wrote.”

Luffy stood on her tiptoes, eyes wide with anticipation as Thatch unfolded the paper and began to read aloud:

Dear Luffy,

I hope you're raising hell and catching stars, as usual. I heard you're spending time at your summer house with your family—good choice. Such a place always smells like adventure.

I’ll try to swing by while I’m in the area. Got a few stories left in me and maybe I’ll show you the secret fishing spot none of your uncles ever found. Don’t tell them I said that.

Be good. Or at least, be clever.

— Grandpa Ed.

Luffy beamed so hard her whole face scrunched up. “He’s gonna show me the secret fishing spot! Did you hear that?”

“I did,” Thatch said, tucking the letter back into the envelope for her. “Better get your rod ready. And maybe a net. If he’s teaching you, you're gonna need backup.”

“I’m gonna catch a whale!” Luffy declared.

“Just don’t try to ride it,” Rayleigh chimed in as he and Shakky strolled up, each carrying a modest bag despite the clear implication they could have brought the entire bar with them.

“No promises!” Luffy shouted.

Lucky let out a quiet laugh as he stepped onto the porch beside Mihawk. “This place is gonna be chaos.”

“I'd need a vacation if I stayed here the whole time,” Mihawk said grimly, though the corner of his mouth hinted at amusement.

“Weekend for us,” Shakky corrected smoothly. “Weren't you the one who said he'd willingly spent time with Luffy, Hawk?”

As the group began to file into the summer house, laughter trailing behind them, Luffy lingered beside Thatch for just a second more.

“Thanks Uncle Thatch,” she said softly.

He tousled her hair. “Anytime, starshine. Now go make sure your brothers don’t eat all the shrimp.”

“ON IT! BYE!!” she yelled, sprinting toward the kitchen like a launched firecracker.

Behind her, Thatch left with a fond smile and muttered, “She’s definitely Pop’s.”

As the group unloaded their bags and started to make themselves at home, Luffy couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy wash over her. Grandpa Ed would be visiting soon, and she couldn’t wait for the adventures that would unfold over the next two weeks. With friends and family gathered together in the peaceful summer house, everything felt right.

Two days. Two full days of Luffy’s whirlwind energy, Ace’s undivided focus on her, and endless chatter about who could eat the most shrimp, who could make the highest jump, who could prank the most people. And Deuce was getting... tired.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Luffy. Far from it. She was a force of nature, and her joy was infectious in small doses. But when it was nonstop, when every single conversation or activity was either revolving around her or sparked by her latest crazy idea, it left him feeling like he was standing in the background of a movie he didn’t belong in.

Sabo wasn’t much better. He was just as obsessed with Luffy as Ace was, if not worse. The man couldn’t go five minutes without saying something about how cute Luffy’s latest stunt was, or how she had grown so much. It was like they were all under her spell, and Deuce? He was barely even a blip on the radar.

Then there were Ace’s grandparents. God. The grandparents. They were absolutely terrifying in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. Every time they spoke, Deuce felt his skin crawl. And Mr. Dracule? Don’t even get him started. The man’s gaze was like a hawk zeroing in on its prey, and the last thing Deuce needed was to get on that man’s bad side.

But the absolute worst—by far—was Mayor Silvers. The guy was a complete nut job in Deuces opinion. Deuce couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around how obsessed this man was with Luffy. It was like he was constantly trying to one-up everyone else in terms of attention. He followed her around like a shadow, always commenting on her every move, her every expression, as though he had some bizarre personal stake in making sure she was always the center of the universe. The worst part? It wasn’t even subtle. It was like the entire man’s personality was designed to worship at the altar of Luffy, and Deuce... well, he couldn’t deal with it.

He’d stopped trying to even talk to the guy. Deuce was just... done with Silvers. The man made Ace’s obsession with his sister look like child’s play. There were times Deuce swore Silvers was about to start taking notes on Luffy’s every action, like some sort of personal project. It was exhausting to watch, let alone be near.

The only one who wasn’t completely overwhelming was Lucky Roux. He was almost normal. As normal as you could be in a family that resembled a circus at times. Lucky was quiet, easygoing, and spent most of his time in the kitchen cooking up meals for Luffy, like some kind of royal chef. His sole focus seemed to be on making sure she was well-fed for the next week. But even that was a little weird. He was always in there, bustling around the kitchen with a smile, as if the house didn’t need anything else. 

Deuce couldn’t even get a moment to breathe, let alone get Ace’s attention.

There had been moments, sure, when Ace looked at him, laughed with him, even dragged him into whatever madness Luffy had started. But those moments were fleeting. They were rare. Almost too rare.

The only time Ace really seemed to notice him was when the world around them quieted down, when the madness of the day had settled and everyone was winding down. Usually, that meant slipping away into their room. A small comfort. A sanctuary.

Tonight was no different. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the house was still buzzing with leftover energy from their afternoon adventures. Luffy was off with Shakky and Rayleigh, trying to convince them to play some sort of ridiculous game with her in the yard. Ace and Deuce had managed to escape the chaos, though not without a very pointed glance from Luffy that clearly said, “You two better not disappear for too long!”

Deuce and Ace were in their room, the door closed behind them, a rare moment of peace. Ace had kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt into a corner, and flopped onto the bed with a contented sigh.

Deuce sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his neck. He was exhausted. His mind was scrambled from trying to keep up with Ace’s unpredictable mood swings, which were dictated entirely by Luffy’s ever-changing whims. But as much as it wore on him, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at being here with Ace, at least, in this small moment.

Ace rolled over to face him, his lips curling into a lazy grin. “You good?”

Deuce hesitated. He wasn’t great, not really. He felt like a third wheel more often than not, and Ace hadn’t exactly been all that attentive. But it wasn’t something Deuce could complain about aloud, not in this space.

“I’m fine,” he said, though it came out a little too flat for his liking.

Ace raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tone. “Uh-huh. You sure? You’ve been... kinda quiet today.”

Deuce didn’t meet his eyes. “Just tired. It’s been a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it.” Ace let out a long breath and propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze softening. “Luffy’s a lot, huh?”

Deuce snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Ace chuckled, but there was a tenderness in his expression. “I get it. She can be... overwhelming.”

Deuce’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “She’s your sister. Of course, you’re going to focus on her.”

Ace hesitated, then shifted so he was sitting up next to him. “What, you feel like I’ve been ignoring you?”

Deuce’s gaze flickered over to Ace’s face, searching for any hint of seriousness. “I’m just... I don’t know. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise with her around.”

Ace sighed deeply, his fingers running through his messy hair. “I’ve been trying to balance it. I know it’s not easy for you. But I’m not trying to leave you out, you know?”

Deuce knew. He did. But it didn’t make the situation any easier. Not when he was surrounded by so much noise, Luffy’s laughter, her constant pulling on Ace’s arm, her wild ideas that Ace just couldn’t resist joining in on. It was like Ace was tethered to her in a way that left no room for him.

But then, when they found their own little moment of peace, Ace’s dad had knocked. No words were exchanged, just a quick look, a sharp nod, and the older man had handed them a small bag before disappearing back out the door.

It was a little surreal how much this family functioned on unspoken understanding. And yet, Deuce couldn’t help but feel a little left out. Not that he was upset with Ace's dad. In fact, he appreciated it. It was just... it was just this, the quiet moments he had to fight for, that made him feel like he mattered.

The house had finally begun to quiet down.

Mihawk, Shakky, Rayleigh, and Lucky had all packed up and left and with them went the constant hum of conversation and activity. 

Shanks, however, had other plans. He appeared in the living room, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. "Anchor and I are heading out to do some shopping," he announced, tossing a casual glance toward Ace and Deuce. "You guys will have some time to yourselves."

Deuce, who had been half-listening while trying to stretch his aching muscles, let out a sigh of relief. Finally, some quiet. Some peace.

He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but after days of Luffy’s boundless energy, Ace’s undivided attention on his sister and the occasional presence of the others, Deuce was completely drained. Luffy was sweet, but at this point, even her infectious joy was more than he could handle.

“Finally, some peace and quiet,” Deuce muttered under his breath, lounging back into the couch.

Ace and Sabo both looked at him, their expressions unreadable. There was a beat of silence before Ace raised an eyebrow. Sabo just shot Deuce a small, knowing smirk.

They didn’t respond to him, but the quiet in the room felt a little heavier now. It wasn’t that they hadn’t noticed how tired Deuce was, Ace had tried to pull him into conversations, or offer him breaks during the constant madness. But Deuce could tell it was hard for Ace to resist being wrapped up in Luffy’s whirlwind. The way Ace lit up every time Luffy called his name, the way he’d drop everything to join her in whatever crazy scheme she had going. Deuce wasn’t blind. He understood. But it didn’t make it easier.

Deuce leaned back and let out a quiet sigh, sinking further into the couch, just letting the calm settle around him.

Wednesday morning dawned and the house was just as busy as ever after the short breather. But the novelty of the house had worn off. The thrill of being in this new, chaotic space was fading fast for Deuce.

Sabo had his arms draped over the back of the couch, watching the chaos unfold with a grin, while Ace sat at the kitchen table, chatting animatedly with Luffy about her latest scheme. Deuce, sitting on the couch, was trying and failing to tune out the noise.

“Can we practice ballet?” Luffy’s voice rang out, as it always did, filled with energy.

“Luffy, I swear I’m gonna throw you in the ocean if you ask for ballet one more time,” Ace laughed, clearly enjoying the moment.

Deuce felt like he was drowning.

“You okay, man?” Sabo’s voice cut through his thoughts, though it felt muffled, distant.

Deuce blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, not even sure why he’d responded. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He felt like he couldn’t get a single moment of peace.

Luffy dashed past him, heading out to the yard, but not before she stopped at his side, tugging on his arm with an exaggerated smile.

“Deuce! Come play with us!” she cheered, her voice like a musical note hanging in the air.

Deuce’s patience finally snapped.

“No,” he said, far more sharply than he intended. He yanked his arm from her grip and stood up quickly, almost knocking over the chair. “I don’t want to play, Luffy.”

The look on her face faltered for a split second, before her bright grin returned, like she didn’t take the comment seriously. But Deuce could see the slight hurt in her eyes. It was the same hurt he had been trying to ignore for the last few days, but it was there, and it stung more than he’d expected.

Before he could even walk away, Ace’s voice called out, “Hey, Deuce, you alright?”

Deuce didn’t answer, just stalked off towards their shared bedroom. He needed to be alone. To think. To breathe.

The door slammed shut behind him and he let out a frustrated sigh as he sank onto the bed, rubbing his face. His whole body felt like it was buzzing, nerves on edge from the constant overstimulation.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and Ace stepped in quietly, closing it softly behind him. There was no tension, just the soft weight of knowing Ace would follow him when he needed space. But Deuce wasn’t in the mood for that calm.

“You alright?” Ace asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Deuce didn’t answer right away. He just lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence between them grew heavy as Ace sat down next to him.

“I’m just... tired, Ace,” Deuce admitted, his voice tight. “Tired of being in the background. Tired of not having a single moment of peace. You’re always with her. Sabo’s always with her. Hell, even your dad’s obsessed with her. It's like I’m invisible. I thought it'd get better but it doesn't.”

Ace’s expression softened, but there was still a slight hesitation before he spoke. “I know it’s been a lot. I’ve been trying, Deuce. But you’ve got to understand, Luffy’s my sister. She’s always been the most important person to me. She always will be.”

Deuce felt a lump rise in his throat, but he didn’t want to show any weakness. He had to swallow it down.

“I get it,” Deuce said stiffly, turning his head to look at Ace. “I get that, okay? But it’s hard to feel like I even matter sometimes.”

Ace shifted closer, his eyes searching Deuce’s face. “You do matter. You matter to me. But Luffy... she’s part of the package. I know that sucks sometimes. But you’ve got to know I’m not leaving you out. I’ll always make time for you, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“I don’t need more time with you when she’s not around, Ace,” Deuce replied sharply, his frustration rising again. “I need you to actually be present when she is around. I’m not asking for all of you, just... some of it.”

There was a beat of silence, before Ace spoke again, his voice quieter, but firm. “Deuce, I love you. But Luffy’s been my world for years. That’s not going to change. And I need you to understand that.”

Deuce’s stomach twisted. He knew. He’d known that from the start. But hearing Ace say it so plainly made him feel a little more invisible.

“I do,” Deuce muttered, feeling the tension in his chest ease, just a little. “I just... need time to adjust. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ace said softly, brushing his hand through Deuce’s hair before pulling him closer into a hug.

Deuce buried his face in Ace’s shoulder, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. It was strange, how something so small could ground him when everything around him felt like it was spinning too fast.

The moment was silent, but for Deuce, it was enough. It wasn’t the solution to everything, but it was a start.

In the days that followed Wednesday’s snap, something shifted.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. But it was there.

Ace started putting some distance between himself and Luffy, not a lot, just enough to try and balance the scales. Just enough to include Deuce more, to give him room to breathe. When Luffy tugged on his arm and asked him to come outside or help her build some contraption or start a ridiculous new game, Ace would pause. He’d smile, sometimes gently, sometimes guiltily, and say, “Not right now, Lu.”

And every time he said it, it hurt. Not just her. Him too.

Because it wasn’t just Luffy’s face that fell. It was the tightness in Ace’s own chest that grew a little heavier. The ache behind his smile that never quite reached his eyes. Luffy’s disappointment landed on him like a physical weight, because she’d never needed to hear no from him before. She’d never had to wonder if he was too busy for her.

But now he was pulling away.

For Deuce.

He didn’t regret the why. He loved Deuce, too, but the how was killing him.

Each time Luffy looked at him with those wide, betrayed eyes and then over at Deuce like he was the reason her world was cracking down the middle… it twisted something sharp inside him. Still, he kept doing it. For Deuce. Because he had to try to keep both halves of his heart from falling apart completely.

Luffy didn’t cry. Not at first. She just stopped asking.

She started clinging to Sabo instead, dragging him into the games, onto the couch, under the sun. And Sabo… well, Sabo doubled down. Whether it was guilt or pure affection, he gave her everything. Carried her on his back. Brushed her hair out of her eyes when she napped in his lap. Let her wear his sunglasses. Let her win. He became her shadow.

By the time Beck and Hongo came over for the weekend, Deuce could feel the tightness in Ace’s smile every time they sat next to each other. Luffy hadn’t looked at them in hours. Not really. Not the way she used to. Not since what was probably the fortieth rejection on Friday evening when she’d asked Ace to help her with a dumb plan to catch frogs, and he’d said “Later, maybe,” in a voice far too soft.

Luffy had blinked at him once, muttered something like “Okay,” and then turned her back to them both.

By Saturday evening, the house was quieter, but the tension lingered.

On the porch, Sabo sat with Luffy curled in his lap, a book open in one hand and the other gently rubbing circles along her back. She was crying quietly, her little face buried in his chest, shoulders trembling with every breath. Sabo didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. He just held her close.

Deuce swore he saw tears in his boyfriend’s eyes when Luffy stirred slightly and whispered, barely audible, “I miss Ace…”

“I know you do. You’re okay, baby girl,” Sabo murmured, brushing her hair back from her tear-streaked cheeks. “I got you. You’re so loved, you hear me? Ace loves you a lot, Lu. So much.”

“Then why,” she hiccuped, lifting her head just enough to look at him with red-rimmed eyes, “why does he always say no now? Always no.”

Sabo went still.

He swallowed thickly, wiping another tear from her cheek. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I don’t think it’s because he loves you any less.”

“Then why?” she whispered again.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” he admitted. “But if I had to guess…” He glanced towards the hallway, just for a second. “Maybe he’s trying to do the right thing for someone else. Even if it hurts.”

Luffy blinked, clearly confused. Sabo smiled, mock-offended, trying to lighten the mood.

“BUT LUFFY! My beloved traitorous sister! Are you trying to say you love Ace more than me?”

She blinked again, lips trembling, then burst into tears all over again.

Her daddy had explained it gently, after the second or third time Ace had said no and Deuce had hovered nearby like an unwelcome shadow: “Sometimes people have to split their time, love. That doesn’t mean they love you less. Just like when you play with your friends, but still love your brother, right?”

And Luffy had understood. In theory.

She didn’t stop loving Ace when she played with Sanji, or when she danced with Koby, or pulled Lucky into the kitchen, or fought with Zoro. Her love didn’t shrink just because it was shared.

But she missed him. So much it hurt.

“Oh no, no, nooo,” Sabo gasped theatrically. “That’s illegal. Crying is banned on this porch. Immediate punishment required!”

Before she could protest, he scooped her up and lifted her into the air, arms outstretched like wings. “Prepare for takeoff, Captain Luffy! Engines are go! Destination: Giggle Galaxy!”

He spun once, gently, then again, making dramatic airplane noises until Luffy’s tears gave way to startled laughter.

“Faster!” she squealed between giggles.

“Captain Sabo always delivers,” he said with a grin.

From the doorway, Deuce watched it all, watched joy slowly creep back into Luffy’s face. But he didn’t miss the shadow just behind him.

Ace, silent in the hallway, eyes fixed on the scene, unmoving. His jaw was clenched tight. Not blinking. Not breathing.

And in that instant, Deuce saw it, Ace was breaking.

It was well after midnight when it happened.

They were both asleep, finally, when the bed jerked beneath Deuce.

Ace was sitting up, breathing fast, face pale in the moonlight.

“What’s wrong?” Deuce asked, voice rough from sleep.

“Luffy’s crying,” Ace muttered, already reaching for a hoodie.

Deuce groaned. “Ace, she’s sleeping in your dad’s room. She’ll be—”

He was cut off by soft footsteps in the hall and a warm, honeyed voice floating through the hallway.

“Luffy, angel, it’s okay. Daddy didn’t wake up? Hm. Let Ace sleep, alright? You don't want to bother them again, right? Come here. You’ll sleep with me tonight, okay? Okay, great. I love you.”

Sabo.

Deuce turned his head just in time to see Ace stop dead in the doorway. One hand on the frame, shoulders drawn tight.

Then he saw it, his breath stutter, his posture collapse just slightly, his eyes glistening in the dark.

And then, for the first time, Deuce saw Ace cry.

Not quietly. Not stoically. Ace pressed a fist to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, and broke open right there in the hallway.

Deuce didn’t say anything. He simply reached out and pulled him back into the room. Back into the bed. Held him as Ace’s grief and guilt spilled out.

And as the sun slowly rose, Deuce finally understood that Luffy would ALWAYS come first. Even if it broke both of them.

Luffy’s sobbing echoed faintly through the house, piercing the early morning quiet and yanking Ace out of sleep like a slap. He groaned, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. Deuce was already blinking blearily beside him.

“…Is she crying?” Ace mumbled.

Without waiting for an answer, they got up and made their way down the stairs. What they found at the bottom stopped them cold.

Luffy was curled up in the lap of a very large man Ace had never seen before, crying her little heart out. Her hands were balled into fists, her cheeks blotchy and wet. The man, visibly uncomfortable but trying his best, was patting her back with one massive hand.

"Luffy, princess," the man said, voice thick with desperation, “your brother isn’t gone forever. We can visit him, or he’ll come home again, okay? I can even buy you a jet if you want, but please, please stop crying.”

Ace’s gaze slowly slid to the side, to find Sabo standing frozen, eyes glassy. Shanks was a few feet away, arms crossed, looking like he’d aged ten years in the span of five minutes.

He spoke, voice tight. “First the house. Then getting my son into the most prestigious medical university in the world before he even finishes school. Now you want to buy Luffy a private jet so she can visit him?”

The big man didn’t even flinch. “Yes. I made Sabo a promise that I’d support him. And if my granddaughter wants to visit her brother, she should be able to. Getting him in wasn’t hard, honestly. I waved a nice check at the admissions board—those simple-minded creatures will do almost anything for money.”

He paused, turned to Sabo. “And before you say a word, remember: your sister’s well-being is priceless to me, my sons and my entire company.”

Shanks opened his mouth like a fish gasping for air. “Luffy, my sweet golden child,” he choked, eyes going glassy, “I love you so much.”

Whitebeard smiled down at Luffy proudly. “You just keep raising her well, son.”

Luffy, sniffling, slid off his lap and toddled over to her father. She patted Shanks' head with a syrupy hand and mumbled, “Don’t be sad, Daddy. I stay with you.”

Shanks wrapped his arms around her instantly, holding her like a lifeline. He looked up at Whitebeard and gave him a wobbly thumbs-up. Whitebeard just laughed, warm and thundering.

Ace, still bewildered, finally blurted, “Who even are you?”

The man looked at him, smiling behind his mustache. “You must be Ace. I’m the one Luffy calls Grandpa Ed. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Deuce, who’d somehow remained silent until then, stepped forward politely. “Good morning, sir. My name’s Deuce. I’m Ace’s boyfriend.”

Whitebeard offered a handshake the size of a dinner plate. “Pleasure, Deuce. Name’s Edward Newgate.”

And Deuce, face gone a bit pale, suddenly wasn’t sure if he was still standing on solid ground.

Whitebeard, who had been giving Shanks a meaningful look, turned back to Luffy, his deep voice full of warmth. "Well, sweetheart, after we're done here, how about we go ship-watching?" He paused for a moment, his smile widening. "And we’ll meet up with your uncles, too. Thatch’s been excited to cook for you again. He’s been talking about it since last week, and he wanted to take you fishing too."

Luffy, whose head had been buried against Shanks’ chest, suddenly perked up at the mention of Thatch and cooking. Her small body stiffened, and she shot to her feet, moving with surprising energy. Without a word, she stood directly in front of Whitebeard, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.

Shanks sighed deeply, but it was clear there was no stopping her. "Alright, just give me a minute to get her ready."

"So, the university has a great program," Sabo said, his voice quiet but earnest. "How does this even work?"

Whitebeard chuckled, unbothered by Sabo’s concern. "I’ll cover all your expenses and you focus on your studies. As for your accommodation..." He paused. "I bought a building."

Sabo blinked, still processing. "A building? Like... a whole building?"

Whitebeard nodded casually. "Yep. It's in the city near the university. You’ll have your own place. No rent, no bills. I’ve set up an account for you, with a card. You can use it for groceries, personal stuff, whatever you need."

Sabo, still shocked, asked with a hint of concern, "But... is that really necessary? I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you."

Whitebeard’s gaze softened. "You're not taking advantage. This is for Luffy. She’s my granddaughter, and I want her family to be set up. The building’s already done. Just take it as a gift for Luffy’s future."

Sabo gave a hesitant nod, still unsure but reassured by Whitebeard’s unwavering resolve. "I guess... it’s okay then..."

Whitebeard smiled. "It’s done. The building will be inherited by Luffy one day, but for now, it’s yours. Take care of her, and everything else will fall into place."

Sabo nodded, still processing everything but feeling calmer with Whitebeard’s reassurance. "I don’t know how to thank you."

Whitebeard waved it off with a grin. "No need. Just take care of Luffy. She’s family, and family takes care of each other."

Minutes later, Shanks stood by the door, holding his daughter in his arms. Luffy was freshly dressed in a playful outfit that perfectly matched Whitebeard’s color scheme, her little beige shorts and purple shirt paired with a large red ribbon in her hair and a matching red bracelet. She was already bouncing on her heels, eager for the food and fun ahead.

Whitebeard noticed the matching outfits and gave Shanks a knowing nod, his deep voice rumbling with a warm smile. "Looking good. We make a fine pair, little one."

Shanks chuckled lightly, the amusement dancing in his eyes. "Glad you noticed. It was her idea to be matching," he said with a smirk.

Ace, standing in the background, couldn’t hide his growing suspicion. He watched the scene unfold with increasing discomfort, his gaze flicking between the two men, especially Whitebeard, who seemed to dominate every moment with an effortless, imposing presence.

His unease finally broke through. He couldn’t stop himself. He stepped forward, voice dripping with skepticism. “So, uh... Whitebeard, huh?” Ace said, his words laced with distrust. “What’s your angle? What do you really want with Luffy? I mean, no offense, but... no one does anything for free, especially not guys like you. What’s the catch?”

Whitebeard, sensing Ace's growing tension, let out a hearty laugh. “Angle? Catch? Kid, I just want to see my granddaughter happy. Luffy’s family.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed further, a tight knot of distrust in his chest. “Right. Sure. Family. But you’re telling me you just want to take care of her... for no reason?”

Sabo shot a glance at Ace, but his eyes reflected an odd understanding. It was as if he had seen this exact moment coming. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ace... please stop.”

But Ace wasn’t listening. His sense of dread deepened as he looked at Shanks, who was unflinching in his trust of Whitebeard.

Shanks looked at Ace with a raised brow, his voice calm but firm. “For a fact, Ace,” Shanks said, meeting his gaze, “I know this man will never harm Luffy. Not ever.”

But hearing that only made Ace feel worse. Shanks was so easily handing Luffy over to someone like this. Someone Ace didn’t trust. And worst of all, Luffy herself seemed to adore that man. Every time she looked at him, her face lit up with that innocent joy. She liked him. She trusted him. And that tore Ace apart.

“No, no, no. I don’t care. This isn’t right,” Ace muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. His gaze flickered from Shanks to Sabo, who was nodding along with Whitebeard’s words, as though everything was perfectly fine. “Why are you so okay with this?”

Sabo glanced at Ace, trying to keep his voice steady, though his concern was palpable. “Ace... he’s doing this for Luffy. He sees her as his own, and he wants to make sure she and her family are taken care of, WE are taken care of.”

But none of this made sense to Ace. “I don’t care who you are,” his voice cracked, trembling with frustration he couldn’t quite explain. “But you—you don’t get to just—”

“Ace,” Deuce interjected, his voice quiet but firm as he placed a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “You’re overthinking this.”

Ace looked at him, the anger and confusion still boiling in his chest. “I’m not overthinking it. You’re telling me you’re okay with this? You’re telling me this guy—this stranger—gets to just take Luffy?”

His voice trembled with barely contained frustration. “I don’t trust him. I don’t care how much you say you do, Shanks. This man—NO MAN on this earth is just doing this out of kindness. There’s always something behind it. No one gives this much without wanting something in return.”

Whitebeard, ever the calm presence, met Ace’s gaze squarely. “You can distrust me all you want, boy. But Luffy is my family. She’s not in danger, not while I’m here.”

“Ace, don't be mad at Grandpa Ed. Please,” Luffy says in a small voice from Whitebeards lap.

The words hit Ace like a slap to the face. His chest tightened, the full weight of betrayal settling like a stone. He could see it now: Shanks, Sabo—they weren’t questioning Whitebeard’s intentions. They trusted him, and that made Ace feel like an outsider. Like his feelings didn’t matter. They were just... giving Luffy away.

Deuce’s eyes softened as he looked at Ace, but his voice remained steady, even if it held a touch of finality. “Ace, I don’t think you fully understand who you’re dealing with here. But I do. And I’m telling you, let it go.”

Ace stared at Deuce, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. It felt like everything was slipping through his fingers. He looked at Luffy, who was so happy, so carefree in Whitebeard’s presence. His little sister. His family. His everything.

And all he could feel was the bitterness of betrayal.

Ace stood at the edge of the yard, watching the large wagon slowly roll away, Luffy inside, her excited face lighting up as she waved goodbye. She was going with him. The man who had just come into their lives, the one Ace couldn’t trust. He was supposed to be family, but the more Ace thought about it, the more it felt like Luffy was being taken away. Like she was slipping further and further out of his grasp.

He could feel the betrayal gnawing at him, sharp and raw, as he stood there, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white. No one—no one—had the right to take Luffy from him. She was his sister, his family. Not this man. Not Mr. Edward. HIS!

“Ace!” Shanks’ voice broke through his thoughts, cutting through the tension like a knife. Ace spun around to face him, the anger rising in his chest.

“What the hell?” Ace shot back, his voice thick with frustration. “You’re just going to let her go off with a man? After everything that’s happened?”

Shanks, ever calm, didn’t flinch at Ace’s outburst. He stood tall, his posture relaxed as always, but his gaze was unwavering. “Ace,” Shanks began, his voice steady, “He’s not just some guy, okay? He’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants to see her happy, because he sees her as his granddaughter.”

Ace’s heart sank at the word granddaughter. Luffy wasn’t his granddaughter, she was his sister. The words felt like a punch to the gut.

“You really trust him, huh?” Ace’s voice was filled with bitterness. “So, what, he just wants to spoil her and give her everything she wants, no questions asked? There’s always a catch, Shanks. Always. What does he want from her? Why now?”

Shanks sighed, his patience wearing thin. “I know more than you think, Ace. He’s not some greedy bastard trying to use Luffy. He wants her to have everything. And he’s already made it clear that he’s leaving her his legacy. This is the man who’s going to pass his empire on to Luffy. I trust him completely. I worked with him for years back when I was still a prosecutor. He brought down one of his own sons for exploiting children and other vulnerable people. That’s the kind of man he is.”

That hit Ace like a cold wave. He wasn’t just some stranger, this was a man with power, someone who could shape Luffy’s future in ways that Ace couldn’t even begin to understand. In ways Ace couldn't.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Ace’s eyes flicked toward Sabo, who was standing quietly, watching the exchange. Sabo didn’t seem as bothered by this as Ace was. He was too calm. And that only made Ace feel even more isolated, even more misunderstood.

“Ace,” Sabo said softly, stepping forward. His voice was firm, but there was an understanding in his eyes that Ace couldn’t quite shake off. “Luffy’s not some pawn to him. He’s not asking for anything in return, if that's what you're afraid of. He just... he wants to be there for her. He wants her to grow up with the best. And that’s exactly what he’s offering.”

Ace’s chest tightened. “I don’t care about his legacy,” Ace snapped, his voice breaking. “I care about Luffy. She’s my sister. And she’s MY responsibility. You don’t just hand her over to someone like him, not without knowing what the hell he wants from her, what he'll do to her.”

But as Ace’s eyes flicked to the horizon, where the wagon earlier disappeared from view, the reality of the situation settled in. Luffy was gone. And no matter how much he raged or fought, he wasn’t going to change that.

Shanks was already stepping back, his gaze soft but resolute. “Ace, you have to let this go. Luffy's spending only half the day with him today. He’s not taking her from you. He just wants to finally be a grandfather. He wants to give her a life he couldn’t give to his own sons.”

The words cut deep, and Ace could feel his resolve starting to crack. How was he supposed to compete with that? Whitebeard had everything—the power, the influence, the resources. And all Ace had was his anger, his jealousy, and his desperation to keep Luffy close.

The silence between them was deafening. But before Ace could say another word, Sabo spoke again.

“Ace,” Sabo said, his voice firmer now, “You’ve been ignoring her all week. Since Wednesday. You’ve been so wrapped up with Deuce that you didn’t even notice how much she needed you. And now you're throwing a fit because someone else is stepping in? You shut her out.”

Ace’s face twisted like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t shut her out!” he shouted, voice cracking with fury. “I just—! I needed space! I was trying to—fuck, I was just trying to make this work with Deuce!”

“Oh, so she’s the one who gets dropped the moment you decide you want a life?” Sabo shot back. “She’s not an accessory to your guilt, Ace!”

And that’s when Deuce stepped in, brow furrowed and voice rising. “So now it’s my fault? Great. I knew coming here was a mistake—”

“SHUT UP!” Ace exploded, eyes wild. “Everyone just SHUT UP!”

He took a step forward, finger pointed wildly between them. “You don’t get it! None of you get it! You hand her off to some rich old man with too much money and probably too many secrets and you act like it’s no big deal! Do you even HEAR yourselves?! You’re letting a stranger wrap his empire around her like it’s a gift!”

Shanks stepped forward, calm but unyielding. “Ace, I told you. I know he’d never hurt Luffy. He’s not taking her. He’s claiming her as his granddaughter. And she’s safe with him.”

“SAFE?!” Ace barked. “Safe doesn’t mean anything when it comes from you! You—YOU let this happen! You stood by while some creepy perv decided he wanted a grandkid and you said YES?”

“She’s only with him for half the day, Ace,” Shanks said, jaw tight. “He wants to be a grandfather. He wants to spoil her. And yes, you saw the announcements. This is the man who’s leaving her his entire legacy.”

“Then he’s out of his mind,” Ace growled, chest heaving. “You think money and buildings and boats make him her family? Her family is right here! She’s mine! And you—you just gave her away like—like she was—!”

“She’s not being given away, Ace” Sabo said through gritted teeth. “She’s being loved. By someone who sees her worth. Who’s ready to give her the world because he wants to.”

Ace broke. “NO! I DON’T BELIEVE THAT! NO ONE gives that much without expecting something back! You can dress it up however you want, but men like him, they always want something!”

Deuce tried again, quieter. “Ace, this isn’t helping. Let’s just—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Ace barked, spinning around to face him. “You think this is helping?! You think watching her climb into his car, hugging him like he’s hers is something I can just get over?!”

Shanks stepped in fast. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re emotional, I get it, but—”

“NO! YOU DON’T GET SHIT!” Ace screamed, chest heaving like a furnace. “You all think you know better. You think because you’re older, because you’ve seen more, that that gives you the right to make choices for her—for ME!”

“She’s not yours to control,” Sabo said, deadly quiet now. “You abandoned her all week and now you’re acting like she owes you something. And legally, Dad's the one in charge of Luffy.”

Ace stared at him, unblinking.

“You want to know what betrayal looks like?” Ace hissed, stepping forward. “It looks like this. It looks like your own damn brother telling you he trusts a stranger more than you. It looks like your adoptive father backing up a man because he’s rich and powerful and has a goddamn soft spot for his kid. It looks like all of you turning your backs on ME and smiling like everything’s okay.”

He took a deep breath. “Fuck this. I’m done. I fucking hate you.”

He grabbed Deuce’s arm like a lifeline. “We’re leaving. Pack everything.”

Shanks moved to block the door. “You’re not driving like this.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Shanks said again, quiet but firm. “If you get in that car right now and crash—Luffy will suffer the most. She’ll blame herself.”

That stopped Ace. For one breath.

Then his voice broke again. “She already blames herself. She always does.”

But his fingers clenched tighter around the keys.

And without another word, he stormed through the house, dragging Deuce behind him. They tore through their room, tossing clothes into bags, zippers and curses flying. Ace’s hands trembled with every movement: rage, panic, heartbreak all twisting together.

They came back down, duffels slung over their shoulders, faces carved in stone.

“Don’t follow me,” Ace said through gritted teeth. “Don’t any of you follow me.”

The tires screeched as Ace tore out of the driveway, leaving behind the house, the tension, the silence—and the people who had once been his family.

And back at the porch, Shanks just stood there, staring at the shrinking trail of dust with tired eyes, murmuring under his breath,
“Goddamn idiot.”

Sabo sat down heavily on the steps beside him. “They’ll come back.”

“I know,” Shanks said quietly. “But Luffy’s gonna cry when she hears he left.”

The road stretched out endlessly in front of them, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Ace hadn’t turned on the music. Not a single word had been spoken since they’d left the house. Deuce sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap, eyes locked on the passing trees.

Then Ace’s phone vibrated.

Incoming FaceTime call — unknown number.

“Decline it,” Ace muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

Deuce glanced at him, then at the screen, hesitating before letting the call go to voicemail. A moment later, the phone buzzed again — this time a message popped up.

Here is Edward Newgate. Your sister wanted to show you something and your father told me you're out on a drive. Please pick up.

Deuce read it aloud quietly.

Ace cursed under his breath, his jaw tightening. He yanked the wheel and pulled off to the shoulder of the road, gravel crunching under the tires. He parked, threw the gear into neutral, and snatched the phone.

He called the number back.

The screen lit up with Whitebeard’s massive face filling the entire frame, his camera angled way too close and slightly off. There was some fumbling, and then Whitebeard’s deep voice rumbled:

“Luffy, your brother’s on the line.”

He finally managed to flip the camera. The image shifted — and there was Luffy, standing proudly on the dock, holding a fish almost the size of her entire body.

“Ace!!!” she beamed, eyes lighting up. “I caught a fish! Look!! Isn’t he huge?!”

She nearly tripped from excitement as she lifted the fish higher, cheeks flushed, hair a little wind-tousled from the sea breeze.

“She reeled it in all by herself,” Whitebeard said proudly offscreen. “Took her half an hour. That kid’s a fighter.”

In the background, a couple of men were laughing, deep, booming voices that echoed over the call like a warm tide. Ace didn’t recognize them. Didn’t need to. Their laughter was real.

Ace's chest tightened.

“…Thanks,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. He hung up before he could say more, before he cracked.

Then he opened the door, stepped out of the car, and sat down on the pavement beside it. The sky above was wide and soft and way too open.

And there, on the side of a dusty country road, Ace finally broke down and cried.

Ace sat on the gravel shoulder of the road, the sky above a soft grey, Deuce silent nearby in the car, giving him space. The tears on his cheeks had dried, but the ache in his chest hadn’t gone anywhere.

With a shaky breath, he unlocked his phone and tapped Shanks’ contact. The line rang twice before it connected.

“Ace,” came Shanks’ voice, weary, quiet, not angry but not unaffected.

Ace’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”

Shanks didn’t say anything right away. The silence was heavy, stretching just long enough to make Ace’s pulse spike.

“I didn’t mean for it to get that bad,” Ace continued, voice raw. “I just— I lost it. Everything felt wrong and I thought— I thought I was protecting her. But I wasn’t. I was just... lashing out.”

“I know,” Shanks finally said. “And believe it or not, I get it. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t shake everyone. You scared her the last few days, Ace. You scared me.”

Ace winced. “I know. God, I know.”

Shanks sighed, the sound more tired than frustrated. “You’re not the only one feeling helpless here. We’re all trying to figure out how to take care of her. No one’s trying to replace you.”

“I felt like I was being erased,” Ace said, voice cracking again. “Like you and Sabo and even Deuce were just... handing her over to some stranger with a kingdom. I didn’t grow up with people doing good things just because they could, okay? I don’t trust that. I didn’t trust him.”

“I know,” Shanks said, and this time there was real softness in his tone. “But Edward’s not just some man. He’s earned my trust. And more importantly—Luffy trusts him. That should mean something.”

Ace pulled his knees up to his chest. “I saw her with that fish. She was so proud. She looked... happy.”

“She was,” Shanks replied. “She still is.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Ace admitted, voice low and wrecked. “Should I turn back? Should I just go home? Should I wait ‘til tomorrow? I don’t wanna just show up and make it worse. But I also— I don’t wanna go the rest of the day without seeing her.”

There was a pause. Then Shanks said gently, “She asked about you already.”

Ace blinked. “She did?”

“She asked why you weren’t there to see the fish.”

Ace closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Ace. She’s hurt. But she loves you more than anyone. If you show up and actually talk to her, she’ll listen. You don’t need a plan. You just need to be her brother.”

Ace looked at the road stretching ahead of him. The turnoff wasn’t far behind.

“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly.

“I know,” Shanks said. “But this isn’t about being perfect. Just... don’t let your fear stop you from being there when it counts.”

Ace nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll turn around.”

“Good.” Shanks paused. “And Ace... next time, remember, you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got people—me, Sabo, even Edward—who want to help.”

“I’ll try,” Ace whispered. “Thanks.”

“You’re still learning,” Shanks said, almost fondly. “But you’ve got a damn good heart, kid. I love so, Ace. Now go show her.”

The call ended, and Ace stared at the screen for a moment.

Then he stood, dusted gravel off his pants, and walked back to the car.

Deuce looked at him. “We going?”

Ace gave a weak but genuine nod. “Yeah. We’re going back.”

Ace opened his mouth to say yes—then faltered when he saw Deuce’s expression.

“You don’t want to, do you?”

Deuce scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “I mean, can you blame me? This whole trip has been an emotional meat grinder, and I didn’t exactly sign up for the live family drama special featuring one very large, mysterious billionaire.”

Ace winced. “I know. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I’m not mad about that,” Deuce muttered. “I’m just tired, Ace. I’m tired of watching you hurt. I’m tired of getting screamed at for trying to help.”

Deuce’s jaw tightened. “You’re doing that thing again. Where it’s all about you, all the time. Your guilt. Your anger. Your meltdown. You dragged me on this trip, said we were going to have time together and I’ve spent the last few days watching you spiral over someone who you could’ve just talked to.”

“That’s not fair,” Ace snapped. “She’s not just ‘someone,’ she’s my—”

“She’s your sister. I know.” Deuce’s voice was low, but sharp. “But I’m your boyfriend. Or at least I thought I was.”

Ace stared at him.

“I’ve watched you ignore her,” Deuce continued, hands clenching the steering wheel. “Then explode on everyone the second you realised you hurt her. And now? You want to race back like none of it happened, like we’re just the supporting cast in your big redemption arc. I’ve had enough, Ace.”

Ace felt something cold twist in his chest. “So what? You want out?”

Deuce didn’t answer right away.

“I want to go home,” he said finally. “I need a break from this. From all of it.”

The words hit like a punch. Ace didn’t even try to argue this time.

“What?”

“I’m driving you home.”

Deuce gave him a long look. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, already unbuckling. “You deserve that much.”

The silence felt different now, thicker, heavier. As Ace started the car and turned around, the sky growing pink at the edges of the horizon, he glanced over at Deuce.

“I didn’t mean for any of this,” he said, voice low.

Deuce didn’t look at him. “I know.”

They didn’t speak the rest of the way.

After dropping Deuce off, quiet goodbyes, no big drama, just a weighted silence, Ace sat in the car for a moment, forehead pressed to the steering wheel.

Then, with a long breath, he started the engine again.

And headed back to the beach house.

The drive back to the beach house felt longer than it should have. Ace had no idea how much time had passed, but the closer he got, the heavier the weight in his chest became. He had messed up, hurt Luffy in a way he’d never intended. The guilt gnawed at him the whole way, but when he finally parked in front of the house, it felt like everything that had happened was crashing down on him at once.

As he stepped out of the car and made his way up to the door, he found himself hesitating. The thought of facing Luffy, of seeing the hurt in her eyes again, was almost too much to bear. But when he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of Luffy standing in the hallway, her big eyes watching him cautiously.

She seemed to shrink back slightly, hiding behind Shanks who had his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. When she saw Ace’s face, her expression faltered, and for a brief moment, she seemed unsure of whether or not she should approach him.

Luffy’s small voice barely reached him. “Ace… you’re not mad anymore?”

Ace felt his heart break. He closed the distance between them in an instant, kneeling down in front of her. “No, Luf,” he said softly, voice full of regret. “I’m not mad. I’m sorry… so sorry for everything. I messed up. I shouldn’t have let you feel that way. I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

Luffy’s eyes welled up again, and she took a small step back. She was still scared, still unsure. And it hurt Ace to see that fear in her eyes, the same fear he had caused with his actions.

“I—I was scared,” Luffy whispered, voice trembling. “I thought you were going to leave me, like in the shows… You know, when the brothers don’t talk anymore and then they just… go away.”

The words hit Ace like a slap to the face. He’d never meant for her to feel that way. He never thought she would worry about him leaving her. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, unable to contain the sudden rush of emotion that overwhelmed him.

“No, Luffy,” Ace said, voice cracking. “I would never leave you. I’m so sorry. I was stupid, and I let you down. I’m always going to be here. You’re my little sister. You’re everything to me and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Luffy’s small sobs filled the air, and Ace held her tighter, brushing her hair gently. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. I didn’t mean for you to feel alone. I’ll never let you think that again.”

“I was scared,” Luffy repeated, her voice muffled against his chest. “I thought you would leave me too, like they always do on TV.”

Ace’s heart ached. He squeezed her even tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, Luffy. You’re stuck with me forever, okay? Like your little hand on my shoulder.”

Luffy sniffled and then looked up at him, tears still running down her cheeks, but her small smile broke through. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Ace replied, his voice full of certainty.

Luffy clung to him as though she was trying to make sure he was real, and for the first time in days, Ace felt the weight on his chest lighten. She was still there, and that was all that mattered. He wasn’t going to mess this up again.

Just then, Shanks and Sabo walked in from the living room, the tension in the air shifting as they both smiled, relief flooding their faces.

“We’re glad that’s cleared up,” Shanks said, his voice warm and comforting. He reached out and patted Ace’s shoulder.

Sabo glanced at them, his usual composed demeanour softening. “Where’s Deuce?” he asked, his eyes darting between Ace and Luffy.

Ace felt a small pang of guilt when he realized that Deuce wasn’t here. “He’s at home,” Ace said quietly, his voice still raw with emotion. He didn’t know how to explain everything that had happened, but he wasn’t sure Deuce was ready to face any of it either.

Sabo gave him a knowing look, his expression soft but understanding. He nodded in response. “I see. Well, take your time.”

Ace felt a weight lift from his shoulders just hearing Sabo’s calm words. For the first time since the fight, there was a sense of clarity—maybe they didn’t have to fix everything all at once, but they could at least start rebuilding. It wouldn’t be easy, but they’d get there.

Luffy, still in his arms, finally managed to stop crying. She sniffled once more, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, then looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you’re here, Ace. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

Ace smiled through his tears, brushing her hair away from her face. “I’m here, Luffy. Always.”

Chapter Text

The months moved like tidewater, slow and relentless, but somehow, impossibly, it was already today.

Luffy’s first ballet recital. Shanks looked like he might pass out.

In the second row, he gripped the armrests of his seat like the building might collapse if he let go. His knee bounced with wild, nervous energy. In his other hand, he clutched a crumpled tissue he absolutely wasn’t going to use, because he absolutely wasn’t crying.

Next to him, Ace, Sabo, Dr. Kobato, and Koby sat shoulder to shoulder, a tight row of nerves and love. Behind them, Rayleigh, Shakky and the most of the usual adult contingent had fanned out into nearby rows, but this front cluster? This was Luffy’s cheer squad.

Even Whitebeard had come, somehow fitting his mountain of a body into the row behind them like a ship parked in a driveway. He’d flown in that morning. No chance he’d miss her first performance. When Luffy heard that Grandpa Ed was coming, she’d squealed so loudly that Koby dropped his juice.

Izo, elegant and serene, sat cross-legged beside him. Thatch had brought three cameras, one giant bouquet of sunflowers and zero spatial awareness—they were all currently tangled in his lap.

Ace was fiddling with his rings. “Why am I nervous?”

Sabo grinned without looking at him. “Because she’s your entire personality, just like Dad.”

“I heard that,” Shanks muttered, still staring dead ahead. “And he’s right, son.”

Ace rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

“She’s gonna forget the steps,” Shanks whispered, panic creeping in.

“She’s four,” Ace replied, barely suppressing a laugh. “They’re all gonna forget the steps. This isn’t Giselle. It’s jelly beans in tights trying not to fall over. Trust me. I’ve seen every rehearsal. They’re adorable chaos gremlins.”

“I think she’ll nail it,” Izo said softly, smile warm. “She’s got good stage instincts.”

“They’re dancing to Rainbow Connection, right?” Thatch asked.

Shanks’ voice cracked as he nodded. “She told me she was going to spin like the stars. What if she sneezes mid-spin? Or waves at us and forgets the rest? Or—what if she sees me crying and starts crying too?”

Sabo leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes twinkling. “So... a regular Tuesday.”

“She practices for hours,” Dr. Kobato said kindly. “She takes it seriously.”

Koby, practically vibrating with excitement, nodded. “She told me it makes her feel like she’s flying.”

Shanks blinked. Sniffed. Clutched the tissue harder.

“God,” he choked out. “My baby is flying. In a tutu.”

Ace pressed a hand over his mouth, failing to hide a smile. “You’re gonna cry before she even comes on stage.”

“Shut up,” Shanks muttered, already digging for another tissue. “As if you're better than me.”

Ace glanced at him, then at the stage. His smile faltered, softened. “I just hope she doesn’t freestyle again. She went rogue in rehearsal on Monday.”

From further down, Shakky gave a knowing little hum. “Wouldn’t be a Luffy performance without at least one improv spin.”

“I hope she does the leap,” Koby said suddenly, eyes huge. “She said that was her favorite part.”

Dr. Kobato laughed gently. “If she doesn’t get distracted by the glitter on her tutu first.”

“She was very proud of the glitter,” Ace murmured, his voice tinged with something tender and faraway.

The lights dimmed.

Ace leaned toward Shanks, quiet. “Where’s Mihawk?”

Shanks exhaled like someone unburdening the weight of the day. “Other side of the city. Said he’ll watch the recording. Sent flowers though. A lot of flowers.”

Ace nodded, sitting back.

And then Shanks inhaled, sharp and full, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff just before he jumps.

The lights dimmed. The auditorium held its breath.

Ace leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Okay. Deep breath. We practiced. We prepped. I bribed. I cried. She’s got this.”

“She’s four,” Sabo reminded, amused. “You said she's gonna mess up… like a minute ago, remember?”

“Shut up. She’s brilliant,” Ace countered. “She just… gets distracted by air.”

Shanks made a noise that was one part laugh, one part internal collapse.

The piano began. A ukulele joined in. Gentle strings followed. A dreamy, slow cover of “Rainbow Connection” drifted over the crowd like stardust.

And the curtain rose. Twelve tiny dancers blinked into the spotlight. One waved. One yawned. Two were visibly mid-whisper-fight.

And center-left was Luffy.

Yellow tutu. Glittery tights. Hair in a stubborn bun (achieved after a twenty-minute war that ended when Dr. Kobato took over from Shanks). Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright. Knees bouncing with barely-contained energy.

She spotted Ace.

And grinned so hard her nose scrunched up.

“She saw me,” Ace whispered. “But she didn’t wave. We’re already ahead of last week.”

“She looks like a star,” Koby whispered.

“She is a star,” Ace muttered proudly.

Then, she moved.

One beat. Two. A hop, a turn, a swish of arms. Not perfect. But she was focused. Steady. Present.

Ace sat bolt upright. “Her arms are actually in second. What the hell, 'Bo, do you see that?”

“She’s in the zone,” Sabo said, impressed. “She’s never this still.”

“She’s never this anything in rehearsal,” Ace whispered, stunned. “She giggled for twenty minutes straight on Wednesday because her tights were ‘too slippery’.”

Whitebeard chuckled quietly. Izo smiled behind his hand.

And then, a leap.

That ridiculous, glorious, one-footed mini-grand-jeté she’d insisted on adding even though she’d never once did it properly.

Ace tensed like a coach at the Olympics. “Don’t do it, Lu. Don’t you dare—no wait DO IT, YOU MANIAC—”

And she did.

Little legs pushing off with all the strength in her tiny body. Arms flared out, face lit up, tutu fluffing mid-air—

—and she landed it.

Not perfect. But not a fall. A solid landing.

Stumbled one step. Recovered.

Beamed.

Ace lost it. “YES. SHE STUCK THE LANDING.”

Shanks made a strangled sobbing noise into his sleeve.

“She never lands that!” Ace half-laughed, half-cried. “She usually launches herself like a cannonball into the mirror!”

“She just stuck it like a pro,” Sabo said, stunned.

“She rebounded. Did you see the recovery? That’s all her,” Ace beamed. “That’s raw, uncut chaos refined into art.”

“Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection…” And she danced like she believed in it.

Graceful. Focused. Joyful.

Little feet skipped in rhythm. Arms swayed with intent. Her face tilted towards the lights like she could feel the melody in her chest. And when she spun, just slightly off the beat, a little too wide, she laughed like she’d hit the moon.

Whitebeard dabbed at his eyes.

From backstage, a whispered, triumphant, “YES!” echoed, probably her teacher.

The audience giggled, clapped early.

And still, she didn’t miss a step.

When they reached the final pose—arms raised, toes pointed, chin lifted—Luffy held it.

„She held it.“ Ace muttered.

And Shanks sobbed openly.

Rayleigh blinked quickly and looked away. Shakky pressed her hand to her chest with a quiet smile.

Ace, eyes fixed on her, whispered, “That’s my girl.”

Sabo didn’t say anything. He just squeezed Ace’s hand, once and really tight.

The curtain fell to roaring applause.

“THAT’S MY BABY!!” Shanks bellowed, up before the lights even came back on.

“GO PRINCESS!!” Thatch added, cameras clicking wildly.

“She did the leap!” Ace was standing now too, pointing like a man who’d just seen Bigfoot. “She did the damn leap!”

A bright voice called, “ACE! DADDY! SABO!!”

A tutu-clad missile launched herself off the side stairs.

Ace caught her mid-flight, spinning her in a tight circle before holding her close. “You absolute maniac. You did the leap.”

“I flew!” she gasped, eyes huge.

“You soared,” Sabo grinned, ruffling her bun.

“I thought I was gonna fall,” she whispered.

“But you didn’t,” Ace said, pressing his forehead to hers. “You caught yourself. Like a pro.”

Koby gave a double thumbs-up, beaming. “It was great.”

Shanks scooped her up, eyes glassy. “You were amazing, sweetheart.”

“I sparkled so much,” she said proudly, catching sight of the glitter still clinging to her arms.

Whitebeard reached for her next. “That was a performance, little star. Might be the best thing I’ve seen since Roger tried to tap dance.” Shanks shot him a look but didn’t ask.

Luffy cackled. “I was brighter than the moon!”

“You are the moon. No, you’re the Sun!” Sabo said.

“The whole damn galaxy,” Ace added.

Izo offered the bouquet, soft smile unwavering. “For the queen of the stage.”

Thatch handed over the cupcake box. “May or may not be upside-down. Still glorious.”

In the warmth and laughter and gleaming stage dust, no one noticed right away when Ace went quiet.

Just for a beat. Just long enough to glance at the empty chair beside him.

The one Deuce would’ve filled. Should’ve. The one excuse Ace hadn’t asked about, not tonight.

He looked back at Luffy, glitter in her hair, arms full of cupcakes and flowers, eyes alight with pride.

He smiled. Because she was happy. Because she flew. And because she landed.

But still, somewhere quiet in his chest, it ached. And maybe it always would.

Just as Ace was tucking a loose piece of glittery tulle behind Luffy’s ear, the mic crackled overhead.

“Dancers, please return to the stage for bows!”

Luffy gasped like someone had announced candy. “I get to go again?!”

“No, just a bow—”

Too late. She was already dashing toward the side stairs, her little legs moving like lightning, tutu bouncing behind her.

Ace laughed. “I can’t tell if she’s more excited to dance or to be seen.”

“She gets that from her Mihawk. Definitely not from me,” Shanks muttered, trying to smooth his hair with the hand not holding a tissue.

The lights brightened slightly. The curtain rose.

The kids were a mess, one shoe missing here, someone crying quietly therebut they lined up, sort of, as the teacher approached with the mic.

“Let’s give our dancers a big hand! And as I call your name, step forward for your bow!”

“Clara!”

A shy girl in pink shuffled forward, waved, curtsied.

“Milo!”

Tiny wave. Nervous smile.

“Yuna!”

Shoe missing. Still got her bow in.

Shanks smiled faintly, watching. He glanced down at the printed program in his lap, smoothing the crease where he'd been crushing it.

And stopped.

“Aria!”

There it was, clear as day:

Yellow Butterflies Group
Silvers Luffy

Bold. Right there in the middle. His breath caught. “Oh, no—”

Flash.

He looked up sharply.

Flash. Flash.

“Dorothea!”

Not from phones.

Whitebeard shifted behind him with a slow, tectonic rumble. “...That wasn’t lightning.”

Flash.

“Mika!”

They turned in near-unison, Shanks half out of his seat, Whitebeard craning around Thatch.

Near the back, behind the last row, stood three adults.

Not parents.

Cameras up. Lenses long. A telephoto zoom caught in the act mid-click.

Flash. Right at them. Not the stage.

Them.

Shanks’ entire body tensed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ace had already leaned forward. “Press?”

Shanks nodded once, jaw locked. “They’re not even hiding it.”

Flash.

This one caught him square in the side profile. And Luffy, barely in the frame, waving enthusiastically behind him.

Rayleigh turned his head slightly. “Shanks.”

“I see them.”

Whitebeard exhaled heavily, his eyes locked on the camera crew. “Who the hell prints her last name?”

“She’s four,” Shanks snapped, standing up. “She’s four, for god’s sake.”

Ace scanned the room, then reached into his coat like he was prepping to throw a punch with paperwork. “I swear if they followed her—”

“Luffy!” the teacher called.

Luffy stepped forward, bright as the damn sun. She threw her arms out. Big bow. Beaming grin.

Flash flash flash flash.

"Look, Daddy! They’re taking pictures!" Luffy squeals in delight. 

“Oh hell no,” Shanks growled, already moving.

Ace was right beside him. “I’ve got it.”

“No,” Whitebeard rumbled. “We all have it.”

Rayleigh glanced toward Shakky, who was already halfway through dialling. “Security,” she said simply. “And Mihawk.”

Sabo stood too. “Want them stopped or silenced?”

“Stopped,” Shanks said sharply. “Tonight is hers.”

“Copy that.”

Thatch slowly stood, cradling the cameras like grenades. “Give me two minutes and a hallway.”

But Shanks was still locked on her. On Luffy, standing center stage, soaking up the applause like moonlight. Oblivious. Proud.

Still flying. And now, the whole world had her name.

He looked at the program again, heart pounding.

Silvers Luffy.

His baby girl.

She was beaming, waving, sparkling like she’d swallowed the sun. And when she spotted a camera aimed right at her, she posed.

Full arms-out sparkle pose.

Shanks groaned, then chuckled under his breath despite himself.

“She loves this. Of course she does,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Whitebeard gave a low rumble of a laugh behind him. “She’s a star. Let her shine.”

“She’s four,” Shanks whispered.

“Stars don’t wait for permission, son,” the old man said.

And up on stage, Luffy, his kid, his sunbeam, his chaos in glitter, grinned like the world had already applauded and just hadn’t caught up yet. She was beaming, waving, sparkling like she’d swallowed the sun.

Ace stood. “I’ve got it.”

Sabo was already moving. “Back exit,” he muttered, scanning for angles. “I’ll flank.”

They moved quick, quiet but fast, like they did before Shanks found them. Past the last row, threading between bags and coats, slipping into the shadow of the auditorium’s far wall.

But the moment the photographers noticed them—Click click click.

The lenses swiveled. Flashes burst anew.

Ace and Sabo, caught clean. Faces clear. Both turning, both too late.

“Shit,” Sabo muttered.

Flash.

“Ace!” someone shouted.

That one wasn’t a whisper.

And then, movement.

The three camera-wielders bolted. Out through the side door. Fast. Too fast.

Sabo cursed, already giving chase. “I’ll get the memory cards!”

Ace followed him without a word, jaw set, hands fisted.

Back in the auditorium, Luffy had no idea.

She waved with both hands, grinning like the cameras were there just for her. Like she was on stage at the Royal Grand.

And Shanks, heart hammering, still couldn’t stop watching her. And even now—even now—he laughed, low in his throat.

“She's born for this,” he muttered, voice raw, hand over his mouth.

Ace and Sabo returned through the side entrance almost at the same time, shoulders tense, eyes sharp.

“Nothing?” Shanks asked, already knowing the answer.

“Gone like smoke,” Ace muttered, collapsing into his seat and dragging a hand down his face.

“At least no one's lurking around the hall anymore,” Sabo added, exhaling sharply as he glanced back at the now-empty stage.

“We’re going to Lucky’s,” Shanks declared. “Time to celebrate what matters.”

The Gold Spoon was warm, loud and absolutely theirs.

The moment they walked in, it was as if the weight of the night slid off their shoulders.

Whitebeard ducked through the door like a bear squeezing into a burrow. Izo floated in behind him, graceful as always. Thatch held the door open, grinning like a kid on holiday.

“Lucky, screen ready!” Shanks called. “We’ve got a star in the house!”

“Already on it, brother!” Lucky beamed from behind the counter, practically glowing. With a reverent sort of joy, he searched for the remote and the matching cable to connect the screen to the camera Thatch had just handed him.

“And now,” Lucky announced, eyes shining as he set up the recording, “ladies, gentlemen, guests of questionable moral alignment—I present to you: our tiniest legend. My favorite lady on this whole planet.”

The lights dimmed. The video began. Luffy’s recital.

And the restaurant… chuckled. Softly at first. Then louder. The laughter was warm, affectionate. Heads tilted. Smiles spread. Even a few watery eyes blinked quickly.

Lucky stood off to the side, arms crossed, chest puffed out with pride like a second father. “Look at her,” he whispered to no one in particular. “She’s incredible.”

At a small corner table in the back, three guests sat very still, trying very hard to look casual.

Sengoku. His son. And his grandson.

“Cute,” Law muttered under his breath.

Sengoku chuckled quietly, his gaze still fixed on the screen. “You refused to go to her birthday in May, remember?”

Law scowled. “That’s not the same as this.”

But before either could respond, the screen jumped. No fade-out, no credits.

Just chaos.

“LUFFY!”

A high-pitched squeal, giddy with joy.

“SANJI!”

Two tiny comets collided in the middle of the restaurant. Sparkles, wild hair, and limbs everywhere. The toddlers clung to each other like long-lost soulmates, toppling into a chair and nearly taking a tray of fried shrimp with them.

The restaurant roared with laughter.

Shanks groaned as he stood and strolled towards the wreckage.

Zeff jogged over. “You don’t let anything slip by, old man. Good for you,” Shanks teased.

“Yeah, yeah, brat,” Zeff huffed. “Why don’t you worry about my future daughter-in-law instead?”

He crouched beside the tiny blond boy, now squirming with embarrassment. “Come on, little eggplant. Eat first, then you can run wild. Your mom panics when you vanish, you know that.”

Shanks swept glitter from Luffy’s hair as he scooped her into his arms. “Lu, baby, Lucky ordered you a meat skewer, remember?”

Her eyes went wide. “MEAT!” she gasped and rocketed back toward the table like a star returning to orbit.

Zeff raised an eyebrow at Shanks. “You better start saving up dowry gifts.”

Shanks half-laughed, half-groaned. “Make sure Sanji has the skills to feed this little monster first.”

Lucky, from his seat beside Luffy, wiped a proud tear from his eye and restarted the video.

Because everyone, literally everyone, NEEDED to see it again.

Rosinante tried not to grin. Law, meanwhile, was staring blankly at the tiny blonde boy, who was now beet-red, sneaking glances at the retreating glitter bomb that was Luffy.

“…Stupid toddlers,” Law muttered.

Sengoku just sipped his drink, smug as sin.

“I tried to matchmake you two,” Sengoku added, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Rosinante blinked. “You what?”

Sengoku waved them both closer, like he was about to share the town’s best gossip. “It’s true. Whitebeard wants to leave everything to her one day. And I thought, why not make sure my grandson benefits from that kind of legacy?”

Law stared at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

“She likes you,” Sengoku said with a shrug. “The loud brat told me.”

Rosinante looked stunned. Law looked like reality itself had betrayed him.

Rosinante's stunned look turned into a wide grin. “She is cute though. Wouldn’t mind her as a daughter-in-law, Law.”

He laughed at his own joke, and Sengoku tried and failed to hide his smugness.

Rosinante leaned forward, arms folded on the table, still watching the chaos unfolding between the toddlers and the adults, who clearly had no control over them.

He glanced sideways at his nephew. “You know,” he said, a bit too casually, “if you hadn’t mouthed off in front of Silvers and Dracule, you might’ve made a decent playmate.”

Law scowled. “She’s four.”

Rosi smirked. “Exactly. You’re eleven. Old enough to be in charge. Young enough that she might actually listen to you.”

“I’m not a babysitter.”

“You organize your pencils by hex code. You could bring order to her chaos.”

Law glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” Rosi went on, gesturing toward Luffy, who was now animatedly pointing at something on Sanji’s plate, “she seems to like you. And if her brothers are ever out, it’s not the worst thing if she has someone around who doesn’t think glitter is a war crime.”

Law grumbled something very unfriendly under his breath.

But his eyes drifted back to the table where the two toddlers sat, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, chattering in giggles and sticky fingers. When Luffy leaned into Sanji’s side with a grin so bright it practically glowed, Law’s frown twitched.

And just as Shanks wiped ketchup off Luffy’s chin, and Zeff handed Sanji a fresh napkin while calling her future daughter-in-law, Lucky restarted the video. Zeff, Sora, and Sanji decided to join the group who welcomed them with open arms a couple of minutes ago.

Because clearly, it was the best thing anyone in this restaurant had seen all year.

The next morning was quiet. Too quiet, Mihawk thought as he sat in his chair, calmly preparing his breakfast. Perona had entered the room without a word, her head slightly tilted as she walked up to him, holding a newspaper in her hand.

With a determined motion, she slammed the paper down onto the desk. The sharp sound broke the silence of the room.

“What’s this?” Mihawk asked, not bothering to look up from his task, though he raised an eyebrow. He knew it couldn’t be anything good.

“Take a look at this!” Perona said, her voice a mix of unease and curiosity.

Slowly, Mihawk set the letter opener down and reached for the paper. The headline was unmistakable:

“Mayor’s Daughter – The City’s Princess!”

Underneath, in bold, almost sensational lettering, was a photo of Luffy during her recital. Her glittering skin and radiant smile immediately caught the eye. But what stood out even more were the other photos – Shanks, laughing, Whitebeard with a paternal expression and Ace and Sabo in the background, also captured in the shot.

“What is this?” Mihawk muttered, though the displeasure in his voice was evident. His gaze lingered on the image of Luffy. He knew what this meant.

“Simple,” Perona said, pointing to the image of Luffy. “Luffy is now the Princess of the city. After the last scandal, this is gold. The press is completely losing their minds.”

Mihawk leaned back in his chair, casually flipping through the newspaper, his gaze lingering on the photo of Luffy once more.

With a soft sigh, he spoke up. “It’s a shame I wasn’t able to attend in person yesterday. I only saw the recording. It must have been quite the spectacle.” He let his voice carry a rare note of genuine regret as his eyes flicked over to Perona, who was standing nearby, arms crossed.

Perona froze. Her eyes widened, a little glint of annoyance flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with her usual demeanor. She tried to keep her cool, but the jealousy was almost tangible.

“Spectacle?” she repeated, her voice tight with barely concealed irritation. “That’s how you describe it? It was a child, dancing. What's so spectacular about it?” She shot him an incredulous look, one eyebrow arched, though she couldn't hide the small hint of pink creeping onto her cheeks. 

“Yes, that’s exactly how I would describe it,” Mihawk replied, his tone sharp now. “What else would you have me call it? A grand production? I wasn’t there, Perona. I didn’t get to witness it firsthand.”

Perona froze. The words hit her like a cold wave. She knew Mihawk had some attachment to Luffy, but she hadn’t realized the depth of it. Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of jealousy clouding her thoughts, but she tried to hide it behind her usual attitude.

“She’s just a kid, Mihawk,” Perona said, though the words sounded hollow to her own ears. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

Mihawk’s gaze turned steely. “She's what matters most to me on this world,” he said, his voice low but unwavering, “because she is a child with a spirit unlike any I’ve ever encountered. The world will try to shape her into something else, but I will not let that happen. She’s mine and if you continue to belittle her or undermine her in any way, Perona, I will not hesitate to send you away.”

Perona blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden severity in his tone. She was used to Mihawk’s calm, collected demeanor, but this was different. This was something deeper, something protective.

“Do you understand?” Mihawk asked, his voice now cold and commanding.

Perona swallowed, her throat tightening. There was no mistaking the firmness in his words. “Yes,” she muttered, unable to meet his gaze. “I understand.”

But Mihawk wasn’t finished. His tone softened, but the warning was still there. “You’ve been with me for a long time, Perona. But if you cannot respect her, respect her place in my life… then perhaps it’s time you find another role.”

Perona's face flushed with a mix of frustration and humiliation. She didn’t know how to respond to that, and she certainly didn’t like the idea of being dismissed. She had always been loyal to Mihawk, but this was different. Luffy had earned something in Mihawk’s heart that Perona hadn’t, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Mihawk leaned back in his chair, his posture dignified as always. “I suggest you reflect on this. I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of her.”

Perona was silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. She glanced at the newspaper again, her gaze lingering on Luffy’s radiant smile. She hated the feeling rising in her chest, the gnawing jealousy. But there was nothing to be done.

With a defeated sigh, Perona finally nodded. “I understand.”

Mihawk gave a small nod in return, signaling the end of the conversation. He turned his attention back to the window, as though dismissing her entirely.

Perona hesitated before turning and walking out, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Mihawk had just made it clear where his loyalty lay and it wasn’t with her.

Suddenly, Sengoku slid a folded newspaper across the coffee table with a playful smirk in the evening. “Take a look at this, kid.”

Law raised an eyebrow but picked it up, already feeling a sense of unease. The moment he unfolded the paper, his worst fear was confirmed. The headline read:

“Mayor’s Daughter – The City’s Princess!”

Underneath was a picture of Luffy, her big, bright smile lighting up the page, her wild hair glowing like a halo around her face. There were other photos too. Shanks laughing with her, Whitebeard looking over her with a proud expression, and even Ace and Sabo in the background. But the most shocking part was the way the paper was treating her, like a celebrity.

“What’s this?” Law muttered, his face reddening slightly as he tried to look nonchalant.

Sengoku chuckled, a deep, hearty laugh that filled the room. “Looks like you’ve got quite the little princess on your hands, huh?”

Law furrowed his brows “Princess?” Law echoed with a frown. “She’s just a kid, old man. I’m not some pedophile. Also, what’s so special about her being called that?”

“Oh, I think you’re underestimating just how special she is,” Sengoku teased. “Even you couldn’t help but notice her. Remember what you said about her being cute?”

Law’s face flushed bright red at the mention of it. He had said it in passing, not expecting anyone to take him seriously. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

Rosinante, who had been quietly watching from the corner, couldn’t help but join in. “I think someone has a soft spot for our ‘princess,’ huh?”

Law immediately shot him a glare, trying to ignore the teasing. He wasn’t used to being the subject of this kind of attention, especially not when it came to Luffy. His face turned an even deeper shade of red as he stammered, “I—I never—shut up, both of you.”

Sengoku laughed again, clearly enjoying Law’s discomfort. “Come on, kid. No need to be embarrassed. I must admit, even I find myself harboring a certain regard for this girl.”

“She’s four years old, Sengoku,” Law muttered, his hands fidgeting. “How could anyone not think she’s cute?”

Rosinante laughed softly. “Aww, come on, Law. Don’t be so defensive. You know, we might just have to start calling you her ‘guardian knight’ or something. Can you handle the responsibility of protecting the princess?”

“I’m not—” Law started, but his words trailed off as he realized they weren’t letting this go. His hands clenched into fists. “I’m not her guardian. She’s just a little kid I met.”

The older men exchanged knowing glances, their grins widening. Sengoku leaned back in his chair, his tone shifting slightly, though the teasing edge was still there. “Sure, sure. Just don’t get too used to this ‘cute little kid’ thing. Soon enough, you’ll realize how much influence she has around here.”

Law sighed, feeling the heat still lingering in his cheeks. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Rosinante smirked. “Is that so? You sure look pretty flustered for someone who thinks it’s nothing.”

Law shot him a sharp look, but the playful banter continued to get under his skin. He wasn’t used to this. But there was no denying that Luffy’s charm, her innocence, her ability to make everyone smile, had an effect on him.

“I’m not flustered,” Law muttered, still red but trying to stand his ground. “It’s just... embarrassing. That’s all.”

The teasing lightened up, and Sengoku gave Law an easy smile. “No harm in being protective of the little princess, kid. Just don’t make it too obvious next time. We all know she has her charm.”

Law took a deep breath, finally managing to calm himself down. “Whatever,” he mumbled, his cheeks still hot. “Can we talk about something else?”

Sengoku and Rosinante exchanged amused glances, clearly not about to let this one go, but they respected Law’s wishes and moved on to other topics. But Law could feel the weight of the conversation linger in the back of his mind as he left the office later that evening, still trying to process the fact that he was somehow being pegged as the “protector” of a girl who was four years old and already the city’s darling.

The following months became a quiet kind of torment for Trafalgar Law.

What had started as a single newspaper article turned into a full-blown media storm. Luffy “the city’s little princess,” as the press now loved to call her, was everywhere.

At first, it was just cute interviews. Light pieces. A reporter gushing about how she hugged every crew member of the restaurant staff after her recital. Then came the municipal campaign. Luffy, throwing something into a bin while giggling uncontrollably. And many many motives more. The internet ate it up. 

“She has the smile of a heroine,” one photographer claimed. “So bright. So honest.”

Law had seen the first billboard by accident. Just a casual glance at the corner store window, planning to walk past. But then he saw her face. Water droplets on her cheeks. That impossible smile. And worse, someone had managed to photograph her mid-twirl in a yellow rain coat. The caption read:

“Dance in the rain—we make sure our water is safe.”

He had frozen on the spot. And from that moment, there was no escape.

She was on billboards. Posters. Screens in the subway. Someone had even printed limited edition collectible candy wrappers with her on them.

And worst of all?

Rosinante had brought one of the flyers home that the police station got.

Not even quietly. No. He walked right into the kitchen, flipping the glossy pages with open glee. “Look at this, Law!” he said, with the energy of a man who had just discovered baby animals for the first time. “She’s got that look like she knows exactly how cute she is! This is dangerously adorable.”

Law had nearly choked on his cereal. “Why do you even have that?”

“It was handed to me,” Rosi said, shrugging. “I had to see what the fuss was about.”

Law refused to look. But he could hear the flipping of the pages. And the chuckle. And another: “Oh! This one’s cute!”

“I don’t care,” Law mumbled.

But deep down, Law had seen every picture. Not by choice. They were just... everywhere. At the market. On the news. In that one gossip blog Sengoku read in secret and pretended not to.

Law tried to play it cool. He tried not to react. But Rosi noticed. Every single time.

“She is cute. I'd like to cuddle her,” Rosi would murmur with a teasing grin, resting his chin on his hand.

“Shut up, you’re weird,” Law muttered.

But he couldn’t help it. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many eye rolls he threw at the screen, or how many newspapers he flipped upside down in protest, every time her smile popped up again, a small, reluctant part of him warmed.

And he hated it.

Almost as much as he hated the fact that Rosi had now subscribed to the city’s newsletter.

“For the articles,” he claimed.

Law didn't even bother to answer that one.

Sengoku leaned back in his chair one afternoon, sipping from a too-hot cup of tea with a casualness that was anything but. Law sat at the table across from him, nose buried in a book, pretending not to care what the old man was about to say.

“I received another birthday invitation from Whitebeard,” Sengoku said, far too casually.

Law didn’t look up. “So?”

Sengoku cleared his throat, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “This time, it has a theme.”

That got Law’s attention, barely. One eye peeked out from behind the book. “A theme?”

“Mm-hm.” Sengoku pulled a small, ornate card from his coat pocket and placed it on the table with deliberate slowness. “Pirates and Marines.”

Rosinante, lounging nearby with a cup of juice and far too much amusement in his eyes, perked up. “Oh no,” he said, grinning. “I have a very strong suspicion about who came up with that idea.”

Sengoku chuckled. “So do I.”

Law hesitated. He tried not to look interested. He failed. “Is the invitation... plus one?”

There was a moment of silence, and then, laughter. Rosi nearly spit out his juice.

Sengoku raised a brow and smirked. “I’ll let Whitebeard know I’m bringing my grandson.” He leaned forward slightly, voice dipping into mock-conspiracy. “But I should warn you, this time, there’ll be more kids. And I suspect most of them will be competing for a certain someone’s attention.”

Rosinante nodded solemnly. “Better bring snacks, kid. Or get trampled.”

Law let out a long, suffering sigh and pretended not to hear them.

When the evening came, the air was thick with anticipation. The venue was decked out with sails, flags, and way too many inflatable sea creatures. Whitebeard didn’t do anything halfway.

Sengoku arrived in full Marine regalia, crisp and pressed as ever. “I am far too dignified to dress as a pirate,” he declared. Law, trailing beside him with narrowed eyes and red-tinted ears, was wearing a pirate hat and an oversized coat with skull buttons. He looked like someone had tried to dress a grumpy cat for a birthday party.

As they stepped inside, chaos greeted them.

The first thing they saw was Shanks, the Mayor himself, sprinting across the room in flip-flops, an atrocious pair of flower-print cargo shorts, and a loose open shirt flapping as he chased a laughing blur across the floor.

Luffy.

She dashed past in jeans shorts, a red vest, worn-out sandals and her oversized straw hat bouncing wildly with each step. Her giggle cut through the air like a chime.

“Come back here, Anchor!” Shanks shouted, nearly tripping over a balloon.

Whitebeard sat nearby in a massive chair, booming with laughter. “Let her run, Shanks! That’s what kids are made for!”

Around the room, other children stood awkwardly, some dressed as pirates, some as Marines, all clearly unsure whether they were allowed to run, scream, or challenge Luffy to a duel for attention.

Law exhaled slowly through his nose.

Sengoku clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Ready for battle?”

Law muttered, “Only if I’m allowed to surrender.”

And somewhere in the background, Luffy shrieked joyfully, still evading Shanks, who was now wearing a party hat that someone had definitely not given him willingly.

The war for Luffy’s attention had begun.

And Law, whether he liked it or not, had just walked onto the battlefield.

The moment Luffy spotted them at the door, her face lit up like someone had set off a firework in her chest.

“BIRDY GRAMPS!!” she squealed, abandoning her sprint from Shanks mid-giggle and darting straight toward Sengoku with surprising speed for her tiny legs.

Before anyone could react, she collided into him and immediately hid behind his long cape, clutching the back of his jacket like a lifeline. Sengoku looked down with a raised brow, gently steadying her with one hand.

“...Birdy Gramps,” he repeated, sighing deeply, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You are incorrigible, you little Monkey.”

From across the room, Shanks approached at a more relaxed pace, laughter still echoing in his chest as he adjusted his lopsided party hat. “Luffy,” he said, grinning as he stopped in front of her, hands on his hips. “Running again, huh? Not very pirate-y brave of you.”

Luffy didn’t answer. She peeked out from behind Sengoku’s cape, wide eyes scanning the room.

The boy with the cool spots.

Standing there in his pirate costume, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, expression somewhere between 'I’d rather die' and 'this is the worst day of my life.'

Luffy’s whole face fell. Quietly, she shifted away from Sengoku, only her head turning ever so slightly toward Law.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” Shanks asked, his voice still warm but softer now.

Luffy didn’t speak. She just slowly, silently tilted her head to the side… right in Law’s direction.

Shanks followed her gaze. He saw Law standing there like a tiny thundercloud.

“...Oh,” Shanks said, chuckling under his breath. “I see.”

With no further explanation, he scooped Luffy up in his arms. “Alright then, let’s relocate the princess.”

“Birdy Gramps is a fortress,” Luffy mumbled into Shanks’ shoulder.

“That he is,” Shanks agreed with a wink, before turning and walking straight towards Whitebeard, who was laughing like a storm.

“Eyy, hand her here, you red-haired brat!” Whitebeard called, holding out his giant arms.

Shanks dropped Luffy gently into the old man’s lap, and Whitebeard immediately launched into an exaggerated tale about how he once used the mast of a ship as a sword during a sea battle with a kraken made of ink and saltwater spaghetti.

Luffy gasped audibly. “NO WAY!”

“Oh, but yes,” Whitebeard said, his eyes twinkling. “You’ll hear the whole story, but only if you eat your cookie rations.”

As the tale went on, kids began gathering closer, drawn in by Luffy’s delighted shrieks and Whitebeard’s booming voice.

Law, still by the door, watched the scene unfold. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

Sengoku gave him a side-glance. “Snack reserve still holding, Marine?”

Law rolled his eyes. “Barely.”

“Brace yourself, then,” Sengoku said, voice deadpan.

Law muttered something about “ridiculous parties” and “emotional liabilities” under his breath… but didn’t leave his post by the door.

Shanks strolled over to Sengoku and Law with a cup of something suspiciously fruity in hand and that familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth — the kind that spelled trouble from ten miles away.

“Well, well, Sengoku,” he said, his voice practically humming with amusement. “Guess the rejection at Luffy’s birthday wasn’t quite enough for you, huh? So now you’ve brought the grandson along. Thinking a younger candidate might stand a better chance?”

Sengoku didn’t flinch. He sipped his tea with maddening calm and looked up at him, unbothered. “Law just happened to be free tonight.”

“Sure he did,” Shanks replied, raising a brow and taking a leisurely sip. “Just like you ‘happened’ to send Whitebeard that RSVP with a neat little ‘+1’ scribbled in your handwriting.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a low, conspiratorial drawl. “What was the plan this time? Hope he wins her over with that charming death glare?”

Law, who had been silently nursing a pretzel, nearly choked.

“I’m simply encouraging the boy to broaden his social horizons,” Sengoku replied dryly. “If Luffy happens to be here, well, that’s coincidence.”

Shanks gave an exaggerated sigh. “You really don’t learn, do you? Whitebeard already told you last time: Luffy’s not a tiny empress to be set up at dinner parties.”

“She’s special,” Sengoku said, firm. “She deserves someone capable of protecting her.”

“She is protected,” Shanks shot back, lifting his glass. “And she deserves to choose her own chaos, not be assigned some sulking plus-one.”

Sengoku opened his mouth, but Shanks kept going, grinning wider. “Also, just so you know, she already has admirers.”

Sengoku frowned. Law paused mid-chew.

“Face it, Birdy Gramps. The field’s crowded. And your boy here?” Shanks gave Law a look-over. “He’s… trying.”

He started ticking names off his fingers, grinning like he was enjoying this way too much.

“First, there’s Sanji. Polite, charming, folds napkins into swans, already flipping omelets at five. His family runs a restaurant and he’s sworn to open one ‘where Luffy can eat for free forever.’ Food, Sengoku. Food. You think your tea can compete with that?”

Sengoku scowled slightly.

“Then we’ve got Koby. Doctor’s son. Smart. Sweet. Totally smitten. And get this, he’s been begging his mom to sign him up for cheerleading in case Luffy ever joins. Said the girls need strong partners to throw them in the air. That’s commitment.”

Law was starting to look like he regretted being born.

“And last but not least…” Shanks grinned wider. “Zoro. Been doing Kendo since he could walk. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t talk much, might be part scarecrow — but dead serious. Luffy seems to like him.”

He leaned back, letting it all sink in. “So let’s recap. A gourmet. A cheerleader. A mini samurai. And then we’ve got… this one.” He nodded toward Law, who was now glaring at the floor like it had personally betrayed him.

“I’m right here,” Law muttered.

Sengoku gave him a side glance. “You’ll need to work on your people skills.”

“I’m fine,” Law said stiffly, arms crossed. “This whole conversation isn’t. It’s extremely weird.”

He stood there for a moment, then frowned and looked up. “Why is everyone so obsessed with pairing this kid up like it’s some kind of romantic Olympics?”

There was a beat.

Shanks burst out laughing.

“Oh, no reason,” he said, waving a hand lazily. “I just think it’s funny. She’s not gonna pick anyone. She’s four. But watching little boys fluster themselves over her? Hilarious. Like watching puppies try to bark tough.”

He took another sip, then threw a sly glance at Sengoku. “Now, his motives?” He gestured to the older man with his glass. “Probably a little less wholesome.”

Sengoku grumbled something into his tea.

Law just sighed, muttering, “This is a circus.”

Shanks raised his glass. “And we’ve got front row seats.”

Law had had enough.

Let Shanks grin like a fool. Let Sengoku sip his tea like he hadn’t dragged his grandson into a battlefield disguised as a birthday party. If they thought he was going to stumble around trying to court a four-year-old, they clearly didn’t know who they were dealing with.

So, Law made a decision.

He would prove them all wrong, not by playing their ridiculous game, but by rising above it. He straightened his pirate hat, walked across the room with all the dignity an eleven-year-old could muster, and made a point of looking completely unaffected by the sugary chaos around him.

Totally fine. Completely above it.

Until, of course, Luffy saw him.

Law had just taken up a casual lean against the snack table, pretending to inspect a tray of cupcakes he didn’t care about, when Luffy spotted him from across the room and instantly ducked behind a cardboard treasure chest like he was a sea monster.

He blinked. She peeked once. Then vanished behind the chest again.

Law glanced around. Was she actually hiding from him?

He shifted positions, pretending to be interested in the punch bowl. Luffy, who clearly thought she was being stealthy, tiptoed to the nearest adult-shaped cover, which happened to be Shanks.

Still mid-conversation with Sengoku, Shanks looked down when he felt tiny hands grab the back of his shirt and a familiar straw hat peeked out from behind him.

“Well hey, sunshine,” he said warmly, bending a little. “What’s with the sneaking? You playing pirate?”

Luffy shook her head, eyes flicking to Law across the room. Her voice was quiet, almost guilty.

“I just… I don’t want the boy with the cool spots to get sad again.”

Shanks raised a brow.

He glanced over at Law, who definitely heard that, then looked back at the tiny face peeking from behind his leg.

He softened immediately and knelt, scooping her gently into his arms. “You’re too sweet for this world, you know that?”

She didn’t respond, just rested her head against his shoulder, little fingers fidgeting with the edge of his collar.

Luffy stayed curled up on Shanks’ arm, her straw hat wobbled slightly as she shifted, just enough to peek over his shoulder when the boy with the cool spots stopped in front of them.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile.

He just stood there, stiff and quiet, holding a plate with bright slices of fruit stacked in perfect rows, orange, apple, pineapple, grapes.

Luffy stared at the grapes.

And then at him.

She waited. Quiet.

But he didn’t offer.

Her nose scrunched up a little, unsure what to do. Sabo had told her not to take anything unless it was offered. “It’s about respect,” he’d said once while tying her shoes. “Even if you want it real bad, you wait. People have to offer you, you don’t just take from them. Got it?”

She got it. She remembered. And she waited.

The silence stretched, and Law didn’t move. He just watched her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.

Shanks, watching from above, felt the shift in her weight, the indecision. Her tiny hesitation.

He leaned his head slightly toward her and whispered, “Wanna go somewhere else, sunshine?”

Luffy hesitated, her big dark eyes flicking from the fruit to the boy’s furrowed brow. She did want to play with him. He looked interesting, even if he never smiled.

But he also looked like he might cry or yell if she did the wrong thing. And he didn’t offer her any grapes.

So she nodded, quiet and small and Shanks didn’t wait another second. He turned and walked them away from the awkward moment like it never happened, one arm snug around her, the other still holding his suspiciously fruity drink.

Behind them, Law stood frozen.

Sengoku sighed and said, not unkindly, “You’re supposed to offer the fruit, Law. Not just stand there like a haunted statue.”

Law’s face tightened. “She didn’t ask.”

“She’s four,” Sengoku said dryly.

“I didn’t mean to scare her,” Law muttered.

Shanks didn’t look back, but he heard it.

And Luffy, safe in her dad’s arms, rested her head against his shoulder with a tiny huff.

She still kind of wanted a grape.

Chapter Text

Ace leaned back in his chair, staring out at the ocean through the open windows of Luffy's beach house. The warm evening breeze tousled his hair as he took a slow sip of his drink. It had been a quiet weekend, just him and Deuce, away from everything. He’d hoped the time alone would clear the air, but the distance between them had only grown.

Tomorrow was his birthday, but something felt off.

Deuce was sitting on the couch across from him, fiddling with his phone, eyes scanning the screen but not really focusing. Ace had noticed how quiet Deuce had been all weekend, the way he’d pulled back whenever Luffy’s name came up. It had been hard to ignore the tension, but Ace had given him space, thinking maybe he just needed time to adjust.

"Hey," Ace said, breaking the silence, "You sure you don't want to come with me tomorrow afternoon when we’re back in the city?"

Deuce glanced up, giving him a brief, noncommittal shrug. "I don't know. I think I’ll catch up on some stuff."

Ace raised an eyebrow, sensing the familiar tension in Deuce's voice. It didn’t sound like a real excuse. But Ace had already had this conversation too many times to press any further.

"Okay," Ace said flatly, his voice losing its usual warmth. He could already feel that familiar knot in his stomach. This wasn’t just about Luffy or his birthday, it was something deeper, something Deuce wouldn’t talk about.

Deuce didn’t respond, focusing back on his phone as if nothing had happened. Ace let out a sigh, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know how to fix it and he wasn’t sure Deuce wanted it fixed.

It was hard to shake the feeling that, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bridge the gap between them. So, he didn’t press it.

"Right," Ace muttered, his tone resigned. Deuce didn’t even look up this time. 

Days ago Ace entered the house with a sigh, feeling the weight of the day lift off his shoulders. The silence of the beach house was a welcome change from the chaos of city life. He pulled out his phone, hoping for a little distraction and saw his dad’s name flash on the screen. His heart lightened at the thought of his sister’s bright voice.

He answered immediately. “Hey, sunshine,” he greeted, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I miss you!” Luffy’s voice came through, cheerful and full of energy, just as always. “When are you coming back?”

Ace chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "I miss you too, Luffy. I'll be home tomorrow."

“Yay!” Luffy’s excitement was contagious. “I can't wait to see you! We’ll have a big hug ready!”

Ace's smile widened as he listened to his little sister’s enthusiasm. The sound of her voice, the warmth she carried, it made everything feel lighter.

“Yeah, me neither,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll be back soon. You hang in there, okay?”

“I will! I promise,” Luffy said with a quiet giggle before the call ended.

“Take care, son,” Shanks added from the background.

Ace hung up, a sigh escaping him. He felt the distance between him and Luffy even when they were apart, but her call had made him feel like he was right there with her again. A small smile lingered on his face as he set his phone down, but just as quickly, the sound of Deuce's voice cut through the moment.

“Well, that was nice,” Deuce’s words dripped with venom as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “I thought this weekend was supposed to be just for us.”

Ace turned toward him, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

Deuce's eyes were narrowed, jealousy clear in his expression. “You said it yourself, Ace. This weekend was supposed to be our time. But I guess that doesn’t mean much when you’re on the phone with your sister.”

Ace’s stomach tightened. He could feel the irritation rising, but he held it back.

“You know how she is,” Ace replied, his voice steady but firm. “She’s my sister. Of course I talk to her.”

Deuce’s eyes flared, his jealousy spilling over. “Yeah, well, it’s not just talking, is it? You’ve said it yourself, Luffy’s always going to be your number one. You’ve said that before, Ace. You’ve made it pretty clear where your priorities lie.”

Ace flinched at the words. The way they were dripping with resentment made him feel uneasy. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in.

“I told you that because it’s the truth,” Ace said, his voice tight with a mix of hurt and exhaustion. “Luffy’s always going to come first. That’s not up for debate.”

Deuce scoffed, turning away, his voice bitter. “It’s always about her, isn’t it? Always about Luffy. You can’t even spend one weekend with me without her being in the middle of it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I just can’t stand it anymore, Ace. It’s like I don’t even exist when she’s around. And you don’t even see it.”

Ace’s breath hitched, and he stepped toward Deuce, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t do that, Deuce. Don’t make it sound like it’s all her fault. I love Luffy and I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Deuce’s voice dropped to a low, bitter tone. “I get it, okay? I know she’s your sister. But it doesn’t make it any easier to feel like I’m always second place. You can’t even take a weekend off from her. You’re just waiting for her to grow up, right? So you can have her all to yourself, when she’s not a kid anymore.”

Ace froze, his blood running cold at Deuce’s words. “What did you just say?”

Deuce didn’t even flinch, his jealousy clouding his judgment. “You heard me. I’m sure you wish she were ten years older so you could actually have a real relationship with her, huh? Like maybe she’d finally be able to give you the attention you’ve been craving all along. That’s what you actually want, right?”

Ace’s face twisted with disgust, his anger building. “Deuce, that’s crossing a line,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t ever talk about her like that again.”

Deuce’s smirk faltered, but his anger didn’t wane. “Maybe I’m just tired of sharing you with her. You’ve always been her protector. What about me, Ace? Don’t I deserve that too?”

Ace’s hands clenched into fists. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this,” he said, his voice sharp. “I don’t need to listen to this.”

He turned toward the door, his anger boiling over. “We’re leaving. We’re going back to the city, right now. And when we get there, we’re done. I can’t keep doing this, Deuce.”

Deuce’s face twisted with frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. He just watched as Ace grabbed his bag, the air thick with the tension between them.

Ace stopped at the door, turning back to look at Deuce one last time. “I tried, okay? I really did. But I can’t be with someone who won’t even try to understand my family.”

Deuce didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said everything.

Ace sighed and stepped out the door, knowing that things between them had changed irreparably.

Ace quietly pushed open the front door, the familiar scent of home wrapping around him like a warm embrace. It was the middle of the night and as he slipped inside, the quiet of the house greeted him. He didn’t expect anyone to be awake, and the sight that met him was almost surreal.

Shanks was slouched in an armchair in the living room, passed out cold, his face flushed and drooling slightly. A half-empty glass of something strong was still clutched in his hand. The room was dim, save for the glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows.

Ace couldn’t help but chuckle, the weight of his frustration with Deuce still fresh but now softened by the sight of Shanks’ drunken stupor. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last.

As Ace quietly made his way toward the stairs, he heard the sound of someone moving around in the bathroom. Sabo, probably, still up after an evening of talking to the family. Ace smiled faintly to himself, relieved that at least some things in his life were constant.

But then, in the hallway, Ace spotted a familiar figure standing by the stairs.

Mihawk was leaning casually against the wall, a small smile on his face. He chuckled when he saw Ace.

"Did the weekend not go quite the way you’d hoped?" Mihawk asked, his voice quiet but laced with sympathy.

Ace blinked, surprised to see him up at this hour. “Mihawk…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's over. Seriously this time."

Mihawk’s smile shifted, becoming knowing but still soft. "You’ve already said that the last three times, Ace."

“I mean it this time.” Ace’s voice dropped slightly, the tension in his chest growing as he spoke. “He’s been making weird comments. About Luffy. Nasty stuff.”

Mihawk’s expression didn’t shift, but there was something almost imperceptible in his eyes that Ace caught, a subtle acknowledgment of understanding.

“I see,” Mihawk said slowly, his tone turning more serious. “It’s clear to me, Ace, that anyone who tries to be with you will always have to come to terms with the fact that Luffy will always come first. It’s not just something you say, it’s who you are. And I’m afraid most people won’t be able to accept that.”

Ace frowned. "Yeah, well, I don’t want someone who can’t accept it. Luffy’s my sister and nothing’s going to change that." His voice was tight, but there was a hard resolve in his words. "But Deuce… he just doesn’t get it. He never really has. He was okay with it at first, but now... it’s like he can’t handle it anymore."

Mihawk took a slow breath, looking at Ace with a mixture of understanding and quiet wisdom. “It’s not easy being in a relationship with someone who has such a clear, unwavering priority, Ace. And it’s not just Luffy. It's everything about your bond with her. It’s something that most people won’t understand, no matter how much they try. And unfortunately, if they don’t come to terms with it, they’ll keep running into walls like this.”

Ace sighed deeply, rubbing his face in frustration. "He even told me... he threw it in my face. He said that I’m just waiting for Luffy to be ‘of age,’ like that’s some kind of excuse for the way I prioritize her."

Mihawk’s face hardened at that. His gaze became sharp, disgust evident in the slight narrowing of his eyes. “You’re homosexual,” he said coolly, his voice taking on a calm but biting edge. “Your boyfriend should know that. I won’t even comment on the other part.” He stood straight, his expression not quite angry, but clearly disgusted and irritated.

Ace clenched his fists. He felt the weight of Mihawk’s words, but they didn’t bring him comfort. It was a truth he had known, but hearing it from someone else, someone who wasn’t wrapped up in the situation, made it sting all over again.

Before Ace could respond, Sabo’s voice called out from the bathroom, “Ace? You home?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Ace replied, his tone lighter, though his mind was still clouded with the tension from his conversation with Deuce.

Mihawk gave Ace a small, thoughtful nod before turning to leave, his figure vanishing smoothly into the shadows of the hallway. “Do not let them make you doubt yourself, Ace. The right person will understand you. I promise.”

Ace nodded, appreciative of Mihawk’s advice, though still processing everything with Deuce.

As Mihawk turned to leave, the unmistakable sound of retching came from the bathroom. Ace’s lips curled into a smirk. “I suppose that’s my cue. Look after Sabo. My shift is over now that you’re here.”

Mihawk’s lips twitched in amusement, but his expression remained poised. “Ah, yes. Shanks, for all his bravado, could not handle the betrayal he felt from Luffy tonight.” His voice was steady, yet laced with the faintest hint of humor. “She told him, quite seriously, that he was too... ‘stinky’ to sleep next to her. He insisted she'd smell him to evaluate whether he was fit to sleep in her bed.” Mihawk paused, clearly finding some irony in the situation. “She did so, of course, over and over again, as though some divine evaluation would change the outcome after everything he drank. To no one’s surprise, he was, indeed, ‘too stinky.’”

Ace chuckled softly, the image of Shanks desperate attempts bringing some levity to the moment. Mihawk continued, his tone calm and reflective.

“I stopped drinking after that, wouldn't want her to avoid me because I reek of alcohol. I’m better than Shanks after all. Luffy fell asleep in my lap shortly after. She looked so peaceful, almost oblivious to the chaos around her. I took her to bed once she drifted off. It was one of the more serene moments of the year and Shanks face was worth staying dry.”

Ace could feel the weight lift from his shoulders as Mihawk’s words registered, but the older man wasn’t quite finished.

“Before Shanks spiralled, he literally cried. His daughter refused to love him because he was, in her words, ‘too stinky.’ It was... rather pitiful, honestly.”

Ace’s lips quirked into a grin, a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “I feel his pain.”

Mihawk nodded, his gaze softening just a little. “Indeed. And it’s a reminder of how much Luffy means to him. But let it be a lesson for you, Ace. Don’t allow anyone to make you feel guilty for prioritizing her. She is, after all, the center of your world. Just like your dad's.”

Ace let out a slow breath, the tension easing out of his body. “Thanks, Mihawk. I think I needed to hear that.”

Mihawk gave him a short, deliberate nod, his expression regaining its usual composure. “Happy birthday, Ace. Remember, it’s your day, not theirs.”

With that, Mihawk turned and headed to Luffy’s room, leaving Ace standing in the hallway, feeling a little lighter than before, as he silently processed the events of the evening.

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Sabo?” he called out.

There was a brief pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of his brother groaning. “I’m fine,” came the weak, miserable reply.

Ace snickered softly, unable to help himself. "Can’t hold your liquor, huh?" he called out, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

A muffled groan answered him. “Shut up, Ace.”

Ace leaned against the wall, still chuckling. "Seriously, Sabo, I thought you were the tough one. What happened to all that talk about 'drinking like a man'?"

Another miserable sound followed. “I’m regretting every decision I made tonight…” Sabo grumbled from inside the bathroom.

Ace smirked, clearly enjoying his brother’s misery. He wasn’t about to let him off that easy. "Guess you weren’t as ‘tough’ as you thought, huh?"

There was another groan, but then Sabo's voice came through, sounding more serious, albeit still pained. “So… did you and Deuce break up or what?”

Ace froze for a moment, unsure how to answer. He let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the wall. “Yeah. We did.”

Sabo didn’t hesitate, though his voice was still muffled by the bathroom door. “Good riddance. He’s a jealous little bitch, anyway.”

Ace blinked, caught off guard by the brutal honesty of his brother’s words. Then, without thinking, he let out a laugh. “Jeez, Sabo, that’s... a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Sabo’s groan came louder this time, though it was tinged with amusement. “I’m serious, Ace. I’m fucking done watching you put up with his shit. It’s like you’re constantly bending over backwards for someone who doesn’t even get you.”

Ace leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Yeah, you’re probably right... but I didn’t want it to end like this. He just... couldn’t accept things, y’know?”

There was a pause from the bathroom, and then Sabo’s voice came through again, raw and uncensored. “You can’t keep changing who you are for some asshole. If some guy can’t handle you and Luffy being the way you are, then fuck ‘em. Seriously. I know in my heart there’s someone out there who’ll get it. Someone who’ll support you caring for Luffy and not try to hold you back. And, you know, you’ll always have me. If anything happens it will be you, me and Luffy against the world. As for everyone else? They can all fuck off. Except for Dad and Hawk. But the other guys I mean.”

Ace chuckled softly, despite the weight of his brother’s words. “Thanks, Sabo. Really.”

“Anytime, big bro,” Sabo slurred back, his voice a bit more distant now. "Now, are you gonna help me get out of here, or are you just gonna stand there and laugh?"

Ace couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking his head. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Shanks woke slowly to the sound of his daughter’s bright giggles coming from the kitchen. He blinked against the morning light, groaning a little as he hauled himself up from the armchair, every joint protesting.

The laughter drew him toward the kitchen.

There, standing proudly on a chair, was Luffy, little feet in white tights planted firmly, wearing a floral dress and a tiny, slightly crooked beret perched on her head. Two neat braids swung as she watched Mihawk intently, who was calmly flipping pancakes with the same deadly focus he used in sword fights.

Shanks could only chuckle. It was immediately obvious: Mihawk had gotten her ready this morning.

He shuffled into the kitchen, raising a hand in greeting. "Morning, you two."

Luffy beamed at him — and then promptly clamped her hands over her nose. "Daddy, you stink."

Mihawk shot him a look of pure disdain. "You heard the lady. Go shower. Immediately."

Shanks pouted like a kicked puppy and shuffled off toward the stairs, mumbling under his breath.

Halfway up, he stopped.

There, sprawled out across the hallway floor, were Ace and Sabo, fast asleep. Ace had an arm thrown over his face, and Sabo was half-buried in an empty bag of chips. Around them, the mess of the previous night was plain to see: candy wrappers, empty glasses, spilled water. And whatever happened to Sabo in the bathroom.

Shanks sighed heavily. "To be young..." he muttered, shaking his head.

Instead of heading straight for the shower, he spent the next twenty minutes quietly cleaning up the worst of the disaster, grumbling all the while to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Finally, he crouched down next to his sleeping sons and gently shook their shoulders. "Good morning, children. Good morning, birthday boy," he added, smiling at Ace.

Ace cracked one eye open, grimaced, and groaned. "You stink, old man."

Without a word, Shanks stood up and trudged away like a wounded dog.

Whether or not the boys later heard someone quietly crying in the shower, or noticed a certain someone emerge from the bathroom with red, swollen eyes, was something they would never, ever mention.

Not ever.

Now dressed in loose lounge clothes and still toweling off his messy red hair, Shanks shuffled down the stairs, rubbing the last bits of sleep from his eyes. As he turned the corner toward the front door, he noticed a tall figure standing outside through the frosted glass.

Frowning, he opened the door and found himself staring up at a man he had never seen before. The stranger was tall, broad-shouldered, with long, silver-streaked hair tied back neatly, wearing an immaculate dark coat despite the early hour. His face was calm, but there was an unmistakable flicker of confusion in his eyes that turned into unveiled shock.

"Can I help you?" Shanks asked, voice casual but alert.

The man studied him for a beat longer than was comfortable. "Does a Silvers Luffy live here?"

Shanks blinked, thrown for a loop. "And what business do you have with Silvers Luffy?"

Before the man could answer, a delighted scream came from inside the house.
"DAAAAAADDDY!"
Luffy came sprinting down the hallway in a blur of dress and tights, colliding full-force into Shanks's legs and clinging to him with all her might.

Startled, Shanks automatically dropped a hand protectively onto her head, trying to angle her behind his legs. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back at the man, who now regarded the little girl with sharp interest.

The stranger’s gaze moved from Shanks to Luffy, back again. He murmured under his breath, almost to himself, "Interesting."

Clearing his throat, the man straightened. "I'm here to deliver something. A request from 'Garland.'"

At that moment, Mihawk all but materialized from the kitchen like a summoned spirit. He crossed the hallway in three strides, plucking Luffy up into his arms as if to put her even further out of reach.

For once, Mihawk’s usual unshakable calm cracked. "GARLAND?" he blurted, sharp and unfiltered.

The man’s mouth twitched slightly in something that might have been a smile. "Yes. We are seeking a child to accompany our lead model for our next major collection. Merely an aesthetic complement. We were referred to Silvers Luffy, plain and simple."

Still cradling Luffy, Mihawk gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod, his sharp eyes never leaving the man.

Shanks gave the stranger a long, weighing look. "Thank you for bringing this to us," he said finally. "We’ll review the offer and get back to you."

He had barely begun to close the door when a small voice chimed up sweetly from Mihawk’s arms.
"Breakfast?"

All three adults froze and stared at her.

Shanks groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

The third man, clearly at a loss, blinked down at the tiny girl who was now smiling at him like he'd hung the moon.

Mihawk, deadpan, clarified, "She’s inviting you to breakfast."

There was a beat of silence as the man seemed to process the absurdity of the situation. Then, smoothing a hand down his coat, he gave a small, almost reluctant smile.
"A coffee would be wonderful before I get back on the road. Thank you very much."

Mihawk stepped aside just slightly, allowing him into the house, while Shanks muttered as he shut the door behind them, "This girl is gonna be the death of me..."

The sound of slow, heavy steps coming down the stairs made Shanks glance up from his coffee. Ace appeared first, his hair tousled from sleep, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Behind him, Sabo stumbled into view, looking even worse: pale, sweaty, with a hand clamped over his mouth and bags under his eyes that practically dragged on the floor.

Both brothers immediately honed in on the unfamiliar man sitting calmly at the table. Suspicion flashed in their eyes, but Shanks waved them off with a lazy, reassuring gesture.
"All good. He’s a guest," Shanks muttered, half into his mug.

Before either Ace or Sabo could ask further, a shriek of pure delight cut through the air.

"ACE!!" Luffy flung herself off Mihawk’s lap with reckless abandon and launched at Ace, who just barely managed to catch her without toppling over. “ACE! You’re back! It’s your birthday!” she cheered, squeezing him tightly, her voice loud and full of joy.

He let out a soft laugh as he lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly while she peppered his face with happy kisses and excited giggles.
"Hey, hey, easy, squirt," he chuckled, rocking her a little. "I’m home."

Ace wrapped his arms around her, while Sabo grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes. But even in his hungover state, he couldn’t suppress a faint smile at the sight of Luffy’s enthusiasm.

Still grinning so wide her cheeks hurt, Luffy clung to him like a little monkey. When they all finally moved to sit down, she stubbornly refused to let go, so she ended up perched happily on Ace’s lap, contentedly munching on pancakes while Ace tried to wake up properly.

After a few moments of playful chaos, Ace finally glanced at the man standing near the door. "Who’s this?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity

The stranger set down his coffee cup with deliberate grace. "Shepherd Sommers," he introduced himself simply, his voice calm and polite.

The name drew blank looks from everyone at the table.

Before anyone could ask further, Shanks’ phone started buzzing on the counter. With a long-suffering sigh, just loud enough that Shepherd Sommers raised an eyebrow—Shanks pushed back his chair.
"Excuse me," he grumbled, and left the table to answer the call, disappearing around the corner.

Meanwhile, Luffy happily stuffed her cheeks with pancake pieces. Mihawk, sitting opposite her, leaned in now and then to gently wipe her mouth with a napkin before handing her a fresh piece on a fork, his motions fluid and automatic, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shepherd Sommers watched the little ritual with thinly veiled interest, his sharp eyes flicking between Mihawk’s composed care and Luffy’s blissful ignorance.

"Uncle Hawkey, are you staying till this afternoon?" Luffy chirped through a mouthful of pancake, kicking her tights-covered feet idly.

Mihawk's golden eyes flickered briefly with amusement. "Of course. I only have obligations later this evening," he said cryptically, his voice low and deliberate. "Besides, we expected Ace to arrive much later. I remained last night to... fulfill a promise."

Ace looked at him, genuine gratitude softening the tired lines of his face.
"Thanks for being here," he said quietly.

Mihawk inclined his head slightly, an almost imperceptible acknowledgment, before dabbing Luffy’s mouth again with the napkin as she giggled.

As Shanks returned to the room, his face looked thoroughly exasperated. He tossed his phone onto the table with a sigh.

"You’re on speaker, old man," he said loudly, his frustration evident.

"Very good," Whitebeard’s voice boomed from the speaker, rich and deep. "Hello, Luffy, my angel. Happy New Year! I hope you had a wonderful evening."

Luffy, who had been balancing another bite of pancake on her fork, dropped it immediately when she heard the familiar voice from the phone and beamed up at it.

"Grandpa Ed?" she called out excitedly.

Shepherd Sommers raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the voice on the other end, but his amusement was evident as well.

"That’s right, Princess," Whitebeard chuckled on the other end, his deep voice warm and comforting, like the crackling of a fire on a cold night. "How are you?"

"GRANDPA!! ACE’S BACK!! IT’S ACE’S BIRTHDAY!! AND UNCLE HAWKEY SLEPT IN MY BED BECAUSE DAD AND SABO WERE STINKY AND I DIDN’T WANT TO SLEEP ALONE!!" Luffy yelled, her voice ringing through the room with no regard for indoor voices or appropriate behavior.

Shanks groaned softly, rubbing his forehead in embarrassment. Shepherd’s face twitched as he tried to suppress his laughter, while loud chuckles rang out from the other end of the phone.

"I’m glad to hear that, Luffy," Whitebeard’s booming laugh filled the room. "But I’m actually calling for another reason. Your dad mentioned you have a guest."

Luffy, still bouncing with excitement, turned to Shepherd. "He’s drinking coffee!" she declared proudly, pointing toward him as if revealing a great secret.

"That’s nice, sweetheart," Whitebeard replied patiently, his voice warm but still carrying a hint of authority. "But listen, in the future, please don’t invite strangers into the house, okay? Your dad will have a talk with you about that later."

He paused, then added in a gentler tone, "Sorry, Shepherd. That’s how she is."

Shepherd waved the apology off, clearly amused by the entire scene. "No worries," he said, his smile never fading.

"Now then," Whitebeard continued, his voice lightened, "What do you think of her? Charming, isn’t she?"

Shepherd chuckled lightly and nodded as he looked at Luffy with a kind smile. "Charming, indeed. Izo really didn’t exaggerate when you both recommended her to us."

"PRINCE IZO! WHERE IS PRINCE IZO?!" Luffy shouted, her enthusiasm unstoppable.

Shepherd laughed heartily, shaking his head. "I was warned about that," he said with a grin, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Mihawk, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, calmly set down his cup and interjected, "Mr. Newgate, unless you plan to hire a family attorney for the contract negotiations, I’ll be taking the mandate. After all, I handle all matters for the Silvers family."

Whitebeard’s voice took on a note of intrigue. "Aren’t you a trial lawyer?"

"Yes," Mihawk replied coolly, "But I’ve been accompanying Luffy legally since her adoption and wish to continue doing so."

Shanks nodded approvingly at Mihawk’s words.

Whitebeard let out a thoughtful hum, impressed by Mihawk’s calm professionalism. "Agreed," he said after a moment, his voice reflecting his decision. "I’ll have my son Vista reach out to you."

"Very well," Mihawk responded with a single, sharp nod.

"Actually, I have a preposition," Whitebeard began, his tone light but thoughtful. "How about it? Would you be interested in becoming my family’s trial lawyer? I know you’ve got the skills for it."

Mihawk’s gaze didn’t falter, and his response was calm but firm. "I’m flattered, Mr. Edward, but for now, I’ll focus on Luffy. There’s enough to do there."

Whitebeard chuckled. "Fair enough," he said with a chuckle that held both amusement and a touch of respect.

However, to Shepherd’s growing astonishment, Whitebeard continued in an almost teasing tone, "So, can Vista expect your support when the companies go to Luffy?"

Mihawk, still composed, simply replied, "Perhaps by then, Luffy will already be a partner in my firm. But if that'd be her wish, I'd certainly comply."

Whitebeard said nothing in response, but the silence on the line was enough to convey his intrigue and mild admiration.

Unable to suppress his laughter at Mihawk's casual remark, Shanks chuckled heartily. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Hawk. Last time I checked, Luffy's goal was to surpass my dad and become a 'Judy,' as she calls it in Ned Gaah, since being the Chief Justice of our beautiful nation isn’t nearly enough for my ambitious daughter," he teased, shaking his head with a smile.

Meanwhile, Shepherd remained somewhat bewildered, his eyes darting between Mihawk and Shanks. It was clear he was still processing the complexity of the conversation and the underlying power dynamics at play.

Whitebeard let out a low, amused chuckle before continuing, "Anyway, enjoy your time with my wonderful granddaughter, Shepherd." His tone softened slightly as he added, "And happy birthday, Ace. Talk soon."

There was a soft click as the line went dead.

Shanks placed his phone down on the table and sighed. "Well, at least the reason for the visit is now clear," he remarked, a hint of dry humor in his voice.

Meanwhile, Mihawk had pulled out a sleek silver case from his jacket pocket, opening it and handing Shepherd Sommers a finely designed business card. Shepherd took the card, his fingers lingering on it for a moment, before looking up at Mihawk with a growing realization.

It was subtle, but the shift in Shepherd’s demeanor was unmistakable. He had pieced it all together: the posture, the calm, authoritative voice, the way Mihawk handled the conversation. The man in front of him was far more than just a lawyer.

"I see," Shepherd muttered, now understanding why Mihawk had seemed so familiar.

Meanwhile, Ace and Sabo had shifted their attention back to Luffy, who was still sitting happily on Ace's lap, thoroughly enjoying their pancakes. The two brothers were quietly helping her clean her face and making sure she had enough syrup. Luffy, clearly unfazed by everything happening around her, continued eating contentedly, her excitement from earlier now settled into a quieter happiness.

Shanks had decided this year to celebrate his birthday a little differently. It wasn’t just his day, after all, Mihawk shared the same birthday and considering Mihawk would’ve invited no one but Shanks and the kids anyway, it only made sense to throw a joint party.

The celebration was lively, filled with laughter, music and far too much alcohol. Shanks, glass in hand, couldn't remember the last time he had felt this relaxed. Friends, family, and a few close allies had gathered, making the estate feel alive with chatter and joy.

It was deep into the night, when the party had reached a comfortably chaotic stage, that the door opened again. A man entered, looking like his life was sucked out of him, his face marked with deep lines and a weathered charm — accompanied by a approximately 3 meters tall, stunning woman who looked to be in her late twenties and a boy who, despite his young age, already stood at least 1.70 meters tall.

"GABAN!" Rayleigh's voice boomed across the room, louder than the music. Everyone turned as Rayleigh, already several drinks deep, stumbled toward the newcomers with wide arms.

Shanks blinked, squinting at the man and in the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled the name, someone from his father’s stories. 

The man laughed heartily and embraced Rayleigh, before turning and giving a small, dignified bow toward the gathered guests. "Scopper Gaban," he introduced himself, his voice rough but friendly. He gestured to the woman at his side. "My beautiful wife, Ripley. And this here is our son, Colon."

Colon offered a shy but polite wave, but his attention was immediately stolen by a small figure darting through the crowd — Luffy, in a pink party dress, with frosting smeared on her cheeks.

Colon stared, clearly enchanted.

Meanwhile, Scopper’s sharp gaze flickered from Luffy to Shanks, and then back to Luffy, scrutinizing the child with keen interest.

"Has the kid got an agent yet?" Scopper Gaban asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise.

Rayleigh, quick as lightning despite the alcohol, yanked Scopper gently away from his granddaughter. "Ease up, Gaban," he muttered, throwing Shanks an apologetic look.

Luffy tugged at Shanks’s sleeve, wide-eyed. "Daddy, agent like spy?"

Shanks couldn’t help but chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Not exactly, sweetheart."

A little later, someone leaned over to Shanks, wide-eyed with curiosity. "Is that really Scopper Gaban?"

Shanks, still slightly bemused, shrugged. "Apparently. Why?"

The person’s mouth dropped open. "Scopper Gaban's a living legend! Used to be—" they dropped their voice to a whisper, "a porn producer. Big one, too. Sometimes even took part in his productions when he felt like it. Crazy dude. Then he met Ripley, cleaned up and now runs one of the biggest talent agencies around. Models, actors, musicians... you name it. If you're somebody, chances are he found you first."

Shanks whistled lowly and glanced back at the man who was now sipping wine and casually chatting with Rayleigh like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Well," Shanks muttered to himself with a grin, lifting his glass in salute, "cheers to unexpected guests."

Mihawk, who had caught the tail end of the conversation about Scopper Gaban’s illustrious and somewhat colorful career, quietly rose from his seat. With a calm, predatory grace, he lifted Luffy into his arms and crossed the room toward the small group.

Colon, who had been sneaking fascinated glances at Luffy, caught Mihawk’s piercing gaze and immediately ducked behind his mother Ripley, peeking out nervously.

"Ray, may I interrupt?" Mihawk asked smoothly, just as Rayleigh was pulling out his phone, no doubt to subject Scopper to a proud grandfather's slideshow of Luffy’s ballet performances.

Scopper turned, clearly in a good mood. "Ah, the granddaughter," he said, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Mihawk inclined his head, cold and precise. "Her name is Silvers Luffy. She is four years old and I am her legal counsel," he said flatly. "All professional inquiries must go through me, not through the Silvers family."

With effortless composure, Mihawk shifted Luffy to his other arm and produced a silver card case, extracted a crisp business card, and handed it to Scopper.

The moment Scopper read the name, the color visibly drained from his face.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Scopper groaned, dramatically running a hand through his hair. "I knew you looked familiar! I lost a case against you years ago!"

Mihawk, true to form, acted as if he hadn’t even heard him.

"If you intend to make an offer," Mihawk continued in his unshakable tone, "you will submit it to me. I will review it with Mr. Silvers and Luffy. However," a flicker of rare, quiet pride entered his voice, "she is already under contract. A two-week shooting with GARLAND this coming April."

The reaction was immediate and spectacular.

Scopper staggered back a full step, looking as though Mihawk had just announced Luffy was becoming the next Empress of the Sea. Ripley gasped so sharply it was almost a choke, and Colon stared, open-mouthed, from behind her skirt.

"GARLAND?!" Scopper practically shrieked. "THE GARLAND?!"

"Indeed," Mihawk said, completely unbothered.

At this point, Shanks sauntered over, a drink lazily swirling in one hand, a plate with meat and salat in the other hand, already grinning like the cat who got the cream. "Oh, there aren't even rumours?" he drawled, clearly delighted beyond reason, as he placed the plate in front of his daughter.

Rayleigh, meanwhile, was laughing so hard he had to lean on the back of a chair.

"I guess I’ll need to get myself a proper suit, if my granddaughter’s already working with the biggest name in the fashion industry," Rayleigh said proudly.

"But... but..." Scopper spluttered, looking like he might combust on the spot. "GARLAND only recruits homegrown talent! They never sign from the outside! AND NEVER CHILDREN!"

Mihawk shrugged one elegant shoulder. "Luffy is well-connected," he said mildly. "Her grandfather and an uncle recommended her personally and GARLAND’s board took the recommendation seriously."

Ripley’s eyes went wide as saucers. Colon looked like he was seeing a real-life fairy tale unfold.

Still savouring the moment, Mihawk gently turned Luffy in his arms to face him. "Luf, sweetheart," he prompted with a sly smile, "when we had breakfast on Ace’s birthday, which grandpa called you?"

Luffy cupped her little hands around her mouth and screamed at full force:
"GRANDPA ED!!"

Mihawk turned back to the stunned adults, his voice smooth as silk.
"...ward Newgate," he said. "Luffy’s Grandpa Ed."

The reaction was even more entertaining.

Scopper reeled back as if physically struck, Ripley clutched Colon even tighter.

Shanks almost doubled over laughing, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. "You look like you just saw a ghost," he teased Scopper gleefully.

"A ghost?!" Scopper wheezed, waving Mihawk’s business card like it might save his life. "That's not a ghost, that's Whitebeard's granddaughter we're talking about! And you’re telling me she’s got GARLAND on speed dial now?!"

Rayleigh gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Welcome back to the family, mate. You've missed quite much!"

Ripley was still staring at Mihawk and Shanks like she'd accidentally walked into a meeting of world leaders. Colon, for his part, peeked out wide-eyed and whispered, "Is she a princess?"

Mihawk, perfectly composed, gave a tiny, enigmatic smile.

Scopper, still half in disbelief, shook his head. "First I lose a case about a frickin bottle of lube to you," he muttered to Mihawk, "and now you’re the guardian of the most connected kid in the hemisphere."

Shanks, chuckling, raised his drink. "Cheers to that."

Still reeling, Scopper clutched Mihawk’s business card like it was his last lifeline and turned toward Rayleigh, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

"This doesn’t make sense!" he half-shouted, utterly scandalized. "GARLAND has never—NEVER—picked up someone from outside their own academy system! Not once in their entire existence!"

Ripley, still staring at Luffy as if she were some mythical creature, nodded vigorously in agreement.

Colon whispered again, "Definitely a princess."

Scopper jabbed a finger in Mihawk’s direction. "And now you’re telling me they made an exception for a four-year-old?! Without the academy training, without the internal grooming?! How?! WHY?!"

Before Mihawk could even blink, Shanks casually slung an arm around Scopper’s shoulders, grinning like a fox.

"Well," Shanks drawled lazily, "when you’ve got Whitebeard and Izo personally putting in the good word…" He shrugged theatrically. "Can you really blame them?"

Scopper gave an outraged noise that was somewhere between a splutter and a growl. He looked like he wanted to throw his hands in the air and storm off, but part of him clearly couldn’t bring himself to walk away from such prime business potential either.

"You don’t say no when Whitebeard puts his stamp on a kid," Shanks added with a wink. "Even GARLAND isn’t that suicidal."

Rayleigh was bent over laughing at this point, slapping his knee.

Scopper, however, was clearly not ready to surrender. He turned back to Mihawk, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Listen," he said hurriedly, trying to regain some professionalism, "if there’s any… flexibility on future engagements, my agency would be very interested. Very interested."

Mihawk, who hadn’t moved an inch, simply arched one dark eyebrow.
"I will consider any offers presented formally," he said in that infuriatingly calm way of his. "However, my first priority is ensuring Luffy’s well-being and a carefully managed schedule. As of now, her time is fully accounted for until at least the end of the year."

Scopper looked like someone had hit him with a brick. "She's booked for the entire year?!"

Shanks gave a mock gasp and covered his mouth dramatically. "Wow, Scopper, you’re really not keeping up, huh? She's busy being a Prima Ballerina before she becomes the biggest Cheerleader this world has ever seen."

Rayleigh, wiping tears from his eyes, added, "You might want to sit down, old friend. You’re going to give yourself a stroke."

Scopper did sit, heavily, dropping onto the nearest chair with a loud huff.

Ripley, still holding Colon, leaned down and whispered, "I told you this would happen if you didn’t move faster when the whispers flared up about a granddaughter."

Colon, meanwhile, had eyes only for Luffy, who was now happily chatting with Mihawk about whether there would be cake later.

Scopper rubbed his face with both hands, groaning in disbelief. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with all at once?"

Shanks clinked his glass against Scopper’s empty one. "You don't," he said cheerfully. "You just get in line and hope for the best."

Scopper was visibly sweating now. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, looking utterly flabbergasted. "Did she ever model before?" he asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Shanks chuckled, clearly amused by the scene playing out before him. "Yeah, it’s been more of a local thing so far. She’s been the face for our municipal campaign. But this thing with GARLAND, this is her first global gig."

Scopper’s eyes went from wide to absolutely enormous, his disbelief rapidly turning into something like greed mixed with awe.

"Since this is her first big break," Scopper’s voice dropped lower, his attention snapping back to Mihawk. "It’s absolutely vital that you capitalise on it. This is the perfect time. If we play it right, we could make her one of the most marketable children’s faces ever. A star."

Mihawk’s face remained stone-cold, his eyes unblinking. He took a slow sip from his drink before setting it down gently, almost with a bit of finality. "Luffy’s main focus is her ballet. Modeling is something she might do for fun in the future, but right now there are no such plans. I’ll let you know if there’s ever an opening, but that’s the reality of the situation."

Scopper’s eyes were now bugging out of his skull. He was so close to losing it, shaking his head in disbelief. "And she does ballet? Ballet? That’s—" His voice trailed off as he struggled to contain himself, eyes darting back to Mihawk and then to Luffy, still happily munching on pancakes.

"Do you have any idea how perfect this is for marketing?" Scopper practically growled. "She’s got the charm, she’s got the look, and she’s trained! A young dancer with that much potential? You could market her as the next big thing globally. She could do everything! Beauty campaigns, designer clothes, fitness brands, hell, we could even tie in her ballet for those higher-end brands that want the grace, the discipline!" His hands were now waving as though trying to will the opportunity into existence. "This is it! It’s the perfect package!"

Mihawk’s expression didn’t shift, not even a fraction. "No."

Scopper’s breath hitched. He could feel the weight of the situation, he was standing in front of an opportunity so rare, it almost seemed impossible. The more he thought about it, the more desperate he became.

"Please, Shanks," he turned to him, his voice now almost pleading. "You know what this means, right? This could be huge for her. A name like hers, with that ballet background, tied to something like GARLAND—she’d be unstoppable. This could be your ticket to the big leagues. Why are you even holding back?"

Shanks, who had been quietly listening to the whole exchange with an amused expression, finally leaned forward, placing a hand on Scopper’s shoulder with a sincere, almost regretful look.

"Scopper, Luffy deserves to be admired and adored, but at the end of the day, Mihawk’s the one who’ll be traveling the world with her, making sure she’s looked after. I can’t juggle being the Mayor with the kind of commitment she needs right now." Shanks’s expression softened as he looked over at Mihawk, who was gently wiping Luffy’s face as she got sauce on her cheek. "Mihawk’ll be the one who’s there for her, there with her."

Scopper blinked a few times, as though the weight of Shanks’s words were finally sinking in. "But... but she could explode globally. You don’t understand. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re just turning it down?"

Shanks didn’t waver. "I’m not turning anything down. But Luffy’s not a commodity for anyone to play with. She’s my daughter and I trust Mihawk to make the right decisions. If she ever wants to pursue this kind of life fully, we’ll support her. But not if it takes away from her true passion." He paused. "This isn’t about the money. It’s about making sure she grows up happy and healthy. That’s the only thing that matters."

For a long moment, Scopper stared at Shanks, processing everything. Mihawk, who had been quietly watching the interaction unfold, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod as he spoke again. "I’ll keep any offers in mind. But, as Shanks said, Luffy’s well-being comes first." His voice, always so composed, carried an unspoken weight that seemed to settle the matter for good.

Scopper, however, wasn’t ready to give up just yet. "You sure about this?" he asked, now sounding defeated but still not quite willing to walk away.

Shanks just grinned and turned to look at Mihawk. "You know, Scopper, if you really want to see Luffy in action, just wait until that shooting with GARLAND kicks off. That’s where the magic’s going to happen."

Mihawk’s eyes glinted, and Luffy, unaware of the tension in the air, simply beamed at Scopper and waved her fork around. "I’m gonna be so good at ballet, just you wait!" she chirped, utterly unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

Ripley, her arms folded across her chest, shot Mihawk a pointed look. "You know, Mr. Dracule, if you ever change your mind, we might just have to have another chat about Luffy’s future in modeling." She was clearly taking in the whole situation and seeing the potential for both her son and Luffy, but Mihawk only gave her a cool look in return.

"I doubt that’ll happen," Mihawk said coolly, before giving Luffy a smile that, for once, hinted at something far softer beneath his usual icy demeanor.

Chapter Text

Less than two weeks after the lively chaos of Shanks' and Mihawk's birthday celebration, the Silvers household gathered again, this time for a much quieter evening: Sabo's birthday.
It was a school night, and with Sabo in the thick of his final exams, nobody wanted to throw him off his rhythm. The air was warm and soft, filled with the smell of Shakky’s and Lucky's dishes, laughter, and the comfortable hum of family.

Around the big kitchen table sat Shanks, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Rayleigh, Shakky, Mihawk, Beckman, Hongo, and Lucky.
Luffy was buzzing with energy as always, bouncing on her chair beside Ace, trying hard not to disturb the pile of school papers still peeking out of Sabo’s backpack.

After the meal, Shanks grinned and pulled a thick envelope from his coat pocket. He slid it across the table to Sabo, who blinked at it in surprise.
"Happy birthday, son," Shanks said. "Got this delivered earlier. One of Newgate’s boys brought it over. Thought you'd want it sooner rather than later."

Curious, Sabo opened the envelope carefully. Inside were several documents: student ID cards, a gleaming keycard, campus maps and an acceptance letter, embossed with gold lettering.
At the top of the letter, in bold, prestigious script, was the name:

Meridian Medical Academy

The best medical school in the world.

Hongo leaned over, his keen eyes scanning the documents. For a moment, he looked almost nostalgic.
"Meridian Medical Academy," he said with a whistle. "Now that's a name. I went there myself, you know."

Sabo stared at him, wide-eyed. "You... you did?"

Hongo chuckled, ruffling Sabo’s hair in a rare display of affection. "Yeah, I did," he said warmly. "Could've stayed, too. Would probably be a chief physician by now, not only chief of orthopaedic surgery if I hadn't decided Shanks needed someone making sure his medical programs didn't fall apart at the seams. But I'm still happy with my decision, in case you wanna ask."

Sabo looked between Hongo and Shanks, his brain trying to reconcile the easygoing uncle he knew with the man who could’ve been leading hospitals.
Shanks laughed and clapped Hongo on the back. "Best decision you ever made, too," he said, winking. "After I my election, I tightened the city's medical regulations up real quick. We needed someone ruthless watching our backs."

Mihawk, quietly sipping his wine at the end of the table, gave a small, knowing nod.

Sabo looked down at the acceptance papers again, awe and pride mixing on his face.
In that quiet, glowing moment, even Luffy fell silent, just long enough to crawl into Sabo's lap and lay her head against his chest with a tired, happy sigh. Ace smirked fondly, stealing a piece of cake off Luffy’s abandoned plate.

"You’re gonna crush it, Sabo," Beckman said, raising his glass slightly.
Everyone followed, lifting their drinks. They clinked glasses softly, no big speeches, no dramatics. Just family, and the quiet, powerful feeling of a future about to begin.

Two weeks had passed faster than anyone had been ready for. The evening before her departure, the house was filled with an unbearable quiet, the kind that settles right before a storm.
Shanks sat cross-legged on the living room floor, carefully packing Luffy’s tiny pink suitcase. Each dress, each pair of socks felt heavier than it should have.
Across from him, Luffy sat on her knees, wiping her tear-streaked face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, the one she stubbornly refused to pack because it smelled like home.

"I don't wanna go, Daddy," she whimpered, her voice cracking, clutching the edge of the suitcase like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Shanks closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay strong. He set aside the folded clothes, pulled her gently into his arms and cradled her like he did what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Anchor," he murmured, brushing his hand through her hair, "it's okay. Mihawk’s gonna be right there with you the whole time, every second. And Sabo’s coming too — just two more sleeps when you're there, alright?"
He tilted her chin up so she could see his smile, even though it wobbled at the edges.
"You’ll be back here so fast you’ll think it was all a dream."

Luffy sniffled, her little fingers knotting themselves in his shirt. "But I’ll miss you so much," she whispered.

Shanks felt something inside him fracture. "I’ll miss you even more, peanut," he said hoarsely, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But you’re gonna shine so bright, like the sun and I’m already so proud of you."

They stayed there for a long time, just holding on to each other.

The next morning came too soon. The first light of dawn stretched lazily across the sky as a black car rolled into the driveway. Mihawk stepped out, looking sharp as always, but the soft look in his golden eyes betrayed the weight of the moment.

He knelt down to Luffy’s level, straightening the tiny backpack she wore and adjusting the hood of her jacket.

"You ready, little one?" Mihawk asked, his voice lower, softer than usual.

Luffy nodded, lip trembling, and took his hand without hesitation. Shanks crouched to hug her one last time, breathing her in like he could somehow make the moment last longer.

He brushed his thumb under her eye, wiping away a fresh tear. "I love you, Luffy," he said thickly.

"I love you, Daddy," she hiccupped back.

Mihawk gently guided her toward the car, carrying her suitcase in one hand. At the door, Luffy hesitated, looking back one more time.

"I’ll call you from the plane!" she called, her small voice quivering.

"You better!" Shanks tried to tease, but his voice cracked mid-sentence.

Mihawk opened the door, lifting Luffy into the backseat carefully, buckling her in himself with the precision and care of someone used to precious cargo. He climbed in beside her, reading the in-flight menu out loud in an exaggerated voice as the driver pulled away, distracting her just long enough so the tears didn’t start again — not yet.

At the same time, inside the house, Shanks stood frozen in the entryway. The second the car disappeared from view, the weight of it all crushed him.

His knees buckled and Ace, who had been watching from a few steps away, darted forward to catch him.

Shanks collapsed into his brother’s arms, burying his face against Ace's shoulder, his entire body shaking with grief he hadn’t dared to show in front of Luffy.

"I let her go, Ace," he choked out, his voice barely more than a rasp. "She’s just a baby, and I let her fly halfway across the world without me."

"You didn’t let her go," Ace said firmly, his arms tightening around him. "You gave her wings. And you made damn sure someone would be there to catch her if she falls."

Shanks clutched at Ace’s shirt, desperate, ashamed, terrified all at once. He felt like he was drowning in it, the pride, the fear, the guilt.

Ace just held him, steady and sure, letting him break without judgment. The house, the city, the whole world outside moved on but in that moment, time stood still for them.

Barely an hour and a half after Luffy had left, Shanks’ phone buzzed violently across the kitchen table.
He practically lunged for it, knocking over a chair in his rush, and answered without even checking the screen.

"Luffy?!" he said, breathless.

"DAAAAADDY!!!" came the ear-splitting reply, so loud that Shanks had to yank the phone away from his ear.

"Anchor! Are you already on the plane?" he asked, his heart thudding painfully.

"YES! And Grandpa Ed is here too! He just came!!" she chattered excitedly, and in the background, Shanks could hear a deep, hearty laugh.

"Don't worry, son," Whitebeard’s familiar rumble came over the line. "If you can't fly with her, I'll make sure our little Princess is well taken care of."

Shanks had to blink hard to keep his vision clear. "Thank you... I can't tell you how much that means to me."

Mihawk’s calm, even voice took over then, exchanging numbers between them efficiently.
"In case I am occupied and unable to give immediate updates, Mr. Edward will send you reports directly," he explained, while Luffy could be heard in the background already exploring every inch of the aircraft.

"I’ll keep you posted," Whitebeard promised again, a smile evident even through the call. "She’ll be treated like royalty."

Then Luffy came back on the line, her voice suddenly small and watery. "Daddy?"

"I’m here, Anchor. Always here."

"I love you soooo much," she whimpered.

"I love you too, baby. I’m so proud of you," Shanks whispered back, his throat tight.

They held the call like a lifeline, even though they were thousands of miles apart already.
Then an announcement interrupted them: "We are preparing for takeoff, Mr. Edward and guests."

"I have to go, Daddy," Luffy said, clearly struggling not to cry.

"Fly safe, Anchor. We’ll talk so soon. I love you more than anything."

The line went dead, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Frantically, Shanks began tearing through the living room, searching for anything of Luffy’s, anything to hold onto. All he could find was her tiny, magenta-coloured favourite beanie, the one she always wore on windy walks.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then, without thinking twice, he pulled it onto his head.

It barely fit, stretched absurdly tight, making him look absolutely ridiculous. And Shanks didn’t care one bit.

With the too-small beanie squeezed onto his head, he stormed to Ace, who was sprawled on the couch trying to casually skim the news on his tablet.

"ACE!" Shanks barked like a man possessed.

Ace looked up, blinked and nearly dropped the tablet. He had to bite his tongue hard not to burst out laughing. Because standing before him was his adoptive father in a toddler-sized, bright magenta beanie, looking like the saddest clown in the world.

"Uh... yeah?"

"Do you still have the reference imprint for your tattoo?" Shanks demanded, dead serious.

Ace just stared.

He genuinely didn’t know what shocked him more:
— That Shanks wanted a tattoo.
— That he wanted the exact same tattoo Ace had.
— Or that he looked absolutely deranged in a pink beanie fit for a four-year-old.

"Dad... what the hell are you doing?" Ace finally managed, voice cracking between shock and second-hand embarrassment.

"I want your tattoo," Shanks said firmly. "So she knows I'm always with her."

Ace stared at Shanks.

Ace squinted, like the sight physically hurt. "You know," he said slowly, "You look horrible. The magenta and your crimson hair? Please, dad. I miss my sister too, but... I don't even know what to say."

Shanks crossed his arms, looking deeply offended. "This is Luffy's favourite beanie," he muttered defensively.

"Yeah, well, I hope she loves you enough to forgive the fact that you look like a rejected clown," Ace fired back without missing a beat.

Still, seeing how raw Shanks looked, even under all the ridiculousness, Ace softened a little and got up.

"Listen," he said, clapping him on the shoulder, "I get it. You miss her. We all do. But you can't just steal my tattoo to cope, old man."

Shanks frowned, stubborn like a sulking teenager. "Why not?"

"Because it’s my tattoo," Ace said, exasperated. "It’s personal. It’s part of me. You need something that's you. Something Luffy will see and know — that's her dad's."

Shanks huffed but seemed to listen.

Ace saw the chance and pressed on, "Why don't we design something new? Maybe an anchor? you Or something small with her name. Something that means something to both of you. Or would you like an ASL tattoo?"

Shanks tilted his head thoughtfully, the awful beanie slipping even lower over his ear, making him look even more pitiful.

"An anchor..." he muttered.

"Yeah," Ace nodded, warming up to the idea. "Maybe a small anchor? On your back or chest or hell, we could put it on your wrist so you see it every time you reach for your pen to sign important things. Or a drink. I think tattooed hands look hot, but they don’t always scream professional, you know? Maybe a less visible spot if you’re going for serious jobs, like mayor or doctor or something."

Shanks gave a wet, crooked smile.

"On my heart, huh?" he repeated, almost laughing through the lump in his throat. "I like it."

Ace clapped him hard on the back. "There you go, old man. Something that's hers and yours and no one else's."

For the first time since Luffy had flown off, Shanks laughed properly, a low, raw sound and wiped the corner of his eye discreetly.

"And please think about the beanie situation," Ace added, grinning. "You look like a pervert."

Shanks, absurdly serious, tugged the too-small magenta beanie down tighter over his ears.
"I’m never taking this off until she's back," he declared.

Ace groaned loudly but slung an arm around his shoulders anyway, steering him toward the door.

"Come on, let's go before you start crying again, Princess."

The next nine hours were a test of endurance for all of them.

Whitebeard and Mihawk spent the entire flight doing everything short of standing on their heads to keep Luffy entertained and comforted.

Whitebeard told her the most ridiculous, slightly embellished pirate stories, using napkins and snack packages to act them out. Mihawk, with infinitely more patience than anyone thought he possessed, read her every menu item, every pamphlet, even the tiny safety manual, complete with dramatic voices.

They colored together. They tried building card towers on the tables and Mihawk took it as a personal insult when they kept collapsing. Whitebeard even let her play with his massive white moustache like it was a jungle gym.

But every now and then, despite the laughter, Luffy would remember her dad wasn't there and her big, shining eyes would fill with tears all over again.

Mihawk was the one who held her when the sobs became too much, letting her cry against his shirt without complaint. His gloved hand smoothed over her back in slow, steady strokes, never rushing her. Whitebeard just rumbled soothing words from his seat, pretending not to notice when his own throat got a little tight.

Eventually, completely exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster, Luffy curled up on Mihawk’s lap, clutching the front of his coat with tiny fingers, and drifted into a fitful sleep.

Mihawk sat still as a statue, one hand protectively around her, while Whitebeard lowered his voice to a near-whisper as they spoke about plans for the next few days.

When they finally landed, the engines humming low as the jet taxied to a private terminal, vehicles already lined up outside, Mihawk gently shifted the sleeping child into his arms.

At the bottom of the steps, two figures waited.

Whitebeard's face broke into a broad grin. "Garling," he rumbled warmly as they approached. "And Shepherd. Good to see you both."

The man Whitebeard addressed first — Figarland Garling — looked every inch the noble he was said to be: stern posture, sharp eyes, not a hair out of place even in the whipping wind of the tarmac. Beside him, Shepherd Sommers gave a more relaxed, easy smile.

Luffy, stirring at the voices, blinked blearily awake. Her tired little face lit up the second she spotted Shepherd.

"Sheppy!" she chirped, wriggling in Mihawk’s arms until he gently set her down.

She dashed to Shepherd, who crouched just in time to catch her.
Shepherd Sommers, who had expected a polite nod at best, looked momentarily stunned by the sheer warmth and affection in her greeting. Carefully, he hugged her back, his heart squeezing unexpectedly at the small arms thrown so trustingly around his neck.

Then, with that fearless, open heart of hers, Luffy turned to the unfamiliar man standing beside Shepherd.

"I’m Silvers Luffy and I'm very polite," she announced proudly, extending her tiny hand without hesitation.

Garling Figarland, who normally made grown men stammer just by looking at them, watched her in surprise for a moment. Then, the stern lines of his face softened just slightly and he bent down to shake her hand carefully.

"My Daddy and Sabo taught me how to be polite," Luffy added seriously, looking up at him with the same earnestness she showed the world.

Behind her, Mihawk gave her a slow, approving wink and a thumbs up. Luffy’s grin widened even more, she'd done good.

Garling chuckled quietly, exchanging an amused look with Mihawk.
If this was Luffy when she was tired and emotional, he could only imagine the unstoppable force she must be when fully energised.

As the group turned to the sleek black vehicles waiting for them, Whitebeard bent down with a grunt and held out his pinky finger to her.

Without hesitation, Luffy wrapped both her small arms around his massive finger and marched alongside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mihawk followed a step behind, his mouth twitched ever so slightly into a rare, quiet smile. Luffy was safe. And no matter where she went in this wide, terrifying world, she would never, ever be alone.

Figarland Garling and Shepherd Sommers watched with thinly veiled fascination as the world’s most feared trial lawyer and Edward Newgate — Edward fucking Newgate — busied themselves gently with a small, drowsy girl not even reaching their mid-thighs.

It was surreal.

Garling, arms loosely crossed, kept casting sidelong glances at Newgate, as if trying to figure out what parallel universe he had stumbled into. His confusion only deepened when Whitebeard casually pulled out a phone and made a video call.

He didn’t put it on speaker, but Garling and Shepherd could still catch enough through the heavy air of the SUV.

"Shanks! Son! Luffy, look who's here!" Whitebeard boomed affectionately into the phone.

Garling froze. Shanks? The same name as the son he had lost more than three decades ago?

Before he could process that thought, a very drunk-sounding man answered on the other end, voice thick with emotion.

"Daaaaaddy’s got a tattoo now, baby girl!" the man announced tearfully.

The screen shifted and Garling caught a brief image of crimson hair, a too familiar face and a bare chest and, right over the heart, fresh black ink in the shape of a small anchor. The drunk man beamed at the screen like he had just won the lottery.

The phone jostled, and a young man’s annoyed voice took over.

"Sorry, Luf. Our dad’s useless today," the boy grumbled, and Luffy, still curled up against Mihawk’s side, immediately perked up. "We spend our day in grandmas bar cause- eh, Dad missed grandma."

"Ace!" she chirped weakly, wiping her teary eyes.

Ace, grumbling, turned the camera around to show himself. "Also, I know you love your beanie, sweetheart, but dad insisted on wearing it and now it's probably too big for your precious head so I threw it away. I'll buy you a new one."

Mihawk couldn’t hold back a sharp, quiet chuckle. Even Whitebeard shook with silent laughter, as Luffy whined halfheartedly about her favorite hat being insulted.

The call ended shortly after, with promises of "Love you! Be good! Come back soon! I miss you so much my baby!" from Shanks now sniffling like a child and Ace threatening to hide every magenta-coloured item in the house if necessary.

As the car drove steadily towards their destination, Garling cleared his throat, trying to salvage at least a scrap of authority in this surreal situation.

"So, Luffy," he attempted with stiff politeness, "do you have... a large family?"

The little girl’s face crumpled again at the reminder, and fresh tears welled up in her big eyes. She buried her face against Mihawk’s shirt instead of answering.

Mihawk, expression unreadable, answered for her. "Her family consists of her father, a single parent and three adopted children. She’s the youngest, both her brothers are eighteen. One of them starts his studies at Meridian Medical Academy soon."

Garling’s eyebrows shot up despite himself. Three?

Without waiting for permission, Mihawk pulled out his phone again and showed a photo, a casual snapshot of Shanks, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy at some backyard gathering, all laughing.
Shanks had Luffy hoisted onto his shoulders, her hands tangled in his hair, while Ace and Sabo pulled faces at the camera.

The moment Garling saw it, all the color drained from his face.

It couldn’t be. The hair, the eyes, the smile — even through the blur of casual clothing and laughter, he recognised that bloodline. His bloodline. His second son.

But before he could say anything, the SUVs slowed down and pulled to a stop.

Outside, waiting near the curb, was a tall man with sharp features and the unmistakable stance of someone who knew exactly who he was.

Figarland Shamrock.

Garling swallowed hard, bracing himself for the impact of what he was beginning to realise was only the beginning.

As the vehicles came to a halt and the door swung open, Luffy, Mihawk and Whitebeard saw something that made them pause for a second.  A man who looked almost exactly like Shanks. The same vibrant hair, the same strong features. But unlike Shanks, this man carried himself with a measured neatness that felt... foreign.

Garling’s breath caught in his throat. For a fleeting moment, he dared to believe. His fingers twitched at his side, the only outward betrayal of the storm within him.

Luffy stared, her small body going very still. The man looked like Daddy... but he wasn’t Daddy.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t run to him, didn’t even move closer. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, cautious, trying to make sense of what her eyes were telling her but her heart refused to believe.

Shamrock, unaware of the weight of all these gazes, stiffened visibly under the child's scrutiny. The girl’s eyes were far too knowing for someone so small. He cleared his throat, his voice dry as dust. "Uh... hello?"

Luffy's lip trembled, just a little, but she pressed it into a firm line. Her voice, when it came, was tentative. "...Daddy?" It was more question than certainty. A fragile hope clinging to her words.

Shamrock’s entire posture locked. His heart seemed to falter, then thud painfully against his ribs.
"I—" he stammered, then stopped, forcing himself to speak more clearly. "I’m not... I’m not your father. My name is Figarland Shamrock."

His words hung between them. He adjusted his jacket with precision, as if trying to regain a control of that awkward situation.

Mihawk, standing a few paces away, folded his arms behind his back, his gaze sharp, but voice calm and poised. "This... requires explanation," he said, each word carefully measured, betraying none of the unease stirring beneath his stoic facade.

Garling, who had remained a silent pillar until now, stepped forward. There was something almost imperceptible in his movements only his son noticed, a stiffness, a tension that betrayed how deeply he was affected.
Yet when he spoke, his voice was level, almost detached, though his eyes shimmered with a grief long buried.

"I believe I can provide some context," he said, addressing them all, but looking at Shamrock and Luffy most keenly.

He exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. "Earlier, I witnessed a transmission. A man appeared—one who bore your face, Shamrock. His name was Shanks."

A subtle tremor flickered through Shamrock’s frame. His expression did not change, but his hands clenched and unclenched once at his sides.

"Shanks?" he repeated, the name foreign on his tongue. "Alive?"

Garling gave a single, grave nod. "Yes. He's alive."

Mihawk’s brows furrowed slightly, a rare crack in his composed mask. "Could you please explain what this means?" he asked softly.

Garling’s jaw tightened. "Both Shamrock and Shanks were taken when they were children—abducted by the Mafia for ransom. They were barely three. Shamrock was returned to us by some peasants, but Shanks wasn’t. Shamrock spent three weeks in the hospital after we got him back. And Shanks... we searched, we mourned, but… he was lost to us. Freed from whatever pain he must have been in."

There was a long, heavy pause. The kind that stretched between lifetimes.

Shamrock stood rigid, absorbing the blow without outward reaction, though his entire being seemed to hum with restrained turmoil.

Whitebeard, looming silently nearby, said nothing. He merely watched, his sharp eyes missing none of the currents running under the surface.

Luffy shuffled her feet, glancing uncertainly between the adults. She didn’t understand all of it, but she understood enough to feel that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Sensing the man's uncertainty, she looked up at him with her big, innocent eyes. “You look like my Daddy,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You smell better than Daddy... but not like home.”

Shamrock’s eyes widened. He knelt stiffly, lowering himself to her eye level. "No," he said, his voice gentler now, though still tightly controlled. "I'm not your father."

Luffy hesitated, then, almost reluctantly, placed one small hand on his knee, as if testing whether he was real.

Garling cleared his throat, the sound rough in the heavy air. "This little one," he said, his voice softer, but still precise, "is Shanks’ adopted daughter."

Shamrock’s mask slipped for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the raw confusion, the pain, the desperate need to understand to flicker across his face.

Garling pressed on, as if he could not allow himself to stop now. "I was informed that Shanks was seen earlier this year. I refused to believe it. I thought it was a mistake. But standing here now..." He let the thought trail off, unfinished, heavy with emotion he could not bring himself to voice.

Shamrock stood frozen, trying to digest his father’s words. His twin, his brother Shanks is alive and now a father.

Shamrock was still reeling, his mind racing. “I... I don’t even know where to start.”

Garling gave a quiet nod. “Luffy seems to like you. That’s a good start. I trust you'll help guide her through the upcoming events with Pedro.”

Luffy tilted her head again, studying Shamrock with a kind of grave solemnity that seemed too big for her tiny frame.

Garling’s voice softened further, almost imperceptibly. "You are family, Luffy," he said, as though willing Shamrock to believe it.

Shamrock gave a shallow nod, still overwhelmed, still trapped in the maelstrom of realization.

Luffy, after a long moment, whispered, "My name is Silvers Luffy. My brothers are Ace and Sabo. My Daddy looks like you." There was a hint of trembling pride in her voice, but also a yearning for connection, for understanding.

Shamrock’s lips parted in a breathless, almost mechanical reply. "My name is Figarland Shamrock. It’s... good to meet you, Luffy," he said, his voice rough around the edges. "I suppose... I’m your uncle?"

Luffy blinked up at him, her expression slowly brightening. "Uncle Shammy," she said, testing the words and finding that she liked them.

For the first time, Shamrock’s posture eased ever so slightly. He reached out, almost hesitantly, and ruffled her hair.

Garling, watching, allowed himself a slow breath, a fraction deeper than before. Perhaps, after all this time, something broken could start to mend.

Mihawk inclined his head slightly, his tone measured. "It seems," he said with quiet dignity, "that family finds its way back. Even across oceans of time."

And as they turned to the entrance together, Whitebeard remained a silent sentinel in the background, observing, weighing, and perhaps, deep down, wondering what other ghosts the tides might still wash ashore.

The heavy door creaked open, and the group finally moved inside the building.

Luffy clung to Shamrock’s hand at first but lagged behind, her little face scrunching up in obvious distress. She tugged once on his sleeve.

"I'm hungry, Uncle Shammy," she muttered, the beginnings of a whine creeping into her voice.

Shamrock stiffened, looking down at her as though she had just declared an impending natural disaster. He glanced helplessly at Garling, who seemed equally lost.

"Uh... Father?" Shamrock started, panic creeping into his tone.

Garling gave him a bewildered look, as if the solution to "hungry child" was written somewhere in the fine print of some ancient royal protocol.

Before either man could make another clumsy attempt, Mihawk stepped forward with calm precision, moving like a shadow. Without a word, he smoothly picked Luffy up and settled her on his hip with a fluid, practiced motion.

"I'll get you something," Mihawk said simply, his voice composed as ever.

Luffy blinked in surprise but clung to Mihawk’s cloak, sniffling once, soothed by the sudden decisiveness.

Before the tension could stretch further, Whitebeard chuckled low in his chest. With a grin, he reached into the folds of his coat and—somehow—produced a small pouch of neatly cut apple slices.

"Here, Angel," he rumbled, holding a piece out to her. "Eat up, so you grow big and strong like your grandpa! Gurarararara!"

Luffy’s face lit up like a sunrise. She grabbed the apple slice and nibbled happily, her earlier gloom forgotten in an instant.

Garling and Shamrock stared at Whitebeard as if he had conjured gold out of thin air.

Whitebeard caught their looks and let out another hearty laugh, his massive shoulders shaking.

"What?" he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. "This is my granddaughter. You think I'd just recommend some adorable girl to you?" He scoffed, tapping his chest with one enormous finger. "I only recommend MY adorable girl."

Garling blinked slowly, still trying to catch up.

Whitebeard, clearly warming to his role, continued with visible pride.

"She’s a tough little thing too," he said. "Started ballet lessons last year. Spins around so fast, you'd think she was born with the wind at her back. I was present during her first recital. It was amazing." He gave a conspiratorial wink. "And she says when she’s older, she’s gonna be a cheerleader. Can you imagine? Little Angel, cheering her brothers on like a whirlwind."

Mihawk’s lips twitched at the corner in what could almost be considered a smile.

Garling, recovering somewhat, cleared his throat. His voice was more formal now, weighed down by realisation.

"Is she... the Heiress?" he asked cautiously. "The one spoken of in whispers?"

Whitebeard straightened, his smile never faltering. His presence filled the room, radiating pride like a second sun.

"The one and only," he said, his voice deep and sure. "The Heiress."

The words dropped into the room like stones into still water.

Garling and Shamrock both stood frozen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, their expressions utterly transformed. It was as if someone had just handed them the Holy Grail wrapped in a blanket of apple-scented innocence.

Whitebeard’s grin widened, immensely pleased with himself. And with Luffy in his arms, Mihawk adjusted his hold just slightly, steady and unwavering, as if bearing a treasure too precious to ever let fall.

After nibbling on a few more apple slices, Luffy’s energy began to fade. She yawned widely, her small body sagging against Mihawk’s shoulder, the day’s confusion finally weighing her down. Within minutes, she had drifted off, her tiny hand curled into the folds of Mihawk’s cloak.

The adults quietly entered the grand reception room. Mihawk gently laid her down on a large sofa, draped a light blanket over her and then sat down at a long wooden, keeping a steady eye on the sleeping child.

Garling sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly, the weight of everything clearly etched onto his face.
Shamrock wasn’t faring much better, sitting rigidly beside him, like he was reminding himself how to breathe.

"We need to plan for the coming weeks," Garling finally said, voice low and controlled, though the strain was unmistakable. "Security. Appearances. Introductions."

Mihawk inclined his head calmly. "Naturally."

Silence settled briefly over the room before Mihawk spoke again, his voice poised, deliberate.

“But first, how exactly do we inform her family that she suddenly has relatives on the other side of the world?”

Garling and Shamrock exchanged a helpless glance. Whitebeard simply shrugged his massive shoulders as if the question were trivial.

“We just tell ’em,” he said gruffly. “Better than beating around the bush.”

Mihawk gave a faint, knowing smile. “Pragmatic as ever.”

He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “Perhaps I should call Rayleigh.”

Garling raised an eyebrow. “Rayleigh?”

“Yes,” Mihawk replied smoothly. “Luffy’s grandfather, in all but blood. He’ll know how to handle this... delicately."

Garling pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly grappling with a thousand unspoken questions. Finally, he asked, “Tell me about Shanks’ family. Please.”

There was a moment’s respectful pause before Mihawk answered, as if honoring the weight of the request.

"Shanks was adopted. His father is the Chief Justice of our country—stern, but fair. His mother owns several bars in the capital, she's clever and shrewd." His gaze drifted briefly to Luffy, who murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.

"Shanks himself is a lawyer. Graduated at the top of his class. Board-certified, one of the finest prosecutors the city ever had. Later, he moved into politics—became Mayor of our city. That’s how he met Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. I met him at a Kendo tournament when I was a child and we've been in contact ever since."

Garling leaned back, visibly stunned. Shamrock looked like the ground had shifted under his feet.

Without another word, again, Mihawk pulled out his phone. He tapped through the gallery, then turned the screen toward them.

It was a photo, slightly blurred, but overflowing with life: Luffy stood center stage in a tiny ballet outfit, arms stretched wide with pride. Behind her, Ace and Sabo grinned from ear to ear, cheering her on. In the front row, Shanks, wiping at red, tear-streaked eyes, pride nearly bursting from him. Rayleigh, Shakky, Whitebeard, Izo, Thatch, even Mihawk himself, all captured mid-laughter, mid-cheer, completely unguarded.

"The man with the long hair and the glasses and the woman with bob cut are his adoptive parents. This was at her latest recital."

A true family portrait, vibrant and chaotic and painfully full of love. Garling and Shamrock leaned in, speechless. For a long moment, no one said anything. The Figarlands exchanged a look, pure awe written across their faces, like someone had placed a living, breathing miracle in their hands.

Meanwhile, Luffy continued sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the weight of the moment, unbothered and blissfully innocent, a bridge between lost history and a new, unexpected future.

Mihawk stepped into the quiet side room and dialed the number without hesitation. It rang once.

"Mihawk," said Rayleigh.

Without wasting time, Mihawk explained, keeping his voice low and deliberate.
"There’s been an unexpected development. Luffy’s modelling job... led her straight to the Figarlands.
The owner of GARLAND and apparently Shanks biological family. His father and well... his twin brother."

A silence stretched, thin and heavy.

Finally, Rayleigh's voice answered, colder now, "Put me through to whoever is in charge."

Without a word, Mihawk stepped back into the hall, handing the phone to Garling.

Garling took it, a frown already forming. "This is Figarland Garling."

He expected perhaps a rough, aged voice, some casual arrogance. Instead, what greeted him was cold, precise, deliberate, "This is Silvers Rayleigh," the man said. "Chief Justice of the Grand Line Republic and Shanks’ father."

Garling stiffened.

Rayleigh continued, his tone clinical, "I will explain this only once. Luffy is part of my family. She is my son's adopted daughter, protected under Article Nine of the Unified Family Act and further under the Grand Republic's Custodial Mandate. Any harm that befalls her, any emotional distress improperly caused and I will pursue full criminal liability under both international and your domestic law of Mary Geoise."

Garling blinked, thrown by the sudden torrent of perfectly phrased legal threats, it was like being bludgeoned with a law textbook.

Rayleigh didn’t stop.

"Failure to provide proper guardianship, endangerment of a minor, any kind of negligence, all are prosecutable offences carrying maximum sentences under judicial precedent. And I will see them personally enforced."

There was no anger in his voice — only cold, brutal certainty.

Garling swallowed, gripping the phone a little tighter. "I... understand," Garling managed, his voice more careful now.

Rayleigh’s voice dropped lower, almost intimate. "Good. Because if she so much as cries without reason, I will file motions so fast you’ll be buried in court orders before you realise you need to call your lawyer."

Garling felt a chill run down his spine.

"And," Rayleigh added, with terrifying casualness, "you won't win. We don't lose. Especially, I don't lose."

The line went silent for a moment, a deafening, heavy silence, before Rayleigh finally softened, just barely, "After the shooting ends, you and your son are to escort Luffy home. We will handle the family matters properly, face-to-face. And Dracule Mihawk stays with her. Always."

Garling exhaled slowly, feeling the full gravity settle on his shoulders.

"I understand," he said again, quieter this time.

Rayleigh’s voice finally relaxed a fraction.

"Good. I’ll speak to Shanks and the boys myself. Sabo, her middle brother, will arrive the day after tomorrow."

Without another word, the line clicked dead.

Garling lowered the phone, staring at it for a moment, feeling something heavy settle over him before giving it back to Mihawk. He hadn’t just spoken to any man, he had spoken to a wall of iron, disguised behind a casual name and a disheveled appearance who raised his younger son.

The morning sun slipped through the tall curtains in soft stripes of gold, lighting up the quiet room.

Luffy stirred slowly beneath the thick comforter, her head resting on a firm chest that rose and fell in an even rhythm. Her little fingers clutched at a dark, familiar fabric — Mihawk’s sleeping shirt, just barely wrinkled.

Still half-asleep, she blinked up at the ceiling.

She remembered... vaguely... brushing her teeth, yawning mid-sentence, and Mihawk picking her up like she weighed nothing. She remembered his voice, quiet, steady, helping her change into her pyjamas. And then her mind went hazy with warmth and the scent of cedarwood. She had fallen asleep before even reaching the pillow.

Now, curled against his side, she nudged him gently.

“Uncle Hawkey...” she whispered, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.

One of Mihawk’s eyes opened immediately — alert in an instant.

“Hmm?”

“I gotta go potty.”

He blinked, nodded once, and carefully untangled himself from the covers without waking her fully. In moments, he was up and guiding her to the bathroom, wordlessly crouching to help her with her routine. He didn’t fuss, didn’t talk much, just quiet efficiency, gentle hands, and the occasional flick of his wrist to fix her bedhead.

By the time they returned to the main room, Luffy was more awake, yawning wide, her hair tamed into two crooked little pigtails.

They joined Whitebeard at the long breakfast table, already laid out with fruits, toast, eggs, and a suspiciously large jug of syrup.

“Well, well, good morning, sunshine!” Whitebeard greeted, his grin stretching wide. “Sleep well?”

Luffy climbed up beside him, nodded sleepily, and reached for a slice of toast. “Uncle Hawkey tucked me in,” she said matter-of-factly, as if announcing the weather.

Mihawk sat at her other side, already sipping dark coffee, his face unreadable.

Whitebeard chuckled. “Of course he did. Angel deserves royal treatment, gurararara.”

A few of the crew, bleary-eyed and straggling in behind them, exchanged quiet glances.

They were halfway through toast and fruit slices when Kuma approached, clipboard in hand, towering as always, though somehow gentle in his steps.

“My name's Kuma. I'm the shoot coordinator. Today’s a preshooting day,” Kuma said, his voice low but calm. “We’ll keep it light. Let her get used to the space and team.” With a quick smile, he gave Mihawk notes and walked over to the rest of the crew.

Luffy nodded solemnly, munching on a strawberry. That’s when the doors opened.

Garling and Shamrock entered, both looking as if they'd stepped out of a magazine. Behind them trailed two photographers and a man who, even from across the room, drew the eye.

He was probably in his thirties, dressed in sleek dark layers. With tanned skin, shoulder-length black hair swept back and a smile that teetered between charming and dangerous, he looked every inch the model he was. And more than that, with his sharp jawline, dark brown eyes and high cheekbones, he could have passed for Luffy’s father.

The room paused.

And then, like a switch had flipped, Luffy leapt off her chair.

She bolted across the room and threw herself full-force into Shamrock’s legs. “UNCLE SHAMMY!” she shouted, laughing.

Shamrock froze—again—caught completely off guard. His hand hovered awkwardly over her back before finally settling there.

Pedro blinked, startled. Kuma raised one brow behind his clipboard.

Even Garling looked mildly stunned.

A quiet ripple moved through the nearby assistants. “Did she just…?” someone whispered.

Whitebeard, never missing a beat, popped a piece of pineapple in his mouth and grinned.
“She knows who her people are,” he said proudly. “Like a little homing missile.”

Luffy looked up at Shamrock with big, shining eyes. “Are we doing pictures today?”

Shamrock cleared his throat, then nodded stiffly. “Yes... we are.”

Luffy's eyes grew even bigger. “Do I get to wear sparkly things?”

Shamrock cleared his throat stiffly. “Yes, uh… there will be... wardrobe options.”

Garling clapped once, regaining his composure. “Luffy, this is Pedro,” he said, gesturing to the striking man beside them. “He’s one our lead models for this season. He’ll be working closely with you during the shoot.”

Said man offered a warm, charismatic smile. “Nice to meet you, Miss Silvers. You’re even cuter than your file said.”

Luffy blinked, then tilted her head. “You have pretty hair,” she announced.

Pedro crouched slightly to meet her eye level. “Thank you.”

Luffy studied him. “You look like me and Ace,” she said.

Pedro smiled. “You think so?”

Luffy nods with a wide smile.

Kuma continued scribbling, though his eyes flicked briefly to Garling, whose jaw was just a shade too tight.

Pedro straightened. “Well, that’s good. We’ll look great on camera together.”

Luffy gave him a firm nod, as if officially approving him. Then she turned back to Shamrock and grabbed his hand. “Are you gonna be there too, Uncle Shammy?”

Shamrock blinked down at her, then nodded. “Yes… I think I am.”

One of the younger stylists at the far end of the room gave an incredulous scoff under her breath. “She’s calling the COO Uncle Shammy now?”

Garling exchanged a look with Pedro and Kuma, his expression unreadable. The balance of control in the room had shifted again, quietly, irrevocably.

“Alright, then,” Garling said. “Let’s make sure she feels at home today. Shamrock, please make sure Mr. Dracule always stays close.”

“Poor souls,” Whitebeard muttered behind his cup. “She runs the place already.”

Luffy walked between Shamrock and Pedro, one tiny hand in each of theirs, the trio making their way through the halls toward the studio space. Her steps bounced with the kind of energy only a well-rested five-year-old could have. Pedro and Shamrock exchanged an amused glance as she began to chatter, rapidly and without pause.

“My brother Sabo is done with school,” she said proudly, tilting her head up toward Shamrock. “He’s gonna be a doctor. Not the ouchie kind though. He says he’s gonna do brains. That’s the inside of your head, y’know?”

Shamrock blinked, mildly startled by the sudden academic leap. “A doctor… of the brain?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded sagely. “And Ace does kendo. He’s got a sword like Uncle Hawkey. But it’s wooden. He says real swords are for grownups.”

Pedro grinned. “Sounds like you have some cool brothers.”

“I do,” Luffy said without hesitation. “They’re the best.” She paused, then leaned in a little conspiratorially. “I’m gonna start school soon too. Because I’m big now.”

“Oh really?” Pedro asked, with a soft smile.

“Yep. And my best friends are Koby, Zoro, and Sanji. Koby's very smart and likes numbers, Zoro always gets lost but he’s strong, and Sanji can cook like, everything.”

Shamrock looked down at her, processing the sheer amount of information she was firing off like cannonballs. “That’s… quite the group.”

Luffy beamed. “We’re gonna be in the same class, I think. Zoro said he’s not scared, but he is. I can tell.”

Pedro laughed, charmed. Shamrock, his steps steady and posture still formal, gave a faint smile. “And what about you? What else do you do?”

“I do ballet!” she said proudly, standing on one foot for two steps before wobbling. “And I’ve got sparkly shoes. Real ones. Not play ones.”

Shamrock raised a brow. “Impressive. Have you ever seen a horse before?”

Luffy blinked, considering. “Only in books and on TV.”

“Well,” Shamrock said, glancing at Pedro, “we’ll be shooting with one later this week. Maybe we should visit it first. So it doesn’t scare you when the time comes.”

Her eyes widened. “A real horse?”

“Yes,” Shamrock said, a little more gently now. “We can go see it. It’s not far. Would you like that?”

Luffy gave a breathless nod. “Yes please.”

Just a few steps behind them, Mihawk and Whitebeard trailed in silence, close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough to let the moment belong to the three in front.

“She’s taken to him,” Whitebeard muttered lowly.

Mihawk’s eyes didn’t leave Luffy. “She knows how to pick people,” he said evenly.

Whitebeard gave a short hum of approval, watching as Luffy began to pepper Pedro with questions about whether horses liked apples or if they wore pyjamas when they slept and how they poop.

And up ahead, Shamrock walked quietly beside her, her tiny hand still wrapped in his, like it had always belonged there.

Mihawk stood just off to the side of the paddock, arms crossed, watching Luffy with his usual unreadable calm. She stood on tiptoes, reaching up to stroke the horse’s muzzle with wide-eyed reverence. The animal snorted softly, but Luffy didn’t flinch, only giggled in awe, her fingers tracing its velvety nose.

Mihawk’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out, checked the caller. Shanks.

With a quiet sigh, he answered — switching to video.

Before he could speak, Garling drifted into view like a shadow, deliberately positioning himself just behind Mihawk’s shoulder, where he could see the screen. Mihawk noted it without looking, and lowered the phone slightly.

Avoiding the call now would only raise suspicion.

The screen lit up with the image of Shanks in a dimly lit bedroom — shirtless, tangled in white sheets, hair a red explosion of sleep and shamelessness.

“Morning,” came the familiar voice, still thick with sleep. “Just woke up. How’s my girl?”

Mihawk blinked. Just woke up? His eyes narrowed faintly. Then it clicked, they’d only flown north. Time zones hadn’t changed.

“It’s past nine,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Late night.” Shanks stretched with a yawn, then thumped his chest with a fist, revealing the crimson-lined anchor tattoo across his skin — LUFFY inked above it like a banner over his heart. “Look, I’ve still got my priorities straight.”

Mihawk huffed a reluctant chuckle and tilted the phone. “She’s meeting the horse for the shoot. One moment—”

“LUUUUUUUFFYYYYYY! BAAAAAAAABY!” Shanks bellowed with theatrical volume.

Luffy’s head snapped around, eyes lighting up. Spotting the phone in Mihawk's hand, she sprinted across the stable, arms flailing joyfully. “DAAAAAADDYYYYY!”

Shanks’ expression melted into something warm and full. “There’s my girl.”

She bounced to a halt beside Mihawk, glowing with joy. “Uncle Hawkey slept in my bed, but this morning I went with Uncle Shammy—”

“Uncle who?” Shanks said, voice suddenly flat, the warmth drained in an instant.

Mihawk, without missing a beat, repositioned the phone, just enough that Luffy was no longer in the frame. His tone stayed calm.

“One of the local staff. She gives everyone nicknames.”

From the side, Garling inched closer, clearly trying to see the screen. Mihawk ignored it.

Shanks squinted. “Nicknames, yes. Uncle privilege not so much. So, what’s this about Shammy?”

His gaze flicked to someone behind the camera: Garling had quietly stepped closer, in range of the screen. Mihawk’s mind worked fast.

Before Luffy could chime in again, Mihawk smoothly cut in. “Oh—Shanks, something just came up. We’re being called to prep for the pre-shoot. Timing’s tight.”

He turned to Luffy. “Say goodbye, Princess.”

Luffy pouted but gave a big wave. “Byeeee Daddy! I love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Shanks said. Then, a little sharper: “Mihawk, hold on—”

Mihawk ended the call.

A beat of silence passed. He slipped the phone back into his coat with a faint click, his expression unchanged.

Garling stared, not angry, but visibly calculating. “You didn’t want him to know,” Garling said slowly.

“No,” Mihawk replied. “Not like that. Not over a call. His father will tell him.”

Garling didn’t argue. Just watched him for a moment longer, then nodded once.

Meanwhile, Luffy had already bounded back toward Shamrock, shouting, “Uncle Shammy, the horse has eyelashes!”

Whitebeard let out a low chuckle. “Gurararara. You’re going to be in so much trouble when the brat finds out.”

Mihawk sighed and adjusted his collar. “I’ve faced worse.”

But his eyes followed Luffy, softening just slightly as she twirled around, arms out like wings.

Despite the hour, the house was quiet, until the heavy creak of a door broke the silence. Rayleigh didn’t knock. He never did.

He pushed open the double doors to Shanks bedroom, three coffee cups in a carrier in one hand, a folded newspaper tucked under his arm. The smell of espresso reached the room before he did.

Shanks was still in bed, half-tangled in linen sheets, red hair a wild halo on the pillows. The tattoo on his chest was just visible beneath the blanket, rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.

“Get up you lazy bum,” Rayleigh said, dropping the tray onto the nightstand with practiced ease.

“I fell asleep after talking to Luffy and a very rude Mihawk,” Shanks grumbled, rubbing one eye. “Ugh. What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“Too late for you to still be horizontal,” Rayleigh said, pulling the curtains open. “And you’ll want to be vertical for this.”

Before Shanks could ask, the door creaked again. Ace padded in, yawning, still in lounge clothes.

“Grandpa brought coffee, it must be serious,” Ace mumbled, collapsing into the armchair near the balcony.

Shanks straightened. “What’s going on?”

Rayleigh handed them each a cup, then turned to Shanks. “There’s something you need to know.”

Shanks groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes. “You only say that when something's about to spike my blood pressure.”

Rayleigh didn’t sit. He remained at the foot of the bed, face unreadable. “Luffy met your biological family.”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant.

Shanks sat up, the sheet sliding to his waist. “Come again?”

Rayleigh’s voice was calm. Too calm. “Everything's under control. She’s safe. Mihawk’s with her. Whitebeard’s nearby. It wasn’t planned, the company turned out to be theirs.”

Shanks stared at him like he’d been slapped.

“You mean GARLAND?”

Rayleigh nodded. “Their name is Figarland—apparently, your birth name. I just happened to be on my computer at the time, normally I’d be watching your mother cook around that hour, as you know. The name rang a bell, so I looked it up, and sure enough, it was one of the censored names on the officially released participant list.”

Silence followed.

“What do you mean my daughter is with those monsters?! That means they left me behind on purpose? I need to get Luffy away from these disgusting human beings as soon as possible.” Shanks roared, his voice echoing through the high ceiling. Ace blinked.

“She’s fine,” Rayleigh repeated firmly. “Happy even.”

Shanks was already out of bed, tugging on a sweatshirt. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Coincidence,” Rayleigh snapped. “And once the shoot’s over, they’re coming here.”

Shanks paced, wild-haired, eyes burning. “You think I want brunch with the people who threw me away like spoiled leftovers?”

Rayleigh didn’t budge. “I want to know why they kept your twin.”

Everything stopped.

“…My what?”

Rayleigh’s jaw tightened. “From what I’ve found out, you have a twin. Shamrock. They kept him.”

Shanks stumbled back, as if the floor had shifted. His voice cracked. “I wasn’t… enough?”

Rayleigh’s gaze softened. “I don’t know, son, but we will find it out eventually. That’s why I arranged this.”

Shanks turned away, gripping the dresser. “Thank god it’s the weekend. I need a drink.” His voice dropped. “Ace, you’re flying out today. You’ll be with her. I'll talk to the school.”

Ace nodded, jaw tight. “Of course dad, I won’t leave her side.”

Shanks didn’t respond. He crossed the room to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a crystal decanter of scotch and poured himself a glass with a steady hand. He took a long sip before even reaching the couch.

Rayleigh finally exhaled, turning Ace, who looked as if the floor had dropped beneath them.

“Ace, you know he was adopted,” Rayleigh said quietly, “but there’s more to the story. I told your father the same thing just a few months ago. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him sooner. Maybe I thought there’d be a better time, or maybe I just didn’t want to reopen old wounds. But he deserved to know  and so do you now, since you’re going to stand face-to-face with these people.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking older than either of them had ever seen him.

“It was almost thirty-five years ago. Shakky and I were home when the doorbell rang. By the time I opened the door, no one was there. Just a note taped to the wood.”

He paused.

“It said: ‘Check the bin. There’s a surprise.’”

Ace paled.

“I thought it was some prank,” Rayleigh said. “But then I looked. And there he was. Four years old. Curled up in a dumpster. Together with another boy who left us many years ago.”

Shanks looked away, jaw clenched, his fist white-knuckling the glass.

Rayleigh’s voice roughened. “He had a small backpack. A letter, some photos.”

He ran a hand through his silver hair.

“The letter said he’d been found in a treasure chest on a battlefield. Some small island, steamrolled during a conflict. The Mafia from Mary Geoise destroyed it, the people either died or were taken. They created a human-hunting-event. Perverted bastards.” He paused and took a deep breath. “An old friend... my best friend actually, rescued my son, but it took him nearly a year before he could reach us. He didn’t know his origin. Just that his name might be Shanks, because he was holding an embroidered blanket and when he asked, you nodded, son.”

Rayleigh’s eyes darkened.

“And now we know that the Figarland family, the ones behind GARLAND, the ones based in Mary Geoise were part of that atrocity.”

He turned to Shanks. “The photos showed you half-dead. Covered in blood. Cuts. Filth. Like you’d crawled out of hell.”

Ace’s voice cracked. “Dad was a toddler? Like Luffy?”

Rayleigh nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Exactly like Luffy.”

Silence settled over the room like dust.

Finally, he added, quietly, “We took one look at you, Shanks, and that was it. You were ours. You still are. Your mother and I, we love you.”

He looked at Shanks again, softer now. “If they really are the ones who left you behind… we, you deserve answers.”

Shanks didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He stared down into his glass, voice low and tight. “They kept my twin.”

Rayleigh nodded. “Seems like it.”

The words sat in the room like lead.

After a long pause, Ace finally asked, “You okay, Dad?”

Shanks let out a bitter laugh into his drink. “No. And I'm worried about Luffy. These people are monsters.”

Rayleigh watched him in silence for a beat. Then, softly, like a vow. “She’s not alone. She’s your daughter and she's strong.”