Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The smoke of Gray Terminal still clung to the air like a ghost.

Luffy sat alone near the edge of the forest, her small body trembling as tears ran silently down her cheeks. The ache in her chest was too heavy, too wide. It wasn’t just sadness anymore, it was emptiness. 

“We lost Sabo…” she whispered to no one.

Footsteps came crunching through the dry grass. Ace approached her, arms crossed, eyes shadowed. His jaw was clenched tight and his voice was sharp.

“Stop crying.”

Ace stood over her, silent, unmoving.

His hands were shaking.

He didn’t understand why it made him so angry. Why her sadness felt like it was pressing down on his lungs, suffocating him. Why every tear that hit the dirt sounded louder than the flames that had taken Sabo away.

Luffy looked up, startled, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I—I can’t…”

“I said stop crying!” Ace snapped and in one fast motion, he slapped her. Not hard enough to knock her over, but hard enough to sting.

Luffy froze. Her eyes went wide. “Sabo never hit me,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “He was a good brother. He never…”

Ace’s face twisted in anger. “So what, huh? You wish it was me who died instead?”

“No!” Luffy shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Shut up,” he said.

She didn’t.

“I said shut up!”

He grabbed her by the front of her vest, yanking her upward. “Why can’t you ever stop?!”

“A-Ace—” she gasped, voice caught in her throat.

And then he hit her. Again. The back of his hand caught her cheek, hard, knocking her sideways into the dirt.

She went quiet. Just for a second.

Then she curled up, arms over her head, body trembling.

Ace froze.

His hand hovered where it had swung, fingers still tense.

“You think this is hard for you?” he growled, though his voice shook now. “You think you're the only one who lost him? I lost him too! And now all I hear is your crying, every damn minute, like I'm not grieving too!”

She said nothing. She didn’t move.

“You know what he said? He said we’d have to take care of you. That you’d get worse with age. That you’d start bleeding and whining and needing things we’d never understand.”

Ace laughed—harsh and hollow.

“Well, guess what? I don’t want to understand. I don’t want any of it. You’re gross. You’re loud. You ruin everything. And now you’re trying to say he was better than me?”

Still she said nothing.

“You can forget it,” he spat. “Forget the sake. Forget being siblings. That was his idea. Thanks for saving Sabo and my treasure but without Sabo, there’s nothing left.”

His voice dropped, one final blow. “I NEVER WANTED A SISTER! And if I could choose, it wouldn't be a crybaby like you.”

And then he turned, leaving her in the dirt, the side of her face red and stinging, her chest hollow and aching.

She didn’t cry this time.

The jungle wrapped around her like a cradle of silence, broken only by the rustle of wind through the leaves. Luffy sat beneath the great roots of an old tree, arms wrapped around her knees, her face buried in her beloved straw hat. Her eyes were swollen from crying, though no tears fell anymore.

“I miss you Sabo…” she whispered into the dark. “I miss you so much.”

Hours passed and slowly, her sorrow hardened into something quieter. Heavier. A decision.

She wasn’t going back to the treehouse. Not to Ace. Not after that. He doesn't want her, he told her so.

Luffy hurried to an old storage trunk where they stored their spares. The trunk groaned softly as she lifted the lid. The smell of damp wood and dust met her nose, but her fingers dug through old cloth and scraps until they brushed against worn cotton.

Two of Sabo’s shirts. One faded and soft with age, sleeves too short now but still heavy with the comfort of memory. The other far too large for her, the fabric stiff in places from dirt, but it still smelled like Sabo, like home.

She pressed both shirts to her chest, then reached deeper.

Wrapped in an old square of linen, tucked carefully away, was her collar.

Dark leather, soft and flexible to the touch—but strong. Surprisingly strong.

She ran her fingers over it slowly, then smiled, just faintly, through the exhaustion in her bones. The metal tag had dulled over time, but the engraving remained clear.

ACE & SABO — one side.

She turned it over.

SHANKS — the other.

It had been a gift from Gramps, given just before he left her with Dadan.

She remembered it clearly, sitting on his knee, swinging her legs as he fastened it around her neck the first time: “This one’s special,” he’d said that day, pulling her onto his knee, his voice rough but almost gentle. “A buddy o’ mine made it. Custom marine material—top-grade, but flexible. See?” He'd twisted it in both hands, showing how it bent like fabric, but never tore, never broke. “Shifts with you. You wear it as a kid, it fits. You wear it as a monkey, it fits. You grow up to be an adult and a fine marine, still fits.” He'd grunted softly, ruffling her hair.

“This ain’t for ownership,” he told her. “It’s for loyalty. For trust. You ever meet someone you trust with everything you get their name engraved on it. Not because you belong to ’em. But because if something ever happens, if you lose control… you’ll always be brought back to someone who’ll keep you safe, to the person you trust most.”

He had handed her the collar with a gruff pat on the head, muttering something about how she’d probably never use it anyway.

Sabo had written that part for her. She couldn’t write herself, not yet. But she remembered holding out the collar shyly, mumbling, “Can you write Ace’s name? And yours? Can you… can you add Shanks name too? Please?” 

Sabo had chuckled, kneeling down with a rock and a bit of patience.

“Sure. One side for your brothers. The other for your hero, huh?”

He had made sure the letters were clear—big enough for anyone to read.

Now, Luffy stared down at the names. Her hands trembled. The sight of that first side ACE & SABO twisted in her gut.

Ace had said he never wanted her. That she was too much. Too emotional. And now Sabo was gone.

She picked up a sharp stone from the dirt. Her hand trembled.

Very carefully, she etched a rough line through ACE. Not to erase it—she couldn’t do that. But to mark it. A scar, carved into memory.

Now, it read:
ACE & SABO

She sniffed hard, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry… Ace. I love you.”

But she couldn’t carry his name like this. Not after what he said. Not after how he made her feel.

She stepped outside, bag in her hand, Sabo’s shirts packed neatly inside and crouched low in the grass.

A deep breath.

Her body shimmered, twisted, changed—fur spreading across her limbs, her form shrinking into something light, quick and unnoticed.

A little monkey.

Gramps had shown her how, long ago. He’d scratched his head and sighed, watching her transformation. “Thought you’d end up like me, big old gorilla. Turns out you’re a little thing. But that’s alright. You’re a girl. Being cute suits you.”

She hadn’t understood then. She did now.

Luffy hasn't worn her collar in months, Ace and Sabo promised her to always find her, no matter where she is.

She slipped the collar around her neck and fastened it carefully. The leather was snug, comforting. The metal tag rested cool against her collarbone.

Not because I'm owned, she thought, but so I can find my way back. To Shanks.

With her tiny bag slung across her back, stuffed full with two of Sabo’s shirts and the oversized straw hat, carefully folded and wedged inside though it bulged awkwardly against the seams. She crept toward the main harbour of the Goa Kingdom, sticking to the shadows. Her eyes scanned faces. Her small ears twitched, straining to catch voices, names, anything familiar.

Hours passed. Dock workers shouted, merchants bartered, nobles sneered. Then, she heard it.

“—headed for the Grand Line tomorrow. Probably pirates.”

Her breath caught.

Grand Line… Shanks talked about that. That’s where he is.

She knew who to follow.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the little monkey with her collar fastened tight and a bag nearly the size of her own body turned her eyes to the horizon and began her quiet journey.

Three months passed.

The ship was massive, far bigger than anything Luffy had ever seen in the Goa Kingdom. She had no idea who the crew was or where they were going. What she did know was this: they moved fast, they traveled far and they always had food.

At first, she only came out at night. A scrap of bread here, a bite of dried meat there. Just enough to quiet the growling in her belly. The kitchen was enormous, always warm and always filled with smells that made her stomach twist with longing.

But the ship's cook… was a problem.

He was huge. Bald. His belly stuck out like a barrel under his apron and he always seemed to be just about to turn around whenever she dared creep in. The first week, she barely made it out alive. One night, as she scurried across the counter toward a bag of apples, she heard heavy footsteps behind her—and when she turned, he was standing there.

Not saying a word. Just holding a cage. A small iron trap, clearly meant for something exactly her size.

She'd frozen in terror, hands shaking.

But before he could lunge, someone else had called out from the deck and the cook stomped away, cage still in hand, muttering about "filthy pests with hands."

That was when she learned. Take less. Move faster. Stay small.

After that, she became a shadow in the galley. Quick as a flicker of light, never greedy, never loud. A half-chewed biscuit here. A chunk of carrot there. A spoonful of stew, only if it was already dripping down the side of the pot.

Sometimes, she'd watch the cook from the rafters while she chewed. He never seemed happy, but he worked hard. His hands were rough, always moving. Chopping, stirring, tasting, cursing.

She didn’t know where the ship was going. Days passed in sunlight. Nights passed in fog.

Then, one morning, everything changed.

She had curled up behind a stack of crates on the upper deck. The sea air had been normal the night before, salty, warm. But when she woke, everything felt wrong.

The light was too sharp. The air was too thin. And below her, clouds stretched out like white deserts.

Clouds?

She peeked out cautiously and nearly fell off the crate.

They weren’t on the ocean anymore. They were in the sky.

The ship floated through the clouds like a dream, sails billowing without wind, strange metal pipes puffing faint steam from hidden valves.

For a full day, she clung to the rafters, too afraid to move, stomach turning with altitude and confusion.

Then, as suddenly as they had risen, the ship dipped again. The next morning, the sea was back beneath them, rolling waves, gulls overhead, salt on the breeze.

That evening, voices floated up from the galley, where she perched in the shadows like usual.

A deckhand stepped inside, shaking snow from his coat.

“We’re in the North Blue, Chef.”

There was a grunt from behind the stove. The big bald man didn’t look up as he stirred a pot, scowling.

“Great. Time to dig out those damn winter root recipes again. The captain said we'll stay here for about a year.”

Luffy’s ears twitched. North Blue? A YEAR?

She didn’t know much about the world, just what Gramps and Makino had mentioned and a few things Shanks had said with a grin. But one thing she did know: this is not the Grand Line.

Her little hands gripped the beam tighter.

Somehow, she had made it across the sky to another sea. And Shanks… was nowhere in sight.

It was the shouting that woke her.

Harsh and sudden, cutting through the creaking rhythm of the ship like a blade. Luffy flinched where she was curled between sacks of dried beans and salt barrels, her bag clutched tight against her chest. Instinctively, she made herself smaller, curling tighter, hiding her face in the fabric of her bag.

More yelling followed. Familiar now. The chef. Loud, angry and always just a little wheezy when he got mad.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Another voice came through, apologetic, male, younger but older than Ace and Sabo. “I’m sorry! Give me all your food! I'm very sorry!”

Luffy peeked around a crate, curiosity outweighing caution.

Three figures moved through the kitchen like a storm. Two boys with funny hats, one lean and nervous, the other with red hair and way too much energy, were grabbing food with both hands, stuffing it into bags, mouths, sleeves. A huge white bear plucked whole baskets of vegetables from the shelves and tucked them under one massive arm like they weighed nothing.

The chef shouted again, trying to grab a spoon as a weapon, but before he could do much more, a third boy entered the room. He wore a dotted hat. And he was cool.

Even the bear paused.

The chef pointed the spoon at him. “You! You’re the little pirate brat people talk about?!”

The boy just smiled, tilting his head. “Who knows?”

Then he does something funny with his hand and the chef slumped to the floor.

Luffy’s eyes widened.

The cool boy turned to the others. “Alright. Got what you need? Let’s go.”

They filed out, bags full, grinning, arguing about who stole the best stuff. The bear gave a calm little wave to the unconscious chef on his way out.

Luffy didn’t even hesitate. She put her bag on her back and scurried after them on silent feet.

She didn’t know who they were. She didn’t know where they were going.

But the bear was so cool. The boy with the dotted hat was even cooler. And the yellow metal box floating beside the ship—part boat, part junkpile, part mystery—looked like it belonged in a storybook.

Before she could second-guess herself, she followed them. No plan. No questions. Just the instinct to maybe something to find good.

Luffy had done her best to stay invisible inside the weird ship.

For days, she moved only in the quiet hours, scuttling through the vents or slinking across warm pipes, keeping to the belly of the yellow ship where no one looked too closely. She only ever came out to drink water from a leaky valve or nibble on food she'd stolen from the kitchen while no one was looking.

But luck, as always, had limits. This time, it ran out just after dawn.

The hiss of steam must’ve loosened something. One of the vent covers popped open with a metallic clank and before she could dart back, she tumbled out, straight into the open galley.

And landed in front of them. Three boys and the bear.

She froze. So did they.

“What the hell?” one blinked, dropping a fork.

“Is that... a monkey?” another one whispered.

“I thought we had a rat problem,” muttered the bear.

Before anyone else could move, a calm, cold hand grabbed the scruff of her neck. In a blink, she felt a blade press lightly against her throat—sharp, surgical, unhesitating.

The one with the dotted hat now stood in front of her, a gaze like molten gold. Pretty.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise his voice. Just watched her like a problem to be solved.

Luffy stared back, motionless, heart pounding against her ribs.

“You move,” he said softly, “and you lose the ability to.”

Her little fingers twitched.

Then, with a startled chirp, she launched herself out of his grasp in one blur of fur, panic and instinct she landed neatly on the massive white bear’s shoulders.

Bepo blinked. Shachi and Penguin lost their minds.

“NO WAY!” one whooped. “Did you see that?!”

“It just—bam! Right on Bepo like he’s a tree!”

“This is the coolest monkey ever! Law, can we keep it?”

Law sighed. “Bepo. Can you communicate with it?”

The bear looked up at Luffy, who was now clutching one of his ears for balance.

“Can you understand me?” Bepo asked gently.

Luffy hesitated… then gave a small nod.

Penguin fell over laughing. Shachi wheezed. “Oh no. This thing’s sentient!”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perfect.”

He stepped forward, adjusting his gloves. “My name is Trafalgar Law. I’m the captain of this ship. Cause trouble and I’ll kill you. These are Bepo, Shachi and Penguin.”

Luffy chirped again, almost cheerfully and shifted like she wanted to jump on Law's shoulders next.

Before she made it halfway, she froze in midair, hovering weightless, caught in Law’s ability.

“So,” he murmured, drawing her gently down and turning her by the collar, “I wasn’t mistaken. You are domesticated.”

He examined the leather collar around her neck—dark, highest quality, the metal plate engraved.

“One name’s been scratched out… ‘Sabo.’”

Luffy let out a quiet whimper and pointed frantically to the back of the tag.

Law flipped it over.

“‘Shanks,’” he read aloud. “Hm. That name I have heard.”

He looked to Bepo. “See if we have any posters or records with the names ‘Sabo’ or ‘Shanks.’”

Bepo nodded and padded off without a word.

Law returned his attention to her.

“All right. You’re likely carrying something. Parasites, disease, gods know what. You’ll be checked, cleaned—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Luffy shrieked and flung herself backwards, legs kicking wildly.

“Stay put!” Law snapped, holding her midair again with ease. “If you refuse to bathe, you’ll be locked up. Understand?”

Luffy, trembling, gave a fast nod.

“Good.” He exhaled. “At least you seem like a somewhat intelligent monkey. And… a little cute.”

He tossed her lightly to Shachi, who caught her with a grin.

“I love this monkey,” Shachi said.

Penguin poked at her side. “Are you a girl or a boy?”

Law raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn around. “Doesn’t matter. If it bites someone, it’s still getting put in a cage.”

Luffy clung tightly to her bag, eyes darting between all of them. She didn’t trust them yet, but they hadn’t hurt her.

The trouble started with the bag.

Penguin crouched beside the little monkey who had now curled up in a nest of towels and ropes near the ship’s boiler, hugging the tattered bag like it held her soul.

“C’mon, little guy,” he said, reaching out. “You can’t keep that filthy thing. We’re gonna clean you and everything you touch.”

The monkey hissed, a sharp, startled sound, clutching the bag tighter.

“Hey! I’m not gonna steal your bananas or whatever’s in there,” Penguin muttered, trying again.

He got one finger under the strap before the little thing exploded.

With a flurry of screeches and tiny fists, the monkey went feral. Claws raked Penguin's sleeve, feet kicked at his chest and for one horrific moment, he was in a full-on wrestling match with something the size of a small pumpkin that somehow had the strength of ten men.

“SHACHI!” he yelled. “It’s killing me!”

Shachi ran in—and then immediately howled with laughter.

“You’re losing to a monkey!”

“IT’S A DEMON, SHACHI—”

Eventually, with much bribing and half a mango, they managed to wrest the bag away and hold the shrieking monkey at arm’s length.

“Bath time!” Shachi grinned.

By the time they got her into the giant barrel they used for laundry, Shachi was soaked, Penguin had scratches across his nose and Luffy was screaming at a pitch that surely cracked at least one window on the lower deck.

“I THINK I’M BLEEDING INTERNALLY,” Penguin declared as he held her down.

“If you scream any louder, Law might hit you,” Shachi grunted, scrubbing foam behind the tiny, twitching ears.

Suddenly, the monkey had stopped fighting, but not in the good way. One moment it was all claws and teeth and the next, its little body slid under the water with barely a sound.

“Whoa—wait, WAIT!” Penguin shouted, reaching in too late. “It’s sinking!”

Shachi stared, horrified. “Monkeys can swim, right?!”

“I don’t think this one can!”

The tiny figure thrashed once beneath the soapy water, limbs sluggish, mouth opening in a silent scream. Bubbles rose. No strength left.

“PULL IT OUT!” Shachi yelled, already diving halfway in.

Penguin caught the slippery wrist, the monkey's fur weighed down like sodden rope. He and Shachi hauled it up together, limp, dripping, gasping.

Luffy coughed violently, choking on water and pure terror and then screamed. An awful, wild sound, full of panic and instinct and fear.

Both boys flinched. It was like holding a drowning kitten that thought it was dying.

“Shhh, it’s okay—it’s okay!” Shachi tried, fumbling with the towel, wrapping it awkwardly around the shaking body.

But the monkey thrashed harder, trying to claw away from the water, the towel, everything.

Then, the door slammed open.

Law stood there in the frame, expression unreadable. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, calm, sharp.

The monkey shrieked again, trying to scrabble up the side of the barrel with waterlogged arms.

“It just—just stopped swimming!” Penguin gasped. “We thought monkeys could—!”

Law didn’t answer.

He stepped forward, grabbed the wet bundle from their arms with one hand and lifted it effortlessly, like a towel-wrapped fruit.

Luffy went completely still. Her breath hitched and her wide, wet black eyes locked on Law’s face.

Then, a second later, she began to whine, exhausted little hiccups that wracked her trembling body. She buried its soaked head against his chest, clutching his coat with small fingers.

He's like Ace...from before, Luffy thought. 

Law stared down at it in silence.

Shachi was still frozen. “Cap’n…?”

Law adjusted the towel slightly, tucking it around the monkey’s tiny shaking shoulders. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then, so quiet they almost didn’t hear it, he muttered, “…Cute.”

Penguin blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Law snapped. “You’re both idiots.”

Luffy let out another tiny, pitiful cough. Law didn’t seem bothered. He just let her stay there, trembling against him, small fingers still clenched in the fabric of his coat like it was the only thing in the world.

“Next time,” he added coldly, “don’t drown the wildlife.”

Shachi nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Penguin saluted the monkey. “Sorry, little guy.”

Law’s eyes narrowed. “We still don’t know what it is. Or where it came from.”

The monkey didn’t answer.

It just curled tighter into the warmth, the echo of drowning still burning in its tiny lungs

Law had been trying to find clues about the monkey's origin in their animal encyclopaedia for over an hour, but he couldn’t concentrate.

The monkey had not moved. Not when he paced, not when he sighed loudly in protest, not even when he shut the book with a snap. The steady warmth of tiny limbs wrapped stubbornly around his torso like a personal heater that refused to be unplugged.

The monkey, small enough to fit neatly in his palm, hadn’t left him alone since the moment it’d decided he was safe. Or tolerable. Or just the least likely to throw it overboard. It was light. Barely half a kilo, more like four hundred grams, he guessed. Maybe fifteen centimeters tall at best. Soft, scruffy fur, wide black eyes and a way of gripping his coat that made him feel like a walking tree.

“Alright,” he muttered, glaring down. “You win. You want attention? Fine.”

The monkey blinked up at him, wide-eyed.

Law crouched so they were level, hands on his knees. “You can understand me, right?”

A nod.

“Good. Then answer this, are you male or female?”

The monkey tilted its head.

“Boy or girl?” he clarified.

After a beat, it lifted one trembling finger and pointed to itself, then made a soft, unsure chirp.

“…Female,” Law murmured, narrowing his eyes. “Got it.”

He stood up and walked toward the door. “Now get off, I need to piss.”

The monkey clung tighter.

Law groaned, trying to pry her off. “Let—go—”

But her arm stretched slightly as he pulled.

He froze. “…You ate a Devil Fruit, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

Law’s expression sharpened. “What kind?”

She hesitated again, then just shrugged.

“You're human, aren't you?” Law asked and the little monkey nods.

“Of course you are,” he muttered. “Can you turn back into a human?”

She shook her head.

“…You can’t? Or you won’t?”

The monkey looked down. Slowly… she nodded.

“So you can, but you’re not doing it.” He folded his arms. “Why?”

She made a face. A scrunch of her tiny nose, as if she bit into something sour.

“…Scared?” Law asked softly.

She didn’t answer right away. But then, Luffy nodded.

He studied her a moment longer. “How old are you?”

She tilted her head.

“You… don’t know?” he asked.

She hesitated, then used her two tiny hands to show seven fingers. Slowly, carefully.

“…Seven.” Law narrowed his eyes. “In human years?”

She nodded.

“You’re a kid.”

She nodded again.

He leaned back, studying her with slightly more concern now. “You’re not even an adult. That explains your size. You don’t weigh more than a couple hundred grams, do you?”

The monkey just blinked, her tail curling around his wrist.

“Great,” Law muttered. “A pocket-sized seven-year-old monkey girl with abandonment issues. What could go wrong.”

She chirped quietly and tucked her face into his coat.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get cozy. I’m not a babysitter.”

But she didn’t move.

Law sighed and gently peeled her back, just far enough to look into her eyes. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated. Then pointed to the collar still loosely hanging around her neck. Law gently pulled it forward, eyes scanning the tag.

The second name had been crossed out. Not scratched, not smudged, deliberately cut through, like it no longer counted.

“I saw this earlier,” he murmured. “You didn’t react like either of these was your name.”

The monkey avoided his gaze.

He tapped the tag once. “Are these your family?”

She paused. Then slowly, softly, nodded.

Law narrowed his eyes. “Shanks isn’t a name I’ve heard outside a few bounties. Sabo I’ve never even come across.” His gaze lingered on the scratched-out name. “And Ace… that name’s gone.”

He looked back at her. “None of these are your name, are they?”

She hesitated. Then pointed a single small finger at the side that read SHANKS.

Law raised an eyebrow. “That’s not much of an answer. But fine.”

He exhaled. “Now let go. I need thirty seconds of personal space before I snap and perform emergency heart surgery on a primate.”

No movement.

There was a long silence.

“…Fine,” Law muttered. “Whatever. I don’t care what form you’re in. But I do care about not pissing myself.”

He peeled her off gently, set her on the ground and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

When he stepped back out, she was sitting cross-legged in front of the door, like a tiny, furry guardian waiting for her emperor’s return.

Law stared at her.

“You’re seriously gonna be like this, huh?”

She chirped and raised her arms.

He rubbed a hand down his face. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Still, he crouched.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Hop on.”

And without hesitation, she did — curling up around his shoulders with the ease of someone who’d already decided he belonged to her.

Dinner aboard the Polar Tang was always a bit of a controlled mess. With Bepo trying to keep everyone’s plates full and Penguin and Shachi locked in their usual competition over who could eat more before choking, the chaos was familiar.

But tonight, it was different.

Because Law had to keep pulling bits of food out of his coat.

“Stop that,” he hissed, slapping the small monkey's fingers. She’d taken to stealing noodles straight from his plate or worse, his mouth with zero shame and a shocking amount of stealth.

The monkey chirped softly and stuffed a dumpling into her cheeks.

“Eat. Normally,” Law snapped.

Penguin raised a brow. “Dude, it’s a monkey.”

Shachi nodded, equally confused. “You want it to use chopsticks?”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked up, tone flat. “She’s not a monkey.”

The table went quiet.

“What?” Bepo asked, ears twitching.

Law exhaled. “She’s a human. A child. Devil Fruit user. Apparently permanently shifted into this form. At least for now.”

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Bepo slowly got to his feet, walked around the table and crouched beside Law’s chair. The little monkey turned her head to him, big eyes wide.

Gently, he patted her fuzzy head.

“…You’re a human? I'm sorry...” he asked softly, crouching lower to be at eye level. “Can you talk in this form?”

The monkey opened her mouth, trying but only a strangled croak came out. She closed it again, visibly frustrated.

Penguin leaned forward, curious. “Can she do sign language?”

The monkey shook her head.

“That’s a good idea, Peng,” Bepo said thoughtfully. “Captain, can we pick up a sign language book at the next port? In case she doesn’t want to or can’t shift back?”

Law considered this, then gave a single, short nod. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

The monkey looked a little overwhelmed now, her eyes darted between their faces, uncertain. She fidgeted with the sleeves of Law's coat, clearly wanting to say something but unable to.

Shachi leaned over the table, smiling. “Hey. We wanna talk to you, okay? If you can’t use your voice, we’ll figure out other ways.”

“Yeah,” Penguin added, grinning. “You’re part of the crew now.”

Law raised both eyebrows. “She is?”

Shachi shrugged. “Well, she lives here, doesn’t she? And she's cute.”

The monkey looked around the table, then tucked herself tighter into Law’s side, quietly chirping as her tail curled over his arm like a ribbon.

Law sighed. “Fantastic. I’ve adopted a mute, clingy, noodle-stealing monkey.”

Bepo chuckled. “She is kind of cute, though.”

Law didn’t answer, but he didn’t disagree either.

The dinner had mostly quieted down, aside from the occasional clink of cutlery and Penguin’s valiant attempt to balance a spoon on his nose.
The monkey sat nestled between Law and Bepo, finally chewing her food like a civilised being… mostly.

Then Bepo cleared his throat and gently placed a crumpled piece of paper on the table in front of her.

A wanted poster. Luffy blinked. Her tiny fingers trembled as she smoothed it flat.

“DEAD OR ALIVE — SHANKS — 1,040,000,000 Berries.”

That face. That hair. That grin.

Her breath caught. Her lungs forgot how to work. The room blurred into silence.

Then she bolted. One heartbeat she was there. The next she was gone. Poster clutched tight, feet pounding the floor as she fled the galley like something inside her had cracked.

She tore through the corridors, grabbed her bag without slowing, and sprinted down the narrow staircases, past flickering lights, rusted pipes, the hum of engines.

Skidding to a stop, she yanked the bag open. Out tumbled a too-big straw hat. Folded carefully. Still faintly smelling like Shanks, like home.

It hit the floor beside her. Her little hands gripped her face, then she convulsed. Not like before. Not smooth. Not easy.

This time, her shape resisted. Her fur rippled unnaturally. Limbs cracked and stretched, bones clicking back into a human frame with a sickening kind of grace. The monkey unfurled into a fragile girl: skinny, scraped, trembling.

She dropped to her knees and wrapped herself around the straw hat like it was the only thing keeping her from coming apart.

For a moment, there was no sound. Just shaking. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

Then the scream tore loose. A raw, ragged sob that echoed down the steel corridors like a siren.

“SHANKS!!” Her voice cracked.

“I—I miss you—!”

And then, “SAABOOOO!!”

She could barely form the name. Her voice shattered around it.

Her whole body curled tighter around the hat, fingers clenched so hard her knuckles whitened.

That was when Bepo found her. And when he saw her, his breath caught.

A little girl, curled on the metal floor in the half-light. Skin flushed. Knees scraped. Trembling. Hands buried in the straw hat as if it could hide her from the world.

But it was her face that broke him.
So small. So lost.

Long black hair clung to tear-streaked cheeks. A tiny scar beneath one eye. And those enormous black eyes. Eyes no child should have, like they’d seen too much, lost too much.

Bepo’s chest ached. She looked like she had no one left.

He crouched slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, and sat beside her. He didn’t touch her. Just… waited.

Then he looked again. She wasn’t just crying. She was bare. Clinging to nothing but that hat. Her small body curled in on itself, shivering, not just from grief, but cold.

He couldn’t stand it.

Wordlessly, he pulled off his shirt. He leaned forward and gently draped it around her like a blanket. Not like a stranger offering comfort, but like a brother shielding something precious.

“Here,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be cold, too.”

She didn’t look at him. But her hands clutched the shirt, pulling it closer.

Bepo exhaled, slowly. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re not alone anymore.” It was the gentlest sound he’d made in months.

There was a long silence. Then, quietly he spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t run, either.

“What’s your name?”

Her lips moved, a hiccup, a breath.

“…Lu—”

Then she froze. Like saying her name had broken something inside her. Her eyes widened. She slapped her hands over her mouth.

Bepo swallowed. Carefully.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “My name’s Bepo. It’s nice to meet you, Lu.”

Her eyes shimmered.

And then, she changed again. Limbs trembled. Skin gave way to fur. Her body compressed back into a tiny monkey. One hand dragged the straw hat with her.

She curled into it like a nest, tail wrapped over her face and wailed.

Warmth. That was the first thing Luffy noticed.

Not the usual engine-heat of the ship or the comforting press of her old hiding spots, this warmth moved. It breathed. It held her.

She stirred faintly, still curled into a trembling ball, tucked deep inside the oversized straw hat she carried like a second skin.

She didn’t fight. Her tiny monkey hands twitched once, weakly, as her body inside the straw hat was pulled against something steady and strong. Fur. A soft, already familiar scent.

Bepo.

Her bag bounced lightly against his side, he’d picked it up too, slinging it over his arm without thinking.

He said nothing. Just walked. Up stairs. Down quiet corridors. Through the hum of the ship, which felt quieter than usual.

When they reached the upper deck, the others were waiting.

Law stood with his arms folded, his sharp eyes immediately drawn to the bundle of straw and fur in Bepo’s arms. Shachi and Penguin sat rigid on the bench near the galley, their dinner cold, their faces pale.

Bepo stopped in front of them.

No one spoke.

“She changed,” Bepo finally said. His voice was quiet. “Back into a human. In the engine room. I suppose you heard her.”

Law’s brows furrowed.

“I followed her,” Bepo continued. “She’d grabbed her bag and the poster of course. Hid herself down there. And then…I'm sorry,” He exhaled.

Law hadn’t said a word.

He just stood there, eyes fixed on the tiny shape curled up inside the straw hat in Bepo’s arms. Only the tip of a tail showed, a tiny hand twitching, her whole body trembling with the effort of staying small — of staying hidden.

Bepo glanced up at him. “She told me her name’s Lu,” he said softly. “If she didn’t... she’d honestly be absolutely adorable.”

Law didn’t respond. Not immediately.

He stared just a moment longer, not with cold calculation, but something else. Something tight in his chest. Something he didn’t have a name for. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Bepo looked down again at the little bundle in his arms. She hadn’t moved.

A minute later, Law returned. In one hand, he held a thin, slightly frayed gray cloth — not just any blanket, but the last piece of fabric Corazon had ever wrapped around him. Soft with age. Heavy with memory.

He stepped in front of Bepo and crouched slightly.

“Let me see her,” he said.

Gently, Bepo tilted the straw hat up, revealing the tiny curled-up monkey still clutching the rim like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

“Come here, Lu,” Law said quietly, reaching in.

She stirred faintly but didn’t resist as he lifted her. She fit in his hands like something impossibly small, impossibly breakable.

With fingers steadier than they should’ve been, Law folded the worn cloth into the inside of the straw hat, tucking it in like a makeshift nest. A little piece of his past, offered to cushion someone else’s pain and maybe, just maybe, ease the tight pull in his own chest.

Then he lowered her back in, letting her settle into the softness.

“There,” he murmured, adjusting the edges of the hat around her. “Now it’s a little softer.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but her trembling eased the slightest bit. Her tail flicked. Then, unexpectedly, it curled gently around his wrist, a soft, tentative gesture, before letting go again.

Law froze.

For a moment, the sensation lingered and something unexpected stirred in him. A small smile crept onto his face, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

The other three boys bit their lips, not daring to say a word. If they did, they’d get one of his usual angry outbursts and they didn’t want Lu to think it was because of her.

Law straightened slowly, stepping back.

And for a brief second, his gaze lingered on her, as if trying to commit to memory the feeling of being appreciated, being needed. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to face, but perhaps, already had.

Later that night, the ship was quiet.

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, lights dimmed, the hum of the ocean against the hull a steady rhythm in the dark. Law stood just outside his quarters, straw hat in one hand, the tiny curled-up monkey nestled inside.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. The room was plain, meticulously clean. A narrow bed, a desk covered in charts and half-sorted notes, a coat hung on the wall.

With a soft breath, Law set the straw hat down on the bed and sat beside it.

“I figured out what you are, Lu,” he said quietly, like he didn’t want to wake the ship itself. “You’re a black-headed squirrel monkey. The size, the tail, the ridiculous energy—it all fits. Though honestly, the picture in the book doesn’t do you justice.”

A small flick of her ear told him she was listening.

“And when we reach the next island,” he added, tugging off his boots, “we’ll get some seeds. Nuts. Maybe fruit. So you can stop stealing from my plate.”

His tone was dry, but not unkind.

Luffy peeked up at him, just for a moment, then gave a small, warm smile.

Something warm and unexpectedly soft stirred in Law’s chest at the sight. It was, in his opinion, incredibly adorable.

Then, slowly, she stretched out her tiny hands toward him, palms up, fingers splayed slightly. A silent request.

Law blinked, confused. “…What?”

He stared at her hands, at her wide, expectant eyes. He didn’t move. He didn’t know how to move.

Whatever she’d been hoping for, comfort, maybe, or just a hand to hold, she didn’t get it.

And it showed.

Luffy’s face fell. Not dramatically, but enough. Her arms lowered. She pulled back.

Visibly dejected, she turned away and burrowed into the blanket, wrapping herself tight in its folds until only the faint curve of her back remained visible.

He watched in silence as she nestled against the old fabric, Corazon’s blanket, now offering comfort to someone else. The way she curled in on herself stirred something deeper in him. Something he wasn’t sure he had the words for.

He stood again, shrugged off his jacket, then paused and looked down at her.

“If anything happens tonight,” he said, “wake me up. Don’t just sit there and take it. I know what it’s like, being alone.”

He didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one.

Still, when he lay back, he left one hand close to the rim of the straw hat. Just in case.

The next morning, the sun hadn’t yet broken through the ship’s portholes. The cabin was grey-blue with early light. Law stirred.

His first thought was that something felt different. Warmer.

He opened his eyes.

There, curled up directly on his chest, her head nestled against the crook of his neck, was the tiny monkey.

Her tail was wrapped around one of his wrists and her small arms, extended with her weird rubber power, had stretched up and over his shoulders, paws gripping the fabric like she was holding him in place. Like if she didn’t, he might vanish.

She was fast asleep. Her breathing slow and even, her fur rising and falling with each breath, twitching slightly from whatever dreams stirred behind closed eyes.

Law didn’t move.

“…You’re lucky I’m not a violent sleeper, Lu,” he muttered, voice dry but low enough not to wake her.

He tilted his head slightly, enough to feel the warmth of her tiny cheek against the curve of his neck. The weight was barely there, she couldn’t have weighed more than one of his books but the way she clung to him like a lifeline made his chest ache more than he was ready to admit.

His hand twitched. Don’t do it, Trafalgar. She's not a pet!

She sighed softly in her sleep, one hand gripping tighter as if sensing the thought.

He exhaled through his nose. Slowly.

Then, reluctantly, almost against his will, he lifted his free hand, brought it up to gently stroke her fur, just once, along the back of her head.

She didn’t wake. Instead, her grip tightened slightly. Her face nuzzled a fraction closer into the warmth of his throat.

Law stilled, heartbeat oddly loud in his ears. He let his hand rest lightly against her back, fingers splayed across the soft, impossibly small frame clinging to him. This tiny monkey who wasn’t really a monkey, had been alone out on the sea with nothing but a beat-up bag, a hat far too big for her and a grief that looked too heavy for someone ten times her size.

His eyes drifted down, catching the faint glint of the metal tag attached to the collar around her neck.

'Ace' was scratched out with a deep line. Not just erased, violently removed. Someone had carved through the metal with enough force to leave a scar.

Law stared at it for a long time.

The name 'Shanks' meant something. He was gaining notoriety fast. A powerful pirate making waves in the New World. A red-haired man with a reputation for doing the unexpected.

But 'Sabo'… that was a name Law didn’t recognize at all. No bounty posters, no newspaper articles, no chatter on the seas. Just a name etched into a child’s collar.

Law’s throat tightened. He dragged his eyes away from the tag and looked back at her. His chest ached.

She wasn’t just a castaway or a Devil Fruit oddity. She hopefully was someone’s everything. Or had been.

Still tucked into his neck, arms around his shoulders like she was anchoring herself to something solid in a world that had turned to water beneath her feet, buried against his throat like it was the only safe place left in the world.

What was the connection? What kind of life had she lived before drifting into their care, half-feral and entirely alone?

“…Who the hell are you, Lu?” he whispered, so quiet it barely left his lips. “And what did they leave behind?”

But there was no answer.

Just the soft warmth of her breath against his skin… and the weight of a story she hadn’t told yet.

Over three months passed since Luffy vanished.

The days bled together and Ace sat where the fire used to be, knees drawn to his chest, hands caked with old ash. The clearing looked the same, but everything felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet. Like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for a laugh that would never come.

He looked at the blackened ring of stones, trying to remember how it felt when she sat too close to the flames. When Sabo would groan and tug her back and she'd stick her tongue out before curling up by Ace’s side, tail flicking, smiling like there was nothing safer in the world.

She used to sit on his shoulder, gripping his shirt like it was hers. Sometimes she’d tug on his ear until he looked up, just so she could beam down at him with those wide, shiny eyes and say he was the coolest person alive. 

She really believed it. She was the only one who ever looked at him like that. When she was especially brave, she gave him a peck and said, "Love you, Ace!"

And he told her to go. No, worse. He told her she didn’t belong. His fingers curled into fists, shaking.

She cried when Sabo died. Sobbed until she could barely breathe. And what did he do? He yelled at her. Told her to shut up. Told her that Sabo never would’ve wanted her anyway. Then he hit her.

He hit her for crying. His breath caught in his throat.

She looked so small that night. She didn’t even argue. Didn’t scream or fight back. She just looked at him… quiet. Like something in her had gone cold. Like she'd finally understood.

His voice cracked as he muttered into the dirt.

“I chased her away.”

He had searched every inch of the island. Twice. Climbed every tree, screamed her name until his lungs gave out. No tracks. No scent. Not a single sign of her. Not even a hint of fur.

She was gone. And she hadn’t looked back.

When Gramps came, the storm broke loose.

The old man didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.

“You were supposed to look after her!”

Ace didn’t fight back. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even raise his arms.

Because Garp was right. When the barrage finally stopped, Ace was on his knees in the dirt, blood in his mouth and silence in his lungs.

He looked up at Garp, hollow-eyed and said only:

“She’s gone. I'm sorry, but I lost her.”

Garp didn’t say a word. He stared at Ace for a long time, then turned and walked away without another word.

Now, every night, Ace sat by the fire that wouldn’t light, the ashes colder than his bones.

He didn’t sleep anymore. Not really. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Sabo’s smile. Luffy’s tears. And the last time he saw her face—not angry, not screaming, not even sad.

Just… blank. Like she finally realised she wasn’t wanted. He buried his face in his hands.

Gods… what have I done?

And when it did, it dragged him into dreams soaked in guilt.

Luffy’s tear-streaked face, begging him not to fight. Sabo’s voice in his ear, calm and tired: “She looks up to you, you know.”

And then, his own words, like knives: “I NEVER WANTED A SISTER!”

He dug his nails into his scalp, gasping. What had he done?

He had nothing left. Not Sabo. Not her. Not even the strength to lie to himself anymore.

“I lost her…”

He dug his hands into the soil like he could hold the world together if he just gripped hard enough.

“She loved you, Sabo… more than anything. And I—You died and she cried—and I hit her for it.”

The words stuck in his throat.

She always smiled. Even when she was hungry. Even when he was cruel. She was always smiling. She trusted him. She looked up to him like he was worth something. And now she was out there. Somewhere far away. Alone. Probably hungry.

“She thought I was someone worth loving…” His voice broke. “And I broke her.”

He lowered his head to the ground and stayed there, waiting for the guilt to bury him.

“She was just a little kid… just a stupid little monkey…”

His fists slammed into the ground, again and again, until his knuckles bled.

“And I chased her away.”

The jungle watched in silence as Portgas D. Ace, the wild boy of the Gray Terminal, the one who never cried, buried his face in his hands and wept for the family he had destroyed.

Chapter Text

There was a soft knock at the door.

It creaked open a moment later and Bepo peeked inside, only to freeze in the doorway.

Law was still in bed, hair sleep-tousled, a blanket rumpled around his waist. And curled squarely on his chest, arms tightly wrapped around him like a straitjacket come to life, was the tiny monkey.

The monkey’s head was tucked beneath his chin, her breath slow and even against his throat. Her tail had wound itself snugly around his left wrist, effectively anchoring him in place like a living cuff.

Bepo blinked.

A slow, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, already beginning to retreat.

But Law, expression unreadable, lifted his free hand and waved him in. Bepo stepped quietly inside and shut the door behind him.

Law sighed, tilted his head back against the wall, and let his eyes drift down to the small bundle rising and falling with each soft breath.

“Lu,” he said softly, palm resting over the warm curve of her back, “wake up.”

Nothing.

She burrowed deeper into his chest.

Law narrowed his eyes slightly and gave her a gentle shake. “Lu. Come on. I’m hungry. Bepo already made breakfa—”

He didn’t even finish.

In a flash of fur and rubber limbs, Luffy sprang from his chest, launched across the room and latched onto Bepo like a tree she hadn’t climbed in months.

Law watched the blur of movement vanish from his lap with an exhale.

“…Didn’t think a kid could be this food-motivated,” he muttered, flexing his freed wrist. “Like a Labrador with thumbs. But here we are.”

Bepo chuckled softly as Luffy settled on his shoulder, already nosing toward the hallway.

“I’ll take her to the kitchen.”

Ten minutes later, three crew members and one very alert monkey were gathered around the breakfast table.

Law entered last, running a hand through his hair. He sat with the air of an old man who hadn’t had coffee yet and wasn’t sure if he was about to regret existing.

Luffy, however, had other plans.

She slipped from Bepo’s shoulder without a sound and made her way across the floor with determined little steps. When she reached Law’s chair, she climbed up effortlessly and planted herself squarely in his lap.

No invitation. No hesitation.

She rested her tiny hands on the table, eyes fixed intently on his fork.

Law arched a brow.

Then, without even glancing at her, he picked up his utensils. Or tried to.

Only one hand moved freely.

The other, he realized, was trapped. Again. Luffy’s tail had curled possessively around his left wrist, tethering it tightly to his side.

He looked down at her. She looked up at him.

Those impossibly wide, pleading eyes said everything.

Across the table, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin watched, half-stunned, half-grinning, as their captain quietly gave up the fight.

He began to eat one-handed, awkwardly balancing plate and fork.

Her tail tightened around his wrist and her gaze hadn’t strayed an inch from his fork.

He sighed through his nose.

“We’ll try to make landfall today,” he said, nudging a half-slice of toast to the side. “Somewhere small. I want to get you proper food. I don’t know how human food messes with your system when you’re like this.”

Luffy’s lips curled into a sulky pout and she flopped dramatically against his chest with a whine like he’d just declared he’d never feed her again.

He stared at her, unimpressed. Another sigh.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, smooth stone.

He flicked his fingers and murmured, “Room.”

The familiar soft hum of spatial energy filled the air, casting a faint shimmer over the table. The crew watched silently as Law’s fingers twitched in the air.

“Shambles.”

In a blink, a bright red apple appeared in front of Luffy’s nose.

Her eyes went wide and immediately reached for it. Law caught her wrist mid-motion, pinning her tiny hand gently but firmly in place.

“Wait,” he said with his usual dry calm. “Let me cut it. I’m not wiping juice out of my coat for the rest of the day.”

He reached for a knife and began slicing the apple with practiced efficiency, each piece neatly arranged on a napkin in front of her.

Luffy looked pleased at the work done in front of her, while nibbling on the first slice like a squirrel, cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed.

Law looked up slowly, expression unreadable and met the wide-eyed stares of his crew across the table.

He raised one brow.

“I don’t want my lap soaked in fruit juice,” he said evenly. “Any complaints?”

Penguin raised both hands in surrender. Shachi bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying not to laugh. Bepo only smiled.

Luffy, oblivious to all of it, had flopped her upper half across the table, tail still curled around Law’s wrist, happily working her way through the second slice.

Law stared at her for a beat longer, then silently passed her the third piece.

He said nothing. He just kept feeding her.

They didn’t reach land the next day.

Or the day after that.

It wasn’t until the third morning, pale light breaking over a grey sea, that an island finally crept over the horizon, small, white, quiet, ringed by low cliffs and mist. The kind of place Law liked best: no Marines, no chaos. Just enough civilization to buy supplies and vanish again.

The crew was already gathering on deck, stretching after days confined below. Bepo padded up the stairs first, followed by Shachi and Penguin.

Law stepped out last, coat flaring slightly in the breeze. Nestled beneath it, like something soft and stubbornly attached, was Luffy.

She’d curled herself around his neck, not just resting, but looped. Her little body draped like a living scarf, head tucked into the hollow of his throat, tail coiled lazily down one of his arms and wrapping gently around upper arm.

The moment the wind touched them, she buried herself deeper. Law didn’t flinch, he simply adjusted the coat slightly to shield her from the wind.

Law paused on the steps, glancing down with one brow raised. Her fur trembled slightly.

“Cold, Lu?” he asked.

In response, she let out a soft, drawn-out chirp, higher-pitched than usual, faintly muffled by his shirt.

Bepo, already at the railing, turned with a grin. “That’s a yes.”

Penguin laughed. “Long chirp means yes, right? Two short ones for no?”

“Unless she’s annoyed,” Shachi added. “Then it’s three chirps and some very aggressive tail gestures.”

Law rolled his eyes. “We’re becoming fluent in monkey.”

“She’s expressive,” Bepo said diplomatically.

Truthfully, the crew had figured out more than just chirps.

Between her strange noises and the occasional outburst of wailing fur, they’d pieced together more than Law expected.

With time and a lot of dramatic wailing, they learned that Luffy had two brothers. Ace and Sabo. The names on the collar. That something had happened to them or why Ace's name was crossed out, she couldn't say without choking on her own spit, but they were gone. That's all they have to know regarding those two.

Another thing they learned was that she isn’t related to Shanks. But she was looking for him anyway. Needed to find him. No one had asked why. Not directly.

But Law had seen it in the way she clung to that hat. The way she looked out windows as they crossed open water. The way her tiny hands gripped the edges of his coat when she was tired, or scared, or just needed to know someone was there.

And now, as they approached land, she made no move to jump from his shoulder. No excited bouncing. No curious chirping.

Just that one long sound and a body pressed tightly against his neck.

Law adjusted his grip, letting one hand rest lightly over her back beneath his collar, shielding her from the wind.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s find you some damn nuts.”

When Luffy curled even tighter around Law’s neck with a soft whimper, he didn’t push her off. He just adjusted his coat again, shielding her more fully, and stepped off the gangplank onto dry land.

They had managed to get a decent stash of rations for Luffy. Nuts, seeds, dried fruit, and whatever else the island market had to offer that seemed vaguely “monkey-appropriate.” Luffy had sniffed each pouch like a truffle pig and chirped with approval. She’d even tried to swing into a fruit stall but was intercepted mid-leap by Law’s collar-grab reflex.

On their way back to the ship, Law paused in front of a modest apothecary. A bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, Luffy still curled loosely around his neck like a sentient scarf.

The shopkeeper glanced up and froze.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man said politely but firmly. “Pets have to wait outside.”

Law blinked. For a moment, he just stared.

Then he sighed.

“She’s not—” he began, but cut himself off. It wasn’t worth the explanation.

Turning, he stepped back outside where his crew was waiting.

Luffy lifted her head groggily from his collar.

“Sorry, Lu,” he murmured. “He doesn’t know you’re a person.”

She let out a long, offended whine.

Law ignored it and looked at his crew. “Which one of you is wearing the warmer coat?”

Shachi and Penguin looked at each other. Bepo perked up immediately, hopeful.

“I am, I think,” Penguin said, tugging at his collar.

“Good.” Law nodded once. “She’s cold.”

He reached up and gently unwound the monkey from around his neck. “Here. Take her. Lu, I'll be back soon.”

Bepo deflated slightly, ears drooping. He didn't say anything, but he looked away with an almost imperceptible pout.

Law noticed. “It’s not personal, Bepo. Your fur’s soft but the wind is too cold for her.”

“…Oh,” Bepo said, perking up again. “That’s fair.”

Penguin, arms awkwardly full of indignant monkey, looked up. “Uh. What do I do if she bites?”

“Don't bleed on her,” Law said and stepped back into the pharmacy.

Two minutes later, he stepped back out, bag of medical supplies in hand.

The street was empty.

He blinked.

“…Where are they?”

With a sigh, Law activated his power. “Room.”

A sphere of light expanded silently around him.

“Shambles.”

He disappeared and reappeared twenty meters away, directly in the middle of a chaotic, flailing group of crew mates.

Penguin was spinning in circles. Shachi was talking too fast. Bepo looked genuinely distraught.

“What,” Law said flatly, “happened.”

Shachi snapped around. “A woman said she wanted to touch his tail!” And pointed to Penguin.

Law closed his eyes slowly. It took everything in him not to sigh at the way that sounded.

He pressed two fingers to his temple. “And?”

“She came closer, real close and Lu just bolted,” Penguin said. “Like, poof. Gone.”

“So she’s out there,” Law muttered, “somewhere, small, traumatised and probably climbing a wall.”

He stared at the horizon and exhaled. “Great. Back to square one.”

They moved quickly, boots crunching over packed dirt as they retraced their steps to the marketplace.

Law’s coat billowed slightly behind him as he walked ahead of the others, jaw tight. Shachi kept scanning the rooftops. Penguin still looked pale. Bepo’s ears twitched with every small sound.

“Maybe she doubled back to the fruit stalls,” Shachi offered.

“Or the nuts,” Penguin muttered. “She really liked the almonds.”

They didn’t get far.

A sharp crash cut through the air, followed by shouting.

Then, glass shattered. A scream.

All four of them froze.

Law didn’t speak, he just broke into a run. The others followed instantly.

The streets had gone still. People parted like a tide, whispers trailing in their wake.

At the center of the commotion stood a man in opulent robes, a sapphire-studded brooch at his chest and a fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. His perfectly styled hair was disheveled now, powdered wig askew, and a vein pulsed at his temple with barely contained fury.

He held the tiny monkey up by the collar with one hand, as if pinching a rat. In the other, a pistol.

Luffy dangled from his grip, name tag swinging wildly. Her fur was flecked with glass and streaks of fruit stains. Behind them, the shattered remains of an extravagant carriage lay smouldering, windows blown out, wheels cracked and imported cushions speckled with half-chewed mango pulp.

“It burst through my carriage window!” the man was yelling to a gathering crowd of shocked nobles and guards. “In broad daylight! Knocked over my wine, attacked my driver and bit my steward on the wrist!”

Luffy flailed, eyes wide, panicked noises pouring from her throat. Her tail whipped around, ears flattened in terror.

“It’s feral!” the noble roared. “Who lets a thing like this run loose in a city?! I demand to know whose beast this is!”

“I’ll tell you,” came a voice like the cut of a knife.

The crowd shifted as Law stepped forward.

His coat was scuffed, his boots dusty and his hat low over narrowed eyes.

Law’s voice was calm. Cold. “She’s mine. And you’re going to let her go.”

The man scoffed, pulling Luffy higher. “Do you know who I am? This monkey just assaulted me! I could have you executed.”

“I could have your heart in a jar before you finish that sentence,” Law said flatly. “Let. Her. Go.”

The pistol raised an inch. The air shifted.

And in a blink, there was a scalpel in Law’s hand—so small, so precise, so lethal in the way he held it.

“You’re insane,” the man spat. “You think I’ll be threatened by a street rat with a scalpel? I could have you arrested in—”

“I don’t give shit,” Law said, voice soft but sharp as steel. “You laid hands on my crew. That’s the only thing that matters.”

The crowd murmured.

The man faltered, for the first time seeing the fire in those golden eyes, the unwavering certainty that the boy meant every word.

He dropped the monkey.

She didn’t hit the ground. She launched herself at Law, scrabbling up his coat and pressing herself under his chin, still trembling.

Law caught her with one hand, eyes never leaving the man.

“You’ll regret this,” the man hissed. “This is a kingdom, boy. Not some slum port or wherever you're from. There will be consequences.”

Law gave him the faintest smile, something icy and humorless.

“Then I’ll see you at the consequences.”

Law walked away, leaving a silent crowd and one very pale attendant clutching his wrist like it had been scorched.

Luffy climbed on his shoulders in the meantime and was yanking, tugging desperately at the collar around her neck.

Law’s breath hitched. He reached up and gently felt the collar.

“…Does it hurt?” he murmured.

Luffy didn’t respond with a chirp. She only gave another frantic pull, tail tightening.

With quick, careful fingers, Law unbuckled the collar and slipped it off her neck. She immediately relaxed against his head, fur bristling, but no longer straining to get free.

He pocketed the collar, then looked up again. He moved his hands to Luffy to remove the little glass splinters out of her fur.

Law straightened his shoulders, the tiny monkey now wrapping herself around his neck again like a trembling, living muffler.

Only Bepo leaned in, voice low. “You okay?”

Law didn’t answer. One hand lifted, absently brushing Luffy’s now clean fur. And she let out the softest chirp, barely audible.

The five of them had just returned to the Polar Tang and the moment the door sealed shut behind them, Luffy slipped from Law’s shoulder and vanished down the hallway like a startled shadow.

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course... Bepo?”

“I’m sorry,” Bepo murmured and followed her without needing to be asked.

The corridors were quiet and it didn’t take long for Bepo to find her. Law’s door stood slightly open. Unusual. He peeked inside.

The room was dim, the scent of medicine and paper lingering in the air. On the bed, the blankets were heaped and trembling. As he stepped closer, he saw her, Luffy, back in her small human form, curled tightly under the fabric. She was silent except for the wet, hitched breaths that gave her away.

Bepo moved with care, settling slowly onto the edge of the bed. He didn’t speak right away.

Eventually, the bundle of blankets shifted. Still hidden, Luffy inched across the sheets until she was pressed up against his side, seeking wordless comfort. Bepo laid a soft paw on the blanket, stroking it gently.

Meanwhile, just outside in the hallway, Law had paused mid-step. Something in his gut told him not to disturb Bepo and Lu. Penguin and Shachi lingered beside him, quietly. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. They listened.

Inside, Bepo asked gently, “Lu… do you wanna talk about it?”

Silence.

Then a quiet voice, muffled and cracking voice spoke up. “The last time someone tried to pet me… I almost got caught. I would’ve been, if my brothers hadn’t shown up.”

Bepo immediately knew who she meant, “Ace and Sabo right?”

“Yes. It was after I became their sister. I wanted to surprise them with how I look but instead they had to save me.”

“You mean… I thought they were your brothers?”

She nodded under the blanket. “We became siblings after we drank sake together. All three of us. They said it made us family.”

Her voice faltered, then continued, brittle and raw.

“But Ace said… he let me be their sister because I didn’t tell the thugs where their treasure was.”

Law’s brows furrowed. His fingers curled into fists. Behind him, Shachi’s jaw had dropped. Penguin looked like someone had punched him in the throat.

“…He said I earned it. Because I didn’t snitch. But it still… it still hurt. But being alone hurts the most.”

Law stared at the floor. His expression didn’t change but his jaw tightened, a muscle twitching. He said what?

Inside, Luffy whispered, “I didn’t want to be grabbed like that again. Not ever again. After I became their sister, I stopped wearing my collar. They always found me, even without my collar.”

Bepo exhaled slowly. “Lu… that man back there, he didn’t know you. And what he did was wrong. But we do know you. And none of us will ever let someone treat you like that again.”

More silence.

“I mean it,” he added, voice steady. “Law would’ve taken his arm off if you hadn’t gotten to him first.”

Still just beyond the threshold, Law blinked once. “Damn right I would have,” he muttered under his breath.

Then came Luffy’s broken little voice again: “Sabo… he died. In a fire.”

Penguin pressed a hand to his mouth.

“Ace…” Her voice cracked. “Ace said he didn’t want me. That I wasn’t his real sister. I only had Shanks left after that… before I met you.”

There was a pause, and then Bepo said gently, “You have us now. You have me. And Law. And Penguin. And Shachi. We’re not going anywhere without you.”

Inside, the blankets rustled. Luffy peeked out—just her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening.

“You promise?” she whispered.

“I promise,” Bepo said, his voice firm.

Out in the corridor, the other three were silent for a long moment.

Then Penguin muttered, stunned, “What the hell did that girl live through?”

Law didn’t answer. He just stared straight ahead, hollow-eyed.

Because despite everything he’d seen, and everything he knew of pain, he still hadn’t been prepared to hear something that. How could this Ace guy throw her away like this?

They lingered in the hallway for a long, silent moment. None of them spoke, there wasn’t much to say. The weight of what they’d just overheard hung thick in the air.

Then, finally, Law stepped forward and knocked gently on the door.

There was a pause… then a high-pitched squeak came from inside and before anyone could react, two tiny, furry arms stretched out from under the blanket, rubber-like and fast.

Luffy launched herself through the air and collided squarely with Law’s chest, arms immediately wrapping around his neck. She buried her face into the crook of it, nuzzling in like a small, grateful kitten.

The rest of the crew just stood there and blinked.

“…Wait,” Bepo said slowly, eyes narrowing, “I thought the monkey was some kind of Devil Fruit shift?”

Law shook his head with a quiet exhale. “No. It’s not… Her Devil Fruit’s probably some kind of rubber nonsense. I don’t think even she knows how it works.”

They all watched as Luffy practically melted against Law, letting out a tiny, contented sigh, her cheek rubbing gently against his cheek. She was clearly relieved, clinging to him like he was the only thing tethering her to the world.

And Law—well, he looked almost… smug.

“You’ve found your place, huh, Lu?” he murmured under his breath, one arm coming up to hold her steady while the other stayed at his side. A soft smile ghosted the edge of his lips, rare and barely there.

Law absently let his fingers brush through Luffy's fur, slow, repetitive, almost like he wasn’t thinking about it. She melted into the contact, half-asleep on his shoulder. He felt the soft, almost purring sound she made rather than heard it.

Then his eyes flickered up toward the doorway.

“And you two,” he snapped suddenly, voice sharp and perfectly on brand, “get out of my room.”

Shachi and Penguin jumped like they’d been caught stealing.

“We weren’t—”

“—Just checking—”

“Out.”

They scrambled, Shachi nearly tripped over his own feet trying to drag Penguin backwards through the doorway. Law didn’t even bother hiding his scowl as the door slid shut behind them.

Bepo lingered, still smiling faintly. Law glanced at him.

“Thanks for… dealing with this.”

Bepo tilted his head, looking mildly confused. “You know you don’t have to thank me, right? She’s… well. She’s one of us.”

Law was quiet for a beat. His fingers continued that lazy stroke down Luffy’s small back.

“…Yeah,” he muttered eventually. Barely above a whisper. “She is.”

Bepo’s smile widened. Just a bit.

Then he slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving Law to the quiet, the soft sounds of Luffy breathing, and the strange new realisation that his room felt… less empty.

Over the next few days, it became strangely natural to find Luffy perched somewhere on or near Law.

Whether she was curled around his neck like a living scarf, tucked into the crook of his arm during briefings, or lounging on the brim of his hat like a lazy cat, nobody questioned it anymore. Not even Law, who had long since stopped trying to shoo her away.

One afternoon, as the hum of the Polar Tang's engine filled the air, Penguin leaned down beside the table where Luffy sat in her monkey form, small paws curled neatly beneath her.

"Hey Lu," he grinned, "wanna check out the engine room with me? Gotta fix something, thought you might like to see it."

Luffy blinked once, then twice, before climbing up onto Law’s hat and letting out two sharp chirps.

Penguin recoiled, hand on his heart. “Did she just reject me?”

Shachi burst out laughing. “You just got turned down by a monkey, bro.”

“She’s not just a monkey!” Penguin protested, but the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Shachi leaned closer to Luffy, clearly undeterred. “Alright, what about me then, Lu? Wanna hang out with me?”

Another double chirp.

Shachi gasped dramatically. “Oh, Lu... My pride…”

Bepo, standing nearby with a data tablet, watched the whole thing unfold with open, unguarded fascination. His eyes were wide, ears perked, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Just then, Luffy turned and gave Law a sudden, unprompted kiss—soft and monkey-clumsy—on the side of his jaw and let out the brightest monkey-giggle so far.

Law barely blinked. He just huffed through his nose, adjusting his hat as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Come on, Lu," he muttered, standing. "Let’s see if you can read yet."

Luffy chirped and instantly leapt onto his shoulder as he turned and strode off towards his quarters.

Behind them, the three crew members stared, dumbfounded.

“Did that just happen?” Shachi asked.

“Yep,” Bepo said, still wide-eyed.

“…Is that normal?” Penguin asked.

There was a beat of silence.

“I mean, kids cling to people they trust, right?” Penguin mumbled. 

There was a pause.

Then Bepo, voice thoughtful, added, “She’s seven… and that’s just how monkeys show affection. But…”

He blinked slowly.

“…I’m pretty sure she’s got a crush on our captain.”

The silence that followed was immediate and then broke into loud laughter.

Penguin actually doubled over. “On Law?!”

“Oh my god,” Shachi wheezed.

Law, from a few steps away, turned his head just slightly. “I can hear you.”

“Sorry, Captain,” they all chorused with very little sincerity.

Bepo, meanwhile, just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

Law rolled his eyes but when Luffy chirped and lightly tugged at his sleeve again, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted to make it easier for her to climb into his coat.

Which only made the rest of the crew laugh harder.

Back in his quarters, Law set a small stack of books down on the desk beside him. He reached up to lift Luffy from his shoulder, placing her gently on the tabletop.

"Alright, Lu," he said, his tone halfway between stern and patient, "do you recognize anything in here?"

He opened one of the books to a page with large, simple text. Something clearly meant for children.

Luffy blinked at it. Then blinked again. She looked up at him slowly.

And let out two soft chirps.

Law sighed, long and deeply.

“…Right. We’ll work on it.”

He closed the book, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I should’ve guessed.”

For a while, they sat in companionable quiet, the hum of the ship surrounding them like a cocoon. Law leaned back in his chair, watching Luffy pick absentmindedly at the collar with her tiny fingers again.

“I’ll try to get that looked at,” he said suddenly. “Find a smith on the next island, maybe. Something simple, a different lock. Something you can open yourself if it happens again.”

He didn’t say what it was. He didn’t need to.

At once, Luffy let out a delighted chirp, scampered over, and threw herself at him, her rubbery limbs stretching as she wrapped around his shoulders, arms, and chest in an octopus-like hug. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck as she clung to him like a warm, living scarf, utterly content to trap him in her affection.

Then, before he could react, she launched herself off him and began hopping from shelf to shelf in joyful circles, as if the promise alone had filled her with boundless energy.

Law watched her with an almost imperceptible smile.

"Spirited little thing," he murmured.

He was glad for it. Glad that even after everything, she still had light left in her. Glad she was still fighting to shine.

A few days later, they reached a larger island.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon as the Polar Tang surfaced, steam hissing gently from its seams. The crew moved with quiet anticipation to the hatch, preparing to step out into the morning air.

Just as Law reached for the handle to open the door, a small finger poked his cheek.

He glanced down.

Luffy, perched on his shoulder, was pointing to the collar.

Her expression was clear.

“Are you sure?” Law asked, voice quiet.

Luffy chirped once in answer.

Law nodded, then gently removed the collar from her neck. She chirped again, brighter this time and tucked herself back against him.

The outing went smoother than the last. They stayed together, mostly. A few Marines were patrolling in town, so the group had to duck into alleys now and then, pressed close against walls and holding their breath.

At one point, when a cluster of Marines rounded a corner too quickly, Luffy darted off Law’s shoulder like a missile. She whistled and flailed and made a glorious mess of herself, drawing their attention completely away from the crew.

By the time she found them again, smudged with dust, but grinning, each of the boys ruffled her fr or patted her tiny head in turn.

Luffy preened, chest puffed up with pride. But Law noticed something else.

She kept touching her neck, just lightly, now and then. A flick of her fingers. A curl of her tail brushing the place where the collar used to be.

After a while, he crouched beside her. “Would you like something to wear instead of the collar?” he asked, watching her face carefully. “Something you can wear when we leave the ship?”

Luffy looked up at him with wide eyes, utterly silent.

Law took that as a yes.

“Wait here with Bepo, okay?” he said, lifting her gently and placing her into Bepo’s arms. “I won’t be long.”

Bepo blinked but held her securely. Luffy chirped softly, watching Law vanish into the crowd.

Law moved quickly through the streets, scanning signs until he spotted the shop he’d noticed earlier. A children’s boutique, small, neat, with racks of bright clothing displayed in the window.

He pushed the door open.

“Good morning!” the shopkeeper said with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a scarf or a bandana. And maybe some shorts. For a girl, about seven or eight years old,” Law replied, calmly but efficiently.

“Of course. This way.”

They led him to a shelf with small, soft, triangle-shaped scarves, most of them patterned or frilled.

“This one,” Law said, pointing to a simple yellow one with a snap fastener.

Next, they showed him some shorts. None of them were technically for girls but he picked a plain pair anyway, something practical. Sturdy. Doesn’t matter, he thought. 

When Law returned to the group, Luffy saw him and launched from Bepo’s arms as if it had been years instead of minutes. She tackled Law’s chest with a delighted chirp and the rest of the boys couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

“Missed me?” Law muttered dryly.

She chirped again and buried her face into his coat.

“Alright, hold still,” he said, gently looping the scarf around her neck. The yellow stood out, bright and bold against the soft golden fur at her legs but it suited her. Somehow, it looked like it had always belonged to her.

Luffy chirped with pure joy, wiggling in place and rubbed her cheek against his.

Law let out a quiet huff.

Things had actually been going well. Almost too well. They’d even stumbled across a tiny secondhand bookstore tucked between a tailor and a tofu shop. And in a dusty crate near the back, Law had spotted something surprisingly useful: a children’s picture book for basic sign language.

“Could be worth a try,” he’d said, flipping through it. Luffy chirped brightly and tapped one of the signs with both hands. Law raised a brow. Maybe this would actually help.

So of course. Of course Marines circled them.

It started with one pair at the market square, then two more near the bakery. And suddenly there were five of them chasing the crew down a side street, shouting orders and drawing weapons.

Law gritted his teeth and glanced over his shoulder. “What do they want from us?”

“I have no idea!” Penguin called, ducking under a low-hanging sign.

“I said we should’ve split up!” Shachi added, panting.

Bepo, who had snatched Luffy off Law’s shoulder mid-run, was now bounding beside him on all fours, the small monkey clinging tightly to his front.

“She would’ve gotten hurt!” Bepo huffed.

Law didn’t argue. 

They didn’t make it back to the Polar Tang.

At least, not right away.

The Marines had fanned out across the southern docks faster than expected and even Penguin’s quick call to the ship hadn’t been enough. They’d been forced to double back, through alleys, over rooftops, into the forest beyond the port.

Eventually, soaked in sweat and dust and sun, they found shelter: a cave tucked between jagged cliffs, hidden behind a curtain of moss and ivy.

Luffy curled tightly against Law’s chest, exhausted from the scramble and the noise. The others slumped against the cave wall, panting quietly, eyes still wide with adrenaline.

“We can’t go back yet,” Shachi muttered.

“They’ll be watching the coast all night,” Penguin agreed.

Law gave a small nod. His fingers threaded through Luffy’s fur absentmindedly. “We wait.”

The cave was deeper than expected, narrow at the entrance, but it widened the farther they explored. After some rest, Bepo took first watch while Law wandered farther in, needing space to think. He didn’t go far before he noticed something odd.

A tunnel. Old, worked stone lined the walls. Not natural.

It curved down into the dark, lit only by the faint glimmer of mineral veins and the occasional crack in the rock above. Some ancient mining path, maybe. Or older. Law hesitated, but Luffy, perched on his shoulder again tilted her head and chirped with soft curiosity.

Law took it as a sign. They walked.

It wasn’t long before they stumbled into what looked like a collapsed chamber, partially buried under rubble, half-caved in, moss-draped and lost to time. But something shimmered faintly in the far wall.

Not gold. Not stone. Steel.

Law approached slowly. Something stuck in the earth. Buried deep in what might’ve once been a weapons rack.

He tugged.

The weight of it felt grounding.

It came free with a shrunk of stone and a soft pulse of something deep and humming in his chest.

Kikoku.

She wasn’t polished. Her sheath had cracks and the grip was dusty and worn, but she was his. Unmistakably.

Luffy chirped, eyes wide and Law allowed himself the smallest, rarest of smiles.

“Looks like she was waiting for us,” he murmured.

When they returned to the others, Kikoku resting on his right shoulder, the monkey bright-eyed again, bouncing on the left shoulder like a prize-winning mascot, Penguin stared.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” Shachi whispered. “That’s a nice sword.”

“No way.”

Bepo blinked. “Wait. It was just… in a cave?”

Law didn’t answer. He just adjusted Kikoku and settled beside his crew, letting Luffy snuggle in close under his coat.

Somehow, she looked even more proud than he did.

The slam of the door echoed like a cannon shot.

Sengoku didn’t even look up, just sighed, loud and long, as Garp stormed into the room, fists clenched and jaw tight, seething like a pressure cooker ready to blow.

“Don’t tell me you summoned me,” Garp growled, eyes wild, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bloodless.

“I didn’t,” Sengoku said without looking up. “But since you’re here, we need to talk.”

Garp stopped in front of the desk and stood like a ticking bomb. The silence between them buzzed like a wire.

Sengoku finally looked up.

“You hospitalised sixteen pirates yesterday.”

Garp said nothing.

“Sixteen. That’s not counting the ones who were already dead. They’re laying down beds in Level One at Impel Down. That’s how bad it is.”

Garp’s jaw trembled, but not with guilt.

“They didn’t know anything,” he said.

“That’s not—”

“They didn’t know where she was!” Garp roared, slamming his fist down on the desk so hard the wood groaned. “Not one of them! I keep asking and asking and asking and they just look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Because you are,” Sengoku snapped. “You’re falling apart.”

“I should be falling apart!” Garp shouted, eyes red now. “She’s seven, Senny. Seven years old. Her birthday is in a month! She should be chasing birds or fighting monkeys. Drawing on the damn walls. Not lost somewhere on this cursed sea!”

Sengoku stood, slowly.

“Garp—”

“I searched everything,” Garp whispered, voice cracking, and the sudden change in volume was more painful than the yelling. “Every forest. Every ravine. I dove into whirlpools with my bare hands because maybe—maybe—she fell in. I haven’t slept in weeks. I haven’t eaten right. Every time I shut my eyes, I hear her calling my name like she used to. You don’t understand, Fleet Admiral. She’s all I have left.”

Sengoku froze.

Garp’s fists were shaking now. “It's all Roger's fault. All of it. Should’ve killed him myself. And don’t even get me started on that red-haired brat he raised.”

“Shanks—?”

“Yes, Shanks! The one who filled Luffy’s head with pirate dreams and handed her that ridiculous straw hat.”

His voice dropped, low and hoarse. “That little shit was supposed to be a brother to her.”

He looked away, jaw clenched. “So yes. It all goes back to Roger.”

Sengoku exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face.

“We’ve been over this, Garp.”

“I know,” Garp snapped. “But maybe one of those bastards knew something. Maybe someone knows where my granddaughter is.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, Sengoku slumped back into his chair.

“You know what the worst part is?” he muttered. “You still think this is about pirates. About Roger. About Shanks. But it’s not.”

Garp didn’t answer.

Sengoku rubbed his temples. “Take some leave, Garp. Before you break something we can’t fix.”

“I already did,” Garp muttered.

Another pause.

Then, with a tired sigh, Sengoku added, “I’m getting too old for this.”

“Tell me about it,” Garp said gruffly, reaching for the tin of crackers on Sengoku’s desk.

Sengoku slapped his hand away. “Don’t think you’re the only one with children problems. Here, look at this.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a single wanted poster, sliding it across the desk.

WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE – UNKNOWN – 80,000

The boy in the photo was only a teenager. Golden eyes, a white-spotted hat a little too large for his head, a nodachi leaning against his shoulder like it had grown there and taller than he is.

But what stood out most wasn’t the blade, or the bounty, or even the sharp look in his eyes.

It was the small, unmistakable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, faint, almost reluctant. Like someone who didn’t smile often, but had been caught in a moment where he forgot not to.

But it wasn’t the boy that made Garp’s heart stutter.

Perched on his shoulder was a tiny golden-furred monkey, its soft cheek pressed fondly against his, one hand curled protectively around the brim of his oversized spotted hat. Its eyes were wide and bright, reflecting something innocent and deeply trusting. The boy had one hand raised, palm open in mid-motion, as if about to offer it something and with its free hand, the monkey reached out to it.

Around its neck hung a tiny yellow triangle scarf. Embroidered on it, barely visible in the photo’s grain, was the unmistakable symbol of the so-called Heart Pirates.

The whole image looked less like a wanted poster and more like a quiet portrait, of a boy and his beloved pet.

“His name is Law,” Sengoku said slowly. “Trafalgar D. Water Law, but he goes by Trafalgar Law. He’s from Flevance. Or what’s left of it.”

Garp flinched at the “D,” but said nothing.

“Rosinante saved him from Doflamingo. Hid him. Gave him the Ope Ope no Mi. Called him his own. Died for him.”

“…Rosinante?”

Sengoku sighed. “Apparently, Law threatened the prince of some backwater kingdom in the North Blue last month. Over a monkey. He’s a pirate. I’m sure Rosinante would be disappointed but… what can I say? My son is dead.”

“...Luffy.”

“What now?” Sengoku asked, exasperated. “You see a pirate and your first instinct is to think of your granddaughter?”

“No,” Garp said slowly, tapping the image. “The monkey. That could be Luffy.”

Sengoku blinked, then looked at the poster. Then at Garp. Then back at the poster again. Finally, with a long groan, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She’s a Monkey… Monkey D.?”

“Of course she is, Senny,” Garp replied, mildly offended. “She’s my granddaughter.”

“And how the hell is a girl from the East Blue supposed to get all the way to the North Blue in four months?” Sengoku snapped.

Garp stared at the image.

That monkey… The way it sat. The crooked grin.

“She did grin like that when she was smug,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Sengoku closed his eyes. “This isn’t just grief anymore. This is delusion.”

“Wouldn’t you be delusional if it was Rosinante?” Garp snapped, voice cracking.

Silence again.

Sengoku didn’t answer right away. Finally, he sighed. Quiet. Worn.

“Yes,” he said. “I would be.”

“That monkey—”

Sengoku looked down, voice quiet. “I know, Garp.”

“That’s Luffy. That’s her. That has to be her—!”

“Stop it!” Sengoku snapped, slamming the desk himself this time. “You’re not thinking clearly. She’s in East Blue, Garp. Was. This is the North Blue. Opposite end of the world. Do you even remember how long it takes to cross the Grand Line with a Marine escort?!”

Garp didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was staring at the poster like it was the last thing tethering him to hope.

“She’s just a little girl,” Sengoku continued, gentler now. “She couldn’t have made that trip alone. And even if she did, what are the odds she’d run into Law? Out of everyone in this sea?”

“She’s a Monkey D.,” Garp whispered.

“That doesn’t make her immortal. Or invincible. She’s not a miracle. She’s just a child. And she’s gone.”

“Don’t say that,” Garp said, voice hollow. “Don’t say that.”

“Then tell me the truth,” Sengoku said, stepping around the desk. “When you look at that poster, are you really sure it’s her? Or are you just desperate enough to believe anything? How do you know that this monkey is not just any monkey?”

Garp didn’t move. His shoulders were hunched now. He looked small. Like he was sinking into the floor.

“…She was the only one who ever called me Gramps without flinching,” he said quietly.

Garp leaned on the desk now, eyes red, fingers clenched into the wood. His whole frame trembled, whether from rage or exhaustion, it was hard to tell.

“If there’s even a chance, Senny…”

“Then follow it,” Sengoku said, defeated. “I know I can’t stop you. But don't get angry if that monkey is just a monkey, not your granddaughter.”

Garp looked up.

Sengoku reached across the desk and tapped the poster again.

“If you do find Law… you don’t kill him. You listen first. Understand?”

Garp’s jaw tightened. He said nothing.

“You owe Rosinante that much,” Sengoku added quietly. “And so do I.”

Garp looked back at the photo of the boy with haunted eyes and the monkey with the yellow scarf.

“…Trafalgar D., huh?” he murmured.

He turned to leave, slower this time. Quieter. But something about him was more dangerous than before, like a volcano gone silent only because the pressure had sunk deeper inside.

Then said, very softly, “If that monkey is her… and that boy hurt her…”

“He wouldn’t,” Sengoku said quietly. “He’s not like that. I trust Rosi's people skills. I trust Law to keep a monkey safe.”

Garp gave a bitter laugh. “They all start like that.”

“But first,” Garp said, already standing in front of the door. “Time to pay that red-haired brat a visit. Hopefully, he knows something.”

And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him with another bang.

Sengoku stared at the wanted poster still in his hand, then leaned back in his chair and sighed.

The monkey really looked like it was smiling.

“You’d better be watching over the kids, Rosi, wherever you are... God, I really hate pirates.”

The afternoon sun bathed the Red Force in golden light. A warm breeze drifted lazily across the deck, where Shanks lay sprawled on a lounge chair, shirt open, bottle of sake resting loosely in one hand.

He was mid-sip, sunglasses tilted precariously on his nose, when a thunderous boom split the sky.

The impact rocked the entire ship. Wood creaked. Barrels rolled. Sails flapped violently in the gust that followed.

When the smoke cleared, a crater had formed dead center on the deck.

Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp stood at its heart, fists smoking, eyes blazing, jaw tight.

Shanks blinked up at him, lifting his sunglasses. “…Old man?”

“You damn brat!” Garp bellowed.

Before anyone could react, his haki-coated fist slammed into Shanks' face with the force of a falling mountain, sending the pirate tumbling off his chair and skidding a few meters across the deck.

He pushed himself up, rolling his shoulder, as if the punch hadn’t nearly cratered his skull. “You came all the way out here just to deck me?”

“That’s for filling my granddaughter’s head with pirate dreams!” Garp roared.

From behind crates and masts, the Red-Hair Pirates scrambled into view, forming a loose half-circle behind their captain, weapons half-drawn, wary but unsure.

Shanks groaned, wiping a smear of blood from his lip, then let out a low whistle. “Damn, Garp… you still punch like a decade ago.”

He pushed himself to his feet, steadying the bottle of sake as he took another swig. “I ask again, you came all the way out here just to hit me?”

“I came here,” Garp growled, fists trembling at his sides, “because you had to give her that hat. Because you had to make being a pirate look like some grand adventure.”

Shanks’ smile widened. "She's spirited and her joy is infectious. What should I do? I like her." 

“She’s just a kid, Shanks. She should’ve grown up safe. Should’ve had a life. Not dreams of the sea. But instead, she idolised you. And now—”

Garp stopped.

Silence fell across the deck.

And then one of the strongest Marine in the world broke. Tears carved silent trails down Garp’s weathered cheeks. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in decades, he looked old.

“Luffy is gone,” he said hoarsely.

The words hit harder than the punch.

Shanks straightened from his slouch, all traces of his usual ease vanishing. "What do you mean 'gone'?" he asked quietly.

Garp didn’t meet his eyes. His fists clenched tighter at his sides.

“Luffy is gone,” he whispered. “She vanished five months ago. After an argument with another kid in eh… my care. She ran off. I searched every inch of that damn place. Every trail, every tree. I stayed up nights sniffing the dirt like a beast. But there was nothing. No note. No scent. No sign. Just… gone.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crew.

“No one’s seen her since,” Garp continued, voice rough. “And the trail’s cold.”

Shanks had gone pale, his jaw tight. His fingers curled into fists. "You’re serious."

Shanks lowered his head for a moment, trying to process it, then looked up again. “Is that why you’ve been tearing through the seas like a storm lately? The rumors, the pirate crews limping back into port—”

Garp snorted, but it was hollow. “Damn right. If breaking bones gets me even an inch closer to my granddaughter, I’ll break a thousand more. Every damn pirate I find, I beat half to death asking the same question: ‘Have you seen a little girl? Black hair. Scar under her left eye.’ And when they say no—” He grit his teeth. “I make damn sure they remember the name Monkey D. Garp.”

Shanks stared at him, then quietly said, “You really think she’s still out there?”

Garp didn’t hesitate.

“She’s my granddaughter,” he said hoarsely. “She’s a Monkey D. Of course she’s somewhere out there.”

There was a moment of silence before Shanks looked up, his expression unreadable.

Then he slammed a fist into the railing with enough force to crack the wood.

“Then we’re going to find her,” Shanks said, voice shaking with fury. “If I have to turn the entire Grand Line upside down. I’m not sitting on this ship while Anchor’s out there alone. I swear it.”

Benn Beckman stepped forward, already lighting a cigarette. “We’ll raise the sails.”

Yasopp grinned, wild and dangerous. “About time we got moving again.”

Lucky Roux cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get the kid.”

Garp looked up, just barely and for the first time in weeks, something flickered in his eyes that resembled hope.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said hoarsely. “Luffy… she can turn into a monkey. A real one. Fur, tail, everything. Still rubber, though, thanks to you. We kept it quiet. Most wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

A strange silence settled over the room.

Wordlessly, Garp reached into his coat and pulled out a bounty poster, creased, weathered, as if he’d stared at it a hundred times. His hand trembled slightly as he held it out.

“She looks just like that,” Garp said, voice rasping. “Exactly like that.”

Shanks studied the photo for a long moment. Then quietly asked, “Do you know the boy’s name?”

Garp hesitated, just for a second. “Trafalgar Law,” he said slowly. “From the North Blue.”

Shanks still stared at the poster, his expression unreadable. Then he gripped it tighter.

“Then we’ll find the boy. And if that monkey really is her…” He looked up, fire in his eyes. “We'll find her.”

A storm had found its course again. And the Grand Line would soon feel it.

Chapter Text

The sun was low in the sky, casting long golden rays through the tiny windows of the small kitchen. The wooden table was cluttered with bowls, mismatched chopsticks, and steaming plates of food. In the center sat Luffy, eyes shining, cheeks already stuffed with fruits, hands waving animatedly through the air.

Around her, the boys watched closely.

“I think she means… rice balls,” Penguin said, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to mimic the sign she’d just made.

Luffy’s face lit up and she clapped her hands excitedly, chirping a high, happy sound in her throat. It was more emotion than words, but it was unmistakably joyful.

“Got it!” Penguin grinned.

Shachi laughed, elbowing him. “You only got it because I told you that one yesterday!”

“No way,” Penguin protested. “I’ve been practicing.”

Luffy beamed at them both, then signed something else, this time with her fingers tapping near her lips, followed by a slow circle over her stomach.

“Wait… meat?” Bepo guessed hesitantly.

Another excited chirp.

“Meat!” Shachi echoed, pumping his fist. “She wants meat again.”

Law, sitting at the edge of the table with a cup of tea in hand, rolled his eyes and let out a long, suffering sigh. “She always wants meat.”

Luffy turned to him, stuck out her tongue, and wiggled her fingers at her temples like pretend antlers.

That got a burst of laughter from all three boys.

“Did she just call you a goat?” Bepo asked, blinking.

“She’s improvising again,” Law muttered, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “That’s not even a real sign.”

Luffy chirped again, proud of herself, then signed quickly, pointing to the fish on the plate in front of her.

Penguin leaned forward, squinting. “Fish? Or… no, wait. Hungry? Hungry for fish?”

Luffy gave a little drumroll pat on the table, then pointed both thumbs at him with another delighted chirp.

“She’s so cute when she does that,” Shachi said, grinning.

Law just huffed again, shaking his head, but this time he didn’t even pretend to hide the small smirk that tugged at his lips.

“She’s training you,” he muttered.

“She’s doing a good job,” Bepo said cheerfully, reaching for another dumpling.

“We’re going to hit a Marine base.”

The room froze.

Shachi looked up mid-bite. “Wait. What?”

“Just a small one,” Law added casually, picking up a piece of bread. “Low security. Enough for a quick sweep—money, meds, maybe fuel.”

Penguin blinked. “We’re looting Marines now?”

Law gave a shrug that was almost lazy. “I already have a bounty. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The three boys exchanged a long look. A very broke, very fuel-conscious look.

“…It has been a while since we filled the tank,” Shachi muttered.

“And we’re almost out of painkillers,” Penguin added.

“And soap,” Bepo mumbled.

Law leaned one elbow on the table, sipping from a cup that wasn’t his, a small smug grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “You’ve been training with Lu, haven’t you?”

Shachi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and that tiny monkey beats us into the ground on the daily.”

“Exactly,” Law said, gesturing with his cup. “If you can survive her, you’ll be fine against a few underpaid Marines.”

He stood straighter, voice calm and precise. “You three stay on the Tang. Defensive perimeter only. Lu and I will go in.”

The boys exhaled almost in sync, relief flooding their faces.

“Eh… Captain,” Bepo said, hesitating. “You sure Lu’s enough backup?”

Law nodded, confident. “Absolutely. You all saw it last week—she knew those Marines were going to shoot before I did. It’s like she has a sixth sense for danger when it comes to me.”

He turned to the little monkey perched quietly on a nearby crate, watching with curious eyes.

Then his expression darkened.

“Lu, you’re lucky you’re made of rubber,” he snapped, brows furrowing. “Or else… just—don’t ever do that again. Got it?”

Luffy’s ears drooped, her tail curled around her legs. She looked down, shrinking under his sharp tone.

Law stood abruptly and walked off, coat flaring behind him like a storm cloud.

The room fell silent.

Bepo stretched out his arm gently patted Lu on the head. “He’s not mad at you,” he said softly. “He’s scared. You saved his life by jumping in front of that bullet, but… without your Devil Fruit, you would’ve died.”

“We were all worried about you in that moment, Lu,” he said quietly, eyes gentle. “But Law… he especially.”

He glanced toward the door where Law had disappeared moments before, voice softening even more.

“Captain doesn’t say much, but he carries a lot inside. When you got hurt, it hit him harder than anyone else. You saved his life, and… well, he doesn’t always know how to show it, but you mean everything to him.”

Lu blinked up at him, eyes wide and shining, and gave a small, hopeful chirp.

Shachi leaned forward, voice low but warm. “We might joke and fight, but you’re family, Lu. And that means we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Penguin nodded in agreement, giving Lu’s small hand a gentle squeeze.

Luffy quietly slipped out of the kitchen, her movements slower than usual as she padded down the hallway to Law’s room. Inside, Law sat at his desk, staring blankly at the bare wall in front of him. His shoulders were tense, and his usually sharp eyes were glazed with unshed tears.

Carefully, Luffy climbed onto the desk, the small monkey’s eyes wide and concerned. She reached out to brush a tear from his cheek, but Law gently caught her hand and pushed it away.

“Do you want to know why I’m like this?” he asked quietly, voice rough.

Luffy nodded her head, tilting her head slightly in silent curiosity.

“The person who saved me…” Law’s voice cracked. “He was shot. He died protecting me. Someone’s already died because of me once and I can’t let it happen again.” He looked away, guilt tightening his jaw.

Luffy stretched out her little arms, yearning to comfort him.

Law sighed, rubbing his face wearily. “I don’t want a hug right now.”

Luffy stared at him silently.

Law sighed more deeply, laced with frustration. “Please. Just… go away, okay? Give me a little space.”

Slowly, Luffy climbed down and padded out of the room, her little heart heavy.

Back in the kitchen, the others exchanged worried glances. They watched as Luffy gathered the straw hat, carefully dragging it to the far corner of the kitchen. Then she fetched the small blanket she sometimes slept on, arranging it tenderly. To everyone’s surprise, she even picked up Law’s spotted hat and gently laid it beside the blanket.

After a moment, the boys quietly approached. There, in the corner, was a small makeshift den: the blanket spilling out of Law’s hat, the straw hat perched carefully on top like a crown.

“Hey… does anyone know where Lu—” Law began as he entered the kitchen, but the moment he spoke, the three boys hushed him with finger-to-lips gestures.

Bepo pointed quietly to the corner where the “hat den” stood.

Law’s gaze softened, heavy with guilt and affection. “Oh,” he breathed.

He sank down at the table with a tired exhale.

“I probably scared her,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t want her to think I don’t care. I’m not good with—  I’ll protect her. I swear.”

Bepo nodded solemnly. “We all are worried about her… and you. Especially you.”

The others murmured their agreement.

Law glanced again toward the corner where the “hat den” sat like a fragile promise.

“She saved me,” he whispered. “Now, I have to be strong for her.”

The soft flicker of the kitchen lantern cast long shadows as the rest of the crew quietly cleaned up before midnight. Law stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the corner where the makeshift “hat den” sat.

Law sighed. He crossed the room, knelt down beside the little den, pushed the straw hat to the side and whispered, “Lu.”

Two wide, dark eyes blinked up at him, cautious.

Without a word, Law reached in and gently scooped her up into his arms. She didn’t resist, but her small hands clutched a corner of the straw hat as he carried her through the dim hallway, past closed doors and quiet voices, into his room.

He set her down softly on the edge of his desk, where she climbed into the straw hat, tilting her head in curiosity.

Law leaned back in his chair across from her and stared at her for a long moment before finally saying, “I already told you. You’re not the first one who’s thrown themselves in front of danger for me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced at the floor. “His name was Corazon.”

Luffy’s ears perked.

“I met him when I was a kid. I was… dying,” Law said, voice tight. “There’s a disease called Amber Lead Syndrome. It’s fatal. My whole home was destroyed. Not by this disease but by marines who used it as an excuse to destroy everything. My family, my people, everything—gone. I was the only one who made it out.”

His voice dropped lower. “I ended up with Doflamingo... he is a monster. Ruthless. Manipulative. And his crew…” Law shook his head. “One of them, a man named Vergo, pretends to be a Marine. Plays the role perfectly. Even climbs the ranks. But all the while, he was loyal to Doflamingo. Loyal to the cruelty. And he always had food stuck to his damn ugly face,” he added with a bitter scoff. “He beat Corazon.”

Luffy whimpered quietly.

“Corazon was different,” Law went on, his voice softening. “He couldn’t speak or at least, didn’t. Used crude signs. Like you. At first, I hated him. Thought he was clumsy. Annoying. But he saved me. Really saved me.”

He hesitated for a long moment, eyes distant. 

“He wasn’t just kind. He was brave. And he was a Marine. The only Marine I don’t hate. An undercover agent trying to infiltrate Doflamingo’s operation, to spy on his own brother. Corazon was risking everything. His life, his identity, all of it.”

Law’s fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the desk.

“But Vergo found out because of me. I blew Cora‘s cover. And Doflamingo… Doflamingo shot him. Just like that. The man who saved my life by getting me away from this monster and shoving the Devil Fruit down my throat… was executed by his own brother.”

There was a stretch of heavy silence.

“He put me in a treasure chest,” Law said suddenly. “Hid me. And stood guard until the end. I felt him falling against the chest after he was shot. I was the reason he was shot”

Luffy inched forward and placed her small rubbery hand on the back of his.

“He was older than me but he wasn't old, I think he wasn't 30 yet,” Law said quietly. “He was incredibly messy. Dramatic. Wore this ridiculous coat that trailed everywhere. More like a chaotic older brother than anything else.”

He exhaled.

“But I know how he looked at me. How he held me. The way he shielded me from everything, even when he could barely stand. I think he… he saw me as his son.”

Law blinked several times, his jaw tight.

“I used to think about calling him dad,” he admitted, voice rough. “Just once. Just to see what he’d do. He would’ve lost it, I mean, completely. Ugly sobbing, arms flailing, rolling around on the floor. Probably lighting himself on fire while doing that.”

A quiet laugh escaped him shaky, fond.

“I wish I’d done it,” he murmured. “He deserved to hear it. And I would’ve never let him live it down.”

Luffy chirped softly, leaning against his arm.

“I don’t tell anyone that story,” Law said, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Not because I’m ashamed… but because I don’t want to remember what freedom costs.”

His gaze met hers. “And when you took that bullet for me…”

He looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I saw him again. Just for a second. And I thought… I was going to lose someone else I care about.”

Luffy blinked slowly, then reached up and tugged at his sleeve.

“Yeah,” Law said quietly. “I know. You’re here. And I’m… I’m very grateful.”

He stood, gently ruffling her hair. “But you’re never allowed to die, alright? That’s an order. Captains order!”

Luffy chirped once in answer and climbed back into his lap, curling into a small ball. 

Law sat there in silence, arms loosely around her, staring out into the dark room, a flicker of peace finally settling over his heart, even as memories echoed quietly in the corners of his mind.

The sterile white of the Marine infirmary was quickly turning into organized chaos.

Law stood at the center of the room, completely composed amid the overturned trays and open cabinets. Around him, the dim hum of his Room technique pulsed softly, casting a shimmering blue dome over the cluttered floor.

He extended a hand, two fingers lifted with calm precision. "Shambles."

In an instant, three large duffel bags filled with gauze, antibiotics and injectable vials vanished, swapped out with thin slips of paper, which fluttered to the ground at his feet.

Law stooped to grab one of the papers that fluttered to the ground after his latest Shambles. Bepo’s neat, paw-printed handwriting stared up at him.

REPORT
Shachi & Penguin fought a Marine, he's k.o.
Shachi: minor fracture, sedated.
Penguin: stable, conscious, complaining.
Tang’s tank: 30% full.
Engine ready for departure in T-15 minutes.
Estimated funds transferred pre-infirmary: 83,954 Berri.
Should cover two full refuels + one month of food supplies.
Lu has brought us 7 Marine flags and left her scarf. I'm afraid she has plans.

Law gave a quiet huff of amusement.

In the hallway behind him, another crash echoed, followed by a pained “ARGH—what is that thing!?” and the unmistakable sound of a Marine being body-slammed into a mop bucket.

“She's not a thing you idiot,” Law mumbled and turned just in time to see Luffy, barely more than a small streak of fur and rubber limbs, bounce off a wall, flip through the air, and knock two more Marines over like pins. She chirped triumphantly a Marine flag now tied around her neck like a dramatic cape.

She noticed Law watching her and gave a tiny salute mid-jump before cartwheeling into another group of panicking soldiers.

“Ridiculous,” Law muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. He knows too well that her fists hit like canons these days. 

He raised his hand again. “Shambles.”

This time, two heavy crates marked EMERGENCY USE ONLY disappeared with a flash, replaced by another sheet of paper and a carefully wrapped snack packet from Bepo, probably meant for Luffy.

Law grabbed the new note.

UPDATE:
Civilian comms intercepted. ETA Marine backup: 20 minutes.
Current haul secure.
Also, I can hear Lu from here. I think she’s chirping some kind of war song.

Law tucked the note into his coat pocket and muttered, “Of course she is.”

A Marine made a desperate crawl toward the alarm switch, blood smearing the tiles beneath him. He barely raised his hand before a sudden blur shot past.

Luffy landed squarely on his back, sending his face straight into the floor with a sickening thud. Before he could even groan, she’d already yanked the switch off the wall and crushed it in her small rubbery fist. Wires sparked. The alarm shorted out with a pop and hiss.

She stood atop the Marine’s unconscious form, fists on her hips and the Marine flag she’d fashioned into a cape billowing behind her in the air of the damaged ventilation system.

Law turned at the sound, saw the scene and huffed a small, genuine laugh through his nose. He stepped over another groaning body and crossed the room until he stood in front of her.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Then Law bent down, scooped the little monkey into his arms, and gave her a firm hug. Luffy let out a surprised chirp, going stiff for a moment, then melted against him with a soft trill.

“Good job,” Law murmured near her ear. “You’ve got my back. I'm glad you found us.”

She chirped again, tail flicking proudly against the fabric of her cape.

Law smirked faintly as he set her back down. “Let’s finish up before someone else tries to be a hero.”

She chirped once and gave him a toothy grin.

Law turned back to the last shelf of restricted medications, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Good. Keep them busy. We're almost done here.”

And with a final sweep of his hands, “Room. Shambles.”

The last wave of stolen supplies vanished, whisked away to safety aboard the Tang, where Bepo was already sorting and cataloging.

The sirens were failing. The Marines were limping. And Law, cool as ever, stepped calmly through the chaos, with a tiny monkey-charged whirlwind clearing the path ahead.

It was, as he would later put it, "a perfectly executed medical redistribution mission."

“Heart Pirates Suspected in Southern Marine Base Raid”

In a surprising turn of events, a remote Marine medical outpost in the southern North Blue was raided earlier this week. Though no casualties were reported, all stored medical supplies and emergency funds, estimated around 500.000 Berri were stolen. The base has been left non-operational for the time being.

Eyewitnesses described the assailants as a small but highly organised pirate group, the so called Heart Pirates. One source reported a “tiny monkey-like demon” leading the charge and the "grim reaper" following behind it.

Attached beneath the article was a picture that could also be seen on one of the freshly issued bounty posters. 

In the image, a tiny monkey posed with a wide grin, saluting with one hand while wearing a Marine flag tied proudly around her neck. Her fur was smudged with soot, but the confidence was unmistakable.

WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE – UNKNOWN MONKEY OF THE HEART PIRATES – 5,000

Garp leaned back in his chair, newspaper in one hand, steaming cup of tea in the other.

At first, he snorted. Then he started chuckling. Someone must have leaked the footage.

He stared at the tiny image of his granddaughter saluting, Marine flag proudly tied around her neck. His laugh turned into a quiet, watery wheeze as he ran a thumb over the page.

His throat tightened, and he pressed a weathered hand against the page. Slowly, quietly, tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“She’s wearing our flag…” he whispered. “You little storm... you’ve got no idea what you’re doing to your poor grandpa’s heart.”

Shanks nearly fell over laughing when Benn Beckman slapped the paper down in front of him.

“Are you kidding me?” he howled. “They gave her a bounty already?! Beck, look! This MUST BE her! And she's having a great time! I see it in her eyes!”

He waved the wanted poster around to roaring laughter from the rest of the crew, then carefully pinned it to the wall beside his bed.

He smiled, softer now. “I hope you'll be just as happy when we'll find you, Anchor.”

The paper lay open on Sengoku’s desk, the photo of the saluting monkey glaring up at him like a quiet provocation. A tiny thing, smiling like she’d won a war, a Marine flag fluttering proudly around her neck.

He stared at it for a long time in silence. He sighed.

“Why do I know you’d laugh at this, Rosi?” he muttered, voice barely more than a breath. “Even now... I can hear it.”

He pressed his thumb to the edge of the bounty poster, as if trying to feel through it, to reach something long gone.

“Garp, you fool…” he whispered, shaking his head. “You actually were right.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, his age showed in full. He folded the paper shut with a quiet rustle and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Another D... No. Two D's working together,” he murmured. “Just what the world needs.”

But there was no anger in his tone, only resignation.

A knock interrupted the silence. “Come in,” Sengoku called, his voice low and controlled.

The door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside, all black coat, gleaming cross pendant and sharp eyes. Mihawk.

“North Blue. Mission brief’s in the folder.” Sengoku slid it across without meeting his eyes. 

Mihawk took the file, glanced down at it, then back at the Admiral. “Anything else?”

Sengoku hesitated. Then, with a faint rustle of paper, he flipped the folded poster open just enough to reveal the image.

The small monkey, saluting with a Marine flag around her neck, stared up from the bounty notice.

“This one. Bring it in.”

Mihawk blinked. “The monkey. 5.000 Berries?”

“Yes,” Sengoku said curtly. “The Marines are... interested.”

A long pause.

Mihawk stared at him, expression unreadable. “Interested in what, exactly?”

Sengoku's gaze didn’t waver. “Just bring it here. No damage.”

Another beat.

“…Understood,” Mihawk said, though his tone had cooled. He turned for the door, but slowed just before stepping out.

“Strange days,” he muttered under his breath.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The weeks that followed the raid were calmer, even though the Polar Tang drifted through uncertain waters. No one was entirely sure where they were, the maps didn’t line up, and the log pose spun slower than usual. One thing was certain, though: they’d seen more Sea Kings in four days than in the last year combined. Their massive shapes occasionally glided past the observation windows, silent and watching. Shachi had taken to muttering superstitious things under his breath, constantly freaking out Bepo and Penguin.

But none of that seemed to bother Luffy. Her days were filled with a new favorite activity: hide and seek.

It had started as a distraction, a way to stave off boredom in the long metal corridors, but it quickly turned into something more. The three boys Shachi, Penguin and Bepo took it very seriously. Stealth tactics were discussed like battle strategy and rules were drawn up on a whiteboard. Luffy, for her part, loved it.

She was good at hiding but even better at finding.

And what surprised Bepo most, the day he lingered by the crew quarters and watched her search in near silence, was how still she became. Not bouncing, not chirping, but crouched low with her eyes closed, as if she were meditating. Listening. Sensing. Then her eyes would snap open and within seconds she’d leap forward and tap someone on the shoulder with an impish little grin.

Law had started joining the game too, with the 'handicap' of not using his Devil Fruit abilities.

He claimed it was because he needed to stay sharp. But the way he smirked when he caught the monkey under a table vent or behind the water tanks told a different story. He was good at finding her, sometimes even better than she was at hiding. And slowly, Luffy learned to sense him, too. The moment his boots hit the metal floor or his presence shifted the air, her ears would twitch. She got harder to catch.

It became a dance.

The other teenager didn’t interrupt. They just watched quietly, knowing something wordless was unfolding between their captain and the strange little monkey who had saved his life.

Communication had changed, too.

Luffy now spoke almost entirely in sign when talking to the boys. Her hands moved with increasing confidence, and her expressions followed naturally. She still struggled with more abstract words, but Bepo helped fill in the blanks.

Some evenings, after dinner, Shachi would sit with her on the floor and read out loud from old children’s books they'd scavenged. As he read, she’d watch his lips and trace the letters with her fingers, mouthing the sounds. Penguin would quiz her gently on the alphabet and when she got something right, her whole face lit up like it was her birthday.

“She’s picking it up fast,” Penguin commented one night, leaning against the wall as Luffy successfully spelled “P-E-N-G-U-I-N” with a proud little flourish.

“She’s sharp,” Shachi added. 

Law said nothing, just watched from the shadows of the hallway with arms crossed with faintest curve to his mouth.

Even in unknown seas, surrounded by strange monsters and stranger fates, the Tang felt like a home.

A few days later, the Polar Tang surfaced near a bustling port town nestled along a curved stretch of coastline. The island was vibrant, full of life and color, but no one aboard the submarine had the faintest clue where they were. No log pose readings matched and the charts didn’t help either. It was like they’d drifted into some maybe forgotten corner of the world.

When the hatch opened and the crew emerged onto the sunlit deck, a wall of heat and humidity slammed into them like a thick, wet blanket. The air was dense, not just warm, but heavy, clinging to their skin and fur and clothes with every breath. Everything smelled of damp earth, blooming flowers, overripe fruit, and the ever-present musk of brackish water.

One of Morgan's carrier flapped by and dropped the newspaper, slightly crumpled, but readable. Shachi caught it mid-air with a grin and began flipping through it as the others stretched and blinked at the daylight.

Law stood a little apart from the rest, arms folded, Luffy perched casually on his shoulder, sporting her yellow scarf. She was chewing a banana and squinting at the horizon, until her eyes caught the date printed on the front page of the newspaper.

She paused.

Then, with a little gasp, she elongated her arm and pointed directly at the number.

The boys looked up. “What is it, Lu?”

She quickly signed, her hands fluttering with purpose: "I’m eight."

They stared at her, blank for a second.

She repeated herself, adding an extra sign for emphasis: "Birthday. Four days ago. May. 5."

The words hit like a cannon.

“Wait, WHAT?” Shachi said, eyes wide.

“You turned eight?! And didn’t TELL US?!” Penguin added, scandalized.

Bepo just blinked in disbelief, ears slowly lowering. “Lu…”

Law’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the monkey still sitting neatly on his shoulder. Her tail curled slightly, sensing the tension, but her face remained calm.

Law reached up and lifted her off. He handed her gently to Bepo. “Hold her. I'll be leaving first.”

“Captain?”

Law didn’t answer. He turned sharply and stomped down the gangplank toward the town, coat billowing behind him.

They all watched him go, stunned into silence.

“…is he mad?” Shachi asked quietly.

Bepo shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “No. He’s going to fix it.”

Luffy watched Law’s retreating figure and tilted her head.

Then she smiled, just a little.

The moment they stepped onto the island, insects were droning everywhere, birds calling and there was a distant roar of waterfalls somewhere inland. The vegetation was lush and towering, massive leaves drooping low over narrow, winding paths that disappeared into dense jungle.

Bepo took one step off the gangplank and instantly recoiled.

“I… I can’t breathe,” he wheezed, tugging at the collar of his uniform. His fur had already begun to puff from the moisture, sticking out in awkward clumps.

Shachi laughed. “What’s the matter, polar bear? Never been in a sauna before?”

“This entire island is a sauna,” Bepo snapped, fanning himself with one paw. “Why does the air feel like soup?!”

Luffy, still perched in Bepo’s arms, chirped delightedly and kicked her feet in the air, clearly enjoying the oppressive climate. Her fur clung to her limbs, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, this place was wild and loud and alive and she definitely liked it.

Penguin wiped sweat from his brow. “We’d better not be here long. My brain’s already melting.”

From farther down the path, the voice of an old woman called out to some street vendor. The town ahead seemed equally overwhelmed by the tropical conditions, clothes stuck to skin, children ran barefoot under mist-sprayers set up over awnings, and even the local cats lay sprawled in the shade, tongues lolling.

Bepo groaned. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Luffy signed helpfully: "You look like a damp marshmallow."

Bepo gave her a betrayed look.

The market was loud, the air was filled with delicious smells of grilled. Penguin was mid-sentence, joking about buying mangoes, when Shachi abruptly stopped in his tracks.

“Guys… look.”

All three turned toward the stall to their right.

Tiny cages. Rusted metal. Inside, no more than a dozen small squirrel monkeys, most of them young, some barely able to stand. Their eyes were too large for their faces, filled with fear and confusion. One had its tiny hands pressed against the bars, trembling. Another lay curled into a ball, unmoving.

Luffy froze.

Her whole body went stiff against Shachi’s shoulder. Her tail wrapped tight around the strap of his bag as her ears flattened and a low, broken whimper escaped her. Her claws clutched at the fabric of his shirt.

“Lu…” Shachi breathed. “Don’t look.”

But she was already trembling, her eyes locked on the cages.

“Are these—are these legal here?” Penguin asked, his voice rising.

“I don’t know,” said Shachi tightly. “I don’t care. We need to—"

Bepo shook his head, voice hushed and urgent. “We need to ask the captain. We can’t just—”

Before they could move, a tall shadow fell across them.

A man stood in the middle of the market path, his coat trailing behind him like wings. His eyes were red, his presence commanding. In his hand was a tiny cage. The crowd around them instinctively fell silent and gave him a wide berth.

"Hand over your monkey,” the man said, voice quiet but sharp as a blade.

The boys stiffened instantly.

“What?” Penguin blinked.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” The man took a step forward. "Give it to me. Now.”

Shachi and Bepo instinctively tightened their stances, while Luffy pressed her face into Shachi’s shoulder, shaking. Her small hands clenched at his coat.

“We’re not handing her over,” Shachi said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

“She’s not for sale,” Penguin added.

The man’s fingers twitched. In a blink, he unsheathed just a sliver of the blade on his back. “I wasn’t asking,” Mihawk said.

In that moment, something in Luffy snapped. With a strangled cry, she ripped her yellow scarf, her treasured hand stitched scarf, from around her neck, threw it at Penguin and bolted.

She darted straight between Mihawk’s legs like a streak of lightning, tail a blur, claws scraping against the cobbled stone as she vanished into the alley beyond.

“LU—!” Shachi shouted, lunging after her, but Mihawk extended his sword, barring his way.

“I’ll retrieve it myself,” Mihawk said coldly.

The boys looked at each other, panic rising.

Branches clawed at her fur. Vines whipped past her face. The humid jungle air pressed against her lungs like wet cloth, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Go, go, go Luffy—run—don’t stop—don’t let him get you—run so they can escape

Her tiny heart pounded like a war drum in her chest. The world was a blur of green and gold and shadow. Mud splashed against her arms, but she didn’t feel it. Her legs burned, her tail thrashed behind her for balance as she leapt from root to branch, slipping once, catching herself just barely.

That man. Danger. Like the sea before a big storm.

He’ll hurt them. Her chest ached with the thought. He’ll hurt them. He’ll kill them if I stay. I had to run. I had to. He won't find me without the scarf.

Her lungs burned.

Law will find me. He always does. He always—he always—

Her breath hitched. A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back. No time. No time for that.

I can’t let them get hurt because of me. Let him chase me instead. They can escape.

She vaulted over a low branch, landed hard on the next trunk, then dropped to all fours and scrambled through the undergrowth.

Behind her, the jungle was silent. Too silent.

Is he following me?  Is he behind me? Did he kill them already? No. Don’t think. Just move, Monkey D. Luffy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered aloud to no one as she ran. “I’m sorry, Shachi. Sorry, Penguin. Sorry, Bepo. Sorry, Law. I miss you.”

And with that, she pushed herself harder. Faster. Deeper into the thick, choking heart of the island, where even the sunlight struggled to reach. Where she’d be hard to find. Where she hoped the scary man would lose her and leave her family alone—and then stopped dead in her tracks.

Before her stretched a clearing, bathed in warm, dappled sunlight. The air was still thick and damp, but here it opened up into neat rows of tall white plants. It looked like a plantation, but not like the ones near Foosha Village. There was something strange about it, eery quiet, almost too peaceful.

Luffy’s ears twitched as she stepped forward cautiously, wide eyes scanning the clearing. Her bare feet sank slightly into the mossy ground.

And then she smelled it.

Her head snapped toward the far end of the clearing where, beneath the shade of a massive fruit tree, a large man sat cross-legged with a cloth-wrapped box beside him, munching happily on a powdery pink-frosted donut, lips and fingers dusted in sugar.

Luffy's mouth parted slightly in awe. “…oh. Donut.”

Without even realizing it, her fear dimmed just enough for her to begin inching toward the man, eyes locked on the soft, frosted pastry in his hand. The wild chase, the sword, the jungle, the panic, it all shimmered at the edges of her thoughts, dulled by the almost holy sight of the donut.

And the man… didn’t seem to notice her yet. Or if he did, he didn’t care.

She crept closer, small steps muffled by the grass, drawn forward like a moth to flame.

The man took another bite of his donut, eyes half-lidded in lazy contentment, until a faint rustle in the grass pulled his attention to the side.

He froze mid-chew.

Standing just at the edge of the clearing he saw a tiny squirrel monkey, barely the size of his little finger, ears slightly drooped and fur messy from running through the jungle. The man furrowed his brow, watching cautiously as the creature crept closer, eyes wide and locked on him... no, not on him, specifically, but rather… his snack.

Still chewing, he narrowed his gaze. The monkey kept moving forward, step by step, until it was barely a few paces away, staring directly at the box of donuts beside him.

Its little hand lifted and pointed.

At the donut.

The man blinked. “What do you want?” he asked, skeptical.

The monkey’s hand moved again, more insistently this time, to the box.

“You want… a donut?” he asked.

The monkey nodded. Not just nodded, its entire body wiggled in eager anticipation, tiny feet shuffling in place, tail curling tightly behind it.

He sighed. “Tch. Fine, here.” With a lazy motion, he plucked one of the pink-glazed rings from the box and held it out.

The monkey took it reverently. Two bites. Gone.

The man stared. “…Huh.”

Then, to his growing surprise, the monkey lifted both hands and formed clear, deliberate signs. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened. “You—…you just signed that.”

The monkey nodded solemnly, licking a bit of glaze off its wrist.

The man leaned back slowly, examining her more carefully now. “You’re that monkey. The one from the rookie crew people are talking about.”

The monkey nodded again.

Then she signed slowly, “Man tried to catch me or hurt my family. Had to run. Must protect.”

The man’s brow furrowed, then softened. He nodded in understanding, exhaling through his nose, his gaze never leaving the strange, expressive little monkey now licking frosting from her fingers.

“…I’m Charlotte Katakuri,” he said after a moment, tapping his chest with a thumb. “Big Mom Pirates. And you?”

The monkey puffed up a little, then signed proudly. “Luffy. I'm a girl and I'm strong. I'm eight years old.”

At that moment, something shifted in Katakuri. His usual calm and composure faltered as a sudden, surprising wave of protective feeling washed over him.

She’s just a child... so young, and already alone, trying to protect her family, he thought, quietly shaken by the thought. He blinked, caught off guard and almost embarrassed by the unexpected surge of protectiveness

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee, regaining his composure. “Luffy, huh? Interesting name.”

He then asked carefully, “Can you tell me what the man looked like, the one who tried to catch you?”

Luffy’s face grew serious as she signed deliberately, “Tall. Hat with feather. Red eyes. Cross necklace. Big sword.”

Katakuri’s jaw tightened just barely. “I see,” he murmured. “That’s Dracule Mihawk.”

He stared down at the half-crushed donut box, his mind racing. Mihawk wouldn’t be searching without reason. And this girl, clearly no ordinary stowaway, had something more behind her. The bounty poster didn’t even list a name, just a picture and a laughable price. Someone wanted her, but not just for money.

Katakuri shook his head almost imperceptibly, a reluctant but firm resolve settling in. For all his life’s battles, he hadn’t expected to care this much about a tiny creature, but now he knew he had to protect her.

He frowned, the air suddenly shifting. His Observation Haki flared sharply, cutting through the humid air like a blade.

Katakuri’s eyes narrowed, his usual calm dissolving into a rare, fierce intensity that radiated danger.

“He’s close,” Katakuri muttered, voice low and hard. “Too close. One minute, maybe less.”

He turned abruptly to the small figure beside him, voice dropping to a quiet, urgent command. “You need to hide. Or run.”

But before the words fully left his mouth, the monkey before him shimmered, fur and features shifting with a strange light. In her place knelt a very small, very naked girl, wild black hair tangled around wide, fearful black eyes, trembling shoulders barely holding herself upright.

Katakuri blinked once, his breath catching. “Oh.”

He immediately turned his head away, breaking eye contact with military precision, his body stiffening as if steeling himself against something deeply personal.

Then, from his pocket, he produced a small, polished mirror and clicked it open with a sharp snap.

“Brûlée,” he said coolly but with an undercurrent of something softer, almost reluctant. “I need clothes. Girl. About 110 centimeters tall.”

A beat of silence. Then her voice crackled through, suspicious and vaguely annoyed. “How do you find all these poor children on Winter Islands, big brother? Hold on.”

Before Luffy could count to ten, Katakuri had a neat little pile of winter gear in his hands, far more than he’d asked for. A soft, woolen dress with thick leggings, a heavy coat, fluffy mittens, a scarf longer than the girl was tall, and a round knit hat with pompoms the size of apples.

Katakuri stared at the bundle in his arms for half a second.

“Winter?” he muttered under his breath, brow twitching. But he didn’t argue.

The dress went on first, then the leggings. As he layered the rest, Luffy didn't protest, she only trembled a little, still dazed. And honestly, the more layers between her and the memory of Mihawk’s eyes, the better.

Katakuri tugged the thick coat closed, tightening the buttons with deliberate care. Then came the scarf. He wrapped it not once, not twice, but three full times around her neck and half her face, until only the tip of her nose and the glimmer of her eyes peeked through. Finally, he pulled the woolen hat low over her head, tucking her wild black hair inside and pressing it down over her ears.

The transformation was almost comical. Where a scared, trembling child had been moments ago, there now stood a bundled-up blob of cloth with barely a face—and certainly nothing recognizable about her.

Katakuri allowed himself a small exhale of relief. She was hidden. Safe, for now.

He reached down and took her hand again, big fingers curling carefully around her much smaller ones.

In that instant, his protective instincts flared more fiercely than ever, even stronger than those he’d felt for many of his own siblings. This tiny creature, barely clinging to her fragile childhood, had awakened something visceral and paternal inside him. No one was taking her. Not on his watch.

Then he sat back down, placed her beside him in the grass, and handed her another donut. She blinked, still dazed, but took it gratefully mit her mittens.

And that was when the clearing darkened slightly, as if something colder had stepped into the warmth.

Boots crunched over the earth. The tall, dark silhouette of Mihawk emerged from the jungle, cloak billowing faintly in the breeze, red eyes gleaming under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.

He stared at them in silence.

Katakuri didn't move. He simply shifted slightly, as if to place himself between the girl and the intruder.

The donut in Luffy's hand paused halfway to her mouth.

Katakuri didn’t take his eyes off Mihawk for a second while he slowly chewed the last bite of his donut, then wiped his hands on a handkerchief, meticulously folded for a damp jungle like this.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dracule Mihawk?” Katakuri asked with his usual calm. “It’s not every day the ‘Strongest Swordsman in the World’ visits a sugar plantation.”

Mihawk remained silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice as calm and sharp as a katana blade:
“I am looking for a monkey. The one belonging to the Heart Pirates. It appears to have gone missing.”

Katakuri’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Missing, huh? And what would you want with a monkey?”

“Orders. Marine interest.” Mihawk’s gaze locked on Katakuri’s without revealing whether he personally cared or was just the messenger. “It’s small. Unnaturally intelligent. The poster was... vague.”

Katakuri signalled that he wasn’t intimidated. “And what if I told you there are no monkeys here?”

Mihawk shifted his gaze, just barely, for a fraction of a second, to the small girl sitting next to Katakuri. Luffy hadn’t moved an inch. Her tiny fingers clutched the cotton dress showing underneath the coat. The half-eaten donut rested in her lap.

“Then I would have to ask,” Mihawk said slowly, “who this girl is.”

Katakuri looked at Luffy. She seemed frozen, wide eyes, still, then a hesitant hand pointed at her own chest. Me?

Katakuri saw it, the panic. She wasn’t speaking out of defiance or shyness, but raw, naked fear. She trembled barely perceptibly.

Katakuri answered without hesitation, “An orphan. She helps on the farm.”

Mihawk raised a single eyebrow, barely a flicker of doubt. “Most orphans don’t wear clean clothes or a hat and puffer coat on an island like this,” he said flatly. “Nor do their clothes smell like lemon soap.”

Katakuri cursed under his breath. Brûlée. The damn soap.

Luffy's small shoulders started trembling, she was trying and failing to stay strong. Then, barely more than a whimper: “Papai…”

Both men turned their heads sharply, stunned into silence.

Mihawk’s expression didn’t shift, but his stance did, just slightly. Then, after a beat, his voice cut through the humid air like steel: “I... didn't know you had a child. Have a good day.”

He turned with rigid grace and disappeared into the jungle without another word, his cloak vanishing into the green.

The clearing fell still.

Katakuri exhaled slowly, watching the spot where Mihawk had been until he was sure the man was gone.

Only then did he allow himself to sit more comfortably, pulling Luffy gently onto his lap with a practiced ease that didn’t match his monstrous frame. She was so small against him, barely the size of his forearm, curled up like a trembling kitten in the crook of his arm.

He wrapped one massive hand around her back, the other smoothing her wild hair instinctively after removing the hat and scarf.

For several long minutes, he said nothing. Just held her.

The breeze shifted the tall plants around them. But inside the ring of silence around them, there was only the soft sound of Luffy’s breathing—shaky at first, then slowly steadying as her tears dried against his shirt.

Katakuri glanced down at her, the fierce lines of his face softened by something almost unrecognizable.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. “It’s alright.”

He kept rocking her gently, his movements deliberate, even a little clumsy. But she didn’t fight it. She just rested there, eyes half-closed, her fists clenched in the fabric of his vest.

A girl like that. Eight years old. Hunted. Alone.

The fury he usually reserved for battle smoldered quietly behind his eyes. But he kept it buried. For her sake.

And when the jungle had swallowed the last trace of danger, he finally leaned down and whispered, voice hoarse but sure:

“We’ll find your papai. I promise.”

And somehow, in that moment, it felt like a vow.

On the far side of the island, Law knelt among a restless horde of Squirrel Monkeys, tossing handfuls of seeds from a worn pack he always carried in his coat. The monkeys scrambled eagerly, chattering and grabbing at the treats and Law couldn’t help but smirk.

I have to show Lu this place later, he thought, watching the lively creatures with a rare softness. She'll probably like this more than the present I got her.

A smaller monkey, younger and bolder than the rest, climbed onto Law’s shoulder, tugging gently at his collar. The gesture made Law’s heart twist, a sudden sharp pang of guilt. I didn’t even know her birthday...

Before he could dwell further, a rough voice interrupted behind him. “Have you seen a little girl? Long black hair?”

Law’s sharp eyes flicked over the man standing behind him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He gave a slow, dry scoff.

“Why the hell would I tell someone who looks like a pedophile if I’d seen a little girl?”

The man’s gaze didn’t waver. “Long black curly hair, black eyes, small scar under her left eye.”

Law turned back to the monkeys, feeding the one on his shoulder with a dismissive grunt. “Doesn’t ring a bell, pedo.”

“Anchor, please, come here. Chief, no, everyone is worried,” the man called again, but neither Law nor any of the monkeys stirred.

Then, from nearby, Law caught the faint sound of crying. Instinctively, he spun around, a chill running down his spine—memories of Corazon clawing at his mind. What he saw stole his breath away.

A man stood there, eyes bloodshot and rimmed red from exhaustion and raw relief, his entire frame trembling as he scooped the small monkey from Law’s shoulder. His grip was desperate, as if the slightest slip would shatter him. Pressing a trembling kiss to the creature’s fur, his voice cracked on a sob, “Anchor... I thought I’d lost you.”

Beside him, Beckman remained calm, cigarette glowing softly between his fingers, eyes narrowing with a flicker of concern.

“Anchor, why are you ignoring Beck?” Shanks’s voice broke, thick with frustration and heartbreak. Beckman took a slow drag, eyes fixed elsewhere.

“What?” Law asked, narrowing his eyes, puzzled by the scene unfolding.

“Anchor... I know you had a fight, but running away from home isn’t the answer,” Shanks pleaded, pressing a quick, desperate kiss to its forehead.

“What’s going on here?” Law asked quietly, suspicion sharpening his tone.

Shanks didn’t meet his eyes. “Anchor... my heart was breaking. I thought I’d lost you forever when your grandpa told us about you.”

Law’s gaze hardened as he scanned the men, confusion mounting. Why was this man so desperate for this random monkey?

Law cleared his throat, his voice cold but measured, razor-sharp beneath its calmness. “I think I know who one of you is. The other one, though? Still a mystery. And as for who you’re looking for—I hope your alcohol breath kills bacteria if that animal ever kisses you.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL MY GIRL AN ANIMAL?” Shanks snapped, venom dripping from every word.

“Because this is an animal. If you’re looking for the human girl temporarily trapped in monkey form, this isn’t her. Before I answer any more questions, tell me, when’s the birthday of the one you want?”

Shanks glanced at Beckman helplessly. Beckman exhaled a plume of smoke, then answered in his stead, “May 5th. She just turned eight. Her favourite food is meat. She's small for her age, I think. She left home after a fight with a boy, according to our source. Enough information?”

“Where is she?” Shanks pressed, voice steady but laced with urgency.

“Not here, obviously. That ‘fight with a boy’ is only part of the story, though. She’ll tell you when she’s ready,” Law replied flatly, his tone dripping with condescension, as if questioning the others’ intelligence without saying it outright.

“Is she okay? She looked happy on the bounty poster. Is she well fed?” Shanks pushed, eyes flickering with anxiety.

Law cleared his throat again, voice calm but authoritative. “Let’s do introductions properly. I’m Trafalgar Law.”

“Benn Beckman, first mate of the Red-Haired Pirates,” Beckman said, voice low and serious.

“Shanks,” the red-haired captain said simply.

A long, heavy silence hung between them.

Finally, Law spoke quietly, “I know Lu was searching for you. She ended up with us by chance. We were going to help her find you.”

Shanks’s jaw clenched tightly. “Lu? Her name’s Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy.”

Law’s face fell, the single letter whispered with shock. “D…”

Suddenly, Law’s crew came barreling toward them, shouting in panic, “CAAAAAAPTAIN!!!”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“I’m so sorry, Law. LU IS GONE! Someone tried to catch her!” Bepo cried out.

Law and Shanks exchanged a sharp, tense look. The air crackled as they both barked simultaneously, “WHAT happened?!”

Chapter Text

Luffy sat completely still when Katakuri put her beside him, still bundled like a Mochi, barely visible between the layers of fabric that wrapped around her tiny body. Katakuri knelt beside her, keeping his movements slow, calm.

Then he heard it. A low, unmistakable sound. Her stomach. Muffled by cotton and wool, but clearly hungry.

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

Luffy turned her head away shyly, her small shoulders hunched, as if trying to disappear inside herself.

Katakuri’s voice was softer now, but steady. “Everything's fine, Luffy. Are you hungry? We can go grab something if you want. And then, we'll figure out how to get you to your dad, alright?”

She nodded, once, twice—emphatically.

He tilted his head, considering. “Would it be alright if we went to see my sister? She’s a very good cook.”

Another quick nod.

Katakuri stood in a smooth, practiced motion, brushing grass from his knees. Without hesitation, he reached down, arms solid and careful as he lifted her up against his side. She clung to his shoulder instinctively, her tiny gloved hands bunching in his scarf.

He didn’t comment on it, just adjusted her weight and began walking.

They moved through rows of tall cane and swaying trees, Katakuri’s long strides silent on the path. Luffy’s body relaxed slowly, lulled by the rhythm of his gait. By the time they reached the plantation’s main house, she had almost dozed off.

Katakuri entered quietly, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind them. The air inside was cooler, filled with the faint smell of paper, polished wood and dried sugarcane. He made his way to his office without a sound and once inside, stood before the tall mirror behind his desk.

He shifted Luffy slightly on his hip, then pulled the compact silver mirror from his pocket again and flipped it open with a crisp click.

“Brûlée,” he said, calm and deep as ever, but with a trace of warmth he rarely let others hear. “You have a guest.”

The mirror shimmered, rippling like water touched by wind. And then, in a blink, Katakuri and Luffy stepped forward to the tall mirror, into the Mirro-World.

The moment Katakuri and Luffy stepped through into the Mirro-World, a shrill, incredulous voice immediately echoed through the room. "Onii-chan! Where in Mama’s name did you get that child?!”

Katakuri kept Luffy close. “She fell into my lap,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “Almost literally.”

Brûlée paused for a second, her eyes flickering to her brother. “You don’t just find children like this.”

“I was eating,” Katakuri replied. “Then she was… there. And Mihawk was close.”

Brûlée looked positively scandalised but something in her expression softened as she looked closer at the girl in her brother's arms. “It’s thirty-two degrees out there and you wrapped her up like a cinnamon roll in a snowstorm?!"

Katakuri said nothing. He raised an eyebrow. You gave me the clothes, his expression said.

Brûlée scoffed. “Yes, because you said you needed girl’s clothes!”

She reached out and without asking, gently but firmly began unwrapping Luffy layer by layer, muttering under her breath. “One… two… three… did you seal her in with mochi?”

Luffy blinked, the woollen hat now hanging sideways over one eye. Her cheeks were flushed, not with embarrassment, but with heat. The moment fresh air touched her skin, her shoulders visibly relaxed and she looked up at the woman with unguarded curiosity.

Still ranting, Brûlée lifted her gently and set her down on a cushioned stool, tossing the extra layers onto the floor with dramatic flair. And then, just like that, she flicked her wrist towards a tall mirror and a steaming bowl of soup appeared. She placed it right in front of Luffy, who stared at it, wide-eyed.

Luffy sniffed once. Her expression brightened like sunrise and without a word, she picked up the spoon and began to eat with single-minded focus.

“Awwwww…” Brûlée’s voice turned warm. “Oh my god, she’s adorable. Seriously, where did you find this one? She’s like a baby bunny!”

Katakuri stood silently nearby, arms crossed over his chest like a statue, unmoving, unreadable.

“She’s eight,” he said finally. “Name’s Luffy. She was being hunted. Dracule Mihawk is after her, told you already. Apparently, she's looking for her father.”

Brûlée’s playful tone vanished in an instant. She turned, frowning and looked at Luffy again, this time not as a child swaddled in way too many clothes, but as a kid who’d been running for her life while looking for her family.

“Don’t tell me you plan on keeping her, Onii-chan. She needs to go back to her family,” she muttered.

Katakuri didn’t answer immediately.

Luffy, still lost in her soup, didn’t seem to hear a word. Her tiny hands gripped the spoon with determination, like it was the only thing grounding her.

Katakuri looked down at her. Then, quietly, he said, “I just don’t want her to run again. Not today. Tomorrow we'll think about ways to get her home.”

Brûlée paused. Then gave a small, resigned nod.

“Well… in that case, she’s getting cake later,” she said. “But I’m choosing the toppings.”

Brûlée leaned on the counter with one hand, pretending not to watch too closely as Luffy devoured her cake like a starved kitten. Her eyes softened without permission. 

Then Luffy looked up at her, really looked.

Brûlée tensed, just a little. She was used to stares. Especially when kids noticed the long scar that split her face in two like a jagged lightning bolt. There was always a moment of hesitation. A question. A flinch. She braced herself.

But Luffy only blinked slowly. Then, with her little hand still holding the fork, she raised the other and pointed at Brûlée’s face.

Brûlée narrowed her eyes, ready to deflect whatever was coming—

“We match,” Luffy said simply, her voice small but clear. “Your scar… looks strong. Like mine.”

She tilted her head and gently touched the fading line on her left cheek, barely visible beneath the earlier layers of grime. Then she giggled, like it was the best secret in the world.

Brûlée stared. Words abandoned her.

Behind them, Katakuri watched carefully and took the silence as his cue.

He stepped closer, kneeling so his height wasn’t as overwhelming. His voice was low, but steady.

“Luffy,” he said, “do you know where you're from?”

Luffy blinked again, then nodded. “Foosha.”

“And what's your father's name? Do you know where I can find him?” he asked, gently.

She nodded again, slower this time. Then her eyes unfocused, her fork digging slightly into the cake. “Shanks,” she murmured. “He gave me his hat but he left after that. Like Gramps.”

She touched the invisible shape of a hat on her head, even though it's with Law and the others. Somewhere safe. Her fingers trembled just a little. And then the tears came, not loud, not all at once, but slow and trembling like the kind that come from remembering too much too young.

“I had two brothers,” she whispered, barely audible. “Sabo died. Ace said he didn’t want me anymore.”

Brûlée’s hand flew to her mouth.

Luffy sniffled, trying to hold it in, but the dam had already broken.

“Then I found Law, he's great” she went on. “And Bepo. Shachi. Penguin. In the big… metal can. They said I could stay. They said they were my new family.”

Her eyes were shining now, from trying so hard not to fall apart. “But then the man with the hat came. And I ran. I didn’t want them to get hurt. Not because of me.”

She buried her face in her hands.

Brûlée reached forward first placing one hand gently on Luffy’s wild hair.

Katakuri didn’t speak. He just watched the tiny girl cry quietly into her soup and something inside him knotted tight with unfamiliar weight. Not pity. Not sympathy. Something closer to belonging.

After calming her down, Luffy’s high-pitched giggle echoed faintly down the corridor as she disappeared towards the bathing quarters with Brûlée.

Finally, silence. Katakuri stood still for a moment before lowering himself slowly into the wide chair behind his desk. He folded his arms on the table, fingers laced together, eyes staring at the grain of the wood though his thoughts were far away.

Luffy. He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose.

The Marines had let Mihawk off his leash. And this time, it was to hunt down a child. A child. That alone made no sense—unless someone, somewhere, knew or suspected that this girl was tied to something very important. Or very dangerous. Mihawk didn’t move unless it mattered. If he was after her, it's probably political.

Katakuri leaned back, frowning at the ceiling and tapped his fingers on the desk, then slowly stood and began pacing.

Luffy. Eight years old. Hunted. Gifted. And utterly unprepared for the world that wanted to crush her.

Katakuri’s gaze darkened.

And then there was the strangest part. She is a shifter. He’d seen it with his own eyes. He’d heard rumours, long ago, about a Marine higher-up. Someone who could transform into a gorilla. Big. Brutal. Nothing like the fragile, trembling little thing that had ended up in his arms. He shook his head slightly. That’s a long way from this cute little monkey.

None of it added up. And he hated when things didn’t add up.

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Mihawk, the Marines and whatever sick game they were playing had this girl in their sights. And they’d nearly succeeded in taking her. And what truly bothered him, what tied his stomach in knots, was the part he still didn’t understand was why they cared.

He scowled at his reflection in the tall mirror across the room. She had called herself Luffy. No surname. Just… Luffy. But Katakuri recognised her other form, the monkey. One of the Heart Pirates. She’d mentioned the crew: Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin. Said they were her new family. They’d protected her. Until she ran, to keep them from being hurt.

She mentioned her home. Foosha. Katakuri frowned. Foosha? Didn’t ring a bell. Not a known island. No Navy base. No trade. Sounded like the kind of place where pigs outnumbered people. A backwater, the kind of place people forget even exists.

What was someone like Shanks doing there? His jaw flexed as he leaned back slightly, frowning up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. She’d said Shanks was her father. Red-Haired Shanks. For years, he’d written off Shanks as a drifting drunk with more charm than discipline. A charismatic fool with too much freedom and not enough backbone. Unpredictable bastard with a stupid grin. Katakuri had always assumed Shanks was a wanderer with no strings, no roots. The idea of him being a father—a father who left a child behind—made Katakuri’s jaw tighten with something he couldn’t quite name.

Disgust? Frustration? Maybe both.

Shanks had left her there. Not with protection. Not with guidance. Just… left her with her brothers. One dead. The other... the other didn’t want her. How could anyone not want her? Katakuri’s throat tightened. He’d watched Luffy’s face as she’d said it. The way her voice had cracked around the words. 

A child. Left behind by her grandfather and father. Rejected by her brother. Hunted by people who didn’t even know her name. His hands were trembling now, not from fear, but fury. A quiet, contained, lethal kind of rage. The kind he rarely allowed himself to feel.

This wasn't some loose-limbed pirate brat running away from home. She was eight. She was terrified. She was trying to protect people. And that bastard had left her alone.  And now, a girl who could barely lift a fork without shaking was being hunted like she was some ancient weapon.

“Idiot,” he muttered aloud, half to Shanks, half to himself.

He turned and slammed both palms flat against the heavy wooden desk, breathing deep through his nose.

“Reckless,” he growled under his breath. “Selfish bastard.”

He forced himself to stand still, breathing slowly. In. Out.

Then came the decision. Quiet, final, but firm as stone: Luffy stays. She was here now. In his care.

And until they found Shanks, which might never happen, she wasn’t going anywhere. And if they never found him? If Shanks vanished into whatever storm he came from? So be it.

A man like that didn’t deserve a daughter like her anyway. She was better off with someone who knew how to protect what mattered. Even if he had to become that person starting today.

Not long after, Brûlée appeared again, carrying a freshly bathed Luffy. The transformation was astonishing. Gone was the grime and dirt that had clung to the little girl since she’d first appeared in front of him. Instead, Luffy now wore a simple black dress trimmed with delicate white feathers along the sleeves and hem. A bright pink bracelet adorned her tiny wrist, adding a splash of color. Her wild black hair, still unruly but tamed by careful combing, framed her face like a halo of soft curls.

Katakuri’s mouth fell open in disbelief, his sharp teeth fully visible as he stared first at Brûlée, then back at Luffy. His calm composure cracked for the briefest moment.

Brûlée, ever unbothered, raised an eyebrow and said with a smirk, “Onii-chan, close your mouth. You match, it's cute, right?”

Katakuri snapped his mouth shut and tried to regain his usual stern expression, but the surprise lingered in his eyes.

Without waiting for further invitation, Brûlée held up a small camera Den-Den. “Take her up. I want to take a picture.”

Before he could even respond, Luffy ran to him, her small feet padding eagerly across the floor. She scrambled up onto his lap, her hands grabbing his scarf. Katakuri caught her gently, holding her steady.

“Luffy, say cheese!” Brûlée called cheerfully.

“MEAT!” Luffy shouted at the top of her lungs, beaming a grin so wide it made the room feel a little warmer.

The camera clicked. Brûlée laughed so hard she had to steady herself against the wall, tears shining in her eyes.

Katakuri shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips despite himself.

Afterwards, Brûlée placed a plate of food in front of Luffy. The little girl ate eagerly, but soon her energy waned. Her eyes grew heavy, her movements slowed and the fork slipped from her fingers. The stress of the day was slowly beginning to catch up with her.

Katakuri rose and carefully lifted her from the chair, carrying her to the sofa. She curled up naturally against the cushions, her breathing slowing as sleep claimed her. Without hesitation, he took off his vest and draped it gently over her small frame.

Brûlée’s eyes blazed with frustration as she crossed her arms, voice low but cutting. “Onii-chan, I hope you made some calls while we were away. I know that look! You can’t just keep her here like some lost puppy. She’s not a stray to be hoarded.”

Katakuri’s gaze hardened. “She’s not a pet, Brûlée. She’s a child in danger. And I’m the only one who can protect her right now.”

Brûlée shook her head sharply. “Protect? You call locking her away protection? That’s exactly how Mama acts. And look where that got us.”

Katakuri’s jaw clenched tightly. “This isn’t about Mama. This is about Luffy, a scared little girl running for her life. If I don’t keep her close, she’ll be taken. Or worse.”

“Your solution is to cage her?” Brûlée snapped. “She needs her family. Her real family. Not a jailer who won’t let her out his sight.”

Katakuri’s voice dropped, ice-cold. “Her ‘real’ family abandoned her. Shanks and her grandfather left her. Her brother turned his back. I’m not going to make the same mistake.”

Brûlée’s glare sharpened. “And so you decide she belongs to you now? You sound exactly like Mama—controlling, possessive. Do you even realize how dangerous that is?”

Katakuri’s breath hitched, fury flashing in his eyes. “Dangerous? I’m saving her from a fate worse than anything we’ve faced. You think this is easy for me?”

“Easy?” Brûlée’s voice rose. “You think dragging her here and locking her up with you is saving her? You’re just afraid to let go.”

Katakuri stepped forward, voice hard as steel. “I’m not afraid. I’m responsible. And until I find her father or whatever family is left, I’ll keep her safe. Even if it means being the villain.”

Brûlée’s eyes widened, voice sharp as a blade. “You’re not her father, Onii-chan. You can’t just decide her fate.”

Katakuri grabbed Luffy gently but firmly, lifting her into his arms. “I don’t have to be her father. I just have to protect her.”

Brûlée’s arms were crossed tight, her eyes now sharp as daggers. “Are you even going to look for Shanks? Be honest with me.”

Katakuri’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to admit how little he really knew. He glanced away, voice low and noncommittal. “I’ll find him... when the time is right.”

He turned away from his sister, his voice low and commanding. “We’re leaving.”

Before Brûlée could respond, Katakuri stepped through one of the mirrors with Luffy cradled safely, leaving Brûlée shouting after them.

The last light of day painted the shoreline in dull amber, stretching long shadows across the sand. The wind had stilled. Waves whispered, but even the sea felt hesitant, as if it, too, held its breath.

Law stood silent at the center of it all, his coat rippling faintly behind him, staring into the nothingness. Behind him, Shachi was pacing, Penguin muttering curses under his breath, Bepo wringing his paws. They’d searched every building, every alley, every ship, every forgotten corner of the island. And they'd found nothing. Not a footprint. Not a clue. Just silence.

Shanks and his crew had begun tearing through the village in growing panic. Now, both crews stood together—uneasy allies bound by a single, shared absence.

"There's no trace of her," Beckman finally said, brushing sand from his pants as he joined them. “I even checked the brothels. Not a whisper. No one’s seen a girl that matches her description no matter how much I offered.”

"She couldn't have just vanished," Law muttered, his voice low and harsh with exhaustion. “Someone saw something. Someone knows.”

Beckman gave him a look, unreadable beneath the brim of his cigarette smoke. “Well, either they’re scared silent… or someone’s covering tracks.”

Law clenched his jaw.

The silence stretched taut again. Then—

"Mihawk," Shanks said suddenly, voice tight.

Everyone turned. And as if summoned by the name itself, Mihawk stepped into the dying light. The breeze carried the smell of salt and steel with him. His coat fluttered like the wings of a crow.

Law’s hand went to Kikoku instinctively.

He didn’t like this man. Didn’t trust him. Didn’t forgive the way Luffy had vanished within moments of his arrival.

Before Law could say anything—before he could scream, demand answers, draw blood—Shanks raised a hand, his thumb pointing to Law. "Did you find the monkey that belongs to those kids?"

Mihawk paused. His red eyes swept first to Shanks… and then slowly, deliberately, to the Heart Pirates. He stared at each of them in turn. “No.” He looked out over the horizon. “Your monkey must be hiding somewhere. I’ll continue the search tomorrow.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

No explanation. No remorse.

Shanks exhaled slowly, hand brushing through his red hair. "I don’t know if that makes me feel better… or worse."

Law didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice.

His crew stood frozen behind him. Waiting. But Law was far, far away, deep inside a memory he didn’t want, a fear he couldn’t silence. That ridiculous, bright, stubborn little monkey. That voice. That smile. That unshakable belief that even monsters like him could be family. Someone to cherish.

He’d never even seen her in human form. And still… she mattered. So much more than he ever thought to be possible. She was loud. Messy. Brave. And she'd climbed into his world like she belonged there. And maybe she did. Luffy had reminded him that his heart was still capable of something other than strategy and survival. And if he lost her now, this strange, sharp spark of life, it would be the last blow. The final undoing of whatever pieces still held him together.

He wouldn’t survive it.

“Captain…” Bepo’s voice was quiet behind him.

Law didn’t turn. He pressed the heel of his hand hard into his brow, as if trying to force the weight and pain behind his eyes back into his skull. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t lose someone like that. Not again. Not after Cora-san. Not after his family. Not after everything he’d had to bury just to keep going.

Shanks noticed the way the teenagers shoulders trembled, not with weakness, but restraint. The kind of trembling that came when a man was holding the world inside himself and refusing to let it crack open.

Damn.

Shanks shifted his weight, letting his arm fall to his side as he watched Law from a quiet distance. The crews were still murmuring, a few even laughing nervously, as if to push back the dread that Mihawk's presence always brought. But Shanks’ attention didn’t waver.

Law hadn’t really said a word since Mihawk left. Not even to the Polar Bear Mink, who hovered nearby with drooping ears and a nervous fidget in his paws.

Shanks’ jaw tightened slightly. He’s not okay. A ticking bomb, Shanks thought. One step away from snapping.

And yet, what disturbed Shanks more than Law’s rage was the raw fear barely buried underneath it. Fear, not just for Luffy but of what losing her would do to him.

He’s lost people before, Shanks realised, watching the way Law’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Probably too many already. Shanks had worn it once, too, after Roger died. After everything. If Luffy, his little girl, was the anchor that had kept him from drifting into madness…

Shanks took a slow breath, stepping a little closer, speaking softer this time. “We’re going to find her,” he said.

Law didn’t look up. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even seem to hear him.

The stillness around him was worse than rage. Rage could be pulled back. But this? This was a man teetering on the edge.

What’s going on in that head of yours, Law? How deep does she run?

TIn the shaded halls of Katakuri’s quiet estate on Komugi Island, time felt suspended, every moment folded tightly around the presence of a small, dark-haired girl who had somehow settled into the heart of everything.

Katakuri, ever watchful, kept Luffy close. Too close, Brûlée thought.

Each morning, she tried again.

“Onii-chan, we need to talk about—”

“No.”

“But you can’t just keep—”

“No, Brûlée.”

Each time she tried to press him, Katakuri’s answer was the same: calm, low, and final. He never raised his voice. He never looked angry. But he also didn’t give an inch.

Brûlée's frustration simmered. It didn’t matter if she showed up with intel, arguments, reason or just her fists on her hips, he wouldn’t hear it. Wouldn’t discuss custody. Wouldn’t say if he even planned to look for the girl's father. Wouldn’t admit what she feared most: that he had no intention of letting the girl go.

But to Luffy, Katakuri was soft-spoken and steady. Unyielding, yes, but kind in his own quiet way. He distracted her with food, stories, soft mochi toys shaped into strange little animals.

“When will I see Papai?” Luffy asked one evening, perched on a plush footstool, swinging her legs.

Katakuri, sitting cross-legged across from her, met her gaze with calm assurance.

“Soon,” he said. “But until then, you can eat as much as you want.”

Luffy’s eyes had gone wide. “Really?! As much as I want?!”

He nodded once. “Anything.”

The promise stunned her into silence for almost a full minute—a miracle unto itself.

She ate enough to fill a small ship’s hold.

And for a while, it worked. Each time she grew anxious, Katakuri would calmly remind her, “Soon,” and pass her another dish. She accepted it with a trusting little smile that dug itself deeper into Katakuri’s chest than he was prepared to admit.

But on the fifth day, everything shifted. A mirror shimmered to life near the side of the veranda and Brûlée stepped out, arms folded and lips pursed.

“Message from Mama,” she said simply, ignoring the way Katakuri’s jaw clenched.

“She’s calling you in. Now.”

Katakuri exhaled slowly. Then looked down. Luffy was sitting on the floor beside him, humming quietly, one cheek puffed out with fried rice. He gently wiped a grain from her chin.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, rising. He turned to Brûlée. “Please watch her.”

Brûlée raised a single, sharp eyebrow. “Oh, now you trust me?”

Katakuri met her gaze evenly. “I’ve always trusted you.”

She rolled her eyes, but stepped forward and crouched beside Luffy. “Don’t worry, sweet pea. Onii-chan will be back before dinner.”

Luffy nodded sleepily, her mouth still full.

Katakuri gave her one last look, lingering longer than he intended.

Then he turned, stepped into the mirror, and was gone.

Brûlée's irritation at her brother’s silence still simmered just under her skin, but as she watched the girl lick the spoon clean with a blissed-out hum, it softened just enough to bring a reluctant smile to her lips.

“Done?” she asked, arching a brow.

Luffy looked up, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. She gave an emphatic nod and a tiny, muffled “Mmhmm!”

“Good.” Brûlée walked over, took the empty plate, and set it aside with a little flourish. Then she crouched down to Luffy’s level, her tone conspiratorial, almost teasing.

“How about… we go on an adventure?”

Luffy blinked. “Adventure?”

“Mhm,” Brûlée said, voice dropping into a whisper. “A secret one.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. She leaned forward so far she almost fell off the cushion. “What kind of secret?! Is it a sword secret?! Or a food one?!”

Brûlée laughed, a full, bubbling sound. “Even better,” she said. “How would you like to be a spy?”

Luffy’s mouth dropped open.

Brûlée tapped the side of her nose. “The mirrors. I’ve got them everywhere. We can see through them, listen what people are saying. Maybe even… find someone talking about your Papai.”

Luffy gasped. “You can do that?! Like a magic radio?!”

“Even better than a radio,” Brûlée said, standing and extending her arms. “Come on. You and me. Mirror spies.”

Luffy squealed with delight and launched herself forward, practically tackling Brûlée in a hug. “YES!! Mirror spies!!”

Brûlée laughed again, catching the girl easily and spinning her once in a little circle. “Alright, alright,” she said, ruffling Luffy’s hair. “Let’s go see if the world’s been talking about a red-haired idiot.”

And with that, the two disappeared into the Mirro-World, Luffy’s laughter echoing like a bright bell behind them.

The hours slipped by as Brûlée and Luffy wandered deeper into the corridors of the Mirro-World.

Each mirror they passed shimmered like a gateway to a thousand different lives. Brûlée would place a careful finger to the surface, murmuring a name or location, and the glass would ripple before revealing fragments of a scene, a crowded tavern on the Sabaody Archipelago, some place in Water7, a posh Marine office with someone yelling something about a little monkey, a bakery in the North Blue where someone was arguing about flour prices.

Luffy, wide-eyed and perched on tiptoes, devoured every image with fascinated awe.

“There’s so many people,” she whispered once, cheek pressed against Brûlée’s side. “Do they all know Papai?”

“Some of them might,” Brûlée replied gently, sweeping a new mirror to life. “That’s why we keep listening. We’ll find something eventually.”

They moved from mirror to mirror, eavesdropping with hushed excitement. Brûlée did her best to keep it light, almost playful, though her own ears were honed sharply for one word only: Shanks. But while her eyes flicked with concentration and her fingers danced across glass, Luffy had found a different kind of treasure.

“A CAT!”

Brûlée blinked as Luffy’s tiny body smushed up against one particularly foggy mirror. “Where?”

“There!” Luffy giggled, pointing at a crooked alleyway through a mirror that opened to some rainy street in a port town. A small orange tabby was curled in an empty crate.

“It’s licking its feets! Look! Can I get one?”

“That’s not how it works, Luffy-chan,” Brûlée chuckled. “Now, stay right here, I need to take this.” Her mirror compact buzzed softly in her apron pocket. She sighed and flipped it open. “Yes, Onii-chan?”

Katakuri’s stern, clipped voice came through immediately. “Where is she?”

Brûlée glanced over her shoulder at the little girl, still utterly enraptured by the cat in the alleyway. “She’s fine,” she said smoothly. “Eating well, napping between bites, asking too many questions at once.”

Katakuri grunted softly on the other end, a rare sound of something close to approval.

“I’ll return before dusk,” he added after a beat. “She’s not to leave the house.”

“She hasn’t,” Brûlée said quickly. “We’ve been very good.”

There was a pause. She didn’t say what they were doing. Didn't mention the mirrors. Didn’t say that she had heard a shipwright in Water7 mention the newly commissioned ship for the Red-Haired Pirates, Red Force, what a joke. Didn’t say they were tracing voices now, hoping for something more.

Katakuri’s silence stretched long, but he didn’t press.

“Good,” he said at last. “Thank you.”

And the mirror closed.

Brûlée sighed and tucked the compact away. “Luffy-chan?”

“Yeah?” came the dreamy voice near the cat mirror.

“We’ve got five more to check before dinner. And then you’re brushing your teeth this time.”

Luffy grinned over her shoulder. “Only if we watch the cat a little longer.”

Brûlée snorted and rolled her eyes. “Deal.”

As they stepped away from the cat-filled mirror a couple minutes later and into the hazy corridor of glass and shifting reflections, Brûlée gently tugged Luffy back to her side.

“Alright, sweet pea,” she said, kneeling so they were eye to eye. Her hands settled lightly on Luffy’s small shoulders. “One more thing before we keep going.”

Luffy tilted her head, eyes wide and curious. “What is it?”

Brûlée’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, playful but edged with seriousness. “You remember what we talked about? This is our little spy-adventure. Just you and me. That means…” she leaned in close, “it’s a secret.”

Luffy gasped and nodded solemnly. “Like a pirate secret?”

“Exactly like that.” Brûlée gave her a small wink. “So if big, grumpy Onii-chan asks what we did today…”

“…We stayed home and I brushed my teeth!” Luffy chirped proudly.

Brûlée blinked, then laughed. “Exactly.”

Luffy grinned, clearly thrilled by the idea of sneaky adventures and shared secrets. She even mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

Brûlée smiled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my little co-conspirator. Now come on, let’s go see what the next mirror has to tell us. But quiet this time, some of these taverns are full of loud idiots.”

Luffy nodded solemnly, already tiptoeing ahead.

Behind her, Brûlée followed, her expression a mix of fondness and growing worry. They were walking a thin line — and she knew her brother. If Katakuri ever found out what they were really doing…

Well, she didn’t plan to let him find out.

Days had passed with no sign of Luffy, and though the crews worked together with unspoken urgency, each hour without answers pressed heavier on them all.

At the heart of it, three people gathered daily around a worn table on the ship's deck: Beckman, Hongo and Law.

The map between them was scarred with ink in different shapes: dots, circles, routes. Trade paths, neutral islands, old intelligence. Anything that might give them a lead on the monkey-shaped child they hadn’t seen since that awful day.

Beckman dragged on his cigarette, eyes sharp under the shadow of his brow. “We’ve searched the last two islands anyone reported seeing Mihawk near. Nothing.”

“She could’ve ended up anywhere,” Hongo muttered, flipping a page in a thick logbook. “She’s a shifter. A scared one. We don’t know what form she’s taken. She might not even be—”

“She’s alive,” Law interrupted flatly.

Hongo looked up, surprised by the force of it.

“I’d know,” Law said, voice quiet now, but hard as steel. “I’d feel it.”

Beckman studied him in silence. Law hadn’t said much the past few days. “Hey,” Beck said, stepping closer. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Law didn’t answer.

“Come sit down, Law,” Hongo offered. “We’ll go over the—”

“I can’t lose her.” The words came out hoarse. Tight. Law’s back was still to them, but his voice was raw enough to freeze them both mid-step.

Beckman blinked. Hongo’s brows lifted.

“If I lose her…” Law said, louder now, but shaking. “That’s it. There’s nothing left for me.”

Slowly, he turned. His face was pale, his eyes ringed with sleepless dark. “Not again. I already lost everything once. Twice.”

He took a step forward but then his knees buckled.

Beckman was there in a heartbeat, catching him by the shoulders before he could hit the deck. Hongo moved fast too, steadying him on the other side.

“I’m fine,” Law snapped, but there was no real fire in it.

“Sure you are, kid,” Beckman muttered, guiding him down to sit on a crate near the mast. “We all are.”

“I didn’t even see her real face,” Law said, his voice cracking. “She was always just a monkey. Curled up in my blanket. Eating fruits and nuts. Playing with random stuff. Napping on me.”

He looked up at the sky like it might hold her answer. “She made me feel something again. Something good. I—” He bit back the rest.

Hongo knelt in front of him, something flickering in his eyes. “You’re from the North Blue, right?” he asked gently.

Law gave a shaky nod.

“White City?”

Law’s head snapped toward him. “You know it?”

“I was born there too, but my family left,” Hongo said quietly. “Before everything went to hell.”

Law stared at him. “You… left?”

“We left when I was still young. My uncle smuggled us out when the sickness started spreading. I never went back.” Hongo’s voice lowered. “You?”

Law looked away. “Watched my family die in front of me.”

There was a silence between them, long and sharp.

Beckman didn’t interrupt.

Law finally muttered, “I didn’t think anyone else from Flevance was still alive.”

Hongo gave him a tired smile. “You are not alone, Law. You'll be able to make peace with it in time. I promise you. Everything will be fine.”

Law laughed bitterly under his breath. “She’s the only thing that ever gave me peace since I left.” He dug his fingers into his hair. “And I let her run.”

“You didn’t let her run,” Beckman said. “She chose to run. That’s different. She ran to protect you.”

“She's a child.”

“She’s also a D.,” Beckman added softly. “They never do things the easy way.”

Law slumped forward, hands clasped between his knees.

Beckman lit a cigarette and handed it to him. Law hesitated, then took it with a shaking hand.

“We’ll find her and Beck, stop that shit. Law, you're a doctor, put it away. You didn't survive Amber Lead to poison yourself now with nicotine,” Hongo said firmly.

Law didn’t speak again. But he didn’t let go of the cigarette either, just lets it burn.

Above them, the sky turned pink with the coming dusk.

The afternoon passed in golden slants through the windows of Komugi Island’s grand estate. The day was warm, the air heavy with the scent of fruit trees outside, and Luffy had just polished off a plate of sweet buns the size of her face. Brûlée wiped her hands, watching the little girl lounge back on a mountain of pillows, cheeks sticky and full.

Katakuri stood at the doorway, his presence towering as always. “I’ve been summoned,” he said, voice low. “Two days. Maybe less.”

Brûlée quirked a brow. “Mama again?”

A slow nod. “She’s restless.”

Brûlée glanced at Luffy, who was now attempting to stack pillow forts on her own head.

“You sure about this?” she asked quietly. “Leaving her with me again?”

“I trust you. You're the only one I can entrust her to,” Katakuri replied.

Brûlée snorted. “That makes one of us.”

Katakuri gave her a flat look, then crossed the room, kneeling beside Luffy and tapping her gently on the shoulder.

“Be good while I’m gone.”

Luffy blinked up at him. “Can I eat more meat?”

“As much as you want,” he said, lips twitching faintly.

“And when you come back,” she asked, “will my Papai be here?”

There was a pause. A flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “Maybe,” he said softly. “You'll see him soon enough.”

She beamed.

He rose and walked to the mirror. Before stepping through, he gave Brûlée one last glance. “No trouble.”

She waved him off with a flick of her hand.

The second the surface of the mirror stilled, Brûlée turned to Luffy with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.

“Alright, Agent Luffy-chan,” she whispered. “Ready for today’s mission?”

Luffy bolted upright. “YES!”

Brûlée tapped the silver surface of a large standing mirror, and the two slipped into the Mirror-World, the gleaming corridor between corridors, their secret path to eavesdropping glory.

They made their rounds. Pirate ships, market stalls, dingy taverns. At every whisper of “Red Hair,” Luffy’s entire body perked up. Most were duds, barroom jokes, passing mentions but the thrill of the hunt kept her sparkling. After a few hours, they took a break on a floating shard of reflective glass that Brûlée used as a platform.

“I’ll be right back, Luffy-chan,” she said, as her Den-Den Mushi began ringing inside her coat. “Stay right here. No hopping.”

“’Kay,” Luffy chirped.

Brûlée stepped off to answer the call, smoothing her hair instinctively.

“Brûlée,” Katakuri’s voice came through, calm but firm. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy,” she said with a strained smile. “She’s napping. Totally wiped from playing chase around the estate.”

“She hasn’t caused trouble?”

“Not unless growing out of her clothes counts,” she said breezily. “I might need to sew her a new dress.”

There was a pause. Katakuri’s voice softened. “Thank you.”

She hesitated a moment, then cleared her throat. “She’s… fine, Katakuri. You don’t have to worry.”

Katakuri exhaled through his nose — the sound of someone tired, stretched thin. “I always worry about my little girl.”

Brûlée gave a vague hum and ended the call.

When she turned around—

“Luffy?” she called.

Silence.

Her stomach dropped.

“Luffy!”

No reply.

Panic creeping into her bones, Brûlée sprinted back toward the edge of the platform and gasped. One of the mirrors nearby had a soft, silvery ripple still fading, like someone had just passed through.

And on the floor: Luffy’s little black dress and pink bracelet.

Brûlée’s blood ran cold.

She dropped to her knees, hands trembling as she lifted the familiar fabric. “No, no, no—this wasn’t the deal.”

She jumped to the mirror. Nothing but the quiet bustle of a market town on the other side.

“LUFFY!”

But the little girl was gone.

“Whose monkey is this?!” someone shouted, voice sharp with surprise.

A ripple of confused murmurs followed as the small creature darted through a hallway, past startled legs, its fur bristling, eyes wild.

Then, a booming voice rang out, rough, gravelly, and laced with fury.

“MINE!” it roared. “Come here, you damn little thief! You stole from me! If you don't give it back I'll kill you! Zehahahaha!”

People flinched. Several took a step back.

Chapter Text

Little feet slapped against the dock as Luffy tore through the shadows, lungs burning. Behind her, the stench of cheap rum and smoke clung to the night air, chasing her as surely as the heavy boots pounding after her.

“Zehahahaha!” The laugh cut through the dark, jagged and merciless. “Run, little monkey! You can run all you want!”

Her chest tightened, panic clawing her throat. She didn’t dare look back. Instead, she flung herself up the gangplank of the massive ship looming before her, the wood groaning beneath her small steps. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to hide.

The deck stretched out, vast and empty. At its center, seated like a king on a throne carved from the ship itself, was a giant of a man with a giant white moustache.

Up there, her mind whispered frantically. He’ll never find me up there.

Before fear could slow her, she darted forward, clambering up the man’s massive chair and onto his shoulder, then up again until she clung desperately to the cloth covering his head. Her tiny fingers knotted into his hair.

The man stilled. “…Huh?”

His massive hand rose, palm like a wall of flesh, one finger brushing against her trembling body. The instant it touched her, Luffy screamed, high, raw, animal panic bursting from her throat as though she were already being crushed.

“Sorry, Pops,” the oily voice of the man who had chased her slithered across the deck. He stepped into the light, grin wide and filthy. “My monkey’s bothering you.”

The giant chuckled, his laughter a rolling thunder that shook her perch. “Ah, son. Don’t worry. Just keep it in your quarters or in a cage. Wouldn’t want it stealing Thatch’s provisions.”

Before she could move, a flutter of wings brushed her ear. A large blue bird hovered, spectacles glinting in the sun, eyes sharp but strangely kind.

“Come now, little one,” it said, voice unnervingly calm. “Let’s get you back where you belong.”

Gentle though its claws were, they closed firmly around the scruff of her neck, lifting her trembling body away from the giant’s head. She squealed, legs flailing, but within moments she was dropped into the waiting arms of the laughing, greasy man.

That night, Luffy sat curled inside a small iron cage, tail coiled tightly around her. The cage rested on a long table in a roaring mess hall, the air thick with meat, beer and men’s laughter. Hundreds of pirates crowded around, feasting together. The smell of food was unbearable. Her stomach wailed and Luff let out a miserable whimper, pressing her tiny hands to her belly.

Across the table, a slender figure leaned closer, voice cutting through the chaos. “Teach,” they said, quiet but clear. “Your monkey seems hungry.”

Luffy’s head snapped up. Her wide, dark eyes fixed on the stranger, long hair, nice makeup, a sharp jawline, a voice pitched somewhere between man and woman. Her heart leapt. Maybe, just maybe, they understood. She nodded frantically, hands gripping the bars, a silent plea trembling on her lips.

Teach threw his head back, laughter booming, grotesque and jagged. “Hungry? Zehahahaha! This little beast already ate something it shouldn’t have. I’m waiting to see if it spits it out!”

The hall shook with his mirth, but Luffy shook her head violently, wordlessly begging for help.

The androgynous figure didn’t look away. Their eyes locked on hers, cool and unreadable. For a long, stretched moment, the world around them seemed to blur. Then, without a word, they leaned back into the shadows, leaving her alone with the roar of laughter and the ache in her belly.

The feast dragged on, spilling into drunken chaos. Plates clattered, mugs overflowed and the reek of liquor clung to every inch of the mess hall. At the head of one long table, Teach swayed in his chair, his cheeks ruddy, his grin wide and slurred with drink.

Luffy huddled in the tiny cage on the table, knees pulled tight to her chest. Her stomach hurt, but fear outweighed even that gnawing ache. She flinched when the scrape of metal suddenly pierced through her silence. A fork.

Teach jabbed it lazily between the bars, the prongs missing her by millimetre, then scraping across the floor of the cage. “Zehahahaha! Dance, little beast, dance!” he slurred, shoving the fork in again, closer this time.

The men around him howled with laughter. To them, it was nothing. But Luffy’s wide eyes weren’t on them. They searched desperately across the table until they found the one pair of eyes that didn’t mock her, the man-lady’s. The androgynous figure sat perfectly still, expression unreadable. Luffy’s lips trembled. She pressed her small hands against the bars and let out a desperate, broken cry.

The fork jabbed again, catching at her side and making her squeal. She pressed herself to the corner, heart hammering so loudly she could barely hear the laughter.

Then, footsteps came and the fork was retracted. A man stepped closer, hair styled upwards so strangely it gave him the look of a pineapple. His brow furrowed as he watched the cage, his voice firm though not unkind. “Teach. Enough. Stop tormenting the animal.”

Teach’s grin dropped into a snarl. His drunken eyes flared, teeth bared as he roared, “Stay the hell out of this, Marco! This is my pet, not yours!” He slammed the fork against the bars so hard the cage rattled. Luffy yelped.

“You’re a doctor for men,” Teach spat, words thick with venom and booze. “Not for animals. Don’t you dare tell me what to do with my monkey!”

The table erupted in laughter again, cruel and merciless. Marco’s jaw tightened, but after a beat, he stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the hall.

Luffy’s cries grew louder, sharper, as she clawed at the bars, reaching toward the man-lady again. Her throat ached, but she couldn’t stop the shrieks tearing out of her.

Teach grinned wide, flushed with drink and malice. He tossed the fork aside with a clatter and, with unsteady hands, drew a knife from his belt. The steel glinted under the lantern light as he raised it, breath hot and rancid with alcohol.

“Let’s see, you little piece of shit,” he slurred, lips curling back in a wicked grin. “If you’re still so lively when we trim those little fingers off.”

The laughter at the table faltered into uneasy murmurs, but none moved. And Luffy, trembling and shrieking, pressed herself into the corner of the cage, eyes never leaving the man-lady’s face, silently begging them to do something before the blade fell.

The knife hovered, gleaming under the lantern light. Luffy’s cries rang sharp through the hall, until a voice rolled across the room.

“Teach.” Every sound in the feast stilled. Even the laughter.

From his great chair at the head of the hall, Whitebeard leaned forward, massive hands gripping the table like tree trunks. His booming voice carried a weight that made the very timbers of the ship shudder.

“I raised all my sons with this lesson: treat beasts with kindness. No torment. No cruelty.” His gaze locked on Teach like a vice, hard and unforgiving. “I will not suffer to see anyone abuse a pet on my deck.”

Teach’s jaw flexed, his grin faltering just long enough to show a crack. He tsked loudly, rolling his shoulders as if brushing off the scolding, then gave a rough laugh. “Zehahahaha! Pops, you know I was just fooling around.”

Still chuckling, he shoved the knife back into his belt. With a lurching sway, he rose from his chair, snatching up the cage with one hand. Luffy whimpered as the bars rattled around her.

“Don’t worry,” Teach called over his shoulder, voice dripping with false cheer. “I’ll keep my little monkey where it won’t bother anyone’s dinner.”

He stomped toward the door, ignoring the wary looks that followed him and disappeared into the dark corridor.

The cage swung with each heavy step until, finally, Teach shoved into his cabin. The air inside was foul. Thick with sweat, rot, and spilled alcohol. The stink clung to everything like damp rot. With a grunt, he tossed the cage onto the floorboards. It landed with a painful thud, jolting Luffy against the bars. She squeaked, curling in on herself as the shadows swallowed her whole.

Teach gave one last drunken chuckle, then staggered toward the filthy cot in the corner. He collapsed onto it with a crash, the stench of liquor radiating from his breath as his snores filled the room within moments.

The days blurred together in a haze of hunger and fear.

For three long days, Teach kept the cage clipped to the heavy belt at his waist as though she were nothing more than a grotesque ornament. Luffy’s small body rattled with every uneven step he took. The bars dug into her skin when he slung himself into chairs or stomped down corridors, and her stomach growled so loudly she half-feared the whole ship could hear it.

No food. No water. Not a scrap.

When her cries grew too desperate, when her small fists beat against the cage bars in helpless fury, Teach only laughed. Sometimes, he’d pull one of his many pistols from his belt and press the cold barrel through the cage until it tapped against her side. The weight of it froze her instantly every time, and her whimpers shrank into silence. He loved the way her trembling amused the men around him.

But not everyone laughed. More than once, the man with the pineapple-shaped head approached, his voice calm but edged. “Teach. That monkey’s wasting away. If it dies, Pops is gonna be mad.”

And beside him, the sharp-eyed figure Luffy could only call man-lady, stood, arms folded, gaze steady. They never spoke cruelly, never mocked. Instead, they turned their questions toward her.

“Little one… did Teach give you anything to eat today?” Wide, hollow eyes stared back. Slowly, shakily, Luffy shook her head. Brows knit. Jaws tightened.

Another time, the man-lady leaned down, voice low, almost careful. “Are you thirsty?”

Luffy’s lips were cracked. Her tiny tongue darted out to wet them before she gave the smallest, most pitiful nod.

Again, that quiet look passed between the two. But they never pressed further, not while Teach loomed. They just stood a moment longer, as if weighing whether they could act, then turned away with dark frowns carved deep into their faces.

Teach only grinned broader each time. “Zehahahaha! You two softies worry too much. My monkey’s tough. Survive or don’t, does it matter?”

Luffy huddled smaller in her cage, the world a blur of stomping boots, drunken laughter and the constant swing of bars that kept her trapped. Her belly clenched tighter each hour and the thirst burned hotter in her throat.

But every time she met pineapple’s eyes, or the man-lady’s, she forced herself to move. To nod, or shake her head. To answer. Because somehow, those looks told her that at least two people on this terrible ship still saw her.

By the next evening, Luffy was barely conscious. Her small body slumped in the cramped cage, every breath shallow, her eyelids heavy as if weighed down by chains.

The sudden creak of iron jolted her. A massive hand reached in, seized her by the scruff and yanked her into the open air. She dangled helplessly before Teach’s leering face. Two thick fingers closed around her tiny throat.

With a laugh, Teach pressed her against the wooden wall of his quarters. Her legs kicked weakly in the air, hands clawing at his skin, but his grip didn’t budge, not even when there was a sound coming from the hallway.

Luffy’s voice broke into a wavering wail, high-pitched but fading fast. Then the sound shifted to soft sobs, trembling, her tears spilling down her cheeks and dripping onto his hand.

Teach blinked, almost startled. For a moment his grip loosened, just enough. She slid down, crumpling onto the floorboards with a weak thud, curling into herself.

He stared down at her and barked a harsh laugh. “Good. That’s better. Now it’ll be easy to carve the map out of you. I can even sell you afterwards, there's always demand for little girls, dead or alive. Zehahahaha!”

His boot shoved her over. She rolled onto her side, curling tighter, trembling like a leaf.

“Pathetic little thing.” He crouched, his huge hand clamping her shoulder and hauling her upright again, slamming her face against the wall.

“Any last words?” His grin split wide, teeth flashing as he chuckled.

Luffy’s lips quivered. Her voice came out cracked, soaked in tears. “I… I miss Papa… and Torao… and Ace.”

“Of course you do,” Teach sneered.

The cold barrel of a pistol pressed against the back of her head.

Her tiny hands flew up, nails scraping against the wall in pure panic. Her scream tore through the cabin, raw and desperate.

Then came the deafening crack of a gunshot. Everything went black.

“I’ve always hated that bastard,” Izo spat, voice shaking with fury as he stepped over Teach’s lifeless bulk. His heels clicked on the floorboards, but he barely looked down, his eyes fixed instead on the tiny, crumpled and bleeding form against the wall.

Carefully, almost reverently, Izo crouched and lifted the small, naked girl into his arms. She was so light it made his stomach twist. He pressed her close against his chest, trying to shield her trembling frame from the stink of the room.

Marco stood frozen for a heartbeat, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burned with rage and sorrow, but his voice stayed steady. “Bring her to the med bay. I’ll be right there, I need to tell Pops.”

Izo nodded once and swept out of the room, clutching the child to him.

Minutes later, the med bay was alive with motion. The little girl was on a cot, her hair spread across the pillow in soiled, tangled strands. Nurses flitted around her, hands gentle but hurried as they checked her breathing, her pulse, the dark bruises on her skin. Izo never moved from her side, his expression sharp enough to cut steel.

The door opened again. Marco entered, his face grim, Whitebeard’s towering figure filling the space behind him. The room stilled. Even the nurses stepped aside as Marco approached the bedside.

He took a deep breath, then snapped into action, his hands precise, movements practiced. He adjusted the sheet, pressed his stethoscope against her tiny chest, then checked her throat and eyes with careful efficiency.

“Severely dehydrated,” Marco muttered. “Pulse thready. Starvation signs all over. No food or water for days.”

He signalled, and a nurse placed a tray beside him. Vials, tubing, needles. Marco’s hands were steady as he slid the smallest needle he had into her arm, drawing blood into the vial. He held it up, squinting through the glass.

“Run a panel,” he said. “Need to know what’s still functioning.”

He capped the sample and handed it off, then reached for a saline bag. His voice was clipped but controlled. “She won’t last without fluids. Start with saline. Slowly. Too fast could kill her.”

A moment later, clear liquid dripped into the line that fed into her fragile vein. Marco’s shoulders eased only slightly as he watched the first drops flow.

Behind him, Whitebeard’s voice rumbled low, his expression dark with restrained fury. “She’s just a child…”

Marco didn’t look up, his focus locked on the small figure beneath the sheet. His jaw tightened as he hooked up a second line, prepping a transfusion bag. “She’s not out of the woods yet. But we’re not losing her. We owe her that much.”

Izo brushed a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face, his hand shaking just slightly.

The med bay had gone quiet except for the steady drip of saline. Marco’s brow furrowed as he adjusted the line and monitored her weak pulse. The girl’s chest rose and fell shallowly, but at least it was steady.

Whitebeard moved closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over the cot. His gaze lingered on the child, so small, fragile, pale as parchment beneath the sheet. His brows drew together, his jaw working as if chewing over a stone.

“How is it,” he said at last, his voice low but resonant enough to shake the walls, “that a child like this could have been aboard my ship… and I did not feel her presence?”

Heads turned, but no one spoke.

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve sailed longer than most of you have drawn breath. I can sense... But this child… no. I felt nothing. Nothing but a monkey in a cage.”

Marco paused, syringe in hand, and glanced up. “She… shifted,” he said grimly. “That’s the only explanation is that she's a Devil Fruit user.”

Whitebeard let out a deep rumble, half-growl, half-thought. “But there’s no Devil Fruit I’ve heard of that would turn a human into a monkey. Zoans, yes. But not… like this.”

Izo’s lips pressed tight as he stroked a hand gently over the girl’s hair. “Oyaji, I think that bastard Teach knew it too. That’s why he kept her.”

One of the nurses shifted uncomfortably. “If she really can take the form of an animal… doesn’t that mean—”

“A Devil Fruit,” Marco finished for her, voice flat. He looked down at the tiny, sleeping form, the IV line taped to her arm, her lips cracked from thirst. “Some fruit we’ve never seen before. That’s the only way this makes sense. Except for the Monkey D.'s, there are no shifters left on this world.”

Whitebeard’s massive hand tightened on his bisento. “So. A child, alone, cursed with a power she should never have borne. Hunted. Abused. And Teach—” His teeth ground together audibly. “That filth thought he could claim her for himself.”

The room felt heavier, as if the air itself recoiled from the weight of his fury. Several nurses stepped back instinctively.

Marco turned back to the transfusion bag, forcing himself to keep calm, professional. “We keep her alive first. We figure out the rest later.”

Whitebeard stayed by the bedside longer than any of them expected, his vast shoulders hunched in a way that made him look almost smaller. His great hand rested on the edge of the cot, close enough that if the little girl reached out, she’d be swallowed by his palm.

His eyes were fixed on her face, the faint bruises on her throat, the tear-tracks on her cheeks, the way her chest barely rose under the thin sheet. For a long time, he said nothing.

Then his voice came, deep and raw. “I told that him… I told him to keep his monkey in his quarters. Or in a cage. I thought it was nothing. And all this time, it was a child. A child in chains, starving under my roof and I didn’t even see it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the medical crew shifting uneasily. No one dared interrupt him.

Whitebeard exhaled, the sound more like a groan than a sigh. His massive fingers flexed, as though the bisento wasn’t in his hand but Teach’s throat. “I’ve raised sons and daughters on this ship for decades. I’ve sworn to protect every one of them. And still, this slipped past me.”

Marco opened his mouth, but Whitebeard lifted a hand, stopping him. His dark eyes, rimmed with tiredness, swept over the men and women standing in the med bay.

“No child will ever suffer like this again under my flag,” he said, the words like iron laid down one by one. “And no man who finds joy in harming them, no man who looks at a child as prey, will ever call himself my son again.”

He straightened, towering now, his full height filling the room. The weight of his will pressed on them all. “Teach is the first example. And the last warning. I will speak to my children. I will know their hearts. If even one walks that same path…” His voice hardened to a growl. “They will not sail with me another day.”

The nurses froze mid-motion. Marco felt his chest tighten, though he nodded grimly. Izo, still holding the girl’s tiny hand between his long fingers, closed his eyes and whispered, “Good. That’s how it should be.”

Whitebeard glanced down at the child one last time, his expression softening with something dangerously close to grief. “A child,” he murmured. “Not a monkey. Not a burden. Just a child… and I let this happen on my own ship.”

The world around her was hazy when Luffy’s eyes fluttered open. Everything smelled strange, medicine, steel, almost like on Torao's ship but the faint musk of too many bodies crowded close. And faces. So many unfamiliar faces.

Big people. All of them staring.

Her chest seized. Panic ripped through her small frame like a lightning strike. She whimpered, clutching the blanket to her chin. Her eyes darted wildly, searching for something familiar, but there was nothing.

She jerked at the sharp sting in her arm. Needles. Tubes. She yanked and the pain made her gasp, tears springing to her eyes as blood welled where the needle tore out.

“Easy! Don’t—!” someone started, but it was too late.

Her gaze landed on the towering figure in the corner, massive, shadowed, watching. The giant stirred, his chair groaning as he rose to his feet.

The sight broke her. A strangled scream tore out of her throat as her form blurred, twisted and snapped into the tiny monkey. Without looking back, she bolted for the door, into the corridor and vanished down the hall.

Shouts rang out behind her. Feet thundered. But she didn’t stop. She darted through the ship’s belly, twisting through halls and stairwells, slipping past startled crewmen who gawked as the tiny creature sprinted by. Her lungs burned. Her heart felt like it might explode. She didn’t care where she was going only away, away, away.

Until—Food.

The smell hit her like a punch: meat sizzling, bread baking, something sweet in the air. The panic dissolved, at least enough for her stomach to twist painfully. She stumbled into the kitchen, climbed onto a counter and within seconds she was stuffing herself, fruit, bread, anything her little hands could grab. Her cheeks bulged, crumbs falling down her fur as she devoured like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

For a moment, everything was perfect. But then, a piercing shriek ripped through the kitchen.

Luffy froze, her tiny hands clutching a loaf of bread mid-bite. Slowly, she turned.

A man in pristine white stood in the doorway. His hair was done up in a way that made him look… silly. Ridiculous even, if she weren’t already shaking with terror. His mouth opened wide enough to swallow the world as he pointed a trembling hand at her.

“IZO! MARCO!!” he bellowed. “MONKEY!! YOUR MONKEY!!!”

The sound rattled the pans on their hooks. Luffy squeaked, eyes wide, crumbs still sticking to her fur. Her tiny chest heaved as her ears rang with his roar. Luffy bolted again, scrambling across the deck. Thatch immediately gave chase, his long legs pounding the wooden planks, voice echoing, “HEY! COME BACK HERE!”

One by one, crew members joined the pursuit, shouting, fumbling over each other, trying to corner the fleeing little figure. The shouts and commotion made Luffy’s heart pound harder, her tiny legs carried her as fast as they could, weaving between barrels and ropes, leaping over coils of line.

She reached the main deck, gasping, her breaths sharp and panicked. Her eyes scanned upward and there it was: the mast, tall and sturdy. She scrambled towards it, tiny hands gripping the wood, tail lashing behind her.

This… this is safe, she thought to herself. Up here, above everyone, she felt untouchable, for just a moment. The chaos below faded into tiny shapes, shouting and running.

From the deck, Thatch’s frustrated roar cut through the air again. “Come down here!”

Suddenly, the familiar flash of blue appeared, the bird, coming straight for her. Panic surged through Luffy. Instinctively, she scrambled up one of the sail masts, claws digging into the rigging, tail twitching as she balanced precariously. Her eyes darted down the deck, seeing the chasing crew below and the bird closing in.

Then, with a sudden burst of courage or desperation, she leapt.

Better than a cage, she thought midair, twisting her small body to dodge the bird’s outstretched claws.

Her momentum carried her into the air, wind whipping past and then into the water below. The shock of cold hit her all at once. She sank, limbs stretching, as she saw her hand again. Above, the sun glittered off the sails, the shouts from the deck muffled by the water. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt and spin, and Luffy was just a small, terrified figure submerged, caught between the air she’d fled and the depths she’d fallen into.

Her heart raced, lungs gasping. This is fine… she thought to herself, closing her eyes.

She felt a firm hand wrap around hers, pulling her upward through the water. Luffy broke the surface with a sharp gasp, lungs burning for air.

“You good?” The man-lady’s voice was calm, reassuring, as he supported her. The little girl coughed violently, water dripping down her face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be on deck in a moment. Can you hold on?” he asked gently. Luffy nodded cautiously, clinging as best she could.

“Good. The ladder’s right there,” Izo said, holding her securely with one arm as he steadied her.

A few minutes later, Izo carried Luffy back to the med bay. Every step left a trail of water, his kimono was completely soaked, sticking to his body.

“What’s your name?” Izo asked, keeping his tone soft.

“Luffy,” she whispered, still shivering.

“Izo,” he offered in return, a small, reassuring smile.

Then, the door opened and Whitebeard and Marco stepped into the room. Luffy shrank back instinctively, panic flashing in her wide eyes.

Izo moved quickly, draping a clean sheet over her naked, trembling little frame.

“She’s… Luffy,” Izo said quietly.

Luffy clutched the sheet tightly, hiding her face as best she could, trying to disappear beneath it. Izo crouched slightly to meet Luffy’s gaze, keeping his tone gentle. “It’s okay, Luffy. No one’s going to hurt you. Teach isn’t on board anymore.”

At the mention of the name, Luffy flinched slightly, hugging the sheet tighter.

“Can you tell me… why did you run?” Izo asked softly.

Luffy’s little voice was barely audible, but firm. “No cage anymore.”

From the doorway, Marco stepped forward, his expression calm but authoritative. “We’re not going to lock you up, Luffy. We just want to get you back on your feet.” He crouched to her level, eyes kind. “Are you hungry?”

Luffy nodded, her stomach growling faintly beneath the sheet. Izo stayed close beside Luffy, crouched low enough that she could feel the small comfort of his presence. The little girl’s eyes followed every movement in the room, still wary, still shivering.

Then the door opened and that man in the white uniform stepped in, carrying a small plate. Izo leaned closer and whispered, “That’s Thatch.”

At the name, Luffy flinched slightly, and even without a word, everyone in the room noticed, but no one questioned it.

“Thatch's my brother and a great chef. Marco over there, is my eldest brother and our doctor. And that's our Pops.” Izo said and pointed to his other family members.

“Thatch’s going to give you something to eat,” Izo said softly. “I’ll be right back, I just need to get something dry to wear.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving Luffy under Thatch’s careful gaze.

Slowly, cautiously, Luffy began nibbling at the apple slices Thatch had cut for her. Marco knelt beside her and handed her a small cup to drink from and for a few minutes the room was quiet except for the soft sounds of her eating.

After a short while, Izo returned. Marco and Thatch stepped back slightly, giving him space. Izo held up a small t-shirt and gently helped Luffy slip it over her damp clothes.

“This will have to do for now,” he murmured, tugging it into place. “I’ll sew you something proper later.”

Luffy looked down at the soft fabric, a faint sense of comfort settling over her, her small hands clutching the shirt as she slowly sipped from her cup.

Luffy had curled up under the small blanket Izo had tucked around her and in his presence, she seemed calmer than she had since the ordeal began. Every now and then, she shifted slightly, burrowed closer, as if instinctively knowing that Izo’s watchful eyes meant safety. Eventually, her eyelids drooped, and she fell into a deep, restless sleep. The soft rise and fall of her chest filled the room and Marco, Izo, and Whitebeard gathered quietly around the bedside.

“What do we do with her?” Marco asked, voice low, unsure.

Whitebeard leaned on his cane, staring down at the small, sleeping figure. “I… I’d like to keep her,” he said thoughtfully, a rare softness in his voice.

Izo’s brow furrowed. “She’s not a pet, Oyaji. You can’t just keep her like one.”

Whitebeard’s eyes softened, but he shook his head slightly. “I’m not saying that… I mean, I’d keep her as a daughter.”

Izo glanced up, unimpressed. “More like a granddaughter, you mean.”

Whitebeard’s gaze flicked sharply to his son.

“Pops, Izo has a point,” Marco interjected, arms crossed. “When Luffy wakes up, we need to ask where she’s from, whether she wants to go back. Whatever Teach did... he took her from somewhere and she probably has a family that’s still looking for her.”

Whitebeard exhaled slowl. “Hm… yes…” His voice trailed off as his eyes softened again, looking down at the small child sleeping peacefully before them.

Luffy’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment, panic gripped her. She wasn’t in the med bay anymore. The room around her looked like the one the bad man lived in, only nicer. Her tiny body stiffened, heart hammering, until she realised Izo was sitting quietly beside her, calm and watchful.

Pretty, she thought, noticing him for the first time without the usual stern expression.

“You slept well?” Izo asked gently, his dark eyes scanning her face.

“Y-yeah,” Luffy whispered, still wide-eyed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked next, studying her carefully.

Luffy nodded eagerly.

“Good,” Izo said, smiling faintly. “I even sewed you a little dress last night. Wait here.” He stood and disappeared into his wardrobe, returning moments later with a small dress covered in a cheerful, colorful pattern. Luffy’s eyes widened, sparkling with awe.

“But first,” Izo continued, his voice patient but firm, “you need a bath.”

Luffy squeaked, her little fists clenching. “No bath!”

Izo raised an eyebrow. “Just five minutes. Then you can eat anything you want.”

Luffy pouted, her lower lip jutting out. “Is there meat?”

Izo’s lips curved in a small, teasing smile. “Only for girls who bathe.”

Luffy narrowed her eyes, then gave a small nod. “Okay… but quickly.”

With gentle care, Izo lifted her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, still tense, but slowly relaxing as he carried her to the bathing area. The warm water hissed softly as he lowered her into the shallow tub, the salty residue washing away. Luffy blinked, fascinated as the suds lathered over her tiny arms and hair.

“There we go,” Izo murmured, his hands steady as he washed her carefully. “Almost done.”

Luffy let out a small giggle as he rinsed her hair, the first real sound of relief since she’d woken. “Warm,” she murmured, tilting her head.

Izo smiled softly, washing the last of the salt from her skin. “All clean. Now for the dress.”

He lifted her gently from the water, wrapping her in a soft towel. Luffy shivered slightly, then relaxed into his arms as he carefully helped her into the little colorful dress. Her eyes sparkled at the bright pattern, the soft fabric brushing against her skin.

“There,” Izo said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect.”

Luffy hugged him tightly, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips. 

For the next few days, Luffy clung to Izo like a shadow. Wherever he went, she followed, perched on his shoulder, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck, or holding tightly to his hand. Despite the constant chatter and fidgeting, Izo indulged her gladly, finding a quiet joy in her trust and the rare innocence she carried.

Eventually, he carried her into Whitebeard’s private room, Marco already there, studying some charts. Luffy wriggled in his arms, eyes wide.

Whitebeard leaned forward, his deep voice resonating. “I have some... questions, young lady. Where are you from? How old are you?”

“Foosha. Eight,” Luffy said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The name meant nothing to Marco or Whitebeard. Blank stares met her.

Marco crouched slightly, concern etched on his face. “Do you have family?”

Luffy shook her head. Her small voice trembled as she spoke. “Papa… he didn’t come back. And my brother… Ace said he never wanted to see me again. Sabo is dead... Torao and the others are in danger.”

Whitebeard’s massive hand rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “And… would you like to stay with us?”

Luffy only shrugged, uncertain.

Izo leaned closer, voice soft. “Where would you rather be right now?”

Luffy tilted her head, thinking, then murmured, “Torao.”

The name didn't ring any bell.

Marco’s eyes narrowed. “How did Teach… capture you?”

“I… I heard him,” Luffy said quietly. “He said he’d kill… Latch... Patch or maybe Hatch? Something like that, after finding something on a map. So I ate the map. Then he locked me up. Now… now I’m here.”

The three men exchanged glances, even more confused and troubled than before.

Whitebeard’s voice softened, filled with gentle authority. “If you could be anywhere right now and I don’t mean this Torao… where would that be?”

Luffy’s gaze fell, quiet and small. “At home… With Makino and Ace.”

Whitebeard nodded solemnly. “Then we’ll take you home.”

Izo’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Didn’t you say… your family… you’d never be alone here, Luffy?”

Luffy met his eyes, voice fragile. “Everyone gets hurt… Sabo is dead… because of me. And Big Feather man hurt Torao and the others… because of me. Gelee and Onchan... their Mama is bad I think. They had to hide me.”

The room went silent as the weight of her incoherent words sank in.

Marco leaned forward, gentle but firm. “So… are you really sure you don’t want to stay? No one could defeat us, Luffy. Pops here is the strongest man in the world.”

Luffy’s tiny face tilted toward Whitebeard. “Stronger than Gramps?”

Whitebeard chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that filled the room. “Of course.”

Luffy’s eyes narrowed. “Huh… and you won’t hit me?”

All three men stared, taken aback.

Whitebeard frowned, confused. “Why would I hit you?”

Luffy’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Gramps hits us so we get stronger. He wants Ace and me to be Marines… but Marines are dumb.”

The three men exchanged bewildered glances.

“Your Gramps… he’s a Marine?” Whitebeard asked, curiosity piqued.

Luffy nodded. “He probably looks for you,” Marco said gently.

Luffy shook her head, sadness weighing on her tiny shoulders. “Gramps only comes home once a year. Otherwise… he doesn’t care what Ace and I do.”

Izo rubbed his face, muttering under his breath. “This is insane…”

Whitebeard and Marco shared a look, both realising just how much this little girl had endured—and how much she already carried at only eight years old.

That evening, Luffy perched on Izo’s lap as they all gathered around the dinner table. 

“So… I found Foosha,” Marco said quietly, passing a plate toward Whitebeard. “It’s part of the Goa Kingdom in East Blue.”

Whitebeard’s gaze lingered on Luffy. He studied her carefully, noting the mix of wariness and curiosity in her wide eyes. “Luffy, come with me for a moment, okay? Just the two of us.”

Luffy blinked, unsure, and Izo reached down, smoothing her hair gently. “I’ll wait right outside the door,” he said reassuringly.

With a small nod, Luffy allowed Whitebeard to guide her to his desk. She climbed up and sat on the polished surface, her legs dangling over the edge. Whitebeard rifled through a drawer, sifting through yellowed papers until he pulled out an old newspaper.

“Luffy, tell me… do you know anyone—ah, here!” He held up a photograph, the edges frayed and faded. “Do you know anyone in this picture?”

“GRAMPS! Hahaha, he looks silly like that!” Luffy exclaimed, pointing at one of the faces. Whitebeard’s heart sank as he watched her tiny finger trace the figure and felt the dread he’d been fearing settle in.

“Luffy… is your full name Monkey D. Luffy?” he asked, his voice low but firm. Luffy’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and fear flashing across her face.

“How do you know that?” she whispered. Whitebeard only let out a slow, heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and worry.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Everyone else can think you just… ate a Devil Fr—”

“I did that!” Luffy chirped, cutting him off with a grin, demonstrating her power with a quick stretch. “Look! GUM GUM PISTOL!” She launched her tiny arm forward, knocking over a few small objects on the desk in the process.

Whitebeard chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Who gave you the Devil Fruit?”

“Papa,” she replied simply, her eyes wide and earnest.

Whitebeard’s expression darkened, a mix of disbelief and restrained anger settling over him. “And… what does your Papa do? Why did he give you a Devil Fruit?”

“He’s a pirate,” Luffy said matter-of-factly. Whitebeard exhaled slowly, trying to temper the storm brewing inside him.

“What does your Papa look like? Anything… distinctive?” he pressed.

“Papa has pretty red ha—”

“Please. No. Wait.” Whitebeard interrupted, rifling again through the drawer, until he pulled out a bounty poster. “Is this… your… Papa?”

Luffy’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “PAPAAAA!” she wailed, and Whitebeard carefully stroked her cheek with his fingertip, letting her cry without words.

“Okay, just two more questions,” he said softly. “You said the people you were with before... your crew, and then Gelee and Onchan, right? Is there anything about them that can help us identify them?”

“Hmm… Torao and the others live in a metal box. Gelee has a scar. Onchan is really big and has sharp teeth,” Luffy replied, rubbing her eyes, her voice small.

Whitebeard exhaled, nodding slowly. “Good. Thank you, Luffy. We’ll get you to Goa as quickly as possible.” He stood, his massive frame towering over her, and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to Izo.”

Luffy clambered onto his hand, gripping tightly as he lifted her with ease. 

Later that evening, when Luffy was already sleeping peacefully in Izo's bed, Whitebeard sat at his desk, massive frame hunched slightly, eyes dark and intent. Marco leaned against the wall, arms folded, while Izo stood near the window, hands behind his back.

Whitebeard cleared his throat. “Let’s get straight to the point. Luffy… she ate a Devil Fruit. Shanks gave it to her. She calls him ‘Papa.’ I know for a fact Shanks doesn’t… well, you know how he is. He was already with his first mate nine years ago. How she came to call him ‘Papa,’ I don’t know. But that’s not important. What is important is her safety. And we will not communicate with the Red Hair Pirates about this, not in any way. After all, they gave a child a Devil Fruit and that's inexcusable.”

Marco and Izo exchanged a look, listening carefully.

“Furthermore,” Whitebeard continued, “she lived with fishmen for a while. First with her so-called ‘crew’ is in some metal box and then she lived with a couple, I guess.”

Marco tapped his fingers on the desk. “So, our priority, then, is to return her to East Blue, to her home.”

Whitebeard leaned back in his chair, voice softening as he gazed toward the sleeping girl. “Right. She needs a chance to see what she wants. If she wants to go home, fine. If she chooses to stay when we arrive… fine. But she makes the choice, not anyone else.”

Izo’s brow furrowed. “So no one else gets involved?”

Whitebeard’s tone rumbled like distant thunder. “No.”

He paused, letting the words settle. “We will take her home. Then she chooses. But I hope she'll stay with us.”

Marco and Izo both nodded, the weight of the situation heavy but clear. Outside, the sea whispered against the hull, steady and unrelenting.

Chapter Text

One week had passed since the little girl had come aboard the Moby Dick, and somehow, she had slipped into the rhythm of the ship as if she’d been born to it.

Every morning began the same way: a bright laugh echoing across the deck as Luffy darted between sailors, hair flying in the sea breeze, a blur of wild energy and wide smiles. After that, she sat in the kitchen, legs swinging while Thatch hummed and cooked.

“More meat!” she’d demand, grinning as Thatch set another plate in front of her.

“Princess of the Pirates gets what she wants, huh?” he’d tease, ruffling her messy hair.

Luffy puffed up proudly, crumbs on her cheeks. “I am the Princess of the Pirates! But someday I’ll be King of the Pirates!”

That declaration had quickly spread across the ship, and now even the gruffest crewmates greeted her with a grin and a “Good morning, Your Highness.”

Whitebeard, seated on his great chair, would always rumble with laughter when he heard it. “Princess today, King tomorrow, huh?” he’d say, the mirth soft in his booming voice. “You dream big, little one.”

Luffy would nod solemnly, then giggle and run off again.

When she wasn’t chasing seagulls or trying to climb the rigging after breakfast, she spent hours with Izo. The two were almost inseparable, matching kimonos, matching hair ribbons, even matching fans once, though Luffy couldn’t quite master the grace Izo moved with. The crew adored them both, snapping photos, laughing whenever Luffy tried to mimic Izo’s elegant walk and tripped halfway through.

At night, she’d fall asleep curled up beside Izo or on Whitebeard’s lap, lulled by the deep, steady rumble of the old man’s laughter.

The Moby Dick had seen countless storms, countless battles, but with Luffy aboard, the air was lighter, brighter. For the first time in years, there was something undeniably pure about the laughter that carried across the deck.

And though Whitebeard would never admit it aloud, every time he heard that tiny voice shout, “I’ll be King of the Pirates!” something in him hoped that she’d make that dream come true.

The sea had been restless, not because of a storm, but because of whispers. People waited like hounds on the scent, for news of a small girl, or perhaps… a monkey. But no one found a trace. No port, no village, no merchant had seen anything. Instead, sailors murmured about strange movements of the Moby Dick. Strange, because they've been seen in waters they never ventured into around this time of the year. No raids. No trade. Just motion.

And when word finally reached Shanks that Whitebeard was heading for the Reverse Mountain, something in his chest twisted. He stood on the bow of the Red Force, staring into the spray of the waves. A feeling tugged deep inside, sharp and insistent. Something isn’t right.

“Beck,” he murmured without turning. “Get the ship ready. We’re following them.”

Beckman sighed, lit his cigarette and nodded. He’d learned long ago that when Shanks felt something, it was best not to argue. The Red Force turned towards the Reverse Mountain and behind it, tethered by thick chains and steadied by care, drifted the Polar Tang.

“Hang on, little one,” he whispered into the wind. “We’re coming.”

Below deck, the Heart Pirates sat together. The smallest among them, Law, was quiet, eyes fixed on the map spread out before him. His crew wasn’t the same anymore. Since the Red-Haired Pirates had taken them in, life had become safer, louder, warmer. But the ache of missing their little monkey still clung to him. To them.

Every evening, Hongo, came to sit beside him. “Law,” Hongo said softly, setting a cup of tea down. “Was ist los?”

After watching these two talk in their mother tongue for a minute, Bepo’s ears drooped. “How do you think Luffy’s doing? She’s probably scared,” he said quietly.

Yassopp shook his head from the other side of the table. “Nah. It’s Luffy. She’s probably punching seagulls for stealing her food.”

Shachi tried to laugh, but it came out as a sniffle instead. “Yeah. Still… I miss her.”

A silence settled, heavy, but not hopeless. The sea stretched endlessly around them, and the chains that linked their ships creaked softly in rhythm with the waves.

The dawn broke slow and pale across the endless blue, the Moby Dick cutting steady through the calm waters near Wano’s border. Luffy, curled up in her blanket beside Izo, blinked awake. Something felt wrong. The air was strange, thick and humming. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, then quietly slipped from bed, the sound of Izo’s soft breathing fading behind her. Without a sound, she shifted, her small frame curling and shrinking until soft fur and a long tail replaced skin. The little monkey scampered up the stairs and onto the main deck, where only the wind and the creak of wood greeted her.

Nothing moved. Nothing looked wrong. But her instincts were loud. Luffy tilted her head, sniffed the air, then scurried toward the mast. If she couldn’t see anything strange down here, she’d go higher. Climbing came naturally, quick, sure, almost joyful even now. Her tiny hands and feet found every hold until she perched near the top of the main mast, the morning sun painting the sea gold beneath her.

Then she froze. Far ahead, small but growing, was a red dot against the soft pink of the sky.

Her heart skipped. “Oooh…” she breathed, eyes wide.

It was fast. Faster than a gull, faster than anything she’d seen. The dot streaked closer and closer until she could make out a shape, a large bird. The bird was descending, straight toward the Moby Dick. Luffy’s fur bristled with excitement rather than fear. Her tail flicked in anticipation.

Pretty, she thought, clinging to the mast as the morning wind whipped through her fur and the winged stranger drew closer.

The bird transformed into a man with wings. Great, sweeping wings. And on his back, a flickering flame, a candle’s steady burn that somehow didn’t die against the wind. His boots hit the deck with a heavy thud. His uniform, dark and form-fitting, was strange and too clean for the sea. The light on his back flickered faintly, painting an orange halo around him.

From her perch high up the mast, Luffy stared. He was shiny. Weird. But shiny. Curiosity overrode every flicker of unease. Her tiny hands gripped the mast tighter, her tail flicking back and forth as she leaned forward for a better look.

But he hadn’t seen her. So she climbed down a bit. Then a bit more. The closer she got, the more she could smell him, iron and smoke. She wrinkled her nose but kept going.

Below, the Whitebeard pirates on lookout had noticed him too. Their hands went to their weapons, eyes narrowing. “What the hell…?” murmured one. “That uniform—”

Before anyone could move, Luffy dropped the last few feet and landed lightly behind him. The man stiffened. He turned. Before Luffy could blink, his hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her tiny throat and lifted her into the air.

Her scream was thin and strangled.

“Let the monkey go, yoi!” Marco barked, his eyes blazing blue as he stepped forward, wings half-spread in warning.

Luffy’s little hands clawed at his wrist, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“Luf—” Marco’s voice tore across the deck, his form already sparking with blue flames, but the man only laughed. It was an ugly sound. Deep. Mocking. Amused.

“Hah,” he drawled, turning his wrist as Luffy’s little legs kicked weakly. “Can’t even keep your filthy pets in line.”

“Let. Her. Go. King.” Marco’s voice cracked like a whip, his wings unfurling fully in a flare of blue fire.

Whitebeard appeared behind him, silent, enormous, the deck trembling beneath his step. The air went heavy, deadly still.

The winged man glanced at them both and laughed louder. “It tried to jump on me,” he said, shaking Luffy slightly. “Wanted to infest me with its fleas, I suppose. Hah—”

He didn’t stop. Even as Luffy’s tiny hands clawed weakly at his wrist. Even as her screeches turned to soft, broken whimpers.

“Hah… HAHAHA—”

Then, her body went limp. Her head fell to the side, the small frame hanging motionless in his grasp until he opened his hand and let the animal fall on deck.

“Finally. It was stubborn.”

No one moved. Not a single creak of wood. Not even the wind dared to whisper. Only the sound of Whitebeard’s breath, deep, slow, and furious.

The moment Izo stepped onto the deck, his heart stopped. “Luffy?” he called, scanning the crowd of his crew mates, all frozen, all silent. Something was wrong. The air itself felt heavy, charged.

Then he saw her. At King’s feet. Small. Still.

“What—Luffy, what did you do this time? Come here!” he started, forcing a nervous laugh. But no one moved. No one breathed.

King turned his masked face toward them with a scoff. “What’s the matter with all of you? It’s just a pet.”

And that’s when it hit Izo, the cold realisation. His knees gave out as he stumbled forward, hands shaking as he scooped Luffy’s limp form into his arms. “Luffy? Hey—wake up!” he pleaded, his voice breaking. No response. No pulse.

He looked up, trembling, meeting King’s glare. His pistols were already in his hands before he realised it, rage shaking through every bone. “I'll ki—”

Then, they all heard a sound, making them all halt for a moment. A faint rhythm, deep and steady, like a heartbeat carried on the wind. Dum... dum... dum-dum...

Everyone remained frozen. The sound grew louder, echoing through the Moby Dick, through their chests. Dum-du-du-dum... 

All eyes snapped back to Luffy. The small, lifeless body now shimmered with light and before their eyes, the monkey was gone. In its place was Luffy in her human form. Steam rose from her skin, swirling around her like mist. When Haki surged through her, bouncing the lifeless body, Marco was baffled. Never had he seen a resuscitation by Haki before. Her hair gleamed pale as moonlight. Suddenly, their little girl had Haki outbursts strong enough to make even Whitebeard sway on his feet, some crew members even fainted.

And then, laughter. Soft at first. Childlike. Familiar. 

The rhythm became deafening. The Drums of Liberation. With every beat of the drums, her haki surged, uncontrollable, wild, alive.

Then, with a burst of lightning, she shot upward, lifted by her own power. The sky itself seemed to bend around her.

“Luffy!” Izo cried out, but his voice was lost in the roar of the storm building around her. Luffy landed on the deck again, giggling as if she hadn’t just been dead moments ago, bouncing lightly on the torn planks as red lightning cracked around her feet.

A pulse of Haki bursted in the air, parting the clouds. The next instant, laughter. Manic. The person before them was no longer Luffy, she looked like a white-haired and red-eyed Demon. She jumped again, higher, laughing so hard it echoed across the sea. The sun painted her silhouette in gold.

“...Nika,” Whitebeard whispered, his massive hand trembling.

King’s eyes widened behind his mask. “Joyboy,” he murmured, voice almost reverent. Then, slowly, he reached up and removed his mask.

The deck was still trembling from the last echo of laughter when King moved. He stepped forward slowly, the flame at his back flickering low and then, to everyone’s shock, he knelt.

Before him, the small figure hovered in the air, wreathed in silver steam and dancing light.

“Forgive me,” King said hoarsely, bowing his head. His voice trembled in a way no one had ever heard before.

The laughter only grew louder, bright, otherworldly, ringing like sunlight breaking through a storm. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, she floated lazily above the deck, eyes blazing with mischief and power. She tilted her head at King, inspecting him with the wonder of a child and the knowing of something far older.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice sing-song, almost teasing. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen a Lunarian…” Her grin widened, wild and radiant. “Hmmm... Should we have a race, boy? Let’s see who can fly faster!”

The entire deck fell into stunned silence.

Luffy laughed again, twirling midair, steam bursting around her in little silver clouds. “Come on! I haven’t moved in so long!” she cackled, every word punctuated by lightning that cracked and sizzled around her.

No one moved. No one dared. Unspoken, a single thought rippled through them all, whatever this was, whatever she was, it must not leave the ship. Minutes passed. Luffy danced, leapt, spun, a living storm of light and laughter. The deck beneath her groaned and splintered, turning into a playground under her boundless energy. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the glow faded.

The steam dissolved into the dawn air. Her body slowed, wavered… and sank gently toward the deck.

“Oh no,” Izo breathed, breaking from his trance. He darted forward, faster than anyone else could react, catching her before she hit the ground.

He wrapped her in a soft cloth from his shoulder, holding her close against his chest, heart pounding.

“She’s okay,” he murmured, though his voice shook.

Marco landed beside him, gaze still locked on the scorch marks across the ruined deck. “When she shifts from monkey to human,” he said quietly to King, “she doesn’t wear clothes, yoi.”

King nodded once, eyes fixed on the sleeping girl glowing faintly in Izo’s arms, the light of something ancient, dangerous and free.

For a long, heavy heartbeat, no one dared to breathe. Then, from the bundle in Izo’s arms, came a faint, raspy murmur, “...Meat.”

The entire deck exhaled at once. A few of the men barked out startled laughter, Marco groaned into his palm, and even Whitebeard threw his head back with a booming, relieved laugh that rolled across the sea.

Within minutes, the chaos turned to celebration. The cooks scrambled under Thatch's orders, the crew gathered and soon the scent of grilled meat for breakfast drifted over the deck. Luffy sat cross-legged beside Izo, devouring her food with her usual single-minded joy, sauce smeared across her cheeks.

Across from her, King, the fearsome Lunarian, second to Kaido, found himself watching her with something like disbelief. She looked up at him between bites, grin wide and open. “Meat is the best, don't you think so?” she said, cheerful as ever.

He blinked, caught off guard. “...That’s right.”

“You have a really cool fire on your back!” she said brightly, pointing with greasy fingers. “Can you fly with me sometime?”

For the first time in a long while, King chuckled, low and quiet, the sound strange coming from him. “Yeah,” he said after a pause. “I think I could do that. Also, my name is Arber.” 

Her answering smile was blinding. “I'm Luffy.”

Later that morning, when the laughter had quieted and Luffy fell asleep after eating more than five adults, Whitebeard motioned for King to follow him. The two men stepped into the captain’s quarters, closing the door behind them.

Whitebeard poured a drink, his massive hand dwarfing the cup and spoke low and even. “We’re taking the little monkey home,” he said, voice deep with a kind of gentleness rare for him. “Back to the East Blue. That’s where she came from. I'm sure you can put the pieces together, don't you?”

King listened in silence. “...a monkey, East Blue,” he said, quietly. “Monkey D. Luffy?”

Whitebeard met his eyes and gave a single, deliberate nod.

King leaned back, exhaling through his teeth, one gloved hand coming up to rub his face. “I should’ve guessed,” he muttered, the flicker of his back flame dimming. “A D., huh? She's gonna be in danger when people find out.” He sighed again, a heavy sound. “I need to go back this afternoon,” he said finally. “Don't worry, her secret is safe with me. That's the least I can do for... basically killing her.”

Whitebeard only nodded, thoughtful eyes lingering on the man before him.

The sea was calm that afternoon, the Moby Dick gliding smooth as silk over the glimmering water. The crew lounged across the deck, some napping, some cleaning up the last bits of destruction their little 'princess' had caused earlier. Then came the familiar sound, a yawn, a rustle, and the patter of small bare feet. Luffy blinked the sleep from her eyes, spotted King’s black wings catching the sunlight and gasped.

“Can we fly now, Burny?!” she shouted, already halfway across the deck before Izo could even stand up.

“My name is Arber.”

“That’s what I said!”

Whitebeard, Marco and half the crew turned their heads in unison. King, the fearsome Lunarian warrior, actually looked startled for once and then amused. “You sure you’re not too tired after your nap, little Monkey?” he asked.

Luffy shook her head so fast her hat nearly flew off. “Nope! I’m super awake! Please, please, please let’s fly!”

Whitebeard gave a booming laugh that made the whole ship rumble. “Go on. But don’t drop her, got it?”

King snorted. “Of course not.”

He crouched low, motioning for her to climb on. The moment her small hands gripped his shoulder armour, he spread his great dark wings wide, fire crackling at his back like a second sun. With one powerful beat, they shot upward, slicing through the sea breeze.

Luffy’s delighted scream echoed across the sky. “WAAAAAAH! IT’S SO HIGH! I CAN SEE EVERYTHING!”

Her laughter rained down like music and even hardened men on deck couldn’t help but grin. Marco, arms crossed, shook his head fondly. “She’s fearless,” he muttered.

“She's a testament to her family,” Whitebeard rumbled with a knowing smile.

Up above, Luffy leaned forward against King’s back, rubbery arms slung around the shoulders multiple times, eyes wide with wonder as clouds brushed past her face. “Burny, look! The ocean looks like a big mirror!” she said, her voice full of awe.

King only hummed, his usual edge softened by her innocent excitement. “That it does, Luffy,” he said.

They flew like that for a while, dipping low over the waves, soaring high into the sun, Luffy laughing the whole time. Eventually, King angled downward again, landing gently back on the deck.

The moment her feet touched the wood, Luffy bounced on her toes, beaming up at him.
“That was the best thing ever! You have to come visit! I wanna show my brother my cool new friend!”

King blinked, then smiled faintly, a rare, genuine expression that caught even Marco by surprise. “I’ll hold you to that, Luffy,” he said softly. “I promise, we’ll see each other again.”

He turned then, fire flaring to life at his back as he spread his wings. The crew stood silently as he lifted into the sky, a shadow streaking against the sun.

Luffy cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted after him, “BYE, BURNY! NEXT TIME WE FLY AGAIN!”

Her voice carried far over the ocean, bright and unshakeably alive, the kind of sound that made even the strongest men remember why they’d chosen to follow dreams in the first place.

The sea was calm that morning, the first light of Dawn Island breaking across the horizon like molten gold. From afar, the looming shape of the Goa Kingdom came into view, its great cliffs and proud walls catching the sunrise. On the deck of the Moby Dick, everyone stirred with the quiet anticipation of landfall.

Everyone except Luffy.

She stood at the rail, trembling. Her tiny hands clutched the wood so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“No,” she whispered. “Not here. Not Goa…”

Marco landed softly beside her, his phoenix wings dissolving into embers. “What’s wrong, yoi?” he asked, crouching down so his eyes met hers.

Luffy’s lips quivered, her voice breaking. “There was a fire… here.” Tears welled up and spilled freely down her cheeks. “The nobles… they burned everything. Sabo—” her voice cracked, a choked sob escaping, 

Marco exhaled slowly, his expression heavy with something between sorrow and understanding. He reached out, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. “I know, Luffy,” he said softly, “and I can’t bring Sabo back. None of us can.”

Her eyes lifted to his, wide, red-rimmed, filled with grief and confusion. The deck went still around them. Even the sound of the waves seemed to fade.

“But,” Marco continued, his tone gentle but steady, “we can make sure you’re never alone again. And from here…” He gestured toward the island, the faint outline of the Gray Terminal beyond. “From here, we can start your adventure again. We’ll find Ace. Together.”

Luffy hiccuped, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Marco said, smiling faintly. “Besides, no one here’s crazy enough to mess with the Whitebeard Pirates. You’re safe, yoi.”

Behind them, the Moby Dick’s anchor dropped with a deep, echoing clang. Sailors bustled to secure the ship, their laughter and shouts carrying across the water, a stark contrast to the tension in Luffy’s small frame.

She looked at the kingdom again, at the hills where her memories still burned, and whispered, “Then we start here… for Sabo.”

Marco nodded. “For Sabo. And Ace.”

The streets of Goa fell silent the moment they saw the Whitebeard Pirates.

Luffy walked between Izo and Marco, her tiny hand warm in Izo's and Marco's bigger ones. Luffy and Izo wore matching kimonos, their colors bright against the grey stone and gilt of the noble city. Behind them, Thatch and Vista followed, both watchful and slightly amused as the townspeople whispered and hurriedly stepped aside.

Marco smirked. “You two look like father and daughter, yoi.”

Izo gave him a sidelong glance, lips curving in mock pride. “What are you then, the mother?”

Luffy giggled, swinging Izo’s hand. “He’s jealous because we look this pretty,” she said cheerfully, and the men chuckled.

But the lightness faded as they left the paved roads behind. Beyond the gates, the air grew heavy, thick with smoke, rust and rot. They had entered the Gray Terminal. The slums stretched before them like an open wound: shacks of tin and driftwood stacked against each other, narrow alleys filled with people who looked more like ghosts than men.

Thatch frowned deeply. “People live like this?”

“Not supposed to,” Marco murmured, his voice low.

Yet Luffy didn’t stop. She led them through the twisted ruins, her tiny feet barely making a sound, until finally they broke through the tree-line. From there, they walked up a hill and the air cleared.

“This way,” she whispered, and the childlike tone in her voice trembled.

They emerged into a clearing, sunlight pooling golden through the leaves. For a heartbeat, everything was quiet. Then Luffy froze. Her small shoulders trembled.

“This…” Her voice cracked. “This is our treehouse.”

Her eyes filled with tears, overflowing before she could blink them back. Izo immediately lifted her into his arms. “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay—”

But Marco’s expression had already sharpened. He felt it, a faint, uneven energy in the air. His wings flickered to life as he murmured, “Someone’s here.”

The three men shifted instinctively, closing ranks around Izo and Luffy. From the thicket came the sound of rustling, and then a boy stepped out.

He was maybe a few years older than Luffy, but looked as if he had fought through hell. His arms and legs were covered in cuts and bruises, his face streaked with soot and blood. His hair clung damply to his forehead, his breath ragged. His eyes, wild and red-rimmed locked on Luffy.

“Lu… Luffy?” he rasped, the word nearly breaking apart in his throat.

Luffy stiffened. The boy took a shaky step forward, dragging a metal pipe behind him that scraped against the dirt. “No… no, it can’t be. You’re gone. I know it—I—I tried—” His voice collapsed into a choked sob. “Am I still dreaming? I think I woke up. The berries yesterday... to sleep… I thought maybe I could see you if I—”

His voice broke.

The adults exchanged quick, dark glances, realisation dawning like ice. The child apparently ate psychedelic berries, more than once apparently. Desperate hallucinations. A boy so lost he was willing to poison himself to see his sister again.

“Ace,” Luffy whispered, her voice small and trembling. “Ace, it’s me.”

The boy clutched his head, shaking it violently. “No, no, I—” Fingers digging into his hair. “I made you—I didn’t—” Then he dropped to his knees and screamed. A broken, raw sound that tore through the clearing.

Marco’s gaze swept over him swiftly, sharply. The boy was severely malnourished, ribs visible beneath torn fabric. Fever burns glowed faintly at his cheeks and every breath rattled. Marco’s instincts screamed at him. This kid’s body’s shutting down soon, he thought grimly. If he’s alive, it’s barely.

“Izo,” Marco warned, “don’t let Luffy—”

But she was already tugging at Izo’s sleeve. “Put me down,” she whispered.

“Luffy—”

“Please.”

Izo hesitated, then set her down. Luffy took small, careful steps toward the trembling boy, tears streaking her face.

“Ace,” she said again, softly. 

He lifted his head, eyes glassy and wild, until they met hers. Recognition hit him like lightning.

“Luffy…” His voice cracked again, but this time it was full of disbelief, not madness. “It’s really you? Is this real? Not a dream?”

She nodded, and that was all it took.

“Ace,” she said again, soft, warm, the kind of voice that could reach through fire. “It’s really me, Luffy.”

He looked at her and for an instant, disbelief and agony warred across his face. Then his expression shattered.

“Luffy…” His voice broke on her name. “You came back? To me?”

She nodded, tears brimming.

With a strangled sound, Ace stumbled forward and crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her so tightly it knocked the air from her lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, his voice muffled in her hair. “I’m so sorry, Luffy. I couldn’t— I didn’t— I thought you were—”

Luffy’s small arms wrapped around him in turn, firm and steady despite her shaking.

“’S okay,” she whispered. “I’m here now.”

Behind them, the four pirates stood silent. Marco’s flames dimmed. Thatch turned away to discreetly wipe his face. Vista’s hand rested lightly on his sword, only for grounding himself. Izo exhaled shakily, his painted lips curving into the softest of smiles. “So this is Ace,” he murmured.

Marco nodded slowly. “Yeah… let's get him onboard, I need to check on him.”

Izo took a careful step forward, his expression soft and open, but the moment Ace noticed the movement, his body tensed like a cornered animal. With a startled, hoarse noise, he scrambled to his feet, wobbling, unsteady and instinctively shoved Luffy behind him. He raised his shaking fists, his eyes wild with panic.

“Stay back!” he rasped, voice raw. “You’re not taking her away from me!”

Izo froze mid-step, hands instinctively raised in peace.

Marco sighed quietly, rubbing his forehead as the faint shimmer of blue flame danced across his shoulders. “Even high as a kite, he’s still trying to protect his sister,” he murmured. “Admirable brat.”

“’Ce…” Luffy’s small voice cut through the tension. She peeked from behind his arm, tugging gently on his wrist. “It’s okay. You can trust them. They’re my… my really, really nice uncles.”

Ace blinked at her, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Your… what?”

“My uncles,” Luffy repeated, visibly thinking for a moment to recall their actual names and with a small smile, she pointed to each of the men in turn. “That’s Uncle Marco, Uncle Izo, Uncle Thatch, and Uncle Vista. They helped me find you.”

The words, simple as they were, seemed to sink through the fog clouding his mind. Ace’s shoulders slumped. The tension bled from his body all at once, and the fight went out of him completely. Izo stepped forward again, slower this time and gently gathered Luffy into his arms, pressing her close against his chest. “You did good, little one,” he murmured.

Vista moved next, his large hand firm but gentle as he steadied Ace. “Easy, lad. You’re safe now.”

Marco knelt down beside the boy, two fingers pressing lightly against his throat. His expression darkened immediately. “His pulse is weak and arrhythmic, yoi” he said, voice clipped. “We need to get him treated, now.”

He rose into the air in one smooth motion, wings of blue fire flaring open. “One step faster, gentlemen. I'll get everything ready and inform Pops, yoi.”

Without another word, the group moved, Izo cradling Luffy, Vista carrying Ace carefully in his arms, Thatch clearing the path ahead while Marco already flew ahead, back to the distant glimmer of the Moby Dick.

As they hurried through the ruins of the Grey Terminal, Luffy clung to Izo’s collar and looked back over his shoulder. Ace’s head rested limply against Vista’s arm, his face pale but peaceful.

“’S okay, Ace,” she whispered. “You’re gonna be fine.”

For the next week, Luffy barely left the med bay. If she wasn't forced out to brush her teeth or take a bath, she was there, either perched on the edge of Ace’s bed in her human form or, more often, curled up as a tiny monkey beside him. Even when she slept, her tail looped protectively around her brother’s arm, like she was afraid he might vanish if she let go.

So when Ace finally stirred, the first thing he saw was that small ball of warmth resting by his head, her tail snug between the pillow and the headboard. For a heartbeat, he simply stared, confused. And then he broke.

Tears streamed down his face in silent, trembling waves until one of the nurses gasped and ran for the door. “Marco! He’s awake!”

Moments later, the door burst open and Marco stepped in, his expression sharp before softening at the sight before him. “Well, well,” he said, voice quiet but warm. “About time you decided to wake up, yoi.”

He crouched down and smiled faintly. “Luffy, give your brother a little space, hmm?”

The little monkey made protesting squeals as Marco plucked her up by the scruff and set her to the floor.

“Cheeky brat,” he muttered, and with practiced ease, he handed her a tiny kimono.

The moment Luffy was dressed again, her eyes bright and wet and practically launched herself toward the bed. “ACE!” she shouted, voice cracking with joy.

Ace blinked up at her, dazed and disoriented. “Lu… Luffy?”

Marco folded his arms and leaned against the bedframe. “We found you, yoi. We brought you here, patched you up. You gave your little sister quite the scare.”

Ace wiped his eyes, guilt immediately twisting his face. “I’m… I’m sorry, Lu. I didn’t mean to—”

Luffy cut him off with a firm shake of her head. “It’s okay! We’re together again, that’s all that matters!” And just like that, she crawled under the blanket beside him, snuggling against his shoulder as if to prove her point.

Marco huffed a small laugh, then turned serious. “You’re lucky, kid. You were on the edge. Tell me... those berries you ate before we found you… what were they?”

Ace hesitated. “Just something I found once,” he muttered. “When I ate them, I saw… nice things sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Marco pressed.

Ace’s eyes flicked to Luffy, his voice dropping low. “The nightmares came anyway, with or without the berries. But with them, sometimes everything was fine and... I had Luffy back with me... and Sabo.”

Marco’s expression softened. He nodded quietly. “You’ve been through hell, kid. But you’re safe now. Both of you are.”

One by one, the other commanders filed in, Thatch grinning ear to ear, Vista giving a soft nod, Izo brushing Luffy’s hair aside to kiss her forehead. Then the room went quiet as Whitebeard himself stepped in, his towering frame filling the doorway. He studied Ace for a long, silent moment before rumbling, “So, brat, what’s your name?”

Ace straightened instinctively, eyes wide. “Portgas D. Ace, sir.”

For a second, there was silence, then Marco groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh, great, another D.,” he muttered.

Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed, the deep sound shaking the entire room.
“Gurararara! So the little monkey has a fire brother, huh? Good! The sea could use more firecrackers like you two!”

Luffy just giggled, still nestled against Ace’s arm. “Told you my brother’s strong!”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ace smiled, weakly, but real.

The walk through the forest and along the cliffs was long, the air humid with salt and morning haze. Whitebeard’s titanic frame cast long shadows over the path as Marco, Thatch, Vista, and Izo walked alongside him. Ace carried Luffy, who was wrapped lazily around his shoulders like some sort of clingy scarf. Every now and then, her tail flicked against his cheek, making him snort. Every now and then she’d tug on his ear to point out a crab or a palm tree that looked funny.

Before they reached Foosha Village by midday, Luffy suddenly stiffened. Her head turned toward the forest.

“Luffy?” asked Ace, confused.

The girl wriggled down from his shoulders, landed lightly, and chirped happily before darting toward the treeline.

Izo sighed, folding his arms. “She must need to pee,” he muttered dryly.

Marco snorted. “Better the woods than Thatch’s kitchen again, yoi.”

“Or chase a bird,” muttered Thatch.

Whitebeard rumbled with laughter, the sound deep and booming. “Let her run. No cage can hold that one.”

They entered Party’s Bar a moment later, expecting the quiet hum of morning chatter. Ready to bid their farewell. Instead, silence fell.

Every head turned. The air seemed to freeze in time.

Inside Makino’s Party Bar, the laughter died instantly. At the counter sat the Red-Haired Pirates. Shanks himself turned in his chair, brows raising in surprise. Around him sat Beckman, Yasopp, and Hongo, and at the end of the bar, Law, quiet and still, flanked by Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin.

“Well, well,” rumbled Whitebeard, stepping forward. “Shanks… how interesting, brat.”
His laughter boomed through the rafters.

Shanks laughed too, but his eyes darted past the old man. “Who’s the kid? Don’t tell me you’ve started—”

“Shanks?” came a young voice, cautious, confused. Ace stepped forward, jaw tightening. “Shanks… like Luffy’s Shanks? The Shanks who gave her the stupid hat.”

The Red-Haired Pirates froze mid-breath. Shanks blinked. Behind him, Law straightened, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Who are you?” Law asked, his tone sharp as a scalpel.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the freckled boy said, crossing his arms. “And you?”

Law looked around before answering, “Trafalgar D. Water Law.”

The room collectively groaned. Marco slapped a hand over his face. “Another bloody D.,” he muttered.

For a moment, no one moved. The tension thickened like syrup.

Then Ace tilted his head. “Luffy told me about you,” he said with a small grin. “But you look… different than I imagined. Especially the tattoos. I thought you looked... less dead.”

“At least I never pushed her away,” Law replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Ace snapped, stepping forward.

“Boys,” Thatch muttered, elbowing Marco. “Are they seriously about to fight over Luffy?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she caused chaos by existing,” Marco deadpanned.

The air between them went razor-sharp until Shanks stood, clapping his hands once and motioning to Makino, who poured another round of ale. He passed a tankard to Marco with a crooked grin.

“So,” Shanks said, raising his drink, “where is my little wayward daughter?”

Every Whitebeard pirate froze. Whitebeard blinked slowly. “Your what?”

Before anyone could demand an explanation, the door exploded open with a bang that nearly ripped it from its hinges.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” thundered a voice. Garp stormed in, fists clenched, his cape flaring like a banner of wrath. “WHERE IS MY GRANDDAUGHTER? HUH?! WHERE IS THAT BRAT?!”

“Garp,” Shanks said, calm as ever. “Now this is getting interesting. We’ve almost got the full set. Who’s next?”

Before anyone could answer—

“I heard Luffy's here?” The voice came low and gravelly. From the back room stepped Katakuri, towering, scarf fluttering slightly, donut crumbs dusting his fingers.

The room went dead silent. Every pirate and marine stared at every other pirate and marine, as if someone had just opened the gates of hell.

Then Izo slowly lowered his fan. “Wonderful,” he said dryly. “Now we only need that sadistic flame idiot of hers to show up and I'll drown myself.”

“You mean Burny?” asked Thatch, snorting into his drink. “Don’t tempt fate, Izo.”

“Oh, with Burny, we mean King the Wildfire,” Marco added, perfectly straight-faced, as if he were giving a status report.

The entire bar froze. Silence. Then, “King?!” shouted half the room in unison.

“King… as in Kaido’s right-hand man?” Shanks demanded.

“King as in wings, fire, mask, known sadist, that one?” Beckman asked, blinking.

Marco just shrugged. “Yeah, that one. Said he’s ‘cool,’ cause has a pretty flame and she wants him to meet her brother. He flew her around, actually.”

The look on everyone’s faces could’ve curdled milk.

Garp stared blankly. “...She made friends with the Lunarian?”

Katakuri leaned forward, his single visible eye narrowing. “That pulse of power a month ago. The one we all felt across the seas…”

A pause.

“...Let’s talk about that later,” Whitebeard said finally and took another drink.

Across the room, Beckman’s cigarette trembled slightly as he exhaled. Shanks just smirked at Whitebeard, raising his glass in mock salute. “Cheers, old man. Looks like our little whirlwind brought everyone together.”

Whitebeard rumbled a low laugh that shook the bottles behind the bar. “Gurararara… aye. The sea itself moves when that girl breathes.”

At the window, that wild, bright, untamed laugh rang again, rolling over the trees like thunder after a storm.

Every head turned toward the open door. The air in Makino’s Bar seemed to freeze for just one impossible heartbeat.

Suddenly, a white blur exploded into the bar with a screech and a shower of splinters. Bottles went flying, tables toppled, chairs cracked. Rum and ale poured across the floor like waves as a monkey, small and fierce and impossibly radiant, bounced from shelf to shelf.

“WHAT IN THE—!” Makino shrieked, diving behind the counter as another bottle shattered beside her head.

The creature looked ethereal, fur glowing white, eyes shining ruby, tendrils of mist curling around it like living clouds. Its laughter filled the air, higher and higher, until even Whitebeard’s booming voice was drowned out.

And before anyone could even think to move, a furious villager stormed into the bar, face tomato-red. “WHOSE MONKEY IS THIS?!” he bellowed.

Every man in the room, Yonko, rookie, marine, stared at the glowing creature.

Then, as one, Whitebeard and Katakuri raised their massive hands. Shanks lifted his tankard-holding arm. Izo sighed and raised his too. Even Garp, red-faced and confused, gave in with a grunt. Law looked at the monkey and lifted his tattooed hand. Ace eyed him warily and followed the movement.

“MINE!” they all shouted in unison.

The poor villager who’d come storming after Luffy blinked, utterly bewildered, as the world’s strongest men claimed the glowing, giggling creature now hanging upside-down from the rafters like it owned the place.

Suddenly the monkey hovered in midair, floating, a corona of white mist wrapping around its small form. Its chest rose and fell with that strange rhythm, the same one the Whitebeards had heard before.  Every person in the bar stood frozen. Even Garp didn’t move.

The glowing monkey’s laughter broke the silence again. soft, unhinged, ancient. It tilted its head, tail flicking as she looked at them all with crimson eyes flashing like dying stars.

“Waiting 800 years was worth it…” it said, voice rippling through the room, too vast for its tiny body. A grin spread across its glowing face. “…for being in the body of a Monkey D.”

No one spoke. No one even breathed.

Then—SLAM.

The door burst open with enough force to rattle the bottles still miraculously standing on Makino’s shelves.

Fleet Admiral Sengoku stepped into the chaos, his expression already one of pure exhaustion. His eyes swept the room, over Whitebeard and his commanders and the unknown child next to them, over Shanks and his bewildered crew, over his adopted grandson and the Heart Pirates, until they landed first on the hovering, glowing monkey in midair.

The bar had gone deathly still, the air thick and humming. Even the wood of the walls seemed to groan under the pressure of whatever presence filled the room while the giggling echoed from rafter to rafter, bright and manic, filling every inch of the bar with sound and light.

“She’s doing loops now,” muttered Marco, squinting upward as the glowing creature whirled so fast she blurred into a streak of white. “Actual loops.”

“MY CEILING!” wailed Makino somewhere behind the counter as a bottle exploded from the shockwave of another gleeful spin.

Whitebeard was laughing so hard the floorboards trembled under him. Shanks had his hands on his knees, trying not to fall over. Even Law looked halfway between horrified and impressed.

Then, like some glowing comet slowing midair, the little monkey floated down, straight towards the door that had just slammed open. The monkey blinked once. Then twice. And then, in a tone as innocent as dawn, she leaned forward in midair and chirped, “Hey, old man! Do you and your funny seagull wanna play with me? The others don’t look like they wanna play, hehehe!”

Sengoku just stared. There was a long, heavy pause. You could’ve heard a pin drop, or the slow, dying whine of Shanks trying not to choke on his drink. Finally, Sengoku dragged a hand down his face with the bone-deep weariness of a man who had seen far too much nonsense for one lifetime.

And then he bellowed, voice shaking the rafters and scattering a few last remaining bottles, “GARPPP! IT’S YOUR FAMILY AGAIN!”

The pirates and Garp roared with laughter. Shanks nearly fell off his stool.

And up above, the monkey howled with laughter, spinning another wild loop and shrieking gleefully, “SEE?! I TOLD YOU WE’RE FUN!”