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The afternoon in the study hall was torn apart by Franky's explosive entrance. "And a beautiful flower for my S-U-P-E-R girlfriend!"
His voice, a thunderclap of pure joy, rattled the windowpanes. From his hands emerged a bouquet of yellow lilies that seemed to have condensed all the afternoon sun. Robin, with the serenity of someone deciphering an ancient manuscript, set her book aside and offered him one of those minuscule smiles that only she possessed: a brief gesture, but enough to make Franky's universe spin on its axis.
Almost simultaneously, Sanji materialized his own bow, kneeling before Nami with the devotion of a troubadour. "Nami-swan! This humble bouquet is only a pale reflection of your beauty."
She arched an eyebrow, but the corner of her lips curved as she spotted the wad of cash camouflaged among the petals. In a fluid motion, the money vanished into her pocket, and her smile became, for an instant, completely genuine.
From the window sill, Luffy watched. The sun warmed the back of his neck, but he was oblivious to everything except the silent whirlwind in his head. Outside, he saw Usopp slip away with ninja stealth to leave tulips in the mailbox of the girls' school. Flowers? The question buzzed in his mind like a persistent mosquito. A memory brought back the bitter, earthy taste of a petal he’d bitten by mistake years ago, the rough, unpleasant texture still fresh on his tongue.
He approached Robin with a puppy's clumsiness, leaning over the back of her armchair. "Hey, Robin..." his voice was a hoarse whisper. "Why do people give flowers?" His dark eyes were fixed on the lilies as if waiting for the flowers themselves to reveal their secret.
Sanji let out a mocking laugh. "Seriously, you don't know anything about that?"
Franky boomed as he thumped his chest. "It's S-U-P-E-R obvious! To show love! I thought you'd already sent a monumental bouquet to Miss Tora-chan!"
Hearing the name, Luffy's stomach flipped. It wasn't a surprise—he'd known for weeks what he felt for the girl on the other side of the fence—but the mention out loud always provoked that physical, inevitable, and burning reaction.
"Huh? Me?" he asked, thrown off not by the question, but by the bluntness of the statement.
It was Nami who approached, with a look intended to be understanding. "With all that exchange of letters and drawings, we thought you and Tora-chan were already... something special."
The word "special" hit him with unexpected force. A familiar heat crept up his neck to his ears, dyeing his face a deep crimson. He instinctively brought a hand to his cheek, feeling the burn under his fingers. The certainty of his feelings clashed head-on with the shame of externalizing them.
"We're... we're not dating," he mumbled, staring at his sandals.
"WHAT?!" Sanji roared, on the verge of collapse. "After all that secret messaging drama!"
But Luffy wasn't listening anymore. The word "dating" and the flutter in his stomach—that feeling that always accompanied him when thinking about the girl with dark hair and golden eyes—confirmed something he already knew deep down, but which, when named, resonated in a completely new way.
As his friends' knowing laughter surrounded him, a question began to sprout within him: If everyone showed their affection with flowers, shouldn't he do the same?
With the determination of someone embarking on a life-or-death mission, Luffy planted himself in front of Rebecca's flower shop. The bell above the door announced his entrance with a cheerful chime. The air smelled of damp earth and sweetness.
"Luffy!" Rebecca greeted him with a wide smile. "Looking for a snack?" she joked, remembering his previous visit.
He shook his head seriously, scanning the shop, an overwhelming mosaic of colors and scents. "I need flowers," he declared, as if announcing a vital objective. "Yellow."
Rebecca tilted her head, intrigued. "Yellow? For someone special, I imagine."
The blush reappeared, setting his cheeks on fire, but Luffy nodded with a conviction that admitted no doubt. "Yeah," he confirmed, and an entire universe fit into that single syllable. "For the most important person."
As Rebecca wrapped the most radiant sunflowers she could find, Luffy felt an unfamiliar nervousness knotting in his chest. He didn't know if Law would like flowers, but beneath the tingling and the doubt, a steel certainty held him: it was what he had to do.
While Luffy secured his gift, on the other side of the wall...
The café's murmur was an annoying hum, but the chatter about flowers at the next table drilled into Law's ears. She focused on her onigiri, trying to let the taste of the rice nullify the high-pitched, ethereal voices.
"What lovely flowers you got, Kaya-chan!"
Law didn't need to see her to imagine Kaya's shy smile. Then Pudding joined in with excessive devotion. "Don't you think they're a beautiful bouquet of daffodils?"
Law tightened her fingers around her onigiri. Every word about petals seemed like an assault on her intelligence. She looked up with boredom: the first-year girls flitted around their flowers like moths to a lamp. Stupid, she thought, with a bitterness that dried her mouth. Everything is so superficial. A cold annoyance coiled in her stomach. She was about to flee that greenhouse of sentimentality when a presence behind her stopped her.
"Trafalgar-san!"
The voice was kind, but Law tensed instantly. Turning around, she saw Vivi with her neat smile. And then she saw it: a cluster of white freesias in her hands. The sight gave her a shiver of genuine distaste. Her face, for an instant, became a mask of pure disgust.
"Oh, Vivi-ya," she said in a voice that tried to be neutral but came out clipped. "Seriously? You too?"
"What do you mean?" Vivi asked with an exasperating innocence.
"The stupid flowers!" Law snapped, letting out the venom inside her.
Vivi looked at her, and in her blue eyes there was no mockery, but a sincere curiosity that was even more irritating. "Did... Luffy not buy you flowers?"
The name acted as a detonator. Law felt the ground give way beneath her. A wave of heat burned her ears and spread over her face with humiliating speed.
"No one would expect flowers from that idiot!" her voice cracked, attracting stares. "And who the hell says that... I would want flowers from that inept buffoon!?"
The words spilled out, but her body betrayed her. She clenched her fists so hard that her nails dug half-moons into her palms. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and she crossed her arms in a defensive gesture that screamed vulnerability. Her golden eyes shone with a furious dampness. It wasn't just anger; it was the acute embarrassment that Vivi perceived that absurd emptiness which, against all logic, she felt in her chest.
Vivi didn't flinch. Her expression softened dangerously. "Law-san..."
"Shut up!" Law's interruption was a desperate whip.
Without looking back, she abandoned the table. Her footsteps echoed urgently in the empty corridor. It wasn't just Vivi she was escaping from, but the hammering of a question that drilled into her mind: And why not?
The answer was a knot in her throat, painfully obvious. She had been waiting. She had stretched breakfast until almost lunchtime, feigning an indifference she didn't feel. All for the silly, secret hope that, at some point, someone—a messenger, a postman, or perhaps, miraculously, Luffy himself with his stupid smile—would appear with a bouquet for her. But the day went on, and the flowers never came.
And it wasn't the flowers themselves. Law would have been satisfied with a scribble on a napkin, a crooked origami, or one of those absurd notes that only he knew how to write. She had allowed herself to get excited in secret, so much so that the night before she had spent hours practicing paper folds. She had even prepared a small gift, with the help of a Cora-san who was as enthusiastic as he was clumsy, and who wouldn't stop asking her about the "young man with the letters."
But no. Nothing had happened.
She refused to admit the sting in her chest, that cold, empty feeling. And it wasn't the stupid yellow flowers everyone was showing off. She, in an act that would have burned her pride forever, would have given him her own craft if he had only sent her a word. One of those clumsy letters that, without fail, always managed to wring a smile from her.
Frustration surged up her throat like an acidic, hot, and suffocating tide. Her steps led her to the only corner that promised silence, a hidden refuge behind the library. She slid down against the stone wall, whose coldness barely managed to soothe the fire of her shame. She buried her face between her knees, hugging them tightly. In the darkness, she only wished that absurd, cloying day would evaporate forever.
"Tora-chan!"
Her heart leaped against her ribs. That voice. The only one that could cut through her bad mood like a sunbeam. She lifted her head sharply and there he was, silhouetted against the twilight sky: Luffy, clinging to the high perimeter wall with the widest, most carefree smile she had ever seen.
"Mugi... Mugiwara-ya!" she managed to exclaim, feeling all her defenses crumble at the speed of light. "Get down immediately! How did you manage to climb up there!? You're going to kill yourself!"
With the agility of a monkey, Luffy slid down the stone and landed in front of her with a soft thud. His closeness was immediate, overwhelming, and, unfortunately for her, completely comforting.
"I was looking for you everywhere," he declared, as if scaling the wall of a private school was the most logical way to look for someone. His smile was so frank it seemed to illuminate the gloom of the corner.
Law tried to frown, but her lips involuntarily made a small gesture of relief. "You can't sneak in like that. You'll be expelled, idiot."
"Bah! I don't care," he laughed, with a naturalness that disarmed her. "You were more important."
The words, so simple and sincere, made her stomach flip. A silly warmth ran down her back. "You're a mess..." she murmured, but her tone had lost all severity.
"Here."
When Law looked up, the world stopped.
There, in Luffy's tanned hands, full of small scratches, was a bouquet of sunflowers. It wasn't perfect: the stems were crooked, some petals showed the wear of a rushed backpack trip, but their yellow was so vibrant and warm it seemed to contain all the sun she had been running from. The silence became absolute, broken only by the furious beat of her own heart.
"Idiot..." she managed to whisper, but this time her voice was cracked, vulnerable. "You shouldn't have..." A minimal smile, which fought to be contained and lost the battle, appeared on her lips. It was a small gesture, but for Luffy, it was like watching the entire garden bloom.
"Well, I just wanted to see you smile," he confessed, with a simplicity so honest it tore her soul in two. "And because... because I thought of you."
A slight tremor ran through her hands. To disguise the whirlwind in her stomach, she gently tapped the bouquet against Luffy's chest. "Don't say such cheesy things. They don't suit you," she grumbled, looking away at some indeterminate point on the wall. Her fingers, however, almost unintentionally caressed the rough petals.
Her eyes then fell on her own backpack. With slightly trembling fingers, she took out a small bouquet of origami flowers. The colors were an adorable chaos and the ribbon was slightly crooked.
"Here," she said, extending it with a shyness that only Luffy knew. "I was going to make you some out of yarn, but I'm a mess, so... Cora-san helped me with the paper. You better take care of them, or I'll kill you."
Despite the empty threat, her voice was a whisper. Luffy laughed, a clear sound full of pure joy, and took the paper bouquet as if it were the most valuable treasure in the world.
"They're the best," he declared, with shining eyes. "I'll take better care of them than my own hat."
Then, before Law could react, his calloused fingers dared to gently touch her cheek. The contact was an electric, sweet spark. "Your cheeks are very red, Tora-chan."
The air got stuck in her throat. Every particle of her skin seemed to vibrate with that minimal contact, and a dull drumming began to sound behind her ears.
"Mugi-ya..." her voice was a thread of strengthless complaint. "Seriously, you didn't have to bring flowers. One of your silly letters would have been enough. This stupid date doesn't matter."
"But you do matter," Luffy declared, without a hint of doubt, moving a little closer. "You always matter."
Law felt the ground disappear beneath her feet. That brutal frankness, that way of saying the most important things with the naturalness with which one breathes, always managed to completely disarm her.
The space between them compressed until there was no room for air. Law closed her eyes, and the world was reduced to sensations: the earthy scent of the sunflowers mixed with Luffy's clean, wild smell, of sun and adventure. The slight trembling in his hands—or perhaps it was in hers. The heat emanating from their bodies created an impenetrable bubble. She could feel Luffy's breath caressing her lips, a warm whisper that promised something her heart desperately longed for. She tilted her head, completely surrendering to the magnetism that united them, each heartbeat a dull hammering that screamed yes, yes, yes.
But just as their lips were about to cross a point of no return, a harsh voice cut through the crystal spell. "Trafalgar! What the hell are you hiding back there?"
Law opened her eyes abruptly, reality returning with the brutality of a bucket of cold water. Vergo was advancing towards them. Luffy jumped back like a spring, but not before flashing her one last, mischievous smile that promised, "this isn't over."
"See ya, Tora-chan!" he whispered, and with his usual agility, he vaulted the wall and disappeared.
Vergo arrived, panting. "That slippery public school brat..." he grumbled. "And you, don't think you're going to get away with it just because you're the Director's favorite."
Before she could react, Vergo's hand closed around her hood. "Let go of me, you piece of shit, Vergo."
"You will address me as Mr. Vergo, insolent brat!"
Law sighed, a sound loaded with a resignation that, deep down, tasted strangely sweet. She allowed Vergo to drag her toward the main building. Every step was a torment, but the rough, living stems between her fingers, and the memory of Luffy's smile, reminded her why every moment of shame and trouble was worth it.
In the discipline office, Vergo tried to snatch the bouquet. "Those flowers are evidence of inappropriate conduct," he growled, pulling hard.
But Law's fingers did not yield. They were pincers, anchored not just to the bouquet, but to the moment it represented.
The battle was interrupted when the phone rang. Vergo picked up with annoyance, but his expression changed when he heard Doflamingo's voice—who always yielded to Corazón's pleas. Law didn't need to hear the words; she just needed to see the impotent rage in Vergo's eyes when he, with a snarl, threw the sunflowers back at her. "Cheap family. Enjoy your privilege, spoiled brat."
Stepping out, Law inhaled the fresh evening air. The black limousine was already waiting. She slid into the leather seat, and as the vehicle started silently, she rested the sunflowers on her lap. Through the tinted glass, the sky looked blurred, orange and violet. Her mind, however, wasn't on the scenery, but on the memory that burned inside her: Luffy's warmth so close, that fragile, perfect instant that the world insisted on interrupting.
A sigh escaped her, lightly fogging the window. And she knew, with a certainty that calmed her soul, that deep in her heart, that silly day full of cheap sentimentality had mattered. So much so that, for the first time, her pride stayed silent without a fight.