Chapter Text
Writing a letter was much harder than it looked.
Luffy felt like he was trying to catch water with his hands—there was nothing to hit, nothing to bite. He frowned at the blank paper in front of him. It wasn’t that his mind was empty; it was that the page gave him no clues.
“But… what am I supposed to say? How do I even start…?” he grumbled, dropping another crumpled sheet to the floor.
He’d never struggled this much with something that didn’t involve physical strength. His face burned with exaggerated concentration, as if that paper were a formidable enemy that could only be defeated with a pen. And here was his new battlefield: a clean, new, seemingly harmless sheet.
A fresh sheet. White. Perfect. A complete contrast to the graphite-smudged and ink-stained pages piling up at his feet. Still, Luffy had the uncomfortable feeling that even this blank sheet was judging him.
Because he didn’t know what to say. Not even how to start without everything turning into a complete disaster.
But he had to write that damn letter.
Even if the pencil shook a little in his hand, even with a growing mountain of crumpled paper balls around him—like he’d lost a battle against himself. Luffy took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and gripped the pencil tighter.
“Even at night, you shine brighter than the moon and the stars; seeing your eyes makes me think I'm dreaming, until I see your smile.”
He stared at the words. His handwriting was big, slanted, as usual. For a second, he felt that weird flutter in his stomach, like when he found extra meat on his plate. But rereading it, frustration hit him hard.
Crinkle!
He crumpled the paper with both hands, squeezed it into a tight ball, and threw it on the floor with the others. It wasn’t that it was badly written. It was that… it wasn’t him. It was the kind of cheesy line Sanji would say in a soft voice with heart eyes, or from the manga Uta lent him that he read in secret because “they’re fun, but don’t tell Zoro.”
But Luffy didn’t talk like that. Luffy said things straight: “You’re awesome!”, “I want to see you again!”, or “Eat with me!”
With Law, he wanted it to be right. Truly right. He didn’t want it to sound like a lie. He sighed heavily, rested his forehead on the desk for a moment, and grabbed another sheet.
“Again…” he muttered, scratching his head.
Because none of the earlier ones had been right.
And this new one wasn’t either.
“Damn it! Why is it so hard to write to her!?” He slumped back in his chair, biting the pencil and ruffling his hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Law…”
Saying her name, her image hit him full force.
His mind went back to the first time he met her.
And even though it felt like forever ago, it hadn’t even been a year.
It all happened halfway through the second trimester of Luffy’s last year of junior high.
He was nowhere near a model student. He’d be lying if he said studying was a priority. He was walking chaos: eating, hanging with friends, and playing were far more important than any exam. He loved food so much he could completely forget to study for hours. He’d spend whole days looking for bugs for his collection—which was, without a doubt, why his homework was almost never done.
But there was one thing he took seriously.
He would never let his friends down.
If he had to go to the library to look up boring, unimportant info, he’d go.
That afternoon, the library was almost empty. The silence disappointed him a little; there’d be no one to talk to. Sighing, he walked over to the biology section. He wasn’t sure if it was the right place to research the effects of radioactive pollution, but he was just looking for the specific books Vivi and Sanji had asked for.
Robin wouldn’t start her shift for another half hour.
So he decided to try on his own.
He grabbed a couple of books with nuclear plants on the cover and, turning around, bumped straight into someone.
The books fell to the floor with a clatter. The smell of old paper filled the air. Looking up to apologize, he saw her.
That was how he met her.
That moment—her falling, those surprised eyes, him freezing up—still played on repeat in his head.
“Ah… even now that I know her a little better, she’s still a total mystery,” Luffy murmured, doodling circles and silly faces meaninglessly on the page.
He dropped the pencil and leaned back in his chair, almost losing his balance. He needed to sort out the mess in his head. He thought about the letters Sanji used to send to Law… because Law almost never replied. He still had a bunch of drafts Sanji had returned saying, “Try this, idiot.”
It had all been for nothing. Now they talked normally and spent time together, but every time Law saw a new letter, she’d toss it straight into the trash unopened. And her face… grew colder. More annoyed.
As if she was fed up.
Luffy scratched the back of his neck hard, frowning.
Had she realized it wasn’t Sanji writing? Or was she sad because she thought Sanji had stopped sending letters? He shook his head quickly, as if swatting a fly.
“No… don’t think that, idiot.”
He remembered what Robin had told him, with her usual calm smile: “Try writing one yourself, Luffy.”
Ha! Easy for her to say.
Here he was, trying… and nothing. Total blank. It made him uneasy. Scared, actually.
He was terrified that Law would just say 'no.' It hurt watching her throw away his letters—the ones he’d sent pretending to be Sanji—without even looking at them. It left a bitter taste in his mouth thinking she might actually like Sanji, even if he couldn’t understand why the thought made his blood boil. And it hurt even more to think that if he tried to explain that weird knot in his throat, she’d just look at him like he was a freak and walk away for good.
What do you say to the most complicated girl in that fancy all-girls school? “Hey, I got a new pirate manga, it’s cool!”? “I caught a giant beetle today!”? “We had a food fight at dinner and I won!”?
Luffy growled, kicking the floor. With friends it was easy: you showed up, said “Let’s play!” and boom, you had a nakama. But with Law… with Law it was different. It wasn’t that she ignored him. It was worse. It was like she was always one step away, even when she was right beside him. When he was near her, Luffy acted weird. Nervous. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest.
Ba-dump!
He growled louder, slamming the pencil onto the desk.
“This sucks,” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at the ceiling as if it were to blame.
But he wasn’t giving up. Because if Luffy knew one thing, it was that when you really want something… you keep trying until it works.
He stood up suddenly and walked to the kitchen, where Ace and Sabo were busy. His sandals felt like lead. He stopped in the doorway, clutching the frame.
A silent plea for help.
“Hey…” he mumbled. “How do you start a letter to a girl?”
Sabo’s knife stopped mid-chop.
Ace coughed so hard he nearly spat out his coffee.
“A what?” Sabo asked.
“A love letter!” Luffy replied. “I want to tell her about the huge Hercules beetle I saw. It was enormous! Do you think she’ll like it?”
“NO!” Ace and Sabo roared in unison.
Ace wiped his mouth. "If you write to her about a giant bug, the only thing you’ll get is her telling you to stop bugging her."
“But… it was awesome,” Luffy grumbled.
Sabo sighed. “Start with a compliment. Something that lets her know you like her.”
“A compliment…?”
“Compare her to something you love,” Ace added. “That way it sounds sincere.”
Luffy thought.
What was the best of the best? And, as always, the answer was clear: food. That last perfect piece of meat; the best, the most perfect one.
Boom!
His eyes lit up.
“I’ve got it!”
Ace and Sabo exchanged a nervous glance.
That brotherly pride lasted exactly until they saw what he wrote.
Luffy didn’t wait. He took the letter and ran.
He had to deliver it before he thought about it too much.