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Freedom through death was usually a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Luffy had viewed death in a strange light his entire life. Each time he lost family or friends through the years it changed the fragile visage of what death meant to him.
When Sabo “died” it felt like an end to an era that never had the chance to exist and never would. So much that could’ve happened that was taken from him, from Ace, from Sabo, in an instant.
When Ace died it took everything from him, a stopping point of his life where nothing seemed to go on afterwards. He’d lived with the life of his brother in the back of his mind for years. Despite not being there physically, his brother had been out there, living. Now, well, even if they hadn’t seen each other often, that loss of something, the possibility, is what hurt the most.
Death itself didn’t hurt, it was losing the ability to experience a person in a way that felt free and lived.
So, Luffy learned to despise death. Especially after he was able to feel the person die in his soul. Haki gave him strength, but every power has a weakness to it.
There isn’t a good way to describe how someone’s death feels, to be honest it probably feels differently to everyone. For Luffy it was like a hole was ripped into the world. It would be left gaping and cold where something or someone used to be.
He didn’t know what he would do if he went out looking for one of his crew members to have another unplanned, impromptu meet up only to find a black void of life where they should be.
All this is to say that when death came for Luffy before it could really start attacking more of his precious friends and family, he was not guilty for feeling a bit giddy at knowing he was first. What could possibly be more of an unknown adventure than death?
He’d achieved his dream, a high that gave wind to every other adventure he sailed off to, and now Luffy began to dream of what came as a part of the “afterward”. And he did live to a nice oldish age.
“43 is old. Like, really old,” Luffy shouts to his reflection in the water, his body slumped over the edge of a small sail boat off the coast of nowhere.
“It might be a bit bad to say this but I didn’t think I’d make it this far,” he scratches at the back of his head in a moment of thought, “I mean, like, I never really thought about it yah know? It's not like I really thought about the future all that much.”
His face scrunched up and he groaned as he flopped back into the boat causing it to bob in the water. Luffy stared pensively at the sky, a blue sky with fluffy clouds moving by slowly.
The boat still bobbed up and down in a rocking motion slowly, slowly bobbing less and less.
He just giggles, “maaah, I should probably call Torao…” Luffy gazed at the sky, the clouds were still moving by slowly, “he always wants to know when things go wrong..”
The transponder snail was on a table in the small, main room not too far away. His eyes didn't stray from looking at the sky. “I wonder… what does a heart feel like when it dies?” He rolls his head left and right on the wood floor of the boat, a guileless look in his eyes. Luffy pursed his lips, he hefted one of his arms off the floor and it flopped over his eyes, no longer able to see the sky and the stupid clouds that weren’t even moving anymore.
“Heavy,” he whined, his body felt weak, like it’d been paralyzed with sea stone. The idea of moving sounded like too much work.
He laid there for hours, the sun still in the sky, with the same clouds, and the same blue color of the sky.
The boat swayed gently.
The clouds still floated up there, so high in the same blue sky.
The water slapped the boat.
The boat dipped up and down softly.
Eventually, Luffy rolled over and slowly hefted himself up onto all fours before pushing himself onto his feet. Stumbling a bit before catching himself on the doorway to the main room on the boat. He walked step by step into the small room, his whole body felt heavy, he didn’t really feel anything besides the sway of the boat.
Slowly, the transporter snail came into his field of vision. The boat swayed no harder than it had been but this time it sent Luffy slamming into the wall. Staying there felt like a safe option before he dragged himself forward with the wall’s help.
Finally, finally he grabbed the talking piece off the transponder snail and waited for the call to auto connect.
Purararara…
Purarara…
There was a window in the room, right in front of him, circular in shape and small in size. The sky looked the exact same. So did the ocean?
Purararara….
The clouds were the same, so was the sky, and the sun, and the-
KA-CHECK
–ocean?
“Yeah?” The snail almost snarled as it morphed to mimic Zoro’s roughed features.
His eyes snapped down to look at the snail, Luffy giggled at the funny looking snail and watched in real time as its face softened to match with Zoro’s again.
“Captain! How’re things going? I heard from Torao that you went out again for a while,” Zoro laughed loudly, “we’d all been taking bets on who you were gonna eventually remember to call first.”
Luffy’s eyes slipped back to look out the window, a giant grin morphed onto his face, it stretched and was too big, edging on feral and horrific, a joyous baring of his teeth. He laughed, and then-
“Zoro!” A pause. “I’m dead.”
“Luffy- what?” The snail's face contorted fast, the happy look dropped into something confused and contemplative, “what are you talking about- what do you mean dead? I’m talking to you right now- Luffy?-”
Zoro stopped talking.
“I’m dead, just wanted to give you a heads up, since you’re my second in command!” He giggled again.
Luffy didn’t get a response immediately, it didn’t matter, the grin still held a place on his face.
Eventually, Zoro finally spoke up again.
“Well Captain, it was a- it was a good run huh? When you get back I wanna hear about all the shit you got yourself into alright! Nothing left out, we'll throw a huge party too!” Zoro shouted into the talking piece with conviction and shaky strength.
Now it was Zoro’s turn to not get a fast response; they both sat in heavy silence before there sounded a slight shuffle on the other side of the line.
“Mhm! Of course, I thought that was obvious! Well, I gotta get going, bye bye Zoro!”
“Any... uh, anytime Captain."
Neither of them hung up, Luffy dropped the talking piece and shuffled out of the small room, the sun was a little bright outside and the clouds moved slowly and the wind was cool. And the ocean?
It ate him.
And thus, Monkey D. Luffy, the Pirate King, the freest man to ever live, was dead.
Zoro stood near his transponder snail, a hard look in his eyes and a shaky smile on his lips.
Footsteps sounded behind him, Sanji’s clicky fancy shoes, they stopped not far behind Zoro.
“Who was that?” Sanji was drying his hands off with one of the kitchen towels that were always lying around the restaurant.
“It was Luffy.”
A look flickered on Sanji’s face before a sly grin settled, “so the bastard called us first huh? Fuckin’ called it, he only calls Torao first if he does something really stupid.” The cigarette bobbed in his mouth as he talked.
Zoro didn’t say anything, his head was ducked down as he grunted in response.
Sanji raised one of his eyebrows, “okaay,” he flicked some of his hair back over his shoulder, “well, what did he have to say, kill another sea monster he wants me to cook? Find another friend that needs to eat my cooking otherwise they might die?”
“He’s dead.”
“What-” he coughed, “what’d he do to piss you off that badly?”
Zoro turned around, his face scrunched up, “he called me to tell me he was dead. The Captain is dead.”
Sanji stood there, they stared at each other for a long, silent moment before his cigarette fell to the ground and he stomped it out with his shoe. His face pinched, tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. “He uh- he say anything else?”
“He wants a party when he gets back.”
A hiccuped laugh came out of Sanji’s mouth, “... of course.. of course he does.”
Zoro looked back at the transponder snail’s blank look, no happy smile to be seen, only the faint sound of waves could be heard through the transponder. The talking piece dropped out of his hand as he walked away and moved past Sanji. “I’m gonna get a drink.”
The sound of another cigarette being lit and the waft of smoke was answer enough.
The sounds of waves still emanated from the transponder, slowly, so very very slowly getting louder.
Sanji stood there, a blank look on his face before it pinched up again. He briskly walked over to the snail and cut off the call.
“Damn sea, took enough from us this time, and now you wanna annoy my customers away?” He muttered under his breath, before taking a long drag of his cigarette, “who am I kidding, heh, we've been living on borrowed time for a damn while now, about time it started to claim us.”
Sanji walked away slowly, and tossed his cigarette out one of the open windows into the moving sea below.
Somewhere between nowhere and everywhere, on the Pirate King’s small and empty boat, a transponder snail shuts off. And the wind howls, and the sea screams, and the sun weeps, and the waves cackle.
The only partner to the boat is a small straw hat sitting atop the waves. A crown.
Law would receive the news later that night. It wouldn’t have mattered though, the heart in his chest stopped beating hours ago, even before the last phone call Luffy made had gone through.
A part of him died.
He can confidently say that a heart when it dies feels heavy and like it's choking him with every breath.
It feels like the sky is mocking him, the sun is too bright, the clouds too damn slow, and the wind is warm, and the sea is frigid.
And the heart that should be dead and cold like any of the Dead’s bodies should be, was kept warm in the chest of a living man.
In its own fucked up way, you could say its like Luffy never died. Having a warm heart is a sign someone isn’t very good at being dead after all.
Luffy is not good at doing one thing for a long time, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise when he wakes up after dying. His body feels weak and listless, he’s being rocked back and forth, a quiet lullaby being sung under someone’s breath.
Tired, he goes back to sleep.
Being raised by the younger version of your own dad that’s now your brother should probably top his list of craziest things to happen. It doesn’t, fortunately, that would be quite the boring life if that were the case.
Luffy was currently held on his brother’s hip, his tiny hands clutching at Dragon’s shirt as hard as they could for a young toddler. A hazy feeling in his head as he watched Dragon calmly and silently make them both dinner. Garp, his own damn father now, had been gone for a while now.
He returned periodically, showing up as unannounced as a storm in the New World and just as dangerous and just as crazy. He’d stomp up to the house pausing before slamming open the front door and loudly shouting, “MY SONS, I HAVE RETURNED! BWAHAHAHA!” The foundation of their home would rattle.
Dragon never gave a reaction to the noise and Luffy would only just laugh loudly, clapping his hands in rambunctious joy with a gleaming smile on his face.
The house was never quiet when Garp was around.
But right now? When it's just him and Dragon? The house is calm.
Not necessarily silent, never silent. Wherever Luffy goes, sound and life follow like a loyal dog. But the house lulls, Luffy is always outside in the yard, running around humming under his breath as Dragon watches with a book in his lap. And they hardly speak to each other. It's not like they hate each other, Luffy actually likes Dragon quite a lot, just like Ace and Sabo. Well, maybe not quite the same. But whenever either one of them needed something all it took was a look before either Luffy was scampering up to the house or Dragon gracefully walking over to Luffy and giving him his full attention.
And right now was one of those silent moments again.
Luffy wriggled around a bit in his brother’s hold, becoming impatient at waiting for the food to be done cooking. He sniffed loudly, earning a loud sigh in response from Dragon.
“Can’t you wait?”
Luffy only laughed in Dragon’s face before shifting up and reaching for the pot.
Dragon slapped Luffy’s hand away. “It's hot,” he moved back and plopped Luffy on the ground, “go over to the dinner table and wait. I promise you won't die of hunger before dinner is ready.”
Luffy, once again, only laughed.
Luffy was wading in the water, the sea’s waves lapping at his shins. He stood still, almost buzzing with unused energy, his arms reached out and ready. When a fish slowly started to swim by his feet, toes dug into the sand below, he struck.
He lunged forward, his face diving under the water as he blindly chomped around for the fish. His hands splashed around feeling for anything before finally Luffy’s teeth clenched down on something.
Excitedly Luffy opened his eyes to see what he caught forgetting he still had his face under the water as he began thrashing around choking on the sea water.
Suddenly Luffy was yanked upwards by the back of his shirt.
“ – of all the stupidest shi- crap I’ve ever seen you do!” Dragon was seething, “Wyvern, at least think before doing something idiodic!”
Wyvern, right, that was his name, he kept forgetting. He coughed up the water quickly with the help of a few good whacks to his back.
“Myyy fisssshh! Dragon you gotta get my fish!” Wyvern kicked in his brother’s hold trying to get back into the water.
His brother huffed, swiftly picking up the fish from the water before the waves pulled it out too far and shoved it into Wyvern’s hands. “I’ll cook it up for you if you wait until I'm done drying you off.”
Limp in Dragon’s hold, still held up by the back of his shirt, Wyvern laughed, “FISH FISH FISH!”
“Yes yes, fish fish,” Wyvern heard the smile in his brother’s voice even when he muttered annoyedly.
“Fuck! No!” Dragon lunged off the couch and over to where his brother had been sitting on the floor by the living room table. Paused, Wyvern had his arms out reaching for the table leg in front of him the tell tale sign of haki clawing at his grubby little hands. “No! What did I tell you, no more tables!”
At this point the Monkey family was practically family with the carpenters in Foosha. Between their father and Wyvern both destroying furniture left and right. Dragon had tried to find reason behind the adept understanding his younger brother seemed to have over Haki; it didn’t take long for him to just come to the conclusion that the precarious environmental circumstances he was born into probably had a hand in it all.
Their father always used it even when he didn’t mean to, accidentally shattering windows, tables, chairs and plates. Dragon himself was always silently watching for his brother's presence around the house and the yard just in case, always catching him before things went too far into shit. It made sense, in a way, that Wyvern would almost grow into it.
Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still wonder. He watches his brother, how he punches his small hands into the tough ground so easily before pulling out a cool bug with stars in his eyes. Like he knew it was there and he was just waiting to pounce. Dragon would inevitably get a close up of the new worm, bug, or whatever else as Wyvern would run up to him and shove it into his face.
And he watches his brother stare into the water, his gaze snapping here and there with a defined focus. Whenever Dragon was really curious, he’d spread his own Haki out, finding sea creatures and on occasion one adolescent sea king. Sometimes though, Wyvern’s gaze seemed to catch onto things not even Dragon could sense.
An intense gaze on the horizon. He’d like to write it off as day dreaming. But he’s only ever seen that look a few times, and each time he does, he reaches, pressing as far as his Haki can go before settling on that his brother, somehow, sees something he doesn’t.
If someone were to really press him on it. He’d cave and say he actually thinks his brother is yearning for something. The guileless look reminds him of a caged animal.
“Its the nature of the beast.” He supposes. You can’t be a part of this family without being a little crazy. It's like they’re just sitting around pretending to be normal. It seems to get to his brother more easily than Dragon. The stir crazy feelings.
So, he ignores it. The intense looks, the hours spent just standing in the water, the pulling at his skin before it turns black to protect itself against the hard tugs. Dragon ignores it all, only until Wyvern is in danger will he step in and do something. But those days are far and few in between. His brother always seems to bounce back not long after getting into the murky depths of his feelings.
And life moves on.
Dragon was on his way home. Restocking the food in their household was a damn near every other day chore. The slow meander from the house to the village and back was one he could probably walk in his sleep if he's being generous.
He was zoned out, mind wandering with every step he took down the literal beaten path of loose stones and dirt. The breeze coming off the water running through his hair and drying out his eyes.
His brother had been acting… weird. Weirder than usual that is. A few days ago Wyvern had been sitting in the garden when he started crying. For no reason or another, tears clogging up his eyes and coughing sobs coming up from his throat.
Dragon had tried all he could to get his brother to calm down. Immediately running over to Wyvern’s side and whispering reassurances in his ear as his hand rubbed his back. It didn’t seem to help.
The tenseness of it all never went away. It's been days. Dragon got so desperate for something, anything, to get better that he eventually called their father. To say that that conversation was an easy one would be a lie. He’d practically been on the verge of tears himself before it was settled that Garp would be heading out and back home as soon as he could.
Dragon hadn’t been able to rest much in the inbetween of waiting. Wyvern started spending more time wading in the water. Just staring at things that weren‘t there and shaking in what Dragon could assume was a deep sadness.
The worst part was just having to sit there and watch. Because that's all he’d been doing. Dragon would wake every morning, eat, grab a book, and sit on the small back porch that overlooks the yard and sea side. And he’d sit, and watch while pretending to read.
Then, they ran out of food. And so, as reluctant as he was, Dragon grabbed the money he needed, and left the house with only a quick look over his shoulder before he headed over to the main drag of Foosha village.
He chatted with the local villagers. Talking about how things were going, about the weather, and even about how the family that owns the town bar were planning on having a baby soon. Everything done with a level of disinterest that was hard to cover up as neutrality.
It might have been his solemn vibe. But no one asked about his brother. He was glad.
And now, Dragon was on his way home.
He shuffled the basket into his other hand before opening the door quietly and kicking it shut with his foot. Dragon looked up. His father stood in the middle of their living room. A pinched look on his face and his arms crossed as he stared out the window watching where Wyvern was still standing in the water.
“He’s been like that for days. I don’t know what set him off,” Dragon tried to keep the self deprecating tone of his voice. He’d basically raised his brother and yet he still needed to turn to his father when things got to be too hard for him. It pissed him off despite his best efforts.
His father only nodded, a contemplative look on his face. Garp uncrossed his arms and huffed, “I’ll go talk to him.”
Dragon took one last look out the window, it was a nice day out, despite how much his mood wanted something cloudier. He walked away to put the food in the kitchen.
Garp trudged down the yard, thudding footsteps only softening once he reached the sandy beach by the water’s edge.
Soon even that was replaced by the sounds of his feet splashing in the water. And now Wyvern and him stood side by side.
Neither of them talked for a long moment. It was only the slight wind and the sounds of Wyvern sniffing quietly that could be heard.
“Son.” Garp paused. “If you won’t talk to your brother, will you at least talk to me?”
Wyvern looked up at his father, his eyes were red and his entire face was pinched up as if trying not to cry even more. He wringed his hands on the bottom of his shirt and his lip wobbled. And like a dam breaking, tears spilled down his cheeks in big globs as he cried loudly.
Garp just stood there, watching the tears fall, before tilting his head down to hide his own face. Not wanting to watch his youngest son rub at his eyes roughly to try and stop the endless waterfall from his eyes.
It took a while. The sun was still hanging in the air and the few clouds in the sky were still floating high above, but both of them were slowly making their way to the horizon.
Wyvern’s face was distraught, “I-” he sniffed, “I accidentally killed a bug.” The few tears still left on his face dripped down into the sea below.
Garp turned to better face his son, a questioning look on his face. Not that it mattered, Wyvern was staring straight down, his face hidden from view.
“And, it's just, I want the bug back,” he finally looked up and into the eyes of his father.
“Son.” Wyvern paused, looking at his father with his mouth still open as if to finish his thought before it slowly closed. The look on his father’s face kept him quiet. “What’s this bug got to do with anything?”
“It's just, it's gone.” Tears welled up in his eyes again.
“Is it?” Garp shoved his pinkie into his ear and twisted it around faining disinterest.
Wyvern’s face shifted to one of slight annoyance. “Of course it is, I killed it! Didn’t you just hear me!?”
Neither of them moved, a pause that held many heavy feelings.
“Sounds pretty stupid to me.”
Wyvern quickly turned angry, “WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!”
“I’m just saying you seem to care a bit too much a dumb stupid bug that you ‘accidently killed’!?” Garp slightly raised his voice matching his son’s exuberant energy.
He seethed, “of course I cared about that bug! I like bugs, and I still killed it!”
“Huh?! So you liked this bug, and you killed it, and?!”
“SHUT UP!”
“WHY SHOULD I?!”
“BECAUSE-”
“YOU KILLED A BUG, THINGS DIE, ANIMALS DIE, BUGS DIE, PEOPLE DIE!”
“YEAH, I-” Wyvern was practically hyperventilating, “I- liked that dead bug. AM I NOT ALLOWED TO MISS IT!? HUH?”
Garp was watching his son closely, an intense look was being shared between them. Both glaring into each other's eyes.
“Wyvern. What’s this about? Did you kill someone?” Garp finally bit out.
Wyvern’s eyes widened, “what?! NO! It… it’s whatever!”
It didn’t matter what his answer was though, Garp moved quickly, grabbing his son’s collar and lifting him upwards until they were eye to eye. Wyvern squirmed in his father’s hold, slightly sunken into his clothes as they were being pulled on.
“Son.” Garp spoke straight to his son’s face, holding eye contact, “people die, but don’t you make it a habit of being someone who kills. Am I understood?”
They both stood at a stand still.
“YOU DON’T KILL, HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR!”
“I-”
“WYVERN!”
“I didn’t!-” a sniff “-I didn’t kill anyone!” He finally cried out. A pinched look on Wyvern’s face, his eyes turning glossy.
No one spoke. Another pause of silence as they both let the moment settle. Garp slowly released his tight hold on his son’s collar before-
“Dad-” Wyvern’s voice cracked “-what, what do you do when you lose something really important to you and you can never get it back?”
Garp stilled once more, although calmer than before he still held a tension in his shoulders.
“I didn’t raise either of you boys to give up easily did I?” A horribly rhetorical question seeing as Garp wasn’t home most of the time.
Wyvern bowed his head, his chin to his chest. “But what if there isn’t anything left behind?” He mumbled under his breath.
“What are you really asking me, Vernie?” Garp asked.
“If all that's left of something is just the memories, how do you know if it was even really real? And how can you know the memory will last?” Tears crawled down his face and his hands balled into fists at his side.
Garp didn’t look away from the top of his son’s head and sighed, “I should’ve known no son of mine would live to be a normal boy.”
Wyvern didn’t even need to respond. The silence was answer enough.
“Look, Vernie, I love you son, but you can’t just keep wishing for a damn “bug” to come back if it’s already dead. Stop moping, just be glad to got to see the bug at all.”
“I know, but I… I want the bug back,” said Wyvern.
‘I thought being selfish and leaving first would rid me of this pain,’ Wyvern doesn’t say.
Garp watched Wyvern silently for a second, “you don’t need to replace the… “bug”, son, just find more to love, give yourself more meaning. ‘Cause sometimes all you have is yourself and you gotta be happy with that first. And plus, you ain’t alone either way, you got me and you got your brother don’t you?”
Wyvern didn’t say anything. He just stared out to the sun finally setting over the horizon and the beginnings of the final sun rays bounce across the waves.
“I hate being alone,” Wyvern whispered into the wind. “I hate being weak.”
Garp stared at his son and his heart ached.
He huffed, and put Wyvern on his shoulders. “Let the dead rest son, they’ll be waiting. And you best let them wait.” He grinned.
Garp was stomping back to the house, laughing like an idiot as he went. “Now, food fixes everything! Let's eat!”
Wyvern gripped onto his father’s shoulders and the sun rays caught on Wyvern’s hair as it moved with the slight breeze, and from the right angle, it could’ve looked white.
They were both laughing.