Chapter Text
You put your hand out
Opened a door
You said come with me, boy
I want to show you something more
-- Dear Fellow Traveller; Sea Wolf
- I -
Shells Town is a neighbourhood peaceful only in the lull of its waves against the shore, foamy water of idealised horizons pulsing with the heartbeat of travellers that linger on the sands. Many-a-man cast their gaze out into the sunrise, wishful thinkers hoping that the rays of gold will lower their burning sails and cast them off into the sea. This is not a strange phenomenon for the era of pirates, but a little queer, perhaps, for the people of Shells Town, who have enough to worry about before the dreams of pirates come yohoho-ing their way.
Luffy does not stay long in Shells Town; he does not need the rising of the sun to embolden his heart. Thus, he never strays from his path towards the Grand Line, not even as his feet carry him unbidden towards the heart of the town – the marine base, the unquestionable word of Captain Morgan, and the first crewmate that Luffy will find there, locked away by the captain’s terrible smile and the silence of the subordinates that scamper in his shadow.
“Executed?” Luffy asks, blinking a dazzled curiosity at the cowering mother and child, and then he tips back the loved edges of his straw hat to peer up at Captain Morgan. “Why?”
“For an insult against me,” growls the marine, the predatory snarl to his words somewhat muffled by the impressive iron slab that encases his jaw, but fierce all the same.
Just a hair’s breadth away from the colossal axe that replaces Morgan’s right hand, the little girl sniffles, old enough to understand that not even her mother’s arms can protect her now.
“Oooh,” Luffy says, almost cooing his sound of realisation. “An insult, huh? I get it now.”
And so – as if just to prove his point – he swings back a fist and clobbers Captain Morgan through a wall.
The captain responds in kind, defiant to the laughter of Luffy’s spirit, uninhibited, loud, and free, and returns each of Luffy’s blows with an almighty strike of his axe. The marine base disintegrates about them, crumbling into submission beneath the weight of their assault, and it is as one wall of the stronghold quakes into ruin at Morgan’s roar, that Luffy tumbles unbidden and cackling into his first mate – his first mate to-be.
Not that he is aware of this as he scoops up the nearest scabbard and tugs the sword free, his inexperience incapable of defiling the blade’s elegant arc even as he fumbles around.
The sword fells Morgan with one relentless swoop.
Luffy whistles long and low in marvel, and then steps over the bemoaning heap of a captain to find somewhere raucous to fill his stomach. He shakes the steel haphazardly to clean the blood from its edge, and thinks not of his carelessness as he treks his way back into the town. Nor does he notice the rush of lightning up the length of his arm, but when his skin is rubber and his soul is defiant even to the will of a blade, such a protest is merely breath wasted on a man with the heart of a pirate king.
In fact, Luffy does not realise that he has held onto the blade until Captain Morgan’s rampage has quelled and the townspeople freed, but even then, as he huffs dust from the beautiful sheath (if only to protect his food from the grime), Luffy lays the sword close and wonders not of its shine. Nil is his interest in swords, but if either Rika or her mother recognise this fact, they say nothing as he eats and laughs, and eats some more, and then attempts to wiggle the scabbard into a belt loop of his shorts.
He restocks his supplies aplenty, bids the townspeople a warm farewell, and then is quick to ensure that Coby finds his place with the marines, whether the boy likes it or not.
The sea rocks his boat, horizons luring him away. Luffy plonks himself down by the mast and lets the wind guide the way, eager for another adventure and new crewmates to sail at his side.
He has his first mate already, but he won’t learn that for a while.
Days drift past. Weeks roll on. Islands come and go, the sun rises, and the sun sets, and Luffy loses hours to the sky, cloud watching at noon and stargazing at night. The boat is small for a crew but large for one, and though Luffy’s hope never wavers with each town that he passes, with each street that he walks with the footsteps of one, and each dock that he departs with barrels full of food and pockets full of coin – but less coin, a finite amount, but the least of his concerns – he does begin to wonder how long it will take.
He doesn’t mind – not really. He is alone at sea but not alone, and while the birds talk in squawks and the fish talk in burbles, Luffy holds conversation with them anyway, just as he chats to the sword as if he expects it to answer.
Sometimes it does, but he doesn’t usually listen. When he does, it is often as he dozes, half-asleep mouth mumbling incoherent wishes to the sheath. He imagines that the sword talks back, sharing its own desires and goals of a life locked away, but Luffy can never be sure if he actually hears anything, or if his need for nakama merely seeps through his dreams.
The sword attracts attention whenever Luffy disembarks the boat. Some – swordsmen, novices, or enthusiasts in their own right – question his competence with the weapon, sneering as he walks around the city with the scabbard bouncing against his legs. Rubber skin doesn’t bruise easily so Luffy doesn’t really care, and he ignores their scorn with the same disregard, happy with his choice to keep the blade and unwelcoming of any suggestions to part with its beauty.
It is beautiful. Aesthetic does not lure Luffy like the thrill of adventure, but even he can appreciate that the blade, sheath, guard and all are something breathtaking to behold. And he does handle the sword occasionally, but mostly to manhandle it from his side to make way for food, rather than anything entailing swordsmanship. His Devil Fruit gives him all the necessary means to get his point across, although he does occasionally use the sword for actual pointing when he isn’t sure that his hands will know the way.
Although Luffy isn’t to know when offering directions to passer-bys, his navigational skills put the sword’s to shame – if one is open-minded enough to believe that swords can possess any sort of course-plotting ability in the first place.
(Perhaps, retrospectively, this is part of the problem).
Monetary value does not matter to Luffy. To him, a sword is a sword, however sleek, sharp, or sinister the blade, and if the one he carries at his side is worth more his weight in gold – well, then he doesn’t care.
Companionship means more to him anyway.
The only reason that Luffy escapes from the bird intact and undigested is that it met an unfortunate end attempting to gobble-up the sword.
How he is going to get back to his little boat doesn’t occur to him as he crash-lands into a crowd of people; carefree, take-it-as-it-comes attitudes hardly ever worry over such insignificant matters after all. Luffy is sure that the sea will reunite him with his possessions eventually – be it sooner rather than later, or perhaps never to his knowledge at all, leading him down, down, down into the depths so that the wreckage can welcome him home. Although a waste it was, food can be restocked and clothes can be re-bought: Luffy’s money, on the other hand, is still clinking away in a pouch attached to his shirt, and the sword is still in his grasp, slippery with saliva but none the worse for wear, so nothing has truly been lost.
Instead, Luffy gains a crewmate.
Nami is exactly what he wants in a navigator – nothing except the willingness to become a most treasured nakama (and she does have this desire, Luffy is convinced) – and so she joins him, eventually, once he decimates a street and saves a townspeople from a pirate’s hyperbolic, red-nosed wrath.
(Luffy does not consider himself a hero – and he never will. He does not pay heed to the pattern that is slowly emerging before him).
Nami argues, snitches, steals and bargains, but when he offhandedly explains how he arrived here via bird and that it was so cool Nami, you should have seen it trying to eat me! she drags him off to buy new clothes and supplies anyway.
“You owe me,” she says, demanding compensation as it she wasn’t counting through the beli from his wallet to stock up on food. “Go and pick out some clothes – you can’t just have one set of everything.”
“Sure I can,” Luffy says, but he goes obediently when she glares.
They don’t shop for long. Rather, Luffy doesn’t shop for long, and Nami continues browsing the windows even as they begin the trek down to the dock. In a remarkable show of restraint, she doesn’t buy anything too outlandish, preferring to save Buggy’s stolen (acquired) treasure for another day.
“We could’ve afforded it,” Luffy claims, his utter lack of budgeting ability ringing out in a childish tone. Nami’s resulting eye roll doesn’t deter him from the motions of nose picking, but he does refrain from flicking anything towards her like a toddler’s show of friendship.
“Somebody has to have some financial sense,” Nami says with a sigh. “And I suppose as your first crewmember, that’ll have to be me. But don’t worry; I know my way around money. I won’t bore you with the details – just know that I charge interest and you better pay me back, you understand?”
“Sure,” Luffy replies, meaning not really. He continues swinging his legs from the dock, tempted to stretch his ankles out to skim the sea’s emerald surface. He doesn’t have a boat, a sail, or even the oars to row himself along (Nami refuses to allow him onto her boat; Luffy has already learned not to argue), but he has everything else that he could need right now, and maybe it is this, Luffy will come to reason, that prompts him to add: “But you’re not my first mate.”
“Thank god,” the navigator exclaims, relief escaping in a rushed breath. “Wait – I’m not?”
“Nope.”
“You mean – you have more crewmates hanging around somewhere?”
“Nope,” Luffy says again. One hand drums against the hilt of the daitō katana. His smile assures the truth, but he can’t explain why. Nami is the first crewmember to step foot upon his boat (or, she will be, once they actually find it), but she is not the first mate – or even, truthfully, the first person that Luffy considers to have joined his crew.
He doesn’t mean Ace, Coby, or the other people he has met on his journey so far. No, his first mate is somebody else, somebody that has been at his side since Shells Town, even if Luffy can’t quite find the words to explain that there has always been a presence there.
But what does it matter? Words are insufficient anyway. Honesty comes from the heart, not from the motions of the tongue and the shape of the lips, liars and thieves as they are. He doesn’t need quantifiable reassurance to know that his first mate agenda has already been filled.
Nami, on the other hand, ogles at him, her mouth twisting in confusion. Eyes wide, she glances around the bay as if she is the subject of a practical joke – as if Luffy would joke about this – and then flicks her gaze from the captain’s hat to his sword, auburn hair framing her disbelief.
“There’s nobody here; you haven’t even got your boat,” she states, declaring her naivety.
Luffy cannot blame her. He’s not entirely sure what he’s talking about either.
“Ah-ha! Don’t worry; you’ll see,” he says, laughing out towards the sea. Waves lap against the shoreline, splashing up against the dock, and in the distance, a rickety sort of shape takes form, the afternoon sun revealing wood, rope, and sail across the horizon.
Luffy’s cheerful exclamation at the sight of his boat bellows out over the sound of Nami’s disbelieving huff.
He wouldn’t have paid any attention anyway.
Sleeps consumes him that night, pulling him down into the depths of his unconscious. Seawater rocks about the boat, lulling him somewhere far beyond the stars. Luffy will not remember much of the dream come morning, the tangerine hues of daybreak blinding his all-seeing eyes back to the ignorance of reality, but for now, cocooned within the deep of himself, he begins to see.
Gold. Green. Eyes that gleam like a blade’s perilous edge, and a mouth that grins only to itself, safekeeping a tongue that holds words like a prayer, whispering them just so that Luffy cannot hear. He strains his ears, wondering if there is a sound that will merge these images together – something familiar, perhaps, something like a name – but there is nothing to be heard but silence, a low, endless, solitary sound.
Luffy calls out hello? just to break it, wanting to rid his dream of such a terrible state.
He cannot hear it, but laughter bellows out all around.
To him, there is nothing but suggestion, and nothingness waiting to be filled.
Their little boats of planks and nails don’t survive the seas long, but with Kaya’s kind-heartedness and Usopp’s bravery against Captain Kuro, they do not remain land-bound for long. The Going Merry is a ship of dreams and devotion, a fitting vessel to see them on their way, and so they depart Syrup Village with the rightful crewmember at the helm, Usopp’s peculiarly long nose sniffing all the while.
The days drag as the newest addition to their crew adjusts to life at sea. At first, Usopp is confidently skittish, prone to proclaiming outlandish tales of adventures and quests across the deck when nervousness strikes, but he calms as the weeks roll by, slotting himself into the space that had always been there for him.
Luffy likes Usopp. Together they’re a riot.
Nami often has things to say about this.
“Aww, but Nami, what else are we supposed to do for fun?” Luffy whines, cradling the fist-shaped lump he can feel protruding from his head. Sitting cross-legged on the deck, he may or may not be cowering at Nami’s feet, and given how ferocious she appeared stalking towards him with the click-clack of her heels, cowering is definitely the safest course of action.
“Honestly, does it look like I care?” she asks, merciless and entirely unfazed by his puppy-dog eyes. She waves a rolled up newspaper at him, wielding it like a blade, and Luffy has to shrink back from the swing lest it slice up his nose.
“The rigging is not a safe place for you two to jump around – and yes Usopp, I can see you over there. If you’re going to act like fools, can you at least do it quietly?”
“But we wouldn’t be fools then,” Luffy protests.
Nami glowers. From somewhere hidden across the ship, Usopp squeaks.
“Why am I the only sensible person on this ship?” she bemoans, probably more to herself than her captain, but unable to help himself in the face of his nakama’s misery, Luffy is quick to deny:
“You’re not the only sensible person!”
For a second, Nami is flabbergast, no doubt believing that he refers to himself. But a moment passes and her anger dissolves with a sigh, exasperation escaping her lips with a muffled oh god.
“You’re still going on about that mysterious other crewmember?”
Mysterious other crewmember is definitely spoken with quotation marks, but Luffy still considers it a step forward in convincing his level-headed navigator. He smiles, face glowing like the sun, and Nami’s expression flattens out, wavering with his enthusiasm.
“Yep!” he says, beaming. Absentmindedly, he reaches to where his sword rests at his side, only for his fingers to falter at the empty space. Surprise clouds his expression – maybe he put it aside before playing with Usopp? – but before his confusion can grey into unease, he plasters a smile back on as Nami rolls her eyes.
Unaware of her captain’s turmoil, she shoves her hair away from her face with an unreadable expression but doesn’t quite seem to know what to say.
“Wait, wait,” Usopp calls, inching out of his hiding place. He tiptoes over, wary of Nami's wrath but lured by the conversation taking place. “There are four of us?”
“Apparently,” Nami grumbles, crossing her arms. The newspaper bobs in her grasp, folded pages seeming to wilt with her disbelief. Usopp cringes at the tone.
“Ah. You’ll meet him eventually,” Luffy explains, grinning wildly.
“But –”
“Him?” Nami repeats, interrupting the sound of Usopp’s confusion.
“Yeah!” Luffy replies, unable to explain the pronoun choice but liking the sound of it on his tongue anyway. “I think so.”
“You think so?”
Luffy nods, straw hat flopping over his face. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to ask.”
The others exchange a glance. Usopp swallows, Nami’s sharp look apparently meaning something to him, but Luffy is incapable of deciphering their exchange. Happiness bubbles up inside of him at this realisation; he is glad that his crew are getting along, glad that they have found a friendship in each other that he cannot provide.
“What does he look like?” Usopp asks, striking a heroic pose as he bellows out: “Is he an awesome, undefeatable warrior that wanders the land and can beat up fifty – a hundred! – men with a single swing of his sword? Because – I mean – we could use one of those sometimes. N – Not that I’m suggesting that the Great Captain Usopp isn’t capable or anything –!”
“Dunno,” Luffy says, wishing that this wasn’t the case. “He’s kinda shy.”
“Oh god,” Nami breathes.
“Oh,” Usopp says. He is quick to correct his crestfallen expression, springing up into animation so that his curls bounce with every eager word: “Well – well that’s all right! Have you introduced yourself? Maybe you should tell him all about our adventures! Do you – I don’t know – write to him or something? Or maybe he’s invisible! Is he invisi – hey, Luffy, where are you going?”
“To talk to him!” he replies, already catapulting his rubber body across the deck, leaping away with an unnatural bound.
Straw hat flapping around his neck, he dives through the hatch to the men’s quarters and crashes into the hammocks, laughing boisterously when his elasticated limbs tangle into the ropes.
“Hey, hey, sword – are you in here?”
Nobody answers, but when Luffy throws himself from the hammocks and bounces across the sofas, the scabbard seems to appear as if beckoned, its clattering across the floorboards drawing his attention.
Gleefully, he scoops it up, rubbing its elegant sheath against his waistcoat as if to apologise for any tarnishes.
“Oh, there you are! Usopp says I should tell you about myself to stop you from being shy – although maybe you’ll always be shy, but that’s all right because I have lots to tell you and I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk much. My name’s Luffy, I’m not sure if I said that, but even if I did, it’s nice to meet you! What’s your name?”
He plonks down on his hammock, the momentum of his crash-landing almost toppling him out of it again. The sword says nothing, giving no indication that it has even heard his words, but Luffy presses on anyway, undeterred by the silence. Laying the blade over his lap, he drums his fingers along the sheath, marvelling at the angelic white shine.
“Do you even have a name?”
He strains his ears for any sound beyond the creak of the ship, the whoosh of the waves against the hull, and the rush of the wind past the mainsail above the deck, the midday gales guiding them on their way.
There is nothing.
Luffy pouts. “I could give you a name?” he suggests, turning the sheath over as if it has any likelihood of being inscribed with the answer.
Yet, the scabbard’s beauty is unmarked, so Luffy reaches past the handguard to tug the blade free. Elastic around the hilt, his hand grips tight, but something rushes across his skin before he can draw the sword – something painless, but heavy, like a bolt of lightning, and he jerks his hand back to gawk at the flickers of static across his fingertips.
“Hey!” he cries, realising that for all metaphorical purposes the sword has just bitten him. “That’s not very nice!”
And then he realises the sword has bitten him – the sword has protested at being named – and he laughs triumphantly, swaying the hammock with his cheer.
“I knew there was somebody in there! Hey, hey, you can hear me right? What’s your name? You’re going to tell me your name, right? How’d you get in there anyway? Are you the sword? Can you speak? Can you tell me your name?”
His rushed breath is met with silence, but this only serves to heighten Luffy’s amusement.
“Aha, oh man! You are shy aren’t you? Or are you scary like Nami? Are you grouchy? You’re grouchy aren’t you? You’re – hey!”
Lightning flickers over his arms again and though his Devil Fruit ensures that it doesn’t hurt, Luffy yelps in surprise.
“Hey! Be nice! I’ll toss you overboard if you keep misbehaving!”
The sword does nothing as Luffy waggles a finger at it, but he cannot decide if he imagines the air of go on, I dare you about it or not. He pouts at being called out on his bluff, resting his chin in one hand, and then smiles again, excitement overtaking his rounded face of rubber and glee.
“Well, if you’re not going to talk, how about I tell you about the time Ace and I fought a giant tiger? That’s my brother, by the way, he’s the coolest – not the tiger, Ace, although that would be cool…”
A chance encounter with the bounty hunters Johnny and Yosaku lead them on to the Baratie, the restaurant floating on the seas. Nami frets for the entire journey, casting worrisome glances at Merry’s kitchen and muttering about cooks, but she never brings up her concerns beyond pouring over her maps and pressing the ship on. Yosaku soon recovers from scurvy, much to his companion’s relief, so Luffy doesn’t understand what all of the fuss is about. Yet, a good cook means good food and a new nakama, so he cheers their journey on, eager to see the famous Baratie for himself.
His sword is quiet as they sail on – and to Luffy, who has begun to discern the blade’s heavy presence from the flits of his imagination, it is an unusual quiet. The bounty hunters provide some explanation when they notice the sword at Luffy’s hip; surprise is a common reaction, but recognition is not, and they both gawk and point as he pulls the beautiful blade from his side.
“Where’d you find it?” they ask as one, crowding close to inspect the weapon. They bicker between themselves, hemming and hawing with hands rubbing across their chins, and Luffy allows his confusion to show as he passes the sword over.
“Ah man!” Johnny cries, running his fingers up the sheath. “It is the same sword. We filched it off this guy once – he was dead, mind –”
“A tragedy,” Yosaku cuts in, not sounding as sympathetic as he probably should.
“– and kept it with us for a while. We figured it was valuable or something, so we were going to sell it on. I mean, it’s a great sword, but we’ve got our own so we didn’t really need it –”
“Plus, it wouldn’t let us draw it,” Yosaku grumbles, and Johnny blinks, smiling ruefully.
“Oh yeah, that’s true,” he says, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “But then we lost it. It was dumb, really. Fell in a river. Couldn’t find it again after that. I guess it got washed up somewhere and someone picked it up? It’s in pretty good condition too. Where’d you say you found it, brother?”
“Marine base,” Luffy says.
“Stole it,” the bounty hunters conclude, and they laugh together as the sword is handed back. Luffy accepts it gladly, unable to restrain himself from grasping the hilt possessively.
“Take good care of it, yeah?” Johnny says, watching Luffy secure the scabbard back through his belt. “We couldn’t draw it, but it still got us out of a few tight spots over the years. So, keep it even if you can’t use it. It’ll do you good.”
Luffy thinks of gold and emerald and tigers prowling through a forest, and nods assuredly. He couldn’t imagine not taking care of this sword, not when there is the possibility – the certainty – of a nakama held inside.
“I can draw it,” he states as an afterthought, and while this isn’t the same as being capable of using the sword, Johnny and Yosaku emit noises of wonder at the declaration and exchange an unreadable glance.
Chaos explodes the Baratie, but really, this occurs in most places that bear witness to Luffy’s will, so he doesn’t find himself surprised as decking shatters into the throws of the sea.
The head chef – the one with the tremendous hat – doesn’t seem that bothered by the ordeal either, but the other chefs kick up a fuss, and none more so than Luffy’s new nakama. Sanji will be a formidable member of Luffy’s crew – he already is, only, the cook is yet to know – and Luffy is thrilled to fight beside such a no-nonsense man.
Sanji is unrelenting in the best of ways, and his conviction reminds Luffy of Nami in a way. Yet, there is something that sets Sanji apart, something yearning and pained, a heart filled with love and a mouth filled with smoke, ashes of bitter words unseen beneath the fanciful declarations of worship, and Luffy knows that joining the crew will do Sanji good, just as it has quelled Nami’s wildfire and strengthened Usopp’s laugh.
Luffy enjoys his time at the Baratie, despite the dishwashing. Don Krieg’s table manners leave much to be desired, but the Baratie chefs refuse to bow to the pirate captain’s threats. They are a fearsome group, wielding knives and pans with a skill that Luffy has never seen, so he deems it appropriate that his new cook will be a man from such a rowdy bunch.
He looks forward to introducing Sanji to Merry and the crew – but then Nami sails away with the ship, abandoning them to a destination unknown, and there is no time for introductions. The crew’s panic is understandable, Luffy supposes, and he does feel a twinge at Usopp’s expression when he realises that his beloved vessel has been stolen from him, but Luffy knows Nami, and he trusts Nami, and he has every intention of going after her once Don Krieg has been stopped.
Then a hawk-eyed man steps foot onto the Baratie. His lean, imposing figure is enwrapped in robes of shadow and blood. Luffy thinks nothing of him bar noting the odd, golden hue of his gaze, and yet he cannot explain the surge of bloodlust – the thrill, the need to fight – at the sight of this stranger’s inconceivable sword.
For the briefest of moments, he wants to cross blades with this man, to test his skill and see if he is truly worthy of holding the title of the Greatest Swordsman in the World. He wants to dual this man who cuts the air and carves the horizon apart, and he wants to know, desperately, every fibre of his being screaming for it, how it feels to walk with the stride of a dream accomplished and a life-long promise fulfilled –
Dracule Mihawk glances towards him and Luffy reaches for the blade at his side – it quakes, a storm of need thundering out, and he can feel its lightning all the way up his arm, pushing him, encouraging him, demanding that he just grasp the hilt and use me, come on, he’s right –
Luffy shoves his hands into his pockets.
(HE’S RIGHT THERE!)
Luffy thinks of nothing else but smashing Don Krieg’s face into the ground. He thinks of nothing but protecting the lives of the Baratie staff, protecting their dreams, and seeing his own through to the end. He thinks of nothing but finding Nami, finding Merry, and ensuring that Sanji finds a place in their crew as they part from the Baratie with wishes and tearful farewells.
He thinks nothing of Dracule Mihawk and yet he thinks everything, and he thinks of a voice in the back of his mind asking –
Why?
Luffy doesn’t reply.
They get Nami back. Arlong learns not to mess with the Straw Hat Pirates.
(Soon – the world will learn).
Loguetown – the birthplace of the Pirate King, the town of beginnings.
“Meh, we won’t stay long,” Luffy says as the crew disembarks and gathers around him, their eyes turned upwards to marvel at the glorious town, the bustle, and the streets of ruby, sapphire, and gold.
It is a beautiful town, unbefitting of its violent history, but perhaps the people of Loguetown are incapable of seeing the Pirate King’s execution as such, but rather, consider the stain in pirate history something to be celebrated, and something worth lavishing the town in gold.
Luffy can feel his dream pulling him forward, the mysterious ring of One Piece calling him from far away. It would be right, he thinks, to see where the Pirate King breathed his last before sailing the Straw Hat crew into the Grand Line. Their next adventure is just a horizon away, and Luffy can feel Raftel’s skies urging his heart up into the sun.
Complete, their crew is yet to be, but he is sure that his nakama are waiting for him in seas far and wide. East Blue has nothing to offer anymore bar a safe return when a dream is fulfilled, and Luffy knows he will not look back as they plummet down Reverse Mountain and into the seas beyond.
“I wanna see the execution stand,” he announces, and his crew shrug their consent, diverging off to follow wayward paths of their own.
Luffy is in no hurry to reach the plaza centre – he is never in a hurry, assured that his life will turn at its own pace, bringing adventure, excitement, and dreams as it will – so he kicks up his feet as he wanders, enjoying the flurry and colours of the town.
Cashless, he window-shops a while, pressing his nose up against the windowpanes. Shopkeepers gauge the intensity of his interest by the smears on the glass, but Luffy never steps foot into the shops. Occasionally, he is tempted, but thoughts of the Pirate King restrain him, and it is as he pulls away from one such temptation (the bakery almost sways him), that he catapults himself into a stranger and throws them both squawking to the ground.
His sword slides free from his belt loop. Luffy doesn’t notice until the young woman hoisting herself up from the dirt beside him emits an excited sound.
“Oh!” She jabs a pair of thick-framed glasses back onto her face. She scoops up the scabbard as if it is something worth worshipping and gently brushes it down, uncaring for the dishevelment of her clothes and hair. “This sword is the Wadō Ichimonji, isn’t it?”
“The wassit?” Luffy asks, tilting his head at the jumbled words.
“The Wadō Ichimonji! It’s one of the twenty-one great-grade swords! It’s worth at least a million beli!”
“A million?” Luffy echoes, picking his nose disinterestedly. “Huh, that’s more than my bounty…”
At these words, the woman’s attention flicks away from the sword. Dark hair framing a rounded, prettily innocent face, she blinks at him, blinks some more, and then wipes her glasses on the edge of her shirt as if she cannot believe what she is seeing.
“What?” Luffy asks, scratching the back of his neck. Wide eyes follow the motion, and the woman’s mouth falls open as her eyes rest on the straw hat at his shoulders.
“H – hey!” she cries, the resulting squawk drawing stares from down the street. Her accusing finger is so melodramatic that it almost swipes his nose off, and Luffy blinks cross-eyed at her hand. “You’re Monkey D. Luffy!”
“Yep!” he says, grinning cheerfully until she launches up onto her feet in outrage
“I can’t believe it!” she shrieks, oval face puffing out in anger. “How did you come by this sword? You stole it didn’t you? There’s no way you have any skill in swordsmanship! What were you doing with it – were you going to sell it? People like you have no right to be handling something as magnificent as the Wadō Ichimonji!”
Despite the snarling from the woman towering above him, Luffy remains seated in the street, blinking up at the stranger with an impossible smile and large, dangerous eyes.
“People like me?”
She narrows her eyes, clutching Wadō Ichimonji protectively to her chest, and then snarls, “Pirates,” with all of the loathing she can muster.
Luffy flicks his gaze between her hateful eyes and the blade. “Oh,” is what he says, holding out his hand. “Can I have my sword back?”
She splutters. “No! It is my duty to ensure that you low-level pirates don’t get your hands on workmanship like this! Is it not just a sword – can’t you hear it crying out?”
No, Luffy doesn’t say, casting his mind back to that fateful, disastrous encounter with Dracule Mihawk, but I could before the Baratie.
“Can you?”
The woman’s answering stare makes Luffy wonder if he’s grown a second head. “Wha – of course I can!”
“Oh, okay then,” he replies, dropping his hand away. “You can keep it.”
The incredulity of her stare increases. “I – I can?”
Again, Luffy cannot claim to hear the sword say anything, but he rather imagines the ensuing hiss of lightning across the sheath bellows hell no out into the street. The woman yelps and drops the sword with an agonised wheeze, tucking her scorched palms into her chest, and Luffy dives forward to catch the blade before it can clatter at her feet.
“Sorry lady, bye lady!” he blurts in one rushed breath, flinging himself down the road.
People scramble out of the way of his whooping laughter, grumbling to themselves at his manners, but Luffy doesn’t care as the plaza opens out before him, the execution podium a monument standing tall and proud at the heart of the town.
Itching to climb it, he slides the sword – Wadō Ichimonji, he supposes – back into his belt, and reaches for the first rung of the tower.
In his final moments – in his almost final moments – as Nami, Usopp, and Sanji fight to rescue him through the crowd of jeering and horrified bystanders, Luffy looks out across the market square towards the people, his nakama, and his last horizon.
He smiles, offering the afternoon sun a fitting farewell, and mere seconds before a royal will bends the skies and calls forth a thunderbolt to twist the turn of the world, he remembers Wadō Ichimonji at his side.
He cannot reach the blade with his hands cuffed, but this doesn't stop his smile from spreading out across his face, pushing aside freckles and scars to mirror the golden glow of the sun.
Ah well, Luffy thinks, and he would shrug if he could, this was fun.
Lightning crashes down, white wildfire blitzing in front of his eyes.
Through the chaos of it all, Luffy can't be sure of anything – not even the pounding of his own heart in his ears – but he thinks, for a moment, that he feels a hand on his shoulder and a weight across his back, almost as if – although he couldn’t say who – somebody is trying to protect him.
He hears the light chink of metal, a hushed, cursed breath, and then when the world splinters around him, nothing at all.
Afterwards, he brushes himself off, brushes his sword off, and then scoops up his hat and brushes that off too.
“I don’t believe in God,” Sanji tells him, but as they flee the marketplace with their dreams intact and their lives unscathed (or – mostly unscathed, considering Usopp’s declaration of an imminent heart attack), he sounds like he isn’t quite sure anymore.
Luffy laughs, loud and free. “Neither do I,” he says, and he pats the hilt of his sword.
At Cactus Island, they find the hospitable town of Whiskey Peak, and they drink their weights in rum and party long into the night.
At Whiskey Peak, Luffy meets Roronoa Zoro.
(Although – he’d done that long ago).
It isn’t the hangover that wakes him. Bloated with an inhuman stretch, Luffy rolls into awakening, groaning as his stomach sloshes and churns. Midnight quiet envelopes the room, having rocked his crew to sleep, and Luffy peers around the darkness to spy them all sprawled out across the chairs, comfortably asleep after a rowdy night of laughter. Usopp’s goggles are jammed awkwardly against his nose, so Luffy extends one sleepy arm to adjust them, giggling to himself when Usopp sniffs and twitches as his goggles are put aside.
Outside, there is a rush of feathers and squawks as the evening birds scramble into flight. Luffy yawns over the sound of their squabbling, unconcerned by the odd, duck-like quacks in the distance. He finds his hat flattened beneath him and spends a moment fussing over it, and then realises, with a great lurch of effort, that his feet can’t quite reach the floor.
He laughs. Floorboards creak beneath him.
/Get up!/
Luffy throws himself upwards, trips over a bottle, and hurtles across the room, rubber limbs flailing about as he hops, jumps, and dances to catch himself. He bounces off the sofa, narrowly avoiding Sanji and his open-mouthed snores, and then latches onto a barrel of wine to right himself. Momentum lurches his floundering body for a few more feet, but with one last tremendous wobble, Luffy comes to a stop in the centre of the room.
“Eh?” He scans the room again, wondering what he had heard. “Did somebody say something?”
The only response is a particularly harrowing snore from Usopp. Scratching his cheek, Luffy waddles over to the door and tugs it open, elongating his head outside to see if anybody had been knocking.
Moonlight refracts across the sea’s roiling surface, spilling a glow of diamonds and crystals into the room. The pristine white edge of Wadō Ichimonji glistens in the light, seeming almost to beckon him forward, and Luffy stares at it with his mouth pressed into a firm line.
He has hardly handled the blade since the confrontation at the Baratie – his near-escape at Loguetown notwithstanding. Luffy has yet to find an explanation for what happened at the Baratie – his bloodlust, his devastating desire to cross blades with the infamous Dracule Mihawk – and while Luffy is not one to turn his nose up at a fight, he is glad to have walked away from the restaurant without testing the swordsman’s wrath.
He would have died – he is sure. He would have died without knowing why, or knowing what it was that drove him to lift a blade against Mihawk, and he would have died without reaching Raftel, without rescuing Nami and protecting his nakamas’ dreams.
Luffy does not like having his will taken away from him.
He wobbles towards the sword, the shadows of his steps disturbing the moonlight. Unhesitant, he scoops it up, flipping the beautiful sheath over in his hands as if daring it to bite.
It doesn’t, unusually docile. Luffy feels his anger waver. Gaze softening, he sighs, and then lifts the blade up to scrutinise it at eye-level.
“You spoke, didn’t you?” he asks, convinced that he had heard somebody calling him into consciousness.
The sword says nothing, but Luffy gets the impression that it wants to say more – if it could, or if he could hear it, and he frowns, turning back to the front door.
Something is wrong. Humming, he scans the room again, checking the wellbeing of each of his crew, and then, once satisfied that they have come to no harm, waddles outside into the street with Wadō Ichimonji in hand.
Outside, a hundred pairs of eyes turn to stare bewilderment towards him, fifty hushed conversations faltering at his presence. Luffy blinks and tries to smile, recognising the many faces of the townspeople, only to yawn over his attempt at a joyous greeting.
“Oh wow! Are you guys still partying?” he asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He almost clonks himself with Wadō Ichimonji’s hilt as he does so, and Luffy giggles, oblivious to the mounting tension about him.
The first gunshot cracks into his jaw, only for his elasticated skin to rebound the bullet straight back out again. It whizzes into the sky amidst screams and yelps of shock, and Luffy scratches his unmarred cheek, continuing to laugh.
“You guys must’ve drunk a lot!”
Even Igaram’s court-curly hair seems taken aback at the cheer. The townspeople glance at each other, all wearing the reluctance of the designated puppy-kicker, and Luffy has just the time to spare a thought for whatever poor, unfortunate animal this crowd of drunken loons are conspiring against before the second, third, and fourth gunshots detonate into the night.
One ricochets from his shoulder and another from his thigh, but the last pings against Wadō Ichimonji’s sheath as Luffy flings himself into the sky.
Oh, he's the animal.
/Go left!/ bellows a voice, and Luffy launches himself over the rooftop and into the adjacent street below, elasticated footsteps bouncing him harmlessly across the concrete.
Shouts from the apparently murderous residents rise up behind him, their angry snarls like the howls of wolves calling up at the moon, and Luffy shoves a fist into his mouth to smother the sounds of his laughter.
The next round of gunfire dampens his spirits somewhat, but not enough to eradicate Luffy’s blinding smile. Adrenaline pounding through his Devil Fruit body, he feels free at the thrill of the fight. Though the cause of this confrontation is beyond him, he can appreciate the danger as he appreciates all of the simpler pleasures in life – the sea, the sky, and the plates of meat that Sanji still cannot resist piling up before him.
/Hey! I said left!/
The townspeople advance, lead furiously by Igaram and his hyperbolic curly hair. Luffy cannot identify who the voice belongs to, or, in fact, where it even originates from, but he finds himself heeding its directions despite the dubious advice.
“That was left!” Luffy insists, going left again. He skids around the alley corner and ducks behind a barrel, unflinching as gunshots crackle against the wood. His belly is a bit of a target, he supposes, grinning to himself, and in his ears the stranger’s voice groans an infuriated sigh:
/Your other left./
“I don’t have another left!”
/Right, then!/
Luffy rolls out from his hiding place, narrowly escaping the ironclad punch that disintegrates the barrel. Emitting a startled woohoooaa? sound in awe, he scrambles into the street, clutching his hat protectively as the woman bearing knuckle-dusters whirls his way.
“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” he asks, bounding away from the lethal punches.
The woman roars, bear-like despite the flowery dress she adorns, and shouts orders at her fellow townspeople, seeming to speak in some unintelligible code of titles, days, and numbers.
/I did!/ the voice insists, growling over the sound of gunfire.
Luffy springs up onto a roof, knocking away the advancing mob in a hurricane of exhilaration. Wadō Ichimonji bounces against his leg and the strings of his hat whip across his chin.
“No you didn’t!”
/Before! I said it before! You just haven’t been listening to me!/
Luffy ducks, rolls, and scrambles away from the horde of hunters-cum-villagers approaching, wielding guns and knives in desperate, wary hands. Abruptly, he knows where he has heard the voice before, and he glances down as his sword’s ethereal edge catches the light of the watching moon.
“Like at the Baratie?”
The voice – the man, the sword? – heaves a sigh. /You’re bringing that up now? These guys are from the Baroque Works, you know, and in case you haven’t noticed, they’re after your goddamn bounty!/
“Hey! I like my bounty!”
/Well I don’t – it’s far too low. You should change that./
And Luffy – laughs.
“Maybe you should do something about it,” he replies, enjoying the banter.
/Yeah?/ the voice answers, his tone the sea and the storms rising up to the challenge. /Draw me then. I’ll show you what I can do./
“That lady said you’re some really impressive sword, or something. Does that mean you’re pretty sharp?”
/Pretty sharp/ the voice snarls, insulted. /Who do you think I am?/
“I dunno,” Luffy says lightly, cocking his head as if the sword has the eyes to see his puzzlement. Perhaps it does, or perhaps it doesn’t, but either way, Luffy cannot deny how little he knows about this new, familiar voice in his ear. “Who are you?”
For a moment, the sword seems entirely inanimate, its voice wordless in reflection of such a weighted question. Still overtakes Luffy – he waits, uncaring for the chaos that hunts him. The only sound seems to be the thundering of danger in his ears – the shouts of the townspeople, the surge of adrenaline in his blood, and the sheer hush of the predator mulling the question over at his side.
/Roronoa Zoro/ the voice declares, and the name feels like lightning on Luffy’s tongue when he repeats it back.
“Zoro’s a cool name!”
Longer is the next pause, the aftermath of a stuttering breath, and Luffy wonders if swords can be flabbergasted, or if Zoro has a unique ability to sound as if he’s blushing.
/Err – thanks. Now come on, use me. These weaklings are embarrassing./
Zoro is right, much to Luffy’s amusement.
He is pretty sharp after all.
Vivi takes to life on the Merry like a duck to water, which is to say, with a nervy sort of hesitancy given Carue’s strange aversion to anything that isn’t rock, earth, or sand.
Nami, on the other hand, takes to Vivi remarkably quickly, and barely a day has passed on the sea to the island of Little Garden before the two women can be found chatting and laughing as if they have known one another for years.
It must be a girl thing. Alhough Luffy isn’t particularly interested in the gossip that passes between the girls, he is glad for their happiness and the spark that Vivi has brought to their crew.
She won’t sail on the Merry forever; Alabasta has her loyalty and love, and her heart belongs to the waves of gold and sand, the midday heat, and the humid nights of oasis dreams. Vivi is a princess – a leader, a queen – and she will never abandon her kingdom to rule the ocean currents, but that doesn’t make her any less of a pirate, just as it doesn’t make her any less a part of Luffy’s crew.
He will be sad to see her go. They all will. But Luffy isn’t going to worry about that time until it comes, preferring to enjoy each day as it passes. Some things he cannot change – some things he won’t change – and he sees little point in fretting over a future so undetermined.
Instead, Luffy strives to appreciate their time together, and it’s easy with how effortlessly Vivi slots herself into the crew. She is courageous, spirited, kind, and strong, and she is also the first person to take Luffy’s declaration of his first crew member in stride.
This encourages a round of gaping mouths and flabbergasted blubbering from the rest of the crew, but Vivi merely smiles, flustering slightly at the sheer joy that breaks out on Luffy's face.
“There are stranger things in this world." She twirls a lock of fine opal and sky around her finger in an almost whimsical fashion. “Truly, a sword housing a spirit is not so bizarre. You said his name is Zoro?”
“Since when?” Nami blurts, her exclamation unheeded with the enthusiasm of Luffy’s agreement.
“Well then, it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Zoro-san." Vivi she drops her attention to the katana at Luffy's side; and gazing upon it with a smile, she is the first to address it personally.
Luffy feels the sheath warm beneath his hand.
“He’s blushing."
/I am not!/
“And he says it’s nice to meet you too.”
/I did not!/
“Well you should, ‘cause that’s polite. Vivi’s really nice.”
/I’m sure/ the sword grumbles, a hint of sarcasm twinging his flat tone into something like a sigh. He seems to sigh a lot, Luffy notes, but then Nami and Sanji each have their own verbalisations of umbrage, so maybe this isn’t so strange.
“He agreed with me,” Luffy informs the crew, and Vivi’s pleasant laughter isn’t enough to drown out Zoro’s heavy:
/You’re crazy./
Luffy grins.
Vivi’s outlook lessens some of the disbelieving glances from the rest of the crew, but it isn’t until the wintry winds of Drum Island have lifted the storms and blossomed a bouquet of pinks and purples into the sky that Zoro’s presence is finally, unanimously accepted amongst the crew.
Tony Tony Chopper is a character made up of all things sweet and sugary, and truly is far, far too adorable to sail with their motley crew.
Luffy recruits him anyway – because what kind of pirate captain doesn’t want a talking reindeer as their doctor? – and Chopper sniffs, sobs, and cries his heart out, but then giggles a little when Luffy plonks his straw hat down to nestle between his antlers.
Their nakama are simply besotted – and none more so than Zoro, who claims not to watch the tiny doctor with all of the protectiveness that a sword can muster, but still urges Luffy to offer comfort whenever Chopper’s bottom lip so much as wobbles into a frown.
/He's just… so small./
“You've seen how awesome his other forms are,” Luffy points out, charmed and indisputably fascinated by Zoro's concern.
Originally, he wouldn't have pegged Zoro as the soft-hearted type, but it fits, Luffy decides, just as he decides not to test the sword’s wrath by teasing him about it.
/I didn't say he wasn't capable of looking after himself./
“Neither did I,” Luffy notes, squishing a smile against one of the banisters of the Merry. Sea-spray splashes up against his legs as the ship sails on, but it is a calm day for the crew with islands and adventure far beyond the sunlight horizon. Luffy is a little bored, but there are clouds aplenty to pass the lazy time.
“All of our nakama can look after themselves,” he says, watching Merry’s hull glide through the open water below. “But I still wanna protect them.”
He leaves the don't you? unsaid, but the sword spirit seems to hear it anyway, replying with an undecided sound:
/He's tiny/ Zoro bemoans.
Luffy definitely does not laugh.
(They're getting somewhere).
“Yeah, he's perfect for cuddling!” He twists his elastic body around to scan the sun deck for the nakama in question. “Hey, hey Chopper! Come here for a sec!”
The candy-floss hat and button-blue nose of the doctor dart upwards at the beckon, but there is no deterring Luffy's elongated reach from sweeping Chopper up and hauling him across the ship.
Chopper shrieks, flails, and frankly looks quite terrified for a moment, but he lands safely in Luffy’s lap with no bruises beyond those from a bounce - which is to say, absolutely none at all.
“Hi!”
“Hi,” Chopper replies, blinking innocent eyes up at the captain’s dazzling smile.
/For god’s sake./
Luffy’s grin widens, but he does not tease the sword, instead addressing Chopper’s frazzled expression. “I wanna hug. Do you want a hug? You're all soft and squidgy and you smell - huh, you smell kinda weird, actually. Have you been helping Usopp out?”
“Yeah!” Chopper squeals, burying himself into the embrace with none of his previous shyness. “He was showing me his creations. I like Usopp. He’s funny. Do you think I should take a bath?”
“Nah,” Luffy says, ruffling up the reindeer’s fur. Chopper giggles, his ears twitching as Luffy’s fingers find a particularly itchy area. “Where's the fun in that? I probably smell worse anyway.”
“Oh, no!” Chopper blurts, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no, you smell really nice! Humans are normally so scary but you're all warm and - and like sunlight!”
“Eh?” Usopp says then, emerging from the lower deck just in time to catch Chopper’s gleeful squeal. Gunpowder is smudged on his cheek and his hair is frazzled beyond its usual curl. “Did you say that Luffy smells like sunlight? But sunlight doesn't smell of anything… does it?”
The exclamation draws the attention of Nami and Vivi, their chatter drifting away to allow Chopper’s little voice to carry out across the deck.
“It does. It smells like… like dawnbreak, where everything smells cold and warm at once and you’re wondering if the top layer of snow is going to melt from the trees or not! You know, right? Lazy mornings where you’ve got sweat in your fur and you stink of really bad but the bed is comfy and you’re really cosy and you don’t want to get up because it’s safe and – and – everything’s perfect and everyone’s okay and you don’t have to worry about anything. That’s what it smells like. Like – like home.”
The crew blink at him, their faces twisted into thought as they attempt to imagine the scent.
“That’s… that’s so neat, Chopper!” Usopp cries, and though he doesn't sound as if he has any idea what Chopper is going on about, he seems awed by the idea. “What about me? And the others?”
Realising that almost the entire crew are staring at him, Chopper flusters and tries to hide himself under Luffy’s arm before answering. “Ah, well… You smell like wood, Usopp, and metal, but like – like forests, like you could put anything together and create anything and be anything you wanted! Because you're so cool! And Sanji smells like a fire that has been burning for a really long time and gone out, and the smoke’s all heavy and the coal’s all white and fine, and you just want to light it again. And Nami, you smell like new books and a hint of sweetness that must be your tangerines, but you don’t smell like ink because you never spill any – which is strange, actually, because somebody smells like lightning and I thought it would be you –”
“Lightning?” Luffy interrupts, perking up.
“Yeah,” Chopper says, wrinkling his nose. “We used to get these big storms over the mountain! The sky goes all purple and scary, and the wind is cold and brisk and everything is so dangerous! But I like the smell of rain. It warns everyone to stay inside so that nothing can hurt them.”
Here he wrinkles his nose again and turns his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the scent. Indecision flickers across his face, scrunching up the fur around his nose, but his eyes do not settle on any of the watching crew.
“Maybe I'm just imagining it,” he says faintly, curling in on himself slightly. Nobody says anything, and Chopper laughs nervously at the scrutiny. “I'm sorry.”
They rush to reassure him; Luffy buries his nose in Chopper’s fluffy crown.
“Does the scent linger anywhere, Chopper?” Vivi asks over the assurances.
Unseen, Luffy smiles into Chopper's fur, but in a remarkable show of restraint, he waits for Chopper to prove what most of the crew deem impossible before saying anything.
“Well – yes, but –”
“But?”
Chopper’s ears twitch as he frowns. “It… it's Luffy – but it’s not, because that's not what he smells like. But maybe…?”
His eyes drift downwards, locating the white sheath at Luffy’s side with a contemplative expression; he is the second person to peer at the blade as if it may be something more.
“Luffy,” Chopper says then, voice high-pitched and surprised. “Your sword smells like a person.”
All eyes turn to stare at Wadō Ichimonji.
The next slurp of Vivi’s lemonade is deafening in the silence, but she and Luffy are the only ones who laugh.
“There's a spirit in it,” Luffy explains. “His name’s Zoro. Sometimes he gives me an electric shock when he's grouchy.”
“Electric…?” Chopper mutters, leaning closer to the hilt. He sniffs deeply and then pokes the blade like a wary animal; sparks flicker across its beautiful white shine in a miniature fireworks display, but the lights cause no harm even as Chopper rears back in shock.
“That's so cool! Can he understand us? Can he communicate in any other way? Is he a ghost? Eiiiii Luffy – is he dead?”
Luffy laughs over the scrabbling sound of Nami and Usopp picking their jaws up from the deck.
“Yeah, he can hear us! And he talks to me too, though most of the time he’s complaining about something. And I don’t think he’s dead, but I haven’t asked! Hey-ey Zoro, you dead?”
/Dunno./
“He’s says ‘dunno’,” Luffy parrots, grinning broadly.
Usopp squeaks that’s comforting, and the sun deck of the Merry descends into pandemonium.
/Are you going to learn how to use me?/ Zoro asks that night. Dinner has passed, the crew’s disbelief has passed, and now Luffy swings back and forth on his hammock, watching Chopper and Usopp tumble around in preparation for bed.
“Not really,” he says, as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the crew. It’s futile - Chopper twitches up towards him, little ears flicking at the sound, so Luffy just smiles and waves the scabbard about, explaining with motions almost as loud as his words.
Chopper smiles back. “Goodnight Zoro!”
/Err. Night Chopper. And - err - Usopp/ the sword mumbles, and Luffy dutifully repeats it.
Usopp’s stare is just as bewildered as Zoro’s tone, but he offers a mumbled sleep well and then seems to question his choice of words with a deepening expression of astonishment.
/You should/ Zoro continues, once the lights of the cabin have dimmed. /I’m powerful./
“So am I,” Luffy states. He stretches out across his back, one arm tucked beneath his head and the other cocooning Wadō Ichimonji at his side. He feels as if the blade is staring at him with the full weight of dark charcoal eyes.
/I know. But I could help./
“Don’t need your help. I can fight on my own.”
Zoro heaves a sigh and grumbles under his breath with the frustration of one unwilling to let a matter lie. Yet, he doesn’t say anything more for a moment, and when he does, he is quieter, his tone lighter with an almost uncertain tone.
/So why do you need me?/
Luffy picks his nose, seeming disinterested. Laughter rings out from the deck above, voices indistinguishable through the thick panelling and the roll of the waves, but he takes comfort in the sound. Sanji is on the first night watch tonight but he doubts they’ll sail into any trouble until Alabasta is almost upon them.
“Ah,” he says eventually, a sigh of content into the lazy evening. “I don’t.”
/Then – /
“But I like you,” Luffy adds, laughing softly. “You’re nakama.”
And Zoro says –
/Nakama?/
Which isn’t really the response that Luffy was going for – that is, had he the mindfulness to even consider eliciting particular reactions in other people.
“Yep. Nakama, right?” he asks, hoping to draw out a more enthusiastic reaction.
/Okay/ Zoro says instead, sounding just as unsure.
Luffy frowns up at the ceiling, wondering if he has misjudged the sword spirit after all. Doesn't Zoro want to be a part of this crew? Maybe hanging onto the blade had been a mistake; maybe Zoro doesn't like having his will taken from him just as Luffy doesn't.
/I take it I don't get a choice in the matter?/ Zoro asks then, complaining before Luffy can get another word in. Despite his grumbling tone, he doesn't seem reluctant - or angry, or disheartened at his fate, but Luffy waits a moment to see if Zoro has anything else to say.
When it becomes clear that the sword is awaiting an answer, he smiles and replies in an excessively chipper tone:
“Nope! Why’d you want that?”
/Fair enough/ says Zoro, probably shrugging if he could. He still doesn't seem enthusiastic though, and so Luffy is quiet for another moment; so quiet that Zoro becomes restless, concerned at his side.
“I'd never make anyone stay, if they really didn't want to,” Luffy adds, soothing the sword’s fretful air. He leaves the that includes you unsaid, but it hangs heavy in the darkness, a guilty shadow flickering in the moonlight.
/Right/ says Zoro, somehow making it sounds like you're dumb despite the glaring syntactic dissimilarities. /Good thing none of us want to leave then, isn't it?/
Relief shines magnificent on Luffy’s face; he laughs, Zoro sighs, and Usopp rolls over and shushes Luffy with a whine.
by muppet
At breakfast the following morning, Luffy bounds into the lounge and hollers ZORO’S CREW! at the top of his lungs instead of his usual greeting.
A spectrum of hours slept turn towards him, Vivi and Chopper exemplifying the two extremes of nine hours and what day is it??? respectively, but the crew raise their eyebrows as a single entity as Luffy waves the scabbard about.
“Yes Luffy,” they say, fond, exasperated, and amused. “We are aware.”
Then Nami drags Luffy into his seat and the day begins as it always does - with breakfast, bickering, and a crew of eight happy together and ready for the adventures coming their way.
After the food is served, somebody has managed to drag Sanji into a seat at the table, and the crew have eaten their fill, Nami informs them that the kingdom of Alabasta is less than a day’s sailing away. They decide to dock at Nanohana for supplies and then trek the desert towards Yuba, the rebel army’s town. After a plan is devised and Vivi reveals the functioning of the Baroque Works, the crew separate to prepare, each member buzzing with nerves in their own individual way.
Luffy sees little point in worrying, but he doesn't say anything. His crew have a lot on their minds, he is sure, and Vivi more than most, and though he is excited to explore Alabasta and give the Baroque Works a piece of his mind, he is far more interested in watching Sanji wash the dishes and pining for any leftovers.
Sanji lasts a noteworthy five seconds before throwing down the dishcloth and lighting a cigarette with a sigh, and Luffy blinks, dumbfounded by this odd behaviour.
He tilts his head, feeling his beloved hat scratch against his neck. Sanji doesn't appear inclined to offer any more food, and Luffy blinks some more when he whirls around with a sobering expression.
“Luffy,” Sanji says, breathing out a smog of toxins into the kitchen. “Zoro,” he then adds, but he isn't addressing the sword - no, Zoro is the topic of the conversation, not the recipient, and Luffy tilts his head the other way, sensing rather than hearing Zoro perk up at the sound of his name.
“He doesn't.... need sustenance, right?”
Luffy takes a second to process such a large word. “Like what?”
“Blood,” Sanji deadpans, single curly eyebrow asking really captain? He looks infuriated for a brief moment, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, but then he seems to shrink, grow smaller as if lesser is the only state he'll ever reach, and he adds with a muffled clarification of sincerity:
“Vitamins, Luffy, energy. I don't know - carbohydrates and proteins.”
Sanji asks, what's keeping him alive?
Luffy hears, what's keeping him from dying? and almost reaches out to crush his silly, hurting cook into a hug.
“Zoro doesn't eat food and stuff. I've never given him anything.”
“That doesn't mean he doesn't need anything,” Sanji grumbles, but he seems to accept the Luffy's words somewhat, his shoulders losing some of their sharpness and slipping back into a slouch.
/Tell him I ain't corporeal enough to need any of that shit./
Luffy does so, and then tacks on the end: “Does that mean Zoro doesn't sleep?”
/Wish I could./
“So - what? You just exist incessantly?” Sanji asks, looking distinctly more like himself now that he is assured that Zoro is not a mouth he is liable to feed.
/Dunno. Don't think so. I think the condition of the Wadō Ichimonji has stuff to do with it. Got really battered in a river once and I swear I lost some time somewhere. Can't be sure though. I haven't been damaged for a while./
“Huh,” Luffy says. “That means I have to look after Zoro?”
/Don't be stupid. I don't need anybody to look after me./
This is clearly not true if the Wadō Ichimonji’s condition has a knock-on effect on Zoro, but Luffy doesn't argue the matter. Instead, he vows to find out how to care for a blade at the next best opportunity, and then lifts pleading eyes towards Sanji, who is back to cleaning the dishes once again.
“No."
Luffy whines and casts a hopefully glance towards the fridge. “Aww but Sanji…”
Sanji doesn't say any more, but an alarmingly menacing expression morphs onto his face (he's a cheetah, a puma, a lioness safeguarding her pride), and Luffy wilts under the stare.
“If you have nothing to do, go help Usopp catch me some fish,” Sanji says, dismissing him with another puff of his cigarette. “If you reel it in, I might let you eat it.”
“Really?”
“Maybe,” Sanji amends. “Depends on what you catch, doesn't it?”
Luffy hurtles out of the lounge to locate a fishing rod, and half an hour later he crashes back in through the door, an astonishingly pink and blubbering man dangling off the end of the hook.
“HEY, HEY SANJI. LOOK WHAT I CAUGHT.”
Sanji kicks them both out onto the deck, and the rest of the crew begin to scream.
“What on earth -?”
“Luffy is - IS THAT A MAN?”
“EIIIII HE'S STILL ALIVE.”
“Untangle him from the line, quickly!”
Eccentric doesn't quite begin to cover the stranger’s fashion sense (but it definitely covers his personality) and the man thanks them profoundly as he wrings out his candy pink cardigan.
He introduces himself only by his Devil Fruit, a Paramecia-type which grants him the ability to assume the appearance of anybody he touches, which seems harmless enough until his crewmates appear on the horizon, shouting for Mr. 2.
Bon Clay springs away, cackling gleefully, and Luffy turns to each of his own crew in turn, taking in their expressions of shock.
“Luffy, you are ridiculous!” Nami snaps, shaking a fist at him. “What are we going to do now? He could impersonate any one of us!”
“I'm sorry!” Luffy whines, cradling his head pre-emptively. “He seemed cool!”
“Something edible would've been cooler,” Sanji grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Does this mean I don't get any meat?” Luffy asks, pouting at Sanji's fierce expression. He isn't nearly as scary as Nami, and usually, Luffy isn't above diving behind him for protection from her fury.
“What the hell do you think?” Sanji snaps.
Luffy pouts.
/Stingy/ says Zoro. /But hey, Luffy, tell everyone to calm down, for god’s sake. There's a simple countermeasure to that guy’s Devil Fruit./
Curious, he calls for quiet with a brief announcement that Zoro has a solution. The crew fall silent as if Luffy had shouted, immediately and unanimously ceasing their arguments to listen.
/Right/ Zoro says, sounding somewhat overwhelmed by the undivided attention of the crew. /Listen up.../
They agree that the double-layered safeguard is a good idea, and soon they are dashing about to find the necessary equipment. Just minutes later, the cross and bandages have been implemented and the crew are sharing expressions of relief; even Carue quacks happily as Sanji smooths down his feathers and ties the bandage tight.
“I told you that Zoro was sensible!” Luffy cheers, chuffed with the foresight. He waves his arm about proudly. “Now we don't have anything to worry about!”
“Other than Crocodile and all of the Baroque Work’s highest ranking officers, you mean,” Nami says, but she is shaking her head, smiling despite her pessimistic disposition.
“I'm sure everything will go smoothly, my Nami-san!” Sanji sings.
“Yeah!” Luffy adds brightly. “What could go wrong?”
Nami rolls her eyes, but either at Sanji’s antics or their combined optimism, it cannot be said. “Everything goes wrong with you, Luffy, but at least Zoro can keep you in line, I suppose. You hear me, Zoro?”
Zoro takes a moment to reply, stumbling over his words as he always seems to whenever any of the crew address him directly. Luffy isn't sure that it's shyness that compels Zoro to falter anymore, but rather a surprise at being spoken to - or included, or being considered a presence in the room (or on the ship) at all.
/Yeah I hear ya./
Luffy relays the message, and as Nami nods her assent to the vow, he wonders if it could ever be possible for Zoro to converse with his nakama directly.
He hums, taps the hilt of the blade, and then decides not to worry about it for now.
At Nanohana, Luffy runs into Ace.
Quite literally.
They do not chat long - in fact, they don't talk at all until the Merry is on her way, but Luffy is glad to see his brother nonetheless. Ace is all grins and laughter as usual, teasing and protective at once, and when he offers Luffy a position on Whitebeard’s crew, the Straw Hat pirate laughs in his face.
“I've got my own crew!” Luffy says, motioning to the people around him. “And I'm going to be the Pirate King!”
Ace doesn't look so sure, but he laughs along with his little brother, taking pride in Luffy’s achievements all the same.
He offers a scrap of paper as a parting gift, explaining it vaguely. Luffy vows to hang onto despite not understanding its use, and Nami stitches it into his hat once the Whitebeard Commander has disembarked the Merry and lit the sea in flames.
“Your brother’s kinda awesome,” Usopp says, nodding approvingly. “Do you think he'll find this Blackbeard guy?”
“‘Course he will!” Luffy says, oblivious to the grim frown that had taken shape on Ace’s face as he had scorched the seas apart. “He's Ace!”
Crocodile is a man more violent and unpredictable than they ever could have imagined.
When he leaps into the sand to face an opponent he knows nothing about beyond cruelty, fear, and a name, Luffy tells his crew I'll be all right!
When death is down, down, down into the earth and there is no-one there to help him - no crew, no allies, not even his sword, not even his first mate ripped away by a hand and hook of blood and Crocodile’s malevolent, sand-spitting laughter, still Luffy refuses to accept this as the end.
He scrambles and reaches and he fights and he fights and he fights, but the sky overturns and the desert tsunamis like a golden, breathless sea; Luffy roars, bellows like a Pirate King, and then loses himself in a tomb of a kingdom and sand.
But the Will of the D is a powerful thing.
Robin brushes down his beloved hat and sets it on his head, commenting slowly about a force Luffy is yet to understand and motives he probably never will, and then smiles with a smile of all-seeing eyes and all-knowing tongues, and continues on her way.
She takes the Wadō Ichimonji with her. For proof of your death, she’ll say later, sipping a drink of pineapple affection from the Merry’s upper decking. Crocodile will have lost, Vivi will have remained in the kingdom she loves, and Robin will have smiled her way onto the Straw Hat crew with pleasantries of secrets and knives. She’ll clarify no further, offering no explanation to Luffy and the sword hanging at his side, just as she offers nothing now, saying no more as she leaves Luffy to lie sun-kissed and burnt face up in the sand.
He doesn’t stay down for long.
He takes the Wadō Ichimonji back just as he takes back Alabasta, with all the strength he can muster and the eyes of the devil cast out to the King’s horizon, Raftel and gold. Robin is less of an enemy but not quite a friend, but Luffy pulls her from the wreckage nevertheless, and then doesn’t try to stop her when she slips away.
It’s not trust - not yet.
Luffy cannot claim to understand the archaeologist, her motives, or her ways, but he cannot claim to understand his nakama either, complex and conflicted individuals as they are. This does not make him love them any less, just as it will not make him love Robin any less once she finds her place amongst the Straw Hat crew.
But she is not crew - not yet - so Luffy’s priorities lie elsewhere as he picks himself up from the ground and revels in the patter of rain against his skin.
“You there Zoro?”
/Yeah/ he says quietly, muffled, as though he has been asleep for an age - which is impossible, Luffy knows, just as he doesn't know everything there is about Zoro. /That dick was a piece of work./
He means Crocodile; he means, you okay?
Luffy laughs an affirmation, pulling up his hat to protect his hair from the rain. Water floods the city around him, engulfing the people in a promise of prosperity and mirth. His hat doesn’t do much to keep him dry, but Luffy’s heart belongs to the sky’s stormy tide just as it belongs to the sea, so he doesn’t really mind.
His crew are equally nonchalant about the downpour, although Sanji struggles to light a cigarette and Chopper’s fur is thick, dog-like, and damp. Nami and Usopp both relish the rain as if it can wash away their pain, the violet trophies of their victory splattering their skin, but it is Vivi who laughs and cries and cheers with her people, and celebrates out in the streets long after the storm has re-quenched the land.
As for the Straw Hats - they sleep. Days drift past unceasing, but tucked away deep into the palace, the crew dream on unstirred. Alabasta begins to rebuild itself around their slumber, slowly, carefully, a new world climbing up out of the sand - but it is not their concern.
Vivi comes and goes, ever busy within the palace, but she visits the sleeping crew when she can, when her royal duties allow a moment to slip away to a life she could have known.
At Luffy’s bedside, she sits for minutes or hours on end, sometimes with food in the hope that he will wake, but he is the last of the pirate crew to rise into the Alabasta dawn. The others are unconcerned, used to Luffy’s all-or-nothing outlook on life, his energy, his ways and means, and entertain themselves with exploring the palace as they await his orders.
Only Zoro does not stray from Luffy’s side, but even if he could, even if physics and biology allowed, perhaps he wouldn’t after all.
When the shores of Alabasta are behind them, midday sunshine rolling down into the Merry’s jolly-rogered sail, Vivi is not with them. Queen-to-be, she wishes them well with waves and tears, crying out from the highlands, and the Straw Hat crew respond in kind, lifting ‘X’ marked arms up to the sun.
Luffy goes as far as swinging the Wadō Ichimonji in farewell, and even Zoro finds it in himself to laugh.