The horizon never changed.

Every morning, the sea swallowed the stars and painted itself gold. Every evening, it returned that borrowed light to the sky and slipped quietly into darkness. The colours were nearly identical if one did not look too closely.

As a child, you had thought that meant something.

As an adult, you had stopped trying to figure out what.

The dock creaked beneath you as the tide rolled lazily against the wooden pillars below. Salt hung in the air. Somewhere farther inland, merchants were beginning to open their stalls, preparing for another day that would be indistinguishable from the last.

You sat with your knees drawn to your chest and watched the clouds drift overhead.

There was little else to do.

The island had always been small.

Not physically. It stretched far enough that you could spend days exploring its forests and hills if you wished. What made it small was the feeling that nothing truly happened here.

Your home sat near the edge of the Grand Line. Close enough that ships occasionally appeared carrying stories from distant seas, yet far enough that none of those stories ever seemed real.

Pirates. Kings. Exotic islands. Living skeletons. Ancient cities.

The townspeople listened eagerly whenever sailors spoke of such things, then they returned to their lives. The stories remained stories. The horizon remained as distant as ever. 

You had once imagined leaving. 

When you were younger, you used to spend entire afternoons staring out at the ocean, wondering what existed beyond it. You had dreamed of adventure. Of discovery.

Of becoming someone worth remembering.

But dreams became difficult to hold onto when every year looked exactly like the one before.

Eventually, they faded. Slowly….like sunlight disappearing from a room.

These days, you came to the docks less because you hoped for something and more because habit brought you here. The sea was familiar, calming in the way that the waves crashed against the shore.

A shout rose from farther down the harbour, jolting you from your musing.

You glanced over.

Another ship.

The sight barely registered.

Vessels passed through occasionally to resupply before continuing their journey. Short-lived, but the arrival always caused excitement among the townspeople.

You had seen enough of them to know how the day would unfold. 

The sailors would begin with their stories, speaking loudly enough to gather a crowd and proudly enough to make even the most ordinary details sound like legends. 

The children would drift closer first, drawn in by the promise of adventure, their eyes wide with wonder at every exaggerated tale. 

The adults would linger after that, pretending to listen with scepticism while secretly savouring the chance to imagine something larger than their own lives. 

And then, as always, the excitement would thin out and fade. The ships would depart, the voices would disappear, and everyone would return to the quiet rhythm of the island. 

Tomorrow would come exactly as today had. 

Life would continue, same as always. 

Your gaze drifted back toward the clouds when something suddenly flew overhead. You blinked, catching only a flash of red and a tangle of limbs before a body sailing through the air with all the grace of a cannonball crashed into a stack of empty crates near the docks. 

Wood exploded everywhere, and silence followed. You stared as the figure sat up. A boy. No, a young man. Black hair. Straw hat. Sporting an enormous grin. 

He rubbed the back of his head and laughed as though being launched through the air was a perfectly normal occurrence.

"What a landing!"

You looked toward the ship.

A sheep figurehead decorated its bow, rocking gently with the tide. Several figures were leaning over the railing.

One of them was yelling.

"You idiot!"

Another was gripping the rail so tightly that you wondered if it might snap. A blond man looked moments away from diving into the sea to strangle him personally.

The culprit merely laughed and waved.

"See you later!"

The collective outrage from the ship somehow intensified.

"No, get back here!"

He ignored them completely, as if the shouting wasn’t meant for him. Then he turned, and his eyes landed on you. Something brightened instantly in his expression–the simple excitement of someone discovering something new. 

His grin somehow widened even more.

Before you could even begin to wonder why, he sprang to his feet and pointed directly at you.

"Hey!"

You glanced behind you. There was nobody there. He was definitely pointing at you. You sighed. "Unfortunately, yes?" 

He jogged over without the slightest hesitation. Most people possessed at least some instinctive caution when approaching strangers. This man seemed completely devoid of it. 

"I'm Luffy."

"Congratulations."

He blinked. "What?"

"You know your name."

"I do."

A beat passed, then he laughed. Not offended. Not confused. Just delighted. The sound caught you off guard. People usually found your dry responses irritating. This stranger acted as though you had told the funniest joke in the world.

"I'm hungry," he announced.

"That's tragic."

"Do you know where I can get food?"

You stared at him. He stared back. Neither of you moved. Finally, he tilted his head. "Well?"

"You introduced yourself."

"Yeah."

"You informed me you're hungry."

"Yeah."

"And somehow that means I should feed you?"

"Yeah."

The confidence with which he said it was astonishing. You laughed despite yourself, a small sound barely more than a breath. His eyes lit up immediately. "There it is!"

You frowned. "What?"

"Your laugh."

You regretted laughing instantly. Luffy pointed at you again. "You should do that more."

"Why?"

"It sounds nice."

You looked away.

The comment had been casual, almost thoughtless, yet something about it settled uncomfortably beneath your ribs. You did not know this person. He did not know you. And yet he spoke as if he had known you forever.

You stood up, sighing. "Come on."

His face brightened. "Food?"

"Food."

Luffy cheered loudly enough to startle nearby seagulls.

You led him toward town. He followed happily. For someone who had apparently sailed across dangerous seas, he possessed the curiosity of a child seeing the world for the first time. Everything fascinated him: the market, the buildings, the fishing boats, the cats sleeping in alleyways. At one point, he became distracted by a particularly round pigeon and nearly walked into a wall. 

You were beginning to understand why his crew spent so much time yelling at him. The realisation made you smile, but you quickly erased it.

By midday, you found yourself seated across from him in a small restaurant. The table groaned beneath the weight of food. You had never witnessed anyone consume such quantities. Luffy attacked each plate with the enthusiasm of a man who had not eaten in months. Watching him was vaguely terrifying.

"You know," you said, "I think the chef is considering a career change."

Luffy swallowed. "Huh?"

"He can't keep up with your appetite."

"Oh." He nodded seriously, then brightened. "But he shouldn’t do that! The food's yummy!"

The chef looked unexpectedly pleased. You rubbed your temple. The man was impossible. And yet, somehow, he always knew how to say just the right thing to make people happy. 

Hours passed more quickly than they had in years. You found yourself listening as he talked about islands in the sky, about giant whales, about deserts and kingdoms and snow-covered mountains. The stories sounded absurd. Impossible. Wonderful. You realised, with some embarrassment, that you had been leaning forward the entire time.

"When you saw all that," you asked quietly, "what did it feel like?"

Luffy paused. The question seemed to surprise him. He thought for a moment, then he smiled. "Fun."

You groaned. "That's your answer?"

"Yeah."

"That's not even an answer."

"It is."

"It absolutely isn't."

Luffy laughed. "You think too much."

Perhaps you did. Perhaps that was the problem. You had spent years thinking about life instead of living it. For a moment, you grew quiet. That familiar feeling returned. The one that always appeared eventually. The hollow certainty that this day would end. The ship would leave. The stories would leave with it. And tomorrow you would wake up to the same life you had always lived.

Luffy noticed your change in mood immediately. 

"What's wrong?"

You hesitated. Then shrugged. "Nothing."

"Liar."

He answered at once, certain and without hesitation.

You stared at him. He stared back, not accusing, only waiting.

That was the strange part. You wanted to tell him.

You did not know why. Perhaps it was because you would never see him again. Perhaps because he looked at people as though every truth mattered.

You glanced toward the window. The sea glittered beyond the harbour. "I used to think I'd leave someday."

Luffy remained silent.

"I wanted adventures. I wanted stories." A humourless smile touched your lips. "Then life happened."

"What does that mean?"

You laughed softly. "Nothing dramatic. That's the problem."

Your fingers traced the rim of your cup. "Every day was just another day. Then another. Then another." You looked outside. "The years kept passing."

Luffy followed your gaze. "And now?"

You swallowed. The answer felt heavier spoken aloud. "Now I think maybe this is it."

The words settled between you. You hated them. Hated how defeated they sounded. But they were true. 

Luffy stared for several seconds. Then he frowned. "That's dumb."

You blinked. "What?"

"That's dumb."

"You have a remarkable way with words."

"You don't sound happy."

"I didn't say I was."

"So leave."

You laughed. Actually laughed. "That's your solution?"

"Yeah."

"It's not that simple."

"Why?"

Because. Because. Because…

The answers crowded your throat. Responsibility. Fear. Money. Distance. Failure. A hundred reasons. A thousand. Yet suddenly they sounded smaller than they ever had before.

Luffy waited, patient and curious, as though he genuinely expected an answer. You realised you didn't have one–not one that felt real, not one that could explain why you had stayed here all these years. 

The silence stretched.

Luffy grinned. "There."

"What?"

"You don't know either."

You hated how quickly he had seen through you. Worse, he was right. For years, you had convinced yourself that staying was inevitable, that it was necessary. But somewhere along the way, necessity had become habit, and habit had become fear. The realisation hurt, like pressing against an old wound. 

Luffy stood abruptly, and you looked up. "What are you doing?"

He held out a hand. The gesture was simple, careless, effortless, as natural as breathing.

"Come on."

Your heart stumbled unexpectedly. "Where?"

"The ship."

"What for?"

He blinked, then smiled. The same bright, warm, utterly certain smile he had worn when he crashed into your life that morning. 

"Wanna come with us?" 

For a moment, the world became very quiet. The sounds of the restaurant faded. The harbour disappeared. Even the sea seemed distant. 

You stared at his hand. At the invitation contained within it. A choice. Nobody had offered you one in years. 

You looked at Luffy–really looked. At the impossible optimism in his face. At the unwavering certainty in his eyes. At the sheer, unrestrained freedom that seemed to radiate from him.

Maybe joining pirates was reckless. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe it was the worst decision you could possibly make.

And yet, for the first time in a very long while, your heart was beating fast.

Outside, sunlight spilled across the harbour. The sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Toward possibilities. Toward tomorrow. Toward stories that had not yet been written.

Slowly, before you could lose your nerve, you placed your hand in his.

Luffy's grin widened. And somewhere deep inside you, something that had been asleep for years finally began to wake. It felt a little like dawn.

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Dusk was the first thing you saw after Kuma sent you away 

One moment, there had been chaos, Luffy’s voice cutting through it like it could hold the world together by force alone, and the next, there was only distance, stretching so far and so fast it felt like the sea itself had decided you were no longer allowed to stay beside him. 

You landed somewhere unfamiliar, though “landed” didn’t feel like the right word either. Wherever you were now, the world continued as if nothing had changed. The air smelled different here, heavier somehow, and the sea was the same sea, but it didn’t feel like yours anymore. 

For a long time, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Your body didn’t understand the new silence yet, still expecting the sound of him somewhere nearby. Luffy’s presence had never really been quiet, even when he wasn’t speaking. It was in the way everything around him seemed to lean forward, as if the world itself was curious about what he would do next. Now that pressure was gone, and the absence of it felt louder than sound. 

You eventually sat down without remembering choosing to, close enough to the shoreline that the water could reach you if it wanted. The ground was real beneath you, the sea not far off, but it all felt distant in a way that had nothing to do with space. It felt like being cut loose from a tether you hadn’t realised you relied on. 

The sky above was already sinking into evening, gold thinned into amber, amber deepened into something slower, quieter. It should have been beautiful. It still was, in a way that felt almost cruel. 

And then the memories began to surface, not sharply, but gently at first, like the tide returning to the shore it never truly left.

Luffy was always the first thing your mind reached for.

Not because he was the strongest voice, or the loudest presence, but because he had become the centre of things without ever asking for it. You remembered the way he looked at the sea, like it wasn’t something to fear or conquer, but something still waiting to be understood. You remembered how he would look at you the same way.

And you remembered the moment it started. 

It had started in the quiet spaces between everything else, in the way he would turn to you without thinking when something interesting happened, like your reaction mattered as much as his excitement. In the way he would grin at you specifically, and not at the world around you.

You could still feel it if you let yourself. The warmth of his hand grabbing yours without hesitation, pulling you forward like hesitation wasn’t an option. Luffy never asked if you were ready. He simply assumed you were coming because in his mind, there was no version of the future where you didn’t.

A wave rolled in quietly, brushing the shore with a rhythm that suddenly felt too familiar. For a moment, it was almost like being back on the Sunny, the night air soft and endless, the sound of the sea folding beneath the ship as everyone slowly fell into sleep or silence. You could almost see him there, sprawled somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, laughing at something no one else found funny, like joy itself was something he was born endlessly with.

And somewhere along the way, without you noticing, you had fallen into his orbit and never left.

It was in every moment you had looked at him and felt your chest tighten for reasons you never bothered to name. In every time the idea of “us” had started to feel more natural than “me.” In the way he said your name as if it had always belonged in his future, like he had never once considered a world where you weren’t there to hear it. 

And you didn’t know if you would ever hear it again like that.

The sky was deepening now, light thinning into dusk, turning the sea into something darker, heavier, endless. Stars began to appear, one by one, like distant witnesses to something they could not intervene in.

Your fingers curled slightly against the sand.

He was alive. You knew that with a certainty that didn’t come from logic. It came from somewhere deeper, something stubborn and unshakable, something that sounded too much like him. 

But knowing that didn’t make the distance smaller.

It only made the waiting feel lonelier.

You closed your eyes briefly, and for a moment, you could almost feel it again. His hand in yours. His laugh just ahead of you. The sense that no matter how vast the world was, it was always something you were moving through together.

When you opened your eyes again, the horizon was dark.

But still, you waited. 

Even with the sea between you. 

Leaving Luffy was dusk. A temporary goodbye with the promise of another dawn. 

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𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

His smile was contagious, his laughter a little too loud, a little too bright, but somehow still capable of bleeding warmth into every soul fortunate enough to witness it. 

There was something almost miraculous about the way he existed in the world. Luffy moved through life with the kind of openness most people lost young, offering kindness so freely that it never seemed to occur to him that others guarded theirs carefully. 

He was the sun in physical form, burning away hesitation, softening grief without ever realising he was doing it. 

It was no wonder people loved Luffy. It was no wonder you did too. 

At first, it had only been admiration. It was impossible not to admire someone like Luffy, impossible not to be drawn toward the gravitational pull of his warmth. Somewhere along the way, however, admiration had become something gentler and far more dangerous, settling quietly into the tenderest parts of your heart before you had even realised what was happening. 

Love.

The first time you truly understood it, the sky had been painted gold.

Not the soft gold of treasure or lantern light, but the kind that spilled endlessly across the sea at dusk, marking the beginning of golden hour as the world softened beneath the sun’s warmth. 

The Thousand Sunny drifted lazily over calm waters while the rest of the crew retired below deck, yet Luffy stood at the bow with his arms thrown wide, laughing in the sunlight like he belonged more to the sun than to the world itself.

Maybe he did.

The golden rays clung to him greedily. It caught in the dark strands of his hair, brushed against the scar beneath his eye, and spilled across the curve of his smile so brightly it almost hurt to look at him for too long.

Luffy looked like the sun, not merely because he shone, but because everything around him bent instinctively toward his warmth.

Nami’s anger softened around him like waves smoothing stone. Zoro slept easier when Luffy was nearby. Sanji cooked mountains of food with the resigned devotion of a man feeding a bottomless star. Chopper laughed louder. Usopp stood taller. Robin smiled more gently. Franky carried his dreams with greater pride, while Brook, after decades of loneliness, laughed as though the world had finally given something precious back to him. 

Broken people reached for him without realising they were doing it.

And yet Luffy, in all of his obliviousness, doesn't even notice. He loved people so openly, so completely, that it never occurred to him someone could drown in it.

“You’re smiling again.”

The sudden voice startled you badly enough that your hand slipped against the railing. Turning quickly, you found Luffy grinning at you only inches away, his chin hooked carelessly over the wooden edge beside yours. He had wandered over without you noticing, all warmth and sunlight and easy affection, standing far too close for your composure's sake.

“What?” you asked, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“You do that sometimes,” he said matter-of-factly. “You look at me and smile all weird.”

Heat rushed instantly to your face.

“I do not.”

“You do.” Luffy insisted, leaning in with exaggerated focus as though studying you. “Like this.”

The face he made was so absurdly wrong that laughter slipped out of you before you could stop it.

Luffy lit up immediately, as if that had been exactly what he wanted.

There it was again. That warmth.

He looked unbearably pleased simply because he had managed to make you laugh, and the frightening thing was that perhaps it really had been his goal all along. Luffy loved seeing the people around him happy with such uncomplicated sincerity that it often felt impossible to protect yourself from him.

He made it terribly easy to love him.

Easy to ache for impossible things whenever he looked at you with the same warmth he offered the sea, the sky, and every wounded soul he welcomed into his orbit.

That was the problem, really. Luffy looked at everyone that way.

And…sometimes it was the smallest things that ruined you most.

Luffy shoving the larger half of his dessert into your hands because yours “looked smaller.”

Luffy collapsing into your lap for naps without warning, trusting you so completely that it made your chest tighten painfully.

Luffy grabbing your wrist excitedly whenever he discovered something he wanted you specifically to see.

“Look!” “Try this!” “Isn’t that cool?!”

As though every beautiful thing in the world became brighter simply because you experienced it beside him.

He never noticed what those moments did to you. Never realised the way your pulse stumbled whenever he smiled directly at you, or how carefully you carried every thoughtless touch in the quietest corners of your heart.

Luffy loved freely and without restraint, but romance slipped past him like water through open fingers.

You learned that truth slowly. Painfully.

Like standing beneath the sun for too long and only noticing afterwards that you had been burned.

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It became undeniable after Boa Hancock.

The most beautiful woman in the world loved Luffy openly, fiercely, with the kind of devotion people wrote legends about. Men lost their minds at the sight of her. Entire kingdoms bent willingly beneath her feet.

And yet Luffy looked at her marriage proposals with complete confusion.

“Huh? But I don’t wanna marry you.”

Simple, honest, and entirely oblivious to the devastation such words might have caused anyone else.

Somehow, that hurt more. Because if someone as radiant as Boa Hancock could not stir something romantic within him, then your feelings had never truly stood a chance at all.

That thought settled quietly inside you after that, cold and silver like moonlight spilling across the sea. 

So you stopped reaching for him so often. Stopped lingering beside him longer than necessary, stopped allowing yourself to imagine impossible futures whenever he smiled at you with that same careless warmth.

It was embarrassing, really, the foolishness of your own heart.

Perhaps the moon was always destined to chase the sun, caught forever in a hauntingly beautiful dance of longing and light. No matter how far you pulled away from Luffy, some part of you would always turn instinctively toward him.

And perhaps that was your tragic fate.

How could the moon have forgotten that its beauty shone brightest only in the presence of the sun?

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Luffy noticed eventually. Not because he understood romance, but because he understood you. 

“You’ve been sad lately.” 

The words had come suddenly one evening while the crew slept below deck. You sat alone near the figurehead wrapped in moonlight and ocean wind, staring out at the dark water stretching endlessly beyond the ship. Luffy dropped down beside you cross-legged without invitation, close enough that warmth immediately brushed against your side. 

Your throat tightened. 

“I’m not sad.” 

“You are.” 

The certainty in his voice startled you more than the accusation itself. Luffy tilted his head slightly, watching you with open concern. 

“Did somebody hurt you?” 

You. 

The answer rose instinctively before you swallowed it back down. 

“No.” 

Luffy hummed softly, accepting the lie in the same way he accepted most things: only halfway. 

Silence settled between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy in a way that felt almost sacred. Above you, the moon hung large and distant, casting silver light across the deck.

“The moon’s bright tonight,” Luffy murmured eventually. 

A quiet laugh slipped out of you, more fragile than you meant it to be. “It’s only bright because it reflects sunlight.” 

Luffy blinked up at the sky as though the thought itself required a moment of consideration, not because it was difficult, but because it was unfamiliar in the way things often were to him when they drifted outside the reach of instinct. His attention moved easily through the world, never lingering too long on any single idea unless it caught his curiosity. 

Still, he hummed softly, like the answer sat somewhere comfortable in him anyway.

“That’s still kinda nice,” he said after a moment.

You glanced at him despite yourself. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, as though it was obvious. “Even when the sun’s gone, the moon still gets to shine.”

Something inside you cracked softly at the tenderness of it. Because Luffy said things like that without understanding what they did to people. He offered affection so naturally that he never realised how desperately others clung to it. 

“You make it sound romantic,” you murmured before you could stop yourself. 

“Hm?” He blinked at you innocently. “How?” 

Because I’m the moon and you’re the sun. Because you are the brightest thing I have ever known. Because I love you. 

Instead, you only looked away. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Luffy frowned immediately. It always startled you how quickly he reacted whenever someone he loved sounded even remotely hurt. He shuffled closer until your shoulders brushed, warm and solid beside you. 

“You know,” he said slowly, “I like it better when you smile.”

Your breath caught, but he didn’t seem to notice. Luffy rested his cheek against his knee as he watched you with quiet sincerity, like the answer to whatever he was looking for might be written somewhere in your expression.

“When you stop smiling,” he added, pressing a hand to his chest as though trying to locate the feeling properly, “it feels weird here.”

And the worst part was that he meant it completely. There was nothing hidden in his words, nothing layered or uncertain, only an honesty so uncomplicated it could have split oceans apart without meaning to. Not flirtation, not romance, only affection in its purest, most unguarded form. Your eyes burned before you could stop them.

Because that was Luffy. He loved people completely, even when he did not understand the shape of what he was giving them.

“Hey,” he said more softly then, his voice gentler than before, “you can tell me stuff, y’know.”

The kindness in it nearly undid you. You let out a shaky laugh instead, quickly wiping at your eyes before he could notice, but it was already too late.

“Why are you crying?!” Luffy leaned toward you at once, alarm written plainly across his face.

“I’m not crying,” you insisted, though your voice betrayed you.

“You are,” he shot back immediately.

“I said I’m not–” 

Before you could finish, Luffy suddenly pulled you against his chest.

The embrace was clumsy in the way everything he did was clumsy, all instinctive strength and careless affection without any thought for hesitation or distance. He was warm, unbearably warm, and being held like this felt frighteningly similar to stepping into sunlight after a lifetime spent in cold shadow.

“There,” he declared, as though it solved everything. “All better.”

Your heart shattered quietly. He held you so naturally, so easily, as if protecting you was not a choice but something built into him, something as instinctive as breathing. And maybe that was what made it hurt so much, the simplicity of it, the way he never had to think about giving you comfort.

And maybe that was enough to ruin you forever.

You buried your face against him before he could see the grief gathering in your expression, the impossible love and quiet heartbreak twisting together in a way that felt too heavy to carry alone. Luffy only hummed softly, content in a way that suggested he believed everything had been made better, and held you a little closer, still entirely unaware of the storm unfolding within you.

Above the Thousand Sunny, moonlight spilled silver across the deck in a soft, borrowed glow.

And oh, how the moon loved the sun anyway.

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𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Some nights, the memories clawed their way back anyway.

The damp chill of the cell beneath Germa Kingdom. The iron helmet locked around his head, heavy enough to make breathing feel like drowning. The ache of starvation on that barren rock with Zeff, where every passing day carved something smaller and hollower out of him.

In those dreams, he was always trapped there.

And he would wake with a sharp gasp lodged in his throat, chest heaving as though seawater had filled his lungs. For a few terrible seconds, he could never tell whether he had truly escaped at all.

His hands would tremble as they searched for his cigarettes. The familiar weight of the lighter. The scrape of flint. The thin ribbon of smoke curling into the dark.

Something to ground him. Something to remind him he was alive.

“Sanji, are you alright?”

Their voice drifted softly from the doorway of his room aboard the Baratie, gentle enough not to startle him further.

“Did you have a nightmare again?”

“It was nothing,” he murmured automatically, turning his gaze toward the porthole window where dawn had begun spilling gold across the sea.

“Sanji,” they sighed, fondness threaded carefully through concern, “I know it wasn’t nothing.”

Right. A rueful smile tugged at his lips. When had he ever truly been able to hide from them?

“…You always read me too well.”

He finally glanced toward them then, finding them wrapped in the pale glow of morning light.

“If I admit it was a nightmare,” he asked quietly, “will you help me forget it?”

Soft laughter slipped from their lips.

It was unfair, really, how much that sound unraveled him. Sanji thought, sometimes, that if he could, he would bottle it away like fine wine just to hear it on his worst days.

“I can’t do that,” they teased, eyes glimmering mischievously. “But I can sneak you a hot cocoa before Zeff notices the missing chocolate powder.”

Sanji smiled helplessly.

The warmth blooming in his chest was far too large for words.

“I’ll be holding you to that.”

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L'âme en peine, il vit mais parle à peine… His soul in torment, he lives but barely speaks…

It had never been his intention to leave without saying goodbye.

But the moment Sanji stepped onto that small departing boat and looked back toward the Baratie, the words died inside him.

Zeff stood at the front with crossed arms and a cigarette between his teeth, gruffly barking insults that cracked at the edges with grief. The cooks behind him were no better, shouting curses loud enough to hide the way their eyes shone.

And there–half-hidden behind everyone–

them.

The sea breeze toyed softly with their clothes as they looked at him with that same unbearably gentle smile.

Sanji’s chest tightened painfully.

Say something, he urged himself. Anything.

Tell them to wait. Tell them how much they mattered. Tell them they had become home before he had even realized he was searching for one.

But fear had always made a coward of him in matters of love.

So instead, he stood there silently as the distance stretched wider between them.

The only thing he managed was a weak lift of his hand in return.

His last memory of the Baratie became their silhouette growing smaller against the sunrise, still smiling even as he disappeared beyond the horizon.

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Une rose à la main, à part elle, il n'attend rien… With a rose in his hand, apart from her, he expects nothing…

At first, Nami thought Sanji’s strange habit was merely another dramatic flourish.

He would stand alone near the railing during quieter evenings, suit jacket shifting in the wind, a single rose turning slowly between his fingers as he stared at the ocean like it had stolen something precious from him.

Sometimes hours would pass that way.

Silent. Motionless.

As though he were waiting for someone whose presence never left him.

The others eventually learned not to disturb him during those moments. There was a loneliness about him then that even Luffy’s laughter could not chase away.

And the rose–

The rose became constant.

Fresh whenever he could find one, carefully preserved when he could not. Sanji never explained its meaning, though Robin seemed to understand long before the rest of them did.

Yearning settled into him quietly after that.

Slowly enough that no one realized it had taken root until it had already become a part of him.

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Le regard absent, il est seul et lui parle souvent… His gaze distant, he is alone and often talks to her…

Nami heard their name most often when Sanji was half-asleep.

Long nights in the kitchen usually ended with him slumped against the counter, exhaustion finally pulling him under while something simmered softly on the stove.

And then–

Their name mumbled beneath his breath with startling tenderness.

Sometimes accompanied by a sleepy smile.

Sometimes followed by a quiet, broken little sound when he remembered they were not actually there.

Once, Nami watched him turn instinctively toward the empty space beside him.

“Could you pass me the–”

The words stopped abruptly.

Sanji stared at the emptiness for a long moment before lowering his gaze with a hollow laugh.

“…Right,” he whispered.

Nami had never known longing could look so devastating.

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Il n'est pas fou, il l'aime, c'est tout… He's not crazy, he loves her, that's all…

Sanji realised far too late that love had already rooted itself inside him long before he understood what it was.

It had lived in the quiet things.

In the way he remembered exactly how they liked their tea.

In the instinctive glance he took toward crowds, always searching for their face first.

In the unbearable urge to protect every soft thing about them from a world he knew too well could be cruel.

He had mistaken it for comfort. For habit. For fondness.

Until the day he left the Baratie and discovered that no ocean in the world was wide enough to lessen the ache of missing them.

What a fool he had been.

A fool who flirted with every pretty face yet froze before the only person who had ever truly mattered. A fool who could face monsters without hesitation but trembled at the thought of saying come with me.

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J'ai été trop bête… comme je regrette… I was so stupid… how I regret it…

Whole Cake Island forced Sanji to confront every part of himself he wished had stayed buried.

It dragged him back into chains he thought he had long since escaped. Into a life where his worth was measured only by usefulness. Obedience. Blood.

And worse still–

He pushed away the people who loved him most.

Luffy’s furious grief. Nami’s heartbreak. The crushing guilt of seeing hatred in their eyes when all he had wanted was to protect them.

But through every moment of despair, another thought haunted him relentlessly.

Them.

He wondered if they would hate him too.

If the softness in their gaze would finally disappear once they saw how weak he truly was. How easily he folded beneath fear. How quickly he sacrificed his own happiness the moment the world demanded it of him.

The night before the wedding, Sanji sat alone beneath the artificial lights of Whole Cake Chateau with a cigarette burning untouched between his fingers.

For the first time in years, he cried openly.

Not because of his past. Not because of Big Mom.

But because he thought he might die without ever seeing them again. And regret, he learned then, was far crueler than loneliness.

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Si tu t'en fiches, je t'attendrai sur le port…If you don't care, I'll wait for you at the harbour…

The Thousand Sunny docked quietly at the harbour years later.

Sanji stepped onto solid ground with his hands shoved nervously into his pockets, heart pounding harder than it ever had during battle.

He almost convinced himself that they would not be there.

After all, why would they wait for someone who had left without a confession? Without promises? Without certainty he would ever return?

And then he saw them.

Standing at the edge of the harbour exactly as he remembered.

The ocean wind curled around them gently.

Sanji stopped breathing.

For a terrible second, neither moved.

Then they smiled.

That same smile. The one that had followed him across every sea.

And suddenly Sanji was nineteen again–frightened, hopeful, unbearably in love.

“You came back,” they whispered.

His throat tightened painfully.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

They laughed then, watery and beautiful, before stepping toward him.

Sanji moved before he could think.

His arms wrapped around them carefully at first, almost uncertain, before tightening desperately when they held him back just as fiercely.

And for the first time in years–

The longing stopped hurting.

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On vit dans cette love story...We live in this love story...

Sanji remembered something Reiju once told him long ago.

“One day, you’re going to meet people who treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Back then, he had not believed her.

How could he?

Kindness had always felt temporary in his life. Fragile enough to vanish the moment he reached for it.

But standing here now, surrounded by the Straw Hats’ laughter and their warmth tucked safely against his side, Sanji finally understood.

Luffy, who fought the world itself to bring him home.

Nami, who cried for him without shame.

Usopp and Chopper, who welcomed him back without hesitation.

Zoro, who trusted him enough to wait.

Robin, who understood the shape of his silence without ever needing him to explain it.

And them–

The one person who looked at the broken pieces of him and loved him gently anyway.

Perhaps Reiju had been right after all.

Perhaps this was what home was meant to feel like.

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𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

After all, he was the son of a notorious criminal. The blood running through his veins belonged to a man the world cursed with fear and hatred. A monster in the eyes of history. A name that still made grown men tremble.

Gol D. Roger.

Even years after his death, the sins of the father clung stubbornly to the son.

Ace carried it everywhere. In every suspicious glance. Every bounty hunter that came after him. Every whisper about whether the Pirate King’s child should have ever been allowed to live at all.

Sometimes he thought the world had decided his worth long before he was even born.

Did he deserve to exist?

He hated the way doubt gnawed at him in quiet moments, hated how deeply the question rooted itself inside his chest no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

It was a cruel thing, to inherit hatred before ever inheriting love. 

Perhaps that was why Ace refused to believe that there could ever be someone capable of loving him after learning the truth. 

At first, he convinced himself they simply did not know him well enough.

It was easier that way. Easier to pretend the warmth in their smile was temporary. Easier to believe their affection would disappear the moment they saw the uglier parts of him – the anger, the recklessness, the unbearable insecurity he buried beneath grins and lazy laughter.

Ace had become very good at making people love the version of him that never looked too closely at himself.

However, they had been far too observant for that. They had noticed the way his expression darkened whenever Roger’s name surfaced in conversation, noticed how tense his shoulders became whenever civilians spoke about the Pirate King like he was some inhuman devil instead of a man.

Most importantly, they noticed how Ace always fell silent afterward, as though every insult thrown at Roger lodged itself beneath Ace’s skin too. 

The first time they had asked him about it, Ace laughed it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he had said easily, flames dancing at his fingertips. “It’s nothing.”

But the way their eyes lingered on him too knowingly caused his heart to stutter. Ace hated that look. Gentleness like that was not meant for someone like him. Gentleness made him uneasy. Gentleness implied care, and care implied vulnerability – something Ace had spent years learning how to survive without.

Still, they persisted. Stayed beside him during quiet nights on the ship’s deck. Stayed when his temper flared. Stayed when he disappeared for hours to be alone with his thoughts.

And somehow, over time, Ace grew used to their presence in places he once guarded fiercely.

That terrified him more than anything – because if he let them close enough, eventually they would find out. And once the truth was out there, they would leave too. 

Everyone always did.

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The truth came out accidentally.

Ace never intended for it to happen the way it did. One careless Marine, one overheard conversation drifting through a half-open tavern window, one name spoken too loudly in a drunken stupor.

He saw it in their expression the moment the realisation dawned on them – the faint widening of their eyes, the silence that followed as understanding settled in. 

“Well, guess now you know.” Ace muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets, gaze fixed elsewhere. He refused to look at them. Couldn’t.

“Pretty disappointing, huh?” he continued, voice roughening at the edges. “The son of the Pirate King. Not exactly someone worth sticking around for.” 

“Ace–”

“People love calling him a monster,” he cut in, words tightening as they came. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I was stupid for thinking I could be anything other than his son.” 

Hurt coloured their expression and a pang hit Ace’s heart but he forced himself to take a step back, as though distance could soften the blow. 

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said quietly. “I get it.”

“You think this changes anything?” they asked softly. Between us? 

“It should.”

“Why?”

“Because his blood runs through me.”

The words broke apart as he spoke them, not a statement anymore but an unraveling. Years of self-hatred spilling through the cracks at once. Ace finally looked at them, and the air between them felt too thin to breathe properly. 

“You don’t understand,” he said, quieter now. “People hate him. They hate me too. They always will.” Silence followed, but they didn’t let go. Instead, they stepped closer, not away from the truth but toward it. 

“That’s not what I see,” they said.

Their fingers slipped between his, threading together with a quiet certainty that didn’t ask permission to exist. 

“I see the man who runs toward danger without hesitation if it means protecting others,” they said gently. “I see the man who carries burdens that were never his to bear. The man who smiles like it’s easier than being seen breaking apart.” 

Ace felt something fracture inside him like a structure giving way after too long under pressure. They did not look away, not even once. 

“You are not your father’s sins,” they whispered. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he managed, though it lacked conviction.

“I do and I love you, Ace.” 

A hand lifted slowly toward his face, deliberate and unhurried, as though giving him every chance to retreat. When he didn’t, fingers brushed gently beneath his eye. Only then did Ace realize he was trembling.

“I love all of you,” they continued softly. “Even the parts you were taught to hate.” 

Ace lowered his head suddenly, forehead pressing against theirs as his shoulders trembled with something dangerously close to relief.

It felt unfamiliar.

To be held without judgment.

To be loved without conditions.

To exist without apologising for it.

And somewhere between their quiet heartbeat and their gentle hands, Ace began to fall in love with the parts of himself he once believed deserved nothing at all.

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𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Sabo prided himself on his composure, on his ability to be calm under pressure, those were the qualities that made him dependable. However lately he found that restraint slipping away from him like sand. 

The cause of it sat directly across from him now, sunlight spilling across their features as a soft smile curved their lips. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Their voice, a lilting melody, caught his distracted attention. Sabo could feel his heartbeat pulsing as he mulled over his reply, slowly letting out a soft sigh.

“Work had just been piling up,” Sabo rubbed his temple, hoping to ease the onslaught of a headache. “There is no end in sight.”

They let out a soft hum, fingers lightly picking up a report sitting on his desk.

“I suppose so. It has been rather busy as of late.” Their gaze slowly trailed over Sabo’s face. Sabo desperately hoped they would ignore the dark circles and stress lines but to no avail. “But, you need rest, Sabo.”

His name was said in a scolding tone, worry evident in the way their eyes crinkle and the way their lips pursed.

“I know, I know.” Sabo fiddled with his cravat, “After this report, alright?”

“No.” Their disapproving gaze cuts through Sabo. “You need to rest now. Work can always wait.”

Sabo opened his mouth to protest, only for the words to die immediately under their unwavering stare.

It was absurd, really.

He was a man who had stood before nobles without flinching, who could negotiate under threat of violence with a smile still intact, who had stared danger in the face more times than he could count.

And yet one disapproving look from them unraveled him with humiliating ease.

“I’ll be fine,” he tried weakly.

Their expression remained entirely unconvinced. 

“You said that yesterday.”

“…Did I?”

“And the day before that.”

Sabo winced faintly at the reminder. Apparently exhaustion had begun eating away at his memory, too.

They sighed, setting the report back onto the desk with deliberate care before leaning slightly closer. “Sabo.”

There it was again – that tone. Gentle, worried, impossibly soft despite the frustration threaded beneath it. He hated how much it affected him.

The sunlight pouring through the office windows caught against their face, outlining them in gold. Sabo suddenly became acutely aware of everything at once: the quiet rustle of papers, the faint scent of tea long gone cold, the closeness of them.

And their hands.

Their fingers brushed against his wrist as they reached for the pen still trapped in his grasp.

The touch was brief. Just a brush against him but warmth bloomed beneath his skin anyway.

“You’re burning yourself out,” they murmured.

Sabo looked away first.

“I can’t exactly stop,” he said quietly. “Not right now.”

“You can.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Their brows furrowed, and Sabo watched the emotion flicker openly across their face. Concern. Frustration. Affection so obvious it made something ache painfully in his chest.

“You always take care of everyone else,” they whispered. “But you never let anyone take care of you.”

Sabo felt the words hit him. They were right. He had spent so long being reliable that he no longer knew how to be anything else. If he stopped moving, stopped working, stopped holding everything together…Then what?

Silence settled between them. Slowly, they reached forward again, this time plucking the stack of reports directly from his hands despite the startled noise he made in protest.

“That’s enough for today.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” They stood, clutching the papers to their chest with an air of finality. “And before you argue further, I already hid the rest of your paperwork.”

Sabo blinked. “You what?”

A tiny, triumphant smile curved their lips.

For a moment, he could only stare before an incredulous laugh escaped him – soft and helpless and far too fond.

There it was again. That feeling. Nothing loud nor dramatic, just something warm settling quietly into the spaces they occupied so naturally.

Love, Sabo realised, was not falling.

It was an accumulation. A hundred tiny moments that piled atop one another until suddenly the weight of them became impossible to ignore.

The way they remembered he skipped meals when stressed.

The way they scolded him into sleeping.

The way they cared enough to fight him on things that mattered.

And perhaps the cruelest part of all was that they probably had no idea what they were doing to him.

“You’re staring again,” they said, amusement flickering in their eyes.

Sabo rested his cheek against his knuckles, unable to stop the small smile tugging at his mouth.

“Can you blame me?”

The question earned him a flustered look and a quiet, “You’re impossible.”

Maybe he was.

But as they continued fussing over him, muttering about sleep schedules and proper meals while gathering scattered papers from his desk, Sabo found himself thinking that perhaps being remembered this carefully was the closest thing to love he had ever known.

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