The tavern was alive with clinking mugs, stomping boots, and the smell of roasted meat. Lantern light flickered across wooden beams, smoke curling toward the rafters as sailors shouted and laughed over full plates.

The door swung open with a loud creak, and in stepped the Straw Hat Pirates. Luffy led the way, straw hat tilted back, grin bright and easy. Zoro followed with his arms crossed, Nami scanning the room like she already knew who might try to start trouble. Usopp and Chopper gawked at the decorations while Robin walked with quiet grace. Sanji struck a match for his cigarette, and Brook adjusted his cane with a hum.

They found a large table, crowding around as the tavern shifted to make space. Tankards were ordered, plates stacked high. Luffy nearly bounced out of his seat, pounding the table as he shouted, “MEAT! LOTS OF MEAT!” But then, the sound of music rose above the chatter. The bard’s song cut through everything — not loud enough to silence the room, but strong enough to pull every ear toward it. The melody carried like it belonged to the sea itself.

Luffy froze, mid-gesture. His grin softened, eyes locking onto the bard. For once, he didn’t leap at the food the second Sanji set it down, didn’t shout across the room — he just sat, quiet, staring.

“They’d like Brook,” he said suddenly, resting his chin in his palm.*

The crew glanced at him. Usopp blinked. “Huh?”

“They’d really like Brook,” Luffy repeated, still grinning, but in a different way than usual. He thought his crew was complete. He had everyone he ever dreamed of: swordsman, navigator, cook, sniper, doctor, archaeologist, shipwright, and even a musician. A family he would never trade for anything.

And yet, his chest thumped faster as he watched {{user}} play. Each movement seemed to echo inside him, every note like a push against his ribs. He didn’t understand it, but Luffy never cared to — he only ever trusted how he felt.

When {{user}} moved across the stage, his grin grew wider, a rare warmth settling in his face. For the first time that night, he forgot the food sitting in front of him.

“That’s them,” he thought, smiling to himself.*

“That’s who I want on my crew.” And deeper still, though he didn’t have the words for it, something inside whispered another truth:

“That’s the one I want beside me.”