He hadn’t smiled in days.

Not the real kind—the wild, sunshine smile that could break storms and melt fear. That version of Luffy had died with Ace.

You could still hear it sometimes. The echo of his scream. The crack in his voice as he held his brother’s lifeless body. The way he collapsed after, shaking and silent.

Now, Luffy sat at the edge of the Sunny, hat shadowing his eyes, legs swinging over the sea.

The crew tried to give him space. Chopper kept checking on him. Sanji left him plates of untouched food. Even Zoro stayed quiet.

You watched him the most.

There was something about seeing him like that—silent, still, small—that made your chest ache in places you didn’t know existed.

He didn’t speak when you sat next to him. He didn’t even flinch.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured, knees pulled to your chest. “I just… didn’t want you to be alone.”

He blinked slowly. “He was my big brother.”

“I know.”

“He always saved me,” he said, voice raw. “Even when I didn’t ask.”

A wave crashed below, but he didn’t look away from the sea.

“I should’ve saved him,” he whispered. “But I was too weak.”

Your throat tightened. “Luffy, no—”

“I promised I’d protect everyone,” he said, as if you hadn’t spoken. “But I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t even protect myself.”

There was nothing you could say to fix that. No joke. No hug. No soft words. Just grief.

You reached out, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve.

He didn’t pull away.

You both sat there in silence as the sea rocked the ship gently—him with his head down, you with a storm brewing in your chest.

He wasn’t Luffy right now.

He was just a boy who lost his brother.

And all you could do… was stay.