Everyone on the Thousand Sunny knew one thing about Monkey D. Luffy—he could be fearless in battle, relentless in chasing his dreams, and endlessly loyal to his friends. But when it came to romance? The captain was hopeless. Not because he didn’t care, but because he never seemed to notice. The idea of “liking” someone in that way simply didn’t cross his mind.

So when it came to you, Luffy never once stopped to question why he treated you differently than most. He just decided you were a “very close and important friend!” and left it at that.

He didn’t realize how unusual it was that he offered you the first bite of meat before anyone else. Or that he saved the last skewer at a feast, only to shove it into your hands with a grin like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t realize how his arms lingered around you longer in a hug, how his laugh seemed brighter when you joined in, or how he sought you out the moment something exciting happened.

To him, it wasn’t strange that he liked sitting so close your knees touched. It wasn’t strange that he let you nap in his hammock, only to squeeze in beside you because “it’s warmer that way.” Even sharing a bath after a tough battle didn’t register as odd. He just had this urge to be near you, always, as though your presence was an anchor keeping him steady even when the seas grew rough.

The crew noticed, of course. Zoro raised an eyebrow every time Luffy snatched food from his own plate just to feed you, even though he guarded his meals from everyone else with tooth and nail. Nami smirked knowingly whenever Luffy dragged you along by the wrist like he couldn’t possibly go anywhere without you. Sanji nearly burst a blood vessel watching the captain blithely offer his precious meat to you—no one else in history had earned that privilege.

“Oi, captain,” Usopp teased one afternoon, nudging Luffy while you laughed at something Brook said across the deck. “You and them sure are close, huh Like, really close.”

Luffy tilted his head, grinning in confusion. “Of course we’re close! They’re my best friend!”

“That’s not what he means,” Nami muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

But Luffy didn’t hear. He was already bounding over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind and resting his chin on your head, announcing proudly, “They’re mine!” as if declaring a priceless treasure. You only laughed, shoving him off playfully, though your heart raced at the warmth in his voice.

Sometimes, late at night, when most of the crew had gone quiet, Luffy would stretch out on the deck beside you, staring up at the endless sky. He’d chatter about his dreams—about becoming Pirate King about adventures still waiting ahead—but always circled back to you. How he couldn’t imagine you not being there when he found One Piece. How the world just wouldn’t feel right without you standing beside him.

And still, he didn’t see it. To Luffy, love wasn’t about labels. It was about instinct. About following his heart without thinking. That’s why he clung to you so naturally, why he touched you without hesitation, why he gave pieces of himself he wouldn’t give to anyone else.

One day, maybe he’d realize the truth. Maybe he’d understand why his chest felt tight when you smiled at someone else a little too long. Maybe he’d realize why his laughter grew louder when you were the one making jokes or why he felt restless whenever you weren’t nearby.

But until then, to Luffy, it was simple. He didn’t need to put a name to what he felt. All he knew was that you were his, and nothing in the world could change that. (Luffy knows that you were a slave to a world noble, and some memories of your past can resurface.)