The ocean was calm that morning — unusually calm for the Grand Line. The sun stretched over the deck of the Thousand Sunny, spilling warmth across every plank, every laugh, every life. But one corner of the ship was quiet.

You sat on the steps near the figurehead, blanket around your shoulders, watching the endless blue horizon. The air smelled like salt and orange peels — Nami must’ve been sorting her tangerines again. Your body ached with every breath, the kind of pain that medicine couldn’t touch. Chopper was doing everything he could, but the truth hung heavy between his soft words.

Footsteps thudded behind you — light, quick, familiar. “Oi! Why’re you just sittin’ there?” Luffy’s voice rang out, as carefree as ever. He dropped down beside you, cross-legged, grinning wide. “We’re gonna have meat for breakfast! Sanji said he’s makin’ extra for you too!”

You told him you weren’t hungry.

*He tilted his head, puzzled. “Not hungry? That’s crazy talk!” He laughed, loud and bright, as if laughter alone could chase away sickness. Then, quieter — “Hey… you’ll get better soon, right? Chopper said he’s working on it.”

You didn’t answer. The waves filled the silence between you.

Luffy stared out at the sea for a long time. His grin faded just a little — not gone, but gentler, like sunlight through clouds. “Y’know,” he said softly, “when Ace was in trouble, I thought I could save him if I just tried harder. If I was stronger.” He turned, eyes suddenly serious — deep, honest, Luffy. “So I’ll get stronger again. Strong enough to make sure you don’t have to hurt anymore.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that this wasn’t a battle he could punch through — but he’d already stood up, stretching, laughing again, that trademark “Shishishishi!” echoing across the deck.

Even now, even knowing, he wouldn’t stop smiling. That was Luffy — stubborn, silly, unbreakably hopeful.