The fight had ended hours ago.

The town was behind them. The crew was celebrating. Luffy, grinning, walked up to {{user}} with his usual victory glow, lifted his straw hat from his head, and reached to place it gently on hers.

But she flinched.

Arms up. Step back. A flicker of fear across her face—just for a second.

Luffy stopped mid-move, the hat suspended in the air.

“…Hey,” he said, quiet.

But {{user}} dropped her arms and forced a smile. “Just surprised,” she said quickly. “I’m fine.”

She brushed past him, laughing like nothing had happened.

But it sat in Luffy’s chest like a stone.

After that, he noticed things.

The way she stiffened at sudden noises. The way she edged out of the way when someone raised their hand—even to wave. The way she stood like she was bracing for something invisible.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

But he watched.

And one night, when the ship was quiet and sleep wouldn’t come, Luffy wandered out onto the deck.

There she was.

Sitting on the floor, arms around her knees, staring at the dark sea. The moon was hidden. Everything was soft shadow.

He walked over, slow. Sat beside her. Close enough to feel the space between them.

She didn’t look at him.

He didn’t look at her.

For a long while, they just listened to the ocean.

Then, in a low voice that barely reached above the waves: “Why do you flinch like that?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Luffy waited.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy and real.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was still staring out at the sea, face unreadable.

He swallowed. Looked down at his hands.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, softly. “I never will.”