Chapter Text
The smoke of Gray Terminal still clung to the air like a ghost.
Luffy sat alone near the edge of the forest, her small body trembling as tears ran silently down her cheeks. The ache in her chest was too heavy, too wide. It wasn’t just sadness anymore, it was emptiness.
“We lost Sabo…” she whispered to no one.
Footsteps came crunching through the dry grass. Ace approached her, arms crossed, eyes shadowed. His jaw was clenched tight and his voice was sharp.
“Stop crying.”
Ace stood over her, silent, unmoving.
His hands were shaking.
He didn’t understand why it made him so angry. Why her sadness felt like it was pressing down on his lungs, suffocating him. Why every tear that hit the dirt sounded louder than the flames that had taken Sabo away.
Luffy looked up, startled, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I—I can’t…”
“I said stop crying!” Ace snapped and in one fast motion, he slapped her. Not hard enough to knock her over, but hard enough to sting.
Luffy froze. Her eyes went wide. “Sabo never hit me,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “He was a good brother. He never…”
Ace’s face twisted in anger. “So what, huh? You wish it was me who died instead?”
“No!” Luffy shook her head frantically. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Shut up,” he said.
She didn’t.
“I said shut up!”
He grabbed her by the front of her vest, yanking her upward. “Why can’t you ever stop?!”
“A-Ace—” she gasped, voice caught in her throat.
And then he hit her. Again. The back of his hand caught her cheek, hard, knocking her sideways into the dirt.
She went quiet. Just for a second.
Then she curled up, arms over her head, body trembling.
Ace froze.
His hand hovered where it had swung, fingers still tense.
“You think this is hard for you?” he growled, though his voice shook now. “You think you're the only one who lost him? I lost him too! And now all I hear is your crying, every damn minute, like I'm not grieving too!”
She said nothing. She didn’t move.
“You know what he said? He said we’d have to take care of you. That you’d get worse with age. That you’d start bleeding and whining and needing things we’d never understand.”
Ace laughed—harsh and hollow.
“Well, guess what? I don’t want to understand. I don’t want any of it. You’re gross. You’re loud. You ruin everything. And now you’re trying to say he was better than me?”
Still she said nothing.
“You can forget it,” he spat. “Forget the sake. Forget being siblings. That was his idea. Thanks for saving Sabo and my treasure but without Sabo, there’s nothing left.”
His voice dropped, one final blow. “I NEVER WANTED A SISTER! And if I could choose, it wouldn't be a crybaby like you.”
And then he turned, leaving her in the dirt, the side of her face red and stinging, her chest hollow and aching.
She didn’t cry this time.
The jungle wrapped around her like a cradle of silence, broken only by the rustle of wind through the leaves. Luffy sat beneath the great roots of an old tree, arms wrapped around her knees, her face buried in her beloved straw hat. Her eyes were swollen from crying, though no tears fell anymore.
“I miss you Sabo…” she whispered into the dark. “I miss you so much.”
Hours passed and slowly, her sorrow hardened into something quieter. Heavier. A decision.
She wasn’t going back to the treehouse. Not to Ace. Not after that. He doesn't want her, he told her so.
Luffy hurried to an old storage trunk where they stored their spares. The trunk groaned softly as she lifted the lid. The smell of damp wood and dust met her nose, but her fingers dug through old cloth and scraps until they brushed against worn cotton.
Two of Sabo’s shirts. One faded and soft with age, sleeves too short now but still heavy with the comfort of memory. The other far too large for her, the fabric stiff in places from dirt, but it still smelled like Sabo, like home.
She pressed both shirts to her chest, then reached deeper.
Wrapped in an old square of linen, tucked carefully away, was her collar.
Dark leather, soft and flexible to the touch—but strong. Surprisingly strong.
She ran her fingers over it slowly, then smiled, just faintly, through the exhaustion in her bones. The metal tag had dulled over time, but the engraving remained clear.
ACE & SABO — one side.
She turned it over.
SHANKS — the other.
It had been a gift from Gramps, given just before he left her with Dadan.
She remembered it clearly, sitting on his knee, swinging her legs as he fastened it around her neck the first time: “This one’s special,” he’d said that day, pulling her onto his knee, his voice rough but almost gentle. “A buddy o’ mine made it. Custom marine material—top-grade, but flexible. See?” He'd twisted it in both hands, showing how it bent like fabric, but never tore, never broke. “Shifts with you. You wear it as a kid, it fits. You wear it as a monkey, it fits. You grow up to be an adult and a fine marine, still fits.” He'd grunted softly, ruffling her hair.
“This ain’t for ownership,” he told her. “It’s for loyalty. For trust. You ever meet someone you trust with everything you get their name engraved on it. Not because you belong to ’em. But because if something ever happens, if you lose control… you’ll always be brought back to someone who’ll keep you safe, to the person you trust most.”
He had handed her the collar with a gruff pat on the head, muttering something about how she’d probably never use it anyway.
Sabo had written that part for her. She couldn’t write herself, not yet. But she remembered holding out the collar shyly, mumbling, “Can you write Ace’s name? And yours? Can you… can you add Shanks name too? Please?”
Sabo had chuckled, kneeling down with a rock and a bit of patience.
“Sure. One side for your brothers. The other for your hero, huh?”
He had made sure the letters were clear—big enough for anyone to read.
Now, Luffy stared down at the names. Her hands trembled. The sight of that first side ACE & SABO twisted in her gut.
Ace had said he never wanted her. That she was too much. Too emotional. And now Sabo was gone.
She picked up a sharp stone from the dirt. Her hand trembled.
Very carefully, she etched a rough line through ACE. Not to erase it—she couldn’t do that. But to mark it. A scar, carved into memory.
Now, it read:
ACE & SABO
She sniffed hard, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry… Ace. I love you.”
But she couldn’t carry his name like this. Not after what he said. Not after how he made her feel.
She stepped outside, bag in her hand, Sabo’s shirts packed neatly inside and crouched low in the grass.
A deep breath.
Her body shimmered, twisted, changed—fur spreading across her limbs, her form shrinking into something light, quick and unnoticed.
A little monkey.
Gramps had shown her how, long ago. He’d scratched his head and sighed, watching her transformation. “Thought you’d end up like me, big old gorilla. Turns out you’re a little thing. But that’s alright. You’re a girl. Being cute suits you.”
She hadn’t understood then. She did now.
Luffy hasn't worn her collar in months, Ace and Sabo promised her to always find her, no matter where she is.
She slipped the collar around her neck and fastened it carefully. The leather was snug, comforting. The metal tag rested cool against her collarbone.
Not because I'm owned, she thought, but so I can find my way back. To Shanks.
With her tiny bag slung across her back, stuffed full with two of Sabo’s shirts and the oversized straw hat, carefully folded and wedged inside though it bulged awkwardly against the seams. She crept toward the main harbour of the Goa Kingdom, sticking to the shadows. Her eyes scanned faces. Her small ears twitched, straining to catch voices, names, anything familiar.
Hours passed. Dock workers shouted, merchants bartered, nobles sneered. Then, she heard it.
“—headed for the Grand Line tomorrow. Probably pirates.”
Her breath caught.
Grand Line… Shanks talked about that. That’s where he is.
She knew who to follow.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the little monkey with her collar fastened tight and a bag nearly the size of her own body turned her eyes to the horizon and began her quiet journey.
Three months passed.
The ship was massive, far bigger than anything Luffy had ever seen in the Goa Kingdom. She had no idea who the crew was or where they were going. What she did know was this: they moved fast, they traveled far and they always had food.
At first, she only came out at night. A scrap of bread here, a bite of dried meat there. Just enough to quiet the growling in her belly. The kitchen was enormous, always warm and always filled with smells that made her stomach twist with longing.
But the ship's cook… was a problem.
He was huge. Bald. His belly stuck out like a barrel under his apron and he always seemed to be just about to turn around whenever she dared creep in. The first week, she barely made it out alive. One night, as she scurried across the counter toward a bag of apples, she heard heavy footsteps behind her—and when she turned, he was standing there.
Not saying a word. Just holding a cage. A small iron trap, clearly meant for something exactly her size.
She'd frozen in terror, hands shaking.
But before he could lunge, someone else had called out from the deck and the cook stomped away, cage still in hand, muttering about "filthy pests with hands."
That was when she learned. Take less. Move faster. Stay small.
After that, she became a shadow in the galley. Quick as a flicker of light, never greedy, never loud. A half-chewed biscuit here. A chunk of carrot there. A spoonful of stew, only if it was already dripping down the side of the pot.
Sometimes, she'd watch the cook from the rafters while she chewed. He never seemed happy, but he worked hard. His hands were rough, always moving. Chopping, stirring, tasting, cursing.
She didn’t know where the ship was going. Days passed in sunlight. Nights passed in fog.
Then, one morning, everything changed.
She had curled up behind a stack of crates on the upper deck. The sea air had been normal the night before, salty, warm. But when she woke, everything felt wrong.
The light was too sharp. The air was too thin. And below her, clouds stretched out like white deserts.
Clouds?
She peeked out cautiously and nearly fell off the crate.
They weren’t on the ocean anymore. They were in the sky.
The ship floated through the clouds like a dream, sails billowing without wind, strange metal pipes puffing faint steam from hidden valves.
For a full day, she clung to the rafters, too afraid to move, stomach turning with altitude and confusion.
Then, as suddenly as they had risen, the ship dipped again. The next morning, the sea was back beneath them, rolling waves, gulls overhead, salt on the breeze.
That evening, voices floated up from the galley, where she perched in the shadows like usual.
A deckhand stepped inside, shaking snow from his coat.
“We’re in the North Blue, Chef.”
There was a grunt from behind the stove. The big bald man didn’t look up as he stirred a pot, scowling.
“Great. Time to dig out those damn winter root recipes again. The captain said we'll stay here for about a year.”
Luffy’s ears twitched. North Blue? A YEAR?
She didn’t know much about the world, just what Gramps and Makino had mentioned and a few things Shanks had said with a grin. But one thing she did know: this is not the Grand Line.
Her little hands gripped the beam tighter.
Somehow, she had made it across the sky to another sea. And Shanks… was nowhere in sight.
It was the shouting that woke her.
Harsh and sudden, cutting through the creaking rhythm of the ship like a blade. Luffy flinched where she was curled between sacks of dried beans and salt barrels, her bag clutched tight against her chest. Instinctively, she made herself smaller, curling tighter, hiding her face in the fabric of her bag.
More yelling followed. Familiar now. The chef. Loud, angry and always just a little wheezy when he got mad.
“Who the hell do you think you are?!”
Another voice came through, apologetic, male, younger but older than Ace and Sabo. “I’m sorry! Give me all your food! I'm very sorry!”
Luffy peeked around a crate, curiosity outweighing caution.
Three figures moved through the kitchen like a storm. Two boys with funny hats, one lean and nervous, the other with red hair and way too much energy, were grabbing food with both hands, stuffing it into bags, mouths, sleeves. A huge white bear plucked whole baskets of vegetables from the shelves and tucked them under one massive arm like they weighed nothing.
The chef shouted again, trying to grab a spoon as a weapon, but before he could do much more, a third boy entered the room. He wore a dotted hat. And he was cool.
Even the bear paused.
The chef pointed the spoon at him. “You! You’re the little pirate brat people talk about?!”
The boy just smiled, tilting his head. “Who knows?”
Then he does something funny with his hand and the chef slumped to the floor.
Luffy’s eyes widened.
The cool boy turned to the others. “Alright. Got what you need? Let’s go.”
They filed out, bags full, grinning, arguing about who stole the best stuff. The bear gave a calm little wave to the unconscious chef on his way out.
Luffy didn’t even hesitate. She put her bag on her back and scurried after them on silent feet.
She didn’t know who they were. She didn’t know where they were going.
But the bear was so cool. The boy with the dotted hat was even cooler. And the yellow metal box floating beside the ship—part boat, part junkpile, part mystery—looked like it belonged in a storybook.
Before she could second-guess herself, she followed them. No plan. No questions. Just the instinct to maybe something to find good.
Luffy had done her best to stay invisible inside the weird ship.
For days, she moved only in the quiet hours, scuttling through the vents or slinking across warm pipes, keeping to the belly of the yellow ship where no one looked too closely. She only ever came out to drink water from a leaky valve or nibble on food she'd stolen from the kitchen while no one was looking.
But luck, as always, had limits. This time, it ran out just after dawn.
The hiss of steam must’ve loosened something. One of the vent covers popped open with a metallic clank and before she could dart back, she tumbled out, straight into the open galley.
And landed in front of them. Three boys and the bear.
She froze. So did they.
“What the hell?” one blinked, dropping a fork.
“Is that... a monkey?” another one whispered.
“I thought we had a rat problem,” muttered the bear.
Before anyone else could move, a calm, cold hand grabbed the scruff of her neck. In a blink, she felt a blade press lightly against her throat—sharp, surgical, unhesitating.
The one with the dotted hat now stood in front of her, a gaze like molten gold. Pretty.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise his voice. Just watched her like a problem to be solved.
Luffy stared back, motionless, heart pounding against her ribs.
“You move,” he said softly, “and you lose the ability to.”
Her little fingers twitched.
Then, with a startled chirp, she launched herself out of his grasp in one blur of fur, panic and instinct she landed neatly on the massive white bear’s shoulders.
Bepo blinked. Shachi and Penguin lost their minds.
“NO WAY!” one whooped. “Did you see that?!”
“It just—bam! Right on Bepo like he’s a tree!”
“This is the coolest monkey ever! Law, can we keep it?”
Law sighed. “Bepo. Can you communicate with it?”
The bear looked up at Luffy, who was now clutching one of his ears for balance.
“Can you understand me?” Bepo asked gently.
Luffy hesitated… then gave a small nod.
Penguin fell over laughing. Shachi wheezed. “Oh no. This thing’s sentient!”
Law pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perfect.”
He stepped forward, adjusting his gloves. “My name is Trafalgar Law. I’m the captain of this ship. Cause trouble and I’ll kill you. These are Bepo, Shachi and Penguin.”
Luffy chirped again, almost cheerfully and shifted like she wanted to jump on Law's shoulders next.
Before she made it halfway, she froze in midair, hovering weightless, caught in Law’s ability.
“So,” he murmured, drawing her gently down and turning her by the collar, “I wasn’t mistaken. You are domesticated.”
He examined the leather collar around her neck—dark, highest quality, the metal plate engraved.
“One name’s been scratched out… ‘Sabo.’”
Luffy let out a quiet whimper and pointed frantically to the back of the tag.
Law flipped it over.
“‘Shanks,’” he read aloud. “Hm. That name I have heard.”
He looked to Bepo. “See if we have any posters or records with the names ‘Sabo’ or ‘Shanks.’”
Bepo nodded and padded off without a word.
Law returned his attention to her.
“All right. You’re likely carrying something. Parasites, disease, gods know what. You’ll be checked, cleaned—”
Before he could finish the sentence, Luffy shrieked and flung herself backwards, legs kicking wildly.
“Stay put!” Law snapped, holding her midair again with ease. “If you refuse to bathe, you’ll be locked up. Understand?”
Luffy, trembling, gave a fast nod.
“Good.” He exhaled. “At least you seem like a somewhat intelligent monkey. And… a little cute.”
He tossed her lightly to Shachi, who caught her with a grin.
“I love this monkey,” Shachi said.
Penguin poked at her side. “Are you a girl or a boy?”
Law raised an eyebrow but didn’t turn around. “Doesn’t matter. If it bites someone, it’s still getting put in a cage.”
Luffy clung tightly to her bag, eyes darting between all of them. She didn’t trust them yet, but they hadn’t hurt her.
The trouble started with the bag.
Penguin crouched beside the little monkey who had now curled up in a nest of towels and ropes near the ship’s boiler, hugging the tattered bag like it held her soul.
“C’mon, little guy,” he said, reaching out. “You can’t keep that filthy thing. We’re gonna clean you and everything you touch.”
The monkey hissed, a sharp, startled sound, clutching the bag tighter.
“Hey! I’m not gonna steal your bananas or whatever’s in there,” Penguin muttered, trying again.
He got one finger under the strap before the little thing exploded.
With a flurry of screeches and tiny fists, the monkey went feral. Claws raked Penguin's sleeve, feet kicked at his chest and for one horrific moment, he was in a full-on wrestling match with something the size of a small pumpkin that somehow had the strength of ten men.
“SHACHI!” he yelled. “It’s killing me!”
Shachi ran in—and then immediately howled with laughter.
“You’re losing to a monkey!”
“IT’S A DEMON, SHACHI—”
Eventually, with much bribing and half a mango, they managed to wrest the bag away and hold the shrieking monkey at arm’s length.
“Bath time!” Shachi grinned.
By the time they got her into the giant barrel they used for laundry, Shachi was soaked, Penguin had scratches across his nose and Luffy was screaming at a pitch that surely cracked at least one window on the lower deck.
“I THINK I’M BLEEDING INTERNALLY,” Penguin declared as he held her down.
“If you scream any louder, Law might hit you,” Shachi grunted, scrubbing foam behind the tiny, twitching ears.
Suddenly, the monkey had stopped fighting, but not in the good way. One moment it was all claws and teeth and the next, its little body slid under the water with barely a sound.
“Whoa—wait, WAIT!” Penguin shouted, reaching in too late. “It’s sinking!”
Shachi stared, horrified. “Monkeys can swim, right?!”
“I don’t think this one can!”
The tiny figure thrashed once beneath the soapy water, limbs sluggish, mouth opening in a silent scream. Bubbles rose. No strength left.
“PULL IT OUT!” Shachi yelled, already diving halfway in.
Penguin caught the slippery wrist, the monkey's fur weighed down like sodden rope. He and Shachi hauled it up together, limp, dripping, gasping.
Luffy coughed violently, choking on water and pure terror and then screamed. An awful, wild sound, full of panic and instinct and fear.
Both boys flinched. It was like holding a drowning kitten that thought it was dying.
“Shhh, it’s okay—it’s okay!” Shachi tried, fumbling with the towel, wrapping it awkwardly around the shaking body.
But the monkey thrashed harder, trying to claw away from the water, the towel, everything.
Then, the door slammed open.
Law stood there in the frame, expression unreadable. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, calm, sharp.
The monkey shrieked again, trying to scrabble up the side of the barrel with waterlogged arms.
“It just—just stopped swimming!” Penguin gasped. “We thought monkeys could—!”
Law didn’t answer.
He stepped forward, grabbed the wet bundle from their arms with one hand and lifted it effortlessly, like a towel-wrapped fruit.
Luffy went completely still. Her breath hitched and her wide, wet black eyes locked on Law’s face.
Then, a second later, she began to whine, exhausted little hiccups that wracked her trembling body. She buried its soaked head against his chest, clutching his coat with small fingers.
He's like Ace...from before, Luffy thought.
Law stared down at it in silence.
Shachi was still frozen. “Cap’n…?”
Law adjusted the towel slightly, tucking it around the monkey’s tiny shaking shoulders. He didn’t speak for a long moment.
Then, so quiet they almost didn’t hear it, he muttered, “…Cute.”
Penguin blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Law snapped. “You’re both idiots.”
Luffy let out another tiny, pitiful cough. Law didn’t seem bothered. He just let her stay there, trembling against him, small fingers still clenched in the fabric of his coat like it was the only thing in the world.
“Next time,” he added coldly, “don’t drown the wildlife.”
Shachi nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
Penguin saluted the monkey. “Sorry, little guy.”
Law’s eyes narrowed. “We still don’t know what it is. Or where it came from.”
The monkey didn’t answer.
It just curled tighter into the warmth, the echo of drowning still burning in its tiny lungs
Law had been trying to find clues about the monkey's origin in their animal encyclopaedia for over an hour, but he couldn’t concentrate.
The monkey had not moved. Not when he paced, not when he sighed loudly in protest, not even when he shut the book with a snap. The steady warmth of tiny limbs wrapped stubbornly around his torso like a personal heater that refused to be unplugged.
The monkey, small enough to fit neatly in his palm, hadn’t left him alone since the moment it’d decided he was safe. Or tolerable. Or just the least likely to throw it overboard. It was light. Barely half a kilo, more like four hundred grams, he guessed. Maybe fifteen centimeters tall at best. Soft, scruffy fur, wide black eyes and a way of gripping his coat that made him feel like a walking tree.
“Alright,” he muttered, glaring down. “You win. You want attention? Fine.”
The monkey blinked up at him, wide-eyed.
Law crouched so they were level, hands on his knees. “You can understand me, right?”
A nod.
“Good. Then answer this, are you male or female?”
The monkey tilted its head.
“Boy or girl?” he clarified.
After a beat, it lifted one trembling finger and pointed to itself, then made a soft, unsure chirp.
“…Female,” Law murmured, narrowing his eyes. “Got it.”
He stood up and walked toward the door. “Now get off, I need to piss.”
The monkey clung tighter.
Law groaned, trying to pry her off. “Let—go—”
But her arm stretched slightly as he pulled.
He froze. “…You ate a Devil Fruit, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
Law’s expression sharpened. “What kind?”
She hesitated again, then just shrugged.
“You're human, aren't you?” Law asked and the little monkey nods.
“Of course you are,” he muttered. “Can you turn back into a human?”
She shook her head.
“…You can’t? Or you won’t?”
The monkey looked down. Slowly… she nodded.
“So you can, but you’re not doing it.” He folded his arms. “Why?”
She made a face. A scrunch of her tiny nose, as if she bit into something sour.
“…Scared?” Law asked softly.
She didn’t answer right away. But then, Luffy nodded.
He studied her a moment longer. “How old are you?”
She tilted her head.
“You… don’t know?” he asked.
She hesitated, then used her two tiny hands to show seven fingers. Slowly, carefully.
“…Seven.” Law narrowed his eyes. “In human years?”
She nodded.
“You’re a kid.”
She nodded again.
He leaned back, studying her with slightly more concern now. “You’re not even an adult. That explains your size. You don’t weigh more than a couple hundred grams, do you?”
The monkey just blinked, her tail curling around his wrist.
“Great,” Law muttered. “A pocket-sized seven-year-old monkey girl with abandonment issues. What could go wrong.”
She chirped quietly and tucked her face into his coat.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get cozy. I’m not a babysitter.”
But she didn’t move.
Law sighed and gently peeled her back, just far enough to look into her eyes. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated. Then pointed to the collar still loosely hanging around her neck. Law gently pulled it forward, eyes scanning the tag.
The second name had been crossed out. Not scratched, not smudged, deliberately cut through, like it no longer counted.
“I saw this earlier,” he murmured. “You didn’t react like either of these was your name.”
The monkey avoided his gaze.
He tapped the tag once. “Are these your family?”
She paused. Then slowly, softly, nodded.
Law narrowed his eyes. “Shanks isn’t a name I’ve heard outside a few bounties. Sabo I’ve never even come across.” His gaze lingered on the scratched-out name. “And Ace… that name’s gone.”
He looked back at her. “None of these are your name, are they?”
She hesitated. Then pointed a single small finger at the side that read SHANKS.
Law raised an eyebrow. “That’s not much of an answer. But fine.”
He exhaled. “Now let go. I need thirty seconds of personal space before I snap and perform emergency heart surgery on a primate.”
No movement.
There was a long silence.
“…Fine,” Law muttered. “Whatever. I don’t care what form you’re in. But I do care about not pissing myself.”
He peeled her off gently, set her on the ground and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
When he stepped back out, she was sitting cross-legged in front of the door, like a tiny, furry guardian waiting for her emperor’s return.
Law stared at her.
“You’re seriously gonna be like this, huh?”
She chirped and raised her arms.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Still, he crouched.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Hop on.”
And without hesitation, she did — curling up around his shoulders with the ease of someone who’d already decided he belonged to her.
Dinner aboard the Polar Tang was always a bit of a controlled mess. With Bepo trying to keep everyone’s plates full and Penguin and Shachi locked in their usual competition over who could eat more before choking, the chaos was familiar.
But tonight, it was different.
Because Law had to keep pulling bits of food out of his coat.
“Stop that,” he hissed, slapping the small monkey's fingers. She’d taken to stealing noodles straight from his plate or worse, his mouth with zero shame and a shocking amount of stealth.
The monkey chirped softly and stuffed a dumpling into her cheeks.
“Eat. Normally,” Law snapped.
Penguin raised a brow. “Dude, it’s a monkey.”
Shachi nodded, equally confused. “You want it to use chopsticks?”
Law pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked up, tone flat. “She’s not a monkey.”
The table went quiet.
“What?” Bepo asked, ears twitching.
Law exhaled. “She’s a human. A child. Devil Fruit user. Apparently permanently shifted into this form. At least for now.”
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Bepo slowly got to his feet, walked around the table and crouched beside Law’s chair. The little monkey turned her head to him, big eyes wide.
Gently, he patted her fuzzy head.
“…You’re a human? I'm sorry...” he asked softly, crouching lower to be at eye level. “Can you talk in this form?”
The monkey opened her mouth, trying but only a strangled croak came out. She closed it again, visibly frustrated.
Penguin leaned forward, curious. “Can she do sign language?”
The monkey shook her head.
“That’s a good idea, Peng,” Bepo said thoughtfully. “Captain, can we pick up a sign language book at the next port? In case she doesn’t want to or can’t shift back?”
Law considered this, then gave a single, short nod. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
The monkey looked a little overwhelmed now, her eyes darted between their faces, uncertain. She fidgeted with the sleeves of Law's coat, clearly wanting to say something but unable to.
Shachi leaned over the table, smiling. “Hey. We wanna talk to you, okay? If you can’t use your voice, we’ll figure out other ways.”
“Yeah,” Penguin added, grinning. “You’re part of the crew now.”
Law raised both eyebrows. “She is?”
Shachi shrugged. “Well, she lives here, doesn’t she? And she's cute.”
The monkey looked around the table, then tucked herself tighter into Law’s side, quietly chirping as her tail curled over his arm like a ribbon.
Law sighed. “Fantastic. I’ve adopted a mute, clingy, noodle-stealing monkey.”
Bepo chuckled. “She is kind of cute, though.”
Law didn’t answer, but he didn’t disagree either.
The dinner had mostly quieted down, aside from the occasional clink of cutlery and Penguin’s valiant attempt to balance a spoon on his nose.
The monkey sat nestled between Law and Bepo, finally chewing her food like a civilised being… mostly.
Then Bepo cleared his throat and gently placed a crumpled piece of paper on the table in front of her.
A wanted poster. Luffy blinked. Her tiny fingers trembled as she smoothed it flat.
“DEAD OR ALIVE — SHANKS — 1,040,000,000 Berries.”
That face. That hair. That grin.
Her breath caught. Her lungs forgot how to work. The room blurred into silence.
Then she bolted. One heartbeat she was there. The next she was gone. Poster clutched tight, feet pounding the floor as she fled the galley like something inside her had cracked.
She tore through the corridors, grabbed her bag without slowing, and sprinted down the narrow staircases, past flickering lights, rusted pipes, the hum of engines.
Skidding to a stop, she yanked the bag open. Out tumbled a too-big straw hat. Folded carefully. Still faintly smelling like Shanks, like home.
It hit the floor beside her. Her little hands gripped her face, then she convulsed. Not like before. Not smooth. Not easy.
This time, her shape resisted. Her fur rippled unnaturally. Limbs cracked and stretched, bones clicking back into a human frame with a sickening kind of grace. The monkey unfurled into a fragile girl: skinny, scraped, trembling.
She dropped to her knees and wrapped herself around the straw hat like it was the only thing keeping her from coming apart.
For a moment, there was no sound. Just shaking. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.
Then the scream tore loose. A raw, ragged sob that echoed down the steel corridors like a siren.
“SHANKS!!” Her voice cracked.
“I—I miss you—!”
And then, “SAABOOOO!!”
She could barely form the name. Her voice shattered around it.
Her whole body curled tighter around the hat, fingers clenched so hard her knuckles whitened.
That was when Bepo found her. And when he saw her, his breath caught.
A little girl, curled on the metal floor in the half-light. Skin flushed. Knees scraped. Trembling. Hands buried in the straw hat as if it could hide her from the world.
But it was her face that broke him.
So small. So lost.
Long black hair clung to tear-streaked cheeks. A tiny scar beneath one eye. And those enormous black eyes. Eyes no child should have, like they’d seen too much, lost too much.
Bepo’s chest ached. She looked like she had no one left.
He crouched slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, and sat beside her. He didn’t touch her. Just… waited.
Then he looked again. She wasn’t just crying. She was bare. Clinging to nothing but that hat. Her small body curled in on itself, shivering, not just from grief, but cold.
He couldn’t stand it.
Wordlessly, he pulled off his shirt. He leaned forward and gently draped it around her like a blanket. Not like a stranger offering comfort, but like a brother shielding something precious.
“Here,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be cold, too.”
She didn’t look at him. But her hands clutched the shirt, pulling it closer.
Bepo exhaled, slowly. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re not alone anymore.” It was the gentlest sound he’d made in months.
There was a long silence. Then, quietly he spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t run, either.
“What’s your name?”
Her lips moved, a hiccup, a breath.
“…Lu—”
Then she froze. Like saying her name had broken something inside her. Her eyes widened. She slapped her hands over her mouth.
Bepo swallowed. Carefully.
“You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “My name’s Bepo. It’s nice to meet you, Lu.”
Her eyes shimmered.
And then, she changed again. Limbs trembled. Skin gave way to fur. Her body compressed back into a tiny monkey. One hand dragged the straw hat with her.
She curled into it like a nest, tail wrapped over her face and wailed.
Warmth. That was the first thing Luffy noticed.
Not the usual engine-heat of the ship or the comforting press of her old hiding spots, this warmth moved. It breathed. It held her.
She stirred faintly, still curled into a trembling ball, tucked deep inside the oversized straw hat she carried like a second skin.
She didn’t fight. Her tiny monkey hands twitched once, weakly, as her body inside the straw hat was pulled against something steady and strong. Fur. A soft, already familiar scent.
Bepo.
Her bag bounced lightly against his side, he’d picked it up too, slinging it over his arm without thinking.
He said nothing. Just walked. Up stairs. Down quiet corridors. Through the hum of the ship, which felt quieter than usual.
When they reached the upper deck, the others were waiting.
Law stood with his arms folded, his sharp eyes immediately drawn to the bundle of straw and fur in Bepo’s arms. Shachi and Penguin sat rigid on the bench near the galley, their dinner cold, their faces pale.
Bepo stopped in front of them.
No one spoke.
“She changed,” Bepo finally said. His voice was quiet. “Back into a human. In the engine room. I suppose you heard her.”
Law’s brows furrowed.
“I followed her,” Bepo continued. “She’d grabbed her bag and the poster of course. Hid herself down there. And then…I'm sorry,” He exhaled.
Law hadn’t said a word.
He just stood there, eyes fixed on the tiny shape curled up inside the straw hat in Bepo’s arms. Only the tip of a tail showed, a tiny hand twitching, her whole body trembling with the effort of staying small — of staying hidden.
Bepo glanced up at him. “She told me her name’s Lu,” he said softly. “If she didn’t... she’d honestly be absolutely adorable.”
Law didn’t respond. Not immediately.
He stared just a moment longer, not with cold calculation, but something else. Something tight in his chest. Something he didn’t have a name for. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Bepo looked down again at the little bundle in his arms. She hadn’t moved.
A minute later, Law returned. In one hand, he held a thin, slightly frayed gray cloth — not just any blanket, but the last piece of fabric Corazon had ever wrapped around him. Soft with age. Heavy with memory.
He stepped in front of Bepo and crouched slightly.
“Let me see her,” he said.
Gently, Bepo tilted the straw hat up, revealing the tiny curled-up monkey still clutching the rim like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
“Come here, Lu,” Law said quietly, reaching in.
She stirred faintly but didn’t resist as he lifted her. She fit in his hands like something impossibly small, impossibly breakable.
With fingers steadier than they should’ve been, Law folded the worn cloth into the inside of the straw hat, tucking it in like a makeshift nest. A little piece of his past, offered to cushion someone else’s pain and maybe, just maybe, ease the tight pull in his own chest.
Then he lowered her back in, letting her settle into the softness.
“There,” he murmured, adjusting the edges of the hat around her. “Now it’s a little softer.”
She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but her trembling eased the slightest bit. Her tail flicked. Then, unexpectedly, it curled gently around his wrist, a soft, tentative gesture, before letting go again.
Law froze.
For a moment, the sensation lingered and something unexpected stirred in him. A small smile crept onto his face, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
The other three boys bit their lips, not daring to say a word. If they did, they’d get one of his usual angry outbursts and they didn’t want Lu to think it was because of her.
Law straightened slowly, stepping back.
And for a brief second, his gaze lingered on her, as if trying to commit to memory the feeling of being appreciated, being needed. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to face, but perhaps, already had.
Later that night, the ship was quiet.
Most of the crew had gone to sleep, lights dimmed, the hum of the ocean against the hull a steady rhythm in the dark. Law stood just outside his quarters, straw hat in one hand, the tiny curled-up monkey nestled inside.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. The room was plain, meticulously clean. A narrow bed, a desk covered in charts and half-sorted notes, a coat hung on the wall.
With a soft breath, Law set the straw hat down on the bed and sat beside it.
“I figured out what you are, Lu,” he said quietly, like he didn’t want to wake the ship itself. “You’re a black-headed squirrel monkey. The size, the tail, the ridiculous energy—it all fits. Though honestly, the picture in the book doesn’t do you justice.”
A small flick of her ear told him she was listening.
“And when we reach the next island,” he added, tugging off his boots, “we’ll get some seeds. Nuts. Maybe fruit. So you can stop stealing from my plate.”
His tone was dry, but not unkind.
Luffy peeked up at him, just for a moment, then gave a small, warm smile.
Something warm and unexpectedly soft stirred in Law’s chest at the sight. It was, in his opinion, incredibly adorable.
Then, slowly, she stretched out her tiny hands toward him, palms up, fingers splayed slightly. A silent request.
Law blinked, confused. “…What?”
He stared at her hands, at her wide, expectant eyes. He didn’t move. He didn’t know how to move.
Whatever she’d been hoping for, comfort, maybe, or just a hand to hold, she didn’t get it.
And it showed.
Luffy’s face fell. Not dramatically, but enough. Her arms lowered. She pulled back.
Visibly dejected, she turned away and burrowed into the blanket, wrapping herself tight in its folds until only the faint curve of her back remained visible.
He watched in silence as she nestled against the old fabric, Corazon’s blanket, now offering comfort to someone else. The way she curled in on herself stirred something deeper in him. Something he wasn’t sure he had the words for.
He stood again, shrugged off his jacket, then paused and looked down at her.
“If anything happens tonight,” he said, “wake me up. Don’t just sit there and take it. I know what it’s like, being alone.”
He didn’t expect an answer and didn’t get one.
Still, when he lay back, he left one hand close to the rim of the straw hat. Just in case.
The next morning, the sun hadn’t yet broken through the ship’s portholes. The cabin was grey-blue with early light. Law stirred.
His first thought was that something felt different. Warmer.
He opened his eyes.
There, curled up directly on his chest, her head nestled against the crook of his neck, was the tiny monkey.
Her tail was wrapped around one of his wrists and her small arms, extended with her weird rubber power, had stretched up and over his shoulders, paws gripping the fabric like she was holding him in place. Like if she didn’t, he might vanish.
She was fast asleep. Her breathing slow and even, her fur rising and falling with each breath, twitching slightly from whatever dreams stirred behind closed eyes.
Law didn’t move.
“…You’re lucky I’m not a violent sleeper, Lu,” he muttered, voice dry but low enough not to wake her.
He tilted his head slightly, enough to feel the warmth of her tiny cheek against the curve of his neck. The weight was barely there, she couldn’t have weighed more than one of his books but the way she clung to him like a lifeline made his chest ache more than he was ready to admit.
His hand twitched. Don’t do it, Trafalgar. She's not a pet!
She sighed softly in her sleep, one hand gripping tighter as if sensing the thought.
He exhaled through his nose. Slowly.
Then, reluctantly, almost against his will, he lifted his free hand, brought it up to gently stroke her fur, just once, along the back of her head.
She didn’t wake. Instead, her grip tightened slightly. Her face nuzzled a fraction closer into the warmth of his throat.
Law stilled, heartbeat oddly loud in his ears. He let his hand rest lightly against her back, fingers splayed across the soft, impossibly small frame clinging to him. This tiny monkey who wasn’t really a monkey, had been alone out on the sea with nothing but a beat-up bag, a hat far too big for her and a grief that looked too heavy for someone ten times her size.
His eyes drifted down, catching the faint glint of the metal tag attached to the collar around her neck.
'Ace' was scratched out with a deep line. Not just erased, violently removed. Someone had carved through the metal with enough force to leave a scar.
Law stared at it for a long time.
The name 'Shanks' meant something. He was gaining notoriety fast. A powerful pirate making waves in the New World. A red-haired man with a reputation for doing the unexpected.
But 'Sabo'… that was a name Law didn’t recognize at all. No bounty posters, no newspaper articles, no chatter on the seas. Just a name etched into a child’s collar.
Law’s throat tightened. He dragged his eyes away from the tag and looked back at her. His chest ached.
She wasn’t just a castaway or a Devil Fruit oddity. She hopefully was someone’s everything. Or had been.
Still tucked into his neck, arms around his shoulders like she was anchoring herself to something solid in a world that had turned to water beneath her feet, buried against his throat like it was the only safe place left in the world.
What was the connection? What kind of life had she lived before drifting into their care, half-feral and entirely alone?
“…Who the hell are you, Lu?” he whispered, so quiet it barely left his lips. “And what did they leave behind?”
But there was no answer.
Just the soft warmth of her breath against his skin… and the weight of a story she hadn’t told yet.
Over three months passed since Luffy vanished.
The days bled together and Ace sat where the fire used to be, knees drawn to his chest, hands caked with old ash. The clearing looked the same, but everything felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet. Like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for a laugh that would never come.
He looked at the blackened ring of stones, trying to remember how it felt when she sat too close to the flames. When Sabo would groan and tug her back and she'd stick her tongue out before curling up by Ace’s side, tail flicking, smiling like there was nothing safer in the world.
She used to sit on his shoulder, gripping his shirt like it was hers. Sometimes she’d tug on his ear until he looked up, just so she could beam down at him with those wide, shiny eyes and say he was the coolest person alive.
She really believed it. She was the only one who ever looked at him like that. When she was especially brave, she gave him a peck and said, "Love you, Ace!"
And he told her to go. No, worse. He told her she didn’t belong. His fingers curled into fists, shaking.
She cried when Sabo died. Sobbed until she could barely breathe. And what did he do? He yelled at her. Told her to shut up. Told her that Sabo never would’ve wanted her anyway. Then he hit her.
He hit her for crying. His breath caught in his throat.
She looked so small that night. She didn’t even argue. Didn’t scream or fight back. She just looked at him… quiet. Like something in her had gone cold. Like she'd finally understood.
His voice cracked as he muttered into the dirt.
“I chased her away.”
He had searched every inch of the island. Twice. Climbed every tree, screamed her name until his lungs gave out. No tracks. No scent. Not a single sign of her. Not even a hint of fur.
She was gone. And she hadn’t looked back.
When Gramps came, the storm broke loose.
The old man didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to.
“You were supposed to look after her!”
Ace didn’t fight back. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even raise his arms.
Because Garp was right. When the barrage finally stopped, Ace was on his knees in the dirt, blood in his mouth and silence in his lungs.
He looked up at Garp, hollow-eyed and said only:
“She’s gone. I'm sorry, but I lost her.”
Garp didn’t say a word. He stared at Ace for a long time, then turned and walked away without another word.
Now, every night, Ace sat by the fire that wouldn’t light, the ashes colder than his bones.
He didn’t sleep anymore. Not really. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Sabo’s smile. Luffy’s tears. And the last time he saw her face—not angry, not screaming, not even sad.
Just… blank. Like she finally realised she wasn’t wanted. He buried his face in his hands.
Gods… what have I done?
And when it did, it dragged him into dreams soaked in guilt.
Luffy’s tear-streaked face, begging him not to fight. Sabo’s voice in his ear, calm and tired: “She looks up to you, you know.”
And then, his own words, like knives: “I NEVER WANTED A SISTER!”
He dug his nails into his scalp, gasping. What had he done?
He had nothing left. Not Sabo. Not her. Not even the strength to lie to himself anymore.
“I lost her…”
He dug his hands into the soil like he could hold the world together if he just gripped hard enough.
“She loved you, Sabo… more than anything. And I—You died and she cried—and I hit her for it.”
The words stuck in his throat.
She always smiled. Even when she was hungry. Even when he was cruel. She was always smiling. She trusted him. She looked up to him like he was worth something. And now she was out there. Somewhere far away. Alone. Probably hungry.
“She thought I was someone worth loving…” His voice broke. “And I broke her.”
He lowered his head to the ground and stayed there, waiting for the guilt to bury him.
“She was just a little kid… just a stupid little monkey…”
His fists slammed into the ground, again and again, until his knuckles bled.
“And I chased her away.”
The jungle watched in silence as Portgas D. Ace, the wild boy of the Gray Terminal, the one who never cried, buried his face in his hands and wept for the family he had destroyed.