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When Dragon first held The Boy in his hands, his hands held firmly onto the little body. He was still red, still young and crying. His small fingers were no bigger than a centimeter, and somehow they wrapped around his pinky with great strength.
He had little nails, so small not even a grain of rice would fit atop of them. An abundance of hair was stuck to his head, black and curled. His eyes closed, unaware of anything he saw. His cry repeated in the dragon's head like a melody, closer to a laugh. It was the prettiest thing he had heard in a long while.
The Boy was too small to do anything, to even remember. He couldn’t comprehend the cruel world he had been born into, the evils that oppressed many, the dictators, abusers, any of them.
Or maybe he did. Maybe the true reason baby’s cried when they were born was because they had entered a world where justice had been converted into a word that meant only some people were equal. Only some people mattered. And none of those people considered, would ever be The Boy.
But just like they cried, they would learn to smile, to laugh. Because challenging those evils, was the good in everyday life.
That’s what Dragon worked hard for. Somewhere deep within his heart, he hated himself for getting too comfortable, for bringing a baby into a world like this. Bringing The Boy into danger just by being his father. But the hate would never solidify, and he would never regret it. He would never regret bringing him into the world, because he meant all of it to Dragon.
His frail body, his little heart and it’s heartbeat that he could feel in his hands. He would make this world better, for The Boy, and for everyone else in the world who was born under the sun.
And to achieve this, to let The Boy have a somewhat normal life, Dragon knew better than to keep him by his side.
He held The Boy close to his chest, letting their hearts synchronize for the short time he could have him.
His blanket was a sun colored yellow, wrapping and contrasting against his soft tan skin. This could very well be…the last time Dragon ever held him.
Dragon waited silently next to the beach. The sun looked beautiful, painting the sky hues of pinks and oranges. The Boy was born at the break of dawn, it seemed the moment he had come out, his cries had persuaded the Sun into looking at him.
As the sun rose, footsteps could be heard against the sand. After years of hearing them, and running away and towards them, all cases with different ranges of emotions, Dragon could recognize them anywhere.
“Dragon.” His father’s authoritative voice sounded like how it had in their last few encounters, a stark difference from when he had been a kid. It sounded angry. It wasn’t the anger that accumulated or anything. Dragon had never fully understood it, but now he guessed it felt a lot like the anger he felt because of The Boy. Not for The boy him.
He stood up, slowly and carefully. The boy had quieted by now, and instead was quietly holding onto the pinky offered to him.
Dragon turned slowly, like any harsh movement would disturb the balance of the universe.
His fathers face was not angry, but serious. It looked older than the one that had once laughed with his son, it was tired, but it held the silliness of the man he was. He looked at Dragon, as if analyzing what had changed, if anything at all. He always held that hope deep within his heart, but part of him didn’t truly mean it.
He hadn’t (sort of) raised him to have fickle beliefs. But he caught onto something, Dragon didn’t know what, but could probably imagine it. The change of a warmness and new instinct. A care for something too fragile to even withstand its own head.
He looked down at his arms which held the world, a threat to peace, a threat to the gods themselves. He didn’t have to ask who’s baby that was, the change within his son's own essence was enough to clue in the pieces. He has likely seen the same change within himself a long time ago, when things didn’t seem so big, when life was slightly simpler. At least in their rose colored world they themselves shared for barely over a decade.
A father and son's world. The change a son brought into their father was something only another father could understand.
“He was born today, he’s not even an hour old.” He said, moving the hand The Boy was holding onto and using the unoccupied fingers to caress his cheek.
He reluctantly pulled his hand away, something within him tensing as The Boy’s grip tightened and resisted. But alas, the battle was a win for Dragon.
He moved his hands, disconnecting the boy from the safety of his cradled body against his chest. He could no longer feel their synchronized hearts. Slowly, he was ripping their souls from one another.
“He can’t be with me. It’s not safe.” Dragon said, moving to hand the sacred life that fit in his hands, away to someone who could better ensure The Boys safety.
Garp clearly had questions, but he waited silently, hands extended out to take The Boy.
Then, as if to beg for something, to look and tell him something, The Boy’s eyes opened. His small irises looked into Dragon's own.
They were brown, soft, and glowing in the light of the sun. Perhaps he had imagined it, but a small smile graced his lips. He looked at him like he knew something, like he understood.
Dragon felt his arms falter. They burned with a warmth he had never felt before until now. They burned where they had touched The Boy. They yelled for him to take him back, but his chest, which once beat in the same rhythm, knew better. His heart, which felt like it had grown three sizes since he held The Boy, knew better.
His father moved his own hands to meet his, gently waiting for Dragon to move The Boy. He knew, too, what was going through his mind.
Dragon breathed out, letting The Boy slip into his grandfather's care, not once breaking eye contact. Even as he lost the warm touch, his soul had been forever changed, and forever tied, drawn, to the magnet that was his son.
It was silent, the sky was already blue, but it felt like no time had passed at all.
“What’s the boy's name?” Garp asked, looking down, soft eyes at his grandson.
Dragon hadn’t let himself utter the name since he had been born, he didn’t want to. He was afraid that somehow, it would make it all harder than it already was.
“Monkey D. Luffy.” Dragon let the words out like a promise. The sound was carried by the gentleness of the wind, and warmed by the rays of the sun.
Dragon allowed himself one last moment of indulgence. He leaned down, kissing the forehead of his son, Luffy. He let the touch ingrave itself into his mind, and with that, he lingered only for a second, before pulling away forever.
“Take care of him, please.” He let his heart talk. His father looked at him with knowing in his eyes. He understood.
“I will, son.” They hadn’t had conversations using any of these words for decades. But it made Dragon reassured. It was a conversation not between Dragon and Garp, but between father and son.
With that, Dragon let himself walk away from the beach. The waves pulled back, the waves tried pulling his heart back to his son.
He looked for the last time at the sky, the sun beamed brightly, higher and bigger than it usually seemed. The sky was full of blue, and promise for opportunity in this new day, May 5th.
𖤓
A year later, on that exact day, Dragon woke with a beating in his chest that was louder than any other day.
‘At one year old, baby’s should be expected to begin walking, and speaking.’
Dragon had learned this a few months ago, as he read the morning paper. He didn’t know why he read the new section added to help mothers with their kids, but he did.
‘Remember, not all kids learn at the same time, it’s okay if your child is behind on these, but do prepare for them to start showing signs of this soon.”
He allowed himself to wonder at what stage his son was at. Was he walking? What were his first words? What was he like? Were his fingers still too small to wrap around his pinky fully? Was his skin tanner? Was it still smooth?
These questions subconsciously presented themselves everyday, and he never dared to think too deeply into them. But today, on May 5th, he allowed them.
A month and ten days after his son's birth, he had read in the newspaper a section about Father’s Day.
‘A great gift for a father would be, Sunflowers! Not only known for their beauty, but as a great symbol of gratitude, and happiness! Call them…Sonflowers!’
He thought of his son, his sun. The sun that day, rising to sneak a peek at his boy. The warmness of his small body. The sun kissed skin, he thought about flowers.
The sun was brighter than usual. It was May after all, the month when spring began. Flowers bloomed, symbolizing new beginnings. The daylight became longer, and things became easier, sheltering us from the harsh winters.
It seemed, when you loved something, you found meaning in every detail presented. Taking it like the truth.
Dragon let himself pretend, that by his leg, the weight was not of his tired and strained muscles, but of a boy, sitting on it and looking up at his father with admiration and love.
‘He understood.’ He had thought to himself when his son's eyes opened, to look just at him. It was a silly thought. To want forgiveness from him so badly, as to think of something like that. But perhaps, his son did understand. Perhaps, they looked up at the same sun on this day, and thought of synchronized beating hearts, and sunflowers.
𖤓
Ten years after the first May 5th that ever truly mattered, Dragon stood by the deck, looking towards the East Blue. He did this quite often, whenever he needed time. Or whenever his heart beat a little too familiarly to the first May 5th he had with Luffy.
He hadn’t realized fully what he had been doing, until Ivankov had pointed it out. Somewhere deep within his heart, he had understood, but only now had he truly processed it through words.
Today, just like he had done everyday since Luffy’s first birthday, he watered the sunflower they kept on the ship. He had brought it out today, when he knew it was calm and danger free, to let it face the sun.
Ironically, the sunflower also faced the east. The sun rises from that direction, so naturally, at this early hour, that’s where it turned to.
This flower was the biggest symbol of his care he had allowed himself, since he held Luffy for the first and last time. Ivankov, among others, had asked him why he cared about this plant so much. He never answered them, but they all knew better than to let any damage come to it. Perhaps they had taken it as strange liking he had. Since he had shown his care for it, sunflower things had started to appear in his office.
“What’s this?” He had asked Koala once, when she had given him a pen, which had a sparkly sunflower keychain attached to the end.
She wasn’t the first. Sabo had brought a pin of a sunflower once, leaving it atop his turned in paperwork. Ivankov gifted him a paperweight, which contrasted with everything else on his desk. Even Kuma, had gifted him a wooden bookmark with a sunflower carved onto it with incredible craftsmanship.
Koala shrugged, and left. Dragon placed it in his drawer, next to every other sunflower gift, next to the letter. The letter was old now, but he had gotten it five years after Luffy’s birth.
‘Luffy is five now, he’s well. I came to visit him recently. I left him in good hands. You know Makino is kind, she has taught him well, but I have to admit, he’s a troublemaker just like you were.’
The paper was yellowed, and fraying by the edges. Between the folded paper was something Dragon only pulled out when his heart ached so much not even the rays of sun could calm it down.
‘He asked me what I was doing when I was writing this, I told him it was nothing special. Your son pressed his ink smudged hand all over this paper.’
Taking up over half the page, black ink was pressed and smudged, but on the bottom right, a small hand was perfectly printed on. Under it, stubby fingers had written the most important name, ‘Luffy’.
He placed his hands above it, noting the difference in sizes. Those hands had once been small enough to barely hold onto his pinky, and ten years later, he wondered how big they were.
He knew his father had sent this to him with the intention of him keeping it. He understood.
Today, Luffy, his son, turned ten.
𖤓
Dragon had given in. He couldn’t resist it. On Luffy’s fifteen birthday, he allowed himself to stop by Goa Kingdom. He stood far away, and allowed his eyes to imagine.
To imagine his son. Bigger, stronger, and brighter. The anger he had felt all those years ago had completely disappeared long ago, and was now overtaken by a yearn to hold his hand.
He had told himself he wouldn’t go closer. He was already pushing it.
He didn’t see him, he didn’t even know what part of the kingdom he was in. He knew small details, but it was outdated by now. But Dragon felt it in his bones, his heart, that he was here.
He wasn’t going to look, but allowed himself to hope from where he stood by the secluded shore.
He held the letter inside his shirt pocket, and it beat at the same rhythm his heart did. The sunflower seemed to have lost it’s path from the sun in the sky, and downed a bigger force within the corvo mountains of Goa Kingdom.
He wondered if he took the plant into the forest, if it would lead to a sun kissed boy, with soft unruly hair, and brown eyes.
He only allowed himself ten minutes, as the sunset rised, and as the sky changed from pink and orange hues, to solid blues, he retreated back. Sailing away from a home that didn’t even know his name.
𖤓
The longer time passed, the harder it became. The more he allowed himself, the greedier he became. But the more he understood by the day, that it was not safe.
He hoped Luffy had found his own path, his own reason. He hoped, and somewhere deep down knew, that even if he didn’t consciously think of it, Luffy understood why.
It had been a year and a few months since he had first gone to Goa Kingdom to see his boy.
Today, he allowed himself something new, he followed the sunflowers direction, leaving it in the ship, and walking by its path as if it were a leyline.
He followed it with something deep within his heart. His beating heart. His hands burned, just like they had when he had held him underneath the sunrise.
Dragon had later learned sunrises only lasted about ten minutes, but somehow, that sunrise was longer.
He walked deeper into the jungle, his eyes being shown an abundance of plant life. He wondered if this jungle was where Luffy spent his time. If he spent the day climbing trees and eating fruits, or training. Perhaps he was more focused on studying, or cooking. Maybe he wanted to be a doctor, or a navigator. A historian, or an engineer. It could be he spent his days practicing a violin, or creating creative stories. Or practice some form of martial art, or swordsmanship. Dragon was sure, he had found his own path in this world.
After a few minutes of walking, rustling could be heard from ahead, and animals were moving away from the direction of the noise.
Dragon slowed, using the plants to hide. He moved closer carefully, and he felt his heart, almost as loud as he had felt it that May 5th. His eyes landed on tan skin, and spiky dark hair.
A straw hat, a little too familiar for Dragon, hung loosely from the neck, but it was clear it was going nowhere away from his boy.
His big round eyes were grinning, as he defeated an animal from the forest.
There was a scar under his right eye. It stretched when he allowed a big grin to fall onto his face. ‘Shishishi!’ He laughed, joycing at this victory. Behind the beast, there were dozens of others.
“Another win for me!” He laughed, letting himself fall back and bask in the sun of his victory.
Dragon let it all sink in. The voice of his boy, his height, his face, his laughter. He couldn’t believe he had gone so long without hearing, or seeing it.
He let it engrave into his mind. He looked at his boy's hands, they were much bigger now. They could definitely wrap around his pinky now.
Dragon allowed a smile to slip out, and for a moment, it was almost as if they were side by side, father and son, under the sun, without any worry of what it meant besides love. Without worry of what Dragons name could mean to Luffy’s wellbeing.
He left that day, with a new place in his heart, that would never be satisfied. It begged for his boy, that he loved so much.
𖤓
Kuma had mentioned how familiar he was with the Goa Kingdom.
“And I couldn’t help but notice you traveling to a little village at the end of a country, and watching a particular young lad.” He had added, looking curious and unknowing.
Dragon had never truly told anybody, he realized, not even his father. Those words, like many others relating to his lovely boy, stayed deep within his synchronized beating heart.
He reminded himself of the reason. With every thought of Luffy, a consequence for his love hammered itself deep within himself. If he says it, if he lets himself bask in it, then all these years could go to waste. He never knew who was watching, listening. He couldn’t consciously say it, but he wanted to.
He wanted to say,
‘My boy, my boy, my boy’ until he couldn’t anymore. Wanted to hold his son, from the first time, to every day after, until he was old and wrinkly.
Dragon was angry, not at his boy, never at him. But at everything else holding him back, and mostly, himself.
“Keep going, if you want to see me killed.” He answered. It was rougher than he wished, but it was needed.
“What do you mean?” Kuma questioned, staring at Dragon. He looked worried.
“Children are a vulnerability for any parent.” He let the wind carry it, allowing the sun to warm the words. Allowed the truth to fall into Kumas ears. For the first time.
Kuma looked shocked, pained. Dragon didn’t have to say anything else. It was the relationship between their parents and their children that let them understand. He understood.
“Pardon me, I’ll forget everything I saw.” Kuma looked thoughtful, but Dragon trusted him.
From afar, his boy talked.
“That's going to be a special attack!” Luffy beamed, looking at his stretchy limbs. He moved them around with ease.
“I’ll use it when I'm against real tough enemies!” He assured, talking to no one in particular.
“Once I’m a pirate, I’ll be finding new crewmates, see?!” For a moment Dragon imagined he was talking to him. He was glad Luffy had found his purpose.
𖤓
One day, Dragon had found his son where he least expected. He had grown used to only seeing him if he went to look. He didn’t even have pictures of him, the only way to calm his urge was to sail to Goa Kingdom, and watch from miles away.
But it slipped from the newspaper.
“WANTED! Dead or alive, Monkey D. Luffy!” The wanted poster landed on the coffee table. With it, a picture of his boy. He grinned from ear to ear, scar curled, and eyes closed.
His hand was by his face, it was the happiest wanted poster he had ever seen.
Dragon let go of the newspaper, slowly taking the wanted poster into his hands. He traced the edge with his pinky, taking it all in. His hand up against his boy's own wasn’t an accurate representation of it’s true size, but he let himself imagine anyway. It was still smaller than his own.
He had defeated Arlong. He had a 30 million bounty as his first, as a rookie pirate.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have been surprised, of course Luffy was strong, of course he was liberating small towns, doing what was right, following his dreams.
Dragon smiled, grabbing the picture, and placing it on his desk. Later, it would be next to Garps letter, but for now, he allowed himself to stare at it with pride deep in his heart.
𖤓
He didn’t even think twice when he saw Buggy attempt to execute Luffy. The lightning wasn’t ordered, but a will from his heart. Luffy got up like it was nothing, grinning from ear to ear, laughing and running away with a group of boys.
‘That must be part of his crew.” Dragon let their faces etch into his memories. ‘Good, they look strong’ Dragon though.
When Smoker took Luffy, shoving his head onto the ground, Dragon allowed himself the riskiest thing he had allowed himself with Luffy.
He laid his hand on Smokers weapon. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Smoked was in front of him, but Dragons eyes were staring at Luffy’s back. He hadn’t been this close since he first held him.
“What? Who is that?” Luffy called, but his head stayed pressed against the ground.
“The government wants your head!” Sommer said.
“The world is waiting for our answer.” Dragons mouth moved into a grin. The rain poured harshly, and the thunder crackled. His heart beat too loud, he wondered if Luffy could hear it. Wondered if Luffy’s beat the same.
He willed the wind to take him away. Just like when it carried his words to his son, it carried Luffy away.
He had saved his son. His journey did not end yet, he couldn’t let Smoker do that.
Luffy, born out of two hearts who desired freedom, liberation, and were full of love, was the embodiment of all those things. Dragon knew, he understood, that only this way could Luffy become the best version of himself.
It didn’t take long for his son to slingshot himself and his friends away from Logue Town and onto their ship.
“If that is your decision, then go!” Dragon, said the loudest words he had ever let himself direct to Luffy. The loudest he had ever let the world hear him.
“Why?” Smoker yelled from the ground, looking up at him. “Why would you help that man, Dragon?”
Man. Luffy was now a man. The baby he had held in his arms, the boy whose small hands were pressed with ink, the boy who’s sunflower led him to. The boy was now a man. Dragon had missed so much. He missed him so much.
“What reason would there be to interfere with a man’s departure?”
He understood, the sun rose for him, the sunflowers sought him out, the air carried him, everything changed once he was born. The world changed for him, and he would change it back.
The world was kind to Luffy, because the current world was cruel. The world was kind to Luffy, to ask him, to help them. To be a liberator of freedom.
He understood.