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Grief has never been loud, not in the way that Ace was. It has always been a quiet force in Luffy’s life – sneaking its way into his chest at 3 a.m. while his crewmates sleep and whispering into his ears until breathing feels too difficult and the tears won’t stop falling.
Luffy can’t help but draw comparisons, even if better judgement tells him it won’t do him any good. He can rationalise it and analyse it as much as he can handle, but at the end of the day it still won’t make any sense to him, and Ace will still be dead. No amount of torturing himself will undo the inevitable. No amount of agony will stitch his brother’s chest back together and breathe life into dead lungs. He does it anyway, powerless to stop the compulsions when the grief is at its strongest.
Grief is quiet and nasty – leaves him feeling nauseous. Ace was bright and brave and made him want to be better. Made him want to be someone. A pirate known across the lands. Someone kind. Someone who fights for others. Someone strong and brave.
Grief makes him want to lie down in his bed until it goes away.
It’s not always at its worst, though, not like it was for a while straight after Ace’s death. He spent days at a time numb, forcing himself to do even the basics. Without his crewmates, he had been lost for too long.
A lot of the time now he isn’t really aware of it. It’s still there, settled into his chest like a lead weight he just can’t shake off. The same denseness and overwhelming fatigue that overtakes him when the sea touches his body. It’s not all-consuming though. It’s just there. Like a spider in the corner of the room, or a funky smell in the bedroom. Most of the time it’s simply a part of who he is.
On days like today though? It’s all he can think about.
Luffy drags himself out of bed, but he only manages four of Sanji’s pancake stacks loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and syrup, rather than his usual six. He sits on the deck of the Sunny, rather than on the figurehead. He only manages three pastries and six chicken skewers for his snack, and he doesn’t even bother to try and steal any from Sanji while he is preparing them.
It’s a miracle the rest of his crew aren’t staging an intervention.
Luffy isn’t even aware of what set it off today; he hadn’t really thought about Ace for weeks – having been too absorbed in fighting and exploring and fighting some more. It’s been almost three years since Ace died; why was it so hard now?
And that’s when Luffy understands.
Ace was 20 when he died. A few months away from turning 21.
Luffy’s twenty-first birthday will be in a few weeks.
He is older now than Ace ever got to be.
The realisation hits like a punch to the gut. It knocks the air out of him, a lump builds in his throat, and his lungs burn as he struggles to take a breath in.
It’s not fair, Luffy wants to scream, what did you do to deserve this? Why you?
But he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t even move. His eyes focus on the horizon, watching the line where the sky meets the sea until his eyes water and fill with tears. And then he keeps watching until the tears spill over and trickle down his cheeks.
Nobody notices, not because they don’t care but because Luffy doesn’t want them to. He has to be brave; he’s led them all this way. They’re closer than ever to finding the One Piece. There’s more at stake than ever before.
He wipes his tears.
Grief is the shadow under his bed at night, the threat of monsters and the illusion of safety. It’s the love he felt that has nowhere else to go now the person it was aimed at has gone. It’s anger at the world, at the injustice that means that Ace is forever 20 while Luffy is turning 21. No younger brother should outlive their older brother. It’s wrong; it doesn't align with Luffy’s worldview.
Ace had wanted an adventure.
Luffy had said, Have an adventure. Said I’ll see you soon. I’ll catch up to you one day.
And he did indeed catch up. But he didn’t want to catch up like this. Never like this.
He squeezes his eyes shut and chokes down a sob. Luffy doesn’t feel particularly old. He doesn’t feel like he had lived anywhere near enough to be happy with his life. Was this how Ace felt? Did Ace think he had lived enough life? Did Ace accept his fate with peace or reluctance?
Luffy is so lost in his own thoughts he almost misses someone sitting down next to him. Almost being the keyword. He swallows the lump in his throat and blinks the tears before plastering a grin on his face and turning to look at Robin as she curls her legs underneath her to join him sitting on the deck. She has a book clutched in one hand and a drink in the other, and a soft smile on her face. She’s wearing a long flowing skirt and a white tank top, with her long dark hair pinned back with a flowery clip.
“Mind if I join you, dear Captain?” She asks, ever so polite and calm.
Luffy doesn’t think he could talk right now, so he simply shakes his head, no I don’t mind, and returns his gaze to the horizon. He doesn’t really want the company, but it would be rude of him to turn it down. Robin has always had a comforting presence anyway; maybe she can help him banish the grief before it chokes him completely.
They sit in silence for a few moments; Luffy is aware of Robin opening her book as if she is reading, but she hasn’t flicked the page over once, so he would be willing to bet she is just pretending to read. She’s waiting for him to do something - Luffy isn’t sure what, though. Robin has always been one of the more perceptive members of his crew, a skill he has praised her for a million times, but he is agitated that she would use it against him.
It’s my demons, he wants to say, let me fight them alone.
But then, in a moment that threatens his entire worldview, a traitorous voice in his brain whispers back: what would you say if anyone else said that?
Luffy casts his mind back to the physical enemies he had thought for his nakama: the fishmen at Arlong Park for Nami, declaring war on the World Government for Robin, and just recently fighting the Big Mom pirates for Sanji. Every single time they had protested, and every single time Luffy had done it anyway. Not because they asked, but because he knew they needed the help to fight their past. Luffy hadn’t even hesitated before charging into battle.
What would they say if they knew how he was feeling? If they knew how he wanted to fight this alone? Luffy finds his gaze drifting over to Robin, who is sitting, looking at him with a knowing twinkle in her eye as if she can read his mind. And, maybe she can. Luffy would not be surprised.
Luffy shuffles, then turns around until he can flop backwards and rest his head on her thigh – straw hat removed and sat atop his chest to avoid poking Robin with it. Robin gives up the pretence and puts her book down, opting to card a hand through his hair in a very calming motion. Luffy relaxes at the sensation, stretching his legs out and wiggling his toes as he feels some of the tension evaporate out of him.
“What is troubling you, Luffy?” Robin asks after a few moments. She takes a sip from her drink immediately after. Luffy appreciates that she did not ask if he is okay. She knows something is wrong already. He does not feel any pressure to lie here, no pressure to act or be a certain way. All she wants is his honesty. It’s a small price for him to pay.
Still, Luffy finds himself stalling on what he could say to answer her. A cool breeze drifts over them both, and he suppresses a shiver. To talk about it in detail feels too personal to share right now, but a vague answer wouldn’t give enough context. Not without explaining. Luffy doesn’t even really know where he would start explaining anyway. It’s not like there’s a simple way to say all of this. Unless –
“I miss Ace.” He forces out, before the words can get caught and die and the lump in his throat grows too big for words to form around it.
Robin, to her credit, doesn’t seem at all fazed by this. She simply nods like she was expecting that answer, and maybe she was.
“It’s my birthday soon,” Luffy continues, “I’m going to be older than he ever got to be. Isn’t that strange?”
The tears start falling now, running down the side of his face and soaking into the fabric of Robin's skirt. Her hand never leaves his hair, but two more hands sprout out of the ground to wipe away the tears before any more can spill. Luffy turns his head slightly into the contact unconsciously.
“It certainly must feel strange,” Robin agrees, “But Ace would not want you to be sad over this; he would be so proud of the person you have grown into since you saw him last.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.” Luffy chokes out through another sob. More footsteps approach, and Luffy finds himself turning his head away from whoever the intruder is.
Zoro, unbothered by any of this, sits down with his back to the railing that Luffy had fixed his eyes on, watching the two of them with unrecognisable emotion in his eye. “It’s not supposed to be easy.” He supplies after a few seconds.
“Struggling with a loss like that just means that you loved that person very much,” Robin adds.
“Why does love make us sad? Who decided that was right?” Luffy pouts, petulant almost in his disdain for the emotion.
“Well,” Robin laughs softly but without even a hint of malice, “To cure us of our sorrow, Luffy, would be to change us completely. We are all who we are because of the sadness within our pasts. How do you think we found each other? How do you think you managed to persuade so many of us to stick around?”
The way Robin says it is not like their pasts make them broken or different, but like their pasts simply led them onto the path they are all on together. Luffy has never believed in fate, would change every single one of his crewmates' lives to make it happy and safe all throughout if he could, but then, he supposes, if he had that power, would any of them have joined him in the first place? Would any of them have even found each other? If even one thing had worked out differently, would they still all be here, today, with him?
The answer is probably not. The things they have all suffered in their pasts simply guided them onto the path they are on today. It shaped their dreams and their ambition, and their strengths and determination. It taught them that they can fight anything and come out stronger.
“It’s never going to be easy to miss someone who isn’t here anymore,” Nami says now from behind him. Luffy hears her sitting down a few feet behind him, close enough to be comforting, not close enough to be overbearing. “Not a day goes by where I don’t wish I could talk to Bellemère just one more time.”
“How do you cope?” Luffy asks, overwhelmed suddenly by the comfort his closest companions are showing. Grateful beyond belief that he is fortunate enough to have such a brilliant crew.
“I choose to think about the good times,” Nami says softly. Luffy can hear her twirling her clima-tact around as a nervous fidget, “Like, one time when it was a super hot day and we went shopping for groceries and Bellemère bought us ice cream, and we ate it sat by the sea. That was a nice memory – probably the last happy one I had for a while after.” Nami’s voice is tinged with sadness, but there’s something else too. This is no doubt a sad memory, but she’s had much more time to come to terms with it. The sadness is an afterthought rather than the central part. The happiness younger Nami must have felt at the time is shining through.
Maybe that’s what Luffy needs to do. Maybe he just needs to focus on the happy memories he was lucky enough to have beforehand.
“That reminds me of the time we ate nothing but bugs and lived in the trees for a full week,” Luffy laughs, “Dadan almost killed us for that, but it was worth it!”
Nami pulls a face of disgust, Robin chuckles lightly, and Zoro just shakes his head, closing his eye while he relaxes against the railing.
Sanji chooses this moment to open the door to the galley; he’s brandishing several trays in his arms.
“Oi,” Sanji shouts across the deck, “Marimo, give me a hand.”
“And why can’t anyone else do it?” Zoro fixes Sanji with a steely glare for interrupting his planned snooze. He does, however, get up without any more complaining and walk over to help. Luffy makes eye contact with Nami, who just snickers behind her hand at their antics.
Between Sanji and Zoro, they manage to drag six large trays over to the deck, each one loaded high with different foods for their lunch. It smells amazing; Luffy sits up eagerly with his straw hat placed atop his head again and finds himself drooling at the tower of cooked meat placed in front of him.
Lured over by the smell of Sanji’s incredible cooking, the rest of their crew appear slowly. Chopper is stretching out and straightening out the fur down one side of his body where it had been ruffled from his nap. Usopp makes a detour to the bathroom, probably to wash off whatever gross stuff he had on his hands before settling down between Chopper and Nami. Franky manages to slide in next to the tray of sandwiches and takes one. Jimbe sits down a little further to the back but still within talking distance. Brook sits down next to him.
“What’s with the lunch being outside today? Especially with a feast this size, yohohoho?” Brook questions while his skeletal fingers reach out to grab a chicken skewer.
Sanji glances over at Luffy, and Luffy understands then that this was a gesture of love from Sanji. A way to show he understood and cared, without forcing him to talk. Luffy’s heart grows impossibly warm in his chest.
“I thought a change might be nice,” Sanji answers, softly, pushing a hand through his blonde hair. A nervous habit that had only increased since their encounters with Germa 66 at Whole Cake Island. Luffy wishes more than ever that he could fight Judge for the evil he inflicted on the world around him.
“We were sharing some fun memories of people we’ve lost,” Nami says and watches as the expressions around the group set in a softer tone as the realisation of why things are different this time hits them fully. “Luffy was just telling us about some stuff he got up to with Ace as children.”
Luffy recognises the prompt to continue telling the story; there just isn't that much more to tell. He shrugs. “There’s not much more to it; we ate a whole bunch of bugs, and Dadan flipped out about it after. It was funny.”
Sanji shivers at the mention of bugs, his face turns a pale shade of white, and he puts the sandwich he had been about to take a bite out of down in favour of checking in on everyone else. Luffy makes a mental note to avoid mentioning bugs at meal times in the future. Or maybe just bugs full stop. He'll have to investigate that at some point, or ask Zoro. Zoro will know.
With a jolt, Luffy realises he hasn’t even eaten anything yet. Several others appeared to have picked up on it too – and he hurriedly fills his plate, stuffing a whole leg of chicken in his mouth too. He's incredibly hungry all of a sudden and finds himself shovelling stuff into his mouth. After this, everyone else seems to relax too.
“I had plenty of fun memories like that when I was with the Rumbar Pirates. Yohoho, the things we got up to.” Luffy smiles softly at Brook’s sharing. It’s not often Brook is willing to share about his pirate life before his death, and Luffy will lap up every morsel he can get eagerly.
“I really like these pastries,” Nami compliments Sanji, watching the way his face lights up as he blushes, “Where did you get the recipe from? I haven’t really seen anything like it before.”
Luffy hadn’t paid that much attention to them in his rushed eating, but they don’t seem that different from any other pastry. Chocolate and pastry and something sweet he couldn’t identify. Tasted nice but not as nice as the fish he’s currently munching on.
“Oh,” Sanji looks away, fingers fiddling with the handle on a mug of coffee awkwardly, “They’re a North Blue recipe. Something from the kingdom my mother grew up in. I only found out she was from there after she died, so I never found out if she liked them, but I like making them.”
“I’m sure she would have loved these ones,” Nami tells him honestly as she picks up a second one from the pile.
Luffy realises then, with his mouth full of fish and his legs aching from where they had been folded underneath him, that the insurmountable grief he had felt only a short while ago has tapered out. Not gone, not completely, but it had faded enough to be more manageable. His heart still aches, and his mind still craves what it knows it can never have, but he feels much more at peace than he has done all day. He is over the worst of this wave. What was once a nasty tangle of negativity ruining his insides has become nothing more than a murmur of discomfort.
“Thanks, guys,” He says around a mouthful of chicken. He doesn't feel the need to elaborate, but everyone seems to get the memo anyway. He lets the conversation flow around him as he finishes eating.
Luffy knows, realistically, that losing Ace will continue to hurt for a very long time. That there will be other milestones that Ace won’t be around for, other events that Luffy will find himself wishing he could tell his big brother about, times he will spin around with eyes searching for a tall dark haired figure before he remembers, and he knows it will hurt like it is fresh each and every time he forgets and remembers - like a vicious cycle he is trapped in until his brain decides it has had enough of torturing him.
But Luffy isn’t alone now, not like he was. He’s got a wonderful crew around him who all understand what it is like to lose someone, and who will be there to pick up the pieces every time he stumbles.
Luffy might be in incredible debt to Nami, but, looking around at his family eating lunch together, he feels like the richest man in the world.