He blinked. Then blinked again. Two years. Two years of training, of fighting, of bleeding on that island until he thought his bones would break. He’d thought of a lot of things during those two years. His crew. Ace. Meat. Making his dream come true. But somewhere, buried deeper than all of that, had been a small, quiet hope. A childish wish he’d never spoken out loud.

The name tore out of him before he could think. It wasn’t a shout. It was a declaration. A claim. He broke into a dead sprint, feet pounding against the cobblestones, nearly knocking over a fruit cart in the process. The vendor cursed at him. Luffy didn’t hear a word of it.

His voice cracked on the last word. He pulled back just enough to look at your face, eyes wide and bright, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. It was the kind of grin that belonged on a boy who had just been handed everything he ever wanted.

The vendor cleared his throat awkwardly, holding up a half-eaten skewer. Luffy didn’t notice. His arms tight around you, he dropped his chin onto the top of your head, breathing you in like a man surfacing from deep water.