The sun had barely begun to crawl over the horizon when the first explosion rocked the small backyard of the Monkey estate. It wasn't a villain attack or a gas leak, it was just Ace waking up. At ten years old, Portgas D. Ace was a walking furnace, and his morning routine involved venting enough heat to singe the grass to a crisp.
Luffy was still face-down in his pillow when a scorching heat prickled the back of his neck. He didn't move, even as the smell of burnt cotton filled the room. Being made of rubber had its perks, but heat was the one thing that made him feel like he was melting into the floorboards.
"Get up, Luffy," Ace said, his voice already sharp with that restless energy he carried. "Grandpa left for the Ministry an hour ago. He said if we aren't at the docks by sunrise, he's doubling the weights."
Luffy groaned, his body stretching out like an accordion as he pushed himself upright. His limbs felt heavy and loose, a side effect of a late-night raid on the refrigerator. "Meat," he mumbled, his eyes still half-closed. "Is there any left?"
"You ate it all, you bottomless pit," Ace replied, tossing a crumpled shirt at Luffy's head.
Ace was different lately. Ever since he had started middle school, the air around him seemed to hum with a quiet, simmering frustration. In a world where quirks were everything, Ace had one of the most prestigious types in Japan. A high-output elemental emitter. The teachers loved him, the scouts were already watching him, and the pressure of being Garp's grandson was starting to manifest as a permanent scowl.
Luffy, on the other hand, just wanted to see how far he could shove his finger up his nose.
The walk to the Shizuoka docks was a ritual. They moved through the quiet morning streets, Ace walking with a disciplined stride while Luffy tumbled along behind him. Luffy didn't just walk, he bounced. Every step was a spring, his rubber legs absorbing the impact of the pavement and sending him three feet into the air with every stride.
"Stop doing that," Ace muttered, not looking back. "You look like a toy."
"But it's faster!" Luffy chirped, landing a particularly high jump and nearly toppling into a trash can. "And it feels funny."
"Being a hero isn't about feeling funny, Luffy. It's about being the strongest. If you keep acting like a clown, the Ministry won't even let you take the entrance exams."
Luffy stopped bouncing for a second, his wide eyes settling on Ace's back. He could see the faint wisps of smoke rising from Ace's shoulders. "I'm gonna be strong, Ace. I wanna be the most free hero in the world! That's what All Might does, right? He smiles because he's free."
Ace stopped in his tracks. He turned around, his eyes flashing with a sudden, intense heat. "All Might smiles because he's the best. There's a difference. If you aren't at the top, you aren't free. You're just a target."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of the distant waves hitting the pier. Luffy didn't quite understand what Ace was so angry about, but he knew when his brother was in one of those moods. He just smiled, a simple, uncomplicated expression that seemed to frustrate Ace even more.
When they reached the docks, Garp was already there, standing atop a stack of shipping containers with his arms crossed over his massive chest. He looked like a statue carved from granite, weathered by decades of service and a thousand battles.
"You're late!" Garp roared, the sound echoing off the metal hulls of the nearby ships. "Ten laps around the harbor! Now! And Luffy, if I see you using your quirk to skip the corners, I'm throwing you into the wake of that tanker!"
The training was brutal. It was the kind of conditioning that the Hero Ministry usually reserved for Special Forces, but Garp didn't care about regulations when it came to his family. He pushed them until their lungs burned and their muscles screamed.
For Ace, it was about refinement. He practiced his bursts, learning to control the temperature so he wouldn't burn through his own clothes. For Luffy, it was about survival. He was the sandbag. Garp would throw heavy, rubberized balls at him from fifty yards away, forcing Luffy to learn how to twist his body to deflect the impact.
"Again!" Garp yelled, launching a projectile that looked like it could dent a tank.
Luffy tried to plant his feet, winding his torso up like a spring. He caught the ball in his stomach, his midsection sinking in deep, stretching back toward his spine before the rubber tension snapped. The ball flew back at Garp, who caught it with one hand without blinking.
"Better," Garp grunted. "But you're still slow. You're thinking too much about the stretch and not enough about the snap. Rubber is only dangerous when it wants to go back to being straight, Luffy. Remember that."
As the afternoon heat began to settle over the harbor, Garp called for a break. He sat down on a concrete pylon, tearing into a loaf of bread, while the two boys collapsed in the shade of a crane.
Luffy was staring at his arms, which were covered in red friction burns. He didn't mind the pain, but he was frustrated. He felt like he was made of wet noodles while Ace was made of dynamite.
"Hey, Ace," Luffy said, looking over at his brother. Ace was staring out at the ocean, his face unreadable. "When you become a Pro, are you gonna wear a cape?"
Ace snorted, a small puff of flame escaping his nostrils. "Capes are for show. I want something practical. Something that doesn't catch fire every time I use my quirk."
"I think you should have a hat," Luffy said, nodding to himself. "A cool one. So people know it's you from far away."
Ace finally looked at him, his expression softening just a fraction. He reached into his bag and pulled out a battered, sweat-stained straw hat. It was the one he'd been wearing since he started training, a cheap thing he'd picked up at a seaside stall, but he treated it like it was made of gold.
"Maybe," Ace said, turning the hat over in his hands. "But a hero needs more than a hat, Luffy. They need a reputation. They need people to look at them and feel like the world is finally right."
"That's what I'm gonna do," Luffy said confidently, stretching his mouth into a grin that shouldn't have been physically possible. "I'm gonna make everyone feel like they can do anything."
Ace looked at his little brother, at the absurd, rubbery kid who didn't have a cynical bone in his body. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of protectiveness, followed by a wave of exhaustion. He knew what the world did to people like Luffy. He knew how the Ministry looked at "unconventional" quirks and how the public turned on heroes who didn't fit the mold.
He stood up, shoving the straw hat onto Luffy's head, pulling it down until it covered the boy's eyes.
"Then you better start by not getting hit by Grandpa's next throw," Ace said, his voice returning to its usual rough edge. "Because if you can't even handle a ball, you're never going to handle the world."
Luffy pushed the hat up, his eyes sparkling. He didn't see the worry in Ace's face. He only saw the challenge. He scrambled to his feet, the straw hat dangling from his neck by its string, and turned back toward Garp.
The training continued until the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the docks in a purple twilight. They walked home in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic thud of Garp's boots and the soft, elastic squeak of Luffy's footsteps.