Chapter 4: The Ghost in the Reflection
The departure of Ace didn't just leave the house in Shizuoka quieter; it made the very air feel thinner. For as long as Luffy could remember, his world had been defined by a constant, burning heat. It was the smell of ozone before a training match, the literal steam rising from the pavement when Ace got angry, and the steady, flickering presence of a brother who was always three steps ahead. Without that heat, the Monkey estate felt cold, even in the height of the humid Japanese summer.
Sora tried her best to keep the energy up. She cooked enough meat to feed a small army, her laughter still ringing through the kitchen, but even she found herself glancing at the empty seat at the table. Garp was rarely home now, his responsibilities at the association keeping him tethered to the capital as the government scrambled to respond to the shifting tides of the villain underworld.
Luffy was ten years old, and for the first time in his life, he was the only one left on the docks.
He stood at the edge of the pier, his toes curled over the weathered concrete. The straw hat was secured tightly under his chin by its string, the brim flapping in the salty wind. He stared down at his reflection in the water—a small, scrawny kid with a scar under his eye and limbs that looked far too long for his torso. He didn't see a hero. He saw a boy who had been left behind.
"Gomu Gomu no..."
He wound his arm back, his shoulder rotating like a ball joint. He pushed it further than he had during the morning session, feeling the rubber stretch past its comfortable limit. The skin thinned, turning a pale, translucent pink as the tension built.
"Pistol!"
He released the tension. His fist flew forward, but the moment it reached the apex of its stretch, it began to wobble. It lacked the piercing force of a bullet; it was more like a tossed beanbag. It slapped against a wooden pylon with a dull thud, leaving barely a mark.
Luffy pulled his arm back, his smile dimming slightly. It wasn't enough. He knew what the kids in Musutafu were like. He'd seen the clips of the UA Entrance Exams on the news—prodigies with quirks that could level city blocks. Compared to them, he was a gimmick. A rubber ball in a world of sharpened steel.
He sat down on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling over the water. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. It was a photo Ace had sent him a week after arriving at UA. It showed Ace in the standard grey uniform, standing in front of the massive 'UA' gates. He wasn't scowling in the photo; he looked calm, his hands in his pockets, a small, confident smirk on his face. Behind him, the school loomed like a fortress of the future.
Luffy traced the edge of the photo. "He looks so cool," he whispered.
He looked back at his own hands. They were covered in small scrapes and friction burns from his solo practice. He realized then that he couldn't train the way Garp had taught them. Garp's training was built for power—for people with quirks like Kinetic Accumulation or Fire. It was about hitting hard and moving fast.
But Luffy was made of rubber. If he tried to be a hammer, he would just bounce. He had to be something else.
He stood up, his eyes focusing on the pylon again. He didn't wind his arm back this time. Instead, he started to jump. He bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling the way the rubber in his legs compressed and released. He began to move in a circle, his rhythm increasing.
The idea came to him not from a textbook or a hero manual, but from watching the way the tide hit the rocks. The water didn't just hit; it flowed, it built pressure, and it found the gaps.
He threw another punch, but this time, he twisted his wrist at the last second. The rubber didn't just snap; it spiraled. The fist hit the wood with a sharp crack, a small splinter flying into the air.
Luffy stopped, his breath coming in short hitches. A tiny, wide-eyed grin began to spread across his face. "Again."
The months passed in a blur of salt spray and exhaustion. While Ace was busy navigating the hallowed halls of UA, learning from retired pros and sparring with the elite of the next generation, Luffy was becoming a ghost of the Shizuoka docks.
The local fishermen began to tell stories about the "Rubber Boy." They would see him at dawn, silhouetted against the rising sun, jumping from crane to crane with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for a kid his age. He wasn't just stretching anymore; he was flying. He would use his arms like grappling hooks, swinging through the industrial skeletal structures of the harbor, his body a blur of red and blue.
One evening, Garp returned home unexpectedly. He found Luffy in the backyard, suspended between two cherry blossom trees. Luffy had wrapped his legs around one trunk and his arms around the other, his entire body stretched taut like a massive bowstring.
"What in the hell are you doing, brat?" Garp asked, dropping his briefcase on the porch.
Luffy's face was beet-red, his teeth gritted. "Don't... talk... to me... right now!"
With a sudden, violent release, Luffy snapped. He didn't just fall; he projected himself forward with such velocity that he became a blur. He cleared the entire yard, flipped mid-air, and crashed through a stack of empty wooden crates with a thunderous explosion of splinters.
Garp stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide. He walked over to the wreckage, expecting to find a broken grandson. Instead, Luffy popped his head out from under a broken plank, his straw hat slightly lopsided, laughing hysterically.
"I did it! I went fast!"
Garp reached down and hauled Luffy out by his collar. He looked the boy over, noticing the lean muscle that was starting to cord around his frame. Luffy was still small, but the "floppiness" of his childhood was gone. He felt like a coiled spring.
"That was... reckless," Garp said, his voice unusually quiet. "But it was fast. Where did you learn to do that?"
"I thought about how a rubber band works," Luffy said, wiping a smudge of dirt from his nose. "If I just stretch, it's boring. But if I hold it and then let go, it goes zip!"
Garp felt a strange, unfamiliar pang of pride mixed with a deep, gnawing anxiety. He had seen thousands of heroes in his time at the Association. He had seen the way the "talented" ones burnt out or grew arrogant. But Luffy was building something different. He wasn't following a curriculum; he was discovering his own physics.
"Ace called today," Garp said, changing the subject as they walked toward the house.
Luffy's ears practically perked up. "What did he say? Did he fight a villain? Did he win?"
"He's in the top of his class for the first-year combat trials," Garp said, a small, proud grunt escaping him. "The teachers say his control is unlike anything they've seen. They say that the way he manipulates his fire is amazing. They're already talking about him as a 'Special Case' for the Hero Commissions."
Luffy's grin widened, but for the first time, it wasn't just a happy expression. There was a spark of something else in his eyes—a competitive fire that looked remarkably like the one Ace carried. "I'm gonna catch him. Tell him I'm gonna catch him."
"Tell him yourself," Garp said, ruffling the boy's hair so hard it nearly stretched his neck. "He's coming home for the winter break next month."
The day Ace returned was the coldest day of the year. A light dusting of snow had settled over Shizuoka, turning the grey docks into a landscape of white and steel. Luffy had been waiting at the station for three hours, refusing to sit on the heated benches, his hands tucked into his pockets as he vibrated with excitement.
When the train finally hissed to a halt, the crowd parted for a young man who moved with an effortless, predatory grace. Ace looked different. He was wearing a dark, high-collared jacket, and his hair was slightly longer, but it was the aura around him that had changed. He didn't look like a student anymore; he looked like a professional. The air around him seemed to shimmer, the falling snowflakes evaporating inches before they touched his skin.
Luffy didn't wait. He launched himself through the crowd, his legs stretching into long, thin stilts as he cleared a group of businessmen. "ACEEEE!"
Ace looked up just in time to see a red blur flying at him. In the old days, he would have braced for impact and grumbled about Luffy being a nuisance. This time, he didn't even move his feet. He simply stepped to the side with a fluid, liquid motion, his hand reaching out to catch Luffy by the back of his shirt mid-air.
Luffy dangled there, his legs still kicking. "Hey! You got faster!"
Ace set him down, a genuine, warm smile breaking through his professional mask. "And you got heavier. What has mom been feeding you? Bricks?"
"Meat!" Luffy shouted, grabbing Ace's arm. "Come on, let's go to the docks! I want to show you! I can do the thing! The zip thing!"
"Give me a second to breathe, Luffy," Ace laughed, but he let himself be dragged toward the harbor.
They reached the familiar sea wall as the sun began to set, casting long, purple shadows across the snow. The harbor was empty, the workers having headed home for the holiday. It was just the two of them, the fire and the rubber.
"Alright," Ace said, crossing his arms and leaning against a pylon. "Show me what you've been doing while I was away."
Luffy took a deep breath. He didn't look like the clumsy kid Ace had left behind. He centered himself, his feet gripping the concrete. He began to bounce—a fast, rhythmic vibration that seemed to hum in the cold air. Suddenly, he threw a punch.
"Gomu Gomu no... Pistol!"
The arm snapped forward. It didn't wobble. It hit the air with a literal crack, the force of the snap creating a small gust of wind that blew the snow off a nearby crate. It was a clean, linear strike that retracted almost faster than the eye could follow.
Ace's eyebrows shot up. "Not bad. Your retraction speed is way up. You aren't just letting it snap back; you're pulling it."
"That's not even the best part!" Luffy said, his eyes glowing. "Watch this!"
Luffy wound both arms behind him, twisting them around each other like a double-helix. He began to run toward Ace, his legs blurring into a 'U' shape. Just before he reached his brother, he unleashed the twist.
"Gomu Gomu no... Twin Scythe!"
His arms uncoiled with a violent, spinning motion, creating a horizontal centrifugal force. Ace didn't panic. He held up a hand, and for a split second, his palm turned into a swirling vortex of green-orange flame. The rubber hit the fire-wall, the impact sending a shower of sparks into the air.
Luffy bounced back, skidding across the ice and landing on his feet.
Ace looked at his palm. It was slightly red. He looked at Luffy with a new level of respect. "You've been training on your own? No Garp?"
"Grandpa is too busy with the Association," Luffy said, puffing out his chest. "I did it myself. I watched the ocean."
Ace walked over and sat on the edge of the sea wall. He looked out at the dark water, the reflection of the city lights dancing on the waves. "The ocean, huh? That's funny. One of my instructors at UA—a retired Pro named Gran Torino—always says that heroes are like the sea. You can't fight the tide; you have to become it."
"Is UA hard?" Luffy asked, sitting down next to him.
"It's a different world, Luffy," Ace said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "It's not just about who hits the hardest. It's about the laws. The Association is getting stricter. They want us to be like soldiers. Licenses, permits, standardized costume regulations... it feels like they're trying to put out the fire before it even starts."
Luffy tilted his head, the straw hat slipping over one eye. "Why? If you're a hero, you just save people. Why do you need a permit to be nice?"
Ace snorted, a small puff of flame escaping his nose. "That's exactly what I said. The teachers didn't like it. They said a hero without a license is just a villain with a good heart."
"That's stupid," Luffy said bluntly.
"Yeah," Ace agreed, looking at the straw hat. "It is. But that's the world we're in. Especially here in Japan. They're terrified of anyone who doesn't follow the script."
He reached out and grabbed the brim of the hat, pulling it down over Luffy's eyes. "That's why you have to be the best, Luffy. If you're the best, they can't tell you what to do. If you're the strongest, you're the freest."
Luffy pushed the hat up and looked at Ace. "Are you the strongest?"
Ace looked at his hands, a flicker of white-hot flame dancing between his fingers. "I'm getting there. There's a guy in the third year... a senior who is called Hawks. He's something else. And there are rumors about a kid in the other hero schools, but I'm not losing to them. I have to be at the top."
"I'm gonna be there too," Luffy said. "I'm gonna be the Number One Hero. I decided that I will be the Symbol of Freedom!"
Ace laughed, but it wasn't a mocking laugh. It was the laugh of someone who finally believed the impossible was plausible. "The Symbol of Freedom, huh? All Might isn't gonna like that. He's already got the Symbol of Peace title locked down."
"He can have Peace," Luffy said, standing up and stretching his arms toward the sky with a grin. "I just want to be free, and if that means being number one then so be it!"
The rest of the winter break was a blur of brothers being brothers. They spent their days at the docks, sparring until they couldn't stand, and their nights at the dinner table, competing to see who could eat the most rice. Sora watched them with a smile that never quite reached her eyes, she knew that every day that passed was a day closer to Ace heading back to the front lines of the Hero world, and a day closer to Luffy following him.
On the final night before Ace was set to return to Musutafu, they sat on the roof of the house, looking up at the stars. The sky was clear, the air biting and crisp.
"Luffy," Ace said quietly, staring at a distant constellation. "If anything ever happens... if I'm not around..."
"Don't say that," Luffy interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. "Nothing's gonna happen. You're too strong."
"I'm serious," Ace said, turning to look at him. "The world is getting weirder. There are things happening in the underground that even Grandpa is worried about. If I'm not around, you have to look after Mom. And you have to keep that hat. Don't ever let anyone take it from you."
Luffy gripped the straw hat, his knuckles white. He didn't understand the weight of Ace's words yet. He didn't know about the shadows moving in the corners of Japan, or the way the Hero Association was struggling to keep the lid on a boiling pot of resentment.
"I'm not letting anything happen to you," Luffy said, his rare serious side surfacing for a fleeting moment. His gaze was level, his voice steady as stone. "I'll just beat up anyone who tries."
Ace stared at him for a long beat, then sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yeah. I guess you would."
He stood up and stretched, his back popping. "I'm going to bed. Train hard, Luffy. I want to see a 'Gomu Gomu no Gatling' by the time I come back for the summer."
"I'll have two!" Luffy shouted after him.
As Ace disappeared through the roof hatch, Luffy remained on the shingles. He looked at the straw hat in his lap. It was just straw and red ribbon, but in the moonlight, it looked like a crown. He didn't know that this was the last 'normal' winter he would ever have. He didn't know that the next time he saw Ace, the world would be watching, and the fire would be going out.
He just lay back against the cold tiles, looking at the stars, and dreamed of the day he would walk through the gates of UA and see his brother waiting for him.
The spring arrived with a burst of cherry blossoms and a new sense of urgency. Luffy was eleven now, and the "Rubber Boy" of Shizuoka was no longer a myth; he was a local legend. He had started helping the local police with minor tasks—retrieving cats from high places, stopping runaway bikes—always refusing any reward except for a piece of meat from the butcher.
He was happy. He was strong. He was waiting.
But in Tokyo, the atmosphere was shifting. The Hero Association had just announced the 'Provisional License Reform,' a series of strict new guidelines that made it even harder for young heroes to operate. And in the backgrounds of it all, a villain who many think is just a legend, was plotting for the future.