Chapter 5: The Rising Sun of Musutafu
The television in the living room was an old, boxy thing that Garp had refused to replace for a decade, but lately, it was the most important object in the house. Luffy was currently sitting so close to the screen that his nose was practically touching the glass, his legs stretched out behind him like two long, idle noodles.
"Mom! It's starting! Look, look!" Luffy shouted, his voice cracking with excitement.
Sora hurried in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. On the screen, the chaotic sprawl of Tokyo's Shinjuku district was visible, filmed from a news helicopter. A massive villain with a Quirk that turned his skin into jagged, obsidian rock was tearing through a line of police cruisers, roaring in defiance.
Then, the camera zoomed in.
A streak of emerald-orange fire cut through the smoke. It didn't move like a normal explosion, it was fluid, darting through the air with the grace of a swallow. The figure landed on top of a streetlamp, balancing on one foot with effortless poise. It was Ace. He was wearing his professional hero costume, a sleek, heat-resistant black tactical vest over a shirtless torso, his signature orange hat secured by its string.
"Look at him go!" Luffy cheered, jumping up and down, his head hitting the ceiling and bopping back down like a rubber ball. "He looks so cool!"
On the screen, the villain lunged. Ace didn't flinch. He held out his hand like a gun, and instead of a massive blast, he fired several small, concentrated beads of light. Ace called the technique Higan. The fire-bullets struck the villain's stone hide with surgical precision, popping like small crackers but packing enough kinetic force to stagger the giant.
When the villain tried to grab him, Ace's body momentarily flickered, turning into a translucent, swirling pillar of flame. The villain's hand passed right through him, and in a flash, Ace was behind him, delivering a spinning kick enhanced by a jet of fire from his heel.
The villain went down. The crowd erupted.
The news anchor's voice was breathless. "And once again, the breakout star, Fire Fist Ace, secures the scene! Since graduating from UA, Ace has surged through the rankings at a speed we haven't seen in years!"
The screen cut to a post-battle interview. Ace was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead, but he looked remarkably calm. He was wiping soot off his shoulder when the reporter shoved a microphone in his face.
"Ace! The public is calling you the most promising hero of the new era! How does it feel to be the man they call Fire Fist?"
Ace snorted as he adjusted his hat. "The name fits. I'm just doing my own thing. I'm not interested in being a 'future' of anything except my own life."
The reporter laughed, charmed by his bluntness. "You've gained quite a following. Any message for your fans?"
Ace looked directly into the camera. For a second, his cool exterior broke, and that familiar, cocky grin spread across his face. "Just one. Hey, Luffy! You watching? Stop picking your nose and get back to training! You've got two years until your own exams, and if you aren't ready, I'm taking all your meat for myself!"
Luffy froze, his finger actually halfway up his nose. His eyes turned into massive stars. "HE TALKED TO ME! MOM! DID YOU HEAR? HE MENTIONED ME ON THE TV!"
Luffy scrambled toward the window, throwing it open and screaming at the top of his lungs toward the distant horizon. "I'M TRAINING, ACE! I'M ALREADY THE BEST! SHISHISHI!"
A week later, a thick, official envelope arrived at the Shizuoka house. It was addressed to Monkey D. Luffy. Inside was a VIP pass to the Association's Annual Hero Gala in Tokyo. It was a formal event, a gathering of the top-ranked heroes and the media. Stuck to the pass was a sticky note in Ace's messy handwriting:
Dress nice. Don't eat the decorations. I told the press I'd bring my 'secret weapon' to meet them. Don't make me look bad, brat.
"A Gala?" Luffy tilted his head, chewing on the corner of the envelope. "Is that a type of steak?"
"It's a party, Luffy," Mom said, her eyes shimmering with pride. "A very big, very important party. It means Ace wants the world to see you."
The transition from the salt-stained docks of Shizuoka to the marble floors of the Tokyo Grand Hotel was, in Luffy's opinion, a downgrade. He felt restricted. Mom had managed to squeeze him into a small black suit and a red tie, though the jacket was already straining at the shoulders because Luffy kept trying to stretch his arms to see if they still worked in formal wear.
The lobby was a sea of glittering dresses and capes. Famous heroes were moving through the crowd, their every move tracked by hundreds of flashing cameras.
"Luffy! Over here!"
Ace was standing near a fountain, looking surprisingly comfortable in a dark suit, though he had refused to take off his orange hat. He looked older now, more seasoned. The way other heroes nodded to him as they passed showed he wasn't just a student anymore, he was a peer.
"Ace!" Luffy shouted, ignoring the "no running" signs and launching himself across the lobby. He didn't just run, he bounced off a velvet-covered pillar and landed in a heap at Ace's feet.
"Smooth," Ace muttered, reaching down to haul Luffy up by his tie. "Try not to break the floor. This place is expensive."
Just as Ace spoke, a swarm of reporters spotted the pair. The flashing lights intensified, a wall of microphones descending upon them.
"Ace! Is this the brother you mentioned?"
"Does he have a fire Quirk too?"
"What's your name, young man?"
Luffy didn't shy away. He did exactly what Mom had told him not to do, he grinned, a massive, face-splitting expression.
"I'm Luffy! The Rubber Man!" he shouted, grabbing his own cheeks and stretching them out a full foot to the left and right. "I'm gonna be the Number One Hero! The Symbol of Freedom!"
The reporters froze for a second, then the camera shutters went into overdrive. It was a perfect media moment, the rising star Fire Fist Ace and his chaotic, joyful little brother.
Ace put a hand on Luffy's head, his expression softening. He didn't look at the cameras, he looked at Luffy. "He's got two years of training left," Ace told the press, his voice carrying a weight of genuine affection. "But yeah. This is my brother. The world isn't ready for him yet."
Toward the end of the evening, they stepped out onto a private balcony overlooking the Tokyo skyline. The city was a carpet of lights, a sprawling organism of millions of lives.
"You like it here?" Ace asked, leaning his elbows on the railing.
"It's loud," Luffy said, sitting on the railing with his legs swinging over the edge. "And there's no ocean smell. But it's shiny."
Ace looked at the city, then at the straw hat hanging from Luffy's neck. "The Association, they're going to try to change you, Luffy. When you get to UA, they'll tell you to be 'professional.' They'll tell you to follow the rules and stay in your lane."
Luffy tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because people are afraid of what they can't control," Ace said, a flicker of green flame dancing between his knuckles. "They like their heroes in neat little boxes. But you don't fit in a box. Neither do I."
He looked at Luffy, his gaze intense. "Don't let them take that smile away. No matter what happens. If you stop smiling, they win. You hear me?"
Luffy didn't quite understand the gravity of the warning, but he felt the warmth of his brother's hand on his shoulder. "I won't! I'm gonna smile even if I'm eating the world's spiciest pepper! Shishishi!"
Ace laughed, a loud, clear sound that echoed over the balcony. "Good. Because as long as you're laughing, I know you're okay."
The weeks following the Gala saw Luffy's face plastered all over the hero tabloids. He was the "Rubber Kid," the secret of the Monkey family. People in Shizuoka started stopping him on the street, asking if it was true he was going to UA in two years.
Luffy's joy reached a fever pitch. He was training harder than ever, his movements becoming more fluid, his "Pistol" becoming a legitimate weapon. He was happy. He was the brother of a superstar.
Luffy stood on the docks, his arm wound back, his heart beating with a rhythm of pure, unadulterated joy. He was thirteen years old, and he believed the world was a playground.
"Gomu Gomu no..."
He let the punch fly, breaking the air with a jubilant shout. The sun was shining brighter than it ever had. Luffy was smiling, and for now, that was all that mattered.