I wrote this one a while ago and wanted to finally put it out there so I gave it a once-over and did just that. There's a bit more already written that I'll publish once I've edited it a bit. It starts a bit darker than I am used to writing, but I think that's needed to give the rubber brain some much needed development. Don't get me wrong, I love Luffy and he's been with me since my early childhood but sometimes, his idiocy was a bit too much. It's also gonna be a bit different in style than my usual writing in the sense that I'll try to stay in a single perspective per chapter. This means that they'll be shorter, but hopefully easier to edit and quicker to be written. Anyways, it will be a bit of a fix-it with some twists and turns. Some new faces too probably and there might be a few characters that I'll lift out of other franchises. No straight up crossover though. None of those belong to me obviously and I do not profit in any way from writing this so consider this my disclaimer. Without further ado, enjoy!
~Monkey D. Luffy~
On an unnamed island in the new world, chosen for its complete obscurity, the King of Pirates drew a labored breath. The destructive aftermath of a cataclysmic clash dominated the landscape of the island. The once undisturbed terrain of a rather bland stretch of forests and sand was ripped apart by reality altering forces that clashed on this unassuming landmass.
Flecks of ash drifted through the air and the atmosphere was heavy from lingering negative emotions expressed through the highest forms of Haki while smoldering craters filled with liquid stone and glassed sand littered the scarred earth.
The largest one of those was the resting place of the man who should have been dead but was too stubborn to pass. It wasn't as if he wanted to survive. One could see it in his empty, tormented eyes. He lost the will to live when the last of his reachable foes stopped breathing. He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to finally rest, smile, and say that he'd given it his all. That it was all worth it. Dying for his dream wasn't a shameful way to go. It was something he was prepared to do from the very start of his adventures.
It was the many regrets he collected on the way to his goal that were just too heavy to let him go peacefully. They weighed his Spirit down like heavy chains drawing him down into a Sea of despair and melancholia. He didn't regret dying for his dream. He regretted losing his nakama along the way. Every single death shattered a part of his maltreated heart until it was ground down to dust and forged anew as the vessel of scorn, hatred, and fury it had become at the end.
He naively thought seeing Ace die would make the pain of losing another treasured person easier to bear. Like exercising a muscle, he thought it would train his feelings against loss. He was wrong. Completely wrong. Each one was harder to endure than the last. Every person that bravely accepted death after proudly proclaiming their loyalty for him caused his Spirit to darken until he struggled to find even a smidge of hope in the shattered ruins of his dreams that had turned into a nightmare.
His family. His friends. His precious nakama. So many of them died without ever fulfilling their own dreams and despite being one of the most powerful in this forsaken world, he was powerless to stop it from happening. What had driven him from the start had become a hollow construct, and when he finally reached the last island alone, it was solely to ensure that their sacrifices weren't for naught.
Flashes of their last moments tormented him even now as he involuntarily lingered on the wrong side of death's door. Not all of them did he witness personally but his imagination was just vivid and sadistic enough to dream up the scenarios he was informed of, adding to his self-inflicted torment with waking visions of their ends.
The first one to die of his crew was his cowardly sniper Usopp who proved himself to be the Bravest Warrior of the Sea by overcoming his cowardly nature with his own efforts. He died clashing with Toro Titan, a powerful giant who reached the rank of Vice Admiral and was said to surpass John Giant in terms of strength. In his last moments, he broke through the limits of his Busōshoku, reaching the elusive heights of Internal Destruction. He ended up taking the bastard with him thanks to a fantastic Haki-coated snipe through the giant's eye while calmly facing his inevitable death. There wasn't even the slightest waver in his presence until it was snuffed out by a massive, Haki-clad fist.
His taciturn first mate Zoro surprisingly died second. Everyone thought he'd survive until the very end but he was ambushed by hundreds of powerful marines and was ended personally by that utter Bastard Sakazuki. He made them bleed, though. More than 80% of the forces sent after him died that day and Sakazuki suffered a permanent festering wound to his chest, courtesy of the cursed blade Sandai Kitetsu. He lost an arm too, though that was soon replaced by a high-tech one created by the Traitor.
His greedy but compassionate navigator Nami, caught and sold as a novelty slave to the Tenryūbito. A fate she refused to be subjected to. He knew from reliable sources that she committed suicide before he could even try and save her.
His inventive shipwright Franky, grabbed on a supply run. He couldn't even fight back since the Traitor reverse engineered his tech and equipped the marines with a device that scrambled Franky's insides with his own creations.
A defiant fishman named Jinbe facing the unsurmountable force of the New-World-Equivalent of a Buster Call on Fishman Island. His noble helmsman ended up dying to protect its citizens long enough to evacuate most of the population. This one was a pyrrhic victory because the tides turned after Shirahoshi snapped and commanded the giant Seakings to slaughter the government forces.
A half burned afro, still smoldering on a cracked skull with empty sockets, the surroundings eerily silent when it was usually filled with self-deprecating humour or music. The final end of his soulful musician Brook.
The strung up, desecrated corpse of his macabre archeologist Nico Robin on proud display against the efforts of the revolutionaries, their last light vanishing in the abyss of despair after a leak gave away her position to the government forces.
His innocent and courageous doctor Tony Tony Chopper disappearing in a plague, later found out to have been orchestrated by the World Government. The plague's cure was soon distributed but his doctor never resurfaced. No one had any illusions as to what happened to him.
His loyal cook Sanji hurrying over the seas after receiving news that the Baratie was apprehended as a whole for colluding with the world's greatest enemies, only to find his adoptive father's corpse before being executed by a team of CP0 agents because he failed to utilize his complete fighting prowess due to rage and grief.
One after another, their last moments flashed through his dying, delirious mind as guilt wracked the last vestiges of his consciousness. And that was just his crew. So many others ended up dying because they chose to stay loyal to him instead of turning coats. He failed utterly to keep his promises. He failed to protect them. He failed to lead them to their dreams. He cursed his naive former self for his complacency as a single tear found its way down his cheek, burning a trail into the soot, ash, and blood that covered him nearly from head to toe.
He couldn't take it. The memories and waking nightmares conjured by his mind were so unbearable to him that the resentment shackled his spirit to his conventionally already dead body. He should have breathed his last a few hours ago, here on the battlefield where he brought down an army on his lonesome.
When he felt his final moments approaching, all that was on his mind was that he would give anything to see his nakama again. Even the vaunted title he earned before the War broke out would have been an acceptable prize. Without his crew and the many who supported him on the way by his side, reaching his dream felt more like a nightmare. Freedom was nothing but a tragic illusion when there was no one to share it with.
When he accepted the fact that his dream had been shattered piece by piece with the deaths of his precious people, hopelessness overtook the last embers of his burning fury. Weariness and lethargy won out over the hatred that kept him alive. Slowly, the bonds that kept his spirit shackled to his body unraveled and he sank into oblivion. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was a blurry figure who seemed to be hurrying to his side.
When he opened his eyes again against all expectations, it was to stare at a fist that was rapidly approaching. Instinct took over and his perception slowed as his mind shifted into battle mode. The large fist seemed faintly familiar but he shoved that thought to the back of his mind as he simply reacted. Shifting past the fist was harder than usual and his counter felt magnitudes weaker too. His Haki was flowing slower than usual and it caused his body to sting fiercely where it passed. Alarmingly, it also lacked the weight that he was used to. Another troubling detail that filtered into his confused mind was that he didn't seem to be able to stretch at all.
'Seastone?' He asked himself only to dismiss the idea instantly. 'No. It's not that kind of weakness. It feels like my body is younger and smaller. My reach is a far cry from what it was before even without stretching. It feels as if I'm a child again. Someone ate Bonney's fruit?' He assessed his state and found with slight trepidation that this body wasn't even close to ready for Gear 2, nevermind Gear 4 or 5. He frowned as he got some space in between him and his foe. The man was tall, so all he could see from his perspective was the marine uniform over a weathered but incredibly fit body. A veteran then. Judging from his presence, a strong one.
The familiar attire of a Vice Admiral caused the embers of his hatred to flare. Differently than most other emotions, despite how he visualized it, hatred made him feel cold. As if he was back in the Freezing Hell in Impel Down, only magnified several times over. Before his Nakama died one by one to those who should have defended Justice but were nothing more than the dogs of the Tenryūbito, he didn't know the emotion. He just couldn't comprehend disliking someone to the point of no return. Oh, he had despised others plenty of times, such as Higuma, Kuro, and Arlong, but never to the point where he refused to contemplate letting them keep their lives.
He was angry and downright furious with many of his opponents but hatred had avoided him until that fateful day. The first spark of it bloomed inside of him, all wrong and twisted, when he saw Akainu's fist penetrate the chest of his brother. It was directly opposed to the boiling hot magma the red mutt used to end his brother's life. The feeling quickly abated in favor of soul crushing grief and guilt as he mourned Ace and held himself responsible for being far too weak.
Hatred filled him with a different kind of purpose. One tinged with self-loathing because it meant that he failed to protect someone close to him. He used this wrathful drive to push this body's frustratingly meager capacity for Haki beyond what it should have been capable of. Things weren't great but there was a small silver lining. For some reason, his Spirit felt more tangible. Heavier, for a lack of another word.
While he couldn't use this weight physically because his body wouldn't withstand it, there were other ventures. Pulling on his Ambitions for vengeance, he channeled his entire hatred into his Haōshoku and blasted the accursed marine in front of him as he dashed forwards with a classic application of Soru due to the lack of his fruit's abilities.
He ignored the searing agony that suddenly shot through his legs despite his feeble attempt of reinforcing them with Busōshoku. His extensive experiences with grievous injuries told him that he had fractured several bones and burst numerous blood vessels in his bid of performing a technique so far beyond his current physique with only weaponized Willpower driving it, but that wasn't important. What was important was trying to end the bastard who had gotten his hands on him.
Before he could do anything to take advantage of his sudden burst of speed, he was grabbed and secured by the physically vastly superior marine. He didn't panic as it wouldn't help him but his current state was beyond frustrating. He couldn't even properly struggle so he ended up trying to bite the massive hand that was holding his rabid form. What little of a fight he put up died down from shock when he was suddenly and surprisingly embraced. His confusion deepened to absolute chaos in his mind when a familiar voice shouted at him.
"Oi! Snap out of it, Luffy! What happened to you, brat... One moment I was about to give you a taste of the Fist of Love and the next you fight me like a New World Veteran and use Haki with a familiarity of years of use. Not just that, but... Haōshoku? And a controlled blast too?! What the hell happened to you?!"
'Gramps?... No... that's impossible. He died in an ambush from that bastard Teach and his Titanic Captains.' His thoughts contradicted his instincts. The arms around him felt familiar and strong. Embraces like this were far and few in between trying to toughen him up and punishing him because he shouted his dream into the old marine's face every chance he got, but that only made him remember the few times his gramps felt it necessary to draw him into his chest all the better.
He remembered how heartbroken he was when he learned that Uta wouldn't be able to visit anymore. How devastated he was over Sabo's presumed death. And how the unyielding arms of Gramps that usually only knew how to dole out painful punishments offered him solace and the stability to face the turbulent seas that were life in those formative moments.
Being who he was, he trusted his instincts far more than he did his brain. He clutched onto the old gruff man with all the force he could muster and more. He wasn't sure what was happening but he wouldn't let him go without a damn good reason. Tears came to his eyes and he wanted to blink them away, but they just kept on flowing. Snot joined them and soon, he was bawling his eyes out against the muscular chest of the man who was holding him firmly yet gently. The man who couldn't be Gramps but undoubtedly was.
He clearly had no idea what was happening and neither did Luffy. But at this moment, it didn't matter. As was often the case, on a small island in the weakest of seas, the base for events that would eventually shake the entire known world was laid on an entirely unassuming day.