Luffy wanted to be Ace's friend. He desperately wanted to.
Trailing behind Ace with fervent determination, he accepted each and every obstacle sent his way, all for the purpose of befriending the boy.
Even when he was sent to be eaten by savage beasts, even when he was left alone in the middle of the forest, he persevered, determined to become his friend.
After a few months, he successfully made it through the forest to where Ace apparently spent his time, a trash mountain. When he saw him with another boy, he was surprised. But easily accepted it, he wasn't against having multiple friends...
He was careless. He was caught.
He wasn't a good liar, never was. "Luffy, you can't lie to save your life..." he remembered Konan gently saying. She was right.
When he was beaten with a mallet, a sliver of hope shone in his obsidian eyes, right, they couldn't hurt him. So he refused to speak. He stubbornly refused to sell out his potential friends. He wouldn't betray them.
His wrists started hurting from the constant rubbing against the tight ropes. He thought that if he passed this test, he would be friends with Ace, and the other blonde boy. And so, he adamantly refused to use the pressed flower safely hidden in his jacket. One he couldn't access anyway.
"You're stubborn I recognize," Porchemy started calmly, his back turned against him before turning around with a twisted smirk, revealing spiked gloves, "but I know exactly how to deal with boys like you."
Luffy felt a shiver run down his spine as he glanced at the pointed end of the spikes, still, he straightened himself and settled on glaring at the imposingly tall man. He wouldn't bow down. He would be the Pirate King, so he wasn't going to lose here.
A punch hit his face harshly and he felt the spikes pierce through his skin, tearing his skin apart with one single move.
Pain.
That's all he felt. A blinding pain. A loud ringing in his ears and black spots beginning to appear in his vision.
He let out a loud heart-wrenching cry, it was painful. He had never felt that before. Even his Grandpa's fists weren't that painful.
Just as his sense of reality slipped through his fingers, another punch woke him up with a start, once again, he could feel his skin tear, with his blood running down his tear-stricken face, he was painfully aware of how his salty tears melted against his bare flesh and wounds to bring him more pain. Through his blurry teary vision, he could vaguely see the pure joy his suffering brought to the man, no he couldn't be called a man, he was a monster.
Pain. Again. And again. An endless stream of punches went his way. All with one intention. To make him suffer.
At that moment he thought he was going to die.
'No! He refused to die before achieving his dream.' The repeated sentence was perhaps the only thing holding him from losing consciousness, that and a faint candied scent.
And so, he continued to stubbornly hold onto his life, keeping his mouth shut while hoping, praying for someone, anyone to come and save him. To stop the pain.
But no one came.
He was alone.
He felt so incredibly lonely. A painful feeling etched at his heart, clawing, demanding to be heard, to be let out, to unleash his anger at the world. He refused to give in. The throbbing only subsided with the pain his external body felt.
After what felt like forever, his body twitching in agony, his mind barely holding it together; he was vaguely aware of the punches he received on his already bruised skin but didn't react anymore. His whole body burned, so much that he couldn't feel the kicks and punches he continued to receive.
In his half-coma state, he knew the pain stopped before he was being hugged by arms overly careful of his injuries. But all he really remembered was the warmth these frail arms provided and him clinging desperately to the person, afraid to let go of his safehold.
He was safe.
He could finally sleep.
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:)))
Here, some cookies 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪