The day began with Gwen hanging from the ceiling.
Literally.
Luffy looked up from his sketchpad as she blinked awake, stuck like a poster to the treehouse roof, her hoodie half-flipped over her head and her hair trailing downward.
"You sleep-climbed again," Luffy said casually, sipping from his smoothie jar.
Gwen groaned. "Is this my life now?"
"You're Spider-Girl by night, ceiling gremlin by morning."
She dropped down with a soft thump, rolled upright, and rubbed her neck. "That's the third time this week."
"I'd suggest a sleeping bag, but you'd probably web it shut by accident."
She grabbed her pen and opened the Power Journal. On a new page, she wrote in bold:
Instinctual Side Effects– Waking up on walls– Reflex jumps from sudden sounds– Random sticking to floors, ceilings, furniture, Luffy's arm (sorry)
"Entry two is going to be weird," she muttered.
Luffy chuckled and added a subheading:
Mental Influence – passive.
They exchanged a glance.
They'd both felt it creeping in—not just physical powers, but shifts in awareness. Perception. Instincts acting before thoughts caught up.
It wasn't just about stretching or crawling anymore.
It was about becoming something new.
A City Stumble
Later that afternoon, Gwen ran down to the nearby convenience store to grab energy bars and soldering wire.
The walk was routine. The kind of thing she used to do with earbuds in and her hood up, half-distracted by daydreams about skate tricks and robot arms.
But not anymore.
Three blocks from the treehouse, her spider-sense activated.
It wasn't a whisper this time.
It was a scream.
The back of her head ignited with pressure—her vision tunneled, her breath caught. She froze mid-step, one foot in the crosswalk.
Move, her brain said.
But her body didn't.
Then—screech.
A car barreled through the intersection, running the red light and barely swerving in time to avoid another.
The sound of crumpling metal, horns blaring, a bystander shouting.
Gwen stumbled back onto the sidewalk, her heart racing.
The sense had known.
Before it happened.
It tried to protect me—and I didn't listen.
She sat on a curb, hands trembling, and pulled out her phone.
Text to Luffy:
Spider-sense just predicted a crash. I froze.I saw it coming—but I didn't move. What if next time I can't?
No reply yet. She pocketed the phone, bought the snacks, and walked home slower than usual.
This wasn't a game anymore.
Observation Games
Back at the treehouse, Luffy stood in the middle of the platform, blindfolded.
Gwen walked in silently.
"Training?" she asked.
"Predicting," he replied. "Close your eyes and try to sneak behind me."
She raised an eyebrow. "If I land on you, I'm not apologizing."
"Fair."
She crept forward, quiet, slow.
Halfway across the floor, he pivoted—hand raised, palm open.
"Left hook?" he guessed.
She blinked. "How—?"
"Do it again."
This time she charged.
He dodged right. Blocked her forearm. Caught her foot.
She froze mid-air, his hand pressing gently against her calf to steady her.
He pulled the blindfold off slowly.
"I didn't see you," he said. "I felt you. Not where you were—but where you were going to be."
Her mouth went dry. "Your Observation Haki is that strong already?"
"Only when you're serious. Focused. When you feel something."
She stepped back.
"And what did you feel?"
He paused.
"Frustration. Guilt. Like you were mad at yourself."
Gwen looked away.
The Power Journal sat open on the floor beside them.
Luffy picked it up and wrote:
Observation Haki triggers on emotion. Especially others'.Not just movement—intent.
Then he added under it:
"Dangerous if uncontrolled. Need emotional distance."
Invisible Threads
Gwen walked outside and leaned against the railing, arms crossed. The late afternoon sun bled gold across the trees.
Luffy joined her a moment later.
"You froze earlier," he said softly.
She didn't ask how he knew.
She nodded.
"I wanted to move. I knew something bad was about to happen. But I froze."
"That's normal."
"Is it?" she asked. "Because if that happens when someone's really in danger…?"
He was quiet.
She clenched her jaw. "The spider-sense is… more than a sixth sense. It's trying to take over. It wants to act without me."
"You think it's changing you?"
"I think I'm already different."
She turned to him. "Do you feel it too? Like your power is watching with you?"
He hesitated.
"Yeah. And it's not always gentle."
Pact of Honesty
That night, they sat in the treehouse under a paper lantern shaped like the moon. The shadows danced softly across the floor as cicadas hummed in the distance.
Gwen curled up beside the open Journal. Luffy sat cross-legged with his hoodie half-zipped, his straw hat resting on one knee.
"Promise me something," Gwen said.
"Anything."
"If this gets out of hand—if I start losing myself—tell me. Don't pretend it's fine. Don't let it get worse."
Luffy met her eyes. "Only if you promise the same."
She held out a pinky.
He linked his.
"I won't let it take you," he said.
"I won't let it change you," she replied.
They didn't need more words.
They were already written—in the air between them.
Power Journal – Entry Two
Later, as Luffy started setting up for bed and Gwen flipped pages in the Journal, she added the final notes of the day:
Power Journal: Entry Two
Instincts are growing. Faster than us.
Luffy can sense what I feel. I can sense danger I can't see.
Powers respond to emotion, not just thought.
We aren't losing control—
—but we're learning that control isn't the same as understanding.
Calibration continues tomorrow.
She tapped the page twice with her pen.
Then looked up at the stars overhead and whispered, mostly to herself:
"We've only just scratched the surface."