Chapter 2: Homecoming [2]
The room was small, stuffy even, but now it felt almost uncomfortably large. Dimly lit, darkness curling in all corners, crawling along the walls, clinging to the ceiling. Shafts of light burst through the only window, catching on the dust particles suspended in the air, and warmed the floorboards as a bright square in the middle of the room.
Ace sat on the side, shoulders hunched, legs drawn to his chest, arms crossed on top of his knees, and face half-hidden behind them. Dull black eyes stared at one spot almost unblinking.
Luffy rested on the mattress, head turned slightly towards the stream of sunshine, soft glow illuminating his face. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling steadily—he looked so peaceful now.
As soon as Ace had burst in the hut, terror-stricken and out of breath screams for help making everyone's hearts shudder, Dadan almost inhaled her cigarette as her gaze zeroed on the lifeless body in the teen's arms. And then they were all moving, the whole gang in an uproar.
Ace's hands were shaking, he remembered, so badly that he couldn't even help Magra and Dogra to inspect Luffy's condition and change bandages.
He was such a waste of space.
One of Ace's hands clenched into a fist, another around the rim of Luffy's hat, straw groaning under his fingertips. His chest felt hollow, but his throat constricted with too many emotions. Before any of that could spill outwards, he pressed his forehead against his knees, fingers sinking into his hair and scraping across his scalp.
Most of Luffy's wounds were already healed and scarred over. Except one—a huge gash going down the left side of Luffy's neck. The cut had been carefully stitched and in a stage of healing, but its existence alone might as well have been a neon sign of what exactly Luffy went through.
He should have died. It should have been lethal, no way a normal person could have survived something like this.
A multitude of other scars peppered Luffy's shoulders, back, chest, hips, and thighs. All over. Tiny round dots of taut and rugged skin, a few shades lighter than the rest of Luffy's body. Long, whisper-thin lines, overlapping and crisscrossing, a written memoir of devastating pain and unimaginable horrors. And a large mark in the center of Luffy's back, a distinct shape burnt into his flesh.
Under normal circumstances, his little brother rarely scarred, if at all.
Ace knew that Luffy got the scar under his eye before he ate the devil fruit. After that, his rubber body made it almost impossible to scar unless it was a very serious wound or made with something which hurt despite his power.
A chill slid down Ace's spine at that realization.
"Ace."
He didn't even twitch despite missing Dadan entering the room.
Dadan frowned down at the teen. Her gaze flicked to obviously untouched food on a tray and the tired lines on her face deepened. "Ace," she called again.
No reaction.
Dadan glanced at the youngest of her brats, still and pale, unnaturally so. Her chest tightened. It only grew in intensity when she looked back at Ace. "Dammit, you brat," she bit out, hitting the kid's head with a pillow. She almost smirked when he spluttered. "Take a rest. You haven't slept yet, have you?"
Ace yanked the pillow of her grasp and glared.
This time, Dadan let the smirk show.
If Ace could glare any bit angrier after that, his eyeballs would have exploded.
The woman was not intimidated in the slightest. She knew her boys. "It'll be no help to Luffy if you pass out before he even wakes up." Ace's attention immediately shot to his brother, and Dadan watched how the fight seeped out of his rigid shoulders, how the fury drained from his young features and exhaustion settled in.
The teen threw the pillow on the floor, collapsing on it right after with an indignant scoff of, "Fine."
Dadan picked the abandoned tray with cold food and left the room.
Ace stared at Luffy, trying to etch every line of his tranquil expression into his consciousness until sleep finally claimed him.