He looked at his hands again. The scars from Cracker. The bruises from Katakuri. He thought of Katakuri—the man who could see the future. For ten hours, Luffy had run, dodged, and bled. He’d eaten so much mochi he thought he’d turn into it. And when he finally went Gear Fourth against that perfect warrior, it wasn't just power.
Because he’d already broken the only thing that mattered: his own limits.
“How long can I stay in it now?” he wondered. “Thirty minutes? Forty? Maybe one day… one day I’ll use it and not deflate. One day, my body won’t betray me after the fight.” gear fourth
The air on the Thousand Sunny was thick with the scent of salt and the distant rumble of an island they’d just escaped. Usopp was stitching a gash in the mainsail, Chopper was restocking bandages, and Sanji was barking orders from the galley.
“If I just blow harder… if I pack more air into my muscles, not my bones…” He looked at his hands again
“Gomu Gomu no…”
His arm didn’t just expand. It compressed . Muscles coiled into a dense, spring-loaded mass. The haki didn't just cover him—it became his skin, a second, unbreakable exoskeleton. Steam hissed from his pores. He felt the urge to bounce, to roar, to bounce and roar. He thought of Katakuri—the man who could see the future
“Remembering what?”
