By the end of the week, the treehouse didn't just feel like a studio. It ran like one.
Ava had installed voice-activated light dimmers, automated fan systems, and an overhead mic rig cobbled together from salvaged drone parts and repurposed school robotics. Gwen finally got her whiteboard system mounted across the far wall — color-coded sticky notes now tracked every scene from concept to rough sketch, cleanup, sound design, and final polish.
Luffy had his own corner now, jokingly dubbed the "Captain's Chair." It included a beat-up bean bag throne, a foldable desk, and a small wooden box labeled Inspiration Only — inside were his favorite manga panels, short quotes that made him feel brave, and a photo Gwen had printed: the three of them curled up on treehouse cushions mid-laugh.
And high above, nestled between beams and string lights, hung a sign made from cardboard and tape. It read:
"Frame One Studios – Where Dreams Don't Sleep"
The moment you climbed the ladder into the treehouse, you could feel it: the hum of something real being made.
Every morning started the same.
"Hydration reminder," Ava would chime, hovering by Luffy with a juice pouch. "Luffy, sip now or Ava tattles."
"She's serious," Gwen warned with a grin, handing him a bowl of cereal with banana slices and powdered nutrients.
"I'm awake, I'm drinking!" Luffy grumbled, accepting both with a sleepy scowl.
"Stretch break protocol in twenty minutes," Ava added, projecting a cute chibi version of herself doing jumping jacks. "Don't make me deploy the bounce pad."
"You have a bounce pad?" Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"I engineered it last night," Ava replied. "Don't tempt me."
Luffy groaned. "We created a tiny tyrant."
"You created someone who cares," Ava said brightly.
It wasn't just a workflow anymore. It was a rhythm — steady, creative, alive.
The short animation commission they'd taken to raise funds had finally paid off — literally. Gwen and Ava's voiceover services had helped them afford new drawing tablets, upgraded styluses, and a compact audio interface with real-time feedback support.
The moment they unpacked everything, the treehouse lit up like a command center.
Ava calibrated the styluses to match their preferred line weights. Gwen organized their workspace like a control panel, marking each tool bin with handwritten labels: Color Warriors, Sound Dungeon, Scene Jutsu, and SFX Chaos Bin.
Luffy held up a new headset like it was treasure from the Grand Line. "We're getting serious."
"We've been serious," Gwen said. "Now the world just has to catch up."
But they'd also learned something deeper.
Burnout wasn't just a danger — it was a guarantee unless they worked smarter.
So Gwen, ever the tactician, restructured their routine. She named it "The Pact System" and taped it to the wall.
🎨 Tier 1: Main Project – Redux💤 Tier 2: Health & Recovery – sleep, food, movement💫 Tier 3: Bonding & Joy – movie nights, drawing duels, Ava's 'What If' games
"If Tier 2 fails," Gwen declared, pointing dramatically, "we cannot access Tier 1."
"Aye aye," Luffy saluted.
Ava, delighted, projected the tier system into a digital dashboard and added a mini alert bell for when someone violated balance.
They didn't always get it right. Sometimes Luffy forgot to eat. Sometimes Gwen got too frustrated with a sketch and spiraled. Ava even short-circuited once when she tried to process seven audio files at once.
But now, they noticed. They caught each other. They adjusted.
And that changed everything.
One golden evening, just as sunlight slanted through the slats in long shadows, Gwen stood back from the whiteboard and wiped her hands on her jeans.
"I've been thinking," she said. "We're getting good. Really good. So… let's finish all of East Blue before we release anything."
Luffy raised his head from the storyboard. "You mean… the entire arc?"
Gwen nodded. "All of it. Romance Dawn to Loguetown."
Ava projected the outline on the wall:
Romance Dawn
Orange Town
Syrup Village
Baratie
Arlong Park
Loguetown
"Projected runtime: 18 episodes," Ava added. "If we streamline pacing and apply flashback compression, we may reduce filler scenes by 42%."
"If we only release one or two episodes," Gwen said, "we lose momentum. But if we drop a saga — a full arc? We make a statement."
Luffy leaned back, picturing it: a whole audience clicking Play All, binge-watching their version of the East Blue saga. No filler. No dead time. Just pure story.
His grin returned. "Like Oda-sensei would."
"We wait," Gwen confirmed. "No uploads. Not until it's whole."
Ava added the new rule in bold text on the digital dashboard:
🔒 "Full Arc or Nothing." 🗝️
To celebrate, Ava played a surprise audio she'd been mixing. It layered Gwen's test monologue with Luffy's "King of the Pirates" line, all set over a custom remix of We Are! — Ava's version included rising strings, faint ocean sounds, and synth chimes that shimmered like dawn.
They sat together, barely breathing, as it played.
When it ended, Gwen whispered, "That… sounds like something real."
Luffy nodded. "We should sing it."
Ava pulsed brightly. "Confirmed. Assigning verses now."
"Hold up," Gwen laughed. "Let's practice first."
The next hour was pure chaos.
Ava printed lyric sheets. Gwen made "practice microphones" out of cardboard and foil. Luffy screamed "Gomu Gomu no—!" too close to the mic and triggered Ava's distortion filter.
They rewrote lines. Sang off-key. Laughed until their sides hurt.
And when they finally recorded a clean take of the first chorus — Gwen's soft harmony blending with Luffy's raspy conviction, and Ava's instrumental soaring beneath it — they played it back on loop.
Not because it was perfect.
Because it was theirs.
Later that night, Luffy stood in front of the timeline wall. Pinned sketches. Episode markers. To-do tags. On the floor lay a single line of text Gwen had doodled earlier that day:
"We're not just animating One Piece. We're animating our lives into it."
He picked up a marker and added one more frame:
Frame 010: Studio Reborn
Ava saved the log. Gwen drew a rising sun above it with three little silhouettes in the sky.
They didn't need an audience yet.
They didn't need approval or fame.
They had a studio.
They had each other.
And for the first time in a long time, they had a dream strong enough to stand on.