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Sabo walked in even steps, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. He was one of the best with stealth missions. He could blend in with a crowd, could act and play any role assigned to him, and he was excellent with getting in and getting out as quickly as possible. He had been preparing for this mission for weeks, going over the information provided by their contact, and it should have been a simple mission. The key word was should.
They had been betrayed, the line had been cut in, or perhaps Sabo had made a mistake. He wasn’t sure, at the moment he frankly didn’t care. The point was, he had been caught taking information, and he needed to meet up with Koala and Hack and get out of there before the people looking for and tracking him realized where he was in the crowd. Missions like these were usually thrilling, but at the moment it was anything but. The information Sabo had could save so many people, and the Revolution needed it.
Sabo couldn’t slip up, not now of all times.
The Revolutionary Chief of Staff ducked under a covering to a side shop, pretending to be interested in the selection of fruits, smiling a polite grin at the shop keep. A group of marines rushed past the shop and he sighed slightly. There was another man in the stall – Sabo recognized with a concealed grimace that it was the Thatch of the Whitebeard Pirates. It could get messy if they were somehow dragged into this mess.
“Hey, Thatch!” a boisterous voice said cheerfully, another young man ducking into the stall, “When are we going to be done? I want to go eat!”
Sabo peeked over to the man, staring a bit too long at his freckled face to ever be normal for him of all people. There was something so oddly familiar about that man, from the dark hair to his freckled face to even his tattoo – the crossed-out S. That S…it reminded him of something. What was it, what was it, what was it–
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” asked the woman manning the stall, a kind smile on her lips.
Sabo turned to the woman, stretching his Haki out to sense for his trackers. “Ah, well.” he gave her a sheepish smile, “I was actually sent out for enough apples for a pie, but I’m not a baker, so I haven’t a clue which amount is correct.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, humming as she tapped a finger against her chin, before letting out a slight laugh, “I’m too sure either!”
“I can be of help!” Thatch said cheerfully.
“Thatch, c’mon, I’m hungry!” Sabo couldn’t remember the name of the other man, yet he knew he was important in the Whitebeards as well.
“Thank you…” Sabo looked over to the two, meeting the gaze of the freckled pirate and watching the others silver eyes widened in shock. Sabo stared at him, the slight headache he’s been experiencing since his mission went a-wire increasing the longer their eyes stayed together.
Sabo felt like he knew him, but he would have remembered meeting a pirate with such a look; walking around without a shirt and a bright orange cowboy hat. He felt like he would have remembered a face such as that; eyes such as that.
Would you? You’ve forgotten so much, what’s a pirate’s face, a voice in the back of his mind whispered and Sabo pushed it away. He was used to doing that.
Sabo jerked back, eyes sharpening as he looked to his left. Normally, he wouldn’t care if he had pursuers because he could handle them. But this was supposed to be an inconspicuous mission where the Revolutionary Army wasn’t seen. Which meant he, someone that the marines knew the basic description of, couldn’t be seen. He needed to get out of here.
One of the guards for the marine officer started towards the stall, several others flanking in the shadows and Sabo cursed. He started to step out when a hand grabbed onto his wrist. It was too warm to be a normal touch – Sabo’s mind supplied that this man was called Fire Fist. He looked up in alarm, the man’s face pierced with something Sabo couldn’t exactly name – hurt, pain, guilt, sadness, anger.
Why did he feel so familiar?
“Sabo,” the pirate breathed, and Sabo tensed, eyes narrowing. How did this pirate know his name–
“You there!” a guard shouted, and Sabo tore his wrist from the pirate’s grip.
He had a mission to do. He couldn’t bother himself with such little things.
“No, wait!” Fire Fist yelled, voice desperate.
Sabo found himself pausing against all his training, looking back to stare just as desperately at the silver eyes that stared into him. A hand snagged his elbow and Sabo was yanked into the alley by Hack. It was like a switch was flicked and Sabo nodded his thanks, rushing away with Hack. He tried not to think of the pirate still yelling for him, he tried to focus on the mission.
(He wondered why those silver eyes haunted him. He wondered how long they would.)
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Ace was frozen, his arm still outstretched towards where the man had run off. The man who had blonde hair underneath a familiar looking top hat. The man, who's eye was the exact same shade of blue it had always been, and Ace was willing to bet everything he had that if it wasn't for the burn scar over it, the other eye would match.
The man who looked exactly like what Ace would imagine Sabo would look like if he had the chance to grow up. .
And maybe he did, the voice in his head whispered.
But if that had really been Sabo, if that was really his brother...
"Hey man, are you okay?"
Ace took a deep breath, he needed to get his emotions under control before he started a fire. After a few seconds of deep breaths and exhales Ace turned to Thatch with a forced smile.
"I'm good Thatch! What were you saying?" The look he got from the chef told him that his friend wasn't buying what he was saying.
"You...do know who that was don't you?" Thatch asked, and Ace's mind was racing as fast as Luffy when it was dinner time.
"No actually-"
"HEY! THOSE TWO ARE WHITEBEARD PIRATES! GET THEM!"
God damn marines. Ace kissed his teeth and Thatch cursed, the both of them booking it back to the Moby.
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It was later that night when Ace remembered what he was going to ask Thatch before the Marines started chasing them.
"Hey Thatch," he called pulling the chefs attention away from the man's husband who was ranting about how his favorite line of foundation was being canceled in a few weeks. "You were telling me about that guy we ran into earlier, before the marines started chasing us, could you finish telling me who he is exactly?" Ace asked after swallowing a chicken bone. Thatch looked confused for a moment before a metaphorical lightbulb went off in his head.
"Oh! You mean the Revolutionary Gentleman?"
The galley went silent, so silent that Ace could hear Rakuyo snoring below deck. Hundreds of eyes stared at him. Ace raised a watermelon to his mouth and started to chew on it. The crunch lit the short fuse that caused the explosion of noise.
"The WHAT?!"
"THE FUCKING GENTLEMAN?!?"
"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!"
"ohmygodohmygodohmygod-"
"AHHHH CONNIES HAVING A BREAKDOWN!"
"Why did I join this crew..?"
"Because you love us Dukeee!"
"I fucking despise your existence, Milo."
"Guys can you stop fighting and pay attention to the fact that Ace met THE Gentleman!? That lucky motherfucker, I'd give him all my treasure if he even looked at me..."
"Vall, you're such a fucking simp."
"I mean fair, bUT NICK, SHUT UP!"
"What treasure would you even give him; you have like five berri."
"Milo!"
Ace watched four of his division members fight in front of him while the rest of the crew screamed around him.
Then he registered Thatch's words.
"Wait, REV?" he stressed, his voice rising over the shouts of the others in the room, "As in Revolutionary Deadbeat Dragon Rev?!"
In his peripherals he saw Vallmo choke on their drink so hard it came out of their nose, and he heard Milo and Duke cackle while Nick tried to help the former; but his attention was on Thatch, who was staring at him like he had grown a second head.
"Did you just call the leader of the Revs a deadbeat?!"
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"Ok, so explain to me who that guy was again?" Ace asked after everyone had calmed down. The crew was surrounding him, Thatch, and Izo.
"He's the Revs Chief of Staff, which basically means he's second in command of the entire army." Izo spoke, fanning himself.
("He might be second in command but his looks sure aren't, like holy fuck have you seen his personality-"
"Shut the fuck up Vall, Christ you need to get yourself under control-"
"Oh, shut up Duke, you have a crush on that red head winery owner from Mond and you talk about him all the-"
"I will fucking kill you.")
"He's a pretty important guy Ace, did you really not know?" Thatch smirked, knowing full well Ace never read the newspaper or cared to look into the intelligence division. His smirk faltered as soon as he caught the despaired look on the young commander's face.
"I- He was alive this whole time?" The temperature of the room rose significantly as Ace's look of despair morphed into one of anger. "That bastard!"
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Sabo kept his face in the newspaper, seemingly busy reading it while he was actually keeping an eye out on his target. A noble with a lot of political power who was abusing it – per usual, he thought bitterly – by taking women from their homes without any repercussions. He ran a lot of the underground network that hurt so many people, and when he died, it would collapse.
Sabo smirked slightly as he watched the noble walk his way down the cobblestone path. John Deadwood, thirty-two, the newest head of the Deadwood family was his target. Sabo stood when the noble and his guards walked past him, tucking the newspaper under his arm and walking after the marine. He was conscious to make himself seem unaware of what exactly was going on, looking around as if he was looking for something.
The noble and his guards turned the corner and Sabo’s smirk deepened into something darker, something that one could consider crazy. These people deserved what was coming to them; they were all going to fall one day and Sabo was going to thrive as they did. He was going to savor every second of this mission.
(He hated the idea that he could have become one of those snotty nobles that thought they were above everything. He hated that he shared their blood.)
Sabo followed them down the side road, checked that there were no people in sight, and then he pounced. His knee connected with the first guard’s back, the man landing harshly with Sabo on top of him. He knocked his fist into the back of the man’s head, the crack in the ground loud to his ears and he jerked forward, kicking the next guard in the chin before shooting his hand forward. His fingertips pierced skin and pushed him back until he was shoved into the wall.
Sabo jerked his head to the side, smirking slowly when he felt the bullet pass through the space in front of him. He let his hand free, the man dropped, and he stalked over to the last two guards as the noble screamed demands. He dodged the bullets shot at him with ease before he reached up, grabbing the gun pointed at him, forcing it back so the weapon hit the owner in the face roughly.
He pulled the weapon free, twisted, and shot at the other guard. Sabo twisted, knocking the guard upside the head, and gripped the gun until it creaked and bent. It dropped as he walked forward.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Sabo smirked widely at Deadwood.
“I-I’ll give you anything!” the noble stuttered as he stumbled back, and Sabo kept his slow pace. “Money! Power! Women! A-Anything!”
Sabo tilted his head to the side, “Anything, huh?”
“Yes!” he cried, tears in his eyes.
Sabo reached forward, grasping the man’s face with his gloved hands. “All I want is your life,” he whispered as though he were telling a secret. “These claws of mine can crush weapons with ease,” he murmured, “I wonder what I could do to a human skull…”
“N-No,” the noble whispered as Sabo applied some pressure, “P-Please.”
“Would it crack like an egg?” Sabo mused, smiling, “Why don’t we find out–”
“Sabo!” the yell made him tense and he looked over his shoulder. Sabo frowned when he saw Fire-Fist and Marco the Phoenix from the Whitebeards. They shouldn’t even bother themselves with this, why were they here?
Sabo’s distraction allowed the noble to break free from his lax grip, stumbling back and crying as Sabo looked over to him with wide eyes yet it wasn’t confusion that filled them. Something more akin to confused rage filled his blue eyes, and the noble saw it.
“Sabo, this–” Fire Fist sounded desperate, hands waving around, “This isn’t what you wanted to be!”
Sabo tensed, turning slowly to gaze at the panting man. This wasn’t what he wanted to be? Sabo didn’t have the luxury of wanting to be something. All he wanted was to free the world from the World Government and he would become anything to make that happen.
(He wanted to remember those ten years he no longer had since he was attacked.)
The sound of the noble inching away made Sabo snap his gaze over to him, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head as though to ask what the man thought he would accomplish.
“What I wanted to be…” Sabo mused, looking over to Fire Fist from over his shoulder.
(There was an image in his mind, one of three sake glasses knocked together.
Brothers! rang in his ears.)
“What I wanted to be is nothing like what I want now,” he said simply, turning his back to the noble as he scurried away. “I’m part of the Revolutionary Army,” why was he telling this pirate that? “I crave freedom.”
“No!” Fire Fist cried out and Sabo paused, looking over to see the First Division Leader pulling him back and keeping an arm clamped over his waist. “Sabo! Sabo, you can’t! This isn’t you!”
Sabo wondered why he wanted to stay, why he wanted to keep this man company, why he wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine.
He turned on his heel and hurried after the running noble. He had a noble to catch, he had people to save, and he would save them.
(Fire Fist was not one of them.)
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“Ace…” Marco said slowly as the Revolutionary who he’s heard a lot of disappeared after what Marco assumed was his current target. Pissing off the Revolutionary Army – especially this agent in particular – wasn’t on Marco’s to do list.
He was known as The Gentleman to the public simply because he wasn’t known. He didn’t even have an official bounty because they don’t have a concrete description of him; rumor was that it constantly changed and thus the marines couldn’t act on it. Ace knows this, Thatch talked his ear off about it when they had first run into this Revolutionary guy and he certainly hadn’t forgotten.
But that man looked so much like Sabo did. He even fought similarly to Sabo, wore clothes similar to Sabo. For a moment, it had felt like his brother had never died and Ace had wanted that to be true so badly. He had wanted…he had wanted his brother to be alive again. He had wanted to see how he would have grown, how he would have fought, how he would have lived.
Ace turned in Marco’s arms and he wept. He cried for his lost brother – because if that man truly was Sabo, he wasn’t the same as Ace remembered. He mourned for the lost time, for how much they could have done.
(He cried because he was weak, and he always would be.)
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Sabo rubbed at his forehead, jaw clenched, and eyes closed, as he tried to fight the pain attacking his skull. He couldn’t get those silver eyes out of his mind, couldn’t truly see the images flashing through his mind.
Sabo shook and all he saw was silver.
(He wanted answers, and he would get them.)
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Ace handed his brother his Virve Card, smiling. He’s missed his baby brother, and lately his thoughts have been a mess of Sabo–Teach–Betrayal–Revenge and seeing Luffy again was like a breath of fresh air. But he couldn’t stop thinking of Sabo, or at least his look alike.
“Ace?” Luffy questioned, holding tightly onto the slip of paper between his fingers. “What’s wrong?” he asked, not for the first time since their reunion.
Ace sighed softly, “Lu…listen closely.”
He hadn’t wanted to say anything about it. There was a huge chance that this man wasn’t Sabo – their brother Sabo – and an entirely different person. But blue eyes flashed through his mind, quickly followed by golden locks and familiar fighting skills and he simply couldn’t keep it to himself.
“There’s this man,” Ace said, and it was the seriousness in his tone and expression that kept Luffy serious as well. He knew this; his brother always matched his seriousness when it rose. “He is either a look alike or the real deal, but I’ve met a man who resembles Sabo a lot.”
Luffy inhaled shakily and Ace understood. He understood all too well.
“If you see him, I want you to call me, Luffy.” Ace said, “Do you understand?”
“Sabo is alive?” Luffy asked, voice shaking.
“He might be,” Ace mumbled, reaching out to ruffle his brother’s locks, “Promise you’ll call me, Luffy.”
“I will,” Luffy said, nodding. He wiped at his eyes and then he was smiling, and Ace felt like a weight that had been on his chest for months had finally lifted.
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Chains bit into Ace’s wrists and he wondered, as he was dragged into the depths of Impel Down, if he would see those blue eyes again.
Sorry Luffy…Sabo…
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Sabo stared at the newspaper in his hands and he felt strangely numb. The article was proudly announcing the scheduled execution of Fire Fist Ace, the Second Division Commander to the Whitebeard Pirates. It was obviously a ploy to try to fight the Yonko; of course the Marines would do such a thing. Sabo wasn’t surprised.
But they were going to execute Fire Fist Ace .
His brother was going to be executed.
…his brother?
Sabo reached up, pressing his fingertips into his forehead as he felt an ache blossom. There was no time for this, not now. He could try to understand everything later. Right now, Sabo needed to go.
“Dragon-san,” Sabo announced, “I’m going to save him.”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Where magma should have met skin, a Haki-infused pipe blocked the blow.
Where one brother should have died, leaving the youngest to mourn being the last of three, a brother thought to be lost returned.