Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
It has been twelve long years since the pirate king, Gol D. Roger, vanished from the execution platform in Loguetown. His dramatic exit – chains snapping, shackles clattering empty on the ground – was as baffling as it was swift. One moment, the entire town held its breath as he delivered his final words with a grin, and the next, he was gone, swallowed up by an eerie silence that fell like a fog over the city. Chaos erupted in his wake, a frenzy sweeping through the townspeople and spreading like wildfire beyond Loguetown's borders. The mighty World Government had been humiliated, their prized execution broken up in the blink of an eye. They launched an exhaustive manhunt, combing every island, every rumored hiding place, looking for even the faintest trace of him – but there was none. No one had seen him since, and whispers, rumors, legends only muddled the truth.
His disappearance left his loyal crew scattered to the winds, and for two years, the world debated his fate. Finally, the government declared him dead, confident in their assumption that Roger couldn’t have survived. Sure, there were tales of his lover on Baterilla, and wild speculation about a possible child. But when the government investigated every woman with a child in Baterilla, they came up empty-handed. The faint trail of rumor evaporated, and with no sign of any heir, the case was closed. They reasoned that even if he had somehow escaped, he’d been fatally ill; without the government’s intervention, he wouldn’t have lived much longer. He was dead, they told themselves – certain, content even, that he no longer posed a threat. His story, as far as they were concerned, had ended.
Or so they believed. But the World Government, for all its power and knowledge, had never truly understood Gol D. Roger. They’d never comprehended the sheer strength of will that drove him, the audacity that had shattered their carefully laid plans time and again. They should have sensed it, perhaps – a lingering echo of his spirit, a storm brewing quietly on the horizon. Yet, no one saw it coming, the storm that would soon shake the foundations of the world, striking fear into the hearts of the Celestial Dragons and the World Government alike. But that’s another story. I won’t happen for a few more years and Roger won’t be in the center of it and neither will his son…
Ten years after the world declared him dead, he stands again on that same scaffold in Loguetown, the same spot where his life was meant to end. For a disorienting moment, Roger blinks, squinting against the harsh daylight as he looks around, trying to piece together what just happened. His heart races, a mix of confusion and defiance filling his chest. The town is empty; the faces of angry executioners and jeering crowds are gone. He chuckles, the laughter a little more uncertain than his usual hearty roar.
“Where did everyone go?” he mutters, confusion creasing his brow.
“Welcome to the future, Captain.” A familiar voice murmurs behind him. “Toki informed me when you’d return.”
Roger turns around slowly, the realization hitting him like a punch. The black-haired captain’s expression shifts from confusion to fury, as understanding dawns. “Toki, you bitch!” His voice bellows, thunderous, echoing across the silent streets of Loguetown. “You just wait until I get my hands on you! Using your damn powers on me – who the hell do you think you are?!”
“Language.” The voice cuts through his outrage with an amused reprimand. “There might be children listening. Besides, Toki and Oden have both passed on. Now let’s go; everyone’s waiting.”
Roger’s jaw drops. All at once, shock and betrayal mingle with a strange, reluctant admiration. “Wait, does this mean… you were all in on this?!” His eyes narrow, defiance sparking in their depths. “That’s mutiny! Mutiny against your captain!”
A slight smirk plays on the voice’s lips, unbothered by Roger’s furious accusations. “You disbanded the crew,” replies Rayleigh, calm and unaffected. “So technically, you’re not our captain anymore.”
Roger opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Rayleigh doesn’t give him the chance.
“Now let’s go,” he says firmly, a subtle urgency in his tone. “Crocus didn’t spend the last twelve years working on an antidote just for you to keel over before you get the chance to drink it.”
Roger pauses, letting the words sink in. For the first time, his anger tempers into something else – a mix of awe, disbelief, and something that feels suspiciously like gratitude. They’d all been waiting for him. Even after he disbanded them, even after he left them behind, they’d still looked after him, believing he’d somehow come back.
Chapter 2: A boy meets his father
Chapter Text
Flames surge all around them, rising like fierce, hungry beasts. Everywhere Ace looks, there’s fire, smothering the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His chest feels tight as smoke fills his lungs, and he can barely make out where they are in this burning hellscape. But even as the flames close in, the true danger isn’t the fire itself—it’s Bluejam and his crew, who’ve managed to capture them once more, ignoring the blaze and only thinking about their treasure. Their greed is astonishing. Ace’s eyes flash with anger; how could these fools value a hidden stash of gold over their lives?
Then, there’s a chilling click. Ace freezes, looking up to see Bluejam pointing a pistol directly at him. The look in the pirate’s eyes is desperate, wild.
“You don’t wanna mess with me right now!” Bluejam snarls, his voice laced with barely concealed rage. “I need that money to take my revenge on the nobles! And your brother is one of them! They think they’re so special, looking down on us like we’re trash.”
Ace’s jaw clenches. Sabo…? He feels a sudden pang of hurt mixed with fierce loyalty. “Sabo doesn’t think like that!” he snaps back. He knows his brother. Sabo isn’t like the other nobles. Sabo cares.
Bluejam sneers, tightening his grip on the gun. “He’s the same as them, fool! He was with you both just to feel superior.” His words are venomous, meant to wound, and as he speaks, he shoves the pistol closer to Ace’s head, his voice growing louder, more threatening.
“That’s not true!” Luffy’s voice cuts through the tension, defiant and fierce. He thrashes against the pirate holding him, sinking his teeth into the man’s arm. The pirate yells in pain, and Luffy breaks free, raising his small pipe as a weapon.
“Luffy!” Ace’s heart lurches with both pride and terror, seeing his little brother stand up to these brutal men. But Luffy doesn’t stand a chance. The pirate growls, and with a swift, merciless swing of his sword, he slashes Luffy’s pipe in half. The blade grazes Luffy’s cheek, leaving a streak of blood that glistens in the firelight.
Ace’s eyes go wide as he watches Luffy fall, his brother clutching his cheek, writhing on the ground and screaming in pain. Panic seizes him. He struggles against the pirate holding him, but the man’s grip is iron, refusing to loosen.
The pirate’s sword lifts again, the sharp blade glinting as it descends, aimed right at Luffy’s small, defenseless form.
“No! Let go of me!” Ace thrashes, desperation and fury igniting within him, but it’s no use. The grip on him is unrelenting. Luffy’s cries tear through the air, his body rolling helplessly on the ground, oblivious to the fatal strike coming his way. Something snaps inside Ace—a feeling so fierce and raw that he barely recognizes it as his own. His heart pounds as a sudden, impossible thought burns through him: Not my brother. Not Luffy.
“Don’t you dare touch Luffy!” Ace screams, his voice filled with something he doesn’t fully understand. It’s a plea, a demand, a desperate wish for something, anything to save his brother. And then, as if responding to his very soul, he feels something strange, something that makes his skin tingle, like he’s sinking underwater.
The fire around them suddenly dies down, snuffed out as if by an unseen force. The pirate holding Ace falters, his grip weakening, and Ace slips free. The other man, the one poised to kill Luffy, stumbles, his sword dropping from his hand and landing with a clatter beside Luffy’s head. Every man in Bluejam’s crew begins to sway, their eyes going blank as one by one, they collapse to the ground, unconscious.
Only Bluejam remains standing, his face a shade paler, horror written across his features.
Ace wastes no time. He scrambles to his brother, kneeling beside him. “Luffy! Are you okay?” He reaches out, heart pounding as he takes in the blood streaking down Luffy’s cheek, his sobs soft and pained.
But before Ace can get Luffy back on his feet, Bluejam’s outraged voice cuts through the silence, filled with a twisted, mocking fury. “What did you do?” he screeches, and in an instant, he lunges forward, his hands like iron shackles around Ace’s neck. He slams Ace onto the ground and presses a boot to his chest, pinning him there as he levels the pistol at him. “You creepy little brat! Do you think you can make a fool out of me too?”
“Ace!” Luffy’s voice is weak, barely a whisper as he lies on the ground, too hurt to help.
Ace feels the pistol pressing into his chest, sees Bluejam’s finger start to tighten on the trigger. Fear claws at him, but he grits his teeth, unwilling to give Bluejam the satisfaction of seeing him terrified. He glares up defiantly, his own heart pounding in time with Luffy’s soft sobs.
But then, a shadow appears, swift and silent, like an avenging spirit. Bluejam is suddenly knocked backward, his pistol falling uselessly from his hand. A deep, powerful voice booms across the burning alleyway, filled with an anger that rivals the fire around them.
“Scum that attacks defenseless children shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
Ace’s breath catches as he looks up, taking in the stranger’s figure, tall and broad-shouldered. He wears a long red captain’s coat, his hat casting a shadow over his face, but Ace doesn’t need to see him clearly to know who this man is. The intense eyes, the wild grin, the thick black hair, and the iconic curved mustache—Ace knows him at once. Even if he’s only seen the faded wanted posters his grandfather showed him long ago, there’s no mistaking this man. This is Gol D. Roger, the legendary Pirate King.
Luffy’s quiet sobs break the stunned silence as he clutches his bleeding cheek, too dazed to even realize who stands before them. Ace’s own heart pounds, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. This man—he’s supposed to be dead. Died years ago. But here he is, standing between them and Bluejam, the Pirate King himself.
“Are you kids okay?” Roger’s voice softens as he glances at them, a look of genuine concern on his fierce face.
Ace doesn’t answer, his gaze locked on this impossible figure. He feels a surge of something—a mixture of awe, defiance, and confusion. He hates this man, hates everything he’s heard about him, but right now, that doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing matters except that he’s here, standing protectively over them.
“Who the hell are you?” Bluejam snarls, his voice shaking, but Roger merely chuckles, taking a step forward.
Roger opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Ace finds himself speaking, a word tumbling out before he even realizes it.
“Dad?”
"Ace..." Roger's voice is softer than Ace expects, and when he glances up at him, he sees the man’s face harden as he takes in every bruise, cut, and burn marring his skin. Ace can’t remember anyone ever looking at him like this—like each mark on him is a wound on Roger himself. “I’ve been looking for you. It seems I made it just in time.” There’s a steely finality in his voice, like he's just sworn an oath.
“You’re Ace’s dad?” Luffy interrupts, his face bright with surprise, the pain from his cheek and the heat momentarily forgotten as he stares at Roger with wide, curious eyes. “But… you’re supposed to be dead!”
Roger chuckles, the fierce light in his eyes softening. “Well, I would have been, if my crew hadn’t mutinied and sent me into the future!” There’s pride and humor in his tone, but also a hint of sadness that only someone like Ace, with his own complicated feelings, could recognize.
Bluejam’s voice cuts through, sharp and jarring. “Who are you?” he demands, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger, his hand twitching as if he’s still ready for a fight he’s already lost.
Roger takes off his hat and bows, his movements elegant yet fierce, filled with confidence. “Gol D. Roger, Pirate King,” he says, his gaze shifting back to Ace with a look that says he’ll never allow anyone to hurt him again, “and the father of young Ace here.”
“Impossible!” Bluejam stumbles back a step, his face twisted with denial, his voice shrill as if he can’t accept that the man he’s facing is real.
But Roger pays him no mind. Instead, he turns to Ace, his face hardening. “Is he the one who hurt you?” There’s a darkness in his eyes now, fierce and protective, and Ace feels a strange comfort in it.
Ace nods, still numb, unable to process the surreal turn of events. The man he loathes most in the world, his father, is here—rescuing him and Luffy, standing between them and Bluejam like a shield. Nothing makes sense, yet Ace can’t bring himself to question it.
Roger’s hand moves to his sword, his expression set. Bluejam’s bravado drains from his face, his eyes widening as he realizes just what he’s dealing with. He pales, fear spreading across his features as Roger steps forward.
The fight—if it can even be called that—is over in a heartbeat. Roger moves with a lethal grace, his strength overwhelming, as he dispatches Bluejam with a single, swift strike. There’s no hesitation, no mercy, only the Pirate King protecting his son.
Roger’s face doesn’t change, utterly unfazed as he turns back to them, calm even in the wake of ending a man’s life. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, reaching down to pick up Luffy, who whimpers and clings to Roger’s arm, too hurt to protest or question further. Then Roger turns to Ace, his expression softening. “Can you still walk?”
Ace nods, feeling strangely detached, as if he’s watching himself from a distance. The fire seems to split before them as they make their way out of Grey Terminal, Roger leading them back toward the bandits’ hut.
As they approach, Dogra’s voice rises in a shout. “Luffy! Ace!” He’s rushing over, eyes wide with relief and disbelief as he takes in the sight of Roger with the two boys. “He found the boys!”
The other bandits come spilling out of the hut, with Dadan at the forefront, looking as if she’s seen a ghost. Ace almost smirks, seeing her shocked expression, but he’s too worn out to muster it. He’s never been more grateful for the sight of familiar faces.
Dogra’s gaze darts around, worry replacing his relief. “Where’s Sabo?” he asks, his voice tinged with panic. “Don’t tell me he’s still inside the fire!”
Ace shakes his head, his heart heavy. “Sabo’s safe… His father took him back to High Town.” Beside him, he hears Luffy let out a quiet sob, and Ace clenches his fists, pushing down his own grief and guilt.
Roger gestures to a man standing beside him, someone Ace hadn’t noticed before. “This is Crocus, my doctor,” he says, introducing the older man with a gentle nudge. “He’ll take a look at your injuries.”
Ace nods, feeling some of the tension release from his shoulders. Luffy, despite his pain, instantly brightens, nodding eagerly as he says, “Okay!” The kid’s resilience amazes Ace, even now.
“Luffy first,” Ace says firmly, his gaze meeting Roger’s with a silent challenge, daring him to object.
Roger merely nods, setting Luffy down in front of Crocus, who kneels to inspect his cheek and check him over with gentle hands. But the moment Roger lets go of Luffy, Ace sees him stumble, his face paling as he drops to his knees right in front of Ace. To Ace’s shock, Roger’s face is wet with tears.
“You’re alive…” Roger chokes out, his voice raw, stripped of all the strength and bravado from moments before. “I made it in time…” His shoulders shake as he cries, and Ace finds himself speechless, staring at this man who’s supposed to be a legend, a terror of the seas. And here he is, crying over him, over them.
“You… you were looking for us?” Ace asks, his own voice barely above a whisper. His brain feels foggy, almost as if it’s refusing to believe this is really happening. Why isn’t he angry? Why isn’t he shouting at him? Why isn’t he attacking the man he thought he hated more than anything?
Roger’s tear-streaked face twists into something fierce and indignant. “Of course I was!” he snaps, sounding almost offended, as if it’s unthinkable that Ace would doubt him even for a moment.
“Don’t be so hard on the boy,” Crocus scolds gently as he tends to Luffy. “They just survived a fire, and he’s been reunited with a father who supposedly died over a decade ago. Let him process it.”
Roger blinks, looking taken aback as his anger deflates, leaving him with a look of contrite softness Ace doesn’t know how to react to. “Oh…” he mutters, glancing away, rubbing at his eyes.
“Brother…” Ace speaks up, correcting Crocus. “Luffy’s my little brother.”
Both Crocus and Roger look at him, the weight of his words hanging in the air, and then they nod, acceptance and pride mingling in their expressions.
“Brother,” they echo, each with a different kind of reverence. Ace feels something in his chest ease, a tension he’s held there for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe freely.
As the fire fades behind them, Ace lets himself exhale, feeling, for the first time in his life, like he belongs somewhere—in this strange, unexpected, impossible moment with his little brother by his side, and his father at his back.
Chapter 3: Brothers reunited
Chapter Text
Ace feels the heavy weight of anticipation sitting in his stomach as he and Roger make their way to High Town. He’s doing his best to act unfazed, but inside, his heart is racing. This place has always felt like it’s a world away—stuffy, cold, and unwelcoming. But this time, he’s not sneaking around; he’s walking in openly, following his father’s lead.
Roger doesn’t waste any time. He draws his sword without hesitation, slicing the heavy door right down the middle. The wood creaks and groans before splintering apart. Ace follows him through the shattered entrance, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction as they stride through High Town, ignoring the gasps and shocked stares around them.
The first person they encounter is a middle-aged woman in a fine dress, her perfectly groomed dog trotting beside her. Roger doesn’t hesitate; he grabs her arm, and she shrieks in alarm.
“Where do I find Outlook’s house?” he demands, his voice low and commanding.
The woman twists her arm, her face going red. “Release me, you barbarian!”
Roger’s eyes flash with impatience. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you go.”
The woman’s dog growls, stepping forward to protect her, but one sharp glare from Roger, and it stops in its tracks. Its bravado vanishes, and it lets out a whimper, retreating with its tail between its legs. Ace almost laughs at how terrified the dog looks; even animals know when to back down.
The woman finally points a trembling finger down the road. “The Outlooks live in the mansion at the end of the street,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Roger drops her arm without a second glance and strides forward. Ace falls into step behind him, feeling a thrill of satisfaction—almost like a victory—as they make their way to Sabo’s house.
The Outlook mansion is impossible to miss. It’s the largest, most ostentatious building they’ve come across, towering over the others with its ornate facade and meticulously maintained gardens. Ace notices something strange about it: the windows are barred. He feels a shiver of anger. Did they lock Sabo in here, like some kind of prisoner?
Roger doesn’t hesitate. With one smooth motion, he draws his sword and slices through the fence surrounding the mansion, creating an opening for them to step through.
“Dad, I found him!” Ace says, spotting Sabo behind one of the windows. Relief and excitement surge through him as he points to the window where Sabo is pacing, looking as lost and frustrated as ever.
Roger grins, a fierce glint in his eyes, and in one smooth motion, he cuts a path through the rest of the fencing and walks right up to the window.
“Sabo!” Ace shouts, his voice ringing out in the quiet garden.
Inside, Sabo freezes, then looks up at the window in disbelief. He opens it, his blue eyes wide with confusion. “Ace? What are you doing here?”
“Step back from the window,” Roger says with authority, giving Sabo a reassuring nod. Without a word, Sabo obeys, still bewildered.
Roger reaches down, hoists Ace up, and leaps effortlessly through the open window, landing inside beside a shocked Sabo.
“Ace, what’s going on?” Sabo stares, his eyes darting between Ace and Roger, clearly trying to make sense of the situation.
Ace doesn’t waste a second. “We’re leaving,” he announces. “You’re coming with us.”
Sabo blinks, looking utterly confused. “Huh?”
Ace smirks, his heart pounding with excitement and a strange sense of pride. “I got us a way off Dawn Island.” He jerks his thumb at Roger, who stands there with a slight smile, arms crossed.
Sabo’s gaze flickers to Roger, and his eyes widen in recognition, a spark of awe and fear in his expression. “Ace, is he…”
“Yeah,” Ace confirms, nodding. “He’s my dad. Don’t worry. I already checked to make sure he’s not some kind of imposter.”
Sabo’s confusion only deepens. “How? How did you even find him?”
Ace crosses his arms, feeling a little smug. “His crew somehow sent him to the future without his consent. Apparently, they had a friend who ate a Devil Fruit that lets you travel forward in time or send others. It’s how he disappeared at the execution.”
Sabo’s jaw drops, and he stares at Roger, his face a mixture of awe and disbelief. Roger only nods, looking as if this is all perfectly normal, like time travel and sudden reunions are just part of his everyday life.
“So… you’re really Gol D. Roger?” Sabo manages to ask, looking as though he’s struggling to even believe his own words.
Roger’s face softens, and he nods, resting a hand on Sabo’s shoulder. “I am. And I’m here to make sure you three have the freedom to live your lives, on your own terms.” His gaze shifts to Ace, his eyes filled with something Ace can’t quite name—pride, maybe, or something even deeper.
Sabo’s face slowly breaks into a grin, a light in his eyes that Ace hasn’t seen in so long. He steps closer to Ace, their unspoken bond stronger than ever.
***
Ace feels a strange mix of nerves and excitement as they approach the ship, Sabo and Luffy trailing behind him. He isn’t sure what he expected when he imagined meeting his father’s crew, but he knows he didn’t expect them to be… so ordinary. They look rough around the edges, sure, but they’re also staring at Roger with a sort of exasperated familiarity. The sight of all three boys with the Pirate King, however, is enough to make a few jaws drop.
Reyleigh, Roger’s first mate, steps forward, looking at the three of them with an eyebrow raised. "When you ran off to find your offspring, I thought you'd return with just one kid." He gives Roger a look that seems part-amused, part-irritated, and all fatherly.
Roger just laughs, patting both Ace and Sabo on the shoulders. "Well, some things happened, and I couldn’t leave them behind. Besides, they swore brotherhood over shared sake cups.” He gives a satisfied grin. “Doesn’t that make them my boys now, too?"
Some of the crew chuckles, while Reyleigh sighs and shakes his head, resigned. Ace feels a mix of pride and disbelief. This is his father—an infuriating idiot in some ways, but also someone who just accepts and includes without a second thought. It feels like he’s letting himself step into a new life he didn’t think he wanted, but now he’s not so sure.
“Bringing them back is one thing,” Reyleigh says, voice stern, “but running off before Crocus could finish your treatment was reckless, even for you.”
Roger shrugs, waving off the concern. “That’s why I took Crocus along—just in case anything happened. Besides, my boys needed me. What kind of father would I be if I let some stupid sickness stop me?”
Ace tries to suppress a smile, but it slips out anyway. His father’s confidence and genuine care are something else. He feels a strange warmth at Roger’s words—my boys.
Suddenly, there’s a gasp, and Ace turns to see Red Haired Shanks staring wide-eyed at Luffy, as if he’s seen a ghost. “Anchor?” he blurts out, voice full of disbelief.
Luffy’s eyes go wide too. “Shanks?” His shock is even more intense. Silence settles over the deck as the two stare at each other, both looking as if they’ve seen a long-lost friend.
Roger glances between them, grinning.
The red haired pirate laugh. “Seems like you got your wish to join my crew after all, Luffy.”
“I’m not joining!” Luffy blurts, his face red with indignation. “I’m only staying until I’m seventeen! Then I’ll get my own crew! When they’re strong enough, we’ll beat all of and find the One Piece!” His eyes light up with determination. “I’ll become the next Pirate King!”
The crew is silent for a moment before they all burst into laughter, Roger’s booming laughter louder than the rest. He claps Luffy on the shoulder, looking both proud and amused. “That’s the spirit, kid! I can’t wait to see you try!”
The next morning, a handful of bounty posters arrive on deck. Ace doesn’t think much of it until Roger starts crowing with excitement, holding up one of the posters for the crew to see.
“My bounty’s been raised!” he exclaims, grinning as he reads it. “Six billion berries!”
The crew cheers, and Roger soaks it all in, but then he frowns as he glances down at the next poster. “Huh. ‘Pirate Prince, Gol D. Ace, Dead or Alive, 500 million berries.’” He holds it up, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Ace stares at the poster, feeling his jaw tighten as he takes it in. It’s a sloppy, poorly-drawn sketch that barely resembles him—an outline that could be him or any kid with black hair and freckles. But the words hit harder than the bad artwork. Pirate Prince. He feels a strange thrill, but also a heaviness he didn’t expect. They’re labeling him with his father’s title, almost as if they’re daring him to take it on.
Roger laughs and slaps his back. “Look at that, Ace! Only been on the ship for a day, and already making a name for yourself!”
The crew cheers again, clearly enjoying the title as they tease him, but Ace is quiet. He can feel Luffy and Sabo’s eyes on him, full of wonder. It’s only a wanted poster, just a flimsy piece of paper, but it feels like it’s opening a door he can’t close.
Roger notices Ace’s expression and kneels down, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry I’ll protect you. The Marines and Wold Government won’t touch a hair on your head.”
Ace meets his father’s gaze, feeling his heart pound with excitement and trepidation. He doesn’t know what to say.
Roger grins, and the fire in his eyes tells Ace he’s done the right thing.
***
Seven years later
The moment the cook announces he’s leaving to join the rest of the crew at the party, Ace’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. He exchanges a knowing look with Sabo and Luffy, who are practically buzzing with excitement. It doesn’t take much—just a quick nod between them—and they’re all dashing into the kitchen, giggling like little kids.
On the counter sits the most beautiful cake Ace has ever seen on this ship, frosted with thick layers of cream and topped with a delicate design of fruits and chocolate shavings. It’s almost a shame to ruin it, but then again… that’s what makes the prank so perfect.
“Quick, help me lift this,” Ace whispers to Sabo, and they carefully slice the top layer of frosting off. Beneath it, they’re greeted by the soft, spongy cake they’d been hoping for. Luffy pokes a finger into the cake, taking a swipe of frosting.
“Luffy!” Ace hisses, though he’s grinning. “Do you want him to figure it out?”
“Sorry! It just looked so good…” Luffy whispers, his mouth already covered in icing.
They all stifle giggles as they work, hollowing out several sizable holes in the cake. Then, Ace pulls out their “secret ingredients”—a handful of small balloons they’d painstakingly blown up. They carefully stuff each hole with a balloon, then settle the top layer of cake back over it, hiding every trace of their tampering. By the time they finish, the cake looks as pristine and innocent as it did before. Just like they do.
The next day, the whole crew gathers in the mess hall for breakfast. Roger strides in, grinning broadly, already eyeing the cake. He looks like a kid at a carnival. The cake sits proudly at the center of the table, a masterpiece ready to be devoured.
“You boys ready to try some of my cook’s finest work?” Roger says, lifting the knife with a grand flourish.
Ace, Sabo, and Luffy exchange barely-contained snickers as Roger cuts into the cake.
The knife sinks through the top layer, then—BOOM!—the balloons pop one after another, sending cream, dough, and chunks of cake flying in all directions. Roger staggers back, completely coated, blinking in stunned silence. Cream drips down his mustache, and chunks of cake cling to his hair and coat. Around him, the crew is caught in the crossfire, covered in an unexpected shower of frosting and cake crumbs.
For a heartbeat, there’s utter silence. Then Shanks doubles over with laughter, clutching his sides as he tries to catch his breath. Reyleigh just smiles, shaking his head fondly, while Benn and Yasopp roll their eyes, wiping off the cake bits stuck to their faces.
“Ace, Sabo, Luffy!” Roger growls, his voice carrying all the authority of the Pirate King—but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s got a whipped cream beard and a cherry on his head.
“Yes, Dad?” Ace asks, feigning the picture of innocence, though his lips are twitching. Behind him, Sabo and Luffy are barely containing their snickers, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
Roger narrows his eyes, hands on his hips. “You’re on cleaning duty for the rest of the week.”
Ace nods solemnly, giving Roger his best “innocent son” face, but there’s a mischievous spark in his eyes that he can’t quite hide. Beside him, Sabo and Luffy are grinning from ear to ear.
“Totally worth it,” Sabo whispers, and Ace nods in agreement. Even Luffy manages to keep a straight face long enough to give a small, triumphant nod. The three of them walk out, heads held high, already plotting their next prank.
Chapter Text
Ace is practically vibrating with excitement as he, Sabo, and Luffy step off the ship onto the sandy shore of Karai Bari. The small island has a sleepy charm, with just a small village nestled between the lush green trees and the gentle, rolling waves. The scent of salt and the buzz of insects are constant reminders that they’re far from home and on yet another adventure. They glance around, taking in the sights of small houses with straw roofs, a few worn-down shops, and a collection of humble fishing boats bobbing gently by the docks.
Roger, grinning with that rogue glint in his eye, waves them off with a carefree, “Just don’t burn down the place!” as he heads off to supervise the resupply.
The boys don’t need to be told twice. They’re already darting down the path into the heart of the village, Ace leading the way with Luffy on his heels and Sabo grinning beside him. They check out everything along the way, from the hand-painted signs above each shop to the assortment of trinkets displayed on makeshift tables outside the small general store.
It doesn’t take long before they spot a sign with a skull and crossbones painted in faded, dark ink. Beneath it, the words “Tattoo Parlor” are scrawled in rough letters. Ace’s eyes light up. He’s been thinking about tattoos for a while—something to symbolize everything that he, Sabo, and Luffy have been through, the bond they share.
Sabo glances over at Ace, catching that gleam in his eye. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks, grinning.
“Absolutely,” Ace replies, already pushing open the door, his heart racing with anticipation.
Inside, the parlor is dim and smoky, filled with the faint smell of ink and alcohol. The walls are lined with drawings and designs—dragons, skulls, flowers, and more intricate symbols than Ace has ever seen. The tattoo artist, a grizzled man with a beard and a shirt that looks like it’s seen one too many brawls, raises an eyebrow at the three of them.
“Something I can do for you?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
Ace takes a deep breath. “We want matching tattoos,” he says, his voice steady as he shows him a sketch of the pirate flag they used as little kids. “And I want an extra one—the Jolly Roger on my back.”
The tattoo artist gives them a once-over, amused. “Well, you’re bold, I’ll give you that. ‘ASL’ and a Jolly Roger, huh? That’s some serious commitment.” He gestures for them to sit down, and Ace can feel his pulse quickening with excitement and maybe a bit of nerves.
The boys decide on the placement, and soon they’re sitting in a row, each getting the letters “A,” “S,” and “L” inked onto their shoulders. Ace watches the tattoo artist work on his skin, feeling a strange mix of thrill and pride as the needle pricks, marking him with something permanent—a symbol of their unbreakable bond. He winces slightly at the sting, but he doesn’t care. Each prick of the needle feels like a promise, a vow that he, Sabo, and Luffy are brothers no matter where they go or what happens.
Luffy, of course, squirms, complaining loudly about the sting. “Ow! This hurts more than I thought!” he whines, though his grin doesn’t fade for a second.
Sabo chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure, Luffy. We’ll always have this, no matter what.”
Once the “ASL” tattoos are finished, Ace turns his back to the tattoo artist, ready for the other one he’s dreamed of for so long. As the needle bites into his skin again, he grits his teeth, feeling the searing pain yet also feeling oddly calm. Having his father’s Jolly Roger on his back means he’s carrying a piece of his family with him—a reminder of everything that’s led him to this moment.
When the tattoos are done, the three of them stare at each other’s shoulders, admiring the fresh ink with huge, proud grins. They step out of the tattoo parlor with an exhilarating sense of triumph, feeling older, bolder, and closer than ever.
They continue exploring the island, although as the hours pass, they realize it’s quieter than they’d hoped. The village is peaceful—almost too peaceful, without any of the excitement or bustle they’re used to. But they keep walking, taking in the calm, unfamiliar scenery. At one point, they venture farther out, winding through small dirt paths lined with ferns and low-hanging branches.
Just as they’re starting to think they’ve seen everything the island has to offer, a faint rustling catches their attention. Luffy, ever the curious one, bounds toward the sound, and Ace and Sabo follow. They push aside some bushes and come face-to-face with a crude metal trap, its jagged teeth cruelly clamped around… a baby lynx.
The tiny creature is terrified, its wide amber eyes darting up at them, its small, spotted body shaking with fear and pain. Ace’s heart twists at the sight. He crouches down, his voice soft and soothing. “Hey, little guy. We’re not gonna hurt you,” he murmurs.
Sabo moves to help, and together, they manage to pry the trap open, their hands steady but gentle. The lynx limps out, licking its wounded leg. But before it can run off, a much larger lynx—a mother, clearly—emerges from the shadows, her gaze fierce and protective. Ace and the others slowly back away, watching as the mother lynx nudges her baby, urging it to follow her into the safety of the trees.
There’s a heavy silence as the boys watch the pair disappear. Something about it feels significant, like they’ve done a small but meaningful thing. Ace lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, glancing over at his brothers. They’re grinning again, sharing that unspoken bond that comes from seeing something wild and raw and real.
Eventually, they make their way back to the ship, their new tattoos itching slightly, a satisfying reminder of the day’s adventures. As they help haul supplies onto the ship, Ace feels Roger’s eyes on him, noticing the fresh ink on his shoulder. Roger’s gaze flickers with a hint of pride, but he doesn’t comment, just ruffling Ace’s hair before going about his own business.
The next morning, Ace catches Roger and Reyleigh deep in conversation. There’s a tightness to Roger’s expression, an edge of tension Ace rarely sees. He overhears snippets—mention of someone anchoring nearby, someone Roger clearly doesn’t trust around them.
Reyleigh, ever the calming presence, tries to ease his captain’s worries, but Roger shakes his head, insistent. “I don’t want the boys anywhere near them,” he says in a low, stern voice.
Ace’s ears perk up, but before he can catch any more, Roger spots him watching and quickly changes the subject.
With no other explanation, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy end up on cargo duty, heaving crates and barrels up the gangplank, their questions bubbling just beneath the surface. As they work, Ace glances back at the island, a nagging curiosity gnawing at him.
As the rest of the crew disappears into the dimly lit bar, laughter and chatter spilling out into the night, Ace slips away, the cool forest air sharp and refreshing after the crowded, smoke-filled bar. He makes his way back to where they found the lynx, curiosity and a strange, gnawing sense of responsibility pushing him forward.
When he reaches the spot, though, his heart drops. The mother lynx lies there, still and lifeless, her body twisted in a silent testament to the cruelty of the trap. He stares, the impact of the scene settling heavily on him. It feels wrong—this piece of wild, beautiful life taken for nothing, discarded in the underbrush. Beside her, the baby lynx sits, meowing softly, pressing its small, fragile body against her side as if it can somehow bring her back.
Ace kneels beside the kitten, reaching out a hand, careful and gentle. The little creature looks up, its big eyes filled with a blend of confusion and grief Ace recognizes all too well. Checking the little one’s gender he scoops it up carefully, holding the little guy close as he stands. The kitten trembles slightly against his chest, clinging to him with surprising strength for something so small.
“We’re going back to the ship,” he murmurs, stroking his soft fur to calm it. He starts down the hillside, planning his route in his head—but the ground is steeper here than he remembered, slick with fallen leaves. His boot slips, and before he can regain his balance, he’s tumbling, dirt and rocks scraping against him as he tries to steady himself. The world blurs in a tumble of green and brown as he pitches headfirst down the slope.
With a painful thud, Ace’s descent halts. Dazed, he realizes he’s landed on… someone. There’s a faint chuckle beneath him, followed by a calm, amused voice.
“You okay there, kid?”
Groaning, Ace sits up slowly, his body aching from the fall. He checks the kitten in his arms first, relieved to see he’s unharmed, even if he’s a bit ruffled from the rough descent. Then he glances down at the person he’d so ungracefully collided with.
The man beneath him is lean and muscular, with an air of sleepy calm, as if he’s completely unfazed by Ace’s sudden appearance. What really catches Ace’s attention, though, is his hair—it’s cut in a strange, spiky style that fans out in all directions, somehow resembling a pineapple. Ace stares at it for a moment, trying to keep from bursting into laughter, before he remembers his manners.
Ace scrambles off, stumbling back a few steps before bowing deeply, the kitten still securely cradled against his chest. “I’m terribly sorry for suddenly falling onto you.”
The man gives him a lazy grin, clearly more entertained than annoyed. “It was obviously an accident, and I’m not hurt, so it’s fine.”
“You sure?” Ace asks, a little hesitant.
The man sits up slowly, stretching his shoulders. “I might be a pirate, but I’m not in the habit of hurting kids—even ones who fall from the sky and land on me.” He gives Ace a friendly wink.
Ace scowls a little, the word “kid” grating on him. “Not a kid,” he mumbles, his face setting in a pout. “I’m seventeen.”
The man raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, his attention shifts to the kitten in Ace’s arms, who’s now settling down a little, blinking up at him. Something about the man seems vaguely familiar, though Ace can’t quite place him.
“His mother was killed by some poachers’ trap,” Ace explains, feeling a sudden urge to clarify. He doesn’t want this stranger to think he’s just grabbed a random wild animal. “So I’m taking him back with me. Figured I could give him a better chance than leaving him here.”
The man nods, as if this makes perfect sense. “Got a name?” he asks casually, leaning back against a tree.
Ace is about to answer, but he realizes that most people probably don’t know who he is. Roger’s kept him somewhat under wraps, and the Marines don’t even have a proper picture for his bounty poster yet—just a terrible sketch that doesn’t look anything like him. He nods, deciding it’s safe to introduce himself. “I’m Ace.”
“Nice to meet you, Ace. I’m Marco.” Marco’s easy smile feels genuine, but there’s something sharper beneath his calm exterior, a kind of quiet strength.
Ace takes a second look at him, his mind working over the name, but he can’t place him—just that nagging sense of familiarity that makes him think they might cross paths again. For now, though, he’s got more pressing matters on his mind, and he’s not about to keep his father waiting.
When he sneaks back toward the ship, feeling triumphant with the kitten tucked under his arm, he realizes he’s been caught before he even makes it up the gangplank. Roger’s standing there, arms crossed, brow raised.
“Where have you been?” Roger’s voice is half-amused, half-stern, a look Ace knows well by now.
“Nowhere important,” Ace says, trying to keep his tone casual, though his scraped hands and dirt-smudged clothes tell a different story.
Roger’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the bruises and scuffed-up knees. “What happened to you? Who hurt you?” His voice rises, calling out for the ship’s doctor. “Crocus!”
“No one hurt me,” Ace says quickly, feeling the blush creeping up his face. “I just fell down a mountain slope. Just bruises, nothing serious.”
Before Roger can launch into more questions, Ace holds up the kitten, his small face peeking out from his arms. “Dad, meet Kotatsu—our newest crewmember.”
Crocus arrives, looking bewildered as he glances between Ace, Roger, and the kitten. He raises an eyebrow. “Is that… a lynx?”
Ace nods eagerly, clutching the kitten tighter. “His mother was killed by poachers’ traps. Can we keep him? Please?”
Roger glances at Kotatsu, who meows pitifully, tilting his head with an expression that’s almost pleading. He lets out a long sigh, ruffling Ace’s hair with a fond smile. “Fine. Just don’t let him cause trouble. And if he claws up anything important, he’s your responsibility.”
Ace grins, a rush of relief and excitement flooding through him. He feels a surge of pride as he carries Kotatsu onto the ship, already imagining the little lynx growing up alongside him and his brothers.
Notes:
Next chapter: Deuce and the fire fruit
Chapter 5: Deuce and the fire fruit
Chapter Text
Ace groans, kicking at the sand as he trudges across the seemingly endless stretch of desolate land. The sun beats down relentlessly, baking the sand beneath his feet, which shifts uncomfortably with every step. All around him, the island sprawls out in dry, scrubby terrain, dotted with jagged rocks and sparse patches of wiry grass. The landscape might be beautiful in its own empty, quiet way, but right now, it’s just incredibly boring.
He sighs heavily, dragging his feet. "There’s absolutely nothing to do here."
The silence that follows his complaint is oppressive, and Ace feels his frustration building. The isolation only seems to amplify the feeling of time stretching endlessly, as if the minutes are melting away in the heat. He starts counting cracks in the rocks, anything to pass the time, until he’s almost ready to start shouting just for the sound of his own voice.
“Sixis isn’t known for its tourist attractions,” a voice calls out, jolting him from his boredom.
Ace’s hand immediately goes to his knife, but he halts when he sees a young man lounging in the shadow of a large rock nearby. His hair is a striking shade of light blue, and he wears a mask that covers part of his face, giving him an air of quiet mystery. The man regards him with a calm, unreadable expression, clearly studying him.
Ace blinks, caught off guard but intrigued. “You got stranded here too?”
The young man’s head tilts, his eyes briefly scanning Ace from head to toe, before he nods. “You could say that.”
Ace plops down next to him, stretching out his legs as he exhales. “Our ship got caught in a storm last night, and I got tossed overboard. Managed to swim here, but I didn’t realize this place was… well, just sand and rocks.”
Something changes in the man’s posture at that, a slight spark of interest in his gaze. “So there are people looking for you?” he asks, leaning in just a bit. “How long do you think it’ll take them to get here?”
Ace nods, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, my dad and his crew. He’s got my Vivre Card, so they’ll find me soon enough.”
“Vivre Card?” The man raises an eyebrow, curious.
“It’s a piece of paper that always points toward the person it’s made from. You can make it from someone’s fingernails. You can get them in the New World.”
The man stares at him for a moment, intrigued and perhaps even a little skeptical. “The New World?”
Ace smirks, liking the slight surprise in his new companion’s expression. “Yeah, it’s the second half of the Grand Line.” He leans back, enjoying the rare feeling of having the upper hand. “That’s where we usually sail.”
The man listens closely, seeming to consider this new information. Then, after a pause, he asks, “What are people from the Grand Line doing in the East Blue?”
Ace huffs, rolling his eyes. “Well, we’re here because my dad wanted this special sake that’s only brewed around here. He doesn’t care how far we have to go for it… and since he’s the captain, the crew can’t exactly say no to him.”
The guy actually cracks a smile at that, and Ace finds himself grinning back. He starts to feel a little camaraderie building between them, despite the odd setting and circumstances.
After a while, he introduces himself. “I’m Ace,” he says, omitting his last name as he often does with strangers.
The guy only shrugs. “No name I go by, really.”
Ace raises an eyebrow, then smirks. “Alright, how about… Deuce?” He says it half as a joke, expecting the guy to wave it off.
But, surprisingly, he just shrugs again. “Sure. Deuce works.”
The two of them sit in silence for a bit, watching the empty horizon. Then Deuce speaks up. “Mind giving me a ride to the next island? Doesn’t matter which one. I just want to get off this rock.”
Ace shrugs, figuring it wouldn’t be a big deal. “I don’t see why not. Though you should probably know we’re pirates.” He glances at Deuce, gauging his reaction. “So you might change your mind about coming along.”
Deuce’s face shifts slightly, his eyebrows lifting. “Pirates?”
“Yeah,” Ace confirms with a grin.
Deuce pauses, thinking this over. “If you’re a Grand Line pirate, do you have a bounty?”
“Yeah,” Ace says, almost proud. “Five hundred million.”
Deuce’s eyes widen slightly at the number, and Ace notices the man’s posture become a bit more guarded. They don’t talk much after that, and eventually, they drift off in separate directions to explore the barren island on their own.
Later that day, while wandering around the rocky landscape, Ace spots something unusual—a fruit lying on the ground with a strange, swirled pattern. It looks weirdly out of place here, so he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. The skin is rough and patterned with spirals, almost like it’s marked by something unnatural. He lifts it closer, feeling a strange urge to take a bite.
Before he can sink his teeth into it, though, a sharp rustling from behind makes his senses flare. He whips around just in time, dodging an attack that comes fast and close. Instinctively, he taps into his observation haki, managing to fend off the blow. He catches a glimpse of Deuce’s face, set in a cold expression, as the man lunges at him with surprising speed.
“Deuce!” Ace growls, using his haki to predict Deuce’s next moves and countering them with ease. He’s stronger than he expected, but Ace manages to knock him down, pinning him to the ground.
He secures Deuce’s wrists and ties him up, feeling a surge of irritation but also disappointment. “Thought we were on good terms,” he mutters, keeping his voice steady as he binds him.
Hours pass as Deuce lays in the sand, eyes narrowed and watching Ace closely. Eventually, Ace hears his stomach rumble and realizes that Deuce might be starving, too. Sighing, he takes out the strange fruit and hesitates, then cuts it in half. Maybe it’ll at least fill them up a bit.
“Here,” he says, holding a half of the fruit toward Deuce. But first, he takes a bite of his own half, barely suppressing a shudder at the taste. “Ugh,” he chokes out. “What the hell is this?”
The taste is terrible, like spoiled seaweed mixed with rotten meat. He grimaces, trying to swallow the bite, when suddenly he feels a strange heat bloom from his core. In a heartbeat, flames are sparking to life all over his skin, licking up his arms and shoulders.
Ace stumbles backward, shocked as the flames coil around him like living things, his hands blazing as if on fire. But he feels no pain, only the strange heat.
Deuce stares, bound but wide-eyed, watching the flames spread along Ace’s body.
***
Ace sighs as he paces up and down the desolate sands of Sixis, kicking at the loose stones and dust that scatter around his feet. The dry, barren island stretches endlessly, the sun beating down on him with relentless heat. He’s surrounded by nothing but rocks, sand, and scraggly little bushes that look half-dead already.
Eventually, as he’s wandering aimlessly and wondering how much longer it’ll take for the crew to find him, he spots a familiar ship in the distance. Relief floods through him as he watches the Oro Jackson draw closer, the faint outline of the Roger Pirates waving from the deck. Finally.
Before he knows it, the entire crew is piling onto the beach, with Roger at the head, a wild look in his eyes as he practically barrels toward Ace. "Pumpkin!" Roger booms, his voice echoing across the empty landscape as he closes the distance. "What were you thinking, getting on deck in a storm like that?! I told you to stay in your cabin! You could’ve drowned!"
Ace tries to wave off his dad’s concerns, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “I’m okay, Dad, really,” he says, offering an apologetic smile.
Roger doesn’t seem convinced and starts frowning, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Ace’s body. “Pumpkin… you’re on fire.”
“Oh… yeah. About that…” Ace sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, flames curling up his arm from his fingertips, though he barely even feels it. He shrugs awkwardly. “I might have… kinda sorta accidentally eaten a devil fruit?”
“Ace!” Roger’s jaw drops, exasperation clear in his expression.
“I was hungry, okay?” Ace says defensively. “And I didn’t know it was one…”
Just then, a loud, snorting laugh breaks out behind them, and Ace turns to see Sabo doubled over, clutching his stomach. “N-no way!” Sabo chokes out between fits of laughter, practically toppling over into the sand. “After all the times you made fun of Luffy for saying he’d eat one by accident!”
Ace feels his cheeks heat up—not from the flames this time. “Shut up!” he snaps, crossing his arms. But Sabo just laughs even harder, and Ace’s attempt at maintaining his dignity crumbles.
Roger shakes his head in disbelief. “Only my son could get stranded on a desert island and end up eating a devil fruit.” But then his eyes fall on something else—a mark burned proudly into Ace’s skin, taking up most of his back. His gaze sharpens, his frown deepening. “Ace… what is that?”
Ace winces, suddenly feeling the weight of the Jolly Roger tattoo etched onto his back.
“You’re forbidden from going off this ship without a shirt, you hear me?” Roger scolds, his voice stern, though there’s an unmistakable glint of concern in his eyes. “I’m not having you walk around advertising to every bounty hunter in the sea who you’re with.”
Ace grumbles a bit, but he nods. “Fine…”
When the rest of the crew finally starts to relax, Ace glances back toward the island’s shoreline, where Deuce waits awkwardly, still watching the pirates warily. Deuce, who looks more uncomfortable with every passing moment, catches Ace’s eye and raises an eyebrow, clearly still uncertain about his place here.
“Ace,” Roger calls, nodding toward Deuce, “you didn’t mention we’d be picking up company.”
“Uh, yeah,” Ace says, deciding on the spot to keep quiet about Deuce’s attempt to attack him. “We met here. Kinda got stuck together, y’know? I thought maybe we could give him a lift to the next island. No big deal.”
The crew seems to take it in stride, a few of them shrugging and exchanging glances, clearly not too concerned with the extra passenger. Deuce’s discomfort is still evident, though, and Ace notices the way he keeps his distance, his gaze wary whenever a crewmember draws too close.
They set sail soon after, and as the island fades into the distance, Ace leans against the railing, watching the water stretch out endlessly before them. Eventually, Deuce sidles up beside him, shifting awkwardly. Before he speaks, Ace decides to answer the unasked question hanging between them.
“I didn’t want my dad to kill you,” he explains, giving Deuce a sidelong glance. “I figured... we could leave that part out.”
Deuce seems surprised by Ace’s bluntness, and for a moment, he just stands there, processing it. “Thanks,” he finally says, a little stiffly, as if he isn’t used to receiving favors from anyone, let alone pirates.
Ace just shrugs, smirking a bit. “Don’t mention it. You’re welcome to tag along—at least until the next island.”
With a wry smile, Deuce nods, the wary look easing from his face. And as the ship sails forward, Ace watches the flames flicker around his hands, wondering just how much his life has changed, all because of one bizarre fruit.
Chapter 6: An ordinary day on the Oro Jackson – Part I
Chapter Text
The Oro Jackson bobs gently on the calm sea, its sturdy hull slicing through the sparkling waters under a bright, endless blue sky. Sunlight filters down, golden and warm, casting a soft glow over the ship’s deck. The crew lounges around, content, the usual ruckus replaced by the quiet hum of a rare, peaceful day at sea.
Ace leans against the ship’s railing, watching Sabo detangle wood splinters from their last sparring match from Luffy’s hair, basking in the sun’s warmth as he takes in the scene. Reyleigh is perched nearby, sitting cross-legged on a crate, his face half-hidden behind a crinkled newspaper. He reads with a serene focus, his usual nonchalance heightened by the peaceful ambiance. Not far from him, Scopper Gaban is sprawled out on the deck, his arms crossed behind his head as he naps, his snores rising and falling in time with the waves. Crocus sits in a corner, his nose buried in a thick medical journal, occasionally jotting down notes in the margins with a furrowed brow, completely immersed in whatever fascinating disease or treatment he’s studying.
Across from Ace, Shanks and Benn sit on overturned barrels, a makeshift chessboard between them. Shanks stares at the board in utter concentration, scratching his head as he studies his next move. Benn leans back, a relaxed smirk on his face, clearly in no hurry. From the way Shanks has been groaning and sighing, it’s clear he’s losing. Badly.
Ace lets out a contented sigh, stretching his arms. Days like these are rare aboard the Oro Jackson—where the crew can simply be themselves, without worrying about the next storm or Marine ship on their tail. There’s something special about it, something Ace treasures, though he’d never admit it aloud.
But, as usual, the peace doesn’t last long.
A loud, thunderous crash echoes from the cabin below, shattering the quiet. The crew jolts upright, and Ace freezes, suddenly wary.
Then comes the furious bellow: “ACE, SABO, LUFFY! GET YOUR ASSES HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” Roger’s voice reverberates across the deck, each word laced with anger, loud enough to make the seagulls circling overhead scatter in fright.
Reyleigh lowers his newspaper, his calm gaze now curious as he looks toward the three of them. “What did you brats do this time?”
Ace tries to keep his face neutral, but he can already feel his brothers shifting nervously beside him. “Nothing,” Luffy pipes up, his voice an octave too high. “We totally didn’t put bleach in Roger’s shampoo.”
“Luffy!” Ace hisses, elbowing his little brother, who yelps in protest.
“Ouch! Sabo, Ace hit me!” Luffy whines, rubbing his arm, though there’s a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.
The deck shakes slightly as Roger himself storms up from below, his eyes blazing with fury—and his hair… his once-dark hair, now a bright, shocking, unmistakable blond. Even his usually proud, dark mustache has turned the same sunny color, standing out in sharp contrast to his red, infuriated face.
The crew collectively goes silent for a beat, stunned by the sight. Scopper Gaban, who’s just woken up, glances blearily at Roger and lets out an undignified snort before bursting into laughter. Crocus and a few others join in, chuckling as they take in the captain’s new look, their amusement impossible to contain.
Even Reyleigh, who rarely breaks his calm, cracks a smirk, looking on with raised eyebrows. Shanks and Benn, momentarily forgetting their chess game, exchange glances before laughing outright, clearly delighted by their captain’s unplanned makeover.
Roger, however, is in no mood to see the humor. His glare lands directly on Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, and in a few long strides, he’s standing in front of them, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
Ace musters up every ounce of innocence he can manage, giving Roger his best wide-eyed look. “Nice color, Dad. Are you trying something new?”
Roger’s eyes narrow, his fury almost tangible. “This wasn’t exactly my plan, Ace.”
Ace can’t help the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though he quickly bites it back, trying to keep his expression neutral. The snickers from around the deck don’t help. Scopper’s still chuckling under his breath, and Shanks is half-collapsed over the chessboard, wiping tears from his eyes. Benn is watching them with a wry smile, clearly amused by the whole debacle.
Roger crosses his arms, staring down the three boys. “I assume you three are behind this?”
Ace, trying not to laugh, shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean… we might’ve had something to do with it. But, hey, it suits you!”
Roger scowls, his face reddening even further. “If I hear one more word about it suiting me—”
Sabo clears his throat, trying to look serious but failing miserably, and Luffy’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.
Roger’s glare intensifies. “You three are on cleaning duty for the rest of the week!”
The laughter from the crew erupts again as Roger storms back into the cabin, his blond hair catching the sunlight like a golden crown, the sight only adding to the hilarity of it all. Ace sighs, resigning himself to a week of chores—but he can’t help but feel a flicker of pride. After all, it’s not every day you get to prank the Pirate King.
***
The sun is high over the shoreline, casting a bright, warm light on the beach where Ace, Sabo, and Luffy are sparring. The soft sound of waves crashing against the rocks provides a soothing background rhythm, but it does nothing to calm Ace’s growing frustration with Luffy. The tropical island’s palms sway in the breeze, and the sandy beach sparkles under the sunlight, an idyllic setting for what should be a friendly, controlled sparring match.
Sabo and Ace circle each other, each gauging the other’s movements, their eyes focused and sharp. Ace is grinning—he and Sabo are well-matched, their moves in sync, each testing the other’s limits without pushing too hard. Every strike and dodge feels like a dance they’ve perfected over the years.
But Luffy, as always, has other ideas. While Ace and Sabo’s spar is graceful, calculated, Luffy throws himself into the mix with his typical recklessness. “Gomu Gomu no… Pistol!” he shouts, his voice loud and enthusiastic.
Ace barely has time to brace himself before Luffy’s extended, haki-covered, fist misses the wooden target by a wide margin and slam into him with unexpected force. “Wait, Luffy, no—!”
Too late. Luffy’s hit catapults Ace into the sky with an uncontrollable force, and Ace can only watch as the world spins around him. The beach vanishes below, and he’s airborne, helplessly soaring over the coastline. For a second, he feels weightless, suspended in the air, his mind catching up with his body’s rapid ascent. He twists mid-air, managing to spot the jagged coastal rocks below. He braces himself, realizing with a sinking heart that he’s about to crash—hard.
With a bone-jarring thud, Ace lands on the rocks, his body rolling and skidding across their rough surfaces. But instead of tumbling into the water as he’d feared, he feels the solid wood of a rowboat beneath him as he finally skids to a halt. The jarring impact reverberates through his entire body, and he sits up slowly, groaning. “Fuck…”
From the shore, he hears Sabo’s faint but frantic voice. “Ace, you alive?”
And then, Luffy’s unmistakable voice rings out, laughter spilling into the air. “Shishishi, sorry, sorry!”
“Luffy, you little shit!” Ace bellows, shaking his fist toward the distant beach. “How many times have I told you to watch your freaking aim?!”
But as he glances around, Ace realizes with a start that he’s not alone. Three men are staring at him, wide-eyed, jaws hanging open. The atmosphere on the boat is as stunned as it is awkward, and Ace feels his face heating with embarrassment. Well… this isn’t good.
Quickly, he stands and bows, his expression apologetic. “I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion,” he says, trying to sound as polite as possible.
One of the men on the rowboat—a guy with heavy makeup and a very feminine kimono—gives him an odd look, but before he can respond, a voice Ace recognizes all too well cuts through the tension.
“You seem to make a habit out of falling from the sky, yoi,” says Marco, who’s watching him with an amused smile.
Ace can’t help but cringe a little, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Better than taking an impromptu swim or landing on top of you, again…” He mumbles, suddenly realizing how close he came to falling into the sea. If he’d landed in the water, he’d be a goner, sinking helplessly as the devil fruit’s curse held him down. He pales slightly at the thought, glancing warily at the shimmering water just beyond the rowboat.
One of Marco’s crewmates, the man in the kimono, speaks up, raising an eyebrow. “You know the kid?”
“We’ve met before,” Marco says, still smirking. He turns his attention back to Ace, his tone light but probing. “Can’t swim?”
Ace grimaces, shaking his head. “Not anymore…”
“Devil fruit?” Marco asks, his expression shifting to one of mild surprise.
“Yeah. It… was an accident.” Ace sighs, rubbing his forehead.
Marco raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “How do you accidentally eat a devil fruit?”
Ace shrugs, feeling a bit defensive under Marco’s scrutinizing gaze. “I found it, and I didn’t know what it was…”
Marco lets out a long-suffering sigh, the kind of sigh that suggests he’s dealt with plenty of impulsive idiots in his life. “Well, maybe don’t go eating fruits you don’t recognize. What if it’d been poisonous?”
Ace’s shoulders slump slightly. “Not you too… Dad and Rey already gave me a lecture about it.” He sighs, but there’s a faint hint of gratitude in his voice, a warmth he’s careful to keep hidden.
With a shake of his head and a slight smile, Marco and his crewmates start rowing toward the shore. As they near, Ace spots Sabo and Luffy waiting on the beach, both looking sheepish and wary.
As the boat nudges the shore, Sabo bows deeply, his tone formal and apologetic. “We’re terribly sorry for the disturbance we caused.”
Luffy, meanwhile, looks like he’s about to bolt, but Sabo holds him in place, pressing down on his head and forcing him to bow as well. “Luffy, apologize,” he says firmly.
“Sorry…” Luffy mumbles, still trying to stifle his laughter.
Ace rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. He’s still sore, bruised, and a little embarrassed, but he can’t help feeling a certain warmth at the sight of his brothers by his side, even if they’re the reason he’s in this mess.
Chapter 7: Whitebeards right hand man – Part I
Chapter Text
The morning on the Oro Jackson is as bright and peaceful as ever. Ace is lounging with Sabo and Luffy on the deck, feeling the warm sun on his face, when an all-too-familiar, furious shout shakes the air.
The door to the captain’s quarters slams open, and Roger storms out, his footsteps heavy with anger. Ace glances up, trying to stifle a grin as he spots his father’s new look. Roger’s hair is now dyed a shocking shade of neon pink. His iconic mustache is also blazing pink, practically glowing under the sunlight. It’s like someone took the bright colors of a tropical sunset and splashed it right onto his face. He looks… less like the Pirate King and more like an angry flamingo.
Ace feels a laugh bubble up, but he forces it down, grabbing Luffy and Sabo and yanking them behind Reyleigh, who’s sitting nearby, as if Reyleigh’s relaxed presence will protect them from Roger’s wrath.
“What are you reading?” Ace asks, doing his best to sound casual.
Without missing a beat, Reyleigh, ever the unruffled first mate, lowers his newspaper slightly and replies, “Oh, just an article. Silver Blade Kato—formerly a 1.2 billion berries bounty—is now a warlord.” He’s keeping a straight face, but Ace can tell there’s a glint of amusement hiding in Reyleigh’s eyes.
Ace keeps his gaze on Reyleigh, desperate to keep his mind off Roger’s looming figure, but Luffy, with his usual lack of self-preservation, whispers to Sabo, “Think he found out?”
“Found out what?” Reyleigh asks, quirking an eyebrow, although Ace suspects he knows exactly what’s going on.
“We totally didn’t put pink dye into Roger’s other shampoo,” Luffy mumbles, looking both guilty and proud.
Ace shoots Luffy a glare. “Luffy…”
It’s too late. Roger spots them cowering behind Reyleigh, his pink mustache practically bristling with rage. He crosses the deck in seconds, his piercing gaze fixed right on them.
“ACE! SABO! LUFFY!” Roger bellows, his voice carrying a thunderous authority that could probably be heard for miles. “Explain. Now.”
Ace’s mind races for a good excuse, but all that comes out is a feeble, “We… uh… wanted to help you try a new look?”
Roger glares, his eyes narrowing. “New look? I look like a damn piece of candy!”
By now, the rest of the crew is gathering around, murmuring in a mix of curiosity and suppressed laughter. Shanks and Benn are openly grinning, while Gaban can barely contain his chuckles. Reyleigh finally lets his calm facade crack as he looks at Roger, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Roger turns his glare on Reyleigh, who chuckles and raises his hands. “Now, now, Roger, no need to blow a gasket. We can just pick up some black hair dye at the next island. Easy fix.”
Roger’s angry scowl falters slightly, and he lets out a begrudging huff. “Black hair dye, huh?”
Reyleigh nods with a reassuring smile. “Absolutely. Nothing a quick stop can’t handle.”
For a moment, Roger’s shoulders relax, and he seems to calm down, as if the idea of getting his normal look back is soothing him. But then he remembers the culprits standing behind Reyleigh, and he shoots them a look that could melt steel.
“Toilet-cleaning duty. All three of you. Two weeks.” Roger’s voice is as final as a judge’s sentence, and Ace feels his stomach sink.
“Two weeks?” Ace protests, but one look at Roger’s expression tells him there’s no room for negotiation.
Reyleigh chuckles softly as Roger storms off to sulk, still pink and fuming, muttering about “kids these days.”
***
Ace watches from his perch in a tree, safely hidden from the bustling scene below. The lone shop on this desolate island has no black hair dye. No proper supplies at all, really—just faded clothes, dusty hats, and a few worn-out trinkets. Roger stands in the center of it, his pink hair catching the sunlight in a way that makes Ace snicker even from his spot at a distance. His father’s arms are crossed, a deep scowl set on his face as he rants at Reyleigh and Crocus, who both look like they’re trying hard not to laugh. The rest of the crew finds it outright hilarious, and their laughter echoes up to where Ace lounges.
Ace smirks, fully aware of what his father’s shouts are about—no one else but Roger could get so worked up over hair dye, even if he did have to endure the embarrassment of bubblegum-pink hair. He leans back against the tree trunk, crossing his arms behind his head, and before he knows it, the combination of the warm afternoon sun and the distant, amusing chaos lulls him to sleep.
He only wakes up when he feels the unmistakable sense of falling. “Oh, crap—!” he barely has time to gasp before he crashes down with a thud, right at someone’s feet. Dazed, he looks up to see a familiar face staring down at him, one eyebrow raised in bemused surprise.
“I’m beginning to think you’re doing that intentionally,” Marco says, his usual calm smile tilting into a slight smirk as he offers Ace a hand.
Ace grins, embarrassment fading instantly at the sight of his friend. “Marco!” he exclaims, taking Marco’s hand and letting him help him up. “Didn’t know I’d see you here.”
Marco chuckles, brushing off a bit of dust from Ace’s shirt. “Hello, Ace. You’re full of surprises today.”
They end up spending the afternoon together, talking and wandering around the edge of the harbor. Ace quickly fills him in on the latest mischief he and his brothers have gotten up to, laughing as he recounts how they put bleach in his dad’s shampoo first, then pink dye, leaving his father with flamingo-colored hair that no one on the crew could take seriously. “He was hoping to find black dye here and finally get his old color back,” Ace explains, snickering. “But all he found was some old shirts and a dusty can of green paint.”
Marco laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Sounds like you’d get along well with my brothers,” he remarks, eyes glinting. “They’d get a kick out of your antics.”
But their lighthearted conversation is suddenly shattered by a loud rustle and a crackle in the distance. Ace’s reflexes kick in a moment too late as a group of men emerges from the trees—scientists, armed and ready. Ace catches a glimpse of glinting metal before he hears the crack of gunfire. Seastone bullets cut through the air, one heading straight toward him. Before he has time to react, Marco pushes him out of the way, taking the hit himself.
“Marco!” Ace shouts, watching in horror as Marco staggers, blood blossoming from his side. The force of the shot sends them tumbling back down a sharp drop, their bodies hitting the rocks on the way down. Ace braces himself, half-expecting to be plunged into the ocean below, but by some miracle, they land on a narrow, rocky ledge, Marco’s arm wrapped protectively around him.
Marco’s face is pale, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Ace scrambles to his knees, already assessing the wound. It’s deep, and blood is seeping out alarmingly fast. “Hold on, Marco,” he murmurs, voice shaky. “I’ve got you.”
They manage to drag themselves to a nearby cave just as storm clouds roll in overhead. Ace lowers Marco to the ground, cursing the unlucky turn of events. He quickly removes Marco’s shirt, his hands trembling slightly as he assesses the bullet wound. As he does, his eyes widen, catching sight of the familiar tattoo on Marco’s chest. The mark of the Whitebeard Pirates.
He takes a shaky breath, realization dawning on him. That’s where he know him from… Whitebeard’s right-hand man. He must have seen his bounty poster…
But there’s no time for that now. Ace focuses, ripping Marco’s yellow sash and pressing it firmly against the wound. He doesn’t dare remove the bullet—it’s embedded too deep. Instead, he does everything he can to slow the bleeding, muttering to Marco to hang on, willing him to stay conscious. When he’s done dressing the wound, he gathers enough warmth in his hands to gently dry their clothes and warm Marco up against the growing chill of the cave.
Ace watches Marco’s face, waiting, hoping for a sign that he’s still there with him. Finally, after what feels like hours, the bleeding begins to slow, and a faint hint of color returns to Marco’s cheeks. Ace lets out a long, shaky sigh, relief washing over him. But Marco still doesn’t wake up, his breathing soft but steady.
Ace stays close, his fingers brushing over his own muddied shorts and sweater, the weight of guilt settling heavily on his shoulders.
It feels like hours have passed before the familiar sails of the Oro Jackson finally come into view over the jagged coastline. Ace can barely believe it at first, relief sweeping over him as he waves both arms to catch the crew’s attention. The ship pulls in, the ropes thrown out with familiar precision, and he watches as the crew disembarks. When Crocus finally strides up, Ace’s patience snaps, and he rushes over, grabbing the doctor by the arm.
“Crocus!” he shouts, dragging the bewildered doctor toward the mouth of the cave. “Help him!”
Without hesitation, Crocus kneels down beside Marco and inspects the wound, his expression darkening. His hands work fast, practiced and calm, but Ace can see the gravity of Marco’s condition in the way Crocus’ jaw tightens.
Roger steps up behind Ace, his gaze shifting from his son to the injured man lying on the stone floor, his pink hair catching the faint light filtering in from outside. He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth pulled into a stern frown. “Please tell me you know who this is,” Roger says, his voice low.
Ace looks down, but there’s no sense in hiding it. “Marco the Phoenix,” he replies quietly, “first division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and Whitebeard’s right-hand man.”
Roger’s face twists, a flash of recognition sparking in his eyes. But Crocus cuts in, his voice urgent. “This doesn’t look good,” he mutters, pressing down on Marco’s wound to stem the bleeding. “I need to move him to the sickbay now if we want any chance of saving him.”
But Roger shakes his head, crossing his arms. “No,” he says firmly. “I’m not having Newgate’s fancy pigeon on my ship. Not for anything.”
“Please,” Ace says, his voice choked with desperation. He turns to his father, eyes wide with a raw, pleading look Roger rarely sees from him. “He saved my life, Dad.”
Roger’s stern expression falters, his eyes widening. He glances back at Marco, a flicker of doubt finally creeping into his expression.
“It’s my fault he’s hurt,” Ace presses on, his voice soft yet unwavering. “I was talking to him when we got attacked. They were aiming for me. I was the target, not Marco.” His gaze drops to Marco’s still form, guilt gnawing at him. “He protected me, the whole time.”
A heavy silence falls, broken only by the faint hum of the ocean outside and Crocus’ murmured instructions as he continues his assessment. Finally, Crocus looks up, his voice hesitant. “It seems we owe Phoenix a debt of gratitude.”
Roger closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. Ace can see the inner battle waging within him, the old feud with Whitebeard warring against the sight of his son’s desperation and Marco’s willingness to sacrifice himself for Ace. Roger sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with reluctant acceptance.
“I know,” he finally says, the words heavy. “Bring him aboard. Looks like we’re taking a small detour.” His voice softens, and for a moment, Ace catches a glimpse of the father behind the pirate king. He places a firm hand on Ace’s shoulder, his expression softening. “You’re lucky he’s alive, son. But we’ll do what we can.”
Ace’s eyes widen, his face lighting up with a mixture of gratitude and relief. He stares at his father, feeling a wave of emotions welling up, and he can only manage a breathless, “Thank you, Dad.”
Chapter Text
Ace feels antsy as he sits in the corner of the Oro Jackson’s deck, trying to occupy his mind with something, anything. Crocus is in the sickbay with Marco, and Roger has ordered that nobody is allowed inside until the doctor has given the go-ahead. Ace hates waiting. He loathes the silence, the tension in the air, the feeling that he’s just helplessly standing by while someone else pays the price for his weakness. The guilt has gnawed at him since Marco took the hit for him, and it’s worse now that he has time to think.
His jeans and shirt, still caked with mud and blood from when they stumbled down the cliff, are beyond saving. He tries to scrub them clean for a while, but they’re torn beyond repair, the fabric practically falling apart in his hands. Frustrated, he gives up and shoves them into his bag.
The need to do something is overwhelming, so he heads toward the harbor, hoping to find a distraction. At the rundown clothes shop in the dusty corner of the island’s harbor, Ace picks out a new set of clothes for Marco—a simple set of pants and a shirt, but of better quality than the one he had been wearing. He can’t shake the thought that the man deserves more than just a quick, makeshift fix. He adds a light-blue sash to the pile, replacing the one he had ripped when he used it to bandage Marco’s wound. He doesn’t want to cheap out on something so simple. It feels wrong.
Sabo watches from a distance, his eyebrow raised in that trademark, amused way he has when he’s trying not to comment. Ace can feel his gaze, but he doesn’t care. He’s not trying to impress anyone.
“I don’t care what you think,” Ace mutters as he picks up the new clothes and heads back to the ship. “It’s my fault his clothes are ruined. The least I can do is replace them.”
Sabo shrugs, but there’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but Ace can tell his brother gets it.
Once back on the Oro Jackson, Ace puts the clothes in the cabin he shares with Sabo and Luffy before heading straight for Roger’s quarters. He’s got something he needs to ask. The knot in his chest tightens as he approaches the door, but he forces himself to knock.
“Come in,” Roger calls from inside.
Ace opens the door, hesitating for just a moment before stepping in. His father is sitting back in his chair, a glass of sake in hand, his face furrowed in thought. He looks up when Ace enters, confusion flickering across his features. “Ace, is something wrong?”
The words hang in the air for a moment before Ace shakes his head, swallowing his nerves. “I need a favor,” he says, his voice low.
Roger takes another sip of his drink, eyeing him. “What is it?”
Ace steels himself. He’s thought this through over and over, and now it’s time to say it out loud. His eyes meet his father’s, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of his words hangs there, impossible to ignore.
“Train me.”
The sake leaves Roger’s mouth with an alarming force. Ace would’ve found it impressive if it hadn’t come straight at his face, splashing across his skin and dripping down his shirt.
“Eww! Dad!” Ace sputters, wiping his face in disgust, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Roger’s eyes widen in surprise, but it doesn’t take long for him to recover, the pirate king’s serious demeanor returning. “Why would you want something like that?” he asks, coughing and wiping his mouth.
“I’m too weak,” Ace says simply, his voice hard but steady.
Roger stares at him for a long moment, as if processing the words, before he takes another deep breath and sighs. “Pumpkin,” he begins, using the nickname he reserved for Ace during rare serious moments. “Whoever told you this was clearly lying. You aren’t weak.”
Ace looks at him, but the words don’t comfort him. Not right now. He shakes his head. “Don’t try to console me. Not when Marco almost died because I couldn’t defend myself. You weren’t there, Dad. You don’t understand how it feels to have someone protect you at their own cost.”
He stops, his throat tightening. The image of Marco, bloodied and unresponsive, is burned into his memory. It doesn’t go away. It won’t go away.
“Marco was protecting me the whole time,” Ace continues, voice shaking. “The bullet was meant for me, not him. He took it. He took it for me. Even when we fell off that cliff, he pulled me close. He made sure he took the hit first. He could’ve died, and it would’ve been my fault.”
Ace blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears, but it’s useless. “Please, Dad,” he whispers, his voice small. “I can’t get it out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I see Marco lying there, bleeding. And I couldn’t do anything.”
There’s a long silence. The weight of Ace’s words hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. Roger’s face softens just slightly, his expression still serious, but now with a flicker of understanding.
“Alright,” Roger says, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Ace’s heart skips a beat. He can’t quite believe it. But his father’s face is resolute.
Ace goes back to his cabin, grabbing fresh clothes and towels before heading straight to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” he mutters, barely able to contain his emotions.
As he passes by, Luffy sniffs him and wrinkles his nose. “Did you drink sake, Ace?”
“No,” Ace groans, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “Dad spit it on me.”
Luffy looks utterly confused. “Huh? Why would he do that? Did he not like the taste?”
Sabo, overhearing the conversation, bursts out laughing. “How did you manage that?”
Ace just glares at his brother, feeling the frustration rise in him again. “Why do you automatically think it’s my fault?” he grumbles.
Sabo raises an eyebrow, the playful smirk not leaving his face. “Are you telling me it wasn’t?”
Ace sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes! Well… no… okay, maybe a little. I might have startled him when I asked him to train me.”
Sabo snickers, but Ace is too worn out to care. “And?”
“And…” Ace hesitates for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He agreed.”
Sabo’s face lights up, and he throws an arm around Ace’s shoulder. “Count me in.”
Luffy jumps up, fist pumping the air. “Me, too! There’s no way you’re the only one who gets stronger!”
Ace can’t help but laugh, a weight lifting off his shoulders. For the first time in a long while, he feels like maybe—just maybe—he’s going to be okay.
***
A week has passed since the attack, and Marco has been in and out of consciousness, his body fragile, his breath shallow, as if every movement is a struggle. The doctor had warned him that Marco would need time to recover, but Ace feels antsy, caught in a tight knot of worry that refuses to loosen. The days have dragged on—long, torturous hours spent staring at the walls, waiting, hoping, praying that Marco will wake up.
Ace has been trying to distract himself, flipping through a book without really reading the words, his mind miles away. He’s sitting in the chair beside Marco’s bed, watching the rhythmic beep of the monitors and the steady drip of the IV. But it’s all too much. The silence is deafening.
Then, finally, he notices the twitch of a finger. The faintest of movements. Ace immediately snaps his head up, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Marco's face twitches again, and he groans softly.
“Ace…”
The word is barely audible, but it’s enough. Ace sits straighter, his heart pounding as he watches Marco’s eyes flutter open, slowly taking in his surroundings. The phoenix's gaze travels first to the IV line connected to his arm, the soft beep of the heart monitor in the background. His eyes trail over the bandages wrapped around his body, the telltale signs of injury, before he finally focuses on Ace.
“Ace?” Marco repeats, his voice thick with confusion.
Ace can’t hide the relief that floods his chest. His lips tug into a small, shaky smile. He had been so sure Marco wouldn’t make it. But here he is, awake, even if his face is pale and his body is still too weak. “Yeah,” Ace replies softly, voice cracking a little as he fights back the flood of emotions threatening to pour out. He grabs a glass of water with a straw from the small table beside him and holds it to Marco’s lips. “It’s good to see you awake. How do you feel?”
Marco greedily drinks from the straw, the water rushing down his dry throat. His hands shake slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. He swallows before he speaks again, his voice hoarse. “What happened?”
Ace exhales, a little awkwardly. He doesn’t want to make Marco feel worse, but he knows the man needs to understand. “What do you remember?”
Marco looks up at the wooden ceiling as though searching for the missing pieces of his memory. After a long moment, he responds, his voice soft. “We were attacked… I got hit by a seastone bullet, and we fell down the cliff.”
Ace nods, his expression darkening as he recalls that moment—the fall, the way Marco had pulled him close to shield him from the impact, even though it meant hurting himself in the process. “Yeah,” Ace says, his voice steady but his mind racing back to that moment. “You pulled me close to protect me from the fall. You probably don’t remember much after that. You were really out of it.”
Marco frowns slightly, his brows knitting in confusion.
Ace hesitates, his words feeling too heavy in his mouth. “We landed on the only spot of land down there,” Ace continues, his voice quieter now, his gaze fixed on Marco’s face. “and got into a cave to hide before anyone saw us. My dad used my vivle card to track me down and found us. He got worried when I didn’t come back for dinner.”
The frown on Marco’s face deepens, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Your dad?” Marco’s voice is tinged with an edge of suspicion, and Ace can see the unease in his eyes. “You took me to your ship?”
Ace feels his frustration rise, the edge of his patience snapping. “You were badly injured,” he snaps back, his voice sharper than intended. “There weren’t any of your crew around, so what else was I supposed to do? Just leave you there to bleed out?!” His words are louder than he meant them to be, and the room feels charged with tension.
Marco doesn’t back down, his voice cold as he presses further. “If you know who I am, then you should also know I would’ve healed the second the bullet was removed. So explain to me, Ace, why I’m still like this. Did you put me in sea stone shackles? Planning to turn me over to the marines for my bounty? You should know my captain won’t let this slide. He’ll come after you with everything he’s got.”
Before Ace’s brain has caught up with his actions, he’s on his feet, his palm slapping across Marco’s face with a sharp crack. The sound rings in the air.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Ace shouts, his chest heaving with emotion, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I thought we were friends! But if you can’t even trust me enough to believe that I wouldn’t let my dad or the crew do what you’re accusing us of… then I don’t have anything else to say to you!”
Marco’s eyes widen, clearly shocked by the slap and the force of Ace’s words. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between them, heavy and thick. Ace’s breathing is ragged, his heart pounding in his ears.
Without another word, Ace turns on his heel, his anger still simmering, and heads for the door. He grabs the bundle of clothes he bought for Marco from the small table beside the bed, tossing it onto Marco’s chest with a flick of his wrist. The phoenix looks down at the clothes in confusion.
“What...?” Marco starts, still dazed.
“Your clothes were torn beyond repair,” Ace snaps, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “It’s my fault, so I got you replacements. They didn’t have a yellow sash, so I bought a blue one. If you’ve got a problem with the color, go fuck yourself. Stupid canary.” He slams the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the hallway.
“Wait!” Marco’s voice calls from inside the room, but Ace doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to hear it. Not right now.
Notes:
To Marcos defense: He is in pain and drugged with various medicaments, so his ability to think rationally might be somewhat compromised.
Chapter 9: 1.9. Omake – The pirate king’s son
Summary:
Thatch is understandably confused when his pigeon brother gets brought back by the pirate king.
Chapter Text
Thatch’s eyes snap up at the shout from the lookout. “Pops, the Oro Jackson is sailing towards us!” The words hit him like a jolt, pulling his attention away from whatever he was doing. His mind immediately starts racing. What does Roger want now?
He looks over at Whitebeard, the towering figure of their captain, who tilts his head and mutters, “What does Roger want?” It’s a question asked more out of curiosity than concern, as if Whitebeard is still half-distracted by the fact that his old rival is making an unexpected move.
Vista, always eager for action, grabs his swords, a wide grin splitting his face. “Do you want us to attack?” he asks, already itching for a fight, as if a surprise visit from Roger were just another excuse to dive into combat.
Whitebeard’s response is calm, measured, and to the point: “No, let’s see what he wants first.” The command rings through the air, a signal for everyone to hold their ground. Thatch nods, though a thread of tension coils in his gut. There’s something about this that doesn’t sit right with him, a subtle shift in the air that he can’t quite place yet.
As the Oro Jackson sails closer, the silence on the deck grows thick, and Thatch watches, his brow furrowing. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not this. The ship stops right next to the Moby Dick, and standing at the rear of the ship, looking like he’s just stepped out of a storm, is none other than Gol D. Roger himself. The infamous Pirate King, the only man that Whitebeard would ever consider an equal, the man he has fought beside and against for years. And yet, even though it’s Roger, even though it’s a familiar face, something feels off. Roger doesn’t look like he’s here for a fight; his usual smirk is gone, replaced by something much more tense. The fine lines on his face are taut, as though he’s bracing for something more difficult than any battle they’ve had.
Thatch blinks, confused. It’s rare to see Roger so subdued. His eyes are sharp, scanning the Moby Dick’s deck, but there’s an edge to his expression—a grim determination that doesn’t belong in the usual playful brawls he and Pops usually get into.
“Oi, what happened to you?” Whitebeard’s voice booms across the deck, and Thatch sees the old man’s eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of Roger’s newly pink hair. A low laugh rumbles from the crew, and even Roger’s men are chuckling, though not without a hint of awkwardness.
Roger scowls, his mustache twitching as he grumbles, “My boys decided a little redecorating was in order.” There’s a flicker of annoyance in his voice, but it’s laced with an undertone of something deeper. Maybe regret? Thatch can’t quite read it, but it bothers him.
Whitebeard huffs out a laugh at that, loud and booming, and the pirates around them join in. Roger’s crew laughs too, though it’s a little forced. The tension is still there, thick and tangible, but they all manage to ease it with the shared, familiar camaraderie.
But then Roger straightens up, all traces of humor draining from his face, and Thatch feels his gut twist in response. “Permission to come aboard?” Roger asks, his tone more serious than it’s ever been.
Thatch feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Roger doesn’t ask for permission. Never. It’s not his style. The Pirate King has always been the kind of man to just take what he wants, charging in with a devil-may-care attitude. This is different. This is something else. Thatch’s instincts are telling him that something is terribly wrong, but he still can’t figure out what.
Whitebeard’s response is immediate. “Granted.” He waves his hand dismissively, though there’s an edge to his voice, a subtle shift in his posture that makes Thatch’s nerves tingle.
Roger steps aboard, but his movements are slow, deliberate, almost weighed down by something unsaid. His usual swagger is gone, replaced by an air of something... ominous. It makes the hairs on the back of Thatch’s neck prickle, and he knows that something is about to be revealed—something that is far beyond a simple visit.
“What brings you here?” Whitebeard asks, his voice gruff, though his eyes are sharp as ever.
Roger’s gaze flickers to the deck, and for a moment, it’s like the weight of the world presses down on him. He exhales deeply, as though preparing himself for something painful, and when he finally speaks, his voice is heavy, like it’s coated in something sharp and bitter. “Phoenix.”
The word hits Thatch like a punch to the gut. It’s not a question. It’s not even a request. Roger’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning, and Thatch’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t need to hear more. He already knows. The phoenix—their second in command, Marco—hasn’t reported in for over a week. The silence, the absence, has been a gnawing worry in the back of Thatch’s mind since the moment Marco went missing. But hearing Roger’s voice, the way he says it, makes everything else fall into place. It’s not good news.
“What happened to Marco? Is he alright?” Whitebeard asks, his voice quieter than usual. Thatch sees his father’s face harden, the worry creeping into the creases of his brow. He’s always been a rock, but even Pops has his breaking point.
“He’s alive,” Roger says, his words sharp, but there’s a trace of something... softer underneath, like a veil of sorrow he’s trying to hide. “He’s not in danger of dying anytime soon. But he’s in our sickbay, still unconscious. He had a rather unfortunate encounter with some experimental drug.”
Thatch feels his stomach churn at the words. Something about “experimental drug” doesn’t sit well with him. What kind of poison could put Marco in this state? He glances over at Whitebeard, who’s staring at Roger, waiting for more.
Thatch can barely breathe, his thoughts swirling. Marco. Still injured. Not healing as he should. The birdbrain—Marco—their second in command. Thatch knows his brother’s healing abilities, his phoenix powers. If it’s taking this long for Marco to recover, it’s bad. Really bad.
Whitebeard’s face hardens, his eyes darkening. “Marco’s still injured?” he asks, the weight of the question heavier than the words themselves.
Roger nods. “He was shot with a bullet covered in something akin to liquid seastone.”
“Liquid seastone?” Thatch repeats, his voice hushed with disbelief.
Crocus, who has accompanied Roger, steps forward, holding out a set of documents with a grave look on his face. “Marcos body is slowly filtering it out, but at the rate he’s going, I believe it will take another two or three weeks before his phoenix healing fully kicks in,” Crocus says, his tone clinical, but the concern in his eyes is unmistakable.
Roger’s face tightens. “We’ve done what we can for him, but Crocus is right. His body is struggling to cope. It’s not pretty.”
Thatch clenches his fists, fury bubbling in his chest. Who would do this to Marco?
Reyleigh clears his throat, sensing the tension. “I’ll go get him.” His voice breaks through the air, but Thatch doesn’t wait.
“I’ll come with you,” Thatch says, his voice determined. He doesn’t ask for permission. Not from Roger, not from Whitebeard. He just turns to his father, looking for one last confirmation.
Roger shrugs, his face still shadowed with something more serious than Thatch has ever seen.
And so, with that single nod, Thatch moves—his heart hammering in his chest as he follows Reyleigh. He feels his boots thud softly against the wooden floor as he and Reyleigh step below deck, the air cool and damp with the smell of saltwater and the faint scent of medicine. It’s quiet down here, except for the distant creak of the timbers.
Then, without warning, a heated shout pierces the air, snapping Thatch’s attention back to the present.
As soon as Thatch steps below deck, he hears an explosion of anger echoing through the corridor. “...a blue one! If you have a problem with the color, go fuck yourself! Stupid canary!” The words are followed by a door slamming and footsteps stomping away, quick and heavy.
Reyleigh, calm as always, raises an eyebrow and murmurs, “Seems like Phoenix is awake.”
Thatch can’t help but smirk, but beneath it he feels a twinge of unease. Something is wrong; Marco is hardly the type to provoke that kind of reaction from someone. Before he can gather his thoughts, a faint voice calls out, “Wait!” It’s Marco, but he sounds... almost desperate. The footsteps keep going, though, faster now, like someone fleeing the scene. A low sigh escapes from Reyleigh as they move forward.
When they reach the sickbay, Reyleigh knocks, and then, without waiting, he pushes the door open gently. Thatch steps in behind him—and immediately feels his stomach twist. The sight before him is one he won’t forget anytime soon.
Marco is lying in bed, swathed in bandages that cover nearly every visible part of him. Machines hum quietly beside him, tubes snaking around his arms, attached to IVs and monitors that beep steadily. And lying on Marco’s stomach, almost absurdly, is a neatly folded bundle of clothes. Thatch’s gaze shifts to his brother’s face, and he’s struck by the sight of a fresh, angry red mark, unmistakably in the shape of a handprint, on Marco’s left cheek.
Reyleigh notices it too, and his frown deepens. “Do I want to know what happened here?” he asks, his tone even but edged with curiosity.
Marco, catching the voice, turns his head, and when he sees them, surprise flickers across his face. “Thatch? Dark King?”
Thatch forces a grin, trying to shake off his worry. “I’m here to pick you up, birdbrain,” he says with his usual cheerfulness.
Marco’s eyes narrow, confusion clearly written across his face. “Pick me up?”
“Yeah,” Thatch nods, chuckling. “Or do you plan to stay here with Roger’s crew? Pops might have a problem with that.”
At this, Marco’s brow furrows even deeper. “Roger? Object?” His eyes dart around the sickbay, as if he’s just fully waking up to where he is. “Wait—I’m on the Oro Jackson?”
Reyleigh sighs knowingly, like he’s expecting this revelation to be the start of something complicated. “I take it he didn’t tell you?”
Marco shakes his head, and he holds up a letter, his voice tinged with irritation. “No, he didn’t even tell me he’s a pirate. I thought he was the kid of some adventurer.”
Reyleigh crosses his arms, glancing knowingly at Thatch. “The kid’s had his fair share of trouble trusting people. Considering his past, it’s understandable. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone tried to get to Roger through him.”
Thatch’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he blurts, “Who are we talking about?”
With a sigh, Marco mutters, “Roger’s son.”
Thatch’s jaw nearly hits the floor. Roger’s son? The surprise is almost enough to knock him back a step. He studies Marco’s face, trying to piece it all together.
The conversation is cut short when they make their way back up to the deck. Thatch keeps glancing sideways at Marco, who looks like he’s piecing things together just as quickly as they’re falling apart.
As soon as they emerge on deck, Roger’s gaze locks on Marco. His frown deepens as he scans Marco’s face. “What happened to your face?” he asks, his voice gruff but edged with something that might be concern.
Marco’s expression remains deadpan as he meets Roger’s eyes. “Your son slapped me.”
A collective intake of breath echoes across the deck, and the Whitebeard pirates immediately bristle. Weapons are drawn, hands twitching, ready to protect their own. Thatch feels the familiar thrill of battle stirring in his blood, and he readies himself. Nobody slaps Marco and gets away with it—not even Roger’s kid.
But Marco raises his hand, stopping them with a calm but commanding gesture. “No,” he says firmly, “that was my fault.” He glances at the crew around him, his gaze steady, a silent reassurance that they don’t need to step in. “I said something inconsiderate.”
The tension eases, though a few pirates keep their weapons half-raised, unwilling to let their guard down entirely. Thatch, though, watches as Marco turns back to Roger, his voice softer than before. “He’s a good kid. You did well raising him.”
Roger blinks, surprised, then gives a short nod, a flicker of pride slipping past his usual gruff demeanor. And as the ships drift beside each other, a strange quiet settles. For a moment, Thatch feels something he hasn’t expected—a kind of shared understanding, unspoken, that binds them all, Roger’s crew and their own, because of the tangled loyalties and sacrifices that bring them together in ways they couldn’t have foreseen.
Chapter 10: An ordinary day on the Oro Jackson – Part II
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A few weeks later, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy are huddled together, eyes glinting with mischief as they devise their latest prank on Roger. It’s a masterpiece in the making, and the plan is simple but brilliant: they’ll sneak a few mild sleeping pills into his sake and give their Pirate King a glamorous new look he’ll never forget.
They wait for dinner, keeping their faces straight as Roger drinks. It’s hard for Ace not to laugh as he watches Roger knock back the doctored sake. Soon enough, Roger retires to his quarters, none the wiser, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. It won’t be long before he’s out cold.
The boys wait a little while to make sure the sleeping pills have done their job before loudly faking yawns of their own, announcing how “tired” they all suddenly are, and heading to their room. Once they’re sure the coast is clear, they grab their stash of supplies, snickering quietly as they sneak down the dimly lit hallway and slip into Roger’s quarters.
Ace’s grin is pure mischief as he surveys the Pirate King sprawled out, snoring softly, utterly oblivious to what’s about to happen.
“Alright, Luffy,” Ace whispers, barely containing his excitement, “you keep watch at the door. If anyone’s coming, make a weird bird noise, got it?”
Luffy nods seriously and perches by the door, looking like a scrawny guard parrot himself. Ace and Sabo get to work.
Ace starts with Roger’s hair, gathering the thick locks and tying them up in a painfully neat bun. He dabs a bit of makeup on his fingers, starting with blush, applying it with an exaggerated circular motion that makes Roger’s cheeks pop with an almost clown-like vibrancy. He glances at Sabo, who’s rummaging through their supplies with an intense focus, and grins.
Sabo pulls out a wig with long, flowing strawberry blonde curls and settles it on Roger’s head, adjusting it with care until it cascades perfectly over his shoulders. “Nice,” he mutters, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
Next, Ace takes out a small set of fake nails. He carefully peels the adhesive back and gently presses them onto Roger’s fingers, each one long, perfectly manicured, and painted a bright, eye-searing pink. He can’t help but snicker when he notices Roger’s natural nails underneath, ragged and dirt-stained, looking hilariously out of place beneath the gleaming plastic.
Meanwhile, Sabo is unearthing the pièce de résistance: a lacy, frilly pink dress with puffed sleeves and layers of ruffles. They wrestle Roger’s limbs into the dress, being as gentle as they can despite their laughter, stuffing a bra with makeshift “padding” to give him a distinctly feminine silhouette. It’s perfect.
As the finishing touch, they gather up every mirror in his quarters—every single one—and carry them out, leaving Roger with no way to catch a glimpse of himself. The image of Roger wandering around the ship tomorrow, with no idea of his makeover, is almost enough to make Ace double over.
Once everything’s in place, they exchange gleeful nods, stifling their laughter as they tiptoe out of the room, Luffy barely managing to keep his bird noises to a whisper.
In the safety of their own room, they finally let out their laughter, muffling it with pillows to avoid waking anyone. They fall asleep giddy with anticipation, already imagining the sight of Roger strutting out in full pink, oblivious to the dramatic transformation his sons have bestowed upon him.
***
Ace wakes up before dawn, practically buzzing with anticipation. The memory of last night’s prank sends him into a silent fit of laughter as he slips on his shoes and heads out to meet Sabo and Luffy. The three of them, as if by instinct, sneak through the sleeping ship, exchanging mischievous grins as they head toward the mess hall. None of them can wait to see the chaos they’ve unleashed.
They’re barely through the doors when Reyleigh, already awake with a mug of coffee in hand, notices them with a sly grin. “Ace, you’ve got a visitor waiting for you on deck,” he says, nodding his head toward the outside. “Sabo, Luffy, go wake up Roger and let him know.”
Luffy, grinning ear to ear, opens his mouth to volunteer. The mere thought of seeing their pranked captain in the bright light of day has him practically giddy with anticipation, but Sabo catches the glint in Luffy’s eyes and steps in, giving him a warning look. “I’ll get Roger. Feel free to start eating, Luffy,” Sabo says smoothly. He’s the only one who can manage not to give anything away with his expression. With a nod, he turns, prepared to face the ticking bomb that is their captain in all his new glory.
Shrugging it off, Ace heads out onto the deck, a bit puzzled as to who could be here. They’re far out in the New World, where visitors are few and far between. But as he steps onto the deck, he sees the familiar figure of Marco waiting, flanked by Shanks and Gaban. Marco is dressed in the clothes Ace had picked out for him back in town, looking cleaner and much more put together than he had when they’d last parted.
“Ace, hello,” Marco greets him, his voice as calm as ever, though there’s a warmth to it this time. He doesn’t look like he’s here to fight—just to talk.
Ace frowns, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize,” Marco says, his voice steady but sincere. He explains, saying how he regrets the things he’d said before. Ace feels his grudging anger soften a bit. He can’t stay mad—not when Crocus had told him about Marco’s mix of injuries and the pain meds that might’ve clouded his judgment. Reluctantly, Ace accepts, feeling a strange sense of relief as the two reconcile.
But before they can talk any further, heavy footsteps thunder across the deck, punctuated by a furious huff. Ace and Marco both turn to see Roger storming onto the deck, face powdered with rogue makeup smudged across his cheeks, long, strawberry-blonde wig bobbing, and nails painted in bright pink. If that isn’t enough, he’s in the dress of all dresses—a frilly, elaborate pink number that flounces with every step. It’s a vision that brings Ace to the brink of tears from holding back laughter.
Following Roger is Sabo, maintaining the most impressively straight face in all of prank history.
Gaban’s jaw drops, and he looks at Roger, completely lost for words. Marco, for his part, manages to keep a straight face, though Ace can see a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. Ace has to admit, the guy’s a pro at holding it in, which only makes him more determined to keep it going.
Feigning innocence, Ace tilts his head and asks, “Something the matter, Mum?” He puts on his best ‘sweet son’ expression, all wide eyes and an earnest smile.
Shanks, however, isn’t holding back. He’s gripping the railing for dear life as his laughter echoes across the deck, doubling over as he points and howls.
“Something the matter, Mum?” Ace asks innocently, putting on the most earnest expression he can muster.
Roger’s scowl deepens as Shanks’s laughter somehow intensifies. Now he’s clinging to the railing for support, practically wheezing as he laughs. “Stop laughing, Shanks!” Roger snaps. “This isn’t funny. What if that peacock did something to Ace?”
“Sorry, Captain,” Shanks gasps out, holding his belly as he tries to recover.
Ace fights down his own laughter, adopting a tone of fake exasperation. “You’re being ridiculous, Mum. There’s no way Marco would do anything to me—especially not after letting himself be announced by Rey, Gaban, and Shanks.”
Shanks’s legs give out, and he sinks to the deck, now outright rolling on his back, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.
Roger’s glare could melt iron, but then he stops, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Wait. What did you just call me?”
Ace tilts his head innocently, face full of fake concern. “Is everything alright with you, Mum? You’ve been acting funny all morning. Should I get Crocus?”
“Mum?” Roger repeats, brow furrowing in dawning realization.
Ace, unable to help himself, spreads his arms wide, flashing a grin so big it would rival Roger’s own bounty poster. “Well, you do look the part.”
Roger’s expression turns from confusion to outrage as he realizes exactly what the boys have done. Ace doesn’t wait around to see what happens next—he grabs Marco’s arm, shooting a triumphant grin at Shanks, who’s still laughing too hard to respond, and he and Sabo sprint toward the mess hall, bursting into laughter the moment they’re out of sight.
They stop to catch their breath, exchanging high-fives as they laugh so hard they can barely speak.
Sabo, panting, finally manages, “How much do you think the newspapers would pay us for a picture of that?” He reaches into his pocket, producing a visual Den-Den Mushi with a wicked grin.
Ace chuckles, shaking his head. “That depends on whether they’ve got the guts to print it!”
Marco watches the boys, amusement flickering across his face. He’s standing back with a sort of admiring grin, taking in the camaraderie they share.
Before Ace can say anything more, Roger’s voice roars through the ship like a storm, shaking the mess hall as he bellows, “ACE! SABO! LUFFY!”
The laughter in the mess hall dies instantly, and the crew stares at the door in wide-eyed silence. A few of the men exchange nervous looks, bracing themselves for what’s coming.
Crocus, seated calmly at a nearby table, raises an eyebrow at the trio. “What did you boys do this time?”
“We totally didn’t dress Roger up like a woman!” Luffy blurts out without missing a beat.
For a second, the whole room is dead silent. Then, laughter erupts again, louder than before, filling every corner of the hall as crewmates double over, slapping their knees. The laughter swells even further when a furious Roger storms into the mess hall, his expression a mix of outrage and bewilderment as he stands there, still dressed to the nines in frills and curls.
Ace tries to put on his best concerned look, giving Roger a pat on the shoulder. “Calm down, Mum. You’ll get your blood pressure up if you keep shouting like this. You’re not the youngest anymore, you know.”
Sabo, ever the accomplice, throws in, “Ace! You don’t tell a lady she’s old. It’s rude.”
Ace looks at Roger, an exaggerated look of apology crossing his face. “Sorry, Mum. You don’t look a day over twenty!”
Roger’s growl deepens, eyes narrowing. “Ace…”
“Bye!” Ace, Sabo, and Luffy shout in unison as they dart out of the mess hall, laughter echoing behind them as they make their escape.
Dragging Marco along, Ace leads the charge, all the way back to the deck where he and his brothers collapse in laughter once more.
Notes:
Next chapter: Ace falls for Marco, literally. Maybe agreeing to go snowboarding with Luffy was a bad idea…
Chapter 11: Why you don’t go snowboarding with Luffy
Summary:
Ace falls for Marco, literally. Maybe agreeing to go snowboarding with Luffy was a bad idea…
Chapter Text
Ace feels the thrill course through him as he tears down the snowy slope, carving deep grooves into the fresh powder beneath his board. The crisp mountain air stings his cheeks, and the rush of speed fills him with exhilaration.
It has been almost two years since Ace last saw Marco. The Whitebeards stayed in Paradise for some time and only returned new world now a couple of weeks ago.
Beside him, Sabo is equally absorbed, gliding down the glacier with smooth, practiced movements. And then, predictably, there’s Luffy, barely managing to stay upright as he flails his way down the mountain, somehow laughing like a maniac even as he sways unsteadily on his board.
“Faster, Ace! I’m gonna catch you!” Luffy shouts, barely balanced yet absolutely fearless.
Ace grins, throwing a look over his shoulder. “Good luck keeping up, rubber brain! I’ll be at the bottom by the time you’re halfway down!”
But Luffy isn’t paying attention—he’s already veering off course, his legs wobbling dangerously as he somehow defies every rule of physics to stay standing. Ace and Sabo exchange amused glances, knowing this can only end in chaos. They race side by side for a while before Luffy somehow manages to right himself and gain some control, charging back to meet them.
Soon, they’re all weaving through the snow, whooping and laughing until Ace, unable to resist, scoops up a handful of snow mid-ride and lobs it directly at Luffy’s head. It splatters right against his hat, knocking it askew.
“Hey!” Luffy yells, barely able to steady himself. “No fair!”
Sabo, laughing, joins in on the fun. He twists his body to scoop up a snowball, flinging it at Ace with surprising accuracy.
“Oh, so it’s a snowball fight now?” Ace calls, laughing as he dodges the attack.
They each grab fistfuls of snow as they continue down the slope, firing at each other with abandon. The snowballs hit hard and fast, cold bursts of powder exploding on impact, and soon enough, they’re all covered in flecks of white. Ace’s cheeks ache from grinning, his breaths coming in puffs of steam as they toss and dodge.
Luffy, laughing hysterically, scoops up what must be the biggest snowball Ace has ever seen him make. He lifts it over his head, his grin wide and mischievous. “Take this, you guys!” Luffy shouts, hurling it toward them with all his might.
But the snowball doesn’t just sail over—it smashes into the side of the mountain with a force far greater than any of them expected. There’s a rumbling sound, low and menacing, that reverberates through the air. The three brothers freeze, exchanging panicked looks as the rumble grows louder.
“Ace… what was that?” Sabo asks, his eyes wide.
Ace’s stomach drops. “Luffy, please tell me you didn’t…”
Luffy, for once, looks sheepish, scratching his head with a nervous grin. “Shishishi… oops?”
Before any of them can react further, a massive wave of snow begins cascading down the mountain, roaring as it barrels toward them. The three of them stare at it in stunned silence for half a second, and then—
“AVALANCHE! RUN!” Ace yells, throwing all dignity aside as he kicks off, desperately trying to out-snowboard the wave of white rushing at them.
They tear down the mountain, weaving through the snow and trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the avalanche. The roar of the cascading snow fills Ace’s ears, and he risks a glance back, only to see the avalanche gaining on them.
“Luffy, this is all your fault!” Ace shouts over the deafening rumble, steering himself between two large boulders in a desperate attempt to gain speed.
“Sorry!” Luffy shouts back, barely managing to stay ahead of the wave. “I didn’t mean to!”
Sabo, somewhere to Ace’s right, is somehow managing to look both panicked and determined, shouting directions to keep them from colliding with each other. But even he can’t keep them together as the avalanche splits, sending them tumbling in different directions. Ace loses sight of his brothers as the wave of snow overwhelms him, and he’s swallowed by the freezing, disorienting swirl.
By the time the avalanche finally slows to a stop, Ace has been carried all the way down to the beach. He’s buried up to his shoulders in snow, half-frozen, and thoroughly dizzy. He lies there, catching his breath as the world slowly stops spinning. Finally, with a groan, he manages to wiggle one arm free, rubbing his face to try to shake off the remnants of snow.
“Luffy,” he mutters under his breath, squinting at the sky. “You imbecile! What the heck were you thinking?”
He hears Luffy’s familiar laugh nearby. “Shishishi! Sorry, sorry!”
Ace finally sits up, glaring in Luffy’s direction. “I am never going snowboarding with you again! Ever! And stop laughing, it’s not funny!”
Luffy’s grin doesn’t waver, though he tries to look apologetic. “Sorry, Ace! But it was kinda fun, right?”
“Fun?” Ace scoffs, shaking snow from his hair. “That avalanche nearly buried us alive!”
Luffy just laughs harder, which only makes Ace glare at him more. He can’t help a small grin from tugging at his lips despite himself, though, and he quickly tries to hide it.
Turning his head, Ace calls out, “Sabo! You alive?”
After a brief pause, Sabo’s voice drifts through the snow. “Somehow… though I think I left half my dignity back up the mountain…”
The comment makes Ace burst into laughter, even as his muscles ache and snow seeps through his clothes. Laughter bubbles up from his chest, and for a moment, he’s too tired and cold to care that he’s half-buried in the aftermath of his little brother’s avalanche escapade.
But then a shadow crosses over him. Before he can make sense of it, he sees a pair of sandaled feet standing in front of him, dusted with snow.
A familiar, amused voice catches his attention. “You know, with how many times you surprise me by falling out of the sky, you’d think you’re the bird zoan, not me.”
Ace blinks, trying to clear his vision, and he squints up into the blinding white. His heart stutters as he meets the warm, slightly exasperated expression of Marco. For a moment, he’s speechless, blinking in both confusion and a strange thrill. What is Marco even doing here?
“Marco?” he says, half in disbelief, half in something he can’t quite name.
Marco smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he glances from Ace to the snow-covered surroundings. “Do I want to know what happened?”
Ace feels himself flush—just enough to make the cold on his face sting. He sits up with a sheepish grin, trying to brush off the ridiculousness of it all. “More like who, not what…” he mutters, half-grumbling.
Marco raises an eyebrow, curiosity and amusement mingling in his expression as he offers Ace a hand. Ace doesn’t even hesitate, reaching up and letting Marco pull him to his feet. He’s surprised by how steady Marco’s hand feels, how warm despite the cold that surrounds them. He stumbles forward a little, catching his balance, and lets out a small laugh as he brushes himself off.
“My little brother happened,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “He wanted to go snowboarding, and… well, things got a bit out of control.” He scratches the back of his head, feeling suddenly self-conscious under Marco’s gaze.
Marco chuckles, a sound that sends a strange warmth through Ace, thawing some of the cold seeping through his clothes. “I should’ve guessed. Only you and your brothers could turn snowboarding into something that sounds more like a war zone.” Marco’s tone is light, but there’s something in the way he looks at Ace that makes him feel…different. Flustered, even.
“Yeah, well, I guess chaos just follows us around,” Ace mumbles, averting his gaze and trying to laugh it off. He tries to ignore the sudden nervous flutter in his chest as he takes a step back, concentrating instead on drying his clothes.
With a quick flick of his hand, flames from his Mera Mera no Mi ability spring to life, melting the snow off his body in a rush of steam. He hopes it distracts from his face, which feels warmer than the flames should make it. The heat dries his clothes, leaving him comfortable but still hyperaware of Marco watching him, his blue eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something Ace can’t quite place.
“Handy ability,” Marco says, nodding appreciatively. “Must be nice not to have to walk around soaked after a stunt like that.”
Ace laughs, trying to relax. “Yeah, it’s got its perks. Can’t say I’d trade it for anything—well, except maybe a little common sense for Luffy.” He glances around to make sure his brothers haven’t gotten themselves in trouble again, but he can’t keep his attention from wandering back to Marco.
Marco just shakes his head, amused, and Ace notices the softness in his eyes. His presence is so steady, so easygoing, and it fills Ace with a strange mix of relief and something a little sharper, a little more electric.
“Well, Ace,” Marco says, glancing back toward the mountain they just tumbled down. “Think you’re ready to join the world of the living again? Or do I need to carry you back up there?”
Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes but grinning. “As if I’d need that!” He takes a step forward, but his knees buckle slightly, reminding him of the impact of the avalanche. Before he can catch himself, Marco’s hand is at his elbow, steadying him with a firm grip.
Ace’s breath catches for a moment, a half-smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks,” he mutters, and though he means it, there’s something deeper in his tone, something he hopes Marco doesn’t quite pick up on.
“No problem,” Marco replies, his eyes crinkling with that familiar warmth. But for a moment, as their gazes meet, Ace feels his heartbeat race just a bit faster than he’d like.
***
When Ace, Sabo, and Luffy return to the Oro Jackson, the scent of dinner wafts through the air, warm and rich with spices. After a day spent hurtling down snow-covered slopes and barely escaping Luffy’s accidental avalanche, it feels like heaven. Ace can practically hear his stomach growling, and they all rush to the dining hall, their eyes lighting up at the sight of platters piled high with food.
As they settle in, Crocus, the ship’s doctor, glances up from his meal, raising an eyebrow at the three of them. “Heard some idiot caused an avalanche on that island today,” he remarks, casually but with a pointed glance. “Luckily, no one got hurt… but apparently, some of the snow blocked off a few streets in town.”
Ace’s heart skips a beat, and he does everything he can to maintain his poker face, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate. He can feel Sabo tense beside him, doing his best to keep a straight face. They exchange a quick, silent glance, both trying to communicate “don’t say a word” with a single look.
“Yeah, real lucky,” Ace says, barely above a whisper, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
Sabo clears his throat, nodding along and doing his best to feign disinterest. They’re almost in the clear… but Reyleigh isn’t done with them yet. He leans back, his gaze calm but suspicious, and says, “So, boys, what did you get up to today?”
Ace and Sabo glance at each other, scrambling for a quick answer, but before either of them can come up with something clever, Luffy grins wide and blurts out, “We totally didn’t start the avalanche!”
Ace’s fork clatters onto his plate, and he whips around to stare at Luffy, his heart plummeting. “Luffy!” he shouts, eyes wide with exasperation. “You’re the one who started it!”
Luffy blinks, looking puzzled, as if he doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly staring at him. “But I didn’t mean to,” he says, shrugging as if that makes everything okay. “And it was fun until the snow went everywhere!”
Sabo sighs, his face falling into his hands as he shakes his head. “Luffy,” he mutters, half-laughing despite himself, “you don’t just blurt that out.”
At this point, the entire table is staring at them, and Reyleigh’s mouth twitches with amusement. “Well, that explains a few things,” he says, crossing his arms with a sigh, though there’s a spark of laughter in his eyes.
Sabo just sighs, finally giving in and shaking his head with a laugh.
Chapter 12: The Bet
Summary:
Ace tries to court Marco, with questionably success…
Chapter Text
The sun beats down on the white sands of the beach, warming Ace’s back as he faces off against his brothers. They’re all grinning, practically vibrating with anticipation. It’s been months since the “avalanche disaster,” as they’re now calling it.
The boys have retreated to a secluded stretch of beach close to Sabaody Archipelago where the Oro Jackson is getting coated, away from the crew’s watchful eyes and judgmental laughs for one of their routine of sparring matches.
Ace, Sabo, and Luffy size each other up, all grinning like they’re ready to tear into each other. Ace feels the familiar thrill sparking up as he watches Luffy bounce on his toes, ready to go all out, while Sabo stands calm and focused, spinning his staff slowly between his hands.
Then, without warning, Luffy lets out a loud battle cry, launching his “Gomu Gomu no… Bazooka!” He hurls himself forward, arms stretched back, fists barreling toward Ace like twin cannonballs.
Ace sidesteps at the last second, just in time for Luffy’s fists to punch into the sand, kicking up a cloud of grit and shells. “Too slow!” Ace laughs, dodging nimbly—only to feel a swift thwack as Sabo’s staff sweeps under his legs, sending him stumbling.
“Not so fast, Ace!” Sabo grins, spinning his staff around to maintain balance. “Thought you were quick?”
Ace barely has a moment to chuckle before Sabo swings again, forcing him to dodge left, right, and left again. Just as he’s about to regroup, Luffy pops up, stretching his legs wide like a slingshot. “Gomu Gomu no… Scythe!” he shouts, trying to catch both brothers with his sweeping kick.
Ace leaps back, dodging Luffy’s foot by mere inches. He glances between the two of them, catching his breath. “Okay, you two wanna gang up? Let’s even the odds, then!” He conjures flames in his hands, the familiar warmth radiating through his palms. With a mischievous grin, he flings fireballs toward both Sabo and Luffy, sending heat waves shimmering over the sand.
Sabo deflects the flames with his staff, spinning in smooth, controlled movements as he sidesteps the heat, while Luffy stretches his arms up to swing himself clear over Ace’s head, aiming to drop-kick him from above.
“Luffy, quit trying to squash me!” Ace shouts, rolling out of the way just as Luffy lands beside him. He sends a new burst of flames toward Sabo, who laughs as he dances out of the fire’s reach.
The three of them are a blur of fists, flames, and movement, each trying to land a hit while dodging the others’ attacks. Ace manages a well-placed jab at Sabo’s shoulder, but Sabo retaliates with a quick sweep of his staff, sending him stumbling again. Then Luffy’s stretched-out arm wraps around Ace’s torso, and before he knows it, Ace is spinning through the air.
“Whoa, Luffy! Hold up!” Ace yells, but Luffy grins mischievously, giving one last stretch before snapping his arms back like a slingshot. Ace realizes too late what’s happening.
“Gomu Gomu no… Catapult!” Luffy shouts, laughing maniacally as he sends Ace rocketing across the beach.
Ace tumbles through the air, flailing as the ground zooms up toward him. He lands with a soft thud, skidding to a stop at someone’s feet. Groaning, he blinks up at a familiar, amused face—Marco’s.
“Y’know, with how many times you drop out of the sky, Ace,” Marco says with a smirk, arms crossed, “anyone would think you’re the one with wings.”
Ace blushes as he scrambles to his feet, brushing sand from his hair. “Sorry about that, Marco… Luffy got a little carried away.”
Marco raises an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile. “Seems like your whole crew’s a little carried away. You’re a mess, yoi.”
Ace laughs sheepishly, still feeling a little winded but mostly embarrassed. “Guess I’m just… unpredictable?”
“More like uncoordinated,” Marco teases, patting him on the back as Ace laughs again, his face still red.
Ace brushes the sand off himself and glances over at Marco, who stands with his usual calm air, arms crossed and an eyebrow arched as if half-amused, half-impatient. Ace can’t help but grin. “What’re you doing here anyway?”
Marco sighs, as if resigning himself to explaining. “Waiting on my crew to come pick me up. They’ll be here in a few hours, then probably stick around for a few days to restock.”
“So you have free time right now?” Ace’s grin grows wider as a spark of an idea lights up in his mind. “Want to spar with me?”
Marco’s other eyebrow rises to join the first. “Your father would kill me if I hurt you.”
“We’ll just spar, no fighting for real!” Ace insists, bouncing on his toes. “C’mon, Marco, I do this with Sabo and Luffy all the time, and Dad’s never been upset if I came back with a few bruises.”
Marco sighs again, his expression still dubious. “Ace, I’m not here to be your entertainment.”
“Maybe you’re just afraid I’ll hurt your pride if I win,” Ace teases, flashing his usual challenging smile.
Marco lets out a resigned groan. “Fine. One match,” he concedes, fixing Ace with a look that seems both exasperated and amused.
“Yes!” Ace pumps his fist, then outlines the rules quickly. “Alright, no Devil Fruit powers, just enough Armament Haki to make contact. Weapons and Observation Haki are allowed.” He explains with a confident smile, looking over his shoulder at Sabo. “Just the same rules we usually use 1 vs. 1, right?”
Sabo nods, smirking. “Got it.” He scratches a large circle into the sand with his staff, then turns to Marco. “So, whoever steps outside the circle, uses too much Armament Haki, or Devil Fruit powers loses. And,” he adds, “you win if your opponent taps out, passes out, or if their shoulders touch the ground for three seconds.” Sabo looks to Marco, who shrugs.
“Fine by me.” Marco steps into the circle and rolls his shoulders, clearly humoring Ace but not looking too concerned.
As they face off, Ace decides to start slow, testing Marco’s movements and defenses. Marco’s calm, almost lazy style keeps him balanced and unbothered, blocking Ace’s light punches with ease and returning controlled jabs that feel more like reminders than attempts to knock Ace down.
But Ace can tell Marco’s not taking him seriously, and that fires him up. He narrows his eyes and, with a grin, throws himself into a more aggressive offense. He ducks a jab from Marco, sweeps low, and follows up with a quick kick aimed at his side. Marco sidesteps, looking faintly surprised, and it’s all the encouragement Ace needs.
He presses forward, punching with faster, stronger hits, feeling his blood heat up with each move. He sidesteps Marco’s block, slips past his guard, and, with a smirk, hooks his leg around Marco’s. The next thing Marco knows, he’s toppling backward, his shoulders hitting the sand.
Sabo’s voice rings out, “Four seconds! Ace wins!”
Ace grins, dropping to his knees beside Marco, who stares up at him, wide-eyed and obviously not expecting Ace to have come at him so seriously. The surprise in Marco’s face is almost as satisfying as the win itself.
After a moment, Marco sighs, brushing the sand from his arms as he sits up. “Alright, Ace,” he says, giving him a small, half-amused smile. “What do you want?”
Ace can feel his heart pound a little harder, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Go on a date with me.”
Marco freezes, his brows raising just slightly as he looks at Ace. For once, the usually cool, unfazed commander actually seems taken aback. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, his gaze lingering on Ace as he processes what he’s just heard. "What?" He blinks, looking at Ace as though he’s just spoken in a completely different language.
"Hah?!" Sabo's jaw practically hits the ground as he gapes between the two of them.
"Shishishi!" Luffy bursts into laughter, apparently the only one entertained by the chaos that Ace just unleashed.
Marco’s wide-eyed expression hasn’t changed, his calm demeanor briefly shaken by what he just heard. He looks Ace up and down as if assessing the truth of the situation.
Sabo, still looking dumbfounded, crosses his arms. "Could you repeat that, Ace?" he demands, disbelief in his voice. "Because for a moment, it sounded like you just asked Whitebeard's right-hand man out on a date."
Ace can feel heat rushing to his face, but he squares his shoulders, determined. "Yeah. I am."
Sabo stares at him like he’s just announced he’s planning to jump off a cliff. "Are you out of your mind?!” he half-shouts, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. “I’d ask what you were thinking, but clearly, you’re not thinking at all!”
Ace shoots him a look, his heart still racing but his resolve hardening. "Hey, I won fair and square, and that means I get my prize." He turns back to Marco, holding his gaze, trying to keep his face serious.
Marco’s face shifts back to its usual calmness, though a faint smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at Ace, his expression almost unreadable, a mixture of surprise and faint amusement. He pauses, and Ace holds his breath, the world around him fading out as he waits for Marco’s response.
"Okay," Marco says finally, his voice calm, with a hint of something Ace can’t quite place.
"Wait, really?" Ace blurts out, momentarily taken aback. He’d hoped for a yes, but now that it’s happening, he feels an excited, almost nervous thrill race through him.
Marco nods, that small smirk still lingering as he watches Ace’s stunned expression. "You won," he says simply. "A deal’s a deal."
Ace can’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “Right! Tomorrow then?” he asks, trying to sound casual but unable to mask his excitement entirely.
Marco chuckles softly. “Tomorrow’s fine.” He glances over at Sabo and Luffy, whose expressions range from stunned disbelief to outright amusement.
“Shishishi, Ace is going on a date!” Luffy crows, as if declaring it to the whole beach, completely oblivious to the way Ace’s face flushes.
“Great,” Sabo sighs, shaking his head, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just don’t come crying to me when this all blows up.”
Ace shoots him a confident smirk. “Who says I’m gonna be the one crying?”
But as Marco gives him a parting nod, Ace realizes with a flutter in his chest that he may have just set himself up for more than he bargained for.
Chapter 13: Date and Disaster
Summary:
Ace and Marco go on a date.
Chapter Text
Ace can barely contain his excitement as he and Marco walk into the amusement park on Sabaody. He glances around, taking in the bright lights, colorful stalls, and the smell of food wafting through the air. He’s never been to a place like this and the thrill is hard to keep down, even as he tries to act cool.
But when he looks over at Marco, his “date” seems far from thrilled. Marco’s face is carefully neutral, his hands in his pockets as he surveys the place, almost like he’s wondering why he agreed to this in the first place. There’s a slight distance between them as Marco stands a few steps away, and Ace feels a pang of disappointment.
"Come on, Marco," Ace grins, nudging him with his elbow. "Lighten up a bit! It’s just a date—no one’s gonna bite."
Marco glances at him, awkwardly clearing his throat. "I know that, yoi. Just… not usually my scene." He looks away, but there’s a subtle redness on his cheeks that Ace finds both endearing and amusing.
Undeterred, Ace grabs Marco’s arm, trying to pull him toward a nearby booth with a ring toss game. “This is gonna be fun! You might even smile.”
Marco stumbles slightly at Ace’s pull but quickly adjusts, letting Ace tug him forward but keeping a respectful distance, his hand sliding out of Ace’s grip the moment he has his balance. He straightens, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve, his expression shifting to a gentle but reserved smile.
"Well, if you want to play, I guess…" Marco starts, trailing off as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of beli, paying the game attendant.
"Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that," Ace says, grinning anyway as he picks up one of the rings.
Marco shrugs, his voice softening. "Figured I should, yoi. You’re the reason we’re here, after all."
Ace feels a strange warmth in his chest, a blend of gratitude and something else he can’t quite name, as he tosses the ring toward the target. When he hits one of the pegs and wins a small stuffed blue parrot, he hands it to Marco with a smirk.
"Look at that! A prize just for you," Ace says teasingly, expecting Marco to brush it off.
But Marco just sighs, taking the stuffed parrot with a stiff, almost amused expression, though he keeps his arm locked straight, holding it like he has no idea what to do with it. “This was definitely not what I expected today.”
By the time they make it to the ferris wheel, Ace’s curiosity is piqued. "So, are you trying to keep me in check with all this? Or just feeling extra generous today?”
Marco looks at him, that faint blush returning as he avoids meeting Ace’s gaze directly. "Just… good manners, yoi," he mutters, though Ace notices the way Marco still maintains that small space between them, almost as if he’s worried that being too close will reveal something he’d rather keep hidden.
As they step onto the ferris wheel, Marco sighs, settling into the seat across from Ace, not beside him. Ace raises an eyebrow, leaning forward, his grin sly. "You can sit next to me, you know."
Marco's lips twitch into a faint smirk, though he remains rooted in his spot, crossing his arms over his chest. "Noted, yoi."
The ferris wheel starts moving, and Ace, grinning mischievously, kicks back, letting his leg brush against Marco’s. The man tenses slightly, giving Ace a look that’s a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. But he doesn’t pull away.
"So, you’re having fun, right?" Ace says, trying to break through Marco’s composed exterior.
Marco lets out a soft chuckle, finally meeting Ace's gaze, though his eyes are laced with a hint of warmth beneath the usual calm. "You could say that. Though I didn’t expect to spend my day here… with you."
Ace feels his heart skip a beat, a giddy thrill in his chest as he watches Marco soften, just a bit. He grins, leaning in closer, watching Marco’s reaction. “Well, now that you’re here… what do you think?”
Marco looks out at the view as the ferris wheel reaches its peak, a small, genuine smile breaking through his usual reserve. “I think it’s… nice,” he admits, and Ace feels like he’s won another prize—one far better than any stuffed parrot.
The evening ends with the vibrant lights of the amusement park reflecting off the calm waters of Sabaody, casting a soft glow over the dock where Marco and Ace stand. The crowds have mostly dispersed, leaving a quiet lull in the air. Ace’s heart races as he watches Marco’s expression, waiting for something, anything, that might tell him where they stand. But then Marco’s gaze shifts, his usual calm slipping into something distant.
“Ace,” Marco begins, his tone firm, almost rehearsed. “This—between us—can’t go anywhere.”
Ace feels a pang in his chest, the sting of disappointment sharper than he expected. He forces a smile, hoping it masks the ache creeping into his voice. “Why? I thought... we were having a good time.”
Marco sighs, looking away as if searching for words in the distance. “I’m 23 years older than you, Ace. There are things you don’t see, things I can’t give you.”
Ace clenches his fists, heat rising in his chest as his emotions swirl. “I don’t care about that. I know what I want. And it’s you.”
Marco doesn’t meet his gaze, and he doesn’t say he doesn’t return Ace’s feelings either—he just repeats, with frustrating composure, that they “can’t.” It’s as though there’s a wall Marco refuses to break down, a line he’s set between them that Ace can’t cross.
Ace feels something desperate clawing at his chest. “What do I have to do for you to take me seriously?”
Marco remains silent, his gaze fixed on the ground. The absence of an answer makes Ace feel more helpless than ever, and his frustration swells, bitter and raw.
“Stop pretending you’re oblivious to my feelings!” Ace demands, his voice sharp with anger and hurt. He searches Marco’s face, hoping for some acknowledgment, some crack in his stoic facade.
But Marco stays composed, and it’s too much. Driven by desperation, Ace grabs Marco by the collar, yanking him down and pressing his lips against Marco’s. He pours everything into the kiss—the pain, the longing, the years he’s spent feeling something he can barely put into words.
Marco’s body stiffens, his eyes widen, but he doesn’t push Ace away. He doesn’t pull him closer either, doesn’t react at all, just stands frozen as though caught off guard. Ace pulls back, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
“Please say something,” Ace pleads, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Marco hesitates, his gaze unreadable. “Ace, you shouldn’t—”
“Don’t you dare give me some stupid excuse!” Ace’s voice cracks, his throat tight with a mix of rage and despair. He holds Marco’s gaze, his own eyes wet. He can’t understand how Marco can be so calm, so detached, when everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.
When Marco still stands there, his silence like a heavy weight between them, Ace can’t take it anymore. He slaps Marco, hard enough to feel the sting on his own hand, his frustration boiling over.
Marco steps back, touching his cheek, even as his phoenix heeling kicks in and heals him, his expression finally showing something—a hint of shock, but still too restrained for Ace’s liking.
“I love you!” Ace’s voice is raw, his words rushing out before he can stop them. “I love you so much it fucking hurts! And you can’t even give me the respect of taking me seriously.”
“Ace…” Marco’s voice is a quiet murmur, filled with something Ace can’t identify, but it only stings more.
“You’re still not answering,” Ace says, his voice growing quieter, as though all the fight is slipping out of him.
“Ace…”
“No more.” Ace takes a shaky breath, the weight of his own words sinking in. “I’m done. If this is all I am worth to you, then I’m fucking done being friends.” And before he can give Marco a chance to say anything else, he turns and bolts, his tears blurring the path ahead as he runs.
Ace stumbles through the winding paths of Sabaody, his vision blurred by the tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t care where he’s going, his feet pounding against the ground in a frantic rhythm as he tries to outrun the pain clawing at his chest. Everything around him—the lights, the laughter of distant crowds, the calls of vendors—is just a blur, muffled by the echo of Marco’s cold, indifferent words.
His mind reels, cycling through everything that happened, every word Marco refused to say, every look that told Ace he wasn’t worth breaking whatever rule Marco had set for himself. The ache burns deep, simmering into frustration that surges through him like fire.
He pushes forward blindly, barely noticing when he stumbles over uneven cobblestones or brushes past strangers who mutter in annoyance as he bumps into them. The streets twist and turn around him, and he couldn’t care less where he’s headed. All he wants is to get as far away as possible, to outrun the hurt curling around his heart.
Finally, he reaches a deserted stretch of road, breathing hard as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears just keep coming. The rawness in his chest only grows, his breaths shaky as he fights to keep himself together.
Just as he rounds a corner, lost in his own spiraling thoughts, he crashes headlong into something solid. The impact knocks him backward, and he stumbles, barely keeping his balance.
“Whoa, Ace!” a familiar voice exclaims, steadying him with a firm grip. Ace blinks, finally looking up to see Sabo standing there, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.
“Ace, what’s wrong? Why are you running like this?” Sabo asks, his tone gentle, but Ace can’t bring himself to answer. He just looks away, his shoulders trembling, feeling as though he’s been caught in the most vulnerable moment of his life.
“Hey…” Sabo’s voice softens, and he reaches out, placing a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “Come on, talk to me. What happened?”
Ace opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t come. All the anger, the hurt, the disappointment lodges in his throat, and all he can do is shake his head. His hands clench into fists, his breathing shallow and unsteady.
Sabo’s gaze grows even more concerned, and he squeezes Ace’s shoulder, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
That small gesture of understanding, the quiet comfort of his brother’s presence, unravels whatever thin thread of control Ace has left. He feels his shoulders shake as he lets out a shaky breath, then another, and finally he lets go, tears streaming freely as he slumps against Sabo.
Sabo doesn’t say a word, just holds Ace steady, letting him cry as the weight of the evening spills out in choked sobs. Ace grips Sabo’s coat tightly, as if grounding himself, feeling both furious and lost.
Sabo stays there, a quiet strength, waiting patiently as Ace releases all the hurt he’s been holding in. When the tears finally start to slow, Sabo pulls back, meeting Ace’s gaze with a look of understanding that says more than any words could.
“Whatever it is,” Sabo says softly, “I’ve got you.”
And though Ace’s heart still aches, there’s a comfort in Sabo’s words, a sense of relief knowing he doesn’t have to face this alone.
Chapter 14: Not a damsel in distress
Summary:
Ace sets Marco straight. Or not…
Chapter Text
The moment Ace and Sabo turn the corner, a group of slavers blocks their path. There’s a smugness in their expressions as they size up the two brothers, clearly underestimating who they’re dealing with. One of the men—a tall, sneering type with a scar across his cheek—steps forward and gives them a twisted smile.
“Look what we have here, boys. These two’ll fetch us a fortune,” he says, voice laced with greed.
Ace feels a surge of anger flood his chest. After everything that’s happened tonight, this is the last thing he wants to deal with. But then he realizes something: maybe this is exactly what he needs. A chance to let off some steam, to burn off the frustration that’s been simmering inside him since his fight with Marco. He glances at Sabo, a fierce grin spreading across his face.
“Mind if I handle this?” Ace asks, clenching his fists. There’s a dark gleam in his eyes that tells Sabo he’s not asking for a favor—he’s asking for a release.
Sabo raises an eyebrow, reading the tension in Ace’s stance, and nods. “Go ahead. Just don’t overdo it.”
Ace strides forward, rolling his shoulders as he sizes up the slavers. They’re armed with daggers and makeshift clubs, but he hardly spares their weapons a second glance. These men don’t know who they’re dealing with, and for a moment, he almost feels sorry for them.
Almost.
One of the slavers lunges forward, swinging a knife at Ace. But Ace sidesteps easily, fluid as water, and catches the man’s arm in a brutal grip. With a twist, he yanks the man forward, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt. Before the others can react, Ace’s fist slams into the man’s jaw with bone-crushing force, and he’s out cold.
The next slaver—a burly man with a scar across his brow—growls and rushes him with a swinging club. Ace ducks, feeling the rush of air as the club whizzes over his head. He springs up, delivering a sharp uppercut to the man’s chin, and there’s a satisfying crack as the slaver’s head snaps back. He sways on his feet for a second before crumpling to the ground.
Another two try to attack him at once, but Ace is already moving. He steps into the path of the first man, dodging to the side just in time to make the slaver stumble forward, off-balance. Taking advantage of the man’s momentum, Ace hooks a leg around his ankle, sweeping his legs out from under him. The man hits the ground hard, gasping in pain.
The second one tries to grab him from behind, but Ace twists free, his instincts sharp and precise. He spins, landing a punch straight to the guy’s solar plexus, driving the air out of his lungs. As the man doubles over, Ace slams an elbow down onto his back, sending him crashing to his knees.
He doesn’t even pause, moving from one opponent to the next with a terrifying ease. His strikes are precise, calculated, every move fluid and powerful. He’s not just fighting; he’s toying with them, his pent-up rage turning into a deadly, controlled rhythm that makes each hit land harder than the last.
“Come on,” he taunts, flashing a fierce grin as he looks at the few slavers still standing, their faces now pale with fear. “That all you got?”
The last two look at each other, suddenly realizing just how outmatched they are. But before they can decide to run, Ace is already there. He sweeps in, landing a blow to one’s ribs so hard the man stumbles back, wheezing. The other tries to raise his weapon, but Ace grabs his wrist, twisting it until the man cries out, dropping his weapon in pain. With a swift kick, Ace sends him flying back into his partner, the two collapsing in a heap on the ground.
When the last of them is down, Ace straightens, brushing some dust off his shoulder as he looks back at Sabo, who’s watching with a faintly amused expression.
“All done?” Sabo asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Ace’s chest heaves as he lets out a breath, his body still thrumming with the adrenaline from the fight. He glares at the unconscious slavers scattered around him and feels… nothing. No sense of relief, no pride, just an empty ache that won’t go away.
A voice behind him makes him turn. “Ace,” Marco says, walking over with a frown, “you can’t just run around here alone. This place is dangerous. What if you ran into slavers?”
Ace gives him a dry, humorless smile and points to the bodies around him. “You mean them?”
Marco’s eyes widen, his gaze shifting from the dozen men lying unconscious on the ground to Ace’s face. “You… you defeated them?”
Ace scoffs, his pride wounded by the very question. “Of course I did. What, did you think I’d just roll over? I’m not some damsel in distress, Marco. I can take care of myself.”
Marco’s expression softens, as if he’s just realizing something he should’ve known all along. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Oh, don’t try to backtrack now!” Ace snaps, his frustration boiling over. He doesn’t know where all this anger is coming from, but once he’s started, he can’t stop. “You meant it exactly like that. You think I’m helpless, don’t you? Just some little kid you have to shelter and protect!”
Marco’s mouth opens, but before he can get a word in, Ace cuts him off again, his voice louder now, nearly a shout. “What gives you the right? Who do you think you are to decide what I can and can’t handle?”
“Ace, please, just listen—” Marco’s voice is calm, steady, and Ace hates it. Hates the way Marco’s always calm and steady, as if nothing shakes him, as if Ace’s emotions, his whole storm of frustration and hurt, are nothing but a breeze to Marco.
“I’m not in the mood to listen to someone who doesn’t even see me as his equal!” Ace retorts, clenching his fists. His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes on, letting his rage carry him. “So either get lost, or fight me and let me show you just how weak I am!”
There’s a flicker of something in Marco’s expression—surprise, maybe, or even a trace of hurt—but he quickly schools his features, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “What? Ace, I’m not going to fight you. You’re not—”
“Not what? Not strong enough?” Ace’s voice is shaking now, and he’s so angry he doesn’t even care if he sounds desperate. “Go ahead, say it, Marco. Tell me I’m just a kid who needs protecting. Tell me that I’m not worth your respect.”
Marco sighs, looking away for a moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches between them, tense and heavy. Ace’s heart pounds, a mix of anger and hurt and something else he can’t even name.
When Marco doesn’t turn to leave, Ace’s frustration reaches its breaking point. He launches himself at Marco, fists clenched, not holding back this time. He swings, the full force of his armament haki behind the blow, but Marco deftly sidesteps. The casual dodge only fans Ace’s fury. He has trained for years, dedicating every moment to becoming strong enough to stand on his own, and here Marco is, acting as if nothing has changed.
“Believe it or not,” Ace spits out, voice hoarse with emotion, “I’ve learned from the mess with those scientists. I’ve spent the last three years training like crazy to make sure it wouldn’t happen again—to make sure that the next time we met, I wouldn’t be a burden!”
Ace keeps up the attack, each punch, each kick, laced with both haki and frustration. He knows Marco has the edge in experience, that he’s skilled, and that his phoenix powers mean any damage Ace deals will heal almost immediately. They’re evenly matched in raw strength and technique, even in haki, but Marco’s experience makes him slippery. Even when Ace lands blows, he can sense Marco is holding back, just enough that it twists the knife deeper.
Ace grits his teeth. He won’t let Marco beat him—not this time, not ever. As his frustration surges, he taps into his conqueror’s haki, the power that had always come so naturally to his father but that he’s only begun to master. The technique his father taught him to disable devil fruits—he pours every ounce of willpower into it, channeling all his energy at Marco. He feels the strain, the instant drain on his stamina, but he pushes through.
For a brief moment, Marco’s healing power falters. Ace sees the shock flash across Marco’s face, his eyes widening as he realizes what’s happening. Taking advantage of Marco’s momentary surprise, Ace lunges forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him back against the grove. Before Marco can react, Ace pulls his dagger and presses it against Marco’s throat, just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.
“If this had been a real battle, you’d be dead right now,” he says, voice low and cold. Ace’s heart pounds, anger and hurt making his words tremble. He lets the dagger linger for a second longer, then sheaths it, stepping back with one final glare.
“I don’t want to see you ever again,” Ace says, his voice breaking despite his effort to keep it steady. Without waiting for a response, he turns away, motioning for Sabo to follow. The two brothers leave, and Ace doesn’t look back.
Ace doesn’t want to face his father right now. The last thing he needs is Roger’s overprotective streak coming out in full force, and he’s all too aware of the havoc Roger would wreak if he even got a hint of the heartbreak that’s currently twisting Ace’s insides. Knowing his father, there’s every chance he might try to storm the Whitebeard ship just to “set Marco straight.” That would be a mess he can’t even bear to think about.
So, instead, Ace and Sabo sneak quietly down the corridors and slip into their shared room. They move quietly so as not to disturb Luffy, who’s already sprawled out on his bed, softly snoring. He’s mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “meat,” his face scrunched into a sleepy, blissful smile. A small, genuine laugh escapes Ace, and Sabo chuckles with him, the sound lightening the heavy air between them for a moment.
Sabo turns to him then, his voice soft to keep from waking Luffy. “Listen, Ace,” he begins, his eyes steady and serious, “Marco’s an idiot. You deserve way better.” His gaze doesn’t waver, and Ace finds himself gripping onto those words like a lifeline. “If he’s so blind that he can’t see what a good person you are—how amazing you are—then that’s his loss. You’re worth so much more than that, and anyone who doesn’t see it doesn’t deserve you.”
Ace swallows, a bit of the ache in his chest easing. Sabo’s words resonate, grounding him. He’d been questioning everything—if he’d been too forward, too hopeful, if maybe he’d read Marco all wrong. But hearing Sabo say it… maybe it wasn’t all in his head. Marco’s rejection still stings like a fresh wound, but it doesn’t feel as sharp.
Then, Sabo’s mouth quirks into a mischievous grin, his eyes glinting. “You know,” he whispers, “we could always make his bounty poster into a dartboard. Bet you’d get a bullseye every time.” His tone is casual, but there’s a glint of defiance in his gaze, a shared brotherly fire against anyone who dared to hurt Ace.
Ace’s shoulders relax as a quiet, grateful laugh escapes him. “You’re on,” he murmurs back.
Chapter 15: Omake 2 - Dating for Dummies
Summary:
Thatch is giving his bird brother advice on dating. It doesn’t help… much…
Chapter Text
Thatch lets his voice carry a little louder, filling the kitchen with the familiar notes of Bink’s Sake. His hands work in a steady rhythm, the dough responding to his touch as he shapes each baguette with care, feeling the smooth stretch of it beneath his palms. He hums through the lyrics, nodding his head along to the song’s steady beat, his body moving like it’s in harmony with the ship itself. It’s a rhythm he knows as well as the heartbeat of the ocean outside.
“Yo-hohoho, yo-hohoho…” he sings under his breath, turning his attention to the stew bubbling on the stovetop. He lifts the lid and a burst of rich aroma fills the room—savory broth with garlic, thyme, and the sweet undertone of slow-cooked onions. His grin widens as he dips a spoon in for a taste. Perfect. The flavors have melded together beautifully, with a deep, comforting warmth that will spread through anyone who takes a bite. The meat’s tender, almost falling apart, and the vegetables are just the right texture—soft but not mushy. It’s going to be a feast.
He moves over to the counter, dusting his hands with flour before he picks up another round of dough. Working it into shape, he adds a little twist here, a gentle fold there, coaxing it into what he knows will be a perfectly airy loaf once it’s baked. He arranges each baguette onto a tray with almost reverent care, placing them like treasures he’s proud of.
As he works, his mind wanders to the crew, imagining their reactions. He can already see Marco giving a nod of approval, and Teach, who practically inhales anything he serves up, grinning ear to ear, probably grabbing two loaves before anyone else has a chance. He chuckles to himself at that thought. The galley always comes alive with the crew’s laughter and banter, and he loves being in the heart of it all, serving as the quiet anchor while everyone else is caught up in the whirlwind of stories and camaraderie.
The dough finally finished, he slides the trays into the oven, wiping his hands on his apron. His humming turns into a soft whistle, the tune of Bink’s Sake still on his lips as he gives the stew one last stir, savoring the rich scent that fills the air. He adds a pinch of salt, a splash of wine for depth, and a final twist of black pepper to bring everything together. The kitchen feels like it’s glowing with warmth, the air thick with the smell of hearty food and freshly baked bread.
Thatch leans against the counter for a moment, taking it all in. This is why he loves cooking—not just for the flavors or the process, but for the sense of comfort it brings, like he’s filling the galley with love, one meal at a time. He knows the crew will be stumbling in soon, noses twitching, lured by the smell. And he can’t wait to see their faces when they get that first taste of his stew and bread.
“Alright, you beauties. Rise and shine. Let’s make this a meal they’ll remember,” he mutters to the loaves in the oven, watching as they slowly brown the scent of fresh bread fills the air, when the galley door slams open so hard he nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns just as Marco strides in, looking uncharacteristically urgent.
“Thatch, I need you to help me plan a date. We have until late afternoon,” Marco says in his usual calm tone, but there's an unmistakable tension in his eyes.
“Sure,” Thatch replies automatically, his mind still on the baking. Then, his brain registers the last word Marco said. He jerks, eyes widening. “W–wait! Did you just say date?”
“You heard me correctly,” Marco replies, moving to take a seat at the table, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering and almost challenging.
“You’re going on a date?” Thatch repeats, the disbelief clear in his voice as he gapes at his brother. Marco? Going on a date?
“Yes,” Marco says simply, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
Thatch blinks, still processing. “Who would be stupid enough to go on a date with you? No offense, Marco, but you’re shit at relationships. I don’t know if she’s brave or just plain dumb.”
“He,” Marco corrects with a slight smirk, “is too stubborn for his own good.”
There’s a beat of silence in the galley, broken only by the quiet simmer of the stew on the stove. Then Thatch bursts out laughing, doubling over as he clutches his stomach. “No…no way!” He can’t contain himself, and before long, he’s laughing so hard he’s nearly rolling on the floor, utterly delighted by this twist. Marco, the ever-composed and stoic first division commander, has a date—with a guy, no less.
“Are you done rolling around on the floor and making fun of me?” Marco’s voice is dry, and when Thatch glances up, he can see the slight crease between his brows, his brother’s version of annoyed.
“Alright, alright,” Thatch chuckles as he hauls himself up, wiping a tear from his eye. “This is too good to pass up, though. I mean, you on a date!” He shakes his head, still grinning. “Well, we better make this special, or you’ll never hear the end of it from him.”
They settle into a conversation, Marco gradually relaxing as they toss around ideas. Thatch suggests a nice restaurant, maybe somewhere where they could sit down, have a drink, and enjoy a good meal. He already has a list in his head of places with the best ambiance, something nice and classy that would show a softer side of Marco.
But Marco shakes his head. “Not for him. He would go nuts if we sat still for that long.”
Thatch frowns, tapping his fingers against the table as he considers. “Alright, how about the amusement park on Sabaody? Something active, something to burn off energy. There’s plenty to do, and the island’s got some good spots for food stalls—less formal, but still fun.”
A thoughtful look crosses Marco’s face, and after a moment, he nods. “Yeah. That could work. He’d probably like that.” His tone is reluctant, but there’s something else, too—a softening in his usual guarded expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
Thatch grins, clapping Marco on the shoulder. “Look at you, getting all sentimental! I think we just might make a romantic out of you yet, Marco.”
Marco huffs, but there’s the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t need you getting any more ideas.”
Thatch just laughs, already mentally planning the next bit of teasing he’ll unleash when Marco comes back to the ship.
***
Thatch is pulling fresh bread from the oven when he hears footsteps on deck. He glances up and spots Marco walking back toward the Moby Dick, shoulders slumped, looking like he’s just gone ten rounds with Kaido. That’s unusual for Marco—he’s usually calm, self-assured, barely batting an eye at anything. But today, he looks defeated.
Thatch steps out of the kitchen, a grin already forming. “So,” he calls, crossing his arms as Marco approaches, “how was your date?”
Marco stops, looking down as if he’s disappointed even to be back. “I messed up.”
Thatch raises an eyebrow, trying to bite back a chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that. I want to know just how bad you messed up.”
With a resigned sigh, Marco leans against the railing, the tension visible in every line of his face. “He doesn’t want to see me ever again,” he mutters, his voice barely audible.
Thatch whistles low, a mix of disbelief and a touch of sympathy. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s bad… even by your standards, Marco.” It’s a light jab, but he’s genuinely curious now.
Marco’s eyes narrow, filled with a raw, hurt anger.
Thatch takes a small step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no jokes. Just tell me—what did you do?”
Marco hesitates, then sighs, running a hand over his face. “I’m too old for him. I thought…” He trails off, clearly wrestling with himself. “I thought it wasn’t fair for him.”
Thatch blinks, and it takes him a second to register exactly what Marco just said. “Wait. How old is he? You didn’t go on a date with a minor, did you? Because I swear, if you went out with some kid—”
“He’s nineteen,” Marco cuts in, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Thatch exhales, relieved. “Alright, nineteen. That’s plenty old enough.” He fixes Marco with a look, the kind that says he’s not letting him off the hook that easily. “So he’s an adult. That means he’s capable of making his own decisions, right?”
“Maybe for him, but…” Marco falters, searching for the words. “It’s not the same for me. He’s barely started his life, Thatch. He’s young, has dreams, things he wants to do—and I’m…” He gestures vaguely, struggling to articulate his frustration. “I’m already settled in this life, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s… wasting his on me.”
Thatch watches him, then shakes his head, crossing his arms. “Marco, if he didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be throwing himself at you like this. Because, to me, it sounds like you’re scared to admit you feel the same way.”
Marco winces, visibly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t deny it.
Thatch sighs, reaching out to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, you don’t have to rush into anything serious. You can figure it out as you go—he’s obviously not trying to tie you down yet either. You could be honest with him instead of making the decision for him, like he can’t handle the choice himself.”
Marco stands there, the tension in his frame wavering as he absorbs Thatch’s words. Finally, he gives a short, reluctant nod, glancing down.
“Look,” Thatch says softly, a bit more seriously, “I’ve known you long enough to know that when you care about someone, you’d move mountains for them. If you’re half as careful with his feelings as you’re being with your own, you’ll figure it out together.”
Marco finally lets out a sigh, softer than before, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Thanks, Thatch.”
Thatch claps him on the shoulder again, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “No problem. Just remember, when you do win him over, I’m taking all the credit for putting you two together.”
Chapter 16: A fresh start
Summary:
Ace gives Marco a second chance.
Chapter Text
Ace lies in bed petting Kotatsu, his gaze fixed on the dartboard Sabo made from Marco’s latest bounty poster. The poster is barely recognizable now, riddled with holes from hours of throwing darts at it. Somehow, though, venting his frustration this way doesn’t help. His chest still aches, a heavy, raw hurt that refuses to fade. Maybe he should replace the poster with a new one, give himself a fresh target to tear into. But he knows deep down that no matter how many darts he throws, it won’t take away the bitterness lodged inside him.
He replays the moments in his mind over and over, feeling the sting of Marco’s rejection all over again. Why couldn’t Marco take him seriously? Why dismiss him like some infatuated kid who doesn’t understand his own feelings? Ace feels the anger bubble up, his fists clenching in the sheets. Was it really just because he’s younger?
If Marco didn’t feel the same way, why couldn’t he just say that? A simple “I don’t return your feelings” would have hurt, sure, but at least it would’ve been honest. He could’ve dealt with that, even respected it. Instead, Marco had danced around it, acting like Ace’s feelings were a problem that could be brushed off rather than faced. And that—that hurt so much more.
He thought they were friends. He thought Marco understood him. There was trust there, wasn’t there? But apparently, he’d been wrong. Because you don’t treat a friend like that. You don’t make them feel small, like they don’t know their own heart.
Ace rolls onto his side, pulling the pillow closer, fighting a bitter swell of disappointment and resentment. For all his strength, for all his independence, he’d let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, someone as solid as Marco might actually see him—not as Roger’s son, but as himself. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.
But the ache remains, and he knows that no amount of darts thrown at that poster is going to fix it.
He doesn’t hear the soft footsteps until someone is standing over him. He blinks and looks up, stunned as he sees Marco standing in his room. His first thought is disbelief—Marco, here, on the Oro Jackson, of all places. The place his father’s fury would explode if he found out.
"Are you insane?" Ace hisses, sitting up. "What, did you develop a death wish or something? My dad will lose it if he catches you here."
But Marco only glances at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips when his gaze lands on the shredded bounty poster. "Nice dartboard," he says, tone soft, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "Never thought I'd see my face in such...condition."
Ace scowls, both embarrassed and irritated. "Want to make it more realistic and stand there yourself?" He spits back. He feels wary, a bit thrown off by Marco’s casual demeanor. Marco is silent for a moment, his face softening with what almost looks like guilt.
"I didn’t come here to make this harder," Marco says quietly, finally meeting Ace’s eyes. "I’m sorry, Ace. You were right. I wasn't fair to you. You deserved better than...whatever it was I tried to do."
Ace stares at him, struggling to read Marco’s face. He’d expected anything but this. “Wait—you’re apologizing?” he says, skeptical. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Marco replies, with a faint sigh. “I’m here because… I’ve messed this up, and you have every right to be furious with me. I’m not good with relationships, alright?” He shakes his head, as if frustrated with himself. “I’ve heard it enough times to know. People end up walking away, saying I’m not… invested enough. They feel like I’m too distant.”
Ace crosses his arms and watches Marco with a guarded expression. The silence stretches, thick with everything Marco left unsaid the last time, and Ace doesn’t trust him—not fully, not after the way things ended. He wants to believe this visit, this apology, is real, but he’s been hurt enough to know that hope can sometimes feel like a trap.
Marco’s face is uncharacteristically vulnerable, a flicker of nerves crossing his usually composed features. “Ace,” he says slowly, like he’s picking each word with care, “I know I’ve done everything to lose your trust. And I know I don’t deserve it, but…I want to try again.” He takes a breath. “Give me a second chance?”
Ace stares at him, his emotions a storm inside. Part of him wants to say yes, to believe Marco truly means it this time, that the two of them could build something real. But there’s that other part, the bruised and wary part, that knows Marco’s rejection isn’t something he could go through again. He wants to protect himself, guard his heart, even if it means holding Marco at arm’s length.
“A second chance,” he echoes softly, weighing the words. “And what about next time, if you change your mind? If you suddenly decide we don’t make sense or that I’m just…a kid?” His voice comes out bitter, edged with hurt.
Marco winces, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I won’t. I know I hurt you. I thought I was protecting you, but…I was just running from my own fears.” He meets Ace’s eyes, blue and earnest. “There won’t be a ‘next time’ where I mess up like that, Ace. I’m not going anywhere, and I want this. I want you.”
Ace lets out a long breath, feeling the tension in his chest ease just a bit. He wants to believe Marco, wants it more than anything—but he won’t make this easy. “Alright, Marco,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll give you this chance. But only this one. If you break my trust again…if you make me regret this...we’re done. For good.”
Marco nods, his expression serious, acknowledging the weight of Ace’s words. “I understand. I won’t make you regret this. I’ll prove it to you.”
They stand in silence for a moment before Ace’s resolve begins to soften. He steps closer, then closer still, until he’s within reach of Marco, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him. Hesitantly, Marco reaches out, and Ace allows himself to be pulled into a tight embrace, resting his head on Marco’s shoulder. The closeness feels right, like something he’d been missing and hadn’t wanted to admit.
After a moment, Ace pulls him over to sit on the bed, and they sink down together, finding comfort in each other’s warmth. The world outside seems to fade as they sit in the quiet, feeling the tension melt away, piece by piece. They shift until they’re lying side by side, Marco’s arm wrapped around him protectively. Ace relaxes, finally letting go of the anger he’s held onto for so long.
“Don’t mess this up, Marco.” Ace whispers as he allows himself to be held, savoring the quiet peace of it.
But just as Ace and Marco settle into the quiet comfort of each other’s arms, a loud, persistent knock sounds on the door, jolting them both from the moment. Ace groans, half-annoyed, half-reluctant to pull away from Marco’s warmth, but he sits up. He already knows the only person bold enough to knock like that can only be one person.
“Ace,” Sabo’s voice carries through the door with a hint of a smirk, “time to send your lovebird home. Your dad’s on his way back from the bar, and I’d rather not have to explain why there’s a certain ‘enemy pirate’ hanging out in our rooms.”
Ace and Marco exchange a look, one that holds all the unspoken things they still want to say, the things that would need time to unfold. Marco sighs, his reluctance clear, and gently untangles himself, standing up. Ace watches him, feeling a strange ache in his chest. He wants to ask Marco to stay, to risk it all, but he knows better.
Marco smooths his shirt and gives Ace one last, lingering look, his eyes soft but resolute. “I’ll go. For now,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers lightly over Ace’s hand before heading toward the door. “But I’ll see you soon. Promise.”
Ace nods, unable to keep the faint smile from his face. As the door closes behind Marco, he feels the lingering warmth in the room, the weight of Marco’s promise settling in his chest like a reassuring anchor.
Once Marco’s gone, Ace turns to see Sabo standing there, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Well?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you even know Marco was here?”
Sabo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, please. Who do you think let that stupid parrot onto the Oro Jackson in the first place?”
Ace stares, taken aback. A laugh slips from him, surprised but genuine. “So you were in on this?”
Sabo shrugs, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “I wasn’t going to let him waltz onto the ship without some assurance he was here for the right reasons. But don’t get used to it,” he adds, half-teasing, half-serious. “If that phoenix so much as messes with you again, you know I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
Ace smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. “Thanks, Sabo.”
Sabo nudges him, the playful grin not fading. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t expect me to play matchmaker every time you two get into trouble.”
He eyes Ace critically, noting his rumpled clothes and the faint traces of dried tears on his cheeks. “Come on,” he says, his tone soft but firm. “Wash your face, straighten yourself out, and let’s head to the dining hall. It’s nearly dinner, and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten all day.”
Ace blinks, then nods, feeling an odd warmth at Sabo’s steady concern. He turns to the small washbasin and splashes his face with water, rubbing it briskly, as if scrubbing off not only the traces of his breakdown but also the frustration still lingering in his chest. He takes a few deep breaths, smoothing down his hair and tugging at his wrinkled shirt. When he looks back at Sabo, his brother is waiting with a look of encouragement.
“Ready?” Sabo asks, his lips quirking into a reassuring grin.
“Yeah,” Ace replies, trying to match Sabo’s smile. He feels a bit lighter, grateful for his brother’s steady presence beside him.
They head down the hallway, and as they near the dining room, they nearly bump into Rayleigh, who’s leaning casually against the wall, looking amused. “Well, there you two are,” he says, eyes twinkling as he sizes them up.
“Hey, Rayleigh,” Sabo greets, nodding politely, though he looks like he’s bracing himself for a lecture about wandering around. Ace tries to keep his expression neutral, hoping the older man won’t pick up on his mood.
“Either of you seen my new bounty poster of Marco?” Rayleigh asks, glancing between them with a mild look of curiosity. “Came in just last week, but now it’s nowhere to be found.”
Ace and Sabo share a look, both struggling to keep their faces straight. The image of Marco’s bounty poster, now full of punctures from Ace’s darts, flashes vividly in Ace’s mind. He can almost see the shredded paper grinning back at him, as if mocking him.
“Nope, haven’t seen it,” Ace says, trying to sound casual. Sabo nods in agreement, his face remarkably blank but his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Rayleigh raises an eyebrow, looking between the two with a slight smirk. “Hmm,” he says, though it’s clear he’s not too concerned. “Guess it might’ve been blown overboard while I was reading the newspaper. Shame,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “The wind’s an unforgiving thing.”
As soon as Rayleigh strolls off, Ace and Sabo exchange a glance before stifling laughter, their shoulders shaking as they fight to keep quiet. The absurdity of Rayleigh imagining that the “wind” had whisked Marco’s poster away is too much. Ace can’t help it—he feels a spark of vindictive satisfaction at imagining that poster drifting off into the sea.
Once they regain their composure, Sabo pats Ace’s shoulder with a grin. “Come on,” he says. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite.”
Ace laughs softly, the ache in his chest dulling just a little as they head into the dining hall together.
Chapter 17: The snow woman fruit
Summary:
Ace, Sabo and Luffy find (= steal it from the auction house on Sabaody) a devil fruit.
Chapter Text
Ace feels his pulse quicken as he slips through the shadows with Sabo and Luffy at his side. The three of them move silently through the dimly lit corridors of the Sabaody auction house, careful to keep to the edges of the hallway, just out of sight of the guards. The thrill of sneaking around pumps through his veins, filling him with an energy that leaves him grinning.
Luffy, of course, is beaming with barely contained excitement, his eyes wide and glinting as he darts glances around every corner like he’s expecting treasure to pop out at any second. Sabo is right beside him, his expression more restrained but still tinged with a hint of mischief. Every time Luffy’s footsteps grow a bit too loud, Sabo reaches out and taps him, silently reminding him to stay quiet.
Ace is amazed they’ve made it this far without alerting anyone. But then, they’ve been planning this heist ever since they heard rumors of the back room with the "priceless artifacts" locked away in it. Artifacts, rare weapons, stolen heirlooms, even a few dangerous Devil Fruits—things that never should’ve been in the hands of greedy auctioneers. Ace feels his fists tighten at the thought.
Finally, they reach the heavy door at the end of the hall. It’s guarded by a single, burly guard who looks more interested in his dinner than his post, slouching against the wall with a half-eaten sandwich in hand. Luffy nearly snickers, but Sabo sends him a look, pressing a finger to his lips. Ace feels his lips curve in a smirk as he watches Sabo take out his staff and knock the guard out in one swift, quiet movement. The man crumples to the floor, and Ace wastes no time, pushing open the door and slipping inside.
The room beyond is dark, but as Ace steps in, he lets out a low whistle. Shelves line the walls, and glass cases hold gleaming treasures—ancient relics, ornate weapons, rare artifacts collected from far corners of the world. Sabo glances around, his eyes assessing, while Luffy’s face lights up with sheer delight. He stares at a particularly shiny statue with wide eyes, looking like he’s barely stopping himself from touching it.
“This place has so much cool stuff!” Luffy whispers excitedly, his voice barely above a breath.
Ace chuckles, feeling a similar awe, though his gaze is sharper, more calculating. These things were probably snatched from people who would never see them again—treasures taken as trophies by the rich and powerful who saw nothing wrong with buying and selling history. The anger bubbles up in him again, hotter this time, and he looks to Sabo, who nods, sharing the same determination.
“We’re not leaving empty-handed,” Sabo murmurs, his voice firm as he scans the room.
Ace nods, a grin tugging at his lips. They each begin scouring the room , and soon Ace finds himself staring at an old, worn book covered in faded symbols. It’s bound with a deep red cover, the edges slightly frayed, and something about it feels… significant, almost like it holds secrets just waiting to be uncovered.
“Oi, Sabo,” he calls in a low voice, holding the book up. “This looks important. Think we should take it?”
Sabo’s gaze shifts to the book, before shaking his head. “Nah, too hard to sell. Look for something else. Jewelry or something,” he says, slipping a small pouch into his pocket.
Luffy, meanwhile, is bouncing on the balls of his feet, clutching a strange, polished stone that Ace has no idea if it’s valuable or not, but there’s no way he’s telling Luffy to put it back.
Ace’s heart skips a beat as his eyes fall on the fruit nestled among the other artifacts. It’s a Devil Fruit, no mistaking it—pale blue with delicate silver swirls, shaped like an apple. The intricate patterns gleam under the low light, giving the fruit an almost mystical aura.
Luffy immediately lunges for it, snatching it up in his hands with wide, gleaming eyes. “Sabo, you should eat it!” he declares excitedly, bouncing on his toes as he thrusts the fruit toward Sabo. “Think about it! You’d be even stronger!”
Sabo stares down at the Devil Fruit, his mouth tightening into a contemplative line. “I don’t know, Luffy,” he says slowly. “Losing the ability to swim just to gamble on a power isn’t exactly my idea of fun.” He glances at Ace, almost as if asking for backup.
Ace’s gaze flickers between his brothers, amusement tugging at his lips. He understands Sabo’s hesitation—after all, giving up swimming is a big deal for anyone, especially for them, who’d grown up near the ocean.
“But what if it’s an amazing power?” Luffy says, refusing to give up. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Ace feels a chuckle rising in his throat. They’re in the middle of this ridiculous debate over a cursed fruit, right here in one of the most dangerous places they could be, but it feels… fun.
“Luffy,” Sabo mutters, rolling his eyes, “if I can’t swim, I can’t save you next time you fall overboard. And you’re definitely gonna fall overboard.”
Luffy pouts, clearly unconvinced. Before he can argue more, though, footsteps echo down the hall behind them.
Ace’s muscles tense. “We’ve been spotted,” he whispers, motioning for them to move. They clutch their prizes and race toward the nearest window. In one smooth motion, Sabo throws it open, and without hesitating, all three of them jump out, the night air rushing past them as they plummet.
They land in the middle of Sabaody Park, startling a few bystanders who scatter away with shouts. Just as they straighten, Ace’s eyes lock onto a familiar face standing in front of them—Marco.
Marco raises a brow, arms crossed, giving them a dry look. “Why am I even surprised?” he mutters, exasperation mixing with a hint of humor.
Ace grins, brushing dust from his clothes as he walks up to him. Without a second thought, he throws his arms around Marco in a quick hug, barely catching his breath. “Hi,” he says, grinning against Marco’s shoulder.
Marco returns the hug for a brief second before his gaze shifts, catching sight of the Devil Fruit in Luffy’s hand. His eyes narrow. “Is that a…?”
“Yup!” Luffy chirps, holding it up like a prize. “We found it in there!”
Marco sighs, clearly trying to hide a smirk. “I’ll see if I can borrow an encyclopedia and figure out what it is,” he says, his tone resigned but patient. He glances back down the street, where faint shouts are starting to rise. “We’d better split up before you’re all caught. I’ll find you later.”
With that, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy take off, weaving through the streets as the guards’ shouts grow louder behind them. They dart around food stalls, sidestepping startled vendors, and zigzag through the alleys, laughing despite themselves. The chase is more thrilling than nerve-wracking, and every time Ace catches sight of Luffy’s grin or hears Sabo’s quiet chuckle, he feels the thrill buzzing even stronger.
The guards are persistent, though, keeping up even as they sprint through narrow alleys and make sharp turns around corners. They almost get caught a couple of times, but Sabo always seems to know exactly when to pull them down a side path, leading them just out of sight. Ace can’t help but admire his brother’s calm in the chaos.
Finally, they manage to lose the guards by ducking into a crowded plaza. Ace’s heart races as he and his brothers blend into the crowd, keeping their heads low. They drift toward the edge of the square, slipping through a cluster of tourists and sailors until the sound of the guards’ pursuit fades completely.
As they reach a quiet corner, they exchange triumphant looks. Luffy is practically vibrating with excitement, and Sabo looks pleased, though slightly winded.
Ace laughs, his chest heaving as the adrenaline settles. “Next time, we need a faster escape plan.”
“Maybe,” Sabo agrees, smirking, “or maybe we’ll just have to run faster.”
Ace hears a soft footfall behind him and turns to see Marco approaching, hands casually in his pockets and a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Or maybe, next time, you guys could try not getting caught,” he quips, raising an eyebrow at the three of them.
Ace exchanges a look with Sabo, and in unison, they both glance over at Luffy, who’s proudly hugging the Devil Fruit and grinning as if they hadn’t just barely escaped capture. They answer in a perfectly synchronized deadpan, “That’s impossible.”
Marco chuckles, shaking his head. “Figures,” he says, but there’s warmth in his voice, and Ace can’t help but feel his spirits lift. Marco’s good-natured acceptance of their antics feels like quiet support—a presence that keeps them grounded, even in their most reckless moments.
Ace pulls the Devil Fruit encyclopedia from his bag, flipping through its thick pages. Sabo and Marco lean in beside him, Luffy’s head popping over his shoulder, eyes wide with fascination as they skim past pictures and descriptions of countless Devil Fruits. The fruit Luffy picked up isn’t hard to spot; the pale blue and silver swirls practically jump off the page. Ace points at the entry, his finger tapping the delicate illustration.
“There it is,” he murmurs. “Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Yuki Onna—a mystical Zoan.”
Marco nods, and Sabo reads aloud from the page. “Turns the user into a snow woman with powers over ice and snow. You can create and control them, though not as powerfully as a Logia. But it grants immunity to cold temperatures.” Sabo tilts his head thoughtfully. “Though it’s weak against heat… meaning you, Ace.”
Ace smirks, crossing his arms with a touch of pride. “So, Sabo, you’re planning to pick a fight with me? 'Cause I’ll melt that ice before you can even get it going.”
Sabo gives him a sidelong glance, a small grin tugging at his lips as he holds up the fruit, studying it with careful consideration. Then, without much further deliberation, he takes a bite. His face instantly contorts, and he sputters, nearly spitting out the fruit’s chunks. “It’s even worse than I imagined,” he groans, swallowing with a visible shudder. “Who made these things taste so foul?”
Ace snickers. “Welcome to the club,” he says, crossing his arms with satisfaction. “That taste’ll stay with you.”
Luffy’s eyes widen with excitement, his entire face lighting up as he exclaims, “Now we each have Devil Fruit powers! But mine is still the coolest!”
Ace raises an eyebrow, reaching over to lightly flick Luffy’s hat. “Fire is way cooler than rubber,” he teases.
Luffy pouts, clearly unwilling to concede, and Sabo just hums as he flips through the encyclopedia, pretending not to notice the bickering between his brothers. “Now I’ve got a Zoan form to figure out,” he mutters, glancing over at them with a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
As Sabo flips through the encyclopedia, Ace notices the intense concentration in his brother’s eyes. Each page turn seems to fuel Sabo’s interest, the usually calm and calculated man growing more animated with each new entry. Then Sabo’s fingers still on a particular page, his eyebrows furrowing as he stares at the entry, seemingly puzzled. He glances up, catching Ace and Marco’s attention.
“This fruit… it’s weird,” Sabo says, holding up the page for them to see. The picture shows a fruit that looks strange, almost sinister—black as the depths of the ocean, covered in shadowy swirls that seem to draw in the light around them. “It’s supposed to be a Logia, the Yami Yami no Mi. It controls darkness,” Sabo explains slowly. “But look here—it says the user’s body can’t become intangible like other Logia fruits. And… it can suppress other people’s Devil Fruit abilities?”
Ace leans in closer, intrigued. “So, you’re telling me it’s a Logia, but it can’t turn the user into darkness?” He glances over at Marco. “That’s… that’s really strange, right?”
Marco nods, his usually calm eyes narrowing as he takes a closer look at the fruit’s description. “Yeah, it’s strange, alright,” he murmurs, clearly trying to piece it together. “A Logia without intangibility is almost unheard of. But suppressing other fruits… that would make it one of the strongest abilities out there.”
Ace feels a shiver run down his spine as he considers it. A Devil Fruit that could cancel out other Devil Fruit powers? It’s both fascinating and terrifying. He tries to imagine himself facing someone with that power, someone who could strip away his fire abilities with just a touch. The thought is unsettling, like a weight pressing on his chest.
As they talk, the scent of grilled chicken wafts through the air, warm and inviting. It doesn’t take them long to realize that Luffy is missing from the conversation, and Ace rolls his eyes. Of course—he looks over to see Luffy standing by the nearest food stall, stuffing his face with grilled chicken, blissfully unaware of the odd fruit they’re discussing.
Sabo sighs and shakes his head, amused. “Luffy’s priorities are always in perfect order.”
Ace chuckles, watching his younger brother devour the food with a carefree grin. In moments like these, it’s hard not to be reminded of why they’re out here, exploring, living freely. But still, the thought of the Yami Yami no Mi lingers in his mind, dark and heavy, even as he watches Luffy scarf down his food without a care in the world.
Chapter 18: Silver Blade Kato
Chapter Text
Ace can barely hold back a grin as he, Sabo, and Luffy stand in front of the Roger pirates, feigning excitement at the prospect of "exploring the island." It’s almost laughable how easily they buy it. Roger’s crew members are used to Luffy’s restless energy and Ace’s independent streak, so when they announce they’ll be heading off on their own, it raises barely a question. With a nod and a wave, they’re off, making their way down the winding paths toward the hidden beach where Marco said he’d meet them.
The breeze off the ocean smells fresh and salty as they walk toward the shore, their steps quickening with excitement. Ace feels a spark of anticipation in his chest; it’s been weeks since he’s seen Marco. As they reach the beach, Ace scans the area, and there he is, standing by the shore, looking out at the horizon. But Marco’s look is entirely different—he’s in a plain shirt, buttoned up to hide his iconic tattoo, and casual pants that make him blend in almost unrecognizably. The laid-back disguise, though unusual, gives Marco a different kind of appeal, and Ace can’t help the grin spreading across his face as they get closer.
Marco turns when he hears their footsteps and gives a small smile, nodding in greeting. There’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes that only Ace notices—a quick, unguarded expression that sends a flutter through Ace’s chest.
“Hey, you three,” Marco says, his voice low, a bit more reserved than usual. “Trying to be subtle, huh?”
“Subtle enough,” Sabo quips, crossing his arms with a smirk. “They don’t suspect a thing.”
They settle down together on the sand, and for a while, everything feels easy. Luffy’s already wading in the water up to his ankles – not daring to go in further because of everyone’s inability to swim – splashing around as if he’s the only one there. Sabo leans back on his elbows, watching their brother with an amused smile, while Marco and Ace start talking. They catch up on everything—their latest escapades, the ridiculous things they’ve encountered, and for a moment, Ace almost forgets where he is, lost in Marco’s presence.
It’s hot under the sun, and Ace soon feels sweat starting to bead along his brow. Without a second thought, he shrugs off his shirt, tossing it to the side. He stretches his arms over his head, letting the cool breeze hit his skin, but he doesn’t miss the way Marco’s eyes land on him—particularly on the tattoo emblazoned across his back. The familiar symbol of the Roger Pirates stands boldly against his skin, a mark of his heritage and history. Marco’s brows raise slightly, and there’s a subtle flicker of surprise in his gaze.
Ace feels a twinge of self-consciousness, though he tries to play it cool. “Didn’t expect that, did you?” he says, half-joking.
Marco’s lips tilt into a small smile, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression as his eyes linger on the tattoo. “No… I didn’t,” he says softly. His tone is calm, but Ace senses the curiosity there, a hint of surprise.
“Yeah, well,” Ace says, a bit more guarded now, glancing away as he runs a hand through his hair, “it’s a part of who I am. I don’t hide it.”
“Didn’t say you should,” Marco replies, and there’s something genuine in his tone, something that makes Ace’s defenses drop just a little. “It suits you.”
The simple words leave Ace feeling a warmth that’s more than just the sun beating down. It’s the way Marco looks at him—as if he sees him, every part of him, and doesn’t shy away.
The heat of the sun is beating down on Ace’s shoulders as he stands on the beach, feeling almost light in the company of Marco, Sabo, and Luffy. But then, the wind shifts, carrying with it an unnerving presence that sends a chill up his spine. Turning, Ace narrows his eyes at the man approaching them—a hulking, heavily scarred figure with a silver blade hanging at his side. Silver Blade Kato, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, grins arrogantly, his eyes locking on Ace’s back.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Kato sneers, eyes flashing with malicious excitement. “So, you’re Roger’s brat, aren’t you? With that tattoo on your back, you’ve practically gift-wrapped yourself for me.” His smirk deepens as he scans Ace up and down, openly underestimating him. “Easy catch. Bet I can make your dear old dad tell me everything he knows about Laugh Tale.”
Ace grits his teeth, the anger bubbling under his skin. “You think you’re taking me anywhere?” he snarls, clenching his fists. The look on Kato’s face shows he doesn’t even consider Ace a threat. His taunting arrogance almost makes Ace’s hands shake in fury.
Kato’s crew fans out, ready to attack. It’s just the four of them against an entire pirate crew. But Ace knows he’s not alone in this—Luffy, Sabo, and Marco are at his back, and that’s enough to stoke a fierce determination within him.
Without a second thought, Ace unleashes a wave of conqueror’s haki, raw and focused, letting his will explode outward in a concentrated surge. The air trembles with the force, and within moments, dozens of Kato’s men drop to the ground, eyes rolling back as they collapse, unconscious. When the haze of haki clears, only Kato and three of his strongest remain standing, each one looking furious but shaken.
Kato’s right-hand man, a hulking figure with a cruel grin, stretches his arms, his skin rippling as he transforms into a massive bird—a gull zoan, his wings spreading wide as he prepares to take off. Marco’s lips quirk in a smile as he glances at Ace. Before Ace can say anything, Sabo claps a hand on Marco’s shoulder.
“Since you’re the only other one who can fly, lovebird, he’s your opponent,” Sabo decides with a wink.
Kato’s right-hand man launches into the air, ready to strike Marco. Marco nods at Ace, giving him a reassuring look. “I’ll back you up once I’m done here,” he promises before he shifts, his body transforming into the blazing, blue flames of a phoenix. His disguise falls away, revealing his true identity as his wings spread wide, and in an instant, he’s in the air, facing off against the gull zoan.
Kato’s face twists in realization. “The Phoenix of the Whitebeard Pirates!” he spits. For a moment, his bravado falters.
Luffy’s eyes widen with delight as he stares at the next opponent left standing—a towering man who transforms into a spiny, prehistoric dinosaur. Luffy’s eyes practically sparkle with excitement as he sizes up the dinosaur zoan, cracking his knuckles. “I wanna fight him!” he exclaims, fists already clenched.
Sabo and Ace exchange a glance and shrug. “Suit yourself,” Ace says with a grin. Luffy leaps forward, shouting with glee as he charges at his dino-sized opponent.
That leaves one more—another figure who steps forward with a sly smile, her skin radiating an icy chill. Her fingers gleam with frost as she stretches her hands, the air around her dropping in temperature. “Yuki Onna Selen,” she says in a voice like cracking ice. Ace feels the cold biting into his skin, and he shudders involuntarily.
“Yeah, no thanks,” he mutters, turning to Sabo. “I hate the cold. She’s all yours.”
Sabo smirks, nodding as he steps forward to face her. It’s a quick fight—Sabo’s ice overpowers her frost in less than five minutes, and soon he’s dispatching the crew members that are standing up again, or trying to, clearing the field for Ace’s own battle.
Finally, only Kato remains, his silver blade glinting dangerously in his hand as he glares at Ace, fury flashing in his eyes. “I’m gonna make you regret crossing me, brat,” he snarls, gripping his sword tightly.
Ace feels his heart pounding, his senses sharpening as he faces Kato alone. He doesn’t want to risk using his devil fruit powers here—it’s personal. So he draws his dagger, knowing that he’ll need every ounce of strength and focus to keep up with Kato.
Kato lunges forward, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly gleam. Ace dodges to the side, barely missing the cut. He moves in, quick and sharp, managing to slash Kato’s arm in retaliation. But Kato’s no slouch; he swings his sword again, nearly catching Ace in the side.
Ace grits his teeth and presses on, dodging and striking, each move calculated. But Kato’s relentless, each swing of his blade more vicious than the last. Ace’s muscles burn, his breath ragged, and he knows he’s starting to wear down. But he refuses to let this warlord get the better of him.
With a surge of determination, he channels his conqueror’s haki again, focusing it on Kato, trying to break through his defenses. It only manages to shake him, but it’s enough to let Ace move in close. He darts forward, his dagger flashing as he lands a deep, slicing cut across Kato’s shoulder.
Finally, Kato staggers back, clutching his wound, his expression livid with rage and disbelief. “This… this can’t be,” he gasps, eyes wide with shock. Ace stands firm, dagger in hand, breathing heavily but triumphant.
“If I had aimed for the kill,” Ace says, voice cold, “you’d be dead.”
Suddenly, Marco is at his side, his hands glowing with healing flames as he tends to Ace’s injuries. The warmth of Marco’s touch soothes Ace’s wounds, and he feels the strength returning to his limbs.
They start to leave, the defeated pirates lying scattered across the beach, too weak to retaliate. But then, in a final desperate move, Kato lunges forward.
The world seems to slow down as Ace watches Kato lunge, his blade aimed right at Luffy’s back. All of Ace’s senses hone in on the movement—Luffy, oblivious and laughing just a second ago, is entirely unprepared for the attack. And in that instant, a fierce, primal rage roars to life inside him. How dare this bastard target his little brother?
Without thinking, Ace’s fists ignite, and his flames surge, blazing hotter than ever as he charges toward Kato. The fire that bursts from his body is laced with armament haki, shimmering dark and fierce around the brilliant orange glow. It’s almost alive, sparking with his fury, and he pours all his energy into it. He’ll make Kato pay—no, he’ll make sure Kato and everyone with him regrets the day they dared lay a hand on his family.
Kato stumbles back, eyes widening in fear as the flames surround him, the intense heat scorching his skin. But Ace isn’t done. His control over the fire sharpens, and the flames roar as they engulf Kato and his remaining crew, leaving them no room to escape.
When the smoke finally clears, the beach is silent. Kato and his crew lie dead in the sand. Ace stands there, chest heaving, still trembling with the adrenaline of battle. The others watch in stunned silence, but no one dares to speak, not even Marco.
***
The next morning, a flurry of whispers races through the crew as they pass around the latest newspaper. Ace holds it in his hands, his eyes scanning the headline in disbelief: “Former Warlord Silver Blade Kato and Entire Crew Killed—Perpetrators Unknown.” A small thrill runs through him at the mention of Kato’s new “former warlord” title. Kato’s replacement is already announced: the swordsman known as Hawkeye.
He’s still staring at the paper when Reyleigh approaches, his gaze shifting between Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Is there something you forgot to mention?” Reyleigh asks, one brow raised.
Ace looks at Sabo and then Luffy, who shrugs, trying to look innocent.
“No?” Ace says, his voice unsteady.
“We totally didn’t beat up that Iron Blade Cat guy,” Luffy chimes in with a casual wave, munching on a snack.
“You did what?” Roger’s voice booms through the ship, his eyes blazing as he storms over, practically radiating fury.
Ace and Sabo groan, exchanging resigned looks as Roger’s voice echoes around them. “Explain. Now.”
Sighing, Ace takes a deep breath. “Well… he sorta… maybe tried to kidnap me. He thought he could use me to get you to tell him the location of Laugh Tale.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, but he can see Roger’s face twisting with anger.
“What?” Roger roars, his fists clenching. “I’ll kill that bastard—”
Reyleigh laughs, clapping a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Too late, Captain. Seems your kids already did the job for you.”
Roger’s anger wavers, and a grin starts to tug at the corner of his mouth as he glances at Ace, Sabo, and Luffy, pride gleaming in his eyes. “So, you took down a Warlord, huh?”
Ace can’t help but grin, his chest swelling with pride as he meets Roger’s gaze. “Guess you taught us well, old man.”
Chapter 19: Goodbye Luffy
Chapter Text
The sea breeze is strong and warm as the Oro Jackson finally pulls into the small harbor on Dawn Island. Ace stands at the bow, grinning as he spots the familiar shoreline. It's been years since he's seen this place, and today, of all days, they’re here for something special—Luffy’s 17th birthday. The crew is buzzing with excitement and Ace can feel a lightness in his chest. He knows his little brother is about to have the best day of his life.
They make their way through the small village, crew members laughing and waving to the startled townsfolk, who watch with wide eyes as the infamous pirates pass by. It doesn’t take long for them to reach Makino’s bar, a small, cozy place at the edge of town. Luffy bounds up the stairs and bursts through the doors first, yelling, “Makino, I’m back!” with the kind of enthusiasm only he can muster.
Makino turns, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of the whole Roger Pirates crew piling into her small bar. “Luffy!” she cries, beaming as she rushes over to hug him. “And Ace and Sabo! You’re all here!”
“Surprise, Makino!” Ace says, giving her a quick hug before stepping back to let the crew settle in. The bar quickly fills with laughter and chatter as everyone squeezes into the room, and Ace can already tell that Makino’s place might not survive the night. She looks around in amused disbelief, smiling, and shakes her head. “Only you three could bring this much trouble back home,” she says, laughing.
The celebration kicks off almost immediately. Donquino and Spencer are already wrestling each other on the floor, with Luffy cheering them on and Ace rolling his eyes at the chaos. Roger, not one to sit quietly, starts up a loud, enthusiastic rendition of “Bink’s Sake” with Rayleigh on backup, their voices booming throughout the tiny bar.
Makino can’t stop laughing as she tries to serve drinks to everyone, and Ace pulls her aside for a moment to thank her. “Thanks for letting us invade,” he says quietly. She smiles softly, patting his arm.
“No trouble at all, Ace. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Just then, Sabo bursts through the door carrying a huge, beautifully wrapped box and plops it right in front of Luffy. “For you, little brother!” Sabo says, grinning, his eyes shining with anticipation. Luffy looks at the box, practically vibrating with excitement, before tearing it open with a wild laugh. Inside is a massive assortment of every kind of meat imaginable—grilled, smoked, fried—stacked in layers like a mountain.
“MEAT!” Luffy yells, looking like he’s found heaven. He dives in, stuffing his face as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks, and Ace chuckles, shaking his head as he watches his brother devour the feast.
Roger, watching with a grin, shouts, “Luffy, you’re my kind of kid!” He holds up a tankard of ale and toasts, “To the birthday boy and future king of the sea!”
Everyone joins in, their voices echoing as they raise their glasses. Ace grins, pride swelling in his chest. Luffy might still be young, but Ace knows he’s destined for something incredible. The way everyone’s cheering him on only reinforces that feeling.
As the night goes on, Roger challenges Garp, who’d somehow heard about the party and showed up uninvited, to a drinking contest. The two sit at a table, each holding tankards of ale, glaring at each other as they start downing their drinks one after the other. The rest of the crew starts taking bets, and it quickly devolves into a wild competition, with both men determined to drink the other under the table.
Sabo leans over to Ace, chuckling. “What do you bet that both of them pass out before they declare a winner?”
Ace smirks, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t bet against that.”
“Your kid is just like you!” Roger calls to Garp, who’s somehow shown up, uninvited as always. Garp is already seated with a tankard of ale, watching Luffy with a mix of pride and frustration.
“Yeah, yeah, like I needed the reminder,” he grumbles, clearly trying to hold back a smile. He takes a long drink, then sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t believe it. Three grandsons—and every single one of you ended up a pirate. How did this happen? Where did I go wrong?”
Ace grins. “It’s a mystery, Gramps. Maybe we’re just too stubborn to follow orders.”
Garp moans, shaking his head. “Ace, Sabo, and now Luffy—three pirates for grandsons.” He lets out a dramatic sigh. “My bloodline’s cursed!”
The rest of the crew laughs as they toast to Garp’s “suffering,” and Sabo claps him on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, old man.”
Around midnight, they bring out a towering cake that Makino made, decorated with tiny edible anchors and a ship on top. Luffy’s eyes light up as he takes it all in, but just as he’s about to grab a handful, Sabo stops him. “Oi, you’re supposed to blow out the candles first!”
Luffy looks confused but obeys, closing his eyes tight and making a wish before blowing out the candles. And, of course, the second the candles are out, he dives straight into the cake with both hands, smearing frosting everywhere.
Garp groans again, facepalming. “And this one thinks he’ll be Pirate King?”
Roger just laughs, raising a tankard. “That’s exactly what makes him fit to be Pirate King!”
As the night wears on, Rayleigh and Garp get into a drinking contest that soon turns into a betting game for the crew. Shanks and Buggy keep pushing Luffy into “pirate training,” making him scrub the floor of Makino’s bar as they loudly give orders, much to Makino’s dismay.
Ace can’t help but chuckle as he watches it all unfold. Garp’s moaning, Makino’s trying to rein everyone in, and Luffy is obliviously living his best life. It’s chaotic, but perfect.
Eventually, the party moves out to the bar’s balcony, where Ace finds himself standing with Luffy, gazing out at the quiet island under a blanket of stars. Luffy’s beaming, his face flushed with happiness. “Ace, this was the best birthday ever!” he says.
Ace ruffles Luffy’s hair with a grin. “Glad you think so. Here’s to many more.”
The night is wild and full of laughter, music, and chaos. Ace leans against the bar, watching as his family — his insane, wonderful, maddening family — fills every corner of Makino’s small space. Even Garp, the old man himself, is too busy grumbling and chuckling over his “pirate grandsons” to notice the mischief Luffy is cooking up with Shanks and Buggy in the corner.
Roger is deep in his cups, practically glowing with drunken cheer. He’s already given speeches about the “glory of the seas,” the “importance of dreams,” and some kind of nonsense about the “heart of a true pirate.” Ace smirks, raising his mug at his father with a mischievous glint. Luffy, naturally, is captivated, hanging on every word as if Roger’s spinning tales just for him.
“Oi, Luffy!” Roger’s voice booms as he stumbles over, tankard sloshing. “Come ‘ere, kid.” He wraps an arm around Luffy’s shoulders, pulling him in close with a conspiratorial grin that makes Ace raise an eyebrow. He knows that look on Roger’s face — it’s the one he wore before pulling stunts that had the entire crew scrambling for their lives.
“Let me tell you something, eh?” Roger leans in even closer, his voice lowering into a rough whisper that’s not really a whisper at all. “I could tell ya where to find Laugh Tale. A hint, a clue, maybe a treasure map drawn in the air — just for you!” Roger’s eyes gleam, that wild spark of adventure flickering there as he raises his eyebrows.
The room goes quiet for a beat. Every Roger pirate within earshot freezes, and even Ace finds himself holding his breath. He doesn’t know if Roger’s serious or just tipsy, but either way, the offer hangs there in the air like a glittering gem, ready for Luffy to seize.
But Luffy just grins, shaking his head like Roger’s offered him a piece of stale bread. “Nah,” he says, his voice filled with that fierce determination that never falters. “Thanks, but I don’t need it.”
Roger blinks, pulling back in shock, his mouth hanging open. “Wha—?” It’s like he can’t quite process what he’s just heard, as if no one’s ever dared to turn down a clue to the One Piece in his life.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Luffy says, crossing his arms with that stubborn tilt of his chin. “If you tell me, then it’s just a place. Just a place on a map, a boring ol’ island somewhere. But I don’t want that. I want an adventure! I wanna find it all on my own!” His voice is loud and clear, echoing over the hum of the bar, and for a second, everyone is stunned silent, eyes on him.
Ace feels a swell of pride, like a fire roaring to life in his chest. That’s his little brother. That’s the Luffy who’s going to conquer the seas.
Roger stares at him, then bursts into wild laughter, clapping Luffy on the back so hard he nearly knocks him over. “An adventure, huh?” he roars, clearly delighted. “A real pirate, this one!” He ruffles Luffy’s hair, then lifts his tankard high. “To adventure!”
Everyone cheers, mugs raised high, and the laughter and chatter explode back into the room with even more force. But Ace notices the way Roger’s still watching Luffy, a look of approval — and something deeper — in his eyes. He looks almost… nostalgic, like Luffy reminds him of someone else, maybe himself in his younger days.
The party rages on late into the night, full of bad jokes, drunken singing, and more rounds of drinks than Ace can count. But that moment — Luffy’s declaration, the fire in his eyes as he turned down a shortcut to his dream — stays with Ace. It’s like a promise, one Ace knows his little brother will keep. Because if there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s that Luffy’s going to find Laugh Tale on his own, with every ounce of adventure he craves.
***
The dawn breaks over the harbor in a quiet shimmer, casting a golden light across the calm water. Ace stands on the deck of the Oro Jackson, watching as his little brother, full of that stubborn excitement, clambers into the small rowboat the villagers gave him. It’s a humble vessel, hardly fitting for someone like Luffy with such big dreams — but then again, Luffy could probably turn a raft into a pirate ship if he put his mind to it.
The Roger Pirates stand in a quiet line, watching as Luffy makes his final preparations. There’s a strange heaviness in the air, as if even the sea is taking a moment to say goodbye. Ace swallows, his throat tightening. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get emotional, that he wouldn’t make a scene. But there’s something about seeing Luffy like this — free, determined, ready to take on the world with nothing more than a boat, a hat, and a wild grin — that tugs at his heart.
Luffy waves his arms, grinning back at the gathered pirates. “Next time we meet,” he calls, “I’m gonna be a famous pirate captain! Just wait!”
A few of the crew chuckle, wiping their eyes as they return his wave. Gaban has tears glistening in his eyes, and Spencer, surprisingly quiet for once, crosses his arms and looks away, sniffing.
Roger’s eyes are wide, almost misty, and he steps forward instinctively, like he’s about to pull Luffy back with them. “Luffy,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to go just yet, you know. Maybe… maybe you’d be safer if—”
Reyleigh places a firm hand on Roger’s shoulder, holding him back. “Come on, Captain,” he murmurs with a soft smile, keeping his voice low, though the warmth in his eyes is unmistakable. “The kid’s got his own journey. Just like you did, remember?”
But Roger’s eyes stay locked on Luffy, his hand clenching into a fist. He looks almost tortured, like he’s torn between the pride of a captain and the love of a father. “But what if he gets hurt out there? What if—?”
“Then he’ll deal with it, just like any pirate worth his salt,” Reyleigh says with a chuckle, though Ace can see the strain in his smile.
Luffy, oblivious to Roger’s turmoil, just keeps grinning and waving, his straw hat tilting with the motion. “I’ll be fine!” he yells, as if he can read their thoughts. “And when I come back, you’ll see — I’ll be stronger than all of you!”
Roger laughs, though it sounds almost like a sob, and Ace feels his own chest tighten. It’s too soon. How can he let his little brother set off on his own? But then again, he knows there’s no stopping Luffy. There’s never been any stopping him.
“Take care of yourself, Luffy!” he finally calls, his voice rougher than he expected. “And if you need me… you know where to find me.”
Luffy just beams, and Ace can see the spark in his eyes, that fierce, unstoppable determination. “I know, Ace!” he replies. “But I won’t need rescuing. Not this time!” He hops into the boat and grabs the oars, clumsily paddling a few feet before finding his rhythm. It’s almost comical, watching him — so full of confidence, yet barely able to row a straight line.
Makino and some of the villagers gather on the shore, waving their arms and calling goodbyes, and Luffy answers each one with that same bright smile.
As his boat drifts farther into the morning light, Ace watches, hands clenched, feeling a bittersweet ache spreading through him. Luffy, out there on his own… the image feels surreal, almost wrong. But the pride he feels — the pride and love he has for his little brother — swells in his chest, drowning out the worry.
Roger, still standing next to him, mutters, “He’s really going to do it, isn’t he? Just like I did.”
Reyleigh claps him on the back, chuckling. “That’s the spirit. Now don’t go tearing up, Captain, or you’ll ruin your reputation.”
Ace watches the rowboat until it’s just a speck on the horizon, swallowed up by the endless blue. His little brother, setting off into a world that’s going to test him, push him, hurt him, maybe even try to break him. But he knows Luffy — knows that he won’t just survive it; he’ll conquer it.
Chapter 20: Sleepover at the Whitebeards – Part I
Summary:
Ace meets the rest of the Whitebeards.
Chapter Text
Ace rubs his wrists, feeling the dull weight of the seastone bracelet still biting into his skin, the rough metal a reminder of Reyleigh's relentless training. His whole body aches, but it’s the sort of ache that brings a twisted satisfaction — the kind that reminds him he’s getting stronger, even if it means pushing himself past his limits.
Just as he’s about to leave the training grounds, Sabo sidles up with a mischievous grin, nudging him with an elbow. "Guess who’s anchored in the port on the other side of town?”
Ace’s heart skips a beat. “The Whitebeards?”
“Yep,” Sabo teases, leaning in closer. "Your lovebird’s here."
A flush of warmth spreads up Ace’s neck, but before he can respond, a loud, unmistakable voice interrupts. Roger, his father, has clearly overheard their conversation. "Lovebird?” Roger barks, his voice heavy with disapproval. “Ace, you’re too young to be dating! I won’t have it."
Ace bristles instantly, fists clenching. He’s not a kid anymore — he’s tired of being treated like one, especially when it comes to Marco. “I’m not breaking up with him just because you say so, Dad. I love him. So you’d better get used to him!”
Roger's eyes narrow, his face turning red with anger. “You’Re too young for this kind of relationship,” he mutters darkly, fists clenched. “You’re grounded. No more of this boyfriend nonsense —”
But Ace has already had enough. Without another word, he spins on his heel, anger propelling him forward as he storms out. “Fine, I’m going to spend the night with him! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”
He ignores the shouting that follows him, sprinting through the familiar winding paths until he reaches the cliff overlooking the ocean. The Moby Dick is anchored below, a distant but welcoming sight. He’s tired from the day’s training, and the sea stone is sapping his strength — but he’s determined not to take it off.
Bracing himself, he carefully begins the descent, holding onto the craggy rocks. His grip slips once, twice, and he curses under his breath, refusing to give up. He’s stubborn, and he presses on — until his fingers slip one last time, and he loses his hold completely.
With a yell, he tumbles through the air, everything a blur, until the hard, solid deck of the Moby Dick meets him with a painful thud. Groaning, he rolls over, lifting a hand in surrender. “Permission to come aboard?” he mutters, still dazed as he sits up.
Laughter erupts around him, and it’s only then that he notices the Whitebeard Pirates staring at him, some of them smirking, others bewildered. And in the giant chair before him sits Whitebeard himself, eyebrow arched in amusement.
“Shouldn’t you ask before landing in the middle of my deck, brat?” Whitebeard’s voice is a rumbling chuckle, and Ace can’t help but feel relieved that the man doesn’t seem angry.
Ace scratches the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I slipped and fell… didn’t exactly plan to drop in like this.”
Whitebeard lets out a booming laugh, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “Gurararara! No harm done.” He tilts his head, looking Ace over. “You don’t seem afraid.”
Ace shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, though his heart is pounding from the landing and the intense gaze of the pirate emperor before him. “Should I be?”
One of the crewmembers next to him chuckles, shaking his head. “Most people panic when they fall into our territory like that. A fall like yours would give ‘em a heart attack.”
Ace glances around at the curious faces surrounding him and turns back to Whitebeard, tilting his head in genuine confusion. “Why? It’s not like you’re gonna hurt them as long as they politely apologize.”
Whitebeard’s grin widens. “You didn’t apologize for trespassing.”
Ace crosses his arms, eyes narrowing playfully. “That’s because I planned to come here.”
Whitebeard raises an eyebrow, amused but clearly intrigued. “Oh?”
Ace scans the deck, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. Seeing the crew around him, he can’t help but smile; it’s the Whitebeard Pirates, and he’s actually here. His eyes sweep across the figures bustling on the ship before he raises his voice. "I’m looking for Marco. He’s here, right?”
The Whitebeard Pirates all exchange confused glances, clearly not expecting anyone to stroll onto the Moby Dick asking for their first division commander.
“Marco?” Whitebeard echoes, a slight frown knitting his brows, as if it’s a trick question.
Ace blinks, taken aback by the bewilderment. “Do you have more than one crew member with that name? I mean, the phoenix,” he clarifies, but the confusion only seems to deepen.
Ace gives a huff, feeling oddly defensive. “You know, your first division commander? Blond hair, haircut like a pineapple? Can turn into a fancy blue fire-chicken?”
There’s a beat of silence before one of the crewmembers finally pipes up, snapping his fingers. “Marco’s in his room, still going through reports.” His voice sounds relieved, like he’s happy to put an end to the mystery.
“Someone go get him,” another voice calls, and a few pirates start toward the door, but before they can take a single step, Marco’s voice rings out.
“What’s with the crowd? Don’t you all have something to do?” Marco’s voice drifts across the deck, and he steps out from the doorway, scanning the crew with an arched brow. The bystanders instantly scatter, some flinching, others muttering excuses as they dash off.
Whitebeard chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “You’re just on time… This young lad here is looking for our ‘fancy blue fire-chicken,’” he says, grinning over at Marco.
Marco’s brow furrows, completely unamused. “Hah?” He’s barely finished processing Whitebeard’s words before Ace bounds over, a grin lighting up his face, and throws himself at Marco, pulling him into a kiss.
“Missed you,” Ace murmurs, a warm flush spreading over his cheeks as Marco’s stunned expression shifts to one of tender amusement.
Marco’s eyes widen, surprised, but he quickly recovers, his face softening. “Ace? What are you doing here?”
Ace doesn’t let go, pulling back just enough to look into Marco’s eyes. “Surprise! We’re anchored here too. And Dad’s being… well, himself, so I decided to come see you.”
Around them, Marco’s crewmates gawk, jaws hanging open, but he and Marco don’t seem to care. Marco’s hand finds its way to Ace’s hair, and he ruffles it with a gentle fondness. “What did he do this time?”
Ace scrunches his nose, half in exasperation, half in a pout. “Caught me and Sabo talking about you — he didn’t catch your name since Sabo kept calling you ‘lovebird,’ but he heard enough to realize I’m dating someone.” He sighs. “He went off on some speech about me being too young to date, and no matter what I said, he wouldn’t calm down, so I… may have told him I’d spend the night with you and then stormed off.” He looks up at Marco, eyes hopeful. “Can I stay? Please? I promise I’ll behave.”
Marco glances around, a little self-conscious, as the crew continues to watch, but Ace is giving him that look — the one that’s nearly impossible to resist. Marco shakes his head with a sigh. “I’m beginning to believe you want your father to kill me…”
Ace’s grin turns mischievous as he sticks his tongue out. “Aren’t phoenixes supposed to be immune to death?”
Marco rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “There are ways around it. As you’re well aware.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him if he shows up,” Ace promises, puffing his chest out a little. “I’ve got it handled.”
Ace turns his best puppy-dog eyes on Whitebeard, glancing back and forth between the Yonko and Marco, his expression one of exaggerated innocence. “So, can I stay? Please? Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”
Whitebeard sighs, defeated by the sheer force of Ace’s pleading look. “Fine,” he relents with a soft chuckle. “I don’t see why not… And I suppose it’s about time I got to know the man my son’s fallen for.”
“Yes!” Ace grins, turning to Marco with a satisfied nod. “Thank you, Whitebeard.”
Marco gives Ace a quizzical look. “How exactly did you get here? I don’t see a boat…”
Ace points toward the cliffs, as some of the nearby crewmembers confirm it with nods and gestures.
Marco’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Please tell me you didn’t fall down.”
Ace blushes, scratching his head sheepishly. “I won’t say it, then.”
Marco groans, looking thoroughly exasperated. “You seriously need to stop doing that. Someday you’re going to miss your landing, end up in the water, and drown. You do remember you can’t swim, right?”
Ace laughs, a little awkwardly. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. Blame the stupid seastone making me more tired than I thought.”
Marco’s brow furrows in shock. “Seastone?” he repeats, his voice laced with concern.
Ace lifts his wrist, pushing the sleeve of his sweater back a little, showing the band glinting against his skin. “Yeah, for endurance training. So I don’t slow the others down if I ever get hit with seastone shackles. But I still can’t manage more than basic observation haki with these on…”
Marco shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face. “You’re running around with seastone shackles?” His voice rises, exasperation turning to outright concern. “Are you out of your mind? What if someone attacks you?”
Ace shrugs, shrugging off Marco’s worry with an easy smile. “They’re not locked. I can take them off whenever I need to. Besides, most people have enough self-preservation not to try anything while I’m on Dad’s ship… or here with you.”
Marco gives a resigned sigh, running a hand over his face, clearly realizing there’s no point arguing with him. Ace just flashes him a grin, enjoying Marco’s reaction.
Chapter 21: Sleepover at the Whitebeards – Part II
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Just as Ace is about to lean into the warmth of Marco’s presence, he hears a voice cut through the crew’s curious murmurs. “Marco, who is this eyecandy?” The words are smooth, confident, and undeniably curious. Turning, Ace finds himself face to face with a man sporting the most impressive pompadour he’s ever seen — the fourth division commander, Thatch, if he remembers correctly.
Marco smirks, clearly amused by the whole situation, and puts an arm around Ace. “Everyone, this is Ace,” he announces, his voice carrying across the deck. “We’re dating.” There’s a collective ripple of surprise and interest among the crew as they take in this news. “And just so you know, he’s a hammer. Very prone to suddenly falling down from somewhere. So, if you see him fall overboard, you better jump after him.”
Ace feels his face heat up at the little jab but manages a polite bow. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Thatch, his eyes gleaming with mischief, gives an approving nod. “And polite, too. Where did you find him?” He looks Ace up and down, impressed, before leaning in with a wink. “Say, Ace-kun, do you happen to have a sister? I’m Thatch, by the way.”
Ace chuckles, relaxing a little. “Nope, sorry. I have two younger brothers, though.” He can already picture their responses: Sabo, likely to roll his eyes, and Luffy… well, probably too focused on food and adventure to care.
Thatch sighs, feigning disappointment. “Shame… Guess I’ll have to settle for admiring you.” The fourth division commander shrugs, the grin still lingering as he glances between Ace and Marco.
After a moment, Marco’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Are you sure you shouldn’t inform your father where you’re staying?”
Ace smirks, crossing his arms defiantly. “He knows where I am. Well, sort of. He knows I’m with my boyfriend, so if there’s an emergency, Sabo will tell him — or come get me himself. It’s all good.”
Marco’s eyebrows lift. “But what if your dad orders Sabo to tell him where you are? He is the captain…”
Ace’s grin widens, confidence rolling off him. “Then Sabo will explain that doing so would just make me run off next time without telling anybody. Dad knows he’d lose any chance of keeping tabs on me in case of a real emergency. Sabo would probably guilt-trip me into toilet-cleaning duty for a month, though… He’s sneaky like that.” Ace mutters the last part with a grin.
Marco laughs, clearly amused at this peek into Ace’s family dynamics, though a hint of curiosity remains. “Sabo’s more loyal to you than to your captain? And the crew’s okay with that?”
Ace shrugs, unfazed. “They usually get a kick out of it when Dad loses an argument with Sabo. Before we joined, we made it clear that our loyalty is to each other first, then the crew. And it’s not like we’re staging a coup or anything. We’re family — and besides,” he chuckles, “if we ever tried to take over, we’d just end up as the crew’s laughingstock. Dad and Rey have been training us for three years, and we still can’t win against him, even if we team up. He’d hand our asses to us, no question.”
Thatch lets out a low whistle. “He’s that strong, huh?”
Ace nods, his eyes a little wide with respect. “Yeah. Dad’s practically a monster… strength-wise, anyway.” He smirks, the rebellious glint back in his eye. “If you don’t count the temper.”
Thatch shakes his head, clearly amused. “You really are something else, Ace. I’ve got a feeling things won’t get boring with you around.”
As they settle into a more relaxed conversation, Marco asks, “So, what have you been up to lately?”
Ace’s grin fades just a bit, replaced by a softer, thoughtful look. “Well, Lu left the crew to start his own journey, to make his dream happen.” He doesn’t go into detail about what that dream is, holding back a little. “We dropped him off in the East Blue a couple of weeks ago. He’s probably already stirring up trouble. Should see a bounty poster of him soon.”
Marco hums, taking that in with a small smile of his own. “Wouldn’t expect any less from your little brother.”
Ace nods, smiling at the thought. Then he brightens up again, more animated. “And as for me and Sabo, we’re training advanced haki with Rey right now.”
Marco’s brows lift in surprise. “Advanced haki?”
Ace’s grin widens, pride practically radiating off him. “Yeah! Sabo’s really good at reading people already, so he’s focusing on more advanced armament haki — not that he needs much work there, he’s already pretty impressive.” Ace’s tone shifts slightly, pride mixed with a bit of envy at his brother’s skill. “And I’m focusing on advanced observation haki. I want to be able to feel my opponents’ intentions.”
Marco raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s a step before future sight.”
Ace’s grin grows wider still, eyes sparking with the thrill of the challenge. “Yep! Once I’ve got it down, I’m going to aim for future sight.” His smile fades into a small frown. “Rey says it’s something that usually only comes out in a tough battle, when someone’s desperate enough. Not sure I’ll be able to reach that level without Dad butting in, though.” His frown deepens, clearly frustrated. “As it is, I’m lucky if he even lets me fight strong opponents at all. He’s fine with me taking care of the small stuff, but every time a fight gets exciting, he jumps in and finishes it himself.” Ace pouts, his brows furrowed in irritation. “It’s not fair. Total meanie.”
Marco chuckles, amused by Ace’s indignant tone. “I’d offer myself as a training partner, but I actually prefer staying alive, thanks.”
“Spoilsport!” Ace mutters, pretending to be offended, but he can’t hide the glint in his eyes.
Marco sighs in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. You win. But just this once — and only to help train your observation haki.”
“Yay!” Ace cheers, a thrill running through him at the thought of actually sparring with Marco.
Marco turns to a nearby crewmember. “Bring me a blindfold.”
Moments later, a crewmember returns with a black strip of fabric. Marco ties the blindfold snugly around Ace’s head, making sure it covers his eyes completely. “Ready?”
Ace nods, a confident smirk spreading across his face. “Of course.”
But he barely finishes the sentence before he senses a shift and instinctively ducks, narrowly avoiding a sharp kick aimed at his stomach. He can feel Marco’s restraint, holding back from any serious attacks. The cautiousness grates on him. He didn’t come all the way here for a half-hearted spar.
Frustrated, he shifts tactics, moving from dodging to launching his own attacks. With swift, aggressive movements, he charges at Marco, tackling him to the ground. His dagger is at Marco’s throat in an instant, pressing just hard enough to make his point. Around them, he hears shocked gasps from the crew — most of whom probably weren’t expecting such a bold move from him.
“Stop holding back!” Ace growls, his voice low and demanding. “You’re worse than Luffy was before he could even control his devil fruit! At least he’d go all out, even if he ended up missing half the time or knocking himself out.”
Marco huffs a laugh, but his expression shifts to something serious. “Alright, then. But don’t come crying to me when you get hurt.”
Ace just sticks out his tongue. “That’s fine. I can always make you heal me afterward.”
Marco narrows his eyes at the cheeky response. “Brat!”
Ace can’t help but laugh. For all his frustration with the limitations he faces on his dad’s crew, being here with Marco, sparring and pushing his boundaries — this is the kind of challenge he lives for.
After the sparring match, Ace feels the familiar ache of bruises blooming across his skin. Marco, having noticed, gives him a small smile and touches his shoulder lightly, transferring his healing powers. The warmth and the tingling feeling chase away the pain and exhaustion, bringing Ace back to his usual energetic self. He grins, rolling his shoulders with satisfaction.
“Not bad, kid,” Thatch says, walking over with an approving nod. “You’re a pretty good fighter.”
Ace knows that coming from a Whitebeard division commander, that’s high praise. He feels a rush of pride, trying to play it cool even as his heart soars. “Thanks, Thatch. Means a lot.”
Just then, a black-haired, heavyset man with a large grin comes waddling back onto the deck, clutching a half-eaten cherry pie. He takes an enormous bite, chewing with obvious relish. “Man, the cherry pies on this island,” the man declares with his mouth half-full, “they’re to die for!” He lets out a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying himself.
Ace studies the man, a strange feeling prickling at the back of his mind. There’s something… off. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it gnaws at him. The man’s cheerfulness feels forced, almost a little too jovial for his taste.
Marco catches his look. “Oh, Ace, this is Marshall D. Teach. He’s one of us,” he says, introducing the man with a nod.
Teach glances over, giving Ace an exaggerated wave and a wide grin. “Nice to meetcha, kid!” he says, still holding his pie, before continuing his way.
Ace frowns, his stomach twisting at the man’s energy. “Are you sure he’s a D?” he asks, quietly.
Marco looks at him, brows raised in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Ace hesitates, not sure he can explain. The whole vibe Teach gives off feels… wrong, somehow. It’s not something he can put into words. He shifts uncomfortably, knowing Marco’s waiting for an answer. “I don’t know. There’s just… something strange about him. I can’t describe it better than that. But I don’t get the same feeling from him as I do with the other D’s.” He stops, knowing how vague he sounds.
Marco looks thoughtful but doesn’t get a chance to reply because they’re interrupted by Izo, the commander of the 16th division, who has just returned from an errand. Izo squints at Ace, his eyes going wide as he recognizes him.
“Wait!” Izo suddenly exclaims. “You’re the kid that fell from the sky a few years ago, aren’t you?”
Marco chuckles, an affectionate look on his face. “That’s Ace for you. Tends to fall out of the sky… a lot.”
Ace laughs, scratching the back of his head. “It’s not like I plan to do it every time, okay?”
The crew around him laughs, and the tension Ace felt from Teach’s presence begins to ease a little. They all head below deck for dinner, where they talk about lighter topics, the lively chatter and clinking dishes filling the air with warmth. Thatch leans in at one point, eyes gleaming as he says, “So, I found a devil fruit recently. Haven’t decided what to do with it yet, though. Could eat it, could sell it… tough decision.”
Partway through dinner, Whitebeard himself, observing Ace with a warm smile, leans forward and says, “Why don’t you call me Pops?”
Ace freezes, a bit taken aback. “Uh… are you sure?” he asks, feeling a little overwhelmed by the offer. Being with Whitebeard and his crew already feels a bit surreal, and now the man is suggesting he call him Pops? It’s something only Whitebeard’s sons do — the people he truly cares about.
Whitebeard chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that fills the room. “Since you’re dating Marco, you’re practically my son already. So go on, call me Pops.”
Ace hesitates, feeling his throat tighten with a strange mix of emotions, but finally, he nods. “Alright… Pops.”
Whitebeard’s face lights up with a pleased grin, and Ace feels a warmth settle in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a long time. It feels like family — like he’s found a place he belongs, just as much as he does on Roger’s ship. The thought makes him smile, his heart a little lighter than before.
After dinner, Thatch pulls Ace aside, looking excited. “Hey, wanna see the fruit I found?” he says, holding out a small chest. He opens it, revealing the devil fruit inside. It’s a strange, swirling shape with a deep purple color and spiral markings running across its surface.
Ace stares at it, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. He knows he’s seen this fruit before… but can’t quite place where or when. He frowns, trying to remember, but it’s like the memory is just out of reach.
Thatch notices his expression. “What’s up, Ace?”
Ace shakes his head, the memory slipping further away the more he tries to grasp it. “I dunno… I think I’ve seen this fruit before, but I can’t remember where.”
Thatch shrugs, tucking the fruit away again. “Guess we’ll figure it out eventually. No rush.”
As Ace heads to bed that night, he finds himself still thinking about the fruit and the strange feeling he got from Teach. He’s surrounded by laughter and warmth here, yet something lingers, nagging at him from the back of his mind. He decides to push it aside for now, letting himself enjoy this moment with Marco, the Whitebeard crew, and the new world opening up around him.
Notes:
Explanation: The Whitebeards don’t know (yet) Ace is Rogers’s son. Ace is wearing a sweater because he feels cold from the seastone bracelet. He also unintentionally keeps them from connecting the dots when he calls Reyleigh “Rey” and because he mentions two younger brothers. (It is well known the pirate king only has one son.) Marco hasn’t told them who he is dating. He doesn’t want Ace to suffer the prejudice of being the pirate king’s son, so he wants to wait until they got to know him before dropping the bomb.
Chapter 22: Traitor
Summary:
Sometimes, using observation haki at the right time can save a live.
Chapter Text
Lying awake in the quiet of the ship, Ace tries to let his mind settle. Sleep evades him, so he decides to train his observation haki. He stretches out his senses, trying to detect the subtle shifts in energy around him. Most of the crew is asleep, their auras a soft, calm rhythm. But suddenly, a dark wave of malicious intent pierces through the peace like a knife.
Ace’s eyes fly open, his pulse spiking. The intent is close — someone’s trying to kill. Without hesitation, he reaches over and grabs Marco’s shoulder, shaking him urgently. “Wake up!” he hisses quietly.
Marco stirs, groaning, and blinks up at Ace with sleepy confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s trying to kill one of you,” Ace whispers, heart pounding in his chest.
That’s all it takes to bring Marco fully awake. “What?!”
“Use observation haki,” Ace insists, nodding toward the wall. “You should be able to feel it — it’s coming from the room next door.”
Marco’s eyes narrow as he reaches out with his own haki. In an instant, he tenses, and his eyes widen in alarm as he senses the same deadly intent Ace picked up on.
Ace doesn’t wait for confirmation. He can feel the presence of the victim, their life force weakening. Without a second thought, he jumps out of bed, coats his fist with armament haki, and slams it into the wall, breaking through to the room next door. The sight he finds freezes his blood.
“Thatch!” he shouts. Thatch lies sprawled on the floor in a growing pool of blood, his skin pale, his breath shallow. Standing over him is Teach, holding a devil fruit in one hand and a bloody knife in the other. He takes a bite of the fruit, face twisting in disgust at the taste, and looks up, eyes glinting with twisted satisfaction.
“Teach?!” Marco chokes out, his voice a mix of shock and rage.
Ace feels Thatch’s life force fading, slipping away faster than he can bear. There’s no time to waste. He snaps his gaze to Marco, voice urgent. “Marco! Thatch’s dying! You need to heal him! I’ll take care of that bastard.”
Marco’s eyes harden, and he nods, dropping to his knees beside Thatch. Blue flames flicker to life around his hands as he works to heal his crewmate’s grievous wounds. Ace, meanwhile, glares daggers at Teach, feeling his own anger build to a blazing peak. He’s strong, and Ace can tell he won’t go down easily.
Without a second thought, he pulls off the seastone wristband he’s been wearing for training, letting it clatter to the floor next to Marco. His full strength returns in a rush, and he lets the fire engulf him, feeling his power surge. He doesn’t give Teach a chance to recover; he lunges forward, striking out with flames as fierce as his fury.
Teach blocks him, grinning madly, and with a sudden move, he smashes through the ship’s outer wall, leaping onto the beach. Ace doesn’t hesitate — he charges after him, eyes blazing with determination. Behind him, he hears Marco’s voice call out, “Ace, wait!” but his rage propels him forward, single-minded in his pursuit.
***
When Ace steps back into the wrecked room, he’s greeted by Whitebeard and a circle of division commanders, their expressions grim and dark. Thatch lies unconscious, still as stone, while Marco and the other medics hover protectively nearby. The powerful presence of Whitebeard fills the room, his gaze flickering from Marco to Ace, clearly expecting an explanation.
Whitebeard’s voice rumbles low but firm. “Now that you’re back, would one of you two please explain what happened?”
Marco swallows hard, his usually calm demeanor frayed. “Teach tried to kill Thatch... for the devil fruit he found.” His voice trembles slightly, the weight of the near-tragedy heavy in each word. “If Ace had woken me even half a minute later, I wouldn’t have made it in time. Thatch would be dead.”
A horrified murmur spreads among the commanders, and Izo, his expression twisted with disbelief, whispers, “What?”
Ace clears his throat, still catching his breath from the chase. “I sensed a presence with... killing intent moving toward another presence. I didn’t know who it was, just knew someone was in trouble.”
“Observation haki?” Haruta murmurs, eyebrows lifting.
Ace shrugs, trying to shake off the residual tension. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d wear myself out training. Just got lucky, I guess.”
Marco’s gaze, sharp with worry, searches him for injuries, and he sighs in relief when he sees that Ace is mostly fine, only a few bruises marking his skin. His tone turns gentle yet chiding. “Don’t just run off like that,” he says quietly, giving Ace’s shoulder a light squeeze.
Ace glances back at Thatch, swallowing the knot of fear that’s just now catching up to him. “How’s Thatch?” he asks hesitantly.
“The blade was poisoned, but luckily, we had the antidote on hand. He should wake up in a few hours.” Izo’s words bring relief flooding through him, and Ace lets out a slow, steadying breath.
Whitebeard sighs, his expression turning even darker. “I take it Teach got away?”
Ace winces, glancing at Marco, knowing he’ll have to admit the truth. “Yeah… I stopped pursuing him.”
Marco looks at him, puzzled. “You… stopped? That’s not like you. You never back down from a fight.”
Ace sighs, shaking his head with a small smile. “That’s because I normally don’t need to. I’m still able to tell when I’m in over my head and it would be better to retreat, just now being one of those times.” Retreating had been the first thing Reyleigh beat into his head after the brothers joined the dad's crew.
Marco chuckles, but it’s a bit rueful. “And what about Kato?”
Ace raises a brow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “You and ‘Bo were right there, ready to back me up if I needed it. That’s a fight I could risk because I wasn’t alone.”
“Kato?” Haruta’s eyes widen as he processes what Marco’s just said.
Marco nods, glancing meaningfully at the others. “You heard about someone killing the warlord Silver Blade Kato, right? The one with a former bounty of 1.2 billion? It was Ace.” He casts Ace a fond but wary look. “He fought Kato alone. Scared me half to death back then.”
Ace rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as the commanders stare in disbelief. “He started it,” he defends, a pout tugging at his mouth. “Tried to kidnap me for ransom or something. I didn’t even plan to kill him. But as soon as I turned my back, he went after my little brother. So... I barbecued him.”
Several of the Whitebeard pirates gape in shock. “Barbecued him?” they echo.
Ace lifts his hand and lets flames dance across his fingers with a smirk. “I ate the Mera Mera no Mi. I’m a fire logia,” he explains, pride warming his tone.
Whitebeard’s heavy gaze shifts back and forth between Ace and the fire dancing in his palm, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
Whitebeard clears his throat, his voice commanding attention. “We’re getting off topic.”
Haruta and Marco mutter quick apologies, and Ace feels his cheeks heat up. He scratches his neck, embarrassed by how easily the conversation had spiraled away. He knows this is serious, and his momentary lapse isn’t going unnoticed.
Izo breaks the silence, directing the conversation back. “So… Teach?”
Ace turns to Whitebeard, his mind still buzzing with everything he’s seen and felt. “I’ve got questions.” His tone is steady, but there’s a sharpness to it. The yonko nods, looking like he expected no less.
“Why have I never heard of Teach before?” Ace presses. “A man that dangerous should have a bounty of at least a few hundred million berries.”
Whitebeard shakes his head. “Kid, Teach isn’t one of our stronger fighters.”
Ace frowns, his mind returning to that brief clash. “That can’t be true. I only fought him for a few moments, but I can tell—he’s at least as strong as Marco, maybe even stronger. Definitely above Kato.”
Izo looks like he’s about to question Ace further, but Ace cuts him off with a steely look. There’s no doubt in his mind that Teach’s power isn’t normal, and he’s determined to make everyone understand.
“When I first met him,” Ace continues, turning back to Whitebeard, “he didn’t feel like a D. I even thought he might have lied about his name. But when I fought him tonight… there was no mistaking it. He is a D.” He turns to Marco, keeping his voice level. “Marco, do you still have that Devil Fruit encyclopedia you let us borrow?”
Marco nods, curious. “Yeah, why?”
“Check the logia section for the yami yami no mi. That’s the fruit he ate,” Ace says, his tone dropping with gravity.
Marco’s eyes widen as he realizes what this means. “Shit!” His face pales as he pictures the implications. “Ace, that’s one of the most dangerous Devil Fruits there is. You’re a fire logia… you couldn’t have a worse disadvantage. Did you know this when you ran after him?”
Chapter 23: Stop trying to kill my boyfriend!
Chapter Text
Ace hesitates, then nods. “I suspected. But I wasn’t sure until he used his darkness power. For a new user, he has incredible control over it. He must have studied the fruit in detail.”
Marco’s face hardens with frustration, an old protectiveness bubbling to the surface. “And you still went after him? He could have killed you.”
Ace feels his patience wearing thin. “Careful, you’re falling back into old patterns,” he warns, his voice low.
Marco opens his mouth to argue, but Ace doesn’t let him. He slams his fist against the wall, making everyone jump. His glare pins Marco in place, intensity radiating off him. “Stop right there! If your information about Teach had been correct—overpowered, power-negating Devil Fruit or not—I would’ve been able to knock him out and drag him back here.”
The room is silent, everyone holding their breath as Ace continues, eyes flashing with frustration.
“Yes, he would’ve neutralized my long-range attacks. Yes, he would’ve negated my Devil Fruit. But his darkness isn’t like seastone. It wouldn’t have weakened me nearly as much. I don’t need my Devil Fruit to fight—I do well enough without it. I’ve been trained to take on people at his level, and yours, Marco.”
The fire in Ace’s voice is undeniable. He’s poured his heart and soul into his training, and it stings to feel underestimated. “It’s because of that specific fruit, his hidden advanced haki, and the fact that he’s a D that I chose to retreat.”
Marco’s expression softens slightly, though his worry remains. “But what would you have done if he hadn’t let you go?”
Ace’s eyes narrow, determined. “The same thing I did against you when we sparred: startle him with haki, and then cut his throat before he could react.”
A murmur ripples through the commanders, but Ace isn’t done. “And if that didn’t work, I would’ve created an explosion big enough to be seen from the other side of the island. Dad is on night watch. He’d have been there within seconds.”
Marco exhales, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. You were never in real danger, and I was worrying for nothing.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “But please, Ace, remember that if it had come to that last move, it would’ve sparked a major conflict between our crews.”
Ace nods, the fire in his eyes cooling slightly. “That’s why I came back instead of continuing the fight.”
There’s a collective exhale of relief from the room, but the tension lingers as they absorb the weight of everything that’s just happened.
Haruta tries to open the door to Marco's room, only to find it locked. His frown deepens in confusion.
“Ace is a pirate from a rival crew,” Marco explains before anyone can ask. “I didn’t want anyone accusing him of trying to steal information or anything like that, so I asked Pops to lock us up in my room for the night.”
“You’re a pirate, too?” Izo asks, his brow quirking up in surprise as he looks at Ace.
Ace nods, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yep.”
Haruta jumps in, his curiosity evident. “You have a bounty?”
“500 million,” Ace says, crossing his arms and shrugging like it’s no big deal.
“Not bad…” Jozu muses, his arms crossed, giving Ace an appraising look.
But Haruta’s eyes narrow. “I don’t remember seeing you in any recent bounty posters.”
Ace’s grin widens, a bit of pride and something more mischievous gleaming in his eyes. “You wouldn’t. I got that bounty ten years ago, and they haven’t raised it since.”
“Ten years ago?” Izo asks, his voice laced with disbelief. “But you’re only twenty. You couldn’t have possibly done something that serious as a kid.”
Ace shrugs, playing it off as casual as he can, but he feels a flicker of amusement and defiance all at once. “I’m not the first kid they slapped a price on, and I probably won’t be the last. Gramps tried to get Sengoku to retract it, but… let’s just say he destroyed the Fleet Admiral’s office in the process. So I guess that counts as a partial win.” Ace’s tone lightens a bit as he adds, “Though, I did kinda sorta break into a noble’s home and kidnap his heir…” His voice trails off, knowing full well that no newspapers dared to write about that particular adventure.
The room is filled with a stunned silence, faces frozen mid-reaction.
“You kidnapped a noble?” Haruta’s eyes are wide, while Marco just sighs, looking resigned. “And your grandfather wrecked the Fleet Admiral’s office?”
Ace chuckles. “Yep. See, Gramps wanted me to be a Marine. If Sengoku hadn’t slapped that bounty on me, he probably would’ve dragged me straight to Marineford. But after that, he didn’t really have a choice but to let me go with Dad.”
Marco looks a bit exasperated, but he doesn’t say anything as the others soak in Ace’s story.
Ace’s grin softens, a bit of warmth flickering behind his mischievous expression. “And, of course, my brothers Lu and ‘Bo weren’t about to let me go alone. So, they came along too.”
***
As dawn begins to cast its first light over the beach, Marco faces Ace, a resolute look in his eyes. “I’ll go after Teach,” he says, voice firm. “But I promise you, I won’t fight him alone. I’ll just track him down and let the crew handle him when I catch up.”
Ace nods, feeling a pang of worry mixed with pride. “Just be careful,” he warns, clutching Marco’s hand briefly. They head back to the Oro Jackson, Marco giving him a reassuring look as they reach the shore.
Before leaving, Marco pulls out a small slip of paper and presses it into Ace’s hand. “Here. My vivre card. So you’ll know I’m alright,” he says softly. Ace holds it, feeling a warm wave of reassurance in his chest. Then, in a quiet moment, they lean toward each other, sharing a lingering kiss. But as they break apart, a sudden bellow cuts through the still morning air.
“Get your dirty hands off my son!”
The familiar voice crashes over them like a tidal wave. Ace’s heart jumps into his throat as he turns to see none other than the Pirate King himself, Roger, standing on the beach, sword drawn, rage flashing in his eyes. Before Ace can explain, Roger lunges forward, weapon gleaming in the light.
Ace throws himself between Marco and his father, dagger drawn, and coats it with his Conqueror’s Haki, meeting Roger’s blade in a clash of power. Their weapons don’t touch; instead, their Haki collides with explosive force, splitting the ground beneath them. Marco is thrown back, skidding across the sand. Ace glares at his father, chest heaving with fury.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, a mixture of rage and desperation in his voice.
But Roger doesn’t stop, his gaze narrowing on Marco as if he’s an enemy to be vanquished. He spits out harsh words, barely glancing at Ace as he swings his blade again, clearly aiming to finish Marco.
“Stop trying to kill my boyfriend!” Ace yells, his own anger spiking. He and Roger lock eyes, both of them seething, but Roger pushes past him, lunging toward Marco once more.
Ace scrambles to intercept, blocking his father’s blow again. But in his haste, he falters, a fraction too slow, and Roger’s blade slips past his guard, piercing through his lung. Ace’s breath halts in a gasp of pain, blood sputtering from his lips. He sinks to his knees, clutching his side as Marco’s shout echoes around him.
“Ace!”
“...No…” Roger breathes, his expression shifting from rage to horror. He takes a staggering step back, the weight of what he’s done dawning on him.
Ace tries to keep his eyes open, struggling to catch his breath, but every inhale brings a sharp, brutal pain. “Fuck… that hurts,” he mutters, wincing, feeling his strength waning.
“Don’t talk,” Marco scolds softly, suddenly at his side. He kneels, summoning his healing flames to Ace’s wound. Ace feels warmth spreading through him as Marco’s fire stitches his lung back together, the pain slowly easing, though he can still taste blood on his lips.
Roger watches, wide-eyed and speechless, as the wound closes before his eyes. “I… I wasn’t aware you could do that,” he says, voice trembling slightly, the hostility drained from his tone.
“You weren’t supposed to know,” Marco mutters, clearly annoyed, though his attention remains on Ace. He glances up at Roger, his voice taking on a more professional, if icy, tone. “You should have your doctor keep an eye on Ace. There’s still blood in his lung.”
Finally able to breathe more easily, Ace looks up at his father, his own glare still fierce. “I’m not breaking up with Marco,” he says, tone resolute. “I love him.”
Roger stares at him, the weight of Ace’s words seeming to sink in at last. With a heavy sigh, he finally relents, sheathing his sword, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. Ace feels a sliver of relief, though the tension still lingers as he helps Marco to his feet.
They make their way back to the Oro Jackson, where Reyleigh is waiting, a grin already forming on his face. As Roger and Ace climb aboard, he chuckles knowingly. “When Sabo told us you’d be spending the night with your lovebird, I didn’t think he meant it literally,” he says, winking.
Ace flushes a deep shade of red, and even Roger lets out a begrudging chuckle, the tension on deck softening for a moment.
Chapter 24: Omake 3 – Mango visits the Straw Hats
Chapter Text
The tension on the ship feels like a thick fog, wrapping around Vivi as she looks down at Nami. Her friend’s face is pale, her breathing shallow, and sweat beads on her forehead. Vivi presses her hands together, struggling to keep her composure. The pit of worry in her stomach deepens with every labored breath Nami takes.
She feels utterly helpless.
Nami hasn’t stired since yesterday when she warned them about the approaching cyclone.
Vivi steps out onto the deck to take in some fresh air and get something to drink from Sanzi when she notice Luffy being strangely preoccupied with something in the sky.
Vivi follows his gaze and squints at the sky. The clouds swirl violently, an ominous churn of gray and black, but something flashes through the gloom—a shape. A bird? No, it’s something much larger. It glows faintly, almost ethereal, with vibrant blue flames dancing around it.
Luffy’s eyes widen. “Mango!” he shouts with sudden recognition, his voice cutting through the storm’s howl.
Before Vivi can process what’s happening, Luffy’s arms stretch impossibly high, and he launches himself skyward like a slingshot. “Wait—Luffy!” Vivi cries out, but it’s too late. He’s already hurtling toward the fiery figure above.
Her breath catches as the blue phoenix, startled, swerves mid-flight. The glowing bird dips dangerously close to the ocean, its flames flickering. For a terrifying moment, Vivi thinks they’ll both crash into the sea, but the phoenix manages to regain control, wings spreading wide before it swoops toward the ship.
With an audible thud, the bird lands awkwardly on the Going Merry’s deck. Vivi stumbles back as the impact makes the ship’s planks groan. The glowing flames dim, and the phoenix shifts. Before her eyes, the magnificent bird transforms into a man.
“Marco…” Vivi breathes, stunned. She recognizes him now—the first division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, the phoenix she’s only heard stories about.
Marco barely spares her a glance, his sharp blue eyes immediately locking onto Luffy. His expression is a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Are you insane?!” he snaps, stepping forward to deliver a sharp thump to Luffy’s head that despite Luffy’s body being made out of rubber makes Luffy yelp.
“Ow!” Luffy whines, rubbing his head. “I’m telling Ace you hit me!”
Marco raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s he gonna do?”
“Dunno,” Luffy mutters, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “But he wouldn’t like it.”
Marco sighs, clearly unimpressed but softening slightly. “Alright,” he says, his voice dropping to something calmer, “do you actually need something, or were you just testing how close we could get to drowning?”
Before Luffy can answer, Vivi hesitantly steps forward, her curiosity overcoming her shock. “Um… do you two know each other?”
Luffy brightens, grinning widely as he points at Marco. “Mango’s my brother-in-law!”
“Marco,” the phoenix corrects with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not Mango. But yes,” he admits, glancing at Vivi with a faint smile, “I’m dating his older brother, if that clears anything up.”
Vivi blinks, caught between disbelief and curiosity. She doesn’t have time to process this new information, though, because Luffy suddenly remembers why he called Marco down. “Oh yeah! You’re a doctor, right?!”
Marco doesn’t even have a chance to answer before Luffy grabs his arm and starts dragging him below deck. Vivi hurries after them, her heart racing as she realizes where they’re going.
When they enter Nami’s room, Vivi feels her stomach twist at the sight of her friend. Nami looks so fragile lying there, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Luffy practically pushes Marco toward her. “Fix her!” he says, his voice desperate.
Marco’s demeanor changes immediately. His sharp gaze softens as he steps closer to Nami, kneeling beside her. He places a hand gently on her forehead, his brows knitting with concern. “She’s burning up,” he mutters, almost to himself. “How long has she been like this?”
Luffy scratches his head, frowning. “A couple days? Maybe longer. She started getting weaker, then the fever hit.”
Marco nods, his jaw tightening. His hand glows faintly with blue flames as he hovers it over Nami’s chest. Vivi watches, her breath catching at the sight of the ethereal light. Marco’s flames feel warm but not hot, their glow comforting in the otherwise tense atmosphere.
After a few moments, Marco pulls back, his face grim. “There’s a virus,” he says quietly. “One I don’t recognize.” He looks at Luffy, his expression serious.
Luffy stiffens, the weight of Marco’s words sinking in. “So… can you cure her?”
Marco shakes his head, sighing heavily. “I can’t cure it, but I can help with the symptoms for now.” He places his hand back on Nami’s forehead, his flames dimming as he focuses on drawing down her fever.
Vivi watches in awe as Nami’s breathing steadies, the tension in her features easing slightly. Her heart aches with relief, but it’s short-lived.
Marco leans back, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. “This will help for now,” he says, his voice weary. “But it won’t last. The fever will spike again, and without proper treatment, it’ll get worse.”
Luffy clenches his fists, frustration and worry etched into his face. “What do we do?” he demands.
“You need to get her to Drum Island,” Marco replies. “There’s a doctor there—Doctor Kureha. She’s the best in the Grand Line. If anyone can cure this, it’s her.”
Vivi’s heart leaps at the mention of a solution. “Drum Island,” she repeats, committing the name to memory.
“Yes,” Marco says. “Kureha’s… eccentric, but she knows her stuff. She can help your crewmember.”
Luffy straightens, determination blazing in his eyes. “Alright. Drum Island it is!” He grins, his resolve clear. “We’ll get there, and Nami’ll be fine!”
Marco nods, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Keep her comfortable until you get there, and don’t let the fever get too high.”
As Marco stands, Vivi feels a wave of gratitude wash over her. She walks behind Luffy and Marco as they leave Nami’s cabin. The air feels lighter now that Marco has stabilized her fever, but the tension of uncertainty still weighs heavily on her chest. She glances back toward Nami’s door, silently praying they’ll reach Drum Island in time.
Her thoughts are interrupted when Luffy speaks up, his voice cutting through the uneasy silence. “So, what are you doing on this side the Grand Line, anyway?”
Marco’s expression shifts, his usual calm demeanor giving way to something sharper, more focused. “I’m looking for someone,” he replies, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a creased, slightly faded photo and holds it up for Luffy to see. “Have you run into this man?”
Curious, Vivi leans in to get a look at the photograph. It shows a black-haired, heavyset man with a large grin, clutching a half-eaten cherry pie. Somehow his face that makes her uneasy just from the picture alone.
Luffy squints at the photo, tilting his head. “Nope. Who’s he?”
Marco’s face hardens, his fingers tightening slightly around the photo. “He’s a traitor,” Marco says, his voice cold and sharp, sending a shiver down Vivi’s spine. “He tried to kill one of our own and would likely try to pin it on your brother if he could. I’ve been tracking him for weeks.”
Vivi’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Luffy’s brother, and she watches as Luffy’s carefree expression fades. His eyes narrow, his jaw setting in that familiar look of determination. “So he’s a bad guy?” Luffy asks, his fists clenching, already brimming with the excitement of a fight.
Marco immediately picks up on Luffy’s intent and cuts him off. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and firm. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against him right now. He ate the Yami Yami no Mi—the Dark-Dark Fruit. It’s one of the most dangerous Devil Fruits there is. Even Ace chose not to fight him directly after he got it.”
Luffy’s excitement dims at Marco’s words, his lips pulling into a pout. “Fine,” he huffs, but then his eyes light up again. “But if I can’t fight him, you’ll spar with me, right? I need someone strong to fight. Everyone else here is way too weak.”
Vivi blinks at Luffy’s boldness, glancing at Marco to see his reaction. Marco sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already regretting this conversation. “Luffy,” he starts patiently, “you’re used to fighting New World pirates. That’s a whole different level. Most people outside the New World—hell, even in it—won’t be much of a challenge for you anymore.”
Luffy doesn’t back down. “Then fight me anyway! I’ll go easy on you if you’re worried,” he says with a cheeky grin.
Marco raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Easy on me, huh?” he says, stepping back and cracking his knuckles. “Alright. But don’t go crying to Ace when I knock you flat.”
The sudden shift in energy crackles through the air, and Vivi’s stomach tightens with anticipation. Zoro and Sanji step forward, their eyes gleaming with interest.
“This’ll be fun,” Zoro says, rolling his shoulders.
Marco raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed.
Sanji’s cigarette smolders as he smirks. “Hope you don’t mind a little warm-up, Phoenix.”
Vivi’s protests die in her throat as Marco gives them a small, confident smirk. “If you think you’re ready, then bring it,” he says, calm and assured.
What happens next is so fast that Vivi barely registers it. Marco moves in a blur of speed, and in two fluid motions, Zoro and Sanji are on the ground, groaning in surprise and pain. The crew gasps, eyes wide as they stare at Marco, who stands there unfazed, his gaze now locked on Luffy.
Luffy grins, his blood pumping with adrenaline. “You’re fast, Mango!” he shouts, launching himself forward.
“It’s Marco,” Marco corrects, sidestepping Luffy’s first swing with ease.
The fight that follows is nothing short of breathtaking. Marco’s movements are fluid and precise, each dodge and strike almost effortless, but Luffy’s tenacity is unmatched. He keeps coming back, faster and stronger with every exchange, his rubber limbs twisting and stretching as he tries to land a hit.
Vivi finds herself holding her breath, her eyes darting between the two fighters. She’s mesmerized by Marco’s elegance in battle, the way he barely seems to break a sweat, even as Luffy pushes him harder.
“He’s holding his own,” Usopp whispers in disbelief, his hands gripping the ship’s railing.
“More than that,” Vivi murmurs, her heart racing as she watches Luffy. “It’s incredible.”
The duel stretches on, the tension crackling in the air like a storm. Luffy’s crew watches in awe, their captain refusing to back down despite Marco’s obvious edge. Vivi feels a swell of pride for Luffy, his determination shining brighter than ever.
Finally, Marco catches Luffy’s fist mid-swing, holding it firmly. Both are breathing hard, sweat glistening on their faces as they stare at each other. A mutual respect passes between them, unspoken but palpable.
Marco smirks, his voice carrying a note of approval as he addresses the crew. “Of course he can hold his own. He’s been trained by Gol D. Roger and Silvers Rayleigh since he was seven.”
Vivi’s jaw drops, her mind racing as she processes Marco’s words. Around her, the rest of the crew reacts with equal shock, their murmurs buzzing with disbelief.
Luffy scratches the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “Ace and Sabo are even stronger than me,” he says with pride. “Ace even sometimes beats Mango!”
Marco groans but doesn’t bother correcting him this time.
As the moment settles, Marco’s expression turns serious again. “Luffy,” he says, his tone calm but firm, “don’t rush into the New World too soon. You might be ready, but your crew isn’t. If you go in before they’re prepared, you could lose them.”
The words hit Vivi like a wave, and she glances around at the others. She knows Marco is right. The Grand Line has already tested them, and the New World is even deadlier.
Luffy’s grin fades, and he looks at his crew, his expression softening with worry. “Okay,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter but resolute. “I’ll wait. And I’ll teach them haki. I’ll make sure they’re ready.”
Marco nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. The sooner they learn, the better.”
Over the following days, Marco stays with the crew, offering guidance and advice. Vivi watches as he works with them, his knowledge and experience shining through in everything he does. She feels a deep gratitude for the man who’s not only saved Nami but is also helping prepare them for the challenges ahead.
When they finally reach Drum Island, Vivi stands on the deck with the others, watching as Marco prepares to leave. Luffy claps him on the shoulder, grinning wide. “See you around, Mango!”
Marco huffs, but there’s a trace of fondness in his voice as he replies, “Stay out of trouble.”
Luffy laughs, his voice ringing across the ship. “Not a chance!”
With a flash of blue flames, Marco takes off into the sky, leaving the crew with new hope and a renewed sense of purpose.
Chapter 25: Broken Promises
Summary:
Marco and Roger both break their promises to Ace. And Ace and Sabo run into their little brother.
Chapter Text
Ace is in the middle of the deck, watching his crewmates' anxious faces, when he notices them quickly stashing a newspaper behind their backs. They exchange furtive glances, and when one of them murmurs about "the captain's orders," and something about “captain being angry for not being contacted!”, a surge of curiosity and unease ignites within him.
"Hey, what’s going on?” Ace asks, feigning a casual tone. The crewmates stammer, avoiding his gaze, and it only makes his suspicions grow. With a flash of impatience, he reaches out and snatches the newspaper from their grip, scanning the article.
As he reads, his heart lurches, his pulse thundering in his ears. Marco… captured. The words hit him like a blow to the gut. Blackbeard had handed Marco over to the Marines, and he was now locked in Impel Down, awaiting a public execution at Marineford in less than two weeks. Ace’s hands shake, and a cold, angry resolve settles over him.
Ace doesn't waste any time. He hurries back to his cabin and writes a letter to his dad, disappointment and anger simmering in each stroke of the pen. He keeps the message short, accusing Roger of breaking his promise to not interfere in his relationship with Marco. He folds the letter, sealing it with a sharp flick of his wrist, before slipping into the galley. He pours sleeping pills into the sake, feeling a pang of guilt as he stirs, but the thought of Marco locked away in that hellish prison drowns out his hesitation.
Once the crew is asleep, Ace quietly sneaks off with his Striker, heart pounding with a mix of dread and determination. He’s almost made it into open waters when a shadowy figure appears on the dock behind him.
“Figured there was something wrong when everyone just fell asleep,” a familiar voice calls out. Ace spins around to find Sabo standing there, arms crossed, an understanding but determined look in his eyes.
"Sabo," Ace says, his voice pleading. "Please don't try to stop me."
Sabo raises his hands in surrender. "I’m not here to stop you. I’m coming with you."
Ace stares, shocked. “Huh?”
Sabo smirks. “Breaking into Impel Down is reckless, dangerous, and nearly impossible. You’re not doing this alone. Not to mention, with your terrible navigation skills, you probably wouldn’t even make it there.”
Ace lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relief and gratitude filling him. “Thanks, Sabo. You’re the best.”
Sabo rolls his eyes but grins. “Oh, you’ll be thanking me all right. You’re taking over my toilet-cleaning duty for the next year. Two years if I get seriously injured.”
They board the Striker together, and as they speed toward Impel Down, Ace keeps the sea kings at bay with blasts of fire. He’s grateful for Sabo’s steady presence beside him, though worry gnaws at him with each passing mile.
A day before Marco’s scheduled transport, a Marine battleship arrives, and Ace spots the unmistakable figure of Boa Hancock disembarking. He and Sabo exchange a quick look, seizing this opportunity. They hastily disguise themselves as low-ranking Marine soldiers and slip into the massive fortress, sticking close to the shadows as they weave through the prison corridors.
Ace mutters under his breath, "I was never more grateful for the terrible quality of my bounty poster."
Sabo grins. “I don’t even have one.”
They both stifle laughter, though the situation leaves them little to smile about.
Once inside, they switch to prison guard uniforms, blending in as best as they can. They watch Hancock as she’s escorted to the lowest level, supposedly to see Marco. She doesn’t stay long and soon exits, her ship disappearing from sight.
They use this chance to sneak into the lower levels, hearts pounding in their chests. They’re making their way carefully when an announcement echoes through the prison halls: Straw Hat Luffy has broken into Impel Down.
Ace freezes, a mix of frustration and pride flaring within him.
“That crazy little idiot!” Sabo hisses, eyes wide as they listen for details.
“Let’s find him,” Ace says, the need to make sure Luffy is safe overpowering his focus on Marco for a moment.
Their search leads them to Level 5, where the bitter cold bites through even their uniforms. As they press on, Ace spots something that makes his heart drop—a pack of wolves, circling a familiar figure on the ground. Luffy.
“Luffy!” he and Sabo shout in unison, rushing forward. Ace is about to charge into the fray when suddenly, Luffy’s body jolts, releasing an uncontrollable wave of Conqueror’s Haki that sends the wolves sprawling back. His little brother sways, his eyes glazed, before collapsing in a heap on the frozen ground.
Sabo reaches him first, kneeling beside Luffy and examining his injuries. His voice is grave as he reports, “He’s been poisoned by Magellan.”
A sick fury bubbles up in Ace’s chest, but he quickly shoves it down. He crouches beside Luffy, his eyes blazing with determination as he surrounds his brother with his fire, hoping to burn away the poison before it does more damage.
Some of the poison sizzles away, but as Ace inspects him closer, his face falls. “Damn it,” he mutters. “It’s already in his bloodstream. I can’t get it all.”
Ace stares down at Luffy’s unconscious face, frustration and worry swirling within him. He’s never felt so helpless, but just as he and Sabo are wracking their brains for a plan, they’re approached by two strangers—an unusual man with wild blue hair and glasses, and a giant figure with a massive, confident grin and sparkling eyes.
"Hey, you two look like you could use some help,” says the giant, flamboyant man, extending a hand.
Sabo, looking wary but hopeful, glances at Ace, who nods. "Please… Luffy needs help."
The Okama nods thoughtfully and crouches beside Luffy, studying him with a mixture of concern and determination. “I can try to stimulate his body’s immune system to help fight the poison. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can handle it, it’s me.”
Ace and Sabo exchange a tense look, but they have no other choice. “Thank you,” Sabo says, his voice full of relief.
Once they’re safely hidden away in the vibrant and secretive world of Okama Land, Luffy’s treatment begins. The strange doctor works diligently on him, doing something almost magical to help his body resist the poison. Meanwhile, Ace and Sabo feel the weight of their situation settle onto their shoulders.
After a moment, Sabo bows politely, clearing his throat. “Apologies, our worry for our little brother made us forget our manners.” He straightens, nodding with newfound respect. “Thank you for treating him. You’re Emporio Ivankov from the Revolutionary Army, aren’t you?”
Ivankov winks. “That’s right! And who might you cuties be?” He looks them over with a raised eyebrow, tilting his head. “You don’t look like prisoners. Did you break in, too?”
Ace stands straighter, his own voice polite but direct. “Gol D. Ace,” he introduces himself, dipping his head in respect. He watches as Ivankov’s eyes widen, the man practically tripping backward and stumbling into the wall in shock.
“W—What?” Ivankov stammers, his voice high and full of disbelief.
Ace notes the other onlookers, whose jaws have also dropped. A few of the okama gape openly, and a ripple of shock spreads through the colorful crowd.
But Sabo remains unfazed, continuing as if the introductions are perfectly routine. “And I’m Sabo.”
Ivankov sputters, struggling to compose himself. “What is the Pirate King’s son doing here?”
Ace sighs, feeling the weight of their purpose hit him. “My boyfriend got himself captured,” he replies, dead serious. “We’re here to break him out.” To emphasize his point, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out Marco’s Vivre Card, which points unwaveringly downward.
“Your… boyfriend?” Ivankov’s eyes grow even wider, if that’s possible.
“Yep,” Ace chirps with forced cheerfulness, trying to distract himself from his anxiety over Luffy and Marco. “Marco’s an idiot!”
Ivankov’s eyes narrow, his face a mix of bewilderment and intrigue. “Wait, did you just say Marco? As in Marco the Phoenix? Whitebeard’s right-hand man? First division commander?”
Ace nods without hesitation. “Yeah, that’s him. Do you know him?”
Ivankov looks faint, throwing his hands up. “Of course I know him! Everyone knows him! That’s not the problem!”
Ace frowns, genuinely confused. “Then what are you so worked up about?”
Ivankov lets out an incredulous laugh, practically shouting, “Who wouldn’t be?! The Pirate King’s son is dating Whitebeard’s right-hand man, and nobody knew! This… this is the news of the century!”
The room erupts into hushed whispers, as the weight of Ivankov’s exclamation seems to hit everyone at once. Ace’s face flushes slightly, but he can’t hide the pride that creeps into his smile.
“News or not, I need to get him out of here,” Ace says firmly. “And I don’t care how many walls I have to break down to do it.”
Ivankov regards him for a long moment, then finally nods with approval. “Well then, son of the Pirate King,” he says with a grin, “looks like you’re just crazy enough to make this work.”
Chapter 26: Blackbeard
Summary:
When Teach realizes he has miscalculated its already too late.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ace’s heart pounds as he steps into the cold, silent cell block, his stomach twisting with dread. He feels Luffy beside him, glancing up with that unwavering determination, but Ace’s own resolve flickers. His mind is focused entirely on one thing: Marco.
But the cell is empty.
Ace grips the bars, his hands clenching so tightly that his knuckles turn white. A crushing wave of fear hits him. They’re too late. Just then, a rough voice from the cell next door breaks the silence.
"Hey, are you Strawhat Luffy?"
Luffy blinks, startled. "Yeah."
The prisoner steps forward, eyes shadowed, but his voice is steady. "They just took him."
“Old guy, who are you?” Luffy asks, squinting.
Ivankov looks over and nods. "He's another one of the big shots."
The fishman steps into the light, revealing sharp, weathered features and a blue tint to his skin. “Knight of the Sea, Jinbe,” he introduces himself with a small bow.
Sabo’s eyebrows lift. “What is a Warlord doing in Impel Down? Shouldn’t you be in Marineford?”
Jinbe sighs, his expression somber. "I’m here because I oppose this war."
Luffy looks up at Ace, his face full of regret. "I'm sorry, Ace. Because I was poisoned by Magellan, we lost precious time to save your boyfriend.”
Ace, heart aching, ruffles his little brother's hair. “Don’t worry about it, Lu. We’ll just follow them and crash that war at Marineford. And if anyone’s to blame, besides Teach, it’s Marco. He promised me he wouldn’t fight that traitor—only locate him.”
Ivankov’s eyes widen in shock. “You plan to go to Marineford?” He sounds like they’ve just told him they’re jumping off a cliff.
Ace frowns, his voice hard with determination. “Of course! I’m not letting Marco die. Besides, Dad’s already on his way. We just have to keep them from killing Marco until he gets there.”
For a brief moment, the entire room falls silent, Ace’s words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. Then Jinbe speaks, his tone solemn. "I beg of you. Please take me with you! I’ll definitely be able to help. I've known Marco-san for many years now. He told me about you—the man he gave his heart to. I wish to save Marco-san. Please, let me choose the place of my death."
Ace’s fierce resolve softens, and he nods firmly. “Alright. But you won’t be dying.”
Inazuma, without hesitation, cuts through the bars and shackles binding Jinbe, freeing him.
Their group moves quickly, collecting anyone who might strengthen their odds. Crocodile joins, dragging along Daz Bones. On the way up they run into Buggy who just freed the majority of the inmates on the higher levels.
They make it only a few steps further before they hear heavy, ominous footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Ace grits his teeth, anger flaring up. Magellan. The man responsible for Luffy’s near death and their delay. The warden steps into view, a dangerous aura of poison already leaking from him.
"We don’t have time to fight him!” Sabo curses.
Ace nods, stepping forward, fire flickering in his eyes. “Give me thirty seconds.”
“What?” The others turn to him in shock, their voices filled with disbelief.
Sabo stares at him, realization dawning. “You’re going to use that?”
Ace’s eyes darken with intent, and he nods. “He poisoned Luffy. I’m going to kill him.”
In a swift, explosive movement, Ace ignites, his entire body becoming a blazing inferno. His fire begins burning away Magellan’s poison even as the warden’s eyes widen in shock.
“A... a fire Logia?” Magellan stammers.
Ace’s voice is low, menacing, laced with barely contained fury. "If you wanted to live, you should’ve stayed away from my little brother.” He closes his eyes briefly, focusing all his will. He can feel his Conqueror’s Haki surge, pressing down on Magellan’s own abilities until the warden suddenly realizes he can’t move, can’t even use his Devil Fruit.
“Impossible…” Magellan whispers, terror filling his voice.
Ace’s eyes blaze as he raises his hand, gathering fire. "Hiken!” he roars, unleashing a devastating blast that hits Magellan with overwhelming force, reducing him to nothing but ash.
For a moment, the hallway is silent, the air thick with the scent of smoke. Buggy’s voice breaks through, awe-struck and trembling. “Incredible!”
Ivankov stares at Ace, wide-eyed. “That... that was Conqueror’s Haki, wasn’t it?”
Ace nods, his face grim, eyes fixed forward. He doesn’t have time to bask in the shock or praise. They’re coming, Marco. And nothing in the world will stop him.
As they turn a corner in the darkened corridors of Impel Down, Ace’s blood runs cold when he hears a deep, rumbling laugh echoing ahead. “Zehahahaha! Well, well, if it isn’t Commander Marco’s boyfriend. And Strawhat Luffy.”
Ace’s jaw clenches as he glares at the figure, pure hatred flaring in his chest. “Teach, you traitorous bastard,” he hisses, pulling his dagger with a steady hand, even as his blood boils.
Sabo steps forward, piecing it all together in an instant. “So, he’s the one who captured Marco and handed him over to the Marines?”
Luffy, a look of fury flashing in his eyes, says, “I ran into him in Mock Town. Called Mango to tell him right after.”
Sabo raises a brow, looking at Luffy in mild surprise. “You didn’t try to fight him?”
“Nah. Mango told me Ace chose not to fight him. I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance,” Luffy replies with a shrug.
Sabo nods approvingly. “Wise choice.” He readies his pipe, taking a firm stance, eyes narrowing on Teach.
“Stay back, Luffy,” Ace orders firmly, sensing the rising anger in his little brother. “You’re too exhausted to fight.”
Luffy pouts, clearly wanting to jump in, but takes a step back, though his eyes remain fixed on Teach.
Ace raises his fists, shoulders tense, fire flickering along his skin. “I’ll handle this one.”
Sabo glances at him, concern in his eyes. “You’re still worn out from fighting Magellan. Let me handle him.”
But Ace’s expression hardens, his voice fierce with conviction. “No. He tried to blame me for what he did to Thatch and handed my boyfriend over to the Marines. I’m the one who gets to kill him.”
Teach’s laugh cuts through the tense air, sharp and mocking. “You’re awfully confident, Freckles. But you’re lucky I’m not interested in you. So you better run while you still can—before I change my mind and bring your head to Marineford to show it to Commander Marco right before they take his.”
Ace cracks his knuckles, lips curling into a menacing grin. “I’ll be the one to bring your head to Marineford. And Marco won’t die. We’ll save him.”
Teach’s sneer deepens. “Zehahaha! You kids don’t know what you’re up against. Whitebeard may be a Yonko, but the Marines’ full strength will wipe him—and his crew—out.”
“Then it’s a good thing he’s not alone,” Sabo interjects, his own grin widening.
Teach narrows his eyes at Sabo, unimpressed. “Your little group won’t make a difference.”
Sabo’s smirk grows. “Oh, I’m not talking about us. We’re just the vanguard. Once the rest of our crew arrives, the tables will turn.”
Teach frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Sabo’s eyes gleam with amusement. “Ever heard of the rules around pirate alliances? When two members of different pirate crews are in a committed relationship with permission from both captains, the crews are automatically allied.”
Teach’s sneer twists into a scowl. “So the old man has one more allied captain. You honestly think that’ll change anything?”
“I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted by your ignorance. To insinuate dad is just another one of pop’s allied captains… Honestly… Didn’t Marco tell you who he is dating?” Ace asks while shaking his head.
Teach sneers, waving a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter who you think you are, Freckles.”
“Oh, but it does,” Ace growls, a fire sparking in his eyes. “And stop calling me Freckles.” He steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. “My name is Ace. Gol D. Ace.”
Behind him, there’s an audible gasp from Jinbe and several other escaped prisoners. The realization of Ace’s lineage settles heavily in the room. Teach’s smug expression falters, his mouth falling open in shock.
“No way,” Teach mutters, his voice cracking.
Ace’s smirk widens. “Finally realized your mistake?”
Sabo takes a step forward, the faintest glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “The Whitebeard Pirates are allied with the Roger Pirates now. Marineford doesn’t stand a chance. They won’t just lose—they’ll see the very ground they’re fighting on turn to ashes.”
Notes:
Hey everyone!
I just wanted to take a moment to say a huge thank you for all the love, comments, and support. Seriously, seeing your thoughts, reactions, and theories always makes my day!
That said, as much as I’d love to reply to every single comment, there are just so many (which is amazing, but also impossible to keep up with!). Between work, writing new stories, and, you know, needing sleep occasionally, I just don’t have enough hours in the day.
But don’t worry! If you ask me a question in the comment, I’ll still do my best to answer. And please know that even if I don’t reply, I see your comments, appreciate them, and they truly mean a lot to me.
Thank you for being here and for sharing this journey with me!
Chapter 27: On the way
Chapter Text
For the first time, Teach looks genuinely shaken, and Ace relishes the fear in his eyes. He takes a step forward, flame gathering around his fist.
Ace’s pulse races as he watches Teach’s sneer grow wider, the air thickening with the ominous swirl of Teach's darkness. The room pulses with malevolent energy, and Ace can feel the suffocating weight of Teach’s power pressing down on him, swallowing the light and heat around him.
Sabo is by his side, pipe gripped firmly in his hand, eyes focused. “You ready?” he asks, glancing at Ace.
Ace nods, his heart pounding with a mixture of rage and determination. “More than ready.”
Teach throws his head back, laughing darkly, before thrusting a hand forward, sending a wave of darkness surging toward them. Ace braces himself, dodging to the left as the darkness crashes like a tidal wave, pulling everything in its path toward its black depths. Sabo ducks and weaves, moving like lightning as he lands a swift, powerful strike to Teach’s side with his pipe. Teach grunts, stumbling slightly, but his smug grin doesn’t falter.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Teach taunts, his voice thick with arrogance. He extends his hand, the darkness growing in strength, drawing Ace closer. “Come on, Freckles! Let me show you what real power looks like!”
Ace’s fists blaze with fire, the intense heat casting a fierce glow in the otherwise darkened space. He launches a fiery Hiken attack, the flames roaring as they close in on Teach, but the darkness swallows them before they even get close. Ace grits his teeth, refusing to back down.
Sabo jumps in, using his pipe to deflect the swirling tendrils of darkness that reach for them, and in a blur, he lands a powerful kick to Teach’s side, sending him stumbling back. But Teach only laughs, his grip on Ace’s flames tightening, pulling him closer and closer.
“Now!” Sabo shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos.
With a surge of determination, Ace shuts his eyes, summoning the depth of his will as he focuses his Conqueror’s Haki. He feels the familiar spark ignite within him. For an instant, the darkness around Teach wavers, swallowed by Ace’s haki, as Teach’s eyes widen in shock.
“What—?”
Without wasting a second, Ace lunges forward, dagger gleaming as he coats it with Armament Haki. In one swift, fierce strike, he slashes Teach’s neck, the blade sinking in deep. Teach’s shocked expression freezes, his sneer vanishing as his head falls away from his body, and the darkness dissipates into thin air.
For a brief moment, the silence is deafening. Ace’s body feels heavy, the exhaustion crashing over him in waves, but he manages a weak smile as he drops to his knees.
“You did it!” Luffy cheers, his voice filled with relief and awe as he rushes to Ace’s side.
Ace lets out a shaky breath, his vision blurring as the weight of everything settles on his shoulders. “You’ll have to… do the rest… without me,” he murmurs, barely managing the words before his strength gives out and everything goes black.
***
When Ace opens his eyes, the room around him is dim, and the rhythmic swaying of the ship tells him he’s still at sea. He’s lying on a cot in what seems like a small, cramped sickbay. The air smells faintly of antiseptic, and his body feels heavy, every muscle sore. Blinking away the fog in his mind, he slowly becomes aware of a figure sitting beside him, head bent, watching him intently.
“Sabo?” His voice is rough, barely more than a whisper, but the moment he speaks, Sabo’s head snaps up. Relief floods his brother’s face, and a familiar grin breaks across his lips.
“About time you woke up,” Sabo says, the faintest crack of emotion in his voice. “Thought you might sleep the whole way to Marineford.”
Ace tries to sit up, but pain pulses through his body, reminding him of just how much he overdid it back in Impel Down. He sinks back against the thin pillow with a groan, and Sabo reaches out, pushing him down gently.
“Take it easy,” Sabo warns. “Ivankov treated your exhaustion, but he says you still need to rest. You were out cold for a while.”
Ace lets out a sigh, a wave of frustration flickering through him, though he’s too tired to push himself up again. He glances around, processing Sabo’s words slowly, and takes in the room. “Where… where are we?”
Sabo’s grin widens. “On a marine battleship,” he explains, a hint of pride in his voice. “We escaped Impel Down, stole this thing, and we’re on our way to Marineford.”
Hearing that, a surge of determination fills Ace, even through the exhaustion. They’re getting closer to Marco. They’re going to make it. “Good,” he mutters, a smirk ghosting across his face. “I knew you’d find a way.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank Ivankov too. He kept you patched up as best as he could.” Sabo’s expression softens as he studies him, a shadow of concern in his gaze. “But seriously, rest up. We’re going to need you at full strength if we’re going to pull this off.”
Ace nods slightly, though his thoughts are already racing ahead. As he lies there, one question finally surfaces, one that’s been eating at him since the fight with Teach. “What about… Teach’s head?”
Sabo raises an eyebrow, looking both surprised and amused. With a faint chuckle, he reaches into his satchel and pulls out a small bag, holding it up for Ace to see. “Of course I packed it,” he says, grinning. “Didn’t think I’d forget your little victory trophy, did you?”
Ace stares at the bag, a mix of relief and satisfaction washing over him, and despite the ache in his body, he feels a spark of pride. Teach’s head—a reminder of his victory. He lets out a laugh, raw and tired but genuine. “Thanks, Sabo. Really.”
Sabo just grins, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Anytime, brother. Now get some rest. We’ve got a war to crash.”
***
The tension in the air is thick when they step onto the deck a few hours later. Ace can feel it in his bones as the ship slices through the waves, drawing closer to Marineford. The adrenaline in his veins thrums, and his mind is already preparing for what’s coming—what he’s going to do once they’re there, what they all have to do. Marco’s life hangs in the balance, and Ace won’t let anyone or anything stop him from reaching that execution platform.
Jimbe stands beside him, his broad, calm presence offering a rare comfort amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside Ace. The fishman glances over, his brow furrowed. “The war’s already started,” Jimbe says, his voice steady, though there’s a tension in his eyes. “We’ll be there soon.”
Ace nods, his stomach tightening at the thought of Marco in danger. But then he feels a hand on his shoulder, turning him. Luffy’s standing there with his usual grinning, oblivious face, but the look in his eyes is serious.
“Luffy?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow.
Luffy’s grin widens mischievously. “I found seastone shackles!” he announces, holding up a pair of thick chains with manacles. Ace’s eyes widen in realization, and before he can react, Luffy’s already fastening the shackles around Ace and Sabo’s wrists.
“Wait, Luffy, no!” Sabo protests, trying to move, but he’s already too late. “What the fuck are you doing?”
But Luffy just laughs. “Iva-chan said you need to rest.”
Ace can feel his jaw clench, his frustration rising. This little idiot... “Luffy! You’ve got to be kidding me!” But it’s too late; they’re stuck, the seastone already dulling his strength, making his body feel heavy and sluggish.
“Ugh, fine,” Sabo groans, clearly not thrilled, but trying to make the best of it. “Let’s go, Ace. Get the key before he gets himself killed.”
For the next five minutes, Ace and Sabo chase Luffy all over the deck, trying to catch him so they can get the key to the shackles. But the little idiot is faster than they expected, darting in and out of their reach with that signature laugh of his. Every step they take feels like a race against time, and Ace can feel his temper rising. Every time Luffy turns around to flash them that wide, innocent grin, it makes Ace just want to—
Before he can finish the thought, the ship suddenly jerks violently beneath them. The roar of the ocean fills the air as a massive tsunami surges up from nowhere, towering over the ship like a beast ready to devour them all.
“Shit!” Ace shouts as he grips the nearest railing, feeling the ship tilt at an impossible angle. The force of the wave throws them all to the side, and Ace’s heart lurches in his chest. People scramble to hold onto whatever they can—masts, ropes, railings—desperate to stay aboard as the ship tilts further and further.
Sabo slams into him, the seastone shackles causing them both to stagger, but they manage to keep their feet. Luffy’s whooping with glee, as usual, despite the danger, clinging to the main mast. The rest of the crew is shouting, trying to keep balance, but it’s chaos, the sound of crashing waves deafening as the tsunami barrels toward them.
And then it happens.
The wave hits them with full force, lifting the ship high into the air, lifting them higher and higher above the sea, making everything feel weightless for a few moments. The sound of splintering wood and howling winds fills his ears, and Ace grips the railing with everything he has, just trying to hold on. His heart races in his chest, the ship swaying dangerously as it’s thrown like a ragdoll by the wave. But in that moment, Ace’s mind is laser-focused.
Then, just as quickly as it came, the tsunami freezes. Everything stills.
The ship lurches to a stop in midair. Ace blinks, and he feels like his heart might stop beating altogether as he looks around, his head spinning.
Below them, Marineford lies frozen in time, the sea now encased in thick ice, like some kind of cruel parody of the world they’re headed into. The battleship is stuck in the ice, hanging several meters above the battlefield below, a silent witness to the chaos below.
“What the fuck is going on?” Sabo murmurs, his voice thick with disbelief.
Ace can’t tear his eyes away from the frozen scene below. His pulse is racing. The sight of Marineford from above like this... it feels wrong. Too surreal.
“Who the fuck did this?” Ace mutters under his breath, tightening his grip on the railing as the ship creaks, the ice holding it suspended in the air.
Chapter 28: Omake 4 – Thatch’s drunken dream – Part I
Summary:
Thatch must be dreaming. How else do you explain battleships falling from the sky? Wait, Marco seduced the fucking pirate prince?! Just how much did he drink last night?
Chapter Text
Thatch stands, his eyes scanning the chaos unfolding before him, his body tense and ready for any sign that Pops needs help. The war rages around him, the clash of steel and the crackle of haki-filled punches filling the air. He watches his brothers in action fighting fiercely to get to Marco. Every blow they land against the marines is a testament to their strength, but also to their desperation. Thatch would join them, but he’s been tasked with a different role. He isn’t as strong as Marco or Jozu, but he’s strong enough to provide backup for Pops, should anything happen.
Pops has always been the heart and soul of the Whitebeard Pirates, and while Thatch would love nothing more than to fight alongside his brothers, someone has to stay with the old man. He’s already older, his body not as resilient as it once was, and Thatch can’t help but feel the weight of that responsibility. He’ll stay close, always watching for any threat that could reach Pops. Thatch is used to being in the middle of the action, but this is different. He’s protecting what matters most, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything happen to the man who raised him like a father.
But then, something happens.
Thatch’s senses pick up a sound that doesn’t belong on the battlefield. It’s a strange, low rumble, like something is wrong with the very air itself. His heart skips a beat, and he instinctively looks to Pops for guidance, wondering if the old man has sensed it too. But to his confusion, Pops isn’t looking at the battlefield, nor is he focused on the fight around them. No, Pops is looking up into the sky.
Thatch follows the old man’s gaze, his confusion growing. And then, he sees it.
“What the…?” Thatch gasps, the words leaving his lips before he can even think. “Is that a ship?”
The sight is impossible to ignore. The massive battleship—an entire vessel—appears, seemingly falling from the sky. Thatch’s eyes widen in disbelief, his mind struggling to catch up with the scene in front of him. A ship… in the sky? There’s no way. He rubs his eyes, trying to make sense of the absurdity. How can something like that even happen?
Before he can fully process what he’s seeing, the first screams reach his ears.
"I knew you'd overdo it!"
"This is all because of his wink!"
"Are you blaming vme Croco?"
The frantic chatter echoes through the battlefield, and Thatch blinks, utterly baffled. People are shouting things he doesn’t understand—words that make no sense in this moment.
"Who cares? We're all gonna die! The sea beneath us is frozen solid!"
"Vi don't want to die like this! Someone stop vus!"
"I never should've listened to you, Straw Hat!"
"MANGO!"
"His name is Marco! Do you have nothing but food in that empty space you call your brain?"
"Ow! Sabo, Ace hit me!"
“If I could reach you, I would feel very inclined to hit you, as well!”
"If you have time to hit Strawhat, melt the fucking ice!"
"I would, if that little dumbass hadn't put me and ‘Bo in seastone cuffs and then lost the key! Hurry up and get them off already!"
“I can’t if you’re not holding still!”
“Shishishi. Sorry about that!”
“STOP LAUGHING YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
As if things couldn’t get any stranger, the ship begins to land, and Thatch realizes with a shock that it’s heading straight for them. It’s a controlled descent—barely—but the ship lands in the one place where the ice hasn’t fully covered the battlefield. It lands in the same spot Jozu had cleared earlier when he threw that chunk of ice at Akainu.
Thatch can’t help but gape at the absurdity of it all. His mind still can’t fully process it. He’s fighting for his life one moment, and the next, a ship just falls out of the sky? There’s no way this is real. Is he still dreaming? The haze of battle is starting to mix with his confusion, and Thatch wonders how much sake he drank last night to dream up something this wild. There’s no way this is real. It can’t be.
But even as he thinks that, the ship bursts open, and Thatch can only stare, wide-eyed, as figures begin to emerge from the wreckage. One by one, they step onto the remains of the battleship, each more impossible than the last. He recognizes a few of them immediately, and his jaw nearly hits the floor. There’s Ivankov, the revolutionary, and Inazuma, both of whom were supposed to be imprisoned in Impel Down. The sheer impossibility of it is almost too much to handle. How could they possibly be here? What is going on?
Thatch’s heart races. The ship that just fell from the sky, the Revolutionary Army members, the impossible situation… it’s all too much. How could this be happening? He’s seen a lot of things in his life—fights, adventures, miracles—but this? This defies everything.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices something—or rather, someone—moving too quickly toward Pops.
Instinct takes over, and Thatch moves to intercept, his weapon already half-raised. But before he can make his move, a flash of red and yellow bursts into his vision, so bright and sudden that it blinds him momentarily. The sound that follows is thunderous, like an explosion, and he stumbles back, shielding his eyes. When the light fades, he blinks rapidly to clear his vision, his heart racing.
Standing behind Pops is... a kid?
A scrawny, black-haired teen with tattered red shorts and a bright yellow button-up tank top. Steam rises from the boy’s battered body, his skin glistening with water, and he’s glaring fiercely at Crocodile, the man who had been moments away from attacking Pops. The sheer intensity in the kid’s eyes gives Thatch pause. He recognizes that look—raw determination, unshakable resolve.
The boy’s voice cuts through the battlefield noise like a blade. “So you already made preparations to fight me, huh?” he growls at Crocodile, his stance defensive, his fists tight at his sides.
Crocodile, ever the epitome of cold calculation, narrows his eyes. “I honored our agreement and helped you get here,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Why are you defending Whitebeard?”
Thatch frowns, his mind racing. The kid looks familiar—no, he is familiar. It clicks. Straw Hat Luffy. One of the rookie pirates from Sabaody, a Supernova who had already made waves by declaring war on the World Government. But what in the hell is he doing here, in the middle of a battle between Whitebeard and the Marines?
The boy’s next words throw Thatch completely off balance. “So this old guy really is Whitebeard?” Luffy asks, tilting his head. “Then don’t touch him! My big brother and Mango like this old guy!”
Thatch snorts before he can stop himself. Mango? He doesn’t know whether to laugh or be utterly baffled. The ridiculous nickname is enough to make him momentarily forget the absurdity of the situation, but the more pressing question is: How does this kid know Marco?
As Crocodile is restrained by some of Thatch’s crewmates, he takes the opportunity to study the kid more closely. His gaze falls to the hat dangling from the boy’s neck. A straw hat. That straw hat… why does it feel so familiar? The image nags at him, pulling at the edges of his memory.
Pops’ deep, rumbling voice interrupts his thoughts. “Brat... that straw hat of yours…” he begins, his tone laden with curiosity. “It looks a lot like the one Red Hair used to wear.”
The boy’s expression softens, and he turns to Pops, his hand lightly brushing against the brim of the hat. “You know Shanks, old guy? I’m holding it for him.”
Thatch’s heart skips a beat. Shanks?! Suddenly, everything about this boy feels larger than life. Not only is he connected to the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, but he’s carrying the man’s hat. Thatch’s mind reels with the implications.
Before Pops can press further, two figures land next to the boy, both of them exuding the same wild energy.
The first is a blond man dressed in a sharp black coat over a blue shirt, a frilled cravat at his neck. His top hat, adorned with goggles, gives him an air of eccentric sophistication. He twirls a pipe in one gloved hand, his movements calm but deliberate.
“What did we tell you about running off on your own?” the blond scolds, his tone a mix of irritation and exasperated affection.
The second man couldn’t be more different. He has unruly black hair, his bare chest showing off a lean, muscular frame. An orange cowboy hat hangs loosely around his neck, partially obscuring the tattoo on his back, but Thatch can see enough to recognize it as a jolly roger. In one hand, the man holds a bag, while the other dangles a pair of open shackles, which he throws at Luffy with an irritated glare.
“Next time you put those things on me when I’m about to enter a battle,” he growls, “I will beat you up so bad you’ll be eating through a straw for weeks!”
“Stingy,” Luffy pouts, his defiance almost comical given the situation.
The blond man sighs, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t do something like that, Luffy. If we hadn’t landed in the water, we’d all be dead now.”
The second man turns toward the Whitebeard Pirates, offering a cheeky grin and a casual wave. “Hi guys! How are you doing on this fine day?”
Thatch’s jaw practically hits the deck. He recognizes that voice. “Ace-kun?” he asks, his voice filled with disbelief.
The man—the same Ace who had been Marco’s boyfriend for some time—grins back at him. “Hi, Thatch. How’s your back? The stab wound still bothering you?” He gestures to the two beside him. “These are my little brothers, Sabo and Luffy. Be kind to them. Though feel free to smack Luffy if he annoys you.”
Thatch blinks, utterly floored. Brothers? He can barely wrap his head around it. And yet, here Ace stands, in the middle of a war, half-naked, casually introducing the two people who just fell from the sky with him.
Pops, meanwhile, surveys the chaotic scene—the frozen battlefield, the remains of the fallen battleship, the scaffold where Marco is kneeling—and lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle. “When Marco said you were prone to suddenly falling down somewhere, I didn’t think it would involve something like this.”
Ace scratches the back of his head sheepishly, but his expression hardens as he looks toward the scaffold. “I’m here to save Marco, Pops.”
Pops’ expression darkens, his eyes narrowing. “Do you even understand what you’re up against?!” His bisento slams into the deck, sending tremors through the ship. “Squirts like you will be dead meat!”
Ace doesn’t flinch. Neither do his brothers.
“Oh boy…” Sabo mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Now he’s done it…”
Chapter 29: Omake 4 – Thatch’s drunken dream – Part II
Chapter Text
Thatch watches as Ace raises his eyebrows at Pops, about to respond—but Straw Hat beats him to it, fists clenched and waving in the air, his voice rising above the clash and roar of the battlefield. “SHUT UP! That’s not up to you to decide!” The kid practically growls, his eyes blazing as he stares Pops down, with an intensity that would be terrifying if it wasn’t coming from this scrappy, dripping-wet teen. “I know what you’re up to! You wanna become the new King of the Pirates, right?!”
The words land like a cannonball. All around him, Thatch hears sharp gasps, stifled exclamations as Marines and pirates alike freeze, the intensity of the boy’s declaration halting every fight in its tracks. Shock ripples across the battlefield, an unnatural stillness overtaking the usual din and chaos. Thatch’s own mouth drops open. Did this kid just challenge Pops?
“But I’m the one who will surpass Roger and take his title!” Luffy bellows, standing tall with his fists on his hips, his posture defiant and unmistakably stubborn. Thatch feels his shock deepen—this kid has no idea who he’s dealing with. But even knowing Pops’ legendary strength, Thatch can’t help but admire Straw Hat’s sheer audacity.
Everyone stares, and Thatch feels the tension, thick and electric, as every pirate and Marine absorbs the boy’s bold declaration. Straw Hat doesn’t budge, his stance as unyielding as Pops’. The teen actually growls, his eyes locked on Pops with such fury that Thatch almost doesn’t recognize him. But then, just as he’s processing it, he realizes that Pops is growling back. Thatch can only gape, his heart pounding in confusion and fascination. What the hell is going on here?
Pops lifts his bisento and spins it with that practiced ease that makes Thatch smirk internally. It’s not a casual move—it’s showmanship, pure and simple. Then, slamming the weapon down harder than before, Pops’ mouth twists into a wide grin. “How cheeky you are!” he laughs. “I won’t forgive you if you cause me trouble, you spoiled brats!”
Luffy’s answer is a quick, stubborn shout. “I’ll do as I like!”
The tension between them feels ready to snap. But then, the blond man—Sabo, Ace called him—steps forward, his face calm but his eyes hard and voice cool. “Please don’t mistake us for some inexperienced paradise rookies, Mister Whitebeard. All three of us have been sailing the New World waters for over a decade.” His tone is laced with an icy formality that makes Thatch shiver, and he suddenly sees the danger in this man’s calm.
“Maybe you ought to talk to your first division commander?” Sabo continues, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “He made the same mistake before Ace beat some resemblance of sense into him—literally. It was quite amusing to watch your right-hand man get his ass handed to him by some ‘kid’ he didn’t deem his equal.”
Thatch’s mind spins. Marco lost to a kid? He remembers Marco sparring with Ace when he’d first come aboard, how the boy had managed to land a few good hits but nothing serious. But the doubt must be plain on his face because Ace scowls.
“Marco mistook me for some damsel in distress,” Ace mutters, crossing his arms and glaring at his own crew. “I set him straight.” He hesitates, his eyes flicking downward in a rare moment of sheepishness. “Well, maybe not straight, but you know what I mean.”
Thatch snickers despite himself but decides, wisely, to let it pass without comment.
It’s then that Thatch notices Ivankov and Inazuma in the background. What the hell are they doing here? Weren’t they locked up in Impel Down with Crocodile? Thatch’s mind whirls with possibilities. Does that mean these brothers broke in and out of the Marine’s most secure prison with barely a scratch on the little one? Who in the world are these people? And how have I only heard of Straw Hat before?
His thoughts are interrupted by Ace stepping forward and holding up a small sack toward Pops, his expression gleaming with something darkly triumphant. “We ran into him while getting out of Impel Down and I thought you might like a little present.”
Pops stares at the sack, his thick brows creased in confusion. But then Ace opens it and something tumbles out, rolling across the deck until it lands at Pops’ feet—Blackbeard’s head.
Thatch’s breath catches, his heart slamming against his chest as he stares, unable to look away. He hears his brothers gasp around him, each just as shocked, just as disbelieving. He watches the exchange with a mixture of disbelief and mounting unease.
Ace, doesn’t flinch when Pops levels a warning at him, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You are overstepping your boundaries, brat.”
Instead of backing down, Ace meets the Yonko’s glare head-on, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “I don’t recall you trying to put a stop to my relationship with Marco. If I think back, your words were more like, ‘Welcome to the family, call me Pops.’ So I don’t understand what you’re so prissy about.”
Thatch’s stomach does a flip. Wow, this guy has guts. Calling Pops “prissy” to his face? He’s impressed, even if a little horrified.
Ace’s expression hardens, and his voice gains an edge as he continues. “If you take into consideration that the bastard tried to blame me for the attack on Thatch and escaped from me in the first place, I was well within my rights to deal with him. Besides, even Dad knows that me and Marco dating means an alliance between the crews—and he’s a grade-A idiot most of the time.”
Thatch blinks, the realization hitting him like a splash of cold water. Ace is right. If neither Pops nor Ace’s father and captain tried to stop the relationship, then they are allied with Ace’s crew. How did he not think of that before now?
“He was pretty insulted you didn’t contact us when you learned about Marco’s capture and planned execution,” Ace adds, his tone sharp enough to cut. Thatch watches as Pops’ expression darkens, his lips twisting into a sour grimace.
“Should I expect the rest of your crew to show up too, then?” Pops growls.
Ace glances at Sabo, who sighs and steps in smoothly. “If I calculated correctly, they should arrive within the hour.”
The casual confidence in his tone is chilling. Thatch’s curiosity boils over, and before he can stop himself, he blurts, “How did you manage to defeat Teach?” His voice wavers slightly, the disbelief seeping through. Even Marco lost to the traitor.
Ace shrugs nonchalantly, as if beheading one of the most dangerous men alive was no big deal. “Dad taught me how to deal with overpowered devil fruit users, and Sabo helped me fight him. I caught him by surprise and cut his head off before he had time to react.”
Thatch raises an eyebrow, his mind racing to make sense of it. “I suppose that could work... even if you technically cheated.”
Ace scoffs, folding his arms. “Backstabbing bastards who try to frame me for murder and hand my boyfriend over to the Marines don’t deserve a fair fight.”
Thatch chuckles despite himself, shaking his head. The guy has a point.
Then Sabo cuts in, his calm, precise tone slicing through the conversation like a blade. “By the way,” he starts, “we intercepted some Marine feeds. They’re planning to execute Marco prematurely. From the way Fleet Admiral Sengoku talked, it also sounds like they’ve been feeding your allies false information, hoping to turn some of them against you. And they still have an ace up their sleeves—something they’re preparing for as we speak.”
Thatch stiffens, his grip tightening on his sword as his mind reels. The Marines are always playing dirty, but this? Premature execution? Turning allies? His stomach churns.
Pops inclines his head slightly, his deep voice steady but tinged with concern. “I see. Thank you for the information.”
Sabo nods curtly before turning his attention back to the battlefield. His eyes narrow, scanning the chaos with sharp precision. “Remember the rules, Lu?”
Luffy, who has been bouncing on his heels like he’s ready to pounce, grins and responds cheerfully, “Of course! Don’t try to fight the admirals and the seagull-hat guy. Keep away from Mingo and Hawkeye. If Grandpa comes my way, run as fast as I can. Everyone else is fair game!”
Sabo arches an eyebrow. “And?”
Luffy pauses, his brow furrowing in thought. “Uh... dunno.”
Sabo sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Use haki.”
“Oh, right, that!” Luffy chirps, his grin widening.
Thatch blinks, his brain stumbling over the casual mention of haki. Wait, what? They’re letting this kid—this hyperactive rookie—fight vice admirals? Sure, the brat has a 300-million bounty, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to face someone of that caliber. His instincts scream that it’s reckless, but the casual confidence radiating off Sabo and Ace makes him second-guess himself.
Sabo adds almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and try not to get too emotional. Whitebeard might take offense if you accidentally knock out some of his weaker-minded crewmembers.”
“Okay!” Luffy replies brightly, as if Sabo just reminded him to pack lunch.
Thatch freezes, the implications of that statement hitting him like a ton of bricks. Accidentally knock out crewmembers? His mind latches onto the possibility—the horrifying possibility—that the brat might have untrained conqueror’s haki.
Thatch exhales slowly, deciding, for the sake of his sanity, to shelve that thought entirely. Nope. Not thinking about that.
Thatch watches Ace leap off the Moby Dick with a kind of casual confidence that seems utterly out of place on a battlefield. His brothers follow, Luffy with his fists raised in excitement and Sabo twirling his pipe with calm precision. The sight alone is enough to make Thatch’s stomach churn, but the trio doesn’t even have to lift a finger to make an impact.
As Ace's boots hit the ice, the surface beneath him cracks, tiny shards scattering outward. A gust of wind whips across the battlefield, carrying with it an oppressive pressure that makes Thatch’s breath hitch. Then it happens—the marines closest to the trio start to falter, their grips on their weapons slackening. One by one, they drop like flies, unconscious before they even hit the ground. It’s not just foot soldiers either. The executioners collapse where they stand, their rifles clattering to the ground.
Only a handful of higher-ranking marines remain standing, their faces pale and drawn. Thatch’s jaw nearly unhinges as he takes in the scope of the carnage. Even the battlefield itself feels quieter, the stunned silence of disbelief falling like a blanket over both sides.
“That brat…” Pops grumbles, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
“Conqueror’s haki?” Thatch whispers, though it comes out more like a croak. His mind races as he tries to process what he just witnessed. This wasn’t some clumsy, uncontrolled burst of power—something that would already be impressive from someone so young. No, Ace had full control over it. Thatch knows this because none of Ace’s brothers were even grazed by the wave of haki. That level of precision requires relentless training and a mastery most can only dream of.
Thatch’s eyes flick to the jagged lines etched into the ice where Ace landed. The sheer force of his haki alone caused visible damage to the battlefield. His conqueror’s haki almost rivals Pops’. The realization sends a shiver down his spine.
Then something Ace said earlier resurfaces in his mind: Dad taught me how to deal with overpowered devil fruits. Thatch’s breath catches as a new possibility takes root. Did he suppress Teach’s powers with conqueror’s haki? The implications make his head spin. Thatch knows only a handful of people with conqueror’s haki strong enough to pull off something like that: Pops, Kaido, Sengoku, Dragon the Revolutionary, Shanks, and, of course, the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.
And now, apparently, Ace.
His thoughts grind to a halt as Ace throws a cheeky grin at Fleet Admiral Sengoku, who looks visibly shaken. Thatch’s eyes dart to Marco, who, to his surprise, looks equally rattled. Though, knowing Marco, it’s probably less about the haki and more about Ace standing right there in the flesh.
Ace adjusts the orange cowboy hat atop his head, revealing a tattoo on his back. Thatch’s stomach twists as he recognizes it. The Jolly Roger is infamous, one that has been etched into countless wanted posters and Marine briefings.
The realization slams into him like a tidal wave. Ace… Marco’s polite, sweet boyfriend… is Gol D. Ace? The son of Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King? Thatch’s brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. He fumbles to make sense of it, his thoughts tangled in a chaotic loop of disbelief and dawning comprehension.
How did I miss this? More importantly, how did Pops miss this?
Thatch remembers all the gossip about Roger’s supposed son. The rumors painted him as some pampered brat who’d never lifted a sword in his life, only earning his bounty because of his father’s legacy. But standing here now, seeing Ace radiate raw power and confidence, Thatch knows those rumors couldn’t be further from the truth.
A cold thought strikes him. Roger’s overprotective streak is legendary. How the hell did Ace manage to break into Impel Down, let alone survive it, without his father stopping him?
The pieces don’t add up, and Thatch’s head spins trying to reconcile the sweet guy who charmed Marco with the terrifying powerhouse standing on the ice.
And then it hits him. “Shit!” he blurts out, loud enough that a few nearby crewmates glance his way. His voice drops to a horrified whisper. “We’re allied with the Pirate King.”
If Pops’ face is any indication, the Yonko has come to the same conclusion. His expression is a storm of shock, realization, and growing irritation. “And he’s insulted we didn’t call for his assistance…” Pops mutters under his breath.
Thatch’s gaze flicks back to Marco, and a pang of sympathy twists his gut. Marco is so screwed. Once they get him out of this mess, he’ll have to explain all of this to Pops—and likely Roger, too. If Roger doesn’t kill him first for daring to seduce his son.
Thatch swallows hard, a single thought rising above the chaos in his mind. He’s so glad he‘s not in Marco’s shoes right now.
Chapter 30: Nobles and dogs
Summary:
Sengoku makes the mistake of addressing Sabo’s noble heritage. Sabo, of course, retaliates.
Sengoku really should have known better. You don't piss of Sabo. Everyone knows that.
Chapter Text
Ace can’t stop the self-satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watches the marines around the plaza crumble to the ground, one after another. The sheer silence that follows is intoxicating, a heavy, stunned stillness blanketing the battlefield. He glances up at the execution platform, catching Marco’s wide-eyed shock just as Sengoku’s jaw practically hits the floor.
A wave of satisfaction rolls through him. Perfect.
"Hey, come on! For real?!" Aokiji gasps, his typically aloof demeanor shattered for once.
"This is surprising," Kizaru mutters, half to himself, though his voice carries easily in the stunned quiet. "I didn’t know there was a youngster with such a tremendous power."
Ace stifles a laugh. Youngster? He wonders if Kizaru would feel the same way after catching a fistful of flames.
Beside him, Luffy huffs, crossing his arms. “You could’ve left some for me…”
“That would’ve lessened the impact,” Sabo says smoothly, his tone as calm and measured as ever, “and thus defeated the purpose of the greeting.”
“Huh?” Luffy tilts his head, his confusion obvious. Then his face lights up as if he’s had an epiphany. “Oh! You mean a mystery reason!”
“Yes,” Sabo says with a sigh. “A mystery reason.”
Ace bites back another laugh, shaking his head. The familiar banter settles him, keeping him grounded despite the chaos around them. Together, they stride forward toward the execution platform, their presence commanding attention. The marines who remain conscious tighten their grips on their weapons, their eyes flicking between the three of them with palpable fear.
Ace grins, tipping his hat onto his head. The motion is deliberate, exposing his back to the world—and the iconic Jolly Roger inked onto his skin. The Pirate King’s symbol.
The reactions are instantaneous. The collective gasp is almost comical, but Sengoku’s wide-eyed disbelief is the cherry on top. The Fleet Admiral stumbles back a step, his composure momentarily shattered. Garp’s reaction is nearly as satisfying, though his grandfather had probably recognized them the moment they fell into the battlefield with their stolen ship because of that stupid frozen tsunami and Luffy’s brainless idea how to best break the ice.
“Look at his back!” a panicked marine shouts.
“Back down if your heart is weak!” Vice Admiral Doberman barks, his voice shaking slightly. “He’s not just another pirate! Conqueror’s haki! But that’s not surprising... he’s the son of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger!”
Ace savors the stunned murmurs rippling through the marines like a wave. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up, Gol D. Ace… Monkey D. Luffy,” Sengoku says, his voice regaining its usual authoritative edge. “Right now, the execution of the phoenix has priority. If you return your hostage and leave quietly, we will not pursue you this time.”
“Hostage?” Ace repeats, momentarily thrown. Hostage? What hostage? He exchanges a glance with his brothers, Sabo raising an eyebrow in silent understanding. Surely Sengoku doesn’t mean—
“Release Young Lord Outlook,” Sengoku commands. “I’m not certain you’re aware, Ace, but Young Lord Outlook is a noble from Goa Kingdom whom your father kidnapped ten years ago.”
For a moment, Ace is stunned into silence. Young Lord Outlook? The absurdity of it almost makes him laugh. Marco’s sharp intake of breath catches his attention, and Ace glances up to see the phoenix staring at him, shock etched across his features.
Ace’s grin widens, sharp and mischievous. “Oh, I know about that one,” he says lightly, waving a hand as if brushing off the Fleet Admiral’s words. “I was there, actually. Someone had to make sure Dad kidnapped the right noble, or we’d have ended up stuck with some insufferable, arrogant brat. And Luffy…” His grin falters for a moment, replaced by something darker. “Luffy was beaten up pretty badly by the pirates Sabo’s father paid to get rid of us.”
The murmurs around the battlefield grow louder, a mix of confusion and horror. Ace doesn’t care. His focus shifts back to Sengoku, his grin sharpening again. If the marines thought they were ready for this, they were sorely mistaken.
Ace watches as Sabo steps forward, his hand resting lightly on his shoulder before sliding off. The gesture is subtle but enough to tell Ace to stand down. Sabo’s calm confidence is almost unnerving, especially when he suddenly produces a den-den mushi from nowhere.
Ace blinks. Where the hell did that come from? When they were plummeting out of the sky earlier, there hadn’t been any sign of it. He mentally files the question away for later, though, because knowing Sabo, the answer will either infuriate him or leave him laughing.
Sabo's voice cuts through the tension like a blade, amplified across the battlefield and—Ace realizes with a pang of satisfaction—broadcasted live to Sabaody. The marines had been projecting Marco’s planned execution, and now they were handing Sabo the perfect platform to turn their narrative inside out.
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Fleet Admiral,” Sabo enunciates, his tone sharp, almost offended. His posture is loose, casual, but his words carry a razor's edge. Ace sees Sengoku’s eyes narrow at the sound of Sabo's voice echoing across the battlefield.
“If you don’t release your hostage, I will be forced to take action,” Sengoku replies, his voice as firm as ever. At his signal, the remaining conscious marines raise their weapons, aiming at Ace and Luffy.
Ace’s instincts scream at him to act, but Sabo takes another step forward, blocking the line of fire with an almost careless grace. “Careful, Fleet Admiral,” he says smoothly, his voice turning deceptively sweet. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally hit me, would you? What would my father say if you brought me home dead? Or worse, damaged?”
For a moment, Ace is struck by how effortlessly Sabo commands the situation. It’s in moments like this that Ace feels a pang of gratitude—hell, awe—at having Sabo on his side. No one can twist a knife like his brother.
Sengoku’s reaction is immediate. His eyes widen, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Stand down!” he barks at the soldiers, and they reluctantly lower their weapons.
The air shifts as Sabo straightens, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. Gone is the casual, approachable young man. In his place stands something altogether different—something cold, calculating, and steeped in aristocratic arrogance. He adjusts his cravat with deliberate precision, lifting his chin as if the very air around him is beneath him. Ace knows this act; Sabo has perfected it over years of hatred for the world that shaped him.
“My father seems to have you well-conditioned,” Sabo sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. His lips curl into a saccharine smile as he tilts his head, studying Sengoku as though he were an insect pinned to a board. “Tell me, Fleet Admiral—if I ordered you to, would you bark and wag your tail for me like the trained dog you are?”
The battlefield falls into stunned silence. Even Ace feels a chill. Sengoku’s confusion is palpable, his usually calm facade faltering. “Young Lord Outlook?” he asks, his voice edged with uncertainty.
“Come now,” Sabo continues, the disdain in his voice sharp enough to cut. “Where’s your woof? You don’t want to upset me, do you? My father does have ties to the Tenryuubito, after all.”
Ace watches the stunned expressions ripple across the battlefield like a shockwave. The sharp intakes of breath, the gasps of horror. Sengoku looks momentarily like he might actually obey before catching himself.
Sabo’s expression twists into one of disgust, his aristocratic mask slipping just enough to reveal the fury simmering beneath. “You make me sick,” he spits, his voice low and venomous. “All of you. Where is the justice you were proclaiming just moments ago? The one where criminals face consequences for their actions?”
Ace’s breath catches. He knows where this is going. And for a brief second, he almost feels sorry for Sengoku. Almost. Then he remembers why they’re here—why Marco is on that platform—and any sympathy he might have felt evaporates.
Sabo’s face darkens, his voice hardening into steel. “Oh, wait. That kind of justice doesn’t apply to nobles, does it? As long as they have blue blood, they’re free to do as they please. They can slaughter innocents, burn cities to the ground, and you’ll look the other way—just like you did ten years ago in Goa Kingdom. When the royals and nobles set fire to Grey Terminal, burned hundreds of homeless people alive, and sent guards to slaughter the survivors.”
The gasps are louder now, rippling out like a tide. Sengoku pales, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“The fire was an accident,” Sengoku claims loudly, but Ace can hear the strain in his voice. “A tragic accident.”
Sabo’s laugh is cold, humorless. “That’s all you’ve got? Is that what you tell the people whose lives have been destroyed by the nobles you serve? An accident? How convenient, then, that this accident happened just days before a Tenryuubito declared Goa the cleanest kingdom in the world. Do you think people are stupid? There’s no way Grey Terminal could’ve burned like that without an obscene amount of fuel.”
Ace feels a swell of pride—and something darker, more vicious—as Sabo keeps talking. Sabo couldn’t have asked for a better stage, and Sengoku couldn’t have given him a better opportunity to expose the rot at the heart of the system. Ace knows what’s coming next will be devastating. For a fleeting moment, he imagines the chaos this will unleash across the seas, and it’s almost enough to make him pity the Fleet Admiral.
Almost.
Chapter 31: Battle of Ice: Zoan vs. Logia
Summary:
Sabo fights Aokiji and Ace (sort of) defeats Garp.
Chapter Text
Ace watches as Sengoku tries to regain control of the situation, the Fleet Admiral’s authoritative tone cracking under pressure. "Young Lord Out—" Sengoku starts, but Sabo doesn’t let him finish.
“Shut up!” Sabo’s shout reverberates across the battlefield, raw and sharp, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. Ace feels the weight of those words settle over him like a heavy storm cloud, the rage in Sabo’s voice so palpable it makes even him flinch.
The battlefield plunges into stunned silence, save for the faint crackle of distant flames and the occasional creak of ice beneath their feet. Ace swallows, his own anger simmering as Sabo takes a step forward, his hand clenched tightly around the den-den mushi. His brother’s eyes blaze with fury, his voice unwavering as he continues.
“I was there that night!” Sabo spits, his voice rising with each word. “I had to listen to the desperate screams of people burning alive! I was forced to watch as the nobles—my father—ordered their guards to slaughter any survivors!”
The gasps from the gathered marines and pirates alike are almost deafening. Ace feels his heart twist painfully in his chest, memories of that night flashing behind his eyes. The fire, the chaos, the fear—it’s all there, like an ugly scar that refuses to fade.
Sabo presses on, his voice colder now, sharper. “No wonder the Revolutionary Army is gaining popularity. If I were a civilian, I’d be rooting for them too. It’s about time someone knocked the World Government down a peg.”
Ace notices the shift among the marines. Their anger rises like a tide, visible in the tightening grips on weapons and the darkening of their expressions. He almost laughs at their hypocrisy. They’re more insulted by the truth than by the atrocities committed under their watch.
Sabo, however, isn’t done. He turns sharply to Garp, and Ace’s stomach tightens as he sees the momentary flicker of guilt in the old man’s face. “Ace and Luffy were caught in that fire, too, you know?” Sabo says, his voice biting, accusing. He spits out the next words like venom. “My father paid the pirates doing his dirty work to make sure of that.”
Ace stiffens. Even now, years later, the mention of that night makes his blood boil. The desperation, the cold fear—it all comes rushing back. He glances at Garp, and the sight of the vice admiral’s ashen face is almost satisfying.
“Do you know how close they came to dying that night?!” Sabo continues, his voice cracking with emotion now. “If Roger had arrived even a few minutes later... If he hadn’t run straight into Ace’s and Luffy’s worried childhood caretaker…” Sabo’s voice softens, but the weight of his words only grows heavier. “They wouldn’t have made it out alive.”
Ace’s chest tightens, and he looks away, unwilling to let anyone—especially the marines—see the emotions swirling in his eyes. That night had been hell. He hadn’t been strong enough to protect Luffy, to fight back. If Roger hadn’t shown up when he did...
Sabo straightens, his voice sharp again. “Tell my father this: I’m not coming back. He had his chance when he promised he wouldn’t harm Ace and Luffy if I returned to High Town with him. He broke his word.” He takes a deep breath, his next words ringing across the battlefield like a declaration of war. “I’m Sabo of the Roger Pirates now. Sworn brother of Monkey D. Luffy and Gol D. Ace!”
The silence that follows is deafening. Even the marines, who had been bristling with anger moments ago, are left speechless. Ace glances at the crowd, seeing the shock on their faces, the disbelief. They don’t know how to process what they’ve just heard.
Quietly, almost like an afterthought, Ace mutters, “Say, ’Bo… How did you do that with the den-den? And where did you get it? I know we didn’t bring one from the Oro Jackson.”
Sabo looks at him, his expression suddenly lighter, a hint of amusement breaking through his earlier fury. “Buggy stole it from the marines and connected it to their transmission while you were busy bitching at Galdino for not opening the shackles faster.”
For a moment, Ace stares at him, caught between exasperation and disbelief. Then he laughs—a sharp, incredulous sound that carries more relief than humor. Of course, it was Buggy. Only someone that ridiculous could pull off something so absurdly useful.
The tension in his chest loosens just a little as he looks back at Sabo. For all the chaos and danger around them, Ace feels a surge of pride. His brother has just turned the marines’ own weapons against them in the most spectacular way possible. And knowing Sabo, this is only the beginning.
***
The battlefield is a cacophony of chaos and clashing wills, but Ace feels nothing except the pounding of his heartbeat and the burning determination driving him forward. He, Sabo, and Luffy charge up the slide created by Inazuma, their goal clear—the scaffold where Marco awaits, bound and vulnerable.
Sengoku steps forward, his imposing figure barring their path. His frown deepens as he sizes them up, a living wall of authority and power. Sabo doesn’t hesitate, launching himself at the Fleet Admiral with his pipe, the sound of metal striking flesh echoing across the platform. Sengoku falters, pushed back just enough for Ace and Luffy to press forward.
Ace doesn’t look back. He trusts Sabo to distract Sengoku—he has to. The scaffold looms closer with every stride, Marco’s bound form a beacon that sharpens his focus.
The air shifts, cold and sharp. Ace senses the incoming attack before he sees it. Aokiji’s voice cuts through the din, steady and calm: “Not so fast.”
The temperature drops in an instant as an enormous block of ice materializes, threatening to engulf the entire slide and scaffold. Sengoku leaps away just in time to avoid being frozen, but Ace reacts faster. Without breaking stride, he summons a roaring wave of fire, his flames surging outward in a violent blaze. The ice shatters and melts, steam rising in thick clouds around them.
Aokiji groans, the sound almost comical in its frustration. “Seriously? First conqueror’s haki, and now fire?!”
Ace skids to a halt, unable to resist. He spins on his heel, performing an exaggerated bow and throwing the admiral a cheeky grin. “I serve to surprise,” he quips.
The pirates below erupt into laughter and cheers, their voices drowning out the curses of the enraged marines. Amidst the chaos, Ace catches sight of Garp, the old vice admiral doubled over with laughter so intense it looks like it physically pains him.
Sabo’s voice cuts through the din, sharp and scolding. “Stop goofing around and free your lovebird! I’ll handle Mister Ice Admiral here.”
Ace smirks but obeys, darting forward—until Garp suddenly vanishes from his previous spot and reappears directly in front of him on the slide. The older man’s glare could peel paint.
“Lovebird?” Garp growls, his voice dangerously low. “Tell me I just misheard and you’re not in a relationship with Whitebeard’s fancy pigeon!”
Ace skids to a stop, Luffy mirroring his movement on the opposite side. For a moment, Ace considers denying it, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he beams up at the fuming vice admiral with exaggerated cheer. “Hi, Gramps! I love you, Gramps! How are you, Gramps?”
Behind him, Sabo snorts, the sound barely concealed in a mock cough.
Garp’s frown deepens, his face reddening. “Answer me, brat!”
Ace sighs dramatically, pouting like a child caught sneaking sweets. “But I’d be lying…”
“You can’t be serious!” Garp bellows, his voice loud enough to make the marines below flinch. “That bastard is old enough to be your father!”
Ace shrugs, feigning nonchalance even as the corner of his lips twitches upward in a smirk. “What can I say? I prefer experienced partners who know what they’re doing. Much more fun in bed…”
The moment the words leave his mouth, Garp lets out an unholy scream—a sound that could make the most battle-hardened warrior wince. It’s high-pitched and strangled, like a dying cat, and Ace watches with a mix of amusement and alarm as the old man clutches his chest and collapses, unconscious, tumbling off the slide into a pile of horrified marines below.
Ace leans over the edge, watching Garp’s prone form with raised brows. “Huh. Guess I hit a nerve.”
Luffy, wide-eyed, stares at him. “Ace! You killed Gramps!”
“I did not,” Ace retorts with a roll of his eyes, turning back to the scaffold. “He’s just taking a nap.” He pauses, then glances over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue. “Oh, and I lied. Marco and I haven’t had sex… yet.”
The scandalized gasps from below make him laugh. Above the steam and chaos, Ace can’t help but feel like they’re winning—not just the battle, but the war of wills.
“Why is Grandpa suddenly taking a nap?” Luffy asks, blinking in genuine puzzlement.
Ace bites back a grin, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “Mystery reason,” he replies flippantly, then shifts his attention to Sabo. “You’re right—it worked.”
“Of course it worked,” Sabo snaps, his voice tinged with mock offense. He swings his pipe in a wide arc, forcing Aokiji to dodge before the admiral can retaliate. “When have I ever come up with a plan that didn’t work?”
Ace smirks. “Alright, alright! I’ll save my lovebird. Try not to get turned into an ice sculpture.”
“You’d miss me too much if I did,” Sabo retorts, grinning as he parries Aokiji’s next attack. “Now go! I can’t keep Mr. Ice here busy forever.”
Ace doesn’t wait for further encouragement. He darts toward the platform, his fire still flickering along the edges of the slide to keep it clear of any ice attempting to reform. Behind him, the clash between Sabo and Aokiji intensifies, drawing Ace’s attention for a fleeting second.
The admiral transforms his entire body into ice, his arm morphing into a massive frozen claw as he lunges for Sabo. Ace’s breath catches, but to his astonishment, Sabo doesn’t freeze. Instead, the frost splinters harmlessly against him, scattering into a fine mist.
Aokiji’s eyes narrow, his voice betraying the faintest edge of disbelief. “What the…?”
He conjures twin ice spears, moving faster this time. One spear blocks Sabo’s pipe, while the other arcs toward his side—a feint meant to exploit a presumed vulnerability. But Sabo moves with calculated precision.
He catches the icy blade with a gloved hand, and Ace watches, amazed, as it doesn’t slice into him. Instead, the weapon crumbles into nothing, disintegrating under Sabo’s grip. A wicked grin spreads across the blonde’s face.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Sabo says smoothly. “But did you really think my brother would be the only one with an ace up his nonexistent sleeve?” Frost spreads along his gloves and coat, intricate patterns forming as the air around him grows colder. His grin sharpens, like the edge of a blade. “I ate a mythical zoan: the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Yuki Onna. Your powers? They’re useless against me. I control everything frozen.”
The revelation lands like a thunderclap. Sengoku visibly pales, his composed exterior cracking under the weight of this new threat.
“Hey, come on!” Aokiji gasps, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something close to exasperation. “This is getting ridiculous!”
“So you’re the one who stole the fruit from the auction house at Sabaody…” Sengoku mutters, his voice tight.
Sabo doesn’t bother to deny it. “Pirate. Stealing is in the job description,” he says with a casual shrug before launching himself back at the admiral.
Chapter 32: Battle of Speed: Gear 2 vs. Light
Summary:
Luffy surprises everyone.
Chapter Text
Ace seizes the distraction. He reaches the top of the platform in a few quick strides, skidding to his knees beside Marco. The sight of the phoenix bound in seastone shackles tugs at his heart, but relief washes over him as their eyes meet.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Ace says, his voice low but steady as he pulls the key from his pocket. He tries to keep it light, but the weight of everything—Marco’s capture, the battle raging around them—makes his chest tighten. “I took care of the Teach problem for you.”
Marco’s lips twitch into the faintest smile. “You’re impossible,” he whispers, his voice soft but filled with a familiar warmth.
“It’s why you love me so much,” Ace shoots back, his grin widening as he moves to unlock the shackles.
But before the key can click into place, a flash of light catches Ace’s eye.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Kizaru’s voice echoes as a laser beam hurtles toward them, aimed directly at the key.
Ace reacts on instinct, his flames flaring to intercept the beam just in time. The heat from his fire clashes against the light, but the force of it sends him skidding back slightly. He grits his teeth, clutching the key tightly to keep it from shattering.
“Damn it,” Ace mutters, readying himself to pass the key to Luffy so he can deal with the admiral directly.
But before he can, Luffy crouches down in front of him, his expression uncharacteristically serious. The air crackles with tension as Luffy murmurs, "Gear Second," his voice quiet but resolute. Ace barely has time to register the shift before steam begins to rise from his little brother's skin, which flushes a vibrant pink. Luffy crouches, his muscles taut like a coiled spring, and then—he’s gone.
Ace’s eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process the blur of movement. Luffy rockets toward Kizaru, who barely raises an arm before a rubberized fist slams into him. The impact echoes across the battlefield, a sharp crack that makes even the surrounding chaos falter for a moment.
Kizaru recovers quickly, twisting his body into light as he slips away and reforms several feet above the platform. “You’re fast,” the admiral remarks, his voice as calm as ever. But there’s a sharper edge to his tone, a flicker of surprise in his golden eyes.
“Faster than you think!” Luffy shouts, already mid-air as he launches himself at Kizaru again.
The clash that follows is a spectacle Ace can hardly keep up with. The two combatants blur in and out of focus, their movements so swift they seem to vanish and reappear in different spots across the battlefield. Punches fly, each strike carrying enough force to ripple the air and shatter the platform beneath them. Sparks of light and bursts of steam explode with every collision, a chaotic dance of rubber and radiance.
Ace’s jaw tightens as he struggles to follow the fight. His eyes dart from one flash of movement to the next, trying to predict where Luffy or Kizaru will appear next. “Luffy…” he murmurs under his breath, a mix of pride and shock swelling in his chest. When did his baby brother become this strong?
“His eyes are closed,” Marco observes suddenly, his voice trembling just enough to betray his own astonishment.
Ace tears his gaze away from the blindingly fast fight to glance at Marco. “What?”
“He’s fighting Kizaru with just his observation haki,” Marco says, his blue eyes wide as he watches the battle unfold.
Ace feels his breath catch. It’s impossible to believe, but the evidence is right in front of him. Luffy’s eyes are indeed closed, his face calm despite the furious pace of the fight.
“Future sight?” Ace gasps, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.
Marco doesn’t answer, but the implication hangs heavy between them. It’s the only explanation for how Luffy is managing to keep up with an admiral as swift and relentless as Kizaru.
“When did he learn…?” Ace trails off, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
Luffy pivots mid-air, dodging a beam of light that sears through the space he occupied just a split second earlier. He doesn’t even flinch, his body reacting with precision as if he’s seen the attack coming before Kizaru even thought to launch it.
“Gomu Gomu no Jet Gatling!” Luffy roars, his fists blurring into a barrage of strikes that hammer into Kizaru’s light-infused form. The admiral grunts, momentarily losing his composure as he’s forced to dissipate into scattered particles of light to avoid taking the full brunt of the attack.
Kizaru reforms several meters away, his expression finally betraying a hint of annoyance. “You’re an interesting one,” he mutters, brushing off his jacket as if to regain his composure. But Ace can see it now—Luffy has rattled him.
Ace’s hands tremble slightly as he works the key into the shackles binding Marco. The sound of Luffy’s furious battle with Kizaru roars in the background—a storm of crashing blows, searing light, and bursts of steam that make the entire platform tremble beneath him. He forces himself to focus, slipping the key into the lock and turning it.
With a quiet click, the shackles fall away and hit the ground.
The effect is instantaneous. Blue flames erupt from Marco’s body, roaring to life like a phoenix reborn. The heat is fierce but oddly comforting, and Ace can’t help but grin as he watches the flames course over Marco, mending his wounds in moments.
“Finally,” Marco mutters, his voice rough but determined. His golden eyes meet Ace’s, filled with both gratitude and resolve.
Ace opens his mouth to reply, but his attention snaps upward as a brilliant beam of light hurtles toward the scaffold. “Move!” he shouts, grabbing Marco’s arm as they leap from the platform together.
The moment they clear it, the scaffold explodes in a blinding flash of light, debris raining down onto the battlefield below. Ace lands hard on the plaza, rolling to absorb the impact before springing to his feet. Marco lands beside him with effortless grace, his wings unfurling in a burst of flames.
A second later, Luffy lands nearby, his body steaming, his breaths coming in short, labored gasps. He’s visibly exhausted, his skin still glowing pink from Gear Second.
“He’s fast,” Luffy admits between breaths, his eyes flicking toward Kizaru, who floats above them with his usual infuriating calm. “I can barely keep up.”
Ace feels a surge of both pride and concern. His little brother just went toe-to-toe with an admiral, holding his own in a fight most wouldn’t dare to engage in. But seeing Luffy so winded reminds him just how much his brother is pushing himself.
“You did amazing, Luffy,” Ace says, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. He tries to keep his voice steady, but the words are laced with a mix of admiration and worry. “Let me and Marco handle things for now. You need to catch your breath.”
Luffy shakes his head stubbornly, but Marco cuts in before he can argue. “Ace is right,” Marco says, his wings flaring as he steps forward. His flames burn brighter now, renewed with his strength. “I’ll take it from here. You’ve done more than enough, Luffy.”
For a moment, Luffy hesitates, his fists clenching. But then he nods reluctantly, his gaze shifting back to Ace. “Just don’t let him win, okay?”
Ace flashes his trademark grin, though his heart is pounding. “Don’t worry, little brother. He doesn’t stand a chance against us.”
While Marco keeps Kizaru busy the brothers sprint across the battlefield, the roar of chaos all around them.
Luffy keeps pace by Ace’s side, but Ace can’t help but glance at his little brother every few seconds. Luffy’s shoulders are heaving, and there’s a sluggishness in his movements that wasn’t there before.
“Luffy, you okay?” Ace calls out, dodging a stray cannonball as it slams into the ground beside them.
“Yeah,” Luffy pants, though the strain in his voice betrays him. “Just... a little tired.”
Ace bites the inside of his cheek, forcing down a surge of worry. Luffy’s always been reckless, always pushing himself past his limits. But this... this war is unlike anything they’ve ever faced. He can’t afford to let Luffy burn out, not when they’re so close.
A blast of icy wind cuts through the chaos, and Ace turns just in time to see Aokiji appear, his cold eyes locked on them. A massive wave of ice surges toward them, freezing the ground in its wake.
“Not today!” Ace shouts, thrusting his arms forward. His flames roar to life, meeting the ice head-on. The heat is blinding, the clash of fire and ice sending steam billowing into the air. The ice melts in an instant, water flooding the battlefield beneath their feet.
Aokiji’s calm expression doesn’t falter. He moves to attack again, but before he can, a figure slams into him from the side.
“Get lost!” Sabo’s voice rings out as his pipe connects with the admiral’s torso, sending Aokiji skidding across the battlefield. The blonde lands lightly on his feet, sparing a glance back at Ace and Luffy. “Keep moving! I’ll handle him.”
“Thanks, ‘Bo!” Ace yells, his gratitude genuine but brief—there’s no time to dwell on it.
They keep running, dodging bullets, blades, and blasts of energy from every direction. The Whitebeard pirates’ cheers grow louder with each step, their voices cutting through the chaos like a beacon.
“We’re almost there!” Ace shouts, his heart pounding not just from exertion but from the surge of hope swelling in his chest.
Finally, the Moby Dick comes into view, its towering frame standing proud amidst the carnage. The sight of the ship, of Whitebeard himself standing at its helm, is enough to make Ace’s heart clench.
They make it to the Whitebeards’ side just as Sabo lands gracefully beside them, his pipe resting on his shoulder. He’s grinning, despite the tension, his eyes alight with determination.
Whitebeard’s booming laughter cuts through the battlefield, drawing all eyes to him. “You brats have guts,” he declares, his voice filled with something almost like pride. “I’ll give you that.”
Ace, breathing hard, grins up at the old man. “Told you we’d pull it off, Pops.”
Whitebeard chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve made one hell of a mess, brat. But it’s impressive all the same.”
Ace’s grin widens, but his gaze flickers to Luffy. His little brother is leaning heavily on his knees, still trying to catch his breath. The worry gnaws at him, even amidst the relief of reaching the Moby.
Chapter 33: Battle of Heat: Fire vs. Magma
Chapter Text
“Get the little brat onto the Moby,” Whitebeard orders, his sharp eyes scanning Luffy’s battered form. “He’s done. Let the medics treat him before he gets himself killed.”
“I can still fight!” Luffy protests, his voice hoarse but full of defiance. He wobbles slightly on his feet, fists raised as if daring the entire battlefield to challenge him.
“Luffy,” Ace snaps, his tone sharp, masking the fear gnawing at his core. “Get your ass to the medics. Now.” His voice softens at the edges, but there’s no room for argument.
Luffy pouts, lips forming a stubborn line, but something in Ace’s expression must reach him. With a reluctant nod, he begins to shuffle toward the Moby Dick, dragging his feet like a sulking child.
Just as Luffy’s foot touches the edge of the icy ground , the air shifts. Ace feels it before he sees it—the oppressive heat of Akainu’s magma.
“Luffy, look out!”
Sabo moves like lightning, his pipe swinging to intercept the attack. He blocks most of the blow, but magma splashes across his arm, burning through his coat and skin. The rest of the admiral’s fist slams into Luffy’s chest.
“No!” Ace’s scream rips from his throat. His legs move before his mind catches up, carrying him between his brothers and Akainu. “You bastard!”
Akainu’s cold, furious gaze locks onto him, but Ace doesn’t flinch.
Sabo crumples to his knees beside Luffy, clutching his eye with one hand while the other presses against their brother’s chest. “I’m fine,” Sabo insists, though his voice wavers. “He didn’t hit anything vital… but Luffy…”
Ace skids to a halt beside them, his stomach twisting as his eyes lock onto the massive wound on Luffy’s chest. Blood is pouring out, staining the battlefield beneath them.
Rage boils up inside him, white-hot and blinding. He snaps his head toward Akainu, his grey eyes blazing with fury. The admiral stands there, his smug face unrepentant, magma dripping from his fist.
“You bastard!” Ace roars, lunging forward with no hesitation.
In the corner of his eye Ace sees Marco falling on his knees next to Luffy, healing him with his blue flame. Slowly the skin across Luffy’s chest knits back together leaving nothing but a bright red scar.
He doesn’t throw punches, doesn’t summon his flames. Instead, he lets his willpower erupt like a tidal wave. His conqueror’s haki crashes into Akainu with such intensity that the admiral falters, stumbling back a step. The disbelief in Akainu’s eyes is almost satisfying, but it’s not enough.
Ace doesn’t give him time to recover. In a blur, he draws his dagger, coating it with conqueror’s haki, and slashes upward. The blade connects, carving a deep gash across Akainu’s face, leaving his left eye a ruined mess. Blood sprays, and for the first time, Ace sees genuine shock on the admiral’s face.
“You little pest!” Akainu snarls, clutching at his injury.
“That’s for Sabo,” Ace growls, his voice low and venomous. He takes a defensive stance, flames flickering around him.
Behind him, Marco lands beside Luffy. His blue flames engulf the wound, knitting Luffy’s torn flesh back together. “He can’t fight anymore,” Marco says, his voice heavy with urgency. “He’s depleted all his Haki. We have to get him out of here.”
Ace nods, his eyes never leaving Akainu. “Get him to safety,” he says, his voice low but commanding.
The admiral strikes again, magma surging toward Luffy. Without thinking, Ace throws himself in the way. The magma burns, tearing through his skin and muscles. The agony is blinding, but he doesn’t move. He can’t.
He can’t let him through.
He grits his teeth, pouring every ounce of Haki he has into his flames, willing them to burn hotter. But it’s not enough. The magma pushes through, searing deeper.
Not enough. Not enough
And then, something shifts. His fire changes, its heat intensifying beyond anything he’s ever felt. When he looks down, his flames are no longer red—they’re pale blue, hotter and brighter than ever before.
“What…” Akainu’s voice falters as his magma fist disintegrates under the heat.
Ace stares in disbelief at the admiral’s severed arm. The stump smokes and sputters, and for a moment, silence falls over the battlefield.
“Magma can only reach about 1,600 degrees Celsius,” Sabo says weakly from behind him. “But fire... with the right fuel fire can burn almost twice as hot.”
Ace coughs, blood staining his lips. He hears Marco’s voice, sharp with alarm.
“Ace!” Marco’s healing flames wrap around his back, soothing the worst of the burns. “You’re just like him,” Marco whispers, awe and disbelief mingling in his tone. “For a second, it felt like Roger himself was here.”
Akainu roars, summoning his magma dog, but Ace doesn’t flinch. His blue flames consume the magma, burning it away before it can reach him.
The admiral’s scowl deepens, his composure cracking.
Ace steps forward, fire swirling around him like a living thing. His grey eyes lock onto Akainu’s, filled with unrelenting determination. “You’re not touching my brothers again.”
Akainu rises to his full height, magma dripping from the stump where his arm once was. The air between them shimmers with heat, a suffocating clash of fire and molten fury. Despite his injury, Akainu’s presence looms, unshaken and commanding.
“You think your little parlor trick will save you, boy?” Akainu sneers, his deep voice laced with venom. “Your flames are nothing but a flicker compared to the justice of magma.”
Ace’s fists ignite, his blue fire swirling in jagged arcs, wild and untamed. “We’ll see ,” he growls, his grey eyes gleaming with a fire hotter than his flames.
Akainu moves first, thrusting his remaining fist forward. Magma surges in a massive wave, roaring as it tears across the battlefield toward Ace.
Ace doesn’t flinch. He meets it head-on, his blue flames erupting in a fiery blaze. The collision sends shockwaves through the battlefield, the sheer heat forcing pirates and marines alike to back away. Fire and magma clash, twisting together in a violent dance that sends sparks and molten rock flying in all directions.
Ace pushes forward, pouring everything he has into his flames, forcing the magma back inch by inch. He grits his teeth as the heat bites at his skin, sweat dripping down his face.
Akainu lunges through the chaos, closing the distance with terrifying speed. His magma-coated fist slams toward Ace, but the fire logia twists at the last second, countering with a sweeping kick that sends a torrent of blue fire toward the admiral’s side.
The flames lick at Akainu, forcing him to retreat a step, but his expression doesn’t falter. “Not bad,” Akainu admits, his tone begrudging. Then his lips curl into a snarl. “But not good enough!”
He slams both feet into the ground, and magma erupts beneath Ace’s feet. The fire logia leaps into the air, twisting as he sends a spinning wheel of blue fire crashing down toward the admiral.
Akainu meets it with a burst of magma, the two attacks colliding in an explosion that lights up the battlefield like a second sun.
Ace lands lightly, his feet sliding in the molten rock. His chest heaves, every breath feeling heavier than the last. The blue flames are harder to summon now, their once-brilliant glow flickering at the edges.
He’s running out of time.
Akainu notices. His eyes gleam with cruel satisfaction as he presses forward, his attacks growing faster and more relentless. “You’re slowing down,” the admiral taunts, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is that all the Pirate King’s bloodline can muster?”
Ace grits his teeth, summoning another burst of blue fire to block the incoming magma fist. The flames hold, but just barely, their edges wavering under the weight of Akainu’s attack.
His body screams in protest, every muscle aching from the strain of maintaining the blue flames. He can feel his energy draining, his reserves dwindling with each passing second.
“No!” Ace snarls, forcing himself to stand taller. His fire surges, defiant and wild, pushing Akainu’s magma back once again. “I’m not done yet!”
But even as the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s lying to himself. His vision blurs at the edges, his legs trembling beneath him. The fire in his chest feels dimmer, its once-overwhelming heat now a flicker of what it was.
The admiral’s scowl turns into a cruel smirk as he presses forward. “You can’t win, boy,” he says, his voice cold despite the magma boiling around him. “You’re nothing compared to me.”
Ace’s flames flicker again, weaker this time. His breaths come in ragged gasps as he tries to push himself further, but his body refuses to obey.
Another wave of magma crashes toward him, and this time, Ace’s flames fail to hold it back entirely. The molten heat grazes his arm, burning through his skin and drawing a pained cry from his lips.
He stumbles, his knees threatening to buckle, but he forces himself to stand. He glares at Akainu, his eyes blazing with stubborn determination.
“Even if it kills me,” Ace mutters through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll protect them.”
Akainu sneers, his molten fist surging forward with lethal intent. "A noble sentiment, but empty words won’t save you." He attacks again.
Ace feels the heat of Akainu’s magma bearing down on him, every instinct in his body screaming that he’s out of options. His legs refuse to move, his flames flicker weakly, and the exhaustion weighs him down like chains. His chest tightens as he realizes the inevitable.
Chapter 34: The Roger pirates arrive
Chapter Text
Ace closes his eyes, bracing himself for the searing pain. But it never comes. Instead, the unmistakable clang of haki meeting haki rings out, clear and sharp.
His eyes snap open, and his breath catches. Blocking Akainu’s attack is a blade he knows all too well, gleaming with an unrelenting brilliance even amidst the chaos—a blade that shouldn’t be here.
"Dad," Ace breathes, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Gol D. Roger stands before him, larger than life, his signature grin nowhere to be found. Instead, his face is set in stone-cold fury, his piercing eyes fixed on the fleet admiral. “We made it in time,” Roger says, his voice steady with both relief and anger as he fully steps in front of his son. His blade holds the magma at bay as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.
Akainu stumbles back, his expression twisting into a rare moment of shock. "Roger?!"
“Sengoku!” Roger’s voice thunders across the battlefield, commanding everyone’s attention. “How dare you hurt my boy. This will have consequences.”
Ace lets out a shaky exhale, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. The sight of his father standing there, alive and untouchable, fills him with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and gratitude so overwhelming it’s almost painful. "Dad," he whispers again, the word barely audible.
Roger finally turns to him, his expression softening slightly. But when he sees the burns, cuts, and bruises marring Ace’s body, his gaze hardens once more. “Where’s Sabo?”
Ace lifts a trembling arm, pointing toward Trafalgar Law’s submarine. “Akainu hit ‘Bo’s eye. He’s getting it treated. Lu’s with him—he ran out of haki.”
Roger’s face pales, his eyes widening in shock. "Luffy is here, too?"
Ace nods, managing a weary grin despite everything. “We ran into him in Impel Down.”
Roger’s eyebrows shoot up. “Which we still need to talk about... What the fuck were you two thinking?!”
Ace flinches, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Can we postpone that? You know... until the war is over?”
Roger narrows his eyes at him for a long moment, then sighs, a hand briefly resting on Ace’s shoulder. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook.”
Then he turns to his crew, his commanding voice booming once more. “They hurt our boys. We’re razing Marineford to the ground!”
The response from the Roger Pirates is deafening. “Aye, Captain!”
What follows is nothing short of chaos, the kind that sends ripples through history itself. The combined might of the Roger Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates surges forward like a tidal wave, overwhelming the marines with ruthless precision.
Ace watches, half-stunned and half in awe, as Roger takes Akainu head-on. The admiral, who moments ago was nearly unstoppable, now struggles to hold his ground against Roger’s sheer power and presence. The legendary pirate fights with the same reckless intensity Ace remembers from stories, but now Ace sees something else in his movements: a father’s fury.
Marco lands next to him, helping him stay steady on his feet. “It’s over,” Marco says, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
Ace nods, his chest still burning with pain but his heart lighter than it’s been in days. For the first time, he believes it too. It’s over. They’ve won.
The battlefield has gone eerily quiet, the tension giving way to the chaotic aftermath of victory. But before anyone can truly celebrate, Roger’s booming voice cuts through the silence like a cannon blast.
“Gol D. Ace!” Roger thunders, his voice shaking the ground beneath their feet. Ace winces instinctively. “How dare you put sleeping pills into our sake and run off to break into Impel Down with Sabo! Do you have even the slightest notion of how dangerous that was?! You could have gotten captured! You could have gotten killed!”
Ace gulps, feeling like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. But before he can stammer out a response, Roger whirls on Marco, pointing an accusing finger at the phoenix.
“And you! How dare you get yourself captured and tempt my son to try and break you out of Impel Down! And after that didn’t work, participate in a fucking war?!”
Marco’s mouth opens, then closes, clearly struggling to formulate a response.
Before the situation can escalate further, Whitebeard’s deep, rumbling voice intervenes. “Roger.”
Roger spins around, fixing Whitebeard with a glare so sharp it could cut steel. “Oh, finally remembered me, have you? I was beginning to believe you had a quite severe case of memory loss!”
Marco sighs, stepping forward with his hands raised in a placating gesture. “That’s my fault.”
Ace blinks, confused. “Huh?”
“I didn’t tell them,” Marco admits, his voice heavy with guilt. “I wanted everyone to get to know you first, Ace, so you wouldn’t have to deal with the prejudice of being his son.” He nods toward Roger. “Then the mess with Teach happened, and I got captured before I had the chance to tell them.”
Ace stares at Marco, then looks to Thatch and the others. “You seriously didn’t know?”
The Whitebeards collectively shake their heads, an awkward silence stretching between them.
“That really caught us by surprise,” Izo says, his tone wry but warm.
“Totally.” Thatch grins, ever the jokester. “I never would have imagined Marco would seduce the son of the Pirate King.”
Roger snorts behind Ace, a smug grin pulling at his lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Newgate. I’m well aware it was my boy who seduced your blue chicken, not the other way around.”
Before Ace can even process the sheer embarrassment of that comment, Garp, who had been shockingly silent until now, suddenly wakes from his unconscious stupor with a loud gasp. His eyes zero in on Marco like a predator spotting prey.
“I’ll teach you, brat, to keep your fingers off my grandson!” Garp bellows, storming toward Marco with his famous fist of love raised high.
“Gramps, stop!” Ace shouts, instinctively stepping between his grandfather and his boyfriend.
Garp’s fist halts mere centimeters from Ace’s face. His expression softens, but his anger simmers just beneath the surface.
Marco, however, looks utterly pale, his eyes darting between Ace and Garp. “Grandson? Gramps?”
Ace grimaces, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Marco, meet my adopted grandfather. Gramps, this is Marco. He’s my boyfriend, so you’re not allowed to beat him up.”
Garp growls, his fist twitching with restrained energy. “But he—”
“That was a lie,” Ace cuts him off, wincing as he confesses. “I, uh... didn’t want to fight you, so I might have kinda, sorta told you something shocking to make you faint.” He points a finger at the approaching Sabo. “Sabo’s idea, by the way!”
Sabo, who has just emerged from Trafalgar’s submarine alongside Luffy, raises his hands in mock surrender. His face is bandaged, and his left eye is covered, but he still manages a smirk. “I take full credit. It worked, didn’t it?”
Luffy, wrapped in enough bandages to resemble a mummy, pouts. “What’s all the yelling about?”
Roger turns to the pair, his eyes softening with relief as he takes them in. “Good to see you two are alive. Trafalgar managed to save your eye, then?”
Sabo nods, tapping the bandage over his eye. “Yeah, he did. But there’ll be a scar.”
“Scars are cool!” Luffy chirps, grinning despite his visible exhaustion.
Roger lets out a relieved sigh, his shoulders relaxing. But the moment is short-lived. His expression shifts back to something stern as he points at the trio. “Now that this is out of the way: Ace, Sabo, Luffy—you three are grounded!”
Luffy balks, crossing his arms defiantly. “You can’t ground me, Roger! I’m not part of your crew anymore!”
Roger’s grin returns, sharp and mischievous. “Watch me!”
The Whitebeard crew and Roger’s pirates burst into laughter, the tension from the battle finally breaking as the victorious chaos of their family reunion takes center stage.
Epilogue
The morning after the battle, the atmosphere aboard the ship is strangely calm, almost surreal. The chaos of yesterday’s bloodshed and victory has already started to settle into an uneasy peace. Everyone is still recovering, nursing wounds, and catching up with the strange reality of their survival. But as always, the world keeps turning, and today, they’re greeted with the unmistakable sound of a news coo.
Sabo is the first to grab the newspapers, flipping through them with a practiced hand before he freezes, his eyes scanning the pages. His lips curl into a sly grin, and he hands a couple of papers toward Ace.
Ace glances at the papers, but it doesn’t take long before his eyes widen and his stomach drops. He can’t help but laugh bitterly at the absurdity of it all.
“Pirate King, Gol D. Roger - DEAD or ALIVE - 6.5 billion berry”
“Edward Newgate - DEAD or ALIVE - 5.5 billion berry”
“Gol D. Ace - DEAD ONLY - 3.5 billion berry”
“Phoenix Marco - DEAD ONLY - 3 billion berry”
“Sabo - DEAD ONLY - 2 billion berry”
“Monkey D. Luffy - DEAD ONLY - 1.5 billion berry”
“Wow, Sengoku must be really pissed,” Ace mutters, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief.
Sabo, leaning casually against the mast, lets out a short laugh. “Well, we did raze their headquarters to the ground while using their transmission to show it to the world.” His voice is low, but the pride in it is unmistakable.
“Totally his fault,” Ace declares, pouting slightly. He crosses his arms and glares at the paper, as if it could magically change. “Shouldn’t have tried to execute my boyfriend if he can’t handle the backlash.”
Luffy, who has been sitting nearby, just bursts into laughter at the absurdity of it all. He’s leaning back with that goofy, carefree smile that Ace can’t help but adore, his expression completely unbothered by the death sentence hanging over their heads.
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