Interlinked

by St_Ghost

Summary:

Portgas D Ace is dead.

At least it should have been the case, so why is it that ‘Red’ finds his Ghost stuck at Marineford.

---

“Portgas, for the love of Whitebeard’s moustache, STOP PUTTING YOUR MIDDLE FINGER IN PEOPLE’S ASS!” She hissed.

“Why? It is not like they can see me and it is funny. Admit it!” he cackled.

“They can still sense you, you moron. Why do you think they all look pale, like they have seen a ghost”

“But they didn’t though” he flashed her a 2000 Watt smile.

Notes:

This is something that has been stuck in my head for a while so I wrote it down.

Since I am still working on the next chapter of rewritten I am posting this for fun since it distracted me.

The chapter count is simply an estimate could change in the future since Idk how long the chapters will be.

Enjoy my 5 Am brain trying to write. Not beta read or rechecked for errors. Read at your own risk!

Chapter 1: The negative impact of eye contact

“Hey! Red! Could you get that for us?” Pike called.

 

Long Brown hair swirled in the wind, a face covered in dust and grime turned to face the equally disheveled man. It was easy to spot her fellow construction worker, her yellow hard hat shielding her sensitive eyes from the midday’s sun.

 

“Sure, no prob” she saluted, her pearly white teeth almost as blinding as her energy.

 

“I never met someone so happy while doing grunt work” he muttered, his eyes narrowed in an attempt to quell his colleague’s blinding smile, again he wondered what business a beauty like her had here.

 

Piker’s was told his team would consist of able bodied villagers from nearest island to the archipelago, mostly those with trained bodies such as blacksmith or carpenter, imagine his surprise when a beautiful young woman was between the group of burly big men, with nothing but an eager smile and a pick axe half her size. Even to the untrained eyes it was painfully obvious that she had no idea what the job entailed, it was as if she tagged along and swiped the next best tool on her way.

 

His surprise quickly morphed into astonishment when the little lady smiled brightly at him and proudly exclaimed that she was part of the ‘extra hands’ headquarters sent. Not a word left his open mouth, mind too captivated by the shining ruby of her eyes. His mouth simply huffed the air in an attempt to piece together what just happened, he was met with the empathising eyes of the villagers, some shaking their heads.

Their collective inner voices replying to his unspoken question.

‘Yes, she is serious—no, she has no clue what she is doing—yes, her eyes are a weapon.’

She had sweetly promised to pull her weight, big ruby eyes glistening, even apologised for sneaking on the ship.

He is proud to say he…folded like a deck of cards, the villagers nodded their yellow helmets in solemn commiseration, he guessed they tried to send her back when they noticed her on the ship—and too failed miserably.

So he gave the stowaway lady a helmet and a vest, not expecting much from the delicate hands that only moments ago were interlock in a pleading gesture.

Let’s just say he still rubs his jaw from the way it hit the ground. Now he just snorts at the sight of the little beauty who is two heads shorter than him yet moves the towering piece of concrete with relative ease.

“They really did a number on this place, one would never guess that this is Marineford” Pike commented to her,  Red  dusted off her hands, ruby eyes following the destruction around them. For once Pike missed her bright smile. Her lips pressed together in a solemn frown.

“A pointless war…”  for a pointless cause  is what she wanted to say but couldn’t, not in the heart of the organisation that led it.

History was made with the blood of the innocent, loyal and the honourable.

 

Yet the guilty write history, those who survived reaped the benefits.

She knew airing her opinion would pin her as treasonous, so she bit her tongue, she long knew defending the dead was merely self satisfaction, what use does honour have in the grave? No, the dead have no use for memories, memories are for the living.

She only needs to preserve the memories, that is how you honour the dead.

Defending them from those who do not know them is only a waste of time, she can simply correct the rumours if she so wished, because in the echo of time, she alone will have lived to tell the truth.

So she tore her face from the blood soaked rubble, and gave Pike her most dazzling smile.

“Do you think we will get to see the stand?” She wondered aloud, not expecting an answer from her gruff colleague.

“Huh, I didn’t expect you to be interested in that. Well, our sector didn’t include the execution site, but they did request some men to carry the concrete filler—“

 

“Oh oh oh me me me! I can do that!” Her hair whipped, the gust of air making his eyes tear up.

“…Sure, just maybe compact the ponytail before you blow some marine twink away with the gale you cause” he waved her away, muting a  ‘no devil fruit my ass’  and an even more muffled  ‘New world returnees are scary’.

 

So Red runs to the site she originally planned to visit, she wanted to fulfill her promise and get the hell outta dodge.

 

What she didn’t expect was the sight of the supposed executed Portgas D. Ace tickling unassuming marines and cackling when they shuddered, his see through hands sticking out of their faces.

 

So she stares straight ahead, hoping to everything holy that he doesn’t realise that she can see him, he had already spotted her so she didn’t have time to look away unless she wanted to make herself more suspicious.

But it was too late.

 

“You can see me?”

 

DIDN'T YOU SAY YOUR SON WAS STUPID! DOES THAT LOOK LIKE SOMEONE STUPID?

 

“No” she denied instinctively.

 

“Huh, I guess not” he took his hand out of the poor shivering marine and turned around.

 

…okay maybe she did tell the truth.

 

Red watched the ghostly figure disappear behind a boulder of concrete, sweat dropping at the display of idiocy. She waited a few minutes, fully expecting him back and simply playing a bit, when he didn’t reappear she finally relaxed her stance.

 

I forgot that half his DNA comes from that fool—why am I even surprised.

 

So Red continued her work, reporting to the stiff marines. Their eyes strangely never met hers, not that she wasn’t used to it, it depended on the person, most finding her eyes unsettling, others were fascinated by their jewel-like quality. She didn’t comment on their obvious fidgety behaviour, choosing to complete her task.

 

She had done her part and should have returned to her site, but to fulfill her promise she needed to find something, something lost that needed to be returned.

 

“Wait! You replied to my question!” The pale face of Portgas D. Ace popped out of the ground, as if the last time she talked to him wasn’t two hours ago.

 

She couldn’t help but deadpan. A sigh right from the depths of her soul left her.

 

They really are brothers.

 

Chapter 2: Memories

Summary:

Ace yaps Red’s ear off

Notes:

Cw:
Some self deprecating thoughts? More like descriptions.
Our boy has self esteem issues and reader knows it.

Talks about death and wounds. (Not graphic)

Not edited

“Hey, can you help me? I really need to get back to my brothers. You don't look like a marine, are you a civilian? Hey! Stop ignoring me” fluffy transparent black hair bounced around her, with each sentence changing sides to not run through her.

 

Not when she threatened to stuff his ghostly butt in a straw doll and sink him in the sea. He was surprisingly apologetic after, the picture perfect image of manners.

 

Red guessed his overly excitable behavior to stem from the time he got ignored, not that she thought he wanted to converse with the stationed marines. Even with his ghost body he is cautious with his words, a polar opposite to his previous cheeky prank. He seemed to be sure that those soldiers aren't able to see or hear him. It wouldn't surprise her since it has been a month since his execution.

 

An execution Portgas himself has seemingly forgotten.

 

She quickly realised that his upbeat behaviour didn't stem from inner peace or enlightenment after death, if that was the case he wouldn't be here.

 

No, from what she knew Portgas D. Ace was an idiot who gave too much of his heart while holding his thoughts close. A boy who was convinced he inherited not only his parents' blood but their sins too. A boy like him wouldn't be able to stand in front of her with the wish of seeing the family he surely thought despised him.

 

 

Because her kind child would rather make sure his family would never have to see him again. The reason so many of his brothers died, why Whitebeard died. He would disregard the part the marines and the traitor played because in the end it is his ‘cursed blood’ that brought his family misfortune.

 

Portgas D. Ace knew he died, she had asked him.

 

She then asked him to look at himself and describe what he saw.

 

 “huh? Oh well, I have got my Black shorts, my orange belt and blue pouch…wait! Where are my hat and necklace?” he started to pat himself all over.

 

 

Except his chest.

 

 

She had noticed that his hands never came near his chest, the angry red scar hinting at the wound he died from. The scar being the only saturated color on his see-through body.

 

 

She saw it in his eyes, the way they didn't hesitate nor linger on the place of his scar. It wasn't that he ignored the wound—he couldn't see it.

 

There was no deceit in the depth of his gaze, they weren't the eyes of a man who met death, whose parting words were uttered in his baby brother’s arms, breaking a promise once spoken with fierce conviction. His last words ones of gratitude to those who loved a demon like him.

 

So she smiled her brightest smile at the Ace who hadn't watched his family die for his sake, an Ace who still thought his biggest sin was being born.

 

“I am here to find some lost red beads, if you help me find them I can help bring you back to your family” Red stretched out her hands to the ghost of a friend's son.

 

 

“What? Like my necklace? Sure I can help” he hovered his fingers around hand in a mime of a handshake, his transparent spirit never touching her. Her ruby eyes stilled on his hand, contemplating but reserving her suggestion for another time.

 

 

“let's go! The earlier we find your beads the better! I can't wait to get back on the Moby! You don't know how being stuck on a marine base sucks” his shoulders slumped with an exaggerated groan. Too relaxed, too trusting, she wondered if it comes from the reassurance that nobody can touch him or the relief of death. She had been told about his self esteem issues, but she wouldn’t guess it was to the point of finding freedom in one’s own death.

 

“I bet. So tell me, what do you remember from your life? You seem to remember your family pretty well it seems” Red commented, leaving a spare topic for him to latch on in case the question triggered a memory.

 

“I don't think I could forget my family even after death” his eyes hung onto a group of marines, smile fondly wrapped in memories, “I owe them too much for accepting someone like me”

 

The words her friend desperately repeated stuck on the tip of her tongue, but from her they simply lacked the affection of a mother. Because ‘someone like him’ deserved far more than this world offered him, they had failed this child and now he convinced himself that he deserved their hatred.

 

“Marco has this cool Phoenix form–don't tell him I said that, he already brags about his fire being superior– and we made a bet on how long he manages to not transform, he of course found out and broke all bets to win” He animatedly gesticulated, an exasperated frown on his face which morphed into a smirk of absolute mischief, “but it was worth it since he started showing more of his bird tendencies. It was hilarious! Nobody commented since we didn't want to scrub the deck but he started to squawk more, and even made a nest with pillows on the crow’s nest! I still have the denden picture somewhere in my room”

 

His posture was relaxed. Again she wondered when his memories stopped, it must have been before they got betrayed by Blackbeard.

 

Ace’s breath never ran out as he rambled on about his crew, a jovial glimmer surrounding his exuberant gestures. He reminded Red of an excited puppy.

 

“Jozu is strict with training but he is secretly a softie even if he is mostly quiet. Haruta is a menace when he wants to be, it is worse when he is with…Thatch” his voice trailed off into a somber whisper. She knew right then that he either knew but didn’t want to be reminded or just opened that part of his memory.

 

Memories of the dead are fickle, she had never seen a case like Portgas’, so her only theories are based on assumptions tied in experience.

 

Oh no, I see floppy ears drooping—a distraction! fast!

 

“He might be a ghost,” she blurted, thankfully more softly than the voice in her head.

 

“What?” Red tried to ignore the sheen of hope somewhere in those puppy eyes.

 

In for a penny…

 

“Not everyone who dies becomes a ghost, there are some…factors that have to take place for a person to gain an astral form after death, it largely depends on the person’s will” she spoke in practiced ease, wondering why she once again let herself be dragged into a D’s business.

 

It doesn’t help that 80% of Ghost here are from that goddamn clan!

 

“Do you think Thatch might have become one? I mean a…ghost” his chin tucked into his collarbone, his dark curls covering what she previously glimpsed of his face.

 

“I overhear the soldiers often, they all talk about some war that happened here. I am guessing it happened after I died since I have never heard of it but by the destruction I am guessing a lot of people died” his fingers reached to his collar, missing the pearls that usually hung there, “but I have not seen another Ghost here on this base”

 

Red was slightly taken aback by his conclusion, his ability to put a picture together showed astute judgement—  she might need to reevaluate his previous mannerisms, she had naively brushed any abnormalities onto his recent ghost status.

 

 

It would make sense for him to play along with the first person that could see him, he did look desperate to reunite with his family.

It is not like I mind helping, my task does have to do with him so there is no harm in indulging.

 

but again, didn’t I think the same with Rouge? Now I am looking for beads on marine headquarters.

I don’t know if it is those damn freckles or those D genetics.

 

“You are right, most do not possess the qualities to stay in this realm but I doubt a brother of yours who happens to be a Whitebeard commander has a weak will”

 

Ruby eyes glistened with encouraging warmth, her upturned corners exposed a pair of blunt fangs that reminded Ace of a lion cub. Her jewel eyes reflected the light of the evening sun into crystal shades of red.

 

Ace nodded meekly before looking away. Fuck! Why is the first person whose face I can make out so pretty? And I am dead on top of that! How embarrassing!

Notes:

Next chapter will have Ace’s pov!
Also, reader and ace will probably leave Marineford in the next chapter unless the creative goblins say otherwise, look forward to that.

I am honestly just winging this and don’t put much mind into the writing quality. I just wanted to see if I could practice building up angst. This does have a happy end planned but it will probably take more chapters since it is easier to write short ones and post them.

 

Hope you liked it.
comment! I would love to hear your opinion.

Chapter 3: Dawn

Summary:

Ace's existential crisis

Notes:

Unedited.

That is basically a reuccuring theme.

I don’t want overthink before I post so I am winging it.

 

Oh and in the end note is bit of a nudge? Hint? It isn't really a spoiler but if you prefer to think for yourself do skip the end note

Hot.

 

 

It burned. cauterising warmth crawling through his lungs. Bitter blood on his tongue, words sweet on his lips—what were they again? He doesn’t remember.

 

 

Only a deep rooted yearning rustling its leaves, petals of emotions he cannot grasp, too many swirl over his head. The sweet smells mix with copper and he wonders if those petals have the answers to questions he has yet to ask.

 

 

Nausea turned his stomach, his heart lead.

 

 

He knew those feelings. It was dread and regret woven into sea stone. It was the way Sabo cried when he told him Luffy was kidnapped, his little kid brother enduring torture because he was that scared of being lonely.

 

 

They had saved him, so why is he feeling it again?

 

Like he broke something irreparable.

 

‘haughty promises carried by the wind, teary please–‘

 

LUFFY—

 

 

He woke up with a gasp and tears lacking warmth.

 

 

Everything was cold.

 

 

“w-what?” He choked on the words, his throat raw—but no pain. His hand shot to his chest, his panic urging him to claw out the burning in his chest.

 

 

But it stopped, as if pulled taught by a string. He didn’t know why but everything inside his head screamed at him, angry words that he couldn’t yet make out. With garbled coughs he lowered his hand to the rubble beneath him, his nails finding new purchase in the crimson soaked ground.

 

But what caught his bleary eyes was the dulled color shining through his hand, the small stones beneath his hand were unmoved. His transparent arm shook in the air, his dark eyes wide open, simultaneously staring at the see through appendage and what is beyond it. His eyes flitted to the rest of his body. Crouched on his knees he could clearly see underneath himself.

 

“OH MY FUCKING SEAS I AM A GHOST!!” His voice loudly vibrated in the air, yet silent to the soldiers around him. Not that he noticed with the spike of panic.

 

“FUCK!” his fingers roughly ruffled his hair, his ghostly hand seemingly able to interact with itself.

 

“POPS GONNA KILL MEEE!!! NOT TO MENTION—” the hairs on the back of his neck stood at the thought of their first division commander's threatening lazy smile. His shoulders locked up, his head sinking between them resembling a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

 

 

He audibly gulped.

 

 

“Okay okay okay!” He shook his head. He needed to keep a level head if he wants to get out of this alive—

 

Alive.

 

“Oh” the previous perceived coldness seeping back into his bones.

 

Alive isn’t something he can be anymore

 

“I am dead, aren’t I?” he knew it, instinctively, that those words rang true. He wanted to brainstorm the possibilities of it being some devil fruit, he knew stranger things have happened to him, yet he couldn’t.

 

It was as if the world spoke to him, soft whispers tickling his ears, they were comforting him.

 

And welcoming him back.

 

They called him their child.

 

He didn’t want to know who they were, even if their names tickled the back of his mind.

 

 

He growled at the onslaught of voices, the heels of his palms pressed firmly onto his ears. The voices muddling together into white noise. It was familiar, a strange comfort settling in his chest.

 

 

Susurration of the sea.

 

 

A lullaby he breathed in with the day sun, unwavering in the way it demanded to be heard. No seaman could ignore the call of the sea. He was no different. The same voices which grated on his mind grounded him from the sense of loss he felt.

 

I let myself die.

 

Because even in death the lost boy found the blame within himself.

 

In the next few days he learned three things.

 

He was truly a ghost, no one could see or sense him, not even with haki. It was as if he truly didn’t exist anymore.

 

A war was fought on the marine base he woke up in, the war of the best yet he had never heard of it nor could he understand the circumstances the marines gossiped about, their words muted by the sound of the sea.

 

(The implication of his ghostly self waking up on a battlefield were ignored)

 

He couldn’t leave, and it wasn’t for his lack of trying.

 

No matter how many times he boards a ship, he doesn’t make it far before he is sent back to the battlefield he woke up in.

 

 

“Something is pulling me back to this place…” he didn’t want to face the previously ignored reasons for his anchor point.

 

 

He felt it after he scoped out the debris, some places had more of a pull. He concluded that it was something between the rubble which his soul is bound to. But with his body he could only phase through the debris.

 

 

So he entertained himself with the seagulls who occasionally visited the ruins, his days filled with experimenting the extent of his worldly influences. It was harmless as far as he had judged, so he just kept doing it.

 

 

 

Monotonous days with marines visiting every few days turned to groups, workers and men in suits cleaning up the debris until tents were struck for the workers. He would have made a complaint about the noise levels, smashing boulders was not the quietest pastime, but the chatter of soldiers tugged painfully on his homesickness, it reminded him of the chaos on the Moby, of his brothers squabbles and drunken nights.

 

Then a woman broke his monotony.

 

Ruby eyes which hadn't looked through him but at him and he was absolutely ecstatic, after a…misunderstanding he positively stuck to the jewel eyed woman.

 

He wasn't alone again anymore.

 

He caught himself watching her far too intensely at times, he wasn't naive enough to trust the…mercenary? Villager? She was in a position to demand anything from him yet she kept her intentions vague.

 

 

It irked him that he had to remind himself to be vigilant. Maybe it was a ghost thing he has yet to make sense of.

 

Because the woman felt like home.

 

It didn't help that the voices were echoing around him in reluctant agreement.

But that couldn't be, he had already found a home. It was Oyaji and brothers, luffy and Sabo.

 

He felt like his senses were going haywire around her.

 

Because only once he met the woman he realized something frightening.

 

 

He could not remember the faces of the mrines around him.

 

 

The same group which he had watched for weeks…there was not one face he could imagine.

 

 

The details blurred in his mind everytime he closed his eyes, even though they were clear when he saw them, they had eyes a nose a mouth…and nothing once he looked away.

 

 

It felt like a veil had been lifted once he locked eyes with hers, crimsons that reminded him of dawn, basking the horizon in a sea of fire.

 

 

He had never seen eyes which reminded him so much of the sea he loved…and what a strange though it is to tie the red he usually though of as his fore to the endless blue of the sea.

 

 

Once again he reined in his scattered thoughts, he couldn’t afford to lose himself in the mystery of the ghost seeing lady.

 

 

“–you alright there?”

 

 

His hand reflexively went to his face, covering what he could of his rising blush. His red dipped ears were a lost cause, he just hoped his ghostly appearance reduced the heat's appearance on his skin.

 

 

“FINE—I mean ahem…I am okay, just…daydreaming” he rubbed his chin, hoping that his blush had enough time to lessen.

 

 

“...if you say so” she gave him a contemplative look before she strutted ahead, deeming the situation not important enough to comment further.

 

 

 

Oh seas….I am actually going insane.

 

 

The way her eyes crinkled was unfair. How her ruby eyes shimmered in honesty when she tried to reassure him. It clenched something tight inside him that endeared the fang peeking from behind her lips.

 

 

She was beautiful in way flowers were on a steep side of a cliff, dangerous if you attempted to get closer.

 

 

And he could already tell she would be deadly.

 

 

He pointedly ignored the voices which chuckled in mirth, reminding him that he didn't need to worry about that.

 

 

 

Notes:

Hope you like it!
I know not much as happened but this chapter was supposed to shed light on Ace's condition. A baseline if you will.

Ace does not call reader by a name since she hasn't intrduced herself to him yet. And he hadn't asked. Why?

Notes:

Comment if you liked it.

If you have any ideas for ghostly shenanigans Ace could get up to feel free to comment them too.

Happy new years to everybody!