Chapter Text
The ocean was calm tonight.
Ace drew a deep breath through his nose, then let it out in a long sigh. It was a nice night, with a big fat yellow moon lighting up the surface of the waves. Those gentle waves stretched out all around him: an endless expanse of water that ebbed out in every direction, and flowed back in to lick against the Striker’s sides.
For a long moment, he just stood there on the bow of the Striker, his breathing calm and even. His eyes drifted lazily from the hazy glow of the ocean up to the almost-surreal brightness of the wispy clouds that tried — and failed — to mask the brightness of the moon.
He closed his eyes and stretched his arms out wide. On a night like this, with the sea and sky laid wide all around him, it felt like anything could happen. He could feel everything in the world on a night like this: the cool fiberglass of his beloved sailboat under his bare feet, the warm kiss of a humid breeze on his skin — hell, on a night like this, he could practically feel the starlight sparkling on the hairs of his arms and legs.
On a night like this, there were no limits. Anything could happen, or nothing.
He smiled to himself. He took one last careful, measured breath, and he dove in.
His body sliced through the ocean like a knife. The water was smooth and light as silk on his skin, but the deeper he swam, the heavier it became. He undulated deeper into the water, deep enough that it was too dark to see a damn thing — and then he stopped.
In the depths of the ocean, Ace stopped. The water cradled him, rendering him weightless and heavy at once, neither floating nor sinking. And for a long minute, he just… hovered there in the ocean’s darkness. On a night like this, it was so easy to imagine the world converging around him, condensing around his insignificant body and drawing him deeper into its welcoming embrace.
He didn’t count the time as he hovered there. But it was at least three minutes before he started feeling the beat of his pulse in his ears. The pulse spread gradually to his throat, then to the backs of his eyes, a silent but growing reminder of the passage of time; but he stayed in place, held by the water, feeling the slight downward pull as his weight won out against the buoyancy of the water’s salt.
More time passed. His diaphragm was starting to twitch for the exhale now, and his heart was getting louder in his ears. But still, he didn’t move. He stayed in place, drifting in the endless expanse of the ocean, holding his breath until the urge to exhale was squeezing his ribs, until he couldn’t tell if the darkness behind his eyes was coming from outside or within.
He hovered there in the ocean, suspended between the choices to sink or swim, wondering vaguely which way the urge would take him today. Then, when the burning in his lungs almost made the decision for him, he righted himself in the water, and he shot up toward the surface like an arrow.
He breached the surface with a mighty sigh, and the gasp that filled his lungs was like fire and ice at the same time. He shoved his sopping hair back from his face and coughed — shoot, he’d breathed in a little saltwater this time.
He coughed more forcefully to clear his airway, then hauled himself up the ladder onto the Striker and collapsed onto his back. As he waited for his muscles to stop burning, he gazed vacantly up at the glow of the full moon.
Damn, it was a nice night. On a night like this, anything could happen, or nothing.
“Ace!”
Marco was calling to him from the Polar Tang, which was anchored about a cable’s length away. He pushed himself to his feet and peered across the water toward the Tang. “Oi, Marco,” he bellowed. “What’s up?”
“Sanji made a midnight snack-yoi,” Marco shouted. “Come back quick if you want any.”
“Of course I want some. Save some for me, will you? Pretty please?”
He could hear the smile in Marco’s voice as he called back. “All right. But only because you asked nicely-yoi.”
Ace chuckled. Then, with a sigh, he sat on the bench and gazed out at the horizon.
All around him, the ocean gently ebbed and flowed. Moonlight flickered across the peaky little waves, sparkling and flickering as though the water was trying to imitate the stars, and Ace let it all soak into him: the darkness and the sprinkles of light, the goosebump-sparking cool of the water and the comforting heat of the air.
On a night like this, in a life like this, anything could happen, or nothing at all.