Heyyy this is my first storyyy~~ R&R, okay?
Who's fucking fantastic idea had it been to stick him on surveillance duty in the first place?
Sabo had been told that Alabasta would be warm. Not really hot, but warm. Biggest understatement of the damn century, Sabo thinks as he wipes copious amounts of sweat off his brow. It's been hours since he has as much as seen shade, and he's ran out of water long before that. And, much to the blonde's added ire, the slave traders he has been ordered to locate are yet to make an appearance.
Simply put, the revolutionary is seething, and starting to grow convinced that the heat is capable of melting his flesh along with his patience. The prospect of becoming a molten puddle of blonde revolutionary doesn't sound all that appealing to Sabo, and he stifles a groan even though there's no one around to hear it.
He longs to join the tourists and the merchants he knows usually fill the streets below him and scour the vibrant port town for both delicacies and rumors. Being denied that opportunity only makes his solitary confinement that much more maddening. And, after a small eternity of doing absolutely nothing other than slowly disintegrating in the cursed heat, the revolutionary is seriously tempted to just to retreat back to bed.
The street below him is almost empty, desolated by the harsh mid-day sun, and the blonde lets out a sigh of both exhaustion and boredom. His assignment is tedious as hell and equally annoying. Nevertheless he stays put, for Sabo knows that the work he is doing is important, no matter how mind-numbing at times.
Sabo shivers with repulsion as he thinks about his assignment, his hands clenching into tight fists. The very idea of freedom being sold, of it even having monetary value to begin with, fills him with anger and abhorrence. The idea of catching the lowlifes reducing human lives to the likes of mere bargaining chips is all the motivation Sabo needs to stay at his post.
He is suddenly snapped out of his reverie by a chiming, joyous voice. It sounds out of place to his ears, and piques Sabo's interest. The revolutionary had thought that there wouldn't be anyone stupid enough to be up and about at noon but, based on the fact that he can see two young men strolling the street below him without a care in the world, Sabo deduces that he must have been mistaken.
Who are these morons?
The younger of the two wears a straw hat and a wide grin as he talks a mile a minute and gestures animatedly with his hands to emphasize his words. The other man, who is clad in cargo shorts and an orange cowboy hat, cocks his head to let out a bellowing laugh. For a fleeting a moment, Sabo sees his face and recognizes it in an instant.
There isn't a revolutionary that hasn't seen the wanted posters of the famed Fire Fist Ace, the second division commander of none other than the Whitebeard pirates.
Sabo clutches his empty flask tightly, eyes trained on the pair as they walk past his perch and to one of the smaller alleyways leading to the coast. They disappear from his sight, and Sabo sighs in disappointment. The two were a welcome change to his otherwise humdrum day.
Koala returns soon after, rambling about a marketplace that sold Alabastan spices, but Sabo hears none of her words. He is out of the door the second she steps in to take his place and, with a top hat pulled low to cover his eyes and a new water flask in hand, he sets out to find Fire Fist and his companion.
Sabo isn't sure why he feels so drawn to them. The strangers are anything but ordinary, and he isn't that surprised that their lively conversation has caught his attention, but why does he feel like he should be a part of it? He is certain he has never seen the scrawny teen before in his life, nor has he ever met Fire Fist.
He chalks it up to mere curiosity and the thirst for information that has been even further ingrained to him by the revolutionaries. He doesn't see how there could possibly be more to it than that.
It doesn't take the blond long to find them; the smaller's loud voice is easy to follow and Sabo can easily sense the older's compelling aura. They younger's isn't any less strong, simply unpolished and far from its full potential, Sabo muses. He tries to remember hearing anything about an up and coming new pirate with a straw hat, but any news of the teen have evidently escaped his notice.
The revolutionary makes a mental note to look into the duo and whatever ties they might have to each other. Anyone with an aura like the teen's is surely worth paying attention to, especially when the young raven is conversing with Fire Fist in such a casual manner.
The smaller boy stumbles in his hurry to keep up with Fire Fist, and without a conscious thought Sabo's hands jerk slightly in a stifled attempt to pick the boy off the ground. He is filled with an unfamiliar sense of worry and a need to comfort the young teen, and Sabo shakes his head in bemusement. Why should he care about some kid he has never met?
The pair talk about everything and anything as they walk through the empty streets, reminiscing of times spent together in a jungle filled with dangerous wildlife and of boyish pranks pulled on unsuspecting strangers. Surprisingly, the infamous Fire Fist doesn't look at all threatening with that fond, borderline goofy smirk plastered on his lips as he listens to the younger's rambling. The smile is infectious, and Sabo can't help but laugh quietly as well.
He sticks to the shadows, even if he doesn't really need to, and keeps his head low despite the fact that the two have no way of knowing who he is. He is aware that the older has already made note of his presence, if his wary looks and protective demeanor are anything to go by, but Fire Fist's coal eyes never meet his. Sabo makes sure of that.
He chuckles softly as the two decide to arm wrestle, using a frail barrel as their makeshift table and unsurprisingly breaking it to smithereens in the process. The sight is heartwarming in a way, and oddly nostalgic to Sabo, but the revolutionary brushes off the misplaced sentiments.
There is no reason to smile at them, with them, and yet that is all Sabo can do.
They talk some more, fighting over Fire Fist's water playfully and comparing their own pirate crews. The only noteworthy piece of information Sabo hears is Fire Fist's proposal for the younger to join his -Whitebeard's- crew. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity many would kill for, and still the teen declines the offer. Somehow Sabo isn't all too surprised by his reaction.
The impromptu stalking is beginning to seem foolish to him, and Sabo knows that he should have headed back ages ago. The two are clearly not up to any mischief, so the blonde considers heading back to the base before nightfall and perhaps finding a restaurant or two for a light snack on the way. But something intangible is keeping him in place and his eyes trained on the younger man's bright grin.
Why is there a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that reminds him of home, of family?
Predictably enough, a group of bounty hunters have the two surrounded by the time they reach the town's edge. Sabo notes that the Whitebeard pirate has clearly anticipated the ambush as well, but shows no sign of his awareness.
There is no need for forewarning either, as the two fight effortlessly, reading each others movements with ease that speaks of many years spent polishing the routine. But Sabo can't help but notice that they leave a gap in between them, and at times miss an opponent or two as if expecting for a third person to join them in the fray.
A part of him wants to be that person, and Sabo feels his hand curling around the pipe on his back without a conscious thought.
But they need no help and soon leave a pile of defeated bounty hunters in their wake, continuing their walk down the memory lane like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. They walk past Sabo's hiding place, and Fire Fist glances at the revolutionary with a scrutinous scowl, and it looks so familiar that he almost speaks to the man. He almost says hello and how are you. Almost.
He comes so close, but a high ranking revolutionary officer cannot socialize with wanted pirates, so Sabo holds his tongue.
The freckled man's onyx eyes sweep over him, and Sabo sees confusion plastered on his face for a split second before Fire Fist shakes his head dismissively and tries to trip the younger pirate, laughing at the teen's answering grumbles.
And Sabo follows his lead, turning around and wondering whatever possessed him to follow the troublesome duo in the first place. He doesn't know them, and he shouldn't feel so intrigued.
They are pirates, nothing less and nothing more, so Sabo turns his back on the mystery and heads off to find that late night snack.
When he finally reaches their temporary base, Sabo opens the log of wanted posters they always keep with them and goes through them all one by one. It takes him close to three hours to find the radiant grin and the straw hat, and seeing it splits Sabo's face in a wide smile of his own.
"Straw Hat Luffy, huh?"
He still hasn't a clue as to why exactly seeing that smiling boy warms his heart like this, but he tucks the wanted poster in his pocket nonetheless. Something tells Sabo this isn't the last he'll hear of them.
Two years later, the second in command of the revolutionary army wakes from a three day slumber with sweat on his brow and mind full of memories that feel like they belong to someone else. And Sabo cries, remembering the day in Alabasta when he was so close to a goodbye he didn't know he needed.
He knew Fire Fist Ace. He knew Straw Hat Luffy.
And now one is gone and the other nowhere to be found, and the dread that he might have lost them both weighs Sabo down like nothing ever has before.
Yet no amount of tears and regret will ease the pain, so he accepts it as his cross to bear, hoping against hope for a way to get back lost time and lost loved ones. But neither will ever return, and thus Sabo weeps bitter, helpless tears.
Somehow, the world feels oddly cold without Ace in it.
Thanks for reading ^^