A gentle breeze stirred the thin curtains as it blew through the open window. It was a nice evening. Well, it was downright exciting for the people who celebrated the marines' recent victory over the Whitebeard pirates. Out in the night, people laughed and drank as the tension faded. The entire village, it seemed, was out dancing to upbeat music, or eating good food.
All except one, that is.
The young lady in bed has always been a sickly girl. More often than not she would find herself bedridden, and the only thing she wanted to do was sleep. She is kind and sweet, so her fellow villagers are saddened by her poor health. Everyone knows that she won't live to be very old.
However, they didn't expect death to take her so soon.
She lay in what would turn out to be her deathbed, mourning the loss of the only man who was able to bring life into her eyes. She would cry, if she had the energy to do so.
All she could do was lie there and reminisce. She thought of the freckle-faced boy who visited her when he had the time. He was the only pirate that this lonely little village approved of, simply because he could bring out the best in their local sweetheart.
When she was well enough, the boy would walk with her along the beach and tell her stories of the old man he called his father. When she was resting in bed and too weak to go out, he would tell her stories of his brother to make her laugh. He would take off his orange hat, like a gentleman would, when he came to see her.
The girl remembered every detail of that man: the way his eyes twinkled with mischief when recounting tails of he and his brothers' adventures, the way he smiled sheepishly when speaking of his grandfather, the way he smiled at her and tenderly held her hand whenever he entertained fantasies of taking her out to sea with him.
Never again would that man with the tattoo on his back come to visit. Never again would she be able to exchange playful comments with the man who made her feel more alive than she ever had. No more simple fire tricks to entertain her.
The sickly girl tried to speak the boy's name, only to have a violent coughing fit escape her lips. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she felt her chest tighten with grief. She closed her eyes, and kept them shut, wishing-no, begging to whichever god would care to hear her prayer- that she would sleep and never wake up. She was tired. Tired of being stuck in bed, tired of being to weak to take care of herself. She wanted to be free from this weak body she was so unfairly given. She would have given anything to be strong enough to go with that boy who made her so happy.
Suddenly, it felt as though someone were sitting in the seat next to the bed, yet she knew that no one was there. Not physically anyway.
The opened her eyes and felt as though some great weight had been lifted from her heart. She parted her lips, and successfully spoke the name that always floated around in her mind.
"Ace..." she murmured softly.
The boy sitting in the seat next to her smiled gently and took off the familiar orange hat, setting it in his lap as his free hand cupped her cheek, lightly as though she would break. He said nothing, only gazing tenderly at the sick girl under the covers.
Weakly, the bedridden girl brought her hand up the grasp the one on her cheek. She thought it was impossible that he was there. The rational part of her mind refused to believe it. That part of her mind wondered why it was seeing a cruel illusion.
However, a deeper part of her knew why this was happening, why she was seeing him before her.
"I...I've always wanted to go with you...Of course I'll go..." She whispered weakly, as though answering a question, though no one asked.
Ace sat there, still silent with the same gentle smile playing on his lips as he watched the girl. That smile widened slightly when he heard her words.
The sickly young lady smiled ever so slightly and closed her eyes. She inhaled slowly, and then released her final breath.