'Till death do us part is rhetorical at best.'
When one cannot seem to remember their past; where they grew up; who raised them; friends and family; nothing. One would try to find out.
Most would go half crazy trying to figure out the answers. Sabo would not strictly say he did not try going down that exact same path himself nor avoided the 'half crazy' part entirely, but he had things that others seemed to lack.
Sabo felt, saw and heard things. He learned to attribute these things to what he might have called a 'phantom' to others, but refereed to as his only remaining family in the confines of his mind. A brother of sorts, someone who was always there. Who knows, the phantom might have been his subconscious trying to include his past in his present, reminding him of what he wanted to remember.
There would be a gentle hand upon his shoulder one second, then a boy's voice in his ear cheering him on the next.
In moments that Sabo found himself overwhelmed, sadness clawing itself tightly around his throat. He was barely able to make out murmured reassurances, warm arms wrapped around him and spots of heat occasionally dotting themselves over Sabo's face mimicking kisses.
The phantom sometimes scared him, nothing the apparition had done, Sabo simply worried.
What if the sensations were more than his mind trying to reassure him that his past was still there, locked away. What if his mind was desperately telling him that the only family it could remember was no longer there, ripped away from Sabo, from life ?
Once, Sabo had made the mistake of refusing to co-operate with the warmth and voices, shrinking away when either one happened. Sabo's apprehension was replaced with concern when he heard the same voice that had helped and comforted him crying . He stayed in his room for an entire day after that, the phantom embracing him the whole time. It was Just as desperate to hold onto Sabo as Sabo was to hold onto it.
Flames flickered along Sabo's fingertips, a bitter-sweet dance to say the least.
The phantom, who Sabo had been calling 'Ace' ever since his memories had returned, had seemingly disappeared after he had eaten his brother's devil fruit. The last words it had spoke echoing in his head,
"I'm so proud of you, brother." Sabo still wasn't sure if it was actually his Ace or not, different parts of him wanted different things and he was not sure what he should believe.
Suddenly Sabo's flames ceased all movement, drawing Sabo's once distracted attention to his hand. They held themselves completely still for only a moment before flying out in front of him, thankfully not using Sabo's body as fuel for their actions.
He held his breath, weary of what his new-found powers were doing. Sabo hadn't had his fruit for long, he still wasn't entirely used to it and its somewhat strange behaviour.
The flames were almost wild in a sense, untamed and untameable, doing what they pleased even if its actions ended in the heat extinguishing itself.
Sabo was reminded of his late brother by the behaviour of the flames. Ace was raised away from civilisation; a child of the forest who would bow to nobody; loyal to a fault, whose intents for others could harm them and himself. Perhaps it was truly fate that Ace was the receiver of this fruit?
He bolted up-right on his bed when he saw the fire start to grow in size, trying to shape itself, but faltering and dying down after a short while. Instead, there was a relatively thin pillar of fire in place of the miniature inferno it was.
His eyes widened when he saw a branch erupt out the side of the pillar and towards him, forming what looked to be a arm of all things. The hand grasped blindly in his direction, biting his lip nervously, Sabo hesitantly reached out his own, for once un-gloved, hand.
As soon as his flesh met a flame-made finger-tip, there was a flash of light as the flames flared then were reabsorbed into him.
Sabo sat there for a time, arm still outstretched. Even if the appendage was starting to ache, he could not find it in him to move; simply staring at where flame had met flesh.
For a moment, only a moment, Sabo could have sworn he had seen a body. A familiar freckled face smiling gently at him.
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AN: This hasn't been read over by anyone but myself, so please point any mistakes I may of made and I'll fix them. I'm also completely open to suggestions for stories!