Stages of his Life

by tear dropxo

All Ace wanted was just some answers, but it seems there are some he'll never get. (If you cannot handle anything from major depression to self harm to just down right weird madness, you shouldn't read it)

2. Living

Living

---

So this is freedom.

Walking aimlessly through a street. Having no-one at your throat. None to call you back. Ordering to stay in bed.

To stay put.

Not to move.

Ace took another sniff of the fresh afternoon air, free of antibacterial stenches drifting in and out of hospitals. Free of the pungent smell that followed each ward, hung on the personnel like second skin.

This is freedom.

A place where his feisty Grandpa cannot reach.

A place where no crazy Law can drive him up a wall.

Where no apathetic Marco can sizzle hatred in his mind. In his heart.

A place where he was absolutely free.

And. . . .

. . . .a place where there was no Luffy.

A place where he was utterly alone.

---

Ace rounded a corner, feet dragging him along a path his own mind wasn't even aware of—not that his mind even bother to care. Couldn't care.

Not without Luffy.

"How can this be freedom?" Ace wondered aloud and stuffed his hands in his pockets, ignoring the strange looks and glances passers-by threw at him. Probably wondering why, a boy short of being twenty was walking around with shorts and short-sleeved shirt during a cold day in spring. Ace snorted and gave them a scowl. Why do you care?

He rounded another corner, heading away from the busy streets, down to a strangely empty sidewalk.

A sidewalk that got crowded only seconds later.

Dragged pipes clanked against the ground, echoing in his ears so loud Ace stopped and turned, watched a pack of blokes streaming out of the nearest alleyways and circle about him. Ace felt his hands twitch into fists almost automatically.

There goes my freedom. . .

"Afternoon, Ace. My dear brother. We've been waiting for you. Why don't you let us welcome you?"

"Oh really?" Ace felt his lips twist in displeasure, glancing at burly man that was nearing him and almost involuntarily Ace's eyes flickered to the monkey that hung off his shoulder and the pistol clutched within that animal's grip. What the hell. . .

"What's this supposed to be? A bloody circus? A reiteration of the medieval ages?" Ace tilted his head up, gazing at the man down his nose despite the obvious height difference between them. But Ace didn't care. His eyes landed on the sword bolted on the man's belt and with a snort Ace shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "Or are you here to spill blood? Because if you are I'm not exactly interested."

"You arrogant punk!"

"Rotten bastard!"

"You dare speaking to Doma like that!?"

Ace paid no heed to the offended snots, calling out somewhere from the crowd and kept his eyes focused on that man—on that Doma—the weird animal lover that had a strange beard that reminded Ace of freaking bush of all things.

"Seems like you came here first."

Ace turned around, his eyes automatically fell on a head that was partially shaved off except a bunch of wild pink strands that fell passed the stranger's shoulders. It took a while for Ace to realise he was staring at a person, a pale middle-aged man to be exact. Ace burst out in harsh laughter. "This is really a circus."

"Shut it, trash," the newcomer spit out through sharp teeth that could have belonged to a shark, his hand fastening around the handle of his sword. "We're here ta finish business with ya."

"Did you really thing you'd get away with this?" another one snarled and Ace was surprised to find a sizeable amount of people hoarding behind the partially bold man as well.

Just like that monkey carrying, bearded guy.

At this time Ace couldn't help but wonder if today was some traditional festival that he didn't know about.

"This isn't a bloody festival!"

"Oh?" Ace rose a brow, wondering whether he spoke out loud before he made a face and his nose wrinkled in absolute dislike when the pink haired man unsheathed his sword and snarled, tongue licking over his sharp teeth with too much spit. "Eww."

That's even worse than having Luffy's boogie swiped on me!

Ace shut his eyes and turned away, trying his best to suppress the shudders form coiling down his spine. He absolutely did not just see that.

But he did.

Ace shook his head and cringed, that image entered his mind and he gurgled and gagged at full force to get rid of this sickeningfeeling—

"Would you stop it already!?"

"That's enough!"

But Ace heard not. Cared not. Because that image appeared in his mind like a slow moving video, tongue poking out, swiping across protruded teeth with way too much spit dripping down.

"Ewww!"

Ace tried to erase it. He really did. But it was impossible. Couldn't be done. He failed. It stayed. Ace forced his eyes opened, more than dozen eyes stared at him bewildered and astounded. But Ace really did not care at this point. Too busy paying attention to the fire scorching fire sizzling in his chest.

Ace's furious eyes landed on the bald pink haired. Adamant to make him pay twice back as he gnashed his teeth, stomping toward him only to realise he was walking on air.

What?

"What's wrong with you?"

Ace tried to wiggle out of Doma's steel grip, not at all liking the way he was practically lifted off the ground like some toy. He grunted and swung his arms, but his fist couldn't even reach Doma's face. Ace's face reddened in anger. Wasn't he supposed to be twenty? How could he be too short to punch somebody's face? How embarrassing! "Let me down, you oversized punk!"

"Answer my question first." Doma's voice was calm but his eyes were narrowed, contained curiosity within the lines of contempt spiralling in his orbs. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Ace grunted, glaring sharply at him as he gritted through his teeth. "Let me down! Now!"

"There's definitely something wrong with you," the pink haired said, sheathing his sword. "But I don't really care. You are fine enough to be released from the hospital, so you must fine enough to deal with our retribution."

"Retribution?" Ace asked, glaring daggers at him. "What retribution?"

"Don't act like you're clueless!" some nobody shouted from the crowd with too much anger cuddling his voice, it sounded more like the screech of an upset cat than and the bellowing voice of an adult. "Imitate a ten year old's speech pattern as much as you like, we'll never fall for it!"

"You can never feign ignorance!"

"We know you're not innocent!"

"Our retribution will put out brethren spirits to rest!"

"After your sinful acts, it's the only act deemed as fair!"

The pulsating vein on Ace's temple throbbed so hard it threatened to implode as he mumbled under his breath, "Retribution this, retribution that—I got zero clues what you're talking about!"

It was official now. They were the worst group of people he had ever socialised with. Worst than Marco who literally spoke in riddles. Worst than Grandpa who swallowed answers like he'd down an entire buffet. Worst than his supervisor Kalifa, Long-nose Kaku and Pigeon Boss, who could only stare at him tight-lipped just like his own Grandpa.

I'm done with them.

I'm absolutely done with them.

"Big guy—yes, I'm talking to you! Let me go!"

There was a sudden silence. Thick and impregnable, at least Ace thought someone dared to mutter, quietly under their breath, "Maybe there is something wrong with his head. . ."

"My head is absolutely fine, you asshole!" Ace kicked his loosened boot at that person, hitting him square on his face. "Dare say that again and I'll jump on you like the coyotes do in summer, you afro-headed freak!"

There was another collective silence. One in which they stared at Ace with astounded faces, mouth wide opened until they shut it, their brows harsh knitted and twisted lips with snarling responses.

"You had us there for a moment, Ace. I can't believe I was worried for you even for a second." Doma said, words dripping with acid as he hurled Ace across the ground, skidding him across the pavement, scraping a knee or two and his freshly healed elbow was already hurting.

Maybe it wasn't healed as I thought.

Ace grunted but didn't howl in pain at the ceaseless stinging. He didn't waste a second to glare at the crowd that was getting to him. Ace opened his mouth but was completely overruled by the surrounding echoes of anger.

"Making a show like that!"

"What a coward! Acting like a little kid!"

"To burn our brethren like that and then expect forgiveness!"

"To trying to exact our sympathies for a shit like you!"

"What's your problem!?" Ace snapped as he stood up, patted the dirt away from his clothes as he canted his head back to face them with dangerous twinkling eyes that screamed of anger. First they disgust him, annoy and then injure him. And now they were even having the guts to mock him. Ace cracked his fingers. "If you wanna fight then come on!I'll kick your asses before you can even count to three."

"What? You think—umph!"

Before he could finish, Ace rammed his knee right into the face of that afro-head and placed his hands on his shoulder to launch himself over him. Ace dropped his wide stretched out leg like a sledgehammer, kicking the head of the person right behind that afro-head.

Ace was a little too smug to watch his victim drop, crashing down the floor with a cry so loud it shook the others from their stupors, awakening new vigour and hatred for Ace as they mindlessly charged forward, swords and daggers raised and whirled around, flung at him.

Ace manoeuvred around them with quick, sudden, light steps, barely giving them the time to change the course of their attacks, the dull edge of their swords cracking on skulls and backs that never once belonged to him. In fact, more than half were down due to nothing other than but his quick reflexes and their own stupidity.

Ace threw his head back and laughed. Because how could that even be?

A punch appeared from his peripheral vision and Ace ducked low, balanced enough to swipe his attacker's legs off the floor, and with unexpected flexibility and strength Ace placed a hand on the ground, raised his legs high enough to kick two charging faces at once. He pushed off, stood on the ground again, surprised to find that his legs felt so light and weird as though once familiar motions were performed after so long ago.

Ace lifted his leg and shook off the tingling sensation, setting it back down right after the other as he re-affirmed its position on the ground and raised his fists in front his face. Whether he was boxer or judo master, Ace had absolutely no clue as he knocked one out with a one-two punch after he threw another one over his shoulder. But it didn't matter exactly what it was or what he did, except that it felt extremely good. It was as if Ace came in contact with an almost tangible part of himself that he hasn't felt in ages.

Ace grinned wild and ferocious, enjoying the cracks of bones and metallic taste in his mouth and the yelps of pain and adrenaline rush that sped Ace up- that quickened his pace and the force of his attacks.

He was relishing in it. Enjoying it. Loving it.

But it ended not long after. They were winded, sprawled across the floor, groaning and mumbling swears over the ache and pain.

Ace smiled, looked around him with certain euphoria that he only received each time he marred his own skin. He looked down and flexed his bloodied fist before he traced his fingers over the scabbed traces of the faces engraved on the back of his hand.

Far into the distance, heard the unmistakable sound of nearing police sirens- coming closer and closer. And Ace couldn't help but think of his Grandpa as he glanced around the aftermath, grinning awry.

I wonder what he would say to this?

"This isn't the end, Ace," the pink haired said, venom seething from each of his words whilst Doma issued orders out to those who could still move their legs.

With a final look at his destruction, Ace shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets, turning his back onto the chaos that might befall behind him.

---

It didn't take him long to notice his blood dripped shirt nor the slight rips in his trousers. But when the adrenaline rush wore off and the actual extent of his injuries screamed for attention, Ace felt like his lips were on fire. His jaw felt like it was crushed by a hammer. And his rips hurt so much, as though an oversized pig jumped on it.

But at least his nose bleed stopped.

Ace never felt so tired in his life. Well, except the times Law drugged him up with his weird medical potions. But that didn't exactly count. He sprawled out onto the green grass and closed his eyes, ignoring his wobbly legs that decided to hurt now too. Ace sighed and adjusted his position, back hurting against the hard ground and strangely he was missing the soft pillows that Nurses kept giving to him. Ace sighed and tried to nap the pain away when something kicked the soles of his shoes.

"Don't just lie here like some shitty dog."

Ace stared at a blond with a weird curly eyebrow.

"Damn, you look like shit." he raised the plastics bags he has been carrying and dangled them above Ace's blinking face. "Come on, I'm cooking dinner soon anyway. Might as well fix you something. Chopper can get a look at your wounds as well. He wouldn't like to know that Luffy's brother lay K.O on the streets like this. . ."

The words tuned out. A warm, pulsating throb sloshed against Ace's ears. His heart thumbed in his chest. His legs almost gave out as he scrambled to his feet, but he held on—held onto the man's dress shirt with his bloodied fists and tried his best to keep his legs from buckling under him.

The blond reached out, gripped his elbow tight and threw an arm around Ace's shoulder to holster him, wordlessly as the blond smoked through his cigarette.

Ace stared at him. Stared at the onyx's eyes of the blond. Fished for lies or deceit. For mockery or jests. But he found none. Absolutely none.

The thoughts were whirling inside his head, like a paper bag in a storm, and Ace let himself go without a beat but with eyes so earnest he dared to bring the question passed his lips. Dared to hope for an answer that would lift his heart to the skies. "You. . .you know Luffy?"

The blond's brows that twitched into a frown before evened out and he smiled too, softly against the wind. "Yeah sure, I know him. Who in this planet could live without knowing someone as loud and obnoxious as Luffy?"

Ace felt as though he didn't know how to breathe.

In fact, he couldn't breathe.

He passed out.

---

Ace felt the sun rays burn his eyelids, heard the chirps of humming birds and wondered whether he would see the morning sun flitting through his barbed window, alighting the white washed walls of his room that reminded Ace of confinement and eternal solidarity despite the many Doctors and Nurses rushing in and out of his room.

Ace cursed softly under his breath. But he kept his eyes shut, regardless. Spending another day dreaming through a fabricated reality set out from his mind—his wild, imaginative mind won't harm him.

It's better than facing reality anyway.

A reality were Luffy was an illusion.

His eyebrows twitched at the thought as he shifted away from the sunlight that now scorched his eyelids and his head was received by something squishy. It reminded him of too plushy pillows that soften against his skin and lulled him to sleep so many nights before, even now sinking under the weight of his arms circled around it, hugged on him like Luffy did whenever he couldn't sleep. . . .

Ace dug deeper into it, buried his face into it and breathed in its non-existent soft smell that fuelled the pain wringing in his heart. That ripped his heart opened with the stark realisation that—that—

It wasn't Luffy.

His hands fisted the soft material that deceived him, took his breath away and stung like hot water in his eyes. He clenched his teeth, contorted his face as he forced eyes opened and stared at the cloth wrapped around him.

"A blanket. . ." Ace rasped out through the constriction of his voice, running his fingers against the soft fabric. "A bloody blanket. . ."

"What's wrong with the blanket?"

Ace didn't recognise that grunting voice. But he didn't care enough to raise his head. Instead he fisted that damned blanket and hurled against the back of that person's head, who thought that green coloured hair looked cool on tanned skin.

The man cursed and shot him a glare from the rear mirror. But Ace didn't care. Didn't care he was sitting in a car with a stranger. Didn't care that he had zero fucks how he'd got here in the first place.

He only cared for the fact that he was haunted by memories. Haunted by inexplicable thoughts wherever he went.

I want it to stop.

I want this to end.

Ace unbuckled the seat belt and opened the door. Not caring that they were on an open street. That cars were zooming in from left and right. But whether it was a highway or the road to a supermarket, Ace's determination couldn't be altered.

The algae coloured haired cursed heavens at him, glaring and shouting whatever nonsense under his breath as he steered the car to the roadside, but Ace already jumped out. Honks blared, and profanities thickened the air as wheels screeched ear splitting loud across the asphalt.

Slowly Ace sat up, disappointed to notice that only his skinned knees burned like hot smoke. He glanced down, barely recognising the pink flesh under the ooze of blood, his scraped palms seemed the same.

Couldn't it have been worse?

"Are your screws missing!?" the algae-haired shouted, puffing out of nowhere and grabbed Ace's hands, scrutinising his bleeding palms and the ripped skin of his knees before he rose his eyes and glared daggers at the aloof expression on Ace's face.

"What?" Ace raised his chin, scowling right back at Algae. "Are you going to tell me I can't do this to myself too? Point fingers at me and say I'm mad?"

"I don't care if that accident made you loony—made your head so messed up that common sense is lost to you." Algae shot a fiery glare at him. "Just don't go jumping out of my car!"

"Then you shouldn't have taken me in the first place!" Ace shouted right back and clenched his burning fingers, the blood dripped down on the floor, his shoes and his shirt. But Ace didn't care, whirled his back to him and stomped away regardless of the incessant burn that followed.

"You, damn brat!" Algae seized his arm back, his hurt arm that still wasn't healed. Ace fixed a glare at him and yanked it back.

"Let me go, you asshole! First-rate kidnapper!"

From a far echoed the sirens of an approaching ambulance. Ace clenched his teeth and yanked harder. He didn't want to return to the hospital. Back to Grandpa and his supervisors. Back to that Surgeon Law and his army of Doctors.

"What kidnapper!? If it hadn't been for your—damn!"

"My damn—what!?" Ace yelled back, wrenching his arm away from Algae's grip with such force his shoulder snapped with an offended cry. But Ace only gnashed his teeth. Didn't voice an ounce of pain as he screamed with too much anger and frustration at the other. Hurled insults and swears at that Algae-haired asshole, who was just like the rest. Just like Grandpa. Like his stupid supervisors. Just like stupid Marco. Like the stupid baboons Ace beat up earlier. He was just like—

"I swear, if I knew I was going to be handling a crazy pre-schooler, I would have never agreed to this," the other mumbled, rolling his eyes at him and scratched his head with eyes so bored, so annoyed that it almost unfurled another fit from Ace. "Listen, I'm only doing this because—"

"Shut up!"

The fury bolted from him as though a hatch was unlocked. A hatch that kept in the sizzling anger and hair-pulling frustration that Ace pent up all this time. "You bloody Algae! What makes you think I care!? You're just like the rest! Stupid and mindless! Just like a stupid Algae! Calling me a bloody pre-schooler without even knowing anything! Acting like I'm crazy when I know I'm not! My head isn't bad! It's not broken! It's not bad!"

A vein throbbed on the tanned man's forehead as he roared back just as loud, if not louder. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN ALGAE!"

"YOU!" Ace screeched right back, not caring about the attention the they are drawing to themselves, shouting to each other's faces like that middle in the road. "YOU—YOU STUPID ALGAE! YOU DAMNED—umhpf!"

The man clasped a hand over his mouth and physically dragged him back to his car. Ace shouted -thrashed- kicked and bit every space he could reach. Fed up, the elder threw him inside the car.

But Ace fought even then.

"Would you knock it off!?"

"Screw you!"

The sirens blasted into his ears and Ace halted his swears, peeking out of the window just as the door clicked shut. By the time Ace glanced back at the door, the tanned Algae was already on the steering wheel, hitting the gas, speeding down the highway, overtaking as many cars as possible to distanced far away from the paramedics, who were climbing out of their vehicles, looking bewildered across the scene for the injured that had somehow disappeared.

---

They drove in silence. Ace wasn't exactly sure when they slowed down to a more casual space, when the urban landscape disappeared and the greenery from the wilderness occupied every inch of his field of vision. He glanced out of the window, watching with shallow eyes the scenery whizzing past, miles of greenery stretched into the roads before him. Ace closed his eyes and leaned his cheek on the window pane as he wished the city life goodbye and welcomed the rural life of the country side.

---

When Ace woke up, he stared at a wooden ceiling.

A ceiling he had never seen before.

He sat up and pushed the bed cover away, taking in the strange room that was brim-full of complete messes. Ace sidestepped the clothes strewn across the floor and the half-emptied pack of potato crisp.

Is this Algae's room?

He glanced around, noticed a bunk bed shoved at the corner of the room, pots of plants were aligned on the window sill along with other odds and ends he didn't recognised with the trash laying on the floor. But he found the door at last, hidden behind coats hung over the door that smelled of strong cologne.

Ace wrinkled his nose and pushed it open, heard faint echoes of laughter and annoyed mumbles as he padded down the hall. It led him to the kitchen and its open window. Ace grabbed onto the window sill. To his surprise his palms were covered in bandages, although poorly.

With raised eyebrows Ace pushed himself up, looked down the pane only to find Algae leaning against a fence as two other men hampered with the car. His eyebrows twitched, barely able to conceal his confusion and amounting surprise.

Are they changing the plate number?

As though feeling his stare, Algae canted his back, stared right at Ace's eyes before he beckoned him with the flick of his hand. Ace snorted but nonetheless moved to head down with a scowl.

"What?" he gritted out almost immediately. The chatter halted, and the eyes turned to him until one of them whistled under his breath.

"So, you're Fire-Fist, huh? Glad to meet you after hearing so many rumours. I'm Johnny, by the way."

"You got the wrong person. I'm Portgas D. Ace." Ace crossed his arms, glaring at the black haired. Glared at the tattoo engraved on his cheek. Glared at the scowl he was giving Ace. Why was everybody trying to annoy him?

Johnny eyebrows twitched, and his mouth opened again. But Algae only raised his hand to halt him. "See? I've told you before. It's not the same person."

The other snorted. Ace glanced at him briefly. It was the blond haired, who had studied him silently since he first entered. He hid a smirk, looking so smug Ace wanted to punch him. "You can't fool us. We know how Fire-Fist looks like. He might have been able escape the public but not us—not our sharp eyes and instincts."

"Like I said," Algae started, shutting them up with a glare. Particularly the blond. "Ace is not the one you have in mind.

"But Aniki, don't you think they look alike—?"

"When is the car ready?" Algae sharply intercepted. "We've got reach East Blue City before somebody decides to start tracing us."

"Stop dodging our questions." Johnny muttered, pulling his dirtied gloves off. "We don't mind helping you out in pinch, Aniki. But we do appreciate honesty in return."

"Like I said. . ."

"Where the hell are we, anyway?" Ace asked, pulling himself up to sit on the fence. It looked like they were at a cottage in the middle of no-where. But Ace was sure that the planted flowers on the front porch were well looked after, not to mention that the kitchen was surprisingly clean too—even the messy room he slept in spoke of ongoing life that Ace couldn't find by looking alone. Though, he was sure the house was occupied and until recently, inhabited.

"We're at one of the Straw Hats' secret hideouts." It was Yosaku that answered him, wiping his hands on a cloth as he regarded Ace with mild interest as well as a hint of scepticism. "I've heard you are acquainted with one of its members?"

"Are you stupid? How can I be acquainted with someone I don't even know," Ace mumbled, distracted by the red swellings that caught his eyes.

Did I hurt my arm when I jumped out of the car?

Ace trailed it with his fingers, softly rubbing against his skin as he wondered where they come from, since he was pretty sure to have had his recent injuries patched up by them.

Maybe they're road rashes?

"I see," Yosaku replied a little reluctant, glancing at Algae. The green-haired was busy talking to Johnny about how long the freshly applied black paint would need to dry. "So you're saying, you know nothing about the group's leader? Nothing about Straw Hat Lu—oww!"

Ace could only blink when out of nowhere a wrench hurled straight at the blond's head. In the distance Algae only grunted and sent him a warning look that had Ace brows sunk low, so low he was scowling. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Came the reply with a simple shrug.

"Don't lie." Ace's voice was as hard as concrete and as brittle as ice and he glared at Algae. "I want to know what you're hiding from me."

"There's nothing we're hiding." Algae cut off and reprimanded him with a look. "So shut up and sit quietly."

"No, I won't!" Ace gritted through his teeth, jumped down the fence to stand on his feet. Seriously, why was everybody like this!?"Since I woke up months ago nobody has told me anything. And the moment I decide to step out of the hospital I get picked by a bunch of noobs. Abducted by a walking Algae. Surrounded by a bunch of strange dudes in a forest. And you all expect me to accept this quietly?"

"Hey, hey. . ." Johnny started, raised his hands as though to placate a wild animal.

But Ace's eyes flashed dangerously. "Is this about the bombing case? Am I some criminal you're looking for? Or is this some kidnapping? Are you trying to extract ransom from Grandpa? Because if it's that then you're failing miserably."

"Well, I'm not sure. . ." Yosaku replied gazing at Algae with confused eyes. "Aniki? Is this even the same Fire-Fist from the poster?"

"What poster?" Ace immediately latched on, not caring that a vein was throbbing on Algae's face. "What Fire-Fist?"

"This one—here look," Johnny answered, digging into his pockets to get several wrinkled pamphlets out, but they were immediately snatched by Algae's fast hands.

"I've told you it's the wrong person! That Fire-Fist they're talking about isn't you. You're Portgas D. Ace."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Ace scowled back at Algae. Even with his broken head he knew there were only a modicum of people named with a D. Not to mention having the same given name as Ace. This wasn't some random attribution. It wasn't!

Ace stretched his hand out. "Show me that paper. It's bound to have my face on it."

"Not in this case." Algae turned away, rolling the papers up into a scroll. "Just listen to me and leave this matter be."

"Just show it to me!"

"No."

"Lemme look at it!"

"No."

"Just give it to me!"

"I said, no!" Algae's eyes flashed dangerously but Ace didn't give up. He had answers so closed to him, so in reach. He'd be damned not to get it. He stooped on his tiptoes and stretched out his bandages fingers to grab at least even the edge of the paper, Algae held up away from him.

"Goodness, I said no! You won't get it! I'd be damned to let you!"

"By whom!?" Ace shouted, wondering why exactly Algae bothered to stand in his way.

"By your brother!"

"I don't have a brother!" Ace shouted back, jumping once more only to lose his footing but Algae rushed to grab his arm—his hurt road rashed arm—and this point Ace could really care less about the hurt searing up his arm. Ace took his chance to snatch the pamphlets out of his hands, throwing them away before Algae could stash it away.

The papers scattered in the air and Ace's eyes roamed quickly to scan each paper flying about. But Ace didn't have to search far. Didn't have to lift up every paper.

Because it was right in front of him.

Wanted

Dead or alive

Fire-Fist

550.000.000 Berries

Signed by—State Agency: The World Government.

"What?" Ace breathed out. His gaze was fixed at the ragged edges of a brazen smile—of wild kept hair flitting out from an orange hat, sitting crookedly on top of his head, slightly covering his twinkling eyes, bright with excitement. Ace traced a bandaged finger on the blue smileys perched on the hat, so similar to the engraved faces on the back of his hand.

This wasn't a coincidence. That face was doubtlessly his own. Except that it wasn't. Ace couldn't recognise it. The man on the picture looked like a man. A real man. Completely sane. Confident. Wild. Sociable. And not to mention well-toned, almost brawny.

Compared to the twenty-year-old, Ace was nothing but a toothpick. Nothing but bones and thin flesh. But not like Luffy.

Luffy was skin over bones which was surprising, really, considering what a ceaseless hole Luffy had as a stomach but—

Ace halted his line of though, lowered the poster and he thought again. Luffy.

He sank to the ground, picked up and flipped over the pamphlets, throwing them over his head or every time some random visage popped up that wasn't Luffy's. Because his was supposed to be there too. Luffy was by far wilder and crazier than Ace. If Ace had one, Luffy should have one too.

He grew increasingly frustrated when Luffy's smiling face wouldn't pop up under the heap of sheets. Could it be his wasn't there?

(Why should his even be there?

Luffy is nothing but your imagination.)

"Shut up." Ace snarled, shifting elsewhere to dive and flick over more pamphlets. "It must be here somewhere."

He wasn't wrong. There was Luffy's. But it wasn't Luffy. Just like there wasn't his face on his own poster.

Ace's hands trembled when he gazed at that familiar happy grin and cheerfully, bright eyes. The straw hat wasn't flailing over his eyes anymore. He wasn't small anymore. That barely-there-baby-fat that used to hug his skin evened out until Luffy was really just skin on bones. But still so happy, still smiling with that carefree nature that Ace could never adopt. But—

It wasn't Luffy. Wasn't the Luffy he knew. Wasn't twelve-year-old Luffy that used to visit him. Came to visit that night. Came to visit all those nights ago. But a stranger that looked like him. A stranger that Ace didn't know. A stranger—no,a man that Ace didn't know.

That person just looked like Luffy. Seemed like Luffy. Was like Luffy, except that he was actually not.

"What is this?" Ace asked with a voice so rasped he couldn't recognise it as his own—

Ace stilled. Halted that thought. Tried to breathe slowly through his mouth. Tried to get control over his rampaging emotions. Tried his best to focused on what he could—on what wouldn't drive him over the edge he was so close to falling into, because what was his anyway?

With blazing eyes, Ace steeled his nerves, glanced at the posters once more through hollow eyes, knowing by now wholeheartedly that he wasn't that person. Wasn't the one on the poster. Wasn't the one everybody knew. Wasn't the one Marco called out at the hospital roof. Wasn't the one everyone was calling out to. . .

He wasn't the one.

Wasn't that Ace.

(That's right. You're not.

You're just an empty shell.

A shell that nobody wants.

Never needed.

Why are you even here?)

Ace clutched his head tightly, the posters in his hands wrinkled against his hair. Ace gritted his teeth, tried to drone out the overlapping voice that screeched in his head.

"It's his fault anyway! That monster!"

"The devil's blood runs in him!"

"Save us from him!"

Hands clasped over his shoulder, lightly shaking him and worried eyes fell on him. Somewhere in the distant Yosaku's voice buzzed, like the dull murmur it rose and fell, quivering against the noises from the shallow grunts and vocalised spluttered from furthering distance that Ace couldn't exactly pinpoint.

He only knew his ears were ringing. His head was throbbing. His heart was hardening. Hardening like a stone. And like a stone it fell.

Hit somewhere on the ground and disappeared.

(You're just an Ace nobody wants.

Why are you here?

Why are you alive?)

His eyes widened, and grey orbs stopped shaking.

His eyes fixed at a spot on the ground.

And just like that, it stopped.

His fingers untangled from the crumbled posters.

They glided through the wind, descended to the ground and landed with a dull thud just like the thump in his heart.

That's right.

Ace's his lips twitched into a careless smile.

It wasn't like he had to live.

Wasn't like he had to be here.

It's just that he was.

(You're nothing.)

He was nothing.

---

A familiar ceiling. White and tainted. Cracked and smeared with ageing yellow.

Ace sat up, pushed the covers away from him, noticed its blue colours, the jaded stars and a crooked crescent moon sewed into the faded fabric that lay on top of that unfamiliar bed.

Ace crawled out, shivered as he touched the wooded floor, tiptoed across the floor, drew the curtains away that covered the window, its casing stained with fungus and the pane heavily fogged. Ace clasped the catch, wiggled it and pushed harder when it didn't give in until it broke open.

Gust of wind crawled up his arms, Ace peered over the bottom rail, endless empty streets stretched out below him, small and ragged semi-detached houses barley held out under the fissures carved into their plasters. With soulless eyes, Ace watched the rats scurry across the sullied sidewalk, sniffing at overfilled trash cans, bathing in its grease and rotten grime that reeked of excess death and decay.

Ace wrinkled his nose, leaned away from the window and gazed about the room before he marched over to the drawer, squished next to bed and the wall and he crammed through each section of the wood. Inside he found pens, notebooks, medical documents; written scripts about the human anatomy, neuroscience and the physiological well-being. Ace kicked it shut and moved towards the cupboard finding no more than a short lab coat. A first-aid box. A neatly hung stethoscope. Box of syringes, scalpels and other materials used for slicing up.

What the hell. . .?

Frowning, Ace walked up to the other side of the room, climbed over the neatly folded bed, flung the drawers open with impatient fingers and cursed when the cooking books as well as magazines packed with indecent pictures of women sprang at him. Blood rushed to his face and Ace pushed it underneath the heavy printed books of recipes and instructions. He puffed his cheeks hollow, receded the offending red away from his cheeks as he glanced around.

There wasn't a door but a moth-eaten curtain hanging from the wall. He pushed it away and gazed at the narrowed hallway. There were four other rooms, one of which he guessed was a bathroom. Under the excessive creaks of floorboards, Ace padded towards the room next to him.

It was another bedroom.

Even before he cracked the make-shift door open, he could smell its pungent smell of cologne that tickled his nose. Ace sneezed at the swirling stench that lay hidden under the sprayed perfume and pinched his nose. It was as though someone had an intensive farting session inside this room and covered it up with freshly scented odours.

Ace pushed the door shut, but not before he took glimpses of a neat stack of musical sheets and various musical instruments lining up the wall. Ace could recognise the piano, the violin, the guitar, the harp and. . . .was that a workshop?

Ace rose his brows, trailed his eyes at the other side of the room, marvelled at the mechanical equipment, machinery and a hoister pushed against the wall and the spanners discarded on the floor until the stench burned the inside of his nose and he slammed the door shut.

Enough was enough.

Ace turned on his heels, headed down the stairs until curiosity perked up, he pushed it back and moved his feet down from one step to the other until it transformed to enormous interest that he couldn't suppress anymore. Ace sighed and jumped the stairs back up. A thin lump of wood closed the entrance inside the next bedroom. With careful fingers he pushed it open, wondering who the owners might be this time. He could already guess that the first bedroom belonged to a small doctor and a perverted cook. The second was owned by two old damned farts and the third one. . .?

A crack opened, wide enough to slip in and Ace marched inside, racked his eyes over the enclosed walls. Based on the bedroom design, it was made for two women. Ace moved around, gazed at the mounted books on the giant shelves, read over the title of one and then another before he took a step back and swiped his eyes over all the titles.

One was obviously obsessively taken by ancient history and monumental artefacts hundreds and hundreds of years old. The other seemingly, insanely occupied with the study of geographical maps and cartography. Ace closed the door behind him.

What kind of freaks were living here?

Ace twisted the doorknob. It was the last room and locked. He gave it a sceptical glare, instead of backing off as he should have done, he hurried back into the previous bedroom, roamed through the drawers and cupboards until he found an opened box of hairpins. Ace took one out and bent it as he marched back, pushed it inside the keyhole and wiggled the pin in its place. His hand moved almost automatically and before he knew it, it cracked open. It was only then Ace realised it was the only room with a proper door. The only room locked of them all. Ace glanced back, furrowed his brows at the cloth and the slabs of wood before his eyes lingered at the door.

Is something inside that shouldn't be seen?

Carefully, Ace pushed it open and stepped inside. Like the other bedrooms, this room was split in a half—at one side stood a bed with a ridiculous amount of weight-lifts and dumbbells scattered on the ground rather than stocked inside that empty rack standing next to the wall.

Ace swiped his eyes over the other side, ignored the hammock and laid his eyes on the strange, wild plants that he couldn't even begin to name that lay listlessly on the marble floor. They outgrew the massive amounts of pots and their long leaves almost touched the bunk bed skewed far inside the room, but that wasn't what caught his eyes.

Under the bunk bed was box that jutted out, something that looked suspiciously like a treasure chest. Ace neared it and pulled it out completely. The wood was ragged and discoloured. He lay a hand over the marred wood, felt it prickle under his skin as he pushed it open. Old and broken toys were huddled inside it, not for play but keepsake. Ace grabbed a torn monkey and flicked a finger against its plastic drums, wondered how attached someone must have been to tug along an entire childhood with him.

Ace roamed his eyes over the toys until he spotted a particular knight that sparked an interest in him. He trailed his hand over the dull metal. As far as Ace could remember, he had only played with a knight once in his life, or rather forced himself to play with one as form of thanks.

No matter how much he detested toys, the length that Dogra and Magra went through just to steal a couple of toys for his birthday was ridiculous but the earnest someone ever went for him. Broken armed or legged, he wasn't sure, but he remembered that Dogra and Magra were bedridden for immobility and still ridiculously happy to see him holding that half-chewed knight. Happy at the revelation that Ace wasn't just a snot-nosed brat, but a brat that enjoyed playing just as much as swearing and scowling.

Ace raised the knight at eye level as his lips twitched into a wry smile.

What fools.

If only they knew that Ace was never a kid.

Just an anti-social brat.

He pushed the knight back into the box, brushed his hand against the lid, ready to close it when his eyes fell on a thin book. Ace drove his fingers over its black cover, the texture felt strangely familiar under his fingers tips. He turned it over. It wasn't a picture book. With furrowed brows, Ace gazed at its spine. There wasn't a title. It wasn't even a proper book. He flipped through it, noticed the missing papers and frowned when his eyes landed on another blank page.

Was it used for crayon?

Ace glanced around. There weren't any doodled pictures hanging on the walls for keepsake. Ace shut it close and rose to his feet when he noticed a scrap of paper slip out of the thin book and fell in front of him. The edges were scrapped, torn at the corners and dried with huge blobs of tears. Ace picked up and smoothed it out, read through it.

I had fun hanging out with you, Luffy.

Caring for a little hyperactive brother like you has always taken a toll on me, aged my hair and gave me heart attacks every now and then. But I have never hated it. Even when your attention deficit drove me up a wall and made me pull my hair out, I could never hate a single moment of it. Because growing up with you was fun. And I think, I was also a little happy calling you my little brother. It has always made me a little less lonely. Even now, when I decided to path myself out of this world.

But I still decided not to be stopped this time. Not by Marco. Nor by Sabo. Or anybody else, for that matter. I'm going to shake this world. Break us out. Free us from this cage.

You should know by now that I'm not some martyr desperate for heroic actions. That I'm not planning to make a great tribute for my late mother. Neither to present a sacrifice for those demented Celestial Dragons.

Even though my promises are nothing but mere words—hollow, weightless, fickle words—I still want you to trust me, Luffy.

Just this one last time.

—Ace.

"What?" Ace blinked and read it again. And then again. And then again. But there was no way. These scribbles looked like his own handwriting. But Ace was sure he would never (never never never) write something as corny as, trust me, even if his name was signed on it. It could absolutely not be true. Ace was known for his outspoken manner. He voiced his complaints with scathing accuracy and directness than cowardly scribble them on paper like some chicken. Besides—

Who's Sabo anyway?

Ace furrowed his brows and slammed the box shut as he clambered to his feet, stuffed the paper into his pocket as he thundered down the creaking steps and walked straight into the living room. There was only a single couch. A radio perched on the coffee table. Buckets of empty paints and dripping brushes strewn on rampant newspapers. Orange painted walls, yellow waves and specks of uncoloured white.

Like the sun.

Ace marvelled at the walls, swiped his eyes of the bright colours until his eyes caught pieces of papers glued on the walls into a crooked line. Ace neared it and his eyes widened when he recognised a face on the wanted posters. Algae looked as annoyed as ever, glaring at who knows who, with his black bandanna over his head despite the chaos burning behind his back. Ace snickered and read over the caption written underneath the picture.

Roronoa Zoro.

Ace hummed and looked over the others. It was as bizarre as it could get. A cotton-candy loving reindeer, a cyborg and a funky skeleton. Two pretty woman posing like models. A man who seemed to be dying. And another who looked as perverted as it could get. Ace bit back laugh and his lips twitched into a smile.

What a weird bunch. . .

He glanced to the last picture and his heart froze in his chest.

There was that face again. That Luffy that couldn't be Luffy. Ace drove a finger over the poster as though the colours would recede and fade away under his touch. But they didn't. Ace lips drew into a taunt line. His eyes fell on the small printed caption. It was dated. Months old by now. But the words remained the same. Wanted. Dead or alive. Straw Hat: Monkey D. Luffy. 300, 000, 000 Berries.

Ace rubbed a finger over the printed numbers. At least a Luffy was alive.

With a sigh, Ace continued his inspection. Like he guessed the house was empty. Deserted. Except for the rack standing next to the front door. It was packed of shoes—pumps, boots and canvas most of which belonged to women but still, the house was crammed with so much furniture it was bound to be lived in. It must be lived in, so why was the fridge so empty?

Ace furrowed his brows, inside there was only a couple of flask of sake, the dusty cupboards full of spider webs. He groaned and flopped down on the couch, lay hand on his growling stomach. It hurt. He moaned and wondered when his last meal had been, pretty sure to have been more than three days ago. Ace sighed and rummaged through his pockets. They were empty, and there were no shops in sight he could steal from. Ace grumbled and laid back down, used his arm as makeshift pillow as he shifted on the hard couch.

Seems like I just have to sleep the hunger away.

He slid his eyes shut, his silent breathing lulling him away into fistful grasp of deep sleep, when the door knob rattled and broke open, Ace's eyes snapped wide open and he sat up, stared at orange tinted walls and slowly blinked. He roamed his eyes around the empty room, looked around for a clock that wasn't there. He laid back down, stared holes at the soiled, cracked ceiling until he came to stare at a fury head with a blue nose.

He suppressed the surprise and bit back a yelp when he chuted to sit up, realising to have seen this particular strange face before as his eyes slid back to the wall and there it was, Chopper. The cotton-candy loving reindeer.

Ace watched the walking animal sit down next to him, a first-aid box perched on his lap as he grabbed Ace's arms carefully, before his brows twitched and he tore away the bandages, fervently muttering complaints about the incompetency of his own friends before he took the forceps between his hooves, drenched the gauze in ointment and dabbed it on his arms and hands. Ace kept an eye on Chopper and his concentrated eyes as he wrapped the bandage so carefully over his arm it was almost ridiculous.

Ace sighed, moved his arm to take it away him and ignored Chopper's startled cries as he folded it over his arm in a rush. "You shouldn't be wasting too much time about these things."

"What are you doing? It needs to be done correctly!" Chopper wailed as he clambered to his feet with a determined grasp of Ace's arm, he smoothed down the misplaced straps and reapplied it, glaring at Ace all the while. "You can't just mess this up. If you're arms get any worse then—what's this?" Chopper was looking down, his shoulders tense as his eyes were firmly planted on the length of his arm.

"What is what?" Ace asked with questioning tilt in his voice that came as easy breathing. He knew exactly what Chopper meant. Even if those angry and smiley faces were hardly recognisable under the healing scabs, those long, deep lines on his arms were not, their implications shone as bright as the morning light.

"Why are you doing this?" the stiffness in Chopper's voice was unmistakeable. It was bristling with barely held back anger and Ace could already feel a smile sneaking up on his face, but he held it back, stared at Chopper's hard face instead as he rose an eyebrow.

"You mean this?" Ace rose his arms, held it directly in front of him and under Chopper's line of sight. "It's a strange story actually. I had this struggle with this Surgeon. He's a real sadist—has always liked to give injections with those 20-gauge needles and draws as much as blood as he sees fit." Ace muttered as he wrapped up the last pieces of the bandages around his arm and lowered it when he was done. "And let's just say I wasn't too willing to give any at that time."

Chopper was bristling with anger, his hands shook, and his eyes flashed with violent loath for this Surgeon. Ace shrugged. Chopper was free to believe whatever he wanted to. Just because Ace conjured strings of words and uttered them didn't mean it was necessarily true.

"What a freaking Surgeon!"

Ace jumped when a voice spoke from behind his head. He whirled his face around and the first thing he saw was a long nose.

. . . .Kaku?

Ace blinked, stared at a white hat and googles before he lowered his eyes enough to see a grin and pair of friendly eyes. He was resting his arms against the back of the couch before pushed off and moved away. Ace watched him picked up a large bucket of paint and set it on the crumbled newspaper.

"I'm Usopp, by the way. Sorry to have left you by yourself for so long. But you see," he spoke as lifted the lid and nodded in approval at the red paint. "I ran out of paint and this baby doesn't finish by itself if the great Usopp isn't wielding the brush."

"You could have stayed away for days and it wouldn't have mattered." Ace mumbled to himself as he rose himself from the seat, ignoring Chopper huffing behind him as he crouched down next to Usopp. "What is this going to be?"

Usopp glanced up at him, rested his twinkling eyes on Ace as he boasted, "Nothing but blasting fire. The wildest you will ever see. You know, I have got this talent where I can bring colours to life."

Ace droned out his boasting and focused instead on the yellow waves on orange walls, wondering how it would look like to have bleeding red stain the morning sun before he shook his head and discarded that thought far away from his mind. Sunlight and bloodstains wouldn't fit together, leaving it like it was better, cleaner.

Ace took a look at Usopp's excited face before he gazed at Chopper, who rushed to help colour the walls, buzzing with giddiness and something underneath that Ace couldn't put a finger on.

"Why?" the word left his mouth almost from its own as the confusion continued to prod inside his mind, even as Usopp and Chopper lowered their brushes and turned to stare at him, their eyes urging him on, encouraging him, and yet again the words left his lips unauthorised. "Why colour these walls like bloodied fire?"

Usopp and Chopper shared a look and Ace recognised a tightness seeping into them, contracting their muscles and tightening their faces into harsh grimaces. Ace didn't comment on it, waited instead with a blank face.

"Because. . .someone asked us to?"

Ace waited for more but Usopp determinedly looked away, so he turned to Chopper instead, but the young Doctor only bit his bottom lip, an unsure expression on his face as peeked at Usopp, who strictly shook his head and so Chopper looked down, fully avoiding Ace's judging eyes.

"To be honest, I haven't expected anything else. I have met a fair share of people like you. People, who tend to keep their mouth shut for nothing but orders—nothing but idiotic thinking." Ace paid no heed to the responses he was stirring, even as Usopp's eyes flashed and Chopper clenched his jaw tight. Ace rose to his feet, stuff his hands into his pockets. It was their fault in the first place. They should have just answered.

"But what else is there to expect?" Ace continued as flippant as before despite the freezing ice that settled over each note of his tone. "These days people cannot speak for themselves. Even though they poke their noses into other people's businesses. I wonder why that is?"

The brush clattered against the newspaper, frivolous droplets of red paint splattered on Ace feet as Usopp pulled him by the collar, glaring with an intense mixture of frustrated anger and barely concealed fury.

"What? You can't take it, or can't you retort too?" Ace challenged, tilted his head back enough to glare back at Usopp. The other wasn't even looking at him but glaring heatedly at the wall as he unclenched Ace's shirt from his grip. Ace felt the anger boil inside him at Usopp's lack of response and was about to spew colourful curses at him when Long Nose tightened the grip on his shirt and lifted him up enough for Ace to stand on his toes as he banged their foreheads together.

"You're right! I can't stand it!" Usopp gritted out as his hand tightened enough to gloss over a pale pallor over his knuckles."Which part of this sheer, calculated plan is exactly idiotic thinking? I would have smashed that goo inside your head to pieces for that comment alone—but I cannot do that without going back on my word! And that's only because I promised!"

Ace could hear the anger vibrating from each rise and fall of Usopp's breath as the frustration thickened his word, even as Usopp loosened his grip on him and flexed his hands into firmly balled fists at his side, glaring with the same intensity as he shouted, "So what if I am shutting my mouth? If I poke my nose in your business? Kidnap you and feed you to the dogs? You're not realising your position here! I am not a coward enough to not speak for myself, so don't dare ridicule us by comparing us to lowlifes that can't even defend their own views!"

Ace ignored the throbbing pain at his neck and didn't even bother to rub it away as he took a step forward and scowled up, his eyes were flashing when he spat just as venomous, "I never asked you about any of that."

Ace watched the force behind Usopp's glare flaunt as confusion pooled up inside his black orbs. But Ace didn't care about that. He didn't care about any of that. "I only wanted to know why you bothered to paint a dying sun instead of fire but thanks for the information, you rotten bastard. I definitely won't forget it."

Usopp remained silent, arms crossed over his chest with his chin held high as he still glared at Ace as though he was the dirt stuck at the sole of his shoes and Ace was close to rewind his arm and force a punch on him when Chopper suddenly latched himself on his leg, and Ace considered the action to kick him off before he thought otherwise.

He treated my wounds.

But then again, I didn't ask him to.

Before Ace could contemplate this any further, Chopper sharp voice broke off his trail of thoughts.

"You got this wrong! Usopp would never go as far as throwing threats around! We just wanted—umpf!"

Usopp clasped a hand over Chopper's mouth, packing any escaping words back inside the prison of his mouth and into the threshold of his throat. "Chopper, have you forgotten the plan? Didn't we promise to make this work? I know it's hard. But sometimes a man has to throw away his morality to chase for greater good! Think of the outcome, Chopper. We got this, man!" he blared with such poise and pressure, the colour of Chopper's face disappeared before it resurged with a fierce red that looked almost comical and he shook his face out of the grasp of Usopp's hand.

"Even if a real man has to abandon his morality, a Doctor has to always keep his! I have to think first and foremost about my patients!"

"Patients?" a stricken expression fell on Usopp's face as his eyes slid to Ace and the freckled boy knew exactly why. Right there in front of them wasn't the cotton-candy loving reindeer but Chopper, the Doctor. Ace took a couple of steps back. He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't want to be a part of this. Because Chopper couldn't have known about—

Ace halted in his steps, held his breath when Chopper's eyes fell on him and Ace could see the anger, the guilt and the sorrow reflected inside them. "I'm sorry, Ace. Even though I was aware of it, I didn't realise how much it has escalated. Even though I have been warned."

"What are you talking about?" Ace snapped, although his mind raced, trying to figure out how Chopper caught up to his problem. How he possibly could have figured it out when Ace could lie so brilliantly?

"Chopper, what's going on!?" Usopp's frantic eyes settled on his friend as his mind refused to decompose this situation into manageable heaps of knowledge he could easily pick up.

"Zoro told me all about it!" Chopper fixed his eyes on as he too looked stricken. "You were always so carefree Ace. I couldn't believe you would do something like that. I really wanted to believe your Surgeon story." Chopper's voice was so strangled as he reeled the snot inside his nose with each sniff. "Even thought it was a technically lie."

Ace had difficulty opening and closing his mouth as his throat felt nothing but raw sandpaper. It even hurt to swallow his own spit. His eyes were glued on Chopper and the wetness brimming in his eyes and Ace could practically feel the guilt seeping into the creases of Chopper's pained face but—why?

How could Chopper be so affected by this when it was Ace's pain to carry?

This was so ridiculous. Foolish. Unreasonable.

Ace took a step back, watched the confusion amounting on Usopp's face as he whirled his head back and forth between the two of them and Chopper's fat tears that ornamented his face. Ace swallowed despite his parched throat and kept his voice steady, normal, because there was noway Chopper could know.

Ace steeled his voice and breathed out through his nose, before he forced out with all the anger he could fuel into his words as he crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you talking about? Whatever that Zoro said is nothing but wild speculation. And anyway! How do you even know my name?"

"Who doesn't know Ace!?" Chopper retorted back, "Ace the lunatic! Ace who jumped from a window! Jumped off the roof! Jumped into the motorway!Ace, who slit his wrist with a broken mirror!"

"What!?"in a flash, Ace compressed Chopper's cheeks with his hand, felt grates of the Chopper's teeth as he glared into the Doctor's eye. "What kind of person are you imagining when you're talking to me? Do I look like I have these kinds of tendencies? That I would hurt myself and be done with it?"

Chopper glared back as he pushed Ace's hand away from his face as he shouted. "Are you saying you didn't then!? That you didn't do any of it!"

"So, I did jump from that window—I jumped off that roof, so what?" Ace forced the words out and yet pronounced them as clear as possible. "That doesn't mean I want to die!"

Chopper glared back and was about to retort when Ace's eyes flashed dangerously, and he cut the doctor off with his own answer. "No, it does not! And even if I had those tendencies—even if I wanted to die then that's my problem and my alone! It has nothing to do with any of you!"

Chopper couldn't contain his frustration and doubling anger as he smacked Ace across the face with a resonating slap. "Can you even hear yourself talk, you bastard? Your death isn't your problem alone! You can't just—" Chopper gnashed his teeth, kept his eyes on the floor as his fist shook on his side before he rose his head to glare at him. "You can't just determine whose problem it's going to be!"

Ace barked a laugh, a harsh embittered laugh as he squatted down, squeezed Chopper's cheeks apart with too much force for it to be a joke. "Do you actually know whose problem it's going to be?"

Chopper tried to evade his gaze. But Ace knew from the way his fist shook and his eyes burned with fierce anger that he knew too. Knew just whose problem it would become. But Ace said it anyway. He already came to terms with the fact that everybody just wanted to profit from him in one way or another.

It doesn't matter if they want to lock me up, silence me or beat me. They all just want to hide their own dirty little secrets.

Ace glanced at the glaring Chopper and Usopp, who was only now beginning to piece the puzzle together from the blanch on his expression. Ace hardened his glare as he tugged Chopper's cheeks tighter, knowing wholeheartedly that those two were just part of the entire shebang that were out to get him.

Chopper dropped his gaze even as he trembled, snot dripping from his nose and blotch of tears staining his face as he had trouble accepting the undeniable truth that Ace dished out to him.

Because Ace was right.

It was the absolute truth.

Because nobody would care if a mass-murderer commits suicide.

To them—the police, the Whitebeards and the rest of society, Ace was nothing but scum.

A scum that roamed free and wasn't locked up in prison. An amnesic scum that was nothing but an annoyance. Nothing but a pest that needed to be purged.

To be destroyed.

---

Ace kept his head on his knees, back leaned against the wall, sleeping his hunger and fatigue away, as he wondered how many hours went by without eating. Cold gust of wind crawled up his spine, freezing his skin with its cold touches, and Ace pressed his legs closer against his chest, ignored the digs of the hard-wooden floorboards frosting his rear and blearily opened his eyes when a blanket was covered over his shoulder. He pushed it away, grunted and glared as best as he could with sleep blurring his vision.

But the other just sighed—was it Usopp? Ace blinked and tried to find a long-nose that he couldn't see over the darkness hovering over his vision. But it was definitely his voice as he picked up the blanket as he lowered himself in front of him. "At least come and sleep on a bed. We have several blankets prepared already. You'll catch your death if you stay here and longer."

Ace turned away from him, lowered his head on his knees again as he closed his eyes to nap away, droning Usopp's voice with fake snores that only irritated the other more until he was forcefully wrapping that blanket around him. Ace struggled and cursed but it wasn't enough to stop Usopp from knitting the ends together into a tight bow tie, effectively locking Ace in within a blanket. "You bastard!"

"I don't care!" he snapped back, tugging the ends even more, "It's less than five degrees Celsius and you have slept here for three hours already! You can just take a bed and—"

"I don't want to take anything from you," Ace gritted out, chuting backwards, far away from Usopp. "Even if it means freezing here and starving myself."

"You're being ridiculous!" there were glints of fury in Usopp's eyes as his glared darkened on Ace. It was understandable, really, but Ace just didn't care. After their little argument, Chopper tried his best to remedy the tension, tried to ask about his medical history, about the sedatives that has been used on him, the amount of times he had been overdosed, and the amount of times he slept through days, weeks, months.

It was predictable, if not completely obvious, that Ace wouldn't answered. He gave nothing as a response, but a firm look at the opposite direction. And even if Chopper looked disheartened with that stupid and plain-to-see guilt plastered over his face that Ace still couldn't understand. But even if he wanted to answer, he couldn't. Ace wasn't—like many things—involved in the confirmation process. Law would always just poke a needle through his skin and that was it.

Not explanations. No reasoning.

Nothing but cold stares and apathetic faces.

Ace breathed sharply out of his nose and turned to face Usopp. He hadn't really spoken to him either. It wasn't as though he hadn't forgiven him. People were just like that in his world. They treated him as an outsider, even inside his own life. It was as paradoxical and ironic as it could get, and Ace simply didn't care at this point.

What's the use to get upset anyway?

I'm just wasting my breath.

Ace stifled a sigh and turned away, kept his eyes pointedly away from Usopp as he waited for him to disappear back into the kitchen. But he didn't. Usopp kept staring at him. Ace canted his head back, looked at him suspiciously. What else could he possibly want?

But Usopp only threw his hands up, completely exasperated when he stressed, "If you're acting like this just to get an apology then here, I'm so sorry. Are you willing to sleep upstairs now and get away from here?"

"No." Ace narrowed his eyes at him as he pulled his legs even closer to him. "I never wanted an apology. I just wanted an answer to my question."

Usopp looked genuinely confused as he blinked like a stupefied goldfish, but Ace received no joy from it, even as he could practically hear the gears clanking in his brain and Usopp's eyes widened as he glanced back at the orange tinted walls and yellow waves. "The painting?"

Usopp's eyes fell on him, and Ace felt ridicules for even bothering to speak to him as he lowered his head on his knees again and sighed. "Forget it."

"You just honestly wanted to know about the fire I was painting?"

Ace didn't answer, didn't even grunt as he plainly ignored Usopp and his sudden shuffle across the room.

"I thought you were asking about our motif for painting it, rather than the painting itself."

Ace wasn't looking at him, even though he rose his head enough to peek at the floor. "I have said what not why first, haven't I?"

"Don't get saucy now. We started out on a good foot." Usopp muttered as flicked through a couple of boxes strew on an empty spot on the floor, before he pulled out a box and crammed through it, fishing something out that looked like a folder. Usopp switched the lights on and moved towards him, whilst Ace was still getting used to the sudden brightness.

"Here, this should answer your question." Usopp flicked through it and Ace realised it wasn't papers but doodled picture tucked inside the plastic wallets. "It's one of Luffy's treasures. He keeps his childhood close to his heart. Even the broken toys he used to play with, he keeps it all with him." Usopp flipped to a particular page. "He wanted me to draw this. He said it would be a memento for his brother."

Ace wiggled his arms out of the annoying cover and took the folder of him, his eyes till glued onto the strange fruit sprawled on the page. It's bright orange colours. The tinges of red and yellow sprouting from behind it, enveloping it into a bottomless gulf of wild-fire. Ace trailed a finger on it, lost in thought as his eyes wandered, gazing at the wanted lists lined up on the wall across from him.

"He said his brother liked fire."

Slowly, Ace trained his eyes on Usopp and the sorrow strangely reflected insides his black orbs, and he thought he understood. The pain in Chopper's eyes, the hurt echoing his words, and the sorrow in Usopp's face—it wasn't their pain, but the pain of that Luffy.

They were grieving for Luffy.

They were sharing his pain.

Ace breathed out from his nose and rested his head against the wall, stared at the ceiling as his head ran through their entire conversation and the entire thing clicked in his mind. He settled his eyes back on Usopp and rolled the question from his lips, even though he had an answer in his mind.

"What happened to his brother?"

Usopp stiffened and he gazed away. "Could we not talk about that?"

He sighed and here he thought too they have made an improvement. Ace looked up and gave him a tired stare. "You don't have be like this. I have my own ideas already. You just have to approve or refute them."

Ace shifted his position on the floor and stretched his legs out, folded one over the other even as the cold seeped through the blanket and onto his body, but Ace only gave a shrewd look at a gulping Usopp. "Because, reasonably speaking, there can only be one Ace and one Luffy. And even though I might not like it, it cannot be denied."

Usopp held his breath as Ace rolled his head to the side and directly stared at him. "I wasn't lying when I said I've met my share of tight-lipped people. Mindless people, who do nothing but follow stupid orders. So, it shouldn't surprise you that I haven't been told yet. That I don't know what has happened to me yet."

Usopp was already clamming a hand over his mouth, shaking his head vividly. "I won't tell you anything about that! You shouldn't know yet—you won't be able to handle it yet."

Ace shook his ramble off with the flick of his head as he leaned closer. "I told you, your job was just to approve or refute. You don't have to tell me anything."

"I can't—I don't want to—it's practically the same thing and—"

"It doesn't matter. You just have to answer, yes or no." Ace frowned and crossed his arms over his chest as his mind wandered back to his hospital room, his Grandpa sleeping on the bed with a thick mass of stapled paper dangling on his hand. Ace knitted his brows as he rolled his head back, closed his eyes as he tried to summon the numbers scrawled on a particular page.

Casualty rate over 67%. Actual death rates remain unconfirmed. Estimated to be more than 10%.

"During that opening ceremony from Whitebeard Inc.," Ace opened his eyes, gazed at the other through narrowed eyes. "Am I the person responsible? Did I hurt all those people?"

Usopp stopped and stared, his hands fell from his mouth. "W-who told you that?"

"That doesn't matter. Just tell me, did I or did I not?" am I a murderer or am I not?

It was silent for the longest moment. The battle on Usopp's conflicted face was a plain as daylight, until he fixed his gaze on Ace, looking so confused and tired, Ace wondered how he could have kept it away for so long.

". . .I don't know." Usopp muttered at last and rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't have a clue and neither has anyone else. There are just speculation and a mob of angry people needing a scapegoat. The only thing I can do is believe that you're not and hope that I'm right."

Ace's mouth dropped opened. His eyes, completely wide. It finally clicked. Those stern gazes from supervisor, Kalifa. Those hesitated friendliness from long nose, Kaku. Those apathetic faces from Marco. Those expressionless features from Pigeon Boss. And that conflicted expression on his Grandpa—and that ridiculous amount of cash he was willing to pay that Smoker. . .

Ace bit the inside of his cheek and balled his hands into trembling fist, thought back to that Law and his knowing smirks that were completely hollow—bore no value, nothing but a false echo of promise.

But more importantly—

Ace whipped his head back to stare at Usopp. He was busy gazing beyond the sprawled yellows and oranges at something too far away for Ace to discern, but one thing was clear.

They didn't know.

Those bastards didn't have a clue.

They only spend their time guessing at what happened, coaxing information from anywhere that showed what could have happened. Unreasonable directing all the hatred at him without a handful of evidence. Blaming him and confiding for nothing but their own suspicion.

Nothing but unfounded speculations.

Nothing but miscalculated stupidity.

Ace gritted his teeth and punched the ground, his knuckles cracked, his flesh burned under his ripped skin. But he didn't care.

Because they didn't know.

Because they only guessed the entire entity.

Because nobody fucking knew what happened and still treated him like some...sociopath.

Ace winded his arm back and cracked his knuckles against the plaster. Usopp yelped and tried to tug him away but Ace was completely focused on the tiny spots of crimson seeping into the creaking edges of the marred wood. Definite thoughts pressed into the forefront of his mind as he flexed his hurting knuckles into a hard fist.

Ace gritted his teeth and swore colourful curses as he took a secret of oath to himself. A violent promise to make them all pay. For all they put him through. Locked him into that hospital. Stared at him with pitying eyes. Insisted that he was mad when he was actually alright.

Play obtuse octopus as much as you like, you bastards.

I'll let them experience a part of this hell.

---

The cupboard creaked and banged during the turbulent night, unleashing the madness bouncing inside Ace's head.

Ace glared and glared hard.

"Will you stop it already?" Usopp muttered, giving him a mean stare over his shoulder, seemingly freak out by Ace's persistent stare as he moved to fix a cup of hot chocolate for Ace, hoping to sedate his maddened stomach and its growling curses.

"I said, I want nothing from you." Ace placed a hand on his belly, rubbed the hunger away with his palm. He didn't need food. Not their food. Not anything from them. "I'm fine the way I am."

"What's with you?" a glass clanked against the wooden table. Ace stared at it, furrowed his brows at the smell of fine chocolate. Usopp only pushed it further to him, sat on a stool opposite him as he propped a hand under his chin, watching a hesitant Ace sniffing the drink. "Just drink it up already. I can't give you anything else. I can't cook a decent meal to safe my life and Zoro is still getting Sanji. But they should here by morning. So, you don't have to worry about starving anymore."

Ace sipped from it before he swallowed it all, not realising to have been so thirsty. He wiped the foam away from his mouth, glanced at Usopp and his knowing smirk and Ace's eye brows twitched, his arms were crossed over his chest as he reconfirmed, "I wasn't thirsty."

"Sure," that annoying smirk was still on his lips and his eyes shone of slyness. "So, I'm guessing you don't want another?"

"Correct." Ace looked away, his hard eyes contrasted the softness in his voice. "I don't."

Usopp only hummed as he grabbed the glass and washed it at the sink. "So, I'm guessing you don't want to sleep either?"

"No."

"Even though you're tired?" Usopp asked, closing up the tap. He threw a sceptical glance at Ace. No matter how much, Ace forced himself not to rub a hand over his eyes, they were droopy, bright red and completely plain to see. "You should go to bed. It's almost four o'clock in the morning."

"I'm not tired." Ace huffed out, moved his hand to pinch the inside of his arm without the other's noticing. The pain alerted his sense, drove the sleepiness away from his eyes before it overlapped his entire being like a thick blanket, so warm, warm, warm, it was suffocating.

Ace suddenly felt like a fish out of water and struggled up to his feet, a surge of dizziness hit him, and the freckled boy stumbled, leaned a hand on the table and tried to steady himself under the swarming dizziness.

He felt a pair of hands clutching his shoulder, caught blurs of a long nose and panicked eyes, heard screams of help and Chopper when the widened abyss of darkness zoomed in, flashing from behind his lids.

It was dragging him.

Pulling him.

And Ace let himself be pulled.

---

He heard whispers at his ear. Small fingers patting against his cheek. Slowly, Ace opened his eyes. He didn't recognise this ceiling. It didn't have holes. It wasn't cracked, wasn't sullied.

It was a pristine.

White.

Ace blinked and sat up, pushed the white covers away from him. The room was bare. Not a single window. No drawers. No cupboard. Completely empty.

He crawled off the bed, padded across the floor towards a door. It was brown. The only thing of colour. The knob was cold under his fingertips. With a surprised blink, Ace twisted it but found it locked.

He was locked inside this empty room.

How can this be possible?

Ace jumped at the loud echo of his voice. It boomed against the empty walls and resounded into his ear like a hollow reverberation, vibrating even now thick and loud in his mouth. Ace turned around, inspected every corner of the room with narrowed eyes.

Where am I?

He winced at the sound of his own voice but yelps at the deeper laughter bouncing from the walls. Ace swallowed and constraint the muscles of his limps, minimised the trembles shooting from his being with each sharp breath intake, each vibration numbed the feeling of his foot, sped up his heart rate.

This is too freaky.

Ace gritted his teeth, held his hand against his ears as he squatted down, a strange cold wrapped around him, curled around him and squeezed so tight, it cut of the air to his lung. He shot up from the floor, glanced around him only to see nothing. Nothing at all but empty white.

And a bed.

Ace stared at the duvet. It was blue with sewed in stars and a crooked crescent. He grabbed the fabric in his hand, pretty sure to have seen this before but not exactly where.

He glanced around, noticed papers laying across the other side of the floor. Papers he was sure weren't there before. The freckled boy climbed over the bed, brushed a hand against something oddly hard under the cover. He slipped a hand under fabric and pulled out a worn knight.

The knight.

Ace blinked as he twisted and turned it around his hand, glance back at the starry night imprinted on bed sheets. It was like the one from the Straw Hats. Ace traced his hand over the crescent moon, lingered his eyes on the starry night before his attention shifted on the strewn papers.

They were letters. Like diary entries. Except it was blurry. The words barely recognisable under that messy scrawl of a hand writing that was undoubtedly similar to his own.

Wait—

It was his own.

They were signed with his name.

Ace furrowed his brows and looked through them yet again, picked one up after the other.

But they were all the same. Nothing but illegible scribbles that his eyes couldn't discern. The letters were merged together, a huge mess and a total eyesore. Ace sighed and fell on his back, stared at the pristine ceiling before he glanced at the crunched paper, threatening close to his left eye.

Unlike the others, the words were readable. Spread out in clear writing. Ace grabbed the paper and rolled over, laid on his stomach as he read the first sentence. Horror and confusion gnawed at him. He couldn't comprehend it although he did understand. It was almost identical to the one he found inside that black journal.

Ace fished the paper out from his pocket—the one he picked up from the Straw Hats—and placed it next to the other, not exactly surprised that they were identical but that it was here. The ebony-haired glanced back at the strewn papers, counted a total of six before he moved to bite his bottom lip, roaming through the same lines again. It was an apology and a plead—about broken trust and a promise not kept. The one he read before.

Even though my promises are nothing but mere word—hollow, weightless, fickle words—I still want you to trust me, Luffy. Just this one last time.

Stormy eyes and gritted anger popped ins Ace's head and an extremely loud voice shouted:

"I cannot do that without going back on my word! And that's only because I promised!"

Ace trembled under the colossal vitality oozing from Usopp's voice and the freckled boy tuned away, glanced at the floor and screamed. Because Usopp's face was staring right at him. Ace pushed away from Usopp's penetrating glare and scampered away, climbed on the bed and kept himself away from the other's face, completely out of breath. He tried to calm himself, took deep breath to tranquillise the frantic beats of his heart and the nausea clambering up his throat.

Ace glanced at Usopp's again. His face hadn't changed. His brows were still harshly knitted and his gaze still fiery. Just like Ace imagined him inside his head. Except it was a reflection. A face carved into the tiles.

A strange idea came into his head then. Ace looked around, gazed at spot and thought of Luffy. His stupid grin and warm eyes, and there it was—Luffy.

His face was as a tall as the wall, eyes bright and his face split into a huge grin and Ace could already hear—

Shi Shi Shi Shi.

Ace threw his head back and laughed. Laughed loud, relieved and embittered because this was nothing but a dream. A fabrication of his own mind. His own imagination. His boisterous laughter quieted down into flimsy chuckles until it completely disappeared, and Ace was left staring at the wall, only one realisation occupied his mind now and it was splashed across the wall into a thick, messy scrawl.

I'm stuck inside my own mind.

It was exactly as that idiotic Luffy said. Ace's lips twitched at the irony before his eyebrows quaked into a bothered scowl as he looked around.

How do I get out?

Ace got up and walked towards the door. The door knob was hot now, almost burning under his gripping fingers, but he imagined it opening and—creek. It did open.

Ace opened it wide and a glitter of silver shimmered near the corner of his eyes, huge numbers were engraved on the door and he stepped back, ran his eyes across the door.

His breath stuck in his throat.

His door was marked with a number.

2289.

Ace broke into a run. Towards room the only room that lay inside his mind.

3309.

His heart slammed against his ribcage, buzzing with excitement as he legs carried him forward. But he knew he would reach it. Would get there this time.

Come visit me tomorrow, okay?

It's been lonely lately.

Ace clenched his teeth, sprinted past endless doors, his frantic eyes whizzing past the numbers, dashing farther inside the darkened hallway and its flickering lights, completely out of breath as he ran heedlessly around this endless maze in search for numbers his eyes couldn't spot; couldn't find.

Don't forget, Ace.

Ace bent forward, clasped his hands on his knees, caught his breath as he glanced at the widening corridor, its doors were stretching farther away, disappearing into the darkening distance, weltering deeper into this labyrinth; into this endless path.

You can't forget, Ace.

He shut his eyes and raced forward. His sight completely blackened by the lack of light but that didn't matter. Ace gritted his teeth and only ran forward, completely determined as he rushed through the darkened halls.

I'll find you, Luffy.

---

Ace shook out of his reverie like a fish, clad in cold water and shaking. Except he wasn't wet. What the hell?

He rubbed his arms, ridding the goose-bumps when he glanced around and noticed Chopper's face close to his own, almost automatically Ace drew back, kept his voice neutral even as he asked. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. I just checked up on you." Chopper muttered, lowering his arm. He clung onto a pen light, still dressed in his gown and pair of antlers poke out from his sleep cap. "You scared Usopp back there. But luckily, you experienced nothing but withdrawal symptoms of your medication."

Ace leaned back, clutched the sheet of his cover as he asked, quite curiously, "Withdrawal symptoms?"

The Doctor only leaned back onto the chair, looking exceedingly troubled. Ace gave a questioning look, sat up in his chair and pursed his lips together when Chopper only shook his head, rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I gave you a healthy dose of an antidepressant. It might take a while to adjust to it, but you honestly should be fine for now."

". . .antidepressant?" Ace rose a brow, smoothed out the wrinkles of his blanket before he glanced at Chopper and his grim expression.

"Tora-o didn't bother to tell you, did he?" he rubbed his wrinkling nose and ignored the way Ace's eyes were widening. "You have an abnormal case of dissociative amnesia with the occasional symptom of PTSD. I don't know what medications he usually used on you—and under this current uproar I can't just call him either, so let's hope the ones I gave you will suffice."

Ace nodded, clenched and unclenched the bed sheets as he levelled a stare at Chopper. "That Tora-o you mentioned couldn't be Surgeon Law, right?"

"Who knows? Doctors have their connections, if you didn't know. Somebody's patient is everybody's patient." Chopper yawned and stretched. "Really, you shouldn't mind these trivial things and go to sleep. It's six o'clock and Usopp told me you haven't slept a wink yet."

"I'm not tired." Ace grumbled but laid back down.

"I know. But you will be." Chopper muttered as he held onto the doorknob, flicked the light shut before sat back on the chair. "I'm your personal Doctor from now on. I won't let any harm befall on you—not even during your sleep, so rest assured and nod off."

Ace tired not to think about the weirdness of being stared during sleep as he turned around and closed his eyes, listened to his own breathing and then Chopper's. Ace rolled back, glanced at his sleeping face and the tiredness Ace could see on it- the bag under his eyes and the droopiness off his shoulder. Before he remembered that it was six o'clock now.

I was out cold for two hours. . .

Ace glanced the desk and the tiny flask perched on top of it. He glanced at the label, its name too difficult for him to pronounce but that didn't matter. He was taking medication, suffered from withdrawal symptoms without even knowing. Ace drove a hand through his hair, trying to recall the questions Chopper had asked him yesterday—those he blatantly ignored about his medical history that Ace knew was endless.

He had been hospitalised since he could remember, continuous check-ups and enquires about his head to determine his well-being. Not to mention, the amount of surgeries he underwent because of his physical injuries (broken arms, legs, fingers, clavicle—really, the list was endless). But he had never been giving anti-depressant. Never been given medical drugs. Except the occasional painkiller. And sedatives. Law liked giving those.

Ace scowled, wondered what exactly that surgeon intended to achieve by drugging him up.

Did he think I was his guinea pig?

But Ace also knew he had lapses in his memory, knew he would at times go to sleep and wake up days or even weeks later. He flexed his arm, the one he broke during his fall out of the window, not remembering when exactly it healed nor when the cast was removed.

Ace sighed from his nose and sighed, folded his arms over his head as he resumed his game at staring at the ceiling. For all he knew, he had always been like this.

Grandpa always used to say I was insane.

And never until now had Ace realised how much.

---

The sun shone bright, flittered passed the open curtains directly on his face. Ace stirred, shifted but kept his eyes close, listened to the shallow murmurs resounding from afar, before a heavenly scent drifted into his nostrils and activated his brain cells and forced his eyes open.

Breakfast looked as delicious as it smelled. The dishes were of exotic variety—too strange and beautiful for Ace to exactly pinpoint its nature. The drip of sweet syrup on sun-baked pancakes was tantalising enough for Ace to swallow hard. But the churn of his stomach and the rising bile inside his throat let him imagine otherwise. His hand rose to cover his mouth and his eyes slid firmly shut as his face greened.

Ace glanced away from the small coffee table positioned in the living room and planted his eyes firmly on the floor and its cracks, knowing wholeheartedly that one tiny bite would turn the set table into a disastrous slime and backward eaten goo.

Food shouldn't be eaten if it's going to be wasted.

His brow knitted harshly as he remembered his Grandpa's stern voice and iron fists whenever Luffy stuffed his mouth too full and recounted stories with sound effects materialised through the flying crumbs and mashed gunk scattering across the table, if not exactly on their faces. Disgusting, but fine eating manners didn't exactly run through their family.

Ace sighed and readjusted his position on the couch, faced his back towards the heavenly scented breakfast laid on the table, but the mere sight coiled his stomach and wrenched his gut. He covered his mouth again, breathed in deeply the scent of new found freedom and wildlife sticking in his own palm and ignored whatever food was behind him. It was better this way, anyway.

They could have mixed the dough with untraceable poison or have vaporised handfuls of sleeping pills inside the broth, even if it was extremely unlikely.

Ace opened his eyes and glared at the dark coloured fabric of the couch, aware that they have had uncountable opportunities to render him hors de combat but had surprisingly used none of them. It was strange, if not completely weird.

I wonder what they want from me. . .

Ace yawned and shrugged, tuned his thoughts off once the shallow barks of laughter and friendly chatter from the kitchen dimmed under his light breathing and the unfolding imagination vividly sparking under his lids welcomed him as he slept off his hunger once more.

---

"I don't really care since I'm not worried or anything, but isn't it better to change our plan?"

"Shut up. I said we're doing it like this!"

"I kind of agree. It might be a little too early for him. Last time he passed out just from hearing Luffy's name. Think about what he'll do after seeing that. His mind will blow down like an overcooked fuse…"

"Shut it, love-cook. He'll learn it anyway. It doesn't matter how."

"Can you really not think something else, Nami? Chopper said we have to be careful about—"

"We don't have the time to be careful, Usopp. He needs to understand this now!"

"But—"

Ace stirred from his sleep as the disconnected voices pulled him awake, and with the back of his hand he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, only to see an empty room. He still lay on the couch, sprawled out chaotically with a blanket tangled between his legs that he couldn't remember putting on himself. His eyes fell on the table. The heavily scented food was gone, replaced by a regular newspaper recently dated. Along with it lay an envelope addressed to Luffy.

Ace reached for it, lifted the envelope with tender fingers. He swallowed and tore it open. For no other reason than the desire to uncover the missing pieces of his life that no-one was willing to filling up. So far, his curiosity only led to increased headaches and doubled confusions, but what other choice did he have other than picking the small pieces his elder self-left?

Ace sighed and begun to read, but the cloud swarming inside his head only continued to fog his mind with each string of words scrawled messily into the piece of paper until the contend of it sunk into his heart and cleared his mind. Perhaps, it was due to the familiarity of the words that echoed parts of his childhood that consisted of nothing but unpleasant memories, but Ace found this part of his twenty-year-old self unnaturally closer to him than usual. It was as though Ace could finally find pieces of himself between the pages. But it wasn't long until his heart dipped and clenched painfully inside his chest.

So, it was me.

The smile grazed on his lips easily, crookedly yet belittling. The letter dropped into his lap, its light impact ignored by his ears. He could only perceive the deafening silence inside his mind and the steady beats of his heart. He stared ahead, and yet his sight was shrouded in darkness, covered like fallen snow the footwork of his future.

Ace drove a hand through his hair, wondered how he was going to face Usopp now. Usopp—who readily gave him the benefit of the doubt. And Chopper, who treated him regardless of his mental disposition. Not to mentioned Marco, who voluntarily believed in his innocence and vouched for the twenty-year-old self twice in front of Ace's eyes.

He glanced at the paper and hated how his stomach twisted.

What will Grandpa say to this?

He bit his lip and fisted his hands into balls.

---

Since we were little, we have always been following our desires. Chasing after our dreams and ambitions. Ignoring the world and its stupid people. Keeping to ourselves and treating everyone as enemies. Because they couldn't stand us. Couldn't understand how we ticked.

But spending time with the Whitebeards made me forget that. Unlike what you thought, Whitebread Inc. isn't just a business, nor is it a refuge for misfits and hooligans, but the missing puzzle I never managed to find. So, I think it's alright, even if they're hating my guts right now. I've left them with nothing but sorrow and deep-rooted betrayal and I'm not exactly regretting it.

I should have never started to like them. So, it's fine even if they hate me. I'm going to finish what they have started.

I'll make those fireworks you always wanted to see, so at least make sure to watch them.

—Ace

---

Ace stared at the paper, knowing that it was over. His life was over. Or perhaps should have been over at this point—for anyone with a college degree and a job on the line. But Ace didn't exactly have either of those. He never fitted these general standards of a functioning human being.

He touched the side of his head, felt it throbbing under his fingertips. The moment he laid his hands on the very paper, he should have expected this. From the moment he woke—he should have known—he was a villain.

A monster.

An abnormality.

(That's right. You're nothing.)

This wasn't much different from the four whitewashed walls of a hospital room. Life only seemed to be a different kind of imprisonment with freedom acting as an illusion to shadow its own envisioned reality.

This was—life was—nothing.

(Why are you here?

Why are you even alive?)

His grey eyes stared back at the letter. At a name that started all this mayhem, and before he knew it rolled from his lips, the origin of his trouble.

Whitebeard.

Ace clenched the paper into his fist and stormed out of the room.

---

"Where can I find Whitebeard?" Ace ignored the splash of tea sprouting out from Usopp's mouth when he slammed his hands on the kitchen table. Zoro lazily yawned, rousing from sleep, and Ace scowled and rounded on him, remembering the little details on the caption of his wanted poster. "You were a bounty hunter, so you should know, right? Tell me where I can find that Whitebeard."

"And why should I?" his sharp gaze landed on him, but Ace could honestly careless when he crossed his arms and glared back, twice as sharp.

"And why should you not? It's the least you could do after kidnapping me!"

Algae opened his mouth to retort when another hand slammed on the table. An orange-haired woman pinned her gaze on him, her lips were curled into a smile, her fingers into an upturned okay sign.

"Any information from us costs at least a thousand berries."

Ace glanced at her for an amount of three seconds before his face contorted into a scowl. That amount was impossible. "On what kind of field do you think money grows from?"

The woman only clicked her tongue on him and shrugged her shoulders, poignantly reverting her gaze towards the open paged book, sprawled in front of her. "Then I have no information to give—"

"I wasn't asking you anyway, old hag—hey!"

A kick flying at him, and Ace was lucky enough to have the reflexes to dodge. In a moment, without thinking, Ace whirled around, his fist raised to smack at whoever the hell it was—when another kick zoomed in his peripheral vision. Ace dodged and yelped when his foot slipped on the marble floor, the palms of his hands slapped against the hard tiles, but he ignored the stinging pain cruising through him as he glared at the blond, who towered over him, a cigarette clenched between his teeth as he pointed a ladle at him, the metal glistered under the afternoon sunlight that flittering through the windowpane.

"Nami-swan will be treated with respect at all times," after pinning glare, Sanji turned, tending towards the pots simmering on the stove as he stirred the broth. "Remember that, or you won't get dinner."

Ace frowned and climbed onto his feet, took in the room with sceptical eyes. Usopp was still sitting at the table, nervously drinking from his cup, the money-hungry orange-haired woman sat next to him, casually flipping through her book, and Algae was napping crossed legged on the floor, his back leaned against the wall. He counted four and knew one of them was missing.

"Where's the reindeer?" it was a simple and straightforward question, and yet the ensuing silence after his words knitted his brows into a harsh scowl.

Usopp's mouth was opening and closing under the orange-haired threatening stare. Ace let out a sigh and stuffed his bandaged hands into his pockets and turned on his heels, absolutely done with them. He figured that Usopp was alright—alright enough to confine in him now, but it seemed that he was wimpy enough to get squashed like a lemon under the thump of that orange-haired she-cow.

He sighed, figuring that he would have to find his little doctor himself.

One of Zoro's eyes opened, staring silently at Ace's retreating figure. "By reindeer…do you mean our little Chopper?"

Ace stopped and crooked his head, brows poignantly raised with wonder in his eyes. "Sure, unless you have a second cotton loving reindeer I don't know about?"

The other only rolled his eyes and fixed his attention back at the blond. "Hey, love-cook, where did he say he was going?"

"On these Doctor meetings, I think?" Sanji sipped from the brewing broth and hummed before glanced back at his friends, waiting for confirmation. The orange-haired enthusiastically nodded, giving in between murderous stares at Zoro to seal his babbling mouth tighter. He only tched.

"So, he's meeting that Tora-o, isn't he?" Ace muttered, absentmindedly inspecting the bandages on his arm, before glancing up. "So where is it? I have some things to talk about my former doctor as well."

"No, you would have to throw these ideas out of your head. You can't meet Tora-o and neither Whitebeard," the orange-haired said, lifting her head from away her book. Her gaze pinned on him and his eyes fastened on her in retaliation, and he knew it even before her glossy lips opened—and her mellifluous voice reverberated inside his ears—that this woman was dangerous. He could feel the intensity brewing inside her amber eyes exploding on his skin. Her lips twitched into a smile, almost half smirk, and Ace realised that she was with every fibre of his being dangerous, even if his mind couldn't exactly pinpoint why.

He shook his head and tried to concentrate—tried to focus—even when he wanted to throw his head into the clouds, into the nothingness of his thoughts and dreams. He wanted to sleep and treat this entire farce as nothing but a dream, as long as it meant he didn't have to feel the burn of her pinning stare. . .

"And why—why can't I?" he asked instead, his voice suddenly strained, and he swallowed the lump creeping inside his throat when her eyes suddenly glistered with warning.

"You don't know? haven't you read the papers on the table? You should know by now that they'll catch you if you go."

Catch? Ace brows furrowed. Sure, he had left the hospital during his supposed treatment without authorisation, and ushered an angry Grandpa at Law's inability to keep watch over him, and probably gave Marco heaps of troubles for the same reason, but Grandpa always knew Ace could take care of himself. He wouldn't chase after him unless—

His eyes narrowed almost automatically. His gaze redirected at them sharply, silently contemplating whether he had let down his guard. They were friends of Luffy's after all. Surely, not his Luffy—theirs—yet Luffy nonetheless.

To have a little faith in them seemed harmless, but now—since his Grandpa was after him—it didn't seem that they have the best interest for him in mind. That is only, if his Grandpa's did not have the intention to lock him up inside that claustrophobic hospital room again. Ace drove a hand through his hair and blew the air from his cheek. How complicated could this mess get?

He tilted his head, his gaze drifting across the room and landing on Usopp. His cheek propped on his hand and from the angle of his face, he seemed to be intently listening to their conversation. Next was Algae, despite having napped so soundly, he seemed alert. The arms across his chest were poised and his shoulders tense. He looked like Grandpa whenever he was simultaneously sleeping and deep in thought.

His gaze shifted at the blond. He was humming a tune, dipping oil into the pan, his black boots rhythmically tapping against the marble floor, but Ace knew his feet were probably itching to land a couple of bruises on his body.

He didn't like this at all. He had left the hospital room in search for freedom, but instead fate snatched him up into a different cage and figured this time a little jump from the window won't earn him his liberty.

He would have to crave it out, through will or by force.

And he would have to start now.

---

Nami watched him quietly, she waited moments longer until she loudly slammed her book shut, re-pointing the focus of attention on her but Ace was too busy with his thoughts to notice, and so she sighed internally and called his name, his head shot up and a sceptical pair of eyes fastened on her, and she tried her best to explain the situation to him. She could feel Usopp's panic eyes boring holes into her eyes.

Whilst Ace napped, her friend had told her how sly Ace could be, and honestly, after conversing with him for the last couple of minutes, she didn't find him any better than a temperamental teenaged brat. He was full of holes and openings, not to mention that his thoughts were written across his face, and his emotions mirrored inside his eyes. He was an open-paged book, easy to read and sprawled in front of her eyes, and she intended to exploit him to the fullest.

"The Whitebeards are searching every nook and cranny for you. If you were to meet them now, you would only send them into another frenzy. They still enraged at what happened. And your sudden appearance in front of them days ago did not help the matter." Her smile stretched, strained, and his brows sunk, and with every piece of information his face drew blank like an unpainted canvas, and from the intensity of his eyes, she knew he was soaking every tiny detail he needed into his mind.

She cleared her throat and pinned him another stare. "By now, you should have noticed that your oblivious behaviour does not sit well with them. So, don't make it worse by attempting to meet—"

"But I don't care that. That's not my problem."

"It's your problem," she retorted, his clam, nonchalant voice struck a nerve. Did he not hear a word she said? "It is you in danger. They will tear you apart the moment, they'll see you—"

"Like I said, I don't care."

"Are you listening to me?"

"I just need to meet Whitebeard—"

Her hand slammed on the table, almost out of protest, and the resonating slap bounced in and out of his ears, it sounded painful and yet his fingers were numb; they always, always felt numb, just like the echoes of his mind that couldn't heed to her warnings.

"I'm not asking for permission. Either you tell me, or I'll find him myself."

The orange-haired shook her head, defiantly. Her lips drew into a taunt line, and her angry pair of eyes fixed on Usopp, who spluttered in his drink at the blatant intensity and jumped out of the chair to heed her unvoiced command.

Ace brows drew down, increasingly aware that he was a rabbit surrounded by a pack of wolves. Completely, and openly bared at their animosity. His hands fisted, and his glaring stormy eyes shifted enough to keep the sudden, jerky movements inside his field of vision as boiling defiance bubbled inside the pit of his stomach, and he clenched his teeth tight together and pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, when Usopp burst through the door, newspaper in hand, wildly waved, before he pushed it behind his back and drew his sling shot forward, motioning it around and aiming it at everyone in a jerky fashion, and Ace opted to ignore his shaking legs.

"Like I said, I don't agree with any this! I'm keeping this hostage until y'all change your minds! So do it now! Quickly! I won't hesitate to shoot this!"

The orange-haired woman rolled her eyes, beside her obvious irritation no other response bore through the silence except the crinkling noises coming from the cook as he checked the brew inside the pots. After another queasy glance across the kitchen, Usopp seemed to have realised this as well. The ferocity drained away from him, and he sighed as he, yet again, waved around the stapled papers. "We can't rely on our tactic anymore. You heard what Chopper said. This is not the person we used to know."

"But what else can we do?"

Ace turned his head to stare at the cook, who was now leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyes pointedly staring at Usopp. "He might be amnesic right now, but that doesn't change that he is still caused this mess."

"What mess?" Ace asked with furrowed brows. "I haven't done anything to you."

"No, not to us, per se. But your latest decisions were enough to shake up our group dynamic." His hand moved toward his breast pocket, pulling out his favourite pack of cigarette. "You might not have noticed, but we are missing some members—"

"Actually, I did notice." Ace rebutted, and firmly ignored the surprised expression on the blond's face. He was a breath away from lightening up his cigarette when his head shot up. "There are a bunch of pictures stuck on the wall. I can tell that four are missing. But that has completely nothing to do with me."

"Wrong," the orange-haired corrected, after having secretly sneaked behind a distracted Usopp, and snatched the newspaper from him. He gawked, and she smirked, before she threw it at Ace. He didn't catch it, and watched it fall listlessly at his feet. The heading was written in bold, thick print, and its words did nothing but reaffirm the suspicion gnawing at him for the past minutes.

"The biggest crisis since Whitebeard Inc. was founded," Ace read and thought back at the posters he gazed at which were now blurry in his memories, yet from what little he remembered they were part of the Straw Hats. It had nothing to do with them.

"Read it. You'll see."

Ace glanced at the blond, sceptically, wondering whether the others only wanted to exploit the situation to land him a firm kick on his rear as he bent.

"Read it. You'll understand. Really."

Ace didn't think he would, but the situation was strange enough for him to reconsider. He moved to pick up the paper, and unlike his thoughts determined they did not attack him. He skimmed through the paragraphs, marvelling at the pictures and skipping through the content. It had far less information than the bundles of papers Smoker transacted. He could understand a little why his Grandpa went out of his way to purchase them. But at the same time, it still wasn't explicit how it was remotely connected with the Straw Hats.

Ace flipped the next page, not prepared for the sudden jump of his heart. The goofy expression pictured on the paper was unmistakably Luffy's—their Luffy. His eyes skimmed through the paragraphs and his world made increasingly less sense than it did months ago when he first woke up.

Ace gazed at it uncomprehendingly, and he blinked a couple of time, adjusting and redirecting his focus before his eyes skimmed through the words again, hoping that his brain somehow failed to connect the dots—and yes, it did. Because it didn't make sense at all.

"Ace?"

The call of his name rung distant in his ear, the gears of his minds were clinking, busy spiralling to find its rhythm into the path of his memories, to no avail. The path was blocked, obstructed by a fog that misted over the footwork of his thoughts, and Ace could reach for nothing but a feeling that burned like embers in his chest, a sickening feeling that rolled shivers over his shoulder.

"Ace?"

Slowly, his eyes rose from the paper, landing on a pair of concerned eyes—concerned and hesitant, as if restraining an injured animal that cornered itself in his rage—in its fear. Ace swallowed, the inner walls of his mouth tasted strangely metallic, almost acidic. He could hear it, it was ringing inside his ears, echoing loud inside his mind—

"There he is!"

He shut his eyes, counted to ten, and willed those memories away, but he remembered the blood oozing on the streets, the lingering animosity, the grief and anger, and most of all the ear-splitting cries and incessant screams under the stream of shots.

"Just take him and leave us alone!"

"Ace!"

There was a grasp on his shoulder, firm and sudden, and his head shot up, his eyes fastened on the eyes of the orange-haired—still concerned, hesitant—and Ace jerked his shoulder away, stumbling back until he hit the counter.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, numbly. His ears still rung, he could still hear it—hear them—hear their anger—their grief—their hatred. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he swallowed, the taste metallic, acidic—

"Promise me, you'll never listen to a word they say."

He convulsed before he knew it, his shoulders trembled too much, and his knees shook, weakening until it buckled, and he slid down, sitting on the floor, taking deep breath and calming himself, willed himself not think about her. His stomach churned, the bile crept up to his throat and he rolled his head back, closed his eyes and listened to his own heartbeat.

"Where did I go?"

The words rolled out without his consent, but the lingering memories were swarming inside his mind, and he could see the wide sea stretching below him, its wave crashing onto the high red mountain he stood upon, almost as if it's threatening to swallow him whole as the thick visible fog wafted his face. "Where did I crash?"

Ace opened his eyes, crooked his head to look at them, not surprised that he had caught the attention of the entire room. Even Zoro who had been napping so soundly revealed an eye to look at him.

"You crashed on your way to Mariejoise," the orange haired answered, still cautiously.

"I see," his voice was as loud as a pin dropped in silence. "So that's how it was."

"What do you mean?" there was a sharp glint inside her despite the mellow shape of concern glinting inside her eyes as she stared at Ace, questioningly.

"Mary-juice is the capital of those Government officials. There's no way I would go there for no reason."

Usopp shook his head as his eyes fastened on Ace, uncomprehendingly. "But you were offered to become a warlord? One of those crazy individuals that directly get paid by the Government. Why wouldn't you go?"

Ace stared at him and his mouth moved on its own once again, and he wondered whether there was a part of him that wasn't entirely lost within himself when he echoed the phrases he read days ago, its meaning never seemed so clear to him before. "I didn't go there to become a warlord. I promised myself that I'll do whatever to finish what they started."

He remembered it now.

He did it for a reason.

He became a villain for a specific reason.

They declared war.

And I'm giving it to them.

They stared at him with uncomprehending eyes, but Ace didn't mind. Because he remembered it. The fall of South Blue. The death of his Mama. And this time, Ace couldn't stop himself from divulging into his memories.

Divulging into the shadows of his past.

---

It was cold. It was dark. It was scary.

But Ace was six years old and smart. He knew wailing was utterly useless by now. Knew that crying was just a sign of weakness—a weakness he promised he wouldn't show—didn't dare to show. His mother needed him to be strong now.

"It's time to go, Ace."

Ace gnashed his teeth, reeled in the tears as he whizzed by the empty streets. Like steel claws, his fingers clenched on the hand-sewed blanket, forced his legs to run through the powdered air and metallic stenches. His ragged breaths droned out the hysteric screams and the shouts of mercy.

"Don't worry about me. Mama will be fine."

He bit his tongue, shut his eyes against the flying sands, surged by the current of the wind, his bare feet splattered on shot tangerines, tripped over wooden bits of broken carts, scratched the dirt and splintered on wood, dripped of blood as he sprinted through hard rocks and scalding ground, past the bloodied limps blasted on the side walk and only ran forward.

"Promise me, you won't look back."

The night never rang so hollow, so empty. Ace missed the laughter, the brightness, the theatrical shows with handmade puppets, the street lamps marking the streets and the chirping markets sales in the evening, the peaches and yellow rays of sunlight, the crimson and purple that used to paint the evening sky. The wallows of pain grew quieter, fainter under the storms of machine guns and hollering cries of the state police. Ace knew that sound—knew it so well—they were—they were—

"Don't think. Just run as far as you can."

Ace gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. His will was weak against the fire sizzling in his stomach—the raw anger and the guilt. They were falling, dying and there was nothing he could do. Ace bit his bleeding lips, willed the tears to stay in his eyes as he tripped and fell to the ground.

Someone had grabbed his leg. Towed him back.

Ace crooked his head, pushed his blue blanket away from his face, sucked in deep a breath, and his bottom lip trembled at the unrecognisable expression on his neighbour's face. The smiles were gone. The kind eyes, vanished. The friendly waves he used greet Ace with were nowhere to be found. Just hard, cold malice.

"Ace, remember—this isn't your fault. You never did anything wrong."

"There he is!" he cried out and pulled Ace up by the foot. His blanket fell. The blood rushed to his face and Ace failed to blink. Failed to comprehend the sudden animosity from the fallen around him, holding their wounds and glaring at him as though he was the incarnation of their troubles.

"Just take him and leave us alone!" a woman shouted, her voice shook, thickened of grief, her face tear streaked as she glared with such hatred at him, cradled an unresponsive man closed to her chest, his clothes tattered, and blood oozed from spots his limps were missing.

"Promise me, you'll never listen to a word they say."

"It's his fault anyway! That monster!"

"The devil's blood runs in him!"

"Save us from him!"

Ace couldn't breathe. Fat drops of salt water curled into his mouth. His bottom lip shook. His head hurt. His ears rung of rushing blood. But he could hear—hear the thundering footsteps.

They were coming.

Coming for him.

Ace wriggled his leg. But the man didn't let go. Shouted profanities at him. Cried for the police to get here. Ace gnashed his teeth; his small arms were far away from the floor, and the blood continued streaming to his head.

Ace moved to grab the others pants and clutched his shirt, not entirely thinking when he bit the fat man's stomach. He heard a scream and a fist collided on his face. His nose cracked. But the fat man dropped him to the ground and nursed his aching stomach even as Ace grabbed his blanket and dash away. The other shouted after him and cursed heavens at him. But Ace didn't care. Only held a hand over his nose as the tears brimmed in his eyes.

His legs sprinted towards the other side of town. Towards the port where his father's ship would be—where his mother said he'd be completely safe—Ace halted and thought again, Mama.

He turned around, saw the welling smoke shadowing the city, the over towering fire budding from the shelled houses, destroyed and its plastered scattered across the floor, almost like a tombstone for the nameless civilians dying under the rubble and machine fire.

A tomb for his dear, dear Mama.

Ace's lips quivered but he turned his back to it as he ran—ran as far as he could even as the latch broke, and like a broken dam tears sprouted from his eyes, overflowed his face and stained his shirt like an ongoing stream. Echoes of pain overfilled the fear driven night, resonated of anger and sorrow from each scream that escaped his mouth, fully packed of deep felt guilt for his mother, and hatred for his weakness.

For his powerlessness.

For his inability to safe his own mother.

And hatred for his uselessness against those bad men who knocked their doors down and pointed their weapons at them.

His cries rung of pain and embittered anger. But also, relief and gratefulness for his mother. His dear, dear mother.

For her strength to safe him—protect him from those men with blazing guns, even with her last breath. For him—

For someone like him.

"Remember, Ace. I will always love you."

Ace only cried harder.

---

Hollow eyed, Ace stared at the bleeding wall, gazed at the swirls of crimson and fading orange melting together like the flickering flame of a dying candle, its colour resonating the shade of his hometown walloped in flames, in hues of red that mirrored the colour flowing through his vein.

Motionlessly, his hand reached out towards the light bulb glowing at the ceiling, and he stared at the back of his hand before his gaze landing on the stretch of his arm. It was carefully covered in wraps, and he knew it was healing, but it would never disappear, his skin was marred, blemished with cuts and bruises, and for a moment he wondered, what his mother would say to that—if she were to see him now—like this.

(She will be disappointed.)

His lips twitched into a smile. He didn't doubt it.

I'm a mess.

A monster.

A murderer.

He closed his eyes and hummed, a happy tune he heard multiple times from Dogra whenever he hung the laundry on a languid summer day, and he remembered the green leaves swaying in the wind, the breeze of fresh air wafting his face and Dadan's boisterous shouts droning from the living room. His lips tugged down, lopsided with a tinge of sadness.

Ace stood up. The blanket dropped to his ankles as Ace stood up, walking out of the living room and towards the front door. It wasn't locked. The knob turned easily in his hand, opened easily the gates to hell with every step he took into the deserted streets in the middle of nowhere. But nowhere was always a little close to home.

He wandered through the streets, the path seemed ingrained on the soles of his feet as they marched on with a will on their own, the destination set on its mind, and Ace only followed. He had seen the signs on the highway. He knew what laid on the country side at East Blue.

The comforting smell of trees and moss were calming as he wandered through the thick forest, stepped past fallen branches and discoloured leaves, brown and orangey, laying below an empty tree trunk, the bark black and marred, weathered by storms and harsh winds, completely dry and rough against the palm of his hands. He tightened his grip and pushed his foot against the surface, climbing upwards and latching on the wide-space branches until he reached its crown, and glanced around, his eyes fasting onto the pine trees in his vicinity, spoiling his field of vision with their overreaching trunk. Ace sighed and climbed back down, dead leaves crunched under his feet as he looked around and searched for the never-ending trail that lay behind the trees.

Ace knew Dawn Island like the back of his hand, but he was starting to wonder whether he had ever set foot in this forest after all. His brows knitted harshly at the thought he had misread the sign. He drove his hand through his hair and sighed, moving deep into the woods until he moved onto a familiar track with overarching vines and squirrels twirling around the trees. He had finally found Mt. Colubo.

Ace ran, sprinted through the remaining stretch of the way until he burst through a clearing, near a cliff, his gaze landed automatically on the tombstone, the neat square still upheld the scrawl of his mother's name, surrounded by flowers—chrysanthemums to be exact of various shapes and colours. They were his mother's favourite.

His eyes dropped from the epitaph, underneath his mother's maiden name lay the name his scribbled onto the stone with his own seven-year-old hands.

Gold D. Ace.

Ace sat down on the grass, gazed straight ahead at his mother's gravestone, wholeheartedly knowing that his life spiralled downwards from the moment the government got wind from his existence and gunned down an entire borough.

He stretched out on his back and gazed at the clear sky above, marvelling at the turn of his life until his eyes grew weary, and sleep took him as the bird chirped on.

---

When Ace arrived at the port, his father was nowhere to be seen.

Ace wiped his swollen eyes and glanced around, still trying to dampen the hiccups under his breath. There was only a ship. Small boat for fishing. Ace climbed over it, wondered how to use a boat when he moved about, on lookout for the anchor when he tripped over something incredibly hard. Ace held back the tears and rubbed a hand over his leg, glaring with pursed lips at whatever it was.

There was a man sleeping on the ship, and Ace gasped when his sleep bubble suddenly popped. Ace moved to get away but tripped when the stranger grabbed his leg and pulled him closer.

"I see, you've found the ship," the voice was surprisingly gentle, and his curious eyes inspected Ace's face, grabbing his cheeks and turning from all side until the man suddenly nodded, satisfied, as he ran a hand over his black beard and descended the young boy to the ground. "We'll be heading right away, Ace. I've got some ratio prepared for you, and you could always use the sea as your toilet as well."

Ace furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes at him. He had seen the few pictures of his father that his mother was able to save over the years, and one thing was definitely clear. This man was not his father. "Who are you?"

"Oh me? I'm surprised you couldn't tell," the man rose the anchor with one strong hand, turned over to look at Ace with lifted eyebrows and twinkling eyes. "I'm Garp. Your Grandpa."

Ace scowled at him and crossed his arms over his chest. This stranger was lying blatantly through his teeth. "I don't have a Grandpa."

"Well, you have one now. Let's get along well."

Ace frowned at him, and slowly sneaked back, tied his blanket over his neck as he moved to climb down the fishing boat. There was no way he would stay with a lying creep and risk getting his head chopped off whilst he slept. People couldn't be trusted. Ace had learnt that by now. Had learned that today.

He bit his lip, turned away, gazed at the smoke and smouldering fire.

Mama.

Almost automatically his legs moved towards the edge of the boat.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

Ace yelped when a fist collided with the back of his head. The man yanked him back and tied him to the mast whilst they embarked from South Blue, leaving behind the roaring flames and weltering smoke that receded into the distance. Ace kept his eyes on it even after it disappeared from his view.

"Are you hungry?" the man offered him a piece of bread, but Ace only moved his head away. For all he knew it could be poisoned. The man shrugged and swallowed the whole piece by himself, grinning whilst he ate. "Thought it was poisoned, didn't you?"

He drove a hand over Ace's head, and openly ignored the glare the younger shot him with. "Well, if you don't trust me, we could always do this."

"Do what?" Ace glared from the mast.

"Do this," the man nodded and unbound Ace from the mass and looked at him, sternly. "If there's anything on board that you'd think would endanger you, then you have my permission to throw it overboard."

Ace glanced at him sceptical. "Won't you have your stuff on your person?"

The self-proclaimed Grandpa laughed. "Of course, I do! The only weapon I need is my fist," he drove his pinkie in his ear and blew the dust away. "Poison and pistols and are only for weaklings."

"And you expect me to trust you?" Ace spat grudgingly, eyeing him suspiciously even as he looked across the boat in search of any objects that may harm him.

"You don't need to trust me, boy," the man mumbled as he patted Ace's head again. "You only need to survive."

The man's expression was hard for a moment, and Ace didn't understand why. He pulled his blue blanket closer to himself and felt his mother's love and warmth underneath its confine, as he drove his hand over the hand-made stars and crescent moon that twinkling bright above the skylight.

Ace reeled in the tears and clambered his mouth shut as he nodded. He needed to be strong now. It was time to be a man.

He had to live.

For the sake of his mother.