Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.

Warnings: Likely to be future romances/relationships including het, slash and possibly femslash; these won't be the focus of the story. No Ace/Luffy. Odd pairings will likely abound, as well as OCs. Swearing, violence, AU, and eventual character deaths (including major characters). The plot is not set in stone, and is liable to change at a moment's notice on the basis of 'I realised there was a plothole' or 'I got bored and thought of something more interesting'. That's probably all.

ADDED NOTE: Okay, I lied. I did get this chapter out quickly, but they will start getting a lot slower soon (although hopefully longer – I'm aiming for an eventual 5000 words per chapter or so.) In any case, I just wanted to point out that if you're expecting Ace/anyone anytime soon, don't bother. He's thirteen and obsessed with duty for now.

xxxxx

Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum

CHAPTER 3: It is fatal to enter a war without the will to win it.

xxxxx

He knew most of the lessons off by heart already; he could thrash any of the others in combat training; he never had to be corrected on his salute or the appropriate address for different ranks, or be ordered to remake his bed, to polish his boots or anything else that dozens of others were chewed out for over those first few weeks.

It was hardly a surprise he wasn't popular.

The drill Commander, the retired and semi-retired Marines who taught; he wasn't exactly popular with them either, except a few who took his deference as their due, which didn't help cast off the reputation as a suck-up.

It wasn't sucking-up, or arrogance, or anything like that – he was just different. Ace was twelve, Ace didn't have a well-known family member or patron backing him – he'd refused Garp's offer, and Sengoku had insisted he wouldn't get anywhere relying on people's fear or respect for a patron to carry him through, that he had to rely on his own merit; and yes, Ace could see the point of that.

So he ignored the cliques and camaraderie that built up without him, five years setting him apart from the others – five years of age difference, and five years that he'd spent in the gilded cage of Mariejois, carefully watched by a hundred eyes and mind subtly altered with each new lesson.

He didn't understand his supposed peers. They didn't understand him. He was smaller, but could beat them senseless; he was from an unknown family, but spoke like a noble and ate with manners that belied the extra rations he was allowed, a perk that gained more than a few jealous whispers. He never got sick, but he still took three pills a day, prescribed by the Academy doctors, and no-one knew what they were for.

The first three weeks were spent by himself, as surrounded and alone as he'd been when standing in that courtyard for the first time.

Then he met Katsu.

xxxxx

"You can spar with me today, right?" Luffy insisted, which was almost exactly the same thing he'd said to Ace the previous morning.

Ace sighed, but didn't stop preparing breakfast. "Yes, today. After we eat."

The boy nodded, pleased, and plopped himself back on a chair to watch Ace intently, either fascinated by the preparation of food, or because he thought Ace might try to escape if given half the chance. He swung his legs happily, sometimes tilting his feet down as if trying to get them to reach the floor, scowling when they just missed.

"You'll always be short unless you drink more milk," Ace said idly, almost mechanically, after the third time it happened, to which Luffy stuck out his tongue and simply stretched his legs far enough to reach the floor easily. Ace shrugged and went back to breakfast. As one of his instructors had said; if it's a Devil Fruit, it isn't cheating. If you win, it isn't cheating. If a Marine does it, it's never cheating.

Two out of three was good enough.

"How did you get hurt?" Luffy asked suddenly, still licking at the air. "Was it pirates?" His eyes widened at the thought, looking somewhat gleeful, and Ace hid a scowl, trying not to destroy the steamed rice in his sudden annoyance.

"Yes," he answered shortly, not looking at Luffy, who perked up even more at the answer.

There was a small sound as Luffy pushed himself to the floor, wandering over to peer in interest at Ace's still-bandaged arm (and generally get in the way). "What happened?"

Ace snorted, pausing to glance at the boy. "What do you think happened? It's not like you can head from Marineford over to East Blue without seeing a single pirate ship. We dealt with a lot of them on the way."

He didn't mention that he'd wandered dizzily to the head and thrown up after his first battle, still covered in the blood of the man who'd nearly gutted him. Ace had barely even hurt anyone that time, let alone killed them, and the shame and mortification of his uselessness still twisted at his gut. The next letter he'd sent to Numa had been even more brief and terse than usual, and Ace had spent the next day wallowing in his cabin, not that anyone mentioned it (which was, frankly, even more humiliating).

"So what happened?" Luffy persevered, poking at the bandaged arm. "Gramps said you got your arm and leg hurt, but he didn't say how. Was it a bunch of really powerful pirates?" He was staring up at Ace, obviously expecting some great story; Ace hadn't heard stories since he was eight, had no idea how to tell them, and didn't think Luffy would approve of him laying it out like a report, or perhaps a narrative in one of his textbooks.

"The ship rolled during one fight," he said shortly, "and I fell near a hole made by a cannonball. My leg went into it and planking tore it." It had taken an hour and a half to pull all the splinters out, not to mention having to wait for the more seriously wounded to be treated before him.

Luffy scowled, obviously put out. "That's not heroic!" he huffed, reaching up to snatch a piece of broiled salmon, sticking it in his mouth before Ace could stop him.

Ace scowled back, hand clenching slightly around the knife he was using to chop with. "It's nothing to do with heroism. It just happened." He wasn't exactly thrilled with how he'd received it either, nor with the fact it would apparently leave a scar several inches long running up his leg; not exactly a great war-wound. "You can't pick what injuries you get."

"I wouldn't have slipped on a ship," Luffy informed him, peering at Ace's leg as though he could see the wound through Ace's pants. "You can't be a very good Marine if you're just gonna fall ove-"

There was a loud thwack as Ace slammed the knife down, through the fish and impaling the cutting-board, the faint whirring of the blade vibrating filling the silence.

Ace swallowed as he stared at the gray metal. "I am a good Marine." His voice was low and quiet. "I am, and I'm going to get even better, and I'm going to keep getting better. So don't you ever. Dare. Tell me. That I'm a bad Marine."

His head twisted smoothly and slowly as he turned to stare at Luffy, jaw twitching faintly. "I'm going to be the best Marine the world's ever seen, and I'm going to earn it. And if that means I have to pay with my blood for really stupid shit, then fine. But in the end, I'm going to be standing on top, and no-one will ever doubt me again."

He was breathing hard, Ace realised faintly, for no reason he could quite discern, and he could feel himself shivering faintly, a sharp, twisting knife rising through his stomach. He stared down at Luffy who gazed back, eyes limpid as a cows.

The younger boy cocked his head, still staring. "So is breakfast ready yet?"

Ace stared. Luffy stared. Ace slumped, gave up and got on with breakfast, not bothering to explain his arm wound.

"We'll spar later," he muttered.

xxxxx

They met the elusive Makino on the way to Luffy's usual training ground – she was just entering the village, a basket full of greenery that Ace vaguely recognised as herbs held in one hand.

She looked... not like someone whose wrath could force Luffy into drinking milk and attempting to cook his meat. In fact, as she smiled pleasantly at Ace and marvelled at the cleanness of Luffy's face (Ace had forced him into the bathroom and barred the door from the outside until Luffy was scrubbed), Ace thought she actually seemed rather nice.

"And she actually puts up with you?" Ace wondered aloud as they continued on, Luffy waving frantically as the woman disappeared into the village.

Luffy grinned up at him, obviously pleased by Makino's approval of the neat, (then) well-mannered Marine who was travelling with him. "Makino-san's really patient. She's known me since I was this small." He lowered his hand close to the ground, the height suggesting that Makino knew him when he was a foetus, because Ace was fairly certain even newborns weren't that small. "And she feeds me a lot," Luffy added, which was clearly high praise, even when followed by picking his nose.

Ace grimaced, swatted at his hand ("Don't do that." – "Why not?" – "It's disgusting!" – "So?") and kept trudging up the worn path, ignoring the view of the fields around them. Garp had bragged about his grandson before, of course, but Ace had little idea how good he was. Apparently the boy had been training since he was seven ("My punch is more powerful than a pistol!" the boy insisted when Ace pressed him on the matter), but knew nothing of what the style he was trained in was called, or if it even was a style. "I hit things," Luffy explained helpfully upon further questioning. He paused. "Sometimes I kick 'em."

He was glad enough when they reached the open grassland, mostly because he would finally get to slap the kid around a little. Not much, but – well. He was annoying. Anyway, he was made of rubber, it would hardly h-urk.

Ace bent his upper body back in a swift motion, dodging the rubbery fist that slammed through where his head had been an instant earlier (and continued several feet forwards), and straightened himself again, ducking aside and forwards just as the arm began to return, ramming his own fist into Luffy's stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he snapped, hands on hips as he glared down at the coughing, wheezing boy on the ground. "It's a spar, you don't just start without telling anyone!"

Luffy had regained his breath quickly, blinking up at Ace before beaming. "Wow, that hurt! Not as bad as Gramps' punches, though."

With a small groan at the moron's obliviousness, Ace rubbed his forehead, wishing he had some kind of headache pill with him. "Luffy. You can't just randomly attack people in a spar. You have to make sure they're ready first."

"Oh." The boy frowned, getting to his feet and thoughtfully tugging his cheek out beyond normal human limits. "Didn't know that. Sorry!"

Ace scowled, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it aside, backing up a few steps. "Haven't you had a real spar before? – And take off that hat, it'll get damaged."

He was surprised by the way Luffy instantly froze, hands reaching to clutch possessively at the slightly-battered-looking object. "No way! I'm keeping it with me! I can look after it fine." He wrinkled his nose and gave a small tug on the hat before pushing it further onto his head. "I've never sparred with anyone but Gramps. He never waits for me to be ready though."

"I don't know if you noticed this," Ace sighed, eyeing the thing atop Luffy's head – it was a hat, not a crown, no-one was going to steal it if he put it down for an hour or so; "but your grandfather is a violent lunatic."

Luffy laughed at that, long and loud, the most cheerful sound Ace had heard since his Academy graduation, before grinning up at Ace and patting the straw-hat happily. "Yeah, he is, isn't he?"

D's were definitely nuts, Ace decided, right before he kicked Luffy's ass several times in a row, and spent most of the rest of the day teaching him the correct posture and forms. D's were strong, fast, and 100% crazy, but they were far more easy to tolerate when they were smaller and less likely to demand tea-breaks at random moments.

Besides, sparring was at least fifty times better than cleaning Luffy's apartment.