Hey guys!

Guess who's back! Okay, so maybe I shouldn't sound so happy, but I finally managed to cough out another chapter. To be fair, it's not as nice (though it's one of my longest yet) and as great as I want it to be. But this fic is a collection of oneshots and since I have painstakingly written it, it is definitely going out. This chapter is a request...and I'm just no good with writing these sort of stories. It must be one of the reasons I stick to depressing, sad plots.

Also, please note that this chapter happened before Ace got his mark.

Anyway, thank you for the reviews, the favourites and the follows! You guys are amazing and thank you again for coming back to read whatever I have to offer.

On another more serious note, I know some of you are not happy that I have taken this long of a hiatus from writing. I implore you to please understand that I have a life outside of this writing this fics. I have a job, responsibilities pertaining to family and friends, and I also need time to myself, and that doesn't necessarily centre around spending hours writing something that most people don't even appreciate. I write this for myself, yes, and I like that I can share it with you guys, but please don't make it a point to try bring me down. Please remember I am not obligated to write this.

Also, this is neither a ThatchxIzo fic nor a MarcoxAce fic. Simply said, there are no pairings.

As for Lifeless Heartless, sweetie, I am so sorry I haven't replied to your PM. Please forgive me. This chapter is for you, for it is all I can offer you at this juncture in time.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.


Chapter 9: When Ace attracts unwanted attention

Ace stared at the back of his hands, his eyebrows furrowed.

He had known that things – if not his entire world – would change the moment he stopped being stupid and accepted Whitebeard's offer. He knew – he really, really did – his decision would bring forth new (and exciting) things and the part of him that desired his newfound family's companionship couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. He would never be alone anymore. Marco, Whitebeard, everyone on the ship had promised him that.

For once, he would have other people to look to when he wasn't sure of his next step. It was fine if he made mistakes. With Luffy, he always had to keep up a brave front. His naïve little brother believed he was invincible, though he always felt far from it. As for the Spades, he was the Captain. He never wanted them to see him as weak, and he strove to prove that their trust in his strength and fortitude was not misplaced.

Now that he didn't have to live to the expectations that he himself had bound himself with…it was almost jarring.

But what he hadn't expected was how truly happy he would be, here, among one of the fiercest pirate crews to sail the seas. All Ace had hoped for was peace, for contentment or just a little bit of appreciation even, but not in his wildest dreams could he have foreseen how at home he felt on the Moby Dick. With their easy-going smiles and general laidback attitudes, he couldn't help how welcomed he felt. Like he had finally stumbled his way back home after years of being away.

His hands closed into a fist.

And yet, a small part of him yelled in defiance. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

For with each flash of bliss came an ounce of regret, and a pinch of sharp guilt. His true home would forever be with Luffy, and the vacant space that was Sabo's. Part of it extended to Dadan and the other mountain bandits, to his crazy grandfather, and to Makino-san too, the only woman whom he felt was as close to his mother as he would ever get. Another part of him held fast to his short but extraordinary time with the Spades. He would cherish those memories for as long as he lived, but already they were turning vague and distant as new bonds and new people took root in his life.

It felt…wrong. But he wasn't abandoning them, was he? Luffy and everyone else on Mt. Corvo (with the exception of maybe Garp) would have wanted him to be happy, even if it was in another home. His former crew would want the best for him and themselves, even if it meant to sail under another's flag.

…right?

They had pledged their loyalty to him. As Captain, Ace had carried their dreams, their hopes and trust on his shoulders. It was his responsibility to tear their way through to freedom. Disbanding them, without asking for their opinions and just going ahead with what he wanted…was that too selfish of him?

"So this was where you were, yoi," a familiar voice broke his train of thought. "We were looking all over for you."

Ace turned away from the stern of the ship, his eyes dark and brooding. If Marco felt he looked out of sorts, he didn't show it, and instead offered him a mug of, oh, hot chocolate. The younger accepted it with a mumbled 'thanks'.

"We're approaching one of the winter islands," the commander answered the unspoken question. "Thatch said hot chocolate was in order and the others tend to go a little…competitive when it comes to his hot chocolate, yoi. We saved you some, but I'm afraid it won't be as warm as it should be."

The younger pirate peered at him through the corners of his eyes. "It's no problem," he said quietly. His palms turned a faint shade of red as he warmed the drink again. He inwardly felt his stomach curl in appreciation that the older man had remembered him. Was this how Luffy felt like whenever he did something nice for him? "Give me your mug?"

Marco handed it to him without question and a moment later he was holding his own mug of nicely heated chocolate.

A hushed silence befell them. Somehow, the freckled teen got the feeling his new brother was waiting for him to speak. The blonde always seemed to know when he was troubled (or maybe he was just that transparent) but he would never push unless it had the potential to cause harm amongst the family.

Ace almost started when he felt a warm palm press against his chest. He looked down to see it was his own, feeling for the steady thump of his own heart that seemed to beat with a sort of tender ache.

"I never asked you," he suddenly said. A pair of blue eyes fixed on him.

"I know the Captain" – he still couldn't bring himself to call the strongest man in the world Oyaji – "wanted me to join the crew, and all of you respected him enough to ensure he got what he wanted." He quirked a wry smile. "Even ifit mean putting up with my antics."

Marco remained silent.

"How did…" Ace had to choke back a stutter. "How did you really feel about me joining the crew?"

The younger fire-user had never had anyone (except Luffy and Sabo, the two who wouldn't leave him alone, the idiots) who found his company even remotely close to likeable. Yet the Whitebeards sought him out, invited him into conversations, and some even scrambled to book his time before someone else could, and he quoted, 'take him away'. And Marco – thoughtful, caring Marco – was with him every step of the way.

And, because of that, he was almost afraid of the answer he couldn't help would come.

A soft chuckle tore him from his inner dark musings, and a rough hand pressing his cowboy hat onto his head made him look up with a scowl.

"I always knew you'd come through, yoi," Marco said calmly, as if oblivious to the internal turmoil that rolled in the younger's chest. "Everyone on this ship, Ace, has something in common, yoi." A cool breeze wafted through the air. "We want a place to call home, yet we desire nothing more than to be free. We hope to find friends in another, yet doing so wrongly could very well be our undoing. After all, yoi, where in this world could we find peace not only within ourselves, but in the people around us, and the place we belong in?"

Ace looked thunderstruck. "But, you couldn't have known I'd agree eventually," he argued. He looked away as he admitted, "I was…I was this close to leaving the ship. I thought of how it would be like to be part of you guys, but, there was a part of me that didn't want to. I was going to leave, maybe go back home for a bit and rest, before starting out all over again."

"What made you change your mind, yoi?"

The freckled teen let out a sigh. "I don't know." A weary grin tugged at his lips. "Must be Thatch. I'd die of regret if I missed out on his food any more than I have to."

Marco snorted and bumped the younger's shoulder. "Oh? I had nothing to do with it?"

Ace threw him a mock-puzzled look. "You? Of course not. You should be glad your hair didn't scare me aw-OW!"

The blonde grinned when the younger nursed the back of his neck from the brief headlock. He then turned sombre. "And to answer your question, yoi, of course I knew you were going to say yes. You'd have to be a fool to say no to getting a family." He rolled his eyes. "And of course, Thatch's food."

The satisfied warmth that curled Ace's insides didn't last long. "What if you don't like me?"

Marco lifted an eyebrow. "Because I always save hot chocolate and spend time with people I don't like, yoi?"

Ace ignored the bait. "You like me now," he said seriously. "But, what if, as you get to know me, you realise you don't like what you see? That maybe I'm not the person you thought I was? That maybe I-"

The commander coughed into his hand and the teen trailed off.

"If we liked you even when you were trying to take Oyaji's head for 100 consecutive days, I daresay we like you even more when you aren't being a cocky little brat." Marco smirked. "Idiot." He downed the rest of his hot chocolate. "Have you decided yet, yoi?" he abruptly changed the subject.

"Decided about what?"

"Where to put your mark." The blonde made a show of staring the kid up and down. His gaze paused at the younger's tattoo on his arm, but he looked away just as quickly, as if worried he would cause offense.

Ace wrinkled his noise. "I don't know," he said, sounding a little too sullen for his liking. "I've been thinking about it, but nowhere seems right."

Marco shrugged. "It'll come to you." He moved to walk away, signalling it was time for the younger to turn in. "Oh, and Ace, yoi?"

The teen straightened. "Yeah?"

"Izo wants to see you tomorrow morning. Thought I should warn you."

"Okay..?"

Marco shot him a secretive smile and waved at him. Ace stared after his back and, quite suddenly, he wondered if he already knew where he wanted his own tattoo to be.


[The next morning]

Ace looked himself in the mirror. His muscles were well-defined- at least, he thought it was, but clearly it wasn't enough for him to defeat most of the commanders and the Captain. His inexperience and recklessness were two of his biggest weaknesses, but that was something he could solve over time. But, as he raked his gaze over himself critically, he couldn't help but feel something was missing.

Looking back, it seemed absurd that he had believed for even a moment that he could take down Whitebeard. Just standing next to Jozu or Fossa made him look like a mouse by contrast.

"Maybe I should train to become bigger, like them…" he muttered to himself. He grimaced. But he didn't want to be that big either... Some of the commanders like Haruta and Izo weren't gigantic people like them too, and they seemed at ease enough.

Have to get stronger. Have to get stronger.

Ace shook his head. What rubbish was he thinking now? It wasn't like size had anything to do with strength. If that was the case, Luffy would forever be, well, Luffy. Although he did agree he needed some real sparring that didn't involve getting tossed around like a rag doll.

Dragging himself away from the mirror, the fire-user ran a hand through his tangle of dark locks and quickly shrugged on a black shirt, courtesy of Izo. The last of his yellow tops had been ripped to shreds, and no one had the heart to let him walk around without a shirt, despite his repeated insistence that he couldn't feel the cold. A smaller part of him suspected, though, that the sixteenth commander hadn't been particularly fond of his choice of clothing, and had been a little enthusiastic when introducing him to a whole new wardrobe.

But black was inconspicuous, and he didn't want to stand out.

Somehow he couldn't help but think Izo was a little disappointed at that.


Rakuyo had to admit he still had his doubts about the new kid. He couldn't deny Ace was impressively strong for a kid his age and was a fine addition to the crew, but his persistent-bordering-on-insane assassination attempts on Whitebeard wasn't something they could just sweep under the carpet. Ace had lost his crew and his ship, after all. It was one of the worst humiliations that a Captain could be put through, though it was tempered somewhat when your opponent was the strongest man in the world.

It didn't help that Marco – usually the one who took the longest to accept newbies – had taken to the super rookie like oil to a flame. And, well, hard as it was to admit, a growing part of him really like the kid too.

Caught between his own conflicting feelings, he supposed he could put the blame on it that he had missed the first signs of distress in the kid.

"Rakuyo?"

That night Ace had gone to his father and slept on his lap (and darn, he did admire the kid's guts for that) had eased his suspicions somewhat, but he couldn't – wouldn't – allow himself to truly accept the fire-user until he was proved wrong.

The commander shifted the newspaper to his lap to stare at the freckled pirate mutely. When had the kid appeared? It must be true, he inwardly thought, the saying that if you think of them enough, they too would appear. To his surprise, the kid was wearing a black shirt, quite unlike his initial choice of bright colours like that rather garish yellow.

Contrary to the eager expression he was used to, Ace seemed to shrink under his hard gaze. "Uh, it's nothing," the teen muttered. The fire-user moved to stand up from his seat across the older man. "I'll see you around."

Rakuyo blinked in surprise. He worked his jaw, trying to appear more open. "No, hey, hold on."

Ace cast him a wary look. "Yeah?"

The commander suppressed a sigh, unable to brush aside the light tingling of guilt. If he was indeed wrong in his doubts (and he did want to be wrong), then it was too unfair of him to treat the other so. "I'm sorry," he offered, forcing out a smile. "I had a bad morning."

Ace regarding him for a moment, and the commander was almost sure the kid would walk away until the younger nodded and returned to his seat.

"It's fine," the freckled pirate returned. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm not quite sure how to say it, and it's been bothering me a little…" He paused, seeming to think about it, before he slapped a palm to his forehead with a sigh. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. It's probably nothing anyway. But tha-"

Huh. So the cocky kid could get flustered too, huh? Rakuyo cracked an amused smile, a little more genuine than the one before, but was sure to hide it. He had heard from the others how the kid hated to be treated like a, well, kid. "You can tell me," he cut in.

The fire-user trailed off. His hands reached up to tug the sides of his cowboy hat down. "It's just- is there something wrong with me?" he blurted out.

"There's nothing wrong with you," the commander said sharply. "Did someone say something?"

"Well, no, but, uh, people keep staring at me," Ace admitted.

Rakuyo leaned back, trying to conceal his surprise, and calmly requested the kid to stand. He had the nagging suspicion of the cause of the problem.

With reddened cheeks, the fire-user did so, but not without fidgeting every few seconds as the older man looked him over. The kid looked…different, that was true. But the only varying factor was the v-neck top. That, coupled with his black knee-length shorts and his cowboy hat, gave him the general appearance of a very confident young adult who was up for some adventure. Who else would dare wear orange these days anyway?

Of course the speckle of freckles on his cheeks pulled numbers from his age, making him look even younger than his seventeen years. But what truly caught his attention was how the kid gave off an air of mischief, with his wide grey eyes that was just nicely shadowed by his hat. Combined, the kid looked too, well, good.

"Well?" Ace said impatiently.

The commander dragged his gaze away. Maybe he could tone down the appeal a little…If he was right, the kid would be going into port straight after lunch. "It's nothing to worry about," he answered smoothly. "On a curious note, Ace, do you happen to have any other shirts?"

The kid looked surprised. "Shirts?" He looked down at his top. "Is there something wrong with my shirt?"

"It seems a little…worn, that's all."

"Oh." Ace frowned. "You think that's why people keep staring at me wherever I go?"

Rakuyo almost snorted in derision. The kid had no idea.

The teen didn't wait for an answer. "Maybe I shouldn't wear a shirt at all then," he muttered as he pulled at his top. "Izo didn't have much to spare, and I don't really like how restricting it is…"

The commander cut in before the kid could continue down that path. "You should wear it, Ace," he insisted. "At least, for today. Izo would be upset if you didn't."

Ace looked startled, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. He flushed. "You're right." He smiled tentatively. "Thanks, Commander!"

For some reason, the title didn't sit well with the older man. He grunted as he reached for his papers once more. "Rakuyo," he corrected. He stared hard at a random article. "You don't call Marco by his title. I expect no discrimination from you, got it, kid?"

A snort. "Fine, but call me kid again and I'll start calling you Captain."

He had to admit again. The kid sure had guts.


"There you are. You should keep from doing that, Ace," Izo chastised lightly.

Ace almost jumped, but swivelled round to see the kimono-clad pirate staring at him, an elegant eyebrow arched. Butterflies danced in his stomach. No, he wasn't afraid of the commander. But the older man made him nervous, for some reason. He figured it must have something to do with the way the latter peered at him, as if he could see more of him than he wanted to reveal. That, and the fact that the others – inclusive of and especially Thatch – seemed to be wary around this particular man.

He struggled to hide his unease. "Doing what?"

The raven-haired man seemed to hide a smile. "Disappearing," he answered. "We always seem to have to look for you when we need you."

Need him? Why did they need him? Ace frowned. "Did something happen?"

Izo waved him concerns away. "Of course not. But we can't have Marco or that chef stealing you away all the time." He hooked an arm around the fire-user's. "That's why we are going shopping together."

Ace stiffened. "What?"

"Oh, in port. We're docking a little earlier than we thought so, let's get going, shall we?"

"But, Marco-"

Izo's grip on his arm tightened as he turned to the younger with a dimmed smile. "Oh, you already had plans?" he said, his tone sounding almost disappointed. "I had thought I could have you to myself this time…" he trailed off. "I even had Marco tell you that I was looking for you too."

Izo wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Thought I should warn you.

Thought I should warn you.

Is this what the blonde had meant? Ace took one look at the island and then at the commander looking at him with saddened eyes. He inwardly sighed as he pondered on his choices. Even if it was an act, he hated that look on the other's face. And he honestly did feel a little bad.

"We can go together," he offered. He tried a smile.

A brief flash of surprise crossed the older's countenance before his lips stretched into a pleased smile. "Come then. We have much to do, little brother."


Ace resisted the urge to check himself. Something was wrong, he knew it. Everywhere he went, he could feel stares boring into his back. When he turned to find and possibly beat the cause into dust, he would find an empty street where everyone would look at anything but at him.

Just what the heck was going on?

Next to him, Izo was happily dragging him from store to store as he explained the kind of material he used for his kimonos, and if please, please, would the fire-user let him make one for him because he would look absolutely lovely in an red and orange kimono with the black flowers embroidered on top. He wondered if the commander was completely unaware of how uncomfortable he was feeling.

He inwardly sighed. He wished the first commander was with him. At least he wouldn't feel too stupid if he confided in the man. He hated all this attention.

A gentle hand slipped around his right elbow. "So," a soft voice interrupted his inner musings, "shall we go purchase some material for clothes or do you want to head for lunch first?"

The fire-user looked at his brother in askance. "It's not lunch yet," he pointed out, suppressing the urge to just nod and head to lunch now 'cause food always made him feel better.

Izo smiled knowingly. "I don't know about you, dear brother of mine," – Ace reddened at the term, and at the resurfacing of that smug look, that the commander had known it would too – "but I'm famished. But I would wait if you aren't that ready for-"

"Lunch it is!" Ace interrupted. He smirked at the surprise that the other carefully hid. Oh no, he was no kid to play around with. He did know how to throw in a surprise or two. Finding that he did like the idea of seeing the other not quite in control, he decided to go one step further.

"I saw a ramen restaurant a little while ago, so let's have that, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the fellow pirate and dragged him along as he ran.

"Stop it!" Izo shrieked. "We can walk!"

"Thought you said you were hungry?"

"I'm not so hungry I would run like a starved cat!"

"Well, I am, so come on, let's go!"


Ace perused the shelves of perfume curiously. Fancy glass bottles lined the wooden ledge, each marked with a strip so elegant he almost had to struggle to read it. Faint muttering somewhere down the aisle assured the fire-user that Izo was still busy checking out the merchandise, and since the older man had yet to ask for his opinion, he would probably be stuck here for some time yet.

He suppressed a sigh at the thought. This really wasn't his thing.

Biting the insides of his cheek, Ace turned to find something more entertaining – maybe that section earlier where people kept spraying each other, though he didn't get why – when his shoulder bumped into a shelf next to him, effectively knocking several products to the floor. He winced at the resounding crash.

"Oh no no no no." Ace ran his hands over the mess desperately. Damn it damn it! Marco was- forget Marco! Izo was going to have his head!

A shrill voice added to his panic. "What is going on?!"

The fire-user looked up to see a young brunette gaping at the broken shards. He flushed. "I'm so sorry," he said hurriedly. He held his hands up. "I didn't mean to! I'm so, so sorry!"

At the sound of his voice, the sales lady turned to him. Her breath hitched. "Oh my." She took a step back, her fingers shaking as they covered her mouth.

This didn't look too good. "I'm sorry, I really am!" Ace stood up and, to his dismay, a light flush took to her cheeks as she stepped away from him. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look," he said, holding his hands up. "I may be a pirate and you probably heard a lot of rubbish about them and not all of them are true. Well, some of them are, of course, so you still have to be careful but I'm not! Really. This is all just an accident. I'll put it right back up for you and, no no no, are you going to cry?"

Not quite sure what to do, Ace did the only thing he could think of. His hands flailed almost violently as he scrambled to pick up the displaced items and set them back on their rightful locations. In his haste, some were knocked right back off and only his quick reflexes prevented another similar incident. His face burned. Slow the heck down, you moron, he scolded himself. You look a right fool!

"There," he said, almost breathless. "See? All right as rain."

"What's going on?" a soft voice asked mildly.

Ace shot up to see Izo who was staring from him to the sales lady, his features carefully blank.

The teen looked horrified. "Izo! Uh, nothing."

The kimono-clad pirate lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Then why do you look so guilty?"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Izo replied smoothly. His dark eyes slid to stare at the sales lady, unblinking. "From the crash I heard, it seems my brother had made quite the mess." The lady immediately flinched at his voice. "How much to cover the damage, young lady?"

"E-excuse me?"

Ace watched with bated breath as the sales lady was further hammered with unrelenting questions as, for some reason, her gaze kept flicking to him before promptly looking away every time. It was apparent Izo seemed pretty miffed by this as he snapped, "Look at me when I'm talking to you! Did no one teach you islanders any respect?"

She had squeaked out a reply and the two pirates left with several products free-of-charge, much to the teen's confusion.

Nevertheless, Ace had a feeling they wouldn't be returning any time soon.

"Ace," Izo said, his voice full of authority, "when I get back, stick close to me. This island is too full of morons. You never know what they might do."

Pushing away the urge to claim his own capability to take care of himself, Ace asked instead, "Where are you going?"

The commander threw him a hard look. "I just need to see the commanders for a while. Stay here, and if anyone talks to you, just punch them in the face."


Ace, being the obedient pirate that he was, spent the next hour flitting from one corner of the town to the next, and made it a point to smile and stop for several short conversations with the townspeople. It had become apparent he had come to the nicer part of town, and who could resist free food too?

"Yeah!" He nodded his head vigorously. "I just haven't taken the mark yet."

A series of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' followed his revelations and he smiled at them in return. A young brunette sat herself next to him, her body tilted towards him as she tilted her head, her long curved eyelashes framing large brown eyes. She wore a black tank top, topped with a green camouflage jacket, with jeans cut at her knees. Her lips curled into a smile when he stared at her blankly.

A hand touched his knee.

"That is so amazing," she gushed. "A Whitebeard pirate. It's like a fantasy so distant I can only dream about it."

Ace shifted as he frowned. "Why?" he asked, swallowing his food in one gulp. He looked her up and down, missing the pleased gleam in her onyx orbs. "Just go for it."

"Go for it?" she asked, blinking prettily.

"Yeah. Just train a lot, get out there, and give it your best shot. You just have to be sure if you really want it." The fire-user paused, as if lost in thought. "Freedom comes at a price, after all."

The brunette looked disappointed. She sidled closer to him. "Well, before you go, maybe you could show me a few pointers? I'd love to see what you can do."

Ace looked surprised. "Pointers?" His cheeks reddened. "Me? I don't think I have much to-" He was cut off when an arm slung around him.

"There you are," a familiar voice said loudly into his ear. "We've been looking all over the island for you, little bro."

The teen scowled when the grip turned into a headlock. "Thatch!"

The commander ignored him as his gaze swept through the crowd of people. "My, it seems we have quite the audience," he remarked, his eyes turning to rest on the lady who had just earlier been talking to Ace. His grin turned icy. "And who do we have here?"

Ace squirmed under his grip until he took pity on the kid and lessened it enough such that the fire-user could lean against him comfortably without choking. "Do you know her, Ace?"

The teen glared at him. "I just met her, you moron. Now let me go!" At the chef's pointed look, he relented. "She wanted some pointers to become a pirate, okay? What's the deal?" He muttered under his breath, "Like I can't teach."

"A pirate, huh?" Thatch eyed her critically and the freckled pirate could almost believe he saw a flash of scorn in his brother's features.

The brunette in question squeaked out a reply. "N-no, y-yes, I mean, I'm sorry!"

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," the commander replied, his words belying his dark look. "This kid," – Ace choked when he tightened his grip – "needs way more experience before he can teach you lot. What if he accidentally kills you?"

The lady paled. "K-kill me?"

Thatch nodded solemnly. He let Ace go and pushed him towards the entrance. "Go find the other commanders, okay?" He winked. "They were searching for you." Without waiting for an answer, he turned towards the audience with a cheery smile.

"Why don't I give you pointers instead?"


Ace yelped when he felt something brush against his thigh. He reflexively took two steps away, his cheeks flushed as he mentally cursed himself for shrieking. He turned, his fists ready to light up in flames, only to see another female islander smiling at him in obvious amusement.

This island sure has a lot of females.

"Can I help you?" he snapped, already feeling his last threads of his temper begin to fray. It didn't help that the feeling of being stared at and followed hadn't abated at all. Then his new siblings had found it fit to push him around from one commander to the next. Now, strangers were bumping him left and right!

The islander laughed, a grating sound that tore at his nerves. "This one sure has a temper," she commented lightly. "My name is Kel. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ace dropped all pretence of being polite and glowered at her. "What do you want?"

Uncertainty flashed through Kel's young features but she composed herself just as quickly. "I was walking by and thought you looked a little tired. Would you like to come by my family's tavern at the other side of town?" She wagged a finger at him when he parted his lips. "Free food, of course."

The words 'shove off!' died on the teen's tongue as he considered her offer. "Why would you offer me that?" he asked suspiciously.

Kel looked sufficiently surprised. "We always make it a point to offer travellers like you free food." She reached up and slid a smooth finger down his cheek. "You poor dear," she said, almost pitying. "You must be so tired."

Ace drew back, suddenly remembering how she had- she had touched his thigh! Annoyance rippled through him. Who did she think she was? "Don't touch me!" he shouted, suddenly angry and too pissed off to deal with anyone. Kel stumbled back in surprise. "That's it, shove off before I-"

"Ace."

The fire-user froze, only to see both Marco and Vista staring at them both. What caught his attention though was the manner the blonde crossed his arms, looking suitably unimpressed.

Before he could allow himself to feel bad, he straightened, defiance pulling his features into a glare. "What?" he demanded hotly. "Are you going to tell me to leave and find someone else to escort me around town?" Flames flickered across his shoulders. Beside him, Kel uttered a loud cry. He ignored her. "Or maybe send me back to the ship?"

The corners of Vista's lips twitched into a smile. "Not really, Fire Fist. We were going to tell you that the family's going to gather at Hell's Party tonight. It's a bar at the other side of town."

Ace narrowed his eyes. "That's it?"

"That's it," Vista answered in affirmation.

Marco gave Ace and Kel one last look, before he nodded and turned to walk away. "Don't go too far, Ace, yoi."

The teen could have sworn the blonde had looked proud.


[Location: Hell's Party]

"You're hot."

Ace barely held back a choke. He raised his head to see a spindly, handsome young brunet looking at him, the corners of his lips curved in an easy smile. Long eyelashes framed crimson eyes that shone a lustful garnet under the bar's shady lighting.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Dark eyebrows lifted at his words, as if surprised the pirate was capable of such politeness. Emboldened by the knowledge that he had yet to be punched or kicked out the bar, his smile widened even as he invited himself to sit across the teen. "I said," he repeated, "you're hot."

Ace scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, uh, sorry? I didn't really notice…" His gaze darted across the bar, and was met with several scowls from the few members of his crew that sat scattered across the room. He mildly noted that they weren't the only ones. Other customers seemed to sit away from him, and while most refused to glance his way, they shot his now companion looks of unease. Did they think…?

"Now, now, why would you be sorry?" The red eyes appeared to sparkle. "How modest."

The teen frowned. "There's no need to patronise me. If it makes you that uncomfortable, you could just leave me alone like the rest of them."

Surprise crossed the brunet's features, and he surveyed the room in silence. He let out a soft chuckle. "I'm not certain what you're getting at, but," – at this moment, his gaze pointedly raked the fire-user from head to foot – "I have a proposition for you." He held up a hand when the younger moved to speak. "It's a new way to make some money."

A scoff. "I don't need to make some money."

"Let's see... It's a new and fun way to make some money."

Ace moved to get up. "Sorry to burst your bubble, stranger, but I'm a pirate. We don't earn money like you folks do."

To the teen's surprise, the brunet grabbed at his arm and dragged him back. "There's no harm in at least listening to what I have to say, right?"

Annoyance filtered through the fire-user then. Why wouldn't this man leave him alone? He would have burned him to a crisp too – or, well, at least burnt the skin off his fingers for touching him so familiarly at least – but Marco had warned the crew against making a scene at this town. Too bad their resident mother hen was too busy clucking at their dwindled finances that he had sternly threatened them bodily harm if they so much as scratched the tip of a wooden spoon until they found another ship to raid.

It was, well, it was really just too bad. Survival often came down to beli in the end.

Ace flopped back into his seat, a scowl marring his boyish features. "You have one minute," he snapped. "What do you want me to do? Roast some marshmallows? Barbeque some meat? Maybe turn the heat up in this forsaken place you call Hell's Party?"

The stranger burst into the sort of laughter that had the pirate cringing in disgust. It was the type that screamed too much of faux joy and pretend interest. "I did say you're hot, but I certainly didn't mean in that way. Although…" His eyes took on that feral gleam again. "We sure could have the heat turned up a little bit here."

Grey orbs closed in a bid for more patience. "And your proposition..?"

The man shifted under his steely glare. "Here's the deal. I'm a businessman. I have my own business running at the other side of town and…we need people like you. Your muscles, your build." His lips twitched. "You look like a very fine young, male adult. As an added bonus, like I said, you're very hot."

"And you want me to do what exactly?"

A hand waved his questions away. "Oh nothing much. Just entertain a few of our guests. Make them happy. You're strong, aren't you?"

The fire-user tilted his head. "You couldn't tell?"

"Well then. You could maybe show our guests…a few moves, if you get my drift."

"Actually, I don't," Ace said bluntly. "You've basically told me nothing except that I'm hot."

The brunet frowned, but cleared a moment later as understanding dawned on his features. "Playing hard to get now, are we?" he chuckled. "You can't pretend you don't understand, pirate. First of all, you are a pirate. And wearing that. If that's not to flaunt what you've got, who are you dressing up so nicely for?"

The freckled teen looked affronted. "Give me one reason I shouldn't punch your lights out," he hissed.

The man held up his hands, placating. "Come on. It'd be such a shame to hide such mouth-wateringly hot-"

A light rap on the table interrupted them.

"Excuse me. Am I interrupting?"

Ace blinked at the sudden appearance of his kimono-clad brother. "Izo? It's not time to leave yet, is it?"

Izo smiled sweetly at him. "Oh no, not yet. We still have a few hours." He walked around the table to stand behind the fire-user, only to lift the cowboy hat off the latter's back and press it against the top of his head with a dainty hand. He leaned forward to whisper loudly in the kid's ear. "Why don't you go see Thatch for a bit? The poor dear has had a little too much to drink, and I tire of his stories when he's drunk."

The younger pirate nodded. "Okay then. I don't really-" Dismay then flitted across his freckled features. "Wait. You're not telling me to go because I'm hot, are you?"

The commander didn't hesitate. "Of course not. I've just heard his stories of adventure a little too many times. But then I remembered you love hearing about them so, why not?"

Ace gave him a measured look. He sighed. "Fine. It just better not be because of the heat or anything." He glanced at the annoyed man across from him. "Sorry, stranger, but not sorry."

"Hey, hold it," the brunet argued. "I wasn't even done."

"Oh no, you're not," the commander interjected. "Why don't you discuss the finer details of your proposition to me instead?"

The other man glared at him. "Like I would bother with an okama like you. You're nothing com-"

A flaming fist pushed past the empty space and slammed the offending person onto the concrete floor. A high-pitched scream followed after.

"Don't you insult my brother!" Ace shouted. An angry scowl marred his face as he raised his clenched fist.

The man writhed on the ground, his hands clutching at the burns on his cheek, as he howled in pain. Glazed eyes stared at the fire-user in horror. "W-what-what are you?!"

"Fire Fist Ace, you dirtbag," the teen snapped. He narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you know? You did say I was hot, right? It's the Mera-Mera No Mi. I give off a pretty high temperature even when I don't mean to."

He gaped. "F-fire Fist?"

"That's right," Izo cut in, a sickening sweet smile still plastered on his powdered features. His hand stole into his kimono to drag out a polished gun. "Of the Whitebeards."

This time, the man paled into sheet white. "W-Whiteb-beard?" he whispered. "N-no. I wasn't g-going to hurt him! P-please!"

The commander readied his weapon. "Ace?"

"Yeah?"

"Thatch is still waiting."

Ace shot him a disgruntled look. "He was insulting you. I want to teach him a lesson too!"

Izo ignored his protests and nudged him towards the exit. Behind them, their other brothers had gotten to their feet, smirks and the cracking of knuckles adding to the terse atmosphere. "This one is mine, sweetie." He shooed the teen away. "Go on," he murmured. "We have a lesson we need to teach people like him."

The fire-user's lower lip jutted out in unhappiness, but acquiesced after giving the offending idiot a hard kick at his foot. He supposed there would be a next time. There always were those who failed to understand that they didn't take lightly to insults.

"Don't take too long."


Much to Ace's surprise and general unhappiness, the next few days consisted of Izo rapidly changing his wardrobe. His black shirts were thrown out, to be promptly replaced by shirts of bigger sizes, of brighter colours, and once the commander had even tried to make him wear a red polka-dotted green dress shirt. He had burned the offending thing into dust. Despite the strange protest he faced, he refused to change out of his pants, and thankfully no one had suggested he forego his beloved hat. That would have been the final straw.

In his desperation to make his newfound family stop their sudden attention on him, he had even gone to Marco for help. The blonde had looked at him with a frown, as if torn, before telling him that sometimes, family did the strangest things but he should never forget they always did so with the best intentions.

Whitebeard, though, had offered to tell the crew to stop. But that would mean letting the crew know they had gone too far and had driven their newest brother to their father in complaint. Ace hadn't yet had the heart to do that. And by the gleam in his captain's eyes, he knew the Yonko approved of his decision.

"Okay, hold up," Ace proposed in exasperation. "If it's so much trouble, why don't I just not wear a shirt?"

Vista slammed the table. "What? No!"

Ace looked startled, and felt maybe a little hurt. "It was just a suggestion," he muttered as he crossed his arms. He glowered at his food. What was the big deal anyway?

Thatch cleared his throat. "Come on, Ace," he said, his hand held out. "Why don't we spar for a bit? I haven't practiced in a while."

The fire-user's glare shifted to the chef. "Fine," he snapped. "I'm about ready to kick some ass." He stood up and stalked off.

The fourth commander looked at the kid's retreating form haplessly. "I have to fight that?" he mumbled to himself as he followed. He ran to catch up.


Marco wasn't surprised to see Ace lounging on his back on the figurehead. The kid had been as moody as the sea ever since the trip inland, and it took careful interference on his part to ensure the others knew why exactly their newest brother glowered at them at every opportunity. Heck, the kid had been so pissed he managed to throw the fourth commander into the sea several times during their spar the other day.

Even Thatch's hair hadn't survived the trips.

He snorted. And they called him a mother hen. Like Ace couldn't handle some islanders who couldn't keep their grubby paws off him. And their annoying stares.

He must have alerted the teen as he approached, for suddenly a pair of stormy grey eyes followed him as he came forward. "Mind if I sit, yoi?"

Ace regarded him for a full minute before jerking his chin in affirmation. "Do whatever you want."

"Still throwing a tantrum, huh?" he asked casually, only to suppress a snicker when the younger scowled. "Only kidding, Ace. Although, I'm quite surprised you haven't set the ship on fire yet."

"They should count themselves lucky then, the morons," the freckled pirate muttered.

Marco noted he hadn't been included in the equation. He felt a tug at the corners of his lips. Perhaps his brothers were right. The kid did favour him over the rest. And though favouritism wasn't encouraged among family (or for any healthy pirate crew for that matter), he had to say he felt honoured.

He lowered himself to lay down next to the grumbling kid. "I hope you understand that they had the best of intentions at heart, yoi."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You told me." Ace threw him a puzzled look, though it did little to hide his disgruntlement. "Are you ever going to tell me why they suddenly turned into incessant, fussy mother hens? Wasn't that your job?"

Marco tried to look offended. "Not if you keep talking like that, you brat." He allowed a pregnant pause – at which the kid's lower lip jutted out, just as he had expected – before letting out a full-throated laugh. "Am I really that much of a mother hen?"

He glanced to his side to see Ace gaping at him, before quickly covering it up with a cough.

"Not really," the kid answered. He looked thoughtful. "Well, you are a mother hen, with all the nagging, the glares and everything else a mother hen does thrown in. But you have your own way of doing it, you know? You know how to be subtle, when to pitch someone off the ship, when to say enough and when to say a lot, and all that stuff." He shrugged. "Not like those idiots back there. All they do is drag me around and telling me what to do without telling me much at all!"

The blonde had to admit he felt slightly (only slightly, he told himself) warmed at the kid's description of him. "But I'm still annoying too, yoi," he commented.

"Of course," Ace said without pausing. "No one likes to be told off."

Marco smirked. "Especially you."

To his surprise, the teen didn't respond to the banter, and instead threw him a sly look. "Oh, not me," he said as he grinned. "The Captain."

The blonde's eyebrows lifted, before he snickered along with his brother.

"I have never seen him as unhappy as when you take away his liquor," Ace continued as he laughed under his breath.

Marco nudged at him. "It's for his own good, yoi. Someone has to be responsible."

Ace returned the bump. "Mother hen." And damn him if he was wrong, but the commander was sure he heard a hint of affection in the words.

A comfortable silence ensued, only to be broken not three seconds later when the kid sat up, his expression suddenly eager and his grey eyes bright. A hand shot out to tug at his arm, and he slowly followed the younger's example, albeit at a slower pace.

Despite himself, he couldn't help the soft chuckle at the kid's enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"I know where to put my mark!" Ace whispered loudly, completely failing to keep his voice from carrying over to the front of the ship.

Marco straightened and he leaned forward to encourage the kid to continue.

The beam that everyone had come to call his 'sunny smile' plastered itself on the younger's face. The hold on the blonde's arm practically shook in time with the kid's excitement.

"Go on, yoi," the commander remarked drily. "Keep me in suspense."

The 'sunny smile' turned brighter. "I'm going to have mine just as large like yours!" Ace exclaimed.

Blue eyes widened and, on Whitebeard's moustache, Marco felt for a moment his heart almost skip a beat. He couldn't help it. Never had anyone ever looked up to him as much as this kid. It wasn't that he wasn't cared for among his family, but this freckled, childish teenager never saw him as more than Marco. The title of First Mate and First Division Commander were all but titles to him.

He offered the teen a small, if not grateful, smile. He did wish the kid would make his own choices, without influence from other people, but who was he to deny the kid when Ace had made his choice?

"On your front then?" he asked softly.

To his surprise, the freckled kid shook his head. "Nope!" He pushed for a pause before dramatically announcing, "On my back!"

Marco froze.

The others would not be happy to hear that.


That's it. Please let me know what you think. :)