I'm going to be honest. I shouldn't be writing any chapters now. Or anything at all really, except for my school assignments. But I could barely focus on that at all and kept thinking about this chapter, so I figured, maybe if I got this out of the way, I could focus on school more easily after this?
Here's to hoping anyway.
Didn't really help that I kept writing and writing scenes I wanted to see and then threw them into one chapter. Oh well. This made me happy. Hope it makes you guys happy too! Have a great time reading, my fellow readers! Goodness knows we need a little bit of light amidst these dark times.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.
Chapter 16: When Ace trains…or so he thinks
"I have the faintest feeling that something is missing here," Thatch remarked as he carefully moved the tray from his shoulders to the table. Without missing a beat, he began to unload the stacks of plates across the empty space reserved for him. "Did he have a late night again?"
Marco lowered the newspaper he was holding to peer at him inquisitively. "Are you speaking about Ace, yoi?" he asked as he eyed the ungodly amount of bread, soup and meat prepared for breakfast.
Thatch frowned at him. "If there's another pirate on board with a sea king in his stomach, please tell me so I can be spared another potential heart attack." His voice dropped to become mutters. "That kid, I swear. I'll lose all my luscious brown locks like this."
Marco did not bother to suppress an eye roll at his brother's theatrics. The chef always complained about the headaches their newest brother was prone to give him, never mind that the man himself indulged catering to the kid as much as he could get away with.
He lifted his mug from the table, briefly breathing in the bitter scent of Little Garden's own grown black coffee and took a sip of his morning beverage. "He probably slept in," he said to the unanswered question. "I imagine Oyaji must have gone on another episode of storytelling." He did not have to turn to catch the delighted twinkle in his adopted father's eyes at the end of the feasting hall, a look that had been there since he strode in for his first meal of the day. The Yonko only gained that particular gait and that distinct gleam in his azure orbs when he had been allowed to prattle on about his past adventures. While Marco loved to spend time with the giant man, hearing the same story again and again could prove a trial even for the first mate, especially if the recollections centred around himself. He would have felt poorly once for not indulging his Captain, given that the man was at a life stage wherein he was predisposed to nostalgia, but Ace had been his saving grace in that respect.
The kid just loved to hear them. It was clear in the way he trotted up to his Captain at certain hours of the day (that is, especially when he was awake and not starved like a man without food for an entire week), his chin lifted in silent expectation as he looked up at the giant. Curiously, he would play with his fingers in that nervous gesture of his, clasping and letting go again and again, as if afraid Whitebeard would refuse to indulge him. It was sadly endearing, even considering the way he would glance quickly about him in a manner of one calculating his chances to get away quickly.
Marco wondered if these tics were one of the reasons Whitebeard always made time for Ace. It would not be the first time in recent months that his adoptive father would forgo his naps for another round of storytelling, never mind if he had just repeated it the previous week.
Across from his, Thatch merely stared dismally at the laid-out food. "What am I going to do with all this food?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. "Do you think he's been avoiding breakfast because he caught on that I've been mixing them with vegetables and fruits?"
Marco raised an eyebrow. Now that he looked at it properly, the food did look slightly different than his own, although he did not have it in himself to figure out what it was this early in the morning. "You've been mixing them with what?" He paused when the words caught up with him. "He's been avoiding breakfast?"
"Well, not really," the fourth commander answered. "We're still trying to figure out a good dietary combination for him which factors in his insanely high metabolism. With the way he stuffs himself with meat, there's no way he's taking in enough of other nutrients. And you've seen how he tunnels in on meat only when he eats, so we've taken to mixing plants with high nutritional value into his bread, sauce, drinks and everything else we could think of." Thatch shook his head with a sigh. "And now he's not even here to eat it."
"...he's been avoiding breakfast, yoi?" Marco repeated.
Thatch looked sheepish. "Oh, right, sorry. He hasn't been skipping, to be fair," he said slowly. "He's been coming in for breakfast late recently. If he's not here by nine, I would bring the food to his room instead. He's usually either asleep still or he's out." The Phoenix's eyebrows knitted into a frown. That did not sound…normal. Ace never skipped any meal since he officially joined the crew, and he was especially religious in his attendance since his theatre-worthy reveal of his black hole of an appetite. The blonde considered the recent happenings over the past few weeks, trying to pinpoint any one incident that may have prompted this change. "When did this start?"
"About one, two weeks ago?"
"Why was I not aware of this?"
Thatch shot him an unimpressed look. Instead of answering, the man cast one last look at the doors before appearing to give up as he slid into what should have been Ace's seat. "So he doesn't come for breakfast. It's not mandatory," he said to Marco. He reached over to snag the older man's coffee, pointedly ignoring the immediate glower he received. "It's not a big deal."
Marco kept his gaze fixed on his mug. "If you finish more than half of that, I swear…"
A snort. "You do realise we have more, right?"
"Exactly, grab your own, yoi." He narrowed his eyes when the brunette smirked at him. The man took another offending gulp before sliding it back. He glanced into the mug, feeling only slightly appeased to see enough to sustain him past noon. "I'm not saying it's a big deal," he continued. "But it might be. It would be good to check in on him."
Thatch blinked at him. "Remember two weeks ago when he tossed Haruta off the ship because Haruta tried to baby him? I figured we should lay off him for a while." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Give him some space unless he shows he needs a little…babying."
If it were not for the pensive look on the brunette's sharp features, Marco would have been fooled into thinking it was a joke or a passing comment. He drew back, his eyebrows furrowing, in slight confusion. "I don't baby him, yoi. I watch out for him, yes–" he had long given up on denying that he hovered– "and perhaps I'm…present, but I don't baby him."
"I'm not saying you do," Thatch said. "But maybe Ace doesn't see it that way. The kid likes being independent. And I think, sometimes we forget that he was a Captain before he joined us." He looked thoughtful. "He made it into the New World less than a year since he set out to sea, made a name for himself, and caught our attention. Plus, he's barely an adult. You have to admit he deserves some credit for that."
The blonde's confusion only deepened. Had he been acting too overbearingly over their newest sibling? "I know that. I don't have to be convinced of his capability. I just find it concerning that one of our siblings is exhibiting odd behaviour over a period of, as you said, weeks," he defended. "There's no harm in checking in on him."
Whatever it said, it must be displeasing for the head chef, for the man only shot him grumpy look. "I know that. I'm worried too. Just- there's a difference between checking in on your siblings now and then, and asking to remain up to date on their everyday activity. This could be normal for him, or at least, the new normal. He doesn't really stick to routine, you know that."
Marco could not say anything in reply, taken aback as he was by his brother's words. For his part, the fourth commander left him to his thoughts as he once again snagged his coffee, this time receiving no word of protest.
The blonde's gaze drifted to his food. For all his efforts, was it all for naught? He did not understand why he got along so well with their youngest brother, but he suspected it had to do with how open and unassuming the teen was. Ace was one of his few siblings who would cosy up to him, as if his rank as First Division Commander held no bearing for possible intimidation. He was not afraid to speak his mind and he challenged Marco to come up with new ways to rein the brat in when he went too far. For all that he loved his family, his life here was stagnant, after all. Ace changed that. It certainly helped that they shared similar values close to their hearts, except where Marco was calm and cautious, the teen was temperamental and impulsive.
And Marco was….he was possessive.
He hated with a passion any possibility that may threaten those close to him. Which was just as well that he loved Thatch as a brother, else that arm holding his coffee would have been snapped and his face punched hard about two minutes ago.
"Stop drinking my coffee, yoi!" he snapped instead. "It's mine!"
Thatch waved at him lazily. As if he did not care for the possible consequences of his actions, the man gulped down the remaining of his much-needed beverage and slammed the mug on the table in smug satisfaction. "I don't really care for black coffee, but damn, I can see why you like it. Really gives you a kick."
"I'll show you what a kick is, you coffee-stealing-thief!"
"Calm down, feathers. Look, Izo is here already with your- ow! What was that for?"
"For drinking my morning coffee!"
Their attention was diverted by a sigh next to them. "Arguing already?" Izo asked as he gently set down his favourite diamond-patterned kettle onto the breakfast table. "Coffee for you, Marco? Thatch asked that I bring this down when it was ready."
Marco pursed his lips when Thatch beamed at Izo in gratitude, before shoving at the blonde for an apology.
"Come on, you profited from this, Marco. I took your mug. You get an entire kettle. That's how business works!"
The first commander ignored him and poured himself a generous amount of coffee. "If that's how you run a business, I have no doubt I'd end up attending its wake soon after, yoi," he griped.
A snort. "Least I can count on you to attend it."
Marco only scowled. He was not the least surprised to catch a hint of concern in the younger's eyes when he glanced at him, opting to lift his mug in answer before taking a sip. He was used to his brother's predisposition to be playful, and he was admittedly thankful towards the man for drawing him from his thoughts. He had been told numerous times that he tended to overthink. It was dangerous, they said, if he let himself ponder for too long.
"Morning," a new voice grumbled at them.
Thatch smiled at the approaching Rakuyo in welcome. "And hello to you. Late night?"
Rakuyo grunted. He all but shoved himself into one of the empty seats, his dreadlocks swinging to slap him in the cheeks at the sudden downward movement. "What's all this food for?" he asked. Despite his question, he was already reaching for the loaf of bread when he paused, frowning. "What's this green stuff on it?"
"Some blended vegetables we infused into the bread," Thatch answered cheerfully. "You should try it. It's healthy."
Rakuyo looked between the chef and the food, and dropped the offending piece of bread back onto its plate. "Please tell me this isn't for us. Who puts vegetables in bread?" he said in disgust.
A pause. "Burgers," Izo pointed out.
"Sandwiches," Marco added.
Thatch's grin widened. "And all the other bread that we put vegetables in."
Rakuyo's features twisted in continued revulsion. "That's different. This is vegetables in bread. Nobody eats that."
"You don't eat that, you mean," the chef rebuked, though his voice did not lose the amusement. "It's actually very common. But, luckily for you, this is made specially for our favourite little firecracker."
"I would feel offended, but you're lucky I don't care, yoi. You're not my favourite either."
"Why don't you just shove some plants in between the meat? It's not like he bothers to differentiate or separate them when he's happily choking himself."
"That's…not a bad idea, Izo."
Marco leaned back to stare at them thoughtfully. "Huh. Think we could apply that to Oyaji's sake?"
"Where have you been?"
Ace rubbed at his eyes with one hand as he held onto the ladder with his remaining arm, already feeling the pull to succumb to unconsciousness despite the rising sun. He stifled a yawn.
"You alright there?" Vista was asking him in concern.
"Huh? Y-yeah, yeah, I am." Ace threw him a faint smile. He leaned against the side of the ship for a brief moment, wanting to relieve himself of the aches from climbing the ladder, but also looking forward to stand – or lie down – on solid ground. After so long on the Moby Dick, he had forgotten how strenuous training could be on his body. It should serve as a lesson, really, to not fall into complacency just because he had joined a Yonko's crew. He would not have tired so easily a few months ago.
The only saving grace was the island they had docked at for the past two weeks. Though he knew he was not weak, he was very aware of how his strength paled in comparison to his crewmembers'. He might as well be a lick of flame to their volcano-worthy magma. With that thought firmly embedded in his mind, he had set off to train – blessedly alone and without any prying eyes – on the island every night. Though part of him yearned for some company, he also wanted to be spared the coos and the occasional reminder that he was, in their eyes, a kid.
"Um, Ace?"
The fire-user lifted his head to peer at the swordsman. Who was looking at him in confusion. He glanced between him and the side of the ship he was practically perched on. "Do you…want to get onto the deck properly?"
"Oh, right. Yeah. Of course I do," Ace answered sheepishly, forgetting how odd he must appear to be to his ship-brother. Just because he and Luffy would drape themselves anywhere to regain some air did not mean it was normal (as he had discovered the hard way). "Wasn't gonna stay like this forever."
To his surprise, before he could do more than lift his leg to climb the final rungs, Vista was already grabbing at his shoulders to pull him over the rails in one mighty heave. "I'd imagine you wouldn't want to," the commander was saying. "It'd be hard to hold onto the ship when this ol' whale starts moving, eh?"
Ace let out a breath as he was set on his feet, much more gently too than he would have expected from the bulky man. "Oh, thanks, Vista. Appreciate it."
Instead of the expected smile Ace was expecting, the commander only seemed to regard him with an inquisitive look. He pulled at his moustache, rolling one end between his forefinger and thumb, a quirk the younger knew he had when he was unsure of himself.
"Vista," Ace said, feeling slightly worried. Why would the man ever feel unsure around him? "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Vista looked startled at the question. "What? No no, nothing happened," he said quickly. Then, as if to wave the teen's concerns away, he continued, "I just remembered that Thatch had made you breakfast this morning. I just wasn't sure if I should warn you."
Ace drew back in uncertainty. "Warn me? Why?"
"I heard he tried to infuse your food with vegetables. Just a heads up, since I heard it might be quite poor on your taste buds."
As if on reflex, and he would later swear that it had been unintentional, Ace's nose scrunched in distaste. Why, why would Thatch do that? And he was looking forward to breakfast too! At least, if his desire to fill his empty stomach won over his pressing need to collapse on the deck within the next ten minutes.
The swordsman let out an amused laugh at his reaction. "Bear with it, little brother," he said, surprising Ace at the term. "He wants you to be healthier."
"Then why warn me?" the fire-user retorted.
Vista patted him on his shoulder as he moved to leave. "He's been experimenting with it for the past two months, but I don't quite have the heart to throw you into the deep-end when Rakuyo started raving about how terrible it was this morning." He let out a snort. "Thatch was so offended he kicked him off the ship."
Despite himself, Ace could not help the sudden warmth curling in his chest at his ship-brother's words. "He shouldn't have," he mumbled.
"What was that?"
The teen coughed and shook his head. "Thanks, Vista!" he said instead. "Thanks for pulling me over and thanks for the warning! I'm going to go for breakfast now!"
Vista grinned at his apparent cheer. He shook his head as he watched Ace begin to scamper off. "Don't say I didn't warn you, kid!"
"Promise!" A pause. "I'm not a kid!"
Before Ace could round the corner to make a pitstop at his room, wondering in the meantime if he should have a shower first because damn, when it occurred to him that Vista had appeared worried despite the easy conversation between them.
He wondered if he should be concerned, but then brushed it off. They had been without him their entire lives. His addition to the crew would hardly have made a difference that they would need him to help solve their problems. He would probably be in the way.
Thatch knocked on Ace's door. A tray of various foods was propped on his shoulder, with multiple plates and bowls strategically stacked on one another to reduce any further trips back to the kitchens for more. It was a skill he realised he was employing more often these few weeks, courtesy of one fire-user.
Had it been most of his other siblings, he would have merely set the uneaten breakfast and lunch in the kitchens until they realised they had to eat sometime in the day. He was a commander, after all. He had responsibilities to concern himself with and he did enjoy having spare moments to himself now and then. As much as he nudged at Marco, he inwardly mused, he was almost the same. He knew he had always had a soft spot for the younger ones, always finding it within himself to care for them that little bit more, always wanting to do more to shelter them from the world's true realities. It did not help that the kid had an appetite that had to be appeased. Skipping meals was not an option for this particular brother.
Ace's constant reactions to normal expressions of care for his wellbeing clearly indicated certain red flags they should look out for. This only prompted the chef to be more attentive to their youngest. It drew out the desire to nurture this young soul into a respectable man. A man who was a pirate, he corrected himself. Or perhaps, he thought with great cheer, he was in the stage of life where he wanted to look after another.
Perhaps this had something to do with his own early years. The chef remembered the gloomy nights, the screams, the silence and, most of all, the desire for someone to hold his hand and never let go.
He shook his head, mindful of the tray, to banish the sobering thoughts. That was one slippery slope he would prefer to avoid on a sunny day like this.
"Ace! I'm coming in," he called when the little twerp did not answer.
He entered the room to see the pirate in question curled on the floor at the corner of the room. He set down the tray and quickly moved over, reminding himself it was probably a narcolepsy attack and nothing more. He hovered over the still form and placed two fingers on the teen's too-thin wrist. He sighed when he caught the steady thrumming of a heartbeat.
"Always keeping us on our toes, this one," he murmured to himself.
He slid his arms beneath the other's sleeping body, shifting to accommodate the younger pirate when he suddenly curled further into himself, and heaved the teen into his arms. It was a moment's work to settle the kid onto his bed. It was when he reached over to drag the blankets (he remembered Ace's insistence that a proper sleep needed covers) over the prone form that he saw it.
Thatch froze when his dark eyes zeroed in on the purpling bruise on the teen's exposed top. His fingers let go of the soft material of the blankets with barely a thought. He gently shifted the unconscious body to lie on its back as he leaned forward to examine the marks. Across the upper right side of Ace's torso, somewhat hidden between his arm and his side, was a darkening rough patch of discolouration. It looked to be the result of a blunt impact, but what sent a sharp sting of worry through the commander was the way the bruise deepened a particular shade of black. This was no ordinary bruise, he could quickly tell. This might possibly be a bone contusion. While no more dangerous to the kid's life than an ordinary pinprick, it was painful and could take weeks to fully disappear.
What had happened? They had scouted the areas around the island every day since they docked. There were no threats that they knew of in the vicinity. Did…A sparring session? An accident?
The brunette's lips thinned as he continued his investigation. There were no rounded edges to indicate the works of another's punch, and the longer he looked, the more he could not find any other visible injury to further clue him in. Ace merely breathed serenely, oblivious to his surroundings. Thatch paused. Now that he examined the kid properly, there were dark circles beneath his eyes. They were somewhat faint against the tanned skin, but it was there nonetheless. Was there-
The investigation was cut short when the younger pirate suddenly jerked, his shoulders lifting into a reflexive hunch as he inhaled, sharp and fast.
When Thatch caught the quickly building panic in the unfocused grey eyes, he pressed his palm against the other's chest, gentle and warm. "It's me," he said, voice calm. He remembered the last time someone had startled the fire-user when he returned to the world of the living. He had been caught so off-guard he had sent the other man straight into the sea. It was an unfortunate misadventure, but one that had Ace down in the dumps for weeks. "You're okay."
Ace snapped his attention to him. For a moment, both pirates stared at one another; one was solemn and soothing, while the other somewhat distrustful and confused. A blink and then the teen's features turned blank.
"Thatch," he said as he shook his head, as if to banish the last remnants of his dreams. "Sorry about that. Still not used to it."
The chef smiled in acceptance. "It's alright."
Ace rolled his shoulders. There was a look on his face that hinted at his discomfort, but he said nothing even as he clambered out from the bed, looking almost ridiculous as he tried to manoeuvre around the commander without touching him.
"What are you doing here?"
Thatch gestured at the tray of foods on the desk. "I came bearing gifts."
The change was instantaneous. The brunette had to bite his lip as Ace perked up, his worn features brightening, at the mere thought of food. "Oh, food, yes!" the kid cheered as he bounded over. "I'm famished."
"Calm down," Thatch laughed when Ace almost choked. "No one's going to take your food."
The fire-user shot him what might have been a smirk if it were not for the mouthful of meat, but appeared to take his advice in consideration. He dropped himself into the seat before proceeding to gorge himself at a slower pace.
Thatch waited with quiet patience until the teen had devoured half the table's contents before he decided to strike. "You missed both your breakfast and lunch today," he commented with an air of curiosity.
Ace swallowed before answering. "Yeah? I fell asleep." He looked about to stuff himself in the next moment, but paused. "Sorry you have to keep sending food over," he said as he turned to fix the chef with a frown. "You know you could just leave it in the kitchens. I can get it myself."
"Last time I did that, you chose to sleep your hunger off till your next meal with everyone else," Thatch reminded him.
The frown deepened. "I'm not the only one who skips," he retorted. "You don't force everyone to eat."
Despite himself, the chef's countenance turned almost severe at the comment, remembering when the little brat had kept his ginormous appetite a secret. Ace must have realised his mistake for he was already wincing. "I can swear we've had this conversation before, Ace. You promised."
Ace raised his hands in surrender. "Right, right, sorry, sorry about that. I'll eat. I'm just saying you don't have to deliver them. I'm taking up too much of your time."
"No, you're not. I wanted to do this. And, again, you would have waited till your next meal."
"I can't help it!" the younger pirate protested. "Dinner was already coming in in two hours back then. I didn't want to bother your division when you were busy prepping. Who knows if my day meals were even still available then?"
The reminder that the teen could have asked was on the tip of the commander's tongue, but he restrained the urge. He could not, however, resist shooting the other pirate another unimpressed look. The way Ace's lips curled downwards in defeat was enough to convince him he understood. "Now that we've cleared that up- and that means no more complaining about having your food here, I was thinking we could…?" he trailed off when he caught the downtrodden look on the other's boyish features. "Ace?"
Ace looked at his lap. His fingers rubbed at his pants in an absent-minded fashion. "I just don't like to bother you," he mumbled. Then, as if realising the other might not hear him, he said louder, "I can promise I'll get it myself next time."
Thatch almost wanted to sigh. But sighing would not help, he knew. For someone who had the confidence of Paradise, Ace had quite a low self-esteem. It was a contradiction many were confused by, if even the slightest indicators that he was a 'bother' could trouble him so deeply.
"I had time to spare," he said easily. "Besides, I'm curious what you've been up to. You've been so tired lately."
Ace, the little brat, did not bother holding back a sigh of his own. "You know what? Fine, do whatever you want. Good for me," he muttered.
"Yeap. Good for you." A pause. "So, what have you been up to?"
"Eating my guts out in case I faint like a princess. Wouldn't want to worry you old folks now, do I?"
Thatch snorted. "Right. Thanks for the consideration. We appreciate it."
"In fact–" Ace took a pointed bite of his food– "I think you should bring me an entire buffet. Wouldn't want me to lack for anything, right?"
"Sure. Though you realise the feasting hall is a buffet and you're missing out because of whatever it is that's caught your attention this time."
To the younger pirate's credit, he did not choke at the quick combat, easily returning a sharp glower for the comment instead. "Shut up. I was tired."
"Does the bruise on your side have anything to do with your being tired?"
Contrary to his assumptions, Ace only looked puzzled. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown and he seemed to peer at the commander as if he was a problem that needed to be solved. It was clear he had no idea what Thatch was talking about (his ability to act or lie was discovered to be dismal, to say the least), though the added sauce and specks of crumbs on his chin somehow made him look ridiculous.
"Bruise? What are you talking about?"
Thatch stood up and moved to point at the nasty bruise adorning the kid's side. "That one."
Ace turned to look. "Oh. No wonder it hurt there," he commented somewhat thoughtlessly.
"You didn't know?" Thatch asked incredulously. He paused, and corrected himself, "You felt a pain somewhere and you didn't even bother to look at it?"
The fire-user appeared to realise he was in for another unwanted lecture for his freckled features twisted into a frown, making him look more like the frazzled kitten he was than the fierce pirate he aimed to be. "I was tired! And then I woke up and you brought me food. Excuse me if I prioritised sustenance over some flimsy bruise."
Thatch almost smiled at the indignation in the other's voice. "That's not an ordinary bruise, Ace. That looks like a bone contusion."
Ace looked at him blankly. His gaze flicked towards the injury and back towards the commander. "It's a bruise."
"Yes, a bone bruise, if you will."
Realisation dawned on the fire-user. "Ah," he said, nodding. "I bruised my bone."
Thatch let out a huff of amusement. The kid was crazy smart, but he sometimes was just too dense. It was adorable. Then, as if remembering why he had asked, he gestured at the bruise again. "How did you get that? That's not an easy place to hit."
Ace surprised him again when he laughed, somewhat sheepish. "That's my fault. I was training on the island and I sort of accidentally hit myself."
…what?
"You…how did you even hit yourself? Don't rub your neck. Your hands are dirty!"
Ace stilled, before looking at his hands in surprise. "Right. Thanks," he muttered. Then, he shrugged. "I don't know. One moment I was doing running exercises, and the next I remembered that this–" he pointed at the injury– "place hurt a little. There wasn't a bruise back then yet though, so I just moved on."
Relief that Thatch did not know he needed calmed the lingering thread of worry in him. Ah. So, it was a training session. While he still was unable to understand how it was self-inflicted (how do you even hit yourself there that hard?), it was good to know that it was not the result of a potential threat or a particular overzealous sibling Ace was trying to protect.
"You're not going to send me to the infirmary, are you?"
Thatch barked out a laugh. "Do you want me to?"
Ace made a face. "No! Why would I want that?"
"Then I'm not going to, though you should really put some ice on that. It's just a bruise, but I imagine it hurts enough to remind you of its existence."
As if to test the older man's words, Ace began to stretch, only to pause when he must have pulled at it. He winced. "Yeah, you're right. It's not too bad though, so don't worry about it. We've all had worse."
And that was the sad part, was it not? Their status as free beings on the seas – well, pirates – secured their future with fights and battles to the death. Most of the time, they fought only to protect the symbol that in turn protected them. This meant trauma and injuries and fear and resilience. That bruise was nothing compared to what they have endured through and would likely have to experience in the future. But, he thought as he got up to stand over his youngest brother, this was home.
It was a blessing to have the luxury to fuss over the smaller injuries. In an ideal world, this would be it.
"I know, little brother," he said, unable to suppress the warmth completely from his voice. As always, Ace frowned, almost shyly, as if uncertain how to react. "Excuse your older brother for worrying."
Ace shifted, his gaze darting to the door and back again. "So, uh, I don't have to go to the infirmary?" he asked quickly.
Thatch almost wanted to snicker at the obvious subject change. Deciding to take pity on the other pirate, he shook his head.
"Marco would have."
Yes, the mother hen would have. After a thorough investigation of how that bruise came about too. "He would have," he agreed out loud. "But I hope you cut him some slack, eh, Ace? It's in his nature to worry. He can't help it." He paused, briefly recalling the image of a Phoenix drenched in pouring rain, bent over the still form of a sister. It was faint, but he could still remember the mournful screeches ringing through the back of his mind. "I imagine it's not easy," he said softly, "to worry so much over so many people."
At the silence, Thatch coughed into his hand. He did not need to look to know Ace was watching him with wide eyes.
"Okay, I will," was the quiet reply.
Thatch grinned as he ruffled the younger's mussed hair. "Thanks, kid."
A squawk. "I'm not a kid!"
"Hey, you almost finished the food. Did it taste weird?"
"Super weird."
A sigh. Thatch moved to take the tray away, saying, "Then, don't eat it. I can-" when a hand grabbed at the food possessively.
"That didn't mean I didn't like it, Thatch. It's mine. Go away."
The commander raised his hands. "Sure, sure. Stuff yourself." He wondered if Ace would still be as eager if he knew it was full of vegetables, but he supposed he could count this as a win. He could always tell him next time what he was putting into his body.
Just before he closed the door to the room, Thatch poked his head back in. "By the way, if you're thinking of training again, why don't you approach Marco?" he suggested. "He was already considering training you in haki."
"You want me to train you, yoi?"
"Thatch said you were considering training me anyway," Ace pointed out, trying hard to feel he had not made a mistake. He shifted under the heavy weight of the other man's stare.
"In haki," Marco said slowly. His head tilted, considering. "Do you know what haki is?"
Ace winced. He did not. "S-sure I do!" he stammered. He looked at between his feet and the commander's sandals. Were sandals even comfortable to wear on a ship? He rubbed at his cheeks, feeling a little hot.
When Marco responded, he looked about ready to smirk. "What is haki, Ace?"
Shit. "Uh…How to kick someone into the air and dump them into the sea?" he guessed stupidly.
The blonde commander shook his head. Ace caught how the man's lips were curled into a faint smile even as the latter marked a page on the book he was reading before closing it. Marco then shifted to face the red-faced pirate standing at his door.
"Wrong answer. Though that's what will happen to you if you're disobedient, yoi. I expect all my trainees to be sharp in following my instructions."
It took a moment of Ace staring at Marco with what he hoped to be eagerness (and not at all pleading) before the words registered. A wide smile stretched his freckled cheeks. "Really?" he asked, unable to curb the immediate excitement that swept through him. "You'll train me?"
Marco clasped his hands at the back of his head. He was smirking in that annoying manner of his, but somehow the teen felt it looked soft somehow, perhaps even fond. "Well, someone has got to teach you to stop setting things on fire. Who better than me?"
Ace rolled his eyes. "Show off." Then, "When can we start?"
"So impatient," the blonde commented. He moved to the bookshelf to drag out a thick, leather-bound book. The edges were bound with gold trimmings and, from the tinted colouring of the pages, it was clear it was well-read and well-loved. "But first," Marco was saying as he dropped the item onto Ace's hands, "I have to teach you what haki is first." This time, he did not bother to withhold the smug smile. "Read this and come back to me after. Or we can read it together, yoi."
Ace gaped at him. "What? This whole book? But- I wanted to- This isn't- Marco!"
Marco's shoulders lifted into a shrug. He pointed at the book, titled The New World of Haki and Control. "Haki is a dangerous weapon, Ace. Training you in what may be uncharted territory for you can hurt our siblings who are weaker in strength. It's best if you-"
At that, all resistance and reluctance drained away from the teen. While he did not like reading (and only did so because it reminded him of his long-dead brother), it was a blessing he would take on any day if it meant it kept his new people from harm. He may not understand the Whitebeard's crazy antics over him. They even pretended to be interested in him to help him belong. If reading could be the difference between their lives, Ace would do it in a heartbeat.
"I'll do it."
Marco's words died even as he looked surprised at the declaration. His eyebrows furrowed, as if trying to understand what he had heard, when he nodded, slow and accepting. "Alright, yoi." A pause. "I thought you would protest a bit more."
"I'll do it, Marco," Ace said again firmly. He held the book to his chest. "I'll get back to you when I'm done."
With that, he nodded and turned away. There was the familiar burn of determination thrumming beneath his skin, yearning to be put to use. Yes, he'll protect all of them this time. He would make sure of it.
It should have come as little surprise then, when Ace came stumbling into his room two nights later with a mumbled, "I did it, Marco. I did it."
Marco stared at him in askance. He took the proffered book only when the younger pirate waved it at him again.
"It's only been two nights, Ace," he said when he finally found his voice.
Ace frowned at him. "But I did it," he repeated, looking confused. As if that was the only thing that mattered.
Marco took in the dark circles and the exhausted way the teen tried to keep himself at upright. His lips thinned.
"I'll train you in two days, yoi. Go to sleep."
Ace hesitated. There was a look of profound tiredness in his eyes, as if some part of him had been sucked out within the two days he had kept himself away from the crew. To his credit, though, there was a sliver of fierceness lurking within those stormy, grey eyes, dulled as they were by apparent exhaustion.
"You promise?" Ace asked, as if Marco had to be bound by word to deliver.
He flicked the teen on the forehead gently. "By the mark on my chest, brat."
Instead of relishing in the two-day break until his commander trained him, Ace took the opportunity to dive back into the forest on the island to resume his training. He had earlier left the ship with a grin and a hasty 'see you later!', knowing full well by now they would disapprove of him going alone. Like the problem-solver he was, he went off while implying he only wanted to explore.
Once he reached the clearing by the lake, he dumped his green duffle bag by one of the large boulders that was shadowed by the giant oak trees. It may be waterproof, but the bag contained his most precious belongings. He would rather not risk it and would shelter it from the New World's elements if he could.
"Right," he muttered to himself as he stretched.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ace attempted to clear his mind of his thoughts. There were a lot of ways to train, but as he had discovered since his voyage off Dawn Island, it was difficult to push himself to his limits when he was alone. Entering battle with other crews – at least, prior to Jinbei – had proved that they were too weak in strength to challenge him. His own crewmates were nowhere near his, and here he quoted, 'sheer brute strength'.
It was an unfortunate circumstance, truly. The only self-training he could do was to practice exercising control over the wildfire that were his Devil Fruit powers and to seek stronger opponents.
Logic would have him look for his current crewmates for help in the second area. Seas, his Captain could give him a sound beating within a second if he so desired. But, he morosely reminded himself as he summoned the first lick of flames along his shoulders, the Whitebeard pirates were ridiculously paranoid. They allowed him only a few spars a day and would drop the battle the moment they thought they had gone too far; in other words, the moment he took longer than five seconds to get back on his feet. And if he had known Whitebeard would refuse to battle with him, he would have dragged out his 100-day assassination stint a bit more to…well, he had always wanted to fight a Yonko. Even if it meant getting soundly defeated.
The familiar warmth surrounding his person brought a small smile to his face. He focused on the sheer energy brimming within the fire. He could feel its desire to burst forth, to ignite into a torrent that spelled ruin for everything around him, to let loose into a firestorm that knew no boundaries or limits. Part of him yearned to indulge. He wanted to cut the restrictions that held the destructive powers back. He wanted to bathe in the comfort of orange-red light and heat, all the while knowing that he was safe ensconced in the flames as no one else was. Well, there were a few, but he dismissed them with barely a thought. Above all, he wanted to fight.
It cost him no little amount of displeasure that that dream paled in comparison to the current tiny flickers of fire dancing on his skin. That did not, however, stop him from imagining how it would be like to once again return to using his full strength. He did so miss it…
Inhaling deeply, Ace fell into his new routine in training. He started to push the flames forth, slowly, deliberately. His control remained sharp and precise, not letting his powers to go beyond his self-imposed limits or allowing it to diminish in strength. Nor was it permitted to grow. It seemed simple enough work, but he was no longer taken by surprise by the amount of sheer concentration this exercise needed. It was a constant battle for dominance.
The only way to tighten control over his powers was to practice using it in increments. It was slow work, but there was little else he could do on his own.
With that thought in mind, Ace remembered that he was due for a training session with Marco in two days for haki training. Reading the book was painful, yes, and he hoped in all the four seas that he had at least one of the hakis listed in the book. It would be terribly embarrassing if he ended up not having any one at all.
The three forms of haki are seldom found in any individual, especially within the four Blues. Most individuals who are able to practise such raw forms of energy are often gifted only one of the three hakis. It is extremely rare for any one individual to have all three. Those that do often go down in history as legends.
Ace wondered if the late Pirate King had been one of those. He would not be surprised if Roger did. For all his notoriety, he had to have been strong in something to have warranted such a bounty during his lifetime, right?
After the next four (at least he thought it had taken that long) hours of intense focus, Ace finally sighed as he let his powers fade. Sweat trickled down his neck. He had not moved from his position for hours, but his body ached as if he had gone one-on-one with Sabo two hundred times. He considered heading back to the Moby Dick for lunch but dismissed the thought just as quickly.
Today, he was going to hunt.
He picked up his duffle bag and moved deeper into the forest, all the while humming under his breath. The trees were different from Dawn Island's, sure. It towered above him as if it would reach the very skies and yet the light that filtered through the canopy was more than enough to light his way. On the downside, he had to contend with the dense undergrowth that flourished under the Sun's care.
Within less than half an hour, Ace's efforts paid off when he encountered the hulking body of a giant rhino. The corners of his lips curled slowly into a smirk. By the seas, it was even bigger than three Whitebeards combined!
"Heh." He could not wait to eat.
"What happened?!"
Ace unconsciously jerked back a few steps at the sharp voice. He looked up to see the sixteenth commander striding towards him with purpose. His normally serene features were twisted into an unpleasant frown even as he stopped before the fire-user.
"What happened?" he said again, his tone allowing no room for evasions.
The teen took a moment to think. "Um, I went to the island to find food..?" He thought of the railings behind his back and the safety of the island just after that in slight remorse. He should have stayed longer.
Izo's frown deepened. "And that massive discolouration on your chest and arm?"
"Huh?" It took an embarrassingly long moment for Ace to look down on himself to see that, yes, about thirty per cent of his chest was quickly turning into dark, purpling patches. "Oh." He scratched as his cheek, wondering how he would escape this newest episode of freaked out siblings. "I ran into a rhino?" he tried.
Izo's dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion. "You ran into a rhino," he repeated.
"Uh, I guess. Not really…"
"What happened, Ace? Why are you hurt so badly?"
"It's not bad!" Ace insisted. Yes, this was exactly the reason he had not wanted to tell them he went off training. They had this ridiculous propensity to nag at him. "And, I meant, well, the rhino ran into me, okay?"
There was a brief silence. "A rhino," Izo said slowly, as if he had chewed the words in his mouth before pushing them to the tip of his tongue. "Ran into you. On the island, where there are giant creatures roaming about freely." He turned a severe look on the teen. "Why?"
"Uh, I was hungry and it looked delicious?"
"We have food on the ship," the kimono-clad pirate returned seriously.
"I was really hungry?"
The commander pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose, almost alike in the way Marco would have done it. "I don't know whether you're telling me or asking me, but…" he trailed off. His sharp gaze flickered between the bruise and Ace. He soon relented when the fire-user scuffed his boots on the deck. "Put some cream on it, Ace," he finally said.
"Oh, okay!"
"And ice."
A pause. "I'll melt it."
Izo sighed. "Then lots of cream."
…
"And please just…be careful."
[Two Days Later]
Marco hid his surprise when he came upon his newly attained trainee waiting out on deck for him. It was the usual empty open area near the quarterdeck, near enough to the hidden area Ace had resided in during his 100-day assassination attempts on Oyaji. He had figured the kid would have wanted a place to rest during their training sessions. It was familiar and few people would interrupt them too.
Yet, what had taken the Phoenix aback was- were several things. For one, he could immediately tell that the teen was uneasy. The younger pirate tried hard to hide it, but it showed in the way he played with his fingers, a nervous gesture as any. It showed in the way his shoulders were tensed. It showed in the way he kept biting his lip. It even showed in the way he kept looking about him, as if afraid he would get jumped. Marco wondered at this odd behaviour. Despite the freckled pirate's tender age, he was confident and was always one of the few to jump into the fray of battle. Marco had expected him to be insufferably excited, not worryingly nervous.
Another was the kid's attire. Instead of the half-dressed assemble he had taken to wearing recently, he now donned a long-sleeved plain black shirt. Marco recognised it as one of the shirts Izo had gifted the kid when he first joined the crew. He had not worn it since he took on his mark and yet… To add on to the confusion, Ace was also wearing gloves.
"Don't get mad," Ace decided to interrupt him when he only stared dumbly at his brother. He turned to show Marco his back. "I'm still wearing your mark."
Marco reflexively corrected him," Oyaji's mark. Our mark." His gaze roved through the proud mark of Whitebeard that had apparently been sewn onto the top. It was an exact replica of the one on Ace's back.
Ace flushed a little. "Right. Our mark," he mumbled. He jumped to his feet, for all purposes looking eager if not for the wariness lurking in his grey orbs. "How are we doing this?"
Marco coughed to snap himself out of it. Trust the kid to start wearing shirts again without compromising the mark of his allegiance. He considered asking about the shirt but recalled Thatch's concerns. Right. No hovering over trivial things. As if just remembering the purpose of this session, Marco allowed a devilish smirk to cross his lips.
The teen tensed.
"Get ready to get your ass kicked, yoi."
"Behind you!"
"To your side!"
"Above!"
Ace internally swore at himself when, again, a sandaled foot slammed into his side. The breath was knocked out of him just as he was knocked off his feet to skid onto the hard ground, chin first. At least, that was what he had predicted to happen. Instead, strong arms grabbed at his shoulders to lift him against a hard chest. His blindfold was removed a moment later.
He blinked at the sudden brightness, feeling almost dizzy and very disoriented. Around him, the very air seemed to dance, and he would have swayed with it were it not for the harsh grip on his person. In front of him, the familiar but blurred blonde was talking.
"Ace? You alright, yoi?"
Ace lifted his own hands to grab at the older man. He inhaled deeply. For a moment, he wanted to lean forward to rest against the strong aura that was his ship-brother, wanted to bask in that comforting warmth that one could only get from another person. It took him another sharp inhalation to drain away the desire. With the commander holding him at almost arm's length, he would have had to break the grip before he could anyway.
A sharp voice calling his name tugged at his attention again.
"Yes, yes. I'm fine," he muttered as his vision began to clear. He swatted at the older man.
Marco ignored his attempts to be let go. Concern was etched across his face. "Are you alright, yoi?" he asked again. "You should have told me I was going too hard on you."
"You weren't. It's just–" Ace tried to point at the sun beating on their backs– "it's really bright," he explained. "Needed time to adjust."
"You were swaying."
"You kept shouting out directions and then attacking me! I was practically turning in circles like a moron!"
Despite himself, the commander quirked a smile at the irked response. His hold on the younger fire-user eased. "I have to admit that was quite the sight to see, yoi."
Ace could not help but groan. He supposed he should thank his lucky stars that Marco had insisted on using this part of the ship for his training. At least no one would unintentionally walk by and see him make a spectacle of himself. "Shut up, you slave driver." He could already tell his nights were going to be sore and uncomfortable.
Marco's face shifted into something unreadable. "As long as you are fine," he said after a long moment. He seemed to remember he was still supporting part of the younger pirate's weight, for he squeezed and then stepped back. "You've improved. You managed to dodge at least five of my attacks."
Ace rolled his shoulders in a stretch. "Out of, what? 50?" he retorted. "I was useless."
"You need time. It's not a skill you can master overnight."
"It's been ages, Marco! For all you know, those five dodges were pure luck."
The Phoenix raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "It's been a week, yoi," he said flatly.
Ace could feel a light flush colouring his cheeks, but he refused to be swayed. "Yeah, well, that's a long time to me," he defended.
Marco shook his head. "Oyaji was right, yoi," he muttered. "Kids these days are so impatient."
"Hey! That was mean!"
Marco snorted and ruffled the younger pirate's hair in fond exasperation. "Come here, you." With that warning, he tugged Ace close and began to rub at his cheeks with the rough pad of his palms. "You have dirt all over your face."
Ace protested at the abuse to his person. "That's because you threw me all over the place!" He began to squirm and shove at the older man to get away. "Stop it! People will see," he hissed.
"Why? Worried they'll see you look like an unkempt brat with no home?"
Ace's eyebrow twitched in a way he did not realise was too reminiscent of Marco's own habit. A second later and he was breathing literal fire into the irritating turkey's face. He heard a burst of laughter as blue flames met his. "What's wrong with that!" he screeched as he lunged forward. Surely he could land a hit even when he was not blindfolded!
Marco chuckled at his pitiful attempts. He drew the younger close before evading at the last second, only to reappear behind the pirate to pull him into a headlock. "Of course it's wrong," he answered with grin. "It would mean we aren't taking care of you right, yoi."
Ace tried to dig his foot into the stupid commander's feet, but it only went up in blue flames. "Gah! You and your stupid fire!"
"What was that? You want me to hold you tighter?"
Ace let out a loud squawk. "No! Let go, you mean- you stupid meanie!" A red flush spread across his cheeks at the insults. He really had to learn better swear words, damn it!
"Now, that's not nice, Ace. I'm your big brother. Treat me nicer, won't you?"
It seemed there was no other way to it, the ex-Captain decided. In his fair defense, Marco had attacked him first. They may be crewmates, but the older man's words had just reminded him that the crew considered themselves family. With that thought in mind, Ace muttered, "You asked for this." And promptly licked what he could reach of the commander's arm.
To say the man stiffened was an understatement. The body behind his tensed and Ace just knew the pirate was processing what was happening for a brief second, before the arm around his neck tightened. "Licking me, really?" Marco tried to sound unaffected, but he was unable to completely disguise his disgust.
"I can do this all day!" he shot back and began to lick as much drool as he could onto his ship-brother.
Marco shifted to lean away from the teen's mouth. "You little brat," he muttered. "Unfortunately for you, I've been a brother to hundreds of siblings for decades. This isn't going to bother me, yoi."
"Okay," Ace quipped as he began to chew at the hand he managed to snatch.
A groan. "Fine! We'll play it your way."
Before Ace could decipher what that meant, he was pushed forward and then brought to the ground. He rolled away just as Marco swiped at his feet.
"Hey! That was-" Ace shut up when he saw the twinkle in the cerulean eyes. Despite the obvious mirth he saw in them, the man himself walked towards him with his hands in the pockets of his purple jacket. His gait was steady and calm, not at all betraying the pirate's readiness to spring forward.
Ace found himself matching the other's grin. "Oh, come on then."
With that, both jumped at each other to start a round of playful roughhousing. Ace laughed when Marco managed to land a hit on his side, knowing full well he could be easily overpowered in seconds, but enjoying the commander's sudden decision to have a bit of fun.
Ace eyed the massive form that was a leopard prowl slowly towards him. He could see its muscles rippling as it moved with the practised ease of a hunter. The shadows cast by the forest' high canopy shrouded much of its bulk from view, creating the impression that it was far bigger than it actually was. Its sharp yellow eyes were ringed with an intelligence uncommonly found in wild creatures, quite unlike the tiger he and his brothers had hunted down in their childhood years. That, more than anything, set him on edge. The worst enemies were the ones who could outsmart him. They knew where it would hurt.
The fire-user twirled the hilt of his dagger on his hand. The forest's wildlife was leagues ahead in strength and aggressiveness from those on Dawn Island. While most would have taken the hint and escaped from his presence after so many dead, the animals here sought him out. As if he was an intruder keen on taking over their territory.
Well, they were not too wrong.
Instinct moved the teenager as the leopard finally snarled and pounced on him. Ace leapt away just as its claws dug into the spot he had been standing at. He swiftly ran up the side of one giant oak tree to swing at the top of the oversized cat's head, hilt first. The blow landed hard enough to send the leopard stumbling as it let out a screech-like noise, but apparently it was not enough, for the cat shook its head wildly as it to rid itself of an unwanted pest. Ace's eyes widened, unable to move himself in mid-air, as he was struck by the side of a furry cheek and sent crashing through the dense forest undergrowth.
"Oh," he moaned as he skidded to a stop. He almost regretting wearing the sea stone band on his wrist. His back would not have burned so much at the friction.
A growl from above him had him scowling. "Patience," he snapped as he threw his dagger at the cat to keep it at bay.
The leopard shook off the weapon as if it was nothing. Its lips bared in a low snarl as it snuck forward, its paws heavy on the forest floor.
Ace caught the ends of a fallen tree branch next to him. Without a thought, he grabbed at it, feeling mollified at its apparent sturdiness. He jumped to his feet with a grin.
"Alright then," he said. The cat's ears twitched. He swung the makeshift weapon at his future meal. "Let's see how well you do against the weapon of ASL."
Ace gingerly wrapped the bandages on his shoulders, careful to keep it tight enough to keep it from falling off and yet loose enough to not send a throbbing pain through his nervous system. Somehow, this made him remember home and his brothers. Sabo would have bandaged him at one point. When he…left, Luffy had taken up the duty with an eagerness that had almost convinced Ace to do it himself.
He was lucky the nurses had not thought too much of his requests for bandages. It would be a pain to get them to redo it for him every day.
"You have to focus, yoi. Clear your senses and try to sense where I am."
"How am I going to sense you when I'm supposed to clear my stupid senses?!"
A sharp whack to his back had Ace falling onto his knees. He let out a low groan.
"Calm down," Marco was saying, as if he had not just stomped on the pirate's pride for the past few weeks. "There is no place for anger on the battlefield."
Ace could not help but snap back, "Sure, I'll go in with rainbows and laughter. Would that be better?"
The teen remained on his knees as he waited for the older man's acerbic response to his own. He knew he was irritable, and there was no way he was not trying even Marco's legendary threshold of tolerance. To his surprise, his blindfold was removed and soon he was staring into the commander's features, who merely regarded him with a blank expression.
Despite himself, Ace flinched. He almost wished the blindfold was back on so he could avoid looking at the other. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. When no answer came forth, his shoulders sank lower. "We've been training for weeks and I haven't improved at all. I was even worse today than on our first day of training. I got frustrated and I've been taking it out on you. I'm sorry. You deserve better than me." His voice became even more quieter towards the end, as if he was waiting for the inevitable rejection.
After what seemed to be an interminable moment, a sigh greeted him. "I know you're frustrated, yoi," he heard Marco say. "Training is never easy. It takes time and endless effort to improve even marginally. Some days we are on a roll. We keep on hitting the target. But there are days where we will inevitably miss the target, no matter how hard we try. Those are the days when everything seems to go wrong, yoi. We become careless, we forget important tasks, we took the fork instead of the spoon for soup, we hit our toe on the door as we make our way out. Some days, things just don't work out that well for us." Ace was startled into looking up when Marco touched him on his shoulder. "There he is," he said lightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I thought my pesky little brother had disappeared on me for a moment there, yoi."
Ace studied the genuine sincerity plastered on the commander's countenance. It did not, however, escape his notice that Marco had ignored his apology. "I'm still…sorry?"
Marco shrugged carelessly. He either had dismissed it as unimportant or had filed it away for future reference. The idea of the second one made the teen grow cold.
Ace remained on the ground as the Phoenix got to his feet.
"I think that concludes the training for today, eh? You seem pretty exhausted."
Ace tracked the man's movements as he began to move away, his heart in his throat. He wanted to swallow to rid himself of the sudden fluttering panic in his chest but could do no more than choke out Marco's name.
Marco turned back, looking confused to still see Ace kneeling on the ground. "Ace?" Suddenly, the pirate was mirroring the teen's position in front of him. "Were you hurt?"
Perhaps Ace should take offense that his ship-siblings always thought his predisposed to being injured, but he was too fixated on the idea that he was not forgiven to be irritated. "You–" he sucked in a shallow breath– "are you still mad at me?" he burst out. "I said I'm sorry!"
Marco's eyebrows furrowed. "I know, yoi," he said slowly, as if unsure of his words. "And I'm not mad at you."
Though the words were meant to be assuring, they only sent childish panic running through him. He abruptly remembered an apology he had made long ago to another brother, one who was now lost to him.
"Are you…are you ignoring me?"
Dark blue eyes barely flicked him a glance. "No."
"Yes, you are! You've been giving me the cold shoulder whenever Luffy's not around!"
"I'm talking to you now, aren't I?"
"But you won't do anything with me, Sabo! You just told Luffy you'd go into the village with him tomorrow, but you refused when I asked!"
"Maybe I'm tired of you getting mad at us all the time!"
A gasp. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"
"You hit me with your pipe because I defended Luffy! Several times!"
"He kept asking for stories on Roger! And that's not the point. I already said I was sorry, and you told me you weren't mad anymore, you liar!"
"I said I wasn't mad anymore, but that didn't mean I accepted your apology. You can't just apologise every time and then do it all over again, and expect me to be okay with it, Ace." A sigh. "You know, until you really learn to be remorseful, I'm not going to do anything with you."
Ace felt the abrupt urge to grab onto Marco, tight, and not let go. Sabo had refused to give in no matter how many times he had pestered him over it. No matter the number of apologies he had made, no matter how he tried to make up for it by being nicer to both his brothers. He remembered being so confused he had withdrawn almost completely from them, not wanting to be subject to anymore hurt from the continued rejection. It was only then, weeks from the incident, that Sabo broke and drew him back out.
It was also only then that he discovered Sabo's true purpose. He had only wanted Ace to give a proper apology to both of them and to promise he would try not do it again. But the damage had been done. That cold sting of prolonged rejection stayed with Ace till today.
"I'm sorry," he said again, almost helplessly, not knowing how to explain the clench around his heart.
Marco, for once, did not immediately have a soothing response at the ready. Instead, he was looking at Ace with an expression of alarm and concern, as if the teen had just revealed to him something terribly upsetting.
When he spoke, he did so in a way that left no room for hidden meanings. "I know. You were angry because you were frustrated. And that made you yell at me. I was annoyed, yes, but you recognised why you were upset and you had the courage to apologise to me, yoi. I'm not mad at you. I'm not irritated with you." He narrowed his eyes, as if waiting for something. "I forgive you."
Ace stared at him searchingly, as if trying to spot the lie. When he could not, he felt the tension leave him. "Thank you," he mumbled as he ducked his head. Now that the irrational fear had eased, he could feel the building shame at his pathetic response. The only ones to have ever witnessed these episodes were Sabo and Deuce. Sabo never ignored him again, once he had discovered its effects on Ace, but the fire-user knew his late brother had never forgiven himself for it. No matter that he forgave Ace. And now…now Marco was privy to the childish part of him that the Whitebeards had not asked for.
Ace met Marco's eyes for a second. "I'm sorry," he could not help but say. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm just- I'm s-fine."
Marco locked his hands together on his lap. "I know. It's alright. I forgive you, yoi," he repeated. There was a weighty silence. "Come now. Let's get off the floor and get some tea, yeah? To settle our nerves."
Ace grasped the proffered hand and was pulled to his feet. A moment later and an arm was around his shoulders.
"I want hot chocolate," he said hesitantly.
A snort. "Why not, eh?"
"If I die, you would save a lot of beli on food, you know that?"
Vista, Namur and Thatch shot him odd looks. "We know that," the said together.
Ace winced as he slowly lowered himself onto the chair. "Then end my miserable existence already," he moaned as he faceplanted onto the table.
"I don't think Oyaji would approve, Ace," Namur commented.
"He'll get over it. He's got many of you anyway. What's one less," the fire-user muttered.
Vista snorted. "True, but there's only one of you. The old man's fond you, kid."
"Probably likes you better than any of us," Thatch added.
Ace gave them what he hoped to be a dismissive wave. Right. Likes him better than them. What bull. "Who said having siblings were great," he complained. "Useless, the lot of you."
There was a beat of silence before the three commanders burst into laughter. Ace looked up to glower at them, confused though he was at their reaction.
"Oh seas," Thatch was choking. "You-you!"
"What?!" Ace demanded.
Vista held onto Namur, who was shaking as he tried to stifle his sniggering.
It was the chef who finally answered as he wiped at his eyes. "You sounded just like Marco!" His voice dropped. "Useless, the lot of you," he mimicked.
The three guffawed again.
Ace flushed at the comment but refused to back down. "I can see why he keeps saying it now," he retorted.
Vista chortled. "Come now, Ace. It's quite ado- ow! Alright, alright!" He threw the fire-user a wounded look when the latter raised an eyebrow at him.
"Why do you want to end your, as you say, 'miserable' existence, anyway?" Namur asked when he had calmed down.
Ace hesitated, then decided in a moment of sheer recklessness to throw caution to the wind. He was tired of pretending. And contrary to his earlier beliefs, there was no way he could maintain it forever. "I hurt everywhere," he moaned into the table again. "I'm hungry, I want to eat this entire hall, and–" he let out unintelligible noises– "I want to sleep for an entire month, I want to eat crocodile and crocodile soup and some hot chocolate and have a sleepover and have some watermelon when the moon's up." He sucked in another breath. "I want a campfire and food and a treehouse and watermelon juice and a den-den and I want to fight someone and I want to eat and crocodileeee…" he stretched the last word out in utter dejection as he slumped over the table.
For the longest moments, nobody answered him. He just sighed. He had given up so many things to go on his voyage he forgot he had to leave behind so many important things that were dear to his heart. Did they even understand how deep the longing for home went?
"Uh…" was Vista's intelligent response.
Thatch, on the other hand, was quick to zero in on his first statement. "What do you mean you're hurt everywhere?"
Ace lifted his head to stare woefully at his ship-brother. "You know I've been training, right? I think I'm black and blue everywhere."
The chef narrowed his eyes in deep thought. "Do you mean your training on the island or your training sessions with Marco?"
Ace shrugged lightly. "I don't know. Both? The animals on the island fun to play with, and Marco's a real good teacher. But both really hit hard."
The three commanders eyed him in worry.
"You look okay…" Namur commented.
The fire-user folded his arms. "Of course I do," he said testily. He turned to Thatch and tried his best to look pathetic. According to Haruta, he had an unfair advantage and he was really missing home at the moment. "Thatch, food?"
The chef snorted, but Ace caught how his eyes had widened just that little bit more and he immediately felt guilty. "No, no," he said quickly. "I'll see what the kitchens have left for-"
Thatch cut in, "No, you're not. You're going to sit down. I'll bring the food to you."
Ace waited in abject misery for the chef to return. He ignored the other two commanders in favour of remembering the tenderness of crocodile meat cooked over a campfire in the forest. It was the season of crocodiles this time of year, he thought. Luffy must be having a heck of a time stuffing himself.
"Here you go!" Thatch announced as he returned with a tray of various foods. "No crocodile meat, unfortunately, but we'll see if we come across any in the future, alright, kid?"
Ace perked up at the implied promise. "Really?"
"It wouldn't be a problem."
The fire-user cheered before digging in. He winced when he pulled at his arm.
"You weren't kidding about hurting," Vista remarked. "Where are you hurt, exactly?"
"Arms, legs, hands, I don't know," Ace said through a mouthful of food. "Everywhere!"
The older pirates exchanged a look, then turned as one to glance at his black top.
"Ace, why don't you take off your top?" Vista said, almost too casually. "I thought you didn't like how constricting shirts are."
Ace hummed under his breath. "Yeah? Would dirty the bandages though. Too–" he stuffed an egg roll into his mouth "–lazy to keep changing them."
In his distracted state, he missed how his ship-brothers stiffened at his admission. It would, perhaps, have saved him the utter fiasco they would later subject him to. It took a few more prodding before he finally allowed them to tug the shirt off, not seeing the harm of it.
It was apparent a second later that he was the only one who thought so.
"What the hell, Ace?" Thatch choked. He gestured at the bandages wrapped around near his entire torso and his arms. His eye caught on the gloves the teen was still wearing. "Please tell me those aren't covered in bandages too, or help me, I will…"
Ace slowed down from eating. He took a moment to look down at himself in confusion. "What? Is it because I'm covering the mark? That's what I wore the shirt for too."
"No!" Namur said in exasperation. "You're covered in bandages!"
"Well, I…"
Ace looked between the three pirates. He noted the poorly concealed alarm etched on their features to his bandaged self, trying hard to consider the reasons behind their concern. He had put cream on his injuries before he wrapped them up, like Izo had asked him to. He changed the bandaging every morning and night. He kept them clean. He did not hide his mark, even if it was for the sake of his physical health. He dug through his childhood memories too, even, and could vividly recall Sabo using bandages just like he did now. So it was not for a lack of social awareness… Why were they upset?
He voiced his thoughts aloud and knew in an instant he had done the wrong thing.
Thatch's expression shifted to one Ace was becoming intimately familiar with over the past few months. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked anywhere but at Ace. "Finish your food," he said to the air. "Finish it, and then we are going to the infirmary."
"What? It's just bruises!"
"Bone bruises?"
"Well, maybe? They all look the same to me."
Thatch shook his head. His lips were curled down to form a severe look. "Don't make me call Oyaji."
Ace winced at the threat. Shit. The chef was serious. He had messed up, but he had no idea how. "I don't understand but…" he trailed off. "Okay, I'll go."
The rest of his meal tasted like ash.
When Marco found out, Ace thought the man was about to combust into flames.
"You were injured, yoi?!" the man almost shrieked at him as he burst into the infirmary. One look at his bare top and his face was turning as purple as his trademark jacket.
"Uh, not really?" was Ace's brilliant response.
"You!" Marco hissed. "You!"
The poor pirate looked so livid even Ace began to worry. "Um, Marco? Calm down?"
"Calm down? You allowed me to train you when you were black and blue!"
"I didn't think it was a big deal! You knew I was training on the island!"
"That doesn't-" Marco cut himself off there, before promptly pausing to take in a shuddering breath to calm himself. It clearly did not help when his next words burst out: "What part of training entailed you looking like you went through a rough beating?!"
Ace could not help but scowl at the unfairness of it all. He was training hard to become stronger (like they were!). He had so much more to go to be an asset to the Yonko crew and he was being yelled at for working his butt off?
"I was training," he emphasised. "I need to get stronger and I'm actually working at it. Why are all of you so mad? Because I got a little bruised for it?"
Marco narrowed his eyes. "You're bruised almost everywhere, Ace," he snapped. "There is no rhyme or reason for you to train so hard to the point you harm yourself." He lifted a hand in warning when the younger pirate moved to speak. "Bruises, broken bones, that's normal for any training sessions, but you didn't even check yourself out at the infirmary. This–" he gestured at the discolourations across Ace's person– "is unacceptable, yoi."
"Marco, calm down," Thatch said as he entered the infirmary.
Ace only stared at the Phoenix in bewilderment. "I don't get it," he exclaimed in growing upset. "I got hurt, but I took care of it. I put the cream needed for bruises since my body heat melts ice too quickly. I put on clean bandages twice a day. I didn't cover our mark. I didn't get any gaping wounds that needed stitches. I ate when I should, and I did everything you would have wanted me to do! Why are you mad at me?"
There was a flicker of guilt crossing the blonde's worn features, but both commanders somehow looked pinched at his outburst. They exchanged a glance.
"Ace," Thatch said gently, as if speaking to a particularly difficult child. "We are…displeased because you hurt yourself badly for mere training sessions. Bruises – bone bruises especially – that are sustained consistently over a period of time can hurt a lot." He paused. "We don't like it when our family is hurt."
Ace let out a sharp exhale. "I have a high threshold for pain, Thatch. This is just mere discomfort to me."
Marco tried a different tack. "Why are you training so hard, Ace? You could have asked any of us to train with you, but you insist on training alone and doubly hard. I get the need to be away from people now and again, yoi. But I know you have a specific reason."
The teen pirate met Marco's eyes for just a moment, but he had little trouble catching the anger brewing beneath the cerulean orbs. His throat felt dry. "I just…" He clenched his hands into fist. "Because I need to get stronger! I'm not strong enough. I can't protect anyone–" at this, he glanced at Thatch– "as I am now. I want to be useful to this crew. I…" He took in a shuddering breath. "I want to protect the people I care for."
Both Marco and Thatch stared at him, slack-jawed. But Ace was only focused on Marco. It was the only reason he caught the way the blonde's features seemed to crumple into distress before shifting almost immediately into a blank expression.
"I need to do my rounds," Marco said quietly as he retreated from the room.
Ace watched him leave as his mind recalled Thatch's words from weeks ago.
"But I hope you cut him some slack, eh, Ace? It's in his nature to worry. He can't help it. I imagine it's not easy to worry so much over so many people."
He winced. Maybe…Perhaps these bruises meant more to the crew than it ever did to him and his brothers back on Dawn Island. When he turned to see Thatch's concerned gaze, he sighed.
Well, shit.
"What is it, son?"
Ace ducked his head when Whitebeard peered at him from his usual chair on deck. The night was still young enough for the Captain to not have retreated to his quarters, but late enough that the deck was quiet with the occasional hushed whispers of those on watch. The fire-user trotted over to the Yonko, not wanting to see the same disappointment he had caught in his ship-brother's eyes.
Whitebeard gave him time to think, somehow knowing that he needed it to sort his thoughts.
It took him a minute. "Marco and the others are mad at me," he said softly. "I upset them."
"Really now? Those brats are mad at you?" Whitebeard's voice rumbled in his ears. There was a beat of silence, and then the man was reaching out to the teen with a giant hand. "Come here, son."
Ace found himself obeying the order without question. Once firmly settled on Whitebeard's lap, he found himself grasping at the fabric of the man's pants. He, for some reason, was startled to discover his vision growing slightly blurry.
"They are mad at me," he said again, helplessly, uselessly.
He could feel the concern emanating from the Yonko and he internally berated himself. He was worrying people left and right. What was wrong with him?
"Marco came to me earlier tonight," Whitebeard rumbled. A large hand brushed at the teen's hair. "He was upset that you felt the need to protect your older siblings." He laughed in that endearing way of his. "You brats. It's cute how you all blunder your way through such simple things."
Ace snorted quietly. "What's wrong with that?"
"There's nothing wrong with that," Whitebeard laughed again. He tugged lightly at the teen's hair, prompting Ace to look up. He breathed in sharply when he met kind dark eyes peering at him with such gentle warmth and fondness. "The same way there's no harm in you wanting to shelter your brat in East Blue from your grandfather."
Ace's eyes widened at the statement. As if like magic, the confusion in his head cleared so quickly he felt like a fool. How had he not seen it before? He absolutely hated it when Luffy got any lingering marks from an attack, especially when it came from others. But that meant, oh.
"Oh," he uttered in complete shock.
Whitebeard grinned at him. He looked almost proud even.
Ace had not realised his ship-brothers truly saw him as a brother, much less a little brother to boot.
Ace smirked in excitement as all the commanders blinked at him stupidly.
"What?"
He bowed with a flourish. "Please train me!"
…
"All of us?"
Marco only sighed.
That is all. Took me ages to write this out. Appreciate a kind word or a review, if you'd please!
Also, do check out my other two fics, 'Perception' and 'Pull Not a Fast One on Me' while you're at it!
AND do take care of yourselves and practise good hygiene, folks!
