Hey everyone!
I have too many ideas for this fic it's terrible. I have two others to think about, but nope, this one comes first apparently.
Anyway, because it's late and I want to sleep, I will keep this short. Please read WARNINGS before you read on.
WARNINGS: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NIGHTMARES. IT MAY CONTAIN DESCRIPTIONS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE UNCOMFORTABLE FOR YOU. THIS INCLUDES VAGUE DESCRIPTIONS OF CHOKING, ALMOST DROWNING, AND FIRE. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO READ THESE PARTS, PLEASE SKIP THE NIGHTMARES. I will set pre-warnings before the part for nightmares start too.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.
It started with a nightmare.
Perhaps it was the constant vigilance that strained his mind so. Or maybe it was the lack of comrades he could trust his back with. It could be a number of things, really, that filled the young pirate Captain's days with such trepidation.
He thought it was probably his own idiot brain about to combust from overthinking day and night.
"He threw away the food again."
He remembered quite vividly still how he was holed up in the room they had given him for the moment. He was sitting ramrod straight, back against the door, as he listened to the strongest crew in the world gossip about him behind his literal back.
[PRE-WARNING: NIGHTMARE I]
"Again?"
An unknown voice piped up. "If he wants to die so badly, why not just jump off the ship and be done with it? That food could have been saved for someone else!"
Ace merely closed his eyes. There was an odd stirring of exhaustion pulling at his entire person. As if the words drained the energy from his core of self.
"That's not your call, yoi."
Ah. Finally, a familiar voice.
"He's wasting precious resources!" someone argued fervently.
"Do you know how many times we've had to fix the ship because of his sheer stubbornness? If he wants to leave, just leave."
There was a dull thwack that might have suggested someone's head had been thumped with a fist. "You know Oyaji's orders."
A groan. "Fine then. Let's hope Oyaji finally gets tired of that brat. I'm up to here with his nonsense."
Thatch's deep voice joined the conversation. "Siblings," he seemed to say sternly, "Ace might just be your future brother. Be kind."
"We're your brothers and sisters now. Who cares about what some upstart rookie wants?"
"Yeah! Aren't we more important?"
"Well…you are, but-"
"Come on! At least let us vent our frustrations a little bit. He's not one of us yet. He's not under our protection yet either. That makes him an enemy!"
A chorus of agreement joined the declaration.
Ace sucked in a ragged breath. He slowly got to his feet and stumbled across the room, careful to turn his front to the door. There was an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Something sharp. Something pained. As if to further test his nerves, the voices on the other side of the wooden barrier that separated Ace and Whitebeards disappeared, leaving a ringing silence that might have been a scream in his ears.
He jerked when a series of three knocks rattled the doorframe. Thatch swung it wide open not a second later.
"Fire Fist," he said. His normally cheerful voice was flat with disinterest. Behind him were faded and blurred faces of what must be his siblings. But what sent the biggest chill down the teen's spine was the figure right at the back.
It was Marco. Or a version of the Phoenix that sported an extreme pale pallor. There were stretching dark shadows beneath his dark circles. His eyes were blown so wide it might have been malformed, with his blue irises turned an almost pitch black against inflamed orbs. He appeared taller too, rising feet above the others, as he stared the teenage Captain down. Yet, the most disturbing feature was the way the shadows seemed to cling to his very skin.
Ace took an inadvertent step back.
"Fire Fist, hey," Thatch was saying as he drew the teen's attention back to him. "Don't take this the wrong way. You heard what they said, right?" He pointed to his crew with his thumb.
Ace quirked an eyebrow, pretending that there was no drop in his stomach. He was brave. He was a Captain, Luffy's brother, and he was brave. "A waste of your precious resources, am I right?"
Thatch's grin was empty. "Great! I don't have to explain it to you. I'd feel bad when they" – he paused as if in thought, then shrugged – "you know."
The raven-haired pirate felt his muscles lock in anticipation. His gaze traversed the growing crowd. This was not a fight he would win. But he had always known it would be a fight to the death the moment he woke up on the Moby Dick.
So why did he feel such pain in his heart?
There was no warning when the pirates lunged at him at once. Ace ducked and sent a column of fire their way, not pausing to see if his attack had worked and dove into the fray. He punched someone on the underside of their throat, then swiped the feet of those about to tackle him to the ground, then leaped off someone's back to create a domino's effect on moving human beings.
It was really too bad that Ace, in the end, was just a rookie Captain.
He was slammed to the ground by a flaming hand. His eyes widened when he came face to face with that deformity that was Marco the Phoenix. The blonde himself seemed unconcerned with the growing fear in the teenager as he leaned closer to press his fingers into the vulnerable curve of the younger's throat. His eyes did not blink, did not seem to even see.
"We won't kill you, so don't worry about that," Thatch's voice was saying as if in commentary to the worst day of his life. "We'll just teach you a little about discipline on this ship."
Ace gasped when he suddenly found himself bound on the deck of the Moby Dick. His arms were tied together and his legs were chained to what might have been a huge boulder. He was surrounded in all sides by various members of the Whitebeard crew.
"That should do it!"
"Really? We won't get to see anything. That's boring."
"We'll see when he comes back up, you moron! It's so hard to please everyone."
A displeased huff. "Fine! Next time we get another stray, we do it my way, alright!"
"No way! My idea was next in line!"
Ace kept his gaze fixed on the sky. Sweat dribbled on his forehead as his heart beat furiously in barely restrained fear. It was all he could do to keep from struggling to release himself. He would fail, he told himself. There was no need to degrade himself further.
His breath hitched when the Marco-lookalike bent over him again. A startlingly cold hand touched just above the part where his heart was galloping a damn marathon.
The wraith-Marco-thing finally spoke. "You will not need this where you thread."
Ace flinched and tried to draw away. Maybe even subsume himself into the wooden flooring. "W-why?" He cursed himself for not being able to shut his stupid, stupid mouth.
The thing tiled its head, as if confused. "We are the strongest crew in the world," he said, his words slow and enunciated as if speaking to a child. "We require certain forms of change to sustain ourselves."
The confession hit Ace like a brick. Why, why did his heart hurt? "Entertainment," he choked out to himself. He let out a strained sound that might have been a laugh or a cry. Entertainment…
He did nothing when the crowd cheered as he was dragged to his feet. He kept his eyes lowered to the chains binding him. He might as well be an observer, for all that he felt as he was shoved towards the open plank.
The 17-year-old felt something touch his shoulder. And then the boulder was chucked off the side of the ship. The chains rattled violently as it was yanked after it, the pull getting stronger and tighter until Ace was swept off his feet and dragged off to cheers and shouts.
"Make this interesting, son."
It was only when he was about to crash into the surface of the unforgiving waves that he realised that there was a dark, mottled red where his heart should be. Ah, he realised. He felt nothing as it was gone.
And then he was under.
[END OF NIGHTMARE]
Ace nearly cried out when he awoke to find himself tangled within the sheets of his bed. His tense body instinctively fought against the restraints as he threw in all his might to escape his unwitting prison. His struggles only rewarded him with a hard landing onto the stiff flooring. It was only then that his right senses caught up with him and he breathed heavily in undisguised relief, his body half-sprawled, half-trapped in the utter evil that was the blankets.
It was only another dream. It was not real.
Not real, he chanted like a mantra in his head. It was a poor attempt of comfort amidst near consecutive nights of horrifying nightmares. But it did, for what it was worth, help him separate his night terrors from his living reality. It was all he could do.
His fate must truly be cursed, meant to be ever riddled with traps and hurdles that he could barely overcome. One would think he would become more adept to get over his violent deaths, now that he 'died' every single time he succumbed to unconsciousness. He should have gotten used to it. Just go through the motions, get mocked, get beaten up or chained down or both at the same time, and then die. Why did he have to wake every time with such acute fear?
He was so unbearably weak he wanted to cry.
Maybe it was the lingering emotion of alarm that had yet taper off completely, but Ace barely managed to muffle a cry when someone knocked on the door.
His eyes were wide when the door was opened to reveal a smiling, pleasant Thatch. Whose face changed into immediate concern when he saw the younger half on the floor.
"Are you alright?" he asked as he all but shoved the tray off food from his arms to the table. "Did you fall ill again?"
Ace forced himself with sheer willpower not to move when the older pirate knelt next to him. "I'm not sick," he almost choked out. It was all alright. It was normal and expected for him to be on the floor when breakfast came knocking, so why was the Whitebeard staring at him with that look on his face?
"Why are you on the floor?"
"My sleeping habits are hardly your concern, is it?" Ace bit back.
Thatch continued to regard him with something that looked almost confused. Or maybe it seemed entertained. Ace did not know anymore, but he did prefer it to the disinterested default look Thatch always sported in his own dream world of terror.
"…did you have a bad dream?" the commander asked slowly.
Ace shook his head, fast and almost violent. "No," he answered. "No, I didn't. I don't know why you would think that."
Thatch somehow saw fit to touch his shoulder in a poor attempt to make him feel better, but the touch felt like a brand. Like a faint warning before he was pitched into the sea. He flinched and he shrugged it away. The commander seemed unbothered when the fire-user got to his feet and wasted little time to put some distance between them.
"You've done what you came to do," he said coolly. "Please leave."
If the brunette appeared surprised by the sudden politeness, he did not show it. He did, however, not move. It appeared that there were similarities between his night and day realities. At least he's not trying to gut you like he did that- he cut the thought off. There was no need to torment himself further when he was awake.
"I promise I'll eat the food," he heard himself saying. Pathetic, a voice whispered in his head. "But I will only if you leave."
Thatch's countenance cleared and an expression of cheer replaced its prior concern. "Alright then," he said agreeably. "As long as you eat every morsel. I will check."
"Fine."
"I'll leave you to it then. Let me know if it's not enough, alright?"
"I will."
Ace sighed in almost relief when the other pirate shot him what might have been an assuring smile before leaving him in peace. Now- now, he only had to get this day over and done with.
The Captain of the Spades Pirates would forever deny that he had largely holed himself up in his borrowed room out of fear.
There was nothing to be afraid about. If he left the only limited safe space he had on the Moby Dick, there was little chance for him to encounter pirates who had just the previous night tried to choke him to death, right? What were the chances he would freak out over nothing and lash out at a crew who held his very life in their hands?
Slim. Zero.
The only reason, he told himself for what must have been the umpteenth time of the day, he stayed in was so he could regain his strength and come up with a course of action. And the best way to do that was clearly through sitting in hushed tension on the mattress (falling onto the floor near every morning was really bad for his back) while simultaneously attempting to see through the walls to the outside through sheer willpower alone. At least, if anyone came looking for him, he would be ready to… He would be ready.
It was unfortunate that he could only keep this up for hours at a time. It was made apparent early on that his lack of assassination attempts on Whitebeard had concerned the impossible-to-please crew. They – the commanders and Marco – hounded after him even more.
"No attacks again today?"
"You seem weary. Are you alright?"
"Fire Fist. I know you aren't fond of us, yoi, but you know this – whatever this is – isn't good for you."
And so he had lived up to their expectations. He continued his attacks. Tried to stab the old man good and then resigned himself to crashing into another part of the ship as he fought to remember that these attacks were in retaliation to his own. To no one's eternal surprise, the commanders only appeared displeased by his actions. Just what did they want from him?
Probably your sanity, but in tiny, pathetic pieces.
Ace supposed he should count himself lucky that that were his only present troubles. That, and his current predicament and of course the ever-building urge to scream at the four walls around him.
He wanted out, but he did not want what was out there.
It was just as well then, that for better or for worse, it was the time of the day again in which he bravely ventured out of this terrible but needed space for the outside. It took him but moments to gather his dagger and several more to gather himself before he was out the door. It was like pulling off a band aid, really.
The first thing that glared at him was the Sun. They must have hit one of those New World parts where the blazing glory of solar power worked extra hard to scorch everyone in view. It was plain luck that Ace was made of fire, and the only shield of defence he needed was to cover his eyes in shade. He chewed the insides of his cheeks grimly. Assassination in broad daylight it was, it would seem.
It took (unsurprisingly) very little time for Ace to get his ass kicked by the Yonko. A lunge from the back and the giant Captain had lazily raised an arm to swat the younger pirate away like a fly. The fire-user did not bother to yelp as he crashed into a pile of crates. Sharp, prickly wooden things dug at his back as he panted for breath. That did not get any more fun either.
The teen ignored the pirates who surrounded him to offer a helping hand. Nope, he also did not feel a slight thrill of uneasiness at their proximity. Many Whitebeards were in fact not strong in physical strength. He could take them, he reminded himself.
"Get out of my way!" he snarled at them when they refused to back off.
It did not escape his notice how some rolled their eyes at his response while some others only stared mournfully at the wreckage behind him.
"He's wasting precious resources," someone behind him muttered.
Ace stiffened at the familiar words. "Deal with it, you ingrate," he hissed as he swivelled around to glower at the offending pirate. "You're lucky I didn't burn down your ship."
The pirate frowned but lifted his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Don't get mad at me. I was just saying."
Ace did not respond to him and instead took off. His heart was beating fast and quite as suddenly he wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and the congregation of pirates. He wanted – needed – space to himself. When he rounded a corner, he paused for a second, the palm of his hand resting on the wall next to him as he attempted to catch his breath. There was still the smidgen of discomfort churning inside him. But what else could he do? His whole life was a rollercoaster ride of uncomfortable pain.
"Ace!"
The pirate in question jerked and then he was punching the owner of the voice square in the face. Thatch stumbled back a few steps. He looked up at Ace in surprise, his hand already rubbing at his jaw.
"What is going on, yoi?" A new voice joined in.
Ace turned so fast towards the voice's direction he almost got whiplash.
Marco shifted his assessing gaze from Ace's raised fist to the still surprised chef. His blank features remained unchanged, but the teenager could have sworn there was a brief flicker of displeasure. "Did you hit him?"
Ace lifted his chin, refusing to be intimidated. "You don't have a problem with my attacks on your Captain, but you are bothered by this?" he tried to scoff.
"It was an accident," Thatch said. Completely discrediting the teen's words, the jerk. "I startled him."
Marco breezed past Ace and reached the chef just in time to move Thatch's hand away from pressing into the quickly bruising area. The blonde studied the injury with an intensity that made the raven-haired pirate shift uncomfortably.
Oh. A certain realisation washed over Ace and he tensed even more than he already was. This was the first time he had attacked a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. Oh oh oh. Marco looked ready to enter battle from that one punch alone. Maybe his nightmares were not nightmares, he thought distantly. Maybe there were an omen for the future.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," the fourth commander was complaining.
Marco huffed. "You could have a fracture. Let me see," he said again as he slapped the brunette's flailing hand again.
"It's just a punch, Marco. It's not like he stabbed me or something."
"I would take you more seriously if you took things more seriously than you do, yoi. Which you don't."
"Ouch. That would hurt me if I actually believed you."
Marco sighed again. He turned to Ace, looking suitably unimpressed. "Should I be concerned that you will start punching anyone who surprises you?"
Ace found his voice. "Maybe you should be," he challenged. This was it. This was where they tied him up and tossed him over the sea.
Before the Phoenix could answer, Thatch interjected, "I called him a few times, but he probably didn't hear me. He only reacted when I kind of shouted really loudly at him."
Marco hummed under his breath. "So you decided that surprising a known volatile pirate on board our ship was a good idea and then you got punched for it."
The chef looked sheepish. "You don't say it like that."
"How else should I say it, yoi?"
"I don't know. In a way that's more flattering, maybe?"
"No."
Ace shook his head, effectively drawing their attention, to clear the sudden overpowering need to do something. Scream. Shout. Run. Or perhaps a voluntary dive into the sea. A mess of emotions mixed with the confusion whirling in his head. They are dangerous! he cried out in his head. They are fooling you!
"Ace, we haven't seen you around the ship lately," Marco chose to say when he remained outwardly silent, as if making small talk with that kind of conversation opener would delight the teen into a full conversation.
"You see me now."
"So we do, yoi." A pause. "Could I possibly convince you to join me in a walk around the ship?"
Ace stared at him blankly. "No." He only wanted to disappear.
Marco inclined his head in acknowledgement, not at all surprised by the refusal. "Perhaps another day then."
"No," Ace said again. Something in his voice must have changed for there was a slight but noticeable shift in the way both commanders carried themselves. They looked sharper. Wary, even. "Stop this ruse, both of you." He jerked his chin at the chef. "I attacked him. What are you going to do about it?" He narrowed his eyes in frustrated anger when they only stared at him strangely. "Out with it! I know you won't let me off, so say how you intend to punish me already!"
"You've got it wrong," Thatch said, shaking his head.
Marco's eyebrows furrowed. "We do not intend to punish you, Ace," he said slowly. "Why did you ever think that?"
Ace huffed out a laugh. "You can't fool me," he said with a sneer. He gesticulated at their surroundings. "So, what will it be? Kick me off to drown? Throw me into the cells? Maybe smother me to death while I'm asleep? Or maybe a stab right through my gut is more your cup of tea?"
With every word that spouted from his lips, the more horrified the two commanders looked. It was less obvious on the first commander, and Ace did not know how he even knew the other man's not-so-hidden feelings.
Thatch finally had had enough of the increasingly vivid descriptions of how they intended to brutally end his life. "Stop it! We aren't doing any of that to you!"
"For now. I'm only here for your entertainment!" Ace shot back. "Once I get boring enough, you're going to end my miserable existence anyway, so why push it off!"
The last of his words died into silence. Tense anticipation held his body almost hostage as he waited for the two to act on their clearly hidden agenda. To give proof to his accusations. He was not asking to be killed, no, but an understanding as to why he was here would make things so much easier. That, and he would go down fighting too.
When Marco finally spoke, he did with his hands spread before him in a gesture of peace. "You are not here for our entertainment, yoi," he said seriously. "You are not. I have told you once before and I will say it again, because it appears you're labouring under the misconception that you are here for us to torment you." He paused, as if to give more weight to his next words. "You are here because Oyaji wants you to join the family. For you to be one of us, as our equal."
And then Ace was stepping away from them in disbelief. "Equal, right," he bit out in derision. "And I suppose my 'stay' here has been relaxing and enjoyable. Not a torment at all. I love it here, couldn't you tell yet?"
"Only because you insist on isolating yourself. You refuse to even try to see what has been offered to you, yoi, and yet you dismiss this option as beneath your regard," Marco answered. "You aren't even giving us a chance."
Ace's temper burst into an inferno of fury and utter indignation. "A chance?" he repeated angrily. "You kidnapped me, you stupid buffoons. You separated me from my crew. I'm not obligated to give you a stupid chance for you to stab me in the back!"
"If we wanted you dead, we could have done it many times over by now," Thatch interjected. "We aren't trying to kill you."
"Torture, kill, really, what's the difference? And I did mention 'entertainment', didn't I?"
"Why do you say this, yoi? We haven't harmed you, unless you count Oyaji's defence against your attacks as purposeful torture against your person." Marco strode forward to lessen the gap between them. Their eyes met for a moment, startling Ace when he caught the sliver of growing fury in the other's cerulean orbs. "Who was it?" Marco was saying, his voice hard and angry. "Who hurt you?"
Thatch caught on. "Someone hurt you?" he demanded. Unlike Marco, his eyes filled with concern. "Who did?"
Ace pressed his lips together. He refused to believe their reactions were genuine. It was a lie, to lull him into a sense of false security. It would make their grand reveal much more hilarious. He would become one of those priceless stories the Whitebeards would share around the dinner table.
Marco was not swayed by his silence. "Who?" he repeated. There was a tension about him that almost reminded Ace of the Marco-wraith-lookalike in his dreams. "You've been here more than a month. Yes, you are not fond of us, but you've never thought of us that way before, yoi." His eyes narrowed in thought. "You've been avoiding us since over a week ago."
Thatch's gaze turned dark with…sorrow? "Marco's right," he said quietly. "You're hardly on deck now, even if only to pick a fight with us." He moved closer to grab at the teen's shoulder in a gentle grip, as if fearing the younger pirate would shove him off. "You are safe with us, Ace. I'm sorry if anyone made you feel otherwise."
Ace resisted the assurance with all the strength he could muster. He was not a fool. He would not be bought in with such pathetic words. "Enough! You can either tell me the truth now or you can leave me alone."
Marco's lips thinned. "The truth is as I've told you. You could also consider telling us who it was that had told you such falsehoods." His features seemed to darken. "Or who had been fool enough to harm you."
Ace scoffed. He shrugged the arm off his shoulder. "Don't pretend to care," he snapped. "I don't buy it. I know you're just enjoying this inside."
With that, he shot them one last look of disgust before fleeing to his borrowed room.
"I think…we might have a problem," Thatch said as he watched the teenager dart into a corner, out of sight.
Marco threw him an unimpressed look. "You think?"
"Don't get mad at me. It's not my fault." The chef then snorted. "You should be mad at yourself."
"What?"
Thatch shook his head in mild amusement. "You were mad earlier. Think you scared the kid more than you did convincing him."
Marco made a sound in his throat was might have been a groan or a self-reproach. He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a headache. "Perhaps, yoi," he admitted. "Do you think it's true?"
"That someone had threatened or hurt our little firecracker? It's either that or something else had triggered this sudden concern."
The blonde commander's eyes narrowed as he contemplated on the various possibilities. "He really believed that we would have…"
Thatch shrugged grimly. "Yes."
Marco cursed. "If I find whoever had started this, I will punish them so hard they won't know what hit them, yoi. For anyone to have the audacity to go against Oyaji's orders, to even hurt the kid when he's hardly a real threat…"
"Besides turning his rage at Oyaji every day and then destroying parts of the ship?" Thatch pointed out.
The first commander shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Besides the fact that he has never once attacked one of us intentionally other than Oyaji, he's not a bad kid. He's honest to a fault, and he's even thoughtful, though he doesn't realise it, yoi." His features darkened. "For anyone to attack him out of spite when he's under our protection…"
"I know." A pause. "Sounds like you've started to care for him."
Marco sighed. "I'm a pirate, but I'm also a decent human being. You don't kick a kid just because they have temper tantrums." He ran a hand through his hair. "And the thought of our family being unnecessary jerks when we have orders piss me off, yoi."
Thatch nodded in agreement. "Me too."
[PRE-WARNING: NIGHTMARE II]
Ace bucked under the weight that pinned him down to the cold, hard floor. His arms and legs were pressed painfully beneath the pirates that held him down. He could swear his blood flow were cutting off, which only made his flushed face more amusing to look at by his audience.
"Let go!" he howled.
Something hard slammed into his gut and he choked back a cry. He felt cold fingers paw at his jaw as his mouth was forced open. His eyes widened in fear.
"You keep throwing away our food, Fire Fist," Thatch's disinterested voice floated over to him. The man held a bottle of something he could not identify above him. "You give us no choice now."
Ace's chest heaved as he struggled in vain to escape his bindings. Tears sprang to his eyes as something – whatever it was – mushy and odd was forced into his mouth. Fingers accompanied the odd contraption as what might have been a tube was jammed into his throat, widening in width until he could hardly breathe.
"Uhn uhnnn," he moaned as he began to cry harder.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, as a searing ache spread up his neck. He could not move, could not scream, could not do anything but take whatever was forced on him.
"There we go. You'll eat our food even if you don't want to now."
Ace blinked as something else filled his vision. The heady sense of panic thrummed in his veins, so overpowering he would have screamed had he been able to. The reality of his plight sent him plunging into greater horror as he recognised the device in the other's hands.
"Now-"
[END OF NIGHTMARE]
Ace woke up with a scream. His arms flailed wildly as his violent rise to consciousness once again sent him tumbling from his bed to the floor, which only served to remind him of his just escaped-from-night-terror. His panic-induced brain sent him scrambling further for the other end of the room, where he breathed heavily as his body raced to catch up with his waking mind.
"Oh," he groaned. He put his head in his hands when he realised what he had done. "Oh no oh no oh no."
He had gone crazy. This was it. This was his legacy. He dreamt of a 101 ways to die and then relived the more humanistic side in his conscious hours.
He could not survive this.
…
When Thatch later knocked on his door at the expected hour of arrival to announce breakfast, Ace was not in the least taken aback when he had screeched like a banshee and all but chased the man from his room.
The moment the chef had given him an odd look but acquiesced to hopefully disappear from his life for the rest of eternity, Ace had shot the remnants of the scattered food in mild disgust. A mental image of a tube flashed through his mind's eye and he distantly recalled a faint throb at back of his throat.
Without a word, he set the food on fire.
"You look exhausted," the commander named Izo commented.
The commander was dressed in a white kimono, with pastel pink carnations embroidered near its lower half. His hair was tied in a neat but intricate hairdo. A few strands fell across the sides of his face, but it appeared deliberate, as if to frame the already pleasant features.
It helped, Ace supposed, to calm somewhat his suspicions about the man. It was apparent after his outburst at Thatch that the man had caught the hint. The chef no longer appeared at his door with food and had instead sent this kimono-clad pirate in his stead.
Ace was not familiar with Izo. He had no reason to trust him more than he did any other member of the crew. But at least the man did not feature in his nightmares as one of his biggest tormentors. It was always a plus point when he did not immediately associate pain with the pirate he had to deal with.
Izo did not seem bothered to be ignored. "These drinks are supplements to help energise you when you are tired," he went on to explain as he pointed at the tray he had brought in with him. "If you're worried about the taste, the fourth division had taken care to infuse it with a certain citrus fruit flavour."
Ace let out a breath. "I really don't care," he muttered.
Izo arched a finely curved eyebrow. "Really? Is that why you threw out the food we've been bringing you?" He looked at the fire-user with a consideration that made him uneasy. "Do you not remember what had happened in the first month you were here? You collapsed out of sheer hunger and exhaustion."
"I don't see how that's relevant to you," Ace bit out. He tried to edge away to the other end of the bed, away from where the other man had somehow seen fit to sit. Perhaps to create the illusion that he meant no harm and was an equal, he thought with derision. "Wouldn't it be easier," he could not help but add, "for you if I did collapse? You wouldn't have to waste your time sending food to your prisoner."
Izo surprised him by seeming to consider his words. "That is true," he said. "But we hope to integrate you into our family. Your untimely collapse helps neither us nor you."
"Right. And I'm supposed to believe you want me to join your crew," Ace said flatly. "Because the rumoured strongest crew in the world has the habit of picking random pirates off the seas to join your crew every other day."
A smile of amusement stretched the commander's features. His dark eyes seemed to twinkle in mirth, as if the teen's words had somehow reminded him of an inside joke only he was privy to. "It is not in our habit, Ace. And we do not pick random pirates either," he said gently. "We chose you."
Ace could not help rolling his eyes at that. "Right, me, like I'm so special," he muttered under his breath.
"Aren't you?" Izo asked.
A dark red bloomed across the younger pirate's cheeks in embarrassment. He had not meant for the other to hear!
Unbothered by Ace's inner panic, the commander tilted his head to peer at the fire-user in curiosity. "We heard of you, you know. You proclaimed so loudly to the world your intention to challenge Whitebeard. We had Haruta's division to look into you." His lips twisted into another easy smile. "You stormed your way through the Grand Line, didn't you? You went straight through Paradise and then to the New World. You were on literal fire."
"So you monitored my movements. That doesn't tell me anything."
Izo hummed, his shoulders lifting and then dropping in an almost elegant arc. It was almost ridiculous, really, that everything the man did seemed to have an element of grace. "We heard of your recklessness and your brute strength," he continued. "Stories about your adventures across Paradise. My personal favourite was how you had stayed at the Island of Jihi for an entire month, just to run the shop of one child islander because her family had been caught away in a storm. You sent you entire crew to retrieve them. Her townspeople tried to chase her off, but you stayed to defend her. Not because she asked you to. But because you wanted to."
Ace stiffened at the familiar tale. "How do you know that?" he demanded.
Izo smiled kindly at him. "One of our brothers had come from that island. He told us his little sister was saved by a handsome, young man that she wishes to see again someday."
Ace flushed again. The commander's words hung in the air as both pirates fell into silence. Ace tried to process the other man's words, but it was difficult to parse through the point of his information. It did not help that his brain was more than ready to pass out for the day – never mind that it was only noon – from overstimulation. He was tired of thinking about the present, the future, and the unnecessary suffering that were his dreams.
Izo brushed off imaginary dust off his kimono as he stood. "If it helps," he offered, "what I meant to say was in answer to your words. I was attracted to the benevolence you had showed a stranger. It was a great kindness that is difficult to find in today's era. I want to protect that." He moved towards the door. "I imagine Oyaji had seen something in you too – whatever it may be – that he found worth fighting for."
Ace watched him leave with wide eyes.
Something…worth fighting for?
[PRE-WARNING: NIGHTMARE III]
"Ironic, isn't it? Given that he's a fire logia."
Laughter met the remark. "That's why they chose this, you moron! It's funny because it's ironic!"
Ace felt a familiar wetness in his eyes. He sniffed when the Whitebeard pirates fastened the ends of the ropes together. He leaned away from them, wanting to be as far as he could from the stench of their utter cruelty, but he could do no more than lean against the wooden pillar he was tied to. He wanted to sob. He was going to be set on fire.
The reassurance of his own flames had been extinguished with a simple sea stone necklace that fell just above his heart. It mocked him, with how easy it would have been to tear it right off and save him from his coming fate, had he just been free.
An unidentified pirate came forward. He lifted a hand to stroke the fire-user's cheek in an almost comforting gesture.
"You came to us like fire. It is only right you leave the same way."
Ace closed his eyes in silent preparation. His lips trembled.
There was a click and he knew no more.
[END OF NIGHTMARE]
It was the walls, Ace decided, that made him want to throw up.
Marco was right about that, at the very least. He had begun to isolate himself in the room. He ventured out only for assassination attempts, taking care to spend as much time inside than he did out. It was the only way he knew to avoid running into faces that had become overly familiar to him.
But that had the unfortunate effect of mild claustrophobia. The stuffy room had somehow morphed into a confined space that held him hostage, that reminded him of the terrors he had experienced under a blanket of darkness, that became an entrapment as much as it was a haven. This knowledge of his growing fears was the only motivation that had him walking about the ship, despite the unpleasant feelings of being watched and monitored.
Ace managed to enjoy the refreshing sea breeze for near an hour from his perch on one of the crow's nests about the ship. It almost lulled him into a state of relaxation. His muscles were less tensed- and holy seas of the world, how tense had he been? There was a terrible ache around his shoulders that he had not noticed until he released the strain in his muscles.
The fire-user spent the hour just staring into the distant seas, not thinking much about anything. He focused on the wind that tugged at his hair, on the Sun that beat down on his person, on the hard-wooden ridges beneath his thumbs. The feeling of just being present sent a tiny little ache into his chest. It reminded him of being free.
It was just as well that his excursion was interrupted just then to halt his roaming thoughts.
"Fire Fist," the pirate greeted him.
Ace turned to see a man with dark blonde dreadlocks looking at him expectantly. There was a rather unimpressive moustache that paled in comparison with Whitebeard's. Although, the teen supposed, there were few that could possibly top the Yonko's carefully trimmed ones.
"Rakuyo…" he said slowly, as if testing the name.
The unassuming-looking man grinned in approval. "That's me," he said. "I'm surprised you know my name."
"You're a commander," Ace said pointedly.
"That I am."
Rakuyo rubbed the back of his hand with his neck, appearing to be at a loss of what to say when the teenager merely stared at him. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again a second later, the oddest of expression crossing his features.
Ace sighed. He was not willing to stand around to stare this man into the ground if he could help it. That, and how he felt a little sorry for the commander. He hated awkward conversations too. Though, Rakuyo deserved it, he decided. He was the one who had approached him!
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
Rakuyo beamed at him somewhat sheepishly. "Uh, I came to see how you're doing?"
Ace lifted an eyebrow in clear disbelief. "Are you telling me or asking me?"
"Uh…" The commander floundered for a bit. "How are you doing?" he tried.
Ace sighed again. It was hard to believe sometimes how these people were commanders of one of the strongest pirate crews in the world. This man was lucky his strength was probably in his combat skills, given how the current conversation was panning out. "I'm fine. Is that all, or will you tell me what you're actually here for?"
Rakuyo looked at him almost helplessly. He shifted his gaze towards the slowly setting Sun back to the fire-user, and he seemed to come to a decision as determination flitted through his countenance. "I am sorry for the trouble," he said, "but I have been told that…" He hung his head. "I must ask you to please take a bath!"
Ace blinked at him uncomprehendingly. When the words finally caught up to him, he surprised himself when he let out a laugh. It was true that he had stopped his stealthy excursions to rid himself of accumulated grime and dirt since he was tormented by nightmares, but he had thought little of its…effects. The crew must have noticed despite the open air and had probably not wanted to tell him themselves.
…which effectively left the commanders and Whitebeard.
Rakuyo must have drawn the short straw. To think the pirate commander would have found asking their 'guest' to bathe embarrassing was almost endearing.
Perhaps it was a gesture of goodwill, or maybe Ace did not want to let down the hopeful but wary look the man was sporting, but he acquiesced with a slight nod (and maybe even a small smile of amusement). A moment later and he internally shook himself. Nope, nope, nope. He was only agreeing because he was suddenly very aware of how dirty he was. It had nothing to do with the crew at all.
Rakuyo grinned at him, wasting little time to show him the way.
Ace was plenty surprised to find himself in one of the private bathrooms with a gigantic bathtub right down the middle. Rakuyo had all but shoved him inside after adding that he was free to use it any time he wished.
"It's near your room too. It's just around the right corner to it. No one else uses it, so make sure you clean up after you're done, okay!"
Ace was not even able to mutter a reluctant thank you before the man had made himself scarce. Probably from sheer embarrassment, but still. The teen soon forgot about it as he stepped slowly into the bathroom. There were towels prepared at the towel rack, bottles of cleaning items, a mirror, and…candles? Why would he need candles? And oh- the bath had already been drawn for him. He could smell the aromatic scent of lavender, rosemary and…peppermint? He scrunched his nose. What an odd combination.
A small smile stretched his lips when he noticed the bubbles. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
He must have taken longer than he had thought he would. When Ace left the bath, he was met with the darkness of the night sky instead of the still setting Sun. He chewed the insides of his cheeks. He had planned to try assassinating Whitebeard again that day, but he supposed he could give it a miss. Or wait till midnight.
He moved to return to his room when he came face to face with the first division commander.
"How was the bath, yoi?"
Ace stared at him. "You realise that was a weird question to ask, right?"
Marco lifted an eyebrow at his response. He had probably expected some acerbic response, but Ace was too relaxed and tired for that tonight. He only had a few hours before he had to return to…well, his lovely dreams.
In an attempt to distract himself, he asked, "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in almost a week."
Marco this time did not seem thrown and shrugged. "Around. Being commander on this ship does give me too many responsibilities."
Ace snorted as he breezed past the man for his room. He was not surprised when the latter followed him. "So much for being my guide or something," he muttered.
"Did you require anything? You could have approached anyone else too, yoi."
The teen rolled his eyes. "I didn't," he said snappishly. "Why were you waiting for me?"
Marco looked thoughtful but accepted the subject change. "I thought to warn you," he began. He nodded to the room they were fast approaching. "We tend to…overhaul our ship's design every once in a while, yoi."
Ace stiffened. "What do you mean?" he asked, though it should not matter. This was not his home and that was not his room. He even wanted a little escape from it today, for sea's sake! Why did the thought of it being changed send a heavy weight into his chest?
"We didn't change much," Marco was saying, as if privy to his inner thoughts. "We changed the bedsheets, of course, and added some other items to perhaps make it little more comfortable for you."
Ace narrowed his eyes. "I don't need anything from you."
It was a pathetic lie, of course. He took their food, their shelter, and now their bathrooms. He had already fallen so far, after all. There was no need to shove that in their faces too.
"You don't," Marco answered bluntly, surprising him. "But we swore to protect you for so long as you are under our wing, yoi. We take that seriously."
"I don't need protecting!" Ace protested hotly.
"Protection doesn't just mean your safety. It includes your needs, your concerns, your comfort even." Somehow, Marco's eyes met his under the dim glare of the moon. "You said we were out to hurt you, yoi," he said, voice serious. "But we are not. If you wish to attack Oyaji anyway, we will respect that. But as long as you are on this ship and under our care, we will allow no harm to come to you. No matter who it's from."
Ace's lips parted in shock at the words. Despite the nagging voice in his head, somehow, he knew the words were genuine. Sure, his beliefs were stupid and ridiculous, but Marco honestly believed in it.
"I won't back down. You know that, right?"
The corners of Marco's lips twitched. "I know, yoi. That is your choice. We choose to give you time to reconsider."
Ace bit the bottom of his lip. "And if I still say no, despite everything?" What will you do then?
Marco gave into his smile and pushed something into the younger pirate's hand. "Then we will respect that and let you go."
The teen ignored the burgeoning confusion that came with the commander's words and instead focused on the item in his hand. "A…drink?"
The blonde nodded. "It helps you sleep," he said simply. His blue eyes darted from Ace to the room to Ace again. He dipped his chin again. "Have a good rest, Ace."
Ace watched him leave, somehow feeling disappointed at his departure, though he was unsure why. Maybe he just did not want to return to the room yet. Or perhaps he missed some social interaction.
He let out a resigned sigh and entered the borrowed room. He might as well retire for the night. If he were any other person, he would have attempted to stay up, but that only worsened his sleep attacks.
When he lit the candles, Ace froze. This was… The room was markedly different from how it was only this afternoon, he realised. The bedsheets had changed from a dull green to rich, blue tones. The windows were half-covered with blinds, open enough to let in enough filtered light to cast much of the shadows away. The floor was carpeted a deep orange now, and there were more thick, fat pillows and two blankets folded neatly at the foot of the bed. He trotted forward to brush at them. Tears sprang to his eyes when he realised how soft they were. One of them was thick while another was thin enough to accommodate the warmer nights.
There were other changes, he noticed absently as he walked about the carpet. It was so gentle on his feet. Perhaps if he fell off the bed again in terror his back would not hurt so much.
Ace lowered himself to the floor. There were a mix of emotions whirling inside him, more than he thought possible after the utter nightmare the past few weeks have been. A stray tear streaked down his cheek. Why were they so kind to him? None of this made sense!
But as he pulled the drink Marco had given to him closer to himself, his legs curled up to his chin, he told himself it did not matter for now. For now- for now, he would sleep. Clearing the mess that was his head would not happen tonight.
He tore the cap off and downed it in one go.
[A few days later]
Thatch was not surprised to see Marco leaning against the wall outside Ace's room. It had been a common sight the past weeks.
"Well?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
Marco eyed him lazily. A small smile stretched at his lips. "He didn't scream."
Thatch grinned as he pumped his fist in the air in victory. "Three days in a row!" he cheered, though careful to keep his voice low.
The commanders exchanged a look, before Marco nodded and turned to leave. "Don't forget to give him the milk before he sleeps tonight. I won't be able to drop by, yoi."
Thatch snorted. "Sure."
With that, he knocked on the door and then showed himself in to announce breakfast.
That is it for now! Do review and let me know what you think, or if you even have suggestions that may fit into this storyline. :)
In reference to the above, Marco and the commanders had investigated the cause of Ace's change in behaviour. They were quick to understand that Ace suffered from nightmares, though they were unable to pinpoint what had triggered it. They did come up with a plan to help, which were traditional remedies; that is, reassure him that his night terrors were not real, to calm him down, establish a routine before he went to sleep, ensure he was relaxed when he did go to sleep etc.
As for Ace, his nightmares were largely a result of his own fears and insecurities that had built up the longer he was cooped on the Moby Dick. He is unable to see why they are holding him, and his own fears about how he would be dealt with when his lineage were revealed just played a part to further terrorise his dreams. It was an unfortunate mix that boded ill for him, really.
Hope that clarifies!
