thank you's to: shgray, 0EveningPrimrose0, scars from the sun, Rainbowtart, TaintedLetter, , JustGenna, tabi404, Ladyktbaby, Leynadoodles, Meno Melissa, ansegiel, shethoughts, Alexel, wisewhale, GreenLilly, UglyThunder, LiLy Resh, bananapipie, and guests!
notes. impossibly excited to see what you guys think of the war. my goal was to turn an arc that we've all read/watched a million times before into something that makes you feel like you're seeing it for the first time again. shout-out to fans of autumn arsenic, because you guys are personally responsible for a scene in this chapter. let's do this.
—
methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #36
GO NOT GENTLY
—
In Sophie's mind, the day could only get better.
Yes, she was an eternal optimist. What was a war if not a violent dance-a-thon? Whitebeard was going to pop-and-lock his way to rescuing Ace, and the Marines were going to weep in pathetic loserdom as the Whitebeard Pirates breakdanced on the platform of victory. She considered herself half-prophet already.
Even with her mouth tasting like oil spillage.
Even with having undergone a variety of torture the past week.
Even as her reflection chased after her in the empty windows of Marineford Town, the candles blown out, abandoned dolls pressing their threaded smiles to the glass.
She was Strangways Sophie! The bombastic arsonist! Whip-smart and always armored with a good joke (a best defense was a good offense was an excellent quip). It would take more than a rotten kiss to knock her off her game. She was certain the day could only get better!
But as history may tell you, Strangways Sophie would be wrong. She was no prophet.
(Though, perhaps she was loved by some.)
In the books that were written afterwards—not the official ones, the ones composed in secret back rooms and hidden under lock and key—they would talk of the pendulum of the war swinging rapidly between both sides. There was a certain book that future historians would use to track the Alchemist's movements during the Summit War.
With this book, with its taped-up pages and blotches of long-dried spilled ink, they recorded in their compendium that she must have been catapulted by Whitebeard's Gura Gura Fruit into Marineford Town. She would've been treading water beneath the barrier that surrounded Marineford, before the seismic tilt washed her into the town as the island went almost horizontal.
'The Marines had a plan to execute Fire Fist Ace before the scheduled time' was not a fact accepted by official accounts of the war. But those who record history in secret have found evidence for it.
Take, for example, the two bullets Sophie dealt to the executioners as she snuck behind enemy lines, sniping above the execution platform, on top of two gable roofs collapsed over each other. (One must also consider the Marines' rigid obsession for performance. Sengoku could've slammed his fist on Ace's head and crack it like an egg, end the war that way. Who knows why they hired executioners. Hopefully the overtime pay was good.)
She had pointed her rifle at Aokiji. She attempted to coat her bullets in Armament. She failed.
And when Aokiji had turned his gaze on her—the Admirals technically had no need to turn around; they had sensed her presence before she even pulled the trigger—she said, her breath chilling in the air, "It'd be so groovy if you didn't kill me for shooting you just now," (a beat), "Uncle."
But then Aokiji was distracted by the arrival of Straw Hat Luffy in a waterspout, carrying a broken ship mast like a lifeline. One might think Kuzan took pity on the woman he sent to Impel Down. The truth was that he assumed she would die in the next two to three minutes, and his efforts to stop Luffy was a better use of his time. He froze the entire landscape, anyway.
She tripped in her haste to avoid getting frozen, as Luffy attempted to break through all three Admirals at once to get to his brother. It was inspiring and fearless; a sight to behold. Sophie, on the other hand, bounced down the flagstones and landed on her butt so hard she rolled around in front of the Great Strategist Tsuru, clutching her tailbone and wailing deliriously.
The Vice Admiral looked down at this pathetic flop of a girl who had just cartwheeled in out nowhere.
Sophie assumed a fetal position to make herself look as helpless and delicate as possible. "Oh, d-dear," she coughed daintily, crawling away. "So sorry, I was just on my way to the bathroom… oh, my poor irritable bowels…"
Tsuru decided to lower the universe's idiot tally by one, and aimed a sharp kick at her.
And then Sophie found herself leaping sprightly to her toes and dodging punches. Tsuru threw a left hook and Sophie backflipped like quicksilver. She evaded hits with sinewy, catlike reflexes that didn't belong on her body. Her fighting style was sledgehammer, not ballerina. By now a large number of marines had turned their eyes from Straw Hat Luffy to the other weird pirate fighting the Great Strategist in what looked to be in conservative underwear with cherries printed on it.
She flipped away and caught her balance with eerie precision, arms extended, fingers pointed. She had felt this before. She had been a dancing puppet on Crawfish Island. Tsuru clicked her tongue with a terse, "Wicked boy."
The puppeteer twirled Sophie over to him, and she landed in a stiff, jerking imitation of a blossoming rose, arms in first position.
Feathery-pink and ten feet tall, Doflamingo lifted his hand at the marines aiming at Sophie, and they held their fire. He crouched down so they were eye level, his fingers laced together between his knees. Hair still pale blonde, sunglasses still orange-tinted. Still dressed in clothes that made the Shachi Voice in Sophie's head observe, He's flamboyant for a fucker. "Didn't I kill you?"
She struggled against the spiderweb-strings, ramming her Armament at him. But his Haki was stronger. He threaded it through his web, turning it harder than diamond. "…H-have we met? I, um, d-do not know who you are?"
His eyebrows rose. "I find that doubtful."
"It's true! I have no recollection! Amnesia's a running theme at this point!"
"Oh?" The piano wire tightened around her neck. "Fine. Shall I kill you by tearing off your head at once, or your limbs piece by piece?"
"Donquixote Doflamingo, King of Dressrosa, Royal Shichibukai," she gasped in a rush, and her pleading voice stopped him from making good on Option A or Option B. "Look at me. I'm a peon. I'm in my underwear. I'm n-nothing. I'm less than the dirt you walk on! Have mercy."
He smiled. "How did a little ant from that backwater swamp find its way to Marineford?"
He didn't know her face. Of course not; she wore a gas mask on her bounty poster.
"Ignoring me, I see."
"I'm not! Wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on," Sophie screamed, foaming at the mouth, as his hands wiggled threateningly at her, "oh god, okay, you asked for it, my secret powers are a-a-awakening right now! No, no, right now! It's coming to me! Riiiight now—"
Desert sand sliced apart pink feathers.
Sir Crocodile attacked Doflamingo, his coat whipping behind him. He had just slashed apart the next set of Ace's executioners, for his vendetta against Whitebeard was eclipsed by his irritation at the Marines' deceitful tactics.
Sophie could move again, and she did, stumbling backwards in shock.
Over his stitched scar was a look of bored condescension. "So you made it."
"Y-y-you could sound a little more impressed! I lost count of how many times I nearly died!"
Crocodile was a man of few words and even lesser sentimentality, so he didn't mention how her fighting Magellan had bought time for them to escape. He likewise disregarded Mr. 2, who had sacrificed himself in Impel Down for the jailbreak ship. Crocodile once hid a poisoned knife inside his golden hook. He only had contempt for honor. And yet, he had saved Ace. And yet—
Doflamingo's smile sharpened. "I was talking with that noisy woman, Croco-bastard."
—when the former Shichibukai turned to the current one, a dry smirk curled across his features. "I'm not a suitable replacement, Flamingo-bastard?"
Sophie in no way wanted to come within eyesight of Doflamingo ever again. Gladly leaving to make room for their tussle, she backed away. And then she twisted, barely avoiding the strike of a sword.
Autumn rain cascaded.
Once upon a time, a girl visited G-13 with her Marine Captain from East Blue. She was fifteen, lean and spry and awkwardly fumbling with her glasses after delivering a cut so clean swordsmen twice her age gaped in envy. Her dark-blue hair, her darker eyes, her passionate, almost obsessive speech about Meito rang across the training grounds and caught a young chemist in a trance.
A blade with a forest-green hilt. The scent of rainclouds and a crisp east wind.
Tashigi went slack-jawed, Shigure lifted by her chin, her eyes wide behind her square-framed glasses. "…Sophie?"
Sophie took several sharp breaths, her surprise mirrored on the other woman's face. They were no longer young marine girls sparring in the dusk of G-13; they were enemies on the opposite sides of a war. "Tashigi. How many years has it been?"
Shigure was a swinging blur, taking off a chunk of Sophie's hair. "Long enough for you to defect!"
"Hey, I have a great explanation for that!" she huffed, and then immediately fled. "Sorry, Mom's calling!"
"You don't have a mother! Get back here, traitor!"
The siege wall exploded and Sophie thought the shadow that engulfed her was the end. In eye-defying enormity, the giant Little Oars Junior hauled in a Whitebeard warship, the full-rigged masts ripping through stone.
The ship crashed almost directly on top of her, shaking the very foundations of Marineford. She was thrown helplessly into the air, half-scrambling backwards, half-getting bounced by the rolling ground, and the rubble she ducked behind burst apart as Marco the Phoenix soared over her like a blue signal flare. A bugle horn announced the arrival of the Emperor.
"You still got your head attached, Ace!?" his father roared, and what a roar it was.
Leaping from the ship was the Yonkou Whitebeard. His seismic naginata cleaved through the air and bulldozed marines as if they were flies. Sophie, having made friends with the ground, curled up into a ball, lost in the wreckage that blew everything backwards.
On Oris Plaza, bleeding from his chest and flanked by his Division Commanders, Ace's old man charged.
History would immortalize this moment. Whitebeard, leading his forces into the final fight of his life. They would write poems of Diamond Jozu smashing Aokiji to chunks of ice, Vista of the Flower Swords dancing a sword dance with Dracule Mihawk, and Kizaru filling his enemies with bullet-holes of light.
But for Sophie, who was crawling, stumbling, and sprinting for her life, all she was aware of was the grit in her mouth, the sweat itching her armpits, and her heart hammering wildly in her ears. She was just another fighter on the field of war: tripping over bodies, shooting her gun, and trying desperately to keep all her limbs intact.
She spotted blue scales and whale-shark tusks, and hollered in relief, "Oyabuuuun!"
The fishman had just finished punching a Commodore unconscious. His eyes lit up. "Sophie-kun!"
There had been many sacrifices in Impel Down, many left behind so a few could survive. She told him to go on without her; she had shouted 'the sun!' He was no stranger to honorable deaths; he was fighting this very moment in search of a righteous finale. Therefore, Jinbe was both delighted and deeply embarrassed to see the young human leap over the tower of groaning marines he had built and launch herself at him.
"You made it!" He caught her like she weighed nothing more than a sack of flour.
She patted his cheeks. "So did you! Ehehehe!"
"I was certain you were lost. Forgive me, there was no time to retrieve any of the dead, and I didn't want your sacrifice to be in vain—"
"It's all peachy!" she assured quickly, because he was looking painfully ashamed. "You did the right thing. I wanted you to keep going. In any case, I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes," Jinbe agreed. "Let's keep it that way!"
Sophie hopped down and reloaded Arsenic as Jinbe covered her. "I hitched a ride on Blackbeard's ship. He's watching the show."
"What!?"
"And he has new friends. From Level Six."
Jinbe's eyes widened. "What a cunning plan! A strategy fit for such a lowlife. And now he circles like a vulture. He'll pick off the losers of this war and devour them of all their remains. Which is to say, we mustn't lose!"
She lifted her rifle, eye to the scope. "Yes, sir!"
What followed was sheer chaos.
Sophie stayed on the front lines, helping the vanguard forward. The Sixteenth Commander Izo was shooting swords in half with his flintlock. She watched him and tried to do the same, coating her bullets in Haki. She failed again and again, gnashing her teeth in frustration.
War wasn't a celebratory matter. That would defy all logical definitions. But in the death and bloodshed, voices rang out like a hymn, calling out to the young man on the scaffolding. Ace watched. He saw his family fighting tooth and nail to save him. He wept.
Their desperate cheer, their brutal determination, their defiant love as they bellowed at Ace not to give up—it brought shivers up Sophie's spine. What a family. What a band of brothers. She thought of her own, and a small, quiet thought occurred to her: Should I run away?
What if she died here? Before seeing her crew again? Wasn't it awfully selfish of her to risk her life for another family? She reloaded, firing Sen over and over again. No, they would win, and she would return to the Hearts and dazzle them with her fantabulous stories. Whitebeard would win, and Ace would live: they were great, chosen men, and that's how it always went for them.
But then Akainu dealt a flaming sucker-punch to Whitebeard.
And Aokiji froze Diamond Jozu.
And Vice Admiral Onigumo snapped a seastone cuff over Marco the Phoenix.
As Marco reeled from the seastone, healing powers cut off, he was then abruptly and unceremoniously tackled to the ground. Kizaru's light-beams shot over him, and would've shredded open his stomach not a half-second earlier. The First Division Commander rolled several feet, a body sprawled on top of him and hugging his middle.
"Oh my god, th-that was so s-s-scary!" the curly floof shrieked, jerking upright. "That was way, way too close! Ah! You okay, Phoenix!?" She jabbed his tattooed chest like a nervous pecking bird. "You alive!? Hellooooooo!?"
Marco groaned. "Oi, who the hell…"
"Protected by a little girl," Onigumo rasped, his spidery hands slithering up and down. "Shameful."
Jumping to his feet, Marco caught a bazooka one of his men tossed at him and fired a shell at Onigumo. The marine exploded backwards. Marco rested the bazooka on his shoulder, looking down at Sophie with a face so handsome it was, quite frankly, illegal. It made her feel like she was staring into some godly light. What a man.
"Thanks," Marco said, bloodied and sun-brown and that tousled shock of yellow sticking up like the leaves of a certain tropical fruit. "You one of Whitey Bay's girls?" He was looking at her jacket for a Whitebeard cross-and-crescent, checking her body for a familiar tattoo.
Stammering for several seconds, Sophie could only blurt out, "I know Ace!"
Marco didn't question her further. "Good. We need more on our side." He grabbed the scruff of her jacket and hauled her upright.
Bursts of deafening gunfire. Whitebeard was getting stabbed and shot at like a pincushion, twelve-on-one. And among the dozen marines ganging up on him was Lettidore. The Emperor did not take this lying down. He declared his name as though anyone on this battlefield had dared to forget it, and tore the Vice Admirals apart.
They were beginning the execution again.
"Pops! Ace!" Marco grabbed the seastone cuff, cursing it.
In a split-second, Sophie evaluated the distance to the scaffold, the height, the angle. Then she glanced at Whitebeard, his horrible wounds, his scars. She took out her knife. "Phoenix, give me your hand!"
He understood, and dropped on his knees, bracing his elbow on the ground for leverage. "Hurry!"
Sophie held his forearm like the tail end of a gasping fish, and pushed all her Armament into her arm. In one stroke, Kirkira sliced through flesh and vein and bone. Marco swore.
The cuff slipped off. He took his severed hand and reattached it to his knobby ulna. Blue fire seared the scar shut. It was as all the stories said: his regenerative powers made him near immortal.
The executioners were bringing their swords down.
"STOOOOOOOP!"
A scream that shook the world. A burst of Conqueror's Haki sent people fainting, left and right, on the plaza and the execution platform.
The legends would sing of the awe and wonder that Straw Hat Luffy left in his wake. The son of Dragon, inheritor of a great and terrible bloodline, destiny's most favorite son. A Conqueror from birth. A boy touched by the heavens.
But in this landscape of dropping jaws and astonished stares was Sophie, whose face was twitching in vexed irritation. She sucked in her bottom lip, holding back an eye-roll so penetrating she could've seen out the back of her head and into space. She reminded herself that saving Ace was a good thing. Even if it gave more evidence to the half-baked D nonsense that Teach spouted.
Marco was a phoenix again, made of aqua-cold flames. His beak had a smiling quality to it. "I owe ya, Dagger."
With a great burst of his wings, he spiraled up into the sky.
"Use all your strength to support Straw Hat Luffy!" Whitebeard bellowed.
Well. That was pretty awesome, she had to admit.
Sophie wiped Marco's blood off her face, smearing it across her cheek. Luffy's group was plowing through the plaza, now flanked by Whitebeard's Division Commanders who were mowing down enemies for him. The kid was a force of nature. She wasn't gonna be left behind.
Orange-and-white popped out of Ivankov's hair. Inazuma, who Sophie was overjoyed to see was alive, raised a long slab of stone with their scissor-claws—a path to the execution platform.
A long black coat, its red sleeves patterned with flowers, fluttered past her, chasing after Luffy.
I don't think so, Sophie thought, and moved like whiplash.
She attacked the ocean's finest disciple of the art of cutting.
Dracule Mihawk slashed her bullets without a flicker of emotion, and he stopped, facing the girl. From beneath his black hat, with its fancy plumage, his golden eyes pierced her. They saw everything he needed to know.
"It would be a waste of effort to kill someone so weak." His voice was crisp and formal, spinning around the tall, ornate Yoru. "I will allow you a chance to flee."
Sophie lifted the rifle she stole from the ocean's finest marksman. She shot him again.
Closing his eyes in boredom, Mihawk dodged by taking a small step to the right. His hawk eyes opened, and he found Yasopp's star on the wooden stock. "She tarnishes you. Fret not. I will free you from your unworthy master."
She jerked back, barely lifting Arsenic in time before the strongest sword crashed down upon it. Sophie cried out at the shockwaves of pain. With a technique so pure it could delicately separate the wings from a ladybug from a hundred yards away, Mihawk lifted his sword again, striking it against Sen's barrels, his Haki overwhelming, burning her eyes. Yoru was an endless dark sky, no limit on its power.
Now, obviously, she knew she couldn't win. She dug her feet into the stone, knowing that at the very least, Arsenic was strong enough to withstand Mihawk's hits. She just had to find an opening to roll out of the way—
The supreme grade, black blade Yoru cut through Sen in one single, clean strike.
Sophie thought she heard it scream.
Or maybe that was her.
Mihawk gracefully spun Yoru, looking close to yawning. She fell to her knees. The barrels were split in half, and the forestock was gone, the chamber, and the bolt.
Above her, Hawkeyes raised his sword again.
CRASH!
Rising up on one knee, her arm was outstretched, Kirkira Iska shuddering at a high, ringing frequency. The wind pressure lashed her skin to red ribbons. Seven feet versus seven inches. She begged her Armament to do something amazing, she begged it to be strong, she begged it to help her.
Golden eyes narrowed. "Not good enough."
Yoru sliced through her knife, breaking it in half.
It was here, on the raging, chaotic field of the Summit War, that Sophie came to terms with the horrifying truth. Things did not become special just because you loved them. Sometimes, you just weren't enough.
She fell back on her butt and looked numbly up at Mihawk… and squinted, because there was fire swelling behind him.
She covered her eyes. Bright—
What she had missed in her despair was the execution platform breaking. A key turning in a lock. Brothers reunited.
Her surroundings came rushing back to her, because the Whitebeards were crying in jubilation, and Ace was lighting up Mihawk with a Hiken, and he was shouting at Luffy to take cover, and he was alive and crackling and joyous. His grin was wild. Free. Her eyes glistened in unshed tears, and she decided it all had been worth it.
Ace didn't say a word to her. He didn't have to. He held out his hand, and she grabbed it.
And they were running to the sea.
"This is my final order! Listen well!" Whitebeard slammed down his great naginata, Murokumogiri the cloud-splitter. "You will all part with me here! You will all live and safely return to the New World! The times have passed me by! There's no ship to take me to this new age!"
Marineford splintered. He was planning to sink the island into the sea, and himself with it.
Sophie caught her balance, making sure her weapons were still with her. Kir was in her jacket pocket and she was clutching Arsenic's remains. She could mourn later. Had to keep her emotions in check, separated, locked in drawers. Ace and Luffy were fighting somewhere behind her in a perfect tag-team fighting duo. With her weapons broken, she knew she'd just slow them down if she tried to help.
"Oi, Dagger!" From up above, carrying a dozen wounded comrades, Marco pointed a claw at Sophie. "You're with us! Get her on the ship!"
His men were startled. "Who is she? One of Ivankov's people?"
"Ace helped her, didn't he?"
"Come on, kid!" shouted Ninth Division Commander Blenheim, who had a frozen Jozu strapped to his back. "You heard Marco!"
Someone grabbed her elbow, helping her forward. Everyone was rushing toward an empty battleship in the port. Several pirates were trying not to sob. They were, after all, leaving their captain behind. She wanted to stop and wait for Ace and Luffy, like Jinbe was doing. She wanted to congratulate Straw Hat for pulling off something so crazy. She wanted to pinch Ace's cheeks like an annoying grandma and hug him so tight he choked for air. But she decided there would be time for all that on the ship. As Whitebeard fought so his family and allies could escape, the Cameko Mushi came back up (and audiences worldwide were treated to Buggy's dazzling red nose).
Ace made a ring of fire around him and Whitebeard. He went on his knees and bowed, thanking his father. The old man laughed.
Sophie caught a brief note of that music. She only heard the Emperor laugh like that in Ace's dreams. But it was real after all. And it was lovely.
And this was when history began setting its course for the New Age.
The books would disagree on what set it off. The broadcast was too chaotic to see what had happened. Some would say it was Fire Fist who charged at Akainu. Others would claim that Akainu had taunted Whitebeard. The official statement was simply that Fire Fist was arrogant and foolish. The secret history would whisper that Akainu zeroed in on Straw Hat, knowing the young pirate wouldn't stand a chance against his magma, and his older brother…
Well. He did what older siblings always did.
Sophie couldn't explain why Ace's tattoo flashed through her mind, the tattoo on his back that she gazed up at as he faced Aokiji and said he wouldn't run. Heat seared the air. She turned.
And then—
Ace was speaking. She couldn't hear any of it; there was the matter of a hole blown through his chest. And Luffy said something like, Stop talking about Sabo, stop talking, you're not dying, you promised, you promised me. And the light was bright and cold and cruel.
And Ace's body was cooling on the ground.
They were crying—not in triumph anymore, but in pain. It didn't seem right to Sophie. (The newspapers flipped, showing a photo of a young, handsome boy on the front page. She'd been following his adventures the moment she laid eyes on him. 'Captain of the Spade Pirates, Fire Fist Ace is the world's fiercest rookie on the rise!')
"He's fine, shut up, stop blubbering," she snapped, pushing Marco and Jinbe aside. "We have to bandage the wound. Supplies. We need s—MEDIC!"
('The youngest Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates! The strongest Super Rookie of this age!')
"Heart transplant. New lungs. He'll be fine. His brain cells won't start dying for another minute! Listen, we still have time!"
("Fire Fist will carry Whitebeard's legacy into the future!')
"We need to close the wound!" They were ignoring her. They were running off to save a comatose Straw Hat Luffy before the marines could kill him. But Ace was still lying right there. She pressed her hands to that gaping hole, trying to stem the blood. The remnants of his heart collapsed. "SOMEONE LISTEN TO ME! WHY ARE YOU GIVING UP?"
Akainu crashed down in front of her.
It was a sight so jarring that Sophie's mouth snapped shut. The side of his head was bleeding. Blood spilled as he coughed in agony.
"That's enough, kid," came a rumbling growl from high above. And then she realized… there was no one else around her. Akainu had scattered the rest, and she hadn't even noticed. It was just her, Ace, the groaning Admiral, and Whitebeard. "Too many of my sons have died today."
She craned her neck up, up, up… and met the Emperor's gaze. Above his crescent-white moustache, his eyes were filled with unforgiving grief. And when those eyes looked down at the thunderstorm of a girl clutching his son, they saw everything he needed to know.
"Take care of Ace's body," Edward Newgate commanded.
She whispered, "Yes, sir."
Newgate nodded. His shadow passed over her as he bore down on Akainu.
"Right, let's go." Tucking Arsenic in the back of her bra so her hands were free, she hoisted Ace over her shoulder, holding him up beneath his armpit. His smile was so peaceful. It hurt to look at him. "Your old man wants me to bring you to safety. Guess you can't do it yourself. Getting lazy, aren't we."
She kept rambling to him, making her way over the quaking ground. She didn't know why, really—she just thought that, maybe, Ace was also scared out of his mind. She poked him on the side. She slapped his cheek.
"Wake up, hot stuff," she whispered against his hair. "It's just a tiny hole in your chest. I'll get you a new heart. This isn't the end. Wake up."
Ace's eyes popped open and he grinned, freckled and mischievous. "What, you miss me that much?"
She blinked hard.
Ace continued to rest his chin on her shoulder, his eyes closed, dead.
She carefully smoothed his ink-black hair across his forehead. His skin was still warm. There was no breath from his lips. "You're okay, Ace," she said softly, walking into the dust and smoke. "Just a little further. It's okay. Everything will be okay."
But she only made it a few more feet before Lettidore stopped her, tossing a Whitebeard pirate to the ground and flicking blood off his sword.
"Don't… let 'em… take Ace," the pirate gurgled, and died choking on his own blood.
"I thought I saw you around here," Lettidore said crisply, his torn coat of justice flapping behind him. "An unkillable roach as always, Miss Strangways. Hand over Gold Roger's son. There's a pike missing its head."
"His father is Whitebeard." She tightened her grip on Ace, preparing to make a run for it. "And he won't be your trophy."
The sword leveled, prepared for a long fight. "Justice disagrees."
"Fuck off, dollar-store Akainu," came a dark laugh. "Your discount justice makes me wanna barf, man."
It started as a ripple: the side of Lettidore's cheek squirmed.
Red spurted out the side of his face. His ribcage burst open. Skin tore off, vanishing into the gravitational vortex of Teach's palm. Lettidore opened his mouth to scream. Nothing came out. He died in an instant.
And Sophie was left staring at the pile of bones that was her former Vice Admiral. She staggered down to her knees, Ace falling with her.
She had known Lettidore for twenty years. He was a splendid marine, he had cleaned up G-13 and turned it into a first-class fortress; he was a brutal superior, he demanded discipline and perfection. She deserved to hurt him. He owed her that. He owed her at least one damn apology.
Teach loomed over her, frowning at her blank expression. "I saved you from the bad marine, ducky. It's polite to say thank you."
Speechless, she held Ace so tight his broken sternum cut the skin of her palm.
"Ace looks happy, don't he?" Teach mused, and looked up with a wicked grin. "It's good to see you at death's door, Pops!"
"TEAAACH!"
The ground rolled like ocean waves. With his face half-destroyed by magma, Whitebeard blasted Teach and the rest of his crew into the earth. Marineford Castle groaned, flagstones collapsing. Sophie rolled to her feet, flinging Ace's limp arms over her neck, carrying him piggyback. It had been the first and only thing Whitebeard had said to her: take care of Ace's body.
Behind her, Whitebeard bellowed, "You're no longer my son, Teach! The rest of you, don't interfere! By killing this idiot, Thatch can finally rest in peace!"
She kept running, Ace's chin thumping softly on her shoulder with every step.
"Thatch is dead, old man! And so is Ace! I truly respected you! Admired you! But you grew old, so old you couldn't even rescue Ace! Even though I let him live on Banaro Island! Do you want to know what his last words were!? He said he'd make you the king! Zehahaha!"
Whitebeard stopped Teach in his tracks by slamming his naginata into him. Then he crushed his disowned son's head into the ground.
"Aaughh! You… you're a monster! You're halfway dead already! Get him!"
What followed was the worst sound Sophie had ever heard in her life.
"Don't listen, Ace. I'm sorry. It must hurt so much." She kept moving, kept putting one foot in front of the other, despite wanting to collapse. "You'll see your Pops soon."
Teach and his crew shot, pierced, and flayed. There was no honor at all.
The world watched as Whitebeard roared his last words. He spoke of an inherited will, and bloodline, and how a man would appear one day, bearing the weight of centuries of history on his shoulders, to challenge the world. He spoke of a coming war that would change the ocean forever.
"ONE PIECE," he declared, "IS REAL!"
Sunlight beamed down.
Edward Newgate died standing.
And here it would be easy to close the book, to end the story on the final, majestic rays of Whitebeard's era. He was a great man, a magnificent captain, and a better father. He had a thousand stories to his name, stories that would be retold and remade and embellished for a thousand years more.
But this wasn't a story of a great man.
This was the story of a young woman walking across the battlefield with Fire Fist Ace on her back.
Marines were rushing to kill Luffy and capture the Blackbeard Pirates, and Sophie had to hide more than once. Kizaru's light-beams glittered overhead. It occurred to her that because Ace was dead, he had no more presence and therefore couldn't be located with Observation.
But that meant his crew couldn't find him, either. All the Division Commanders were scattered, protecting Luffy, grieving their father, perhaps thinking that Ace had been completely destroyed by the magma. She couldn't blame them. The plaza was covered in smoke, and everything was a confusing muddle of death. A few pirates recognized the bloodied figure on her back, and they screamed at her to keep running as they blocked marines from going after Ace's remains. She did, stumbling on the broken rubble, her knees scraping open.
"Knew you'd be rough with my body," he laughed in her ear, gently teasing.
She clambered upright, rocks rolling beneath her sweaty, sticky feet. She was drenched in his blood. Sorry.
"What are you wearing, Curls? Cherries, really?"
I didn't exactly have a lot of options, she thought. Also, you're getting me so dirty.
"I'm wiggling my eyebrows at you. For the record."
You are so annoying, she thought. I oughta roll you and your enormous pectorals into the sea.
"Ha! Wait, did you just call me chunky? I've been on a two-week fast. No water weight." His voice turned cocky, braggadocious to the max. "Man, I'm so ripped I even got a hole in my chest."
I can't do this, Ace.
"You can. You have to keep going."
No, I can't. She slipped again, and couldn't stand because she was crying so hard. I can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
"You don't got time for sorries, kid. You gotta bring me back to my family. Please. For me."
He was using his puppy-dog croon that probably bewitched a thousand waitresses into slipping him a free meal. It was almost offensive how well it worked. Sophie unsteadily gulped in air. She dried her eyes and pulled herself back to her feet, because in her was a fire, and though it was small and weak, she knew she couldn't let it go out. "We're the same age, dummy."
On her shoulder, Ace smiled.
Across the plaza, Teach emerged from the black cape, grinning like a nightmare.
His left hand swirled with darkness.
His right hand pulsed with earthquakes.
All the books would agree on this: it was the first time in recorded history that someone possessed two Devil Fruits.
"The world's fate has been decided! From now on," Blackbeard flung his arms wide to the immense sky, "THIS IS MY ERA!"
The violent quakes began again. Sophie leaped on the rocks spitting upwards, landing lightly on her feet before jumping off again. She passed by billowing grey smoke, pink hair between black cages. She passed by a swordswoman and a torrent of autumn rain, and didn't stop.
"Isn't that Fire Fist!?" a marine yelled.
"He's already dead!" Shigure flashed. "Focus on saving the injured!"
Cannon fire shook the plaza. Sophie could hardly see anything as the explosions blew up dust. She ducked her head and coughed, her eyes watering, keeping her grip tight so Ace wouldn't slip from her back.
"Big rock headin' your way."
Sophie dodged it without looking. The enormous chunk of stone crashed behind her.
"Bullets on your five. Take cover."
She did, listening to Ace.
"A monster's coming. Get ready."
Thread glinted. The puppet master was perched on a high pile of debris, watching the bloody chaos below with a sick grin. "If I stick Fire Fist's body up on the walls of the castle," Doflamingo purred, "will that draw this stupid war out even more?"
The tower of rocks he stood on crumbled. A burst of Conqueror's shrieked through the air, and Doflamingo jolted in surprise.
Sophie panted for breath, her pupils dilated.
She turned, looking for whichever annoyingly powerful man had helped her—and got an eyeful of snake. It curled around her protectively, hissing.
High heels kicked aside the rubble. A purple qipao fluttered, long powerful legs flashing between the slit. Boa Hancock pressed her fingers to her mouth, kissing it, and sent arrows of flaming hearts shooting towards Doflamingo. Even Kings must bow before Empresses.
Suddenly, Sophie didn't mind Conqueror's Haki so much.
Hancock pointed. "The Whitebeard Pirates are close! Get Luffy's brother there safely!"
She thanked the Pirate Empress and kept running.
A sword blew through the dust, barely missing Sophie, she couldn't tell from which side—it was followed by gunfire, and screams, and bodies moving as they bled, confused and dying. Her breath fogged coldly in the air. She squinted through the dust and cursed under her breath.
Aokiji stood in front of her. She adjusted Ace, leaning him on her right side, while her left hand pulled out her useless broken knife and pointed it at the Admiral. She was not dreaming of an easier world.
They stared at each other. She held Ace tight. Her legs were shaking.
After a moment, Aokiji strode forward. He passed by Sophie entirely. As if he hadn't even seen her.
She didn't question it and ran.
Near the frozen ocean, she emerged from the smoke of war, covered in blood that wasn't her own. Akainu was battling the remaining Whitebeard pirates as they gathered to protect Luffy. A few of the subordinate crews—Whitey Bay, Elmy, the Decalvan Brothers—were still on the plaza, fending off the marines' pursuit, and they gasped as they saw their Second Division Commander splayed across her back.
"Ace!" They rushed to her side and helped the young man off her, fresh sobs bursting from their lips.
A hand touched her shoulder. "You carried him?"
She started at the touch. "Whitebeard's orders," she said hoarsely, as the stiff weight left her shoulders.
Whitey Bay's face was shadowed with anguish. "We can take it from here."
"Please do." Sophie backed away, her body still shaking from adrenaline and terror. But she had completed Edward Newgate's request. Knowing that Ace would be reunited with his family, she closed her eyes in exhaustion, and darkness swallowed her.
Her eyes flew open.
It was still dark. She flailed, screaming soundlessly, sinking into a great abyssal ocean of shadows. She thought she was going to die there, crushed into pulp. But gravity spat her back up, and she emerged in the cold daylight by Teach's side, disoriented, violently gasping for breath.
She was somehow back on the plaza, the landscape ash-grey and teeming with bloodied marines.
A ring-studded hand lifted her up, showing her off like a prized calf. She kicked helplessly, her toes dragging along the ground.
"You were askin' how I did it, Sengoku!" Teach was so giddy he was practically clicking his heels together. "Why don't I show you and the rest of the world!? This here lady is Strangways Sophie! If not for her, I wouldn't have become a Warlord and set free Impel Down! She led Ace to me! His and Whitebeard's deaths are thanks to her! She's responsible for this entire fucking mess! Zehahaha!"
The Cameko Mushi, which had been abandoned on the ground by Buggy and his rogue criminals, was beamed at Blackbeard and Sophie, broadcasting her stunned, blank-faced stare throughout the world.
For a few seconds, all she heard was the ocean roaring in her ears.
"What," she breathed, trembling, on the brink of shattering, "what did you… just… do…?"
"I made you famous, ducky," Teach said. "Welcome to the big leagues."
The prophet's words rang true. Her name was currently being echoed throughout the Grand Line and all four Blues, written down feverishly by journalists, repeated in terror by civilians, memorized by marines. Sengoku was looking at her in shock, and even the marines held their artillery fire because they were trying to figure out who that girl was. Yes: with one declaration, Marshall D. Teach had made Sophie unbelievably, improbably famous.
Though it would be more accurate to say he had cursed her with it.
Teach's oily smile then warped into a scream, for Sophie had twisted around and stabbed him in the gash that Whitebeard had cleaved in his chest. Her hands were jet-black. The color swallowed her broken knife, imbuing it with the strength of her soul.
"You think you can kill me!?" he boomed, darkness spiraling around her. "Me, the strongest man in the world!? You ain't much better than a worm!"
She pressed her feet on his darkness—a singularity, an event horizon, a gravity so fearsome not even light could escape—and crunched it beneath her toes. The look on her face was inhuman, possessed by a witch-fiend of revenge. "Then you can die knowing you were killed by a worm."
She gloved Sen in Armament and smashed it across Teach's face.
He was still laughing as he spat out a tooth, his eyes gleaming. "I knew your kisses would hurt, daffodil."
She never hated anyone so much.
She had enough of this. If she was pathetic, then so what. If she was a worm, a dirt-eater, a worthless woman, if that was her destiny, then so be it. She didn't need the finest weapons in the world. She could wield stones and sticks for all she cared. She could fight a thousand armies naked, ripping out spines with her teeth, rampaging until she died a thousand deaths.
And that, perhaps, was why the extraordinary occurred.
Van Augur sent bullets cracking against her Haki skin, blood dashing along the lines. She bounced up a small rock with her foot and kicked it towards him and Doc Q; they leaped away, and the rock impacted the side of Marineford Castle with the force of a meteor.
Her Armament stretched it hands up, gasping in relief at finally having enough space to move. It surveyed the landscape and demanded more.
She complied. She ripped off a wooden piece of a broken mast lying on the ground, and hurled it like a missile at the Blackbeard Pirates, her hair spilling behind her like the tail end of a comet. Shiryu split the missile into quarters with his sword, and the pieces hit the ground like peppering gunfire.
Mortar shells blasted; the marines were firing again. She stomped on a big chunk of debris and kicked it up, bracing her palm flat against it. The shell exploded against her shield. She didn't so much as flinch as the wind from the explosion burst past her. Her eyes were narrowed, calculating.
She knew in her bones that the World Government was not going to end this war. Even with Ace and Whitebeard dead, it wouldn't be a real victory until they killed every last pirate.
A brigade of marines aimed their guns at her, the massive and golden Fleet Admiral Sengoku behind them. She tossed off her frayed bomber jacket and faced them with broken weapons in each hand, like a vision of war incarnate. How much could she destroy before she died here?
Two dozen guns fired and—
"Room."
—struck the debris several good feet away from her.
Sophie looked up at the spotted fur hat, the cross-patterned nodachi, and the flagrantly yellow hoodie adorned with a smiling jolly roger. His hand was on her hip, and those grey eyes took in her filthy, bloodied face, the veins of Armament pulsing on her forehead.
"You're late," Law informed, as the din of war faded into the background. "An appropriate punishment is in order. Barnacle duty."
A sharp noise escaped her—a laugh, or maybe a sob, she didn't know.
Sophie threw her arms around him in a big hug and he caught her. As the marines fired again, they vanished in a flash of blue.
The ocean bubbled. Waves crashed. A yellow submarine had emerged on the harbor of Marineford. Several shadows were out on the deck. "Oi, weird clown! Bring Straw Hat over here!"
In the sky, Buggy the Clown was clutching Jinbe and Luffy, evading magma. "Who the hell are you brats!?"
"Give Straw Hat to us!" Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo hollered. "Our captain can save him!"
Said captain reappeared on the deck with their janitor, and a loud cheer rose up as they saw Sophie.
"Straw Hat-ya might be an enemy of mine, but we still share a bond!" Law yelled at Buggy. "It'll only be boring if he dies here! Leave him to me! I'm a doctor!"
Marineford wobbled in another seismic upheaval. The Polar Tang almost went sideways. Vice Admirals were ordering their subordinates to leave the injured and kill as many pirates as they could. Akainu was burning through everything in his rage. Blackbeard laughed as he continued sinking Marineford into the sea.
"Best of luck, whoever the hell you are!" Buggy threw down his unconscious luggage, and scampered off.
"We're diving!" Law bellowed, pressing Sophie into his chest and waving his men inside.
"You did well escaping Sabaody, Trafalgar Law." Kizaru flickered with light from above. "Now, could you be so kind as to die?"
Naturally, things would not be so easy. All hope was lost. Death seemed inevitable. But that, as all the stories would say, was the perfect moment for fate to change.
A scream rang over the plaza.
Koby, at the age of just sixteen, brought the war screeching to a halt. Every eye was trained on him in disbelief. For a few courageous seconds, he brought a glimpse of reason to the insanity of war. Survivors would recall the flying tears and snot as he held his arms out, begging Admiral Sakazuki to stop sacrificing marines in this pointless crusade of violence, preparing to give his life. Afterwards, in the coming weeks, the recovering marines would remember this moment with tears in their eyes and murmur amongst themselves that the young boy was the best of all of them.
Akainu lunged at him, his own comrade.
Koby did not die. He stumbled backwards, saved in the nick of time by the saber of Red-Haired Shanks.
There was a new ship docked on the harbor: one with a flag bearing a skull with three slashes through its eye, a pair of crossed swords behind it.
Over Law's arm—her fists curled against his back, her face pushing against his chest—she saw glimmering light so bright she had to cover her eyes. Sophie squinted at the brilliance between her fingers, imagining sparks of fire, a freckled grin. But Ace was dead. And that light was an Admiral, pointing at the submarine with a lazy smile.
(Hai Xing, flicking his wrist in a subtle line, a chopstick piercing through Charlotte Sundae's eye—)
Leaping off the edge of the deck, she launched Kirkira Iska upwards with that same flicking motion. She felt the familiar tug of Law's Room. Her Haki braced its feet and pushed back. Her blade of invented wind cut into the sky, imbued with Armament, and reflected Kizaru's attack into the clouds, splitting into a million different beams of light.
She felt their connection strain, the winds of Omiramba howling with one final breath—
Her knife shattered completely.
She apologized.
The Admiral cocked his head, his gaze inscrutable behind his sunglasses. She thought of how Ace had stood between her and Aokiji, between Akainu and his little brother. Kizaru glittered at warpspeed, leg stretching out to shatter her skull. Sophie closed her eyes, thinking of the sea.
And then—
A dark cloak swirled around her, smelling like tobacco. A shotgun blasted. She blinked up at ash-grey hair, an x-shaped scar, and a cigarette he pulled from his mouth, exhaling.
"How scary, Benn Beckman," Kizaru hummed, holding his left arm. Blood trickled down the sleeve.
Law's Room was practically suffocating her, yanking at her body, demanding her to come back. It was a little romantic. She looked past Law, at Bepo. There was no time for understanding. She wanted him to see she would have no regrets.
Law was yelling her name, Anko was yelling even louder from the speaking tubes, the submarine engines pumping, a straw hat tossed. Aokiji was freezing the ocean, and Bepo—poor, brave Bepo who was dragging Law inside, and would undoubtedly have many nightmares about this—had barely closed the deck door before the submarine dived.
Kizaru leaped into the sky and rained down a hailstorm of light. She burst off her feet and flung herself between him and her ship—
A hand snatched her back to earth.
"NO!" Beating her fists against Beckman's chest, she screamed as a million light beams pierced the ocean.
But a few choice shots from Yasopp had reflected some of those beams. The ocean's finest marksman blew out smoke trailing from his musket. It wasn't as if Luffy's survival hinged entirely on luck. Sometimes a few strings were pulled behind the scenes.
"Your crew's alive," Beckman was saying as he pulled his cloak around her, cocooning her and keeping her from charging at Kizaru. His voice, low and rough from cigarette smoke, was gentle in its own way. "They escaped. Their voices haven't vanished. It's alright, lass. It's alright."
Her violent seizing motions slowed. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. In her mind, she called him a liar. Nothing about this was alright.
The ocean calmed, its tumultuous waves vanishing, and all traces of the Polar Tang had vanished with it.
In the midst of the clearing smoke, Shanks was giving orders to pirates and marines, one hand resting on Gryphon's handle. His long cloak swung behind him, his plain shirt and modest sandals contradicted by that infamous, apple-red hair.
"Marco," Shanks said to the other man, who had already healed from injuries and was considering beheading two or three Vice Admirals. "Withdraw your men and don't retaliate. Any further conflict will increase casualties on both sides. But if anyone still wants to go… we'll be your opponents."
The Emperor of the New World stood with the full might of his crew: middle-aged men with hairy legs, decked out in tropical island prints.
"How about it, Teach?" Shanks softly inquired, his scarred eye narrowed. "Or should I say… Blackbeard."
"I'll stop for now!" Teach rumbled boisterously. "I got what I came here for. It's still a little early to be fighting you guys." He was about to turn, but then stopped, finding the young woman curled up in a cloak patterned with swirls. When he pointed at her, Sophie flinched and hugged Arsenic to her chest. "Look after her, fellas. She's my goddess of fortune."
"I'll remind you," said the famously reticent Benn Beckman, "that you were running away."
"I killed for you, ducky." Teach doffed his pirate hat at her. "From today until the end times, I will repay your gift."
Blackbeard was, undoubtedly, the only real victor here—his triumphant smile declared it. Stretching out his powerful arms, his fists curling in success, his bespoke black coat fluttered behind him as he and his crew left.
This was how the Summit War ended.
Shanks said they would take care of Whitebeard's and Ace's burials. While certain Vice Admirals disagreed, retorting that taking their heads was essential to show the Marines' victory, Sengoku allowed it; he too was weary of battle. It was the Whitebeard Pirates' indisputable loss. And though that meant it was the Marines' win, they had also suffered greatly. The dead were everywhere, and the injured were too numerous to count.
The stillness of grief settled over Oris Plaza.
Sophie pulled herself away from Beckman, her throat tight and her chest heavy. She numbly looked at the haunted faces around her, the weapons dropping to the ground, the wounded as they moaned in pain.
Something tugged in her mind. It was a voice, or a noise, or a feeling of pure agony. She looked and found Garp, who was weeping as he knelt on the ground. His broken figure was some distance away. The Whitebeard Pirates were not allowing him any closer to his grandson.
She didn't make it another step before two sabers threatened to gore her where she stood.
"Who are you, witch?" Vista demanded coldly, his eyes red and wet. "A friend of Teach's? Is that why you did this!?"
For a moment, she couldn't speak. "N-no…"
The Commanders were gathering around their youngest brother. Marco was gripping the back of Ace's head and pressing their foreheads together; and he was punching the ground until his knuckles bled, healed, and bled again. Ace's grin was small and peaceful. He returned to the universe with the sort of smile that only belonged to 'waffles for breakfast' or 'perfect waves for surfing' or 'being reunited with friends after a long, tiring journey'.
"No," Sophie sobbed, and her throat burned as if she was full of fire that had nowhere left to go.
to be continued
notes. me, some years ago: wouldn't it be so interesting to write an oc who unwittingly causes the summit war? would be wild if anyone wanted to read it. i think i'll make it a law/oc just because that dude looks funny.