Hello everyone! It's been a while since I last posted, but here's the next chapter!

Oh, I don't own One Piece or any of it's characters. This fanfic was written purely for amusement.

I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 12

(one year later)

Yukiryu Island. The New World.

The wind cut across the surface of the sea like a million freezing scythes. The spray of waves froze as soon as it made contact with the island's rocks, creating tiny crystalline spears guarding the shores.

At the very western edge of the island stood a lonely cliff, staring out into a crescent shaped bay.

The snow crunched under heavy black boots up until the very edge of the cliff.

The man stared out at his ship, moored in the bay, his dark curls whipping wildly in the wind, stinging his eyes.

Words still swirled around in his mind; deep and serious. Then what you're after is the head of Whitebeard.

He closed his eyes. He tried to remember the mark. Then, he frowned. He had seen it once, somewhere before. It had been over a year since then, though.

Right. Like I care.

He frowned.

"Captain?"

He turned and faced his crew. His first mate was staring at him with concern.

"What's up, guys?" he asked.

"You look a little off, Ace." his first mate said. "Ever since you heard the name 'Whitebeard' you'd been a bit off."

"It's nothing." he said, adjusting his hat. "Just thinking is all." He ran a finger along the brim of his hat. Then, he nodded. He knew what he had to do. "Okay guys. Let's set sail."

(four months later)

"Aargh! This job blows!"

Marco laughed. "Take a deep breath, Zia. It's not that bad."

I rolled my eyes. "Says the guy who can actually see what the hell he's doing." I handed him a stack of papers and then sank into a chair and put my arms on the desk.

Marco laughed. "You're the one who volunteered to help me. Don't act like it's such a huge burden."

I let my head flop onto my arms, disturbing a pile of paperwork beside me. About twenty papers fell from the pile and landed on my head. I blew one of them off my face. "You never told me what I was volunteering for. You just went out on deck one day and asked a group of us if one of us could help you with something. Yes, I volunteered, but in my defense, I volunteered under false pretenses."

Marco really did laugh at that. So much so that he actually turned from his desk, and bent to his knees. "You're so melodramatic!" he managed to choke out after a few seconds. "You're fifteen now, you need to be able to handle these things."

"Paperwork, though, Marco." I said, sitting up. The papers fell from my head and fluttered to the floor. "I'm blind. How the hell am I supposed to do this?"

"Language, Zia." Marco said offhandedly, turning back to his work. "All you have to do is stamp the top right hand corner of the paper."
I frowned. "What does it say?" I asked.

"It's just the Whitebeard pirates' mark. We're just keeping track of the new recruits. We get quite a few. Then we also have to keep track of the spending of the crew on food and booze and such. Then there's equipment. And before you ask, it's best not to plunder islands in our territory."

I nodded. "Oh, and Marco... I'm fifteen and a half."

Marco smiled again. "Right. Sorry. Such a difference."

That's when Thatch walked over. "Did I just hear you right?" he asked. "Fifteen and a half?" He started guffawing. "Right! You're almost grown up!"

"Shut up, Thatch." I muttered. I picked up the stamp, and dipped it in the open ink bottle beside me. I tapped off the ink, then turned the page to the top right hand corner.

"Hold on." Marco stopped what he was doing and turned my paper around. "There."

I rolled my eyes. "The advantages of being blind. Haki doesn't help much with ink on paper."

Thatch grinned and patted my shoulder. "Marco's a good teacher. He teaches you the true meaning of suffering."

I nodded. "Indeed."

Marco whacked me on the head with his pen. "Oi."

Thatch leaned over me until his necktie tickled my nose, so he was staring over my head at what I was doing.

I frowned. I don't like it when people look over my shoulder to see what I'm doing, let alone my head.

Thatch ran a finger down one of the papers. "Did I really spend that much on booze this month?" He tilted his head down at me. "I thought I would at least drink some of it."

"You did." I said. "You drank more than usual, and ended up with a monster hangover that was so bad that you locked yourself in the cold storage in the lower deck and sat there in the dark for the rest of the next day." I dipped the stamp in the ink again. This time, though, I bumped the ink bottle with my fingers, and it turned over on its side, spilling ink all over the papers, the desk, and my hands. "Shit!" I exclaimed, jumping back and shaking my hands.

"Zia!" Marco snapped. "What did I just say about your language?"

Thatch cracked up. "Damn, now that's something that'll make your paperwork interesting!" he said.

I pushed back from the desk, making another pile of papers topple right into the ink puddle. Now it was just a sort of inky swamp. I ran my fingers through my messed up hair, sighing. "What a mess." I muttered. "And what are we supposed to do with these wrecked papers? Not to mention that we need to get this cleared up before the afternoon rush to the galley."

Thatch snorted. "Now hang on," he said, "This is all you two. I'm gonna be in the galley on time, thank you very much."

I stuck my tongue out at him. Jackass. I thought.

Marco sighed and started picking up the papers. "C'mon, Zia," he said with a grunt, "if we want His Nibs here to actually give us food tonight, we'd better get this job done."

I snorted at the His Nibs comment. I shook the ink off my hands, and pushed my hair out of my eyes. I stopped. Someone was running across the deck to Pops' chair as though a neptunian was at his heels. "Hey Marco, Namur's back. He seems kinda nervous."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Nervous?"

I nodded. "Considering his pace and his breathing pattern. Wasn't he on patrol well inside our borders?"

That's when the door opened. Teech's large form loomed in the doorway. "Marco, Pops wants you on deck."

Marco stood up. "Right." He pushed his chair in and turned to me. "I'll go see what he wants. Pick up the slack, would you, Zia?"

"Hey, wait a second-" I was cut off by the door slamming shut. "Dammit." I muttered, "How am I supposed to make sense of this?"

He hit the ground hard, rolling a few feet and bouncing to a standstill. He groaned. He wasn't sure which was more painful, Jimbei's punch, or the rock that was digging into his spine.

"Ace!" One of his crew shouted. Ace couldn't tell which because of his pounding head. "You okay?"

No was what he wanted to say, but he didn't exactly have much time to do so. As soon as he recovered enough breath, he rolled out of the way of his opponent's fresh assault.

There is no way I'm losing to this guy! I have to find and defeat Whitebeard!

"I will not let you get within sight of the old man." Jimbei said, his small eyes flashing despite his similarly battered state.

Ace turned to fire and soared through the air. He raised his hand, and did a spiral around Jimbei. "Fire Fist!"

Jimbei sank into a deep straddle stance. "Vagabond Drill!"

Ace's strike hit Jimbei square in the temple. He didn't get too much time to enjoy this small victory, however, since Jimbei's punch hit him hard in the solar plexus. His vision blurred, and something warm filled his mouth. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

"O'er there!"

"Oh my god, it's Jimbei!"

"Must have been one hell of a fight, yoi."

Ace opened his eyes. He frowned. A green toad was sitting on a rock right at his eye level, staring at him.

"Wha..."

The toad croaked, then looked towards the sea. Eyes widening, it hopped away.

Groaning, Ace sat up. His crew was standing around him in a flash, supporting him, trying to help him stand up.

That's when Ace got a look at the huge fleet of battleships closing in on the shore. Ace recognised the ship in the lead: The Moby Dick. And right at the head, he saw Whitebeard himself.

"So!" The deep voice rolled through the air, "Which of you young lads wants to take my head. I will face him just as he desires."

The blond haired man standing next to Whitebeard leaned over and spoke to him. Whitebeard shook his head. He jumped from the ship, vaulting off the rail like it was easier than getting out of bed. When he hit the beach, the ground under Ace's feet shook. He stared, and all of Ace's crewmates were blown off their feet.

"Guys!" Ace shouted. He took a deep breath. "Flame Fence!" It wasn't much, just a long line of hot flames between his crew and the colossus in front of him.

He heard his crew protesting.

"Run!" he shouted. "Run, all of you!"

Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, boy? You losing your nerve?"

Ace took a deep breath. "You're going to let my crew escape..." he said, his voice ragged from effort. "and in return, I won't run!"

The corner of the old man's mouth twitched. "Impertinent brat." He muttered. He gripped his huge bisento, and raised it over his head. The impact from that weapon sent everything spiraling into nothing again.

When Ace came to again, Whitebeard was standing over him, his arms crossed. "You're a tough little punk, I'll grant you that."

Ace groaned, trying to make sense of the words coming out of Whitebeard's mouth.

Then the old man took him by surprise. He bent down on one knee, and held out a hand. "If you want to terrorize the seas, do it under my name. Be my son."

Ace blinked, wondering if that bullshit was actually what he'd heard. After a few second's pause, and quite a lot of arguing with himself in his head, Ace realised that he had heard right. "Don't screw with me!"

Whitebeard smiled, then brought the butt of his bisento down on Ace's forehead.

As his consciousness slipped away again he noticed another silhouette leaning over him. Then, a voice. Musical, like the voice of an angel.

"Shit. You didn't happen to kill him, did you Pops?"

"This is ridiculous." I grumbled.

"It's just a half-hour shift, Zia." Cynthia told me. I couldn't see her, but I could tell that she could barely keep the corners of her mouth from shifting into a smile. "Besides, he's kind of cute. Half an hour alone with him should be a real treat, if he ever regains consciousness."

I frowned. "Right. I would jump at the chance to be alone with... him. Why don't one of the other nurses do it? I've got better things to do."

Cynthia ruffled my hair. "Look, it's either this, or you'll fall victim to Izo. He's been nagging you to come and get fitted for new clothes for over a week now."

"Fine, fine." I snapped. "But someone had better relieve me of this duty in precisely half an hour."

"Good." She did a cute pose, probably mockingly, if I know her. "See you in thirty minutes." Then, she stepped out the door.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. "Why the hell did it have to be you...?" I grumbled.

Well, at least he was unconscious. Now I could get a good look at him. Let's see... Short, wavy hair, small nose for a guy, mouth that sets in a smile, washboard abs, wears his shirt open, toned leg muscles. Zits on the nape of his neck, several sunburns on his face, arms , and ears. Typical.

One of his eyebrows twitched.

I frowned. He wasn't actually waking up on my watch, was he?

He stirred, groaned, opened an eye, and turned on his side to face me. His eyes widened. "Hey..." he croaked, "I know you..."

I stood up abruptly and clonked him over the head. He fell like a rag doll onto the pillows again.

I frowned and sat back down on my stool.

When Cynthia came back, she grinned at me. "Now," she said, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I shrugged, not meeting her gaze.

"He didn't happen to wake up for a little while, did he? He wouldn't have been up for long, maybe just a few minutes?"

I sat for a few seconds. "Nope." Then, I stood up, and walked out the door without a backwards Haki glance.

Ace sat up with a start, panting. He was pretty sure he was going to get some kind of brain damage with all those shots to the head. Had he woken up once already? He thought he'd had a dream about the pretty girl he'd seen before he passed out. She had been standing over him, watching over him, then when he tried to speak to her, she turned into this scaly fire-spitting rage-monster with black stuff oozing from her teeth and bashed his head in.

That had not been a pleasant dream.

Unfortunately, he thought, the girl who he had thought was watching over him turned out to be some ugly guy in his early thirties, smiling down at him.

"Augh!" He sat up so fast that he smacked his head on the headboard of the bed.

The man doubled over laughing. "Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty!" he guffawed. "Your Prince Charming's already been and gone!"

Ace frowned. "What..."

The man grinned. When he did so, his pompadour flopped down into his eyes. "My name's Thatch, by the way. Commander of the fourth division of the Whitebeard Pirates." He stood up and did a mocking bow. "Welcome aboard the Moby Dick."

What?!

Ace jolted out of bed, pushed past the weird pompadour guy, and ran out the door. He stopped.

Staring at him in complete astonishment was a huge group of people. All of them huge and tough looking. Except for one. That girl again, standing beside the blond guy with the droopy eyes, was glaring at him. Or not at him. It was more like through him. That unseeing gaze was penetrating his soul.

Oh, what the hell have I gotten myself into this time?

Ace is in for it this time! Next chapter will see the first time Ace and Zia clash. As always, if you like it or have any comments or suggestions, please review. I enjoy hearing from readers.

See you next chapter!