Midoriya was jolted awake by a rough landing. As he was gently set onto his feet, the boy vaguely wondered if the person carrying him even noticed he'd passed out. Honestly, he hadn't even noticed himself slipping into unconsciousness until he had been jerked back into wakefulness. The teal phoenix behind him disappeared, an average-looking man taking his place. Or average from what the boy could make out with his blurry vision. Definitely a quirk as he'd guessed earlier.

As he struggled to regain his bearings, Midoriya couldn't help but feel that something felt… off.

It wasn't that there was anything specifically out of place. No, it felt like the exact opposite, whatever that was supposed to mean. He couldn't figure out what was immediately tipping him off; they were far from the battlefield—the phoenix having brought him onto one of their retreating ships—and as far as Midoriya could tell, they weren't being pursued by the men in uniforms.

Then what was wrong…?

The realization hit him like a brick and it took all of his focus to keep himself from sinking to his knees in relief. The constant pain from Danger Sense was suspiciously absent. It seemed too good to be true after the bombardment of pain at random intervals he'd experienced for weeks on end.

His shocking realization (and subsequent, wary relief) was interrupted by the large man that he'd all but ordered to retreat.

"I'm glad you're alright, stranger," the giant man spoke, his voice gravelly but not unkind.

Midoriya just stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say, instead letting his thoughts wander. It was obvious that this man held some kind of superiority here. Perhaps he was their leader?

To be honest, Midoriya wasn't sure what he had expected from meeting the large man again outside of the mayhem of battle. Although, he hadn't had much time to consider it given the rapid series of events. Whatever his predictions would have been if he'd had the time to think on the subject, it certainly wasn't this. Aside from that, this situation was such a stark contrast from the mistrust and fear he had been receiving from citizens over the past few weeks. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle this.

"I am in your debt for saving my son as well as me. Considering Teach… no… Blackbeard's unexpected arrival and the strange power he has gained, I honestly believe I would have died without your interference. And given Ace's history of responding to insults, it was likely that Akainu would have goaded him into that fight and slaughtered him," the old man sighed.

Midoriya could only guess that this Ace person was one of the teenagers that had been dragged from the battlefield.

Despite taking a moment to extrapolate, the small wheeze that accompanied the man's breathing did not escape Midoriya's notice. This man must be heavily injured, which would likely have lasting consequences on his health, just like All Might. To be honest, he hadn't gotten a good look at the man when he had arrived, and ever since he was all but dragged away from the battlefield, his vision had been so blurry he could barely make out people-shaped blobs of color.

He really should have taken up All Might's offer to rest, but there was no turning back for him now.

Midoriya sat for a moment before a wave of guilt washed over him. Even though he may as well have saved the man's life, he had been unable to protect this man from such a debilitating injury.

If he had arrived sooner perhaps…

But even he could recognize the absurdity of that thought, considering he hadn't arrived by choice, yet the feeling still lingered. Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn't know where he currently was.

Not to mention, Midoriya couldn't help but be suspicious of their abnormal reactions to his power. He was originally concerned that these people would accuse him of being one of All for One's subordinates at the sight of his multiple quirks as every other citizen he'd rescued in the past few days had. But instead of the frightened, accusatory glances and words, he was met with awed exclamations and confusion.

Regardless of where he was at the moment, he had a nagging feeling that something was horribly wrong. It wasn't danger sense, but rather a hunch: intuition. He had no idea what that something was, but until he got a better idea of the situation he was dealing with, he'd have to keep quiet and observe. Well, observe was a generous word considering how his vision was about as clear as frosted glass.

Which was to say, he could hardly see at all.

But the statements of the people in front of him and the implications that lied within them were equally useful to take note of and analyze. And if something was truly wrong, he would need to be careful in more ways than one. The physical fight was certainly over for the time being, but he was far from safe.

Part of him wondered if he would ever be safe again.

His next obstacle was navigating this conversation with a man whom he assumed was very influential and powerful. Not to mention how it had been made clear that this man, Whitebeard, was in charge of the other powerful people on the ship. Danger Sense didn't seem to pick up any malicious intent, so he figured he was fine for now, but the tentative reprieve wasn't enough for him to allow himself to relax. Midoriya knew he needed to choose his words carefully, to give away as little information as possible while gathering knowledge.

Normally he would be sweating buckets and freezing up at the mere thought of navigating such a precarious situation, but he had forced himself to shed any hint of self-doubt weeks ago when he made his decision to leave the safety of UA. With every villain he fought on his own, he no longer indulged in any of the feelings that used to hold him back. Any hint of hesitation could leave him vulnerable; second-guessing was a privilege to which he no longer laid any claim.

Besides, if worse came to worst and he said something wrong, there was nothing he could do about it. The sheer number of potential powerful enemies around him in the enclosed space of the ship made it clear that no matter what he did wrong, it would be game over.

He tried to ignore the ever-present dread that reminded him that he was a target and his mere presence was enough to put more than his own life at risk the longer he remained here, wherever that was exactly. If these people weren't a danger to him, he was certainly a danger to them.

He would be too tired to fight with his fists, so he simply had to rely on his words in the meantime. The only problem was getting his brain to cooperate with him despite how his head spun and his vision found new ways to distort the world around him.

"Are you alright?" the large man, Whitebeard, questioned.

Midoriya must have been zoning out. He would have to stop that.

Focus.

"Sorry, yes I'm fine. I was just… thinking," Midoriya offered tentatively, hoping that the man would accept his lack of explanation and move on. Luck appeared to be on his side at the moment.

"As I was saying, I have much to thank you for," the blob that was Whitebeard grew shorter… no, the man must have lowered his head in a show of respect.

Which was wild, considering the fact that Midoriya was just some stranger and this man clearly must hold a great deal of respect and power…

"Stop moving! You're going to hurt yourself even more!" a blob at the man's side shouted.

…and he was heavily injured.

"You don't need to… bow your head," Midoriya insisted, hoping the man would listen and stop straining himself for no reason, "I found myself in a dire situation and made a choice. It just so happened that the choice I made benefitted the both of us."

No no no, dammit that was the opposite of what he should have said. He was trying to earn their continued good will, not brush off everything and risk their ire. Even though that was how he really felt, Midoriya couldn't afford to admit such things at the moment.

"So you say. But I insist, please feel free to remain onboard and rest. You're… covered head to toe in dirt. I insist that you at least stay the night to clean yourself, eat, and rest until you're fully recovered."

Well, at least he hadn't metaphorically shot himself in the foot with his honesty. He also figured that he shouldn't correct the man's assumption that all the stains on his hero costume were only mud. The man seemed reasonable enough, so Midoriya hoped that he and the rest of the people would be safe while he took him up on the offer. (He could only pray that being sent here wasn't a part of All for One's grand plan.)

But if not… well…

He'd deal with it when it came to that.

"I appreciate your hospitality. I think I'll take you up on that," Midoriya replied, slowly pushing himself to his feet, trying his damnedest not to make it seem like the world was spinning around him as he stood.

Midoriya took a moment to steady himself, hoping he wouldn't fall over. He couldn't let himself be perceived as vulnerable. It was too risky while he was still searching for Shigaraki and All for One. Actually, it was strange that they were on a boat. Were they near a lake? Or had he been teleported to the coast. Was he accidentally allowing himself to sail away from Japan and leave everyone behind?

As much as the thought of escaping from the consequences of the war was appealing, he couldn't allow himself to indulge in such childish fantasies. This was his responsibility and he had to save everyone from the disaster of his own making.

Perhaps he had been teleported to another country? But a part of him recognized that most likely wasn't the case, since these people were speaking Japanese as though it were their native tongue.

Distantly, he registered that Whitebeard was asking someone to lead him to the showers.

"We can also provide you with a change of clothes as we clean what you are… currently wearing," Whitebeard hesitated as Midoriya began to follow the person-shaped blob in front of him, "Is there… a reason for your face covering? Do you need something to act as a replacement in the meantime?"

That was… not what Midoriya had expected him to ask. This man was being strangely courteous; it was putting him on edge. Midoriya's weakness shouldn't get anyone hurt. That was the whole reason he had left UA in the first place. If it was the last thing he did, he wouldn't let a man's kindness result in whatever hell All for One could rain upon him.

"Oh um," he stuttered, "No, I don't. Thank you for your concern."

Midoriya briefly considered bowing but decided against it at the last second. He didn't particularly feel like collapsing in front of everyone, thanks. Instead, he simply nodded at the man and followed the blob below deck, ignoring the way black spots and bright colors began to appear in his already failing vision. The blob that led him down wasn't speaking as they walked, or at least if they were, Midoriya was too out of it to comprehend anything that was being said.

…he hoped that this person wasn't saying anything, because that would be embarrassing and not to mention incredibly rude.

Midoriya stumbled as the blob suddenly stopped moving. After squinting for a moment, he realized that the fuzzy sight in front of him was a door. Without a word, the blob opened it and vaguely gestured towards it. He got the hint and stumbled his way in, barely realizing that his stomach was rumbling unhappily as he did so.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, but the thought of showering made him obnoxiously conscious of how dirty he was. His skin itched as he finally allowed himself to acknowledge how dirty he was. He wanted to be clean, so shower first, then food, then sleep.

But his eyelids were so heavy…

He let his eyes slip shut for just a moment, telling himself that he'd open them again so he could shower properly. He couldn't afford to sleep now.

When he opened them, he found himself in a shower-like thing with his clothes off. When had he undressed himself and stepped into the rudimentary shower?

Midoriya shook his head. That didn't matter, he just needed to scrub himself clean and then he'd move on. The faster he finished this task, the sooner he could sleep.

He let himself blink languidly, allowing just an extra second with his eyelids shut to take a soothing deep breath and-

Darkness consumed him as a loud thud resounded through the deck.

Newgate was thoroughly exhausted, even if he didn't want to admit it in front of his children. To be honest, he hadn't been entirely sure he would make it out of this battle alive. Yet here he was, having to deal with the pains of survival. He wasn't going to complain about it, but he felt bad about putting further difficulties on his children's burdened shoulders. He didn't particularly want to contemplate the problems his death would have placed on them either, but what was done was done.

He hadn't wanted to deal with the consequences of this battle, but given the circumstances he found himself unwilling to regret it. The new debts he now owed to Roger's old cabin boy and this new, mysterious man also weighed upon him. For now, however, his top priority was to constantly monitor their surroundings with Observation Haki to make sure that they weren't being followed by any stray Marines as they retreated.

Not that he didn't trust Red Haired Shanks to take care of it. It was simply that, in his experience (of which he had plenty), one could never be too careful.

Newgate frowned as his introspection was disrupted by a commotion just below deck. He was far too injured to check himself, so he waited for one of his children to fill him in. He hoped they would be prompt with their report because his curiosity was about to overcome his better judgment. Luckily for his injuries, two of his children soon scrambled onto the deck and just barely avoided tripping as they halted just before him.

"Pops!" the two of them whined, both clearly distraught, though to different extents.

"What's wrong?" Newgate winced as his chest flared up with pain, shifting his attention fully to his daughters.

"The one that saved us, the one that I led to take a shower… he collapsed!"

Whitebeard felt his cheeks tighten as his frown deepened, "I didn't think he'd been that injured while fighting. Is he alright?"

"For now, but that's not the problem!"

"Pops, this kid can't be older than 14," the other daughter all but cried, "Maybe 15 if we assume he was malnourished as a kid, but these injuries…"

A teenager? That was unexpected. Malnourishment and injuries? Newgate suddenly found himself worried for the man—the child—that had saved them.

"How bad is it?" Whitebeard insisted calmly, hoping that a steady tone would soothe their nerves.

"Well… it doesn't seem like he sustained much damage from the fight itself. There are some cuts and bruises and burns that are fresh from today, still bleeding and raw, but nothing serious there. It's the older wounds and scars that are so…"

His daughter's lips trembled, and he couldn't help but feel for her. She had grown up abused, so the thought of a child being injured often left her shaking and crying. Usually she took a bit longer to succumb to tears, but perhaps the injuries were truly horrible enough to set her off.

That was worrying, indeed.

The other daughter supported her weight as she collapsed, deciding to continue the report in her stead, "Pops, he's littered in cuts and bruises and burns all over. There's hardly a speck of his skin that isn't mutilated in some way. And that's not even starting on his other scars…"

"Other scars?" he echoed, a familiar worry welling up inside him.

"I… shouldn't say any more…" she looked down apologetically, "It might be private, perhaps he was wearing his strange clothing for a reason."

To hide the scars, Newgate surmised.

"I understand. Is there anything else to report?"

"Most of his wounds were easy to treat and should be healed in a few weeks, but there were a few that were concerning. He had an open, untreated wound on his abdomen that appeared to be just a few days old. He was so dirty when he came in that we were worried about infection, but he seems fine for now, so we'll just have to wait and see. There were several other similar wounds. I think they're grazes from bullets, but I suppose the cause isn't all that important."

"Any other concerns?"

"Given how he collapsed and his state, I'm worried that he won't wake up for a while. It may be a few days. But his stomach growled before he got in the shower. Given his state, I think he really needs to eat something…"

Whitebeard hummed, forcing his worry down as he weighed these new facts with his other priorities, "I see. Do your best, he will awaken whenever he is ready to do so. Until then, we will tend to him and bring him along as we retreat."

Marco, who had arrived just after his daughters, stood from where he had sat off to the side (out of the way, but ready in case his captain needed him) and strolled up next to him to listen to his captain's orders.

"If he needs to return somewhere near here once he awakes, we will simply make a return trip. We owe him that much, but it is too much of a risk to stay here. Inform the rest of our allies and make sure that Jinbei joins us aboard this ship before our fleet fully disperses. I'd like to speak with him," he commanded, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his chest at every small motion he made.

The captain had a feeling that things were about to get much more complicated than they already were.

The first thing Ace realized when he woke up was that he didn't remember going to sleep.

He sat up, staring blankly at the sheets tangled between his fingers, vaguely struck with a feeling of wrongness that didn't make any sense. He was in a bed, but he couldn't figure out what was so strange about that. It had been years since he had slept on hardwood floors or out in the wilderness.

Then the memories of the last few days hit him like the Sea Train.

"L-Luffy," he jolted, nearly falling out of the bed in his panicked scramble.

A jerky glance to the side immediately soothed his frazzled nerves; Luffy was sprawled out on the bed just to his left, snoring away at a worryingly low volume. Of course, a quick glance at his heavily bandaged body made it clear that all his wounds had been treated with the utmost care. As expected of his family.

He supposed it would have felt natural that his crew would have taken care of Luffy if he hadn't just dragged them into a full-on war with the Navy. His own arrogance cost many lives. How could he ever forgive himself for that?

How could his crew ever forgive him for that?

Ace certainly wouldn't complain about them taking care of his kid brother, but they had no reason to do so. Or they shouldn't have had a reason to do so. Even though he had made it out of that catastrophe alive, he had forced his crew, his family, through such a horrible tribulation. He had forced them to confront not only the overwhelming force of the Marines and Warlords, but also his own unwillingness to live. Surely they would no longer want him to be on their crew after all of this. Even if they wanted him to live, just like his brothers, that didn't necessarily mean that he still had a place on the crew.

It didn't mean that he still had a place in their lives when all he seemed to do was drag them down with him.

A part of him lamented the fact that Luffy had been the only one able to push past his willingness to die and reach him. The two of them had a bond that ran much deeper and wider than those he had forged with his current crew—and understandably so, given their history—but a thick layer of guilt settled on his shoulders in spite of logic and reason. This crew was also supposed to be his family, yet he had all but made it clear that they weren't worth as much to him as his little brother.

Yet that hadn't stopped them in the heat of battle, though that could be written off as saving face after putting in all that effort to save him. It made sense, but then again, there was no logic or reason in the way that his crew had acted on that battlefield, allowing the weakest among them (stupid, determined Luffy) to forge ahead. In fact, there was no amount of reasoning that justified Whitebeard pirates' presence for one man, even if it was a commander. But there they were.

There Luffy was.

Pushing through against all odds, supported by the world's most powerful pirate crew. Ace couldn't help but wonder why his Pops had given that command to support a rookie pirate captain. Or rather, he had wondered that right up until the Old Geezer stood in the way and sent Marco flying straight into the ground.

Only Luffy could have gotten past the Old Geezer the way he did, which made sense since he was the man's favorite—and not to mention his only biological—grandchild.

Honestly, Ace wouldn't have thought of himself as part of Garp's family until the old man had straight up told him himself as he sat on the execution platform, awaiting the inevitable. Sure, the man had given him many 'Fist of Love's while telling him to call him Grandpa, but he was still caught up in his resentment back then.

But even then, there was no way that Pops would have known that Luffy could convince Garp to back down from his iron-clad commitment to the Marines.

That could only mean that Luffy had managed to worm his way into Pop's heart. It wasn't unrealistic, knowing his brother's unique ability to make friends in the most unlikely of circumstances, but it certainly caught him off-guard. It made him even more frantic in the moment, with no choice but to look on with growing despair as his younger brother desperately made his way closer.

So it was understandable that he couldn't convince himself they had patched Luffy up for Ace's sake.

(Later, Ace would recognize that his guilt spiral was incredibly irrational, especially after the shit show his crew went through to get him back. But in the moment, he couldn't help but fear that they would abandon him for all of his flaws. He felt like he deserved it. After all, he had always struggled to understand the actions of others without projecting his own feelings and logic onto them.)

A soft groan startled Ace who immediately abandoned his thoughts in favor of double-checking that his brother was still okay. The commander gently lifted the sheets from his legs, sliding from the bed and stumbling across the short distance to reach his brother's side. He allowed himself to sink to his knees as he gripped Luffy's sweaty hand, ignoring the way they ached in the tragically familiar position in favor of brushing the hair off of his brother's forehead.

Luffy was breathing evenly, though it wasn't nearly as deep as Ace would have liked. His snores oscillated in volume, occasionally stopping as whatever congestion that partially blocked his throat was dislodged. The gentle signs of his safety was all Ace needed to let his own panic (guilt, rage) subside. Ace had always felt at peace watching his brother sleep. The boy never seemed to have a care in the world, always looking to the future with optimism and a wide grin. That mindset was reflected in how soft his expression was while he was snoring away.

Hell, even on the battlefield, his smile barely wavered. The older brother knew that Luffy smiled the whole time to remind him that he was loved. And when he had finally been freed from his shackles with his brother at his side and his crew cheering loudly at his escape, Ace had never felt so loved.

They had easily fallen back into old habits as they fought. It felt like old times, back when it was just them against the world. Neither of them said a word as they left room for a third at their backs, even as it left them a bit more vulnerable than they should have been, for all intents and purposes.

But it had been okay, because Luffy was strong and Ace was stronger. No matter how long it had been, their teamwork would never fade.

And it was okay, until it wasn't.

That backstabbing bastard had shown up and Akainu had been spewing shit and Ace couldn't help the rage that had bubbled up inside him like oil. Oil which he promptly set on fire.

Or rather, he had almost lit it up and let it burn. But that was when that short man clad in dirty green clothes fell from the sky, landing directly between the brothers and Akainu. He had faced the admiral without hesitation, which had given Marco the chance to drag Ace and Luffy away against their will.

In hindsight, it was probably for the best given how exhausted the brothers were, but that didn't do anything to resolve the fury that still simmered inside him, ready and waiting for the next injustice that set him off.

It was only when he heard asynchronous breathing in the room that Ace realized there was another person in the room. He gripped Luffy's hand tighter as he swiveled his head around to find its source. Instead of a member of his crew or an ally or even a nurse or doctor, he only found a haggard, young teen lying in a bed not too far to the right from his own empty mattress. The blanket was pulled up to the kid's shoulders, his arms purposefully tucked beneath the layer of fabric.

Clearly the green-haired kid had been there the whole time, asleep and deathly still, but Ace still had to take a moment to calm himself. There were many members of his crew whom he did not recognize, but that didn't stop him from immediately thinking the worst. Only the realization that the kid was so obviously down for the count soothed his frayed nerves. As he wracked his brain for the potential identity of the kid, he could only remember that he himself was probably one of the youngest members—if not the youngest in age—on the crew. There was no way that this kid was a member of the Whitebeards.

The commander couldn't bring himself to allow someone he didn't know to stay in Luffy's room as his brother lay there, asleep and vulnerable.

His protectiveness (and curiosity) got the better of him and, with a shaky sigh, Ace forced himself back onto his feet. He gripped the bed frame as he half-limped, half-staggered over to the other kid's bedside, wincing as his muscles tugged and pulled in protest. This time, he forced himself to remain standing as he raked his eyes over the boy's vulnerable form.

The kid had eye bags that betrayed his deep-seated exhaustion (which was probably why he hadn't stirred when Ace had all but fallen off of the bed), but what really caught his eye were the scars. One large scar on his right shoulder peaked out from underneath the covers, hinting at more damage further down his arm. Not to mention the little white lines and pink dots that were littered across his skin above the collarbone and even along his cheeks and neck.

They were difficult to make out from a distance, but up-close they were concerningly plentiful. Ace had his own collection of scrapes and scars, but they amounted to less than half of the ones that were present on what little skin was not covered. It could be argued that Ace's devil fruit prevented wounds he would have acquired, yet somehow the commander couldn't shake the feeling that this kid would still have more.

Which begged the question: who was this kid?

What had given him all of these scars?

Ace sighed as he realized his questions would remain unanswered if he stayed in the room. Reluctantly, he released his death-grip on the kid's bed frame, standing up straight in spite of the pain that laced up and down his body. There wasn't a single part of him that wasn't hurting, aching, or sore, but he paid it no attention. He'd had a lot of experience ignoring pain because of the Old Geezer, so this effort was nothing.

He just had to pretend to be fine and hopefully he would be spared the lecture when he met with Pops.

The emptiness of the ship was a bit disconcerting. It put Ace on edge, even as he made his way up to where his Haki had noticed his Pops. He couldn't help but roll his eyes a little at the fact that his Captain was still sitting proudly above deck. It was in character, but given the circumstances, it was a bit amusing. He pushed the thought aside as he ambled through the empty hallway, doing his best to walk upright as though he wasn't in pain.

The commander could only assume that everyone was busy rearranging passengers and coordinating their retreat on the many small vessels they had escaped on haphazardly. He told himself that it had nothing to do with no one wanting to see him, but the doubt lingered.

By the time Ace made it onto the main deck, his lungs felt like they were being squeezed by his ribs as his knees throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He suddenly wished he had let himself be weak in the empty hallways beneath deck, but there was no going back now.

"Ace, my son. I'm glad to see that you're awake," his Pops and Captain smiled at him, genuinely relieved.

The commander did his best to keep a straight face, petulantly ignoring the way his own lips wobbled as he tried to press them into an unmoving, straight line.

His efforts were for naught as his vision blurred and hands shook. Tears spilled over his eyelashes against his will, but he didn't dare move a muscle. He wasn't sure if he was completely forgiven for all of his mistakes. He refused to be caught off-guard with rejection. Ace would expect the worst so that way he would never be disappointed again. He wouldn't let his heart be torn in two ever again.

But Whitebeard simply sat there, opening his arms wide, his expression only softening further. Ace was… tired. He didn't want to be worried and suspicious and guilty. Comforted by the large man's gentle smile, the pirate simply lost his will to hold himself back.

With a choked sob, Ace scrambled over to his Pops and threw himself into his father's waiting arms.