Hi everyone!
I hope everyone is doing well from your part of the world :) Thank you for all those who have left your lovely comments. I always appreciate the time you took to send me your words of encouragement or even just appreciation.
This chapter took me a lot longer than I had originally thought it would. I also didn't manage to include the parts I had intended for it since the chapter became much more drawn out than expected. Be warned, however, that this chapter isn't a very happy one. It's rather angsty and sad.
Regardless, hope you enjoy this chapter. Do leave a review if you can, okay! :)
Part V: The New World
By the seas, Ace wanted to go home.
The New World was full of raging and unpredictable storms, deadly enemies, and even deadlier waters. Not a day passed by where the Spade Pirates weren't pushing themselves to survive another night here. It was truly the stuff of dreams that the typical adventurer would long for.
Part of Ace thrived on the adrenaline rush. It made the blood in his veins pump harder, faster.
But it was also excruciatingly far from his little brother.
Ace couldn't help but count the months he'd need to travel back home. The deeper his crew sailed into the New World was another mark on the calendar. Another tug on his heavy heart.
Ace had originally planned to return to Paradise after the brief interlude with the Red Hair Pirates. While Fire Fist Ace was slowly gaining traction as a super rookie, the teen wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could keep his crew alive and happy with his strength alone.
He knew, deep inside, how weak he was. The worry that gnawed on his insides only deepened when he thought of how powerful the former Pirate King must have been to have shaken the world to its core.
The strength of his own weakness became more evident when Ace found he couldn't shake that look of disappointment on Shanks' face when he refused to follow in the Pirate King's footsteps. Shanks' esteem of him shouldn't matter. The Emperor only regarded Ace well because of Luffy. There was nothing about the fire-user that made him worthy of note to such a renowned pirate.
And yet, something heavy clenched at Ace's insides at the thought of…failing him? Disappointing him? The teen didn't even know the scale with which he was measuring himself.
That didn't stop him from instructing his crew to sail onward into the New World. To lift the gun and point it at his own head when he knew he couldn't survive the shot.
When he knew his crew couldn't survive the shot.
Ace turned to look at his chosen companions as they ran around the deck. Banshee had just thrown a sack of flour at Skull, consequently sending a spray of white onto their previously polished deck. Unsurprisingly, Mihar was already there to restrain Skull from tackling Banshee. Deuce was watching them as he leaned against the cabin door, the corners of his lips twitching as if amused by their antics.
A second later and the first mate's gaze shifted to look at Ace.
The tight feeling that had followed Ace since he left Shanks' circle of safety turned so heavy he almost buckled at the attention.
No matter how he tried to force a smile on his face, Ace couldn't bring himself to pretend.
Ace was sure he had just sentenced his crew to die.
Despite Ace's worries, the Spade Pirates' first forays into the New World went without a hitch.
They received challenges from other curious crews who had attempted to gauge their strength in battle. Even the Marines approached them more regularly with the singular focus to wipe them out before they could become a more formidable crew.
It wasn't uncommon for them to emerge victorious, often overcoming their challengers with an ease that ironically reinforced Ace's growing anxiety about the New World.
Ace couldn't put his finger on it, but something didn't feel right. It couldn't be this easy.
Even the weather seemed too good to be true.
Either Ace was much more powerful than he'd thought, or they were running on a streak of luck. Ace wasn't foolish enough to believe in the first. But the teen didn't want to know what would happen once that luck ran out.
While he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, his crew didn't seem to pick up on his moods. They only partied harder and celebrated their apparent show of strength in the seas known for its long history of infamies. Maybe Ace would knock them around a little once morning came about so they wouldn't get too complacent. A good amount of training was always healthy for any crew.
"Hey, Cap," Deuce greeted as he slid into the seat next to Ace. He near-slammed a glass of beer onto the table. Some liquid splashed over the side at the force of it and Ace grimaced as he patted at his yellow top. "Barkeep promised that a little bit of this is enough to take the edge of whatever's been bothering you."
Oh. So maybe Ace had been more transparent than he'd thought.
"Nothing's bothering me," he muttered automatically. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good with what I have," he said as he gestured at the orange juice he still clasped in his hand.
Deuce eyed the non-alcoholic drink with distaste. Then, in true First Mate fashion, he went straight for the kill. "Alright, what is this about, Ace?" he asked. "I haven't seen you touch a drink since we left Red Hair. And, trust me, you look ill just looking at it."
Ace rolled his eyes. "I'm not drinking, Deuce. It's not a big deal," he heard himself say. "I just prefer to be sober and not look and act like drunk idiots."
To be fair, it wasn't that Ace didn't like to drink. He just didn't know how.
He'd seen how pirates and marines alike drink their fill in taverns. A lot of the time they gulped down alcohol as if their lives depended on it. He'd seen some party hard, some cry hard, and some do things he never wanted to see. Ever.
Drinking was like a rite of passage that Ace just couldn't get on board with. That loss of control over his senses and his sense of self was beyond terrifying to the teen. What if someone attacked his crew and he was too out of his mind to protect them? What if they get hurt because their Captain was too busy trying to have fun?
Ace couldn't deal with that. He owed his crew too much for him to place his own desires over their safety.
When he did drink, he always made sure he stopped when he felt a "light buzz". It didn't take much for him to reach that stage too, given his own inexperience with drinking.
Deuce clearly didn't share his thoughts as he pushed the glass closer to his Captain. "Come on, Ace. Loosen up a little," he urged. "You've been tense and jumpy since we left Red Hair and none of us know why. Just for tonight, let go a little, won't you?"
Ace rubbed the back of his neck as he frowned. And he thought he had managed to hide it too. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm your Captain. It doesn't work that way."
"Doesn't make you any less of an idiot," Deuce retorted. "Just cause you're Cap'n doesn't mean we can't take care of you too. In fact, it only makes us want to even more."
The idea of his crew trying to protect him was somehow inconceivable. The Spade Pirates were steadfast in their loyalty and were strong for a rookie crew. But they were careless sometimes. They still fell over themselves when steering the ship and needed to defend each other when some crews proved too powerful for them to manage on their own. Ace himself played the rescuer role so often he already lost count.
But they were still his crew, so Ace decided to play along. "Right. And you'll take care of me by making me drink?"
Deuce suddenly smirked. He then just as abruptly shot forward to pull at Ace's cheeks. "If it means it puts that stupid smile on your face again, then yes." He laughed when the teen swiped at his hands in offense. "Come on, Cap. Do it for us?"
Ace threw his first mate a look of disdain, already feeling resigned. Deuce may not have known it then, but he had effectively left Ace with no other option.
He reached for the glass and downed it in one go.
(Deuce's look of approval wasn't enough, in the end.)
Ace had never been this drunk.
The world seemed to sway beneath his feet as he stumbled around…wherever he was. Deuce had been with him the entire time he'd been drinking. One drink had turned into two, into three, until Ace himself lost count as his crew trickled by to ply him with more alcohol.
Then, all of them had disappeared.
Ace wasn't sure if his addled mind was playing tricks on him or if he had walked out on them or if they had left him to his own devices.
By the seas, he couldn't think. If Ace learnt anything tonight, he was never going to drink again. Nothing about this was fun, what the hell. Why did people do this?
He wasn't even sure where he was, though he thought he had somehow ended up in the alley at the side of the tavern. He remembered passing it by earlier when the Spades first came by this part of town.
…right? Damn it, he couldn't even tell anymore.
The alley was dirty though, he thought, as he staggered against the side of the building. There was something grimy, something disgusting about being here. The air reeked of something foul.
It made Ace want to go back home. He wanted to crawl under the covers and wake up to a sunny smile and a hug and a nice, cozy breakfast next to the riverbank.
The hole inside him that the fire user sometimes pretended wasn't there seemed to stretch into an even wider abyss. It pulled at him relentlessly as if trying to cave him inwards into a full-blown collapse. His knees felt so weak. And his heart only uselessly stuttered.
Damn it. He missed home so much.
He missed his brothers so much.
What would Luffy think if he saw his older brother like this? Pathetic and needy in some forsaken alley in the New World?
Worse. How would Sabo feel if he'd known Ace would only amount to this? Sabo would have made his life more worthwhile than Ace ever could. He'd have worked to change the world. To destroy the pillars that upheld the World Nobles and to crumble their corrupted systems into dust. Sabo would have built a better world where even people like Ace would have had a chance to live a proper life.
Ace was so caught up in the chaos in his mind that he didn't notice he wasn't alone until an arm grabbed at his shoulder.
Instinct immediately kicked in and Ace pivoted to drive a flame-covered fist into the face of the unknown assailant. He gasped when the familiar warmth didn't answer his call, realising too late that the weakness in his body wasn't just because of the alcohol.
He caught a glimpse of an ugly smirk before he was lifted and thrown onto the ground. The back of his head hit the floor hard, and he moaned. His state of inebriation didn't help. It only made his brain throb in sharp, stabbing pulses.
Before Ace could do so much as roll over, a large palm grabbed at his head and slammed it into the ground again.
And again.
And again.
"Super rookie, aren't you? Looks like you weren't much after all," someone sneered above him.
Ace snarled. He desperately tried to summon his flames but couldn't find any purchase for the flames to answer his will. Agony suddenly pierced through his left shoulder, and he cried out in pain. He turned his head as much as he was able to with the other's grip on him. His heart stuttered when he caught the dagger that was currently embedded in his shoulder. No doubt the jackass had it specially made with sea stone to take on people like Ace.
That was all Ace needed to catch up.
This was a targeted attack, the fire user realised with sudden certainty. It briefly cleared the fog in his head. The guy knew Ace was going to be here. If he lost his battle, his crew was next.
"Maybe I'm not much," the teen forced out through gritted teeth. "But at least I pick fights with people who can fight back."
The man snorted. "No one in this part of the world are saints, Fire Fist. Only children are naïve enough to think otherwise. Then again, you are still a child."
Ace didn't waste any time to be offended. He tried to knee his assailant in his stomach but was rewarded with another slam into the ground. He then went for the guy's vital point in his neck as he forcefully ignored the pain in his head and shoulder. He just needed to be on his feet. He couldn't fight on his back like this.
Ace gasped as another shock of agony seared through him as his assailant plunged the knife deeper into the meat of his shoulder. The other guy took the opportunity to drag Ace's arms away and pin them above his head with one arm.
"Such a shame that the Marines get to have you," the man murmured. "You really are a little too…much to be a pirate. Too young, and too easy on the eyes."
What. The. Hell.
Disgust roiled through the teen when the man suddenly pressed his weight against his stomach and leaned forward to brush his free hand over the vulnerable curve of Ace's neck. He tried to focus on the assailant but could do no more than catch a glimpse of dark blue eyes and that same sinister smirk.
"Do you know what a pretty thing like you could fetch in the slave market, Fire Fist?" the man continued, seeming to delight at the growing alarm in the teen's features. "I'd break you in myself, but it seems you've built yourself connections in this part of the world. Even you're not worth the trouble of provoking that man."
Pirate hunter, Ace thought distractedly as he squirmed to get away. The man was too close to him. Too heavy on him. He could feel the guy's heat searing through the suddenly too-thin fabric of his clothes.
"Get off of me, you freak!" he snarled as he channelled all he had into shoving his attacker away from him. He'd rather die than lose his freedom that way. He'd put a bullet in his head and set himself on fire first before he'd ever live like that!
The man tumbled a little way away from him. "You couldn't have made this easy, could you?" he hissed. "I would have made it so easy, so good for you too."
The teen allowed a sneer to pull at his lips as he quickly stumbled to his feet. Already, the earlier burst of energy was draining away from him. Yeap. Never drinking again. "Bet you need easy with that ugly mug of yours."
The man's face turned uglier.
Ace readied himself. He could win this. He had been in too many battles where his opponent had the upper hand. A distant part of him was too aware of the sharp misery in his left shoulder, but he shoved the thought aside. He'd pull the knife out, but the teen wasn't confident he could manage the resulting blood loss in battle. His head too was still clouded from both the drink and the multiple close-ups with the ground.
It wouldn't matter if Ace lost this fight. He could easily flip the knife and aim for his heart instead. But, sometimes, Ace was all that stood between him and his crew.
Before the two could engage, a new voice suddenly rang through the narrow alley.
"What's this? More brats eager to be thrown into prison?"
Ace jerked back as he swivelled around at the voice. His grey eyes widened when he registered the new arrival – from the marine coat to the wrinkles on the man's aged features to the...
Shit. That voice had been chillingly familiar too.
Ace wasn't quite sure what it was that raced through his entire person as the Vice Admiral casually strolled into the alleyway, but he knew it was as close to panic as he'd ever admit to at seeing his grandfather again.
He wasn't the only one taking the Vice Admiral's appearance badly. Across from him, his assailant's features had paled into almost chalk white.
"S-sir! I wasn't doing a-anything! I was just around the corner, and I saw the pirate." He pointed at Ace almost accusingly. "I was going to bring him to the Marines, sir! F-for justice!"
Garp didn't respond to the spewed excuses. His gaze shifted and rested on Ace. The gaze was somehow powerful enough to pin the younger man to the spot. Try as he might, the teen couldn't read any emotion in the old man's eyes.
Ace opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. What was there to say? Garp was the only adult figure the teen had in his life. An adult figure who always beat the crap out of him in the name of training, but also the only adult figure who had tried to keep him safe.
All Garp had asked for was for Ace to become a marine. Ace had thrown that in his face and ran away to become a pirate.
Even the teen knew that Garp held no mercy for criminals who broke the law.
Hell, Garp was now legally obligated to arrest him.
(No matter what he did, Ace seemed to only hurt the people around him.)
Ace swallowed in a vain attempt to dispel the heaviness in his gut. Not even alcohol helped to soften the genuine ire in Garp's form as he stalked forward, his fists clenched by his side. It was nothing like the fond exasperation back home.
"Pirates," the marine was hissing. "I knew they were scum, but this" – he rolled his shoulders – "makes me want to catch them more."
Ace braced himself as Garp neared him and…passed him by.
What?
The teen's attention followed the marine as he went straight for the increasingly panicking man. Garp's fist shot and grabbed the latter by his throat. Ace wasn't sure if his eyes continued to betray him, but the old man's fist seemed to tremble, even as his grip tightened.
"Do you know what's worse than pirates? Slavers," he spat.
Oh. Ace was wrong. That unreadable look in Garp's eyes wasn't unreadable after all. That had been restrained rage.
The moment seemed to stretch into hours as Ace's assailant struggled in the marine's grip. He proved too weak to break free in the end as he finally went limp not a moment too soon.
Garp dropped the man, scoffing as he kicked at the unconscious figure with his foot, all the while muttering under his breath.
Ace knew he should take the opportunity and run as the old man called someone on his snail to come to collect some, in his words, "garbage." He imagined darting into the bar and corralling his crew back to the ship so they could hightail it out of this dumpsite.
That would be the smart thing to do. He was no longer family to the marine, after all. He had consciously discarded that when he left Dawn Island.
And yet, Ace found that his feet couldn't move.
The teen's heart started to pound when Garp shifted to face him. A deep feeling of fear mingled with anxiety churned into a chaotic mess of distress when he made eye contact with the marine.
"About time I caught up to you, brat," Garp said as he gave a shark-toothed grin.
Shit.
Despite what Ace always said, he didn't hate his grandfather.
At one point in his life, the old man had been the only shield that defended him from the world. The marine had plucked him out of his dead mother's arms, sailed with him to his own home island in East Blue, and done whatever he could to keep Ace alive.
All at the risk of his life and marine legacy.
Ace knew that Garp hadn't the heart to let a child die for his father's sins. His existence was proof enough.
But Ace also knew Garp had allowed hundreds more to be sacrificed in the name of justice.
He wasn't quite sure how to make sense of that. Ace's life was barely equal to another; his value was worth nothing when compared to countless others.
Whatever the teen felt, though, he made sure to keep it to himself as he walked in silence next to the marine, his own head bowed. He wasn't sure where the old man was guiding him. Hell, it could be his death place, for all he knew.
(At least, Ace thought Garp would make it quick. It wouldn't be a terrible way to die.)
In Garp's hands was the sea stone-embedded knife. Its edges still dripped with Ace's blood.
Garp led them to an unassuming building near the port. Ace didn't say a word as the marine walked in with the air of a man used to getting what he wanted. He no doubt knew the teen lacked both the energy and presence of mind to fight back.
Soon enough, Ace was standing in a small suite. His trained eyes scanned the room. He noted the small suitcase beside a large bed. There was a small living area, with an adjoining kitchen big enough for one, followed by a dining table pushed against the very edge of the room.
Garp shrugged off his coat and threw it carelessly over the back of the sofa. He grunted at Ace to sit next to him.
"Sit down, you brat," he grumbled. "I'd have arrested you long ago if I was going to."
"Must have mistaken you for another old, then. My bad," he tiredly shot back even as he complied.
Garp glared at him. "Surprised you made it this far with a mouth like that, Ace. Bet that scumbag earlier wasn't the first you ever encountered, was he?"
Ace shrugged – or he tried before a sharp pain stopped him in his tracks. Right. Stabbed in his shoulder. He pressed a palm against the wound, frowning when the move only prompted more red to seep through his fingers.
Ace jerked a rough hand pulled his own away. He turned to see Garp suddenly sitting right next to him. His face mirrored the frown on the teen's own.
He also belatedly noticed a first aid kit on the table.
"Sea stone weapons are commonplace in the New World," Garp muttered when Ace just stared at him, wide-eyed, as he started to disinfect the injury. "You can't always rely on your Devil Fruit. Didn't that stupid red-hair brat tell you that?"
Whoa. What?
"H-have you been following me?" Ace demanded.
Garp slapped on an antiseptic wound wipe onto the teen's shoulder. "Are you asking if I had been scouring the news for some mention of my runaway teenage grandson? The idiot brat who left the safety of East Blue to enter one of the most dangerous seas in the world at 17 years old?" Garp's voice turned harsher as he spoke. "Also, the same idiot brat who has never sailed in his life. No navigating experience or even a map of the seas he loudly claims to conquer. Just the shirt off his back and some supplies that by some miracles were enough for him to survive the seas until the next island. Are you asking if I have been following this idiot grandson because there's no way in hell the ungrateful brat is going to let me know he's still alive!"
Ace was rendered speechless. Any feeling of offense he had withered at the hard set of his grandfather's eyes.
The old man continued, "Did you even stop to think about what you're doing?"
Ace scowled despite himself. "I wasn't about to become a marine!"
Garp growled. "That's not the point," he snapped. "You could have died!"
Few things could stun Ace in rapid succession, but somehow the teen found himself gaping in surprise again. He had expected the old man to beat the crap out of him – or maybe drag him back to East Blue, where he'd be doubly supervised this time. Ace was even prepared to be arrested.
The marine didn't allow the lack of answer to deter him. "You could have died," he repeated wearily. "Never mind that I'd have to bury another grandson. How do you think Luffy would feel if his brother never came back?"
Ace straightened in offense. "What was the alternative, Gramps?" he snapped. "What was the alternative? Become a marine, get shackled for the rest of my shitty life? Is that it? Is that what you wanted for me?"
Garp jumped to his feet. "I wanted you to be safe!" he roared.
A familiar anger rushed through Ace as he imagined fire and dumpsite and the raging fear that coursed through his early childhood. Safety wasn't something Ace was intimately familiar with. He had never been safe since the moment he was conceived, and he brought that danger with him wherever he went.
Ace knew he was the problem, but it didn't feel that way as he glowered at the old man.
"Safe?" he repeated incredulously even as he tried to tamp down on the growing fury inside him. "I don't even know what that means! If you wanted to protect us, then where were you? Where were you when Bluejam came after us? Where were you when my brother died?!" His heart beat a mile a minute and he could feel the simmer of fire trickling beneath his skin. "Don't pretend you care now!" he shouted.
Ace wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but he thought he saw a flash of guilt cross the older man's eyes for a second before the latter narrowed his eyes dangerously at the teen.
"I wasn't the best grandpa, you idiot brat," he admitted. "I should have been there for you – all three of you. But that doesn't give you the excuse to run away like an idiot!"
"I don't need excuses," Ace scoffed. "I won't be imprisoned in East Blue and I sure as hell won't let you trap my brother and me with that stick you call justice!"
"Don't bring the Marines into this, brat! That's not why I'm here!"
"Don't bring them into this? Don't bring–" Ace cut himself off with a laugh of derision. He stalked forward to shove his finger at the old man's chest. "Those same marines you serve with," he hissed, his breath hitching with so much anger he trembled, "killed my mother. Do you still think they would welcome me with open arms if they knew my name?" Ace gestured at himself. "This is the only life I'm allowed to live. Hell, I'm not even allowed it and that's what makes me a criminal! So don't tell me the Marines have nothing to do with this." He waved around him carelessly. "If you really believed in your justice, I wouldn't be standing here, would I, Gramps?"
Everything about him was wrong, yes. But the Marines were worse than him.
Ace could never have lifted a finger to hurt a child. Not after Luffy.
He would never forgive the Marines for forcing his mother into making the ultimate sacrifice. Roger may have caused the hunt. But he didn't pull the trigger.
Garp stared at him for a long moment. His aged features suddenly looked haggard. "The Marines aren't perfect, boy," he said finally. "They've done many wrongs and still are. It doesn't mean they aren't capable of change. There's only so much an old man like me can do now."
Ace heard the unspoken words. You could have driven the change.
For one achingly horrible moment, Ace thought of himself donning the white and blue. He imagined aiming his gun at innocent civilians and he felt himself grow sick. "I'll never be part of the system that actively hunted down innocent people," he swore quietly. "I may be the devil's child but, as long as I have free will, I'll never choose to be one of you."
Garp turned red again, likely at the implication that the Marines were worse than scum. "And what do you hope to gain by being a pirate?" he demanded. His fists were clenched at his sides. "What purpose do you have?"
"I'll be free! I'll find the freedom I never had!"
"Freedom?" Garp scoffed. "As the Pirate King?"
"If that's what it takes, then yes, I'll be the Pirate King!"
The marine's features twisted into a look of contempt. "You think that would give you freedom, boy?" he shouted. "What do you think the world will see when you become the Pirate King? Do you think they'd see a man living in freedom?" He shook his head, his glare darkening, as he continued, "No! They'd see a boy following in his father's footsteps, Ace. You'd be no different from your father! Just another Pirate King come to take his place!"
The words hit Ace like a brick. He knew in his heart that Garp probably didn't mean it the way he heard it. But…by the seas, Garp was right, wasn't he?
Ace would never be more than his father's son.
He staggered back as his breath came in quick, sharp pants. Then, to his own surprise and like a dam cracked open, as if a torrent of emotion rushed at him, Ace could only cover his ears to protect himself from the fallout. "Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it! I'm not my father!" he cried out as he only had when Sabo had died. He backed away from the old man as his hands scrabbled instead to tear at the half-wrapped bandages around his shoulder. His fingers dug into the wound and Ace felt himself grow more hysterical. "I'm not my father! I'll be better than him. I'll be someone other than him! You can't stop me. You should have let me die if you thought otherwise. You shouldn't have saved me. You should have saved her! Not me! Not me!"
Ace wasn't sure when Garp had moved but the old man was suddenly standing close to him, his own eyes wide and huge. He looked almost afraid.
The chaos in Ace's head only worsened at that look and, before he knew it, he was raising his hand to punch at Garp's chest.
"You hypocritical jerk!" he screeched as he beat at the old man as hard as he could. Garp did nothing to stop him. "You can't claim to uphold justice and still let me live. I hate you! You let so many people die. You let her die! Then you let my brother die! Why? Why didn't you just let me die? Why?! Why! Why did you make me live like this? TELL ME!" Ace was half screaming and half sobbing by the end. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath.
It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that he was alive when it could have been anybody else. Just Ace breathing brought others suffering.
Even Garp suffered.
Maybe the old man had heard his silent thoughts for two large hands grabbed at Ace's own, stilling his weakening assault against the man.
Ace let out another sob when Garp pulled him into a rough embrace. "It's alright, my boy," Garp murmured as he patted clumsily at his hair. "It's alright. I'm sorry I said that. You're Ace and you're my boy. That's all that's important to me."
And the teen cried harder, feeling even more pathetic than he usually did. How sad did someone have to be for the Marine Hero to respond this way?
But not even the embarrassment and shame he knew would come could drag Ace away from his grandfather's arms.
Ace ended up falling asleep in his grandfather's arms.
He wasn't surprised in the least to find all traces of the marine gone from the hotel room by the time light filtered through the window blinds. Garp may have come to him as his grandfather, but his duty as a naval officer was never far behind.
If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought the previous night to be a nightmare. But that wouldn't explain how he woke up alone with the blanket pulled carefully to his shoulders. As if someone had taken care to keep him comfortable in his pain.
A lone tear slid down Ace's cheek. It still felt like he was drowning. In his rage and bitterness and guilt and everything else he couldn't name that crawled inside him.
It wasn't always this painful. But seeing his grandfather again had dragged his ugly feelings to the surface. The pounding headache – whether a remnant of his night of drinking or his tears, he wasn't sure – didn't help.
You'd be no different from your father! Just another Pirate King come to take his place!
And Garp was right, wasn't he?
The Marines were out of the question. Aiming for the pirates' crown was no longer an option either. And the idea of being another nameless pirate was no different from ending his existence prematurely.
Ace was left with no other path.
He felt his eyes begin to burn again. He should have known.
His punishment wasn't the promise of death when the world knew his name.
His punishment was the pain of living when the world knew him as nothing.
Before Sabo died, Ace had fancied himself a great pirate who served only himself. He'd have a loyal crew who'd follow his every whim and they would conquer all the seas as they sailed under their flag of freedom.
They wouldn't have to be afraid of anyone.
As Captain, Ace wouldn't have to bow to anyone. He'd be free till the end of his days.
When Sabo died, Ace couldn't see anything through the wetness in his eyes. The first thing he saw when he finally wiped them away was Luffy's own tear-streaked face as his brother held onto his chest, begging him not to leave him alone.
Ace wanted to collapse into himself and disappear into the ground, but for Luffy, he wanted to dry the boy's cheeks and see that sunny smile again. It was the first time the overwhelming grief clawing in his chest warred with his growing instinct to protect the rubber boy.
After Sabo died, Ace only saw Luffy.
His world revolved around his little brother's growth and happiness. Luffy's dreams were his dreams.
Ace continued to have a large appetite to ease the worry in the younger boy's eyes. He continued to train hard in the forest, so he'd have the power to protect the one brother he had left.
Beyond all else, Ace continued his pretense of a life.
It took all of Ace's strength to summon that same determination that had pushed him through his childhood to endure the weeks with his crew after that fateful meeting with his grandfather.
Just as he had in his younger years, the teen plastered a smile on his face and cheered his crew onward. He continued to stuff himself with food. He partied with them (though he never drank anymore) and trained with them and generally Captain-ed his crew of rowdy pirates.
It still wasn't enough to dispel the looks from his crew.
Ace would have snapped at them to cut the concern, but he knew they felt guilty about losing him that night. Unlike his initial suspicions, his crew hadn't abandoned him. They had only passed out from drinking and had only realised Ace's absence when they had woken up groggy the next morning.
Ace hadn't thought much of it, but he knew Deuce had taken it hard. The man had even fallen to his knees to plead for forgiveness when he'd seen something in the teen's demeanour that…had apparently concerned him deeply.
Ace didn't know what to do to make them stop. So, he pretended not to see them and hoped the crew would move on their own.
The teen himself still reeled from his loss of control around Garp's sudden visit. The pang of loss – though he wasn't sure why he felt such acute grief – haunted him. It made pretending for his crew more difficult than he'd thought.
Once, living enough to see Luffy fulfil his dreams was enough to fuel Ace's fire.
It wasn't enough anymore.
Ace needed something more. Something that was his and something to make his own wretched life somehow worth living.
Living was too painful otherwise. It was like an itch beneath his skin that threatened to eat him up from the inside. It felt as if his soul would fracture into unrecognisable pieces if he didn't start sewing himself back together.
There was only one problem. Ace didn't know what he needed.
The itch grew worse as he lived through the days. Each day felt like a day too long. Each hour, each second was another moment he forced down the scream trapped in his throat and on the edge of his tongue.
Not even his crew's increasingly worried looks were enough to calm the teen's inner turmoil.
Ace finally sneaked past his crew one night to escape their smothering concern. He ended up travelling through a small town not far from the port. It was a safe enough place to relax for the night, he thought. There weren't any big crews in the area and the locals seemed friendly.
It was a good night for Ace to try to quell the tumultuous emotions that had been raging through him the past two months. His crew deserved his best and Ace had not been at his best for too long.
Ace was walking around the town for the seventh time, his breaths evening out in slow inhales and exhales every four counts, when he picked up on a passing conversation. Looking back, Ace wouldn't be able to identify why he had stopped in his tracks. He only knew that his body had instinctively stilled to hear more from the locals smoking near the corner of the street.
"…did you hear he was in the area? Heard something happened on one of his islands and he came himself to look into it."
Someone whistled. "Whitebeard came to investigate himself? I heard he's a good Captain, but I didn't think an Emperor would do that."
"Someone as powerful as Whitebeard can do whatever he wants." A snort. "He's the strongest man in the world. Only the Pirate King rivalled him in strength."
"Do you think he'd be the next Pirate King?"
"I don't know, man. If he wanted to be Pirate King, don't you think he'd have found a way by now? It's been almost two decades since Gol D. Roger was executed."
"Damn. Whitebeard might as well be the next Pirate King. Not even the other Emperors dare to cross him. That's how powerful he is."
"Or someone might come along to defeat him," someone else offered to the conversation.
Another snort. "Whoever is crazy enough to take on Whitebeard is a dead man. Even if he's strong enough to take the strongest man in the world down, he'd have to deal with the crew. Everyone knows how protective the crew are of each other."
"There's no shortage of idiots in the world. But if there's someone who could take just Whitebeard down, never mind his crew, bet that person would be in a league of his own."
There was a brief bout of laughter. "Right. What's the point of fame if you wouldn't be alive to enjoy it?"
"Least the guy would be remembered," one of the locals shot back. "It's not a bad way to go."
"Not the worse way to go," another corrected. "Dying isn't a good thing, man."
The other local shrugged his shoulders. "Only if you're a good man."
Ace tried his best to remain inconspicuous, but the men soon took notice of his watchful gaze. Ace remained where he was as they warily excused themselves from the conversation. He knew from experience that leaving would only alarm them, so he looked away and pretended they weren't there. They were careful to keep an eye on him as they left, tension riding high on their shoulders.
The street was soon empty save for Ace.
And he continued to stand there long after they left. Their words echoed in his ears.
The strongest man in the world.
(Ace didn't know it then, but his life was set to change.)
That's all for now! I'm a little disappointed I didn't manage to write about the Whitebeards yet, but I wanted Ace to have a stronger motivation to pursue the Emperor so hard. Sometimes, it doesn't make sense how Ace continued to go after Whitebeard despite knowing the impossibility of overcoming the whole crew.
Also, I just couldn't seem to write properly this time. The words got stuck in my head and this is the best I could do. It doesn't flow as well, but hope you enjoy! I'm quite satisfied with how it turned out given the struggles I had with it LOL
As always, thank you for reading and do leave a review if you can! Till next time! :)
P.S. Any guesses who Ace's assailant had been referring to about Ace's connections?