The island was quiet, the days stretching into months with the looming presence of Siren's pregnancy. The warmth of the sun seemed to settle differently on the land, as if nature itself had shifted alongside the tragedy of Marineford. There was still a lingering sense of unease in the air, but life went on.

Boa Hancock, who had once been so terrified of Siren's power, now found herself drawn more closely to the group. Her heart softened toward Siren, especially now that Luffy was awake and back to his usual self. The days she spent avoiding Siren's intense aura were long behind her, replaced with a deep sense of camaraderie.

Siren's bond with Luffy, Marco, and even Law had grown stronger in the months after the tsunami. Despite the devastation they all had endured, Siren's role had shifted from a fierce protector to a more vulnerable figure as she neared her due date. The heavy weight of carrying Ace's child—and the emotional toll it had taken on her—was not lost on anyone, and they all understood that the time for words had passed. Now, it was all about actions. Touch, care, support.

...

As Siren's belly grew round and full, Marco and Luffy would often find themselves sitting by her, discussing the baby and its future. It was a tender and intimate time, a moment where the grief of loss melded with the promise of new life.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, Marco and Luffy sat together, both glancing at Siren, who was resting peacefully with her hands over her belly.

"What do you think?" Marco asked softly, his eyes on Luffy. "Do you think we should name the baby Gol D. Spade or Portgas D. Spade... after Ace, or…?"

Luffy's eyes were fixed on Siren's belly, his brows furrowed as he considered the question. He had thought long and hard about it. Gol D. Spade, after Ace, would honor their brother's memory, but there was something about it that felt… too heavy.

"I think it should be Portgas," Luffy finally said, breaking the silence. "It's Ace's name. But, you know... I don't know if it's my place to decide. I don't think I can make that decision for you."

Siren, who had been silent up until then, shifted slightly, her hand resting lightly on her belly. She didn't speak, but the emotion radiating from her was enough. She felt Ace's soul inside her, a soft, comforting presence that swirled around her heart. Ace wasn't just the father of the baby. He was, somehow, still with them—always.

As Siren closed her eyes, she reached out with her senses, feeling the pull of Ace's spirit. She didn't need to say anything. His presence, warm and ever-present, spoke to them all. The choice was made.

Without a word, she gently whispered, "Portgas D. Spade..."

Marco and Luffy exchanged looks, both knowing in that moment that it was the right decision. Ace had made his mark on their lives, and now it would live on in their child. It was Ace's choice, through Siren's bond with him, and it felt like a deep reassurance.

...

Luffy's feelings toward Siren were not something he could easily explain. He was still Luffy—reckless, loud, and mostly unconcerned with deep emotional introspection. But something had shifted since Ace's death. His life had been marked by loss, but this time, it was different. Siren's presence had become an anchor for him, one he didn't fully understand.

She wasn't like the others. Siren didn't demand anything from him, didn't look to him to fill the gaps in her life the way others did. There was something comforting in that silence between them. And in the moments where she would smile at him, or simply rest her hand on his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel something stir in his chest.

Luffy often found himself by Siren's side, more often than not, as she would go about her day—meditating by the shoreline, practicing her connection to the Voice of All Things, or simply lying in the grass, feeling the baby kick beneath her hand. He would sit nearby, offering her silence, his presence an unspoken promise of safety.

There was a comfort in their routine—Luffy's unspoken care and Siren's gentle strength. They didn't talk much, but when they did, it was like something deeper was shared between them. Siren's eyes, calm and open, would often turn toward him in a way that made Luffy wonder what she was thinking. But Siren didn't need to say anything. She never had to. Luffy had grown accustomed to her quiet strength, the way she would sometimes rest her hand on his arm, offering her silent reassurance.

Luffy couldn't explain why he always felt the need to protect Siren. She was strong, probably stronger than anyone he knew. But whenever she looked at him, or whenever she needed something, he felt a deep need to be there for her. It wasn't like with his crew—where it was just about adventures and fun. This was different. He didn't know what it was yet, but something in his chest told him it was important. And maybe, just maybe, this feeling wasn't something he was supposed to ignore.

He didn't have the words for it, and that frustrated him. He could feel his chest tightening whenever Siren laughed or when she touched him. She would always smile softly, like she knew how he felt, but didn't expect anything from him in return. That was what made it so difficult—how she made him feel without asking for anything.

But what did it mean? Luffy shook his head, trying to push the thought away. He wasn't supposed to think like this. He had to focus on what was important: protecting Siren and the baby. He'd promised.

Marco:

Marco could see it. He was no fool.

He had always known that Luffy was a different kind of person. But with Siren, there was something else—something deeper that even Luffy didn't fully understand yet. Marco's bond with Siren had always been the most natural. They had grown up together, faced death together, and loved each other fiercely. But there was no denying that something was blossoming between Luffy and Siren, something Marco could see when they would exchange glances or when Luffy would protect her, in his own brash, Luffy way.

Marco had always been protective of Siren, and he still was. But there was a part of him—some small, irrational part—that felt a twinge of possessiveness when Luffy was around her. Not because he feared Luffy, but because he understood the weight of what their bond could mean. It wasn't just about friendship anymore. It was something more complex, something that neither Siren nor Luffy had quite put into words.

When Luffy would spend time near Siren, Marco would often stay a little further away, pretending to focus on something else, but always keeping an eye on them. It wasn't jealousy—he trusted Luffy more than anyone—but there was a protective instinct that Marco could never ignore, one that had only deepened since the baby had come into the picture.

Yet, Marco wasn't blind to Luffy's actions. He could see the way Luffy tried to protect Siren without being told, the way he adjusted his actions to accommodate her, making sure she was comfortable, and the quiet way he always watched over her. Marco had his own ways of showing care, of being there for Siren when she needed him. But Luffy's presence had an energy that was different. Marco knew it was only a matter of time before that energy manifested into something more. And he was okay with it.

After all, this wasn't a competition. It was just love—however it might evolve.

...

It came suddenly, in the middle of the night. The moon shone bright above, casting a soft glow on the room where Siren lay, her breaths shallow and fast. Marco was by her side, his face a mixture of concern and calm determination, his hand gripping hers tightly.

Law had arrived at the scene early, having prepared everything for the birth. He had been busy with other medical tasks, but he refused to leave Siren's side during this time. Boa Hancock, too, had insisted on being present, not only out of respect for Siren but because she had grown to care deeply for the group. The moment she had heard of Siren's labor, she had made her way to the room without a second thought.

Siren's face was taut with pain, but even through the agony, there was something serene about her. She didn't panic. She didn't scream. She breathed steadily, her eyes meeting Marco's and then drifting to Luffy, who was standing quietly at her side.

"Siren, you're doing great," Marco said gently, brushing the hair from her forehead. He kept his voice calm, though the tremor in his hand betrayed his own nerves.

"I'm here, Siren," Luffy added, his usual carefree voice laced with an unusual seriousness. He knelt beside her, reaching for her hand. "We're all here."

Siren closed her eyes, nodding silently. Her grip tightened on Luffy's hand as the pain intensified. She was focused. Her mind reached out, searching for Ace's presence—feeling him beside her, his energy and warmth always near, giving her strength.

The room was filled with a quiet, focused energy. Law worked swiftly, as always, but there was no denying the emotion that lingered in the air. Boa Hancock, though typically aloof and stoic, had a soft expression as she watched Siren labor. She was amazed by the strength of the woman in front of her—how she bore this pain not with fear but with courage.

Hours passed. It was not easy, but Siren never faltered. Marco and Luffy stayed beside her, each offering silent encouragement through their touch, their presence. The baby was coming. Slowly. Steadily.

And then, with one final, intense push, Siren gave birth. Her body trembled from the effort, but as the baby's cries filled the room, Siren felt a peace wash over her. The child she had carried for months was finally in her arms. She could feel Ace's spirit still with them, watching over the child.

Law stepped back, wiping his brow and nodding with approval. "You did great, Siren. He's healthy."

Luffy, usually so impulsive and loud, was silent, his eyes wide as he looked at the baby in Siren's arms. The baby's cries had quieted, replaced by the soft sound of sucking as Siren nursed.

Marco stood by, placing a hand gently on Siren's shoulder. "He's perfect. Just like we knew he would be."

Siren smiled faintly, her heart swelling with love as she gazed at her child. "Ace's legacy lives on... Portgas D. Spade," she whispered softly. "And he's going to be so loved."

Luffy leaned in closer, looking at the baby. "I'll protect him. I promise," he said, his voice quieter than it had been in days, a promise that was as much for himself as it was for the child.

In that moment, it felt as if the world had shifted. The loss of Ace still loomed, but there was hope. There was a future. The baby, Ace's child, would carry his spirit forward.

And as Siren held her son, she felt Ace's presence wrap around them, his love still alive in their hearts.

...