Chapter 6: Flare-Up

He didn't have his hat with him, so as he leaned against the railing of Vista's ship, the ocean breeze tousled his hair. The spiteful gusts wouldn't pick a direction or an intensity, forcing the ship's crew to make constant adjustments to maintain their course, and he had to squint against the spray kicked up each time the bow cut through an oncoming wave.

Vista had pulled together a small crew of five members from his division in addition to himself. More than enough for a simple scouting mission; he had a Den Den Mushi on hand to call for backup if they encountered anything serious.

As the resident tagalong, Ace was staying out of the way. He was also trying to hide how cold he was. The bracelet sealed his devil fruit's powers, including its passive effect of always keeping him comfortably warm. On the open water, shirtless, and hit with spray, he was shivering.

But he was away from Teach, and that was all that mattered. He would bear some discomfort if it meant more time to get a handle on himself.

He needed it.

"You look cold," Vista noted as he walked over.

"I am cold," admitted Ace. "It's either that or I risk setting the ship on fire."

Vista regarded him for a moment before he turned towards the man working the sail. "Rinji, can you lend your jacket to Commander Ace for the trip?"

"Eh?" Rinji, who was probably in his late thirties with curly blond hair, sun-bronzed skin, and missing front teeth, peered down at them. His green, pocket-studded coat, currently unzipped, flapped in the wind. "Yeah, no problem. I was actually starting to work up a sweat."

He shrugged it off and dropped it down to Vista, who handed it to Ace.

It was really that simple. So much for "freeze or burn the ship."

For a second, though, he hesitated. Putting on the jacket would cover up Whitebeard's mark—and then his brain kicked in. The mark was already ruined. So with a quiet thanks, he slipped it on.

Drawing comfort from the new warmth, he turned his gaze to the water. There wasn't any sign of their destination yet, but he'd overheard the navigator saying they were only an hour or so away. "What's your plan, anyway?"

"It's not complicated. If we make it to the island without trouble, we'll do a wide circle to make sure no one unwelcome has taken up residence in its waters. Then I will do a sweep of the town while Rinji and the rest make sure no spy-types can sneak away." He absently brushed a hand along his mustache, coming up a bit short when he remembered that it wasn't what it used to be. "Which would you prefer?"

Strolling through town with Vista in search of a fight or staying back on the boat as an unnecessary set of extra eyes. Ace chewed his lip, turning his gaze to the waves. Leaning here, the pain in his chest was negligible, but a pervasive sense of weakness kept him from trusting his limbs completely. If a fight broke out, he'd be worse than useless. He'd be a hindrance.

But staying on the boat didn't sit right with him either. He was a commander, for fuck's sake. The least he could do to pay Vista back for letting him join was provide some company.

"If I may make a suggestion," Vista said, drawing Ace's eyes back to him. He gestured to Ace's wrist. "I understand why you're worried about a second time, but that sea stone can't be doing you good. I may not have a devil fruit, but from what I've heard, that stone saps your strength. Now, I'm no doctor either, but I suspect that it might be interfering with your recovery."

Feeling rather stupid, Ace raised that arm and stared at the innocuous stone bracelet. "I didn't even think about that."

"Do you have a key with you?"

"Yeah." He rummaged in his blue pouch but hesitated to put the key in the lock.

"If anything happens, I will be at your side," Vista said.

That was what he needed to hear. "Thank you."

He took a deep breath. Even with Vista right there, he still needed a moment to make absolutely sure he wasn't calling on his powers without realizing it. Apparently, that was something he needed to do now. He also braced himself for more echoes of Marineford, but with the salty ocean thick in the air, none came.

The key slid in and turned with a click. The bracelet popped open, and Ace handed both the key and the bracelet over to Vista, who looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

The very instant the bracelet left his grasp, new strength flooded Ace's veins. He marveled at the feeling. He'd been walking around with a ball and chain on each leg and hadn't even realized what its true source was. His healing wounds still hurt, but that constant, low-grade ache throughout his body was gone.

Blinking, he looked down at himself. No fire. He turned his hands over and flexed his fingers. "You were right."

Vista grinned. He almost looked like he was going to slap Ace on the back but settled for a quick shoulder squeeze instead. "Then we shall look through the town together."

Even with their small craft's considerable speed, it took another hour and ten minutes for them to reach Toraburu island. Unlike other islands in the New World, it didn't have an imposing presence. If anything, it was out of place: though there were hills on its north side and a freshwater spring at its center, its overall geography was mundane. Maybe that was why it had been so quick to become a New World haven; it was one of the few islands around that could be approached and explored safely, particularly because it fell under Whitebeard's protection.

That said, it wasn't very big, and the port town on it could only grow so large without stepping on the toes of the other settlements. All of the inlanders wanted nothing to do with the dregs that washed in from the sea. Ace got a decent look at all of it—shores and interior—while their ship did its patrol circuit.

"Doesn't look to be any trouble here," Vista noted.

"Probably scared off by Pop's flag."

"Hm." Vista stroked his mustache. "I'd like things to be that simple, but that flag can attract as many fools as it scares away. They just tend to be targeting us, not the island residents."

Ace frowned at the approaching dock. "Do you think someone infiltrated the island to lie in wait?"

"Merely a precaution. It will be our job to find out whether it's warranted."

Dock agents met them the moment they stepped foot off their ship. With Whitebeard's flag hanging from their mast, to not do so would've been a glaring oversight. Vista handled the formalities while Ace scanned the people milling around. There were several merchant ships rocking on the water nearby and three massive passenger vessels probably stopping en route to a different island. There was also an unmarked ship far on one end, but it didn't have any activity going on around it.

"Listen," Vista's exasperated voice pulled Ace back to his immediate surroundings, "I'm quite finished entertaining your idea that we're impostors. We are Whitebeard Pirates. Find our bounty posters if you're so convinced otherwise but stop making it our responsibility to prove ourselves."

The dock authority at the head of the pack gawked as Vista walked right by him. The other agents parted before him. Ace favored them with a pretend tip of his missing hat while he followed in Vista's footsteps.

As they began their perusal of the port town Mina, Ace fell into stride next to his fellow commander. This was a shopping hub all right: stall vendors crowded every inch of the street that wasn't claimed by a brick-and-mortar shop. Store windows competed with each other to have the most eye-catching display. Crowds of people flowed through the streets to sample some of the finest merchandise that the New World had to offer.

"You're still wearing Rinji's coat."

Ace's lips thinned. He'd half-hoped Vista wouldn't notice and so settled on a half-truth. "We don't need people knowing I'm injured. We're supposed to be looking for trouble, not the other way around."

"A fair point."

He'd stopped wearing a shirt to show off Whitebeard's mark. Now that mark was destroyed because of his own stupidity. He couldn't stand to look at it himself, much less reveal it to the world.

One merchant who had caught his eye at the start—his wares were noticeably lower-quality than everything else on the street—now earned more of Ace's attention. His stall was tucked behind several others, practically crammed into an alleyway instead of on the street. Even so, he'd been in conversation with his one customer for as long as Ace had been able to see him—at least twenty seconds. That conversation finally ended as Ace and Vista drew level with that stall, and Ace saw money change hands for one of the shirts on display.

It was far, far more money than the shirt was worth, but the customer seemed well aware of that; Ace watched her toss the shirt onto someone else's stall the moment she was back on the street. He narrowed his eyes.

"Give me a second," he said, breaking away from Vista.

As he'd suspected, the merchant was actually an information broker. He was cagey when Ace approached, and though he didn't seem to recognize Ace as a wanted pirate, he was suspicious nonetheless.

"Apologies, but I don't think any of my goods will suit your tastes."

Ace roped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close before he could retreat. The merchant went rigid. "Don't be like that," Ace chided, gesturing at one of the gaudy hats on the lower shelf. "I think you're selling exactly what I want." That hand then went into his right shorts pocket and produced a healthy stack of beri.

He could be intimidated all he liked, but the merchant couldn't turn away money like that. It was nearly double what the last customer had offered. After a beat of surprised silence, the merchant pocketed the cash and told Ace everything he wanted to know.

When Ace returned to Vista, he did so with a satisfied smile despite now having zero pocket change.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing much. Just that a local restaurant—the Spiked Hatchet—is a gathering spot for a certain group that's been spreading all kinds of rumors about Whitebeard. I think it's time someone set them straight."

Vista mirrored his smile. "Lead the way."

The Spiked Hatchet was an unsavory sort of place buried behind the glossy sheen of the stores doing their utmost to separate travelers from their money. Unlike those establishments, the Spiked Hatchet made no pretenses about what it was. Its paint job was unsavory, its clientele was unsavory, even its food and drink were unsavory. The place's only redeeming quality was that no one smart talked about what went on inside, outside.

In all, it was the perfect haven for every pirate that had to stop in Mina, so when Ace and Vista stepped into its dilapidated wooden interior, the tension in the air grew thick enough to feel. The patrons already there turned hostile glares on the new arrivals as, like candles blowing out, every conversation died.

That was fine. Ace was used to places going silent when he walked in. He strolled up to the bar and sat at an open stool. Vista, meanwhile, stayed in the back—an implied threat to anyone who was thinking about leaving. Given that Ace was without his hat and had his tattoo covered, Vista was the only one attracting second glances.

Ace ordered a drink from the surly bartender while casting a subtle look over to the mountain of a man he assumed was the bouncer. He wasn't a giant and Whitebeard would dwarf him sitting down, but the man easily equaled Vista in size and had the muscles to match.

"Whitebeard's boys, eh?" A nearby man said. He was nursing his own drink, shooting Ace a difficult-to-interpret sideways look all the while.

"What gave it away?" Ace replied with a good-natured grin. The old man didn't seem to be picking a fight.

"What didn't," the old man grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"This island is our territory."

The man looked unamused by Ace's flippant response. "I didn't ask a question to bandy words, boy."

Ace bristled at the "boy" comment but kept his smile in place, though his tone took on an edge. "Shame, because that's why I'm here. I've heard some rather disturbing rumors. Not the kind that a Whitebeard Pirate like myself is fond of hearing."

The man scoffed, looking into his drink with such intensity that Ace wondered what was in it. "Foolish. You shouldn't travel places on rumor alone."

"Would you know, sir?" If the man was so willing to talk, then he probably knew something. Ace decided to go the polite route to see if he could get more information that way. The man snorted at the word, looking amused more than anything.

"Sir," he repeated lowly. "Haven't been called that in a long time, especially not by a brat like yourself." The man fell silent, but Ace just waited, knowing he was going to continue. After he took a long sip of his drink, he did.

"Do you know about Laugh Tale, boy?"

"Of course," Ace said instantly. He realized a moment later that the man wanted a better answer than that. "It's the island at the end of the New World where One Piece is supposedly hidden."

The man looked almost curious. "Is that all it is to you?"

Though they were rapidly approaching Ace's limits on casual conversation, Ace decided to humor the man. "No." He didn't intend to go into any more detail, and the man seemed to be able to tell that much from Ace's closed expression.

And then, to Ace's surprise, the man laughed, his surly attitude melting away.

"Well, then, I won't stand in your way. I'm just a relic, after all." He looked wistfully at the drink in his hand, his mind far away. "A disgraced captain with no crew and no ship. Making a living in a shit port town like this…ha. Ha! If I could see myself now, I think I'd die."

"What?" Ace wasn't sure whether the old man was talking to him or not. That confusion vanished when the man pinned him with a hard stare.

"Let me tell you this, young man." It was a step up from boy. A small one, but a step nonetheless. "Don't get stuck in one place. Things change. People change. Sometimes it's better to let things go than watch them slip through your fingers."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ace said, managing to keep the confusion out of his voice.

"I'll help you," the man continued, "if only because you've got more spark than any of the wannabe pirates that have come through here before. I like your fire. It burns hot."

Did he know who Ace actually was? "Uh…thanks?"

The man continued as though Ace had never spoken. "The men you're probably looking for are the Blue Cross pirates. They showed up here about a year ago and haven't left since. They've been spreading doubt about Whitebeard's power since day one. I may be old, but I'm not blind. They want us to reject Whitebeard's protection." He finished the last of his drink and stood, leaving some money on the counter. He had a strange expression on his face. "Hasn't worked, of course, because people enjoy safety. Nice to see you finally stepping in. They're too comfortable here; tried to run me out of town once."

Ace raised an eyebrow. "How'd that go?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" He sighed. "I can see where this is going. If your friend in the back will let me go, I think I'd rather avoid getting caught up in it."

"That's only fair for what you've told me." Ace raised a hand to get Vista's attention. Vista nodded and let the man pass, then resumed his post. "Now then," he turned his gaze to the bartender, who stiffened as he was reaching for the old man's empty glass. "That's a very distinctive tattoo you've got on your wrist."

He yanked his hand away, but that moment of his sleeve pulling back had been more than enough.

"I'm no expert," Ace went on, "but that's a pretty odd shape for a jolly roger." He paused to take a sip of his beer. In the silence, every shifting chair was deafening. "Actually, it looks more like a repurposed marine tattoo to me. What, did you guys run out of people willing to do this who didn't have your logo stamped on their skin?"

The bartender scowled. "You—"

Ace cut him off with a cold glare. "No self-respecting pirate would settle in one place just to undercut another. This is the part where you run."

Instead of running—not that Ace had expected him to—the bartender wound up for a wild haymaker. He got Ace's mug of beer to the face for that, and in the same moment that he reeled, clutching his nose while beer spilled all over, Ace kicked his stool back into the three guys charging him. As he turned to face the roiling bar, Ace noted Vista dealing swiftly with his own horde by the door.

All but four of the patrons were Blue Cross members. While the innocent ones scrambled to get out of the way, the undercover marines charged. As the armed one, Vista attracted the majority of them, but six in addition to the ones he'd bowled over with the stool turned their eyes to Ace.

Though his core was trembling, Ace gestured for them to try their luck. He had his devil fruit; even weakened, he could handle some overconfident marines.

And then the bartender stabbed him through the back.

Ace started the fight with perfect confidence, so Vista wasn't worried about leaving him to his own devices. He wasn't sure what Ace had said to get the bar up in arms, but clearly, the men throwing themselves onto his swords were their enemies. He could get the whole picture from Ace later—or so he thought.

He caught only a glimpse through the bodies around him: Ace, wobbly—though still cocky—smirk on his face, taunting the men charging him. Movement behind him. A knife emerging from his chest, followed by the fist wrapped around its handle, all of it wreathed in flames.

Ace's smirk dropped away. His hands came up to the knife only to stop before touching it. His fingers trembled. His eyes lost focus.

Vista cut down a man trying to tackle him and parried another carrying a sword, but his attention remained on Ace. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Vista's neck, and on his next breath, he realized just how warm the air had become.

"Ace!" he called.

Fire licked at Ace's shoulders and then raced down his legs and arms. He didn't react to Vista's voice at all.

"Ace!" Vista shoulder-checked the nearest attacker and forced his way through the rest, heedless of the weapons scraping over his rushed haki.

He wasn't fast enough. What were individual tongues of flame burst into an inferno that blew back everyone nearby. Vista braced himself against it and was still pushed back a foot. He raised an arm and squinted against the light. Ace's fire was growing by the second, a hurricane of blistering heat. Vista didn't bother calling out again; his words would just be lost in the roaring storm. All of the other people in the bar had fled.

He gritted his teeth. This was his doing. Despite Ace's clear reluctance, Vista had convinced him to remove the bracelet and even encouraged him to come into town when he was very obviously not recovered. He had been far too quick to make everything seem like it was normal when he should've been mindful of his brother's condition.

So, since it was his fault, it was his responsibility. He battled his way through the flames one step at a time, his haki the only thing between him and agony. This was no hurricane; it lacked an eye, and the closer Vista got to its source, the wilder the inferno became. Still, he kept going, scorched floorboards threatening to crumble with every step.

At the center of it all, Ace was barely corporeal. His body was a flickering outline threatening to get lost in the flames. He was on his knees, hands on his head, mouth open in a silent scream as his powers raged beyond his control.

His form was just solid enough for Vista to get the bracelet around his wrist. The instant the sea stone made contact, every bit of fire in the bar blinked out. The flames nearest to Ace rushed back to his body and faded. Were Vista not still holding his wrist, Ace, unconscious, would've collapsed completely.

The silence was deafening.