Yes, some of the chapter titles are direct song references. No, you don't get bonus points for recognizing them, but I will give you a crisp high-five.

Chapter 10: Something Wicked

Ace opened his eyes. A glance at the window in his quarters confirmed that it was still the middle of the night. As far as he could hear, the ship was quiet, so he swung out of bed, tugged on his boots, and headed on silent feet up to the deck. Passing among the passed-out and snoring pirates scattered around the deck brought back memories of creeping past the sleeping tigers in the forest back before he, Sabo, and Luffy had been strong enough to take them on.

He had to scour from helm nearly to stern to find Teach, but as he'd hoped, the traitor was as out of it as the rest of them. His face was smeared with half the pie that was now growing cold next to him, his arm protectively encircling its tin.

Ace stood over him a moment. The sea was quiet, calm. The night air still. Teach was completely out of it. Everyone around him was dead to the world. Even the lookout in the crow's nest was audibly snoring.

A cloud passed in front of the moon and in its shadow the war inside waged itself openly on Ace's face—but when the shadow lifted, his mask was back in place.

He turned away, slipped back belowdecks, and headed for his division's wing. There were fewer pirates in the underbelly of the ship, but there weren't none; many had made a valiant effort to get back to their beds and hammocks before alcohol-fueled exhaustion claimed them.

One pirate whose name escaped Ace mumbled and shifted as Ace crept past. Ace froze, each heartbeat sounding like a drum to his own ears, but the pirate didn't wake.

Ace let out a breath and moved to keep going only for the pirate on the opposite side of the hallway to abruptly reach out and grab his ankle.

"I'm good fer'nother," he slurred. "C'mon, one more swig."

Ace held his breath, but though the man's muttering continued, his eyes remained closed.

Trying to break the man's hold proved fruitless, and if Ace tried any harder to shake him off, he'd wake up and this opportunity would be lost to him. He cast around for any other option and an empty mug nearby caught his eye. Sliding his other foot forward, Ace ignored the burning protests of his straining hamstrings and shoulders as he reached for it. His fingertips brushed the handle, nearly rocking it out of his reach. Teeth gritted, he pushed himself to reach that extra inch and secured the mug.

He was going to feel that tomorrow, he thought with a wince. Though empty, the mug still reeked of the beer that had once filled it.

When he set the mug on the drunk's chest, after a tense second, the man let go of his ankle and curled around the mug like it was a stuffed toy. Ace left him to it.

Teach's room was locked. Unusual on the Moby Dick, but not unheard of. Ace produced some picks from the blue pouch on his leg and got to work. He hadn't been raised by mountain bandits and robbed rich idiots of their literal treasure chests just to never pick up such a basic skill.

Slowly, carefully, he worked the pins one at a time until the last one went up and the tumbler turned. He opened it the rest of the way with the lever and then eased the door open, pocketing his picks on the way in. The hinges were well oiled and silent on their way back closed.

He'd never been in Teach's room before. Despite this whole plan, he hadn't spared a thought for what he was walking into. There were some vague notions of evil kicking around in his mind, but as he surveyed the space, he was struck by how bland it was. All of the furniture was standard, save for the desk chair and bedsheets, which were extravagant in their luxury. Impressions in the seat cushion spoke to how often Teach used it; tiny talon marks from messenger birds in the desk spoke to what he used it for.

That was hardly incriminating evidence. Even with den den mushi, birds were often cheaper and didn't rely on the other person having one of their own. There was, actually, a sleeping mini den den mushi in Teach's desk, complete with a few wires and metal pieces scattered in the drawer with it, but Ace knew at a glance the thing didn't have any real range. Hardly incriminating.

Finally, buried in the back of one of the other desk drawers, a book of devil fruits. Again, hardly incriminating; everyone was on some level fascinated with the damn things. Even if the page with the Yami Yami no Mi was noticeably more weathered than the rest, it wasn't like Teach had circled that fruit and written "I'm gonna kill Thatch for this" in the margin.

The only other unusual thing in the room was an old hook looped into a broken fishing line wrapped up on a nail in the wall. Unlike the sheets and chair, it was cheaply made. A memento from his past?

Checking the drawers revealed nothing but clothes, paper, and ink. The chest at the foot of his bed contained his treasure stash, which while rather underwhelming for a Whitebeard pirate, hardly pointed to anything nefarious. Teach could argue that his luxury goods were just that expensive or that he'd spent it on food, not on building clout in underground circles.

Ace leaned against the wall and scrubbed a hand over his face. This room was almost as bland as they came; he should've known Teach was too smart to just leave damning evidence out where any nosy bastard could find it.

Hoping otherwise, hoping that he could put a stop to Teach's plans long before they put anyone in danger, had been naïve.

He let his hand fall. "Dammit."

"Can you stretch both arms over your head?"

Ace complied with Tasuka's instruction. This was one of many stretches she was having him go through after a physical exam.

"Any pain?"

"None."

She checked off another box on her clipboard sheet. "One more. Can you twist from above your waist like this?" She demonstrated, rotating her shoulders almost ninety degrees from her hips.

Ace did that too, but he didn't make it nearly as far, and Tasuka noticed his frown.

"You have a lot of scar tissue in your abdomen now, and even if it's not causing any problems, it will impact your flexibility a bit. It's not dangerous unless you notice any pain or the reduction in movement gets worse."

"It didn't hurt," Ace clarified. "Just a little discomfort."

"Good." She drew breath to continue, but a loud growl from Ace's stomach pulled her up short. Ace went red and she pursed her lips to stifle a smile. "That's everything. Sorry to keep you so long past your usual breakfast time."

"It's fine, better to know I'm healed." And better to know he wouldn't need to spend time in the infirmary anymore. He hopped off the cot. "Anything I need to do going forward?"

"Make sure you keep stretching every morning and evening to keep that tissue from stiffening up. If that happens, there isn't too much we can do about it, though," she began tapping her pen, gaze no longer focused on the paper in front of her, "I wonder, if I mix…that could work, if it doesn't induce reactive paralysis—"

"I'll just keep stretching," he said quickly. "Thanks, Tas."

"You're welcome. Now scram; I have some allergy meds to put together for some idiots who got too drunk to think straight last night."

"What, no one's begging for a miracle hangover cure?"

"Strangely, my cures seem to be viewed as worse than the disease."

"Weird."

Now that the poking and prodding was over with, Ace moseyed his way up to the mess hall. He was showing up more than an hour after he usually did, but there was still more than enough food available to tide him over until lunch. Maybe it was a side effect of the sickness plaguing the ship; the mess hall was shockingly quiet and just as empty. Ace counted thirty-odd pirates in a space that could hold hundreds, and the vast majority of those pirates were looking at their food with what could best be described as trepidation.

He ended up at a table next to a hole in the wall temporarily covered with a tarp. There was a story there, but he didn't get to think too much about it before Thatch dropped into the seat across from him.

"Ace! And here I thought you'd gone and slept in like everyone else."

Judging by the dark circles under Thatch's eyes—marks of exhaustion echoed on the face of every cook Ace had seen during his journey for food—Thatch was the one who needed that rest the most.

"I got plenty of sleep," he lied between bites. "Did you stay up all night? This place got turned around pretty quickly."

There were still decorations on the ceiling, but everything else, including all the spilled beer and food, had been cleaned up or packed away. More than half the tables had been returned to their proper places.

Thatch waved a hand. "Cleaning up is the easy part, believe me. I'll be fine. What about you? Marco was looking for you earlier and couldn't track you down in your room or here. The poor bird almost looked worried."

"I had a checkup with Tasuka."

"Oh? And what's the word on your health?"

He grinned. "Fully recovered."

"Yes!" Thatch crowed, pumping a fist in the air. "I mean," he cleared his throat, assuming a very transparent façade of wisdom, "obviously we knew."

"Obviously." Most likely, that congratulations the previous night had been approved by the nurses with Ace's follow-up as one last confirmation. "What did Marco want?"

"He didn't say. You can try his office, I don't think he's going anywhere today." Someone in the kitchen called for Thatch, who responded with a wave. "Yeah, on my way! I'll leave you to your meal. Check in with me later, though—there's a searing technique I can't quite nail down, and your flame control will make testing much easier."

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll let you eat the failures."

"Deal," Ace said with a cocky grin like this wasn't a routine they'd repeated a hundred times.

Leaving Thatch to his work, Ace meandered down to Marco's office while enjoying the comfortable sensation of a full stomach.

"Marco?" He knocked on the door again. "Thatch said you were looking for me."

"Come in-yoi."

Ace opened the door to the familiar sight of Marco going through stacks of paper at his desk. He set his current task aside when Ace walked in and gestured for Ace to close the door. Ace did so with a raised eyebrow. Was this going to take a while?

A thrill of fear shot up his spine when Marco leaned forward to speak with a serious look on his face. Had someone reported him for sneaking into Teach's quarters?

"I've assigned some members of your division to a scouting mission in the North Blue," Marco said, and Ace's fear was replaced with confusion. "We've picked up on a handful of rumors that a group there might be looking to ally with an emperor. It bears investigation."

"You sent them without talking to me?" In theory, as the de facto first mate, Marco had the authority to assign members from other divisions. It just wasn't often done and in this case it stung a bit. Did Marco think he wasn't competent enough to triage missions on his own anymore? He was healed!

"There's a large storm expected to hit us shortly," Marco explained. "Given that these rumors could be time-sensitive, it was best to get the team out immediately-yoi. It's not reflecting on you as a leader, Ace."

That was an explanation all right, but it still rankled Ace's pride. He tried to hide that discontent. "Who's on the team?"

Marco pulled out a different sheet of paper and held it out. "This is the dispatch." Ace took it, looked over the details. "It should have everyone, but I know I assigned Johan, Thern, and Teach—"

Ace saw the name in the same instant Marco said it and did a poor job of hiding the tension that shot through him, leaving him feeling like a bowstring that had been abandoned halfway drawn.

"Something the matter?" Marco asked, and Ace did not like that tone to his voice. Marco knew something.

"No," he lied, handing the paper back. "They're a good team."

A good team that was going to be gone basically until the raid that would unearth the Yami Yami no Mi. He couldn't chase after Teach, not without inviting even more suspicion. The traitor was out of his reach.

"Thanks for letting me know."

"Of course."

Marco's knowing gaze followed him out until the closing door cut it off.