Chapter 12: What Must Be

May 18th

At the sound of the eighth gunshot, the News Coo who'd been trying to ply Ace with the latest paper flew away for good with an assault of annoyed squawks. Ace winced and called after it with an apology, but he knew it'd be pointless. They wouldn't deliver to him for weeks.

Izo lowered his pistol. "Being distracted is all too common in battle."

Ace sighed and glanced down at the flaming hole in his thigh. It closed up a second later. "Yeah. I know." He reset his feet on the Moby Dick's railing. "Let's go again, I'll get it this time."

"Remember: it's not about what is. It's about using what is to see what will be."

"Right."

Izo raised his pistol and Ace exhaled slowly. He stretched out his haki, taking in the wood creaking under his feet, the shifting planks of the deck, the tens of people above and belowdecks that were all within range. He observed Izo most of all, his breathing, his heartbeat, the way his eyes shifted and his muscles tensed. The angle of his gun. If he fired now, the bullet would—

The bullet went straight through Ace's forehead. He groaned and bent over with his hands on his knees. The effort of stretching out his observation haki so much over the course of this training session had left him sweaty and suffering a headache. What did he have to show for it? Telling Izo that there was a fraying seam in his left sleeve.

"I would've dodged it if I wasn't so focused on predicting," Ace grumbled while his head closed up.

"No doubt."

"Even when I know you're going to fire, I get the angle wrong, or I'm so stuck looking that I don't move fast enough to get out of the way. None of it matters with regular bullets but I'd be dead if there was sea stone in them." Something that, in the New World, he had to care about much more than in the East Blue or Paradise.

"Well," Izo said while he reloaded, "if you got good enough, you wouldn't have to move your whole body out of the way of a sea stone weapon or armament haki fist."

"What do you mean?"

"You could use your logia abilities to get your body out of the way before it hits you. I've seen Marco do it a handful of times with those wings of his. They're massive targets, but he can pull the fire aside, part the feathers—create holes in himself, I suppose—so that the bullets can pass through without causing harm. Unusual for a zoan, but the phoenix is special, so I hear."

Ace cocked his head, frustration ebbing while he rolled that idea around in his head. "That…never even occurred to me." Even when he was in the middle of a battlefield, marines slashing his fire with swords or peppering him with bullets, he still viewed his body as, well, a complete thing. Changing flesh into fire, sure. Doing that and then deliberately shaping the fire to create a hole?

He held up his hand. Against the whispers of nausea in his gut and the smell of smoke he knew wasn't real, he turned his palm to flame. Then, like flexing a muscle that had always been there, unused, he opened up that fire to peer at Izo through the hole.

"Huh. I guess I can do that."

Izo smirked and pulled back the hammer on his pistol. Ace hadn't even challenged him enough to warrant drawing the other one. "It's no surprise you didn't think of it. It's hardly an easy thing to do, and in battle, it's practically precognition. Of our family, I've only seen Marco manage it, and as for myself, I can't predict what someone is going to do. I can only give myself however much extra warning close observation provides. But since haki seems to come easily to you when you put your mind to it, maybe you'll be able to pull it off. You just have to do it quickly enough to save yourself."

"Easier said than done."

"Well then, I suggest we stop talking and you focus on doing."

Ace readied himself again. He flexed his haki, his reflexes, anything and everything that could give him an edge to—

Bullets passed through his arm, his shin, and his neck. Where it went through his neck, though, it went through a hole-in-progress. Too slow to save his life, but it was something.

Izo continued to train Ace for as long as he could before duty called. By the end, Ace was soaked in sweat, panting for breath, and seeing nearly double. Putting his bracelet back almost made him pass out then and there. He slumped against the railing and breathed deep until he was sure he wasn't going to collapse completely.

Every time he was sure Izo was going to fire, he had two options: try to get out of the way or try to reshape his body out of the way. He had to pick one of those options, but that simple instant of hesitation between the two usually cost him the chance to do either in time.

He needed more practice. Much more. Practice until that decision was reflexive and instantaneous. The kind he used to get when fighting for his life against the old man.

"Done already?"

Ace cracked an eye open to see Thatch glancing over from where he was fishing with a few members of his division. Behind him, several stacked plates carried the remnants of the sea king they'd caught earlier, gutted and arranged by Thatch's skilled hand. Members of his division were slowly but surely transporting it down into their stores. Ace was willing to bet he'd see artful fish and pineapple skewers for dinner. The tropical fruit had featured in just about every dish lately.

"For now."

"Yeah, I'll be honest, I'm surprised you lasted that long. I get pretty bad headaches almost immediately when I try to see the future."

"Observation haki's not for everyone, commander," put in a fourth division member.

Thatch heaved a theatrical sigh. "I suppose I have to be content with the basics. Leave the fancy tricks to you and Marco. Though, what's with the sudden insistence on training? Don't get me wrong, a little practice to keep the rust off is good, but I haven't seen you so focused on anything since before you joined the crew."

Ace pulled himself up as straight as he could while still using the railing and shrugged. "After everything that happened, I realized I've been slacking."

True and not true. Even discounting his foreknowledge, the simple truth was that Ace had neglected his haki after discovering his devil fruit. Maybe, if he'd had strong armament haki to use against Akainu that day…

And maybe, if he'd had honed observation haki when he challenged Teach that day, if he'd had more than the fire to rely on…maybe Marineford never would've happened at all.

He had to get stronger. What kind of older sibling had to be bailed out by his kid brother? And what if Luffy got in over his head down the line, and Ace wasn't strong enough to help him? To hell with that, to all of it.

Thatch raised an eyebrow. "You and I have very different versions of slacking. But, not gonna discourage you from getting even more capable than you already are. I like having someone I can trust to watch my back."

Ace's smile came out unsteady. "Do what I can."

This second chance was more than just saving Thatch and avoiding all that followed; it was a chance for him to do all the things that would let him look Sabo in the eye when it was all over. No regrets.

"Oh, messenger bird."

Thatch's comment pulled Ace's eyes to the sky. Sure enough, a pelican sporting a notable white mustache—albeit formed out of feathers—was descending from above with a small bag strapped on its back. The birds weren't a common sight; people usually just used the snails if anything was urgent. Must've required passing along something physical.

One of Thatch's men went to receive the bird, but a member of Haruta's division beat him to the punch. Man and bird disappeared belowdecks.

Ace, spying an opportunity, closed his eyes and attempted to trace the man's progress through the ship with haki. Down, left turn, straightaway…Wow, there were a lot of people moving around. It looked like his guy was heading towards Marco's office, and—

His sense of the whole space abruptly dulled and the headache flared anew behind his eyes. He groaned and bent down to press his forehead against the railing, fighting the urge to vomit.

"You're not going to fall asleep and fall overboard, are you?"

"I'm fine," he told Thatch. "Overdid it."

"See, the second one kinda undoes the first. If you want to improve your haki that bad, you should just talk to Marco. I'm sure he's got some tips in that head of his to stop you from accidentally exploding yours."

"That can happen?"

"Not that I know of, but I'd rather you not be the first. You've already spontaneously exploded once." Thatch made a shooing motion. "Go on, get. And get some food while you're at it."

Marco's door was open, the messenger bird hanging out on his desk while he looked through papers that had presumably come with it. There was also a fruit on his desk. The man who'd brought the bird in was gone.

"What's with the apple?"

Marco glanced up over his readers. "There's this practice called 'knocking.'"

"Sounds weird."

He sighed, gave up. "We've had reports of unusual devil fruits appearing off and on. Very rarely in our territory. This is the first time we've actually gotten our hands on one."

Ace leaned in close. The apple looked, well, like an apple. Minus the perfectly circular yellow and orange spots evenly spaced across its surface. "Looks a little weird, I guess. Smells fine."

"That's part of why they're so dangerous. They cause severe adverse reactions in people—the kind medicine can't fix. I'm putting together an advisory for our family-yoi." He set his papers aside. "What brings you down here?"

Ace looked away from the apple, grateful that he'd gotten a snack from the kitchen before coming here. Otherwise, he'd be speaking over his growling stomach. "I've been practicing my haki," he began, but then his gaze caught on one of the reports laid out on Marco's desk, and one word on that paper in particular: Foodvalten. Ice chilled his veins and he lost any idea of what he'd been saying.

Foodvalten. That was the start of it. He didn't bother picking up his sentence where he'd left it, not that he could've if he tried. "I need to go on that mission, Marco."

It took Marco a second to realize Ace had jumped tracks. "That's not one that needs a division commander."

"Then it's perfect as a way to prove I'm back on my game."

"Your game has nothing to do with it. It's just someone defacing our flag, the same as every other nuisance flag incident we've seen in the last several months. For one thing, Foodvalten is technically the fourth division's territory. For another, there's already a Mini Moby in the area—"

Ace slammed his palms on the desk. "Marco."

For a beat, Marco just stared at him, not in shock but with suspicion. Then his expression cleared. He stood, walked past Ace, closed his office door, and returned to his chair. He took up the Foodvalten report, read out the date, the name of the island. He looked up at Ace. "You had this place and time written in your notebook weeks ago."

Ace froze.

"I wasn't searching your things. I only saw it while I was dropping off your shirts. I couldn't help reading a few lines." He set the paper down and waited. Waited for Ace to admit the truth, because that was what family did. They told each other the truth.

The urge to say that truth roared up Ace's throat and he clenched his jaw to keep it from going any farther. He had no proof. None. His only advantage—his only advantage—was that he knew Teach's true nature and Teach didn't know he knew. If he went around carelessly pointing fingers at someone so entrenched in their family, even if he was deemed healed when he did it, he'd be throwing his own credibility, his own sanity, into question.

But he couldn't say nothing. Marco knew something was going on and he wasn't the type to just let that kind of thing go. He worked his jaw for a moment before deciding on a gamble that might pay off.

"When Thatch gets the Yami Yami no Mi, don't take your eyes off Teach."

"When—the Yami Yami no Mi? How do you—"

"I can't explain it all now, but I need you to trust me."

"Does this have to do with your injury?"

"Yeah."

Marco stared long enough for Ace to get uncomfortable and then released a short sigh while he replaced his spectacles and picked up the report once more. "Fine-yoi. I'll send you on this mission."

"Thank you."

"I'll send you, but in return, I want the full explanation. Now or when you get back. You choose."

"Marco—"

"Ace." Someone knocked on Marco's door, but Marco's unwavering gaze remained on Ace. "You've dodged every question so far. We're worried. Are we your family or aren't we?"

That was a low blow. They were his family, they'd proven that a thousandfold when they went to Marinefordfor him, when they heard his heritage and didn't care at all, when they gave their livesfor his, when—

When he threw his away anyway—

Did they take in Luffy? Did they protect him? Did it matter, now that he was here? Not that it was even a question worth asking; of course they took in Luffy. Of course they protected him. Because they were family. They protected each other. He had to protect them.

He swallowed. "When I get back."

"Good." Marco looked past him to the door. "One moment. Ace, I want daily reports."

"Daily?"

"We still don't know what set you off the first time." Ace winced but held his tongue. "If something goes wrong, I'd prefer to find out quickly. Take a Den Den Mushi-yoi. And take this." He held out the report. "Even if you already know what happens, maybe we found some details you didn't hear."

Stomach turning from the revelation of just how suspicious Marco was of him, Ace took the paper, muttered his thanks, and ducked out past the man who'd come in to share a report of his own. He had preparations to make. Most importantly, hiding the paperwork he'd been trawling through in his desk, removing the sea stone bracelet, and making sure he could travel alone.