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Chapter Text

The cloying taste of cheap wine stuck on the back of her tongue.

Rolling her wrist, Savannah Mason eyed the slosh of red liquid inside the plastic cup she’d snatched from the kitchen. Getting shitfaced wasn’t what she wanted to do on the night before her twenty-fifth birthday, but she didn’t have anything better to entertain herself with. She took another sip of the boxed wine and let her tired eyes trail over their tiny porch before drifting across the dark farm.

Calling it a farm was a stretch. The puny half acre of land her husband settled their RV on was little more than red clay and dust. Beyond the barbed wire fence that separated them from their neighbors on the left, there was nothing. Not even a chicken. Savannah didn’t swallow, letting the wine settle in the back of her throat as punishment.

This was never what she wanted.

Savannah used to dream. They weren’t much, but they were more than this. She remembered being fifteen and full of hope, babbling to her grandfather about how she was going to go to pilot school. Remembered sitting on his ratty couch and watching the National Geographic channel— pointing her thin finger and promising to the lord himself that’d be her one day.

One day she’d see the world.

That was all it was though. A dream. It didn’t seem like much compared to her peers, but in their little town of less than five hundred, all dreams were miracles. Savannah didn’t like to recall her grandfather’s face when he’d ruffled her hair and chuckled, the sound muted with a mouth full of spitting tobacco. She should have known from that laugh, that quiet pity.

She’d never make it.

Not her. Not the frizzy-haired twig with a mouth full of uneven teeth and too-wide eyes. Success was stacked against her. The demographics and statistics proved it. Rural kids had a rough go of it from the start but throw in her father’s multiple felonies and her mother’s meth addiction, little Savannah didn’t have a chance.

That reality kicked her in the teeth after high school graduation.

Without money to spare for college, Savannah kept close to her grandparents. All those fantasies of adventure began to splinter with the reality of her situation. Despite picking up three jobs, she couldn’t save enough to move away. Couldn’t even afford a car—

She wondered if that was the point where her dreams finally died.

With the closest community college five hours away, there was nothing she could do. She was trapped to work, to sleep, to shit and repeat. The room she’d been in since she was five became her home until she was twenty.

Then came John Mason.

Six years her senior, he’d rolled into the town and swept her off her feet. Dimples, dusky blonde hair, and the bare bones of a goatee. He’d been the star of the county. It was all her little heart needed. Wooing her with his ambitions and promising the world, Savannah’s desire for adventure clung to his stories like tar.

It’d gone smoothly at first. Like all the fairy tales said it would. Dates, kisses, and stolen touches turned into a promise. He’d snatched her then, on a cold autumn night, and that was it. Savannah moved out of her grandparents’ spare bedroom and settled in his RV. Days full of daydreaming turned into months.

Then a year turned into two, then three.

Five years later and she’d never left.

Savannah curled her lip as she took another sip of wine. Some people would say she should have been grateful. John wasn’t a bad man, not in the sense of the word that reigned supreme, but he was negligent. Money hit his pocket and it was gone in a day. Even the addition of her miserable salary from the gas station couldn’t cover his spending habits.

Between the cigarettes, booze, and whatever else he decided to spend their meager funds on, bills began to pile up.

As weeks turned into months, they didn’t stop.

Now here she was, curled up on a cheap plastic chair in the horrible evening humidity, trying to ignore the foreclosure notice through binge drinking. John hadn’t seen it yet, but he would. The RV was all they had. He was going to lose his mind.

She took another sip.

John wasn’t violent, but he was loud. His face would grow ruddy and spit would fly— calloused hands tossing in the air as he screamed his frustrations for the world to hear. Occasionally, he’d even break something. Some meager little possession she’d huddled away with after her grandparents’ funeral. A plate, a lamp, even a bedside table—

It was a cycle she knew how to weather. His rage would usually die down by sunrise, but she didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to deal with his anger today or tomorrow.

She didn’t want to deal with anything at all.

It’d been twenty-five years and Savannah was tired.

She brought the wine back to her mouth only to pause. It was empty. Blurry brown eyes blinked as she realized what that dry cup meant. The promise she’d forced upon herself. Nearly two hours after she’d started, the time had come.

A certain type of resignation settled beneath her spine.

With the chirp of cicadas echoing in the wet heat, Savannah turned her attention to the weight sitting forgotten in her lap.

It’d been her grandfather’s once upon a time. A relic of the past she tried to forget. She’d promised him she’d never use it, but Savannah had never been great at keeping promises. He’d smack her hand for the fib, but that’s all it was—

Another regret for another life.

Her tongue drifted across chapped lips as she stared at the object tucked between her thighs.

The shine of the night’s full moon caught the silver hilt of the pistol. Shadows from the porch skewed the reflection of her face, masking the flat pinch of her mouth. A buzz built between her ears. Placing her cup on the rail of the porch, Savannah traced the cool metal before she lifted it up. Her fingers didn’t shake as the cicadas shrieked beyond her—

The chilled tip of the gun rested on her temple.

Crooked teeth smiled as her finger squeezed the trigger.

Amidst the silence of the humid night, Savannah Mason was no more.

In another world, a baby was born screaming.

A tiny thing of only six pounds and four ounces, the baby’s pudgy limbs flailed as the midwife swaddled it in rags. The woman, Geta Ham, an older merchant who’d had her own share of children, wiped at the blood covering the baby’s face. Weathered hands knew the motions well. Despite the familiarity, her mouth pursed as she eyed the screaming child, wails wringing through the stuffy bedroom.

The little girl wasn’t a pretty baby.

Even with the swash of matted, dishwater blonde hair on her tiny head and the benefit of her mother’s rosy complexion, the babe’s face was too thin and the skin under her eyes was a bruised purple from the strength of the contractions. There was a putrid yellow pallor to her skin and the midwife sighed, turning to the sweaty mother struggling to sit up.

Geta tsked at the motion.

It hadn’t been an easy pregnancy.

Arms shaking with the strain of movement, Viviana Graver met her stare. Her breaths were stretched as she fought to breathe past the lingering pain of birth. Geta took her in with a growing frown. The last daughter of their island’s main merchant was a thin young woman. Not nearly old enough for her own babe.  

Viviana’s hand trembled as she tried to reach for her. There was a telling lack of meat on Viviana’s bones and her dirty hair was wrangled into a braid that barely crested her shoulders. Sweat marred her brow and stained the collar of her nightgown. Geta’s eyes drifted further downward, eyeing the growing blood stain between her legs.

Hovering in the doorway, the only man in the room managed to ask, “It’s a girl?”

Geta gave her attention to him. Hideki Graver, husband and now father, was a stocky man with more muscle than brains. His dark hair was thinning, highlighting the bald spot that took over most of his large, horse-like face. Tucked into the shadows of the back corner of the bedroom, the man’s face was drawn with a scowl.

Now, Geta didn’t have any strong opinions on the merchant class that called Takko Island their home, but she never did like the fellow. Viviana’s late parents would have thrown a fit if they’d known their legacy had shacked up with a rival tradesman.

“It is.” Turning her attention back to the screaming baby in her hands, Geta hiked a scraggly brow, “Loud little thing too.”

“I thought—” Hideki swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought to arrange words, “I was expecting a boy.”

Geta nearly snorted. She’d been expecting this, especially with Takko’s current economic climate. With the summer crop producing less than anticipated and shorting the trade season, it wasn’t a wonder that the man hoped for a son to carry on his duties. She’d seen his type before.

Born her own brood to similar men.

“Well, it ain’t.” Turning her back on the sweating bulk of a man, Geta brought her focus back to the babe, “You think of a name? Can’t keep calling it an it.”

The it in question scrunched its nose at the sound of her voice and Geta sighed internally. She shouldn’t be asking them to name the poor thing. It would be a wonder for her to last the night— jaundice of this degree required damn near constant monitoring and with Viviana’s exhaustion, it would be difficult to keep up. It wasn’t a death sentence, but it was grim.

Easier circumstances had taken hardier babes.

“Alesta—” Viviana’s raspy whisper cut through the room, her thin arms outstretched, “My grandmother’s name.”

Hideki’s mouth curled in disgust, but it was Geta who spoke, “You sure you want her to hold that kind of legacy? Ain’t what I’d expect from you.”

There was power in names and that name—

Geta thought of the smiling woman buried in a shallow grave.

Meanwhile, Viviana didn’t speak for several seconds. Her pale face locked onto the babe in reverence as Geta stepped forward and lowered the tiny thing into her arms. The girl’s cries crawled to a halt when Viviana brought her to her chest, thin collar bones protruding as she cradled the infant and smiled.

Geta frowned. The woman always had a pretty smile. It was a gentle curve of thin lips and soft cheeks, but today it was strained. Midwives knew that smile. Geta had seen it on plenty of faces, plenty of mothers who’d managed to touch the veil and crawl back alive.

The men never did know how closely death crept to life.

“I’m sure,” Viviana whispered. A trembling finger stroked the babe’s face, smudging blood across the child’s forehead, “It’s perfect.”

The baby finally quit crying, tiny fingers latching onto her mother’s hair and yanking. Its, Alesta, eyes were still screwed shut, but Geta knew they’d be the same black hue her mother’s family was famous for. So wide they’d obscure the pupil and endless enough to overpower the darkest ash.

Like looking death in the face, the village would whisper.

The babe would grow up cursed with the same soul-searching stare that birthed a tiny merchant empire on Takko’s rocky shores. The same stare that haunted an unmarked grave tucked in the forest groves.

Geta kept her observations to herself.

Nobody knew it, but when Geta Ham died several years later, she did so with the vengeance of a woman proved right.

Alesta Graver was a spitting image of her ancestors.

Once she grew enough to see, the action came with probing, bug-like black eyes that took up most of her scrawny face. They were the first thing anyone dared to look at— hardly ever catching a glimpse of her upturned nose and thin lips before those eyes would drag them right back in.

If someone managed to look past that flaw, they’d only find more. The child’s hair was a dirty blonde mess more than often, tangles wrought with sticks and leaves from her playing in the rocky outcroppings behind the village. She was thin-legged and barely more than skin and bones.

By three years old, Alesta was taller than they’d expected.

The other children her age were barely past their parent’s knees, but Alesta shot up like a reed. The villagers expected the growth spurt to halt, but it never did. By age five, she hovered at her parent’s hips and by the time the girl was eight, she was nearly as tall as her mother.

When she finally turned eleven, the growth spurt over, Alesta was as tall as most of the men on their tiny island. The rest of the village wasn’t prepared for a woman, a girl, to stand that tall. To hold the same stature of a man—

A girl able to meet their stares without cowering.

But it wasn’t just her height that caused whispers to follow in her steps.

Alesta Graver was a precarious thing. More often than not, bruises lined her knees. There was a certain flair for adventure inside of her that the Graver family never had. Where they expected the cool analytic scheming of a merchant child who knew the world revolved around numbers and facts, the villagers were treated to a girl spurned by gangly-legged adrenaline and a soul-deep longing for knowledge too vast for her years.

It was as if her body couldn’t rest. There was also something to do. Something to see.

The girl was cursed with the same face and damning desires of the woman she was named for—

An unnatural curiosity that never seemed satisfied.

It was ultimately that curiosity that ruined everything.

Alesta came into her own as all children do. She outgrew the toys and the trinkets her mother handed her, developed her own opinions and desires, but there was more she wanted. More she wished to see and as she aged, that desire grew into a weed that could never be pruned.

Takko Island only had so much for a child to entertain themselves with. With its rocky shores, the beach was hard to access. Alesta had tried— several times in fact. Throughout her childhood, she’d venture closer and closer, just to hear the waves crash against the shore. Unfortunately, there was only one path down to the dock and it was heavily monitored by a few of the local villagers.

A safety regulation they said.

To ensure visitors were kept track of accordingly.

So, at the behest of her parents, Alesta spent years keeping her adventures to the town. For the first few stages of her life, that was enough to settle the strange longing in her chest. The thing she’d never been able to put a name to. She explored her home in a way that bordered on fervent. Every nook and crevice became her playground.

Takko Island may be small, but it hid its own adventures.

For years, Alesta entertained herself with her fellow villages. Tucked away from the motions, Alesta always watched. She observed them move about and converse with a strange sort of bafflement she couldn’t understand. Nothing about it was truly peculiar, their actions mundane, but there was an odd disconnect with their schedules in her head.

It was like she expected something else that never truly existed.

By the time her consciousness truly formed, Alesta began to notice that something was missing. A feeling that she couldn’t name. A certain emptiness. She’d caught her hands falling to her pockets to retrieve something only to freeze, the thought drifting away like the wind. Sometimes she’d look at the sky and try to see a constellation she’d never heard of, yet each time, she’d find it never existed beyond her thoughts.

For a while, it concerned her— the way she thought.

The sense that there was something lost.

The way strange words would form in her mouth yet escape like gibberish.

“Mom?” She’d tried to voice her worries once. She’d been eleven and the sunset was creeping in. Alesta learned through the years that her mother preferred to speak when the shadows could hide them. “Where are we?”

Her mother, already beginning to hunch over with age and disease, had blinked at her from behind their merchant counter, “We’re on Takko Island. A little way into the Grand Line.”

Another phrase that felt wrong. Alesta frowned, “The Grand Line?”

That question prompted a whole new line of information that Alesta could barely keep track of. She understood islands. Some inherent part of her knew that they were a rouge piece of land surrounded by water, but she’d expected continents— countries— not more ocean.

Yet, that’s all there seemed to be.

The world she existed in was broken apart by different seas.

“Can we leave?” The next question escaped without Alesta’s conscious thought, “Or are we stuck here?”

She hadn’t liked the way her mother’s mouth tightened, but an answer to that question never came. Her father, a hulking man with eyes like a dead fish, interrupted them with the introduction of another client to the stall. Once he’d spotted Alesta hovering in the back, his brow had furrowed in irritation.

He’d waved her away from the stall with an action better reserved for strays.

That was another factor she didn’t understand.

Her father, Hideki, as Alesta privately called him, was an angry man. He’d lost his hair as she’d grown and now his bald head was constantly sporting a sunburn. Unlike the rest of the villagers who were gaunt and thin from the unsteady supply of trade and economic stability, he was kept well-fed from his merchant deals.

Alesta had known he didn’t like her.

The reason why became clear once puberty hit.

When she was twelve, Alesta woke up to blood. She didn’t remember much of her reaction beyond the panic and the tears. What she did remember is the way her father’s face tightened when he’d found her— his grip on his walking cane going tight before he sighed in disgust. Three days later, he’d taken a village boy on as his apprentice.

Alesta never stepped foot in their merchant stall again.

The days since then began to blur into a routine. Alesta saw her mother less and less, and each time they met for dinner, the life in her warm smile had drained away. Her father’s apprentice, a large boy named Han, soon became a regular occurrence in their home. His spiky blonde hair was always kept back by a red bandana and he never stopped smiling.

Alesta first thought it was charming.

She soon realized it was condescending.

Alesta was aware enough to know she’d gathered a bit of a reputation throughout the village as a fool. Between her adventures into the forests and her habit of trailing off mid-sentence, it didn’t take long for the rumors to spread. Alesta privately thought Han encouraged them a bit too much, but she didn’t stay around the boy long enough to question him.

On her thirteenth birthday, he moved in with them.

Alesta avoided him as much as possible.

Without the safety of her home to entertain her, she ended up turning her attention back to the sea. That feeling hidden deep in her chest clawed at her as she watched the waves crash against the rock-strewn shore. Day in and day out, Alesta kept an eye on the tide coming and going. Occasionally, the spell would break as a small fleet of marines arrived, but they never stayed more than a day.

She eventually came to understand why.

Despite its place on the Grand Line, Takko Island was rarely visited. Stretching out past the long dock, the sea sat perpetually empty. Very few were capable of making it close enough to anchor. The island’s rocky shores extended into the waters— making the docking process a difficult feat if you weren’t aware of the path.

The effect of the terrain was two-fold.

Due to the shoreline, Takko Island residents were cursed with the inability to leave. There’d been boats once. Tiny fishing ships speckled with age and rot. Then one summer they were gone. According to the guard, that was because none of the villagers had a need for them.

No one on the island could navigate the rocky ocean floor.

Their geography was a shield and a cage.

Alesta knew that a few former villagers had been able to leave with the marines, but it came with a hefty cost. Not something any of them could afford with the declining economic state. As the marine visits grew farther and farther apart, the chance for travel dwindled.

For the next few years, Alesta paid special attention to the thin bodies of her fellow townspeople. It was hard not to see the way they’d begun to deteriorate. Without a way off the island, their entire economy centered on their ability to grow crops and her father’s trade deals with the various marine captains.

It had not been an easy realization.

She’d cried the first time she’d heard the explanation. Alesta didn’t know how, but she’d ended up curled in her mother’s bed, letting her mother’s frail hand drag through her long hair as she sobbed. The sensation of failure hovered on her shoulders, phantom nails digging into her skin as Alesta’s mind screamed thoughts she couldn’t understand.

Neither of them spoke of the breakdown, but Alesta saw the way her mother’s stare began to linger on her during dinner. It’d been hard to look away. There was worry there and a strange tint of pity, yet nothing that Alesta could put a name on. It was a strain she knew well. Emotions between her family were tempered, cautious things— rarely shared and never offered.

As the days passed, her mother’s concern faded as it always did, but Alesta’s sense of captivity never waned.

It was a crawling, insidious feeling.

Even when she got her first job at the bakery down the road from her father’s stall, Alesta couldn’t keep her eyes away from the sea. Away from the promise of more, away from the teasing taste of freedom just out of reach. As months grew into years, that yearning grew.

It turned into a dream that she feared she’d never reach.

Alesta even went as far as to save half of her wages, putting them away beneath the boards of her childhood bedroom in the hope that one day she’d have enough money to escape. Funneling her dreams away where they couldn’t be taken. It was a foolish fantasy, but it was all she had.

This idea of something more.

Then the impossible happened nearly a decade later.

On the cusp of her twentieth birthday, Alesta saw her first pirate.

The village was in an uproar at the news. It ripped through the town like wildfire. Half of their people had sequestered themselves inside their homes, doors locked and windows shut tight. The other half were gawking in the street— eyeing the small group of rough men as they walked through the town.

Alesta joined them, hiding atop a roof overhanging the butcher’s shop.

Her first thoughts about pirates were strange. She hadn’t believed they existed. They were myths. Despite all the stories her mother muttered, Alesta assumed that the threat of pirates invading was simply another tale to keep children in their beds.

Another sense of something missing tingled at the back of her skull as she eyed the ten-person group entering her town.

Yet, these men were real. They were dirty and unkempt, but they laughed and pointed at the villagers with a flair of life that Alesta envied. Four of them trailed behind, talking amongst themselves, and keeping an eye on the men that lingered outside their storefronts. Alesta watched them closest.

If she reached out, it almost felt like she could touch them.

“Good morning citizens of Takko Island!” The man who spoke led their group. He was taller than any man Alesta had ever seen with a scruffy beard dragging toward his navel. “I’ve got something you need!”

Privately, Alesta thought that was a hefty statement to make. It sounded like the tirade of a fantasy overlord. Several of her fellow villagers appeared to agree, but no one spoke. Fear kept their tongues. She caught the way their eyes flickered toward her father’s merchant stall in trepidation, but Alesta didn’t follow.

Her focus was riveted on the strange men.

She’d never seen so many different features.

The man at the front of their group looked normal despite his height, but the two behind him were odd in a way her mind pinged as impossible. It was a strong word choice, yet Alesta couldn’t fault the observation. She’d never seen a man with a dorsal fin or one with a nose that curved downward at such a degree. Even when her father walked out to meet the group, Alesta couldn’t look away.

Her mind was screaming at her.

That phantom feeling of wrongness was nearly overpowering.

Meanwhile, the pirates and her father exchanged handshakes. There was a brief conversation between them before her father wiped his hand on his trousers and motioned them toward his stall. Pushing herself forward on the ledge, Alesta watched the pirates’ backs as they moved down the unpaved streets of Takko’s main road.

Her hand twitched on the roof’s shingles.

It didn’t go unnoticed. One of the men at the back, a short man with long purple hair, cast his suspicious gaze toward her hiding spot. He was younger than his companions. Sharp, pale cheeks that bordered a thin mouth. He was so different from the men she’d grown up with—

Awe overtook common sense.

Alesta unconsciously brought her hand up in the barest hint of a wave.

His thick brows hiked into his hairline before he snorted, shaking his head in amusement and following after his leader. He nudged one of his companions in the ribs before leaning over to whisper in his ear and Alesta was greeted by another pair of guarded eyes glancing in her direction.

This man wasn’t nearly as interesting. His mouth was large though and filled with teeth too big to be normal. A croaky chuckle lingered in the air as they both turned.

Neither of them stopped for longer than a second, but Alesta’s interest had been snatched— ripped out of her control like a flailing fish.

There wasn’t a worry between them. Camped out on the overhead hanging, Alesta’s hand squeezed into a fist as she tried to identify the feeling their laughter wrought inside of her chest. It was only when they all disappeared into the shade of her father’s stall did she realize what the strange sensation was. 

Freedom.

She longed to stick around and speak to them, but there wasn’t a chance. Hour by hour passed without another sighting of the eccentric group. When the villagers’ interest in the strange arrivals faded and her knees had long grown stiff, Alesta was forced to follow as everyone vanished back into their homes and storefronts.

Her chest ached with phantom yearning the entire walk back to her home.

It was only hours later after she finished prepping dinner with her mother that Alesta gained a clue about the pirates’ business. Holding a hot pan of fish between her hands, Alesta gently laid it atop their table and stepped back. Her mouth pinched. It wasn’t nearly enough for all four of them, but it would do.

She’d simply have to take a smaller serving.

“Bring out the sake!” Her father’s boisterous yell nearly made her jump, but Alesta caught the action in time. “We’re rich!”

Her mother’s head poked out from behind the kitchen, eyes tired despite her appeasing smile, “I take it the deal went well?”

“Damn right, it did!” Her father shucked his shoes off at the door, slapping a smiling Han in the chest as the younger boy followed him inside their house, “You wouldn’t believe what they offered. Captain Jun is going to be pleased.”

Choosing to let her tangled hair fall over her face, Alesta entertained herself by continuing to set the table as she listened to their conversation. She didn’t miss the way Han came to hover behind her. His hand skimmed the small of her back and Alesta bit her lip between her teeth, keeping the flinch at bay as he settled into the seat next to her father at the head of the table.

His touches had grown steadier in the last three years.

But they would never be welcomed.

“We’re finally going to have a chance to get off this damn island,” her father kept talking, obvious to the way her mother had quit listening as he settled in his seat. “A devil fruit! Can you believe it?”

Alesta didn’t know what significance that brought, but it was clear Han did by the way his eyes lit up in greed. She tried not to pay any mind to the creep of doom settling in her chest as she took her seat. In the kitchen, she heard her mother gasp. Like Alesta, she didn’t attempt to verbalize her thoughts.

They knew better.

Catching the way Han took two servings of fish, Alesta turned her dark stare on the stained tablecloth instead of her father’s manic grin. As was the default for their daily meals, Alesta let her mind crawl inward in favor of paying attention to a conversation she clearly wasn’t allowed to be involved in.

It never escaped her notice that the action came naturally. Almost like some internal reasoning warned her against speaking out of turn.

A lesson learned from another time.

“That means we can move the wedding up,” her father’s statement broke her out of her thoughts, “How does spring sound, Han?”

Han laughed as he always did, “That sounds great, don’t you think?”

There was a sudden sort of silence over the table and before she could catch herself, Alesta peeked her head up. She was met by several stares of varying degrees. Her father was stiff, his smile almost fading as he stared at her from the head of the table. Beside him, Han’s lips were twitching in amusement.

But it was her mother’s that worried her the most— there was pity in her dark gaze. 

Worry.

“I’m sorry,” Alesta whispered before venturing, “Were you speaking to me?”

“Always in your head,” Han teased, ignoring the flare of her father’s nose. “I was asking if you’d be okay with a spring wedding. We could push it to summer if you’d prefer to miss the monsoon season.”

He was looking at her. Alesta couldn’t breathe. Fear dug its talons into her throat as Han’s statement settled in the air. It felt so familiar— a haunt of something she had no words for. It was as if she’d been in this exact situation before, but she knew she’d never been faced with a challenge such as this.

She’d never—

But she had.

It felt as if her mind was collapsing into itself, the phantom pain of disjointed thoughts making her ears ring as the past disintegrated into the present. Alesta could see the future painted out clear as day. She’d be forced to marry Han, living in her parent’s house as they settled into life, her own desires eclipsed by his dreams. She’d fade into nothingness. 

Again and again.

Alesta swallowed.

Her saliva tasted like too sweet wine.

“Spring’s fine,” her father spoke before she could force herself to breathe, “The faster you get married the easier it’ll be for you to take over the shop. You could—”

The skin over her heart felt too tight. As if the organ was trying to break through flesh with each frantic pound. Fear and dread made her vision blurry, the realization that she was trapped— caged— stuck.

Again and again. 

Alesta could scarcely take it. Even her mother’s tepid hand laying on her thigh couldn’t break her out of her thoughts.

She’d been here before.

Alesta had visions about what lay at the end of this tunnel. The faint sensation of cold metal against her temple. The ringing boom of gunfire as dreams turned into nightmares and escape became impossible. Her father’s voice disappeared as her skin prickled with the desire to run.

“Excuse me,” without glancing at her father, Alesta stood from the table, “I need a moment.”

She heard her father sputter, “Wait a damn second—”

“Give her a chance to calm down,” Han’s smooth voice cut off his tirade, but Alesta could only shiver, “She’ll come to her senses soon.”

Alesta didn’t deign that with a response. She’d rather drown in the ocean before she succumbed to the cage being weaved around her. Slamming the front door shut behind her, her bare feet met the rough gravel of their home’s entryway as she cast her stare at the sky.

There were no clouds hanging on the horizon and again, she was struck by familiarity. The only thing missing was the sound of cicadas.

Something that didn’t exist here. Something she shouldn’t know.

Alesta nearly puked.

“This can’t be real,” it was scarcely more than a prayer, “Please. This can’t be real.”

It was a cruel joke. It had to be. Something her mind had concocted to ignore the fear of the future laid out in front of her. There was no way the sound of gunfire was something she’d truly experienced before. It wasn’t possible.

And yet—

Her mouth still tasted like spoiled wine.

Things only grew worse from there.

After returning to her house with her proverbial tail tucked between her legs, Alesta was forced to sit through several minutes of vicious lecturing from her father while Han watched in amusement. Never once did he stop smiling. It made something inside of her fester and die, the last reserves of defiance in the face of their demands dying on the tip of her tongue.

She’d hoped everything would fade as the days progressed, but she was wrong.

Han was everywhere. Where he’d once only been a staple in her home, he suddenly took it upon himself to drop in at her work and bring her lunch. The older bakers would croon and tease them about young love, but Alesta could never meet his eye. It was too much.

She felt like she was going insane. Memories of a past she didn’t know intermeshed with the present and hopelessness began to sink into the marrow of her bones.

Day after day, the corners of the cage were closing in.

Escape was leaning toward impossible.  

She couldn’t do this. Hovering over the kitchen sink, Alesta scrubbed at her face and the tears that refused to come. There had to be a way to flee. There had to be something she could do—

It all came back to one thing.

The devil fruit.

The crux of the whole issue was her father’s relief at the mysterious object. She still had no idea what it was, but Alesta knew that without it, things would fall apart. Her father was counting on selling it to the marines and getting a profit. He was counting on moving off this island.

He was counting on Alesta to marry Han and take over his legacy.

The pressure made her thoughts clear for the first time in days.

To be free, the devil fruit needed to disappear.

Alesta had been keeping a closer eye on her father, partly due to Han’s coming and goings, but mostly to keep track of the arrival of his marine contact. He hadn’t mentioned Captain Jun since the first dinner. The name wasn’t familiar, but Alesta never tried to keep track of the various marines coming in and out of the port before.

It was a mistake she was quickly learning to rectify.

“Mom?” Scrubbing at a dirty plate, Alesta tried to bridge the topic without an audience, “Has dad mentioned when the marines are coming?”

“Not yet,” her mother shook her head as she put the dishes back into the cabinet, “Their runs are usually monthly, so I imagine they’ll be here soon.”

Neither said anything for several minutes. Alesta didn’t know how to tilt the conversation toward her goals without clueing her mother in, but she had to try, “That makes sense. What— what is a devil fruit anyway?”

It wouldn’t be feasible to look for something she didn’t understand. Alesta assumed it was a type of fruit, but she could be wrong. She’d been wrong before. Finishing with the plate, Alesta placed it on the counter and refused to look at her mother as she went about wiping down the sink.

“It’s a special fruit—” her mouth quirked at her mother’s admittance, but Alesta’s amusement faltered as she continued, “It grants the person who eats it a specific power. There are three known types: logia, zoan, and paramecia. I’ve only met one person who had one and they had a logia type.” Her mother’s stare went far away, “He was able to control ice.”

Alesta stiffened, the water running cold as she questioned, “Which one did dad get?”

A familiar racket was beginning to build between her ears, but for once, it wasn’t the empty tread of despair she’d gotten familiar with over the past weeks. Instead, something like hope nestled in her chest. It wasn’t what she’d planned to do, but the options were too broad to ignore.

If these fruits could provide powers, could essentially provide magic, could she escape?

Could she be free?

“We aren’t sure,” her mother didn’t turn to look at her, “It—”

Hands landed on her waist and Alesta flinched, tucking her head toward her chest as Han’s familiar teasing voice echoed in her ears, “I think it’s paramecia. At least that’s what Captain Jun said when we described it. He said it was probably the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi.”

“Ah,” Alesta forced herself to swallow the bile building in her chest, “That’s interesting.”

He was too close.

He was always too close.

Han laughed, but it didn’t hide the way his fingers tightened on her waist. They dug into the thin cloth of her long-sleeve shirt, the callouses scratching against her flesh even through the layers of her clothes.

The cage never felt so real.

Han’s voice felt like the cling of rotten honey as he whispered in her ear, “Want to see it?”

It didn’t take a genius to catch the undertone of the offer. Even her mother paused in her movements, dark eyes flicking over her shoulder as she cast Alesta a pitying stare. Then she turned back to the dishes without a word. Alesta let her eyes slip shut in a brief moment of self-pity.

It hurt. Her silence. Her mother had to know this wasn’t what she wanted, but she didn’t speak up. Han’s fingers crawled under her shirt and skimmed the soft skin of her belly. The pressure of his callouses dug into the flesh above her naval. No one told him to stop.

Alesta had learned this lesson before.

The only one who could save her was herself.

Swallowing her pride, Alesta tried to smile as she gently twisted out of his hold, “Can I? Dad won’t mind?”

“What he won’t know won’t hurt him,” Han’s hands fell off her skin, instead perching on the counter behind her and boxing her in, “It’s pretty cool, you know? Probably won’t see anything like it again.”

He was trying to convince her to go with him. Alesta wasn’t a fool. It was clear Han had ulterior motives in this regard, but the risk was something she’d have to allow. This chance wasn’t one she could give up. Her escape was nearly in her hands.

The taste of freedom built between her teeth like iron.

“That’d be amazing,” her hand fell on his arm as Alesta pasted a demure smile on her face, “I’d love to see it.”

Han grinned like a shark scenting blood.

“You got it, babe.”

The inside of her father’s study smelled like mildew.

Hovering near the door, Alesta tried to ignore the way Han’s hand trailed over her lower back as he shut the door behind them. It clicked shut and her flesh went cold as they found themselves alone.

Orange light filtered in through the half-open window from the midafternoon sun. Its dull rays hooked on the books scattered throughout the room, catching the dust that littered the air and making it shimmer. A rat scuttled in the corner.

“Sorry, it’s a mess in here,” Han kicked at a stack of paper blocking his path as he stepped toward the desk hiding in the back of the room, “I told the old man to clean up.”

Alesta’s nose scrunched at the familiarity in the chastisement. She’d gotten used to it over the years, but it never got easier acknowledging that Han held her father’s favor. Despite being his flesh and blood, he’d gone out searching for a man to take his legacy.

Something she’d never be offered.

“That’s fine,” she muttered under her breath, moving deeper into the tiny room. “I don’t mind.”

There was a fine line to walk here. She needed to keep Han open to showing her the devil fruit, but she refused to allow herself to be backed into a corner. It was a dance she’d done for years. That didn’t stop her heart from lodging itself in her throat at the smarmy grin Han leveled her before he dug through the desk drawers.

Alesta allowed herself a moment to observe him.

It was almost a shame he was so similar to her father. In another life, Alesta might have fallen for his charms. She might have resigned herself to living inside another cage. But she couldn’t, not with the taste of victory lingering in the air.

Not with the mysterious devil fruit promising something she’d thought so inalienable.

As Han fiddled with the lock on the desk drawers, Alesta let her gaze scope the rest of the room. She wasn’t sure how she needed to go about getting the fruit from him, but it would have to be unexpected. Han might not be bright, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t trust her moving too fast— he was used to chasing.

She’d need to surprise him.

Skimming her fingers over the windowsill, Alesta watched as he slipped the drawer open with a victorious crow, “There we go. Knew I remembered the combination.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to see, but it wasn’t this. As Han settled back on his haunches, he cradled a peculiar, black-colored fruit. Thin bands of swirling grey covered the fruit’s surface in a jilted wave pattern. Alesta would almost go as far as to call it rotten, but it was clear there was life inside of it. The stem still had a leaf.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Han was still talking despite her focus being elsewhere, “But one bite of this and you’re set.”

Alesta glanced at him at the admittance. He was looking at the fruit in his hands. The chance for a plan was dwindling. Taking slow steps toward him, Alesta let her hand creep over her father’s desk.

Before she could reconsider her decision, her narrow fingers wrapped around the iron paperweight he used to hold his files down.

“A bite?” She trailed off inconspicuously, keeping her eye on the ugly fruit, “You have to eat it?”

“That’s what they say—”

He didn’t finish.

The paperweight met the soft skin of his temple.

An echo of the fleshy thud of impact hovered between them. For a horrifying second, she didn’t think she’d hit him hard enough. Alesta didn’t move. Her body wouldn’t let her. Han’s wide brown eyes gaped up at her—

Then his mouth slackened before his shoulders dropped like a marionette with cut strings.

“Shit. I—” Alesta couldn’t stop her whisper if she tried, “Shit.”

She wasn’t used to violence. It wasn’t something she was familiar with. There was never a need to embrace it. Her village was fortified thanks to their coast and the few times she’d been scared had only ever been at the hand of her father.

Yet, eyeing Han’s slumped figure and the bruise blossoming on his brow, she realized she wasn’t uncomfortable. The adrenaline that she used to chase throughout her childhood rushed through her blood for the first time in years.  

There wasn’t time to embrace it.

Ignoring the jittery buzz creeping under her flesh, Alesta dropped to her knees. They scratched against the rough floor as she scampered forward to snatch the fruit from Han’s limp embrace. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

The fruit was softer than she expected. Similar to an overripened apple. Cradling it to her chest, Alesta scooted several feet away from Han’s body. The sound of her heart boomed between her ears as the implications of her actions sank in, but it was too late to turn back.

Fate had chosen its course.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Alesta bit into the tender flesh of the fruit.

It was the worst thing she’d ever tasted.

She gagged, tempted to spit it back out, but something instinctual halted her tongue. Closing her eyes with a grimace, Alesta tried to ignore the flavor of rotten meat sinking over her vulnerable taste buds. It took everything she had to force herself to chew and swallow.

Flooding her mouth with saliva, she forced down the last bit of the fruit before promptly heaving.

Nothing came back up.

“Shit,” the curse was muttered under her breath, nearly inaudible as she fought against the putrid aftertaste, “I can’t believe—”

“I know your mother would skin your hide before she let you talk like that.”

Alesta’s blood ran cold at the voice. It came from behind her, from an area she was certain no one stood. Still cradling the half-eaten devil fruit between her shaking arms, she cautiously tilted her head over her shoulder.

Of all the people she expected to see, Geta Ham was not one of them.

There were many reasons for this assumption. The first being the fact that the elder woman never stepped foot in her father’s office. It wasn’t something he’d ever allow. He didn’t even let her own mother into his scared space.

The second reason was the fact that Geta Ham was dead.

She’d been dead for over ten years now.

Yet, the woman standing in the corner of the room didn’t look dead.

If anything, she looked more vibrant than Alesta ever recalled. There was a strange silver glow to the sheen of her wrinkled skin, her gnarled hands tight on the cane she once used to offset her bad hip. Wispy strands of white hair were tied in an ugly topknot atop her head and the once familiar watery blue eyes of her former neighbor were narrowed on Alesta’s face.

“You,” Alesta balked, lost for words, “How are you—"

Geta cocked a brow when Alesta’s words caught in her throat, “Don’t tell me you’re a mute now. You always were a difficult child—"

The old woman’s voice trailed off. Her watery gaze was focused on the area behind Alesta, surprise making her nearly non-existent eyebrows hike into her forehead. For several seconds, Geta didn’t speak. For a woman with a renowned sharp tongue, her silence was almost as terrifying as her sudden return from the grave.

“Girl,” Geta finally spoke, her weathered stare falling on Han’s body, “What the hell did you do?”

Chapter Text

Alesta didn’t put much stock in the idea of an afterlife.

She knew her mother prayed every night, knew that she clutched a necklace of seashells to her chest and whispered pleas under her breath that her father couldn’t hear. She knew that old man Kane, who manned the butcher stall, told everyone that’d hear him about how the revelation was coming and the end of times was nigh.

Alesta knew people cherished the idea of peace in death.

She simply wasn’t one of them.

The reason for that wasn’t something she cared to think about. With certainty she didn’t understand the foundations of, Alesta knew there was nothing beyond this. She’d never bothered to pray. Didn’t see the need to wish for something that could never come. This was all you had. A body inhabited by a brain before decomposition took it all away.

That didn’t explain Geta.

Geta, who’d died from old age years ago. Geta, the crotchety old woman who’d watched her as a child. Geta— who was jabbing Han’s body with the end of her cane. The scene would have been amusing if not for the fact the cane was currently embedded in his forehead.

It was nothing more than a specter, but it didn’t make the sight any less horrifying.

“You’re dead,” Alesta said instead, focusing on that fact instead of the shallow hum of Han’s labored breathing, “I went to your funeral.”

It was best to state these things as facts. Because they were. Alesta may be on the verge of psychosis, but she remembered the stench of Geta’s burning body. It wasn’t something easily forgotten.

“Did you? Surprised your old man allowed that,” Geta snipped, thrusting her phantom cane through Han’s throat. “Never did like him.”

While that was a nice tidbit of information, that was completely beyond the scope of their conversation. Beyond the scope of her sanity, in fact. There was a concerning numbness in Alesta’s head.

Almost as if her thoughts had turned to feathers.

Static built between her ears as Geta’s cane phased through Han’s eye socket. When nothing happened, Geta made a disappointed sound between her teeth before trying to kick Han in the shin.

Alesta didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.

“You’re dead,” she repeated with fervor, “How are you here?”

Temporarily distracted from her assault on Han’s body, Geta hiked a brow, “Who said I left?”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. That implied—

Far too much to get into right now.

“Come on, girl. I know you ain’t an idiot,” Geta spoke as she walked, tottering around her father’s office like she did it all the time, “The hell did you think was going to happen when you ate that fruit?”

Truly, Alesta hadn’t been thinking much of anything. The goal was to get rid of the devil fruit, get out of her incoming marriage, and pay her way off the island before anyone could put two and two together. Eating it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. A calculated risk acceptance based on the information her mother had shared with her.

Ghosts had not factored into the equation.

“Don’t answer that,” Geta waved her off with a mocking snort, “Idiot.”

Despite the incoming mental breakdown, Alesta had enough sense to be offended, “No one mentioned dead people."

“It’s in the name, girl. You heard that little twit. It’s the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi,” Geta interrupted, bending down to eye the paperweight that’d rolled across the room, “It’s a ghost fruit. Even I caught that.”

“So, you are a ghost,” it felt redundant to ask, but Alesta needed the clarification. Needed intellectual proof from someone other than herself. “You’re a ghost and I can see you.”

It was always good to list facts out in laymen’s terms. It made things easier to digest. Even if said things were the ghosts of old women who looked at you like you’d been dropped on the head one too many times.

“Good job,” Geta offered dryly, “Could have sworn you weren’t this stupid before I died.”

“Okay, please… stop for a second,” Alesta brought her hands up, squeezing her eyes shut before forcing a heavy breath out of her nose, “What does this all entail? Are there more of you?”

“Where else would we go?” Geta snipped back, “Nothing else better to do than watch you sad sacks of shit.”

Alesta stared at her, eyeing the wispy flux of translucent sheen creeping off the woman’s skin, “You’re telling me there isn’t an afterlife.”

Geta merely shrugged her thin shoulders, “Guess not. I ain’t worried about it.”

“But—” Alesta’s tongue was trapped on the roof of her mouth.

That would call into question more theological conundrums.

Geta’s new ghost status could be explained away as a one-off occasion. She was a single soul trapped on the physical plane. The introduction of more ghosts would nix that theory. Then it would transition to more of a cultural issue. Alesta wasn’t spiritual by any means, but that assumption posed a problem.

It wouldn’t be farfetched for her to assume a religious reckoning might cause complications.

There wasn’t a response for several seconds. Geta’s watery eyes flicked toward Alesta before the old woman scoffed, “Run out of questions?”

Alesta was generally a calm person. She was good at putting on a smile and hiding her thoughts from the world. It was a skill molded from this life and from an instinctual reserve deep inside of herself that she still hadn’t explored. But like all people, she had a limit.

That limit tended to come with the taste of wine and the smell of gunfire, but today it came with a laugh.

A laugh that was a little too tight at the edges.

A laugh that was a little too loud.

Scrubbing at her eyes, Alesta let her chuckles die under her breath, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“If you’re going to curse, say it with your chest—"

“I’m insane,” she cut off Geta’s snark with a sigh, “I’m going insane.”

This wasn’t right. Alesta knew in the bare bones of her soul that this wasn’t what was supposed to happen when you died. She may not believe in a higher power or an afterlife, but she knew there was something beyond this. There was supposed to be a cycle.

There was supposed to be a reset—

Again and again and again.

“You know, now that I think about it,” Geta cut in, inadvertently halting Alesta’s slow descent into madness, “I never saw ol’ Rand’s spirit after he died.”

That was good. That was helpful. Ignoring the fact that there wasn’t a predetermined resting place, that type of knowledge meant that there was a possibility that thousands of ghosts weren’t wandering the world without a purpose. That was promising.

The sensation of entrapment that had been creeping up on Alesta fell back. There was escape. She could still be free. If she had to do it all again, she could.

Sugared wine built on the back of her throat as her shoulders sagged in relief.

Trying to swallow the lingering taste of over-ripened fruit, Alesta forced her brain to fall back into detachment, “So, there may be—”

Several things happened at once. Where Geta had once worn an expression of vague amusement, her watery blue eyes sharpened as they flicked toward the floor behind her father’s desk. That was enough for Alesta to click her mouth shut. The next moments happened before she could prepare herself.

Clothing ruffled and the floor creaked.

She didn’t have enough time to move before Han sat up.

Han groaned, cupping his forehead as he struggled into a sitting position, “What the hell happened? You…”

Dull, brown eyes blinked twice as he frowned, pulling his hand away from his temple in confusion. It lasted until he spotted the paperweight on the floor. Alesta caught the exact moment clarity returned. It crept into Han’s gaze with the sharpening of his focus, the downturn of chapped lips, the straightening of his shoulders. It was an expression she knew well.

One she’d weathered before.

She tasted wine under her tongue.

Han’s gaze flew to her, sudden fury eclipsing his momentary uncertainty, “What the fuck did you do?”

Hindsight was fifty-fifty. Watching Han’s skin flush in rage, Alesta realized she should have done something with his body. She should have removed the danger before it could fester, but it was too late now. With the full focus of Han’s ire locked on her face, Alesta couldn’t move. Any urge to run vanished with the feeling of forced submission.

An instinctual urge to hide. To cower.

To beg.

She’d been here before.

A man’s rage wasn’t something to belittle. She knew this. Their anger was a fiery thing. Born from ego and pride and nurtured with every breath. It could be tamed, but it often bore monsters. Beings with teeth and claws.

A beast that only blood would tame.

As Han sprung to his feet, another face molded over his own. A face not from this world, but familiar to Alesta down to the marrow of her bones. There was stubble on his otherwise clean face and a smudge of motor oil under his chin as Han stepped into her space.

It made it hard to focus as his hand latched onto the collar of her shirt. Alesta couldn’t hear what he was screaming but she could feel his spit land on her cheek. It was warm.

It was wrong.

Han shoved and her back connected to the wall behind her. His voice echoed between her ears and settled in her spine, “Where is it?” Han’s hand shook as he fisted her shirt, “Where’s the devil fruit?"

“I’m sorry,” it crept out between her lips like a habit, “I’m sorry—”

Han’s eyes flashed at her whispered pleas. The beast riled in his chest, his sternum heaving as he fought for breath. Alesta prepared herself to cower, to drop on bended knee and beg. It was what she knew, what she expected.

She wasn’t anticipating the slap.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh tore through the air like a blast of gunfire. Her cheek smarted and Alesta blinked, a hand coming to rest on the inflamed skin. It hurt.

It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

Violence was new. That wasn’t what she remembered.

Alesta’s hand trembled, sudden clarity rushing through her veins. She caught the moment Han’s patience snapped and the fear keeping her limbs stiff warped into self-preservation. It was a desperate, feral type of feeling, a wild panic that snapped to attention in the bare bones of her soul.

Before Han’s hand could tangle in the messy strands of her hair, she ducked. His grasp went wide as she used his stumble to twist out of his reach. Alesta’s blood went cold as he followed.

She feinted left, lurching away from his resulting swing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The lie came easy.

Her escape did not.

“You— You’re lying. You planned this, didn’t you?” Han snarled, lurching forward to block the doorway, “Your father was right. You’re just a stupid bitch.”

Adrenaline held her tongue. The world around her was too bright. The dust in the air swirled in the late afternoon sun and the books on the floor nearly snagged her attention as energy flooded her body with awareness. It was too difficult to think and craft a reply. Her focus needed to stay on Han, needed to watch his limbs.

Make sure he didn’t pounce.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?” Han spit, “What’d they offer you? Money? Gold?”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. Not right now.

Han was like a tiger, eyes narrowed and bloodthirsty. It would be difficult to get past him with his arms spread as they were. He had a long reach, something she’d never noticed before.

Alesta took a step back and Han followed. His shoulders rippled, a strength that she could never hope to match bubbling under the surface of his flesh.

“Alesta!” Geta’s voice snapped through the air like a whip, “Idiot girl! Ask me to help you!”

It didn’t make sense. There was nothing she could do—

Han lunged.

“Geta!” Alesta ducked, throwing her arm to block his blow. Han’s nails dug into her skin as he snatched her by the root of her hair, “Help!”

Geta’s cane whipped through the air.

The cane smashed into Han’s forehead with a wooden thump that echoed through the room.

He was stumbling backward at the impact before Alesta could rationalize the implications of Geta’s actions. The crash of his body hitting the wall halted the momentum of the room.

Han’s wide, brown eyes met Alesta’s own baffled stare as he went to touch his head. His hand shook as he pulled the appendage back with bloodied fingers.

“You,” he muttered, taking a step back. His panicked gaze swung across the room, “How did you—”

He didn’t see the tiny woman to his right nor the way she cackled, but Alesta did. The sight that greeted her almost took her off her feet. It was hard to get a full breath in.

Where Geta had once been painted in muted silver hues and wispy energy, now there was something solid to her. There was color in her outfit, a flush on her cheeks.

There was life.

Things clicked together sluggishly. Parts of a fractured puzzle shoved together until the pieces meshed. Smothering her fear with intellectualism, Alesta took a chance. There was no certainty that her hypothesis was true, but it was the only thing she had left.

“Geta,” she whispered, the words coming almost naturally, “Please help me.”

A warmth crept up her arms and coalesced atop her chest.   

Ignoring the sensation for the time being, Alesta kept her gaze on the ghost, watching as a stronger pigment crept over her features. As something once intangible turned solid. Geta took a step forward and the sound echoed over the floor.

There was weight in her stride.

Then Geta was there. Han’s gasp in the background solidified what Alesta already assumed as Geta swung her cane through the air.

He could see her.

As the old woman advanced on him, Han’s gaze flung between them. “She’s dead,” his voice broke on the accusation like he held back tears, “How are you doing this?”

Alesta didn’t know the answer to that question, but the warmth still stinging the thin skin above her breasts gave her a clue. As Geta took two steps forward, Alesta felt something inside of her lurch. It was uncomfortably heavy.

Almost as if her soul was tethered to the other woman.

“I never did like the men on this island,” Geta interrupted before Alesta could even think to reply. Her blue eyes were brighter than Alesta had ever seen them. “A bunch of idiots with sticks up their asses. You ain’t no better, boy.”

Geta’s cane whipped through the air, but Han was able to duck. “The devil fruit—” he managed to gasp, shielding his face from the follow-up, “You ate it!”

It was an accusation more than anything, but there was fear in his voice. Alesta swallowed as she realized that it wasn’t Geta he was afraid of. He was afraid of her. Something that no man had ever felt before in this life or her last. It made something in her chest clench, but it wasn’t horror.

It was victory.

The chance to fight back. To do something she never thought she could.

While Han had been gaping, Geta’s cane made contact. Han tried to grab at her, but the older woman was spry. Geta jumped back with nary a glance at him.

Her cane swooshed the air again before it hit his arm with a wooden snap and Han howled.

Even as that odd tension in her chest flared, Alesta’s mouth twitched in grim satisfaction, “I did.”

“You—” Han cursed, only just able to avoid Geta’s next swing, “You have no idea what you just did—”

She didn’t let him finish.

Allowing Geta to get her last strike in, Alesta dove for the paperweight laying forgotten on the floor. Han made a pained noise as Geta’s cane connected to his side. It didn’t halt him from lunging forward to try and snatch Alesta by the back of her shirt. He had reach in his favor, but Alesta was faster.

Snatching the paperweight up, she ducked under his arm and swung—

It connected to the back of his skull with a sickening thud.

This time there wasn’t a lull.

Han fell to the floor and didn’t get up.

Alesta’s arm hung limp in the arm, her forearm screaming in shock at the exertion. Her fingers shook as the room went still. The lack of sound didn’t register at first. The only indication that Geta was still there came from the shallow tug of tension hiding just above her heart.

She didn’t dare move. Alesta’s wide, black eyes were locked on the thin heave of Han’s chest as he sprawled out face-first on the floor, blood soaking the back of his neck and the fine strands of his blonde hair.

She hadn’t killed him, but it was close.

Closer than Alesta ever thought she was capable of.

The adrenaline didn’t fade with his fall. She wasn’t sure why she expected it to. Instead, her thoughts were still running a mile a minute, the events of their quick fight not quite computing inside of her mind. She hadn’t anticipated to win.

Without knowing what better to do, Alesta let her stare travel across the room to rest on Geta.

Geta— who was still alive. 

“Hmph,” without a care in the world, Geta poked Han’s back with her cane. “You want to finish him off or should I?”

Nearly three hours later, Alesta wiped her hands on the thin fabric of her pants as she finished making dinner.

She’d decided not to kill Han. It’d been a difficult decision, especially with Geta needling in her ear about how they needed to get rid of him. Alesta had thoroughly debated it. For about fifteen minutes, she’d stood over Han’s body and made a mental list of the pros and cons of leaving him alive.

There weren’t many pros.

Unfortunately, her moral compass wasn’t quite up to murdering a man in cold blood. Something about it didn’t feel right, no matter how many risks his continued existence provided. There was killing to live and then there was killing for sport.

Han may need to be dealt with, but it didn’t feel right to do it while he slept.

Instead, Alesta settled for a medium.

Tied up with the sheets off her bed, Han was gagged and shoved into the farthest recesses of her closet. It wasn’t the neatest job, but it was effective. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs and his hands had been tied strategically behind his back. Han didn’t wake for the first portion of the adventure, but by the time Alesta was done, his furious brown eyes were drilling into her skull with an intensity that promised a slow and savage death.

Purely out of pettiness, Alesta let Geta knock him out again before she faded.

That was another development that Alesta wasn’t sure how to feel about.

Geta managed to stay corporal for two hours. She hadn’t helped with the restraining, but she was solid enough to hold the door open for Alesta to drag Han’s body into her room and offer a myriad of colorful commentary. But at exactly two hours and thirty minutes, Geta faded away back to her original phantom form.

It hadn’t been a clean process.

There was about a fifteen-minute interval where Geta still had enough control to open and close doors but not enough to touch flesh. Privately, Alesta decided it was due to the amount of time she’d asked the older woman for help. It wasn’t a complete hypothesis, but it was enough to assume that each request allowed an hour of executable force.

The hypothesis left her with another factor to consider. One that Alesta hadn’t had time to fully investigate. Unlike Geta, that foreign tension that had taken home in Alesta’s chest didn’t disappear as Geta had. It still hovered above her breasts and thrummed beneath her skin. Alesta assumed it was due to the devil fruit, but she didn’t have enough evidence to support that notion.

Alesta’s mouth pursed at the gaping lack of knowledge. There were still too many unknowns.

She’d never been comfortable not knowing.

Nevertheless, Geta didn’t seem any worse for wear. Her transition between spectral and solid didn’t appear to pain her. If anything, the older woman enjoyed her time. Alesta had been treated to many a request for different foods and even managed to sneak a cup of sake out of the kitchen for Geta to sip on as she’d finished restraining Han.

It must have been enough to gain her favor because Geta continued to hover.

Now, the old woman lingered near the wall, scowling at Alesta’s father as he read the newspaper. Her family had gathered in the sitting room nearly thirty minutes ago. It was a daily ritual and one Alesta was more than happy to part with.

Where the thought once would have gone unnoticed, there must have been an inkling of her distaste hiding in her face. Alesta hadn’t missed her mother’s probing look as she settled beside her in the kitchen, but whatever she intended to say went unspoken.

“What a prat,” Geta tsked, tapping her cane atop their floor soundlessly, “I told your mother she never should have married him.”

Alesta didn’t respond verbally but she shot a quick look at the ghost as she vacated the kitchen, raising her brows in silent question. It was difficult to communicate with Geta without appearing insane. A fact she’d encountered during her brief interlude in the kitchen.

Thankfully, Geta appeared to understand her nonverbal cues well enough to elaborate.

“Good for nothing was only after her money,” Geta snipped under her breath, turning her nose up in disgust, “Knew it from the moment he gave her a ring.”

Geta didn’t get a chance to go into further detail. As soon as Alesta’s mother stepped out of the kitchen with the last of the dinner, her father smacked his newspaper atop the table with a thump. “Where the hell is Han? Should have been here by now.”

“I’m sure he’s just running late,” ever the pacifist, her mother gently placed the bowl of rice and stir-fried vegetables in the middle of the table before taking her seat, “He’ll be here soon. Did he say anything to you before he left, Alesta?”

Alesta’s stride stumbled before she caught control of herself. “No— Wait,” the lie slipped out like silk between her teeth, “He mentioned meeting with Kane before he closed shop.”

Geta made a noise in the back of her throat, but Alesta chose to ignore it as she settled into her own seat. She shot the food an envious look before folding her hands in her lap. Her father refused to let everyone eat until all the men were sitting. Unfortunately, that order included Han.

Someone who wouldn’t be joining the table for the foreseeable future.

Dragging her nails over her palm to hide her shaking hands, Alesta tried to bridge the silence with a question, “Have you heard anything from Captain Jun?”

Beyond Han, the captain remained her biggest threat. He also held the distinguished honor of being her last chance at salvation. His help would be a precarious path to navigate. It wasn’t clear what kind of deal her father had brokered in exchange for the devil fruit, but it was likely a hefty sum. The kind of money Alesta would only ever dream about.

The kind of money that made men desperate.

Alesta realized she pushed too far when only silence met her. For a second, her father stared at her. It wasn’t a pleasant expression. His face had filled out with wrinkles in the last few years and they pulled at his brows unattractively. Where his skin was once taut, it now sagged over his eyes and his jowls.

The extra flesh shaded his face and made it harder to gauge his thoughts.

“I hope so,” her mother offered, setting her hand on her father’s arm in a gesture of calm, “It’ll be good to see him again.”

Geta scoffed in the background, “Never knew this island turned into a bunch of bootlickers.”

Thankfully, Alesta was the only one to hear that remark. With nary a glance at the ghostly woman spying on their conversation, her father took a swig of sake before stating, “He should be here by the morning. They got tied up at the last island taking care of some pirates.”

“More pirates?” Alesta queried. Judging from her mother’s sharp look, she was pushing her luck, but she didn’t care for the time being. “This close to the island?”

“Nothing to worry about,” her father waved her off. The sake did wonders for his temper. “Just an upstart trying to make waves.”

It was little more than an offhanded remark, but it kickstarted that phantom urge of more, more, more in Alesta’s chest like a whirlwind. That same foolhardy longing that surged in her mind when she’d caught a glimpse of the pirates a few weeks prior. A little voice screaming in her ear—

Freedom.

He went off on a tirade about tariffs shortly after that, unaware of the emotional whiplash he’d unleashed in his daughter. Keeping her gaze on the fine woodgrain of their kitchen table, Alesta took a deep breath to suffocate the feelings screaming in her chest.

She didn’t realize her knee was shaking until her mother’s foot tapped against her bare sole.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” her mother whispered under her breath, hiding the sound with a timely sip of her water, “Don’t do it.”

Alesta’s back went straight. Chancing a careful glance at her mother, she found a face identical to her own staring back at her. The same cornflower-colored hair, the same black eyes— a touch too large. The same mouth pinched into a frown.

For a second, Alesta could see herself ten years in the future. She could see herself sitting at this same table, waiting for Han to come home from work.

She could see the bruises hiding under her eyes. The way her health would slowly deteriorate until her shirts dipped off her thin shoulders. How the life in her eyes would fade away as she suffocated in another unhealthy marriage— her dreams gone and snuffed out to push out children for a man who’d never thank her.

The taste of wine caught in her throat, sour and old.

“I won’t,” Alesta refused to meet her eye, “I promise.”

Her mother didn’t look the slightest bit appeased, but she didn’t press any further.

Geta hmphed behind them. Sometime during the conversation, she’d stepped closer to the table. Alesta could see the faint sheen of her phantom glow in the corner of her eye. The tension that had taken hold of her heart flared in acknowledgment of the ghost’s presence.

She tried not to startle as Geta bent her head down to mutter, “You better get off this island, girl. Before they find out what you did.”

Alesta didn’t respond.

She left that night.

Knocking Han upside the head again for good measure, Alesta packed everything of value into a small rucksack. The money she’d collected to pay off her travel with the marines was kept close to her chest and shoved beneath her bra. Other than that, she’d taken a change of clothes and snagged a knife from the kitchen.

Geta merely watched, quiet for the time being.

It was appreciated. There wasn’t much Alesta wanted to say and even the smattering of small talk they’d participated in after dinner was pushing her limit. This was uncharted territory. Never once in her life did Alesta think she would run.

Never once had she run.

She only knew how to sit still and take it. Knew how to smile and pretend to be okay. With years of practice, Alesta had shuttered any taint of defiance in her blood in favor of obedience. She could play the perfect housewife, the perfect daughter. It was who she’d been for the last twenty years.

Who she’d always been. Time and time again.

Only when her feet were firmly on the ground outside of her window did Alesta allow herself to breathe. She ignored the way Geta phased through the wall beside her in favor of canting her gaze to the moon. It was full. Shining bright on the little village Alesta had called her home for the last twenty years.

The only place she’d ever known in this world.

The place she’d never thought she’d get to leave.

“Don’t dawdle, idiot,” Geta scoffed, “Hideki may be drunk off his ass but he’s foolhardy.”

Alesta knew that better than most. Her father was a notoriously light sleeper, even when drunk. The slightest noise had him up and crawling through the house. It’d been a comfort when she was younger, always assuming he’d be ready to protect them. She knew better now.

Knew it was his way of keeping control inside his house instead.

“I know,” without another glance back, Alesta took the familiar path down to the dock, “Do you think it’s enough?”

She didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew the toll off the island was steep. Alesta managed to save up nearly four thousand beri through the years, but it may not be enough. It was the reason she hoped to catch the marines early. Before they had a chance to find out about the missing devil fruit.

Before they could realize she’d eaten it.

Geta made a noise under her breath, watching the shadows of the nearby houses as they walked, “Maybe. Depends on who you ask. Push those tits up and you’ll be set.”

“I expected that,” Alesta sighed despite the admittance, “I choose to wear the tank top for that reason.”

There wasn’t a response and she hadn’t been expecting one. Instead, Alesta let her gaze travel over the rest of the village. She hadn’t anticipated much, but as her eyes caught on the Young’s house, her steps paused at the sight of a familiar ghostly glow. The tension in her chest heaved at the sight. 

Alesta went to open her mouth, but Geta cut her off.

“Don’t acknowledge them,” Geta hissed under her breath. Keeping her watery stare on the path ahead, she sneered, “You’ve got a powerful devil fruit, but you got to be careful, girl.”

Scrubbing at her breastbone, Alesta watched the glow of the ghost creep around the house and didn’t respond. It was smaller than Geta and horror crept up her spine when she realized why.

Jennie Young, the only daughter of the family, was six years old when she passed from fever.

Alesta hadn’t seen her before her funeral, but she did now. Black pigtails were hiked high on Jennie’s head, the little ghost crying as she stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer into the family’s house. The pressure in Alesta’s chest swelled until it was nearly painful.

She couldn’t breathe, “But—"

“But nothing,” Geta cut her off, “Keep walking.”

She did, but it was hard. Alesta wanted to call out more than anything. Turning her back on the ghostly girl felt like ripping her soul apart. How could she turn away when she could see them?

It felt wrong.

As her feet led her further down to the shore, Alesta couldn’t help but glance back. Jennie’s ghost had moved from the back of the house to the front and as she tried to open the front door, a god-awful wail rang in the silent night.

“You can see us,” Geta warned as the noise trailed off, “That ain’t something most of us are willing to give up. You get what I’m saying?”

“She’s a child,” Alesta whispered, heart breaking as the echo of Jennie’s cries cast over the village again, “She wouldn’t—”

A sharp look was thrown her way before Geta barked, “We may be ghosts, but we’ve got free will.” The cries eventually tapered off until the only sound was the crunch of Alesta’s shoes on the gravel roads. “I need you to understand that, girl. You can give us a taste of life, but we don’t got to listen.”

There was a foreboding undertone to that statement and Alesta paused, “What do you mean?”

Geta didn’t speak for several seconds. As they continued their path down to the mainland of the island, the dark shadow of the sea crept over the horizon. A thread of moonlight cast down on it, making the wild waves crashing into the shore gleam.

Only when they reached the top portion of the dock did Geta turn to her.

“You asked me to help, but I didn’t have to,” Geta’s admission hung heavy in the air. Her watery blue eyes narrowed up at Alesta before she spat, “The second you gave me that power, I could have turned my back on you. I could have left you there and done what I wanted. Nothing was holding me to ‘ya.”

The sound of waves crashing into the shore echoed in her head as Alesta worked through the implications of that statement, “So, that’s the trade-off.”

It made sense. You couldn’t have something without consequences. In the rational, intellectual part of her mind, Alesta acknowledged this. Every action had a risk as much as it had a reward.

It would have been easy to ignore if Geta hadn’t continued.

“That’s why you got to be careful, idiot,” Geta’s phantom cane tried to smack her in the shin, “You can give us power but we can use it how we want. If I’d wanted to smack you upside the head instead, there ain’t nothing you could have done to stop me.”

With that warning ringing in her ears, Alesta turned her focus back to the village. She could see the entirety of the downtown center from the top of the pier. The tension hiding between her breasts beat like a second heart as her gaze flicked over the scene.

Where just a day ago, she’d have only seen darkened buildings, Alesta could now count more than twenty glowing figures. From this distance, none of them looked familiar, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that ghosts were inherently human, with human motivations.

None of them were beholden to her.

“Oh,” Alesta whispered, “That’s not good.”

“You gotta watch out, girl,” Geta followed her stare, hobbling up beside her to look down at the village, “Lots of dead people in the world and if they find out what you can do, you’re in a world of shit. Not just from the ghosts.”

Geta didn’t have to elaborate. The picture was painted in her head well enough. There was a fine line of mortality the powers of her devil fruit mitigated. Alesta couldn’t reverse death, but she could bring them back temporarily.

People would cling to her to get a taste of their loved ones; the marines would want to use this power to bring back their heavy hitters. It was a sobering realization. With the sea churning at her back, Alesta allowed herself a moment to see if she regretted the path she set forth.

She waited and waited for that trifling of doubt to fester in her chest.

It never came. Not with the sea singing at her back, not with freedom so close to her grasp.

“Okay,” she said instead, “I understand.”

It would be something to take into account as the days rolled forward. It made things more difficult, but she could plan now. She knew the stakes, the outcomes.

The risk.

Casting a glance toward Geta, Alesta swallowed the gratitude hiding between her teeth. The warning was more than she expected from the crotchety woman. It was more than she had any right to ask for, but Geta had given her a heads-up anyway.

Filled with a sudden affection for the old woman with a barbed-wire tongue, Alesta turned her attention down to the somber ghost. Geta’s gaze was locked on the village and Alesta knew her answer before she asked, “You don’t want to come with me, do you?”

“And live out on the ocean?” Geta scoffed fondly, but her eyes had a faraway look. It was a look Alesta knew well. One she wore often. “I’d rather die again.”

It was a fair response, but it still stung. Alesta miss her. It would be hard to push forward without a friend at her back.

Despite the pain, Alesta couldn’t help but tease, “Who said I’m going to stay on the sea? Maybe I’ll marry a marine and live a life of luxury over in East Blue.”

Geta laughed loud and hard.

Tilting her head back to the sky, the woman suddenly looked ten years younger. Alesta had never seen such an expression on the surly woman before. In life or death. As Geta’s chuckles died down, Alesta didn’t think she imagined the flash of regret that haunted her smile.

“Like that’ll happen, brat. Not with a name like that.” Alesta shot her a look and Geta hmphed before she elaborated, “I knew your great-grandmother, Alesta Loving. Hell of a woman.”

She’d never heard of her before and didn’t hesitate to say so, “My mom’s grandmother?”

“That’s the one,” Geta tsked, wagging her cane in the air, “One of the first idiots to settle on this island.”

That wasn’t a story she’d heard before. Alesta had never cared about the history of the little island she’d called home for the last two decades. There was too much resentment inside of her to cater to the history of a place she longed to escape.

“What—” Alesta almost didn’t want to ask, but her curiosity had been spiked, “What happened to her?”

With a long look at the village, Geta sighed before turning her back on the shadowed buildings and returning her focus to the sea, “Same thing that happens to all great women. They die.”

It was said with finality. A conclusion gained through experience and pain.

“Yeah,” Alesta agreed, swallowing the phantom taste of wine that’d begun to build in her throat, “They do.”

The conversation died naturally after that. There were questions she’d still like answered, but Alesta didn’t have anything more to say and Geta appeared to share the sentiment. After taking a fortifying breath, Alesta moved toward the unguarded dock and descended to the shore.

She didn’t have to turn around to see that Geta followed.

The rocky hill that separated their island from the shore was much more imposing from the bottom. Thin, brown stalagmites with jagged edges crawled around the coastline and smaller boulders littered the shore. A rocky fortress that nature gifted their island. Angry waves crashed against the surface, white seafoam spitting into the air every time the tide retreated.

The air tasted like salt and smelled like brine.

It was everything Alesta longed for.

The unknown beckoned her. Tempting her gaze across the sealine and past the horizon. It was almost dreamlike. She’d never thought she’d get this far. The path ahead was dangerous and frightening, but it was there.

“I’m going to miss you,” Alesta canted her head over her shoulder to meet Geta’s assessing look, “I think you’ve grown on me.”

It was true. There were plenty of ways the day could have gone, but all of them would have been infinitely worse without Geta’s help. She’d miss her mother too. Miss the woman that could have been, the one who tucked her to bed when she was young and terrified of being caged in another life of misery.

Geta didn’t respond.

The tension in Alesta’s chest lurched and like a fine web of silk, the thread between the two women snapped. It didn’t hurt in a physical sense. Something inside of her felt empty now. Like a shell without a crab. Alesta didn’t mention it as her hand rested beneath her collarbones.

Geta caught the movement but didn’t say anything.

Only when the sun crested over the horizon and the bright sheen of the marine vessel came into view did Geta speak.

The old woman turned her gaze to the sky with a surly huff, “Don’t go and die, girl.”

Alesta didn’t comment on the tears dripping down her cheeks.

Chapter Text

Captain Jun didn’t look like a marine.  

There were no huge muscles or strange limbs. Not a hint of odd coloring on his otherwise tan flesh. The only thing about him that was even a tad remarkable was the tuft of blue hair and the glasses hiding his bulbous green eyes. Behind him, a gaggle of similarly ordinary men followed his orders.

No fins, no wings, nothing but a group of bland men.

Alesta almost felt disappointed.

“Ugly group of lads,” unlike her, Geta did not shy away from her displeasure, “Thought this was the Grand Line.”

She said that like it meant something, but Alesta didn't understand the significance. As far as she was aware, the Grand Line was a piece of the sea that stretched from one width of the globe to the other. Alesta assumed it was a globe.

Her mother was never clear on the geography of the world and the rest of the villagers seemed to satisfy themselves with ignorance.

“Oh,” Alesta whispered to herself, stuck on that thought as the men disembarked the ship, “That may be a problem.”

Geta hiked a brow, “You just now realizing you ain’t cut out for the Grand Line?”

Again, there was an insinuation in her question. An undertone of warning that she couldn’t quite grasp. It made Alesta pause, trying and failing to piece together the information she’d gathered about her island and its place in the world. There wasn’t much.

It’d always just been facts passed down from her parents.

There wasn’t a formal education system to default to and any maps Alesta had seen were of the island proper. Beyond that, she knew the bare foundations. They lived on Takko Island. Takko Island was on the Grand Line. The Grand Line was between the East and South Seas.

She could faintly recall her father mentioning something about a calm belt, but that memory was vague at best.

“In a way,” she elaborated as Captain Jun jumped off the ship and landed on the dock without a sound, “I’m more concerned about the fact I don’t know what the Grand Line is.”

“The hell you mean you don’t know what it is—”

They didn’t have time to continue their conversation before Captain Jun raised his hand in greeting.

His imposing height blocked off the morning sun and shadowed the long stretch of the pier. Geta cut herself off with a choked noise and from the corner of her eye, Alesta saw the old woman blanch. It didn't take long to realize why.

Strapped to the captain’s back, a battle axe the size of a horse glinted in the morning light. It jumped on his shoulders as he sauntered toward them. It had Alesta retracting her statement on his normalcy.

There was nothing ordinary about that axe.

“Well, hello there!” His voice sounded like his stride. Jovial and high-pitched. “You’re a new face.”

Her hand raised halfheartedly in greeting, “Hello—"

Alesta only had time to blink once before he was in her face, caging his knees with his hands as he bent down to smile at her with too many teeth. Alesta froze at the unnatural speed of the action. Several of his crewmates followed behind him, carrying cartons of produce and barrels filled with sloshing liquid.

They didn’t spare a glance in her direction.

“We don’t get to see many villagers on these trips,” Captain Jun continued to grin. It reminded her uncomfortably of Han. “Most of you stay in your houses and hide from us scary marines.”

“Like he gives a damn about the island,” Geta sniffed in the background, “Bunch of power-hungry fools.”

Captain Jun didn’t blink at the interjection but Alesta had to swallow before she could think to reply, “We’re told to stay off the pier. The riptides are dangerous.”

“Ah, yes. I did hear about that,” poking a long finger at his chin, the captain blinked up at the sky in faux thought, “I seem to remember that they keep a guard stationed to prevent that sort of thing. It makes you wonder how a civilian girl found her way down here.”

Condescension wasn’t unusual to her.

It was a familiar friend during her developmental years on the island. Alesta asked too many questions that should have been common sense and the villagers caught on to it. When her mind would lull her into thought and she’d space out fighting memories that shouldn’t exist, they’d whisper behind her back.

Even at twenty years old, they still thought Alesta was an idiot.

Sometimes it stung. It used to make her eyes tear up in frustration that the people around her didn’t understand. For years, she tried to fight off their assumptions with careful words and silence. It was never enough. Her reputation never recovered from the blunders of her past.  

So, she’d learned to settle with their assumptions. Learned to craft them for her benefit.

“I’m sorry,” tucking her arms behind her back, Alesta blinked up at the tall marine with a practiced grimace, “They don’t know I snuck down here. I know I'm not supposed to, but I was curious. The marines are so interesting, you know?”

Captain Jun’s smile grew in fervor, nearly stretching across his whole face, “You think so?”

If this was an interrogation, it was a poor one. Captain Jun was too enthralled with her cleavage to spare a glance at her face. If he stared any harder, she was certain his eyes would fall out. Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, Alesta forced herself to nod.

“Yeah!” She chirped back with a tad too much force, “I hear about what you do all the time! You’re amazing!”

“Laying it on thick, girl,” Geta snipped behind her, but even she couldn’t deny the way her praise was inflating the spirited captain, “Next thing ‘ya know, you’ll be kissing his pasty little ass.”

Alesta wasn’t quite able to mask her grimace at that jab. Luckily, the captain continued to focus on her other assets. She swallowed her rising unease, “I just wanted to see you for myself. There isn’t much on the island and…”

She left the sentence hanging intentionally, waiting for the captain to fill the silence with his thoughts. A glance at the tall man showed that his face had twisted into speculation. She had his attention.

She just needed to keep it.

“I want to see the world like you do,” Alesta tried to interlace as much truth as possible into her lie, “I want to help people. I want to protect people.”

She wanted no such thing. It would be nice to be able to shelter people the way she wished she had been, but Alesta was pragmatic. Her only motivations in this conversation were to find a way off the island and get away from the cage she’d been born into.

If she had to pull the honorable card, that was her sin to bear.

Geta snorted, but Captain Jun smirked, “You do? And you think the marines can help you?”

Alesta wasn’t sure she liked the undertone he’d hidden in his statement, but that would be a problem for the future. “I do,” she nodded before she could think better of it, “Please, let me come with you. I’ll pay whatever the cost is—”

Her hand crept toward the hem of her tank top to retrieve the pouch with her beri and Captain Jun’s gaze sharpened. His smile slipped, anticipation making his shoulders taut. The sudden intensity was enough to make her hand falter.

Caution bled into her skin and the tension in her chest she’d formerly forgotten about began to hum uncomfortably.

“Captain!” A crewmate shouted from the top of the pier, “We have a problem!”

Alesta didn’t dare turn behind her to look, letting Geta do it for her. The ghost cursed, “Shit.”

“Tch,” Captain Jun’s face lost its practiced joviality, a thread of darkness creeping over his face as he flicked his gaze toward his subordinate. It was gone as quick as it came, but the impression chilled Alesta to the bone. Unknowing of her rising unease, he plastered on a charming smile, “Give me a moment. We’ll talk details once I’m done.”

Alesta eyed the curved blade of his axe carefully as he stood, “I hope everything’s okay?”

“It will be,” Captain Jun’s hand dropped atop her shoulder in a manner he likely considered calming, “We just have some business to take care of before we can set sail.”

Ignoring the way his touch made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, Alesta followed his focus to the end of the pier. She immediately wished she hadn’t.

Restrained by three marines and one of the villagers, Han stood at the top of the hill and sneered down at her. His face was a mesh of bruises and dried blood, but his finger was pointed accusingly in her direction.

Her blood ran cold at the wrath hiding in his snarl.

Captain Jun sighed under his breath. “This island is more trouble than it’s worth,” as if he was forgetting she was still there, he gave her a sheepish smile, “Sorry about this. I’ll take care of it.”

Alesta didn’t respond beyond a nod. Instead, she watched his back as he stomped down the pier. His steps made the wooden planks rock, warning her of a strength he hadn't shown.

A strength she couldn’t counter.

Alesta struggled to get her thoughts in order as the consequences of her actions began to lay themselves out in front of her. Adrenaline made her heart beat against the flushed skin of her chest. Han was still spitting curses and even though the captain was too far to hear him, it wouldn’t last long.

Despite the situation, Alesta couldn’t help but hiss, “I don’t understand how he’s still standing? He should be brain-dead.”

“You better run, girl,” Geta warned. Her own weathered stare was fixated on Han in growing concern. “This ain’t going to be pretty.”

“I can’t—” she whispered back, “There’s nowhere for me to go.”

It was true. The top of the pier looked directly down to the sea and with Han’s focus locked on her, there was nowhere she could hide. The only option was the water and Alesta couldn’t swim. Had never had the need to.

Her stare flew across the beachfront before dread sunk in.

It was over.

Once Han informed the captain about what she’d done, the kindest mercy would be a swift death if she was lucky. If she wasn’t— Alesta didn’t want to think about that outcome. She’d thought the island was a cage, but shackles would be worse.

She’d done so well.

She'd been so close.

It wouldn’t be pleasant to end it so soon, but she could. Her stare fell back on the ocean as the phantom tang of wine flooded her mouth. The snap of the waves against the dock beckoned her, its watery fingers snatching at her ankles.

Alesta swallowed. If she had to, she would jump. Death would be merciful compared to succumbing to the hell laid before her. 

Geta followed her focus before she sighed, a tired draw of breath that rattled her lungs, “You’re a lot of trouble, brat.”

Before Alesta could blink, Geta began to walk down the port and motioned for her to follow. Alesta barely spared a glance behind her before she bled into the shadows of the ship hiding the northern dock. Behind them, Han’s howling went up in pitch before it abruptly cut off.

Neither woman dared to turn back and look.

Geta marched on with a single-minded determination that had trepidation coating the back of Alesta’s tongue. Only when they were hidden by the main hull of the marine’s ship did the older woman stop.

“Ask me for help,” Geta ordered, “Then get your ass on the ship.”

She didn’t understand, “I can’t. They’ll know—”

“They can’t see shit over here,” Geta snapped impatiently, “We’re going to throw them off. I’m going to jump into the water and you’re going to climb up that ladder. You hear me?”

“You— what? No—” Alesta argued, sickness sneaking up the back of her tongue.

“I’m dead anyway,” with a scoff, Geta made an impatient motion with her hand, “What are they gonna do? Kill me again?”

It sounded like a joke, but it was so far from one that Alesta nearly lost the remnants of her stomach.

They both knew what waited in those black waters. They’d grown up on the island and heard the horror stories of men ripped to shreds before they could surface. She didn’t want Geta to go through that, no matter how long dead she may have been.

If Alesta did this, she would feel it all.

She didn’t know if Geta would even come back.  

“Snap out of it!” Geta barked. Bright, blue eyes narrowed on her face as Geta snapped, “You don’t get a choice! You either do this or you die. Don’t be a martyr for a dead woman.”

She was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. That phantom tension in her chest had progressed past uncomfortable and the skin over her heart burned. Alesta didn’t want to do this.

Didn’t want to hurt her friend—

But she didn’t have a choice.

“Dammit! Okay— okay,” Alesta whispered, trying to ignore the lurch of pain growing underneath her skin. She couldn’t meet Geta's eye as she spoke the condemning words, “Geta, please help me.”

With a sigh, Geta spread her arms wide as color flooded her ghostly figure. It took less than a second. Unlike before, that thread of connection between them never bloomed.

Alesta’s chest felt hollow.

It was like her devil fruit knew. This was it. They wouldn’t meet again once this was over. As Alesta took a wobbly step back to stand next to the ship’s side, she scrubbed at her face to try and hide the tears creeping down her cheeks.

“Make it quick,” she ordered the devil fruit. Alesta didn’t know if it would listen, but she didn’t want Geta to suffer, “Less than a minute.”

That pressure inside of her chest thrummed once in quiet acknowledgment. She could only hope it was enough. Geta met her stare across the port, her blue eyes filled with life.

Geta didn’t say anything but her face did it for her. There was worry hidden in the old woman’s expression, yet there was a tinge of something softer. Something sweet.

Something just for her.

Then Geta jumped.

The splash echoed in her ears as Alesta’s hands shook. The dark indigo water snatched her body and pulled it beneath the waves with nary a sound. She stared at the waves long enough to know Geta didn’t resurface.

Feeling a sob catch in her throat, Alesta forced herself to move.

She didn’t dare spare a second to look back, not even when the sound of shouting overtook the air. She had to move. Throwing herself at the ship, Alesta lurched for the ladder. The rough wood scraped her palms bloody as she hiked herself over the ledge of the marine ship just in time to see Han sprinting down the pier.

His frantic shout cast over the scream of the waves hitting the boat’s starboard, “She ate the devil fruit! She can’t swim!”

Alesta’s chest hit the rail and punched the air out of her lungs as the pound of steps echoed down the pier. Ignoring the burst of pain and throwing her body over the rail, Alesta took a steadying breath before allowing herself to peer between the railing and over the side of the ship.

In the time it'd taken for her to duck, Han made it to the end of the pier. He was on his knees and his arms were clenched on the wooden boards as he gaped into the frothy waters.

Behind him, the rest of his marine entourage slid to a stop.

Someone went to jump in after Geta, but Captain Jun snatched them back by the collar of their shirt. “You won’t survive a minute in those waters,” his green eyes were dark behind his glasses, “The tide’ll drag you under the boat before the rocks rip you apart.”

There was no infliction in his tone. The words were said with such apathy that her stomach heaved. Scooting over the wet deck of the ship and sliding her back against the white-washed walls of the half-deck, Alesta swallowed her sob. 

Geta was gone.

Alesta was alone again.

Scrubbing at her face hard enough to sting, Alesta took a deep breath before casting her gaze over the rest of the ship. The morning sun caught her eye and she hissed against the sudden burn, covering her eyes with a trembling hand as she tried to gather her surroundings.

Weapons laid strew out on the main dock and a few lingering marines were huddled near the port side of the boat, watching the proceedings. It wasn't quiet for long. Captain Jun called orders from the pier and Alesta suddenly felt the boat lurch under her feet. Bile caught on her tongue as realization burrowed in.

She didn’t have time to grieve.

Alesta needed to hide.

The ship’s layout was not conclusive for stealth.

The first twelve hours of Alesta’s stay were spent tucked inside a storage closet behind a bag of potatoes. It had been the best she could find at the time. Most of the main cabin consisted of open spaces and supply closets. There was a small area that Alesta determined to be the kitchen, but beyond that, there were very few places to settle.

It was a decent hiding place but not safe enough to be permanent.

There'd been no time to cry. For three days, she rotated between different closets. Some of them held supplies, but more often than not, they were empty beyond the cobwebs.

As the hours passed, her stomach began to cramp as hunger set in. It left her with a hollow ache that only continued to fester. When the fourth day came, Alesta knew she couldn't continue like this. She needed to eat.

She just wasn't sure how. 

The kitchen would be a death sentence. She’d tried to scavenge some of the raw potatoes from her first hiding place, but they settled uncomfortably inside her stomach. Water was also scarce. She’d been able to find a discarded canteen on her second day hiding, but since then, she’d been out of luck.

When the fifth day rolled around, Alesta decided that enough was enough.

She needed water.

Much of the ship remained unknown to her. There wasn't an opportune time for investigation due to the ship's inhabitants. She spent the empty hours of the day learning their patterns. Learning their habits, their strides—

Eventually, Alesta realized that the marines moved the most during the morning hours and late in the afternoon, but once it hit nightfall they settled. It was the first time she felt safe enough to venture out of hiding. Guided by thirst, she’d risked attempting to escape further below. It wasn’t an area she’d explored yet.

Keeping her ears pricked for movement, Alesta took a gamble and darted for a ladder she’d noticed the day before.

It was easy enough considering the circumstances, but she couldn’t help but feel watched. It felt as if the shadows themselves had eyes. Dropping down from the vertical ladder leading from the tiller to the hold, Alesta realized why.  

As her feet settled on the uneven floorboards, she was greeted by something unexpected.

Ghosts.

Spread out throughout the lower levels, men of varying sizes and features were dawdling around in perpetual motion. Alesta stood carefully, cautious to let the floor creak beneath her feet. Very few of the men wore the standard marine uniform.

Unlike Captain Jun and his comrades, the specters floating around the lower level were unique in a way she didn’t have a word for. From their outlandish clothing to their massive weapons, these ghosts were a variety of mixed heritage and culture.

A few of them turned to glance at her at her impromptu arrival, but most of them deigned her existence inconsequential and returned to their internal sulking. Only a select group kept watching her.

Their intensity was a bit odd and as Alesta took a tentative step further into the open space, she kept an eye on the curious ones. Geta’s warnings rang in her ears and even though the pressure in her chest lurched uncomfortably, she didn’t speak to the strange assortment of men.

Her avoidance didn’t stop them from whispering.

“Who’s that?” One of them asked. His voice was a soft thing, ragged with age, “I’ve never seen her before.”

Another one pointed out, “She’s not a marine.”

“A pirate?”

“No way—"

She tried to filter out their voices. Stepping around the pillar in the middle of the room, she trailed her gaze over the far walls of the interior. It was a similar layout to the floors above it.

Unlike the main level, there were copious amounts of equipment and barrels that lay unused across the floor. She crept past them for now but made a mental note to return in case her search for water proved fruitless. The floor rocked beneath her feet as the ship rolled over the waves. 

Halfway through her exploration, Alesta stumbled upon the reason there were so many ghosts.

Her steps came to an unsteady halt. Tucked against the back portion of the lower level were cages. Five of them lined in a row. The old, rusty metal creaked in time with the pounding of the waves outside.

From her position, she couldn’t see any prisoners, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone trapped down here with her. Something cold snuck up her spine and made her arms break into goosebumps. Chancing a careful step closer, Alesta kept an eye on the cages.

Nothing moved at the sound of her footsteps.

Only when she was less than five feet away did she see why.

In the last cage on the right, there was a huddle of blankets on the floor. Rags of brown and beige were covering the downward slump of a man's body, his arm bent akimbo at the shoulder blade, clearly broken.

The rest of the body was twisted inward in a fetal position and blood seeped into the floor beneath it. She took a deep breath before the smell hit her. The musky taint of death lingered in Alesta’s lungs and made her cough, shielding her nose a moment too late.

The action brought her attention to the rest of the cage.

Just above the body, another ghost hovered. The man’s irritated gaze was locked on her and a scowl pulled at the edges of his youthful face. His shirt was open on the chest and Alesta could see a faint hint of a tattoo on his chest.

Orange ink curled around his pectoral muscle and skimmed his protruding collarbones. 

But it wasn’t his body that caught her attention. It was his hair.

His purple hair.

“You—” the ghost frowned at her, phasing through the bars of his cage without a sound, “I know you.”

She knew him as well. It was the pirate she’d waved to weeks ago, the one who’d followed his captain into their town. The one who’d brought the devil fruit onto Takko Island. He looked the exact same as he did during that fateful day.

The only exception was the new glowing hue of his skin and of course, his obvious lack of life.

Alesta didn’t speak for several seconds, twisting her attention over her shoulder to see how many other ghosts lingered. There were a few. Mostly men with muscles the size of her head, but they looked more curious than anything. When she turned her attention back to the pirate ahead of her, he was suddenly less than a foot away from her face.

She startled back instinctively. 

“You can see me,” he whispered. A handsome smile pulled at his lips and highlighted a scar on his chin, “Can’t you?”

Eyes wide, she shook her head in denial before she realized her mistake.

The rest of the ghosts began talking all at once and Alesta winced, rubbing at the spot under her collarbone as noise flooded the area.

“She can what?”

“Did you say she can see you?”

“Can she see us too–- wait, is it a devil fruit?”

“Yes and yes,” the ghost who got her into this mess grinned, “So, you’re the one who stole the devil fruit from the marines.”

Alesta was quickly feeling overwhelmed. Her heart beat a second too fast, hand falling on her chest to try and still the frantic pulse. It caught their attention and another spirit was suddenly at her side.

He was taller than the rest with a headful of orange hair draping down his shoulders like a lion. His heavyset brows were hiked high on his forehead as he tilted his head in a very canine-like manner. He too had a tattoo on his chest, but it was an artful depiction of a dragon that crawled up his sternum and around his neck.

“What’s your name, child?” The ghost, who she’d temporarily dubbed Lion, asked, “How did you find yourself on a marine vessel?”

The ghost of the pirate from her island chimed in unhelpfully, “Bad luck whatever it was. You couldn’t have picked a worse ship.”

A third boy floated behind him, but he was smaller than the other two. There was youth in his full cheeks and a hint of acne on his chin. With his long black hair, he couldn’t be more than a preteen, “Are you a pirate?”

“Okay, hold on—” Alesta held her hands up in surrender before squeezing her eyes shut, “Give me a second, please.”

This was worse than Geta. At least when the old woman appeared, she hadn’t bombarded her with questions she couldn’t answer. It was increasingly hard to get her thoughts in order as their voices merged into static.

Alesta was struck by a sudden longing for the woman. Geta was familiar. She was someone Alesta knew and trusted. These men— these pirates, if her intuition was right, had none of that in their favor.

Lion took pity on her, “Back off, boys. Give her a moment.”

“Thank you,” she swallowed, glancing at the man with gratitude. He tilted his head in acknowledgment and Alesta turned her attention back to the pirate from her island, “My name’s Alesta and I didn’t steal the devil fruit. I—” she squinted before admitting, “Yes. I stole it. I wasn't aware it would be such an issue at the time.”

The pirate from her island laughed. It was a charming sound, but there was something sharp hiding in its edges, “Oh, girlie. You messed up.”

She bit her tongue at the reminder of her failings, “I’m realizing that, thank you."

Apparently, hunger made her sharp-tongued.

Geta would be proud.  

“The Bōrei Bōrei no Mi, correct?” Lion cut in before Alesta could say something she regretted, “Interesting. I’m not personally familiar with it, but we’ve heard the marines talking about it enough to gather they believe it’s important.”

He let silence pass between them with a questioning hike of his brow. He was waiting for her to fill in the blanks. There was a tone inside his words like he expected to be obeyed and something strange filled the air.

It was not something she was comfortable giving into.

Rubbing at her chest, Alesta turned her attention away from him and back to the pirate she recognized. His eyes were slanted in consideration, dragging over her flesh in a manner she wasn't sure how to categorize. 

She wanted Geta back.

She’d know what to do.

“It’s something,” Alesta hedged, not willing to admit everything to men she didn’t trust, “But I doubt it’s worth as much as they’re assuming. The only thing I can offer is seeing ghosts— you, apparently.”

Lion hummed in thought, “That is odd.”  

Behind him, the familiar pirate smirked like he knew she was lying.

He didn’t call her out on it.

Instead, he motioned to himself, “Kanetsuyo Fox,” he bared his teeth with a feral smile when she only stared at him, “In case you wanted to know the name of the guy you’re talking to.” He jabbed a finger at Lion and the teenager respectively, “That’s Cho and Giren.”

“Hello,” Giren, the lanky teen, waved shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

The pressure in her chest gave a little pang and Alesta winced, “Likewise—”

“Quiet,” Cho cut them both off. His hand raised in the air and he tilted his head over his shoulder, golden eyes narrowing on the front of the room, “Someone’s coming.”

Giren vanished before he could finish talking and Cho followed not long after.

Footsteps echoed over the ceiling and the low tang of male voices crept down the ladder. Before Alesta could turn, Kanetsuyo was in front of her. He didn’t try to grab her, but he did motion to an area to the left of the cages behind them.

Three large wooden crates and several barrels were shoved against the wall. Without waiting for her response, he zipped toward the barrels and pointed to a tiny alcove between the crates and the wall. It couldn't have been larger than a foot in diameter. 

“Hide away, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo grinned, but the expression was tight, “The marines are here.”

It took several hours for the men to finish.

They did something with the crates. The sound of their grunting made her nails dig into her palms as Alesta begged them to finish. Bile built on the back of her tongue at the sound of their harsh laughter.

It felt like an eternity before they finished what they came to do.

When the area was finally clear, Alesta’s legs were cramping from the strain of hiding in a hole less than three feet deep. Her shoulders had been curved inward for hours and there was a worrying pain down her back. The dry skin of her tongue was sticking against the roof of her mouth, but she didn’t dare move until Kanetsuyo signaled the all-clear.

When the pirate finally motioned her out, she hissed, “Ow.”

“Sorry about that, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo teased. He didn’t sound particularly apologetic as she struggled to her knees, “Didn’t realize how tall you were.”

“Better in pain than dead,” Alesta muttered back, rubbing at her straining shoulder blades, “Thank you, by the way.”

It would have been easy for him to leave her alone. She might have found a hiding spot in time, but it would have been tricky. Chancing a glance up at the ghostly pirate, Alesta tried to wet her chapped lips. He smirked at the motion, but it was tired at the edges.

It was a strange feeling to see sympathy on a pirate’s face.

“No problem,” he flickered to her right, hovering in the air by her shoulder, “I didn’t want to see these bastards spill more blood.”

The statement had an offhanded flair to it and he wouldn’t meet her eye. Instead, his focus was on the shell of his body still trapped in the metal casings of the cage. Kanetsuyo’s fingers tapped on the bare skin of his forearm in unease, but he didn’t move beyond that.

Following his line of sight, she swallowed her apprehension to ask, “When— how long have you been here?”

“Three weeks,” his shoulder lifted in a shrug, “They grabbed me as soon as we left your island.”

It was said like he didn’t care either way, but Alesta knew better. She’d learned how to read body language well enough through the years to catch the way his mouth tightened at the corners and how his dark stare never lingered too long on his body before he had to force his attention away.

The pressure in her chest lurched in forewarning.

There was so much she didn't know. Her question came out unfiltered, “Why? What happened?”

The silence that greeted her made her bite her tongue. Kanetsuyo peered at her for several seconds. There was a strange intensity to his focus, his gaze skittering down her face and arms before landing on her knees. They were scuffed from her impromptu climb over the ship’s helm and the skin was broken from her rough landing on the ship deck several days ago.

His head tilted as he considered the injury.

“Ah, you know how it is,” he finally forced a grin, “Pirates and marines never get along.”

She sat up, itching for more clarification, “But why did they kill you—“

“Let’s not ask questions we don’t need to, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo’s smile went sharp at the edges. It was a dangerous expression, a grin that hid too many teeth and silent strength, “Worry about yourself.”

Alesta knew a threat when she heard it and Kanetsuyo’s warning was just a hint shy of deadly. He didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that led him here. Whatever it was that caused him to lose his life so soon and let his body rot away.

Pulling at the sweat-stained collar of her tank top, Alesta nodded in submission. It was hard to meet his eye with the sensation of warning coasting off his shoulders.

Her hand rubbed at her chest again, a pattern she’d unconsciously taken up to subdue the pressure her devil fruit cursed her with.

“You keep doing that,” Kanetsuyo pointed out. He watched her hand freeze with narrowed eyes, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Just a habit.”

His mouth ticked up in a smirk, “From the devil fruit, right?”

Alesta’s blood ran cold. The accusation combined with the lingering threat felt nearly noxious. It settled in her veins and made her heart skip a beat, “You know?”

That creeping sensation of dread swept over her and for the first time that day, Alesta felt truly scared. It was easy to forget the risk he posed. Her tongue caught on her teeth as she watched him.

Kanetsuyo wasn’t like Han. That didn’t settle her nerves.

The man before her had a palpable danger to him despite the fact he was well and truly dead. It sank into the air around them like a second skin.

“I know there’s more to it than you let on. We’re the ones that found it, you know,” Kanetsuyo needled before his chuckle cut through the air, “Don’t look so worried, ghost girl. Your little secret’s safe with me.”

It should have been the end of the conversation, but her chest hurt. It wasn't in a manner she was familiar with. Kanetsuyo's eyes were sharp on her and the pain began to burn. She glanced at her hands in surprise just as the sensation changed.

The pressure beneath her collarbone began to pound and her hand flew to the skin in a panicked haze. That wasn't supposed to happen. Wide-eyed and terrified, she threw her gaze to Kanetsuyo just in time to see his brows hike in surprise.

The pain immediately faded and for a second, the two could only stare at each other.

Rationality wouldn't come. The phantom tang of sensation made it hard to think. Alesta was the first to speak, her voice more tremble than words, “What was that?”

“Just a theory of mine,” Kanetsuyo tilted his head, scanning her from head to toe before admitting, “I wanted to see if my Observation Haki would work with you here." He glanced at her shaking hand before his lip curled in what Alesta thought was almost regret, "My bad, I didn’t expect it to do anything to ‘ya. Must be a devil fruit thing.”

It was an answer, but it sounded like gibberish between her ears. Nothing he’d just admitted made sense in any faction of the world she knew.

Her hand crawled back to her chest and Kanetsuyo caught the movement, another rare flair of sympathy filling his expression as her wrist trembled before he wiped it clean. Trying to focus on anything other than the lingering buzz between her collarbones, Alesta licked her lips as she digested his apology. 

“Okay,” she drew the words out slowly before repeating, “What is that exactly?”

This time, Kanetsuyo went still. His dark eyes narrowed on her for half a second until he eventually questioned in turn, “You’re in Paradise and you don’t know what Haki is?”

“I—” Alesta struggled for a response before hedging, “Is that an island on the Grand Line?”

He stared at her for at least a minute before loud laughter ricocheted throughout the room. Sinking to his knees, he fell back into a sitting position and chuckled under his breath. The sound had a manic tone to it, a cutting little thing filled with disbelief.

It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. When he finally got control of himself, Alesta found his sharp eyes locked on her face in bemusement.

“Oh, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo propped his chin on his hand before simpering, “You’re in trouble.”

Chapter Text

In the span of a single night, Alesta learned more about the world than she could ever hope to comprehend.

It wasn't difficult to encourage Kanetsuyo to indulge her curiosity. The acquiescence was clearly his attempt to steer the conversation to neutral waters. A silent apology for the strain he caused her.

Alesta appreciated the effort, though there was a lingering tension between the two of them that needed more than time to fade. They were strangers trapped together by circumstance.

It was only when Kanetsuyo began to explain the world around them did the wall break and she found herself leaning forward, enthralled with the stories he weaved.

The conversation started with an explanation of Observation Haki in the basest sense. Kanetsuyo told her how he could feel the intentions of the men around him. How he knew who was dangerous and who didn’t pose a threat. To Alesta, it amounted to what she’d consider a hyper-focused level of vigilance.

Kanetsuyo disagreed.

According to him, his own abilities barely scratched the surface of what Haki could do.

He told her about his captain next. A man who could coat his fist with black energy and turn rocks into pebbles. Kanetsuyo laughed at her awe, perching back on his hands as he watched her digest the information.

Evidently, his captain’s feats were considered normal.

Haki was apparently a common feat on the Grand Line, the patch of the ocean they now sailed upon. He told her about a man he’d met when he was younger, someone who could rip mountains in half with a flick of his finger, his mouth quirking with the beginnings of a grin when she gaped. 

“How?” Alesta questioned.

It didn’t seem possible. It was a story born of myths, a feat better saved for gods.

“He had a devil fruit,” Kanetsuyo’s voice dipped with amusement and fondness, “Cheating bastard.”

That explanation opened a whole new world of discussion. When her questions continued, he eventually began to describe the concept more in-depth. His arms would jostle with each movement, descriptive in a manner she wouldn't have assumed he'd be.

He warned her that she would never swim again, laughing when she told him she never could in the first place. The hours passed and Alesta grew steadily more comfortable with her new companion. He held so much information.

So many answers.

There was so much she didn’t understand. New facts that didn’t mold with the views she’d fostered on the tiny, scrap of the world she’d once called her own.

Her curiosity led to a never-ending push and pull between them. With each new explanation, she had ten more questions. Kanetsuyo seemed to delight in her ignorance. He scooted closer to her, perching his hands on his knees as he whispered stories between the two of them.

Those sharp eyes of his would take in each jolt of surprise his explanations wrought and Kanetsuyo’s grin stretched further across his thin cheeks.

As the hours crept on, his teaching morphed into storytelling.

He told her about islands filled with creatures of lore, men who stood as tall as the largest building on Takko Island, and sea monsters who crept beneath the waves. Not all of it made sense.

There were factors of rationale that were ignored in the face of mystery. Sometimes, she’d ask a question and Kanetsuyo’s only response would be a shrug.

“The ocean’s a big place, ghost girl,” his teeth flashed when he smiled, “Not even the dead know all the answers.”

The only thing that went unexplained were the circumstances regarding his death.

He’d touched on the events leading up to it briefly. When before he'd snapped, he took the time to indulge her now. A benefit to their growing familiarity.

Telling her about how his team came to dock on her island, he mentioned that they had a man on their crew who could breathe underwater and served as their guide over the rocky ocean floor. A fishman, he’d called him. The man she’d glimpsed with the dorsal fin.

Kanetsuyo’s expression shuttered when she asked about him.

Without looking at her, he turned his attention to the cages behind them, “I’m not the only one that died that day.”

He didn’t talk about his crew again.

Instead, the subjects morphed onto lighter territories. It was a relief to both of them. Alesta asked about his travels, about the islands he’d seen. When he’d run out of locations, she moved on to the people.

Apparently, life as a pirate allowed you to meet all sorts of interesting figures. Kanetsuyo told her about Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress, and Mihawk, the strongest swordsman in the world.

“He’s an asshole,” He scoffed once he’d finished. “Never did like him.”

Alesta learned the reason why he held that opinion shortly later.

Kanetsuyo was evidently an aspiring swordsman before he died. His face lit up when she’d asked him to explain, scooting close enough, that had he been alive, their knees would have touched.

Even without the influence of her devil fruit, Kanetsuyo looked like he’d been struck by a burst of life. With a grin, he told her his weapon of choice had been a dadao named Whale. During that conversation, she also learned that it was common practice to name your swords.

Though why he named it Whale would remain forever unknown.

When she’d asked, he’d blushed in a manner she didn’t think pirates were capable of.

Despite the name choice, she wasn’t overly surprised at the news of his skillset. It explained his lean build and the scar he had on his forearm. The scar in question was a long, curved cut that stretched from his wrist to his elbow.

When she’d mentioned it, he’d looked at her like she’d grown a second head before bursting into laughter. His eyes glinted when she scowled at his reaction, a sharp tooth peeping out behind thin lips. That was the moment Alesta also discovered it was apparently poor taste to compliment a swordsman on his wounds.

Unfortunately, like all good things, their conversation was forced to end with the return of the marines.

Kanetsuyo noticed them coming before she did and he motioned her back to the hiding spot behind the barrels. His eyes flicked toward the ladder, a flash of unexpected concern making him look younger than she knew him to be. The sight of his worry made something curdle in her stomach— an odd pinch of regret that she didn't anticipate feeling.

The swordsman had grown on her through the night.

It would be a thought to consider later. Unfortunately, hiding between the crates was just as much of a struggle as it had been the first time she did it. Her bruised knees scraped against the wooden floor of the ship and her back ached as she was forced to contort to fit.

Kanetsuyo observed silently, keeping a phantom guard over her position as the marines flooded the room. 

Captain Jun’s voice was familiar to her in a way that sent chills up her spine, “This is a disgrace.”

Alesta watched him as he strode into the room. His hair was ruffled in a manner it hadn’t been on Takko Island, almost as if he’d been dragging his hand through it. Behind him, three other men followed. They all had the standard marine uniform on but they were missing the golden lapels Captain Jun had on his shoulders.

When he came to a stop, the captain's feet were less than a foot away from the cages. His green eyes narrowed on Kanetsuyo’s body behind his glasses, “Who was in charge of the prisoner?”

“Cadet Corey, sir,” one of the marines behind him snapped to attention.

His bland, brown eyes twitched in fear and Alesta cataloged the reaction. 

“Tch,” Captain Jun sighed before kicking the cell’s bars with steel-toed boots, “Someone clean this up.”

“Yes, sir!” A heavyset blonde man scuttled in from the back of the room toward Kanetsuyo’s body, “What do you want me to do with it, sir?”

To the right of them, Kanetsuyo’s spirit hovered. His purple hair hung over his forehead and shadowed his eyes. From her position near the floor, Alesta could see the way they narrowed in contempt at the marines.

Rage coated his face and sunk into the air like a physical force. It made the tension in her chest surge, foreign pressure thundering against the soft flesh of her breasts. Had there been enough room to move, Alesta would have winced. 

Captain Jun tilted his head to the right as he said, “Keep the head. That one had a decent bounty.”

Alesta barely managed to cup her mouth in time to temper her gasp.

There was no sympathy in his tone. Only the sure drawl of a man unconcerned with the respect of the dead. The absolute detachment in the captain’s tone was enough to set her skin aflame with a cool blaze of fear.

Her abdomen clenched like she wanted to retch. Alesta probably would have if her stomach wasn’t so painfully empty. Meanwhile, footsteps echoed through the room. The creak of the cage and the thump of a body rolling over made her grit her teeth.

“And the body, sir?”

“Toss it overboard,” without another glance back, the captain stalked toward the ladder, “Let the sea kings have it.”

There wasn't a second of hesitation at the order.

It was as if they expected it. The blonde marine moved into the cage first, grabbing Kanetsuyo’s body by its feet and dragging it toward the center of the room. Blood browned by age coated the floor behind him, a sluggish trail dampening the floor as they began to work.

The sick stench of rot wafted through the air and this time, Alesta couldn’t withhold her gag. Another marine came up beside his comrade with a long sword clutched in his shaking fist.

“Don’t look, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo warned as the marine raised the weapon, “Keep your eyes shut.”

The swish of a blade tore through the air before she heard a nauseating thump.

Alesta wished she’d listened.

It took nearly an hour for them to finish.

Horror kept her gaze locked on the brutal massacre of Kanetsuyo’s body and Alesta watched every swing. Every slash. Every broken bone and mauled flesh. Never once did they falter. Only when the three marines finished and carted the destruction away did she allow herself to breathe.

Kanetsuyo watched them leave before he waved her out. The tang of decay clung to the room and her inhale rattled in her lungs as she crawled out of her hiding place, arms trembling like a lamb.

Alesta didn't make it far.

Her arms gave way and she fell, elbows scraping against the wooden floor.

Kanetsuyo stared at her as she retched.

Her stomach rolled. A small puddle of bile coalesced over the floor in front of her, but nothing else came out. It was probably for the better.

Already, Alesta could feel the stirrings of pain in her abdomen from the strength of her heaving coupled with the lack of food and water. She had nothing left to give. Wiping at her mouth, she took a deep breath.

This hadn’t been what she expected when she left her island.

She’d set out with delusions of grandeur. With the sea beckoning her and the open expanse of a world unexplored, she anticipated adventure. It was the dream of a foolish child. Alesta was self-aware enough to acknowledge that her previous hopes were naïve at best.

She’d thought Takko Island was a cage, but she was swiftly realizing it was a gate separating her from the harsh truths of their world.

Now, she found herself in another cage.

This time one of her own making.

Escaping aboard the marine vessel had been the only option, but she’d found herself trapped on a boat with murderers. With men who held more power in their uniforms than she would ever think to grasp. Men who didn’t blink at desecrating a body for their own greed.

The walls around her began to sink in— black creeping into the edge of her vision as she placed her hands on her knees and fought for air.

Alesta could only manage a shaky gasp, “Why?”

“We’re pirates,” Kanetsuyo’s voice was deceptively toneless, “That’s what they do.”

The rest of the ghosts trapped in the lower level were suspiciously silent. Finally gathering enough strength to lift her head, she spotted the familiar face of Giren behind the pillar in the middle of the room. Just the sight of his youthful eyes made Alesta retch again. It clung to her tongue and wouldn't leave.

Giren was only a teenager, barely more than a child.

“My dad,” she panted, “My dad said they were traders—”

“They are,” Kanetsuyo’s head canted to the side in quiet agreement, “But you can trade more than food. Sometimes people trade flesh and bone.”

It was stated so blandly, she almost didn't catch the implication in his statement.

Flesh and bone. Her chest felt too tight, panic creeping in without her consent. It made the world around her blur and the familiar taste of wine built on the back of her tongue. Unlike before, it had a faint tang of iron and as she swallowed, her spit tasted bloody.

Alesta brought a hand to her mouth and touched her mouth.

Her lip stung at the action.

When her hand pulled back, her fingers were coated with red.

In her desperation to stay silent as the marines took Kanetsuyo’s body apart, she’d must have bitten her lip hard enough to break the skin. She couldn’t stop staring at the liquid on her fingers. At the way the blood crept under her nails and painted them crimson.

The phantom buzz of cicadas echoed in her ears and for just a second, she wasn’t Alesta anymore.

She was someone else.

Someone dead and gone.

Just another child who’d suffered abuse in silence until her lips would bleed at the force of keeping her mouth shut. A little girl with a bloodied mouth, crying as she faced off against her mother and her backhand.

Just another woman who’d lost herself in forgotten dreams and memories, chewing on the broken flesh until the cracked skin would fester and break on the back of her porch thinking about all the ways life could have been different.

Someone who gave up too soon.

“Breathe,” Cho, the pirate with the dragon tattoo, was suddenly in her line of sight. He kneeled on his haunches close enough for her to see his golden eyes narrow, “It’s over.”

It was hard to focus with the ringing in her ears.

Her chest still felt too tight. The tension that had taken home in her skin began to thrum. It sang a tune she didn’t know, but the force of the rhythm beat against her soul.

It raged and raged— pounding against the barrier of her flesh like a drum.

It was all she could hear.

The beat of her heart pounded in her head. Every time Alesta tried to blink, a screaming sensation of pressure hammered through her skull and made her suck in a pained breath, her mouth caught in a grimace that wouldn’t break. The walls crept closer.

Caught, stuck, trapped—

She would always be trapped.

This time, it was Kanetsuyo who spoke, “Oi, ghost girl. Chill out. You’re freaking me out.”

The thrumming stopped.

Coherence returned like wading out of a pit of tar. When her focus came back, Alesta realized she’d been clutching at her chest hard enough for her nails to indent into her skin. She blinked twice to get rid of the haze.

There was still a curious sensation of detachment haunting her shoulders but she could feel the cool chill of the wooden floorboards against her knees and hear the pound of waves against the ship. That was all she needed to remember. She was here. 

She was free. 

Lifting her head, Alesta caught Kanetsuyo staring at her.

It wasn’t an expression she’d seen on the man before. There was a hint of fear on his face, but it had a tinge of awe— of reverence. It didn’t take long for her to realize why.

Where his skin had once had a transparent sheen to it, there was a solidity that hadn’t been there prior. Alesta went still as their eyes connected. Kanetsuyo swallowed slowly, taking a step into the shadows behind him as his dark eyes scanned down her face and her shaking arms.

He shook his head carefully, the warning clear.

She didn’t need to mention it.

“You’re okay, Alesta,” Cho missed the movement, his wizened face wrinkling as he tried to guide her out of her panic attack, “The marines are gone.”

Alesta nodded. It was a slow and hesitant thing, but it was all she could manage. 

Cho smiled at the action. It was a generally charming quirk of the lips, but Alesta couldn’t focus on it. Now that the strange feeling of derealization had passed, she was concentrated on the ghost still hovering in the shadowed corner of the ship.

Kanetsuyo wasn’t fully corporal, but it was close. Too close than it should be. The pressure in her chest hummed like a satiated cat and Alesta winced. This was out of the realm of her experience.

She’d done something to Kanetsuyo without speaking the words she’d grown accustomed to.

The shock gave her something concrete to focus on and she latched onto it with frantic hands. Geta told her that ghosts had free will. They were human too. They shouldn’t be compelled to help her unless they granted it.

Yet, that didn’t explain Kanetsuyo. It didn’t explain why her dread forced the devil fruit to act out and clasp onto the ghost with willing teeth.

Unless he wanted to help.

Unless it was his call.

A will was a powerful thing. Alesta knew that in the bare marrow of her bones. If you had enough willpower, you could do things you didn’t think you’d ever be capable of. You could fight, you could survive. It was the foundation of humanity.

Without it, you rotted away, a lost soul with a gun to their head and a life unlived.

Forcing her mind to detach from the lingering strings of fear still churning in her gut, Alesta allowed the more rational part of her mind to take over. She thought through the facts with detachment.

Listed them out one by one.

Her devil fruit allowed her to interact with the dead, to temporarily resurrect them for her needs. If by some chance her voice wasn’t the sole initiation factor, that would mean there was an emotional attachment.

It made sense, but the connotations were concerning.

Would this happen every time she lost control— every time she fell into the void of her thoughts? Would the devil fruit resort to self-preservation and latch onto the closest willing soul? She frowned at her bloodstained hands.

There were still so many questions she didn’t know, so many unknowns in the equation that didn’t have an executable variable.

It was a concerning realization. 

If she ever hoped to survive the world off this ship, she’d need to find answers.

Sooner rather than later.

Alesta didn’t return to the upper levels of the ship.

There was a comfort to be found with the dead and their unspoken history.  

While many of them continued to ignore her, a few more floated close by to chat or simply observe. Kanetsuyo was a stable appearance, yet there were several new faces among the closest spectators. It wasn’t clear what broke their silence, but she had the faintest sense that pity spurned them to reach out.

It was evident in their stilted introductions and hidden behind awkward smiles. If she had the ability, she would have laughed at the thought.

On a ship of marines, she felt safest with the spirits of pirates.

Unfortunately, amusement wasn’t to be found. Tucked against the back wall of the ship storage bay, Alesta stared at the drying puddle of blood where Kanetsyo’s body once rested. It was hard to look away.

She picked at the broken skin of her lip with her teeth as her fingers twitched with the absurd urge to get a mop. It was odd, the way muscle memory chose the most mundane actions to emulate.

If her internal clock was right, she’d be in the kitchen making breakfast right now back on the island. It would probably be another variation of fish, a constant staple in their home. It was her father’s favorite. Han enjoyed it too. He’d often compliment her on her ability to season it just right, oil and spices making the flesh tender.

Alesta wasn’t there though. She was here.

With only the dead for company.

“Looking at it isn't going to change shit,” Kanetsuyo muttered beside her. He was propped on his heels, knees jutting as he squatted, “What’s done is done, ghost girl.”

She swallowed, canting her head to the left and tearing her eyes away from the gruesome remnants, “Do they do this to all the pirates?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugged like the details didn’t matter, “Better death than whatever else they got planned. I’m sure you noticed there aren’t any women down here.”

She had, but she hadn’t put much effort into examining why that might be. A part of her just assumed piracy was a male-dominated field. The insinuation in Kanetsuyo’s tone tore that assumption to shreds. The desire to hurl crept back up her throat, but she kept the need at bay.

There was nothing left in her stomach and the action would do more harm than good.

Her disgust must have been evident because Kanetsuyo sighed, “Don’t think about it, kid. That won’t happen to you.”

“Because of the devil fruit?” She guessed, watching him bounce restlessly on his heels, “I’m an asset.”

That was never a word she’d thought to apply to herself, but it was true. With the power the devil fruit could offer, she was just a shiny sword trapped in a gilded cage. Her ability wasn’t overly offensive or defensive.

When her mother explained the fruits and their various powers to her, Alesta had mistakenly thought it would be something that would strengthen her. Similar to the ice powers her mother mentioned.

The Bōrei Bōrei no Mi wasn’t that.

It didn’t gift her the power to use for herself, only the world around her. There were ways she could morph it to her benefit, as Geta had shown, but it relied on the will of the ghost and not her own. 

“You are,” Kanetsuyo agreed without a shred of sympathy, “But that ain’t a bad thing to be.”

She laughed despite herself, “I’m useless without it. I can’t even throw a proper punch.”

“Well, yeah. That’ll be a fucking problem,” Kanetsuyo deadpanned. His mouth quirked with the beginnings of a humorless smile, “You telling me you snuck on a marine ship without a fight?”

“There was a fight with my father’s apprentice, but I had help from a ghost on the island,” Alesta rolled her eyes in self-deprecation as she admitted, “I mostly resorted to hitting him in the head until he didn’t get up.”

Rolling back on his haunches, Kanetsuyo snorted, “Now, you gotta tell me the story behind that.”

So, she did. Alesta told him about the island, her father, and her impending engagement with Han. Kanetsuyo listened with rapt attention, throwing in his own remark here and there as she spilled the dirty secrets of Takko Island for all to hear.

It was easy to delve into the more mundane topics with his interest.

Kanetsuyo appeared to enjoy listening as much as he did speaking. She talked about old man Rand and the hunched-backed baker cheating on her husband. It was only when she started talking about Geta that his face turned somber.

He listened quietly as she walked through the surprise of seeing her old nursemaid in her home. The way she discovered the extent of her powers when Geta knocked Han down with the pointed end of her cane. He even had the forethought to look sympathetic when she got to the part about how Geta kept her company as the very foundations of her world fell apart.

Once she got to the piece of the story regarding Geta’s warnings about the devil fruit, Kanetsuyo interjected, “The old woman was right, ‘ya know?”

“About being careful?” Alesta questioned.

“Mhm,” he hummed before trailing his attention to the ceiling, “Lots of greedy bastards in the world, ghost girl. What you did with me earlier,” his dark eyes flicked to her with a solemn stare, “Don’t let that happen again. Not here.”

She swallowed to ease her suddenly dry mouth, “Why? Did it hurt?”

“Nah,” he chuckled under his breath. It was a sullen, dark sort of sound. “But I’m an easy-going, guy. I won’t keep you around to try and squeeze some more life out of this shithole. Lots of people aren’t going to think that way though,” he cut his eyes toward Cho, “Some of them won’t either.”

Her eyes fell on the ghosts and Alesta was reminded with an abrupt clarity that she’d surrounded herself with pirates.

Men who toed the line of moral decency depending on how they felt that day. She took a steadying breath in through her nose. There was a lot she needed to keep in mind as she adventured further into the sea, a lot of social factors she would need to learn how to navigate.

“I never did tell you why we dropped that fruit off at your island, did I?” Kanetsuyo murmured in consideration, “Huh, my bad. Probably should have led with that.”

She stared at him, a bit thrown by the sudden subject change, “I assumed you needed money.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we did. We were running low on sake and damn, that does a number to morale,” he chuckled again, “But we also wanted to get rid of that fucking fruit before someone on the ship decided to be an idiot.”

The faint suggestion that she was said idiot hung in the air but Alesta held her tongue.

“My captain had a thing for devil fruits. Hated the sons of bitches, but he knew all about ‘em. That’s how he knew what your fruit was,” Kanetsuyo continued without a pause, “According to him, the thing had been recycled so many times, it was hard to keep up with. Told us that most of the people who ate it didn’t last longer than a year. Said it messed ‘em up— some of them would try and find their family who’d died too soon and the rest of them would go mad. Lots of dead people in the world.”

It was a warning wrapped in a story.

Alesta swallowed. For the first time, she considered herself lucky to be alone. With the temptation of the devil fruit, it was a blessing that she didn’t have anyone to long for no matter how lonely her existence had been for the last twenty years.  

“We didn’t plan on stopping at your island, but it was the closest one,” Kanetsuyo's lip curled as he added, “Would have chosen a different place if we’d known the marines were headed over.”

“They came once a month,” Alesta muttered almost unconsciously, “That was the deal.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t know that.” Kanetsuyo smirked grimly, “Guess I should have talked to you when you waved me down that day, huh?”

Her lip curled up in a halfhearted smile despite the conversation’s tone, “Probably. I might have begged you to take me off the island though.”

She wished they could turn back time. If Alesta had been brave enough to talk to the pirates, she wouldn’t have had a chance to eat the devil fruit. She wouldn’t have fought Han, wouldn’t be hiding in a marine ship surrounded by the dried blood of a body long gone.

She wouldn’t have met Geta, wouldn’t have seen Giren or Cho.

Alesta never would have known that half of the world’s dead still lingered.

“We would have,” Kanetsuyo sighed. Tilting his head back toward the ceiling, the air seemed to deflate out of his lungs, “Captain always had a soft spot for pretty strays. You would have made a shit pirate though, kid.”

Alesta made an amused sound in her throat, “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not then.”

“Then what are you?” Kanetsuyo stared at her for a second too long, “What do you think you’re going to do after this shit? From what you told me, the marines think you’re dead. You don’t have a family anymore. Ghost girl, you don’t have anywhere to go.” He hiked a brow, “You get that?”

Alesta froze.

The blood rushing to her brain nearly overwhelmed her as she realized he was right. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, more concerned with getting off the island in one piece. But with everything laid out in front of her, where was she going to go—

What did she plan to do with the entire world at her fingertips?

“I think I’ll travel,” she answered her own question, voice a soft mummer, “See how far I can get before I can’t go any further.”

Kanetsuyo snorted, “How? You don’t have a ship. You don’t have a crew. Hell, you didn’t even know what the Red Line was before I told you. You’ll be dead before you dock.”

The thought should have scared her.

It should have been enough to render her immobile for the foreseeable future. Death was a funny thing though. Alesta never had time to examine why she felt like the concept was an old friend, but it didn’t frighten her.

The dark chasm that lay ahead never made her stumble.

In fact, more than once in her life, she welcomed it. Alesta may not be religious, but if there was one thing she had the utmost faith in, it was the end. Death came for them all. By your own hand or by the dealings of fate. When it was her time to venture back down that road, Alesta would welcome it with the open arms of a forgotten friend.

“Then I’m dead,” Alesta sighed, but her mouth pinched in humor, “I already did more than I thought I ever would, so if it has to end—” she shrugged helplessly, “Better a life lived than one wasting away.”

Kanetsuyo visibly faltered.

Where doubt had once clung to him, his assessment was suddenly clouded by confusion. He stared at her for several long seconds and the silence between them began to stretch into something uncomfortable.

Then he laughed. The sound echoed around the room and several of the ghosts turned to them. Alesta's shoulders rolled in uncomfortably when Kanetsuyo grinned at her. 

“A housewife turned pirate,” Kanetsuyo clutched at his chest as his chuckles died off, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

She rolled her eyes with a petulant huff, “I’m not a pirate.”

“Not yet,” Kanetsuyo leered, “You got to have a ship to be a pirate. Can’t do it without one—”

Naturally, that was the moment the ship exploded.

An ear-splitting boom shook the empty corridor of the storage bay. The sound rolled in her ears like static that wouldn't fade. Before she had time to reorientate herself, the floor lurched under her feet and Alesta yelled, trying to latch onto the wall as the ship rolled to the right.

Behind her, barrels slammed into the wooden sideboards and another, smaller series of explosions rocked against the ceiling. Her nails broke as her grip faltered and Alesta found herself sliding down the floor as the ship shifted back into its previous position.

Her wide eyes flung to Kanetsuyo, "What was that—"

She didn't get a chance to finish. 

The screams of the marines above them echoed as another explosion swung the ship. The wooden planks of the ship’s sideboard creaked. Alesta struggled to her feet as the floor continued to sway underneath her feet. A crate smashed into the wall behind her and broke, pieces of rotten wood and metal casings smattering across the floor.

Directly above them, an explosion of similar force to the first reverberated through the air.

Water began to sink in through the planks and Alesta slipped. Her knees met the wet floor as the ship lurched back to the left, debris skittering across the ground in front of her.

“Get up, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo was there in a second, “You’ll die down here.”

The ship swayed again and Alesta hissed, “I’m trying!"

Her palms smacked against the damp floorboards, but she couldn’t make purchase. Her knees kept sliding as the ship rolled. Above her, Kanetsuyo stiffened.

His dark eyes locked on the ceiling and traced the boards— seeing something she couldn't. His shoulders went taunt when Alesta finally managed to struggle back to her feet. It was then she heard it. 

The roar of explosions was gone but now, the creak of pounding feet echoed through the ship.

She spun toward the ladder as Kanetsuyo cursed. Unlike her, the rest of the ghosts in the room hadn’t moved. She recognized Cho at the front of the room. His golden stare locked on the ladder like he was waiting. Behind him, more men hovered.

There was a strange energy building between them. Something that hung in the air with a faint hint of anticipation.

The pressure in her chest thrummed.

Near Cho by the ladder, Giren whispered, “They’re coming down here.”

“The marines?” Kanetsuyo snapped his attention to the young ghost. A snarl built on his lips, “Bunch of pussy-footed cowards.”

Alesta didn’t understand, “Why would they come down here?”

There was nothing this far down the ship. The canons were loaded on the floor above and she’d spotted a supply closet filled with weaponry near the kitchen. The only thing this far down in the ship were the cages and they didn’t provide anything resembling shelter.

“Because they’re scared,” Kanetsuyo scoffed, “Whoever attacked must be out of their league and the weak ones are hiding.”

She didn’t have time to think about his explanation.

Alesta didn’t even have time to hide.

As soon as the last word left his mouth, several bodies dropped down from the upper floor. Men of varying sizes and builds skittered down the ladder in rapid session, a few going as far as the jump the width of the two levels.

Their white marine uniforms were blackened with soot and a few of them were slapping at their coats, trying to extinguish lingering flames. When they were all down, Alesta counted at least twenty-five. They were speaking frantically amongst themselves, a few helping each other as they dropped into the room.

Her appearance didn’t go unnoticed for long.

The first one who spotted her gawked, “What—”

“A pirate?” Another one sputtered as he pulled out a pistol. He dangled it in the air in front of him, his shaky grip making it rattle, “Did Fire-Fist bring back up?”

Kanetsuyo cursed in surprise from behind her, but Alesta didn’t dare turn to look at him.

“That’s not a pirate,” a new marine stepped forward. He was taller than the others and there was a wicked-looking sword strapped to his upper back. His chin jutted unattractively as he sneered down at her, “That’s the girl from the island. The one who ate the devil fruit.”

“But she jumped!”

“I saw it, sir!”

“Obviously not,” the tall marine scoffed. His steps echoed against the floor as he lumbered toward her, “Looks like we have a stowaway—"

The threat in his tone was clear. Her hand grabbed the first thing she could reach. Pulling the broken board off the ground, Alesta held it in front of her like a saber, “Stay back.”

The marines laughed.

It was still edged with a tinge of panic from whatever was happening above them, but the sound had her blood-curdling in her veins. The marine holding the pistol steadied his resolve and hiked it higher. His hand no longer shook and she knew without a doubt that it was pointed at her head.

“Fire-Fist might be a bust, but the day isn’t ruined,” the marine with the sword unsheathed it as he continued to stalk toward her. The blade’s thin edge gleamed in the shadowed room, “Captain will be pleased.”

The rest of the marines seemed emboldened by his resolve. Weapons she hadn’t noticed were revealed and guns were cocked. Like a wave of white, they moved.

The smaller men branched out at the corners of their group while the heavier hitters took front and center. Before she knew it, Alesta was surrounded. The man with the sword grinned. It was a nasty smile, full of chipped teeth and too much salvia.

Alesta brought the board to her chest and spread her legs.

Above her, another explosion reverberated the floor.

“Wouldn’t do that, girlie,” the blade of the marine’s sword ripped through the air in a show of intimidation he didn’t need, “You know you won’t win this fight.”

The threat sank into her skin as a cool sweat built on the nape of her neck. Beneath the skin of her chest, the pressure she’d gotten used to began to hum. It crept through her veins and coalesced inside her pounding heart.

She lifted the plank in preparation to swing, the broken wood cutting into the thin skin of her palms and throbbing. It was a pointless effort. She was outnumbered and outgunned. 

The marine was right. She wasn’t going to win this.

Not unless she had help.

Without looking at him, Alesta asked, “Kanetsuyo?”

The marine in front of her startled. He recognized the name. His beady eyes flicked toward the cages before he shook himself out of his thoughts. Wrist flicking, he swung his sword again. This time he was close enough for Alesta to feel the air part on the downswing.

Behind him, the marine with the pistol snarled at her with too many teeth.

“I wondered when you were going to cave,” Kanetsuyo sighed, but from the corner of her eye, she saw him roll his shoulders in preparation. “Go for it, ghost girl. I don’t mind getting my pound of flesh from these bastards.”

The power in her chest lurched.

“Kanetsuyo,” invisible tethers snapped into place as Alesta spoke the magic words, “Please help me.”

She heard the screams before she saw him.

Kanetsuyo was fast.

Alesta could only track him by the familiar purple hue of his hair. Without even waiting for the change to fully sink in, he ducked under the marine’s sword, his forearm snapping upward to jolt the marine’s wrist as he turned corporal. It made the marine’s swing fly wide and before the man could get his balance back, Kanetsuyo moved.

His elbow jammed into the marine’s gut as he spun around him, arms latching around the man’s throat.

Alesta didn’t flinch as his neck snapped.

Like a puppet without strings, the marine fell to the floor and didn’t get up. Without a glance at his fallen foe, Kanetsuyo snatched the sword up. He twirled it in his hand before ducking a punch from one of the marine’s comrades, using the movement to slash at the new man’s opened waist.

Her distraction with the fight cost her.

The sound of gunfire made her duck.

It was almost too late.

About four feet above her, wooden splinters trickled down into her hair from the bullet hole. Alesta gaped at the marine in front of her as a cold rush of adrenaline flooded her veins. She'd been shot at and if she didn't move, he'd do it again.

Taking in his sweaty face and shaking hands, she dropped low to the ground as he fired off another shot.

“Shit!” The marine with the pistol cursed, “Stay still, bitch—"

Overwhelmed by the sudden assault, Alesta did something she swore to Geta she never would.

She summoned someone who didn’t know.

“Cho!” Another shot rang in the air, ruffling the hair against her neck as she dove right, “Please help me!”

Before she could fully finish her statement, Cho’s massive back was blocking her vision as he grabbed the pistol from the marine’s stunned hold and slammed it into his temple. The pirate only stayed still long enough to send her an indescribable look before he joined Kanetsuyo in the fray.

He wasn't as nimble, but Cho was large. He took out two marines who’d been hovering too close to her flanks without blinking an eye. It gave Alesta enough reprieve to succumb to the pain that'd taken home in her skin. 

This time the pressure in her chest didn’t thrum.

It burned.

Catching herself on the floor, Alesta panted as the pain sank into her skin. Hand against her heart, she dropped to her knees. This wasn’t like the tension she felt when she called Geta or Kanetsuyo.

This was punishment. The result of pushing herself too far. Her face twisted into a grimace as the pain surged in her chest, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Alesta,” she could hear Giren’s voice even if the black creeping into her vision stole her sight, “You’ve got to get up—”

She was trying.

Pushing back against the pain that had taken home in her chest, Alesta crawled to her feet and took in the fight around her. It was hard to focus as she fought to ignore the ache of overexertion.

Kanetsuyo had taken out a large portion of the marines with his new sword, evidenced by the smattering of blood on the wall and the bodies curled inward on the floor. Just behind him, Cho worked on the rest. He’d lost the gun at one point, but his fist seemed to work just as well.

Another explosion rocked the ship above them.

Kanetsuyo’s sword ripped through a marine’s arm as he hollered, “Get to the main deck, kid! The fight will sink the ship!”

Her feet felt like lead, but Alesta forced herself to move. There was no other choice. Either she escaped or she died down here with the souls of the dead.

Stealing herself for the course ahead, Alesta made to run for the ladder, but it was too late. As she passed through the fray, a hand latched onto her arm and jerked her to a painful halt. Shoulder screaming in exertion, Alesta turned to swing—

Her arm dropped as she caught sight of her captor.

Cho stared down at her. 

He didn't let go. 

“The hell are you doing?” Kanetsuyo shouted, ducking under the opponent Cho left open, “She’s got to go!”

Cho sighed but didn’t release his grip. His fingers tightened, leaving red indentions on the bare skin of her arm as he shook his head. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Alesta understood what was happening.

It was everything that Geta warned her about. 

“We can’t let her leave,” it was said to Kanetsuyo, but Cho didn’t look away from her, “This is our chance.”

His distraction made his swing go wide and the marine ducked as Kanetsuyo cursed, “You can’t be fucking serious!”

Cho was. Alesta could tell his mind was set in the way his shoulders tensed before abruptly slackening. Resolve peppered his face with a worrying wash of apathy.

Yanking her to his chest, the large pirate pulled her away from the ladder. Her feet slid over the wet floorboards from the show of unexpected force. Alesta didn’t have time to shriek before a dagger she didn’t realize he had was at her throat.

“Cho—” she hissed as the movement made the blade press against her flesh, “Let me go.”

He only shook his head, watching as Kanetsuyo struggled through the rest of the marines, “I can’t do that, Alesta. I’ve got a wife and kids out there. I want to see them again.”

The next explosion from the main deck rocked the ship.

“You old fuck!” Kanetsuyo snarled from the other end of the storage bay, cutting down his opponent before twisting to the next, “They’re dead! We’re all dead!”

The statement didn’t phase him. Cho merely sighed, the blade lowering to rest against her collarbones, “I have to know.”

Alesta understood his reasoning. There was something forlorn in his tone, a longing she'd never experienced before. He had a family, a life, and it was all torn away from him.

She felt a rush of sympathy, but it was swiftly overwhelmed by the familiar feeling of entrapment that haunted her throughout her life. Cho had honorable intentions, but it was just another cage. He only wanted to use her to get what he desired. He didn’t care about what she wanted.

Alesta refused to live her life in the hands of one another. 

Meeting Kanetsuyo’s eye across the room, she took a deep breath before laying her hand on Cho’s wrist.

“You can,” she lied smoothly, trying to ignore the way her hand trembled, “Cho, this is permanent. You won’t go back.”

The lie came out easily.

Like slipping honey between her teeth.

Cho’s chest heaved as he digested her statement. Alesta stood stock still, unwilling to move and risk setting him off. This was more than a gamble.

Alesta only had to hope she'd said the right thing.

She remembered her first meeting with the group of ghosts. Cho admitted he wasn’t familiar with her devil fruit, not the way Kanetsuyo seemed to be. It was speculation, but one she was willing to risk to escape his desperate hold.

Cho's voice shook as he said, “You’re lying. It’s not possible.”

“It is,” the lies tasted like salt on the back of her tongue, but Alesta pressed on, “I saw it. On my island, I brought a woman back to life. She’s still there. Her name is Geta—” Alesta swallowed, “I don’t know how, but it’s permanent.”  

Cho didn’t immediately respond. Luckily, Kanetsuyo caught on to what she was doing. He cut down another marine and yelled across the bay to add, “She’s right! That’s why the marines wanted the damn thing so bad!”

“See?” Alesta let her hand crawl up to Cho’s wrist and softly clutched the shaking appendage, “I promise, Cho. You’ll get to see your family.”

The dagger dropped.

Cho trembled.

“I— thank you,” Cho’s desperate mutters went in one ear and out the other, “Thank you, Alesta.”

Alesta had never hated herself more.

There wasn’t time for her to sink into her self-loathing. This was her only chance. As soon as Cho released her, she moved. She only had time to see Kanetsuyo mouth the word go across the room before she sprinted for the exit.

The sound of battle behind her continued to ring in her ears as her trembling hands curled around the rungs of the ladder and she hoisted herself to the next level.

A scattering of marines still hung about in the halls, but she didn’t pay them any mind as she dodged through them. Her bare feet ached as she pushed herself through the labyrinth of hallways. Someone tried to snatch her by the front of her shirt, but she ducked under his arm and kept moving. 

Shouts echoed her steps as the familiar sound of fighting crept closer.

Light filtered through the hallway.

Taking the next corner too fast, Alesta had to grab onto the wall to restore her balance. The door to the main deck was just ahead. It was already wide open and as she pushed herself through the opening, Alesta realized that the explosions she’d been hearing weren’t from cannons.

Nor was that the light of the sun creeping through the doorway.

It was fire.

Bright orange flames flickered in wild abandon in the morning air. They ate away at the deck’s railings and burned the linen sails. From the doorway, she could feel the phantom press of heat as the wooden surface of the marine’s ship burned. It dug at her flesh like a tick— burrowing under her skin and settling in her bones. 

Just beyond the door, two men moved.

Alesta only had time to see Captain Jun jump out of the way of a flame-coated fist before his battle axe swung through the air. It was coated in black like it’d been dipped in tar. When the person he’d been fighting moved, the weapon crashed into the deck and tore the floor in half.

It made the ship rock again and Alesta had to cling to the doorframe in order not to drop to her knees.

“That was a close one, captain,” a voice she didn’t recognize taunted, “You almost had me!”

The goad was followed by a bare-chested man twisting out of the way of the captain’s follow-up swing. The man’s chin-length black hair faded into flames as he vanished into a blur of fire. Before Alesta could blink, he reappeared behind the captain. The man wasn’t facing her any longer, but from this angle, she could see the outline of a skull tattoo on his back.

Its grinning visage caught her eye as he ducked.

Captain Jun snarled at the action, bringing his axe up, “You aren’t going to win this fight, Fire-Fist!”

“I wouldn’t call this a fight,” the man, Fire-Fist, laughed. It was a peculiar sound amidst the violence around him, smooth and cheerful, “Besides, you’re the ones who started this.”

In spite of the carefree tone, Fire-Fist managed to land a hit on the marine that had him stumbling back. Captain Jun’s feet skittered over the burning floorboards before he shoved his axe into the planks to regain his balance. The ship creaked in forewarning.

All the while, the strange pirate continued to grin.

Captain Jun scowled as he hurled the axe over his head, “You’re joking now, but you won’t be laughing when we ship you off to Impel Down.”

“Heard that one before,” the stranger chuckled under his breath, “Good luck, buddy.”

The rest of their banter faded in one ear and out the other as Alesta caught sight of another figure behind them. Unlike the captain and his opponent, this man clearly wasn’t alive.

He stood in the flames burning the deck without a flinch.

The bright glow of his ghostly hue emphasized his white chef uniform. Brown eyes were narrowed on the man currently taunting the marine before he threw his hands up in annoyance.

The action made the strange hairdo he wore bounce, the pompadour a bit disheveled at the edges.

The curiosity that damned her guided her path closer to danger. Alesta took a wary step out onto the deck, keeping her back against the main cabin’s walls. The heat of the flames licked at her heels but, from this position, she could catch the way the ghost’s face fell as Fire-Fist threw out another insult.

“I swear, Ace. If you weren’t my little brother,” the new ghost groaned, “I’d kill you myself. You are such a pain.”

Another wall of fire was sent roaring over the deck and Alesta found she agreed with the ghost.

She barely had time to duck before it crashed into the railing of the upper deck above her.

Cinders sparked off the wood, catching the bare skin of her arms as Alesta dove out of the way of the incoming damage. Heat licked at her spine as her knees collided with the deck. Behind her, the wall creaked, the force of the flames pounding against the already unstable wall and sending a smattering of burnt debris over her back.

Behind her, she heard the new ghost complain, “Ace! You idiot! Be careful!”

Her movement didn’t go unnoticed.

For the first time since she’d stumbled onto the battle, the momentum paused. Captain Jun was the first to realize who she was. His bulbous green eyes went wide behind his glasses, emphasizing a smattering of bruises lining his face. The golden lapels of his uniform were burnt off and tiny tendrils of smoke crept off his smoldering uniform.

Alesta didn't let her gaze waver as she climbed to her feet.

“You—” the captain took a step forward before seeming to remember who his opponent was.

Fire-Fist or Ace, as the ghost referred to him, canted his head in her direction. Flames flickered over his arm and up his shoulder as he asked, “She one of yours?”

Alesta didn’t like the nonchalance in his tone.

It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The threat wasn’t outright said, but she could read between the lines. If the captain confirmed his suspicions, the pirate wouldn’t hesitate to neutralize the risk.

Judging from the bodies already lining the deck, it wouldn’t be an attack she’d be able to avoid.

Captain Jun didn’t respond. Instead, his grip on the axe went tight as he surveyed his options.

Alesta could admit things from his standing didn’t look good. She knew she wasn’t a threat, but she didn’t have to be. Not with the way Fire-Fist managed to decimate a good portion of their ship in less than an hour.

In the rational part of her mind, she knew the best chance to come back from this losing battle with a win came down to retaining her.

He should let the pirate go and keep the asset he controlled.

The captain appeared to come to the same conclusion. Green eyes flicked to the pirate and took in his unblemished skin before trailing over the burnt surface of his ship. Captain Jun’s mouth pinched in distaste before his hand flexed on the axe.

Then the captain moved.

He was faster than she remembered. He’d been at the opposite end of the deck and in the next breath, he was in front of her. Alesta flinched, unable to move in time to escape. Frenzied green eyes locked on her face as his arm went for the collar of her shirt.

His long fingers just barely grazed her flesh before another arm was wrapping around her waist and yanking.

“Guess not,” Fire-Fist muttered under his breath, heaving her body behind him as they twisted out of the way of the captain’s incoming fist, “He could have just said so.”

Another fist came.

This time it was coated with the familiar black paint of tar and Alesta grabbed the pirate his beaded necklace just in time to pull him back.

Her shriek was raspy from the smoke coating her lungs, “Watch out!”

He let her tug him back without complaint. As they stumbled out of the range of the blow, she caught the pirate’s expression. There was an amused hike to his brows at the impromptu action, dark eyes locked on her face before he turned his attention back to the marine.

The captain swung again, a reaching blow that overextended his arm and made his balance tilt forward.

It was a lethal mistake.

As soon as the captain was in range, Fire-Fist lived up to his namesake. Fire howled to life over the skin of his fist before he swung. The sound of flesh hitting flesh hung in the air as the captain was thrown from the force of the blow.

His back hit the deck wall with a boom that made Alesta's teeth ache. Somehow, he still managed to land on his feet. Green eyes drilled into their faces from the other side of the dock, the broken frames of the captain’s glasses hanging off his nose. She took a step back— wary of the look in his eyes. 

Her attention had been held too long.

Alesta realized Fire-Fist was talking to her a second too late. He snapped his fingers in front of her face, an amused smile tweaking his lips as he repeated, “Can you fight?”

“No,” she admitted, cautiously eyeing the captain as he hefted his axe back over his shoulders, “Sorry.”

His shoulders hunched inward in abject disappointment, “Ah, well. This shouldn’t take too long—"

The distraction provided their opponent an opportunity. During their conversation, the captain sprung. His calves lurched as he launched his body into the air. The axe gleamed in the morning sun as he hiked it over his shoulder and prepared to bring it down over their heads.

The twang of metal hitting metal stopped the blow before it landed.

“But I can,” Kanetsuyo huffed, his arms straining from where he held off the blow with his stolen sword. Dark eyes flicked to her over his shoulder, “Thought I told you to get out of here, ghost girl?”

Alesta was relieved to note he didn’t look any worse for wear. There were a few extra bruises on his arms and a speck of blood on his chin, but it didn’t look like his. He also hadn’t started to fade in the same manner Geta did before she disappeared, letting Alesta know that they hadn’t passed the forty-five-minute mark.

That was good.

That meant Cho hadn’t caught onto her lie yet.

“I tried,” Alesta scrubbed at the soot on her cheeks before confessing, “I was a little busy making sure I didn’t burn alive.”

Somewhere in the background, the still unnamed ghost snorted. She caught Kanetsuyo roll his eyes before using his body weight to push back against the axe, “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Get out of here.”

Adrenaline made her tongue lax. Alesta trailed her stare over the burning floor of the ship, “The boat is on fire. Where do you want me to go?"

“Jump.”

“Kanetsuyo— I can’t swim.”

The unnamed ghost continued to chuckle behind them. He wasn't the only one observing. Fire-Fist stared at the two of them with a strange sort of bemusement, “Ghost girl? That’s a weird nickname.”

“Tch,” Kanetsuyo scoffed, twisting his blade to divert the axe as he said, “Like you’ve got room to talk, Fire-Fist.”

“It’s a perfect nickname! I literally make fire with my fists—” the pirate in question cut himself off, his eyes squinting at Kanetsuyo’s back with something like recognition, “Wait, I know you. Uh— Fox, something, right? Aren’t you with the Yang Pirates?”

“I was,” Kanetsuyo admitted as he turned his focus fully onto the marine, “Not anymore.”

Meanwhile, Captain Jun staggered backward. His gaze was locked on Kanetsuyo. Alesta caught the exact moment his skin blanched as he realized who he currently faced off against.

Tightening his grip on his axe, the captain took another step back. He kept flipping his attention from Kanetsuyo to her as realization physically overtook his face.

“The devil fruit,” the captain whispered. He wrang his fingers over the handle of his axe, “It’s true.”

Beside her, Fire-Fist stiffened.

She didn’t fault him.

The captain’s tone was drenched in greed. It clung to his skin like a second layer, radiating off his body in waves that suffocated the smoking air around them. Captain Jun continued to stare at her, no longer interested in the other parties.

Alesta took a step back as he moved forward, his awful aura soaking up the space between them until it felt difficult to breathe.

The captain continued to mutter under his breath, “The stories were true.” His eyes flashed in forewarning, “That power belongs to the Navy.”

Kanetsuyo cursed, "Shit—"

Alesta didn’t have time to blink before he charged.

Axe high over his shoulders, Captain Jun swung at her head. A swelteringly warm hand latched onto the back of her tank top and pulled her out of the way. The cool swish of broken air skimmed Alesta’s face just a second too late.

The captain followed through with the blow, hoisting the axe behind his back before he went to swing it again.

As Fire-Fist yanked her out of the way and Kanetsuyo darted forward to intercept, Alesta heard the ghost behind them sputter, “What the hell are you doing?  She’s a civilian!”

No one heard the ghost beyond herself. The captain switched the grip on his axe to his left hand going for an underhanded swing that forced Kanetsuyo to leap out of the way. The pirate landed soundlessly, swiping at the captain’s legs just before he could advance back toward her.

Something in the air changed.

“Fire-Fist,” Kanetsuyo barked. He brought one foot back as he prepared his stance, sword in front of his chest, “Get her out of here.”

The pirate in question didn’t hesitate to obey. His arm latched around her waist, but Alesta froze.

This was entirely too similar to her experience with Geta. Alesta didn’t want to lose another friend all because she was stupid enough to venture into this world without a way to protect herself. Palm pressing against Fire-Fist’s chest, she pushed against him as she tried to get Kanetsuyo’s attention.

When he didn’t look at her, she screamed, “No! What about you—”

Kanetsuyo didn’t take his attention off the advancing captain, but she caught the side of his face twitch with the remnants of a grim smirk, “I’m already dead, kid.”

“But—” she couldn’t do this, not again. The pressure in her chest surged forth with a vengeance, “You better come back, Kanetsuyo! I’m not— I don’t want to do this alone!”

Just the thought hurt.

It settled under the skin of her breasts like phantom heat, surging and pulsing in time with the screaming of her thoughts. It felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. Phantom tendrils of energy went for Kanetsuyo almost ravenously, trying to latch onto him and pull him with her.

She wasn’t going to let him go, not yet.

It was selfish. No better than the marines who wanted her for her devil fruit, but Alesta didn’t care. She was tired of having her life dictated by the whims of others. People like her father and Captain Jun, people who only wanted to cage her.

Ahead of her, Kanetsuyo took a deep breath. He managed to flick his gaze to her just before the captain attacked. Parrying the swing of the axe off again effortlessly, Kanetsuyo ducked and rolled as the axe twisted left and embedded itself into the burning wood of the deck.

Fire-Fist’s grip on her shirt tightened, the sharp press of his fingernails digging in through the fabric. He sucked in a harsh breath when the captain moved. 

Kanetsuyo wasn’t fast enough to avoid the swing.

Imbued with the black, tar-like energy, Captain Jun’s next blow smashed through the flimsy blade Kanetsuyo had stolen from the marines. It met the open area of his chest with a slick swish, cutting through layers of clothing and flesh like it was butter.

Alesta screamed—

Reaching out a second too late.

“Alright, ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo smiled with a ghastly slash of teeth just as he faded into nothingness, “I’ll find you.”

She felt the promise connect with the abrupt snap of a missing piece clicking into place.

There wasn't time to examine it. Fire-Fist was moving before she could blink. His hand was tight around the skin of her waist as he hauled her across the deck and toward the rail.

He babbled questions even as he ran, “What the hell was that? Did you see that? Is that your devil fruit—”

Either he wasn’t expecting an answer or she took too long to do so. That was fine by her. Alesta couldn't speak if she tried.

Kanetsuyo was gone.

Fire-Fist didn't have the same hesitation she did. Tugging her to his side, he helped her scale the burning railing on the marine ship. His actions were hurried and just a tad bit frantic. She had just enough time to peer at the small one-person ship sitting atop the depthless ocean below before they jumped.

Air whipped past her feet.

The tiny boat rocked as the weight of their bodies crashed into it. Her ankles gave in at the impact, Captain Jun's scream echoing in her ears as she tried to blink away the haze of unshed tears. Alesta stumbled and it was only the pirate’s grip on her arm that kept her standing.

Fire-Fist didn’t give her time to dawdle. Navigating her to the mast of the tiny boat, he urged her to grab on before the ship moved with a burst of flame-enhanced momentum.

As the world blurred from the speed of the departure, Alesta slammed her eyes shut.

Everything was moving too quickly to comprehend. The speed of it all made her stomach roll.

It was too much. 

Clinging to the ship’s mast, Alesta bit her lip hard enough to taste iron. The cool breeze of the sea cut against her face as the ship roared over the waves. Each rocking motion made her heart hurt, but she couldn't dwell on it.

There was no time.

Things were changing and she needed to adapt. Her fingers curled over the worn wood of the mast as she forced herself to take a steadying breath. The fear could be dealt with later. 

When she was sure she was safe.

Using the slip of determination to ground herself, Alesta managed to open her eyes. She immediately wished she didn’t. Wind ripped over her face and burned her nose. But it wasn’t the weather that drew her short, it was the company. Standing on the back of the ship’s engine, the ghost she’d caught lingering during the battle beamed at the burning remains of the marine ship behind them.

An explosion rocked the air, smoke trailing toward the sky in wispy tendrils and the ghost whistled.

“Well, that was exciting,” the ghost sounded genuinely enthusiastic, “Marco’s going to throw a fit when he hears about this.”

Chapter Text

Alesta learned several things about her new companion as the ship sped over the sea.

First and foremost, Fire-Fist was oddly polite for a pirate.

Whenever he asked her to hand him something it was always topped off with a pleased thank you. He didn’t press for details when it was clear she wasn’t willing to speak and he apologized anytime the wind rocked the tiny slip of a boat. He hadn’t even complained about the extra weight she imposed, waving off her worries with a cheerful laugh.

The second thing she learned was that Fire-Fist talked a lot.

It was mainly one-sided chatter, but it filled the air and kept her mind from diving too deep into her thoughts. He offered observations about the battle, spoke about the ocean, or commented on the abnormally nice weather. It was nothing Alesta had any particular input for, but he didn’t seem to mind her silence.

Beyond a few assessing looks, he’d continued to steer the ship in a direction still unknown to her. That was okay. Alesta would take the ride as far as she could and then she’d find a new avenue. 

Even though she could tentatively assume he was safe, she didn’t know Fire-Fist.

Didn’t really trust him either.

It’d been days since she’d had any kind of interaction with someone living and it was showing. Alesta didn’t understand the proper etiquette for this situation. Kanetsuyo had been familiar due to their shared past on Takko Island, but Fire-Fist was a pirate she knew nothing about.

It was not an opinion shared by the still unnamed ghost. With the way the ghost spoke, it didn’t take Alesta long to peg the familiarity between them. He’d called Fire-Fist his little brother. Yet the way he spoke hinted at more.

It wasn’t a type of familial bond she was acquainted with, but Alesta wasn’t the best at discerning that type of affection.

She’d never had much of an interest in family beyond what was required of her. It was merely a concept that held no weight. When she was younger, she clung to her mother’s embrace, but that faded as the years passed and her cheeks lost their youth. There was no solace to be found after she turned thirteen and Alesta became a young woman.

With puberty, the world decided that it was her turn to comfort and provide.

Not the other way around.

“You know, this is great and all,” the ghost trailed off with a pout in Fire-Fist’s direction. Despite the childish flair, it was a strangely endearing expression, “But I’m bored.”

Alesta briefly cut her eyes to him but didn’t let her focus linger.

She’d learned her lesson with Kanetsuyo. Eye contact was bad. Eye contact meant she could see them, which wasn’t something she needed to reveal. Not until she knew the company she kept was trustworthy.

Thankfully, the ghost was too busy fussing at Fire-Fist to catch the movement. It gave Alesta a chance to observe him better, even though very little about him had changed since the battle on the ship deck.

Neither of her new companions were tough on the eyes.

It wasn’t something she normally paid attention to, having spent her life surrounded by men like Han. Men who radiated ordinary in the most complimentary sense of the word. But Fire-Fist and his ghostly companion had a uniqueness to them that she didn’t see often.

It felt similar to when she’d explored the forest as a child and stumbled upon a pretty flower. A fleeting burst of intrigue. A desire to see what made it different from the weeds growing around it.

“So, ghost girl,” Fire-Fist addressed her for the first time since they’d departed, “Feel up to sharing your name?”

Eyeing the tattoo on Fire-Fist’s back, Alesta clung to the mast on the end of the boat. It wasn’t the most comfortable position she’d ever been in, but it beat the tiny hole she’d been hiding inside the marine ship. At least now she had a chance to stretch her legs and enjoy the sun.

Unfortunately, it didn’t give her anywhere to hide from the pirate’s sudden assessment. From the corner of her eye, Alesta could see the way Fire-Fist stared at her.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one hosting their own share of suspicion.

Alesta couldn’t blame him. Of all the things she expected to encounter after leaving her island, this had not factored into the equation. Pirates were a possibility, but she didn’t think they’d be an experience she’d have to deal with often.

Not like this.

Not handed off as unexpected cargo.

She tried to ignore the ghost’s equally interested look as she responded, “Alesta.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” the ghost spoke first. He repeated it with a flair that had no right to be there, “Alesta. Really rolls off the tongue— I like it.”

Alesta could feel the phantom drag of his stare as the ghost grinned. She tried not to flush at the attention, but it wasn’t something she was used to. There was sincerity in his compliment. None of the men on her island spoke to her like that. There was always a flair of condescension to their advances, a taint of arrogance.

Fire-Fist didn’t share the ghost’s enthusiasm. He canted his head over his shoulder, watching her briefly before turning his attention back to the sea, “How’d you end up tangled with the marines, Alesta?”

“Bad planning,” she answered blandly, “I tried to hitch a ride off the island, and well—” she trailed off with an uneasy hike of her shoulders, “It didn’t go well.”

Fire-Fist snorted, “I can imagine. So, you snuck on their ship. Anything else I should know about?”

He was polite about it, but Alesta didn’t miss the undertone of mistrust in his voice. She swallowed to ease her suddenly dry throat, “Look, Fire-Fist—"

“You can call me Ace,” Fire-Fist, otherwise known as Ace, cut her off with another unidentifiable glance, “Fire-Fist is a mouthful.”

“It sure is,” the ghost muttered unhelpfully in the background.

Alesta chose to ignore him for the time being. She was pretty sure she’d gathered what Ace was trying to infer. Captain Jun’s ranting about her devil fruit hadn’t been quiet after all. Alesta also knew Kanetsuyo’s sudden disappearance would spark questions.

There was no way for him to have vanished like that without something else at play.

Alesta just wasn’t sure she should share the details. Her memories of Cho lingered like glue in the back of her brain. The lie she’d been forced to give him still bothered her, made her feel a pity she didn’t want. Cho had been kind to her and she’d repaid him with deceit. Alesta did it to survive, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

“Okay, uhm— Ace,” she tried again, “It’s a bit of a long story.”

Ace only shrugged, “We’ve got time. It’ll be a few hours before we reach land, and as much as I love talking to myself,” this time, the look he gave her was accompanied by a grin, “I’m more interested in you. Not every day I rescue a pretty girl from the marines.”

“Your hormones are showing, Ace,” the ghost teased with a bright grin, “Izou owes me five thousand beri.”

Laying her head against the mast, Alesta took a deep breath. This was so much worse than Kanetsuyo. For one, Kanetsuyo was dead. He didn’t live and breathe.

He didn’t flirt.

Alesta wasn’t even sure this could be classified as flirting. More like a very subtle form of interrogation with a dash of flattery to get her to let her guard down. Despite the rationale, his methods were regrettably effective.

Cupping her temple, she decided to go with the barebones explanation, “It’s really not that interesting. I ate their devil fruit. It seems they’re holding a bit of a grudge.”

“A bit of a grudge,” Ace repeated with a muted laugh before shaking his head, “And that’s enough to try and take your head off?”

“He wasn’t going to kill me,” Alesta retorted. She knew that with a certainty she wasn’t keen to examine, “They had cages below deck. I was probably going to end up there until they figured out what to do with me.”

The reluctantly cheerful atmosphere died at that.

Ace’s shoulders tightened at the admission and even the ghost was silent. Alesta tried not to look too deeply into the sudden change, but it was hard. Sympathy wasn’t a trait she expected from pirates. Wasn’t a trait she’d experienced from men in general.

She’d thought Kanetsuyo had been the outlying variable, but Ace and his ghostly companion were proving her wrong once again.

“Right,” Ace sighed when the silence stretched too thin, “How long were you down there?”

“A few days,” Alesta admitted with another shaky shrug, “I stayed on the upper levels for a while, but I snuck down when I ran out of water.”

That was a fact she still needed to remedy. Her throat was worryingly parched and her skin felt tight with the beginnings of severe dehydration. Hunger pains had also become a familiar friend.

Alesta didn’t even want to think about how the rest of her looked. She never put a whole lot of stock into her appearance but hiding in squalor for nearly a week hadn’t been kind to her. There was a layer of grime all over her arms and she knew she had to smell something foul.

His eyes sharpened at the admission, another imperceptible look tossed her way, “Are you thirsty? I’ve got some water in my bag.”

“I—” she went to deny the offer but something in his stare made her mouth click shut, “That’d be great, thank you.”

He tilted his head in silent acceptance before turning his attention back to the path ahead. Alesta spared him a glance but didn’t question further.

Her hand snuck through the roar of the flames igniting the ship to snatch the bag in question. It stung a bit, but the pain was worth it once she fished the canteen out of his bag. Bringing it to her mouth, she took a few careful sips before placing it back into her lap.

It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her, but if her mother had taught her anything, it was never to accept more than you were offered.

“Finish it.” She startled at the sudden order. Ace didn’t even turn, “I’ve got more.”

Alesta followed the command, but her eyes narrowed slightly, “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

It was a stupid question. He was being kind. Ace had proven more than once that he wasn’t out to hurt her, yet she still clung to the faint tang of suspicion his offer wrought. It wasn’t overly strange to offer kindness to someone you’d just met, but in Alesta’s experience, there was always an ulterior motive. 

Han had shown that time and time again.

Shoulders shaking with subdued laughter, Ace snorted, “I promise I didn’t poison it. That’d be stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Alesta blamed the remainder of the adrenaline in her veins for her next sentence, “Maybe you lure strange people onto your boat all the time.”

The rest of the water settled pleasantly in her stomach. Energy she hadn’t realized she’d been missing rushed through her veins and for the first time that day, she let herself relax. The ship underneath her continued to bob atop the water. It was a strangely soothing motion and it made the last strings of unease roll off her shoulders.

Ace’s silver eyes flicked toward her with mirth, “I don’t remember doing any luring. You’re the one who jumped.”

“The ship was on fire and the marine had an axe,” Alesta countered mildly, “It was either go with you or drown.”

“You could have left with Fox,” Ace disputed before making a considering noise under his breath, “Speaking of that, where’d he go? I wouldn’t have minded catching up. Pops used to keep in touch with their captain.”

That was a good question. Alesta honestly had no idea what happened to Kanetsuyo after the captain took him down. It was another factor of her devil fruit she hadn’t had a chance to examine fully.

Geta disappeared as well, but Alesta couldn’t rule out the possibility that the old woman remained somewhere on Takko Island. She hoped Kanetsuyo wasn’t faring the same fate, but it would be better than acknowledging the chance that he’d vanished completely.

She drew her gaze out over the ocean instead of focusing on the pressure inside her chest, “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe we’ll run into him on the next island,” Ace trailed off in hopeful concern. His shoulders rolled as he tilted the ship to the right, “I bet his crew’s looking for him.”

Alesta didn’t respond to that.

It was better that way.

Ace seemed to be falling under the assumption that Kanetsuyo’s crew was still alive. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that they’d been dead for what could have been weeks depending on when the marines killed Kanetsuyo. If they’d gotten him as soon as they’d left her island, they could have been dead for nearly a month.

Her stomach rolled at the thought, the taste of wine building on her tongue.

It still didn’t sit right that their last interaction had been on her island. She’d been one of the last people to see them before they died. It was a sobering realization.

If she’d just been brave enough, she might have been able to save them.

Trying to rid herself of the sick feeling festering in her gut, Alesta swallowed, “What island are you heading to?”

“Oh, did I not tell you?” Blinking at her over his shoulder, Ace offered a sheepish grin, “My bad. We’re heading toward Drum Island. I’m looking for someone over there. You’re welcome to stay or I can drop you off at another island. Drum’s pretty cold.”

Something about his statement made the ghost scowl.

Alesta watched him warily out of the corner of her eye, but the ghost didn’t have anything to say for once. Instead, his brown eyes narrowed on the back of Ace’s head. Large arms crossed over the ghost’s chest and his mouth was pressed in an uncharacteristically tight line.

“Drum Island is fine,” Alesta agreed despite not knowing what that deal fully entailed, “I don’t mind the cold.”

That was a lie. She’d never experienced the cold. Takko Island only had two seasons. The dry season and the wet season. It made it prime grounds for agriculture, but that was about it. Alesta had never seen snow or anything else one might consider cold.

Her mind trailed off in consideration, wondering briefly about how she was going to find clothes to supplement the weather change.

Ace seemed to read her mind. He hiked a brow at her easy acceptance before suggesting, “We’ll probably need to pick up some new clothes. I run hot, but even I’ll get cold over there.”

“Your devil fruit?” Alesta latched onto the subject, curiosity eating at her. Kanetsuyo had been able to fill several of the blanks she had in regard to the details of the mysterious fruits, but it was nothing compared to the information Ace might be able to provide her.

“Yeah, the Mera Mera no Mi,” he chirped in response, “I can turn my body into fire.”

Alesta leaned forward a bit, her grip on the mast tightening, “That’s a logia type, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Ace nodded once before flicking his gaze back to her, “You know about the different types of devil fruit?”

“My mom explained it back on the island,” Alesta clarified, “I don’t know anything beyond the basics though. Can I—” she nearly swallowed her tongue as she said, “Can I ask you some questions? You don’t have to answer, but I’d appreciate it."

“Go for it,” Ace waved over his shoulder, giving her another amused look before adding, “Just expect me to ask my own questions. Turnabout is fair play.”

That was fine. She’d expected his curiosity to make an appearance sooner or later, “I can do that. I’ll warn you though, I’m not very interesting.”

“Everyone’s got a story to tell,” Ace only shrugged, “Speaking of, how’d you end up on the marine ship? I know you told me you snuck on, but there’s got to be more to the story than that. No one just decides to be a stowaway out of the blue.”

Alesta almost smiled. She didn’t mind that he’d taken her offer and ran with it. This was nearly identical to the conversation she’d had with Kanetsuyo only a few hours prior. She wasn’t sure what it was about the whole ordeal that entertained pirates in such a manner.

Kanetsuyo had seemed particularly amused about the way she’d tied Han up in her bedroom closet. Alesta didn’t think the whole thing was as exciting as one would be led to believe, but she wasn’t averse to sharing.

“I guess it starts with Kanetsuyo. His crew showed up on my island about a month ago with a devil fruit,” Alesta trailed off with a tired sigh, “You know, that was the first time I’d ever seen a pirate. I thought you all didn’t exist for nearly a decade.”

That made Ace sputter, “Seriously? Hey, wait,” he blinked at her over his shoulder, “How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty,” Alesta’s mouth twitched in bemusement when Ace cheered at their shared age, “And I’m serious. We heard stories about you from the paper, but I just assumed it was a way to keep everyone in line. Similar to the boogeyman.”

It didn’t help that the only newspaper they received on the island went straight to her father. Alesta had tried many times to read it after he was done, but he didn’t often let her. The few times he deemed it important enough to share was when the marines accomplished something revolutionary.

“The boogeyman?” Ace repeated. He seemed interested in the term, almost confused, “What’s that?”

Alesta stumbled, a bit thrown by the question.

She tried to think of an explanation but the words escaped her. Her brow furrowed in concentration, trying and failing to grasp the tail end of that thought. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard the term before only that it was familiar to her in a way that once haunted her childhood.

Like when she’d reached for her pocket or speak a word without a translation.

“I think it’s a monster,” she settled on, "It hides under children’s beds and makes sure they don’t get up at night. It’s supposed to snatch them by the ankles and drag them under the mattress if they get out of bed.”

The ghost sputtered, “What? Who would think of something like that—” he shuddered, “That’s horrifying.”

“You tell kids that?” Ace shared the ghost’s horror.

“I don’t, but parents do,” Alesta tried to smother her grin, “Do you want to hear more about it or should I answer the original question?”

Ace still seemed boggled by the story, but he nodded anyway, “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to get you off track.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s nice to talk to someone,” the word alive hung on the back of her tongue, but Alesta didn’t voice the distinction. “Kanetsuyo’s crew traded the devil fruit to my father. He was the main merchant on Takko Island. That’s how I was able to find it.”

“Never heard of Takko Island. Since you’re here, I’m guessing it’s part of the Grand Line?” He seemed satisfied by her hum of agreement, “So, you ate the devil fruit. Easy enough. How’d the marines get involved?”

“That’s where things became difficult,” Alesta reminisced, “Takko Island is isolated due to the rocky shore and the tide. The only trade we had was with the marines—” Ace scoffed at that and her mouth twitched again, “He made a deal with them to retrieve it. I’m pretty certain the promise was for travel off the island in return for the devil fruit.”

She wasn’t sure how to explain the rest of the story without mentioning the devil fruit’s abilities. Ace twisted his head over his shoulder at her pause but didn’t press. Behind her, the ghost crept closer. Like his brother, he seemed interested in the story.

More so than she thought either man would be.

Instead of elaborating on the devil fruit, Alesta told him about Han, “The only reason I ate it was that he’d decided that I’d need to marry his apprentice when he left. I didn’t—” the words caught in her throat like the muffled taste of wine, “I wasn’t going to do that. Which led me to get rid of the devil fruit.”

“You mean you ate the devil fruit,” Ace clarified with the faint strings of a smirk, “I guess that’s one way to get out of a relationship.”

His amusement should have stung, but it didn’t. There was a layer of enjoyment to her actions. He didn’t seem even slightly surprised at the jump from doting daughter to petty theft.

Despite his laughter, she barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, “Yes, well, it worked.”

“Sure, it did,” he agreed easily, but his mirth hung in the air, “If you were going for a bounty.”

Alesta frowned at his back, “I don’t have a bounty.”

“Yet. You don’t have a bounty yet,” Ace cut her off with a look over his shoulder. From the angle, Alesta caught the hint of a dimple hiding above his grin, “You helped me blow up a marine’s ship. Add in the fact you stole marine property and you’re just as bad as us pirates.”

Kanetsuyo had implied something similar, but Alesta had yet to see how she was comparable to either man in any regard. She was a civilian who’d bit off more than she could chew. A civilian who didn’t even know the proper form to throw a punch.

In the grand scheme of things, she was nothing but a bloody spec on the map when compared to the powerhouses she’d surrounded herself with.

“I don’t think standing on a burning ship constitutes as helping,” Alesta trailed off when he merely laughed. “I wouldn’t have come out of hiding if you hadn’t decided to spontaneously break the ship,” she eyed the pirate’s back, “You should try and be more discrete.”

That may have been pushing the boundaries of their temporary acquaintance, but Alesta wasn’t quite over the fact that he’d nearly burnt her alive. There were still scorch marks on her shoulders from the falling cinders.

It also didn’t help that Ace was so easy to talk to. He radiated a type of comfort that Alesta wasn’t familiar with. Geta had been full of snark and witty remarks. Kanetsuyo had been teasing yet reluctantly concerned, but Ace was genuinely kind.

That rationalization didn’t stop her from ducking her head when he gaped at her over his shoulder. Surprise made his eyes wide and he stared at her like he hadn’t seen her before. The urge to apologize lingered in her throat, clawing at her chest as she fought off the habit to bow her head in submission.

Behind them, the ghost broke out into startled snickers, “Oh my god, she sounds like Marco. Birdman has a twin!”

“You sound like my brother,” Ace echoed the ghost’s statement, but his smile was much more subdued, “But you act more like Luffy. Not as bad, thankfully—” his grin bloomed at the edges, “I just didn’t think it was possible for someone to sound so smart yet act so recklessly.”

The ghost’s chuckles abruptly halted.

His brown eyes narrowed on the back of Ace’s head as he deadpanned, “Maybe that means you should look in a mirror once in a while.”

Alesta let their one-sided banter fade in one ear and out the other. There was a subtext there that she wasn’t privy to. She tried to keep her gaze from flicking toward the ghost, but it was difficult, “How many brothers do you have?”

“Over two hundred. Luffy’s the only one who’s blood though,” Ace answered easily. Unlike her, he didn’t seem to have any hesitations with sharing, “Pops likes to have a big family.”

“More like a thousand,” the ghost chimed in fondly, “Way to downplay the family, Ace.’

“That’s—” Alesta didn’t have words for the picture their statements constructed, “A lot.”

She couldn’t even fully imagine it. Takko Island had a population of less than two hundred on a good year and it was steadily declining as the seasons passed. The idea of a pirate crew with that many people seemed unfathomable.

Alesta couldn’t begin to understand the way they could fit on a single ship or the type of control that would be required to keep them in line.

Before she could catch herself, her curiosity got the better of her, “How is that possible? The amount of space you’d have to have—” her thoughts traveled next to food, “If you have that many people, how do you keep everyone fed? Are there rations? Where would you store everything? Is your captain in charge of the entire crew? How does the power structure work?”

For several seconds, silence was all that greeted her.

“Uh—” Ace stared at her over his shoulder, his mouth agape, “Yes?”

The ghost slid up next to him, feet floating over the ocean as he pretended to whisper, “You think she remembered to breathe?”

A mortified flush built on her cheeks and Alesta bit her lip hard enough to anger the healing wound. She’d forgotten that her present company wasn’t Kanetsuyo. Where he’d delighted in her multiple questions and boundless curiosity about the world, not everyone was of the same mindset.

It’d been too easy to fall back into old patterns. She should know better. Her island had taught her the ache of judgment that came with too much speculation, with asking too many questions.

“Sorry,” she nearly bit her tongue off with the force of the apology, “I didn’t mean to—”

Ace waved her off without letting the excuse finish, “No, don’t apologize,” his resulting grin was sheepish, “Those aren’t bad questions, I just have no idea how to answer them. I didn’t pay attention to stuff like that. That’s more Marco’s thing.”

She’d heard that name a lot in the course of the conversation. From Ace and the ghost alike. Trying to mend the waters after her flow of questions, Alesta asked, “Is Marco your captain?”

“No, that’s Pops. Marco’s the First Division Commander,” Ace hiked a brow when she didn’t immediately speak up after his clarification, “Have you ever heard of the Whitebeard Pirates? That’s us.”

She shook her head no and Alesta was instantly treated to an in-depth explanation about the in and outs of the Whitebeard Pirates. She had to wonder if he was always so open or if he just assumed she was safe due to her lack of strength. She didn’t have long to speculate.

If there was any subject Ace could go on about for days, this would be it. In the span of an hour, Alesta learned about every division commander within the command structure and a good bit about Whitebeard himself, or Pops as Ace referred to him.

It was only when he mentioned the fact that they were angling to make their captain King of the Pirates that Ace took a breath.

“You don’t know about One Piece?” Ace stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Even the ghost was horrified, “What about the Pirate King?”

Those were vaguely familiar terms, but Alesta didn’t know the background. Kanetsuyo focused on the present during his explanation. On the pirates already at sea and their powers.

He didn’t delve into the past.

When Alesta shook her head in another denial, she very nearly regretted it.

Ace and the ghost developed a bad habit of talking at once and it made their explanation difficult to follow. She wasn’t really sure why, considering the fact that the ghost couldn’t be heard, but he seemed to be just as talkative as Ace.

He threw his arms out in exaggerated measures at various intervals of their storytelling and tossed in personal anecdotes when Ace paused. It was hard to focus on Ace and not let her attention drift to the left, the ghost’s fevered movement drawing her eye.

Nearly another hour later, Ace switched topics again. He’d just gotten done explaining the mechanics of a man named Jozu’s devil fruit powers when he turned to look at her, “What about you? Is your devil fruit a teleportation ability? That’s pretty cool.”

It took a second for Alesta to understand what he was referring to.

Her brow scrunched in confusion at the assumption before she remembered Kanetsuyo’s sudden disappearance. Ace thought she’d teleported him out of the way when he’d gotten injured.

Tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, Alesta swallowed.

It was a convenient explanation. One that basically fell right into her lap. The thought of lying to him after he’d been so kind to her was sour, but Alesta was pragmatic at heart.

She shouldn’t tell him.

There were still too many variables at play with his ghostly companion shadowing his steps and the marines chasing her shadow. Again, Geta’s warnings hammered in her ears. The old woman had been proven right again and again. People were just as dangerous as the dead.

That didn’t stop her from wanting to tell the truth.

To share the strain of her secrets with someone beyond herself.

“No,” she watched Ace’s back as she said, “I see dead people.”

The boat lurched as he threw his head over his shoulder to gawk at her. Ace’s dark eyebrows hiked into his hairline as he waited for a punchline that wasn’t coming. Alesta swallowed when the observation dragged on a moment too long. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to the explanation.

It’d been a gamble, but one she was willing to take.

She’d known the sea would be lonely. Geta and Kanetsuyo eased the phantom sting of isolation, but without them, it was hard to stay afloat. There wasn’t anyone to talk to.

No one to confide in about how scared she was, how overwhelming things had become. Ace and his companion offered a brief asylum and Alesta hadn’t realized how strongly she’d cling to someone who could understand.

His laughter cut her out of her thoughts.

Despite the cheerful sound, her heart sank in her chest.  

Even though her stomach curdled like she’d drank spoiled milk, Alesta wasn’t terribly surprised when Ace only grinned, “I see how it is. You don’t want to tell me. I get it, I’ve got secrets too.”

Alesta didn’t respond to his assumption. A strange ball of mixed emotions stuck in her throat. There was relief at his easy acceptance, but a dangerous lull of disappointment. She wanted someone to talk to.

Someone to listen.

The earlier ease of their conversation had tricked her into a sense of safety. A chance to spill her secrets. With his easy denial, Alesta had never missed Kanetsuyo as badly as she did at that moment.

It made the pressure in her chest lurch.

While she floundered through her thoughts, Ace began to hum. It was a soft tune. A gentle lull against her turbulent emotions. In spite of the pain of Ace’s skepticism, Alesta reluctantly counted their conversation as a success. She’d learned her lesson when it came to dealing with the living.

They didn’t believe her or worse— they feared her. She’d come to enjoy Ace’s easygoing personality and his never-ending politeness. No matter how much she longed for a friend to confide in, his disbelief was probably for the better.

Instead of wasting the air fighting his beliefs, she turned her gaze back out onto the ocean.

The sun had set a bit behind the horizon and the first tendrils of pink were creeping into the clouds. Her fingers dug into the wooden surface of the mast, splinters burrowing into the skin under her nail beds as she forced herself to take a deep breath.

Alesta wasn’t the only one struck by sudden introspection.

At the back of the ship, the ghost had his attention turned to the sky.

He’d become withdrawn during the last part of the conversation when Ace had skipped over talking about the Fourth Division Commander. His brown eyes looked tired and travelworn, a sudden weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been there during the beginning of their conversation.

The faint hint of pink from the setting sun shadowed his expression and made the hue of his hazy appearance glow nearly orange. It was easy to be swept away by his profile.

Letting her head lie against the mast, Alesta watched the ghost’s back as he sighed.

She shouldn’t entertain her desire for companionship. It was a dangerous line to walk when surrounded by murderous marines and pirates with fluctuating moral compasses. But humans needed company as much as they needed air to breathe.

Alesta was no better than them. She wanted someone to see her. So, when the ghost turned his attention back to the front of the boat, she didn’t blink.

Alesta met his gaze head-on.

“Uh,” the ghost stumbled. Whatever contemplation that had been haunting him vanished into startled disbelief, “Okay, that’s weird. She kind of looks like she can see me—”

Her mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

The ghost nearly keeled over.

“Holy shit,” His brown eyes were wide as he gaped at her, “Ace, you idiot.”

Chapter Text

The ghost’s name was Thatch.

Like Ace, he talked a lot. Unlike the other pirate, Thatch mostly looped through vague mutters of what the fuck until Alesta became intimately familiar with the phrase.

Kanetsuyo would have been proud of his vocabulary.

She blinked twice as the ghost in question scooted closer to her. He’d forgone standing and now floated in the air between the back of the boat and the mast. Thatch’s large forearms propped on his knees and his brown eyes squinted as he looked her over from head to toe.

“You can see me,” Thatch repeated for the fifth time, “Like actually see me?”

She barely had time to nod before he plowed onto his next question.

“Are you a ghost? Are we both ghosts? Are we—” he trailed off in speculation, “Boo-friends?”  

Watching his brows furrow in thought, Alesta vaguely regretted her decision to acknowledge him.

“No, that’s not right. I’d be the boo-friend and you’d be the ghoul-friend,” he jerked his head in approval of his own logic, “That makes sense. Man, this is so cool.”

Her head met the wooden mast with a dull thunk. In hindsight, Alesta should have waited for the reveal when Ace wasn’t in the vicinity. She couldn’t talk to Thatch right now, not with Ace only a few feet away and trying to engage her in his own conversation.

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep track of the two of them. It didn’t help matters that Thatch seemed to have jumped past his initial disbelief and was now looking at her like the sun rose and fell in her image.

“You can hear me too, right?” Thatch’s smile bloomed when she tipped her head in acknowledgment, “Oh my god, this is amazing. I could kiss you right now. You have no idea how bored I was. Ace is great, don’t get me wrong, but he’s so boring sometimes. All he ever does is eat and sulk. Sometimes he fights, but he’s such a damn hothead I can’t even enjoy it—” Thatch’s mouth pursed, “Ugh, I sound like Marco.”

She didn’t have a way to respond to that besides a slow blink at the overload of information.

Alesta was quickly realizing silent communication was not her strong suit. Geta seemed to understand her minute eye movements well enough, but Thatch didn’t. He stared at her for several seconds before another cheerful smile made his cheeks dimple.

He leaned forward with a mischievous smile, “Ace can’t hear me, can he? It’s just you?” Thatch’s smile morphed into a full-out grin at her nod, “Oh, you’re perfect. Haruta would have loved this.”

Alesta could only stare at him. She wasn’t sure what it was in the expression that made Thatch chuckle, but he leaned back on his palms with a muted snort before he muttered something vaguely defamatory under his breath about revenge for his brother being an idiot.

She wasn’t certain she liked the cunning gleam in his eye, but it didn’t take long for him to gather control of himself. When he looked back at her, Thatch’s head canted to the left like a perplexed puppy.

“So, your devil fruit lets you see dead people,” he repeated her earlier words before snorting, “And here I was thinking Marco’s devil fruit was weird. I’ve never heard of anything like yours before. There’s that chick that follows Gecko around, but her ghosts aren’t like actual dead people…” he cringed, “At least I think so?”

Alesta brought her shoulder up in a half-hearted shrug, mouthing the word sorry.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Thatch carried on easily, bouncing on his heels as he leaned forward, “I might not have heard of it, but that’s not a bad thing. There’s a lot about the sea that I don’t know. If I asked you some yes or no questions, would you answer?”

Alesta considered the offer. It felt eerily similar to the one she’d given Ace not too long ago, but it was different being on the receiving end.

She wasn’t sure how much she should tell Thatch about her abilities. Letting him know she could see him was one thing. Letting him know she could summon him was a completely different minefield.

Yet, with his earnest eyes and easy smile, Alesta found herself nodding despite the caution lining her throat.

She nearly laughed at the first question out of his mouth, “You’re not a ghost, are you? I thought you might be, but that’d be weird.” Alesta shook her head no and he grinned. It was a flash of white teeth under the moonlight, but the expression was charming, “Guess I’ll have to wait to be your boo-friend then.”

Alesta chose to ignore the implications of that statement. She was quickly learning there was another factor of his personality that varied from Ace’s. Thatch was a flirt. He tossed out compliments and teasing remarks like they were nothing.

It was strange. Han would flirt with her, but it was always laced with intention. Thatch didn’t do the same. He joked, but there wasn’t a pushing layer of expectation in his tone like Han favored.

“Wait, is this the reason the marines wanted the devil fruit?” Thatch didn’t wait for her answer. If it was possible for a ghost to pale, he did. “They know you can see us? That’s—” he winced, “Not good.”

He summed it up quite well. Even without factoring in the fact that Alesta could temporarily bring the dead back to life, there were quite a few reasons the marines wouldn’t want someone to live with this type of power.

Just the possibility of intelligence gathering would be of concern to them. As seen with Kanetsuyo, there were plenty of immoral acts she could uncover through a single conversation with the dead.

“I know he didn’t believe you, but you should really explain this to Ace,” Thatch’s tone dipped with sincerity. “Maybe not about me,” for some reason, that made the ghost wince, “but he could put you in touch with Pops. He’s got some islands under his protection. You’d be safe there.”

Her face pulled tight with uncertainty.

The offer was genuine, but Alesta didn’t want to divert Ace any further than she already had. He’d done more than enough. It was clear he had an objective to complete and her addition must have set him behind. Besides, she didn’t want to go to an island.

She wanted to travel, to explore.

She wanted to be free.

Something in her expression must have reflected her indecision because Thatch frowned, “I’m serious. It isn’t safe out on your own. Pops can—"

“You still awake back there?” Whatever Thatch intended to say was cut off by Ace tilting his head over his shoulder, “We’re close to Drum Island. The atmosphere’s going to start changing soon. If you can reach my bag, dig around in there and see if you can find my coat.”

Thatch rolled his eyes at the order, mumbling something about Marco’s mother-hen personality rubbing off, but Alesta didn’t pay it much mind.

Ace was right.

It’d been a gradual thing, but she could already feel the first strings of cold nipping at her skin. The sky above them had since transitioned into night and the moon hung heavy between a layer of ominous-looking clouds. Her hand fumbled for the well-worn fabric of Ace’s bag, pulling out a long-sleeved brown cloak.

She tried to hand it to him, but Ace tsked, “It’s for you. Put it on.”

“It’s yours,” Alesta frowned at his back, “I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do,” He refuted. There was a stubborn set to his jaw when he tilted his head over his shoulder, “You’re going to freeze. You don’t even have shoes,” he trailed off, “Maybe we should—”

“I’ll be okay,” Alesta cut him off. She kept one hand on the mast and scooted closer to the fire under Ace’s feet that powered his boat, “It’s warm enough. Once we get to the island, I can find something appropriate to wear.”

Now floating beside Ace, Thatch scowled down at her, “Yeah, no. That’s a bad idea. Drum’s seriously cold. Curiel almost lost a finger last time we were here and he was wearing gloves.”

He was talking about frostbite. Alesta frowned at her bare toes, wiggling them back and forth as she considered the incoming weather. It was a valid concern.

If Drum Island was truly as cold as they’d led her to believe, the snow would be impossible to walk in without shoes. She could possibly refashion some of her tank top into a thin layer of coverings, but it wouldn’t last long.

“Just put it on. You can wear my shoes when we get to town,” Ace cut her out of her thoughts. There was a firmness to his declaration that hinted any attempts at refusal would be ignored. “I can handle it,” his mouth twitched with a smirk, “I run hot, remember?”

When Thatch snorted in the background, Alesta took a shaky breath.

This was more than she expected. Genuine kindness was so rare to witness and it was hard to look past the fear of Ace harboring ulterior motives. Thatch’s exuberant care didn’t help matters. Alesta trusted them, in a sense, but they were still unknown.

Her fingers clenched on her knees as she gnawed on her lip.

The faint tang of blood flooded her mouth with iron.

She didn’t want to think like that, but it felt like her soul and her rational mind wouldn’t see eye to eye. There was an ingrained fear of letting them get too close no matter how much Alesta wanted to trust them. It would be so easy. It had been easy.

She’d told the truth— let the history of her devil fruit roll off her tongue.

If she could do that, she could trust them to keep her safe.

“Okay,” she trailed off with a sigh, “If you’re sure.”

Ace grinned at her agreement. Alesta tried to copy the expression though she knew it came across as stilted. The loss of control scared her.

It was only an offer for assistance, but she’d spent so many years doing things on her own that the submission made her skin itch. Han only ever offered to help in expectation of a reward. In their short time together, Alesta was fairly certain that Ace didn’t fall into the same pattern of thought, but it was a strange concession.

Thatch’s amused mutterings helped ease the last strains of tension, “Make sure you plug your nose. His feet stink.”

“Awesome, I promise they’re clean,” Ace said at the same time, “I used to have to do this with Luffy all the time. That idiot never wore shoes—”

He went off into another brief interlude of storytelling at that. Ace’s arm moved through the air in enthusiastic explanation as he began to reminisce on the time he’d carried his little brother through the jungle to escape a man called Gramps.

Alesta remained silent to listen, watching Ace’s back and the way Thatch rolled his eyes at the story.

“Don’t trust him,” Thatch deadpanned when he caught her staring, “They stink. I would know, I had to wash them.”

Propping her chin on her arms, Alesta let her gaze travel over the ghost as he grumbled. Whenever Ace said something Thatch thought was ridiculous, he didn’t hesitate to give her a conspiring look. Though, his patience didn’t last long.

Thatch shortly grew bored and moved on to more overt gestures.

Standing behind Ace, Thatch pretended to play out the story with emphasized hand gestures and theatrical faces while Ace was none the wiser. A faint strain grew on her jaw and as Alesta let her fingers draw over the tense skin, she realized that the pain came from the muscles surrounding her mouth.

Her hand stilled when it met the curve of her grin. Alesta hadn’t even realized it, but she’d been smiling a lot lately. Enough for the muscles to ache from the days of unuse.

While Thatch unknowingly mocked him behind his back, Ace continued to speak, “And then Gramps punched through the wall. You should have seen Luffy’s face—”

He cut off at the sound of hoarse laughter.

Even Thatch froze. His brown eyes were locked on her face and Alesta ducked her head, trying and failing to swallow the remnants of mirth their interaction wrought. It was a difficult feat to accomplish.

With the way Ace paused in his story to shoot her a betrayed look and Thatch slowly began to grin, it was impossible to keep her humor in her chest.

“Are you laughing at me?” Ace scowled at her, “That’s rude. I was telling a story!”

“Sorry—” she couldn’t stop if she tried, “I just— sorry—"

“Don’t say sorry if you’re going to keep laughing!”

Covering her hand with her mouth, she tried to look apologetic. It was difficult with the way her giggles crept out behind her fingers. With a tight press of his lips, Ace glared down at her, but his eyes were amused. Alesta ducked her head, letting her hair hide her grin.

Ace drank in her expression before he reluctantly smiled.

With a vaguely exaggerated sigh, he turned back to the path ahead. Behind him, Thatch clutched his chest as he snickered. He muttered something that faintly sounded like an insult before he began to cackle.

Her heart felt light as she observed.

Alesta hadn’t realized how nice it felt to laugh again.

Drum Island was beautiful.

Not in a traditional sense of the word, with its massive pillars of snow and blue skies, but Alesta had never seen anything like it. She had no idea snow was so white. Ace’s borrowed shoes crunched over the icy pathway into town as she marveled at the ragged bushes trimmed with ice and frozen leaves.

Ace trailed a few feet behind, his hands tucked behind his neck as he eyed the cloudy sky.

Thatch hovered beside her and took in her new outfit with a smirk, “Aw, look at you. You’re like a mini-Ace. How cute.”

Pausing in her observation of the landscape, Alesta looked down at her chest. He wasn’t wrong but calling her a mini-Ace was a bit of a stretch. She was tall enough that Ace’s coat fit nearly perfectly.

The fabric around her arms was loose, but she didn’t have the same muscles he did. His boots on the other hand were too large. She’d had to loop the shoestrings around her ankles twice to get them to stay in place.

Alesta cut Thatch a dry look and the sound of his laughter echoed through the cold air. It made the pressure in her chest thrum. She’d never heard a laugh like that.

Full, carefree, and saturated with life.

The tightness that’d taken home in her heart ached at the dichotomy. If there was a man who should still be alive, she had a feeling it was Thatch. With his jovial steps and easy grins, fate was cruel to rid the world of his presence.

“You still think you want to stay here?” Ace broke her out of her thoughts, his voice tinged with distaste, “I don’t mind taking you to the next island.”

She peered over her shoulder, “No, this is fine. It’s—”

“Cold? Freezing?” Thatch snorted, “Awful?”

“Amazing,” Alesta ignored his input to smile at Ace, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Even though the cold air biting at her skin hurt. Even though breathing made her lungs ache, her enthusiasm was honest. This is what she wanted.

This is why she had to leave.

There was so much she’d never seen, so much she’d never know about if she’d stayed on the path life dictated for her. Alesta missed the way Ace’s brows hiked into his hairline as she held a hand out, letting a snowflake land in her palm.  

Ace tilted his head, amused suspicion making his tone bland, “You’ve never seen snow before?”

“No,” the snowflake melted in her hand, “Is it always so fluffy?”

“Uh-huh,” Ace’s shoulder softly clipped her arm as he laughed under his breath, “Don’t mind the cold my ass. You didn’t even know what cold was, did you?”

She flicked her gaze to his, momentarily startled at the mirth lining his face, “Of course, I know what cold is—”

“But you’ve never been cold, have you?” His lip twitched when she didn’t deny it, “I’m on to you, ghost girl. You lie like a pirate.”

That didn’t make sense. Ignoring the tease, she frowned, “How do I lie like a pirate? There shouldn’t be a difference. A lie is a lie.”

“A pirate lies by omission,” Ace hummed under his breath. His stare took on an assessing tone that made the skin on the back of her neck tickle, “Can never get in trouble if you never admit to it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” disregarding the strange burn his focus brought, Alesta huffed. “A lie is only a lie if you know it’s not the truth. If someone never admits to lying, you don’t know if they’re telling the truth or not.”

Ace stared at her in exasperation for several seconds. She could visibly see the way he tried to work through her explanation before he threw his hands out and gave up.

Thatch crowed in the background, “Oh, I like you.”

Alesta rolled her eyes, but the expression was fonder than she cared to admit. She’d never known pirates could be like this. They were supposed to be outlaws, men who would smile to your face before they stabbed you in the back. They were supposed to be like Han.

That hadn’t been what she’d experienced so far. Kanetsuyo protected her, Ace cared, and Thatch laughed. It was more than she expected.

More than she thought she deserved, but Alesta savored it all the same.

Her attitude shifted once they reached the town.

Her steps lagged behind their group. Ace didn’t seem to notice. Her attention drifted over the buildings lining the front of the city entrance, taking in their stances with a growing wariness. Figures draped in heavy cloaks and fuzzy hats hunched in front of bustling storefronts.

Her first glimpse at a country beyond her own wasn’t what she expected.

The villager’s thin figures were drawn and wary. It reminded Alesta of Takko Island in a way. Made her wonder if every island in their little world was plagued by the same strife. The taint of stress hung in the air and children huddled at their parents’ knees. As they stepped into the downtown square, men glared at Ace and huddled close.

“Frosty reception,” Thatch muttered as he took in their faces. “Get it? Frosty.”

It was a nice attempt at breaking the sullen atmosphere, but Alesta was too distracted to appreciate it. Her dark eyes skimmed over the crowd. A chill snaked its way up her spine. Intermingled amidst the townspeople, ghostly figures lingered. Their clothes were ragged and stained, a direct opposition to the attire the rest of the village wore.

Even more alarming was the outright scorn the ghosts levied in Ace’s direction.

The pressure in her chest drummed in warning.

“Here,” Alesta blinked out of her observation in time to catch the bag of coins Ace tossed in her direction. It landed in her hand with a heavy thump. Ace didn’t look at her, too busy scanning the town. “See if you can find a better coat. I’ll meet up with you in a few.”

Glancing from the bag to his back, Alesta grimaced, “I have enough. You—”

“Keep it,” Ace waved her off, but he smiled over his shoulder as he started walking. “It’s not mine.”

With that lackluster parting, he faded into the crowd like a shadow.

Alesta frowned after his back. Her companions were strange men. One second he was there and the next, he’d been swallowed by the throng of people. It left her feeling slightly bereft, but she chose not to examine the sensation. Juggling the weight of the bag in her hand, Alesta twisted her attention back to Thatch.

Her scowl grew when she caught sight of his grin.

With a dramatic wiggle of his eyebrows, Thatch teased, “I think he likes you— Oi, wait! Where are you going?”

“To get a coat,” Alesta offered under her breath, trying to ignore the way the townspeople nearly jumped out of her way as she passed. “You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to. It won’t take long.”

Thatch seemed to take personal affront to her statement, “What else am I going to do? You’re the most interesting thing here.”

Alesta tried to disregard the way that statement made her heart beat a second too fast. The way it made her throat pitch tight. Thatch had a way of speaking that left her feeling faintly unsteady. It was full of teasing, but it was so honest.  

She wasn’t used to such open sincerity.

Thatch didn’t seem to notice her sudden concentration. He continued to chatter as they made their way through the crowd and into the nearest store. Watching her filter through the clothing racks, he shuffled on his feet. It made Alesta cast him a suspicious look, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Only when she picked up a pink coat with green frill did he sputter.

“No, you can’t buy that,” he gawked at the coat in question. “Izou would kill me if I let you walk around in something that ugly. You’d look like a Doflamingo knock-off. Trust me, that is not a good thing.”

Alesta wouldn’t deny the accusation, but it was the cheapest one there. Unfortunately, Thatch refused to relent. She heard him mutter something about a gunshot to the groin and her mouth twitched as she looked over the rest of the coats.

Her hand moved to the next coat on the rack, hiking a brow in question, “Is this better?”

“If you’re going for tomato—” he trailed off when her eyes narrowed. Taking a step back, Thatch pasted on a smile, “It’s great!”

Satisfied with his approval, Alesta took the coat in question to the counter. She looked it over as she paid. It was very red, so Thatch’s comparisons to a tomato weren’t too far off.

But it was soft.

Alesta didn’t own soft things. Every piece of clothing she had on Takko Island felt like it was crafted out of disregarded rags or worn to threads hand-me-downs from her neighbors. Thatch didn’t say anything as she let her hand drag over the velvety fabric.

“Okay, I take it back,” Thatch muttered when she put it on. His head tilted to the side, “Red’s your color.”

Alesta nearly smiled. It wasn’t an observation she agreed with, but the compliment was nice all the same. Red wasn’t a color people tended to favor on Takko Island. Most of their clothing was neutral, shades of brown and black with an occasional splash of grey. Simple handoffs from the marines.

She didn’t bother to respond to him with the shopkeeper lingering, but Thatch didn’t seem to mind.

“Once you meet Pops, I’ve got to introduce you to Izou.” Thatch continued to babble as they walked out of the store, “He’s been complaining about my fashion sense for years. Now he can focus on someone else and leave me alone.”

There was fondness in his tone. It was like the way he spoke about Ace, but there was more. A soul-deep affection for the man Ace introduced as the sixteenth division commander in his crew. Alesta didn’t know what was so important about the distinction, but the way he spoke—

It made Thatch sound alive.

Something sour lodged in her throat. Alesta didn’t even have the heart to comment on the way he talked about their meeting like it was a certainty and not speculation. Instead, she allowed him to ramble, soaking in the chatter as they moved through the crowded town.

People were careful to stay out of their path. As they crossed the pathway between buildings, Alesta caught the suspicious glowers directed their way. It seemed as if her arrival with Ace hadn’t gone unnoticed. They were afraid— of him, of her.

Drawing a finger along her wrist, Alesta considered the new information.

Her mother spoke of pirates with fear that she’d never quite understood. There were always bad people in the world. Takko Island had their own share of unsavory men and women, but this fear.

This fear was different.

She couldn’t fully comprehend it. The pirates she’d met had been rough strown, but they weren’t bad men. Even Cho wasn’t cruel— he was misguided and desperate, but Alesta knew that all men were all vulnerable to hope.

Apparently, that type of thinking wasn’t a shared sentiment.

She came to understand that fully when it was time to pass by a group of ghosts.

Alesta's steps slowed incrementally. The ghosts lingered near the middle of the road and it was impossible to get around the crowd to avoid them. It would be hard to avoid them without bumping into the lingering villagers.

As they got closer, Alesta’s chest began to ache.

The specters’ silver eyes narrowed on her as she moved around them, their faint muttering blending in with the rest of the crowd. She didn’t like the way they watched her. It made the skin on her arms stand on end and Alesta found herself fighting off a chill.

She knew better than to assume it was from the weather.

“Pirates,” a ghost snarled as they passed, “Just like him—”

Another one hissed, “They’re going to destroy the town. It’s what they do!”

The accusations emboldened them. A mob began to form, figures hazy and incorporeal, but their rage fueled the air between them. The crowd of ghosts began speaking all at once, muttered threats and sneers directed at their faces. It was hard to focus.

Their vitriol crept over her skin.

One brave ghost reached out to point at them and before she could think better of it, Alesta flinched. The ghost sneered but didn’t seem to catch the movement. Thatch, on the other hand, did. He hovered closer, sudden awareness creeping into his brown eyes as the spirits' voices rose.

“It’s what he did.”

Beside her, Thatch froze.

“They’re just like him—"

“Blackbeard.”

Thatch was moving before Alesta could blink. “What’d you just say?” He stepped into the other ghost’s face, his own deadly still, “Who’s name was that?”

Frozen in her spot, Alesta found she couldn’t look away. Even as the people around her bumped into her shoulder, her focus was on Thatch’s expression. She’d never seen him like this before.

There was a lethal stillness to his frame and his eyes were dark. She’d known he was tall, but she hadn’t realized the strength hidden in his form. Even the languid curve of his shoulders was gone, replaced by a stiff rigidness that bordered on painful.

“Blackbeard,” the ghost repeated with a deadly chill. It was a man, his weathered face hard and unyielding. “You pirates are all the same—”

There was that rage again.

Alesta swallowed, trying to get her heart to settle.

Thatch cut him off, fists flexing at his side, “When?” The ghost didn’t respond and Alesta jumped when Thatch spat, “When did you see him?!”

Behind her, a new ghost spoke. His presence made the hair on the back of her neck spike in warning. He was younger than the previous one, but his tone was the same. Pointed and full of distrust, “Two weeks ago. He’s the one that killed us.”

"Took the town by storm," the elder spirit sneered, "Never even had a chance."

Stumbling back like he’d been punched, Thatch stared at the ghost with horror. His brown eyes trailed over the rest of the town and his face went taut. He took in at the number of ghosts lingering in the town center, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

Alesta watched him carefully, taking a step closer when his thoughts seemed to imprison him. She couldn’t touch him, proximity was the only recourse she had to offer. It didn’t take her long to put his reaction together. Whoever this Blackbeard was, Thatch knew him.

Alesta wondered if he was another brother.

Wondered how someone capable of killing this many people came from the same family Thatch spoke of with such honor.

“Why would he—” Thatch trailed off, outraged, “Why here?”

The ghosts didn’t respond to his question.

Instead, Alesta noted with dismay, they moved forward in his moment of distraction. Where they’d once been surrounded by only a few, the number was now swiftly encroaching into double digits. Thatch didn’t seem to notice.

His eyes were far away, grief making him look older than he was.

One of the new ghosts crept closer and Alesta whispered, “We need to go.”

Thatch didn’t hear her. His focus was trapped in memories she had no knowledge of, but the ghost closest to her turned his head in her direction. Silver eyes narrowed on her face as he bent toward her, his face hovering over her shoulder like a wraith. Cold air settled along the curve of her neck.

Alesta barely stopped herself from flinching.

“Thatch,” she repeated firmly, “We need to leave.”

There was something wrong. Her chest hurt, a pain drumming under the skin of her breasts as the ghosts coalesced around them. It was like she could feel their fear, their loathing, their grief. It made her queasy.

She understood their distrust.

Couldn’t blame them for their suspicion, but the pure hate made her teeth ache. The tightness in her chest beat like a second heartbeat and Alesta let her hand crawl over the flesh, nails digging into her skin as she tried to fight the sensation off.

Thatch finally looked at her, “What’s wrong—”

He stopped when he caught sight of the ghost near her face. Brown eyes went wide and he stepped closer, cutting off the ghost. She could hear the ghost curse behind him, but she didn’t focus on it. Instead, she turned her attention to Thatch.

He was good.

He was safe.

“We need to leave,” she whispered, nails aching with the force of burrowing into her skin, “Please.”

He nodded once, but it was enough. Without waiting to see if he’d follow, Alesta dipped through the crowd of people until the faint hint of silver from the ghost’s glow was gone. It didn’t stop her chest from hurting. Didn’t get rid of the suffocating pressure tunneling through her veins—

She needed to get away.

Her steps were fast with mounting panic. Ducking around the corner of a nearby shop, Alesta slumped against the cold brick and squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t normal. That type of reaction had never happened before and for once, she couldn’t rationalize the fear away.

It ate at her like a sickness. There’d been so many ghosts, so many faces—

So much pain.

“Hey, hey,” Thatch’s voice crept through her brain like molasses, “It’s okay, they’re gone.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she murmured. Alesta still couldn’t make her eyes open, “That’s never happened before.”

She’d never been afraid of the dead before. Cho was the closest she’d come to terror, but it’d been when he was corporal. When he could hurt her. The dead weren’t supposed to hurt her. She could see them, summon them, even touch them, but she wasn’t supposed to feel this.

Not this nauseating crush of dread and pity.

When she finally blinked her eyes open, Thatch was right in front of her. He bent at the waist, hands propped on his knees, “You okay? Something happen with your devil fruit?”

“I think so,” she managed to nod, “But I’ve never— it’s never done that.”

Clarity crept in slowly. With the cold press of brick against her back and Thatch’s worried smile at her front, Alesta forced herself to take a deep breath. The only factor that she could think to attribute this to was the number of ghosts.

There had been a lot in the marine’s ship, but they didn’t surround her as these had. It’d felt like she couldn’t get away. Like she was—

Trapped, stuck, caged.

“Oh,” she whispered softly, “I understand.”

She filed away the awareness for the moment. That would be a phobia she’d need to deal with sooner rather than later, but now wasn’t the time. Not with the strange tightness still lining Thatch’s face and the knowledge of a massacre at their backs.

Finally dropping her hand off her chest, she tried not to notice the way Thatch’s face pinched as he caught the wounds her nails left behind. She didn’t have the words to console him.

Scrubbing at her face, Alesta tried to speak, “Sorry."

“Come on, don’t apologize,” Thatch attempted to smile. “You should have seen the messes Ace made when he was experimenting with his devil fruit. This is nothing. At least I’m not on fire.”

His earnestness made her want to cry. It was embarrassing how swiftly it crept over her. He’d obviously been upset at what he’d heard from the ghosts, but instead, he was worried about her. 

It didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t fair for him to concern himself with her when he was facing his own struggles.

Pushing down the last strands of panic, Alesta turned her attention back to Thatch. His smile was still there, but it was wrong. It was the smile someone wore when everything was falling apart. Her fingers flexed as she tried to compose herself enough to speak.

“Do you—” she swallowed. “You obviously know this Blackbeard person,” his flinch at the name confirmed it, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds, eyes drifting shut as he grimaced, “Not really.”

“That’s fine,” she tried to console him, understanding the desire to keep secrets close to chest. She wouldn't push. “Don’t worry. I understand. As long as you’re okay.”

Her response rocked him.

She caught him stagger a bit before his mouth pressed tight. 

Thatch didn't respond for several seconds, chewing over his thoughts as he watched her carefully. Deep, brown eyes took in every expression hiding on her face before he rolled his shoulders back and cursed under his breath.

Taking a step back from her, he walked up and down the alley.

Thatch’s hand dragged through the messy strands of his hair before he shook his head. She heard him mutter something vaguely self-deprecating. When he finally got control of his sudden flare of emotions, he was about three feet away from her.

From this angle, she could see the sharp curve of his jaw as it clenched.

“What would it hurt?” She heard him mumble, “It’s not like it’s a secret anyway.”

Alesta felt her brow furrow with a frown, “It’s fine—”

He didn’t let her finish.

“It was because of a devil fruit. Blackbeard, Teach— he killed me,” when Thatch spoke, he wouldn’t meet her eye. His words were barely audible, “Stabbed me in back when I wasn’t looking. He was my brother, part of the crew. My family. I don’t know why he didn’t just ask me to give it to him,” he smiled with a grim sort of humor. “Didn’t have time to question him.”

That was more than she was expecting.

Where she anticipated familiarity, she hadn't thought it'd be at this level. There was nothing she could say to soften this. Her finger drew over her wrist, carefully taking in Thatch's downturned head. Alesta took a steadying breath.

They weren't close enough to touch without infringing unstated boundaries, but she almost wished they were. 

“I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything else she knew to offer, but she tried anyway, “You didn’t deserve that.”

“It is what it is,” Thatch tried to shrug, but the action fell short, “Can’t change it now.”

Her throat went tight as his voice dipped. His last statement rocked the foundation out from under her feet. Thatch was right, but in a sense, he was also wrong. Alesta couldn’t change the fact that Thatch was dead now.

But she could alter it, at least temporarily.

She stared at Thatch for several long minutes, categorizing his face and putting the facts together.

Blackbeard was his former crewmate, someone Thatch once cared for. The man who'd killed him. Alesta swallowed, the thought rotting uncomfortably between her teeth. This was also the pirate who’d murdered a large portion of Drum Island’s civilian population. Those two facts created a picture that left her feeling unsettled.

Ace’s comment about looking for someone on the island suddenly made sense.

She voiced the question, “Is that the reason Ace came here? Is he looking for Blackbeard?”

Thatch sighed. It was a long, drawn-out sound, “Yeah, Teach was part of his division. He thinks he should have been able to stop him. It’s not— it was never his fault,” Thatch said firmly, “But he’s a stubborn idiot. He wouldn’t listen to Pops, wouldn’t listen to any of us,” he released a slow breath. “The only thing I can do is make sure he isn’t alone while he chases him down.”

She didn’t know Ace the way Thatch did, but she understood. She’d seen the way they interacted, felt her own desire to cling to the people she’d come to care about. Even then, Thatch and Ace had more history between them than she could ever hope to experience.

There was a bond between them that lingered even through death.

Alesta weighed her next offer carefully, “Do you want me to tell Ace what we heard?”

“You’d do that? You don’t have to,” Thatch promised, but his eyes spoke a different story. He wanted Ace to know, needed him to know. “He’d figure it out himself, but it might take a few days. I’m getting the hint that the townspeople really don’t like pirates.”

“It’s not a problem,” Alesta responded slowly, “I owe you both for helping me. It’s the least I can do.”

That was another lie.

She could do so much more. Thatch could be alive again, if only for a few hours. All she had to do was say the words. For just a second, she debated telling Thatch everything.

His smile tugged at her heartstrings.

Something that felt vaguely anticipatory hung in her chest. Alesta didn’t know how to navigate this. Geta and Kanetsuyo were individual variables without a past tying them down. Their resurrection only benefited them.

Thatch was different. He had someone he obviously loved.

Alesta didn’t know how to navigate love.

She’d never experienced the emotion, never had a reason to consider the pain that came from tying yourself to another person. But she could see it now. See the way it shone in the dimpled curve of Thatch’s cheek. Hear it in his tone—

The next words crept out of her throat without her conscious thought.

“Thatch—” Alesta swallowed again, trying to ease her suddenly dry mouth, “I didn’t tell you everything about my devil fruit.”

As soon as those words left her tongue, Alesta knew this was the moment where she damned herself.

Thatch blinked at her for a second before a bemused smile cut through his cheeks, “Obviously. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but you’re like a little ball of secrets,” Thatch’s eyes crinkled, “It’s hard to get anything out of you.”

She tried not to take offense. He wasn’t wrong, but she hadn’t realized how blatant her actions were. Alesta should have known better.

They might be near strangers, but they were pirates. Both Ace and Thatch were experienced enough to identify dishonesty. Ace had already told her to her face that he knew she was keeping things from him, but he didn’t press. Neither of them did. Her resolve built at the thought.

They were safe.

She could do this.

She could offer the only thing she had to give.  

Taking another steadying breath, she leaned her head against the wall behind her and blurted, “I ate the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi. It lets me see and talk to dead people.” She watched his reaction closely as she finished, “It also allows me to summon them temporarily. I guess what I’m trying to say is I can— I can bring you back to life.”

The words settled in the air between them.

Thatch went unnaturally still, “What?”

“It’s not permanent,” she hastened to explain, hands shaking from where she kept them crossed around her waist, “It only lasts for an hour. Do you remember Kanetsuyo?” She waited for him to nod, “He died before I boarded the marine ship.”

“Fox is dead?” Thatch repeated before taking a step back from her. His eyes were far away, thoughts running too fast for her to identify, “But he… Oh,” he looked at her like he’d never seen her before, “You brought him back to life.”

“Temporarily,” she repeated, putting an emphasis on the word, “I asked him to help me fight off the marines below deck—”

Thatch stared at her, “Wait, you fought the marines?”

“Not really, but that’s not the point I’m trying to explain,” Alesta pressed on despite his interruption, “If I ask you to help me, you get an hour of being alive again. I don’t know the exact limits. The longest I’ve done it was for two hours.”

Thatch was silent as he took in her explanation.

“Alesta,” he said her name deliberately. Thatch’s tone was full of intent, an emotion she couldn’t recognize hiding within his words. A peculiar expression lined his face before he questioned, “What are you saying?”

She didn’t know the answer to that question. The pressure in her chest pounded, phantom tendrils attempting to creep down past her arms and sink into the air. Alesta screwed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the sensation as she worked through her thoughts.

She didn’t know what she was offering.

Didn’t know how things would grow from here, but if she didn’t offer—

He would leave. The thought shouldn’t bother her, but it did. Thatch would follow Ace off the island, chasing after Blackbeard never to be seen again. She knew she was being greedy. Alesta wasn’t strong enough to keep up with them and sharing this truth— they’d be tied together.

She would only slow them down.

Except, Thatch had been kind to her. He’d smiled. He’d laughed. Even Ace cared about her in his own way. A literal stranger shoved in his lap, he’d put her own needs above his comfort time and time again.

She knew she was a selfish person, but—

Alesta could taste freedom on the tip of her tongue for the first time in years.

“I could go with you,” she whispered. Dark eyes peered up at Thatch from beneath suspiciously wet lashes, “If you want me. I’m not strong, I can’t fight, and I’m basically useless. But—” she swallowed, “But I can let you see your family again.”

In the intuitive part of her mind, she knew the offer came in part from her lingering guilt at leaving Cho behind. He’d wanted the same thing. He’d just gone about it wrong. He wanted to keep her, force her to help him.

This was different.

This was Alesta choosing where she wanted to, how she wanted to live. She’d planned to stay behind on Drum and find another path to the sea. One that allowed her to travel as she saw fit. The idea had merit, but it was a lonely dream.

There would be no one there to smile.

No one there to laugh.

Alesta would be free, but she’d be alone.

“You’re serious,” Thatch finally whispered. When she focused back on him, he was nearly kneeling in front of her. It was as if his legs had lost the strength to keep him standing, “Do you understand what you’re offering?”

No, not really. There were too many variables to consider.

The path forward wasn’t clear, but it didn’t need to be. She’d left her island with the desire to see the world. To see everything it had to offer. She just never knew that it would be more than landscapes, more than nature.

That there were people out there who were just as interesting. People who were nearly as remarkable as the vast mountaintops lining Drum Island. Kanetsuyo had been the first to open her eyes to the multi-faceted aspects of the world around her, but it was Thatch who’d fostered the yearning.

The pure, unadulterated life that radiated from him with every breath.

“I don’t, but—” she admitted at last, “The adventure is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Thatch didn’t speak for several seconds. Instead, he watched her behind lidded eyes. She didn’t know what to make of the observation. It felt heavy. As if he was peeling away the layers of her defense, methodically categorizing everything she said and what she laid before him.

When he finally looked away, it was with a shuddering breath.

“You're something else,” Thatch laughed, but it was strained at the edges. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m so glad Ace attacked those marines.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Crawling to his feet, Thatch canted his head to the side as he drew his stare down her face. It very nearly made her flush. There was a touch of incredulity to his stare, a smidge of admiration that didn’t have any right to be there.

No one looked at her like that.

Not even Kanetsuyo.

The lingering tension vanished as a blinding, vivid grin stretched across his cheeks.

“If you do this, if you let me talk to my family again—” Thatch’s words were strangled as if he just realized everything the offer entailed, “You better know the first thing I’m going to do is kiss you,” his grin stretched wider as she balked, “Izou won’t even be mad. He’ll do the same thing.”

The statement was as unexpected as it was inane. Alesta briefly faltered, “That won’t be necessary."

“Oh, it’s so necessary, ghost girl. Wait, ghost girl,” he cupped his head with a drawn-out sigh, “God, Ace, you really are an idiot.”

That brought about another issue she needed to resolve. Thatch may be grateful, but he wasn’t the only person she’d need to convince. Forcing Thatch’s focus back to her, Alesta asked, “Will Ace be okay with this? He didn’t believe me when I tried to tell him.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s stupid,” Thatch refuted immediately, but his face pulled tight a second later, “Uh, maybe. Possibly? I’m not going to lie, he’s probably going to set something on fire.”

He made that sound entirely too bland.

Alesta stared, “What?”

“Don’t worry, he does that,” Thatch waved her off with a little shrug, “It’s kind of his thing.”  

That didn’t make her feel any better, “I’d rather not be burned.”

“Oh, it won’t be you! Well, hopefully not,” he muttered that last part under his breath, scratching at the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact, “Maybe you should just write it down and hand it to him. Give him a little time to process. His brain works kind of slow sometimes—”

There was a reverberating boom at the end of his statement.

Thatch blinked, trailing his eyes to the sky and Alesta cautiously followed his gaze.

A long tendril of black smoke crept through the clear sky above them. The scent of burning wood permeated the air. Thatch whistled under his breath and Alesta sighed, feeling the phantom press of an incoming headache.

Neither of them had a chance to speak before another, familiar boom rocked the air.

“Hey, that’s good!” Thatch smiled with far too many teeth, “He’s burning off all his extra anger. Get it, burning?”

Alesta decided she was going to hit him.

Her uncharacteristic desire for violence would unfortunately have to wait. Another explosion rocked through the air and she moved without waiting for Thatch to follow. He sputtered behind her but didn’t tell her to stop.

Ducking out of the alleyway, Alesta caught several civilians running away from the port.

It was difficult to gain sense of what was happening.

The first thing she heard was the screaming. Alesta didn't spot any threats, but the speed at which the townspeople ran spoke volumes. Some of them were yelling, but it was too hard for her to catch everything they said. The only thing that she managed to hear was a woman’s frantic shriek about the marines arriving and Alesta’s hands went cold.

She began to run before she could think better of it.

“Already?” Thatch wondered from behind her. He managed to keep pace with her sudden sprint despite the fact he more or less floated, “That was fast.”

Alesta knew better.

This was her fault. It had to be. The marines wouldn’t have given chase if it hadn’t been for her. Ace beat them soundly enough to ensure they’d spend the next few days recuperating and licking their wounds.

Guilt ate at her chest as she dodged through the crowd.

Logically, there was no reason for them to follow. Except, they’d seen Kanetsuyo. They had proof she’d eaten the devil fruit.

This shouldn’t be Ace’s problem.

It was hers.

But Alesta was weak. She was useless. The only thing she could do was hide and cower. She’d never had an issue with her strength before, but in less than a week, she’d come face to face with the realization that she wouldn’t survive this world as she was.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up joining the dead before she could truly live.

That couldn't happen.

If Alesta wanted to survive, she needed to fight. 

That thought was the reasoning behind her push. The reason she stalled only long enough to spy a forgotten hammer off the ground. Thatch squawked at her when she skittered to a stop in front of an abandoned construction area and stole the tool without a second glance.

The iron handle was cold against her skin.

The reality of it all made Alesta’s heart flutter in warning.

She couldn’t fight in the manner her companions could, but she had to try.

As Alesta ducked back into the crowd, she toned out Thatch’s flustered questioning. It was difficult to move through the throng of panic. Everyone was rushing in the opposite direction, their shoulders clipping her own as they sprinted in opposite directions.

It was like she didn’t exist. Their fear made them frenzied. Men and women pushed by her in a blur of taupe, their coats blending into a singular mass as Alesta raced toward the port. The bright morning sun filtered through the line of buildings guarding the port and she saw the reason behind their screams.

Breaking the line of the crowd, Alesta stilled.

A gaggle of marines spread out on the snow-covered beach, their weapons aimed at a smoldering Ace. Guns and swords were drawn with singular focus. She couldn’t spy any blood shed but Alesta didn’t miss the smoldering remains of the port as it dipped into the sea.

For his part, Ace didn’t look concerned.

He’d changed into a new coat and its black tail flickered in the wind produced by his flames. The ground in front of him was on fire, the flames licking the toes of Captain Jun’s boots. It kept them separated by a good fifteen feet. The captain’s green eyes were locked on Ace, but at Alesta’s arrival, his composure faltered. 

His surprise didn't last long.

The axe over his shoulder jostled as Captain Jun stood straight. He didn't look away from her even as he said, “I told you we weren’t here for you, Fire-Fist.”

“I heard you the first time,” Ace snarked. He followed the marine’s line of sight before his focus landed on her. A pleased smile made his cheeks dimple, “Hey! You found a better coat!”

Ace’s tone was entirely juxtaposed to the current situation and Alesta found she couldn't respond. Instead, her attention was trained on the captain behind him.

Captain Jun had seen better days.

It’d been less than twenty-four hours since their last standoff, but the time had taken its toll. Captain Jun’s marine jacket was still burnt at the hems and his glasses hung off his nose by their broken frame. The only value Alesta could find in his arrival was the fact that his force was drastically reduced.

Only fifteen men stood behind him.

“You,” the captain leveled his axe in her direction, “By the order of the World Government, you’re coming with me.”

“Yeah. That’s not happening, buddy,” Ace scoffed. Another flare of fire burst out of his arm when a marine near the back took a step forward, “You guys just don’t give up.”

Swallowing the flood of salvia in her mouth, Alesta moved to the side. She’d learned her lesson about proximity in their last fight. As she’d told Thatch, she had no desire to be burnt again.

Another moment of hindsight made her reconsider the decision to run toward the fight instead of away, but it was too late now. Ace’s comment on her reckless behavior appeared to be growing merit.

Thatch seemed to agree, “You’re just as bad as Ace. Why would you run to the fight?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Alesta whispered under her breath, trying to ignore the way Ace’s brows hiked in confusion. “I’m sorry.”

With an exaggerated wave, Thatch urged her back toward the city behind them, “Less apologizing and more hiding. Please and thank you.”

The warning came too late.

Alesta didn’t have time to move. While Ace may have been clueless about who she was currently talking to, the captain knew enough to put two and two together. Alesta tried to take a step back, but Captain Jun moved first.

He jumped across the clearing, the power from his ascent leaving an indention in the snow.

Another pillar of fire stopped him in his tracks.

Deflecting the blow, Captain Jun’s lip hiked in a snarl, “This isn’t something Whitebeard needs to be involved in. You have no idea what you’re protecting,” his axe swung through the air, “That girl ate the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi. She’s an abomination.”

There was venom in his tone.

It caught on her skin and made her heart beat a second too fast. Alesta had been called several things in her life, but that wasn’t one of them. There were no words she could defend herself with either. He was right. This power wasn’t natural, but none of the devil fruit powers were.

The only reason he was so afraid was because he knew.

He knew what could happen if she managed to control it.

Ahead of her, Ace stilled. His shoulders went taut and the flames that licked up his arms and down his back spiked into an inferno. They whistled in the air, soaking the area around them with blazing heat.

It made Alesta take a wary step.

Following her motions, Thatch hovered in uncharacteristic silence. His presence was a boon amidst the sudden silence of the battlefield. Taking another step back, Alesta let herself settle by his side. This close, she could see the way Thatch eyed the platoon of marines and Ace with a cautious awareness.

“What did you just say?” Ace's voice was carefully neutral. It wasn’t an emotion reflected in his movements. Flames sprouted into the air as he took a lethal step forward, “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“She’s an abomination. That power shouldn’t exist in the hands of someone like her,” Captain Jun hiked his axe in the air, “It shouldn’t exist at all! The dead are dead for a reason!”

The threat hung in the air as Captain Jun attacked.

The axe came down between them.

It never hit.

Ace spun under the weapon, his fist aimed for the captain’s midriff. Fire danced up his arms and down his back as he followed the punch through, twisting out of the way of the returning kick. Captain Jun jumped back, heels digging into the snow as he sneered at Ace.

“You think you’re going to get past me that easily?” Ace’s voice pitched low, “After talking like that?”

Captain Jun watched Ace's chest heave before he slowly lifted his hand. 

Behind them, the rest of the marines spread out.

Their rifles twisted in Alesta’s direction. Shimmers of gun polish made the rifles shine under the morning sun. The action wiped the color out of Ace’s face— realization making his mouth pitch in an emotion Alesta couldn’t name.

“What are you doing?” Ace’s yell echoed over the dry atmosphere, “I’m your fight!”

“I have my orders, Fire-Fist,” Captain Jun barked, “This isn’t about you.” His green eyes trailed to her before he ordered, "Men—" 

The first sounds of chambers cocking echoed in the air.

“Shoot!”

Alesta barely had time to move. 

Bullets ricocheted in the air. Snow spewed at her feet as she threw herself to the frosty ground. There was a shout from Ace before a wave of fire separated the field into two partitions. It stalled their approach, but—

It didn’t halt their bullets.

“The marines know about your devil fruit? All of it?” Thatch cursed behind her, “And you didn’t think that was an important fact to mention?!”

Alesta didn’t have time to respond. Heat flooded the area as Ace released another wave of flames. It took out a section of the marines to his right, but it left the ones in front of her standing.

The faint ping of a bullet hitting snow made her lunge to the side.

It was just in time. Several more bullets filled the air where she once kneeled. Her shoulder stung at the fall. They pressed closer as Alesta pushed herself to her feet before they could take advantage of the fumble. Her knees ached at the exertion but she didn’t have time to dawdle.

One of the marines at the edge of their group broke off, shouldering his rifle to take a more direct approach.

The snow gave way as he plowed toward her.

He didn’t hold any weapons, but that didn’t matter. She knew well enough to understand fists could do just as much damage. His arms were hoisted in preparation and as he dove for her, a meaty hand went for her head.

Alesta ducked.

The punch went wide as a burst of cold air ruffled her hair.

Ignoring the blood pounding in her ears, her hand clenched around the hammer hard enough to hurt. The hilt was heavy between her fingers. Just like the paperweight she’d used to take Han down—

As the marine twisted through the momentum, Alesta swung.

The sound the hammer created as it smashed into his skull made her nearly heave.

Thatch made another incredulous noise, “You’re kidding me. That’s why you got the hammer?”

“It’s working,” she panted, rolling out of the way as the marine toppled over. Only to come face to face with one of his companions, “Shit—"

Fighting was not nearly as effortless as she’d been led to believe from Ace and Kanetsuyo. Her muscles ached. Experience made her slow. The marine landed a punch against her chin and Alesta stumbled backward, lashing out with the hammer indiscriminately.

It hit the man’s jaw with a fleshy thud.

He cursed as he faltered backward, hand coming up to cover his face and giving Alesta just enough time to follow up with a second swing.

This time, he didn’t get up.

“A hammer? A hammer?” Thatch’s voice was steadily growing higher pitched, “Oh my god, Blamenco’s going to cry.”

His distraction wasn’t helping. Ace managed to burn through most of the underlings with his flames, but he was being kept busy by the captain. Beyond the two Alesta had already taken down, there were three marines left.

Alesta wheezed as she took them in.

One was busy reloading his rifle, but the other two rushed forward as one. They didn’t give her any time to move. Alesta stumbled back in surprise when they appeared to mold together. They conjoined at the hip, sprinting toward her like a genetically mutated centipede.

“What the fuck,” Thatch cursed, “A devil fruit?”

“Shit,” Alesta whispered again, ducking low when one of the men’s long arms swiped at her. She cut a brief glance toward Thatch before bringing the hammer down on the marine’s shoulder, “How bad will it be if I asked you for help?”

Thatch didn’t respond immediately, overridden by Captain Jun’s shout, “Don’t let her speak! The devil fruit is voice-activated!”

The conjoined men in front of her snarled.

Then they moved.

Their four arms extended outward as they made a desperate grab for her throat. Alesta swung the hammer, but it barely mattered. The iron hit the left man in the face, but they didn’t stop, and she was forced to throw herself to the side in a desperate attempt to get out of his range.

She wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way.

One of the marines lunged, his arms snatching her by the shoulders and shoving her into the snow. An arm grabbed her hand, forcing it over her head and crushing her wrist hard enough for the bones to creak. A pained croak caught in her throat as his body pressed into her.

Panic caused Alesta to flail, her knee ramming upward.

Spit flew over her face when she managed to hit him in the gut.

“It doesn’t matter!” Thatch’s voice was muffled as the marine tried to wrestle her back down, “Do it!”

Her foot swished through the air, managing to catch the marine in the shin as she screamed, “Thatch!”

The call ended with a throaty wheeze as the marine caught her neck and squeezed. She couldn’t see Ace, but the fire surrounding the area seemed to grow hotter as the echo of her voice trailed off. It burnt across the open space and melted the last remnants of snow around her.

Alesta could feel the heat in her bones.

The marine above her cursed but didn’t let go even as flames crept over his back. His fingers tightened around her throat like a lynch. The force of it made her head slam into the ground. Black spots crept into the corner of her vision as the man above her sneered. 

She threw her head to the left, desperately trying to take in air.

“Thatch!” Alesta’s throat burned as she coughed, “Please help me!”  

The weight on top of her was gone before she could force herself to breathe.

Static burned between her ears, hiding the sudden silence of the battlefield. Rolling over, Alesta clawed at her throat. It took her far too long to manage a full inhale, but when she did, her eyes caught the change.

The ground surrounding her was dark with a shadow.

Alesta let her gaze trail up the full length of the man standing above her. Thatch met her stare for less than a second before his jaw clenched. She could see the color of his skin, the flush on his brow. Features she’d never known he’d had, but most important of them all—

Thatch’s brown eyes were filled with life.

Alesta coughed as he held a hand down to her, her own hand shaking as he guided her to a sitting position. His fingers were strong as they wrapped around her own. Thatch squeezed her hand once before he let go and lifted his stare to the men surrounding them.

Alesta’s heart raced as she finally dared to follow.  

The battlefield was frozen. Captain Jun's axe was embedded in the ground, flames crawling up the handle as he took a step back. The rest of the marines still standing followed his movements, faces drawn in horror. Alesta swore she heard one begin to pray.

But it was Ace who captured her attention.

Fist outstretched from the reach of an abandoned punch, Ace’s eyes soaked in Thatch's form. He didn’t move. It almost looked like he was trembling, chest heaving up and down as he swallowed.

“Thatch?” Ace finally managed to speak, a strange lurch in his tone. He repeated the name almost brokenly, “Thatch?”

Ace looked like a shell of a man as he stared at Thatch.

The sharpness in his face disappeared as his mouth opened with a muted gasp of uncertainty. He took a fumbling step forward before freezing. Ace’s arms dropped to hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep standing.

A faint shudder crept over his shoulders. Alesta watched him blink twice before he scrubbed at his eyes. Ace made a harsh noise in his throat when he realized Thatch didn’t disappear. His hand was shaking so hard she was surprised he could control it.

“Hey, Ace,” Thatch’s smile was sad, “I missed you.”

The sound of his voice made Ace’s whole body flinch.

He dropped to his knees, the strength in his legs finally failing him. Thatch made a wounded noise, attempting to step forward before Ace threw a hand up.

Thatch's feet stilled in the melted snow.

Alesta could see his fist flex even as he tried to hide it against his thigh. 

The flames around the field continued to blaze as Ace stared at his dead crewmate, “How— you’re dead. I saw you—" his mouth pressed into a thin line even as his eyes watered, “Prove it. Prove you’re you.”

“Fossa’s favorite food is yakitori, but only when I bake it with fish oil. Marco asked me not to cook eggs because they hurt his stomach,” Thatch swallowed, his throat bobbing as he took a step toward him, “I know, Ace. I know. I died, but I’m here now.” He tried to smile, but it fell flat, “Devil fruit powers, am I right?”

It was Thatch’s attempt at humor that finally broke Ace.

A grunt caught in his throat before he wiped at his gaping mouth, shaking his head hard enough to nearly dislodge his hat. Alesta winced at the noise creeping through the air. It was like Ace couldn't get enough air in his lungs— throaty noises meshing into coughs as his fists curled in the snow.

Thatch didn't hesitate to stride toward him, hands outstretched like he wanted to grab him but not knowing if he could. 

Ace looked up at him. His eyes were shining, eyelashes damped from unshed tears. He struggled to breathe, his words disjointed as he said, “I’m sorry— I’m sorry, Thatch. I’m so fucking sorry—"

“I know, Ace,” Thatch dropped to the ground. His knees caved into the snow, “I’m sorry, too. I left you. I left the family— Pops—” Thatch’s arms looped around Ace’s shoulders and his head met the bulk of his chest, “It was never your fault. It was never you.”

There was a choking noise and Alesta realized that Ace was crying.

It was a desperate sound, full of gasps and broken mutters. Thatch moved closer, pulling Ace against his chest and holding him tight. His shoulders shook as he whispered something Alesta couldn’t hear and Ace sobbed. His hand curled around Thatch's neck.

Ace’s fingers dug into Thatch’s shirt like he was afraid to let go.

From the angle she was at, Alesta could see the faint trails of wetness on both of their faces.

She didn’t dare look at them any longer. This wasn't her moment to invade. Cradling her neck in her trembling hand, Alesta sat up in the mostly melted snow.

Her vision blurred as she took in the wreckage surrounding them.

The marine Thatch took down was just to her left. His eyes were closed and blood stained his temple. Beyond him, Captain Jun hadn't moved. His green eyes flicked from her to Thatch before he swallowed.

His knees wobbled but he didn’t fall.

“That’s not possible,” the captain whispered. “He shouldn’t be able to use Haki. He's dead. How?”

There were so many emotions hidden in that question.

Things Alesta had no idea how to articulate in the face of his wrath.

Captain Jun took a desperate step toward her. The sound of the earth crunching beneath his steel-toed boots echoed between them. Fear skittered down her chest at the movement. Alesta scooted back in the snow, feeling it creep up the back of her coat when he didn't stop.

She couldn’t fight him. Not now. Her voice went sharp with panic, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

The response made Captain Jun falter. The look he leveled her wasn’t one she’d ever seen before. Last time, he’d eyed her powers with greed.

That wasn’t the expression he wore now.

No, Captain Jun was terrified.

His face was several shades too pale and there was a faint tremor to his arms as he took another step toward her. The slow creep of his arrival made her chest tight, pressure pounding like a drum as his resolve seemed to solidify.

Captain Jun’s mouth pressed tight before he nodded.

He didn’t wait for her to speak again. The captain’s unwavering gaze snapped toward the last marines standing, “Evans! Finish it!”

Alesta threw her gaze to the right just in time to see the gun's barrel gleam in the sun. 

The marine didn’t have time to aim before he was engulfed by flames.

There was a muted thump as the rifle dropped to the ground.

A chill sank through her veins at how close that’d been. She wouldn’t have had time to move. All it would have taken was a second and it would have been over before it began. Alesta sank into the snow, heart pounding a second too fast as the marine writhed on the ground.

It was a brutal sight. He grunted as the flames ate over his skin, but then movement caught her eye beyond him. Her chest thrummed when she spotted her savior. With the help of Thatch, Ace was on his feet.

Faint flickers of flames still danced over his wrist and through the air. 

Ace's mouth was tight as he stared at the captain, “It’s over.”

“She’s under Whitebeard’s protection,” Thatch’s words were loaded with meaning, “Think about that before you try and come back.”

Alesta went still as the words settled. There was a faint tang to the air, a tension that soaked through her skin and nestled in her bones. It was difficult to keep her shoulders straight. With just those words, Alesta felt as if her world had tilted. As if it’d become something more—

Ace didn’t wait for the captain to respond.

His heavy gaze flicked toward her and lingered, taking in the bruise on her face with a tense furrow of his brows. Alesta wasn’t sure she could accurately describe the sentiment sweeping over his face. It wasn’t like when she told Thatch the truth. There were no soft angles and amazed grins.

Only a single-minded focus that made it hard to breathe.

Neither of them noticed when the marines ran.

As the field emptied, Ace took a cautious step toward her. The blatant observation made her skin itch. Thatch kept watch in the background, a tired smile dimpling his cheeks as he took in his brother's back.

Ace’s feet crunched over the ground.

His form blocked the sun as he came to stand above her. Ace’s attention flicked down to the disregarded hammer at her side and his brows lifted when he spotted the blood soaking the handle. Taking it all in, his mouth twisted in the beginnings of a grin as he held out a hand down to her.

Cautiously, Alesta took the embrace.

“I guess I should have believed you,” his hand was warm when she placed it in his. Ace let his eyes skim over her flushed cheeks as he helped her to her feet, his gentle tease hanging between them, “Right, ghost girl?”

The nickname made her throat cave in seconds before Ace pulled her into a hug. There was no time for her to move. His thick arms wrapped around her back as her chest met his own. The heat of his hold very nearly overwhelmed her.

This close, she could feel the way he trembled.

Ace’s head met her shoulder and he took a deep breath, the hot press of air making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Alesta tensed at the unexpected embrace, catching Thatch's eye over Ace’s shoulder.

He gave her an encouraging smile and something warm tickled the base of her spine. 

“Thank you,” Ace muttered into the fabric of her coat, “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

Alesta swallowed, terrified but having to warn him all the same, “It’s not permanent—”

“I don’t care,” Ace cut her off. His arms were tight and warm as his chest heaved with a sigh, “You let me see him again. I never thought I’d get to apologize.”

His hair tickled the base of her neck as his arms constricted. A sound she couldn't name caught in her throat. The hug was a touch too hot and it made her injured shoulder ache, but Alesta had no desire to move. She’d expected a lot of reactions to the reveal of her devil fruit, but gratitude hadn’t factored in.

Alesta wasn't sure how to handle it.

Not quite knowing what to do with her hands, she let them awkwardly rest on Ace’s shoulders with a timid pat. He chuckled at the action but didn’t let go.

The soft crunch of burnt ground echoed as Thatch moved closer, “See! I told you he wouldn’t set you on fire! Can't go around burning our newest crewmate.”

Alesta stared at him over Ace’s shoulder.

Dragging a slow look around the currently still burning field, she raised a delicate eyebrow instead of voicing her thoughts. Thatch followed the motion before he snorted. Muttering something ugly under his breath, he kicked a pile of half-melted snow over the closest portion of the flames.

The fire sizzled with an angry hiss before it sputtered out.

“Wait—” Ace blinked as his arms lax, “What?”

"Congratulations, Ace!" Thatch's hand met the top portion of his back with a hearty slap, "You've got two new travel buddies!" 

It took a second for the meaning of Thatch’s statement to sink in. Grabbing Alesta by the shoulders, Ace pulled back enough to gape in her face, “What’s he talking about?”

Alesta could have slapped Thatch for forcing this on her so soon.

She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t sure how Ace would react—

“Sorry, I should have asked,” Alesta took a deep breath, steadying her resolve before blurting, “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to come with you. I know you need to find Blackbeard first, but I’d like to practice with my devil fruit and I offered to let him see your crew—” she flicked her gaze to Thatch, “If that’s okay?”

Ace’s smile stunned her.

It was soft and sweet. Something she’d never seen him wear. His dark eyes traced over her face before he began to laugh, “You’re asking me if it’s okay?”

“Yes,” Alesta blinked, “I know your boat is small—"

A finger flicked her in the nose and she startled.

The tiny punishment hurt more than she'd anticipated. Alesta brought a hand up to her stinging nose and scowled at the amused boy in front of her. Ace’s cheeks were flushed red but he wasn’t the least bit cowed. Thatch's cackling laughter in the background didn't help measures. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Ace grinned, “I can’t promise it’ll be safe, but I’ll figure it out. Before that—”

He shot Thatch a loaded look.

“We need to find a Den Den Mushi and call Pops.”

Chapter Text

They were out of bandages.

Marco rubbed at the tense skin between his brows with a weary sigh before adding the item to the supply list. He couldn’t understand how they’d gone through four thousand rolls of bandages in three days. His family was rowdy, but they weren’t that needlessly prone to violence. Tired blue eyes flicked to the calendar hanging on his cabin wall and his mouth twitched downward.

The Moby Dick wasn’t planned to dock at another island until next week.

The schedule would have to change. Leaning back in his chair, Marco trailed his gaze to the ceiling of his cabin. It wasn’t only bandages that were in short supply. Morale had been at an all-time low since Ace left nearly three months ago.

The second division was suffering the most, but everyone had been affected. Where the ship was once a beacon of liveliness and energy, the air was restrained. Marco couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Deuce outside of the clinic.

It wasn’t hard to blame him. With the knowledge of Teach’s betrayal and Thatch’s death, Marco was tempted to allow his work to bury him alive. He couldn’t do that though. Not with his family depending on him.

Scratching out another line for more sake, Marco rolled his shoulders back and sank deeper into the wooden chair.

Even his own bedroom didn’t feel familiar. He’d gotten used to the constant interruptions from Ace and it was stifling to sit in the small room by himself. It wasn’t something he’d thought he’d ever miss, but Marco longed for the days his brother would barrel into the room and shove Straw Hat’s bounty in his face.

He missed the smiles, the proud laughter at another exploit from the up-and-coming pirate. It was the only reason he’d kept up with the newspapers. A silent promise to look out for Ace’s little brother in his stead.

The familiar chirp of the Den Den Mushi sitting on his desk broke him out of his thoughts.

His eyes narrowed on the green snail. Only a select few people knew his personal number. Of those people, the majority of them were on the ship. The only one was Ace and— He sat up straight.

It was hard not to hope.

The snail’s beady black eyes blinked at him before releasing another long-winded chirp.

Praying it wasn’t someone in trouble, Marco grabbed the receiver, “Hello? This is Marco.”

“Hey, Marco,” The snail’s mouth split into a wide grin, “Sorry, I couldn’t remember Pop’s number.”

The sound of Ace’s voice made Marco’s shoulders relax for the first time in weeks. He sounded good, healthy. Better than what Marco had expected.

Despite the relief flooding his veins, he couldn’t help but chastise, “It’s been months, yoi. Where are you, Ace?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should have called,” the snail frowned at him before looking at something to its left, “We’re on Drum Island.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed at the slip, “We?”

 “Uh, about that,” the snail grimaced, “Do you think we could talk to Pops? It’s kind of a long story.”

“What happened?” Marco was immediately on the defensive. He scooped the snail to his chest as he continued to question, “Are you in trouble?”

“No, we’re okay. There was a little issue with the marines, but I dealt with it—"

He didn’t wait for Ace to finish. Kicking the door shut behind him, Marco stalked down the main hall and to the upper deck. A few of his crewmates moved out of his way but as he passed Curiel, Marco tilted his head to follow.

The big man’s face scrunched in bewilderment until he heard the familiar voice coming out of the snail. Curiel’s mouth dropped and Marco nodded in confirmation of the silent question.

A new voice echoed from the receiver and Marco nearly stumbled in surprise. It was a hoarse sound, but there was a feminine lilt, “I didn’t know snails could talk.”

“It’s a Den Den Mushi—” Ace responded to the woman. The snail’s mouth twitched with the beginnings of an amused grin, “Don’t ask me how it works. I have no idea.”

He’d expected several things when Ace mentioned that he was with another person, but he hadn’t expected a woman. Thatch would have been thrilled. Marco threw a bemused look at Curiel, catching how the man reflected his confusion as they made it onto the main deck.

A few of his family were spread out over the deck, hoisting the reigns of the mainsail. Behind them, he spotted Whitebeard at the head of the ship. A gaggle of nurses surrounded him and Marco could see the familiar blue of Izou’s new kimono at his side.

“Pops,” Marco called out to get his attention. When he saw the snail clutched to his chest, Whitebeard raised a brow. “Ace is on the line.”

It was difficult to gauge the expression on his captain’s face.

There was worry and pain, but most of all, his captain looked relieved. The ship rumbled as Whitebeard sat up in his chair, his blue eyes landing on the snail and frowning. Beside him, the nurses paused and Izou took a hesitant step forward.

His blood-red lips dropped in surprise when Marco nodded at his silent question. Their little brother had called, for the first time in months. Izou’s brows crawled into his hairline.

Meanwhile, Whitebeard held a hand out for the snail and Marco placed it in his palm. The tiny thing looked minuscule compared to Whitebeard and he swore he could hear the little snail gulp. While his captain brought the snail toward his face, Marco caught the rest of the commanders inching closer.

He stared, unimpressed, at Haruta who sidled up to his side.

The only response to his look was a full-toothed grin. His family was nosey to the point of detriment, but for once, Marco couldn’t blame them. The mere mention of Ace’s name was enough to snap everyone to attention.

“My son,” Whitebeard took a deep breath. The same tension that’d haunted Marco’s shoulders vanished with the action, “It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“I’m okay, Pops,” the snail swallowed as Ace’s voice rang out over the suddenly silent ship, “I’m good. Really good—” tears crept into the snail’s eyes when Ace whispered, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

At the apology, Whitebeard’s shoulders sagged, “I understand, my boy. You did what you thought you needed to do. Were you successful?”

Marco prayed the answer to that question was a simple yes.

He knew it was a lot to ask for, but he wanted Ace home. He’d spent too many nights worrying about his youngest brother. It’d been a tough blow to lose him after Thatch’s death. Both of them were the life force of the ship and without them, things had suffered.

Whitebeard appeared to agree. There was a firm press to his mouth and Marco knew that whatever answer Ace gave, the result would be the same. They would either go to him or he would come to them.  

No matter what, Ace was going to return.

“No, not yet,” Ace’s voice rang back over the deck, “We know he was on Drum, though. He raided it about three weeks ago. Half the villagers were killed.”

He’d said we again. The slip had Marco narrowing his eyes on the Den Den Mushi and he could see several of his fellow commanders doing the same. Whoever Ace referred to, it sounded like he referenced them as a partner. While he and Curiel had heard a woman’s voice, it wasn’t like Ace to bring strangers into the dealings of their crew.

Whitebeard frowned at the snail, his mustache twitching, “I see. That is concerning,” his captain’s blue eyes trailed over the deck before landing on Marco, “What are you planning, son?”

“I’m not giving up,” Ace answered immediately. The snail’s face twisted into a scowl as Ace’s voice echoed through the air, “Teach has to die. He can’t be allowed to live after what he’s done and if he’s going around attacking innocents, it means he’s planning something.”

Marco grimaced, biting back the words he wanted to say.

No one would argue with Ace’s statement. The entire crew was keen to see Teach pay for his betrayal with blood. Thatch had been a foundational member of the crew, someone all his brothers loved. There wasn’t a person more undeserving of death.

“I agree, but my boy—” Whitebeard sighed. He looked tired, exhausted by the mere words he planned to utter, “You need to come home. This isn’t a path you can take by yourself. Put your trust in your family to help.”

Everyone on the ship went quiet at the order. They’d all been witnesses to what occurred the last time this conversation took place. Ace was hardheaded to a fault. He bore the weight of the world’s problem on his own shoulders, rarely asking for help.

Honor was paramount to him and in Ace’s eyes, Teach was his problem to deal with.

“I’m still going to kill him,” when Ace finally spoke, his tone was laced with steel, “Please understand that, Pops.”

Marco frowned at the snail, momentarily confused by the concession. He’d expected his younger brother to protest, to argue with the order, but the outright denial never came.

Whitebeard cast an equally disconcerted look toward Marco before speaking into the snail, “As is your right, my son.”

“Thank you,” the line went quiet again before Ace took a deep breath, “We’re heading to Arabasta tomorrow.”

Beside Whitebeard, Izou gawked at the snail. Marco found himself inclined to agree with his brother’s bafflement. That was the closest thing to a compromise that Ace offered since setting his mind on killing Teach. It wasn’t outright implied, but the meaning behind his cooperation was clear.

If Whitebeard chose to come, Ace wouldn’t fight it. He was letting them in.

Trusting them.

Marco couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, “What changed, Ace?”

“You’re honestly not going to believe me,” the snail’s mouth twitched with a grim smile, “I’m still struggling to believe it and I’m looking at it.”

The voice that echoed through the receiver next made Marco’s heart stop, “Are you calling me an it? Seriously, Ace?”

It wasn’t possible. Marco took a shaky step back, hand latching onto Haruta’s shoulder for balance. The rest of his family was in a similar state of disbelief.

Marco could feel Haruta’s chest tremble underneath his palm and Izou had stopped breathing, his manicured hands clasped over his mouth as he stared at the snail. The expression on his face wasn’t one Marco could identify.

There was pain, horror, and worst of all, there was hope.

A damning hope that crept over the rest of the ship and made the air feel too tight.

“Thatch,” Whitebeard was the first to speak, his voice hitching, “Is that you, my son?”

The smile that took over the snail’s face made Marco want to cry. That was Thatch’s smile, through and through. “Hey, Pops. I missed you guys.”

Whitebeard’s eyes slipped shut and Marco realized he wasn’t the only one fighting off tears, “It’s good to hear your voice again, son.”

“You too—” the snail swallowed before Thatch sighed, “I’m sorry about dying. It won’t happen again.”

The urge to laugh nearly made him sob and Marco scrubbed at his face as he tried to work out the emotions surging forth inside his chest. The dark humor was so like Thatch’s that Marco almost wanted to believe this was real.

But he knew better. He’d seen the wounds Teach left behind, buried Thatch’s body. Trading a grim look with Curiel, Marco stepped closer to the Den Den Mushi. Whitebeard lowered it enough for Marco to see the snail’s smile.

“Ace,” Marco’s voice was bleak, “Who is that?”

“You owe me four hundred beri,” The imposter posing as Thatch snorted, “I told you this would happen. Honestly, you’d think they’d recognize their own brother. Zombie-ghost-man or not.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was trying to be subtle,” Ace snarked back before turning his attention back to the receiver, “It really is him, Marco. We met someone who ate the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi. It lets her see ghosts and—” the snail winced as Ace admitted, “Temporarily bring them back to life. I know it sounds crazy, but I was there. I saw it. It’s really Thatch.”

“I’m familiar with that fruit,” Whitebeard cut in before Marco could voice his doubt. Their captain’s stare was locked on the snail and there was a strange tension in his jaw, “He speaks the truth, my son.”

Marco stilled.

He couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it. It was impossible, it defied the laws of nature down to their barest bones. Except, Thatch was talking in the background of the call. Ace muttered something none of them could hear and then suddenly, the air was filled with Thatch’s laughter.

It was a sound he hadn’t heard in months. Izou’s composure finally broke at the noise and his brother had to turn away from the snail to dab at his eyes.

“We can prove it, Marco. She offered to come with me,” Ace admitted once their one-sided banter died down, “To let Thatch see you again.”

“Really?” Haruta gasped, “Does that mean you’re coming back?”

“Eventually,” it wasn’t the confirmation they wanted, but it was more than any of them expected, “I’ve got a few things to take care of in Paradise, but I’m not going to miss the chance for Thatch to see everyone again.”

“Don’t worry!” Marco would never get used to hearing Thatch’s voice. His departed brother grinned over the line, “I’ll take good care of Ace until we get there. I know how to keep his dumbass in line.”

He didn’t want to hope. This world wasn’t kind to people who relied on hopes and dreams. It ate them up and spat them out— but Marco couldn’t help it.

There were mysteries spread all over the sea and if Ace had managed to stumble upon one of this magnitude, maybe he could allow himself to dream. Maybe he could believe that fate gifted them a chance to see their brother again.

A chance to apologize for failing him.

There were miracles in this world. Marco knew that. He just never would have dared to imagine they’d be of this magnitude. It was hard to keep still. His shoulders rolled back as he stared at the snail in his captain’s palm.

“If your friend is returning two of my sons,” Whitebeard hummed under his breath as he sat up, “Then we owe her a great deal. What’s her name, my boy?”

With a chuckle, Ace answered, “Alesta. You want to talk to her?”

“That’s not necessary,” the woman’s voice was back and Marco’s brow hiked at the polite refusal, “No one owes me anything. It was the least I could do after Ace’s help.”

The snail sighed as Ace said, “Come on, it’s just Pops. He doesn’t bite."

“You told me he can break mountains,” the woman— Alesta, Marco corrected himself, responded blandly.

“Ghost girl,” Thatch laughed in the background, “He can hear you, you know?”

“Oh,” Marco didn’t know what to make of her. Her tone was polite but reserved. A bit awkward, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your captain. Do I need to apologize?”

“You just did— okay, never mind,” he saw the snail roll his eyes as Thatch said, “Alesta says hi, everyone.”

Trading a look with Izou, Marco raised a brow. They’d dealt with many up-and-coming pirates over the years and all of them tended to default to aggression when faced with a Yonko. They liked to bite off more than they could chew.

Try and get their name out there through sheer force and willpower.

A few of them were smart enough to know to edge on the side of politeness, but this was a change. She sounded genuinely clueless.

His captain’s chuckle echoed over the deck. It was a raspy, drawn-out sound tinged with amusement, “My son is right, child. There is nothing to be afraid of. I only want to express my thanks to you for assisting my sons.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman trailed off and he saw the snail blink, “It’s really no problem.”

Thatch chose that moment to tease, “See? We’re not scary!”

His captain laughed again, apparently pleased with whatever he was hearing in the conversation. Marco wanted to sigh. He knew that look in his captain’s eyes. It wasn’t like the look he’d gotten when he’d adopted Ace, but it was similar.

A type of fascinated cunning that promised incoming headaches.

“Whose crew is she with?” Marco asked before the conversation could derail again, “We can look into an alliance. It’d make things easier with you all traveling together, yoi.”

It would also make things move quicker if his captain decided to go through with whatever he was planning. Adoptions of rookie pirates were a tricky thing. If they had a crew, it was easier to get things settled with the whole crew before singling out an individual. They’d learned that lesson with Ace.

Without his crew, Marco knew that the adjustment period would have lasted much longer.

“About that—” speaking of Ace, his youngest brother chuckled awkwardly, “She’s a civilian. I ran into her on a marine ship a couple of days ago.” The next question wasn’t directed to them, “Wait, you didn’t join up with Fox did you?”

Marco knew that name. His brow furrowed as he asked, “Shadow Fox? The Fang Pirates’ swordsman?”

“Yeah, him!” Ace snapped his fingers and the snail grinned, “He helped me take out some of the marines near Drum. He— wait, hold on. He disappeared! Holy shit, did I fight with a dead guy?”

There was a scuffle over the line before Thatch snorted, “You know I’m dead too, Ace. Feeling kind of unappreciated here.”

“But I knew you were dead! I didn’t—” Ace shuddered and the snail repeated the action, “Man, that’s weird.”  

The woman’s voice came back, “Sorry. I should have mentioned that.”

“If you don’t quit apologizing, I’m going to gag you,” Thatch levied the threat with an amused tone that Marco knew intimately well, “Seriously, stop that. It’s bad for your health.”

There was a touch of fondness to their bickering that had Marco cracking a grin.

He wasn’t the only one. Whitebeard let out another rumbling laugh and even Izou snorted. Marco watched his brother, trying to see how he felt about everything being uncovered during the conversation.

He wasn’t fully clear on the dynamic between Izou and Thatch, but he knew there was more than brotherly love. Izou was also one of the more territorial brothers. He clung to his people with a fierceness that frightened lesser men.

“Thatch,” Izou warned, but his name seemed to catch in his throat, “You shouldn’t threaten the woman that helped you. That’s poor taste.”

The snail grinned, a blinding flash of teeth as Thatch responded easily, “It’s not a threat if it’s a promise, Izou! You know that!”

The interaction was so familiar it made his heart ache. For just a second, Marco could see Thatch in the kitchen, smacking at their grabby hands. It was still hard to believe this was real.

Hard to come to the fact that the voice on the other end of the line really was his brother.

He could see the tears hiding in Izou’s eyes as the man smiled at the tease, “I know, Thatch. A pirate doesn’t make empty promises—” his gaze went sharp in amused warning, “But I’ll be very angry if you scare her away before I can give my thanks.”

Marco’s concerns about his brother’s distrust disappeared in favor of muted exasperation. The suggestion in Izou’s tone was clear as glass. Izou wanted to meet the woman who’d brought Thatch back to life.

He claimed it was to thank her, but Marco knew better. Once Izou accepted someone, that territorial reach extended to them. In the case of Ace’s new friend, her actions looked like they’d given her unconditional addition to the fold.

He brought a hand to his temple to strive off the incoming headache.

“Don’t worry, Izou,” there was a shuffle on the other end of the line. Thatch cackled when Ace cursed, “You’ll get to meet her.”

It was less of a statement and more of a guarantee. Marco sighed, already imagining the incoming paperwork. Thatch was worse than Izou. He took strays in like a leech.

Ace was the best example, but there’d been others in the past. Half of the fourth division were people Thatch picked up during their travels. Marco trailed his attention back to his captain, catching the way Whitebeard observed the conversation.

The gleam in his eye secured his earlier assumptions. He wouldn’t outright say it until they’d met the girl, but his captain’s plan was obvious. Adoption was imminent.

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Then it’s settled!” Whitebeard’s laugh echoed over the deck, “We’ll set sail immediately. My sons, how far away are you from Fishman Island?”

That was the order Marco had been waiting on.

He’d known it was coming since the start of the conversation and he knew Ace had to have expected it as well. There was no way he would have called without understanding what would come. Marco held his breath— waiting for the outburst that was sure to follow.

Only to be surprised when Ace didn’t immediately argue.

“A couple of weeks depending on how long we stay in Arabasta,” Ace took the line over and the snail frowned, “We could probably get there in a month if we don’t run into the marines again. That’ll be the only hold-up.”

Marco frowned. It seemed too easy, “What about Teach, yoi?”

“I’m not giving up,” Ace refuted with a tone of steel, “If we run into him on the way, I’m going to take care of it. Until then, we’ll head to Fishman Island.”

That was what he’d expected to hear but it didn’t make him feel any better. There were a lot of islands between Drum and Fishman Island. Even with Thatch, Ace was traveling through the Grand Line with a civilian.

Altogether, it amounted to two devil fruit users and a ghost. There were a lot of chances for things to go wrong. The Moby Dick was deep in the New World right now and they wouldn’t be able to get there quick enough to assist.

Whitebeard appeared to come to the same conclusion. His gaze drifted to Marco in consideration. He knew what his captain was thinking. With his devil fruit, Marco could travel faster than any of his crewmates sans maybe Namur.

His captain confirmed his thoughts seconds later when his voice rumbled over the deck, “Marco will go ahead to meet you. Do not do anything foolish, my son.”

The offer solidified just how strongly Whitebeard wanted Ace home. Marco was the first division commander and oversaw the medical bay, all important aspects of running the ship. Without him, the responsibilities would fall to the other commanders and the nurses.

It wouldn’t be a struggle for them to accommodate, but it would push them.

Knowing the impact Marco’s absence would have on the ship, the command made their youngest brother bluster. Ace scowled through the snail, “That’s not necessary, Pops. I can handle it—”

“It’s an order, Ace,” Whitebeard stopped the protests in their tracks, “Let your family help you.”

There was a tense silence over the line. Half the crew held their breath. This would be the defining moment of the path forward. Ace would either hang up and disappear again or he would concede.

Had he been alone, Marco was sure that he would have chosen the former. Ace’s pride was too deeply engrained into his psyche.

Thankfully, he wasn’t alone. Thatch chirped down the line without waiting for Ace to respond, “We get Marco? Sweet. That’ll come in handy when Ace gets his ass handed to him again. Hey, Marco? Think you can bring a sword?” Thatch trailed off with a resigned sigh, “I’m trying to convince ghost girl to ditch the hammer.”

The woman in question refuted, “I don’t want a sword. The hammer works fine.”

“The hammer only works on the baby marines,” Thatch deadpanned, “You need a sword—”

“Swords require skill, Thatch,” Alesta responded evenly. Marco would have to get used to her name if he was going to meet them. “If I use the hammer, all I have to do is hit them hard enough that they don’t get up.”  

Their brother sputtered, “What is it with you and blunt force trauma?”

Marco refused to look at Blamenco when he giggled. Behind him, Vista made an offended noise somewhere from the back of the deck. He ignored that too. The headache he’d tried to fight off was firmly rooted at the back of his skull.

Not only would he have to deal with Ace and Thatch together, but he’d need to handle a civilian with a hammer. Marco trailed his focus back to his captain and his headache racketed up a notch.

Settled back in his chair, Whitebeard grinned down at the snail, “That can be arranged. Is there anything else, my son?”

“A Log Pose would be good,” Ace eventually muttered. Marco didn’t miss the reluctant flair to his tone but chose not to comment on it. “Mine got broken during the fight. Still works, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

The breath he’d been holding slid out of Marco’s lungs with a sigh.

Ace hadn’t cut them out. He hadn’t run. It would still be touch and go for a bit to see how things played out, but they’d already gotten farther than Marco thought they ever would. There was a bit of bantering over the line as Ace and Thatch began to argue.

It made his heart beat a second too fast.

Marco still struggled to come to terms with it. With the fact that it really was Thatch.

He didn’t think it would fully sink in until he saw him.

After speaking to Ace and going over a few of the finer details, Whitebeard passed the Den Den Mushi off to the rest of the commanders. Izou took it first and Marco caught the way his shoulders trembled as he spoke into the receiver.

Haruta and Fossa hovered close by, waiting for their turn to chat with their long-lost brothers. Before Marco realized it, the crew formed a line around the deck. No one wanted to miss the chance to hear Thatch’s voice.

Scrubbing at the back of his neck, Marco turned toward his captain with a weary sigh, “You sure about this, Pops? We can send Namur, yoi.”

He knew it was a pointless question. Once their captain decided on a path forward, that was it. Marco may be excited to see Ace and Thatch again, but he didn’t relish the idea of leaving the crew behind.

A month was a long time.

“I’m sure, my boy,” Whitebeard leaned back in his chair. His eyes were far away, locked on the clouds that dotted the clear blue sky, “I chose you for a reason. Ace respects you. He’ll listen should you have to interfere.” Whitebeard spoke after several seconds of consideration, “Marco, my son, have you ever heard of the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi?”

He hadn’t. It wasn’t a fruit he was familiar with, but Marco didn’t keep track of them the way some people did, “No. Never heard of it, yoi.”

“It pops up every few years. Some newcomer brat or marine will get in over their heads and eat it. They never stick around long enough to make a name for themselves. The only person I met who’d eaten it was a very long time ago,” his captain sighed and brought a tankard of sake to his mouth. He ignored the flustered squawk from one of the nurses. “It’s a dangerous fruit. I pity the girl as much as I thank her.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed at the statement, “What makes it so dangerous? It sounds like a typical paramecia type, yoi.”

The whole ghost aspect was odd but not out of the norm for the Grand Line. Gecko’s brat, Perona, could do something similar. The only difference he could spot between the two was the fact that Perona’s ghosts were created. Nothing beyond that factor sounded particularly dangerous.

Not in the sense that Whitebeards, Sengoku’s, or Akainu’s devil fruits were.

“The living and the dead aren’t meant to mix,” taking a slow sip of his sake, Whitebeard frowned at the sky, “The world will want to destroy her.”

Marco tensed. The foreboding tone reminded him of Ace’s struggles in a way he wasn’t keen to look into. He’d lived a long time and seen too many fall in the face of the world’s scorn. Men and women alike were destroyed all in the name of fear.

Like Ace, she was too young, too fresh to carry the burden of hatred.

His captain released a long breath, “There are things in the world that only the dead understand. Secrets only their graves keep. It will be a heavy burden to bear. If their hate doesn’t destroy her, I worry that her mind will.”  

A chill crept down Marco’s spine.

“Life and death cannot coexist,” Whitebeard continued. His steely eyes flicked down to meet Marco’s eye as he cautioned, “Eventually, you have to pick a side. Most of them pick death.” His captain exhaled, “That’s why I’m asking you to go. Your brothers care for her. If she is willing to sacrifice her safety to bring Thatch home, I’m obliged to look out for her as I would my own children.”

There was a faraway look in his father’s eyes and Marco got the sense that he wasn’t telling him everything. There was a history hidden in his warning. A thread of foreknowledge. Marco didn’t press. He’d been with his captain for a long time.

Long enough to know that the secrets Whitebeard kept were better served staying hidden.

“My son, I want you to make sure she chooses to live,” Whitebeard’s fist curled around the tankard of sake, “For Thatch’s sake and her own.”

Chapter Text

They left Drum Island the next morning.

Bundled in her coat, Alesta kept a steady grip on the mast of Ace’s tiny ship. The chilling winds of Drum’s atmosphere burrowed into her skin and whipped through her hair. Ace kept point at the front of the ship, the flames he provided to fuel their speed the only solace against the cold.

He’d been silent for most of the trip. Despite the smile he’d worn during the conversation with his crew, the outcome had put him on edge. Tension lined the stiff curve of his shoulders as he directed the boat over the choppy waters.

Alesta knew better than to bridge the subject. While she wasn’t aware of the dynamics surrounding his crew, she’d learned from Thatch that Ace’s motivations were firmly centered around finding Blackbeard.

Something he hadn’t been able to complete due to her introduction.

It was hard not to feel guilty. She knew Ace was excited for his family to see Thatch again. Knew that Ace was happy to have his brother back, but the concession to return without success ate at him.

Thatch would have been able to lift his spirits. He was familiar with Ace’s moods in a way that she wasn’t. Unfortunately, Thatch wasn’t able to join them physically due to the size restriction on the ship.

Neither of the pirates put up much of a fight at the limitation. They’d all learned that it wouldn’t have been beneficial for her to summon him this early in the day. After the call with the Whitebeard Pirates yesterday, Alesta discovered that her devil fruit had a time constraint.

She’d been able to keep Thatch corporal for four hours. It was more than she’d anticipated, but less than she wanted. Alesta had ignored the warning signs in her desire to push. The slow sink of exhaustion crept upon her around the end of the third hour, but she kept going. The exertion hadn’t been painful at first.

It was only on her fourth time extending Thatch’s stay that the pressure in her chest began to throb.

It’d felt like a black hole, gaping and searching for something it couldn’t reach. The sensation wasn’t painful in the traditional sense of the word. It didn’t ache like her shoulder or sting like a wound.

The power ate at her heart in a manner similar to hunger. It gnawed against her reserves, pulling at her energy until she had nothing left to give. By the time the fourth hour ended, Alesta couldn’t stay on her feet.

It was attempting a fifth hour that broke her composure.

The words had barely been out of her throat when the pressure in her chest surged in a last attempt at reaching for something she couldn’t provide. The sudden swell of empty yearning made her collapse in the doorway of their rented room. As soon as her knees hit the floor, Thatch transitioned back to his ghost form without a warning.

“Shit.” Thatch cursed. Alesta could remember the way he’d floundered over her, unsure how to help now that he wasn’t corporal, “Alesta, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” her response consisted of panting, “I’m fine—"

With Thatch back to his metaphysical form, the tension in her chest had begun to claw. The empty ache was gone in favor of fervent tendrils that swirled through her chest and down to her stomach.

It tried to lash out, greedy hands surging toward Thatch and struggling to latch onto his energy. She’d scrubbed at the thrum under her skin. It wasn’t what happened with Geta and Kanetsuyo.

The power wanted Thatch in a way she didn’t understand.

“No, you’re not,” before she had been able to gather her thoughts, Ace’s warm arms were looping under her shoulders, “Come on. Don’t push yourself more than you can handle.”

Ace ended up having to help her to bed despite her denials. He’d fretted over her for nearly thirty minutes after the fall. She’d never seen a man worry in such a manner.

Ace wouldn’t even let her get up to get food, bringing a plate of soup to the inn and practically force-feeding it to her. Thatch spent most of that time making jokes about Ace embracing his inner housewife, but even his humor had been tinged with worry.

It’d been hard to handle.

She struggled with self-sufficiency.

With the desire to provide more than she took.

It was a dangerous need. It would be so easy for them to press for more and more until she had nothing left to give. But both Thatch and Ace seemed to be cognizant of her limits. Neither of them demanded more than she was willing to offer.

It was kind of them and more than she expected, but Alesta still wanted more. Her need to understand overrode common sense. For once, her curiosity wasn’t aimed at the world around her, but at herself.

She wanted to see how much she could handle.

What she could do.

This power in her chest was a concern she needed to address. It still wasn’t clear to her what happened when she’d allowed it to latch onto the ghosts. There was no way to discern if allowing it to reign was dangerous or beneficial without evidence.

Kanetsuyo vanished before she could explore it and Geta snapped their connection when she’d thrown herself into the sea. The only avenue she had to explore was Thatch and Alesta wasn’t sure she could bring herself to that without knowing what it truly was.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Alesta let her gaze draw over the rowdy sea.

The ocean was angry today. It beat and tore against Ace’s ship, making the tiny boat wobble on the uneven waves. The sky above them reflected the ocean’s furious swaying. Dark, blooming clouds hovered low in the air and the faint scent of incoming rain made her nose twitch.

Cold winds tore through the air over the pounding waves surrounding them and Alesta scooted closer to the mast, wincing when a wave skittered over the side of the ship and caught her coat.

“We’re going to have to stop,” Ace’s warning was nearly drowned out by the raging weather, “There’s an islet up ahead.”

Thatch, who’d been hovering at the back of the ship, made a relieved noise that only she could hear, “Finally. I was starting to worry about fishing you out of the water.”

She was vaguely certain that warning was directed to Ace, but Alesta couldn’t help but clutch the mast tighter. The waves licking at her ankles were cold and she knew it’d be a miserable way to die.

Alesta may not fear death, but she’d never drowned.

“He’s got to get a bigger boat,” Thatch continued to grumble. He eyed the tiny ship with mild exasperation, “Striker’s cool and all, but this is thing is a flaming safety hazard.”

Even though he couldn’t hear him, Ace took a chance to twist away from the ocean to peer over his shoulder, “Tell Thatch to shut up. Striker’s awesome.”

“How’d you know he was complaining?” Alesta blinked at the perfect guess. For a moment, she considered the possibility she’d accidentally engaged her devil fruit, but a glance at Thatch showed he’d remained incorporeal.

Thatch didn’t help clarify her confusion, choosing to stick his tongue out at the back of Ace’s head.

“He’s always complained about her,” Ace smirked and the flames at his feet soared, “Now that I know he’s here, I can guess at what he’s saying. I bet it’s annoying having to listen to him all the time, isn’t it?”

Thatch scoffed, “You brat. I’m not annoying—"

“It’s not too bad. The hardest part is paying attention to you both at the same time,” Alesta ignored Thatch’s betrayed gasp to explain, “It’s hard to know which world to focus on. I feel like I’m missing things.”

“I get that,” Ace turned back to the ocean. His neck rolled as he tilted the boat into a left turn, “Marco says I’ve got narcolepsy. Sometimes I’ll fall asleep in the middle of a conversation—” he shrugged, “My brothers are used to it, but it can be weird to wake up and not know what’s going on.”

“Oh,” Alesta trailed off. That was a risky disadvantage considering the boat they road on was powered by his flames, “Does it happen while you’re steering?”

Thatch snorted in the background. Ace laughed and his shoulders shook, “Are you worried?”

“A little bit,” she admitted blandly, “I can’t swim.”

“I can’t either. Devil fruits and the ocean don’t mix,” Ace smiled at her over his shoulder. It came with a charming flash of his dimples, “Don’t worry. It usually only happens when I’m relaxed. Most of the time, I’m eating.”

“It’s hilarious,” Thatch chimed in, “We’ve got a running bet to see who can steal the most food before he wakes up. Jozu’s in the lead, but that’s only ‘cause Ace never expects him.”

Alesta smiled at the tease. She remembered Jozu from the call, simply because he was one of the quieter men to speak. He’d wished Ace safe travels and promised Thatch he’d get the fourth division in line before he came back.

It was sweet.

The more she learned, the more Whitebeard’s family dynamic continued to puzzle her. Pirates who were comfortable enough to refer to each other as brothers and sisters, a crew as large as a medium-sized village.

That amount of love sounded like a fable.

She’d never put much stock into the concept of love. From witnessing her parent’s unhealthy marriage, it seemed like a dream never to be reached. Love was a concept that had no foundation, no meaning in the real world. There was no one she’d tether the emotion to.

Alesta held affection for people, cared for them even, but love?

She’d never loved someone as Ace’s family did. She might have loved her mother once when her vision was still skewed by youth. When her mother’s hugs still felt warm instead of constricting. The recognition made her feel a tad guilty.

Alesta knew her mother cared for her and watched out for her as much as she could, but she was a frail woman tempered by a foul husband and illness. She had no room left for love.

“Can you tell me more about your crew? I know about their roles on the ship, but I’d like to know about their personalities,” Alesta spoke when the silence of her thoughts stretched too thin, “It’ll be helpful if I’m going to meet them.”

That was a half-truth. Alesta was nervous about the incoming meeting, but she wanted to know more about the people they loved. Wanted to know how a group of men could trust each other so fully, how they could live together and grow. She wanted to know how she could fit into their dynamic beyond being a weakness.

How she could help.

With an incredulous laugh, Thatch shook his head, “You have no idea what you just unleashed, ghost girl.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll start with Marco—” Ace trailed off in consideration, “Did I ever tell you about his devil fruit?”

Leaning her head on the mast, Alesta watched Ace’s back as he went through his explanation. Like the last time they’d traveled, Thatch threw in anecdotes and taunts in the background. This was different though.

They shared more with her. There were details about the crew that only they would know. Stories about how Izou burned his favorite kimono on an island filled with volcanos, how Haruta was scared of spiders, and how the nurses had a running gag about Curiel’s helmet.

It wasn’t hard to see why they loved each other.

Alesta wondered if she’d ever find a place where she could feel the same.

The islet Ace stopped at was less of a mass of land and more of a large rock.

There was no sand on the shore, only pebbles and sea glass. Ragged bushes filled with sharp thorns lined the top of the rock. There were a few trees spread amongst them, their roots trailing down to the shore and dotted with a strange yellow moss.

Beyond the shrubbery, there was a small field of flowers. Their black inner filaments were lined with purple petals and soft fuzz. As Ace set up their temporary camp, Alesta kneeled and eyed the strange plants.

Only to jump when one of them tried to bite her.

Bringing her hand back to her chest, she stared warily at the flower, “Ace, the flowers bite.”

“Then don’t touch them,” Thatch deadpanned from where he hovered behind her. “Seriously— no. Do not—” Alesta plucked the flower at the stem, “You touched it. Okay, that’s fine. Whatever.”

Alesta ignored the input to look at the flower.

Now that it was plucked, the petals opened wide enough for her to see just how many teeth it had. There was a lot. Rows upon rows of thin, needle-like teeth lined the epicenter of the flower.

Alesta canted her head, “They’re carnivorous.”

From the shore, Ace muttered, “That’s cool.” He scanned his gaze over the rest of the tiny islet, “Think there are any animals here? I’m starving.”

“Probably,” Alesta hummed, peeling back a petal to look inside the flower’s center, “I’d worry more about insects though. This one is awfully—” she blinked at the dead wasp currently being disintegrated by the flower’s venom, “Large.”

Thatch leaned over her shoulder and gaped, “Holy shit. That thing’s huge.”

He wasn’t wrong. The wasp was about three inches long and two of those inches were due to the length of its stinger. Its legs curled up near its abdomen, but even they were long and lined with thin claws.

Dropping the flower, Alesta trailed her gaze over the rest of the islet. Wasps weren’t known to be solidarity creatures. She’d learned that lesson the hard way during her explorations on her island. There had to be a nest somewhere.

Wasps were also aerial creatures.

They liked to stay high up in the air. Her attention fell back to the trees and she squinted at them. A strange yellow fruit hung off their gangly branches and if she paid enough attention, she could catch a faint wisp of black wings circling around the tree trunk.

“Don’t get close to the trees,” Alesta turned to look back at Ace. He wasn’t there. The rest of her warning trailed off awkwardly, “… There are wasps.”

Ace shrieked a second too late.

Before Alesta had time to worry, the tree she’d been looking at was on fire. The sound of buzzing wings echoed through the air shortly followed by a fresh burst of flames. The bushes she’d been admiring when they arrived were thoroughly on fire and just past their shadow, she could see Ace slapping at his legs with a flamed-coated hand.

Another wild burst of fire followed his cursing.

“Idiot,” Thatch cursed but didn’t move, “He’s such an idiot.”

Fire began to spread and the tree holding the wasps tilted to the right. It crashed into the ground with a booming thud. Ace shouted something at the wasps and suddenly, a large mass of black insects rose from the ashes of the crispy tree.

They dove at Ace as one.

She vaguely heard Ace curse before a massive wave of fire swooshed through the air and nearly blinded her. Alesta blinked at Thatch, “Do you want to help?”

“Hell no,” he watched the flames spread, “I’m a ghost. We don’t mess with bugs.”

She chose not to comment on the backward logic.

Fifteen minutes later, Ace came back with a giant bug slung over his shoulder. There was dirt over his bare arms and if Alesta looked close enough, she could see an ugly bump growing on his temple. It did nothing to hide his victorious grin as he stomped down to the shore.

The wasp he carried was nearly the size of him and currently smoking.

“Killed the sons of a bitches,” Ace dropped the bug in front of her. The weight of it shook the ground, “You think we can eat it?”

Thatch choked.

The pupils of his eyes were blown wide and even though he was currently in ghost form, he took a step back. Alesta tried not to snort. Thatch appeared to have a phobia of bugs that she hadn’t been made aware of. It would have been something to tease him about but even Alesta could admit the giant wasp before them was terrifying.

“Probably,” Alesta trailed off as she considered the bug. It wasn’t something she’d done before, but theoretically, it would be a decent choice of protein. “Unless it’s poisonous?”

Ace shrugged, kicking at the bug’s burnt shell, “I don’t think so. One of them managed to sting me and I’m doing okay.”

That solved that then.

Without any other objections to eating the bug, Alesta helped Ace cook it through. It more or less consisted of her making sure that Ace’s fire didn’t spread over the parts of the inlet he hadn’t burned. She’d also managed to salvage a large branch to hoist the bug over the flames and Ace helped her rotate it onto its back.

As it roasted, Alesta was vaguely surprised to note it smelled slightly like fried pork.

The entire time, Thatch hovered on the verge of fainting. He couldn’t stand to look at them. Her assumptions about his bug phobia were swiftly proving correct.

Covering his eyes with a glowing hand, Thatch muttered under his breath, “I’m going to be sick. How are you okay with this?”

“Food is food,” Alesta offered, kicking at a wayward flame creeping toward her foot. She didn’t miss the raw potatoes she’d been forced to eat on the marine ship. At least Ace’s choice was cooked. “I’m pretending it’s fish.”

Ace snickered at the parts of the conversation he could hear, “You never eat a bug before?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Alesta retorted mildly, “I guess there’s a first for everything though.”

Thatch gagged. He muttered something about jungle-raised hell children before leaving. For the next few minutes, he wandered down the shore to get away from their cooking adventure.

Only when Ace started to de-shell their impromptu dinner did Thatch comment.

“What are you doing?” Thatch whined despite not being able to be heard, “Where are the spices? The vegetables?” He turned to her and pouted, “Can you tell him to fix it? He’s going to poison himself.”

“Thatch says you need to add spices,” Alesta’s mouth quirked at Ace’s scoff, “If you want to. I don’t mind as long as it’s edible.”

She truly wasn’t picky in that regard. She’d already adjusted to the fact that she was going to eat an actual bug. Beyond that, her food was always a touch bland and her mother’s hadn’t been any better.

They rarely got spices delivered back to Takko Island, so they learned to use what they had. It tended to boil down to oil and salt. The food Ace was making likely wouldn’t taste much better, but she could adjust.

Hunger wasn’t a pain she wanted to experience again.

“Tell Thatch to fix it if it bothers him so much,” Ace poked at the meat before smirking, “Oh, wait. He can’t. Because he’s a ghost and has to suck it up.”

“Alesta,” Thatch smiled with far too many teeth, “Let me hit him.”

She chuckled, but it was edged in nerves. The pressure in her chest from yesterday hadn’t faded as she’d wanted it to. Alesta hoped that a full night’s rest would have tempered it, but it didn’t. It still hovered under her skin and hungered to latch on to Thatch’s form.

It was the only reason she hadn’t spoken the words that would give him life yet.

She didn’t know what would happen if her control lapsed.

“Ace,” she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her question, “Do you feel your devil fruit when you use it?”

Ace squinted at her over his shoulder. The meat he’d been roasting sizzled, “Sometimes my hands feel kind of tingly when I use it too long, but that’s it.”

“Do you feel anything before you use it? Or after?” She motioned to her chest vaguely, “Like a pressure or—” she couldn’t describe it properly, “A tension?”

She was wary of questioning him, of admitting to a weakness she didn’t fully know. But Ace was the best source of information she had regarding devil fruits. Kanetsuyo seemed to know more about her specific fruit than the average person, but he wasn’t here right now.

She’d need to explore the avenues available before making a decision.

“No,” Ace frowned. He followed the movement of her hand as his mouth pinched, “I’m guessing you do?”

Alesta nodded, trying and failing to ignore the way both men watched her, “In my chest. It kind of pounds? Almost like a second heartbeat. It’s done this before with Kanetsuyo, but I don’t know what it means.”

“Is that why you kept scratching at your chest yesterday?” When she nodded again, Ace made a considering noise, “I noticed that before you fell. Does it hurt?”

“No, not really. It just feels—” she trailed off, “Empty. It’s almost like I need to eat, but I’m not hungry.”

That wasn’t quite right. It was the closest way she knew to explain it, but it felt more like she was an incomplete puzzle. Alesta didn’t know much about devil fruits, but she got the sense she was missing something regarding hers.

There were too many inconsistencies that didn’t mesh. Her hand fell against her heart as she thought through everything she’d noticed.

There were several points that she didn’t understand. There was that brief period in her fight against Han where Geta remained a ghost, yet capable of touch. Then again on the marine’s ship, when she’d almost brought Kanetsuyo to life without saying the words she’d come to rely on.

Both of those instances meshed with the energy that’d taken home in her chest. It’d been present both times, but she hadn’t noticed it until later.

“You want to try and figure it out? I’ll keep an eye on you,” Ace offered when her thoughts grew too long, “Beats sitting here and doing nothing.”

Alesta hesitated, wary to subject Thatch to something she didn’t understand, “Maybe. I don’t want to risk hurting Thatch, though. I don’t know what it does.”

She didn’t know what to make of the way Ace looked at her at the admittance. It was a touch fond, a touch baffled. He didn’t say anything about it.

Ace just shrugged before turning back to his cooking, “Up to you. The offer stands, just let me know.”

She appreciated his easy acceptance. It made the knot of unease in her throat loose enough to swallow. Her gaze trailed to the ghost in question and Alesta raised a curious brow. It was ultimately his choice if he wanted to allow her to experiment on him.

“Don’t worry about me,” Thatch snorted. He hovered close, bending at the knees to meet her gaze, “I’m already dead, ‘ya know? Can’t do that twice—” he blinked, “I think?”

“You’re sure?” Alesta pressed, “I don’t know what will happen.”

Already, the energy over her heart was pounding. It felt like a living force. As if it knew Thatch was close, as if it knew she was about to release it. The pressure snuck down her arms and lingered in her fingertips, making the appendages feel staticky. She fought the urge to shiver at the strength of it.

Instead, she swallowed and met Thatch’s patient grin.

“Go for it,” he spread his arms wide, “Can’t learn anything if you don’t try.”

Those were the magic words.

The energy sprung. The sensation was similar to what she’d felt with Kanetsuyo and Geta, but it was stronger when she was anticipating it. It felt like a small explosion underneath her skin.

Alesta coughed at the force of it.

This wasn’t a puzzle piece clicking into place. It was a piece of her opening wide and snatching at the offering before it could fade. Her vision blurred and for half a second, Alesta swore she could see faint tendrils of blue energy soak into Thatch.

Then it was gone.

“That’s it?” Thatch laughed and Alesta stared. He pat his chest like he was wiping off specks of dust, “See, nothing to worry about!”

Behind him, Ace choked, “Uh, did you mean to do that?”

“No,” Alesta whispered, “I did not.”

Thatch paused, his hand dropping as he looked between them, “Wait, am I missing something?”

No, not really. He looked just as he had yesterday morning. From the dark sheen of his brown hair to the tone of his tan skin, Thatch looked identical to the man she was familiar with.

Except for the silver-blue glow covering his entire figure with a vague mist.

“My hands—” Thatch yelped, bringing them up to his face and gaping, “Why am I blue!?”

“Good question,” Ace uttered faintly.

“That’s the color of the ghosts,” there was usually more of a silver hue embedded into it, but Alesta recognized it well. She leaned forward to poke at Thatch’s glowing hand, “Does it hurt?”

Thatch shook his hands out, eyeing them warily as he answered, “No?”

“That’s what ghosts look like?” Ace left the meat behind to circle around Thatch. He followed Alesta’s previous action to poke Thatch’s arm and balked when it phased through. “Okay, I don’t like that.”

That was odd. Alesta edged closer, touching Thatch again.

Her hand didn’t phase through as Ace’s had.

She blinked twice before venturing, “Is it a hybrid form? He’s still a ghost, but you can see him,” her mind drifted back to Geta, “Can you touch Ace?”

Thatch raised his brows but did as asked. His hand swept through the air toward Ace’s arm. Only it didn’t pass through him. It hit Ace with a dull thud. Both men jumped at the contact.

Thatch whooped in surprise while Ace froze in outright horror.

“Woah,” Thatch’s mouth stretched into a shark-like grin, “That’s awesome.”

Ace held a vastly different opinion, “This is so weird.” He gave her an exasperated look, “Do you know how much trouble he’s going to get into?”

There was a snicker as Thatch said, “You’re just mad ‘cause I can hit you now.”

Alesta canted her head to the side as she took their bickering in. This was an interesting development, but it made sense compared to what she’d seen during Geta’s fight with Han. “Can you change back? Or do I need to ask?”

“Hold on—” Thatch squinted. He looked vaguely constipated. A second passed with no change and he shrugged, “Guess not.”

That didn’t add up. Alesta frowned, “Try again, please.”

“Only because you used your good girl manners,” Thatch teased as he let his eyes shift shut. Another long second passed. When he opened his eyes, he remained in the strange hybrid form, “I think you need to say something.”

Alesta considered the advice. The question remained on what she needed to say. The usual call for help didn’t seem appropriate in this case.

Trading a mildly baffled look with Ace, Alesta tried, “Ghost?”

Thatch snorted but didn’t change, “That was creative.”

“What if it’s permanent?” Ace tilted his head, nose scrunching at the idea, “Maybe he’s stuck like this.”

There were worse outcomes. Thatch himself didn’t seem to mind the idea. He lifted his shoulders in half a shrug, “Beats being dead, at least I can talk now.”

“Hold on,” Alesta interjected. They were missing something. She could feel it, “Can you try and see if you can turn alive?”

He didn’t speak, but Thatch’s eyes drifted shut all the same. This time, there was a longer wait. Thatch’s brows furrowed and his mouth grew thin. He didn’t change, but the energy surrounding him flickered. Alesta stepped closer, watching the way the blue mist swirled in the air.

He hiked his shoulders in uneasy denial.

Assuming they’d tried all other options, Alesta reverted to the words she knew, “Thatch, please help me.”

Except he still didn’t change. All three of them stared at each other for several seconds and she noted that Thatch was beginning to look a bit concerned. He eyed the blue glow of his arm before raising a brow in her direction, “Uhm, maybe you should try again?”

“The words might be different since he’s in this form,” Ace added. He stepped around Thatch to stand at her side, “Maybe—”

Alesta wasn’t listening.

She’d turned her focus inward, trying to grasp that little ball of energy beneath her collarbones. It wasn’t pounding as it had been earlier. Instead, there was a sedated hum. Almost like a purring cat.

Her brows furrowed as she centered on the sensation and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck when she managed to catch it. With what amounted to a mental pull, Alesta grabbed the pressure and yanked.

When she opened her eyes, Thatch stared at her.

The blue energy was gone and only flesh remained.

“Okay,” Thatch blinked twice, “That was weird.”

Ace frowned, “Did it hurt?”

“Nah, not really. Felt like a vacuum, but in a good way. Kind of like my whole body was getting a blow—” Thatch trailed off when he caught her eye, “Forget I said that. I didn’t say that.”

The innuendo flew over her head.

Alesta was more focused on the raging thoughts that’d taken over. The energy that haunted her chest was gone, but now a strange connection hovered. It felt a bit like a rope that tied her to Thatch. A ribbon that wrapped around her soul.

That would mean—

“So, maybe the energy is like a tether,” Alesta summarized out loud, “That must be the devil fruit’s power. The words could be a failsafe, a way to get immediate results. Which would mean I’ve been skipping the intermediate step. Maybe that’s why I get tired after a few hours.”

Ace snorted as Thatch gawked, “Uh, sure?"

“If I’m primarily utilizing the hybrid form, the time limit might have increased. Would it extend to multiple ghosts? Or would it only work for one at a time?” Alesta trailed off, “I still don’t understand the reasoning for the hybrid form, though. It’s beneficial in a short-range fight, but it doesn’t have much use—”

A warm hand clasped over her mouth.

“Alright, ghost girl,” Thatch grinned at her, “Enough of that.”

The rest of her sentence died on her tongue when faced with Thatch’s amused stare.

Alesta startled at how close he was. She could see every pore, every eyelash, even the scar that curled under his eye. From over his shoulder, Ace watched her with similar bemusement. His black brows were high on his forehead and the beginnings of a fascinated smirk made him look younger.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you talk that much before,” Ace’s mouth twitched into a grin, “I’m kind of impressed.”

She hadn’t realized how long she’d been babbling. Alesta tried to speak behind Thatch’s palm, “Sorry.”

“What did I tell you about apologizing?” Thatch chastised as he let go. He didn’t move far. Looping his arm over her shoulder, he turned his attention to Ace, “I said something about a gag, didn’t I?”

He was teasing her. It made a flush creep up the back of her neck and before she could catch herself, she jabbed her elbow into his ribcage. Thatch coughed in surprise and even Ace chuckled. Alesta knew it couldn’t have hurt, but it made her feel better that he bothered to pretend.

Thatch whined dramatically, “Ow."

“You earned that,” Ace offered drily but his grin didn’t fade, “I’m starving. All this freaky devil fruit stuff made me hungry.”

In a way, Ace’s single-minded focus on the food calmed her. There was no time for questions about her devil fruit. Not that there were many remaining, but Alesta worried they’d be concerned about how little she knew about it. Thankfully, neither man mentioned it.

Thatch seemed genuinely happy with the answers they’d gotten today.  

Alesta’s stomach rumbled when the smell of their dinner crept through the air. Ace caught the noise and his mouth twitched knowingly as he wandered back to where he’d been cooking. Beside her, Thatch made another noise between pain and disgust. Alesta rolled her eyes fondly as she followed Ace.

He must have forgotten about the charred wasp during the devil fruit adventure.

They didn’t have plates, but they didn’t need them. Not with the way Ace ripped a leg off the bug and began to chew. Even separated by the firepit he’d constructed, the wasp sounded particularly crunchy.

Alesta tried not to grimace but it was hard. With the noise of Thatch’s exaggerated dry heaving hanging in the air, the bug suddenly looked much less appetizing than she’d originally convinced herself.

“This is great,” Ace swallowed, his throat bulging comically before he held the wasp leg in her direction. “Try it. Seriously, it’s good stuff.”

Thatch sat down beside him, steadily refusing to look at their dinner. He held his hands over the fire and sighed, “I see how it is. A guy dies and suddenly his cooking sucks.”

Alesta snorted when Ace choked at the dry humor. He still wasn’t used to the death jokes, but Alesta found them strangely comforting. Their banter made the tension in her chest ease.

She’d worried they’d get too comfortable with the dynamic and forget that while she could make him corporal, Thatch was still dead. Thankfully, Thatch made sure to joke about it enough that no one could forget.

“I didn’t say that!” Ace sputtered, slapping at his chest like he swallowed wrong, “Your cooking is the best!”

“Uh-huh. Now you appreciate my cooking. Talk about too little too late,” Thatch propped his chin on his hand with a scoff. He eyed the food warily, “Do you think I can eat? I’m not going to eat this, but I’m curious.”

Pausing from her own inspection of the food, Alesta nodded, “You can. You can drink too. I don’t know about the rest of the digestive system, but that works.”

Geta could at least. Alesta remembered the sake she’d snuck the ghost while they’d tied Han up. Biting the bullet and taking the leg from Ace, she took a tender bite and tried to ignore the crunch.

She found herself pleasantly surprised. The dish was better than she expected and the hunger that haunted her stomach began to ease from a throb to a dull ping.

“Awesome,” Thatch grinned, “I can’t wait to get drunk.”

Ace squinted at his crewmate as he chewed on another section of meat. With the food in his mouth, the expression made him look a tad squirely, “Does that mean ghosts can poop?”

This time, it was Alesta who choked on her food.

“You idiot!” Thatch leaned over to smack Ace in the back of the head, “Don’t ask about that!”

“I’m curious!” Ace defended himself, pushing Thatch’s arm out of the way with a pout, “I don’t know how any of this works!”

Despite the vulgar question, Alesta couldn’t blame him for his curiosity. There were a lot of things about the devil fruit she still didn’t know. Human functions being one of them.

Would Thatch need to sleep at some point? She knew that ghosts didn’t sleep at night through her interactions with Kanetsuyo, but that fact might differ during their hours alive.

While it might have been a valid curiosity, she refused to answer Ace’s question, “Ask Thatch. He can answer.”

“Don’t try and throw this on me,” Thatch chuckled, “This one’s all yours.”

Alesta canted her head in false cluelessness, “Isn’t it better to get information from the source?”

“Don’t get smart with me, Alesta. I know how to shut you up,” Thatch grinned with all his teeth. The way he dragged her name out made the skin on the back of her neck flush. His eyes went sharp as he drawled, “Don’t think I forgot about that kiss I promised.”

Ace snorted as he took another bite.

His dark eyes peered at her from the other side of the fire. It was an assessing look, almost curious. She got the sense he was trying to figure out where she fit in their dynamic. It felt a bit like hazing but in a gentle way. Similar to siblings poking fun at each other.

Except with different stakes.

Neither his assessment nor Thatch’s teasing felt familial.

She didn’t know how to respond. Feeling like a fish trapped in a net, Alesta blinked at Thatch. This was worse than his flirting from the days prior. Kissing wasn’t unknown to her, but no one had ever been so upfront with the offer. Or in Thatch’s case, the threat.

Adding in Ace’s focus didn’t help matters at all. She felt vaguely flustered, a strange flutter growing in the pit of her stomach as she struggled for words.

None came.

Instead, Alesta defaulted to deflection. With a practiced smile full of bland apathy, she tossed the remnants of her dinner in Thatch’s lap.

It landed with a crunch.

The clawed part of the wasp’s leg clung to his shirt as the juice from the meat dripped onto his pants. Ace choked, but it was Thatch’s open-mouthed horror that made her crack.

She barely had time to chuckle before he shot to his feet with a shriek.

“You—” Thatch slapped at his clothes, shuddering at the remnants of the bug sticking to him, “Why would you do that? You’re an evil, evil woman.”

“Hey, Thatch,” Ace cut in with an impish smirk. It made his eyes sparkle as he motioned to his chin, “You got a little something right there.”

Thatch squealed.

While his crewmate freaked out, Ace caught her eye and grinned. It was a handsome slash of teeth and her heart surged into her throat. The glow from the fire flickered in his eyes with wicked devilry.

It was hard to breathe. The assessing look he’d worn before was gone and if Alesta had been brave enough to dig into his grin, she thought she might have spied a thread of approval hidden in his stare. It forced her to swallow.

She’d seen men wear many faces, but none of them ever made her feel like this.

In the meantime, it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the betrayed way Thatch gaped at her from the other end of the firepit. He’d finally got all the bug fragments off his clothing. As he threw his hands out in dumbfounded annoyance, Alesta smiled at him.

She wasn’t sure what it was about the expression that made him choke on his tongue. Whatever it was, she took it as a victory.

Meeting his stare with an innocent tilt of her head, Alesta teased, “Sorry.”

Thatch narrowed his eyes before he realized what she just said.

“Oh, it’s on,” he warned and her stomach swooped at his feral grin, “You better watch out, ghost girl.”

Ace chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he ripped into another bite of meat. It was a low sound, tinged with amusement and something more. He watched her from across the fire and the heat his focus brought made her stomach feel too tight, warmth blossoming in her abdomen.

Alesta felt the first strings of forewarning that she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

Chapter Text

They’d rested enough for the rough sea to settle and Ace to nap.

Alesta hadn’t joined him, instead choosing to adventure around the somewhat charred area with Thatch. There wasn’t much to see after Ace’s flames died down, but it provided her a chance to stretch her legs. It also let her practice with the hammer. The training was an order from Thatch, one of the few concessions he’d forced onto her in order to keep the weapon.

He still had his doubts about it, but she appreciated the leniency.

Finding a relatively small clearing free of fire, Alesta dragged a small hunk of wood away from the burnt trees and propped it against a rock. It stood at about waist length. Not quite tall enough to be practical, but good enough to practice against.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how to proceed past this point. Her gaze swung to Thatch, “I need to hit it?”

Sitting on a small outcropping of boulders, Thatch propped his hands on his knees and instructed, “Yup. I need to see how much upper body strength you’ve got.” He motioned her to move, “You aren’t wrong about a hammer being easier to use than a sword, but they’re heavier. That little guy won’t cut it for long.”

Rolling her wrist, Alesta eyed the weapon in question.

It was small. Just a simple handyman’s tool. The metal head was about the size of her fist, tapered off into a rusty claw. The handle was the same type of metal with a thin cord of leather wound around the hilt. Swinging her arm back and forth, she tried to gauge the weight.

It wasn’t heavy, but she could tell the movement would wear on her.

She swung at the wood. It hit with a clack before a couple of pieces of scorched wood flew off. Beyond that, there wasn’t much damage. Thatch went to laugh, but her sharp look stopped him in his tracks.

He held his hands up in amused deference.

“Yeah, we’re going to need to work on that.” Thatch offered with a grin, “Pushups are about to be your best friend.”

Alesta sighed. It was what she assumed, but the confirmation still stung. She rolled the hammer over, eyeing the sharp edge of the claw instead. The flat end was good for blunt-force trauma, but the sharp end would stick.

She ignored Thatch’s training plan for the moment. Grabbing the wood, she hefted it back into its original position and took a step back.

This time when she swung, she aimed downward.

The claw of the hammer embedded in the wood with a dull thunk. Unlike her last try, the impact was significantly better. A thick crack crept down the middle of the trunk.

“Or you can do that—” Thatch trailed off. His brows raised in consideration, “You ever cut firewood, ghost girl?”

Alesta nodded as she propped her foot on the wood block and yanked the hammer out, “Yeah. We didn’t have coal on our island, everything was powered by wood.”

“So, you’ve got a decent downswing,” Thatch crawled to his feet. She heard the crunch of burnt grass as he came to stand behind her, “We can work with that. How high can you jump?”

That was an odd question. Alesta blinked at him, “Probably about two feet.”

“Civilians. You’re all a bunch of softies,” he teased. “We’ll fix that. A good jump builds momentum,” Thatch held a hand out and Alesta passed the hammer over at the silent request. Rolling it between his palms, he pondered, “I still think you need a blade. How do you feel about axes?”

“They’re fine,” at his snort, Alesta went on to clarify, “I’m comfortable with them.”

“Not the confidence I was looking for, but okay. We’ll stick with this for now,” handing the hammer back, Thatch dropped his arm around her shoulder and twisted her attention back to the wood, “Keep going. Ace’ll probably be out for about an hour—” the arm around her shoulder tightened as he grinned, “I want to see that chunk of wood turned into splinters.”

Alesta took a deep breath before nodding.

For the next hour, that’s exactly what she did. Thatch continued to instruct her in the background even when he reverted to his ghost form.

He was a good teacher. Thatch might have had concerns about her choice of weapon, but he knew the proper form and didn’t hesitate to correct her when she swung incorrectly. There were no flirty comments, no teasing.

Just a sole focus on their impromptu training and vague encouragements.

By the time Ace woke up, Alesta was a mess. She’d shed her coat ten minutes in and the tank top she wore was wet with sweat. Halfway through, she’d succumbed to the heat and rolled it up underneath her chest. It almost wasn’t enough. Had she been alone, Alesta would have taken it off.

The sun beat down on her shoulders and an ache crept over her arms and down her back.

“Hey,” Ace’s voice startled her and her next swing clipped the wood instead of smashing it, “What are you doing?”

Her muscles screamed as she brought the hammer to rest on her shoulder. Trying to hide the way her chest heaved, Alesta answered, “Practicing. It was Thatch’s idea.”

With a curious tilt of his head, Ace took stock of the damage surrounding her. She’d finished the first piece of wood about thirty minutes ago and the smattering of its carcass littered the ground around her. The next piece of wood was slightly bigger, but she’d managed to take apart a solid portion of it.

Ace kicked at a chunk of broken timber near his feet and a bemused grin painted his face when he caught her eye. If she hadn’t been red with exertion, Alesta was sure she’d be blushing.

“I see that,” Ace teased. Propping his hands on the back of his neck, he canted his head toward the shore, “You should wash off before we leave. It’s about half a day until we hit Arabasta.”

Thatch snickered in the background, “I think he’s trying to say you stink.”

It was a fair assessment. She was hot. Her hair stuck to the skin around her face and her back was wet with perspiration. Alesta hadn’t been this tired since she’d helped her neighbor man the fields last summer.

Wiping at her brow, she plucked at the wet shirt sticking to her chest. A thought struck her. As nice as it would be to wash off, she didn’t have any clean clothes.

“I can do that,” she ignored Thatch’s pestering to voice her concern, “I don’t have any other clothes though.”

Ace waved her off easily, “You can wear some of mine.”

This was the second time he’d offered her clothing. If Alesta wasn’t careful, her entire wardrobe would be Ace’s castoffs. Throwing a glance down to the shore, she swallowed, “Thank you, but—”

“No worries,” Ace smiled as he interrupted, “Take your time. I’ll start packing up and we’ll head out once you’re done.”

He didn’t wait for her objection before sauntering back toward their temporary campsite. The afternoon sun soaked into his back and Alesta stared.

She briefly wondered if he was intentionally obtuse.

It didn’t seem that way. Ace was many things, but insensitive wasn’t one of them. She could only assume that personal space wasn’t something he worried about. Unfortunately, Alesta did. She was starting to realize that traveling with two men was entirely different from traveling alone.

There was nowhere to change, much less wash off.

She vaguely regretted leaving Drum Island. This hadn’t been a problem back at the inn.

“Aw, what a gentleman,” Thatch’s teasing didn’t help, “He’s so sweet. Isn’t he sweet, ghost girl?”

“Please be quiet,” she muttered under her breath, “I will hit you.”

Her threat only seemed to delight him. Thatch’s grin stretched too wide, “Cute."

Shooting the ghost a dry look, she slipped the hammer into her back pocket and moved down to the shore. The warm water lapped at her bare feet. It felt nice against her heated skin, but Alesta hesitated.

She was wary to sink into the water with an audience.

Tilting her head over her shoulder, she took a deep breath. Despite his teasing, Thatch didn’t follow. He hovered beside Ace and offered commentary that the other pirate couldn’t hear.

It still wasn’t enough privacy to convince her to undress.

After an awkward struggle in which Alesta learned how to wash without getting naked, she finally felt satisfied that she’d cleaned as best as she could. Crawling to her feet and ignoring the way the salt water ate at the scratches lining her knees, she rolled her shirt up and squeezed the rest of the water out.

 She tried to do the same with her shorts.

It didn’t work quite as well and by the time she made her way back to Ace, she was still sopping wet.

Thatch saw her first. His smile crept across his cheeks at her unimpressed look, “Oh my god. You’re adorable.”

That was a lie. She felt like a wet cat and knew she looked the same. Her long hair was damp and tangled against the back of her neck. She’d tried to tie it up, but it wouldn’t stay knotted without a tie. Her outfit also clung awkwardly against her body.

It wasn’t enough to be indecent, but it was close.

Thankfully, Ace handed an extra set of clothes over without comment. Except, Alesta was learning to read between the lines when it came to his minute facial expressions. He’d been startled at her appearance.

Ace’s eyes went wide and he gaped before blinking the expression away with an awkward chuckle. It hadn’t been enough to hide the way his gaze sharpened. When she spotted the roguish tint hiding in Thatch’s grin, their combined focus made her feel a tad feverish.

Alesta tried to ignore the burn of their stares as she wandered off behind a bush to change.

The rest of their journey to Arabasta went as smoothly as it could considering her current company.

After their brief stop, the waters were significantly calmer.

The clouds that haunted the horizon that morning were gone and wide-open blue skies met them. Taking advantage of the conditions, Ace directed the boat over the sea with a velocity that nearly frightened her. It occasionally felt like they were floating and she swiftly learned she was not a fan of speed.

Alesta held onto the mast as tightly as her arms would allow. It wasn’t tight enough.

As they traveled, her opinion on the boat was swiftly being swayed in Thatch’s favor.

Striker was small. Alesta’s legs were starting to cramp from lack of movement. The wood also chaffed against her arms, making it difficult to keep a grip on the mast. She’d tried to pass the time by napping, but even that proved tricky on the tiny ship. It was impossible to get comfortable.

When they reached Arabasta’s port, Alesta eyed the boats surrounding them, “Can we get a new ship?”

There were several docked at the long pier and a few more anchored off the shoreline. Most of them were tall, with gigantic masts and multiple decks. The dry, hot air whipped across their open sails. She didn’t recognize any of them beyond one or two with the standard marine insignia.

The sight of the familiar white sails made something uncomfortable creep down her spine.

Ace gave her an affronted look over his shoulder, “What’s wrong with Striker?”

“Nothing beyond the fact that she’s small,” Alesta learned through experience that Ace referred to his boat as a woman, though she still didn’t know why. “I miss being able to stand.”

Throughout their time together, it’d gotten easier to speak her mind to the two men. She wasn’t fully comfortable, but Alesta was fairly certain they wouldn’t snap at her for speaking out of turn. It was an adjustment.

She still tended to apologize more than she should, but Thatch was working on that. His threats to gag her hadn’t lost their effectiveness. While she hoped he wouldn’t follow through with the threat, the impish sheen to his grin made her veer on the side of caution.

“Are you suggesting we steal a boat?” Thatch laughed behind her. He was taking in the port and Alesta caught the way his stare narrowed on the marine boats. “How very pirate of you, ghost girl.”

Alesta ignored the tease. He had a bad habit of referring to her incoming descent in piracy as a when not an if. His optimism continued to surprise her. She would have assumed he’d given up on that idea after her subpar training session.

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she spoke to Ace, “It would also be nice to have room for Thatch.”

It was a bit dirty of her to use the ghost as a bargaining chip but she didn’t feel too bad. It would be nice to be able to summon him while they traveled. Not only to limit her from having to divide her attention between the two men, but it was also an opportune time to practice with her devil fruit.

Despite its beauty, there wasn’t much to do on the ocean. She was also curious to see if Thatch was affected by the sea in the same way she was.

“We’ll see,” Ace trailed off as he steered the boat down the port, “We might have to wait for Marco, though. It’ll be hard to man a bigger ship by myself.”

Thatch scoffed, “What am I? Chopped liver?”

Unlike Thatch, she wasn’t offended that he’d left her off. Alesta knew her strengths and knew how very few of them she had. Sailing wasn’t one of the few. As they drifted through the port and came to a stop next to a mammoth ship with purple sails, Alesta added the skill to her growing list of things to learn.

It was one of the higher urgencies, ranked only behind learning how to fight.

She didn’t have long to sort out her path forward. Ace parked the boat and dropped an anchor she wasn’t aware of. The heavy iron slipped into the ocean with a splash as Ace stretched his arms over his head. It made the tense muscles on his back roll and drew her stare toward the tattoo painted on his back.  

“Here,” Ace’s hand broke her field of vision and she blinked at it, “I’ll help you off. Striker can get a bit wobbly if you’re not used to it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Alesta nearly cursed when she tried to stand and the boat lurched. Ace was quick enough to loop an arm around her waist, but it didn’t hide his amused grin or Thatch’s cackles.

Thankfully, the rest of her descent off the boat went smoothly. Ace kept an arm around her the whole way, only stepping back when both her feet were firmly on the ground.

“Well, we’re here,” Ace grinned, spreading out his arms with a boyish charm, “What do you think, ghost girl?”

He said something else, but Alesta didn’t catch it. Her focus was fully on the town now. Surrounding them on all sides, beige buildings with bright roofs crept into the skyline.

The smell of something powdery crept into the air. Men and women pushed around them, carrying assortments of baskets and produce. They spoke in low tones and Alesta caught the faint hint of an accent she’d never heard before.

She spun on her heel, watching a man with a white robe, “This is Arabasta?”

There was so much. The air around them was dry and hot, creeping up the back of the shirt she’d borrowed from Ace. Unyielding sunlight baked into her exposed skin. It was brighter than anything she’d ever seen. Everywhere she looked, the world was sun-bleached.

“We’re in Nanohana,” Ace clarified. When she turned to him, she caught the way his mouth pinched in bemusement as he peered at her, “But yeah, this is the Arabasta Kingdom.”

“I haven’t been here in a minute,” Thatch chimed in. He hovered beside her and observed the people, “I think it’s been like four years. Five? Something like that—” he squinted at the sun in distaste, “Almost lost my foot to one of those damn lizards.”

She flicked her gaze to the ghost in curiosity, “Lizards?”

“No, you are not— no,” Thatch narrowed his eyes on her, “We are not going to see the lizards.”

Alesta went to open her mouth and ask another question but Ace’s hand landing on her shoulder cut her off. He was smirking now, “We can explore later. I’m starving.”

There was no fighting that.

Once Ace decided he needed to eat, the rest of the world paused. He led the way through the narrow streets. Alesta trailed behind him, watching as he easily moved through the crowd. It was like he was a shadow. People looked at him but they didn’t linger. It shouldn’t have been possible.

Ace had presence.

There was something in his aura that drew you in.

She pondered over the duality as they walked through the town. It must have been a pirate thing. A result of being wanted, of having to learn to blend in with your surroundings. Alesta wondered if she’d ever gain the skill. She wasn’t unusual by conventional means, but even she gained a few looks as they went.

It had her a bit on edge.

There was nothing overtly off about this town like there had been in Drum, but Alesta couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. It felt like there were eyes everywhere.

The sensation didn’t fade even when they settled in at the closest restaurant. While Ace ordered enough food to feed a small island, she couldn’t help but keep the door in their line of sight. She wasn’t the only one. The people in the restaurant were shifty, their eyes flicking toward Ace and her before whispering.

From the tension lining their shoulders, she got the sense something happened.

It must have been recent too.

Her suspicions were proven when she caught two men speaking at the table next to them. Trying to ignore the way Ace practically inhaled his food, Alesta pretended to eat as she eavesdropped on their conversation. Ace didn’t notice and Thatch was too engrossed in making sure his crewmate didn’t choke to catch her divided attention.

A teenager with a purple shemagh leaned over his plate and whispered, “Did you hear about what Crocodile did to those pirates this morning?”

“Hear about it?” His companion, an older man with more wrinkles than bare skin, frowned, “I saw it. He killed them like it was nothing. Didn’t even flinch.”

Her hand tightened over her fork.

“That’s what the King should be doing,” the teenager spat, “He’s supposed to help—”

The table next to them creaked as the man smacked it, “Quiet, boy. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alesta couldn’t eat another bite.

The cold udon noodles sat heavy in her stomach, her mind a blur of half-thought-out ideas and conjectures. Alesta tried to focus on the present. Tried to listen to Ace when he spoke, but it was difficult.

She wasn’t a humanitarian. She shouldn’t care about the dealings of a town she didn’t know, but something ate at her. The skin on the back of her neck tickled and Alesta tried to subtly trail her attention to the door.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but it wasn’t a woman.

She was gorgeous. Thin and tall with raven hair cascading over her collarbones. Sharp cheekbones tapered to a defined nose and the woman’s bland smile. But it was her eyes that trapped Alesta’s attention. The woman’s blue eyes were locked on her in a manner that had a chill skipping down her spine.

It was the amused stare of someone who knew something they shouldn’t.

The eye contact didn’t last longer than a second. With near silent steps, the woman slid through the crowded restaurant and took a seat by the sea-facing window.

Alesta realized she moved like Ace.

Quiet and unassuming but with a muted power. The woman settled in her chair and propped her chin on a dainty hand, her blue eyes trailing easily to the window without concern for the people around her. She moved like she knew what strength she held and had no qualms about inflicting it.  

Alesta’s observation halted when the familiar glow of a ghost crept into her periphery.

The ghost that trailed after the woman could have been her twin.

The only difference was the color of their hair. Where the woman’s was as dark as night, the ghost had a mane of white hair that dipped past her breasts. They had the same slim shoulders and angular faces, but the ghost’s expression was shaded with a sadness that Alesta had never seen before.

It was the type of grief you could taste.

The type of heartache that lingered long after death. A hint of salt built on the back of Alesta’s tongue, muddied by the taint of wine. As she watched, the ghost settled behind the woman and laid a soft hand on her shoulder. The woman didn’t notice. She would never feel the touch.

Never see the love and the pain that dotted the ghost’s face as she peered down at her.

Alesta couldn’t look at them any longer.

Instead, she forced herself to focus on the people in front of her. It was almost enough to ease the faint pound of dread lingering in her chest. Thatch floated behind Ace, pretending to gag as the younger pirate scoffed down bowl after bowl of noodles. Ace’s eyes sparkled mischievously when he caught her gaze and Alesta let the last threads of tension fade away at the familiar sight.

“So—” Ace swallowed with a comical gulp before he grinned at her across the table, “Want to go on an adventure, ghost girl?”

It was easy to forget about her concerns with the offer hanging in front of her. Ace’s smile was dipped with devilish charm and Alesta felt the first stirrings of excitement creep to life in her chest. She was in a new place, a new world. There were so many things she could see, new experiences she could conquer.

The opportunities laying ahead of her were endless.  

There would be time to worry later. For now, she was going to live.

Shooting a teasing look at Thatch, Alesta’s mouth twitched, “Can we see the lizards?”

“No,” Thatch deadpanned, “We are not going to see the damn lizards—"

“I’ll do you one better,” Ace leaned forward close enough for her to see his pupils dilate. His bright grin nearly blinded her, “We can ride the lizards.”

Thatch threw his hands up in defeat.

They weren’t able to ride the lizards.

Despite that, she learned several things about the lizards during their adventure. The first observation was that the Sandora Lizards were not kind to humans. Much less to humans who chased them through the desert. Thatch nearly fainted when the giant animal surged from beneath the sand and tried to swallow Ace.

That brought her to the second thing she learned that afternoon.

Sandora Lizards hunted in pairs.

By the time the evening came, Thatch was thoroughly exhausted with both of them. Alesta had been forced to summon him when the second lizard tried to chase her through the sand. Unfortunately, unlike Ace, he didn’t have an offensive devil fruit to rely.

His hair was sweaty and there was a scratch on his chin that Alesta couldn’t recall him receiving. Plastering a sheepish smile on her face, she met Thatch’s stern gaze with an awkward shrug.

“I can’t wait until Marco gets his flaming ass down here,” Thatch’s eyes narrowed on her. It would have been an effective glare if his mouth hadn’t twitched. “I’m too old for this.”

Ace snorted from where he’d begun building out a firepit. The giant carcass of the lizard he’d been trying to tame laid out behind him. She hadn’t seen the battle between the two, but it was clear who came out the victor. The lizard was missing half of its arm and currently smoking.

Trying to ignore the way Thatch continued to grumble, she vaguely wondered what became of the one that tried to eat her.

“Careful, grandpa,” Ace teased as he used his devil fruit to start a fire, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You brat—" Thatch snapped, stomping over to Ace and wrapping an arm around his neck. When Ace squawked, Thatch grinned with far too many teeth, “I can still kick your ass!”

Their bickering quickly turned into a brawl. Resting in the sand, Alesta leaned back on her palms and observed the duo with a tired smile. Thatch managed to snatch Ace by the hair and both men tumbled to the ground, muted curses ringing out over the cold Arabasta air.

A yawn escaped her throat as she watched.

Unlike Drum, they didn’t rent a room for this trip.

When the moon dipped behind the horizon, Ace led the way into the surrounding desert. They walked until he found a sand dune that blocked the wind and Nanohana’s lights were a faint twinkle in the distance. Thatch had complained for exactly a minute before giving up and settling in for a night spent under the stars.

Alesta didn’t understand his protesting.

It was more likely than not that he’d fade away before midnight.

She’d topped up his time after the fight with the lizards. It was mostly a selfish decision on her part. She enjoyed watching him interact with Ace. Their easy affection made the pit of dread that haunted her chest ease into a dull ping.

Ace was still cursing when Thatch came back to her side, “I won.” He plopped onto the ground next to her with a wide grin, “Give me my prize, ghost girl.”

Spreading out on the sand, Alesta stretched out her sore legs. Walking over the sand was more strenuous than she’d anticipated. Her calves were nearly cramping.

Ignoring the pain, she peered up at Thatch with a dry look, “Sorry. I forgot to pack a trophy before becoming a stowaway.”

“Oh, was that sarcasm I heard?” Thatch chuckled. He scooted close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin, “It’s a miracle!”

She didn’t think it was that worthy of note. The only reason she’d been so quiet was due to the fact she didn’t know them. Something that was quickly being remedied.

They’d been together for nearly five days now and Alesta could almost consider both men friends. It was a strange concept. Alesta didn’t have friends.

She had acquaintances and coworkers, yet none of them made her feel the way Thatch and Ace did. Kanetsuyo was the closest comparison, but his touch didn’t bring phantom trails of warmth every time it skimmed her flesh.

“I wouldn’t call it a miracle,” another yawn escaped her throat, “I’m capable of being sarcastic.”

Thatch made an amused noise before leaning back in the sand next to her, “Tired, ghost girl? I think you need a cuddle buddy.”

Ace snorted under his breath as he hoisted the lizard over the firepit. He’d shed his jacket and his skin glowed under the moonlight. The hat he wore covered his eyes, but Alesta could see the beginnings of a smile pulling at his cheeks, “Smooth, Thatch.”

“Hey, cuddling is good for the soul,” rolling on his side, Thatch propped his chin on his palm and grinned, “You know you love it.”

“No, I don’t,” Ace denied with a gentle scoff, “You snore worse than Pops.”

“It’s ‘cause you’re comfy. You should be honored,” Thatch lobbied back easily. “Besides, it’s not my fault you’re so warm.”

Alesta took their interaction in with tired bemusement. The more she learned about the Whitebeard Pirates, the more questions she had. She’d never known men to be so comfortable with each other.

Ace rolled his eyes, but his retort was fond, “Then why don’t you ever bug Marco?”

“I try,” Thatch pouted. He rolled onto his back beside her, caging the back of his neck with his hands, “He’s terrible at it though. He’s so damn stiff. Now Fossa? That’s what I call a cuddler.”

The only response to that comment was a muted laugh from Ace. The name was vaguely familiar to her, but Alesta couldn’t recall the voice of the man from their call. Leaning back on her palms, she trailed her gaze to the sky instead.

She’d never seen anything like it. It was a wide-open expanse of pure darkness, dotted with stars and low-hanging clouds. The sight was as wonderful as it was terrifying. There was a whole world out there, a whole universe.

“It’s pretty here,” she trailed off, “I like the stars.”

Thatch snorted as he followed her line of sight, “It’s okay. I’m not a fan of all the sand, though. This stuff gets everywhere.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was sand all over her legs and the tiny granules scratched against her skin, “Would you rather be in Drum?”

“Oh, hell no,” Thatch refuted with fervor, “I hate Drum. I’d die before I ever went back to that damn island—” he pretended to snap, “Wait, already did that.”

Ace made a noise from where he sat in front of the fire. His devil fruit was activated, fueling the flames as he said, “That was terrible. Haruta would be disappointed.”

“Cut me some slack,” Thatch whined, “I’m trying here! Not my fault I’m running out of material.”

With an amused hike of his brow, Ace deadpanned, “Try harder.”

Their bickering went in one ear and out the other. Rolling her neck, Alesta watched the low clouds drift over the horizon and dip behind a tall sand dune. There was a faint chill building in the air. It wasn’t as bad as it had been on Drum Island, but she still shivered.

Caging her knees with her arms, Alesta tried to temper the movement as much as possible.  

It wasn’t as subtle as she intended.

Ace’s coat landed on her legs and jerked her out of her thoughts. Thatch squawked when the coat’s sleeve smacked him in the forehead. Alesta ignored the noise in favor of drawing her hand over the material in muted confusion.

It was still warm. She blinked up at Ace, momentarily startled to find him standing above her. His brows were raised in bemusement and something soft tempered the curve of his jaw.

“It’ll get colder than this tonight,” Ace explained as he sat beside her. The coat he’d laid over her lap was forgotten as he scooted close, “Come here.”

When she gathered enough courage to look at him, Alesta startled at the way his arm opened in welcome. His mouth twitched into a smirk, almost challenging her to say no. Thatch took her silence as a chance to snatch the coat from her, draping it over his lap with a satisfied sigh.

Alesta couldn’t do more than blink, “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“You’re cold,” Ace refuted. There was a patient lilt to his voice that directly contradicted the determined shine of his stare, “I’m not going to be able to sleep if you’re over there shivering all night.”

She vaguely wondered if his desire to care for others was a result of being an older brother.

While she might not be familiar with the dynamic, it seemed in character with what she’d learned so far. From Ace’s stories, Luffy was a handful. Energetic and hard to control. Ace shared enough for her to learn that in order to look after him, he had to result to force to make Luffy take of himself.

Alesta didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he’d extended the same method of care to her.

Ignoring his open arm, she shook her head, “I’ll be fine. There’s a fire—"

“Shh,” Thatch pushed her until her head hit Ace’s chest, “Accept the cuddles.”

Without much choice in the manner, Alesta let Ace’s arm wrap around her shoulder. It immediately became clear why he offered. Ace was warm. He felt like a furnace in human skin and he smelled a bit like burnt wood. Not quite ready to admit defeat, Alesta shot Thatch a dry look.

He wasn’t the least bit intimidated if his mischievous grin was anything to go by.

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Alesta stared at Thatch, “I hope you’re aware of that.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re super scary,” he teased. She barely resisted the urge to smack him when he leered down at her, “I’m shaking in my boots.”

She could feel Ace’s chest rumble as he chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. Everyone takes advantage of my devil fruit when it’s cold out.” His arm flexed as he leaned back, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up with someone in my bed.”

His arm was too warm. It made the skin on the back of her neck flush as she acknowledged his statement with an awkward hum, “That must be annoying.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Ace snorted at the admission, “You get used to it after a while.”

Apparently, Thatch took that as approval to drop his head in her lap like a spoiled dog. Alesta’s hands shot into the air with a muted squeak. They hovered awkwardly over his face as she tried to make sense of what he’d just done.

A sudden surge of flustered panic made her freeze as she stared at the man laying on her.

He didn’t seem to care about the breach of personal space. Ignoring the way she gawked at him, Thatch propped his hands behind his neck and grinned up at her, “Hey, ghost girl.”

A retort wouldn’t come.

Thatch was tactile. Alesta learned that early on in their acquaintance, but he’d never done something this overt. His head was warm in her lap. Warmer than the coat Ace had given her. Speaking of the other pirate, Ace was watching her awkward struggling with something she wasn’t brave enough to name.

It looked fond, but there was a dash of amused heat that made it hard to breathe.  

Alesta finally managed to get her tongue to move, “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfy,” Thatch grinned with far too many teeth, “I don’t want sand in my hair.”

That wasn’t a sufficient answer, “Why?”

“Because I’ve been dead for three months,” Thatch deflected easily, unaware of the way Ace stiffened on her other side, “Can’t blame me for trying to steal all the cuddles I can. I am a pirate, you know. We steal things—” he leered with a wild wiggle of his brows, “Better keep an eye on your heart. I’m coming for that next.”  

This time, Alesta couldn’t temper the urge to hit him.

Her palm smacked against the unprotected skin of his head and Thatch cursed. It barely mollified her.

Thatch was a horrible flirt.

Despite the rationalization, the flush creeping up her neck was hard to ignore. Ace’s muffled laughter didn’t help measures at all. His arm seemed to grow warmer over her shoulders as he smirked down at Thatch.

“You should know better, idiot,” Ace’s tease was laced with affection, “That line never worked on Tate.”

Thatch grumbled something she couldn’t hear as he rubbed his stinging forehead, “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Yes, you can,” Alesta retorted drily, “I certainly do.”

In spite of her denial, she let her hands fall. One hovered behind Thatch’s head but the other was forced to rest on his chest. From the angle, she could feel the faint thrum of his beating heart. It was a sobering sensation.

Her fingers twitched on his chest as the implications sank in.

Recognition of the power she held hadn’t fully clicked until this very moment. It’d been more of a concept. A fact without supporting data. Alesta had gathered empirical evidence, but she’d always focused on the present instead of the possibilities.

Except, with Thatch’s heart beating under her palm, Alesta suddenly found it hard to breathe.

It felt a bit like playing god.

The opportunities stretched out in front of her and turned her thoughts inward. She’d been so focused on surviving, on exploring the abilities at her fingertips, that she hadn’t fully encapsulated the power behind it. A dead man’s heart beat because of her. A soul that would have been otherwise lost got to cling to life because of her.

It was a lot to take in and her shoulders trembled uneasily.

Ace caught the movement, turning his focus onto her with a curious glance, “Still cold?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she lied. It wasn’t the air that made her skin break into goosebumps, “I’m not used to the weather.”

It was hard to swallow the faint strings of panic creeping up her throat, but she managed. Her existential crisis would be a problem for later. When she had a chance to explore her thoughts in private, to allow herself to freely release the emotions surging in her chest.

Forcing her hand to relax on Thatch’s chest, she took a deep breath and tried to settle.

Unknowing of her internal struggle, Ace waved her apology off easily, “Don’t worry about it. Let me know if it gets too cold and I’ll make a bigger fire.”

“Pyromaniac,” Thatch taunted, “You just want to show off your fancy devil fruit.”

Ace eyed the other pirate with a smirk, “At least I have something to show off.”

“What was that?” leaning his head back, Thatch narrowed his eyes, “Come ‘er, Ace. I don’t think I heard you.”

Observing their banter and being an unwilling participant were entirely different things. From the outside, it was amusing. But from the inside, being stuck between the two men, the energy was almost stifling. They were both too warm, too alive.

Alesta could feel Ace’s chest heave as he sat up straight, his dark eyes flashing with a hint of danger as he opened his mouth to say something rude.

“If you start fighting again,” Alesta offered mildly, “I’m going to leave you with the wildlife.”

The warning managed to quiet both men.

As always, Thatch was the first to break, “Sarcasm and threats? I think I’m in love.”

She debated the merits of hitting him again but ultimately decided against it. The possibility of retaliation wasn’t worth it. Instead, Alesta rolled her eyes. From the way Ace’s chest rumbled, it was clear he caught the movement.

His quiet laughter tickled the cold skin of her ear and Alesta went stiff when his arm looped around her back. Neither man said anything more for several minutes and she let her stare trail back to the sky.

The peace didn’t last long.

Without a warning, Ace leaned back into the sand. Alesta managed to catch her surprised noise, but it didn’t stop her from nearly jumping out of her skin as all three of them fell backward. Her head landed awkwardly on Ace’s shoulder as he settled into a laying position.

He looped his arm under her neck with a lethargic grumble. Calloused fingers skimmed the bare skin of her arm and Alesta stared at him with something like panic.

“My bad,” Ace offered. His tired smile had a roguish tint to it that directly contradicted the apology, “Wanted to get comfortable before you fell asleep.”

“Yeah, Ace likes to snuggle,” Thatch rolled onto his back, keeping his head in her lap. His long legs crossed at his ankles as he made himself at home, “He’s like an octopus. Don’t be surprised if you wake up and he’s hanging all over you.”

She wasn’t sure she could handle that, “Please don’t.”

This was already almost too much.

Their bodies were warm in a manner she wasn’t familiar with. It wasn’t oppressive, but it made something in her stomach roll. Ace’s chest was hard against the curve of her jaw and she could feel it move with each breath he took. Thatch was no better. He stretched his arms out before basically melting in her lap.

“No promises,” Ace teased. His grin made her heart lurch, “You make a pretty good blanket.”

That hadn’t been the response she was expecting. Ace seemed to know it too by the way his grin stretched into something playful. It was a bit difficult to catch her breath. Whatever exhaustion still clinging to her disappeared at the sight of his crinkled eyes.

Thatch chuckled under his breath and warmth settled in the bottom of her stomach.

For lack of anything better to say, Alesta blandly stated, “I don’t like either of you right now.”

“Aw,” Thatch goaded without opening his eyes, “I love you too, ghost girl.”

She went to speak, but Ace cut her off with a drowsy laugh, “Go to sleep, Alesta.”

That was easy for him to say. She tried to smother the warmth hiding in her chest. Ace took a deep breath before settling and somewhere in the desert around them, an insect chirped. The cold chill of the wind crept up her legs but Thatch kept her warm.

Swallowing the ball in her throat, Alesta’s gaze fell back to the sky and she tried to count the stars.

It still amazed her. She’d never seen so many. There were hundreds of them. Ranging from small pinpricks to shimmery constellations, she let her focus draw over them all. The heat that’d made a home in her stomach faded by the time she managed to count to two hundred.

With Ace’s slow breaths against the top of her head and Thatch’s snores, Alesta let the drag of exhaustion take her under.

The next few days were spent developing a pattern.

It didn’t surprise her that Ace’s schedule tended to revolve around food. He wanted breakfast as soon as he woke up, a snack before lunch, and three more before dinner. Between the various stops for food, Alesta spent the rest of her time training with Thatch.

They’d taken to practicing twice a day. Once before lunch and again before they went to sleep. On the second day, she’d improved enough that Thatch felt comfortable sparring with her.

Alesta used the term spar loosely. It was less of a fight and more of a guided exercise. Thatch would stand in front of her and correct her movements, utilizing the strange hybrid form they’d discovered on the islet to prevent himself from being injured by her clumsy swings.

It was a slow process, but she was improving.

Day by day, Alesta could feel her muscles growing.

Ace finally filled her in on why he’d chosen to stop at the island on their fourth day in Arabasta. He’d gotten up early that morning, waking her up in the process. He always did his best to be quiet, but Alesta was a light sleeper. The addition of Ace and Thatch hadn’t tempered the habit.

She scrubbed at her eyes, rolling onto her back and squinting at the bright sun creeping over the horizon.

The sleeping arrangement hadn’t changed since that first night. It’d become somewhat of a ritual to summon Thatch a few hours before they went to sleep.

At this point, Alesta didn’t think anything of it.

The awkwardness faded with each day. They’d spend an hour or two talking and eating before ultimately finding themselves in a nearly identical position to the first. Sometimes, she’d end up leaning against Thatch until she fell asleep and other nights, she’d steal Ace’s warmth.

“I’m going to head into town,” Ace stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, “Luffy should be here soon.”

Rolling on her stomach, Alesta blinked at him. His face was shadowed by the eastern sun, “Luffy? Your brother’s coming here?”

“Yeah, I left him a note back on Drum Island,” his response was muffled as Ace bent to retrieve his hat off the ground. When he stood back up, his voice was fondly annoyed, “I doubt he found it, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”

Thatch groaned from beside her. He’d been awake for several hours now, the power of her devil fruit wearing off before midnight, “Don’t tell me we’ve got to deal with two of you. I can barely handle one of Garp’s kids.”

The context of his complaint was lost to her. Crawling into a sitting position, Alesta tried to push the tangled strands of her hair out of her face, “I hope you get to see him.”

Ace missed his little brother. That was clear in the way he spoke about him at night. Ace even showed her his bounty picture one evening, unfolding it from a pocket in his pants and pointing out the bounty with a proud grin.

It was always hard not to smile when he went on his brotherly tangents. From what Ace described, Luffy was a character. The grin on his poster only confirmed it. The smile he wore was full of life, unbridled and wild.

“I’ll introduce you,” Ace offered easily, “You’ll love him. He’s great.”

Alesta should have known things wouldn’t be that simple.

Ace headed out before she did, giving her a chance to wash up with some of the water they’d taken from town. Thatch proved to be a gentleman yet again when he wandered behind a sand dune to give her a sense of privacy. For all his flirting, he understood boundaries and was cautious not to tread close enough to make her uncomfortable.

She appreciated it.

Living with a ghost would be severely more difficult if he didn’t.

Once her morning routine was done, Alesta followed Ace’s footprints in the sand back to town. It wasn’t strictly necessary. The path was intimately familiar to her after almost a week in the city. Thatch hovered at her side, a constant beacon of commentary as they entered Nanohana.

As the crowd around them grew thicker, she kept a weary gaze on the people they passed.

The feeling of eyes on her back hadn’t abated throughout their stay. Alesta hoped it was simply paranoia at a new place, but she was beginning to suspect there was something more at play. Two nights ago, she’d woken up in a cold sweat, feeling the phantom press of an unwelcomed stare. The only reason she’d been able to fall back asleep had been thanks to Thatch.

Since he didn’t sleep, he served as their unappointed watchman.

“Shit—" Thatch’s curse brought her attention back to the present, “The marines are here.”

Her feet nearly faltered as she followed the ghost’s gaze.

About fifty feet ahead of them, a group of ten marines hovered in a semi-circle in front of Nanohana’s shopping center. They didn’t seem on edge, but that didn’t temper her sudden spike of panic. The rifles strapped to their backs gleamed under the bright afternoon light.

Alesta could remember the sound of them firing like it was yesterday, the ring of their echoing gunfire screaming in her ears and whipping through her hair.

“Keep walking,” Thatch warned. He pressed closer to her and even though he wasn’t corporal, Alesta swore she could feel the heat of his skin, “Don’t look suspicious.”

It was easier said than done. Her heart beat too hard beneath her breasts and her hand fell on her chest to temper the strain. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she kept her gaze trailed on the path ahead.

Things progressed smoothly until she passed the last man.

His bland brown eyes scanned over her in apathy before something sharp clicked into place.

“You—” the marine frowned as he stepped into her path, “I recognize you. What’s your name?”

Alesta’s steps skittered to a halt when the marine didn’t move. She took a careful step back, making sure to keep him in her line of sight. His broad shoulders blocked the path ahead and she could catch the tendril of an inky tattoo creeping up his neck. Unlike his companions, he had two swords strapped to his waist and a mean scowl.

Thatch moved closer. His shoulders were rigid as he eyed the man in front of her, his dark gaze skimming him from head to toe before canting toward the rest of them. The conversation the marines had been having halted at the sudden abnormality from their comrade.

While some of them appeared confused, a few didn’t. They worried her the most. When Alesta took too long to respond, a skinny man with a long beard squinted at her before rifling around in his pockets.

“Tana,” Alesta lied, swallowing the salt that built on the back of her tongue, “I’m sorry, sir. Did I do something wrong?”

The marine glowered but didn’t call her on the lie, “You don’t look like a citizen. What are you doing here, Tana?”

Thatch cursed under his breath. He opened his mouth to try and give her an out, but Alesta was faster, “My dad’s a merchant. He comes here to stock up on the perfumes,” she tried to project a clueless innocence as she offered, “Do you want to talk to him, sir?”

“A merchant, huh?” The marine repeated, a faint furrow growing between his brows, “What’s he sell?”

“Cosmetics,” she canted her head to the side, “Sometimes oils.”

There was a heavy lull in the interrogation as the marine stared at her. Alesta had to force herself to breathe. It felt like it took an eternity, but he eventually stepped to the side, “Sorry, guess I mistook you for someone else.”

Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, but Alesta managed to smile anyway, “It’s not a problem, sir. I’m just glad you’re here. Mr. Cole was telling me how they’ve had some issues with pirates lately.”

The only response to that lie was a grunt.

She took it in stride.

Careful not to appear too eager, Alesta forced her feet to move. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if they followed. Beside her, Thatch continued to hover a tad too close. He still looked primed to move and she realized why a second too late.

“Wait!” a new voice called out. When she glanced back, the skinny marine held up a bounty poster. Her heart nearly stopped when she caught her own face printed on the page, “It’s her!”

Alesta didn’t stick around to see their reactions.

Without a second to spare, Alesta ran. Her shoulder knocked into a woman and nearly sent her to the ground, but she didn’t waste her breath to apologize. She took the first turn she found. Ducking down the tight alleyway, Alesta pushed a half-empty cart of cabbages out of the way as she forced herself to sprint.

“Fuck me,” Thatch cursed behind her, “You have a bounty?”

She barely had time to gasp out a response, “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are.”

Ace joked about it once upon a time, but she hadn’t considered it a serious possibility. Twisting around the next corner of the alley, Alesta nearly slid over the sandy pavement before her hand managed to latch onto the corner of the brick wall. The sound of footsteps echoed from behind.

Her side cramped as she urged herself to run faster.

The world around her began to blend together the faster she ran. Various tones of beige and bright splashes of red and orange morphed into a psychedelic maze. Someone spat out a curse as she ran into them, but Alesta used the momentum of his shove to push herself faster.

Her lungs ached. Alesta was not a runner and it was showing. No matter how hard she pushed herself to keep going, her speed was slipping.

Behind her, she heard the burly marine shout a warning, “Stop right there!”

“Thatch,” Alesta panted, “Want to help?”

Thatch grinned as he turned blue, “Thought you’d never ask—”

Neither of them expected the appearance of an arm stretching across the street and yanking her into a strangely elastic chest.

The impact made Alesta bounce, the air pushing out of her lungs with a pained gasp. Her vision barely had time to clear before she saw the same arm sling out inhumanly far and nail the marine following her in the face.

It made a fwoosh sort of sound as it lurched back into the boy’s body.

The marine tumbled to the ground, leaving behind a gaping semi-solid Thatch.

Alesta froze when she realized her mysterious savior was staring at her. It wasn’t the expression that made her nearly faint. It was the way his neck stretched around her shoulders like a rubber snake as his head tilted in annoyed confusion, “Hey! You’re not Nami!”

His big eyes squinted at her, highlighting a scar over his cheek. She tried very hard to ignore the way his neck continued to stretch as he pouted. There was another swooshing sound as the boy let her go and stepped back, his limbs snapping back to his body like a rubber band.  

“No, I’m not—” she trailed off at the sight of the boy’s straw hat. A very familiar straw hat, “Luffy?”

This was Ace’s brother. She recognized him from the bounty poster he’d shown her. What Ace had unfortunately failed to mention was that his little brother was apparently a devil fruit user.

Alesta took a step back, eyeing the marine behind her carefully before turning her attention back to the boy in front of her.

Everything about him down to his grin was exactly what Ace had described. Young and full of life. Like Ace, he had a presence that was hard to ignore. It wasn’t hard lines and stiff shoulders, but there was a quiet depth to his form that she’d almost overlooked.

As she examined him, he did the same.

Luffy stared at her as his head tilted to the left like a confused puppy. “Huh? How do you know my name?” His cheeks puffed out a bit, “I don’t know you.”

“Guess we know why the marines are here,” Thatch trailed off with a sigh. He glowed the familiar blue of the hybrid form they discovered, her summoning cut short thanks to Luffy’s interruption. “Great.”

She was saved by having to respond to Luffy’s accusation when his focus snapped toward Thatch.

He blinked three times in quick concession before jabbing an accusing finger toward him, “A ghost!”

His leg stretched across the alleyway to where he stood directly in front of Thatch. Alesta could only watch in bafflement as Luffy proceeded to poke the older man’s arm. When his finger phased through his flesh, Luffy’s eyes went wide and he did it again.

The action seemed to entertain him enough to forget his earlier bout of suspicion.

Ignoring the boy poking at his side, Thatch smirked, “Yeah, this is Luffy.”

Alesta was suddenly struck by the fear she’d managed to make a terrible impression on the one person Ace cared about most. She had no idea what to do, “Do you think Ace found him already?”

She nearly bit her tongue when Luffy’s head snapped to her, “You know Ace?” His nose wrinkled as he looked from her and back to Thatch, “Are you his nakama?”

That word was unfamiliar to her.

Trading a look with Thatch, Alesta lifted her shoulder in half a shrug. She wasn’t sure what he was asking. Luckily, Thatch seemed to know. As he looked down at the younger boy, a smile grew on his cheeks. It was a fond, soft little thing that made her heart beat from more than just adrenaline.

“Yeah, kid,” Thatch patted Luffy’s head, ruffling his hair underneath the hat with a warm sigh, “We’re his nakama.”

“Wait,” Luffy’s head tilted back to her. Alesta tried not to startle at the way his back bent unnaturally to accommodate the movement, “Does that mean you’re the ghost girl?”

It was just a nickname, but he said that like it meant something. Luffy put a certain amount of intensity into the question and his dark eyes were locked on her face. There was a faint furrow to his thin eyebrows as he tilted his head slightly to the side, his mouth pressing tight in an unfamiliar show of solemnity.

For some reason, Alesta got the feeling that he was looking at more than just her face.

She wasn’t given a chance to answer before Thatch did it for her. He still had that fond look in his eye, but it trailed to her, “Yeah, that’s her. I’m guessing that means you’ve already run into Ace?”

“Yup!” Luffy grinned and all traces of seriousness she’d spotted vanished, “He’s fighting Smokey!”

“Smokey?” Thatch’s brow twitched, “You don’t mean Captain Smoker—”

The sound of a long-familiar explosion rang out. Luffy continued to grin as Alesta trailed her gaze to the sky. She vaguely noted that Ace was beginning to set a concerning precedent as she caught the faint trail of smoke and fire twist into the bright Arabasta skyline.

This made it the third island in a row he’d burned.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Thatch groaned.

Chapter Text

Alesta distantly wondered if this counted as a kidnapping.

There wasn’t a chance to discuss going to retrieve Ace. One moment they were observing the spiraling smoke clouds and the next, the rest of the marines barreled around the corner. Luffy took one look at them before he’d looped an arm around Alesta’s waist and they hurled through the air.

The sudden whoosh of wind made her scream as she gaped down at the street below them.

“Gum Gum—” Luffy’s arm stretched across the buildings, “Rocket!” 

His cackle rang between her ears as they soared into the sky. It was not a soothing sound. There was an edge of feral excitement to his laughter and Alesta clutched at the teen’s forearm hard enough to leave indentations.

Thatch wasn’t faring much better. White-knuckled fingers gripped the back of Luffy’s shirt from where he’d managed to grasp on at the last second.

“Kid!” Thatch cursed, “Give us some warning next time!”

Luffy only giggled as they flew through the air. Alesta couldn’t find enough strength in her lungs to scream. When their velocity reached a peak, she braved a glance down. They were no longer over Nanohana. Instead, the wide expanse of the ocean was rushing toward their feet.

Fear ricocheted up her throat as they fell— the deck of a ship coming into view as they hurled through the air.  

When her feet hit the deck, Alesta nearly cried.

They landed with an echoing thud and her ankles ached at the impact. Knees buckling, Alesta was forced to snag the back of Luffy’s shirt to prevent falling over.

She blinked twice to steady herself.

Her hand crawled to her chest, trying to temper the pounding racket of her overworked heart.

Beside her, Thatch was much more vocal about his displeasure. Hands bracketed on his knees, he cursed at the back of Luffy’s head as a vein pulsed on his forehead, “Ace’s brother or not, I’m about to strangle him. Damn—” he shivered, “I hate heights.”

While Alesta shared the sentiment, she didn’t respond to the threat for the moment in favor of eyeing her new surroundings.

The ship around her was peppered with curious faces and the faint tang of citrus hung in the air. There was also a strange noise echoing over the ship’s deck. Following the sound, Alesta stared at the cowering man hiding behind the main mast. Terrified tears hung in the corners of his eyes and the reindeer beside him began to cry.

Alesta took a step forward before stilling when she caught sight of a swordsman stepping out of the main cabin. His eyes were sharp. Where Luffy radiated confidence, this man screamed danger.

“Guys! Guys!” Luffy ignored his terrified crewmate to motion toward Thatch, “I found a ghost!”

The swordsman shut the door behind him with an awkward clack.

His green eyebrows were high up on his forehead as he stared at Thatch. On the upper deck level, two women copied his observation. They were marginally more open with their disbelief. The redhead was a shade paler than what Alesta thought was normal.

Taking point by Luffy, the swordsman propped a hand on his shoulder, “A ghost, huh? You sure about that, captain?”

“Uh-huh!” Luffy bounced up and down, motioning toward Thatch with excitement, “Look—"

The sudden movement from his captain made the swordsman slightly unsheathe his blade. Alesta watched him warily. His eyes were sharp on Thatch, probably identifying him as the most likely threat.

Meanwhile, Luffy continued to be oblivious to his crew’s distrust, skipping over to Thatch to poke him in the arm again. When his hand went through Thatch’s chest, Luffy laughed. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the rest of the crew screamed.

Thatch smirked as he waved.

It only increased the screaming.

“Thatch,” rubbing her brow, Alesta winced, “Please don’t do that.”  

“Aw, come on,” he chuckled, “Ghosts are supposed to scare people—"

Luffy suddenly jabbed a finger in Thatch’s face, making Thatch go a bit cross-eyed, “Hey! Can you poop?”

“Yeah, okay,” Thatch sighed. He used his hand to gently push Luffy’s finger out of the way as he shot Alesta a dry look, “I’m seeing the family resemblance.”

The level of incredulity at Thatch’s introduction and their captain’s question varied between the rest of the crew. Alesta couldn’t read the look on the swordsman’s face, but there was a lingering tension to his shoulders.

He also failed to take his hand off the hilt of his blades.

Behind him, the redheaded woman began to descend the steps of their ship. Her hazel eyes flickered from Thatch to Alesta before she swallowed.

“It’s a—” the trembling man behind the main mast began to cry, “It’s a ghost—”

Nodding several times in a row, Luffy bounced on his heels, “Yup! Isn’t it cool?”

“Luffy,” the redheaded woman took her place beside the swordsman, “Who are they?”

Alesta couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. She knew they had to look a sight. Thatch was trapped in his hybrid form and Alesta was still wearing Ace’s clothing. The rationalization didn’t stop her from inching closer to Thatch, letting him loop an arm around her shoulder with an easy smile.

He caught her eye and winked, apparently amused at the strange introduction.

She wished she could share his optimism.

“This is ghost girl!” Luffy pointed to Alesta with a bright grin. When he looked at Thatch, his mouth dipped in sudden confusion, “I don’t know who he is.”

The woman snapped, “You don’t know?!” She stomped across the deck to smack Luffy in the shoulder, “Why would you bring strangers back to our ship? Idiot!”

Thatch’s amusement grew as he watched. His eyes were on Luffy and he didn’t seem to care about the swordsman still creeping around in the background. “Name’s Thatch. Former division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates,” raising his hand in introduction, Thatch grinned, “Sorry about this. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“The ghost is talking,” the trembling man wailed, “It’s talking. Oh my god, oh my god—"

Beside him, the reindeer covered his eyes, “I don’t want to be haunted!”

“Former?” The redheaded woman balked, “Does that mean you really are dead?"

Alesta couldn’t do anything more than cringe as everyone started talking all at once. It was hard to focus on anything beyond their raised voices. Taking advantage of the chaos, Luffy managed to snake himself around his crewmates enough to render them slightly immobile.

No one seemed to mind the contact, lobbing questions across the ship faster than Alesta could keep up with.

“Alright, kid,” Thatch turned to Luffy in bemusement, “Maybe you should start with some introductions.”

“Oh, yeah!” Luffy stuck a finger in his ear before he pointed toward the crying man, “This is Usopp—"

As Luffy snapped to attention and began bouncing between his crewmates, Alesta vaguely wondered if this was a common occurrence for Thatch. He seemed to know how to navigate the conversation in his favor at every turn.

There were the occasional teasing remarks thrown in, but Thatch didn’t even flinch at the young crew’s suspicion. Even when the swordsman’s hand twitched on the hilt of his sword, Thatch hadn’t glanced at the man for more than a second.  

It was strange considering even she could feel the strength of his presence.

There were other oddities she’d picked up between Ace and Thatch. Alesta still had more questions than answers about her companions’ roles in their own crew. The term division commander didn’t hold a lot of meaning to her. Ace and Thatch were both easygoing men. Beyond a few flares of temper or self-loathing, they didn’t strike her as the commanding type.

Thatch flirted too often and Ace reminded her more of a reluctantly tamed housecat. Only every once in a while, there would be glimpses of something more.

Glimpses such as this.

Standing tall beside her and grinning down at the other pirates, Thatch exchanged easy words but held a thread of steel to his spine. Alesta stared at the side of his jaw, chewing over her thoughts as she observed.

“This is Chopper! He’s our doctor,” Luffy spun toward the rest of his crew and began to point them out one by one, “That’s Zoro, Nami, and Vivi—"

Alesta started when the door of the main cabin smacked open and a blur of blonde darted onto the deck. The new man hovered in front of Nami for less than a second before his eyes latched onto her. She didn’t have time to do anything more than glimpse his grin.

Like Luffy, his crewmate was fast.

Before Alesta could blink, the blonde man was standing in front of her. His hands folded up under his chin and a simpering smile made his face nearly melt. Alesta had never seen a face contort in such a manner.

“Hello, beautiful. My name is Sanji, the cook of this ship,” a rose was shoved under her nose as the man smiled, “And who are you?”

“Alesta—” she took a step back, bumping into Thatch’s chest as she stared, “It’s nice to meet you.”

She did not expect the man to start inching closer.

In less than two steps, Sanji was directly in front of her. She could smell a faint whiff of burnt meat and cigarette smoke as he simpered, “A pretty name for a pretty woman,” he tried to grab her hand, “It’s truly a wonderful day at sea—"

Overwhelmed, Alesta turned a wary eye to the rest of his crew, “Is this normal?”

“It is,” Nami sighed. Her thin arms were perched against the ship’s railing and her smirk made her look years younger, “Don’t worry, Sanji’s harmless.”

Zoro sneered, “I wouldn’t call the pervert cook harmless.”

“To women,” Nami clarified after a second of thought and a sheepish shrug, “He’s harmless to women.”

That was good to know. Turning her focus back to the squirming man in front of her, Alesta allowed a small smile to crack her cheeks as she watched him blush.

Beside her, Thatch scoffed but didn’t comment.

Alesta ignored the noise. She assumed he was being protective, but this wasn’t like Han. Sanji’s attention was more similar to a small child with a crush than anything serious. Her head tilted to the side in observation.

He reminded her of Thatch in a way.

The older pirate wasn’t nearly as exuberant, but he’d said a similar line to her during their initial introduction a few days prior.

Speaking of, Thatch had busied himself by staring at Sanji. He didn’t look nearly as amused. His arm over her shoulders went a little tight as Thatch pasted on a cunning smile, “You know, I’m a cook too. Think I can check out your kitchen?”

Alesta blinked at the abrupt change in subject. The steel she’d noticed in Thatch’s tone was sharper now, almost cutting. She wasn’t the only one to notice the change. Sanji stiffened incrementally, turning his attention to the ghost and straightening into a contemplating slouch.

Across the deck, Nami whispered something to Vivi that made both girls chuckle.

“Are you?” Sanji reached into his black dress pants, retrieving an unlit cigarette as he drew his stare up and down Thatch’s chest, “I’ve never met a ghost who thought they could cook.”

“First time for everything,” Thatch grinned with far too many teeth, “You up for it?”

That sounded less like an offer and more like a challenge.

Sanji’s eyes narrowed as he lit his cigarette. Behind him, Nami cackled and Alesta had the vague feeling she was missing the subtext of their conversation. Even Usopp, though still noticeably wary of the ghost, was staring at the back of Sanji’s head in exasperation.

Sanji didn’t have a chance to linger. Snatching him by the back of his shirt, Zoro growled as he dragged him toward the rest of his crew, “Ease off, idiot. He’s a division commander—”

Sanji tried to kick him but Zoro was faster. He ducked the attack with an ease that had the hair on the back of Alesta’s neck stand on end. She was only mildly concerned at the fact none of their crewmates even twitched at the sudden violence.

There was a flash of silver in the air as Zoro unsheathed one of his swords and, having learned her lesson from Ace, Alesta moved to the other side of Thatch.

She commended her foresight when Sanji threw himself across the deck.

The brawl continued for a bit while the rest of their crew watched the new arrivals. Luffy’s attention wasn’t too much, but the way Nami eyed her made Alesta’s tongue stick to her teeth. Nami’s hands were perched on her hips as she traded a wary look with Vivi beside her.

Alesta felt vaguely like a bug trapped under a microscope.

“So,” Nami’s eyes narrowed in suspicion even as she smirked, “How’d Luffy find you, anyway?” 

“I saved them from the marines!” Luffy jumped back into the conversation. He stretched across the deck until he stood next to the bickering cook and swordsman, “They’re Ace’s nakama!”

Taking several silent steps over the deck, Vivi finally spoke, “Is that a devil fruit?” Her blue eyes were fixated on Thatch but the question was directed to Alesta, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Uhm, yes,” Alesta motioned wearily toward Thatch, “I see dead people.”

Again, she was jealous of Thatch’s natural ability to steer the conversation. The crew began to freak out again and Alesta’s shoulders dropped in defeat. She was trying to be funny. Trying to be charming in the manner Ace and Thatch seemed to naturally use, but it was clear she didn’t have the natural charisma to pull it off.

It was hard to temper her grimace as Chopper began to hyperventilate.

Thatch snorted, leaning into her shoulder with a fond sigh, “You’ve got to quit explaining it like that. She ate the Borei Borei no Mi,” he clarified, “Lets her see and interact with ghosts like me.”

“What?” Usopp stared at her in horror, “There are more?!” He looked around the ship with a full-body shudder, “Are there any here?! Oh my god, don’t tell me— I don’t want to know!”

That had the possibility of becoming a problem.

Chancing a subtle glance toward the upper deck, Alesta chewed on her lip as she eyed the two glowing figures. She’d noticed them during Sanji’s introduction but she hadn’t had a chance to really look at them until now. Ignoring the way Usopp began to freak out, Alesta peered up at the two ghosts hiding near the orange trees.

There were two of them, both women.

Neither of them looked at her, more focused on the lively goings of the Straw Hat crew. One had a striking dash of mauve hair and the beginnings of a wary smirk while the other, a pretty blonde woman, giggled behind her palm. It was easy to identify the blonde woman as one of Sanji’s relatives, but the other one didn’t have the same genetic familiarity as anyone on the ship.

“Wait,” Nami cut in on Usopp’s tirade and broke Alesta’s observation of the spirits, “You look familiar.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

Turning on her heel, Nami marched toward the main cabin. The door didn’t have time to shut before she returned, papers in hand. Nami squinted at one of the papers before peering up at Alesta and nodding in confirmation of her silent thoughts. Luffy stretched his head over the deck to look before giggling at whatever he saw.

“Is this you?” Nami held the paper out and Alesta stared at it.

She hadn’t gotten a good look when the marine brought out her bounty poster earlier, but she could now. The first thing she noticed was the fact it wasn’t an attractive picture. Her face was flushed and her mouth was opened with the beginnings of a scream, but it was her.

From the tangled cornflower blonde hair to the large, black eyes that haunted her youth, there was no mistaking the image. Nor the numbers that haunted the page underneath the scrawled warning of Wanted: Dead or Alive.

Thatch smirked, “500,000 beri. Good job, ghost girl. You’re almost a pirate.”

“It’s more than I wanted,” Alesta offered mildly, still stuck on the numbers hiding under her name, “I haven’t done anything to earn that.”

“That’s what we all said,” Usopp muttered unhelpfully in the background, “Somehow we still got lumped in with these idiots.”

Still looking slightly ruffled from his brawl, Sanji took a puff on his cigarette, “Why are you complaining? You don’t even have a bounty.”

“Mine’s still the highest!” Luffy crowed as he slung his neck back toward the rest of his body, “Because I’m going to be the king of the pirates!”

Beside her, Thatch choked on his breath. It caught in his lungs and he had to slap at his chest twice to get his breathing under control. Alesta eyed him warily, but he waved her off. His eyes were locked on Luffy and the faint hint of disbelief made his face look odd.

Alesta didn’t have a chance to press him on the subject before a familiar chuckle cut in.  

Without a sound, Ace jumped onto the ship’s railing.

Alesta was pleased she wasn’t the only one startled by his sudden arrival. Usopp shrieked and Chopper ducked, cradling his antlers with a worried squeak. Just beyond them, Zoro lifted an intrigued brow before he glanced over the side of the ship, likely spotting Striker.

Ace spoke as he perched, “You never change, Luffy.” Scanning over the rest of the ship, a charming smirk pulled at his cheeks, “Sorry, I got held up. Thanks for looking after my little brother. I know he’s a handful.”

“Uhm,” trading a look with Vivi who mouthed the words brother, Nami gawked, “No problem?”

Meanwhile, Thatch scoffed. His smile was fond, if a little shaky, “That’s one way to describe it.”

The rest of the introduction went as well as it could.

It was easy to get along with the young pirate crew now that the suspicion regarding their unexpected arrival had eased. Sanji even went as far as to offer them all tea— an offer he telling didn’t extend to Thatch. He didn’t comment on it, but Alesta caught the way Thatch’s mouth quirked in lethal amusement as he followed Sanji into the kitchen.

Once he’d been introduced to everyone, Ace found himself back at Alesta’s side. His hat sat a bit crooked on his head and Alesta could see the shine of his eyes as he said, “Glad you managed to make it. I was getting a bit worried when I couldn’t find you.”

The admission made something in her chest stir.

Their concern felt feel nice and if she wasn’t careful, she was worried she’d start to rely on it. It was still strange to be cared about in such a manner. His worry felt warm against the pit of her stomach and she had to swallow to ease the sudden surge of heat.

“We ran into the marines,” Alesta offered instead, “You jinxed me with a bounty.”

Ace stilled, peering down at her with a flare of worry, “You okay?”

“We’re fine,” she waved him off, watching Luffy badger Zoro, “Your little brother helped. You didn’t tell me he ate a devil fruit.”

“You never caught it during the stories?” Ace’s mouth twitched, but he still had worry hiding in his expression, “I can tell you really paid attention, ghost girl.”

Giving him a dry look, Alesta deadpanned, “I’m sorry, I’ll be sure to consider the possibility of rubber limbs in the future.”

It’d been more or less a throwaway comment. As such, she was startled by his laughter, “Careful there,” Ace’s arm was hot as he leaned against her, “If you start being smart, I might have to take a page out of Thatch’s book.”

Her heart shot up her throat at the teasing drawl of his tone.

It made something in her stomach roll. Feeling a blush creep up her chest, Alesta steadfastly chose not to look at the man hovering beside her. It was a difficult feat. Ace was close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he chuckled under his breath, the arm he perched on the rail behind her too warm against the back of her shirt.

“Oh, no—” Vivi’s sudden cry broke her out of her flustered musings, “It’s the Billions!”

Alesta frowned at the back of her head, “The what?”

The answer to her question came seconds later. Several large ships crested the horizon and Alesta stared as they spread out around their ship. The name pasted on their sails wasn’t familiar to her. Baroque Works held no particular meaning, but the rest of the ship’s occupants seemed to stiffen.

Even Ace went straight.

His eyes trailed over the ships before he smirked.

“Be right back,” touching Alesta’s lower back, Ace took a step forward and said, “I’ll take care of this.”

With that lackluster parting, Ace jumped off the ship. The rest of the crew hurried to the side of the deck to observe, but Alesta took her time. She was well acquainted with Ace’s exploits by now. Fire was fire no matter how brightly it burned.

Standing behind Zoro, she watched as Ace burst into flames and ripped the ships apart one by one.

She wasn’t one to appreciate violence but even Alesta could admit that his technique was beautiful. He soared through the air with a rush of flames, soaking the sky with heat that could be felt from the ship. With a careful flip, Ace easily landed on Striker and grinned with a savage slash of teeth. Alesta couldn’t help but admire his form.

He moved like a panther— poised and comfortable as he annihilated the ships.

“Wow,” Thatch muttered. His shoulder bumped into her own, “What a show-off.”

Alesta snorted when the rest of the Straw Hats gaped.

Once the ships were taken care of, they traveled with the young pirate crew up the river connecting the rest of Arabasta to the ocean.

Alesta wasn’t certain what Ace’s intentions were, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to depart. They were sitting in the ship’s kitchen for now, watching Sanji and Thatch bicker over the food while Luffy tried to sneak bites in when neither cook was looking. He was surprisingly adapt at getting by the two men without being caught.  

Chewing on a bone, Ace smirked when Luffy managed to steal a loaf of bread from under Sanji’s nose, “I’m glad Luffy’s got a good crew.”

“They’re interesting,” Alesta agreed as she sipped on her now cold tea, “Are all pirates like this?”

Thatch reached across Sanji to grab a spatula and the younger cook swatted at the ghost’s arm. It didn’t do any good. Sanji’s eyes narrowed when the hit didn’t connect, watching Thatch’s smirk with a growing scowl.

She couldn’t hear what he said, but Alesta knew it was something angry. They’d repeated this pattern five times now.

No matter how many times he phased through, Sanji continued to try and hit him.

Luffy took the distraction as a chance to steal another loaf of bread.

“No,” dropping the bone on his plate, Ace leaned back with a stretch, “Not really. Some of them are similar, like ours, but there’s a lot of bad crews out there.”

That would be something to keep in mind for the future. Alesta couldn’t help but consider herself lucky. The only pirate she’d met who she’d consider dangerous was Cho and that had only been toward the end. He’d been helpful up to the point where he tried to use her.

The tea suddenly felt like bile in her stomach as she remembered the ghosts hanging around the upper levels of the ship.

Chewing on her lip, she peered at Ace from the corner of her eye, “Do you trust them?”

“Luffy’s crew?” Ace questioned, “I wouldn’t say I trust them, but they seem like good people.”

“Okay,” Alesta trailed off. Glancing at Sanji’s back, she lowered her voice into a whisper, “There are ghosts here. I don’t—”

She didn’t know if she should mention it. Didn’t know if she could trust this crew. They’d been kind to her, but so had Cho. Rolling her teacup between her palms, Alesta looked up at Ace from under her eyelashes.

She trusted him.

He seemed to understand what she was thinking. With a solemn twist to his mouth, Ace caught her eye, “Let’s get some air.”

Their chairs scraped the ground as they stood up. It made Thatch pause, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow. His mouth pinched when he caught her expression, but Ace waved him off. It didn’t quite smoother the sudden pinch of concern.

Thatch watched them until they left, but he didn’t follow.

The deck of the ship was quiet. Zoro was napping against the mast, but the rest of the crew was tucked away inside. Ace led her to the farthest side of the ship, sitting on the wooden railing with ease.

Only when he was sure that Zoro was asleep did Ace speak, “How many are there?”

“Two,” Alesta elaborated with a glance at the now empty orange trees, “Both women. I’m thinking they’re some of the crew’s mothers.”

“Have they tried to talk to you?” Ace frowned as he followed her gaze, “Or do they not do that?”

Hiking her shoulders in half a shrug, Alesta said, “They haven’t yet. Some do and some don’t. Most of the time I try to hide it—” she hesitated as she thought about Cho, “It can be dangerous to let people know.”

It wasn’t easy to talk about this with other people. She liked to keep her weaknesses close to her chest and this was one of the more challenging ones. Trailing her gaze to the afternoon sun, Alesta tugged her lip back between her teeth as she thought about the best way to explain.

“I don’t mind helping,” she elaborated, “But I have to make sure I trust the ghost.”

Canting his head down to her, Ace raised a brow, “The ghost?”

It probably seemed silly to him.

The dead were dead. They shouldn’t be able to harm anyone, but she’d learned through first-hand experience how wrong that assumption could be. Curling her arms over her chest, Alesta let her attention fall back to the deck of the ship.

“I summoned someone else on the marine ship with Kanetsuyo,” she eventually settled for honesty, “He’d been helpful, but when he found out what I could do— he didn’t want me to leave. Once I summon them,” she glanced at the side of Ace’s face, “I can’t control them. They don’t have to help me.”

Ace stilled and she caught his jaw clench, “What happened?”

“His name was Cho. He wanted to see his family,” a grim smile pulled at her cheeks, “He held me at knife point. The only reason he let me go is because I lied and told him that my power was permanent. I don’t— I don’t know what happened after.”

“Yet you still helped Thatch,” Ace didn’t phrase it as a question.

Alesta could only nod, “I almost didn’t, but I was selfish.”

“Selfish?” he laughed, but it was a touch bitter, “You think you were being selfish?”

She did. There was no other way around the assumption.

Alesta knew she’d thrown Ace off course, knew that she’d put both him and Thatch into a position where they had to look out for her. She was weak and new to the world, a liability amidst the danger that crawled through the Grand Line.

They may thank her, but that didn’t make her reasons any less self-motivated.  

“Listen to me,” Ace’s hand fell on her shoulder. It was a touch too hot but the contact was grounding in a way she wasn’t keen to identify. “You did something I didn’t think was possible. You changed my life, brought my brother back. Nothing about that is selfish. You can be afraid and you should be—” his eyes drilled into the side of her face, “But don’t think you’re selfish for wanting to help people.”

“I only did it because I didn’t want you to leave,” Alesta tried to explain, “It was selfish.”

“Then why are you asking me about Luffy’s crew?” Ace combatted. His mouth was firm but the edges ticked upward like he already knew the answer, “You want to help them.”

That statement felt heavy.

Alesta didn’t help people. She clung and dragged them down until their steps slowed and their bodies grew too heavy. It happened to her mother, it happened to Geta, and it happened to Kanetsuyo. Except, Ace was looking at her and his eyes were sharp.

The words he stated hung in the air as Alesta chewed them over.

Why did she ask? Was it simple curiosity or had it been a yearning sparked by the reunion she’d witnessed with Thatch? Alesta thought about the memory of Ace’s crewmates when they’d heard Thatch’s voice.

The way their throats scratched with tears. The way Ace had fallen into Thatch’s arms— the way he’d hugged her. The memory of his thankful smile clung to the back of her eyelids and Alesta realized that it’d felt nice.

“Oh,” Alesta managed to whisper, “Okay.”

She’d never considered herself a caring person before. Back when her life revolved around her home and pleasing her father, Alesta never had the time to spare for care.

She didn’t think she’d want to.

It involved too much. There were too many emotions involved, too many variables to consider. Yet, with Ace staring at her and the power in her chest singing, Alesta was coming to realize that caring might not be so bad.

When she looked back up at Ace, his smile was soft, “Do what you want to do. I’m not going to judge you for whatever you decide,” his shoes thumped against the deck floor as he jumped off the rail, “It’s your devil fruit. You control it.”

She wished it was that simple.

The two factors of her psyche were at war inside her mind. The rational, safe part of her wanted to keep this power quelled and silent. But a new, wild yearning began to build in her chest. Alesta remembered the feel of Thatch’s heartbeat beneath her fingers and the way it’d stopped her in her tracks.

Ace met her stare with a boyish grin, “You’ve got us now. We can handle a few ghosts.”

His words were the point that finally got her. That was a heavy vow. It wasn’t full of pretty ideas and lascivious promises, but the sentiment was clear. She had support in whatever path she chose.

Not knowing anything better to say, Alesta nodded.

“Don’t worry about it right now. You’ve got time,” Ace leaned against the rail beside her, “I wanted to talk to you anyway. How do you feel about traveling with Luffy for a bit?”

She didn’t have any strong opinions on the subject. It would be nice to see more of Arabasta, but she knew her schedule was dictated by her companions.

Lifting her shoulder in half a shrug, Alesta offered, “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

A finger flicked her in the nose before she could blink. Ace met her startled glance with a smirk, “That’s not what I asked.”  

She never knew what to do when he looked at her like that. It was affectionate, almost overwhelmingly so. It made her feel like he saw something inside of her that she didn’t. Like there was a secret compartment of her personality that only he noticed.

There were several pieces of herself Alesta didn’t like and knowing that he could dig deep enough to even glimpse them scared her.

Rubbing at her chest, she trailed her gaze back out to the riverfront.

“I don’t mind it. It’ll be nice to see the rest of the island,” she eventually elaborated. While it was true, she couldn’t help but question the change in plans, “I thought we were waiting for Marco?”

Ace leaned closer to her. She felt the heat of his chest as he braced against the railing and followed her line of sight, “We are, but Luffy’s,” Ace sighed and Alesta nearly shivered when his breath caught her ear, “Luffy’s getting involved in something big. I know I shouldn’t worry, but—”

“But he’s your little brother,” Alesta finished. She watched his jaw clench as he nodded, “Does this have to do with the ships you destroyed?”

He chuckled under his breath, “Yeah, something like that. You ever hear of a guy named Crocodile?”

“No—” Alesta stilled, mind whirling as she thought back to the diner, “Wait, yes. Some men were talking about him at the restaurant. They mentioned he killed a few pirates the day we arrived.”

The look Ace gave her at the admission was mildly exasperated, “You didn’t think to give us a heads up?”

“Sorry,” the apology came with a sheepish smile, “You distracted me with the lizards.”

He rolled his eyes, but Alesta caught the edge of his grin as he launched into a brief explanation. It was clear he didn’t know the full story. Yet, from what he’d learned from his brother, the political climate in Arabasta painted a concerning picture.

Ace skimmed through the barebones of the matter, focusing on the assassins chasing after his brother and ending on Crocodile’s warlord status.

“Luffy wants to fight him,” Ace finally trailed off. His gaze was far away, trailing over the shore as the ship moved, “I’m not going to talk him out of it, but I’m worried. He’s still a rookie.”

Alesta took all the facts in. Vivi was a princess trying to save her homeland. Crocodile led a group of assassins out of a city called Rainbase. Luffy and his crew were heading there to challenge him before he could incite a coup within Arabasta. The last point made her swallow as she recalled the conversation between the men at the diner.

There was still a lot she didn’t know, but there was an opportunity.

“Could we use Thatch?” She peered up at Ace from under her lashes, “If you want to go with them, he could go ahead and see if he can learn anything.”

Ace didn’t speak for several seconds. His stare drew over her face as his mouth went taut, “You want to help?”

She frowned at the question, “Yes. I thought we established that?”

It’d been the whole point of their earlier conversation.

“You know, it’s not going to be easy,” Ace watched her carefully as he admitted, “You’ve been training with Thatch, but you might get hurt.”

Alesta almost laughed at the warning.

Nothing about this had been easy. It was likely going to be worse as the days passed, but her dreams of a peaceful life traveling through the seas vanished with Kanetsuyo.

She’d learned the hard way that the world around her was wild and dangerous. This was more than she’d ever considered and there was the lingering possibility of injury, but she wasn’t scared of death.

She feared failing to live a life worth living. Feared being caged— either through the hands of another or one of her own making. There wasn’t a life to live without risks. Fear may come, but it would pass as everything else did.

Instead of voicing that thought, Alesta hummed, “Apparently, I have a bounty now. I might as well do something to earn it.”

She expected laughter out of that remark, maybe a tired chuckle.

What she hadn’t expected was for an arm to wrap around her waist and pull her into an embrace. Hitting the solid muscle of Ace’s chest, Alesta balked for half a second as she tried to gain her balance from the sudden movement. She felt a bit like a ragdoll when Ace snorted at her flustered squawk.

“Don’t let Thatch hear you talk like that,” Ace teased as his arm looped around her waist and trapped her against his side, “His ego’s big enough without thinking we’ve managed to corrupt you.”

Trying to ignore the warmth building in her chest, Alesta cautioned, “That doesn’t mean I’m a pirate.”

That was a label she intended to put off until she couldn’t any longer.

There were too many complications with being branded a pirate. Between having to belong to a crew and being marked as an outlaw, the life of a pirate wasn’t one she desired. At least, she thought she didn’t. Day by day, the idea grew less abhorrent.

Allowing herself to relax against Ace’s side, Alesta jolted as his hand dropped to her hip. The movement had her stomach lurching as his fingers flexed, cupping the side of her leg with an ease she hadn’t expected. Ace didn’t even blink when she glanced up at him.

His only response to the touch was bright eyes and a roguish smirk.

“Not yet,” Ace’s chuckle made her skin break into goosebumps, “But we’re getting there.”

Traveling with the Straw Hats was an experience she hoped to never repeat.

Luffy had been overjoyed when Ace offered to tag along. His arms looped around Ace’s shoulders four times before both brothers lost their balance and toppled into the sand. While Ace tried to bat him off, Luffy only grinned.

Alesta hadn’t been aware a human could smile as brightly as he did.

The rest of their crew didn’t seem to mind them joining either. Vivi loaned her an extra cloak, a soft thank you escaping as she led Alesta to the ship’s bathroom to change. Usopp and Chopper also seemed ecstatic about the new additions.

When Ace filled them in on the change of plans, Usopp literally dropped to his knees in reverence, “Oh, thank god. We’re not going to die!”

“Hopefully not,” Thatch grinned with far too many teeth, “Unless you want to be stuck with me for an eternity.”

Usopp scuttered behind Sanji, barely peeking his head out to whimper, “No, that’s okay! I’m allergic to ghosts, you see—” he squeaked when Thatch took a step toward him, “Stay back, it’s contagious!”

The real struggle began when they hit the third hour of their travels. Conversation between them all flowed smoothly enough, but they fought more than Alesta was aware any single group of people could. Sanji and Zoro were the worst offenders but even Nami and Luffy threw punches at the drop of a hat.

Three times now, Alesta had to duck behind Ace to avoid one of Luffy’s ricocheting fists.

She quietly suspected that was the reason Thatch hadn’t asked her to summon him again since he faded. Walking beside Vivi, Alesta watched the rowdier members of their group argue over the water supply. It reached a crescendo when Luffy snatched the jug away from Usopp and began to gulp it down until his throat swelled.

“Oh, that was a good one,” Thatch commented when Nami managed to whack Luffy on the top of the head, “Pay attention, ghost girl. I want you to hit like that.”

Ignoring the strange looks she received from her companions, Alesta glanced at the ghost, “I feel like you might regret that.”

Thatch wasn’t given a chance to respond. Instead, Vivi looked over her shoulder and eyed the empty air where he stood. A faint wrinkle formed on her brow as she questioned, “Is Thatch still here?”

“Does he follow you around?” Chopper jumped into the conversation next. His voice was adorably sleepy and tired eyes blinked up at her from his spot on Zoro’s back, “Do all ghosts do that?”

Cradling his hands behind his neck, Thatch snorted under his breath, “What else would I do? Try and find One Piece?”

“Most of the time,” She didn’t relay Thatch’s commentary. Instead, Alesta answered as she tugged her shemagh tighter around her face, “Not all ghosts do. Some of them stay in one place.”

The ghosts on Luffy’s ship fell into that category. After her conversation with Ace, Alesta only saw them again before they departed the ship. Both women had hovered near the railing and watched the crew descend.

Like Alesta expected, the blonde woman focused on Sanji, but it was the other ghost’s attention that surprised her. She’d followed Nami off the ship for a few minutes before drifting back to the orange trees with a troubled look.

“Have you seen any in Arabasta?” Vivi asked a moment later. Her blue eyes trailed over the vast expanse of sand surrounding them and Alesta got the sense she didn’t truly want an answer. Yet, she pushed anyway, “If it’s not too much to ask, could you let me know if you do?”

Glancing at Vivi from the corner of her eye, Alesta nodded.

Geta would have smacked her for being this trusting, but she was trying to be brave. This was simply another step toward being strong enough to help people beyond herself. Despite the rationalization, dread bubbled in her gut at the thought of sharing too much.

Thatch stepped close to her side, silent support amidst the dry desert air.

Alesta tried to ignore the warmth that settled in her stomach.

It wasn’t until sunset that Alesta saw her first ghosts wandering among the sand.

They were standing in front of the ruins of the city Vivi called Erumalu. The empty carcasses of crumbling buildings sat spread amongst the sand, withered palm trees snagging in the wind. A harsh burst of wind brought with it a gust of stinging sand and Alesta shielded her face as she stared down into the empty town.

As the rest of her party moved down the sand dune and into the city, she stayed.

Everywhere she looked, she spotted the familiar glow of the dead. There were nearly fifty of them. Spread amongst the ruins, the men and women walked between the crumpling buildings as if they’d never left. A few children scurried between them— their laughter ringing over the wind as they raced between the town.

They didn’t feel like the ghosts that haunted Drum.

Where their souls screamed in grief, the ghosts in Erumalu felt content. It wasn’t happiness, but a strange sort of purgatory. Their faces were tired and worn, yet most of them smiled as they passed each other.

It was surreal. A near-perfect mimicry of the world around her. Alesta felt as if she had stepped into another world, a world where the dead were just as alive as the living.

“Hey,” Thatch’s voice broke her out of her observation, allowing Alesta to take the breath she’d been holding for minutes, “It’s okay.”

Alesta went to open her mouth, but the words caught in her throat as Vivi moved through the town. The ghosts paused in their movements and stepped aside. A heavy thrum of silence passed between them before Alesta heard the faint thrum of their whispers echo over the desert.

The ghosts of the children hovered near the princess, pointing and grinning as they followed her through the town. Their smiles slowly faded when Vivi collapsed next to an unearthed skeleton hiding amidst the sand.

One ghost, a man with long hair and half a mustache, covered his mouth when the princess began to cry.

The pressure in Alesta’s chest screamed.

It didn’t hurt, but suddenly, Alesta could feel everything around her. From the ghosts closest to Vivi to the ones lingering in the town. All-encompassing grief soaked into her bones, but it came from the ghosts. Unlike the ones at Drum, this pain wasn’t directed at them. It was for them.

It was for Vivi.

With the ringing of Ace’s promise hanging in her ears, Alesta made her choice.

Trying to navigate through the crowd of ghosts, she made her way to Vivi. The princess crawled to her feet and wiped at the tears soaking her face. A furious blush marked the skin of Vivi’s cheeks, confusion and ire fighting for dominance as Alesta stopped in front of her.

Alesta tried to ignore the stares of Luffy’s crew as she stopped in front of her.

It felt strange to be the center of their attention. Broadcasting her devil fruit wasn’t something she planned to do, but after watching— after seeing the ghosts, Alesta knew she had to do something. There were children, men and women, and they cared.

The regret would eat her alive if she walked away from this.

“You asked me to tell you if I saw anything,” Alesta uttered, looking toward Vivi and swallowing the lump in her throat, “There are people here.”

Vivi took a step back, feet sticking in the sand as she gaped at her, “What?”

“Your people,” Alesta motioned vaguely to the ghosts surrounding them, “They’re here.”

It was hard to explain beyond that.

She didn’t have the heart to tell Vivi how many lingered, how many children. Her chest began to ache as the ghosts crept closer. There were more than she could count. So many people lost to the drought and the sand.

Alesta’s hand skimmed over her chest.

Cupping her mouth, Vivi glanced around the ruined city and whispered, “You can see them? All of them?”

She eyed one of the small ghosts hovering near Vivi’s side. The child’s bright blue eyes blinked up at her, his gap-toothed grin nearly too wide. The pressure above Alesta’s heart began to pound.

“I can,” she awkwardly waved at the little ghost and her throat went too tight when he giggled, “There are a few here.”

Vivi’s voice caught in her throat as she managed to ask, “Are they— are they happy?”

“They are,” she looked at the child and the old man hovering nearby. He tilted his head in quiet thanks and Alesta tried to smother the way her chest lurched, “They’re happy to see you again.”

At least she assumed so.

That assumption was proven correct when the old man finally spoke. His voice was barely a whisper on the wind. “Please tell the princess we don’t blame her,” his wizened old eyes drifted shut in regret, “The people of the desert know the truth.”

It was hard to look away from him.

His regret sunk into the air and made salt build on the back of Alesta’s tongue. She wasn’t used to being the messenger, to having something worth note to say. The ghost’s eyes locked onto hers and Alesta swallowed the lump that taken hold of her throat.

Eventually, Alesta forced herself to nod, scratching at her chest as she turned to Vivi, “They want me to tell you they don’t blame you.”

She wasn’t expecting the hug.

Alesta startled when Vivi’s thin arms wrapped around her back and her head met her shoulder. Wetness seeped into her cloak and Alesta’s hands hovered awkwardly over Vivi’s back as she began to cry again. Not knowing what to do, Alesta looked over the rest of their party and immediately bit her tongue.

Usopp was busy silently freaking out and trying to convince Chopper to run away, but the rest of Luffy’s crew stared at her in a manner she wasn’t familiar with. But it was Luffy’s sudden assessing look that made her chew on her lip hard enough to bleed.

His head cocked to the side as he observed, something older than his age creeping into his eyes as his mouth pressed tight. Alesta shivered at his focus, feeling like she’d finished a test she didn’t know she’d been taking.

“Thank you,” Vivi whispered into her shoulder, “Thank you for telling me.”

As always, it was Ace that came to Alesta’s rescue. His hand landed on Vivi’s shoulder and he gave her a gentle smile as he offered, “We can bury the body, princess.” Ace’s gaze was probing when he caught Alesta’s eye, “That way they won’t be forgotten.”  

Vivi sniffled as she stepped back, wiping at her nose and nodding, “Thank you. I appreciate your help,” she glanced between the two of them, “Both of you.”

Alesta could only nod.

Keeping out of the way, she watched the small ceremony as they covered the skeleton in sand and crafted a small memorial. Thatch hovered near her side and Alesta let her hand drift down, skimming the ghost’s side despite knowing he couldn’t feel it.

It made something inside her heart settle when the grave was done.

 The ghost of the old man observed in silence, his eyes downcast but a pleased smile pulling at his wrinkled lips. A group of children marveled at the ribbon Vivi tied over the memorial. One of them even tried to touch it, smiling despite the fact they’d never be able to feel it.

The pressure in Alesta chest eased into a faint hum.

“You did good,” only when they were done did Thatch speak, “Proud of you, ghost girl.”

For the first time in years, Alesta was proud of herself too.

The rest of their travels passed by without incident.

Luffy managed to lose their food, but beyond that, their only adversary was the weather. The trek through the Arabasta desert was brutal. With the sand licking at her skin and the sun beating down her back, Alesta was surprised she made it as far as she had.

By the time night came, Alesta was exhausted.

Sitting under the tent Ace constructed for the evening, she slipped her feet out of her shoes and rubbed at the blisters forming on her heels. The smell of salted meat clung to the air from the fire Sanji was manning with Thatch. She’d summoned him as soon as they’d stopped and he didn’t hesitate to return to his new favorite activity of heckling the Straw Hat’s chef.

“You should use paprika—” Thatch tsked, flipping a skewer of meat over, “Ace likes it spicy.”

Sanji glared as he chewed on the butt of his cigarette, “Do you always give advice to people who don’t need it?”

“I don’t know,” with a toothy grin, Thatch teased, “Do you always forget to season your meat?”

Neither of them were expecting Luffy to stretch his neck across the clearing and snatch two skewers with a hearty cheer, “Meat! Meat! Meat!”

“Idiot!” Sanji slapped at his captain a second too late, “That was for Nami-swan and Vivi!”

From the other side of the clearing, Zoro snorted as he sharpened his blades.

The slick swish of metal rang out over the clearing and Usopp shrieked when one of his many swords got a little too close for comfort. Nami stretched out on the rock next to him, rubbing one of her sore shoulders as she whispered with Vivi. Chopper sat snug between them, cuddled into a little ball of fluff with Ace’s cloak wrapped around him.  

Chuckling under his breath, Ace observed the group as he sprawled out in front of his own fire, “They sure are something.”

“They’re nice,” Alesta agreed. She scooted closer to the fire, letting her hands hover over the flames as the wind chill stung her skin, “I never expected pirates to be so lively.”

Ace moved over a bit to give her room to sit beside him, “Just wait until you meet our crew. This is nothing.” His smile went a bit sharp as his lips curled at the edge, “I hope you like to drink because that’s the first thing they’ll want to do.”

Rubbing at her arm, Alesta confessed, “I’ve never done it before.”

She wasn’t sure she should either. Not with the way the phantom tang of wine would build on her tongue and bleed into iron when the world grew too much to handle. Some of her hesitation must have shown on her face because Ace’s mouth twisted downward.

It wasn’t an irritated look, more considering. Alesta got the sense he was trying to piece her together. Trying to find the parts of her that had no place and shuttle them home.

“You won’t have to if you don’t want to,” perching back on his arm, Ace leaned toward her, “No one will care. They’re just going to be happy to meet you.”

That was unlikely. Alesta knew his crew would be happy to have them board, but it wouldn’t be due to her. It would because of Thatch. She went to voice her doubt when Ace cut her off by moving his arm behind her back.

It made him lean too close to her, the strands of his hair tickling her shoulder as he kicked his legs out. “Don’t give me that look,” Ace warned with a fond quirk of his lips, “It’s too late to start arguing.”

She frowned, “I wasn’t going to argue—”

“Nice try, ghost girl,” Thatch collapsed atop the sand on the other side of her, “You may be a good liar, but your face gives you away. We’re going to have to work on that.”

Twisting her attention between both men, Alesta allowed her eyes to narrow slightly, “It does not.”

She was a decent liar and had been one for years. Years of avoiding Han and her father had allowed her to fine-tune the skill. While it might not be something she used nearly as often these past few days, Alesta was certain she wasn’t that apparent.

“It does,” Ace’s head fell on her shoulder as he chuckled under his breath, “Your mouth does this thing—” he pinched his lips together before giving her a boyish grin, “It’s cute but obvious.”

Undeterred by her glare, Thatch sprawled out on the sand beside her and smirked, “You’ve got a bad habit of overexplaining yourself too. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you. By the time we’re done, you’ll be able to fool everyone but Pops.”

“No one can trick him,” Ace agreed as he yawned, “He knows everything.”

Thatch added something about Marco but Alesta tuned them out.

Her focus stayed on the flames, watching as they flickered in the cool air. Exhaustion crept over her shoulders as she was lulled into relaxation by the sound of their voices. Quicker than she could catch herself, Alesta’s eyes drifted shut before she squinted to try and fight off the exhaustion.

“They’re adorable,” Nami’s voice made her twitch, sleepy eyes wandering toward the Straw Hats on the other side of the clearing. Nami grinned when she caught her gaze, “I’m almost jealous.”

Sanji leaned over with his arms outstretched, “Nami-swan—”

“No,” Nami pushed him back without looking, “Not you.”

Chewing on a bone and wrapped around Zoro like a snake, Luffy blinked, “What are they doing? They look weird.”

Trading a look with Vivi, Nami rolled her eyes, “They’re cuddling, you idiot."

Alesta didn’t catch the rest of their conversation.

With the heat of Ace’s devil fruit against her side, it was impossible to stay awake. She yawned as she brought her legs to her chest and curled into a tiny ball between the two men. Her eyes drifted shut for a final time and didn’t open again even when she felt herself being picked up and moved into the tent.

It wouldn’t be until several hours later that she woke up to the sensation of something amiss.

Sitting up in the tent, Alesta rubbed at her eyes as she scanned over the dark interior of the tiny shelter. Thatch had vanished sometime during the night, but Ace was sprawled out on his stomach beside her. His faint snores echoed through the tent as Alesta crawled to her knees.

Ducking out of the tent, she squinted at the dying embers of their fire as a vicious chill snaked over her bare skin. Moonlight littered the sand beyond them. As Alesta rubbed the crust out of her eyes, the glowing figure of Thatch caught her eye.

It was a welcomed sight.

Until she noticed the secondary figure standing across the clearing.

The ghost was familiar in a faint sort of way. Alesta froze inside the door of the tent, hands digging into the sand as she scanned over the woman’s features. She had thin shoulders, a sharp nose, and long white hair. When Thatch turned to her and grimaced, Alesta realized she recognized the ghost.

It was the one who’d haunted the woman at the diner.

The one who looked like she knew more than she should.

“I apologize,” the ghost of the woman smiled when she noticed Alesta staring at them, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Thatch’s mouth pressed tight as he took a step toward the tent, “Yeah, well you did. Feel up to explaining why you’re here now that she’s up?”

It was clear Alesta had walked in on the middle of a conversation. Thatch’s shoulders were rigid and he made sure to stand directly between her and the ghost. The woman didn’t appear to take offense. She watched him move with a bemused tilt to her smile, her blue eyes scanning between them before opening her arms in surrender.

“I don’t mean any harm,” the woman canted her head to the side, white hair dripping down her collarbones, “My name’s Nico Olvia. You can call me Olvia.”

Alesta didn’t recognize the name, but Thatch did if the way he jerked was any indication, “Holy shit. You’re— fuck me.”

Crawling out of the tent, Alesta shut the tarp behind her to prevent the chill from creeping in. She felt like she was missing something important. Thatch hadn’t taken his stunned stare off the other ghost, muttering something too low for her to hear under his breath.

Alesta kneeled on the sand in front of the tent and brought her cloak tighter across her shoulders.

Forcing herself to breathe, she spoke, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Olvia smiled softly. Her hands ducked into her pockets as she eyed Alesta, “I see the rumors of your devil fruit are true.”

A shiver crept up her arms as Alesta caught the suggestion hidden in the statement, “There are rumors?”

Olvia made an amused noise, “There are. You’ve become quite a topic.”

That wasn’t promising.

The ghost didn’t elaborate on where she’d heard the rumors and Alesta’s mind immediately went to the worst. Trading a look with Thatch, Alesta pushed herself to her feet and stepped over the soft sand to stand next to him. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it made her feel better to be close enough to ask for help should she need it.

Steeling her spine, Alesta met the ghost’s stare, “Why are you here?”

It was odd for a ghost to seek her out like this. Unless she specifically engaged with them, they generally left her alone. Never before had she dealt with one finding her without being sought out. It made something cold slither up her spine, a realization that there may be more to the other world than she’d been able to experience so far.

“I’d like to help you and your friends,” Olvia’s pleasant smile evaporated as she finished, “If you’ll help my daughter.”

Chapter Text

Olvia’s offer was not nearly as cut and dry as it sounded.

It took a moment for her to compose herself, but when she did, Alesta was unprepared for the information thrust into her lap. The daughter in question was Nico Robin, a Baroque agent currently assisting in hunting down Luffy’s crew and Vivi. She’d never heard of her before, but it was clear that Olvia loved her.

There was no other reason for the ghost to seek her out.

Mildly regretting not waking Ace, Alesta sat in front of the embers of their dying fire and eyed the woman before her. Olvia’s white hair gleamed in the low light of the moon, draping down her back as she kneeled in front of them. She was quiet to give them a chance to parse through her information and come to a decision.

It didn’t take long for Alesta to determine the best course of action— the benefit of her information was too substantial to ignore.

Thatch didn’t seem to be of the same mind.

“Go back a second. Crocodile,” he said slowly, like he was trying to grasp the information, “Is trying to find Pluton?”

This was the point of the conversation where Alesta could no longer keep up. She’d been able to understand the coup the warlord had constructed and how the dance powder played into his schemes, but everything beyond that was a blur. Olvia mentioned things she had no knowledge of. Poneglyphs, war, and forgotten history.

Fortunately, Thatch seemed to be aware of more than her and Alesta was inclined to let him take the lead.  

“Pluton,” Thatch repeated, “The warship. From the void century. That one?”

“Yes,” Olvia answered sufficiently, “It’s rumored to be buried in the sands of Arabasta. It’s the reason why Robin accepted Crocodile’s invitation into Baroque Works.”

“That’s insane,” he trailed off before pinching the bridge of his nose, “This whole thing is insane. Pluton,” Thatch scoffed, “Of course, it’s fucking Pluton. Why not—"

Before he could fully dive into his rant, Alesta said, “What do you want us to do?”

Because it was clear she wanted more than this out of their conversation. Olvia’s earlier bargain hadn’t been forgotten. She wanted to help her daughter. Saving Arabasta was only secondary.

She stilled when Olvia lifted her head, penetrating blue eyes trailing down Alesta’s face before her mouth quirked in the softest hints of a knowing smile.

“Us?” Thatch stared at the side of her head, “Woah, hold on now. There isn’t an us in this—”

Olvia met Alesta’s stare, “Let me speak to my daughter. This isn’t the way it has to go.”

The way the ghost spoke her request was full of regret. Something that lingered on the back of Alesta’s tongue and made her mouth dry as Olvia trailed her focus to the moon-soaked sands beyond them. There was age in her stare, a deep recess of unknown knowledge and something more.

“Robin understands the value of knowledge. That it deserves to be shared and that the world needs to know the truth,” Olvia laid her hands out in suppliance, “She’s become jaded through the hand of the World Government, but she—” the ghost’s gaze drew far, “She just needs to find her home.”

Alesta’s throat went tight as her voice faded.

Home. It was a sentiment that Alesta didn’t value much, content to further her explorations and experience the world around her without settling. Yet, the concept nagged at her. She got the sense that Olvia wasn’t referring to a place.

Not something physical, but something unquantifiable.

She distantly wondered if home could be a person. If it could be something as intangible as a human being. Her gaze drew to Thatch and Alesta gulped as she eyed the sharp curve of his jaw.

He didn’t step into their conversation, content to let it draw out as he gathered his information, but Alesta wasn’t fooled. The line of steel in his spine and the faraway look in his eyes inferred that he understood Olvia’s words.

More than even Alesta did.

Turning back to Olvia, Alesta ventured, “Where is she?”

“Rainbase,” Olvia answered as she stood up, “They’re planning the final part of their operation. If you hurry, we may be able to prevent it.”

There were a lot of possibilities in this equation and Alesta wasn’t the one to answer them all. She could provide her part and allow Olvia to see her daughter, but the war in Arabasta wasn’t her realm. Trading a look with Thatch, she crawled to her feet with a soft sigh.

“We need to talk to everyone before we decide anything,” Alesta warned, “But—"

Her conversation with Ace crawled back to the front of her mind. While Alesta still battled with her mind over the vulnerability in assisting others beyond herself, she knew that the world wasn’t made to be suffered alone. She’d learned that lesson through her own struggles.

Had she not been given the backing of people who cared, Alesta would never have survived the trek off her island. She remembered the feeling of Kanetsuyo’s hand, Ace’s hug, and Vivi’s tears before she came to a decision.

The moon bathed the sand around them with a delicate silver glow and a thread of something omniscient skittered down her spine as Alesta said, “I’ll help you see your daughter.”

Meanwhile, Thatch came to stand next to her. His head was bent down far enough that she couldn’t see his expression and she was wary to look. It was only the fear of his disapproval that forced Alesta to chance a peek.

When she met his gaze, her throat went dry. He didn’t look frustrated but worried. There was a weary acceptance to his shoulders and a faint hint of a frown.

“You sure about this?” Thatch raised a slow eyebrow, “This is a Warlord’s crew we’re talking about. You’re still a civilian.”

It was a fair worry.

One she might have considered before. She was weak, but she could do something. That was more than many people were allowed. More than she’d been capable of the majority of her life. Death may be an outcome, but she wasn’t afraid.

In a matter of weeks, Alesta lived more than she thought possible. She’d met ghosts who’d made her smile, felt the first strings of affection for people beyond herself, and seen islands she’d never thought possible.

Thatch groaned when he caught her jaw set, “I’m surrounded by suicidal idiots.” Throwing his arms out, he cursed, “Dammit. Fine. I owe Crocodile some payback after his fight with Pops anyway.”

She glanced at him, “You don’t have to—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’m going to turn your ass red,” Thatch warned easily. His accompanying grin held far too many teeth, “Think that through, ghost girl.”

Alesta had no response to that beyond a horrified balk. She didn’t think she could speak if she tried. Thatch met her gaze with an amused smirk, lifting a brow in a silent challenge. Her eyes narrowed before she turned her gaze to the sky.

This was not a contest she’d be partaking in.

The sound of quiet chuckles broke them out of their stand-off. It was a pleasant, throaty noise that crept through the dark night. When Alesta followed the sound, she found Olvia watching them, a hand covering her mouth and the faint hint of mirth hiding in her solemn expression.

“Thank you,” Olvia canted her head down. Alesta barely caught the smile that dented her thin cheeks, “You have my word that I’ll help your friends. Pluton isn’t a weapon the world needs.”

With a snort, Thatch cautioned, “Don’t thank us yet.” He glanced knowingly at the tent laying behind them, “We’ve got to tell Ace first.”

Alesta swallowed.

Waking the Straw Hats was a struggle.

Alesta summoned Thatch to assist, leaving him with the job of waking up the men while she dealt with the girls. It was a decision born of caution. A caution that she appreciated when she heard Thatch cursing about damn swordsmen and my fucking arm! Chewing on her lip, Alesta tried not to chuckle when she gently nudged Vivi awake.

“Don’t worry,” holding her arms up, Alesta froze when Vivi startled. Panicked blue eyes blinked up at her and Alesta eyed the sharp knife clutched in her fist warily, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Rolling on her side, Nami groaned from under her blanket, “What time is it?”

Vivi didn’t say anything, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as Alesta said, “It’s a little past midnight.”

“Ugh,” Nami collapsed back into her blanket with a moan, “Why am I awake?”

The skin on her lip broke as Alesta admitted, “There’s some information I’d like to talk to you about.” She glanced back at the entrance of the tent when she heard Usopp grumble outside, “There’s a ghost. They know about Crocodile’s plan—”

Nothing more needed to be said. Vivi lurched into a sitting position, staring at Alesta with something like horror while Nami cursed. Both girls shrugged their coats on before they made their way outside.

The cold chill of the wind bit at Alesta’s exposed legs as she eyed the crowd. Zoro looked exhausted, holding onto the back of Luffy’s shirt as their captain moaned something indecipherable about needing meat. Beside him, Sanji took a long puff of his cigarette as he glared at Thatch’s back.

Not even a second later, Ace crawled out of their tent. His hand covered his mouth as he yawned, “What’s going on?”

“Ghost girl made a friend,” Thatch explained. He rubbed a bruise on his arm, giving Sanji a dark look as he moved to her side, “She’s offering us some intel.”

“A friend—” Usopp shivered, his wide eyes tracking around the sand, “Is it a ghost?!”

The exhaustion vanished from Ace’s eyes. He swung his stare to her, his mouth going flat as he questioned, “What kind of intel?”

“Enough to help,” Alesta ventured, chewing on her lip, “She knows the next portion of Crocodile’s plan.”

Alesta stilled as everyone’s stare fell on her. Not quite knowing how to begin, she looked toward the ghost of Olvia still hovering by the dying firepit. The woman watched their group with a muted smile, her thin eyebrows arching into her hairline when Chopper burrowed into Nami’s coat.

Olvia’s shoulders hiked in deference when Alesta caught her eye.

The action was unhelpful. Trying to figure out how to best phrase everything, Alesta considered her options. She could try to reiterate everything the ghost had told her, but there were details she still didn’t understand. It would be better for the information to come from the source.

Rubbing at her chest, Alesta took stock of herself as she tried to determine the best path forward.

She looked to Vivi for guidance, “Do you want to talk to her?”

“If she knows how to stop this, we have to—" Vivi nodded, hands clasped over her chest, “Please.”

Trailing her gaze to Ace, Alesta took a steadying breath. This wasn’t like Cho. If things went sour, she wasn’t alone.

Yet, she was still wary.

The last time she’d summoned two ghosts at once, it’d hurt. Alesta wasn’t certain she wanted to try again. The pressure over her heart thrummed like an anxious cat, clawing and hissing to be released. It made it hard to focus, but she forced herself to nod.

As the crowd grew quiet, Alesta let her nails dig into the skin over her breasts as she took a calming inhale.

“Olvia,” gnawing on her bleeding lip, Alesta sighed, “Please help me.”

Several things happened at once.

A stabbing pain took root inside her chest and Alesta winced as Olvia came into view. Thatch managed to wrap his arm around her waist before the pain knocked her down, but it was still hard to breathe. The pain lasted for nearly five seconds before it abruptly faded, replaced with a dull sort of static feeling that clung to her collarbones and crept down her arms.

“That’s an interesting application of your devil fruit,” Olvia’s head tilted, eyeing her corporal body with a sharp gleam of curiosity, “The rumors have been dramatically understated.”

No one looked tired anymore.

Vivi gasped before everything went downhill. The sound of everyone speaking at once was enough to make Alesta snap her mouth shut. She blinked twice when Zoro withdrew a sword. His green eyes locked on Olvia in suspicion and Alesta winced when Sanji went straight beside him.

This was infinitely worse than Thatch’s brief introduction the day prior.

“Woah!” Luffy jumped forward, finger outstretched accusingly, “Who are you!?”

Ace was the first one to speak anything of actual value. He took a heavy step forward, blocking Olvia from Alesta’s line of sight as he frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“Past users of the Bōrei Bōrei no Mi were only able to make an image of a soul’s physical form,” turning her arm over, Olvia dragged a finger over her wrist before her brows raised in surprise, “I’ve never heard of a user who’d awakened the second form.”

Leaning against Thatch’s side, Alesta took that information in before grimacing, “I’m sorry—” her mouth pinched when the static sensation morphed into a dull ache against her muscles. It felt like she’d lifted a large boulder. “I should have asked you first.”

Olvia’s head canted slightly to the right, a bemused smile making a home on her face. Her blue eyes trailed down Alesta’s face before landing on her chest, “Are you in pain?”

Ace whipped his head in her direction, “It hurts?”

“I’m fine—” Alesta winced as she rolled her shoulders back, “It’s not bad.”

“I see. How fascinating,” Olvia muttered under her breath, “You’re an interesting woman, Alesta.”

She caught the sense the was more to Olvia’s statement than what was given at face value. Unfortunately, Alesta didn’t have a chance to prob before Luffy interrupted with a heavy scowl, “Hey, lady! Don’t ignore me!”

Thatch’s arm tightened over Alesta’s waist and she blinked, focusing back on the present. The group around her was stiff, shoulders primed warily. There was a new warmth against her shoulder and Alesta was momentarily startled at the sight of Nami hovering beside her. Ahead of them, Luffy and Ace hovered like an impenetrable wall.

Mouth twitching, Olvia raised her hands in forgiveness.

With a gentle bow of her head, she spoke the words that sent everyone into chaos.

“My name is Nico Olvia. You know my daughter, Robin,” her eyes gleamed in the low light of the moon, “Or as you’ve met her, Ms. All Sunday.”

It took two hours for things to calm down.

By the time Olvia was done with her explanation, Alesta felt like she could fall asleep on the spot. She’d sat down when Olvia got to the part of the story involving Pluton. Her chest didn’t ache anymore, but exhaustion clung to her skin like a second layer.

Propping her head on her knees, Alesta let her eyes go half-lidded as she watched their group. Sometime during the conversation, Ace breathed new life into their fire and it roared between them as the Straw Hats spoke.

“If he’s going to attack Nanohana, that means someone needs to go back down there,” Vivi was pacing, her voice almost frantic in its pitch, “I can speak to the rebels—”

Olvia didn’t respond to the comment. Sitting atop a rock, Olvia was busy watching her skin tone fade back to blue as the time limit on Alesta’s devil fruit began to tick down. There was an analytical furrow to her brow and if she had a way to record the process, Alesta was certain she’d be taking notes.

She’d re-upped both her and Thatch’s time multiple times throughout the night and each time, Olvia watched with a keen examination.

“We’re only a few hours from Rainbase,” Nami frowned, drawing her finger through the sand as she charted out a mock map, “There’s no way any of us would make it there and back in time, even with Eyelash.”

Peeking an eye open, Alesta looked at the shadow of the camel in question. It’d followed them after they left Erumalu yesterday afternoon and was now grazing in the dry rocky outcroppings of the desert. Alesta hadn’t paid the animal much mind yesterday, but she doubted even it would be able to make it back to Nanohana in time to intervene.

“I can make it,” Vivi refuted. Her fists shook from where she held them against her sides, “I have to—”

Nami grimaced, “Vivi…”

There’d been a tension bubbling in the air ever since Olvia put the entirety of Crocodile’s plan out in the open. It’d ate at Vivi the most, but the rest of the Straw Hats weren’t immune. Zoro took to sharpening his blades and Sanji had gone through ten cigarettes in the span of an hour.

But it was Luffy’s silence that bothered Alesta the most. The boy she’d come to know wasn’t so withdrawn. His gaze had been far away for most of the conversation, but it finally snapped into focus when Vivi’s voice grew hysterical.

“We’re pirates, it’d be better if we didn’t go,” Luffy spoke when Nami’s voice trailed off. His stare was hard on the back of Vivi’s head, a determined furrow to his mouth, “Stopping that isn’t going to stop Crocodile.”

The conversation around them fizzled out as stagnant friction took its place.

Vivi spun. Her blue hair flew out as she spat, “I have to! They’re my people! They don’t deserve to die!”

Her voice echoed over the desert and Alesta winced, burrowing further into her knees when Vivi took several steps toward Luffy. Beside her, Ace tilted his head just enough to observe. There was a tight furrow to his mouth and a tense ridge over his shoulders.

Looking at Vivi under the brim of his hat, Luffy frowned, “You think you can stop this without anybody dying? We’re up against one of the Seven Warlords of the sea and you expect for nobody to die? That’s stupid.”

Alesta jumped when Vivi’s palm flew through the air.

It hit the soft part of Luffy’s cheek and his head jerked back.

“Why does anyone have to die!” Vivi shouted, “This isn’t their fault! This is all Crocodile’s fault—"

Luffy’s fist met her chin.

“Except you! You’re risking your own life—” Luffy barely had time to yell before Vivi tackled him into the sand, “Even I can see you want to kick his ass!”

The two landed on top of each other and Sanji shot to his feet before Zoro’s blade blocked his path. Nami lurched forward, her hand going over her mouth and Alesta had to look away. Her eyes screwed shut as the two continued to exchange blows. Ace didn’t move and from the far corner of Alesta’s gaze, she caught the way Thatch observed in silence.

Her heart shot into her chest when Vivi shrieked.

Luffy knocked her back down, straddling her waist, “You can’t do it all by yourself!”

“I have to! I—” Vivi screamed before her voice tapered off into a sob.

It was a haunting sound.

Full of rage and grief that made Alesta’s teeth ache.

“Then let us help you!” Luffy pinned Vivi’s shoulders down, his teeth bared as he yelled, “We’re your friends, aren’t we!”

The only noise that came from his statement was Vivi’s heart-wrenching cry. Alesta’s skin itched at the noise and she drew her nails over her arms as she hid her head between her knees. It was too much. She didn’t want to examine the way Luffy’s statement made her chest feel cold.

Keeping her eyes screwed shut, Alesta vaguely heard Nami crawl forward to help Vivi to her feet.

Several minutes of quiet conversation passed before Ace spoke.

He stretched his legs out beside her, “Go take care of Crocodile. We’ll head down to Nanohana and let you guys take care of the rest.”

Alesta’s eyes flew open as she swung her head toward Ace. He’d been so worried about his little brother that the sudden allowance startled her. Something in Luffy’s speech must have steeled his spine because Ace didn’t look concerned.

His mouth quirked with a faint hint of pride as he took in Luffy’s ruffled shirt and bruised face.

Pushing out of Nami’s hold, Vivi turned to look at him. The relief on her face was nearly heartbreaking in its potency. It made Alesta suck her lip between her teeth and bite down hard enough to flood her tongue with iron.

“You’d do that?” Relief lit up her face as Vivi wiped at the tears still trailing down her cheeks, “I don’t want to ask too much—”

“It’s not a problem with me, princess,” Ace smirked. His shoulder jostled Alesta’s as he warned, “We’re pirates though. Don’t expect a hero.”

Her hands shook as Alesta swallowed before she let her stare fall on Thatch. He grimaced when he caught her eye from where he’d been hovering near Chopper.

This was the part of the conversation Olvia failed to explain. The deal Alesta had brokered to get the information that led them here. Dread wormed its way up her chest as she fought to get a breath.

The outburst was over, but cloying tension still clung to the air.

“Ace,” Alesta whispered into her knees, “I can’t go.”

Beside her, Ace went still, “What?”

She hated that tone. The confusion edged with a hollow sort of emptiness that had her tearing into her lip. Alesta’s hands shook as she managed to say, “I promised I’d let Olvia see her daughter if she helped us.”

Only the dry winds of the Arabasta desert met her statement.

Glancing up from her observation, Olvia gave her a look she couldn’t identify when Ace went quiet beside her. Alesta didn’t dare look at him, focusing on the way Thatch grimaced as the rest of the Straw Hats gaped. They had more history with Ms. All Sunday than she did and were notably cautious of the admittance.

Alesta took a deep breath to settle the sudden flare of trepidation in her chest.

When Ace finally spoke, his voice was carefully neutral, “You’re going after her?”

She’d never heard him speak like that before. Ace was polite and boyish, but that tone— it made something cold creep down her spine. Alesta flexed her hands on top of her legs. From the corner of her eye, she saw Thatch nod.

It was the sole reason that allowed her to hang onto her resolve.

“I’m going to find her,” Alesta clarified. Her stare locked on the sand beneath her feet, “I promised. Olvia held up her half of the bargain. I have to do the same.”

The information Olvia shared was more than anything the woman was required to give.

It was clear Vivi thought the same. Her face was pale and her shoulders shook, but there was only a speckle of regret on Vivi’s face. She understood the reasoning behind the promise and her head dipped in quiet thanks that sank like lead in Alesta’s stomach.

“She’s an assassin, Alesta. You can’t—” Ace’s stare burned as it dragged down her face, “You’re going to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to fight her, but I want to help,” finally meeting his eye, she swallowed, “Remember?”

He rocked back like she hit him before his face went empty.

“Right,” his response was curt, “I remember.”

He got up without a word a few minutes later.

When Thatch wandered over and sat down beside her, Alesta tried not to focus on the sudden chill against her right side. He didn't try and force her to speak. Instead, he looped an arm over her shoulder and whispered a quick promise that Ace would be okay.

Alesta appreciated the effort even if she wasn't sure she believed him. Meanwhile, the rest of the Straw Hats were quiet as they spoke amongst each other. Nami looked her way a few times but didn’t press. Only when Olvia faded back to her original ghost form and Thatch followed did Alesta crawl back into the tent.

Alesta pulled the edges of her coat tight around her chest.

It was cold inside without Ace’s body heat.

Her flesh prickled with goosebumps as she lay down and tried to fall asleep. The exhaustion she’d been fighting off for the last few hours surged with a vengeance, but there was a tightness to her throat that made it difficult to get comfortable. The silence of the tent was stifling without Ace’s quiet breathing.

No matter how many times she tossed and turned atop the hard ground, sleep wouldn’t come.

She was about to give up and get up when the flap of the tent opened.

Moonlight caught the curve of Ace’s bare back as he crawled into the tent, flooding the tiny space with warmth. Huddled up in half a ball, Alesta froze when his eyes scanned over the dark area before landing on her figure. She didn’t breathe for several seconds. A tired sigh crept out of Ace’s throat as he moved deeper into the tent, pausing only long enough to shut the flap behind him.

“I know you’re awake,” Ace’s usual teasing tone was edged with somberness. He didn’t push for a response as he crawled to the open spot beside her. Alesta felt something fall over her shoulders before he said, “Come here. It’s freezing.”

She didn’t move, “I’m okay."

It was the wrong answer.

Instead of waiting for her to come to him, Ace pulled her into his chest. A relieved sigh snuck out of his throat as soon as her head connected to his shoulder. It was hard to focus on the sound when his hand wrapped around her shoulders and squeezed the chilled skin on the back of her neck.

The other one slunk around her hips, yanking the bottom half of her towards him as he navigated them toward the center of the tent.

Alesta swallowed as her hands awkwardly fell on his chest, “Ace, what are you—"

“You’re infuriating, you know?” He whispered into her hair. His hand around her back toyed with the little hairs on the back of her neck, “I try to keep you out of trouble and you pull something like that.”

A sudden flood of warmth had taken home in her lower stomach and Alesta’s legs trembled. She licked her lips as she tried to speak, “I promised.”

“I don’t care,” his hand threaded through her hair and Alesta made a flustered noise when he used the grip to gently pull her head off his chest. This close, she could see the way his pupils dilated, “Listen to me, you’re not allowed to get hurt.”

She couldn’t guarantee that. Ace knew that as well as she did. There were things even he couldn’t control. She felt awful to worry him, but she’d made a promise.

One she wouldn’t break.

Trying to force air into her lungs, Alesta lied, “I won’t—”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. The air surrounding Ace went hot as he watched her mouth move. A flush of excitement settled in Alesta’s chest. It was a strange mix of anticipation and something more as his gaze grew half-lidded when she cut her sentence short.

With the dim light inside the tent, Ace’s jaw tensed.

There was no hint of his boyish charm to be found in the slim angles of his face. It faded in favor of quiet resolve, a firm press of his lips as he watched her lick her lips. That resolve flashed in his eyes as he tracked his stare down her face before his mouth went soft with the bare beginnings of a sinful smile.  

“Yeah, you won’t,” his grip flexed and her back arched unconsciously. It made her chest press dangerously close against his own, her flesh giving when his didn’t. Ace followed the movement before laughing under his breath, “We’re going to Rainbase. You get to keep your stupid promise.”

It was like a switch flipped.

His grip grew steadier, an unyielding brace against Alesta’s back. The breath puttered out of her lungs with a shaky exhale and Ace hummed in amusement. The drag of his chest caught on her skin, a feeling that bordered on molten sinking through her veins when his eyes went half-lidded.

“Ace,” Alesta managed to whisper, “You don’t need to go with me. You told Vivi—"

His resulting chuckle at her defiance made her shiver, “I already talked to the princess. She understands.”

“I’ll be okay,” she refuted softly, “You don’t have to look after me.”

“You’re wrong,” Ace warned. His tone was a low, husky sound that made her stomach roll as his hand around her waist dipped into the hollow of her back, “Don’t you get it?”

“You don’t—"

Ace’s hand snuck up the back of her head and wrapped through the loose strands of her hair. It was a soft grip, but there was no give.

Alesta couldn’t do anything but stare at him when he brought his face closer.

Ace’s mouth skimmed the curve of her jaw as he took a deep breath, “Stop talking, Alesta.”

Her teeth clicked shut as his other hand drifted. Long fingers cupped her waist, the rough imprint of his callouses digging into the soft skin of her stomach underneath her coat. He bunched the material up as he made a fist and the coat hiked over her thighs.

He didn’t leave the skin uncovered long. Hand dipping down and spreading over her side, Ace used the momentum to pull her hips to his.

She froze like a startled deer, but he didn’t push further.

Instead, Ace kept his hold on the back of her head as he whispered, “You don’t make any sense." Alesta could feel the heat of his breath against her lips as he stared at her, “I don’t know what to do with you."

Letting her hands draw over his shoulders, she tried to apologize, “I’m sorry—"

Soft lips met her own just long enough to silence her.

He didn’t linger, taking the heat of his mouth with him as he drew his lips down to her jaw. Alesta’s breath caught in her lungs as Ace’s hand flexed on the back of her head. He didn’t let go when he moved back, his fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin of her scalp as he took a calming inhale.

It tickled the skin of her neck and Alesta’s fingers trembled on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a shiver sneaked up her spine.

She could feel Ace’s lips twitch as he whispered, “We told you to quit apologizing.”

Fighting for air, Alesta gasped when the hand on her hip crawled up her body. His fingers spread wide as he gripped the curve of her waist just beneath her chest. It was hard to articulate the feelings raging in her chest when Ace let his mouth snake down her jaw and over her neck.

It burned in more ways than one.

Ace felt like the sun against her, but a cool flush skittered up her spine when his mouth teased the juncture of her throat and shoulder.

“This okay?” His question was soft, “You can tell me to fuck off—”

Alesta couldn’t manage anything more than a barely muttered gasp, “It’s okay.”

Leaning back, Ace took her face in slowly. His gaze raked over her eyes and the blush that dotted her cheeks before landing on her parted lips. Mouth quirking with the beginnings of a devilish smile, Ace’s hand tightened in her hair before he was tilting her face to his.

This time, the kiss wasn’t soft.

Ace’s lips met hers with a quiet intensity, bracketing her head with his hand as he angled his mouth against her own. Everything was too hot. Her fingers skittered over his shoulders before tangling in the hair behind his ears. Alesta could feel him grin against her lips as he pulled her against his hips.

Her mouth opened with a startled gasp at the rush of sensation.

Ace didn’t hesitate to take advantage.

His tongue swept inside her mouth and the hand on the back of her head flexed. His other hand grew more adventurous, skimming over her waist and down her back before locking around her upper thigh and pulling it over his hip.

Her thighs squeezed with an aborted groan and Ace hissed against her mouth.

The hand he had tangled in her hair tensed when she arched into the hold, chasing after the burst of pleasure the contact promised. Ace’s teeth nipped teasingly against her bottom lip before he pulled back.

“Careful,” with a soft chuckle under his breath, Ace’s hand fell to the back of her neck and squeezed, “I don’t think you’re ready to deal with an audience.”

Alesta couldn’t respond for several seconds.

Her mouth felt numb and her hand shook as she traced her wet lips. Things were still recalibrating in her mind and Ace didn’t seem keen to let her catch her breath. His fingers teased over her skin, drawing soft patterns that she couldn’t place as he watched her fight for breath.

Ace’s mouth curled into a delighted grin as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling of the tent. He didn’t remove the arm around her head, but his free hand drew up and down her upper body.

It skimmed a ticklish spot on her lower stomach and he laughed lowly when her thighs squeezed.

“Shit,” Alesta managed to whisper, “That was—”

Words wouldn’t come. Alesta was still fighting off the fire in her blood and Ace’s casual teasing wasn’t helping.

He kept his hand on her waist, drumming his fingers against her coat as her chest heaved.

When he grew tired of that, he trailed his fingers just a tad too low before repeating the pattern. It made it difficult to think and Alesta vaguely wondered if that was his intention when his fingers dipped over the sensitive hollow below her belly button.

He made an amused noise when her stomach flexed.

Curling his arm around her shoulders, Ace pulled her against his side as his eyes drifted shut in satisfaction, “Just a kiss, ghost girl.”

Placing a hand over her still-raging heart, Alesta swallowed as she listened to Ace’s soft breathing.

She wasn’t sure she’d survive more if that was just a kiss.

Chapter Text

She woke up before Ace.

Pushing herself off his shoulder, Alesta yawned. The faint glow of Arabasta’s morning sun sunk in through the crack in the tent’s door. It drew over Ace’s face and highlighted the curve of his jaw as he snored against the ground. The blanket that he’d draped over them was curled under his chin, gifting a youthful flair to his face that made Alesta’s heart thrum.

Without her conscious approval, her fingers slipped over her mouth.

Her lips still felt swollen. She swallowed as she touched the delicate flesh, a flush building up her neck when she thought about everything they’d done last night. Kissing wasn’t out of her realm of expertise, but Ace didn’t kiss like the boys in her village. He kissed with a quiet intensity.

Something that would have scared her out of her wits weeks ago.

Except, Alesta didn’t feel afraid.

She felt alive. The memory of the brief kiss made her blood boil with invigoration. She didn’t feel the rush of regret that Han’s sloppy advances wrought. Instead, she almost felt emboldened. As if she’d stuck her hand in a burning fire pit and come back unscathed. The sensation snaked through her and she couldn’t stop the smile from blooming on her cheeks as she crawled out of the tent.  

The rest of her companions were already moving when she squinted against the bright sun.

Her focus fell on the ghosts first. Olvia and Thatch were engaged in a quiet conversation near the embers of their firepit. Alesta was vaguely surprised to see Olvia. She’d assumed the ghost would have returned to her daughter after their talk, but the woman was smiling at something Thatch said.

Speaking of Thatch, he turned to her with a smirk when Alesta stretched her sore arms above her head.

“Sleeping beauty appears,” his eyes gleamed with a mischievous flair, “Guess Ace didn’t wear you out after all.”

There wasn’t accusation in his tone, just a mild warmth that made her arms break out into goosebumps. Alesta couldn’t breathe if she tried, “We didn’t—”

“I don’t need the dirty details, ghost girl,” Thatch winked and Olvia chuckled, “I’ve got plenty of time to figure those out myself.”

A flutter built in her lower stomach, not unlike the feelings Ace’s attentions had wrought out of her last night. Alesta wasn’t sure how to handle the wicked grin Thatch gifted her with when he spotted her sudden blush. He leaned forward a bit, drawing his stare from her toes to the top of her head before settling back in satisfaction.

Unable to produce a coherent sentence, she eventually settled on banally muttering, “I will hit you.”

“Promises, promises,” with a grin, Thatch perched back on his palms, “We’ll see about that.”

Alesta swallowed at the unexpected surge of excitement that nestled in her chest at his teasing drawl.

The Straw Hats watched the one-sided conversation with a variety of expressions. Nami and Vivi appeared amused whereas Luffy just looked lost. Pausing from packing up his supplies, Zoro lifted an eyebrow before turning back to his business.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Usopp shivered. He tried looking in the direction of Thatch, but when he didn’t see anything, he turned toward Alesta for comfort.

“Is that scary ghost lady still here?” Usopp rolled his shoulders in, glancing warily around the area, “That’s so creepy. We can’t even see them—"

Alesta’s anticipation petered out in favor of a sudden tide of abashment. She knew Usopp hadn’t said it in malice, but the accusation resembled Captain Jun’s spite in a manner she didn’t like to remember. She’d gotten used to speaking to the dead without considering her surroundings.

Ace didn’t seem to mind it, but it would do good to remember that she’d need to be careful in public.

Alesta didn’t have long to marinate on the thought before Sanji barked, “Shut up, idiot! Don’t be rude!”

“Yeah!” Luffy stretched across the clearing to whack his crewmate on top of his head, “The ghosts are cool!”

“I’m not!” Usopp countered, “It’s just creepy! How many people are there that we can’t see— oh my god, are they always there? Can they see me in the bathroom?!”

Sanji puffed up like an angry cactus, “No, it’s not! It’s amazing—"

“It’s fine,” Alesta cut in mildly, “I know it’s strange to come to terms with it, but not talking to them doesn’t change the fact that they’re there.” She drifted her gaze toward Usopp, “As far as I’m aware, no. I’m sure it depends on the person, but they respect boundaries.”

“Ugh,” Thatch scoffed. His lip curled as he eyed the younger pirate, “Like I’d want to see that.”

Breaking the awkward air of the conversation, Nami smirked as she said, “Don’t mind Usopp.” Zoro snickered when Usopp gawked, “He’s just a coward.”

“I’m not a coward! I’m the great Usopp, captain of thousand pirates! I’m never afraid—”

Nami rolled her eyes, “See?”

Turning her gaze back to the boy in question, Alesta blinked at the side of his face when he launched into another tail of grandeur.

For just a moment, she thought she could glimpse someone behind him.

It lasted less than a second, but it was enough. It was a slim woman with angular cheeks and a perky nose, her brown hair curling near her shoulders. A tired smile flickered over the woman’s face as her hand cupped his shoulder before she faded like she never existed.

“Yeah,” Alesta uttered faintly, “I see.”

Trading a look with the ghosts behind her, Alesta caught Olvia’s eye. Her mouth was pursed in surprise before a sudden realization overtook her slender face. There was a faint understanding in her stare and when she met Alesta’s stare, her lips quirked as she brought a finger to her mouth.

Alesta couldn’t help the way her eyes narrowed at the knowing smile.

This was the second time that Olvia had hinted at knowing something. Something more than even Alesta was aware of. Watching Olvia perch her chin on her hand, she made a mental note to speak to her when they were alone. Olvia was obviously familiar with her devil fruit in a manner that even Kanetsuyo hadn’t been.

Alesta’s focus was broken when Chopper appeared at her side. His little hooves held out a jug of water, “Here you go, Alesta.” He stared up at her with a worried frown, “Do you feel okay? You’re not sore, are you? You mentioned that it hurt yesterday.”

“I’m okay,” she smiled easily, “Thank you, Chopper.”

Alesta blinked when he snapped, “Don’t thank me, you jerk!”

She was not prepared for the little reindeer to start wiggling.

His tiny arms waved in the air as he began to dance, an adorable blush building beneath his fur. Zoro rolled his eyes when Nami began to chuckle. Alesta couldn’t do anything more than stare at the crew as the tiny reindeer continued to dance around her, squeaking something under his breath as he cupped his fuzzy cheeks.

Bringing the water to her chest, Alesta looked to Nami for guidance, “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nami grinned, “He does that.”

Thatch leaned forward behind her, a wide smirk stretching his cheeks as he declared, “Oh, we’re so getting one of those. Pops would love this.”

As she went to sit down next to Vivi, Alesta vaguely decided the Straw Hats were the strangest group of pirates she’d ever met. There wasn’t much to compare to, but she’d never considered dancing venison when she’d departed off her island.

Vivi scooted over as Alesta settled. Vivi gifted her a soft smile and Alesta felt her shoulders loosen. She’d been planning to apologize for her hand in making Ace change his mind, but Vivi didn’t seem to fault her.

“Good morning,” Vivi offered with a faint tilt of her head. Despite her smile, her eyes were concerned, “I hope everything went okay with Ace last night. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble between you two.”

Alesta startled at the sudden confession, “Uhm, yes?”

Shoulders caving in with a relieved sigh, Vivi said, “That’s good. He seemed upset when we spoke and I—”

“Oh,” waving her off, Alesta explained, “It wasn’t your fault. He was frustrated that I didn’t speak to him first.”

Perching back on her palms, Nami leaned her head toward them with an impish grin, “That’s all?”

Raising her brows into her hairline, Alesta tried to place the tone of Nami’s question.

It was layered in teasing, but without the cruelty she’d dealt with back on her island. It felt friendly. Alesta wasn’t familiar with this type of dynamic outside of Ace and Thatch. Her closest female friends back home were her coworkers and they never bothered to speak to her beyond working hours.

“You know,” Nami turned around and perched her fists under her chin, “I’ve been meaning to ask, which one of them are you sleeping with—"

Vivi gasped, “Nami!”

“What? You can’t blame me for being curious,” Nami smirked as she turned her gaze back to Alesta, “So, which one is it?”

Alesta blinked slowly, “Which one?”

Vivi sighed under her breath, trying to offer her a moment of mercy, “You don’t have to answer that, Alesta.”

“Yes, you do,” Nami smiled like the cat who caught the canary, “Is it both?”

Struck with a sudden surge of playfulness, Alesta tilted her head toward Thatch. He was watching their conversation carefully but trying to appear subtle. It made her mouth quirk.

She knew what Nami was implying. It would have been impossible not to catch her meaning, but there were benefits to being perceived as naïve.

It was hard to temper her smile as she decided to tease.

Frowning softly up at the sky, Alesta carefully answered, “Yes, we’ve all been sleeping together for most of the trip.”

Her mouth twitched in victory when Thatch choked. He slapped at his chest with a loud curse and Olvia giggled into her palm as she observed.

Unfortunately, Alesta was unprepared for her teasing to cause Sanji to keel over in a puddle of blood.

She hadn’t even been aware he was listening. She watched him whine into the sand with amused horror as the blood continued to spread. Before she knew it, he was practically drowning. Beside her, Vivi cupped her forehead when Nami began to cackle.

Sanji whimpered, “Both?”

“Sorry,” Alesta canted her head to the side with faux cluelessness, “Were you asking if we’re having sex?”

She vaguely heard Thatch curse again in the background when Nami smacked her on the arm, “Yes, you idiot!”

“Oh,” Alesta offered mildly, “Then no.”

Sanji whined into the sand as his legs twitched.

“You’re awful, ghost girl,” Thatch dragged his hand over his face with a tired groan, curling inward. His stare was a tad too hot when he drilled it into her head, “Absolutely awful.”  

Alesta would have been worried about the underlying tone in his statement if she hadn’t been so entertained by his reaction. His eyes narrowed on her smile and a rush of anticipation settled in her stomach when she spotted his mouth press thin with mischief. Ignoring Nami’s fond complaining for the moment, Alesta swallowed.  

Meanwhile, Zoro grumbled as he lifted Sanji up by the back of his shirt, “Dammit, woman. Don’t break our cook.”

“Huh?” Luffy had a finger stuffed up his nose. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched Sanji turn into a boneless pile of goo, “What are we talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it, captain,” Nami grinned with far too many teeth, “Just some girl talk.”

Luffy scowled at the abrupt wave-off, “Hey! I want to know too!”

He didn’t wait for an invitation. Stretching across the clearing, he wrapped around them like a worm. Vivi squeaked when his arms twisted over her waist and Alesta balked when all three of the girls were unceremoniously yanked together.

Behind them, Zoro sighed in defeat as he dropped Sanji on the ground. He landed with a thump. Sanji made a vague indecipherable noise before stretching his arms out to Nami. The drone of his whine was cut off by Nami’s furious cursing.

“Mind your business!” Nami whacked Luffy on the back of his head, “Idiot!”

“No! I’m the captain! You can’t keep secrets from your captain!”

Alesta couldn’t do anything more than gawk when Nami’s hands wrapped around her captain’s rubbery throat. Stuck against Vivi’s side, she heard Vivi squeal as they were jostled to the ground amidst the sudden wrestling match. There was no way to untangle herself from the pile if she wanted to try.

Luffy’s arm twisted around her back and Alesta giggled into Vivi’s shoulder when Nami screamed something defamatory at their captain.

Of course, that would be the moment the last member of their party woke up.

Staring at them with a drowsy smile, Ace tilted his head as he crawled out of the tent, “Did I miss something?”

Alesta couldn’t stop her laughter if she tried.

As all good things tend to do, the levity of the morning faded as they traveled.

Arabasta was not kind to travelers. Their supply of water was nearly nonexistent and the cutting wind scraped against her skin as Alesta pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Tensions between the group were also at an all-time high, something that bloomed after they reached Yuba and saw the destruction the sandstorms had leveled the town with.

Staying apart from the group, Alesta observed Vivi as she spoke with the man she called Toto.

Arriving at Yuba had been Vivi’s last hope of intercepting the Rebel Army before the attack on Nanohana and with the town decimated, her desolation was nearly visceral. Luffy stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder as they talked with Toto about his son, Koza, and the rebel’s plan.

Turning to Olvia, Alesta questioned the ghost, “How much longer do we have?”

“A few hours,” Olvia answered. Her eyes were locked on the weathered old man digging in the sands, “Once they begin the assault on Nanohana, the rebels will go to Alubarna. You may be able to intercept them there if your friends can defeat Crocodile in Rainbase.”  

It would be difficult to make it in time. Even with Olvia’s intelligence, it felt like they were fighting a fate that they had no ability to change. Watching her, Alesta licked her lips as she asked, “What about you? I would have assumed you’d go back to your daughter.”

“I’ll see her soon,” Olvia responded with a slow inhale, “I only hope that my words will make a difference and it isn’t too late to reach her.”

Alesta hoped so too.

The rest of their travel to Rainbase passed somberly. Vivi didn’t want to speak to anyone, content to marinate in her thoughts on Eyelash’s back. Every once in a while, Nami would try to break her out of her thoughts, but it was no use. Even Luffy’s antics didn’t get the melancholy woman to crack a smile.

The closer they got to Crocodile’s location, the more withdrawn Vivi became.

Alesta didn’t blame her. As the hours passed, she’d come to realize that she was afraid. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to. Alesta felt fear, she’d felt it multiple times during their travels, but it was always in the heat of the moment. She didn’t tend to dread the things that lay before her.

That observation was swiftly changing as they crept closer to battle.

Her promise to Olvia hung in the back of her mind. While Alesta didn’t regret it, she was wary of how easy it would be to accomplish. According to her mother, Robin didn’t venture far from Crocodile’s side inside Rainbase. The best chance Alesta would get to speak to the assassin alone would only come if she went inside the casino with Luffy.

An assumption she’d yet to share with her companions.

Hovering near the back of their group, Alesta eyed Ace as he wandered beside her.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about last night and she vaguely wondered if they’d settled everything with the quick conversation. Arms perched behind his neck, Ace watched the clouds foaming in the sky. Unlike the rest of their group, he was taking the strenuous travel well.

He hadn’t complained about thirst or exhaustion once.

Something their resident ghost didn’t share. Thatch grumbled under his breath on her other side, “You know, I never thought I’d be watching a group of rookies fight a Warlord. Talk about batshit insane.”

She’d forgone summoning either him or Olvia for the trek. It would have been nice to add them to the conversation, but she was saving her energy. Alesta didn’t know what lay ahead and if she needed to summon Thatch in the midst of battle, she needed to be careful to preserve the power raging inside her chest.  

The limitations of her devil fruit were changing, but they were still there.

“I would have thought you’d enjoy it,” Alesta combatted mildly, “You’ve been complaining about being bored recently.”

“Yeah, well,” Thatch gave her an amused look, “I can think of a lot better things to do.”

She couldn’t help but press, “Like what?”

“Well—” he trailed off with a mischievous grin, “I could cash in on that kiss you owe me. Ace stole my thunder, but Pops taught all his kids how to share.”

Her feet caught in the sand as Alesta choked. She didn’t ask how he knew what happened inside the tent, more focused on the last part of his statement. It was almost hard to believe he was saying what she thought he was.

Thatch smirked when she gawked at him, hiking his brows provocatively. Alesta debated the merits of summoning him just to curb her sudden desire to hit him.

When she patted her chest to try and force her lungs to work, Ace canted his head toward her with barely repressed curiosity, “You okay there?” His mouth twitched with the beginnings of a charming smile, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Thatch threw his head back with a cackle, “Oh, that was a good one. I’m so stealing that.”

“I’m fine,” Alesta managed to utter, “Thatch just startled me.”

Startled was not the appropriate word. Her skin buzzed like she’d grabbed a live-wire, energy thrumming beneath her flesh and making the blood inside her veins fill a bit too warm. Thatch wasn’t helping her settle either. Like Ace, he seemed to delight in flustering her beyond the normal, friendly banter the Straw Hats favored.

“Think about it, ghost girl,” with a roguish wink, Thatch teased, “I’m a cook. I know how to enjoy a good meal.”

She was not going to think about it.

They were on the way to fight a group of assassins to prevent a coup.

She was supposed to be focusing on the battle ahead. It was not an opportune time for her stomach to flutter or for heat to build beneath her breasts. Scrubbing a hand down her face, Alesta vaguely wondered if the excitement of battle got all pirates so riled up or if it was simply a flavor of Thatch’s personality uniquely his own.

“Please,” Alesta cupped her burning cheeks with a flustered sigh, “Stop talking.”

Watching her blush, Ace’s mouth ticked up. He couldn’t hear Thatch’s low chuckles in the background, but Alesta got the sense he knew enough about his brother to piece together their conversation. She peeked at him behind her hand and promptly swallowed.

It was hard to meet his eye when he looked at her like that, the expression similar to the heated stare he’d drawn over her skin last night in the tent.

Ace’s shoulder clipped her own as he walked beside her, “You sure you’re okay? Most people would be freaking out by now.”

He glanced knowingly toward Usopp at the comment. Between complaining of thirst and avoiding Luffy’s delusional clinging, the sharpshooter was stuck in a constant loop of fearful mutterings about their upcoming battle. He had a very vivid imagination.

Alesta never heard a man describe such creative methods of avoiding murder.

Thatch’s laughter trailed off at the serious undertone of Ace’s question and Alesta swallowed. It would have been easy to lie, but she settled for truth, “I’m scared, but I’m okay. It’ll be over soon.”

At least, she hoped so.

Her part in this adventure was minimal. The only thing she had to do was find Robin and reunite her with Olvia. It was the portion that came after that had her concerned. Alesta wasn’t certain how her influence would change the tide of the battle. If Robin was as lost as Olvia claimed, the reintroduction to her mother might cause her to lash out.

“That’s good. You should be scared. I’d be worried if you weren’t,” mouth dipping solemnly, Ace’s hand skimmed her own before he caught the movement and used it to straighten his hat, “I still think this isn’t something you should have gotten involved in. It’s not our fight.”

It seemed he wasn’t over her volunteering to help Olvia. While Ace might have given in to her promise, there was no hiding the sudden concern that dotted his brow. His gaze went far away as he scanned the sand surrounding them. Beside her other side, Thatch hovered close. His smile was gone now, replaced with a worry that rivaled Ace’s own.

“We’re helping, though,” Alesta refuted, “That’s worth something.”

Watching her from the corner of his eye, Ace chuckled bitterly under his breath, “That again. If I’d known you’d take me so seriously, I would have kept my mouth shut.” He shook his head when she caught his stare, “Pirates don’t help people, ghost girl. We’re criminals.”

She didn’t comment on the label. Instead, she drifted close enough to his side to poke him with her elbow, “I don’t think that’s true.”

Alesta wasn’t sure what emotion appeared on Ace’s face when he said, “You don’t?”

“No,” Alesta swallowed. She steadfastly refused to meet his eye as she admitted, “If it was, you never would have helped me off the marine ship.”

For a second, she’d worried she’d stepped too far. Ace went stiff beside her. It almost looked like he had to remember to keep walking as his mouth pinched. He didn’t say anything for several minutes, but he didn’t move away.

Alesta counted his continued presence as a victory no matter how vague it may be.

She’d learned through the week that if Ace didn’t want to hear something, he simply wouldn’t.

“You tell him, ghost girl,” Thatch grinned. It made her throat feel a bit too tight, the fondness of the expression more than she could handle, “Maybe you’ll finally beat the stupid out of his thick skull.”

She went to reply to him, but Ace’s arm looping around her shoulders cut her off. She blinked at his chin when he snorted under his breath, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. What was it you said?” He smirked at her when she tilted her head, “Selfish, right? That’s what I was.”

Having her words thrown back in her face wasn’t pleasant. Ace’s frustration with her continued desire to help began to make sense when confronted with the same stubbornness.

Alesta hiked a slow brow, “You were selfish for taking me off their ship?”

“Yup,” Ace clicked his teeth and his eyes flashed under the afternoon sun, “I found a pretty girl and I kept her. Nothing selfless about that.”

He lobbied the comment out so blandly that it almost didn’t register as a compliment. Staring at the side of his jaw, Alesta nearly gawked when his cheeks dimpled with the force of his grin, “You didn’t keep me. I asked to come—”

“Who said I was going to let you stay behind?” Ace laughed when she jabbed her elbow into his side, “I’m a pirate, Alesta. We’re thieves, we steal things.”

She was positive he was joking, but it was hard to tell. Ace had a very effective poker face. His brows hiked up his forehead as he met her flustered stare, something challenging growing behind the easy focus.  

“You sure as hell do,” Thatch scoffed but Alesta could see the way his cheeks curved in with a smirk, “First he steals my kiss and now he’s stealing my lines.”

Even with Thatch being incorporeal, it was a bit stifling to be between them. It took her back to their first night in Arabasta when they laid under the stars and fell asleep together. She’d been joking with Nami earlier this morning, but Alesta had the sudden urge to travel back in time and bite her tongue.

She should have learned by now to never tempt the hand of fate.

Alesta was saved from having to reply when Luffy screamed.

“We’re here!” He sprinted toward the town without a glance back, “Water!”

Rainbase was an enormous city filled to the brim with bright lights and loud people.

It caused a headache to bloom behind Alesta’s eyes as she followed the group into the town. Everywhere she looked, there was something new to be seen. Neon lights flickered under the afternoon sun and the sharp stench of something herbal clung to the air. Hovering behind Ace, Alesta pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as Luffy and Usopp ran off to find water.

The rest of their group spread out under the shady grove of a nearby tree. Pulling her cloak off her head, Vivi settled onto the ground next to Chopper with a wary glance at their surroundings, “Crocodile should be here. He owns the casino in town, Rain Dinners.”

Everything felt much more real with the facts laid open before them. Leaning against the fence separating the tree from the rest of the town center, Alesta let her hand draw over her chest to try and settle her sudden flare of nerves. Ace caught the movement and his mouth pinched downward before he drew his stare over the town.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Sanji peered at the building in question, “What’s the plan, princess?”

“I’m not sure,” Vivi trailed off carefully, trading a look with Nami.

“Luffy will want to go straight in,” with a fond smirk, Zoro perched on the ground next to Eyelash. His swords clattered against each other as he got comfortable, “It’s as good a plan as anything. We might as well take them by surprise.”

Ace tilted his head to the side as he considered the idea. It made his hat slip over his eyes, “We should know what we’re walking into first. Crocodile could have a trap waiting for us.”

It was times like this when she fully noticed the difference between the two groups' experience. Ace wasn’t what she’d call levelheaded, yet he still understood enough to be cautious. She tilted her head as she observed him, vaguely wondering if the sudden surge of rationalization was for her.

Alesta was nearly certain it was.

As much as he worried about the incoming fight, she spotted the energetic thrum hiding beneath his skin. He reminded her of a spark waiting to erupt. It made Alesta swallow. She didn’t like the fact that he had to temper that part of his personality for her benefit.

Leaning forward, Alesta turned to Thatch. He’d been quiet since they’d arrived, but when he caught her eye, he grinned knowingly, “Want me to do some recon?”

“Yes, please,” Alesta trailed off, “If you’re okay with it?”                                

He waved her off with a smirk, “Don’t worry about it. Beats sitting on my ass.”

Alesta sat back at the easy agreement. It made something strange settle in her stomach, a brief flair of appreciation for his straightforward trust. Giving Thatch a thankful grin, she watched his familiar glow fade into the crowd before turning back to her companions.

Ace had a knowing quirk to his mouth, contradicting the raised eyebrow Zoro gifted her with.

“Thatch is going ahead,” Alesta explained carefully, “He’ll come back and let us know if he found anything.”

The way the Straw Hats blinked at her was the final nail in the coffin on her assumptions about their inability to plan. She’d already gathered as much through their travel together, but Alesta hadn’t realized just how heavily they tended to rely on dealing with things as they come.

Or as Thatch would call it, the fuck around and find out method.

Leaning back on her hands, Nami gave her a considering look, “Can we keep you?”  

Alesta blinked in surprise when Ace replied for her. He grinned with a flash of sharp teeth, “Sorry, we already called dibs.”

“How much would it cost to change your mind?” Nami countered. Her eyes narrowed in challenge, but there was an amused flair to the press of her lips, “We can pay it.”

Alesta wasn’t the only one startled by the sudden offer. Zoro groaned under his breath and Vivi giggled into her palm when Ace hiked an incredulous eyebrow, “What?”

“Fifty thousand beri? I won’t go any higher than twenty five percent.”

“No—"

The rest of their conversation was lost to her when Nami began to throw out terms Alesta hadn’t heard before. Things like interest rates, surcharge fees, and loaning agreements. Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, Ace stared down at Nami with a slightly terrified gawk. It made Alesta chuckle when he turned to her for help, but she waved him off.  

Instead, Alesta trailed her stare to the sky.

Her observation of the cloudy horizon was broken by the familiar glow of a ghost at her side. Tilting her head to the left, Alesta blinked at Olvia. The ghost had been silent for the last portion of their trip, but she wasn’t surprised she’d sought her out now.

They were close to her daughter.

It had her feeling noticeably on edge, at least as much as Olvia would allow the expression to show. Olvia met her questioning stare with a gentle tilt of her head, “I wanted to thank you again. You didn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Alesta whispered. Her gaze drew over the surrounding people before determining that they were far enough away not to catch her voice, “You helped us too.”

Olvia’s mouth pressed into a line as her shoulders dipped. Alesta wasn’t certain what the expression lining her face meant, but it made her tongue stick to the back of her teeth. Olvia looked older than she truly was, worn down and exhausted from years of worrying about her daughter.

Feeling a sudden wash of sympathy, Alesta licked her chapped lips.

“I hope everything works out,” she said honestly, “You deserve it.”

She was not prepared for Olvia’s bitter chuckle, “I don’t. I was never a proper mother to Robin, but—” her gaze drew far away, “But I’d like to change that if I can. She deserves more than this.”

A moment of silence passed between them as the sound of the rest of their group's banter picked up. Alesta glanced their way and tried to swallow her smile when she saw Nami pulling out a coin purse from her bra. Ace stared at her in horror as she began to count out coins.

At his side, Sanji sucked on the end of his cigarette as he cooed about how smart she was.  

“Your devil fruit,” Olvia broke the silence and Alesta tilted her head back toward the ghost, “How familiar are you with its powers?”

That was a topic she hadn’t expected to bridge. With a slightly startled blink, Alesta took in the ghost. Olvia was watching their group, but her focus was on her. It made the hair on the back of Alesta’s neck stand on end.

“Not as familiar as you,” she replied carefully, “I wanted to ask, how did you know about the second form?”

Olvia smiled. It was a sophisticated expression, ladened with knowing, “I’ve been dead for over twenty years and I spent the majority of my living life as a scholar. I’ll continue to learn as long as I can. As much as I try to look after my daughter, I don’t spend all my time with her.”

Alesta couldn’t stop her curiosity if she tried. It was a damning need that ate away at any fears of being impolite. Turning away from her companions, she faced the ghost head on and questioned, “You don’t? Then how do you find your way back?”

“There is no such thing as distance for the dead,” Olvia trailed off in consideration, “You can wander as far as you wish, but we have to be careful. It’s difficult to find a way back to where you started without an anchor.”

Alesta’s focus went sharp at the information, “An anchor? Or a tether?”

“You know more than you let on,” Olvia smiled with vague bemusement, “But yes, I suppose you could call it a tether. I take it you’ve discovered that portion of your devil fruit?”

“Only recently,” Alesta hesitated, “Does that mean— does that mean I can call out to ghosts even if they aren’t with me?”

Her mind drifted to Kanetsuyo.

Unlike Geta, their tether hadn’t been severed at his sudden disappearance. Alesta let her hand draw toward her chest, nails sinking into the skin as the first bubble of hope nestled in her stomach. Thatch and Ace were more than wonderful, but Kanetsuyo had saved her at her lowest point.

He’d been her first real friend. Someone she’d met outside of the confines of her island and who cared for her despite the fact she knew nothing about the world.

If there was a way to bring him back, she’d do it.

“If you’re tethered to them, yes,” Olvia looked at her, caution lining her shoulders, “It’s not easy. The further the distance, the higher the cost. You need to make sure you’re strong enough to handle the price before you try it.”

She meant the pain. Alesta’s mouth curled in thought as she considered the sacrifice. Yes, using her power had the potential to hurt, but the pain was temporary.

Each time it happened, it faded quicker than the time before it. It might not even be an issue if she practiced enough with Thatch. She didn’t put a voice to the silent determination settling in her gut, moving on to her next question instead.

“And what about this morning? The woman? Why didn’t she stay?”

“You explained it well. There are natural boundaries between the dead and the living,” Olvia clarified, “It’s something we have to be mindful of. Humans have powerful emotions. Too much of it can serve as a block from allowing us to stay.”

That made more sense than Alesta was keen to examine. Judging from the appearance of the ghost this morning, it was likely Usopp’s mother. They had similar facial features. She just didn’t know what the reasoning was behind her inability to stay. Was Usopp too afraid or was it something more?

She didn’t have a chance to ask her follow up question.

Luffy and Usopp sprinted toward them, barrels of water clutched to their chest as they shouted in tandem, “Marines!”

Alesta didn’t recognize the two people following them beyond the captain’s coat draped over the man’s shoulders. A cigar hung out of his mouth as he clutched a long staff, the two-pronged end glinting in the sun as he sprinted after Luffy. The woman at his side hesitated just long enough to call the rest of her squad to her before she followed her captain’s stride.

“Go, go, go!” Luffy screamed as he ran past them, “Smokey’s here!”

With a curse, Alesta spun to the rest of her companions. Zoro snatched his swords up and yanked Vivi to her feet. Nami and Sanji were already running. She didn’t see Ace, but she didn’t have to wonder about his sudden disappearance for long.

His arm wrapped around his waist and Alesta gawked when he easily pulled her up and began to run.

“Stick by me,” Ace warned when she stumbled into a dash next to him. His eyes glinted under the sun as he grinned, “You’ve got a bounty now, ghost girl. Can’t let you get caught.”

She hissed as they blended into the crowd, “What about Thatch?”

Vivi and Zoro were just ahead of them, but Alesta had lost track of the rest of their group. They’d all split apart at the town’s intersection. Nami, Usopp, and Sanji took to the alleyway while Luffy sprinted straight. The clatter of the marines echoed behind her and Alesta forced her legs to move faster, trying to keep pace with Ace’s easy speed as they followed the bright splash of color Zoro’s hair provided.

“He’ll find us,” Ace promised as he grabbed her arm, tugging her past a group of civilians, “He knows where we’re going.”

Despite the comfort, Alesta was struggling. Her calves ached. The impact of her sandaled feet against the hard ground hammered against her ankles, making her teeth click as they ran. This was one aspect of training she hadn’t had a chance to work on with Thatch.

Dodging through the civilian market area, Alesta used her free hand to push a barrel out of their way. It rolled over into the middle of the street with a clatter and a marine behind them cursed.

The sound was closer than she’d like to acknowledge, and if the way Ace’s mouth pinched, he realized the same.

He let go of her with a gentle push, “Go with Zoro! I’ll take care of this!”

Alesta didn’t waste time watching him attack. The sudden heat at her back and the scream of civilians fleeing the marketplace told her all she needed to know. Zoro wasn’t far ahead of her and Alesta spotted the blue trail of Vivi’s ponytail as she managed to catch up to them.

Pausing just long enough to look at her, Zoro trailed his stare to the path behind them and chuckled. “That’s a hell of a devil fruit,” his grin was highlighted by the bright burn of Ace’s flames, “Glad he’s on our side.”

“It’s nice as long as you’re out of the way,” Alesta managed to gasp as she fell into stride next to Vivi, “Being burnt isn’t pleasant.”

Zoro smirked, “You speaking from experience?”

“Yes,” she panted, “Unfortunately.”

She didn’t elaborate. The time for small talk was over. While Ace handled the majority of the marines following them, there were more in the city.

Cutting through a group of people ahead of them, Alesta grabbed Vivi’s hand as they dodged through the crowd. It was difficult to reach a steady pace with the constant obstacles. They just made it past the crux of the crowd when a group of men cut off their path.

Vivi cursed as she skid to a stop, “It’s the Billions!”

“These guys again,” Zoro sneered as his hands fell on the hilts of his swords, “Don’t they know when to give up?”

One of the men, an older fellow with a goatee and two swords, laughed as he stepped toward Vivi. He unsheathed his sword with a manic grin, “Looks like we found the princess. Think the boss will promote me if I bring in her head?”

He swung without waiting for an answer.

The clang of metal catching metal thrummed through the air as Zoro met his attack. Zoro pushed against the man’s sword, whipping his own through the air and taking him down when the man stumbled.

Speaking around the sword clamped between his teeth, Zoro yelled at Vivi, “Go! I’ll meet you at the casino!”

Snatching a hold of Vivi’s coat, Alesta nodded as they ducked back the way they came. They skewed down the first alleyway they came across. Letting Vivi take the lead, Alesta wrangled her hammer out of her back pocket as they jumped over a smattering of small crates blocking the alley’s exit.

The sudden surge of sunlight made Alesta squint, Vivi’s hand wrapped around her forearm the only thing keeping her steady as they plowed through another group of civilians.

Olvia’s voice rang out over the air, “Get down!”

Using Vivi’s hold on her arm, Alesta yanked them both to the ground. A quick spray of bullets burst against the wall behind them, flakes of broken brick falling over their heads and they dropped to their knees.

She didn’t have time to thank the ghost.

Another burst of gunfire ate at their heels and Alesta cursed. The people around them screamed as Alesta jerked Vivi to her feet, barely managing to duck when a sword went for her head at her moment of distraction.

“Look out!” Vivi shouted. The whirl of something sharp sang through the air as Vivi used her weapon to take out the man with the sword, “We’re surrounded!”

Gritting her teeth, Alesta pushed herself against Vivi’s back and eyed the crowd around them.

Vivi wasn’t wrong. Alesta brought her hammer to her chest and flexed her fingers against the worn twine of the handle. Everywhere she looked, she met the menacing stare of several Baroque Agents. There were too many to count.

A flash of gold metal caught in her periphery as Vivi struck down one of the closest assailants and Alesta lurched forward when the man in front of her raised his rifle. Her hammer met the soft underbelly of his jaw with an echoing crack.

Alesta swore when the man next to him swiped at her, “Shit—”

The silver glint of his dagger caught in the sun as Alesta jumped out of the way. The sharp point of his knife stuck on her coat, snagging at the material and making the man scowl as his balance went wide. She didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the distraction.

Smashing her hammer down, it met the top of his skull with a sickening pop.

Blood exploded into the air and smattered against her cheek. He dropped and didn’t get up. The skin covering his frontal lobe was cracked clean open and the white sheen of smashed bone gleamed under the flow of body fluid cascading into his eyes.

Alesta didn’t have time to gag before another agent took his place.

The woman’s sword whistled through the space between them and Alesta wasn’t quick enough to dodge the full blow. It sliced against her cheek as she jerked her body to the right— the unexpected bite of pain making her jaw clench as she dropped to her knees to avoid the second blow. The sword crashed into the ground next to her leg and sent a puff of sand exploding into the air at the force of the downswing.

The female agent sneered, “Stay still, bitch!”

Before the woman could lift her weapon, Alesta rolled out of the way and slammed her hammer against the weak bones of her wrist.

The joint caved in and the woman screamed.

Behind her, Vivi’s metal whip swiped through the air. It swung over Alesta’s head like a lasso, snagging the skin of the Baroque Agents closing in on them and ripping open their flesh. Alesta used the interruption to lunge forward and swing her hammer against the knees of the man in front of her.

The clang of metal against bone made her arm rattle. He shouted and Vivi used the chance to finish him off with another quick swish of her weapon.

Vivi panted above her, “We need to go—”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

The backend of a rifle met Vivi’s temple and she dropped. Alesta lurched over her body, trying to block Vivi from the man as he lifted the rifle again. Alesta yelped as he brought it down on her instead.

It smashed against her sternum with a thwack. Her breath rushed out of her lungs as she coughed, the sudden agony making her arms give as she dropped atop Vivi’s back.

The man smirked, “It’s over, princess. You’re not going anywhere—”

His head rolled back as a bullet hit him in the middle of his temple.

Alesta didn’t have time to see him drop before the sound of gunfire echoed all around her. It was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. Dropping her body into the dirt, she covered her head as the agents surrounding them dropped like flies. Fear sank through her veins, but she didn’t dare move.

Despite the sudden assault, the bullets never strayed near them.

Only when the last agent fell did Alesta raise her head.  

A sudden shadow overtook them, cascading both women in darkness as a large bird swoped down from the sky.

Vivi gasped, her voice lurching like she wanted to sob, “Pell!”

The bird landed in front of them without a sound. Alesta wasn’t sure she was seeing things clearly when his feathers morphed into arms and legs. It wasn’t something she was prepared to appreciate in her current state.

Alesta decided she’d freak out about the strange transformation later.

Crawling off of Vivi, she rubbed at her eyes as a man with purple eyeliner and a white cloak held a hand to Vivi in support. Alesta didn’t recognize him, but judging from Vivi’s sudden surge into his arms, she was more than familiar with the man before her.

“It’s good to see you, princess,” Pell’s hand fell on her back. His voice had a hint of an accent Alesta couldn’t place, “We got your message from Karoo.”

Vivi’s relieved smile made Alesta’s teeth ache, “He’s okay?”

The rest of their reunion went through one ear and out the other as Alesta settled back into the sand. It was hard to get air into her straining lungs. Adrenaline still surged through her veins and her arms were shaking from the strain of their fight.

That’d been far too close.

Her trembling hand skimmed the broken skin of her cheek, wincing when she realized the wound was deeper than she’d initially noticed. Her fingers came back soaked in blood and Alesta tried to wipe it off amongst the sand surrounding them. Exhausted, she let her eyes travel around the area.

There were nearly fifteen bodies surrounding them. Bullets smattered the sand beneath them and Alesta tried to settle her raging heart. It wasn’t possible until she tore her gaze away from the massacre and focused on the buildings beyond them.

She finally spotted Olvia for the first time since their battle began. It was hard to miss the haze of her glow against the sun-bleached brick. The ghost hovered near the wall, her blue eyes trained on the shadows of the buildings surrounding them.

“Alesta,” Olvia’s voice wavered in warning, “Robin’s here.”

Alesta went still, “Where?”

Olvia shook her head, stare creeping over the area as she tried to locate her daughter. There were too many shadows for the woman to hide in. Alesta swallowed as trepidation clawed up her spine. She’d known she’d be seeing Robin sometime today, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Nor had she expected to be alone for the encounter.  

“Did you say something?” Vivi turned to her, tension creeping over her shoulders when she spotted Alesta’s sudden wariness, “What’s wrong?”

“Ms. All Sunday’s here,” Alesta turned to Pell and warned, “You need to get her out of here—"

This may be her promise, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think it would go smoothly. There were too many variables at play. One conversation with her mother might not be enough to sway Robin into mercy and if that happened, Vivi needed to get away.

Crocodile wasn’t after Alesta, he was after her.

Vivi shook her head frantically, “Not without you!”

Unlike Vivi, Pell didn’t hesitate. Alesta appreciated his pragmatism. She was too tired to argue and things were escalating to a degree that didn’t allow them time. Tugging Vivi against his back, Pell spread his arms wide as feathers burst over his flesh.

Pell’s knees dipped as he got ready to jump into the sky.

He barely spread his wings before slim arms burst over his body and wrenched his neck back. Two of the appendages locked around his wings and squeezed hard enough to make the man scream before he toppled over.

Vivi shrieked, “Pell!”

The methodical sound of slow clapping crept through the air as Robin stepped out of the shadows, “You almost escaped. Well done, princess.”

The cloying taste of wine flooded Alesta’s mouth.

Olvia went still as she watched her daughter step around the fallen bodies of the Baroque Agents. Robin’s blue stare was hidden by the shadow of her hat, but the smile that cut through her cheeks made Alesta’s hackles rise in forewarning. There was a self-assuredness to her that Alesta knew wasn’t without reason.

While Alesta wanted to help Olvia’s daughter, she preferred to do so without injury.

Behind them, Pell grunted before he went silent and Vivi screamed, “What did you do!?”

Alesta didn’t have time to move before Vivi launched herself at the assassin.

“Vivi!” Alesta warned, “Don’t—”

Robin didn’t flinch when Vivi’s weapon shot past her cheek. As fast as a viper, she snatched Vivi and pulled her forward by the front of her coat. She didn’t hesitate to strike. Robin shoved her fist into the delicate skin above her kidney and Vivi choked. 

Spit flew out of Vivi’s mouth as she collapsed in the hold.

Her weapon slipped out of her fingers and landed against the ground with a muted ting.

Alesta moved without thinking. The promise would have to wait. Luffy would never forgive her if she allowed Vivi to get hurt. Fingers fumbling in the sand, Alesta went for her hammer.

It was no use.

She wasn’t fast enough. Arms sprouted from her back and down her arms, wrapping over her wrists and yanking. The world tilted as her balance faltered. The back of her skull clacked against the unforgiving earth as she dropped to the ground, not even given time to wince before another hand clasped over her mouth.

Above her, Robin smiled as the hand over her mouth tightened incrementally in warning. 

“This is a surprise,” her eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “I wasn’t aware Ms. Wednesday had more friends.”  

Vivi coughed against the woman’s hold. Her blue eyes squinted in exhaustion as her arm trembled, trying and failing to push herself away, “Let us go—”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, princess,” Robin offered mildly, “We’re expecting you at the mansion. If you care for your friends, I suggest you come quietly. They’re waiting for you.”

Robin finished the threat with a delicate twist of graceful fingers.

The pain the motion wrought was anything but gentle.

Alesta screamed under the woman’s hand as the arms holding her down twisted. Her arms were warped behind her back, further down than possible. The stretch tore at her skin as her body contorted in wild panic.

There was no give. Alesta’s muscles seared with a wrenching burn from the abuse, the bones in her wrist cracking as Robin’s devil fruit held her hostage. Her pained shriek was cut off as another hand materialized over her chest and wrapped around her throat.

Vivi shrieked, “Leave her alone!”

Alesta’s back arched in a brutal flare of agony as Robin tsked, “Really, princess. Where are your manners?”  

Panting against the arms holding her down, Alesta squinted against the hot tears leaking out of her eyes. She’d never felt so trapped in her life. It was hard to get air into her lungs and a wild panic crested over her shoulders as she flailed against the unyielding hold. Throwing her head to the side, she took a deep breath when she managed to dislodge the hand holding her mouth shut.

Her gaze fell on Olvia, panicked tears still dripping down her cheeks. Olvia met her stare with a grimace, her throat bobbing as she somberly said, “Do it, Alesta.”

It was all she needed to say.

“Olvia, help!” Alesta’s cry puttered out as the air was forced from her lungs when Robin’s arm squeezed her trachea until it burned, “Help—”

It was foolish to do this now. This wasn’t the way she wanted to do this, but Alesta couldn’t stop the suffocating push of energy that screamed to be freed. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was nothing for her to do.

Her body hurt and that was enough.

She let the power out.

It wasn’t a gradual transition. One second Olvia hadn’t been there and the next, she was less than three feet away from her daughter. Robin dropped Vivi like a sack of sand. Viv’s knees met the unforgiving earth and she gasped, crawling away from Robin and toward Pell.

Alesta flinched when the arm around her throat squeezed.

Robin’s voice lurched as she threw her gaze toward her, “What is this? What did you do?”

It was hard to speak with the arms holding her down, but Alesta managed. If she wasn’t careful, this would be the last thing she did. She still remembered Ace’s crewmates' disbelief at the sound of Thatch’s voice. Robin wasn’t nearly stable enough to handle the sudden return of her mother without a decent explanation.

“Devil fruit,” Alesta hissed between her teeth, “Bōrei Bōrei no Mi—”

“It’s not possible,” Robin whispered before her voice tapered off with grief, “She’s not real.”

This wasn’t like the reunion between Ace and Thatch.

This was cruel. Robin’s anguish sunk into the air as she dropped down to her knees. Alesta didn’t think she meant to do that, not with an audience, but it was as if she couldn’t control herself. Her blue eyes flicked over the form of Olvia in terror and a wobbly hand came to cup her mouth.

“Robin, my sweet girl. Look at me,” Oliva smiled sadly and Robin trembled, “How about you let her go?”

Robin’s hand shook as Olvia took a careful step toward her. The devil fruit holding Alesta down abruptly vanished and she coughed, bringing a hand to her stinging throat as she watched the reunion carefully.

Regret ate at her resolve like a disease when Alesta spotted Robin’s tears.

It was all too much for her. An anguished noise caught in Robin’s throat as Olvia held her hand out to her before she slapped it away with a tearful hiss, “You’re not real.”

“I am, my sweet girl,” Olvia began to cry. Slow tears dripped down her cheeks as she kneeled in front of her daughter, “I am.”

Robin started to sob, but she didn’t stop her mother from pulling her head into her chest. Black hair cascaded down her shoulders as her hat was knocked loose and Alesta had to look away. It felt wrong to observe their reunion knowing that this wasn’t the way it should have been.

They should have been allowed their privacy.

A moment to meet alone without fear of prying eyes, but Alesta was selfish. She didn’t want to hurt and she’d used Olvia to save herself. She’d kept her promise, but it felt wrong.

She’d broken her promise. This—

This wasn’t helping.

“I know this isn’t what you want, Robin,” Olvia’s hand dragged carefully through her daughter’s hair, “You know this isn’t right. Crocodile isn’t a good man.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Robin pushed herself out of her mother’s hold, shaking her head nearly frantically as she spat, “You’re wrong!”

“You know I’m now, my sweet girl,” Olvia whispered. The taste of wine built on the back of Alesta’s tongue when Olvia gently cupped her daughter’s face and tried to hold her still, “The world isn’t kind, but you’ll find your home.”

“You’re wrong,” Robin sneered, but she didn’t stop her hand from latching onto her mother’s wrist with a sob, “You’re wrong—”

“I’m not, sweetheart,” wiping at her nose, Olvia tilted her forehead until it met Robin’s, “I love you and I know you. You’re my daughter. You’ll find your home.”

Something in the statement finally registered. The fight went out of Robin’s shoulders and she collapsed into the hold. Her cries echoed over the empty area and Robin’s arms latched around her mother, trembling as they pulled the older woman into her chest.

The pressure in Alesta’s chest sang like a broken bell, thumping and trilling with a beat she couldn’t name. Salt built on her tongue when Robin cried and Alesta tilted her head to the side to avoid eavesdropping.

This wasn’t her place.

Bracketing her arms against the hot earth, Alesta struggled to her knees. Her eyes were blurry with unshed tears as she took a shaky breath. It was hard to see, hard to breathe. The muscles in her shoulders ached and it was hard to focus on anything other than the way her body screamed from the abuse.

Alesta coughed, spitting on the ground as she wiped at her burning eyes.

Scuttling over the sand, Vivi’s trembling hand latched onto her arm, “We need to go.”

“I know,” Alesta whispered, trying to smother the faint tang of grief hanging in the air, “I know—”

She cast one last look at Olvia and Robin before climbing unsteadily to her feet. Her knees almost caved in when she stood up, but Vivi grabbed her before she could fall. Vivi looped her arm around her shoulder as they tried to walk. Vivi’s eyes drifted toward Pell before she swallowed, hiding the surge of pain she felt at leaving her friend behind.

Alesta could agree.

Everything had gone wrong.

Limping against Vivi’s side, Alesta winced as her body screamed against the pain of moving so soon after her assault. Robin’s devil fruit was brutal in its efficiency. She felt like she’d been wrung through a grater, twisted and molded until her body couldn’t stand on its own.

Vivi kept a firm hold on her as they hurried away from the reunion. Her soft pants of exertion crept into Alesta’s ears and had her eyes drifting shut with exhaustion. She was so tired.

They made it about fifty feet before a bang echoed between the buildings.

Alesta didn’t understand why Vivi began to scream.

Then she felt it. It was nothing more than a pinprick of sensation followed by a sudden flood of numbness. Alesta blinked down at her suddenly useless arm. She was bleeding. Sticky, molten liquid seeped from just beneath her shoulder. Alesta stumbled in surprise when she realized she’d been shot.

The pain didn’t register until she touched it. She drew her hand over the wound and eyed the blood coating her fingers with unsettling separation, “Shit.”

Ace and Thatch were going to fuss.

“Alesta!” Vivi’s voice was muted by the ringing in her ears, “Are you okay—”

“Hit the princess, you idiot!”

Cupping her shoulder and trying to ignore the way blood crept between her fingers, Alesta finally saw the source of her injury. Pell hadn’t taken out all of the agents. A new flood of them stood in their path forward. Four of them spread out across the street, swords and guns at the ready.

The one who’d shot her, a skinny man with a piggish nose, reloaded his rifle with a gap-toothed grin before aiming it at Vivi’s head.

He didn’t get to click the trigger.

“Tres Fleur!”

Nanohana was on fire.

Everywhere Marco looked he found chaos. His back went straight as he walked through the screaming civilians and he found his fist clenching against his sides. He’d arrived too late to do anything, not that he was aware of what happened in the first place. The sight before him didn’t make sense.

The remnants of a burning ship laid in the middle of the town and thick tendrils of smoke crept into the sky.

A man rushed past him with a bucket of sea water. It splashed against Marco’s arm as the man sprinted toward a burning building and threw it into the flames. The water didn’t make a difference. They couldn’t put out the fire. It burned all around them with the power of a storm. Stepping further into the madness, Marco caught the scream of someone trapped and he moved without thinking.

Pops raised his sons to help where they could.

This wasn’t their territory, but he’d never fault Marco for stepping in.  

Feeling the familiar burst of flames cascade down his shoulders, Marco shouldered his way between the floundering civilians. The fire eating at the building didn’t burn his skin as he grabbed the log blocking the door and hefted it over his shoulder. It landed behind him with a clatter and the men who’d been trying to tame the flames stepped back in awe.

Marco didn’t pay them any mind. The burnt face of a woman met his in the doorframe, a baby swaddled in her arms as she stumbled out of the building with a dry, choking wheeze.

“Here,” he reached out, letting his Phoenix flames burn down his arm, “I can help. I’m a doctor, yoi.”

It said something about the destruction that the woman didn’t fight him. She collapsed into his arms with a sob, trembling as the healing power of his flames drew over her skin. The baby in her arms cried before trailing off with a sleepy whine and Marco felt his chest go tight.

Strength failing her, the woman fainted in his arms and he gently laid her against the ground.

“You—” one of the men whispered behind him, “Are you Marco the Phoenix?”

He tilted his head over his shoulder, “I am, yoi.”

“Please help us,” the man dropped to his knees and Marco saw what he’d originally missed. The beaten face of a kid no older than eight made something dark and loathing crawl up his throat. “We don’t know what happened.”

Marco didn’t ask. It was a kid. There was no one in this world that deserved to be taken care of more than them. Carefully opening his arms, he took the boy from the man and let his flames draw over his skin. The kid cried, grey trails of water and soot creeping down his cheeks.

Marco’s stomach rolled when the kid collapsed from exhaustion right in his arms.

Outrage poured over the crowd and Marco narrowed his eyes as he scanned the civilians. The men around him were holding weapons and their faces were set with determination. The kind that clung to the air and invigorated a crowd with its ferocity. He hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy trying to understand what he’d arrived in, but it was clear now. It was the thrum of revolution.

He’d just found himself in the middle of Arabasta’s coup.

Chapter Text

Alesta was unfamiliar with this type of pain. The kind that sank into your bones and stole your breath.

She leaned against the warm stone of a nearby building as she fought for air. The agony she’d been fighting off surged through her veins with the vengeance of a ghost that’d grown tired of being forgotten. It pulsed against her skin— rendering her left arm useless as she wheezed.

Alesta’s eyes squinted against the wretched ache, taking in the unconscious forms of the four men who’d attacked them.

The agents were gone, but the danger remained.

Pain stung in the back of her throat like she’d swallowed lye when she met Robin’s careful stare. The woman’s arms were crossed defensively over her chest— protection against something Alesta couldn’t name. Shadows cast from the brim of Robin’s hat blocked Alesta from succumbing to her observation, but her chest was tight with dread.

She didn’t know what came next.

One mercy did not promise a pattern.

“Why did you—” Vivi voiced her concerns. She was taut at Alesta’s side, fists clenching like she couldn’t control the motion, “Why did you help us?”

Alesta blinked away the blur eating at her vision, barely able to catch the way Robin’s mouth pursed. She didn’t answer.

Her silence hung in the air like a knife.

“Tell me!” With a trembling step forward, Vivi demanded, “After everything, why are you helping us now? You killed Ingram!”

Robin took a deep breath as her chest caved in. It was hard to focus on the woman with how Alesta’s panting caught in her lungs, brutally eating at her reserves. Robin eyed Vivi before canting her attention toward her mother. Her question lingered in the air, “How much have you told them?”

“Everything that they needed to know,” Olvia answered carefully, “The rest of the story is yours.”

Robin’s mouth pursed as she digested the admittance, “I see.”

Alesta was too exhausted to make sense of the undertone of their conversation. When Vivi went to speak, Alesta interrupted. Her voice was stiff with strain as she managed to ask, “What happens now?”

They were at a stalemate of unstated intentions. There was too much at play to continue the charade. It would take one wrong move to ruin everything. Robin tensed at the question and Alesta could feel the way her stare dragged down her face and her bleeding arm.

She wasn’t sure what emotion flared in her shadowed gaze, but it made her stomach roll.

Robin eventually glanced toward her mother. The two observed each other and a long, dragging lull hung in the air. Robin slowly admitted, finding whatever she needed in the woman’s gaze, “That’s up to you.”

With an aggressive step forward, Vivi scowled, “What are you talking about?”

“I won’t fight you,” Robin stared at Olvia as she spoke. The words were careful and sharp with double meaning, “But if you want your friends to survive, you need to come with me. Crocodile isn’t a patient man.”

It was more than Alesta expected, but not enough. It was clear Robin’s mercy only extended so far. She couldn’t help them more than this. Robin had done what she had through her mother’s persuasion, but their friends were still trapped. Alesta wheezed, her hand drifting over her bleeding arm as she tried to figure out the best path forward.

The pain made it difficult to think— to put words into action, to do anything besides long to give up.

It would be so easy to give up.

“What do you mean?” Vivi struggled to her knees. Her sharp stare drilled into Robin’s face, “Where are they?”

“They’re safe,” Robin’s head canted slightly to the left, “For now. Crocodile has them imprisoned in a sea stone cage. In less than an hour, the room they’re held in will be underwater.”

Bile built in Alesta’s stomach when Vivi lurched to her feet, “No! You can’t—"

“Then I suggest you come with me quickly,” Robin leveled back calmly, “Crocodile won’t be pleased if you don’t make an appearance.”

The statement was a warning. A promise of death that tainted the space between them and made it taste sour. Alesta could see the way Vivi’s spine steeled even with the pain blurring her vision. Vivi didn’t speak as she stepped toward Robin, but her hands shook. Robin took the movement in carefully.

She didn’t press, allowing Vivi to stumble toward her with nothing more than a subtle incline of her head.

“What are we waiting for?” Vivi’s voice was sharp with something Alesta couldn’t name, “Let’s go.”

Robin’s shoulders eased with a soft sigh, “I admire your dedication to your friends, princess. I hope it will be enough.”

Dread made her teeth ache. Alesta felt powerless— she couldn’t stop Vivi from walking to her death sentence, couldn’t do anything more than watch as she allowed Robin to lead her ahead. The only thing she could do was follow and hope for the best.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Alesta tried to step forward only to stumble when her arm caught. Pain racked up her spine and her teeth grit together to hold in her cry. A new flood of blood drenched her coat and her knees buckled from the sudden surge of agony.

Robin watched the movement carefully, that unnamed emotion flickering in her face for just a moment before it was smothered again.

“Is this what you want to do?” Alesta forced herself to breathe through the pain to ask, “Do you want to follow him?”

Robin drew her stare to her, “Does it matter? Questioning my choices changes nothing.”

There was nothing in her answer that provided clarity. It was stated in the bland tone of someone used to hiding. From herself or from the world, Alesta didn’t know. Her hand clenched on her wounded arm, trying to fight off the exhaustion that made its home in her soul.

“If it’s not what you want to do,” Alesta hissed through blurry eyes, “Then why are you doing it?”

The question made Robin’s face go empty. Vivi paused beside her, trading a worried look at Alesta’s trembling form as they waited for the answer. It didn’t come. Robin merely sighed as she trailed her gaze to her mother.

It wasn’t an answer, but her hesitation was something. Alesta just needed to push, “We can help you.”

Robin’s mouth tilted and Alesta swallowed. The emptiness of the woman’s stare faded for just a moment and she swore she got the first glimpse of amusement entering her face, “You’re naïve,” her head tilted, “You should be careful of promising more than you can give.”

“Robin,” Olvia spoke. Her voice wobbled precariously, “You don’t have to do this.”

The plea hung in the air between them as Robin’s mouth shut with a shaky inhale. Her lip trembled as she sighed, “I’ll see you soon, mom.”

There was a finality to that promise. A submission that Alesta knew well. It made Olvia’s face go ashen as her arm outstretched toward her daughter. An action that ended when Robin smiled. It was empty and worn, a flash of foretelling amidst her perfect face.

Alesta was familiar with that type of smile— the one you hid behind.

It was the kind of smile you wore when you were ready to die.

The expression made Olvia’s chest heave, her fingers dropping to her chest as she whispered, “Robin, no—”

Robin’s eyes shut and for the second time that day, Alesta glimpsed tears speckle her lashes. Olvia took a shaky step forward before halting when Robin shook her head. Robin’s voice was carefully neutral as she said, “I’m sorry I’m not the child you remember.”

“You’re wrong,” Olvia whispered, “You’re my daughter no matter what. I’ll always love you.”

There was a sharp inhale before Robin sighed. It echoed in the air like a death knoll, “I love you too.”

Alesta’s eyes squeezed shut at the goodbye. Because that’s what it was— she didn’t know Robin’s motivations, didn’t know what led her to this choice, but Alesta was familiar with goodbyes. Especially the ones of this magnitude.

The kind that promised permanence.

This hadn’t been what Alesta wanted when she’d made her promise to Olvia. It was supposed to be a reunion, but she’d failed. She’d given into pain and fear— ruining Olvia’s chance to sway her daughter’s mind in favor of survival. Her throat went tight as Alesta swallowed, trying and failing to force her body to move. 

Her foot dug into the hot earth and Robin noticed.

“I suggest you don’t follow,” Robin warned as she turned to leave. There was a flash of something in her voice that almost sounded like pity, “You’re injured. This won’t be a fight you can win.”

Alesta ignored the warning to try and step forward, but it was useless.

Exhaustion snagged at her soul and her shoulders caved in, her weight too much to hold. Robin didn’t look back as she left, her hand on Vivi’s arm. Defeat made Alesta falter— her knees hit the earth and her face pressed against the warm ground.

Alesta winced as her hand crawled to her bleeding arm.

Bile snuck up her throat when she met tacky heat.

Tears dampened the ground beneath her, the fingers of her good arm clenching in the dirt. They’d been so close. Disappointment and pain merged into her chest, something sick crawling up her throat when she realized she couldn’t do anything. Time and time again, she found herself at this point.

An unwilling anchor with the sole purpose of dragging others down.

Her fingers dug into her wound— a punishment inflected for her own failure.

“Alesta,” Olvia cautioned. Her hand felt cold on Alesta’s shoulder but she could feel Olvia’s fingers tremble, “You need to get up.”

She didn’t acknowledge her warning. Alesta couldn’t release her death grip on her arm if she tried. The blood trickled through her fingers and sank beneath her chipped nails. Under her index finger, she felt the hole left behind from the bullet. Her hand trembled as she traced the wound— a grueling throb taking home in her nerves.

The sensation was the only thing to ground her when the world bleached into muted tones of ichor.

Alesta never realized how hot blood could be.

It felt like she was burning. As if Ace’s flames had taken root in her veins and charred her soul. Olvia gently grabbed her wrist, pulling Alesta’s hand away from the wound with a soft sound. She didn’t notice.

Her focus was solely on the crimson liquid dripping down her fingers— falling to the sand and tainting the ground with her life.

As Olvia inspected the injury, Alesta realized she had no idea what she was doing here. Arabasta wasn’t her home. She wasn’t a humanitarian, she shouldn’t care— but she’d been led by the prospect of a promise. Taken fool by the hope that she could be more than she thought she was. That she could help.

She’d been proven wrong again.

Her chin met her chest as Alesta sucked in a dry breath. It was hard to think past the fact that she’d fought so hard and failed. She’d kept her promise, but it was wrong. This never should have happened. Alesta should have been strong enough to hold off Robin on her own, should have been able to protect Vivi, should have been able to do more—

But she wasn’t.

Alesta wasn’t sure this was a path she could continue down.

If failure tasted this foul, she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to survive it. For the briefest flash of a second, she wanted to take it all back. Pain made her afraid. It allowed the void of darkness she’d fought off to cling— to nestle in her soul and taunt. 

Giving up wasn’t hard. It was something she knew well, a familiar friend. She’d done it for years. Smothered the burn in her chest that demanded more until it was nothing more than embers of a forgotten dream.

She knew how alluring the shell of emptiness could be. How safe its hold was, how quickly she would be able to slip back into that space—

But Alesta wanted to live.

It’d been her only goal. A life away from her island. A chance to explore the world and determine what mysteries lay in its depths. That hope had been her push, her reasoning behind everything she did. It’d been the sole aim that she’d sought, the chance to taste freedom on her tongue and laugh.

Something tore in the background and Alesta blinked, watching numbly as Olvia wrapped the wound. The tight cinch of material around her forearm made the appendage go numb as blood soaked the dirty rags of her coat.

Her fist flexed as she considered the bandage.

If this kind of pain was the cost of life, would she pay it? Was she strong enough to handle the toll? Alesta hadn’t thought she was, but as color faded back into her vision, a determination settled in her chest.

Living hurt— but she was alive.

She’d take that pain time and time again if she could see the sun bleach the horizon, feel the heat of a chest against her own, or laugh with a belly full of food. That was worth the effort. Worth all the problems, the struggles, the fear.

Her stance grew steadier as Alesta pushed herself off the ground.

Olvia watched carefully yet didn’t halt her as Alesta took a stabilizing breath. It still caught in her lungs with a rattle of pain, but she ignored the surge of agony to press her hand against the ground and crawl to her knees.

“Olvia,” Alesta whispered, “How do I get to the casino?”

Olvia tensed, “You shouldn’t—”

“I promised I’d let you talk to your daughter,” Alesta laughed bitterly. Pain and resolve made her blood sing with hysteria. It clung to her tongue, “We never agreed on how often.”

Alesta didn’t know what came next, but she wanted to fight for something. 

It was a feeling that she couldn’t name. If she had to find it in the scraps of a half-finished promise, so be it. At least it was something. Determination clung to her skin and made the sweat on the back of her neck feel too cold. Her good arm shook as she pushed herself to her feet.

She was going to fix this.

Ace had no idea what to do.

Panic wasn’t something he normally allowed himself to feel, not since he’d found a family he could trust to watch his back, but he couldn’t find the rest of their group. The dread he’d been trying to fight off nestled in his gut like lead.

Every second that passed without spotting their group had regret rotting inside his chest.

His little brother was out there, running after a warlord all by himself. Luffy. God, why did it have to be Luffy? He’d told him to be careful. He’d told Luffy to wait for him.

Ace knew his little brother could take care of himself, he would have never made it to the Grand Line if he couldn’t, but he was worried. He couldn’t lose another brother. Couldn’t do it all again.

It was Ace’s fault. Always his fault—

His gaze darted over the surrounding area as he ran through the street. Ace kept hoping he’d spot one of Luffy’s crew or Alesta. It made it hard to focus. He didn’t know what to do. This had gotten out of control so quickly that even he was struggling to grasp where it all went wrong.

One second, he’d been taking out the marines, and the next, he was fighting off a flood of Baroque Agents who’d appeared out of nowhere. It hadn’t been a difficult fight, but it’d slowed him down.

He couldn’t allow himself to be slow.

Not right now.

“Ace!” Sanji’s call made him still. The blonde stuck his head out of an alleyway, cigarette perched between his teeth as he waved him over, “There you are!”

He almost ignored the cook. It wasn’t out of anything malicious, but dread still had a hold on him. Ace wanted to set something on fire. He needed the release to feel in control, to feel like he had a handle on the world around him.

A way to pretend that he hadn’t screwed up again—

It was hard to swallow the surge of self-hatred that built behind his tongue. His steps felt like he was dragging his body through tar when he made his way to Sanji. Chopper hovered at Sanji’s feet. His hooves twisted carefully over his small chest as his eyes flickered around the surrounding area. It might not be who he was looking for, but Luffy’s crew was a start.

They were the beginning of a path he could follow until he unraveled where everything went wrong.

Ace met Sanji’s stare, his question a touch too sharp, “Where’s everyone? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sanji took a slow puff of his cigarette, “They were supposed to meet at the casino. I haven’t seen them.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Ace didn’t lash out. That wasn’t what he did no matter how much he wished he could. Makino taught him better than that. Instead, his whole body went hot. The fire that composed his soul burned under his flesh and it was hard to keep it at bay when Sanji grimaced. He should have known this would happen.

He was that man’s son. Nothing good belonged to him. He didn’t deserve happiness—

Life had been cruel the past week. It’d fooled him into letting his guard down, into believing he was wrong. That maybe he wasn’t the monster the world painted him to be. Monsters didn’t get second chances, but he had. 

He’d gotten to hug his lost brother, to apologize for how badly he’d fucked up. It’d been easy to believe that maybe he had a chance.

Fate had given him hope and he’d ruined it.

The same way he always did.

Ace took a deep breath. His skin felt too hot. It was hard to breathe. He wasn’t mad at the cook. Wasn’t mad at anyone besides himself. None of this was their fault.

It was all his.

“We can find them,” Sanji cut in carefully. His stare was knowing against the curve of Ace’s tense jaw, “Luffy’ll make sure everyone’s okay.”

It wasn’t the best news he’d heard, but it was something. More than he’d expected. Ace knew how to work with scraps. He’d been doing it since he was born. Since he built that tree house back in East Blue and scrounged up enough gold to buy a ship. He could work with something.

“Okay,” he met Sanji’s stare with a firm press of his lips, “What’s the plan?”

There was a flood of Baroque Agents guarding the door of the casino.

Alesta hissed, trying to fight off a wave of dizziness as she leaned against the warm brick of a nearby building. The shine of their weapons glittered in the late afternoon sun and caught her eye. It was too many for her to even attempt to fight. Hopelessness ate at her chest, but she’d come too far to give up now.

Yet, the path ahead of her was terrifying.

For the first time in her travels, the only person she had to rely on was herself. Olvia’s time faded before they made it to the casino. It was for the best. The ghost had been stuck in her thoughts since their conversation with Robin and Alesta didn’t want to force her to assist more than she already had.

Once they arrived, Olvia had volunteered to go ahead to map out the casino and locate their group. Alesta knew the offer came from her desire to check on Robin— something she’d never fault Olvia for. She’d ruined her promise and this was the sacrifice she’d have to pay.

Even if it left her alone.

Her eyes screwed shut as she fought off another wave of exhaustion.

Alesta knew she could try and find Thatch, but she was wary to pull him from Luffy. She had to assume he was keeping watch on their group. That was the only reason she could find for not spotting him. That rationalization didn’t stop the punch of dread that settled in her stomach. Without him, her success at getting past the agents was non-existent.

Her thoughts drifted to the information Olvia shared with her this morning.

The purpose of the tether.

Her good arm snaked toward her chest. For once, the only thing she could feel was the frantic pound of her heart. The energy she’d come to rely on was muted. It wasn’t gone, but it was faint. A consequence of her fatigue.

Scrunching her nose, Alesta dug her fingers into her skin as she focused on the faint tendril of energy lingering beneath her chest. It thrummed like a broken chord as she wrapped her mind around it and pulled.

It would have been easier to summon Thatch, he was closer and the payout wouldn’t be as steep, but if she managed to make it inside, she’d need him to be with Luffy. There was no telling what she’d walk into inside the building. For all she was aware, everyone may be dead. Alesta had no idea where Ace was.

Didn’t know if he’d been captured with Luffy or if he’d managed to escape.

With that in mind, instead of defaulting to the easiest option, she decided to gamble.

“Kanetsuyo,” she whispered, “Kanetsuyo—"

The energy beneath her skin went still before it abruptly began to hum. It felt similar to a rubber band stretched too far. Her lip curled as a surge of agony settled in her sternum like a warning. It didn’t feel like it normally did. The band was stiff with droning tension— stretched farther than it should be.

Alesta swallowed the pain as she prepared herself to speak the final words.

“Kanetsuyo,” she repeated slowly, nails sinking into her skin as the ache in her bones screamed, “Please help me.”

The force of the summons brought her to her knees. Alesta’s bottom met the hard earth and her arm ached as it scrapped against the wall. She had to bite down on her lip to temper the scream that escaped at the sudden agony taking home in her veins.

It burned. 

Hotter than Ace’s fire and with a magnitude that she couldn’t hide from. It felt like a piece of her soul had been stolen from her— given to a heart not her own.

There was nowhere she could go to escape it.

Her eyes slammed shut as she breathed through the abuse, trying to focus on the frantic pound of energy in her chest. Alesta had no idea if she was successful. There was no way to focus on anything beyond the wretched throbbing below her breasts. It hurt worse than her bullet wound—

An almost metaphysical pain that settled in her skin and ate away at her spirit.

It was only the sound of muted footfalls that made her breathe again.

“Took you long enough—” her teeth ached at the familiar voice even when Kanetsuyo paused, “The fuck happened to you, ghost girl?”

Alesta squinted an eye open just in time to see him kneel beside her. An almost hysterical laugh caught in her throat as she admitted, “Got shot.”

If she wasn’t laughing, she’d be crying.

The sight of his youthful face was enough to make relief surge in her throat. Even with the pain still holding her down, Alesta felt happier than she had all day. Kanetsuyo looked the exact same as he had the day they’d parted. His purple hair hung past his chin and his sharp eyes were narrowed on her in bemusement.

“Yeah, I see that,” Kanetsuyo blinked at her twice before his mouth curled into a grin, “Look at you. Never knew you’d turn into a little baby badass.”

Her chuckle was a bit watery, “Not quite.”

If that were true, she’d never be in this position. Her head fell against the building beside her as Alesta grimaced through another flood of pain. It felt like an aftershock and her shoulders trembled with the force of it.

Kanetsuyo tsked under his breath, bouncing on his heels as he watched her fight through it. His face was tight with confusion and a layer of concern that made her force a shaky smile.

Her false positivity didn’t work if the way his eyes sharpened was any indication.

“What the hell did you get yourself wrapped up in?” Kanetsuyo looked toward the flood of agents just down the street. One of his eyebrows arched gracefully toward his hairline, “Is that fucking Baroque Works?”

She nodded once, “We’re in Arabasta. Trying to fight Crocodile—”

“You’re shitting me,” Kanetsuyo deadpanned, “Are you an idiot?”

Her eyes almost slid shut at his drawl, but she squinted against the fatigue to tilt her head toward him, “That’s possible. Do you—” Alesta winced when her head began to pound, “Could you help me get inside? I need to get to my friends. They’re in trouble.”

He raised a brow, “Gonna need some more details than that, ghost girl.”

Alesta struggled to identify what was the most pressing issue, “They’re going to drown in less than an hour—”

Kanetsuyo stared at her for several long seconds.

Alesta couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips in preparation for his denial. This probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting when she’d summoned him. It felt almost cruel to bring him here to throw him at a fight she couldn’t handle, but Alesta had long come to terms with the fact that she was selfish. Until she was strong enough to defend herself, she’d have to rely on the strength of others.

That didn’t mean it was okay.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized belatedly, “You don’t have to—"

He cut her off with a scoff. Canting his head toward the agents, Kanetsuyo smirked, “I’ve been stuck with Cho for a week, kid. I’ve got plenty of frustration to work off,” he tapped her on the shoulder as he crawled to his feet, “But you owe me. You aren’t getting rid of me this time around. I’ve been dying for some sake.”

Her heart beat a second too fast at his easy compliance. It still amazed her how many people in the world wanted to help. That she was worthy enough to hold their trust. Even after a week of absence, Kanetsuyo acted as if they’d never parted.

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she met his gaze.  

“I’ll buy you as much as you want,” Alesta promised. If her voice was a bit wobbly, he didn’t comment on it, “As long as you want it— okay?”

His face went soft, something like reluctant fondness inching into his tone as he sighed, “I’m holding you to that, ghost girl.” He waved over his shoulder as he walked out into the street, “Try not to die. That’ll piss me off.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

With a cheery whistle, Kanetsuyo walked straight up to one of the outer agents and punched him in the face. Alesta could only stare as the agent dropped and Kanetsuyo snatched his sword, punctuating the movement with another happy tune as he swiped it twice through the air. It took a minute for the agents to understand what was happening, but when they did, they all moved at once.

Three agents went for Kanetsuyo and she lost sight of him—

Only to see him pop up near the bridge leading to the casino and grin. A splash of blood covered his chin, his tongue dragging over his lips as he wiped it away. A burly man with a club went for his head and Kanetsuyo blinked before laughing. He ducked under the swipe with an easy lunge before bringing the sword up and straight through the man’s soft jaw.

“Better hurry, ghost girl!” Kanetsuyo motioned to the walkway when the man dropped, “Can’t keep this up forever!”

Closing her eyes with a deep breath, Alesta used her good arm to latch onto the wall beside her. Her nails dug into the brick as she pulled herself to her feet. The pain in her chest wasn’t gone yet, but she forced herself to ignore it as she wobbled. She could do it.

She was so close.

It was one food in front of the other. Just one step more and she’d be moving. That was all she had to do. Her eyes locked on the battle in front of her as black crept into her vision. It stole the sunlight and she squinted— trying to reorientate herself enough to move.

She had to try. Ignore the pain, ignore the fear.

Alesta just needed to keep moving.

They reached Rain Dinners a minute too late.

“Who is that?” Sanji took a puff on his cigarette with narrowed eyes, “I don’t recognize them.”

It took Ace a second to identify who he was referring to.

Dancing across the field of Baroque Agents, a man with a sword dived between the crowd. In a few clean swipes, he brought down two more agents in the span of seconds. Ace tensed beside the cook when he caught the familiar purple hair. He didn’t know how he felt about seeing Fox.

On one hand, that meant Alesta was alive.

On the other, that meant she’d run into enough trouble to summon the guy from who the hell knows where.

“That’s Fox,” Ace muttered. He couldn’t control the way his hands flexed at his side. “One of Alesta’s friends.”

Sanji glanced at him askance, “Another ghost?”

“Alesta’s friends with him?” Chopper whispered behind them, “He’s scary.”

Ace didn’t get a chance to respond. Fox’s bright eyes locked on them from the other side of the clearing. A cat-like grin stretched across his thin cheeks when he registered Ace, barely sparing the time to mockingly wave before ducking under a quick sweep of a sword. Fox spun on his heels and cut the tendons on the back of his attacker’s legs.

A burst of blood spurted over his chest, but Fox didn’t pay it any mind.

Ace didn’t expect anything less from the infamous swordsman.

“Fire-Fist,” Fox smirked at their group, “Long time, no see.”

Sanji stiffened next to him. Ace didn’t blame the cook. Fox took some getting used to. He had an aura that reminded Ace of a snake, lazy until it was disturbed.

Stepping around the body of an agent, Ace cupped his mouth to yell, “Where’d Alesta go?”

“So, you’re the one that got ghost girl wrapped up in all this,” it was said with a teasing drawl, but Ace didn’t miss the way Fox’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t even look behind him as he brought down the next agent, “I told you to take her, not to keep her.”

The accusation was nothing new to him. He’d been berating himself over the same thing for the last hour. That didn’t mean it stung any less. For just a second, Ace wondered if he’d done the right thing. Wondered if she wouldn’t be safer if he’d left her behind on Drum.

He hadn’t though, which meant she was his responsibility.

One of the few people cursed to be by his side.

“Fox,” Ace couldn’t stop the way his voice snapped, “Where is she?”

The swordsman stared at him for several seconds before his mouth ticked down, “Inside. Going after your friends, I assume.”

Ice snaked down his back. As much as he’d come to appreciate her company over the last week, Ace couldn’t handle this. He was familiar with self-sacrifice. Knew how it felt when you had to tackle the world all by yourself, but she wasn’t alone. If she would just get that through her stupid head. His hand flexed against his side as his mouth pressed tight.

“You just let her?” Ace tried to control his ire, but it was hard. “Are you an idiot—”

With a casual hike of his brow, Fox scoffed, “You ever try telling her what to do? Look—” he raised his hands when Ace took a step forward, “If she’s still walking after getting shot, she’ll be fine. Ghost girl’s a baby badass in the making.”

Shot. Ace’s thoughts fizzled to a halt when he heard Chopper gasp. She got shot. Static roared between his ears as he stared at Fox, not capable of saying anything. It was difficult to think through the situation.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been alive and now—

Now he had no idea what he’d find on the other side. In the matter of an hour, he might have lost his only connection to Thatch and the girl who’d done it all. His heart lurched up into his throat as he tried to fight the emotions that thought wrung out of him. Alesta wasn’t supposed to get involved in this.

She wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Fox watched him carefully, “That’s how it is, huh? Guess it makes sense.” He didn’t elaborate on the statement, shaking his head as he admitted, “You better hurry. Ghost girl told me the place is about to go under.”

Of course it was.

If Ace hadn’t been on the verge of turning into flames and taking the whole city down with him, he might have laughed. Nothing ever had the ability to be simple. Alesta was shot and Luffy was going to drown. His thoughts drew to Luffy as dread nestled in his chest. His little brother was crafty and capable of more than Ace realized, but even he couldn’t survive underwater with his devil fruit.

The cigarette bounced between his lips as Sanji cut in, “How much time do we have?”

“Probably about thirty minutes now,” Fox shrugged. It made Ace’s teeth ache, “If Crocodile was telling the truth.”

Ace didn’t ask how he knew about everything, assuming Alesta already filled him in. He was glad. It saved him time from rehashing events that didn’t need to be. Ace didn’t mind Fox’s involvement here. He wasn’t one of his family, but he was skilled enough to handle whatever grew out of this. He could watch his own back.

If Ace had it his way, this would end today.

Sanji’s eyes kept darting between Fox and the walkway like he wasn’t sure where he should kick first, “Someone needs to distract Crocodile so we can get them out.”

“Get him out here,” fire skittered up Ace’s spine, “I can take care of him.”

Luffy was going to give him an earful but he should have thought of that before he got captured. He told him to be careful. Even three years later and his little brother was still running headfirst into trouble. Cracking his knuckles, Ace took a deep breath as he eyed the casino.

It might not have been a fight he’d wanted, but it was a fight he was looking forward to.

He needed to burn something.

The inside of the casino was too bright.

Propping her good arm against one of the slot machines, Alesta squinted through the flood of dizziness that nearly took her off her feet. There were too many people. Too many noises. She had no idea where to go or what to do. Bile crept back up her throat, but she forced herself to swallow as she took another fumbling step deeper into the building.

A man gave her a strange look as she stumbled past, his dark eyes going to the blood on her coat before he clutched a hand against his chest. Whispers followed the movement. Alesta tried not to pay them any mind, but it was hard to focus.

It felt like they were crowding around her. Everywhere she looked, there was a new obstacle. Her feet dragged against the tiled floor and she almost fell when someone bumped into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Olvia’s voice made her freeze. The ghost hovered at her side, an invisible boon. “Keep walking, you’re almost there.”

Alesta almost cried at the sight of her. Tears speckled her eyelashes as her shoulders dipped in relief. She’d forgotten how quiet the world was without the blessing of the dead. It made it too easy to dip into her thoughts and submerge into the void that beckoned.

Swallowing the taint of wine in her mouth, Alesta nodded.

Despite her renewed relief, it was hard to obey. Her limbs felt like lead. Forcing herself to keep going, Alesta hissed between her teeth, “Where do I go?”

“There’s a door on the right,” Olvia answered. She kept close, nearly touching her arm as they navigated through the crowd, “Your friends are in there.”

Almost scared to ask, Alesta whispered, “Thatch?”

“He’s waiting for you,” Olvia glanced at her as they ducked through the crowd, “Do you have enough energy to summon him? They’re—”

Whatever she intended to say was broken by the door in question opening. Alesta stilled as she saw the two figures emerge into the casino. A large man in a cloak breezed through the crowd, civilians stepping out of his way with muffled wonder. A row of stitches highlighted his brow and his cold, empty stare.

That had to be Crocodile.

It didn’t take Alesta long to remember that this man was a Warlord. Crocodile had an aura to him. A cold, vicious thing that snaked through the air and snatched the warmth out of the room. Her skin broke out into hives when he stomped past her and toward the casino entrance.

Robin, who’d come out behind him, followed with an easy gait.

Her vacant stare was on the back of Crocodile’s head. The muted click of her heels rang in the tiled room as they passed. Alesta held her breath— waiting to see if this would be the moment everything fell apart. Blue eyes met her own and a second passed.

Alesta didn’t have time to breathe before Robin walked by. She moved past her without a word, close enough that Alesta could feel the faint breeze of their exit on her skin.

It might have been a trick of the light, but Alesta swore she saw the woman’s mouth twitch.   

She couldn’t get air in her lungs if she tried.

The sudden surge of relief was too much.

This marked the third time that Robin had done something unexpected. The third time Alesta realized that their motivations may not be as different as she’d feared. She stared at Robin’s back, letting her gaze trail carefully over the woman she watched them leave. Olvia cupped her mouth as her daughter moved further away.

Alesta swallowed before they ducked through the door still swinging closed.

For a moment, she allowed herself a chance to reorientate.

The light in the hall was a bright, blue hue that made her squint. Her focus fell on the ghost first, on the way Olvia stared at the shut door with a face full of unspoken regret. It made Alesta’s chest go tight.

Alesta would never know the pain of leaving a family member behind to drown themselves in sorrow. Would never understand the grief that spawned from being unable to save someone.

But she could offer a solution. A chance to fix what she’d broken the first time.

“You should go after her,” Alesta had to prop her hand against the wall to steady herself. The world around her blurred as she said, “If this doesn’t—” she couldn’t finish the sentence, but Olvia’s gaze sharpened like she knew, “This might be your last chance.”

Shaking her head, Olvia said, “I shouldn’t.”

Despite the denial, it was clear she wanted to. Her eyes kept flicking toward the door. Digging her nails into the wall, Alesta took a deep breath. It was going to be risky, especially with the added prospect of having to summon Thatch, but it was her mistake that led them here in the first place.

If she’d only been strong enough to handle Robin on her own, Olvia may have had a chance to sway her daughter’s mind.

To convince her she was worthy to live.

“Olvia,” Alesta met her gaze, “Help me.”

There was no pain. If she wasn’t on the verge of passing out, Alesta might have examined that phenomenon. Instead, it took all her focus to keep her eyes open and locked on the ghost.

The words hung in the air between them as Olvia changed. The blue hue of her skin faded to flesh and she observed the skin on her arm carefully. Olvia’s long fingers stretched out before she sighed, watching Alesta under her eyelashes.

She didn’t know what to make of Olvia’s stare, “Go after her if you want to. I’ll be okay.”

They stared at each other for several seconds. Alesta wheezed as fatigue sunk into her shoulders but she didn’t falter. This was what she was supposed to do.

The whole reason she came.

“You—” Olvia didn’t finish her statement. She shook her head instead, the beginnings of a tired smile making her face slacken, “Thank you, Alesta. Be careful.”

The door shut behind her as she left and Alesta was alone.

Her head dipped forward with a sigh. It was time to move. Time to do something beyond what she thought she was ever capable of. The unknown that lay ahead of her made Alesta’s tongue stick to her teeth.

Her mouth tasted like death, but there was a faint thread of hope underneath the cloying flavor. The cool surface of the wall bleed into her palm as she squeezed her eyes shut. Alesta didn’t pray, didn’t beg for mercy.

She just moved.

Alesta took one step at a time down the long hallway. Her feet dragged against the tiled floor as she used her good arm to lean against the wall. It was the only thing keeping her standing. She’d lost feeling in her injured arm at this point, the numbness sinking down her forearm and to her wrist. Trying to wiggle her fingers prompted nothing other than thought. She’d worry about that later.

When she had time to spare considering options other than survival.

It took longer than she’d like until Alesta finally heard voices.

“Vivi!” Luffy’s scream echoed in the hallway, “Get the key!”

When she made it to the room they were kept in, Alesta almost convinced herself it was a hallucination. She hovered near the doorframe, taking in the windows filled with water and yellow gators before drawing toward the rest of the room. Half of it was nothing more than broken stone.

Her hand fell onto the doorframe at the sight before her.

Robin hadn’t lied about their friend’s predicament.

Hosted in the middle of the room, a cage took up nearly twenty feet. Behind its barred door, it held the majority of Luffy’s crew and the marine who’d been chasing them. The green tint of the iron bars made Alesta’s stomach roll unpleasantly.

This was parallel in all the worst ways to her time in the marine’s ship and before she could quell it, that familiar fear snaked up her spine and whispered for her to give in.

She couldn’t allow it to fester.

There were alligators everywhere. Massive beasts larger than anything she’d ever seen. Four of them spread out throughout the room, their tails flicking with agitation as they tried to catch Vivi. Half a foot of water flooded the floor, making her steps splash as Alesta inched into the room.

Vivi cursed as she ducked a massive claw from an alligator that swiped too close to her head. Rolling onto the floor, Vivi’s metal whip swished through the air before hitting the animal in the snout.

“Ghost girl!” Luffy was the first to spot her. His face pressed against the bars as he cheered, “Save us!”

From where he’d been watching the fight, Thatch looked over his shoulder and grinned, “Finally—"

The rest of his sentence caught in his throat.

Thatch stared at her like he’d been punched in the gut, his sharp brown eyes trailing over her bleeding cheek and her arm in horror. Alesta swallowed before dipping her gaze away. She couldn’t meet his stare. It was too much right now.

They weren’t supposed to get so heavily involved in Luffy’s assault against Crocodile. 

She wasn’t supposed to be in this position.

“Alesta,” Thatch managed to utter. His voice lurched, “What the fuck? Are you bleeding—”

He used her name. Alesta knew she had to look bad for him to default to that. There was no familiar teasing drawl in his tone, only a harsh focus that nearly robbed her of thought. Thatch’s eyes scanned her from head to toe— centering on the cut that marred her cheek and staying on the blood-soaked rags of her coat.

Alesta couldn’t find the strength to look away when his eyes narrowed and ice sank into the air.

“I’m okay,” she managed, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

That was a lie. Olvia’s summon might not have brought her pain, but the rest of her body ached. There was no way to discern where the sensation ended or where it began. It was all she knew. Her fingers tightened on the door frame as she took a deep breath.

“Bullshit,” Thatch’s mouth pressed tight, something hot growing in his stare, “Ask me to help and get the hell out of here—"

“Alesta!” Ussop unknowingly interrupted. He peered through the metal bars to shout, “One of the alligators ate the key! Can you see anything from over there?”

Nami whacked him in the back of the head, “Idiot! Can’t you see she’s injured!”

“Then what are we going to do?! We’re going to die in here!”

All the noise riled up the animals. One of the alligators threw its head toward her and Alesta winced, back pressing against the clear glass wall behind her. Beady, yellow eyes narrowed on her as it sniffed. Her palms sweat as the animal’s lip curled up, showcasing rows of sharp, gleaming white teeth.

The quick click of its nail echoed over the floor.

She tried to speak, “Thatch—"

“Alesta!” Vivi yelled across the room, “Watch out!”

Vivi didn’t have time to finish.

It was faster than any animal Alesta had ever encountered. The alligator’s tail flicked through the air, smacking into the cage as it lumbered toward them. Vivi screamed a second too late. The putrid stench of its breath flooded the air as it lunged— sharp teeth spreading wide as it snapped at Alesta’s chest.

“Thatch!” Alesta managed to spit as she ducked to the floor. The wound on her arm tore as she fell, her shoulder taking most of the toll before she managed to roll onto her back, “Help!”

He was moving before the words fully left her lips.

The tar color of a haki-coated fist met the alligator’s snout and sent it careening into the table. The noise of the impact rang in her ears as Thatch jumped on top of the downed animal with an easy leap. His chest heaved as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. It stole the rest of her air right out of her lungs.

Thatch’s eyes were sharp, chastising, “Think you could have cut it any closer, Alesta?”

“Ghost dude!” Luffy screamed from the cage. Nami and Usopp echoed his cheer behind him, “Kick their ass!”

The marine behind them was suddenly standing. His face was paler than Alesta remembered it being, “What the hell? He’s dead. We heard the news,” Captain Smoker’s sharp stare landed on her, “What kind of power is that?”

Alesta didn’t have time to worry about the marine’s sudden focus.

She was too busy trying to escape from the rest of the alligators surging toward her. There were too many of them. They circled and snapped at her heels as Vivi appeared at her side to help her to her feet. One of them managed to snag the end of her coat and Alesta heard the fabric rip as she yelped, dropping to her knees from the momentum.

It was gone before she could blink.

Thatch’s foot met the soft side of the animal’s snout, sending it into the cage with an echoing bang. “Get up those stairs, Alesta—” he jabbed a finger to articulate his order. His eyes narrowed on her bleeding arm before he swallowed, “When this is over, we’re going to talk. You hear me?”

Alesta barely nodded, “We need to get the cage open—”

“We don’t need anything. I can handle that,” Thatch chastised with another uppercut, “You need to get your ass out of here.”

It was easier said than done. The water surging at her feet splashed as she sprinted between the writhing animals. One of the alligators swiped at her and she cursed as she dropped low to avoid the blow. The cold water skittered up her legs and Alesta felt her arm burn.

She grabbed at the injury with a curse, barely capable of forcing herself to keep moving as she dodged the animal’s downswing.

“Hey!” Nami yelled, “Look out!”

The next thing Alesta saw was a mouth opening wide.

If he wasn’t so pissed off, Ace might have laughed at the giant reindeer sprinting toward him.

“He’s coming!” Chopper squeaked out as he ran past, “Are you sure you can handle this?”

Cracking his knuckles, Ace rolled his neck back as he considered the plan ahead of them. It was good to know Sanji’s idea worked. He hadn’t hung around to hear the call over the Den Den Mushi, more interested in finding a spot that wouldn’t endanger anyone for their showdown.

The small clearing around him wasn’t the best, but it would have to do. There were only a few shops at his left and most of the civilians had turned tail when they’d seen Chopper run up.

It gave Ace plenty of room to let his fire roar.

Ace smirked, feeling his flames creep up his arms, “I’m good, doc. Don’t worry about me.”

Crocodile might be a warlord, but he had nothing on the types of pirates they’d fought in the New World. He was spoiled by the rookies of Paradise. Used to dealing damage with his devil fruit and little else. Though, that would be a pain.

Glancing at the sand surrounding him in the open area, Ace curled his lip.

This wasn’t a great match-up for him. Logia types didn’t fight well against each other. Ace might have control of flames, but Crocodile’s sand was going to be difficult.

It wouldn’t be hard to avoid his blows. The issue came down to figuring out how he was supposed to land a hit against him. From what Ace remembered from Pops, Crocodile liked to dodge. He was slippery and hard to get a hold of— something that would be enabled due to the environment.

Luckily, Ace knew how to adapt.

Anticipation crept up his spine when the man in question walked into the clearing. His face was set in a scowl, looking for the coat Chopper was wearing that he’d followed down here. That was until his eyes met Ace’s.

Crocodile’s foot dug into the sand— the only show of surprise that the warlord would allow.

“You—” Crocodile sneered. His cloak bellowed out behind him, “What business does Whitebeard have in Arabasta?”

Rolling his shoulders back, Ace grinned, “None. This doesn’t have to do with my captain.” Flames bloomed over his left fist, “I’m here with my little brother. You might recognize him. Rubbery, loud? Likes to eat?”

“Your brother—” Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, “Straw Hat?”

Ace couldn’t control his chuckle at the venom interlaced in his tone.

Crocodile hadn’t dealt with his brother for less than an hour and already, Luffy seemed to make an impact. The noise made Crocodile’s lip curl up in a scowl as he raised his hooked hand. Sunlight glittered off the gold metal, a brief sparkle casting over the sand as the warlord took a step forward.

“So, you do know him,” Ace prepped his stance, bringing his leg behind him as he brought his fists up, “He’s going to be mad at me for getting to you first. Guess he’ll just have to be disappointed— this won’t take long.”

Trash talk worked wonders in riling up an opponent. Ace loved the way it wore on their control and made them react instead of think.

Just like Crocodile did.

Without responding to the taunt, Crocodile turned into a blur of sand. The soft swosh of sand materializing behind his back had Ace ducking low. Crocodile’s hook slashed through the air where his head had been and before he could disappear, Ace shoved a burning hand through his stomach.

It didn’t do anything. He wasn’t surprised at the confirmation, but Ace couldn’t help sucking his teeth when his fist met sand, “Do you always run from a fight?”

“I’m not running, Fire-Fist,” Crocodile sneered. It made his face pinch unattractively, “You can’t burn me. Your flames are no match for my sand—”

Well, he’ll just have to see about that.

Without waiting for Crocodile to finish his taunt, Ace flipped over the ground with one hand while the other released a burst of fire. Crocodile wasn’t fast enough to dodge. The flames surrounded him even as he burst into a cloud of sand.

Landing in a crouch, Ace watched as the warlord emerged amidst the fire.

“I told you,” stretching his arms wide, Crocodile brought a surge of sand up from the desert to smother the flames eating at his cloak, “You’re outmatched. Your fire isn’t hot enough to burn sand.”

He was right. Crocodile made a good point as frustrating as it was. Ace crawled to his feet as he allowed the fire to burn down his back and his legs. His flames might not be hot enough now, but he’d fix that sooner rather than later.

Ace released another wave of fire just to piss him off. It ate at the ground in front of him and Crocodile eyed it with irritation. Ace smirked when he used his sand to douse the flames, sending another wave of fire between them that had Crocodile’s lip curling.

“Yeah, that’s annoying,” Ace admitted. His mouth ticked into a grin and Crocodile narrowed his eyes, “Good thing I don’t have to burn you to kick your ass.”

Kicking a puff of sand at the warlord’s face, Ace moved.

Crocodile didn’t have time to blink before Ace was at his side. His fist went through his face before he brought his knee up to nail the man in the chest. Both attacks were mitigated by Crocodile phasing into sand and Ace rolled his eyes, ducking the hook that went for his neck.

“Come on, at least try and fight me,” Ace taunted. A needle of sand went for his throat, but he let it pass through with a plume of fire, “Or is this all you can do?”

Crocodile sneered when Ace went to punch him, “It’s pointless, Fire-Fist. You should know better—”

Ace spat in Crocodile’s face a second before his punch landed.

It was a dirty trick and downright nasty, but he didn’t care. Crocodile rocked back from the impact and Ace didn’t hesitate to follow through with a second punch, this time ladened with flames. The last thing he saw before his fist hit Crocodile in the nose was the way the warlord’s eyes went wide.

A crunch echoed between them as Crocodile stumbled back.

His hand came up to his nose with a sneer.

“See?” Ace smirked as flames snaked down his arms, “Told you I could still kick—”

Before he could finish his insult, the warlord vanished in a cloud of sand. It spiraled into the air before soaring toward him. Ace narrowed his eyes as it roared through his flames— multiple sharp points stabbing pointlessly through his abdomen as Crocodile materialized behind him.

The glint of golden metal swung through the air and Ace ducked low, kicking up a wave of flames as he went for the warlord’s face with a fist.

Ace tsked when the punch didn’t land.

Crocodile must have dried his skin out during his distraction. Flipping out of the way of another eruption of sand, Ace sent a burst of flames out from his feet. He’d forgotten how frustrating fighting logia types could be. Ace preferred fire over brute force, but he could accommodate. Crocodile’s arm followed his evasive movement, twisting across the space as his hook went for his throat.

Ace deflected it with another quick shower of flames as he jumped back.

They eyed each other carefully.

Pops hadn’t lied— Crocodile was a slippery bastard. Not slippery enough to get away without losing a hand but enough to make Ace irritated. Still, he was pretty sure he could end this in the next few minutes if he pulled out his trump card.

Meanwhile, Crocodile’s half-lidded eyes took in the area around them before he laughed lowly.

Ace’s hackles rose at the noise.

“You may be able to avoid my sand, Fire-Fist,” Crocodile smirked, “But can your brother do the same?”

Ace didn’t have time to move before he vanished in a spiral of sand.

Alesta screamed as a sharp tooth nearly nicked her shoulder.  

The alligator’s breath was hot against her face as she ducked low, covering her head from the animal’s gaping mouth. She wasn’t going to be able to dodge this blow. It was too close— too fast for her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Thatch turn before his face was blocked by the alligator’s massive teeth.

“Collier!”

There was a blur of black and blonde before the alligator was kicked into the wall behind them.

It made the glass crack, another burst of water flooding into the room from the impact. Dropping her arm off her head, Alesta blinked at the sudden silence surrounding them. It took a minute to come to terms with the fact that nothing was trying to kill her for the first time that day.

Meanwhile, Vivi gasped as Sanji landed between them and the animal.

“Mr. Prince!” Usopp and Nami cheered from the cage, “You’re alive!”

Sanji kicked the animal’s leg one last time for good measure before looking at them. A pair of dark sunglasses blocked his eyes, but it didn’t take long for his lips to curl into a dopey smile as he glanced between them. If she hadn’t been on the verge of death, Alesta might have chuckled at how he wiggled his arms at his side.

“Ladies—” Sanji simpered, “I’m here!”

The last alligator was taken out with the sound of an annoyed scoff, “Fucking hell, kid—” Kanetsuyo’s stolen sword swiped the alligator open from neck to eye. “Are you always so annoying?” He glanced at Alesta, “He’s not one of yours, is he?”

“Shut up, bastard,” Sanji scowled as he brought a lighter to his cigarette. His curly eyebrow twitched as he stared at Kanetsuyo, “No one told you to come.”

Kanetsuyo leveled something rude back in his direction, but Alesta was too tired to care.

Her good arm propped on her knee as she panted against the sudden influx of agony taking hold. Blinking twice, she tried to get rid of the white spots blinding her. Vivi’s hand landed on her shoulder with a worried noise, but it was the arm that wrapped gently around her waist that finally made her look up.

“Come on,” Thatch helped her to her feet. Careful to keep his body from touching her injured arm, he tsked under his breath, “You look like hell, ghost girl.”

The familiar nickname made her chest ease. Staring at the side of his jaw, she let Thatch pull her against his side. He was at the perfect height for her to rest her shoulder against his own and her body slackened at the sudden flood of exhaustion. Thatch’s fingers shook against her side and she had to swallow before looking at the carnage around them.

All of the alligators were taken care of, dead or otherwise.

Vivi looked a bit worse for wear. Her coat was torn in several places and there was a scuff on her jawline that bordered on a bruise, but she was still standing. That was good. Resting her body weight against Thatch, Alesta turned her focus to the floor next.

Water was now above her ankles.

If they didn’t hurry, her devil fruit was going to fade.

Thatch solved that problem for her. Before she could do anything more than blink, he bent to loop an arm under her knees. Alesta froze as she was lifted to his chest. She hadn’t been expecting the movement and a gasp managed to sneak through her teeth. Thatch chuckled, but it was a heavy sound— no humor to be found in the familiar noise.

Her injured arm hung limply toward the floor as Thatch cradled her close.

“Careful,” he warned. His breath warmed the top of her head when he ducked down to whisper, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

His dark eyes met her own and Alesta found it hard to breathe. The look in his eyes was a bit too much for her right now. Her body still ached and she felt like a gentle wind could knock her over. Thatch seemed to notice because he sighed, adjusting his hold to cage her head against his neck before turning to the rest of the room’s audience.

“Hey!” Luffy’s face was pressed close enough to the bars to make him cross-eyed, “Ghost dude! Did you find the key?”

When Thatch looked over his shoulder at the alligators, Sanji cocked an eyebrow, “A key?”

“For the cage,” Vivi explained. Her shoulders shook as she walked toward one of the downed animals, “One of the banana-gators ate it. I’m not sure which one—”

Silent since his bickering with Sanji, Kanetsuyo snorted. He’d propped himself on the remains of the broken table in the middle of the room as he kicked his legs out. Gaze drifting over the assembled group before Kanetsuyo spotted Zoro’s blades.

He cocked a brow, “You’ve got a sword, kid. Why don’t you cut yourself out?”

“I can’t cut steel,” Zoro stated, though it looked like the admission hurt, “Or I would have gotten us out of this dump an hour ago.”

“Baby pirates,” Kanetsuyo tsked as he jumped off the table with a splash. Alesta blinked at his back as he whipped his stolen sword through the air. When he was a few feet away from the cage, Kanetsuyo smirked, “Guess I can help you out. Might want to back up. I can cut it, but I’m not good enough to control where it goes.”

Usopp squeaked at the warning, ducking behind Luffy when Kanetsuyo tapped his blade on the bars. Nami looked between the two swordsmen before following his example. She peeked out behind Usopp’s shoulder to eye Kanetsuyo warily. There was a flash of recognition on her face, but Alesta didn’t have time to examine it.

“Hurry up!” Luffy blew his cheeks out impatiently as he bounced on his heels, “I want to kick Crocodile’s ass!”

Zoro was the only one who didn’t move back. His hands flexed on the hilt of his swords, “Who are you?”

Kanetsuyo wasn’t given a chance to answer. The only marine in the room did it for him. Alesta had forgotten about Captain Smoker during the chaos of the alligators, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not with the way his eyes narrowed in building realization.

Smoker’s steely eyes locked on Kanetsuyo as he said, “Kanetsuyo Fox, or should I say, Shadow Fox? Last I heard, you were dead.”

Kanetsuyo smirked, “I didn’t know you cared, Smoker.”

“I don’t,” the captain’s lip curled in a sneer, “I’m trying to figure out what the hell’s going on here.”

Alesta didn’t like the way Smoker’s attention trailed to her at the statement. Neither did Thatch if the way his arms flexed was any indication. She felt his fingers dig into the soft skin beneath her coat as he stiffened. This had the possibility of becoming a problem. Captain Jun was more than enough for her to deal with.

She didn’t need the attention of more marines falling on her shoulders.

Unfortunately, it appeared she already had it.

Breaking Alesta out of her thoughts, Kanetsuyo’s sword smacked into the metal bars with a loud clang before three of the horizontal bars caved in. It wasn’t a pretty cut. Kanetsuyo might be skilled, but he wasn’t a master. Zoro and Sanji had to work together to pull the bars out of the way, finally able to create a hole big enough for their group to climb through.

As Nami pushed Luffy head-first through the opening, Thatch frowned at Alesta, “What happened out there? Why’s Fox here?”

She’d wondered when he’d break the seal on this topic. Admittedly, Thatch lasted longer than she thought he would. His arm cupped her leg as he brought her closer to his chest, close enough to feel the way his heartbeat spiked.

“I got shot after fighting the Baroque agents,” Alesta stated carefully, “There were more at the door. I couldn’t get into the casino without him.”

Thatch didn’t speak for several seconds. When he did, his jaw clenched, “Why didn’t you get me? Or Ace?”

It’d been much easier to rationalize everything in the heat of the moment. With her thought process dominated by pain and the sole hope of survival, her decisions had made sense. Having to explain it was difficult. Alesta didn’t want to venture into the thoughts that led her here— the hazy memories of self-inflicted punishment and determination mixing together to tell an unpleasant story.

“I didn’t know where Ace was,” her tongue stuck to her teeth, “and I knew you were in here. Kanetsuyo took care of them while I came inside. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it in time if I needed to wait.”

“You were just planning to jump in by yourself?” Thatch’s voice was sharp, “You didn’t know what the hell you were walking into— Fuck, Alesta. You were shot.”

She went to reply before she met his gaze and the force of it made her still. There was no way to escape it. Something heavy hung in the downturn of his brows, an emotion she rarely saw Thatch wear. The closest thing she could come to explaining it would be desperation. A clinging feeling that hung between them as his fingers flexed against her back like he wasn’t intending to let go.

Alesta swallowed, “I’m—"

“If you try and tell me you’re sorry, we’re going to have problems,” Thatch deadpanned. That strange flair of emotion didn’t dissipate, “You don’t run to your death and apologize about it.”

It was a fair statement. Alesta wasn’t going to argue about it because she wasn’t sorry. Her body hurt more than it had in her whole life, but she wasn’t going to apologize for it. She’d messed up and done what she could to remedy it.

Even though the personal outcome was unfavorable, Alesta was satisfied.

She’d done more than she thought possible.

Leaning her head against his collarbone, Alesta managed to mutter, “I was going to say I’m fine.”

“That’s— Oh my god.” It took him a minute to understand what she said. When he did, Thatch looked like he wanted to strangle her, “I’m going to kill you.”

He’d said it like a threat.

Alesta knew better though. It could never be a threat with the way he leaned his cheek against the top of her head with a full-bodied sigh. The force of it rattled in his chest as his arms went tight before he laughed under his breath. It was a reluctant sound, almost as if Thatch couldn’t catch it.

“Dammit, Alesta,” Thatch sighed fondly, “You’re a lot of trouble.”

Her mouth curled as she settled in his arms.

Letting her focus draw over the rest of the room’s inhabitants, Alesta sank into his hold as the pained fatigue she’d spent the last hour fighting off finally took hold. Usopp was the last to climb out of the cage, waving away Kanetsuyo’s offered hand with a terrified squawk as he dropped into the water.

The rest of their group was already making their way toward the stairs.

Ignoring the marine still lingering in the room, Alesta allowed herself to fully relax for the first time that day. It wasn’t over, but they’d survived this obstacle. Thatch’s heartbeat against her side confirmed it. There was more ahead, but she was buoyed by the knowledge that things might end up okay. Luffy survived.

Olvia got a second chance to speak with Robin and Alesta was alive.

The peace of their escape was broken when one of the alligators coughed up a ball of something vaguely beige. Tilting her head, Alesta blinked the blurriness out of her eyes to look at the sudden interruption. She hadn’t been aware any of the creatures survived. Nor had she known they were capable of regurgitation.

Judging from Thatch’s gag, he’d been under the same impression.

Closest to it, Luffy made a disgusted face as he pointed at the object, “Gross! The crocodile threw up.”

“Banana-gator,” Vivi corrected out of habit, “It’s not a crocodile."

“Huh? That’s stupid. His name is Crocodile—"

They shouldn’t have stopped to debate the animal’s subspecies.

A crack echoed through the air and Thatch stiffened. He opened his mouth to yell, but it was too late. Water flooded into the room with the strength of a torrent. It fell from the ceiling and washed through the room, ripping Thatch and Kanetsuyo out of existence as Alesta sunk to the floor. Her mouth opened in an abated scream and water flooded her lungs.

Debris floated in her vision as all the strength in her body failed her. Their hour was up.

The last thing Alesta thought before her eyes shut was that she’d been right.

Drowning wasn’t a pleasant way to die.

Ace was not expecting to find Luffy running from the marines.

Relief rocked through his chest like a physical force, taking in Luffy’s wide grin as their group ran through the town. A gaggle of marines were on their heels and all of them were soaking wet, but Ace didn’t care. Luffy was okay. 

He knew he shouldn’t worry— knew Luffy was capable of taking care of himself, but he couldn’t help it. Crocodile’s parting threat made him more anxious than he’d like to consider.

He couldn’t lose another brother.

At his side, Chopper cheered, “They made it!”

Ace allowed himself to smile before he caught sight of the rest of their group. Sanji was holding someone. Someone who wasn’t moving and the tangled blonde hair clued him in on who.

He couldn’t look away if he tried.

Just the night before, Ace had to spit that same hair out of his mouth as he tried not to wake her up. He’d never told Alesta that it happened nearly every night— the wild strands almost suffocating when she’d tangle her limbs through his in her sleep.

It was a secret he’d planned on taking to the grave.

If she’d known, she would have been embarrassed. Wouldn’t feel comfortable falling asleep with them, but he wasn’t willing to give that habit up. It’d been nice. A little comfort to look forward to at the end of the day.

He hadn’t known how long it would last, but he didn’t think it’d end so soon.

Before he could stop himself, Ace took a step forward, “Is she okay?”

“She should be,” Vivi answered. She hovered at Sanji’s side, her blue hair dripping down her cloak as she looked at Alesta’s unconscious form, “I think everything was too much. Her injury and summoning three ghosts at once—”

“Three?” Ace tried to piece it all together, “I thought it was just Thatch and Fox.”

Rubbing at her arm, Vivi winced without meeting his eye, “We ran into Ms. All Sunday after dealing with the Billions and she summoned Olvia.”

Of course, she did. That stupid promise. As much as he admired the determination, Ace couldn’t help but wish she’d chosen differently. It was easy to forget she was basically a civilian— part of their world for less than two weeks. She’d have to toughen up eventually, but he’d prefer it wasn’t now.

Not in the middle of a coup they had no part in.

Without waiting for Sanji to offer, Ace opened his arms. The cook gave him a knowing look but didn’t put up much of a fight. It was appreciated. The skin on the back of Ace’s neck felt a little too hot as the rest of his brother’s crew observed. Luffy’s head tilted in confusion before he frowned, a knowing look etching into his usually cheerful face. Ace grimaced at the observation.

Luffy always saw more than he wanted him to.

He’d been doing it since they were kids, but it never got any easier.

Getting Alesta comfortable in his arms, Ace turned his focus to the ruffled crew, “So, what’d I miss?”

As he’d hoped, the question made his brother light up. Luffy launched into a tale about what they’d just escaped and Ace had to bite his tongue to keep from fussing. As much as Luffy saw, his little brother was adorably dense in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for the trap door trick.

He should have known better.

Hell, Sabo taught him better.

The rest of his crew filled in the blanks. Telling him about Crocodile, the sea stone cage, and the alligators. Vivi expanded where they couldn’t. Ace’s arms went a little tight around Alesta’s back when she told him about their fight with the agents. That damn hammer.

Ace was going to switch it out for an axe as soon as he got a chance.

His hold on his emotions only got worse when she moved on to the part of the story where they confronted Robin. Imagining her screaming on the ground—

He didn’t think he could cool down if he tried.

In order to appear less worried than he was, Ace told them about their part of the story. About Sanji’s plan and his fight with Crocodile. As expected, Luffy nearly tackled him to the ground for getting to the warlord first. It was only Zoro’s hold on the back of his shirt that kept his little brother at bay.

“You cheated!” Luffy pouted and Ace couldn’t stop his grin if he tried, “I was supposed to fight him first!”

Ace laughed under his breath, “You’ll get your turn, Luffy. Don’t get in such a rush.”

He just hadn’t realized it would be so soon.

They’d been making decent progress. Chopper managed to wrangle a giant crab to take them to Alubarna and they were all getting settled. Nami was helping Vivi tend to her scrapes while Chopper looked over Alesta’s wound. Settling on his palms, Ace eyed the small group.

He hadn’t planned on going this far with his little brother’s crew, but he wasn’t dumb enough to stick around in Rainbase after the fiasco at the casino. There were too many marines. Maybe they could branch off before the final fight. Alesta kept her promise and they’d done what they could.

This was Luffy’s adventure.

At least that’s what he’d convinced himself before his little brother switched places with Vivi and let Crocodile snatch him off the back of the crab. The rest of the crew screamed when Zoro caught Vivi, watching their captain hurl toward the warlord— a thin tendril of sand wrapped around his midriff and slinging him into the sand at Crocodile’s and Robin’s feet.

Seeing his little brother smack into the sand, Ace suddenly didn’t care about adventures.

He cared about Luffy.

“Go without me!” Luffy screamed, “I’ll be fine by myself! Get Vivi home!”

Ace lurched to his feet with a curse. Luffy could take care of himself, Ace knew that. He knew that. His little brother had made it to the Grand Line. He’d formed a crew of people that cared about him. He was strong and capable and smart—

But the last time Ace had let a brother go off by himself, he hadn’t come home.

“You heard him, Chopper!” Zoro yelled, “Get moving! Captain’s orders!”

Good thing Luffy wasn’t his captain.

The crab began to run and Ace took a deep breath. This was Luffy’s fight, he wasn’t going to intervene. Luffy would never forgive him for ruining his adventure. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be there to keep an eye on him.

He’d done it for years, what was another fight?

Without looking at the rest of the crew behind him, Ace held his hat down with a tired grin, “Look after Alesta for me, Chopper. I’ll meet you in Alubarna.”

Chapter Text

By the time Alesta finally woke up, the sky was dark with shadows.

It took a moment for things to come back into focus. The last thing she remembered was drowning— the air crushed out of her lungs as she struggled to breach the surface. It wasn’t a nice recollection. She’d known drowning would be unpleasant, but she hadn’t anticipated how awful it truly was.

She wasn’t dead though.

Which was as unexpected as it was relieving.

There were so many things she had left to do. So many places left to see. She’d only taken a bite of everything the world had to offer— it couldn’t end so soon. Not like that. Alesta may be prepared to die, but she was realizing she didn’t welcome it the way she once had. The thought of surrendering to the afterlife didn’t feel like escape anymore.

It felt like a betrayal.

Letting her eyes squeeze shut against the moonlight, Alesta took a deep breath. She wasn’t used to worrying about her life in this manner. It was callous of her, but she’d grown accustomed to the idea that her actions affected no one. On Takko Island, she was merely another mouth to feed. It’d been easy to rationalize that her life was nothing to the grand scheme of their island’s survival.  

Things were different now.

She had people whom she cared for. People who would be affected by her death. If she were to disappear, Thatch would be devastated. He’d never get to see his family and she’d leave another promise unfulfilled. Another chance to help gone away. Ace would be upset as well if she were to give up.

They were friends, maybe more.

As unlikely as it once would have seemed.

Her head pounded at the thought. It was still difficult to come to terms with living again when she’d been so sure that it was over. Her limbs were heavy even now, almost as if she’d yet to fully escape the cling of the void.

It felt like she needed to bathe.

To wash the lingering coat of death off her skin.

Staring at the sky above them, Alesta frowned. She needed to focus. Death may not have greeted her, but she still didn’t understand what’d happened in her time asleep.

It was evident that she was no longer in Rain Dinners, though she could assume she was still in Arabasta. That much was clear. She could see the moon just above the horizon, its silver beams eating at the umber sand on the shoreline.

She noticed the water lapping at her legs next. The cool sensation brought her back fully to the present and she glanced to her left— spotting the soft waves of the river as it rocked against the person holding her. There were other figures too.

Vaguely familiar in the way all things seem to be when you first awaken.

The grunt of a man curled through her ears as she was adjusted in his hold. She knew the noise— had heard it before. Squinting to get the grit out of her eyes, she stirred enough to twist her head. The movement was a mistake. The person holding her screeched and she had less than a minute to come to terms with the change of scenery before she fell.

Her companions came into focus just as she found herself submerged.

Water splashed over her face and someone yelped before she was unceremoniously tugged out of the water. Blinking twice in quick concession, Alesta saw Zoro’s lip curl as he hoisted her arm over his shoulder. Vivi peered around his chest, holding onto Sanji’s arm while Nami clung to Eyelash’s back.

All of them were chest deep in water and none of it made sense.

“Idiot!” Sanji snapped, “Don’t drop her!”

Usopp, the man who’d apparently been holding her, squeaked, “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t expecting her to move!”

It was good to know they were still alive, but Alesta was confused. She’d been so sure they’d gotten out of Rain Dinners, but maybe she was wrong. There were very few reasons for them to be in the water again unless they’d been swept away by the moat’s current.

Chopper’s voice snatched her focus. Perched on Zoro’s head, he leaned over to give her a worried look, “Are you okay, Alesta? You’ve been asleep for a while.”

That’s right. She’d been shot before everything went under. Ignoring her turmoil for the time being, Alesta glanced at her injured arm. The pain wasn’t nearly as noticeable as it’d been before. There was still a dull ache, but she could move the limb again.

That was good. It’d be difficult to be of any use without it. She peered at the bandages wrapped around her forearm, plucking at the wet threads.

They were stained a dull brown color but otherwise clean.

“I’m okay,” her voice scratched from disuse and she grimaced as she admitted, “I think.”

“That’s good! You’re lucky the bullet went all the way through—” Chopper continued to babble. His tone had taken on more of a lecturing quality she hadn’t known the little reindeer had, “I don’t know what we would have done if it’d gotten stuck. I don’t have any of my equipment—"

“I’m sure it would have been okay,” Vivi tried to console the suddenly panicked doctor.

It didn’t seem to be helping. Chopper started rambling off on creating a med-pack for emergencies and Zoro grumbled when one of his small hoofs smacked him in the ear. Scrubbing at her face, Alesta tried to reorientate herself. Things still weren’t making much sense. It would have been helpful to see Thatch or Kanetsuyo, but it was clear that wasn’t an option.

Already she could feel the water siphoning away at the little energy she had left.

Pushing her damp hair out of her face, she finally managed to ask, “Why are we still wet?”

“Damn crab,” Zoro cursed under his breath, using his free hand to keep Chopper propped on his head, “Couldn’t handle being useful.”

Arms looped around Eyelash’s neck, Nami scoffed, “Be nice, at least it tried.”

“It’s a crab,” Zoro snapped, “What kind of crab can’t swim?"

“Oh,” Alesta trailed off awkwardly, “I see.”

She did not see. Getting information out of the Straw-hats was akin to pulling teeth. Letting Zoro tug her across his back, she tried to work through the backstory they provided. It was delivered erratically and with more than a little side commentary, but she got the gist of the situation. They’d escaped with the help of a giant crab and were currently on their way to Alubarna.

It made sense in the way all of their escapes did, but it didn’t account for the two missing brothers.

She voiced her concern, “Where’s Ace and Luffy?”

The question settled over the group and she felt Zoro’s back tense. No one spoke for several moments and Alesta began to anticipate the worst. The doubt settled like lead in her empty stomach. They’d gotten them out of the cage. They’d won that battle. It couldn’t be over.

Her throat went tight as their silence stretched. It wasn’t possible.

There was no way he’d—

“Luffy stayed behind to fight Crocodile,” Vivi whispered, “Ace went with him.”

Alesta’s mouth opened, but no words came.

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it should have been what she expected. That rationalization didn’t settle the way it should. Where it once would have been enough to soothe her, apprehension nestled in her chest. She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to either boy.

While she knew Ace was strong, she wasn’t used to this.

Wasn’t used to having to worry for someone other than herself.

Ace didn’t need her concern, she knew that. He was strong enough to take care of himself. He’d proven that time and time again, but it was difficult for her to come to terms with the lack of his presence. He was always there. Without his easy smile and Thatch’s teasing drawl, the path ahead felt more daunting than it should.

It’d been a long time since she’d found herself wishing for comfort.

Her mother’s tepid hugs had never defeated the desire and she’d grown accustomed to providing her own peace. Now though, Alesta wished for nothing more than another hand to hold. It was a selfish, needy thought— but it was there all the same.

“They’ll be fine,” Zoro’s reassurance was gruff. His back was still tense though, like he was calming her as much as himself, “It’s Luffy. He’s not going to lose.”

“Yeah, and he’s got Ace with him,” Usopp added a second too late. His voice wobbled, but he tried to grin despite it, “Those two will take care of all this before we even get to Alubarna. You know, I bet we won’t even have to fight. Not that I’m scared—"

The rest of his statement ended with a shriek as a giant catfish rose out of the river.

Fate’s hand had a gift for comedic timing.

“Great,” Zoro seemed to agree. He muttered banefully as the animal surfaced, “You jinxed us, idiot.”

They didn’t have long to prepare themselves. Fear rocketed through her chest when Sanji cursed as the giant fish drew up, stretching tall enough to block out the rays of the moon behind them. On top of Zoro’s head, Chopper began to translate the animal’s words in a panicked flurry— the same fear Usopp currently shared.

He was trying and failing to peddle away from the fish as he sputtered apologies.

The animal’s mouth opened wide and Vivi whimpered, “Oh, no. It’s a Sandora Catfish!”

Alesta was of the opinion that the species of the animal wasn’t needed, but she kept the thought to herself as Zoro pushed her and Chopper into Usopp’s arms. He didn’t have time to unsheathe his sword before the animal abruptly went down when several dozen otters surfaced from the water.

The Strawhats gasped as the animals attacked the giant fish and Alesta stared.

She didn’t think she’d ever get accustomed to this crew.

It was an opinion she held onto the entire trek to the other side of the river. Aided by the otters, they arrived at the bank with little problem. Jumping off the belly of the downed catfish, Alesta took a tentative step onto the shoreline as she watched Chopper and Usopp bid the otters, or the Kung-Fu Dugongs as Vivi informed her, goodbye.

Alesta’s lips twitched involuntarily as Nami followed her lead with the help of a polite otter. Wringing out her soaked coat, she blandly declared, “Your crew has the strangest luck.”

She’d never witnessed anything even marginally similar. The way the small otters had banded together to guide them to shore was something out of a fairytale. It just didn’t happen to regular people. In fact, it was almost amusing the way the world seemed to bend to their benefit.

Her mouth ticked up when she heard Vivi laugh in muted agreement. 

“Say that again when Luffy gets back,” Nami scoffed as she fluffed out her wet hair, “I say we’ve earned a little bit of luck after dealing with all the trouble he gets us into.”

A dry voice agreed, “You know, I think she’s right.”

Alesta’s breath caught in her throat. Throwing her head to the left, she was met with Kanetsuyo’s sharp, dog-toothed grin. He was still there.

Relief coated her tongue as her shoulders finally relaxed.

“Glad you finally got out of the water. Took you long enough.” His eyes skimmed her face before he snorted, “Don’t look so surprised, kid. Can’t get rid of me yet.”

For the first time since she woke up, Alesta felt her cheeks stretch with the faint curl of a smile. As much as she’d come to enjoy the Strawhats, it was good to have someone who was hers here.

Kanetsuyo wasn’t alone either.

The next voice made something warm curl in her stomach even as Thatch scoffed, “You sure about that? I can think of a couple ways.”

Alesta’s eyes drank him in. Standing just behind Kanetsuyo, his arms were crossed over his chest. It made the prominent mountains of his shoulders look even larger and Alesta had to remind herself to breathe as lightness flooded her chest. She wanted him here, but she hadn’t realized how good it would be to see him again.

She wasn’t the only one observing.

Thatch stepped around Kanetsuyo to get a better look at her— taking in the scabbing wound on her cheek and the bandages around her arm. He didn’t look pleased, but he wasn’t frowning. His mouth pursed downward before he sighed and took a step back. Alesta wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

Whatever it was felt thick.

Pressure soaked the air between them.

Her tongue stuck to her teeth when Thatch finally met her eye, a rueful smile curling his cheeks, “Let’s not do that again. Okay?”

“I’ll try,” Alesta managed to say, the odd emotion in her chest making her feel a bit out of sorts, “I’d also rather not die, if that helps.”

“It really doesn’t,” Thatch deadpanned, but his mouth quirked, “You really shouldn’t have got involved in the first place. Actually, you know what? Just stay away from guns and alligators. Oh, water too. Yeah, let’s add that."

His chastisement was a familiar relief even if it was nonsensical. Alesta gave him a strange look, “I’m not sure that’s possible—”

“Shh,” Thatch cut her off, “Just say yes. Problem solved.”

Her mouth ticked up, but she didn’t say the words he was looking for, “I’m sorry.” Alesta continued before he could comment on her apology, “I won’t do that again without thinking things through better.”

It was half a truth, but she wasn’t going to elaborate.  

He seemed to catch it all the same. Thatch drew his gaze over her face before he finally sighed, “Dammit, fine. Your terrible apology is accepted,” he jabbed a finger toward her nose and Alesta went a bit cross-eyed trying to keep up with him, “Just don’t run off alone again, okay? Please?”

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she tucked her lip between her teeth and glanced at his feet. She couldn’t agree to that. Alesta wouldn’t outright lie to him. Thatch waited for a moment, but when she didn’t reply, he groaned. His eyes drifted heavenward before he seemed to take his win.

Alesta appreciated the concession.

She wasn’t going to make another promise when she knew she’d have to break it.

“We’re going to have to work on that, but okay. Now that we understand each other—” There was something to his tone that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Thatch’s eyes went sharp like he knew. He didn’t voice it though, “You and I are going to have a nice little chat when this is all over, ghost girl.”

“We are?” She frowned, “I thought we just did.”

“About other things,” Thatch waved her off, “Maybe with Ace. Actually, yeah. Definitely with Ace—"

The reminder made her stomach drop. Alesta scratched at her chest as she ventured, “Did you know that he stayed behind?”

“Yeah,” Thatch’s face went soft. He dragged his tongue over his lip before he sighed, “Yeah, I saw.”

It was hard to get her next words out, “They’ll be okay, right?”

The question sat between them for longer than Alesta liked. Thatch drew his eyes over her face before his shoulders rolled back. He didn’t look concerned, but there was something in his expression. His gaze drew over the night sky and he sighed.

“Duh,” Thatch managed to grin. It didn’t hide the cling of apprehension still lurking in the crinkle of his eyes, “I’ll be surprised if Crocodile still has two hands once Ace is done with him.”

She wanted to believe him.

It should have been easy, but unease still rolled in her stomach. Alesta couldn’t put a finger on the sensation, but it made it difficult to focus. Her thoughts kept drifting toward the brothers and her lip caught between her teeth. She was used to accepting things as they came and living with the consequences of actions not her own.

That was before though.

Before she cared.

“Seriously,” Thatch pretended to bump his shoulder against hers, yanking her out of her thoughts. His eyes flashed under the low moon, “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. Ace will be back before you know it—”

Kanetsuyo snorted at something in his tone Alesta didn’t catch, “I wonder why?"

Apparently, Thatch didn’t have the same issue.

His eyes slide toward the other ghost, “I cannot wait to punch you.” It was said in a pleasant tone, but Alesta got the hint they’d been bickering for a while now. Thatch sighed, “Do we have to keep you? I don’t want to keep you.”

“You don’t get a choice,” Kanetsuyo smirked, “I found her first."

Her head volleyed between them.

She wasn’t quite familiar enough with male dynamics to gauge the way they were interacting, but there was something odd brewing between them. Kanetsuyo had an unusually protective jut to his chin— his arms curled over his chest as he eyed Thatch up and down.

“Like that matters,” Thatch rolled his eyes, “You just got lucky enough to die near her."

“Lucky? I’m still dead, you fucker—"

That was enough of that.

Alesta tuned their argument out to turn her attention back to the Strawhats. Thatch’s and Kanetsuyo’s interaction wasn’t getting any clearer and she’d rather focus on something she understood. Zoro was done drying off, one eyebrow raised in her direction as he watched her talk with the ghosts.

Zoro’s mouth tipped up when Kanetsuyo said something vile enough to make her sigh, “Got company?”

“Yes,” Alesta winced, hearing Thatch curse behind her. She turned an eye to Zoro in speculation, “You wouldn’t happen to want two extra crewmates, would you?”

Thatch squawked in the background, “Hey!”

“I’ll pass,” Zoro lobbied back wryly, “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

That didn’t make much sense considering everything. Alesta blinked very slowly, “You don’t?”

“No,” with a sharp grin, Zoro turned back to his swords, “I don’t believe in anything except myself.”

Behind her, Kanetsuyo scoffed and Alesta pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t going to contemplate that logic right now. There were other things of more importance.

Alesta sighed again before twisting to the rest of their group.

Beside Zoro, Sanji fussed over Nami— using the dry part of his coat to wipe the water off her face. Nami accepted the help with a tired huff. At their feet, Chopper had changed to his four-legged form as he tried to shake the water off his pelt.

Unlike the rest of her companions, Vivi’s concentration was focused on the horizon. Her pale hands were clutched in front of her chest, fingers wringing as she worked through thoughts she wouldn’t verbalize. Alesta followed her focus. The only thing that greeted her was sand and her thoughts trailed off in realization.

She wasn’t familiar with Arabasta’s geography, but even Alesta knew that the desert was vast.

They’d never make it in time.  

“How are we supposed to get there now?” Usopp whispered her own thoughts, cupping his eyes as he gawked over the dry landscape, “It’s going to take hours—”

Vivi’s mouth pinched grimly, “We’re going to walk. It’s the only thing we can do.”

Whatever layer of levity that the group had from escaping the river vanished at her statement.

Sanji turned his attention to the desert and huffed, lighting up another cigarette before he started to walk, “Might as well get started then.”

Making a noise in his throat, Zoro followed his lead. Nami exchanged an exhausted look with Alesta before sighing as she turned to Eyelash. The camel preened under her attention, dipping down low enough for both Nami and Vivi to climb on its back. She went to offer Alesta a hand, but she shook her head.

She needed to be on her feet for the moment.

Her body was still sore from the action at the casino and it would do well to stretch.

“We’re going to walk?” Usopp repeated incredulously, “There’s no way we’re going to get there before the rebels!”

“We have to try,” Vivi looked at him over her shoulder, her mouth set, “I’m not giving up on my country.”

Usopp went quiet at that and Alesta found herself agreeing with his sudden somberness. She’d never had to fight for something of this magnitude— never had to sacrifice herself for anything beyond her own desires. Alesta wasn’t sure she could handle it with as much grace as Vivi.

The princess was royalty, but she cared for her people.

She loved them.

Draping her wet coat back over her shoulders, Alesta swallowed the emotion that thought brought as she followed in their steps. Even the ghosts behind her were silent. Thatch met her step as they walked, but Kanetsuyo hovered behind. His eyes were fixated on Vivi, an odd curl to his mouth that could either be a frown or a smile.

“Princess has balls,” he finally muttered, “I’ll give her that.”

Alesta gave him a dry look but didn’t comment. It was as close to a compliment as Kanetsuyo would allow. She didn’t miss the way Thatch chuckled before he caught himself, pressing his lips tight as he trudged along.

The next several minutes were spent in the same sort of silence. The Strawhats weren’t as conversational as they once were— the hope of an easy victory fading as the minutes ticked by. She didn’t fault them.

It was difficult to take in the magnitude of everything.

Alesta’s thoughts drifted toward Olvia as they walked. She hadn’t seen the ghost since they’d met at the casino. Her chest felt tight at their last goodbye, hoping Robin finally had the chance to speak to her mother without an audience. Alesta wasn’t sure the chance would ever come again.

She wasn’t sure of anything that lay ahead.

There were so many variables to consider. Robin’s alliance, Luffy and Ace’s battle, the rebels— everything was a mess and Alesta had no hope of trying to wrangle it together. She’d been overwhelmed several times in her life, but this was beyond the scope of anything she’d experienced.

Surrounded by pirates and recovering from injury, she was the weakest link.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Thankfully, she didn’t have long to marinate in her self-doubt. They’d been walking for nearly twenty minutes before shaded forms breached the horizon. Usopp squeaked something about an attack, but Vivi began to grin. It soon became clear why.

Seven forms spread out and the patter of webbed feet echoed over the sand as a troop of ducks sprinted toward them.

“Karoo!” Vivi threw herself off Eyelash’s back, “And the Super Sonic Duck Squadron!”

Thatch gawked, “The what?”

Alesta would have thought the name was self-explanatory.

Watching the ducks spread out in a circle between them, she caught Vivi launch herself at the duck named Karoo. Even Nami got down to greet the duck, ruffling the animal’s feathers as it preened at the attention. A brief introduction was given before Vivi instructed each person to choose a duck to ride to Alubarna.

Usopp got the short end of the deal, “Why do I have to ride with the camel?!”

“Deal with it,” Nami pet her duck on top of its head, jostling its helmet as she grinned, “Unless you want to walk?”

Muttering something vaguely defamatory, Usopp stalked over to the largest duck. Alesta took the hint and moved toward the animal designated for her, letting the duck sniff her hand as she watched the rest of the crew climb onto their own saddles. Her duck made a strange chirping sound and Alesta smiled softly as it poked her good arm with its beak.

“Yeah,” Thatch mumbled faintly as he watched, “I think I’m with you on the whole luck thing.”

Kanetsuyo whistled between his teeth, “Not trying to agree with the bastard, but damn. Rookie pirates are something else.”

It took a second for his insult to sink in. When it did, Thatch whirled toward him, “Did you just call me a bastard?”

“I don’t know,” Kanetsuyo snickered and Alesta cupped her brow, “Did I?”

Alesta blinked at him from under her palm. She knew that tone. It was the same, slightly incendiary tone he’d used when they’d first met on the boat. Back when Kanetsuyo didn’t trust her. Her eyes skimmed over his face and she realized with abrupt clarity that Kanetsuyo was wary of the other pirate.

He hid it with his sharp tongue, but it was true all the same.

“Oh my god. I hate him.” Meanwhile, Thatch grumbled under his breath. He didn’t even look at the other ghost, trailing his attention to the sky like it could provide the answers to his grief, “I seriously hate him.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Kanetsuyo’s lips curled up as he added a second too late, “Bastard.”

Thatch’s eyes went sharp and he opened his mouth to respond. Alesta didn’t let him. They didn’t have time to bicker right now.

They needed to focus.

“Quit arguing, please,” rubbing at her temple, she looked between the two of them, “You can fight later.”

Kanetsuyo gave her a long look before ultimately shrugging, “Well, since you said please.”

Alesta sighed at the undertone of his compliance. This was going to take an adjustment period. Throwing her leg over the duck’s saddle, Alesta watched the two ghosts begin to snap at one another as she settled. She hadn’t really considered how the introduction of Kanetsuyo to their dynamic would affect things.

It was selfish of her, but she wanted him back because he was familiar.

Because she trusted him.

Even if it was clear he didn’t feel the same way about Thatch.

It would be something to be dealt with later. Straddling the back of the duck, Alesta took a deep breath as she prepared herself for the ride ahead. She had no idea what they were walking into. No idea how she’d gotten herself so deeply attached to this adventure, but it was too late to worry about her part.

As the duck began to sprint, Alesta tucked her head into its feathers and held tight.

She could only hope that Ace and Luffy were okay.

Ace knew this would happen the second his feet touched the ground.

“No! You have to go with Vivi!” Luffy shouted. His rubbery limbs stretched as he pulled himself to his knees, gifting Ace a scowl that made his mouth dry up, “This is my fight!”  

He’d expected Luffy to throw a fit when he jumped off the crab and he was right. In another time, Ace might have grinned at the sheer force behind his tone. Luffy had grown more than he’d realized in the few years apart—

His sweet little brother sounded like a true captain now.

Ace had never been prouder of him.

Unfortunately, he had other things to deal with right now. Namely, the warlord who kept crawling back like a particularly frustrating cockroach. Keeping a careful eye on the rest of the group, Ace’s mouth pinched when he spotted Robin hovering behind Crocodile’s back. Her dark hair shaded her eyes, but there was something to her expression that made his skin stand on end.

He shook it off as he focused on Crocodile.

The cigar perched between his teeth burned under the dim light of the night sky. A small cloud of smoke curled around his face, highlighting his smirk and making Ace’s haunches go tight. He was ready for this to be over.

Raising his hands, Ace stopped a few feet behind him, “You’re right, Lu.”

Ace understood Luffy's irritation. He’d always been a hardheaded kid— all those days spent with Dadan when he was pushing Ace to give in to his friendship proved it. Luffy clung to what he thought was his and Ace knew that this chance, this battle— it was Luffy’s.

That didn't mean he was going to leave Luffy unprotected though.

Couldn’t bear the thought of finding his hat.

Torn to shreds and burning—

Ace took a step forward, positioning himself several feet away but near Luffy's side. "You're right," Ace repeated, his voice steady. "This is your fight, but that doesn’t mean I can’t watch over you."

Luffy turned to look at him, a mix of surprise and confusion in his big, dark eyes. He didn't argue this time and Ace appreciated it. His brother’s stubborn streak was as endearing as it was aggravating. God, he missed Sabo.

He knew how to make him listen.

The thought made his chest tight even as Ace continued, "We're brothers. We've got each other’s back.”

“You’re not going to steal my fight?” Luffy squinted at him suspiciously, “You promise?”

Something bittersweet settled in his chest. He’d heard that question before in a different tone. On a cliff in Foosha village, when he promised to never die. Taking another slow step back, Ace tried to push the memory down. Tried not to think about what led them there. Tried not to think about Sabo—

About what could have been.

“I promise, Lu,” Ace swore, tapping his chest for good measure, “Kick his ass.”

Luffy grinned and the pit in Ace’s stomach churned. He’d do anything to keep that smile. It’d been so long since he’d been able to wake up and see it every day. If standing on the sidelines and watching Luffy’s back was what it took to keep it there, he’d suffer through it.

“Charming,” Crocodile droned. He flicked his cigar before giving the woman behind him a look, “Care to entertain our guest, Ms. All Sunday?”

Crawling to his feet, Luffy frowned at them, “You’re going to fight too?”

There was something in his little brother’s tone. It made Ace glance toward him, catching the way Luffy eyed Robin as she rolled her sleeves up her forearm. Ace’s mouth pinched downward in confusion. Luffy had a gift of seeing things Ace didn’t, but he didn’t know what the hell made him fixate on the assassin.

There were plenty of safer women to look at.

He wasn’t the only one to catch the observation. It was hard to notice, but Ace saw Robin tense. Her eyes flicked toward Crocodile as she took a step forward, “It would be my pleasure.”

Ace couldn’t stop his eyebrows from arching in surprise.

That was a terrible match-up. Her devil fruit was nothing compared to his. He didn’t know what the hell Crocodile was thinking— arms bloomed over the ground and Ace frowned, twisting his attention back up to Robin as she crossed the sand toward him.

“Play along,” her voice was barely audible over the wind. Robin tilted her head, fingers dancing gracefully through the air as her arms reached for his ankles, “I’m not going to fight you, but we need to put on a show.”

That wouldn’t be a problem. He hadn’t forgotten her role in the events leading here. Ace’s eyes narrowed as he jumped back, letting a small plume of flames eat at the ground between them, “You know, I find that a little hard to believe—”

His confusion at the turn of events was broken when he heard Luffy bellow behind him.

Twisting his head over his shoulder, he caught Luffy throwing himself at the warlord. One of his fists rocketed back before it thwacked through the air— blowing through Crocodile’s face and slinging back into his arm. His mouth twitched with an exasperated grin before Ace was ripped back into the present by the tickle of a hand grabbing his ankle.

“It’d be foolish to even try,” Robin’s lips ticked up when he glared at her, “I have my own goals, but I believe I owe you.” Ace jumped back again, letting a small wave of flames separate the air between them as Robin continued, “Your friend. What’s her name?”

Ace’s spine went straight, “What do you want with her?”

“Nothing except to thank her,” Robin didn’t try to activate her devil fruit again. She merely watched Ace through the flames, fathomless gaze taking in his every expression, “She has an interesting devil fruit.”

The surge of emotion that curled up his spine surprised him. Ace knew he was possessive. He held onto things he cared about. Kept them burrowed away and safe. He’d done the same thing with his brothers throughout the years until Luffy finally grew old enough to make him stop hovering. That didn’t stop him from knowing the truth.

His people were his and he wouldn’t let anything take them from him.

He hadn’t realized he’d nestled his claws into Alesta in the same way until now. Until he was faced with the possibility of someone taking her away. The thought of Robin’s interest made him want to lash out— to tuck his memories away far enough that they would always be his.

His chest heaved as he glared at the woman across from him, “Don’t. This isn’t about her—"

“Don’t worry. I have no ill will toward her,” Robin smiled softly. The flames made her eyes twinkle, “Maybe in another life, things would have been different.”

He’d never been a fan of cryptic messages. That’d always been Sabo’s gift. The ability to look between the lines where Ace would rather burn it down until the answers showed themselves.

Scowling, he let fire coat his shoulders, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” Robin paused, letting her focus drift to the fight behind them. Her mouth pursed before she warned, “You should help your brother. Crocodile’s hook is coated with poison.”

Ace threw his focus back to Luffy as fear rotted his stomach. He was such an idiot. He never should have let himself get distracted— he was supposed to be watching. That was why he was here.

Breaking away from Robin, Ace froze when he got a good look at the fight.

Luffy was on his knee, panting as he glared up at Crocodile. His face was red with exertion, but he didn’t look close to giving up. On a different day, Ace would have grinned. Luffy never was one to give up when the odds were against him. Ace flicked his attention to Crocodile, catching the way the man sneered down at his little brother before he lifted his arm.

Robin’s warning suddenly made sense.

Ace was moving before he could think. Luffy could yell at him later. He’d tried to keep his promise.

He’d tried so hard to just sit back and watch.

Ace couldn’t though. Not when he saw the metal of Crocodile’s hook glint in the air. Luffy was struggling to stand after the last blow and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t paying attention.

Why couldn’t he just focus—

Crocodile’s hook lifted in the air and Ace let his flames roar.

The energy in Alesta’s chest thrummed uneasily.

Their arrival in Alubarna came with a barrier. Wringing her hands over her duck’s reigns, Alesta listened to Nami’s plan as she eyed the figures on the mountaintop. Vivi recognized them— naming the senior Baroque Agents off the second they’d stalled. Underneath her, the duck waddled anxiously as it exchanged worried chirps with its squad.

Alesta found herself agreeing despite the language barrier.

This was going to be difficult.

They were splitting up. They were going to separate into pairs of two to distract the agents, forcing them to break apart. It was risky without knowing the strength of the adversaries they were about to face. Alesta didn’t like that factor— the threat of the unknown making her tongue taste suspiciously like spoiled wine as she let her attention drift back to the Strawhats.  

“Everyone, pull your hoods up,” Nami demonstrated the action, hiding her auburn hair under the shadow of her cloak. Alesta could only see her grin as she said, “They’re looking for Vivi, but they won’t know which one of us is her. They’re going to have to come after all of us.”

While Alesta appreciated the idea behind the plan, she wasn’t sure it was going to work as intended.

Her eyes drifted toward Usopp and the camel— both hiding under the same cloak. If they were lucky, the Baroque Agents wouldn’t question why Vivi had suddenly gained several hundred pounds and a hump-back.

She didn’t voice her doubt. Instead, her attention trailed to Vivi as she whispered, “Thank you,” blue eyes watered as Vivi forced a soft smile, “I can’t thank you all enough. Be safe— please.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Zoro smirked as he dragged his own hood over his head, “We’ll be fine.”

Blowing a puff of smoke out, Sanji added, “Take care of the rebels, Vivi. We’ll meet you at the castle.”

Alesta respected their optimism as much as she questioned it.

Her goal in this scheme was to head south and circle through the back entrance of Alubarna. She didn’t have an idea of what awaited her, but she was going to do her part. Even if it was simply a measure of distraction.

Zoro and Nami were the first to break off from the group— leading their ducks north and Alesta swallowed when she saw a figure jump off the mountaintop.

Whoever they were, they were large.

A plume of sand followed their landing before they began to run.

Sanji and Chopper left next. Sanji went as far as to gift Alesta a simpering smile before he rode off, “Good luck, Alesta. If you need any assistance, I only need to hear a call from your beautiful lips—"

His flirtations ended with a curse as his duck began to sprint.

“Oh, shut up,” Usopp grumbled as his duck fell into step next to hers, “What a weirdo.”

She heard Thatch mutter an agreement in the background and Alesta’s mouth ticked up despite the situation. Pulling her hood up and looking to the boy at her left, she asked, “Are you ready?”

The question seemed to make him sit straighter. Pasting on a proud smile, Usopp’s voice shook even as he declared, “Of course, I am! This is nothing!"

“That’s good,” Alesta returned evenly, “Because I’m terrified.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the two ghosts with the admission. They were propped awkwardly on the back of the duck, trying to settle without touching each other. She was glad they’d gotten over their differences enough to allow it.

It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was something.  

Meanwhile, her honesty seemed to stump Usopp. He gawked at her, “You are? But you have a devil fruit.”

“That’s true, but I’ve been shot and nearly eaten by a large alligator. It’s taking a bit to adjust.” Alesta’s mouth tipped into a grim smile as Usopp gaped, “I’m not like you. You’re braver than I am.”

It wasn’t a lie. The boy was clearly terrified, but he was here all the same. There were stronger men who never would have thought to lift a finger. Alesta vaguely wondered if she’d be one of them had she known what she agreed to before setting out.

“I am?” Usopp whispered before he grinned, “Yeah, I am! I’m so glad someone finally noticed—”

He threw his arms out as his duck suddenly shot off, a panicked cry falling from his lips as Eyelash snorted behind him. Alesta chuckled under her breath as her duck followed at a slightly slower pace— its webbed feet eating at the earth as she ducked her head into its feathers. The wind whipped over her covered face, but she could still hear the chatter of the ghosts behind her.

“Way to stroke his ego,” Thatch sounded slightly petulant, and for the life of her, Alesta couldn’t understand why, “I’m not sure the kid needs it.”

Kanetsuyo scoffed, “Tone it down a bit, would you?”

“I’m just saying—”

“It doesn’t hurt anything to encourage him,” Alesta said over her shoulder as their duck rounded the curved outer ring of Alubarna, “I only said what I would have wanted to hear.”

They didn’t have any more time to talk after that.

The hot air of Arabasta bit at her skin as they broke the city boundary and Alesta’s hands flexed on the duck’s reigns. She hadn’t noticed any of the agents pursuing her, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Her head swiveled over her shoulder to observe the path they came from— caution brewing when she spotted nothing.

“No one followed us,” she realized with dread, “How many were there?”

Sitting up straight, Kanetsuyo scowled, “I counted five. One for each of the rookies.”

“Maybe we’re clear then,” Thatch mused. He’d followed her example, his dark eyes scanning over the inner workings of the city as they breached the south entrance. “Crocodile never saw you, right? They might not know you’re here."

“Robin knows,” Alesta argued, “If she told Crocodile—"

“Someone’s up ahead,” Kanetsuyo cut her off. His voice was sharp as he ordered, “Get ready, kid.”

There wasn’t a second to spare.

The duck they’d been riding suddenly reared back, an angry squawk escaping its beak when a gunshot rang through the air. Alesta cursed as she ducked. Her fingers tangled in the bird’s feathers as she fought to hang on. The bird’s large wings whipped out and there was a grunt on their left— a purple-faced man knocked to the earth before the duck pecked him with its beak.

“We’ve got company!” Thatch called behind her. She’d lost track of him during the distraction, but he’d already made it to the ground, “Get down!”

Another gunshot broke the air.

The duck went low and Alesta let herself slide off its back, ankles catching against the hard-packed sand. The animal gave her a look before it launched itself forward— sharp beak snatching the gun out of the hand of the man attacking them and throwing it toward their left.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Alesta threw her gaze around the space.

They’d been ambushed in between two white-washed stone buildings. Nearly three dozen men barricaded the exit— swords, rifles, and spears held between their meaty fists. Alesta took a slow step backward when she caught sight of the Baroque Works insignia on their clothing.

“Well, it ain’t the princess,” one of the men sneered as he hoisted his sword up, “I recognize her though. That’s the bitch that broke Shaw’s skull open.”

That was unfortunate.

Alesta hadn’t realized any of the agents at the casino would make it down here in time to intercept. In a distant part of her mind, she had to commend Crocodile on his efficiency. It must be difficult to mobilize a force of this size.

Her foot dug into the sand as she took another slow step back.

Keeping her eyes ahead, Alesta checked her peripheral. The duck hadn’t left yet. Its large black eyes were narrowed on the men, nostrils flaring as it stomped its webbed feet. Alesta shook her head— softly waving the animal off as she settled near the mouth of the alleyway.

She wasn’t going to allow one of Vivi’s friends to get caught in the crossfire.

That didn’t mean she was going to do this alone though.

Alesta had learned her lesson in that regard. The familiar pressure in her chest hummed in anticipation and she didn’t have to look to know that the two ghosts stood on either side of her. As the agents ahead of her spread out, she let her hands fall open at her sides. A cool wash of air met her flesh and she knew that Thatch had gripped her hand.

When she didn’t try to run, the man who’d first spoken laughed. It was a cruel little sound, “Not so brave now, are you? Come on, boys,” He leveled the sword in her direction, “Let’s say hello.”

The power hiding beneath her breasts hammered.

“Thatch, Kanetsuyo,” Alesta watched the man’s smug smile fade as she said, “Please help me.”

The process was easier than it’d ever been before. There was no pain, no ache. The sensation of her devil fruit activating crawled down her arms like static before it seemed to zip through the air beside her. A second of emptiness echoed through the hollow of her chest before abruptly beginning to fill.

Heat radiated at her sides as both men came to life. Leaning his elbow against her side, Kanetsuyo chuckled darkly as he shook out his hand. Alesta’s lips ticked up when Thatch stretched beside her. It was accompanied by a pleased groan and the men blocking the alleyway went still.

The one who’d taunted her took a wobbly step back. Horror made his mouth gape, “What the fuck are you?”

“She’s a demon,” another one whispered, “One of those devils—”

For once, the comment didn’t sting.

Alesta refused to break eye contact as the two ghosts spread out beside her. The men’s fear might have once rocked her, but she was tired of them. She watched the men carefully as they continued to cower, nearly stepping over each other as they tried to back up.

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Thatch pouted with exaggeration, but his tone was anything but lax. There was a gleam to his stare that once would have frightened her. “You’d think they’d never seen a ghost before.”

Propping his hands behind his neck, Kanetsuyo scoffed, “You’re not funny.”

“Shove it,” Thatch gave him a dark look, “I’m hilarious. Right, ghost girl?”

Alesta didn’t get a chance to answer.

Another gunshot whipped through the air and Kanetsuyo moved. As the bullet ricocheted into the wall at their right, he went for the man before he could lower his gun. Throwing his arm up, Kanetsuyo knocked the weapon out of his hands as he spun. His elbow caught the man’s throat and there was a second of stunned silence before the agent’s body rocketed into the wall behind him.

Thatch snorted, “Show off.”

Kanetsuyo didn’t pay the comment any mind.

Twisting around the agents, he went for a man with a sword before knocking him out cold. He tossed the weapon up with a smirk, flipping it twice. Alesta tried not to sigh when he immediately used it to cut open the chest of an agent who’d attempted to sneak up behind him.

“You going to keep talking or are you going to actually do something?” at the pause of momentum, Kanetsuyo taunted, “Thought Whitebeard’s brats knew how to fight.”

It took a minute to register, but when the insult hit, Thatch made an ugly noise in the back of his throat. There was a rush of air to her right as he sprang forward. Alesta could only stare. Thatch didn’t move like Kanetsuyo. He didn’t have the same feline grace in his stride, but he didn’t need it.

Each attack was filled to the brim with intent.

Thatch’s fist connected to an agent’s jaw and a crack rolled through the air.

“I’ll show you a fight,” Thatch grumbled as he easily dodged another attack. Bending over, he kicked the agent’s chest in as he swiped up a fallen sword, “Smart ass—"

The words barely left his throat before five men fell. The only reason that Alesta knew the blow came from Thatch was the sharp whip of his stolen sword. He huffed under his breath before turning to Kanetsuyo, eyebrow raised mockingly.

Pausing, Kanetsuyo gave him a long look before a downright feral grin split his cheeks, “You know your way around a sword?”

“Of course I do,” Thatch grunted, sweeping his blade across the chest of another incoming agent, “This is nothing. Get me two of these and I’ll show you what I can really do.”

“Now, I’ve got to see that,” Kanetsuyo’s resulting cackle sent even a chill down Alesta’s spine. Taking down the man he’d been fighting, Kanetsuyo whipped the sword out of the man’s grip before tossing it across the alleyway to Thatch, “The floor’s yours, bastard.”

“Thanks,” Thatch’s tone was undeniably sarcastic, but he snatched the weapon all the same, “You’re growing on me too.”  

Cutting down another agent, Kanetsuyo’s eye twitched, “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it,” Thatch grinned as he hoisted the two swords, one in each hand, “Aw, look at us. We’re bonding.”

“Fuck off—”

Alesta tried to focus on the bright side of their encounter.

At least they were getting along.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have long to appreciate the change of attitude. There was a sound behind her and Alesta spun. Her shoulders went tight as another wave of men blocked off the entrance of the alleyway. It was habit to try and take a step back, but there was nowhere for her to go.

If she got too close to Thatch and Kanetsuyo’s fight, she’d risk distracting them.

She swallowed as her hand fell to the familiar weight of her hammer against her hip.

It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d done this before. Alesta just needed to be mindful of her injury. It helped that there were fewer men than the original cohort. Only ten men blocked the entrance and none of them held rifles. She could accept that risk. Pulling her hammer out, she rolled it between her palms before gripping it with her good hand.

It was just in time.

One of the men dove for her and Alesta ducked.

“Ten down. Looks like I’m winning,” Kanetsuyo’s voice echoed in her ears as she dodged a muscular fist, “You sure you know how to fight, old man?”

She smashed the hammer into the agent’s nose.

His scream made her ears burn.

“Old?” Thatch sputtered over the noise, “You think I’m old?"

Alesta wished she had their easy confidence. They may be able to handle this without concern, but she was struggling. The momentum of her swings was making her injured arm ache and slowing her far more than it should. Dodging the incoming blow from the agent’s fist in front of her, she went down low— swiping her leg across the man’s ankles.

It made him falter just long enough for her hammer to connect to the bottom of his jaw.

The man coughed, blood and spit spurting out of his mouth as he keeled over— hands cupping his mangled jaw. Alesta didn’t have time to react to the sight.

As soon as he fell, another man was on her.

This one wielded a menacing ball-and-chain weapon and its spiked end glinted in the sun seconds before it broke the earth by her hip.

It was close enough that she felt the air break from the impact.

Instead of dwelling on that fact, she lurched forward to snatch the chained end of the weapon. The spikes bit at her hand as she curled her fist around the chain. Then she yanked. The metal cut open her palm, but her action worked in her favor.

The man above her grunted and she had just enough time to kick up, nailing him in the throat before pushing herself to her feet.

While he choked, she moved.

In the same manner Thatch taught her on the island, she lifted her hammer above her head with both hands and brought it down hard into his skull. The agent crumbled as she heaved for breath.

The pause cost her. There was a whistle of air behind her and Alesta spun—

A sword went for her head and there wasn’t enough time to duck.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

“You’ve got to pay attention to your blind spots, kid,” Kanetsuyo jerked her out of the way by the back of her shirt, “And seriously? A hammer? What the hell were you thinking?”

“That’s what I said!” Thatch yelled from the other side of the battlefield, “See, someone agrees!”

Alesta panted, using Kanetsuyo’s help as a chance to finish catching her breath, “It’s easier than a sword.”

“Yeah, if you want to die,” Kanetsuyo snorted, cutting down another agent before pulling her behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, “Watch my back and get your hair out of your face. No wonder you can’t see shit.”

It was easy to obey the order. Pressing her back against Kanetsuyo’s, Alesta eyed the rest of the men around them. There were only a few left. Thatch was skillfully taking out the majority of them near the back of the alley— brutally transitioning through their defenses as he used both swords to tear them down.

Ripping her eyes away from him, Alesta focused on the last man on their side of the battlefield. He moved toward her and she broke off from Kanetsuyo’s back before slipping under the flash of the agent’s spear. The sharp end caught in the tangle of her hair and Alesta had just enough time to wince before winding her arm back and bringing the hammer down on his collarbone.

It wasn’t enough to drop him.

“Fix your grip,” Kanetsuyo fussed as she ducked, “And stop swinging with your damn hips."

Grabbing onto the length of the spear, Alesta hissed, “You’re not helping.”

Kanetsuyo scoffed at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind. The rest of the battlefield was silent as she used her grip on the spear to pull the man in. His teeth bared at her and she grimaced, trying to ignore the way he spat at her chest.

Instead, she twisted the length of the metal she held—

The agent stumbled.

Kanetsuyo moved.

His sword slipped through the man’s neck. It wasn’t a clean cut. The agent stumbled back, hand cupping the bottom of his throat before he crumbled to the ground. No one moved to replace him and Alesta propped her hands on her knees. The battle was over.

They’d won.

Alesta managed a shuddering inhale, letting her eyes take in the body at her feet. She was pretty sure she heard Thatch whistle behind her, but she was more focused on the mess Kanetsuyo’s improvisation wrought. The entire front of her cloak was stained red.

She winced, rubbing at the blood on her face before turning a tired look in his direction, “That was entirely uncalled for.”

“Quit whining,” Kanetsuyo wiped his blade on his pants, “It’s just a little blood.”

She took a deep breath to quell the urge to hit him. That wouldn’t do her any good right now. Her arm had begun to hurt again and Alesta hissed, poking at her bandages. Her fingers came back slightly bloodied and she frowned, realizing all the movement had reopened the wound.

“You know, we just talked about this,” Thatch grumbled as walked up to them. He looked toward Kanetsuyo for help when he reached her, “You heard me, right? I specifically said not to run into any more fights—”

The rest of his complaint trailed off as Alesta practically melted into his side. Thatch went still before his arm looped around her waist and her eyes nearly slid shut. It’d crept up on her throughout the fight, but she was tired. 

She didn’t have the same stamina as her companions and it was catching up to her.

“I didn’t,” Alesta muttered into his shoulder, “It came to me.”

Kanetsuyo snorted.   

When Thatch leveled him with a dark look, he raised his hands in suppliance. It did nothing to hide his smirk. Alesta rolled her eyes at their silent antagonism before trying to brush the sweat off her face. It stuck to the cut on her cheek and she grimaced.

She felt Thatch move, adjusting her in his hold. She didn’t have time to question it before a warm finger brushed over her cheekbone. She blinked, looking up just in time to see him smile. One dark eyebrow raised, his eyes skimming over her face before he chuckled under his breath.

“You’re something else,” Thatch squeezed her against his side with an exaggerated sigh. His hand was warm as it flexed against her hip, “But you did good, ghost girl. Looks like our practice paid off.”

The compliment shouldn’t have pleased her.

She’d barely done anything of note, but it settled in her chest all the same. He was honest and the praise rocked her. For this whole adventure, she’d been struggling to keep pace. Everyone was stronger than her. They were faster— braver. Even with the help of her devil fruit, it was hard to believe that she’d managed to actually win.

Trying to ignore the warm sensation in her stomach, she ducked her head, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Thatch’s grin was lethal, “If you’re going to keep this up, we’re going to be training until you hate me.”

The threat made Alesta swallow and Thatch caught it. His brown eyes sparked with something devious. She didn’t have time to digest his observation before his fingers tickled her side and Alesta twisted in his hold to avoid the sensation. He laughed lowly, finally letting his hand settle on the curve of her hip.

Looking between the two of them, Kanetsuyo sighed, “This is hell.”

That successfully ripped her out of her pleasant thoughts.

Alesta grimaced at his dry tone, stepping out of Thatch’s hold. She heard him make an annoyed noise behind her, but her focus was on Kanetsuyo. She should have asked beforehand. Her shoulders curved inward at the realization of her own greediness.

“Sorry,” Alesta offered, “Do you want to go? You don’t have to stay—”

“And leave you with him?” Kanetsuyo trailed his eyes lazily toward Thatch before deadpanning, “Fuck that.”

She blinked. That hadn’t been what she’d anticipated hearing. Judging from the way Thatch choked, he hadn’t expected it either. He managed to sputter, “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought we were bonding!”

“You thought wrong.”

“No, we were definitely bonding—"

Her mouth made an aborted motion to smile, but Alesta buffered the urge. As much as Kanetsuyo’s annoyance concerned her, it was a good way to get her focus back in order. They weren’t done yet. She had no idea how the rest of their group managed and her thoughts drifted back toward Vivi. She hoped the princess had met the rebels—

Hoped that this whole thing could finally end.

Scrubbing at her face, Alesta tried to take a deep breath. She needed to focus. They were supposed to meet at the palace once they’d taken care of the Baroque Agents. Without waiting for Kanetsuyo and Thatch to notice, she began to walk in the direction of the city center.

They’d follow along eventually.

As she stepped out of the alleyway, she kept a cautious eye on the empty city. The agents they’d defeated might not be alone, but for now, she didn’t see anyone. It made sense in a way. Most of Alubarna’s forces would congregate near the palace. Her hip began to ache as she walked and Alesta rubbed at her side absentmindedly, trying to figure out where to go from here.

If Vivi hadn’t succeeded in stopping the rebels, everything was about to become substantially more difficult. There wouldn’t be a way to stop the two sides of Arabasta from clashing. That didn’t factor in Crocodile either. Not knowing how Luffy and Ace had fared against him, she needed to prepare for the worst.

If they lost their fight, the warlord would be waiting for them.

He wasn’t going to allow his plan to fail. Alesta knew that without ever having exchanged a word with him. She’d seen the way he maneuvered his force, the depth of his planning, his cruelty— her throat went tight. No, things weren’t over yet.

They weren’t even close.

The pressure of it all tempted to overwhelm her. Stalling in the middle of the road, Alesta tilted her head to the sky. It would be so easy to give up. She’d thought that before and she assumed she’d continue to do so. She wasn’t a pirate— didn’t have the drive for victory they all seemed to depend on to survive.

Her dark eyes skimmed over the cloudless sky.

She had no idea what she was looking for. Part of her begged for a sign, a push that promised she was doing the right thing. It was a stupid, childish wish. The hope of a person who still depended on a god for answers. The pressure in her chest beat like a drum and Alesta swallowed, letting her nails dig into the flesh above her breasts.

Then something in the sky flickered.

Alesta went still, hand resting over her heart. It could have been a mirage, a consequence of overexertion. She’d almost convinced herself it was just that until she saw it again. Coasting over the horizon, a mass of bright blue flames flashed in the sky. They sailed in front of the sun before they spread wide and a form emerged.

It was wings.

She couldn’t speak if she tried. The figure in the sky was the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen. Nothing compared to it. Not the snowy mountain peaks on Drum Island, not the expanse of the wild ocean— she couldn’t think of a single parallel to articulate her awe.

She didn’t even notice when Kanetsuyo and Thatch fell into step beside her. The only indication they saw what she did was Kanetsuyo’s tired sigh, “Fucking great. What’s next? Is Whitebeard going to fall out of the sky too?”

Frozen by wonder, Alesta could only whisper, “What is that?”

“That’s Marco,” Thatch’s lips spread into a blinding grin, “He finally made it.”

Chapter Text

Fire raged in the air.

There was nowhere that wasn’t entombed by smoke and sand. Robin observed the battle silently from her location. This wasn’t a fight she intended to take part in more than she had. Her eyes skimmed over the area, noting vaguely that Fire Fist had done well. He’d heeded her warning and spared his brother from Crocodile’s hook. The realization felt slightly bitter beneath her tongue.

She wasn’t sure what led her to speak to him, wasn’t sure why she felt like it was the right thing to do.

It was something her mother would have done.

Something Saul would have done.

But she wasn’t them. Robin’s skin felt tight as she watched Crocodile parry Ace’s blow. Her opinion of Whitebeard’s men hadn’t changed despite her warning. It may be hidden through the facile guise of family, but they were dangerous. The sort of pirates she understood.

Except the Straw Hats were different.

She wasn’t expecting to view them so fondly. They were just another pirate crew. Another group of people who’d eventually succumb to their desires and fall through the hand of fate. It was a story repeated through the years— a facet of life she’d come to anticipate time and time again.   

The sea had taught her the harsh lesson of betrayal, molded it into her bones, and she couldn't forget the pain it had inflicted on her in the past. It was an ever-present shadow, lurking behind the facade of unity and camaraderie. She witnessed it before, the subtle shifts in alliances and the hidden agendas that permeated pirate crews.

Trust was a fragile glass cage, easily shattered by greed and fear.

Except, this group was strange. They were guided by something beyond what she understood. Their mission to spare Arabasta was noble. Robin could appreciate that. A battle without a will was one already lost— but even a will couldn’t change fate.

She knew Crocodile. Knew his motivations, his strengths, and his cruelty. She’d been by his side for four long years. She was supposed to take solace in that fact.

Robin wondered when that changed.

Her eyes drifted back toward the brawl. They were bright— the Straw Hats. Warm in a manner that didn’t come from the sun. Looking at their captain was like glimpsing the northern stars. His will was strong and his eyes were coals.

Burning and burning until the only thing left was his soul.

It’d been hard to turn away the first time that gaze trapped her. She’d never seen a captain look at their men as he looked at his crew. He watched them like they were an extension of himself. He looked at them like he trusted them.

Robin wasn’t sure she remembered how it felt to trust someone beyond yourself.

Couldn’t recall the last time she hadn’t felt like a curse buried beneath human flesh. 

Casting her eyes away from the flames of Fire Fist Ace’s assault, Robin felt something stir deep in her chest. She knew what that sensation was, knew it was the kindling of emotions she’d long since thought buried. It made her heart pound. The organ battered against her chest as Straw Hat took Crocodile’s punch head-on to allow Ace to go after the War Lord’s back.

They fought well together— Fire Fist and his brother. There was a conscious awareness of each other in every movement. Ace would distract and Straw Hat would attack. It was an effective strategy, obviously well practiced. The blows that Crocodile would have once avoided were beginning to catch up to him. Blood dripped down his brow, catching on his lip as he spit on top of the ground.

Robin almost wanted them to win.

It would deviate from everything she’d planned, but hope was a fickle thing. It latched onto the strangest circumstances and drew its strength from the impossible. It shouldn’t be a thought for her to entertain. She was supposed to move forward without regret, without care about the consequences of her desires. It was what she’d planned to do— simply let Arabasta burn with her.

But that was no longer what she wanted.

Robin blamed the girl.

She wanted to hate her. It would have been easy to allow that feeling to fester. Part of her still felt a stirring of resentment for the woman who’d brought her mother back to life— brought back the shame of her choices, the loss, the death. It was cruel to thrust that into her face at her weakest moment. When she’d finally decided to give up.

Robin should hate her.

But she couldn’t.

Because she’d done it again. There was no point left in sympathy after the girl had fallen, bloodied and tattered from a fight she’d never win. Most opponents would have let that be the end. Except, she hadn’t. The girl had spared her energy to let her mother breathe— to let them find each other for the last time.

It was more than Robin was worthy of.

She didn’t deserve apologies, didn’t deserve her mother’s tears. She killed for a living— bore that sin into her soul and molded it into her being. She was cursed. Doomed to a life of betrayal and hatred. It was what she knew.  

Then her mother kissed her forehead.

The same goodbye they’d shared before Ohara burnt.

Chest tight, Robin cast her gaze back to the fight. It was progressing as she expected. Fire Fist may be skilled, but he was distracted by his concern for his brother. Something Crocodile held no qualms exploiting. His patience was running thin. For each blow he weathered, the War Lord would throw a punch twice as hard against the younger captain.

It was cruel.

But it was effective.

Another wild plume of fire burst in the air and Robin had to shield her eyes from the light it cast. As the smoke settled over the dry earth, Robin stared at the three figures spread across the sand. Crocodile heaved, his arm outstretched from trying to evade the blow. His hook was pointed toward Straw Hat’s head—

Then something metallic dripped onto the sand.

Gold trickled from the hook as it bent downward, the heat from the flames leaving the metal distorted and ruined. Robin couldn’t look away. She wasn’t the only one. Hands propped on his knees, Fire-Fist chuckled under his breath when Crocodile went quiet. It was a soft sound, nearly inaudible over the expanse of the desert.

“Looks like you lost something,” Ace’s eyes were sharp. They didn’t blister like his brothers, but they simmered like he was battling with the depths of hell, “I might not be able to burn you, but I’ll take it.”

Straw Hat pouted. For the first time that evening, Robin found herself fighting a smile. His cheeks puffed out in annoyance, the fist he’d raised still hiked in the air, “Ace, you promised! I had him!”

“Sorry, Lu,” Ace smiled and Robin didn’t know how to handle the look he gave his brother. There was so much love, so much warmth. “You can get the next hit—"

Robin pitied them at that moment. They were too casual. Crocodile didn’t allow for humiliation, wouldn’t let the sting of retribution go unpunished. She’d seen many of their agents fall to his wrath. Men who’d done nothing more than speak out of turn. Her gaze drifted to the War Lord when she noticed him observing the ruined hook.

Crocodile’s mouth pressed tight, the cigar long gone, “Don’t tell me you think that’s enough to end this.”

Robin was familiar with that tone.

Knew the type of destruction it wrought.  

Ace seemed aware of it as well. His shoulders rolled back as his mouth opened, but it was too late. Lifting his right hand into the air, Crocodile sneered as the ground beneath Straw Hat’s feet collapsed. There was nothing she could do to warn them. The sand ate at the captain’s heels, his arms stretching as he tried to grab onto the earth around him.

“Hey!” Luffy, his name was Luffy, yelled, “That’s cheating! Come on, bastard! Let me hit you—"

Crocodile’s dark eyes gleamed under the rising sun, “You overestimate yourself, Straw Hat.”

Ace dove toward his brother but was intercepted by a wave of sand. As the boy’s body rammed against the barricade, his wild eyes slipped toward Crocodile even as his body burned, “Let him go, dammit! Fight me—”

“Is that what you’d choose?” Crocodile drawled, “You’d rather fight me than save your brother?”

Robin knew it’d come to this.

Ace may be strong, but he wore his weakness on his sleeve. Laid it bare for the world to see every time he smiled at his brother. Robin’s heart hammered in her chest. She wondered if that was how her mother looked when she’d died.

Wondered if love was the weakness that cost her the last of her life.

“Kick his ass, Ace!” Luffy managed to say, stretching his neck out of the sand as he tried to scramble out of its unyielding hold, “I’m okay—"

The words cut off as sand flooded the young boy’s mouth.

Crocodile sneered as Ace threw himself toward the War Lord. Flames arched in the air— but only the plume of sand met the blow. Robin wasn’t surprised he’d resort to this. There was too much on the line for him to allow distraction. The operation was a precarious thing, hinged on timing and opportunity. Robin watched the desert carefully, catching the way the wind blew sand across the horizon as Crocodile came to form behind Ace’s back.

He was too distracted to notice.

A curse echoed in the wind before Ace dove toward his struggling brother. Luffy’s head dipped under the sand, Ace’s hands frantically digging into the earth as he tried to spare his brother from the sinkhole. It wouldn’t be enough. The ground was eating him, swallowing the boy whole even as his palm broke the first layer of earth to latch around Ace’s.

Robin heard Ace scream. Heard his voice break.

For his brother, the captain, the bright one—

Pressure rested on her back and pushed.

It felt familiar, like the gentle force of her mother’s hand. Drifting her gaze to her right, Robin blinked against the tears sneaking into her vision. It might have been the heat of the desert, the fumes of Ace’s flames, or her own self-denial, but she could see the outline of her mother’s face.

The soft smile that came when she was proud of her— the one she’d worn before she said her last goodbye.

Something warm settled in Robin’s chest.

Then she moved.

Ace’s hands ached as he dug into the unyielding sand.

Luffy was right there.

He just had to grab him—

Latching his palm around Luffy’s, Ace heaved a harsh breath as he yanked against the force of the earth trying to devour his brother. His last brother. He couldn’t lose him. There’d been too much death in his life. Too many people he cared for— gone.

He wasn’t going to lose Luffy too.

It was hard to focus over the roar of his thoughts. This is why he had to be here. Respecting Luffy’s adventures was important, but his brother was more important. Luffy’s hand wrapped around his palm and squeezed— his face coasting back over the surface of the sand as Ace managed to tug him up. It wasn’t enough. He needed to get him out of there.

Sabo would never forgive him if he didn’t.

Luffy’s upper body finally crested the sand pit, his rubbery arms latching around Ace’s shoulders as he tried to heave him out of the sand. The sight of his face nearly made Ace’s chest cave in. Fucking Crocodile. Ace knew he played dirty— Pop’s had warned him once upon a time, but this was pushing it.

He might not care about saving Arabasta the way his brother did, but Crocodile was a dead man—

Sand fell over his back and Ace stilled.

“Ace!” Luffy’s eyes went wide as he spat sand out of his mouth, “Alligator!”

The timing couldn’t have been worse. Ace cursed as his shoulders went tight. He could feel the War Lord hovering behind him, but he couldn’t move. If he attacked right now, Luffy would go under. He couldn’t risk that. Wouldn’t risk him.

Ace would take the blow if it meant Luffy was safe.

It’s what brothers did.

Then the threat changed. Ace barely had a chance to look over his shoulder before pale arms burst out of the ground. His heart lurched into his throat when he spotted Robin’s devil fruit, immediately assuming the worst. He couldn’t fight them both off and get Luffy out of here—

The arms latched onto his brother’s shoulders to drag him out of the sand.

It wasn’t what he expected, but he’d take it. Ace wasn’t the type of man to look past an opportunity. No matter where that opportunity came from— he’d take it.

Ducking under Crocodile’s blow, Ace rolled onto his back and kicked up a wave of flames at the War Lord’s face. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it gave Robin enough time to get Luffy out of the sand. Ace spared a second to glance at the assassin, jaw clenching when she tilted her head in his direction before cementing her focus on Crocodile’s back.

As the flames faded, Crocodile drew his gaze toward his underling, “What do you think you’re doing, Ms. All Sunday?”

As much as he didn’t want to agree with the bastard, Ace was wondering the same thing. His eyes flicked between the two— trying to understand what was going on. Robin’s cryptic warnings rang in the back of his head. It didn’t make sense. Ace knew he wasn’t good with politics— that was always Marco’s thing, but something was wrong.

The air between them grew thick with tension as he tried to figure out what the hell had changed.

“I pitied the boy,” Robin answered. Her tone was calm, but Ace caught her hand dip into her pocket all the same, “I hope you can look past my insubordination.”

“I see,” Crocodile drawled. His ruined hook hung at his side, bent metal catching on the hem of his pants, “I expected as much. You’ve always had a weak heart.”

The words made Robin still. Ace felt a shred of empathy for the woman. Something was brewing between the two, but he didn’t have time to give a damn about their power plays. He was going to take advantage of Robin’s interference either way.

Making sure Luffy was okay, Ace dove for Crocodile. His fist burned as he rammed it through the air— skimming the War Lord’s bloodied chin as Crocodile tried to avoid the attack by vanishing into sand. The escape made Ace suck at his teeth. The fact he couldn’t land a hit was beginning to grow old. He wanted to see the War Lord burn.

Silence hung between them all as Crocodile reformed.

For the first time during their fight, he looked agitated. Crocodile’s focus kept drifting toward Robin as a displeased frown pulled his thin lips down, “How unfortunate. You’ve been an excellent partner these last four years, but I think I’ll kill you now.”

Robin’s mouth pressed tight.

Then she moved.

Snatching her hand out of her pocket, Robin threw whatever she’d retrieved toward the War Lord’s chest. Ace caught the glimmer of something wet flash through the air seconds before the assassin jumped. Holding a dagger in one hand, Robin ducked toward Crocodile.

It never connected.

Disappearing into a cloud of sand, Crocodile reformed behind her. Ace lurched to his feet, trying to decide how to intervene. He might not care for the woman, but she’d helped his brother. That earned her some grace. Fire burned down his arms as he launched forward—

“I don’t hold any anger against you,” Crocodile sighed almost sympathetically, “I'll forgive you for everything." Crocodile’s arm twisted into a flume of sand before it formed into three sharp blades. They swayed through the air as the War Lord drawled, “Because I never trusted you from the beginning.”

The blades swung down—

A rubbery arm snapped around Robin’s waist before it could take her head off.

Of course. He should have known. Ace cursed as he watched Luffy tug Robin out of harm’s way. Crocodile sneered as his blow went wide, cutting through the air and missing Robin’s arm by mere inches. His stubborn little brother. Always throwing himself into the middle of things.

Ace was going to be lucky if he survived this encounter without a heart attack.

Seemingly unconcerned with the glare Crocodile was giving him, Luffy grinned down at Robin’s startled gape, “Woah! Does that mean you’re helping us?”

Robin didn’t respond as she found herself tugged against Luffy’s chest. Her blue eyes were wide— shocked. Groaning under his breath, Ace studied his brother. He knew that look. Knew it intimately well. That was the look Luffy got when he wanted something and by god, he wouldn’t be giving up until he got it.

But dammit, why did it have to be the assassin?

He’d worry about that later. Ignoring the way Crocodile sneered at Luffy across the sand, Ace braced his hands on his knees as he prepared to intercept. The alliances may have changed, but this was far from over. Even without his hook, Crocodile was fast.

They needed to move when he was distracted.

Forcing himself to overlook Robin’s flustered reply, Ace threw his arm through the air— letting flames separate their side of the battlefield from Crocodile. It was just in time. Sand met the roar of the fire, spewing against the blockage and casting over their heads as Ace dove into the flames.

“You can talk about that later!” Ace yelled over his shoulder, “Focus on the fight, Luffy!”

His brother laughed and Ace’s heart hurt, “Got it!”

At least he finally learned how to listen. Luffy launched himself over the fire, rubber arms slinging back as he went for the War Lord’s head. The air beside Ace’s face broke as the attack ricocheted back and he cursed. As strong as his brother was, he really needed to work on his aim.

The flames on Ace's body intensified as he redirected his focus toward coordinating their attacks. Luffy went jumped over his back at the same time— body blown up wide as he barreled down onto the War Lord. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it caused Crocodile to momentarily lose his footing.

Ace seized the opportunity, launching himself forward with a powerful burst of flame-enhanced speed.

His fists blazed as he delivered a series of punches, each strike aimed at exploiting Crocodile's weaknesses. Meanwhile, Luffy bounded around the battlefield, his rubbery limbs stretching and propelling him at a speed Ace hadn’t seen in years. He weaved through the chaos, landing powerful punches and kicks wherever he could.

Despite his impulsive nature, Luffy's unpredictable attacks kept Crocodile off balance, preventing the warlord from regaining the upper hand. Ace appreciated it at the moment, but he was really going to need to talk to him about his timing. Luffy jumped out of the range of his flames with a yelp and Ace’s eye twitched even as he turned his attention back to the War Lord.

For fuck’s sake— didn’t he know rubber melted?

He’d fuss at him about that later. Ducking a sharp needle of sand, Ace snatched Luffy by the back of his shirt to tug him out of the way of the rebounding attack. His lip curled as Crocodile sneered at them from the other side of the battlefield. The War Lord’s face was bloody now— red dripping from his hairline and down his chin.

The sight made Ace grin.

As much as a pain it was for him, Logia weaknesses were a blessing in disguise. Sand and liquid didn’t mix. He’d figured that out during their first spar— when he’d managed to spit in Crocodile’s face long enough to get a punch in. Letting his eyes drift toward his brother, Ace broke out of their formation to focus on exploiting the advantage.

“Aim for his face, Lu,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ll distract him.”

Luffy didn’t get a chance to respond. Ace didn’t need one anyway. It was clear from the sudden uptick in his brother’s fists that he’d caught the message loud and clear. Diving under Crocodile’s arm when Luffy managed to knock him in the chin, Ace swiped his foot across the War Lord’s knees. It wasn’t going to distract him long, but it was enough.

He couldn’t forget that this was still his little brother’s fight. He deserved the final blow. Ace called out to Luffy amidst the chaos, "Luffy! Now!"

He didn’t need to tell him twice.

Winding back his rubber arm, Luffy sent a colossal punch hurtling towards Crocodile's exposed form.

The impact was thunderous. It shook the very ground beneath them. Dust and sand billowed into the sky as Crocodile was sent hurtling through the air, crashing into a nearby dune with a resounding thud. Ace didn’t dare move until he was sure he wasn’t getting up. His eyes narrowed when Crocodile’s arm twitched before it stilled.

The only indication he was still alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Thank god. Letting the air rush out of his lungs, Ace propped his hands on his hips. This had been exhausting. Sure, Ace loved a good fight— but he wasn’t a huge fan of worrying about his brother the entire time. Really ruined the appeal of the whole thing. Speaking of that, Ace raised a bemused brow as he twisted his attention toward Luffy, mouth ticking up when he saw him grin with a full face of teeth.

“Did you see that?” Luffy was nearly bouncing on his heels. It made Ace’s heart go soft, “I kicked that bastard’s ass!”

He saw it all right. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about him after all. Luffy didn’t seem to have a hair out of place. The only indication that things had nearly gone sour was the sand still coating his clothes and the brim of his hat. Something bittersweet swelled in his chest. He’d really grown up since he left.

It was going to take a while to adjust, but Ace couldn’t be prouder of him.

He knew Sabo would have felt the same way.

Ignoring the lump that grew in his throat at that thought, Ace smirked, “Well, at least you managed to hit him that time.”

“I punched him like a hundred times—"

Yeah, they just never landed.

Ace wasn’t going to correct him on that little oversight.

“You’re right, Lu,” stepping up next to his brother, Ace ruffled his hair fondly, “Good job.”

Luffy grinned at him before abruptly remembering the promise Ace made at the start of the whole thing. His cheeks puffed up before he threw a hard punch into Ace’s stomach, “Hey, you promised! You said you weren’t going to fight!”

“Yeah, that was before you almost got stabbed,” Ace grimaced as he rubbed his chest. Since when did he learn to punch that hard? Pushing Luffy out of his face by the back of his head, Ace grunted, “Seriously, why weren’t you paying attention?”

Cheeks still round with the remnants of his pout, Luffy smacked at his hand petulantly, “He said he was going to send a sandstorm at the nice old dude! It pissed me off!"

“That doesn’t mean you should stop fighting—"

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Luffy stuck his tongue out and Ace gawked, “You couldn’t hit him either!”

It was habit to twist his arm over his little brother’s shoulders and tuck him into a headlock. Ignoring the way Luffy tried to wiggle out of his hold, Ace teased, “Who said I couldn’t hit him? Who do you think made him bleed in the first place?”

“Nah-uh,” Luffy stuck his tongue out, “That was me!”  

It was said with such assurance that Ace couldn’t help but gape, “You little shit—"

Whatever else he planned to see was cut off when Luffy’s elbow hit him in the gut. His devil fruit was such a pain in the ass. He’d forgotten how slippery it made him. Ace gritted his teeth as he pulled his brother’s head down, scrubbing a fist into his hair that made his brother yelp. His mouth ticked up as Luffy squawked.

If he ignored Crocodile’s body warming in the sand, it would almost feel like it did all those years ago.

He couldn’t believe how much he missed this.

“If you’re done, we should hurry,” Robin interjected casually. The noise made Ace jump. He’d forgotten the assassin was even there. “Crocodile’s bomb needs to be taken care of before noon.”

His hand stilled in Luffy’s hair as he gave the woman a sharp look. She better not have said what he thought she did. He’d told Chopper to take Alesta to Alubarna. If there was a bomb— His brow twitched when Robin met his incredulous stare evenly, her hands crossed over her chest. It made Ace want to hit something.

Help notwithstanding, nobody should look that calm when they were talking about the extinction of an entire city.

Surprisingly, it was Luffy who spoke first. His little brother blinked very slowly, “Bomb?”

“Yes,” Robin’s head tilted slightly as her hair drifted over her shoulders, “It’s the final portion of our operation.” Her voice trailed off in consideration as she glanced at the sand beyond them, “Conveniently, it appears you’ll have a ride to Alubarna. What a fortunate coincidence.”

The end of her sentence was marked by a haggard man stomping toward them. Ace didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t really care. Luffy had that front handled. His focus was locked on Robin and her serene smile. It made it seem like she knew something he didn’t and Ace scrubbed a hand over his face.

God, he hated assassins.

Vivi couldn’t understand what went wrong.

She’d made it to the palace, spoke with the guards. Convinced them to lower their weapons. She’d even found Koza and managed to make him listen to her pleas. It should have been over. Crocodile was nowhere to be found and her heart beat like a sparrow in her chest as she thanked Luffy for everything he’d done for her— for her people.

The only thing she had left to do was find her father. Arabasta was almost free.

Then Koza was shot.

And her people couldn’t hear her.

Arms perched on the boundary of the palace rails, Vivi screamed, “No! You can’t fight! This isn’t right—”

Her voice never reached them. The shock of Koza’s injury had rendered them incapable of focusing on the thin trail of her screams. Her people stood against one another, brother against brother, father against son. Another gunshot echoed in the air and one of the rebels went down—

A bladed spear swung in the air.

Then they began to fight.

As the chaos unfolded in the palace plaza, Vivi felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She couldn't bear to watch her beloved kingdom tearing itself apart. Her efforts to bring peace seemed futile as the clashes between rebels and royal guards escalated. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she desperately tried to make herself heard above the clamor, but her voice remained drowned out by the cacophony of violence.

She couldn't comprehend how things had gone so wrong. She had always believed in the goodness of her people, in their ability to come together and find a peaceful solution. But now, that hope seemed distant and unattainable. The palace, once a symbol of unity and prosperity, had become a battlefield soaked in blood and anguish.

Amidst the turmoil, Vivi's thoughts raced, searching for a way to stop the madness. She couldn't lose anyone else, couldn't bear to see more of her friends and subjects fall. Determination ignited within her, and she knew she had to do something, anything, to quell the violence.

They just had to hear her—

Clenching her fists, Vivi took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling voice. "Stop this! Please, stop fighting! This violence won't solve anything!"

But her words were like whispers in a storm, lost amidst the sounds of combat and the cries of anguish. It was as if her people were consumed by a blind rage, unable to see the truth in her words. Another gunshot rang out and she heard the men scream.

There was no stopping this—

Arabasta was going to fall.

Marco hadn’t planned to come this far.

The political undertones of a royal nation were none of his business. He paid attention to them in the way all pirates did— identifying sources of strife that may influence their crew and the possible opportunities for new trade routes. He pitied the civilians of Arabasta, but he had no sway in the grand scheme of their rulership.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

Everything changed when he stayed behind in Nanohana to assist the injured civilians. Their rebellion may be out of his range of influence, but he was a doctor. He wouldn’t let the innocent suffer from the schemes of the powerful. It was a pattern repeated through the ages— a sacrifice of lives in the pursuit of what one man thought needed.

Marco may be a pirate, but he wasn’t cruel.

It was the reason he held back as the rebels left, treating the injured as best as he could. Even that wasn’t enough. The damage on Nanohana was severe. There were people in the streets, crying over bodies that would never breathe again. Children hovered close to their parents, burns marking their pudgy arms and dust settled in the haggard lines of their faces. Lines that no child should ever have to bear.

He'd helped as many as he could.

The last one he was tending to had been the boy he’d been given earlier. The original burst of his phoenix flames was enough to tend to his most grievous injuries, but he was still struggling to regain consciousness. Letting his palm drift over the boy’s bruised cheek, Marco frowned as the child began to stir.

It wasn’t in the manner his patients normally did when they first woke up.

There tended to be a period of sluggish realization and tired eyes. The boy had none of that. His dark eyes shot open and Marco froze— hand hovering over his face. He wasn’t expecting him to move. He shouldn’t be moving. Marco opened his mouth to tell him to settle, but the boy spoke first.

The child squinted at him before he managed to speak, “It wasn’t the king. You have to tell them—” a brutal cough caught in the child’s throat as he grabbed Marco’s hand and squeezed, “You have to tell Koza that it wasn’t King Cobra!”

He’d almost ignored the plea.

He wasn’t familiar with the scope of what occurred during the initial onslaught and had no sense of recognition regarding the man the boy spoke about. Marco couldn’t do anything in this situation except ease his pain. He’d tried to get the boy to calm down, but it’d been no use. The kid was hell-bent and determined for Marco to find Koza.

He couldn’t deny a child. Wouldn’t be the man who’d break their dreams apart. The kid had already been through too much. Far more than any child had a right to bear—

Which is how he found himself here.

Soaring over the open sky above Alubarna, Marco let his eyes skim over the skirmish. He’d arrived too late to halt the battle. Irritation made his eyes narrow as he swooped down from the air— sandaled feet smacking into the dry earth of Alubarna’s city streets. As he transitioned back to his normal form and let the burn of his phoenix flames soak back into his skin, Marco trailed a slow glance around the area he’d landed in.

Meanwhile, the kid crawled off his back. Marco’s eye twitched as the brat demanded, “Why’d you stop? We have to hurry! Koza’s here!”

He hadn’t planned on taking the kid along for the ride. Unfortunately, it was a fight he had no chance of winning. Before he could even try to fly away from Nanohana, the little guy had clung to his leg and wouldn’t let go. Just the memory of it made Marco want to sigh. He was a pirate. The kid should know better than to be clinging to him like this.

He knew children were determined, but this was something else.

“I know, yoi,” Marco said slowly, twisting his head over his shoulder to eye the boy. His chubby cheeks were red and Marco’s mouth twitched when the kid glared at him, “But we can’t walk into the middle of their fight.”

Most of the battle was congregated near the palace. He had to assume that would be where he’d find Koza, but even with the kid’s description, it was going to be difficult. There was no way to discern where the man might be within the masses. Keeping an eye on his surroundings, Marco sighed under his breath before he began to walk toward the center of the city.

The kid kept an easy pace. His stubby legs smacked into the ground as he said, “Why not? You’re a pirate! You can turn into a bird!”

“Kid,” Marco pinched the bridge of his brow, “Just follow me, yoi.”

“Why should I?” The brat combatted and Marco swore he was never going to have kids of his own. He wasn’t built for this type of backtalk, “I can find Koza before you can and then I’ll stop the fight! Since you don’t want to do anything—”

Peering down at the little brat, Marco drawled, “Good luck with that, yoi.”

“Ugh,” the kid grumbled before he crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re a shitty pirate.”

“You shouldn’t curse, yoi,” Marco deadpanned, “It’s bad for you.”

Ignoring the way his reprimand made the kid growl, Marco snorted as he took stock of the town. There weren’t any lingering civilians that he could see, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. The hair on the back of his neck was on end. Marco knew well enough to understand that was the first warning of his observation haki at work. Icy blue eyes narrowed on the surrounding buildings—

“Come on, Usopp,” he heard a squeaky voice encourage, “We’re almost there!”

“I’m trying— but it seems I’m facing a serious case of my legs being broken!”

The noise made the kid shut up and Marco raised a brow as a teen and a reindeer stepped out from the nearby alleyway. Neither of them looked familiar, but they didn’t act like civilians. The teen was covered in bandages from head to toe. His eyes narrowed as the two continued to bicker, the reindeer pushing the boy along by the back of his knees.

“We’ve got to help Vivi,” the reindeer said and Marco blinked. He’d seen some interesting stuff in the Grand Line, but this was one of the stranger things. “They’re already fighting!”

The brat finally found his tongue. He gasped as he tugged on Marco’s pants, pointing a finger in the duo’s direction, “They know Princess Vivi!”

Marco sighed when the strangers went still.

He was going to have to talk to the kid about situational awareness. The reindeer gaped at them, its eyes strangely human as it stepped in front of its injured friend. Usopp, the teen, took a shaky step back as he shook his head. He motioned frantically over his chest and Marco’s brows wouldn’t leave his hairline if he tried.

“We do not,” the teen stammered, “No way! I’ve never heard of a princess named Vivi! What a weird name—”

“Usopp, shut up,” the reindeer hissed. It nudged the boy in the leg with its head, “Look! He has the same tattoo as Ace!”

That got Marco’s attention. His eyes sharpened on the two as he took a slow step forward, “You know Ace, yoi?”

He really shouldn’t be surprised. Out of all his brothers, Ace and Haruta tied for first place in getting wrapped up in things they had no business being involved in. This was pushing it though. Marco knew he’d promised to meet Ace in Arabasta, but he didn’t think Ace would get antsy enough to get involved in a damn coup of all things.

Usopp squeaked. He opened his mouth to try and deny the accusation, but the reindeer spoke first, “We do,” its dark eyes squinted at him, “Are you part of his crew?”

So, they were pirates. What the hell had Ace gotten involved in now? Marco’s mouth tipped downward as he considered the question, “I am, yoi.” His eyes narrowed, “Now that I’ve answered your question, you can answer mine. Whose crew are you in?”

The reindeer went to speak, “We’re the—"

“Chopper, no!” Usopp shook his head, “Don’t tell him about Luffy!"

Rookie pirates were something else. Marco’s eye twitched, “Right, yoi. You wouldn’t be talking about Straw Hat Luffy, would you?”

Chopper gulped and Usopp whimpered, “Oh god, we’re dead. We’re so dead—"

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose as the kid tugged on his pants. It was all making sense now. Of course, Ace got involved. Whatever the hell Straw Hat was doing in Arabasta must have been enough to get the kid worked up. Marco knew he was protective of his little brother. He wouldn’t have stuck around unless they were doing something out of their league.

“If you know Princess Vivi,” the brat spoke before Marco could, “Does that mean you know where Koza is? We have to warn him!”

Chopper frowned at Marco before he glanced toward the kid, “We know that Vivi’s looking for him. She wanted to stop the rebellion before they began to fight.”

“Obviously, that didn’t work,” Usopp grumbled, “Luffy and Ace must not be back yet—"

“Where are they?” Marco cut in before they could get off topic. He’d pieced most of this together, but things weren’t adding up correctly. His eyes narrowed on the teen when he started to sweat, “One of you should explain what’s going on, yoi.”

He made sure to put just enough force into that command to get them to focus.

Marco didn’t want to scare them, especially if they were Straw Hat’s crew, but he needed the details sooner rather than later.

He might have gone a bit overboard. Usopp was the first to break. His voice squeaked as he stammered, “They’re fighting Crocodile!”

Dammit, Ace. Marco thought he’d outgrown this stage. It’d been years since he’d run off and tried to challenge people like this. Rubbing at his brow, Marco decided it was probably Straw Hat’s doing. This sounded like the kind of thing a rookie would get involved in. It still didn’t clear up how they were stuck in the middle of Arabasta’s coup, but it was a start.

Feeling a headache come on, Marco asked despite knowing the answer, “Crocodile. One of the seven warlords of the sea, yoi?”

“That’s the one,” it wasn’t Usopp who replied and Marco went very still, “It’s bullshit, right? Rookies get to have all the fun.”

The next seconds felt like they happened in slow motion.

Turning his head over his shoulder, Marco sucked in a sharp breath when he caught sight of the speaker. It was hard to believe what he was seeing. His heart stuck in his throat, eyes going wide when Thatch grinned at him. There was a flush to his cheeks and his eyes sparkled like they always did— full of life and family.

It made his chest hurt in a way that Marco couldn’t name.   

He’d spent hours slaving over Thatch’s wounds as he begged his brother to wake up. It’d done no good. There was no coming back from that injury. The knife had gone all the way through— Marco rubbed at his eyes, tears stinging his cheeks as he remembered cradling his brother’s dead body to his chest. It’d been too much to bear.

Thatch had a whole life ahead of him.

So many years left to spend with their crew.

For a long time, Marco blamed himself.  It was a sentiment he shared with Ace. Teach was their brother, their responsibility. They should have known something was off. They should have been there to protect Thatch— should have been able to save him. Marco especially. He was a doctor. He had the Phoenix’s flames and he still couldn’t save him.

Seeing him now—

It was almost more than he could take.

Marco had heard his voice, knew it was really him, but hearing Thatch over the den-den mushi and seeing him were entirely different things. He’d had a couple of days to come to terms with the fact he could speak to his lost brother again. It’d been accompanied by several cups of sake until he’d finally forced himself to accept the fact that Thatch was dead, but he wasn’t gone.

It was still hard to process the difference.

Pops had filled him in on the devil fruit. Their captain hadn’t wanted them to get their hopes up. He’d told their crew that while Thatch may be back, he wasn’t alive. He was still a ghost. The Borei Borei no Mi could let them see him again, but it couldn’t perform miracles.

Except, Thatch didn’t look like a ghost.

Marco scrubbed at his mouth as his tears crested his chin. It was like he never left. Like those months of silence were nothing. Thatch looked exactly the same as he did the day before he died. Healthy, happy, and whole.

If he hadn’t seen the body, Marco would think he’d never died.

“Thatch,” Marco’s voice broke as he tried to swallow the emotion, “It’s you, yoi.”

A familiar grin dimpled his brother’s cheeks and Marco’s heart broke, “It’s me,” Thatch chuckled sheepishly, “You know what they say. Beauty never dies.”

The joke was awful, but it was so Thatch—

Marco couldn’t do this.

Couldn’t have his brother right there and not touch him. Ignoring the stares of their audience, Marco strode over the dry earth of the street and wrapped Thatch into a hug. There was no give to his body and Marco finally broke. A sob caught in his throat as Thatch’s palm met his back. His arms were shaking, but Marco couldn’t control it.

Thatch was alive.

“I missed you, brother,” Marco whispered. His chest burned as he struggled to breathe through the emotions raging inside of him, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t even,” Thatch cut him off before he could begin. Pulling away, Thatch’s arms snagged his shoulders as his mouth pressed tight, “This wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t Ace’s either— no one knew what Teach was planning.”

Marco shook his head, “We should have, yoi—”

“Shut up,” there wasn’t a second of warning before Thatch’s fist met his arm. His brother frowned at him, shaking his hand out as he said, “Don’t ruin this, Marco. You didn’t know. No one did. Stop blaming yourself and blame Teach.” His mouth pressed tight, “I know I do.”

It was the reminder Marco needed.

He’d spent several nights telling himself the same damn thing, but being face-to-face with his lost brother made his resolve falter. Suddenly, there were so many things he could have done differently. It would have been easy to sink back into that mindset, but Thatch was right. This wasn’t their fault.

The blame lay entirely on Teach’s shoulders.

He was hesitant to step back, but Marco forced himself to move anyway. His hand was still shaking even as he grabbed Thatch’s shoulder, “You’re right, yoi. You’re right—” his voice caught, “I just— you’re alive, yoi.”

“You’ve got ghost girl to thank for that,” Thatch smiled and Marco couldn’t get enough of it. He’d never complain about his brother’s teasing ever again. Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Thatch brought Marco’s attention to the rest of their audience, “Marco— meet Alesta.” His lips went flat as he grumbled, “And Fox too, I guess.”

Rubbing at his face, Marco wiped the last of his tears off his cheeks as he turned to look at the arrivals. He recognized Fox immediately. It’d been years since their crews had run into one another, but the swordsman hadn’t changed. Fox was as short as Marco remembered— his dark gaze narrowed suspiciously on Marco’s chin before he rolled his eyes.

It was hard to remember he was dead too.

“Three division commanders,” Fox scoffed derisively, “The marines are going to have a fucking field day.” He glanced at the girl beside him before drawling, “Good luck, kid.”

Marco followed his focus. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Ace introduced her over the phone, but it wasn’t this. The girl— Alesta— stood nearly as tall as Thatch. Black, practically fathomless eyes met his behind a veil of tangled blonde hair. It did nothing to hide the layer of grime and blood that coated her face and coat.

It didn’t make sense considering everything he knew about her.

Ace said she was a civilian— at least up until a week ago. She had the body structure for it. Where most of their woman had layers of muscle, her arms were thin and the jut of sharp collarbones was visible even underneath her coat. A bandage was wrapped around her forearm, dried blood soaking through the rags and blending in with the liquid coating her chest.

“Don’t be rude,” Alesta nudged Fox with her elbow before looking toward Marco, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Marco didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, but he tried, “Thank you, yoi. You’re in our crew’s debt. Whatever you need—”

“That’s not necessary,” his tongue caught on the roof of his mouth when she offered him a weary smile, “Thatch and Ace have done more than enough.”

His eyes narrowed at the easy acceptance. She said that now, but he’d been serious. Their crew didn’t take life debts lightly. They weren’t something to throw away— an opinion clearly shared by Fox when the shorter pirate groaned, pinching his brow. He muttered something rude under his breath before his shoulders dropped.

Marco didn’t have a chance to respond to her denial before Chopper shrieked, “Alesta— what happened?”

Even the brat at his leg gawked, “Woah. That’s gross.”

“You look awful,” Usopp added. His eyes boggled between the group and Marco didn’t miss the way he hid behind Chopper, “Don’t tell me— Did you have to fight too?”

Marco raised a brow as he glanced toward Thatch. That was news to him. His brother didn’t help clarify. Thatch’s focus was locked on Alesta, fond exasperation causing his mouth to twitch. Again, confusion made him frown. He didn’t understand what was going on beyond the fight with Crocodile and the coup. His eyes narrowed on Alesta as she stilled.

“Oh,” she blinked at her outfit. Her voice was deeper than Marco expected— almost husky. Alesta glanced sheepishly toward Chopper, “Yes, there were a few agents that found us. It’s fine though. The blood isn’t mine.”

That didn’t soothe the reindeer, “What about your arm? Is it alright?”

“I’m okay,” she waved him off, “Don’t worry about me—"

Fox chose that moment to cut in. His voice was deceptively dry, “She’s lying. Idiot reopened the gunshot wound while she was swinging that damn hammer around.”

For the second time that afternoon, Marco found his brows hiking incredulously. She was a civilian. What the hell happened since the last time they spoke to Ace that made her act like this? Looking toward Thatch, he tilted his head in her direction. Thatch didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he grimaced before he shrugged.

“Don’t ask me,” Thatch answered the silent question, “We got her like this.”

That clarified nothing. With a sigh, Marco turned back to the girl and the reindeer. He wasn’t sure when the creature changed, but it was now standing on two legs and fussing over the bandages wrapped around Alesta’s arm. He heard Chopper mutter something as he eyed the open wound and before he realized it, Marco was already stepping forward.

She might have turned down his offer, but he was nothing if not persistent.

Ignoring the glare Fox sent his way, Marco held a hand out, “Here, yoi.” Alesta’s dark eyes squinted up at him and he found himself having to smother a smirk, “I can heal it.”

It didn’t escape his notice that she looked toward Thatch before taking his hand. Only when his brother nodded did she move. Her slim palm fit into his and Marco tucked that knowledge away to examine later. Instead, he let his flames coast down his shoulder and find her hand. His mouth tipped up when she frowned— dark eyes trailing over the flames in curiosity.

The various reactions to his devil fruit were well expected. Marco had seen many eyes light up when he let his phoenix flames out. Most of the time, their stares were tinted with envy or fear. That wasn’t the case here. Rolling her hand over, Alesta stared down at her healed flesh in wonder before she glanced up at Marco.

He wasn’t prepared for the flood of questions the action released.

“Is that your devil fruit?” She asked as her eyes lit up, “How does that work? Are there limitations? Do you have to touch someone for the flames to transfer or can you release them all at once—”

Her mouth shut with a click when Thatch chuckled, “Come on, ghost girl. You’ll have plenty of time to ask all the questions you want later.”

Marco’s blue eyes fixated on his brother’s head. There was subtext in the statement. It felt like he was missing something, but he didn’t know what. It’d be a mystery to solve later. Giving Alesta one last look to make sure his flames did as instructed, he turned to Usopp to offer the same mercy.

The teen didn’t react nearly as subtly. When Marco’s flames touched his arm, he shrieked— trying to jump away from the cool heat. The act made Marco raise a droll eyebrow. Usopp rambled an apology but he tuned him out. Rookies were strange and it was clear this group was no different. With the way Ace talked about his little brother, Marco didn’t expect anything else.

That was fine.

Judging from the sound of the battle raging in the distance, they’d need as many allies as they could get. The echoing boom of a rifle rattled down the street and the kid jumped— fingers latching onto Marco’s pants as he glanced toward the noise. The cacophony was louder now. Remnants of screams hung in the air as the sound of the battle grew frantic.

“Vivi,” Chopper whispered in horror, “We have to get to Vivi!”

Marco sighed as he traded a long look with Thatch. This wasn’t the reunion he’d hoped for, but they had time.

They just needed to get through this first.

Alesta was exhausted.

Her feet ached as they ran toward the city center. As much of a boon as Marco’s strange devil fruit was, it wasn’t enough to temper the fatigue that’d been building since that morning. She hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Thatch seemed distracted enough by filling Marco in on the proceedings that he hadn’t noticed she’d started to lag behind.

Kanetsuyo, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as easy to deceive.

His eyes tracked her face as he ran beside her. There was a worried flare to his brow, but he didn’t voice his doubts. Alesta appreciated his silence. She wouldn’t be the one to hold up their progress. Even Ussop was pushing forward, sprinting alongside Chopper as the reindeer carried the small boy on his back. It made Alesta’s chest ache.

She’d come so far already— a few more hours would pass in the blink of an eye.

She couldn’t give up yet.

After Marco healed her and Usopp, the child who’d come with him reminded them about their current plight. Alesta didn’t know how to handle the story the boy had told them. She’d known the attack on Nanohana would be brutal— she just hadn’t realized how truly awful it was. Marco’s face had been similarly pinched throughout the explanation.

Crocodile wasn’t a good man. She’d known that from the start, but the events of Nanohana cemented it. Even without being there, Alesta could hear the screams of the townspeople. The screams of men and women who she’d come to recognize. They may have only spent a few days in the city, but Alesta had come to enjoy it.

It made her want to retch as she considered what remained of it now.

When she’d set out into the world, she hadn’t thought to consider what may reside inside it. Her vision had been blinded by wonder, by hope. It was a notion that was swiftly leaving her. As much beauty as she’d found in the world, she’d encountered an equal amount of cruelty. From Captain Jun’s cages to Crocodile’s destruction, she was wary of seeing how much more darkness hid under the sky’s shadow.

Panting, Alesta let her nails dig into her chest as she tried to keep pace with their group.

The sound of the battle ahead of them made her feel sick. It’d been creeping up on her as they inched closer to the palace, but now it was almost overwhelming. Screams echoed between the buildings. They were drawn out and painful— cries of desperation that ended with gurgled shrieks. The noise choked out the air and claustrophobia began to slither in.

The area smelled like gunpowder and copper.

Alesta had to cup her nose with the sleeve of her cloak as they broke out of the maze of Alubarna’s buildings. Kanetsuyo stilled beside her. She didn’t have to wonder why. All around them, men were fighting. Dust covered the air as they battled. The harsh sound of metal catching metal rang in between her ears as her eyes skimmed over the destruction.

“Shit,” Kanetsuyo muttered, “This is bad.”

Usopp swallowed, “How are we going to get through that?”

It was a good question. The area was filled to the brim with men— their swords gleaming under the bright sun as they fought against their own people. It made Alesta’s throat ache. Her mouth dried as she watched, catching the faint gleam of blue dotting the masses. There was so much of it.

So many dead, so many gone—

The pressure in her chest burned.

“Where are you supposed to meet them?” Thatch looked over his shoulder, eyeing her and Usopp consideringly.

“At the palace,” Alesta managed to answer, “I don’t know where—”

A scream echoed through the wind. It wasn’t like the others. There was no gruff undertone of exertion, but it was filled to the brim with pain. She heard it again and this time, Chopper paused. It sounded like begging— like horror. Alesta froze as her gaze trailed over the battlefield, trying to identify the noise.

When she did, her nails dug into the skin between her breasts.

“Vivi,” Chopper spoke her realization out loud. His little voice broke with the first thread of tears, “That’s Vivi!”

Alesta could see her too. Arms perched on the top overhang of the palace rails, the princess was screaming over the battlefield. Her long blue hair wavered in the wind— whipping against her face as she cried. It didn’t make a difference. The sound scattered over the sky, its echo devoured by the shouts of the battle beneath her.

“We need to get over there,” Usopp whispered, “She’ll know how to stop this.”

Despite his nod, Chopper swallowed, “But how? There’s so many—”

“We’ll clear a path,” Marco spoke for the first time since they left. His blue eyes skimmed over the crowd as his mouth pinched, “You’ll have to go fast, yoi.”

She glanced at him at the warning. As happy as she was for Thatch to reunite with another one of his brothers, she didn’t know much about the new arrival. He seemed polite but slightly reserved. It was hard to get a judge of his character. His eyes caught hers and Alesta swallowed before managing to nod.

It made his face pull strangely, an emotion she couldn’t identify creeping into his stare before it vanished.

“No!” The child on Chopper’s back shouted, “I have to find Koza!”

At the refusal, Marco gave him a long look, “You will, yoi. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

He didn’t stick around long enough to hear a response. Shoulder through the crowd, Maroc grabbed the arm of a man with a spear before he threw him to the side. It wasn’t done with the intent to hurt, but the action leveled the guard all the same. His body bumped into one of his comrades, their attention snapping toward Marco before they raised their weapons at his head.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Thatch sighed. He glanced over the rest of their group before warning, “Try not to get shot again. I’m going to be so mad if you do.”

Alesta could only nod as he followed Marco’s back.

“Dammit,” Kanetsuyo grumbled at her side, “Guess I should probably help, huh?”

It was clear he wasn’t expecting a response. Before she could even glance at him, Kanetsuyo took the front of their group and helped crave a way forward. She was glad he’d left his blades behind. As terrifying as this ordeal was, none of these men deserved to die. They’d been misled, tricked.

This battle wasn’t their fault.

It didn’t take long for a path to form. None of the blows were intended to be lethal, but they served their purpose. Men were knocked out and strewn aside— Marco’s flames burning as he took the chance to heal the injured while taking care of the obstacle. Beside him, Thatch grunted as he heaved two rebels over his shoulder. The impact of the throw took out ten more men.

“That’s—” Usopp gaped at their backs, “They’re terrifying.”

Chopper was similarly dumbstruck, “So, that’s what real pirates can do.”

As much as she’d prefer to stay back and observe, Alesta knew they didn’t have time. Without waiting for Chopper and Usopp to follow, she darted through the path ahead. Someone cursed behind her, but she didn’t turn to see who. It was better to keep her focus forward. That way she wouldn’t notice the way the bodies crept ever closer to her—

The way she began to feel trapped.

Despite the allowance allowed by the pirates who’d gone ahead of them, it was still difficult to get through the battlefield. It was too crowded. Their fighting was wild— unable to be controlled. A sword swung out from the crowd and Alesta yelped, ducking the blade as she pushed Usopp out of the way. A guard frowned at her, an apology primed on his tongue.

He never got to finish.

A spear found its home inside his chest.

The guard’s eyes went flat as he coughed, blood spewing over her face before he toppled over. Alesta shrieked as the body clipped her shoulder, making her knees cave in against the hard earth. Before she could try to struggle to her feet, Usopp was snatching her up by the arm— tugging her out of the way of another guard nearly bowing over to take out the rebel behind him.

“Oh my god,” Usopp chanted under his breath as he began to sprint, “Oh my god. Oh my god—”

“We’re not going to make it!” Chopper yelled behind them. The boy was cradling his neck, eyes as wide as saucers as he gaped at the massacre around them, “There’s too many people!”

Alesta huffed as she ducked under a rebel’s rifle, “We’ve got to try!”

She could see light ahead of them— a break in the battlefield. They were close. Wrapping her hand around Usopp’s wrist, Alesta tugged him behind her as they dodged through the flurry of chaos surrounding them. He followed her lead, throwing his arm up to block the swing of a rifle that crept out of the battlefield near their heads.

They were almost there—

“Koza!” The boy screamed and Alesta froze, “I see him!”

None of them were fast enough to intervene. Chopper yelped as the boy threw himself off his back. Beside her, Usopp cursed— diving forward to try and catch the child by the back of his shirt. He wasn’t fast enough. The boy slipped underneath the legs of a guard as he sprinted toward the middle of the fight.

He was gone before she could blink.

“Shit,” Alesta whispered. She already knew what she had to do, “I’ll find him. Get to Vivi!”

Usopp gawked at her, “You can’t! You’re going to get killed!”

That was a possibility, but she wasn’t going to let the child run off. He was so young. He didn’t know better. Her heart lurched into her throat as she caught Usopp’s gaze, “I’ll be right back. It’ll be fine,” she smiled despite not believing her own words, “We have to be brave, right?”

The sound of the battle around them nearly drowned out her words, but it was enough. Usopp stared at her for a long time before he threw his hands up, “Dammit,” Usopp groaned, rubbing at his eyes as Chopper nearly cried, “You better not die! Luffy will kill me—"

It was as good as a compromise as she was going to get. With a determined nod, Alesta turned and sprinted back into the heart of the chaotic battlefield. Her heart pounded in her chest, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn back, to find safety, but she couldn't abandon the boy.

She couldn't let a child face the danger alone.

The battle thundered around her. Alesta weaved through the fighters as best as she could while trying to keep an eye out for the boy. It was hard to focus. There was too much going on. She had to be careful, avoiding blades and spears that swung dangerously close. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear. Bodies pressed tight against her and the fear of being trapped sang in her veins.

It was hard to move. Every step forward felt like five back and her throat closed in, the energy in her chest rolling violently as she ducked the spear of a guard who’d swung too far. She couldn’t focus on the fear. Couldn’t let it win.

She just had to keep going—

Finally, she spotted the young boy amidst the frenzy. He was small and agile, darting between combatants, trying to reach the center of the battle where the royal guards were thickest. Alesta's heart clenched. She heard him scream as he collapsed to his knees in front of a body, the sound of his cry bleeding into the racket of the fight around them.

Ignoring her own safety, Alesta hurried toward him.

The boy’s eyes met hers— tears speckling his cheeks as he held the limp hand of a man Alesta could only assume was Koza. She was close enough to hear him beg for the man to get up. Beg for him to listen. Alesta’s heart clenched as she finally made it toward them.

Only for a sword to sweep against her side.

A curse caught in her throat. Pain shot through her, but she ignored it. Her focus was solely on protecting the child. "Stay down!" She urged the boy, shielding him with her body as she scanned their surroundings for an escape route, “Is this Koza?”

“It is,” the boy whimpered. His eyes were wide, terrified as he grabbed the man’s hand with all the strength he had, “Is he dead?”

She didn’t know the correct response to that question. The man’s chest was moving, but it was shallow. Blood coated his chest and dripped onto the earth beneath them. Feet stomped near her hands and Alesta tugged the boy out of the way as a guard fell over— throat slit. His empty eyes met hers and bile built between her teeth.

“I don’t know,” she hissed out a response, “But we need to get him out of here. Can you help me move him?”

As unfortunate as the boy’s interruption was, Alesta knew Koza was important. Vivi mentioned him often— always fond in the way she recalled the rebel leader. Without knowing what occurred during the first half of their intrusion into Alubarna, she needed to try. For Vivi’s sake.

The boy managed a shaky nod, “Maybe."

It was worth trying. Tipping her head to the boy, Alesta instructed him to help her drape Koza’s arm over her shoulder. The weight nearly made her stumble. It was more than anything she’d lifted in her life and Alesta grit her teeth as she tried to pull the man to his feet. The child hovered nervously at her knees, fingers digging into her skin as the fight grew in frenzy around them.

“I’m sorry,” the child whispered, “I didn’t mean to run.”

It was a little too late to apologize. The damage had already been done. Closing her eyes, Alesta grimaced, “It’s fine. We’ll be okay."

The lie tasted sour on the back of her tongue.

With Koza's weight bearing down on her, Alesta strained to keep her balance as they staggered through the battlefield. The sounds of violence, the cries of pain, and the clash of swords surrounded them like a hellish symphony. Every step forward felt like a monumental struggle, but Alesta refused to give up. She couldn’t yet. There’d be time to rest soon.

They just had to survive this.

The boy beside her clenched his small fists, trying to muster the strength to support Koza's weight. He was terrified and Alesta’s heart ached for him. He never should have seen this. It wasn’t fair. No child should have to see his people fall— to watch the city he called home crumble.

"We can do this," Alesta encouraged, her voice faltering as her chest began to burn, "We just need to keep moving."

Trying to find a path that would lead them away from the heart of the fighting, Alesta navigated through the battlefield. The sights of violence and destruction tore at her resolve, but she had to push those emotions aside and focus on the task at hand. It was the only way they could live through this.

Each step felt like an eternity.

Alesta was so close to giving up. Had she been alone, she would have. Her entire body hurt. Keeping the child tucked beside her, Alesta tried to move through the crowd. Too often a sword would flash toward them and they’d have to duck— the weight of Koza’s body making her reaction time slow incrementally.

Her feet caught in the sand and Alesta almost fell.

A curse seized the space between her teeth as she forced herself to steady. Her feet sank into the ground, making each movement even more challenging. The deafening sounds of battle overwhelmed her senses, and her mind felt foggy from fatigue.

With every step, she felt her body screaming in protest. The crowd seemed to press in on them and it felt as if the battlefield was closing in. Alesta's heart pounded in her chest, and a sense of claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm her. She stumbled, nearly falling to her knees, but she forced herself to stay on her feet.

When her knees almost caved in a second time, fate granted her mercy she didn’t earn.

“Don’t give up yet,” Olvia’s familiar voice echoed in her ears and Alesta’s shoulders dropped, “Would you like help?”

Alesta couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. She wasn’t sure where Olvia had come from, but she wouldn’t concern herself with worrying about the woman’s sudden appearance. It was a blessing that she had no right to have. Olvia gave her a tired smile, lines dotting her brow that Alesta didn’t remember seeing that morning.

“Please.” Alesta’s arm ached as she peered at the ghost who’d appeared beside her. The words were nearly a plea, “Please help me.”

The pressure in her chest flooded the space beneath her throat.

Then the weight was gone. The boy gasped as Olvia appeared beside him, taking the brunt of Koza’s body and allowing Alesta to breathe for the first time since she’d ran after him. A groan caught in her throat as she was finally able to stretch her back— Olvia’s assistance allowing her to stand up straight instead of hunched over to support the man’s dead weight.

With her help, it was almost easy to make it out of the battlefield. Breaking through the last throng of guards, Alesta let the boy guide them toward an unoccupied alleyway a few dozen feet away from the brunt of the fight. He hadn’t spoken to her since Olvia arrived, but as soon as they halted, he was trying to get Koza to wake.

Alesta didn’t have the heart to tell him the effort may be futile.

“You have a gift for finding yourself in precarious positions,” Olvia mused as she helped Alesta rest Koza’s body on the ground, “I’m surprised I managed to find you.”

There was subtext in that statement, but Alesta was too tired to examine it. Propping her palms on her knees, she took a steadying breath, “Is Robin here?”

It was going to make things infinitely more difficult, but that was the only rationale Alesta could find for Olvia returning. As glad as she was for the help, Alesta knew the ghost didn’t owe her anything more than she’d already given her. Peering up at Olvia from under her lashes, Alesta tried to get her limbs to work again without the weight of Koza dragging her down.

“She is,” Olvia tilted her head slightly, “You may be interested to hear about what you missed while you’ve been gone.” She let the cryptic warning hang in the air before her mouth pressed down, “I can explain it to you later. For now, you need to hurry. There’s—”

Whatever she intended to say went unfinished.

The cool press of metal met Alesta’s back and Oliva halted.

“What the hell is going on here?”

She didn’t recognize the voice, but she didn’t have to. The boy went very still, his hands freezing on Koza’s chest as he gaped at the woman behind her. Deep in her bones, Alesta knew that things had suddenly gone off course. Trailing her gaze over her shoulder, she met the sharp stare of a female marine.

Several more were spread beyond her.

Their rifles glinted in the air— leveled in their direction with a surety that chilled Alesta to the bone. Olvia tried to take a step closer to her and one of the marines flinched, his rifle swinging in the ghost’s direction as his finger shook on the trigger. Alesta took a deep breath, trailing her stare down to the boy as the sword against her back pushed against her spine.

“Petty Officer Tashigi,” one of the marines gulped, “That’s— that’s Nico Olvia.”

Chapter Text

The world was so very different than what she’d expected.

In another life, unburdened by knowledge, Alesta would have assumed the better of the situation. The marines were supposed to guard. They were supposed to shelter. It was a lie she’d been raised upon. The idea that their island was spared through the benevolent hand of the government— kept afloat through their mercy.

Their protection.

Alesta knew better now.

“Nico—” Tashigi repeated, “Olvia?”

The disbelief in her tone made Alesta glance toward the woman in question. Olvia didn’t meet her eye. Her shaded gaze was locked on the marines and Alesta caught the slight curl of her fists. Tension hung in the air between the groups as the question went unanswered.

“One of the scholars from Ohara,” another marine breathed. His voice shook as he said, “But she— she’s dead. All of them are dead.”

The only sound between them was the pounding of Alesta’s heart. Eyes squeezing shut, she grimaced. Olvia’s past hadn’t been inexplicably spoken between them, but there’d been enough to fill the gaps of understanding for their travels together. This though, with the government breathing down their backs, was more than Alesta intended to be faced with.

Ohara was a topic she knew.

Well enough to understand this confrontation didn’t bode well for her.

“How’s that possible? I saw—”

“They’re all supposed to be gone!"

The declaration caused Olvia to tense. Alesta had never seen that expression on the woman before. It was pointed— hostile. Her cobalt gaze trailed over the marines with faint contempt as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s because of her,” a marine finally whispered, “The girl Captain Smoker talked about. She has a devil fruit.”

“Does that mean,” she heard another gulp, “she can bring back anyone? What about—"

“Don’t,” Tashigi’s blade twitched against Alesta’s back. Her tone was curt, “Don’t speculate, men. Focus on the threat in front of you.”  

Part of her wanted to scoff at the assumption they thought she was anything close to a threat. Battered and bruised from the strain of the day, Alesta was running on fumes. She had nothing left to give beyond her soul. Marco’s healing lightened her injuries, but she was exhausted. Between them and the sword at her back, she was outclassed in a manner she wasn’t comfortable acknowledging.

“This isn’t what you think it is. We don’t want any trouble,” Alesta tried to placate the group. It almost sounded like a prayer. Her chest heaved with a shaky wobble as the blade dug into her spine, “We’re trying to help.”

That was all she wanted to do when she set out on this adventure for Vivi. It was a never-ending cycle of opportunity. A chance to do something more than she’d ever been given the chance to explore. She wanted to pity her foolishness, but she couldn’t find herself capable of regret.

Alesta knew her influence was a trickle in the grand scheme of things, but it was hers.  

Ultimately, her appeal met deaf ears. The only one to respond was Tashigi. The marine’s voice was sharp as she stated, “You’re a pirate, a criminal. Criminals don’t help.”

Alesta’s eyes drifted shut in frustration.

Ace said something similar that morning, but she’d tried to argue his point. Humans were made of motivation— both pure and corrupt. Anyone could choose their path. A pirate, a marine, they were all human. A label defined them by nothing more than word.

She didn’t think Tashigi would agree.

There was no room in her tone to argue. The pirate moniker may be wrong, but the consequence was the same either way. They were standing on opposite sides of a war where they each thought they were the savior.

Two sides of the same coin led by their own moral ideals.

When the silence grew too long, Olvia’s hands twisted at her hips and another marine jolted forward. His rifle flashed under the sun as he leveled it at the ghost’s head. Another followed in his stead. Alesta hissed at the first shown of true force— the phantom noose they’d twined around her throat tightening in apprehension.

“Put your hands up,” Tashigi ordered, “Keep them where I can see them.”

Alesta lifted her hands up with a slow exhale.

The action did nothing to absolve the weight of the blade digging into her lower back. Its bulk burned into her flesh like a brand. She could feel the tapered edge as it pressed down— the curve of the sword snagging against the worn threads of her cloak. It pressed so tightly that Alesta was hesitant to even breathe, knowing one wrong movement may very well promise the end.

Dark eyes drifted toward the child, still frozen over Koza’s body. His attention kept flicking over her shoulders, taking in the marines behind her even as he pressed on the man’s chest— small fingers stained with drying blood and tears.

It made her want to retch.

He didn’t deserve to see this. The world they’d been born into was cruel. None of this was fair to him— fair to any of the citizens of Arabasta. Even now, the sounds of battle raged beyond them. She could even smell the taint of death. A stale, clammy odor. The men’s faint screams twisted in the air only to drop when their lives ended a lifetime too short.

The blade scratched against Alesta’s cloak as Tashigi snapped, “Alesta Graver. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Alesta kept her hands raised in suppliance as she turned, meeting the marine’s gaze head-on. They knew more than she expected. Captain Jun must have spread word of her escape from Takko Island. Distantly, she wondered how much the marines truly knew. If they were aware of Han, her mother— if they knew why she’d taken the devil fruit. A part of her dwelled on the frivolous idea that they could hold any sympathy for her plight.

The sword pressed against her sternum and Alesta had her answer.

There’d be no understanding.

Not now.  

Not with Olvia alive. Alesta signed her death note with her choice to bring the woman they’d fought to kill back to life. The very idea made her throat constrict. What right did they have to slaughter on the basis of life?

Her mouth pressed tight as she nodded.

“And this—” Tashigi’s head jerked toward Olvia, “Is your devil fruit?”

Alesta met her glare with a steady look. That wasn’t a question she’d answer. She wouldn’t incriminate herself any further than they’d already done on her behalf. Admitting anything more was troublesome at best. Fatal at worst.

The silence made Tashigi scowl, “Don’t play around at a time like this. I need an answer."

“You have the answer you want,” Alesta was proud of the way her voice didn’t tremble, “Don’t you?”

“Don’t try to twist this onto us. I’m here to uphold justice,” Tashigi growled. She took a step forward and the blade curved toward Alesta’s throat, “You brought a war criminal back to life. Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken? Not to mention the man you killed—"

For a moment, Alesta frowned, “You think I killed him?”

Out of everything, she found herself the most offended by that assumption. It was obvious Tashigi was referencing Koza. It was bitter irony at its finest. She’d gone through hell to save the man and here they stood, accusing her of the opposite.

If their ignorance wasn’t so irritating, Alesta may have laughed.

“How much do you know about what’s happening here?” She countered instead. It made the blade dig deeper against her chest and she sucked in a sharp breath when the edge snuck through the barrier of her cloak, “What do you know about Crocodile? About Baroque Works?”

It obviously wasn’t the full scope of events. She wasn’t sure what led the marines to Alubarna, but she knew their view was deluded through shades of black and white. A part of her pitied them. She’d only just been introduced to the width of their world, but even Alesta understood that everything was painted in tones of grey.

There was no wrong that another man didn’t consider right.

Glancing at Koza’s body, Tashigi frowned, “We know enough. Captain told us—”

“Then you know that man is the rebel leader. You’d know I didn’t kill him—that his name’s Koza,” Alesta interrupted. Her voice was a practiced calm, “Or would you?”  

From the silence that permeated through the group, she was given her answer.

They didn’t know. For some reason, the realization infuriated her. They were standing in the middle of a battlefield and clashing over moral qualms. There was a child holding his dying friend— fingers soaked in blood and they were arguing over nothing greater than justice.

It was a ridiculous sentiment.

If such a thing existed, she would never have found herself here. Never would have considered running from a marriage that she didn’t want. They were foolish, the marines. There was no justice in this world. It took and took until there was nothing left. Alesta couldn’t fathom how a single entity thought they were the ones solely capable of fostering something so illusive as justice.

They should be focusing their efforts on something more concrete.

Like the men dying at their backs.

Letting her frustration soak her words, Alesta continued, “Did your captain tell you that we’re here to stop Crocodile? To prevent him from taking over this country?” She let her tone go soft with her next question, “Or did you see pirates and assume the worst?”

Tashigi's mouth went tight.

Ignoring the weapons trained on her chest, Olvia took that moment to step closer, “We want to stop this as much as you do,” keeping her palms outstretched the ghost said, “Let us help.”

“We aren’t your enemies here,” Alesta added after a brief pause, “We want the same thing.”

Tashigi’s blade slackened just enough for Alesta to breathe again. She wasn’t sure what emotion hid behind the marine’s gaze. It wasn’t the open acquiescence she needed, but it was something. A soft rift of hope began to borrow inside Alesta’s chest as Tashigi drew her stare toward Koza’s body.

Several seconds of mutual consideration passed before the marine sighed.

Then she spoke and everything fell apart.

“You’re right. What you’re saying may be true, but—” Tashigi’s mouth pinched. She sounded genuinely regretful as she said, “I can’t let you go forward. Not with that kind of power. The World Government would never allow it.”

A lump stuck in her throat. Alesta wasn’t sure why the admission staggered her. It left her tongue lax between her teeth as the air between them was siphoned away. For a moment, she’d thought they’d changed her mind— irrationally assumed that their ethical doubts would fall to the wayside for the greater good of saving Arabasta.

She should have known better.

The blade didn’t leave her throat. Tashigi called her men forward and Alesta felt the last grasp of her optimism splinter. Ahead of her, the rest of the marines lifted their rifles as they spread out. There was nowhere to turn. Metal gleamed under the sun as their barrels cocked.

Her chest began to ache as Alesta realized she would have to fight.

She was so tired of enduring this cycle. Tired of trying to fix something that never should have been allowed to break. Eyelids heavy with cynicism, Alesta peered down at the child. He was crying again. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks as his stubby hands clenched on Koza’s shirt. His mouth opened, but no words seemed capable of escaping.

Her fingers twitched into fists as she deliberately looked to Olvia.

They didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to.

Alesta nodded and Olvia moved.

Graceful as a cat, the woman ducked around Alesta’s body. One lithe leg kicked through the air, knocking the weapon out of the closest marine’s grasp. It hit the building behind them with a clatter. Movement battered the alleyway Olvia struck the sword out of an approaching marine’s hand. Her open palm met the man’s wrist and he howled.

Alesta lurched toward Tashigi at the distraction.

She barely managed to skim the marine’s collar before her head hit the ground.

The air burst out of her lungs at the impact. Every injury she’d sustained throughout their plight rocked through her with the force of an explosion. Her eyes pressed tight as she tried to pant through the pain. Stars spun beneath her lashes as she sucked in a torturous breath— the relief of the action cut short as the narrow blade of Tashigi’s sword rested on her throat in quiet warning.

Alesta’s heart sank into her stomach.

This was the worst type of feeling— this self-pity.

Alesta grimaced as the sword dug into the thin skin above her jugular. It made her gasp catch in her throat. Tashigi’s cool gaze met her own and Alesta wanted to scream. She hadn’t even been able to touch her before she’d been taken down, flipped onto her back like nothing more than a petulant child.

Tears speckled her eyelashes as she lay beneath the marine.

Powerless.

This was the second time today that she found herself on the ground at the mercy of a stronger opponent. The second time she hadn’t been enough. Ignoring Tashigi for the moment, Alesta let her eyes slip shut with shame. She may have been able to hold her own with the aide of Thatch and Kanetsuyo, but alone—

She was nothing more than that naïve girl everyone accused her of.

Squinting an eye open, Alesta saw Olvia duck the punch of a marine before another looped his arms around her back. An angry sound snaked out of the woman’s chest as she went to move, hips jerking in his hold, only to halt when a rifle pressed against her sternum. It made Olvia wince, the pressure of the weapon against her skin digging into her chest hard enough for the flesh to bend.

Alesta coughed, her cry caught on her tongue, “Don’t hurt her—"

“I knew you were only saying what you thought I wanted to hear,” Tashigi ignored the plea. She didn’t even sound winded, “I might be a woman, but I’m not stupid,” the blade pressed down, “You’re as bad as the rest of them. Do you even care about the people of Arabasta?” Tashigi scowled, “This is why we have justice.”

That damn word.

Alesta was beginning to come to hate it.

“Justice when it’s convenient to the world government isn’t justice,” Olvia’s voice caught. Enraged blue eyes were trained on the marine ahead of her, “Consider your own motivations before you cast blame.”

The claim hung in the air between them. Tashigi looked toward the ghost, but she didn’t lift the blade. Alesta didn’t think she ever would. Her chest began to ache as reality set in. She was trapped, stuck under the curve of a sword and the hand of men with power greater than her own. Dragging her tongue over her dry lips, Alesta met Tashigi’s stare.

“She’s right,” Alesta hissed when the movement made the blade press down, “If you cared like you think you do, you’d be helping them instead of trying to fight us. You’d have done something—"

They were doing this because it was convenient. Because it would be a win in the midst of their own loss. A way to temper their oversight. They should have halted this before it ever began. None of these people would have died if they’d never crowned Crocodile in importance. Never allowed him to reign. Her mouth tasted like lye as frustration bled into anger.

Alesta may be weak, but she wouldn’t let herself be the mercy of their faults.

Even if it killed her.

The accusation held Tashigi’s tongue. She frowned for several seconds before her mouth pressed tight in resolve. Alesta was familiar with that expression. The hint of determination that clung to the corner of her eyes, the way her jaw feathered as she chewed over her thoughts. When the next words left Tashigi’s throat, Alesta wasn’t surprised.

She was furious.

Dark eyes met Alesta’s as Tashigi firmly declared, “That’s enough. You’re under arrest for conspiracy against the World Government and the pursuit of forbidden knowledge—”

Her sentence cut off when Alesta twisted, kicking Tashigi’s shin.

The blade skimmed Alesta’s throat as Tashigi stumbled.

It was less than a second of reprieve, but it was all she could provide. Behind her, she heard a grunt as Olvia threw her head back against the marine holding her. A flurry of white hair dipped down just as a gunshot echoed through the air. Alesta forced herself to ignore the way her chest caved in as she ordered herself to move. It wasn’t enough.

She was too tired, too slow—

Tashigi’s sword went for her chest.

“Stop!”                                                                                                     

The child barreled into the marine’s knees.

Everything went still. The only motion was the child. Blood-stained hands landed on Tashigi’s uniform and pushed.

Fat tears streamed down his cheeks as he yelled, shoving at the woman’s legs like he had any hope of moving her. It didn’t do anything more than make the marine’s foot twitch. He didn’t stop trying. Tashigi stared down at the boy, her sword halted mere inches away from Alesta’s chest as the child continued to scream.

“Stop fighting! Koza’s dying and you’re fighting—” his voice cracked on the last word, “Why are you fighting?!”

Her teeth ached at the emotion threaded into that accusation. Alesta crawled to her knees as the shouting echoed through the alleyway. Gasping against the headache creeping through her skull, she took in the desperate scene. It was impossible to look away from the boy. His tiny fists pummeled against Tashigi’s waist until he had nothing left to spare—the hits turning into harsh slaps as he struggled to push at her knees.

That was when Alesta saw it.

Tashigi’s eyes began to water as his next howl reached her ear.

“Why now?” The boy’s voice broke. Red handprints continued to stain the white of Tashigi’s coat, “You’re supposed to help us! Why didn’t you—” a sob caught in his throat, “Why didn’t you help?!”

None of the marines dared to move. Alesta kept a wary eye on them as the boy’s fists stalled— dropping to Tashigi’s waist as he sniffled against her coat. Several of the men were left gaping and she saw one wipe at his eyes before he threw his attention to the ground. Alesta didn’t fault them for their sudden humility, no matter how useless their pity was now.

It was too late.

Doused in Koza’s blood, the boy looked like the bodily incarnation of war. An expression a child should never wear. Tears speckled his cheeks, thin trails of flesh sneaking through the grime covering his face. His shoulders shook and Alesta winced when he swallowed another croaky sob.

“What?” Tashigi managed to whisper, “What are you saying?”

“You didn’t help us,” the child’s voice was a gutted whisper. “Everyone is dying and you—” his dark eyes flashed as he took a step away from the marine, “It’s not fair!”

Alesta had never heard a child speak like that. There was none of the youth she’d come to expect. Nothing but a hard layer of anger that wrapped around his thin shoulders and hid his weeping eyes from the world. Rubbing a dirty arm under his leaking nose, the boy glowered up at the marine.

Tears sneaking down her cheeks, Tashigi reached for him.

He flinched away from her hand.

Without looking at the marine, he turned his back on her horrified face. No one dared to move until he stopped right in front of Alesta. Olvia sucked in a dry breath as the child spread his arms wide, stopping directly in front of Tashigi’s sword. A mere boy standing between her and a weapon.

Alesta cursed at his reckless bravery, stretching out to try and tug him out of the way, “Don’t—"

He refused to move.

Feet digging into the sand, the child sneered at the frozen marines with all the power his little body could handle.

“You can’t take her,” the child ordered. His trembling palms perched on his hips as he swallowed the last of his sobs, “They might be pirates, but they’re the only ones who’ve tried to help us! She helped me save Koza and— and—” his voice cracked as he screamed, “You can’t take her!”

It was quiet enough that Alesta could hear every scream of the men dying beyond them.

A soft clatter broke the air. The rattle of the metal resonated between them as Tashigi’s sword fell to the ground. Her chin was tucked to her chest, harsh breathing echoing between the two opposite sides as they struggled to find their bearings. She didn’t move to pick the weapon up even as Alesta lurched forward to finally pull the boy toward her.

He didn’t break until he felt Alesta’s hand against his back.

A fractured sob severed the silent alleyway.

The boy threw himself against her shoulder. Tears dampened his face, seeping into her skin as he panted against her arm. His entire body was shivering— the flood of adrenaline leaving him exhausted and scared. Alesta ducked her head into the boy’s sweaty hair. Another cry caught in the child’s throat as he scrubbed his eyes, glaring at the marines surrounding them like the action had any hope of stopping the conflict.

“You’re okay,” Alesta whispered. Her hand continued to shake on the boy’s back, “You’re okay—"

The words were empty promises but they were all she had.

A stagnant chill hung in the air. Tashigi hadn’t lifted her head. Her eyes were wide, fingers clenching on empty air without her sword to hold as she took in the sight that stained her clothing. Child-sized, bloody handprints were scattered over the front of her shirt and legs.

It was so much red. Bile crept up Alesta’s tongue and stuck between her teeth. She tried to shield the boy's eyes, but it didn’t feel like enough. He didn’t need to see this—

Olvia stepped in front of them to block their forms from the marines.

It was a mistake.

Tensions were still running too high. Tashigi might be struck dumb enough not to react, but she had no control over the actions of her men. There was too much at play to account for them and their fears. Before Alesta could even open her mouth, a rifle twisted in their direction. The man who hoisted it was pale and sweaty, his finger twitching on the trigger as Olvia spread her arms out.

“Don’t,” Alesta hissed. She pulled the child behind her as she snapped, “Don’t.”

She couldn’t believe it. After everything— he wanted to draw another fight from them. Rage snuck up her throat like venom. Before she could fully get a handle on it, the pressure in her chest began to pound down her shoulders and center near her palms. It flickered like flames, hot beneath her flesh.

Olvia was similarly furious, “You’ve done enough.”

Energy burned down her fingertips and Alesta knew if the man took another step, she’d do something she’d regret. The power had never felt like this before. Never been this angry. Her dark eyes narrowed on the marine as he fumbled with his rifle, letting the scope trail to the side with a heavy swallow.

The man glanced toward his supervisor, “Ma'am?”

Tashigi didn’t move to look at him. Her attention was stuck on the tiny, red handprints dotting her uniform. From this angle, Alesta could see thin tracks of tears sneaking down her face, but the marine didn’t lift her head up. Her fists curled at her sides as she took a deep breath.

“You heard her,” Tashigi ordered softly, “Put the weapon down, private.”

“But—”

“Put the damn gun down!”

The demand rattled the air like a gunshot.

The marine hesitated for a moment before he reluctantly lowered his weapon. The pressure in the alleyway eased slightly, though the air was still thick with unease. Tashigi's voice was firm, but there was an underlying tremor that made her chest shudder. Her slim shoulders rolled in as she glared at the ground.

No one dared to speak.

Tears speckled the dry ground at Tashigi’s feet.

“I’m sorry,” Tashigi bowed toward the child. Her dark hair hid her face but Alesta heard her voice wobble, “I’m sorry we weren’t there to help you.”

The boy didn’t respond and Tashigi winced. More tears stained the earth as the marine nodded once, her hand clenching over her heart. Behind her, Tashigi’s men hovered disquietly. Alesta could feel the boy's heart pounding against her back, his breaths uneven as he clung to her cloak. It distracted her from the way her fingers quivered atop her lap.

An agonizing hush lingered between them all.

“I need—” Tashigi’s voice was muted when she finally spoke, “I need you to explain everything.”

The demand nearly made Alesta crack. There was so much left to do, so much they had to finish before this could be over. There wasn’t time to explain it to the marines. They’d drawn the battle lines between them. Alesta had done nothing more than exist.

They had no right to demand more than they’d already taken.

“There’s no time for that,” Olvia echoed her thoughts. Her voice was sharp as a whip, “We’ve wasted enough because of you.”

Tashigi didn’t lift her head, but her plea traveled, “Please. I need to know.”

“Why?” Alesta asked a touch too calmly, “Why does it matter now?”

“Because we failed this country.”

Finally raising her head, Tashigi let the declaration fall over the group without regret. Tears still stained her cheeks, but there was a resolve to her face that hadn’t been there before. The marine’s dark stare took in the boy clinging to Alesta's back before she looked at her. Alesta had no idea what to make of the concession— no idea how to verbalize her fury with the group in front of her.

Her mouth pressed down as she broke Tashigi’s stare.

“You did,” Olvia agreed without tact, “You could have stopped this before it began.”

Tashigi’s face pinched, but she didn’t argue, “You’re right. We should have—”

“Should haves don’t matter anymore,” Olvia interrupted. There was steel to her tone, something fierce. “You always default to what you could have done, always conveniently too late to change what you’ve let happen. What you’ve done.”

The words trailed off as Olvia’s eyes slid shut. Tashigi didn’t make a move to respond, letting Olvia work through her thoughts. The boy on Alesta’s back made a lurching noise in the back of his throat and Alesta let her hand fall on his arm, trying to settle his unease. Olvia glanced toward her at the sound and a pained grimace pulled at the sharp lines of her cheeks.

“You’re too late to stop what’s already begun,” Olvia’s head shook softly before she sighed, “But you’re not too late to help.” She held Alesta’s gaze evenly as she said, “Crocodile’s been defeated by Straw Hat Luffy.”

Alesta froze, “What?”

The boy at her back shuffled, but Alesta didn’t focus on his silent query. Her mind was repeating Olvia’s words. They’d survived. Heat built beneath her breasts as her heart began to pound and Alesta let her fingers trace the flesh, nails skittering over the blood dappling her cloak as her shoulders caved in.

“Thank god,” Alesta whispered. She didn’t care to pay attention to how Tashigi watched their interaction. Alesta met Olvia’s eye as her mind began to piece everything together, “Does that mean Robin—"

“She’s okay. It’s what I intended to tell you before we got interrupted,” her mouth twitched like she was fighting off a smile, but Olvia tempered it. Her gaze drifted toward Tashigi instead, “You may have enough time to retrieve him. We can’t help you any further than that. There are other things to take care of—”

Whatever relief Alesta had begun to feel vanished as Olvia finished.

“Crocodile’s set a bomb to go off. We have less than ten minutes to stop it before it takes out the city.”

The marines all began speaking at once, but Alesta only heard static. The boy on her back dug his fingers into the plush of her cloak and she felt him take a shuddering breath. She found no fault in his reaction. Had she someone to cling to, Alesta would have done the same. It’d been so close—

They were almost done.

Now another obstacle lay in the way.

This entire journey felt like a never-ending path of disruption. Digging her nails into her chest, Alesta met Tashigi’s eye. Her fists were clenching and unclenching at her sides. Even when the marine bent to retrieve her sword, she never broke eye contact. Alesta didn’t know what kind of message she was trying to impart— what kind of thoughts Tashigi was hoping to glean from her.

It didn’t matter. The marine may be looking to help them, looking to absolve herself of the guilt their inaction wrought on Arabasta, but Alesta wouldn’t be her piety.

She’d give nothing to them beyond what they’d already taken.

Tashigi’s tone was carefully neutral as she asked, “Do you know how to stop it?”

“I do,” Olvia acknowledged, “It’s simply a matter of finding it.”

Tashigi didn’t move as she considered the acquiescence. A pressure still gnawed between them— a strain that Alesta could never hope to name. Olvia’s fingers flexed against her hip as her shaded blue eyes traced over Tashigi’s face. It felt like she was passing silent judgment, reflecting on the marine as she took a test she had no knowledge of.

Alesta didn’t dare breathe.

The lines of their ceasefire had been drawn. They only needed to be enacted upon. Alesta felt the air catch in her lungs with anticipation as the marines considered the compromise. Tashigi’s palm curled over the hilt of her sword as she swallowed— glancing once at her men before she seemed to come to a silent conclusion.

Tashigi’s shoulders dropped as her chin jerked to the left.

“Then go,” she said, “Save Arabasta.”

Tashigi scrubbed at her face as she considered the words she’d uttered.

Even now, she felt dirty. As if she’d done something wrong despite knowing there was no other option. Captain Smoker told her she’d know the right path to choose. He’d trusted her enough to leave her in charge of their men. Ducking her head, Tashigi squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to stop the tears from escaping.

This was no time to cry.

She’d made her choice. Justice was an ephemeral concept. It was a duty she followed down to her bones, but Tashigi knew that there were circumstances beyond her control. Her hand shook on her sword as a frustrated hiss caught between her teeth.

This was almost too much though.

To let a woman with the power to bring back the worst of their world go—

Her teeth smashed against one another as she shook her head. It was too late for regret. They’d already allowed the people of Arabasta, the children, to suffer far too much. The boy was right. They’d failed him. Him and his people. Tashigi wouldn’t let them suffer anymore. Feeling resolve nestle along her spine, she lifted her head to meet the silent stares of her men.

None of them commented on the tears dripping down her cheeks.

They went into formation automatically and her heart ached at their trust. It’d taken her years to get here, years of struggling to prove she was more than her gender, but she’d done it. These men listened to her. Even when she wasn’t sure if she was doing the correct thing.

“Private Hink!” Tashigi jabbed a finger at the tallest man, “Help the rebel leader. Don’t let him die. Arabasta needs him.”

He darted out of formation to kneel beside the bleeding man and Tashigi felt the first stirring of confidence soar through her. She was doing something right. These were the people she was supposed to protect and if that meant consorting with pirates—

“Men,” Tashigi pointed toward the city center as she began to walk, “Do whatever you can to help the Straw Hats! I’m trusting you to save the city.”

“Petty Officer Tashigi?!”

“Where are you going—”

Tashigi didn’t halt her stride even as she pulled two men behind her. It was a gamble that she normally wouldn’t risk, but there was a chance to salvage this country. To undo what they’d failed to stop. Her mouth pressed into a tight line as she stomped down the alleyway and toward the city exit.

“To arrest a criminal. We owe the people at least that.”

As her steps led her forward, Tashigi tried not to focus on the knowledge that while one criminal would be taken care of, another just as dangerous remained. One with access to the world’s dead, with powers that should never be in the hands of criminals. Her fingers twitched on the hilt of her sword at the impossibility of it all.

Nico Olvia was alive.

Admiral Sakazuki wouldn’t be pleased.

Robin lifted a slow eyebrow as King Cobra opened the vault to the Tomb of Kings.

“A hidden staircase,” she hummed, “How creative.”

Her devil fruit vanished and Cobra frowned at his suddenly free wrists. He rolled the thin appendages over twice before he cast her with a long look, “That’s it? This is all you needed?”

It’d been far too easy to continue this charade without Crocodile’s presence. Their agents were well aware of her position among them and none of their men had batted an eye when she’d appeared in the midst of their operation. Finding the king had been the hardest part. With their upper-level agents defeated by the Straw Hats, he’d been able to reach the palace.

Unfortunately, she’d been waiting.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the stare he was gifting her now. The suspicion. Robin even found she didn’t blame him. They were still enemies— she had no love for the nobles of Arabasta despite their rich history— but Robin held no intention of killing him. There were more important matters awaiting.

Without Crocodile to observe her, she was free to examine the poneglyph with no worry of her deception.

“Yes,” Robin tilted her head with a cool smile. “I appreciate your cooperation. Now,” she began to descend the stairs, “I believe you should find your daughter.”

Thatch stared at Usopp, completely unimpressed by his tears.

“I’m sorry!” the teen squeaked, “She went after the kid! They’ll be here soon!”

Five minutes. They’d left them alone for five freaking minutes. In the span of those measly few minutes, they’d somehow lost the most important part of their group. Usopp trembled in front of him, hands twisting over his heart as the rest of the remaining Straw Hats observed the top of the palace. Zoro, their grumpy little swordsman, flicked a sharp glance toward him over his shoulder.

Thatch was tempted to give him the finger.

Okay, yes. He was very happy they’d found the princess. That was wonderful. The whole rookie crew got a cookie for that— now if they’d done it without losing the one person he literally couldn’t live without, well that would have been a lot better. Beside him, Fox muttered something ugly under his breath. Thatch didn’t want to say he agreed with the bastard, but unfortunately, he did.

Which sucked.

“How are we supposed to get up there?” Nami unintentionally interrupted his thoughts. The teenager had her slim arms crossed over her waist as she eyed the crowded entrance to the palace, “We need to help Vivi!”

Thatch glanced at the screaming princess with a wince. Okay, yeah. He probably should be focusing right now. Alesta was going to fuss if one of the rookies told her he wasn’t helping. Well, she’d tried to fuss. It’d probably be more like a little pout as she’d squint those adorable black eyes at him and—

Thatch glanced over his shoulder at the fighting beyond them, mouth pulling down when she didn’t miraculously appear.

He wasn’t used to being the worry-wart between his brothers. He liked to save that for Marco. Thatch preferred to live in the moment, take things as they come. Then he died and got resurrected and it was a whole thing— and now he had a precious person that wasn’t in his crew. To make matters even more stressful, his new person was a civilian of all things.

A sweet, breakable civilian.

At least he wasn’t the only one worrying. Fox was playing with a dagger he’d knicked from one of the rebels, rolling it between his palms as he kept looking around for Alesta. As much as Thatch didn’t like the guy, he was learning to live with him. The little shit cared about her. He could deal with that. Alesta needed people in her corner.

Marco gave him a look from the corner of his eye. “We can go find her if you’re worried, yoi.”

“Ghost girl’s fine,” Fox rolled his eyes before Thatch could respond, “She’ll show up sooner or later.”

Okay, scratch that. Thatch still hated him. His eye twitched as he said, “How do you know? She could be—”

Fox lifted a brow as he drawled, “We’re still here, aren’t we? If she died, so would we.” Glancing between the two, Thatch’s ghost nemesis scoffed, “You’ve got to fuck off with that overprotective shit. You aren’t doing her any favors.”

Mouth dropping open in offense, Thatch motioned vaguely toward Marco for backup. He wasn’t overprotective. He was a nice, normal amount of protective. It wasn’t a bad thing— Marco blinked at him, lips curling slightly as he waited for Thatch to try and respond.

You know what? Fuck him too.

“I’m not overprotective,” Thatch eventually grumbled, “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

She’d been hurt enough today. He’d prefer for there to be no more of that. Just the memory of Alesta stumbling into Crocodile’s creepy lair covered in blood and gasping— yeah, he wasn’t fond of that. Really didn’t like the way it made his stomach twist in knots.

“Whatever,” Fox sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why’d it have to be Whitebeard? Of all the fucking crews—"

Again, with the anti-Whitebeard crusade. Marco’s eyes narrowed and Thatch snorted. Fox really had a thing against his captain. He’d heard enough about it earlier, but he was glad Marco was along for the ride now. Nothing like bonding through mutual annoyance to really spice up the brotherhood.

Vivi screamed again and Thatch grimaced as he was reminded of their current plight.

Okay, fine. Maybe Fox was right.

They had other, slightly less, important things to focus on.

Watching Vivi’s blue hair spur through the wind, Thatch sucked his teeth. He felt for the princess. He really did. This wasn’t the kind of situation he’d wish on anyone. Unfortunately, her screaming wasn’t going to help anything. They needed to get together and plan— something he was learning the Straw Hats didn’t do very well.

If they got through this without losing anybody, Thatch was going to sit these little rookies down and give them a nice talking to.

That thought solidified when Thatch heard them start to try and climb the wall.

“Someone’ll have to get up there,” Zoro huffed. Judging by the way he pushed his swords behind him, he was about to try and do it himself, “Oi, shitty cook. Give me a lift.”

Sanji huffed but did as asked. Snuffing his cigarette out under his foot, he braced his knee for Zoro to climb onto his leg. It didn’t do much. The outside wall of the palace was too slick for the swordsman to get a grip and Thatch watched in vague amusement as Zoro demanded Usopp to help. The skinny boy crawled over the swordsman’s back and Zoro cursed when a knobby knee knocked his head against the wall.

Okay, then.

That was one way to do it.

Thatch blinked very slowly as the Straw Hats took it upon themselves to try and build a human ladder. He glanced awkwardly toward Marco, “They know you can fly, right?”

Probably not. His newly arrived brother had been quiet for most of the introduction to the Straw Hats. Thatch didn’t really blame him. There wasn’t much to say when you were in the middle of a war. Thankfully, the rookies hadn’t put up too much of a fuss at his arrival. It might have had something to do with the way Marco helped clear the area they were currently standing in, but that was just an assumption.

It could also be because Marco was an intimidating bastard if you didn’t know him.

All those exasperated faces and tired sighs really wore on a guy.

Speaking of sighs— Marco did just that when Nami spun on her heel.

“You can fly?” The angry little redhead bared her teeth at the two of them and Thatch snorted. God, Fossa would have loved her. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Several pairs of furious Straw Hat eyes narrowed on them and if they weren’t in the middle of a freaking coup, Thatch would have cackled. He wondered if they knew they were glaring at the right hand of the Strongest Man in the world. Then he realized they probably didn’t care. Well, Usopp might.

It’d explain why the kid suddenly looked like he swallowed a lemon.

“You didn’t ask, yoi,” Marco said easily. Thatch didn’t miss the dry look his brother shot him as he offered, “I’ll grab her—”

“Vivi!”

Marco trailed off as a shadow coasted the horizon, “Or not.”

Covering his eyes, Thatch squinted up at the skyline. He was pretty sure that was a bird. A bird that sounded a lot like Straw Hat— a body threw itself off the bird’s back and he heard a familiar curse. Yep, it was definitely Straw Hat. The kid’s rubbery body flew through the air and Marco sighed again as he prepared to intercept.

“Luffy!” Ace’s voice echoed over the distance, “Don’t just jump, idiot!”

Thatch thought that was a bit ironic of him to say considering he did the same thing. His eye twitched as he watched the two brothers spiral through the air. The next thing he knew, flames bloomed over their heads. Ace grabbed Luffy by the back of his shirt at the same time a rubbery arm stretched out to snatch Vivi by the collar of her gown and tow her over the edge of the palace wall.

“Vivi!” Luffy’s laugh barely covered the princess's scream, “We did it!”

Beside Thatch, Fox made a surprised noise under his breath. He didn’t blame him. If Thatch thought the brat was saying what he thought he was—

Fire exploded as the trio smacked into the ground.

Well, bounced was probably a better term.

Luffy’s body blew three sizes larger and Vivi shrieked as the rookie captain held her against his chest as they landed against the earth. Nami squeaked— the little reindeer at her side going pale under his fur as the impact blew up a plume of sand taller than all their heads. He vaguely heard Ace curse again before the sand settled.

“We did it!” Luffy repeated, cradling Vivi to his chest as they bounced, “I kicked Crocodile’s ass!”

The statement hung in the air for a moment before the princess threw herself into Luffy’s neck.

“You—” Vivi was crying again, “You really beat him?”

Luffy grinned and it was like looking at the sun, “Yup! I guess Ace sort of helped. The bird guy was cool too—”

Thatch glanced at their resident bird in confusion, but the princess seemed to know who Luffy was referring to. The princess’s voice caught, “Pell? You found Pell?”

Luffy didn’t even have a chance to nod before Vivi squeezed her arms around his neck with a sob.

He hadn’t quite gone back to normal size, so the effect was limited, but Thatch’s mouth quirked all the same. The rest of the Straw Hats hurried toward their captain and he caught Nami smacking their captain on top of the head— the sound of Luffy’s laughter pitching up a notch despite the fact that they were in the middle of a damn war.

Marco raised a dubious brow.

“I know,” Thatch muttered under his breath, “Trust me, I know.”

As the Straw Hats reorganized themselves, Thatch watched the last member of the newly arrived trio pull himself to his feet. Ace grumbled something under his breath as he shot Luffy a dry look— swiping at the sand covering his legs before he caught sight of them. It was instant recognition.

His youngest brother’s face lit up and Thatch felt his heart ache.

“Marco,” Ace breathed, “You made it.”

To Thatch, it sounded more like you actually came. He wasn’t going to say that though. Didn’t want to get all sappy. They looked at each other for several seconds before Marco smirked, “I told you I was coming, yoi. Wasn’t expecting you to get bored enough to join another crew.”

As expected, the jab made Ace’s eye twitch, “I would never—"

“I’m joking, Ace,” without further ado, Marco strode across the clearing to smack Ace on the shoulder. It was a touch harder than it should have been, but Thatch figured Ace earned it. The little shit had run off from their crew without any backup. “It’s good to see you again, yoi.”

“You have no idea,” Ace continued to grin, but as his gaze traveled over the rest of the group, it started to fade, “Wait— Where’s Alesta?”

There was a strange lurch to his question. Silver eyes peered over their group, Ace’s smile turning into a frown that pulled his whole face down when he didn’t see her. Thatch winced— scratching at the back of his neck as he traded a look with Marco. Fox might have called him overprotective, but it had nothing on Ace.

When nobody answered him, Ace asked again. His voice went sharp, intentional. “Thatch? Where’s—”

“Does that mean it’s over?” Usopp interrupted them. He’d pulled himself out of the Straw Hat huddle, eyes bright with happy tears, “We just have to get them to quit fighting and then we’re done?!”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded twice, “Once we find the bomb.”

The what? Thatch stared at Straw Hat, hoping the words he just heard weren’t what he’d said. Judging by the way the entire group froze, he was shit out of luck. Vivi pulled back from Luffy’s face far enough to gawk at him, skin blanching as she trailed her horrified gaze up to Nami. Even Fox cursed.

Ace was the only one who didn’t look surprised. His mouth was pinched tight as met Marco’s eye. He didn’t need to say anything for his worry to translate. That’s why he wanted to know where Alesta was. Because she was running out there alone, with no idea the whole city was set to blow.

Thatch felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

The boy’s name was Kappa.

Alesta figured she couldn’t keep calling him boy, not after he’d thrown himself in front of marine’s sword to beg for her life. He was sitting on her back now, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. Alesta winced at the added weight his body provided as she sprinted, but she didn’t have the heart to pull him down.

“You should look in the museum,” Kappa pointed over her shoulder at a hulking three-story building, “It’s huge! You could definitely hide a bomb in there—"

Alesta was pleased that he’d finally started talking again. It’d been touch and go there for a moment. Leaving Koza behind had been the breaking point. Crying as they were forced to move on without his friend, Kappa chose to shelter inside himself. He only dared to speak when they’d gotten far enough away from the marines to not be heard.

Holding onto the child’s legs, Alesta glanced at Olvia beside her, “Should we?”

“It’s worth looking,” Olvia agreed, “Robin isn’t certain where Crocodile left it.” Her mouth pinched. “Prepare yourself if it’s here. There will be guards.”

The thought made her want to sigh. Alesta didn’t have any more fight left in her, but they had to keep pushing. Blowing a tired breath out of her nose, Alesta adjusted Kappa on her back as they veered toward the museum. Towers of sand-blasted marble met them as they ducked around the side of the building.

They were close enough to the city center to still catch the echo of their battle, but the screams were muted. Almost soft.

She didn’t want to think about how many were gone.

Olvia took one end of the building while Alesta took the other. The windows of the building were set midway up— nearly a head taller than her. It would have been better to break in, but they were running too low on time to spare the effort. Grunting under her breath, she took a moment to catch her breath as she helped Kappa reach for the window’s ledge. It still wasn’t enough for him to see.

“I’m going to push you up,” Alesta warned, “Tell me if you see anything.”

His chubby arms snagged the ledge and he just barely managed to peer through the wide window, “No! It’s not here!”

She wanted to curse.

Alesta’s eyes squeezed shut as exhaustion crept back over her, but they couldn’t give up yet. They’d only searched three buildings so far. There were hundreds left. She’d never fully appreciated just how expansive the capital city was and Alesta held firm to the belated thought that she should have gathered a map before they left.

“It’s okay. We’ll just keep looking,” The very idea of it made her want to groan, but she didn’t vocalize the desire. Instead, Alesta grabbed Kappa’s legs to help him back down, “Where else can you think of? Are there any tall buildings?”

He chewed over the question long enough for Olvia to reach them. Kappa’s dark eyes narrowed at the city landscape around them before he shrugged uncomfortably, “There’s the bank—”

It was worth a try. Allowing the child to cling to her back, Alesta tilted her head in the direction the boy pointed. Olvia moved first. She rushed through the tangled alleyways of Alubarna’s downtown center— slipping into an alcove Alesta hadn’t noticed. Her brows hiked at the familiarity in the action. While she hadn’t had the forethought to ask, it was clear Olvia was acquainted with the city.

“Do you think we’re going to find it?” Kappa’s voice snatched her out of her thoughts. It was subdued, slightly shaky, “I don’t— I don’t want to die.”

Alesta wondered when the reality would kick in. He’d lasted longer than she expected. Her throat went tight as she tried to figure out how best to phrase her reassurance. Ducking down the alcove after Olvia, Alesta let her hand squeeze Kappa’s ankle.

“We’ll find it,” she lied, “I promise.”

There was no way to tell if he believed her. Kappa’s fingers tangled in her hair as they ran and Alesta swallowed the faint cling of wine that nestled on the back of her tongue. She wasn’t afraid to die, but she didn’t want it to happen now. Not after everything. The finish line was just ahead of them, so close she could feel it in her chest— rolling under her skin like the faint flutter of butterfly wings.

She quickly realized it wasn’t relief that’d taken home inside of her.

As they broke out of the alcove, they passed a section of the battle that’d broken away from the city center.

At least thirty men clashed against one another. The city ground was littered with bodies— dead and wounded. Forgotten weapons were splayed beside them, soaking in pools of blood. The air that would normally be vibrant with the sound of life was now suffocated by the grunts and cries of men. Alesta stilled as her eyes took in the scene.

She could feel Kappa grip her hair, but she couldn’t look away. It felt almost as if her soul was leeching out of her body— trailing toward the slaughter with greedy hands. She soon understood why. Intermeshed in the battle were several ghosts. Their ethereal, silvery-blue hue stood out like a beacon against Alubarna’s sun-bleached cityscape. Alesta could hear them—

Hear them beg for their friends to put down their weapons.

Hear them cheer as another guard was cut down.

Hear them scream.

A buzz grew between her ears. It was as if she could taste the air. It clung to her mouth like salt, like iron. Heavy, hot pressure nestled under her breasts and Alesta had to let go of Kappa’s leg to rub over the ache. It flared as if boiling water was flooding her veins. Each pound of her heart made the sensation travel further— slipping down her chest and toward her palms where it congregated.

“Don’t look,” Olvia’s voice spooked her. Goosebumps drew down Alesta’s arms as the woman gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, “You can’t do anything for them here.”

It took everything in her to obey.

Even as they ran toward the bank, Alesta longed to turn around. It felt like she had to. Like there was a line pulling her to the dead— to their screams. The further they ran, the tighter it felt. The ache in her chest began to twist into agony. Her nails dug into her flesh and Kappa made a worried noise, but she didn’t have the breath to spare to reassure him.

Her devil fruit wanted to go back to the slaughter.

It wanted to be with the dead.

She shook her head hard to try and fight the thoughts off. It did nothing more than make her temples pound. Instead, Alesta licked at her dry lips and focused on Olvia’s back. She needed to stay in the present. Needed to keep her feet on the ground around them— to convince that pressure to stay inside of her.

It listened.

Barely.

They ran for several more minutes before they made it to the bank. It was another dead end. Propping her palms on her knees, Alesta panted against the burn taking home in her lungs. Kappa was on his feet now, trying to hide the way he was rubbing at his watery eyes. Alesta cursed under her breath as Olvia’s palm came to rest on her back.

The ghost’s voice was barely a whisper, “We have to keep going.”

“I know— I know,” Alesta wheezed, “I just—”

She wanted so badly to rest. It was hard to focus. Weak in the knees, Alesta felt as if she could collapse under her own weight at any moment. They didn’t have time for that though. Taking a deep breath and then another, she pushed herself to her feet.

Only a few more minutes remained.

Swiping at the sweat dotting her brow, Alesta tried to reorientate herself. Chasing after loose ends was getting them nowhere. They needed to think. Where would the most efficient placement be? Not somewhere near the city boundary, not if Crocodile wanted to make the blast effective. No, it’d have to be somewhere crowded.

Somewhere like—

“We’ll look near the palace,” she said with surety she didn’t fully feel, “It’s close to the fighting and maybe—” she tried to phrase her logic, “Maybe that’s what Crocodile wanted.”

Kappa gaped up at her as Olvia’s mouth twisted with a grim smile, “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Alesta hoped it was the right call.

Thatch never wanted to do this again.

He was too old for all this running. God, he didn’t remember it being this difficult back when he was a rookie. The worst he’d ever dealt with were a couple of heated marine battles and that one son of a bitch who’d scarred his face. He didn’t get involved in wars unless they were of the pirate versus pirate variety.

Especially wars that involved bombs.

Seriously, if Crocodile wasn’t already taken care of, Thatch would have kicked his ass just for this. What kind of bastard decides to blow up a whole freaking city? He hoped Straw Hat got him good. Because if he saw Crocodile’s sandy ass again, Thatch was going to have so many words. Most of them would be with his fists.

The same concept applied.

Sprinting through the city with Fox and Ace, he frowned at the buildings surrounding them. This was one of those times being a world-renowned pirate did fuck all good. You can’t punch through bombs if you can’t find them. Couldn’t survive them either unless you were a Logia type or Marco. Speaking of Marco, Thatch squinted as he tried to get a good look at the sky.

His brother was flying around up there somewhere—

Found him.

“Marco!” Thatch cupped his mouth as he screamed up at the sky, “See anything?”

Swooping down, Marco shook his head. It was hard to read his expression in full phoenix form, but Thatch was familiar with the frustration in his tone, “Nothing, yoi.”

Wonderful. They were all going to die. Well, everyone else was going to die. Thatch was already dead. He didn’t think a second death by explosion would feel all that great though, so he was still holding out on somehow finding the damn thing before the clock struck noon.

“Shit,” Fox grunted. He jumped down from the box he’d climbed up on, done peering through the window of an abandoned building, “Where the hell is this thing?”

That was a great question. Thatch hoped the Straw Hats were having better luck than they were. Maybe Alesta was right and their weirdly convenient good luck would pull through again. Thatch damn sure hoped so. Drawing his hands through his hair, he glanced around the area with a frustrated groan.

“Hey!” Thatch froze at the voice, trailing his head over his shoulder just in time to see a marine’s head pop out of a nearby alleyway, “You’re going the wrong way!”  

For a second, Thatch could only blink. He pointed at his chest like an idiot as Ace stilled a few feet behind him. That wasn’t normal marine behavior. They tended to be a lot more stabby and a lot less conversational. He wasn’t the only one feeling the confusion. Fox brought his dagger back out and took a step forward—

Ace grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

“You’re with the Straw Hats, right?” The marine pointed a finger at them, “They went that way!”

Another marine poked his head out and gawked, “Idiot— that’s not the Straw Hats!”

Thatch kind of wanted to laugh. Except that’d be awkward considering the circumstances.

Better not.

“Don’t worry about that. You can call us temporary Straw Hats,” Ace’s eyes narrowed even as he pasted on a charming smile. Thatch was not fooled. “Which way did you say they went? And who was it?”

Aw, look at that. His little brother could be smart sometimes. Because as far as Thatch was aware, none of Luffy’s crew went this way. He’d specifically told them to go the other way. Zoro might have gotten lost, but he shouldn’t have been able to make it this far without running into one of them—

“The girl,” one of the marines said, “The one with the devil fruit—” his hand stretched a foot over his head, “About this tall? Covered in blood?”

Fox’s brows raised, “Well, shit.”

“Alesta?” Ace took a step forward and Thatch eyed his feet warily. They were burning. Which was not a good idea with a still unidentified explosive hanging around. “You saw her?”

The other marine nodded twice in a jerky procession, “That’s her! She went that way!”

He pointed toward the city center behind them.

You know, the one currently occupied by most of the fighting.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Thatch deadpanned. He cupped his brow with a frustrated sigh, “Why would she go—”

All right, that settled it. He was going to tie her to Ace’s side with a rope. That sounded like a wonderful idea. No more worrying about the girl who decided the best way to cope with her newfound devil fruit powers was to play the hero.

There were so many better ideas he could think of. All of them centered around the main concept of not running off alone when he specifically told her not to do that.

That little talk he warned her about was well overdue.

“They’re looking for the bomb!” the second marine clarified, “Hurry!”

Hurry. Thatch stared at the marine for several seconds. The marine was telling them, two Whitebeard Division Commanders, to hurry. What kind of alternate hellscape did he fall into where this kind of thing was considered normal? Fox snorted in the background but didn’t say anything. Which was good.

Because Thatch would really like to hit something right now.

“At least the kid knows about the bomb,” his ghost nemesis gifted him a smirk that made Thatch want to stab him. Fox didn’t seem to care, “One problem solved.”

“Come on,” Ace interrupted him before he could say something snarky back. Ace’s focus was firmly on the way where they came from, “We can catch up to her. How much time do we have left?”

The marines called encouragements behind them and Thatch nearly keeled over. What the absolute hell happened since they’d lost track of her? Did she suddenly tie herself up with Smoker’s squad? If she had— Thatch was going to cry. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that, but that didn’t mean she needed to go turncoat.

White was not her color.

Remembering that Ace had asked a question, Thatch glanced at the clock tower and grimaced, “Three minutes.”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Fire Fist?” Fox raised a dry brow even as he fell into step beside him, “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the bomb?”

“She’s going that way for a reason. That’s where Luffy went too. I trust them,” Ace combatted. He glanced at the shorter pirate, a sardonic smile pulling his cheeks tight, “If they’re wrong, well—” he sprinted ahead of them, “We’re all dead anyway.”  

That was one way to put it. Good on Ace for thinking on the bright side.

Fox scoffed behind them.

“Fucking Whitebeards.”

Kappa yelped as they ran toward the city center.

His grip on her hair was beginning to hurt, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him to let go. Despite everything occurring around them, Alesta was quickly learning she harbored a dangerous soft spot for children. She may not desire any of her own, but she’d grown fond of Kappa and his fool-hardy bravery.

Alesta hoped he lived a long life.

The rest of their sprint blurred past her eyes. She didn’t dare take her focus off the path ahead— afraid of the possibility of seeing more ghosts. Afraid of feeling that longing, that reach to touch the dead she had no business meddling with. The soft pant of Olvia’s breathing centered her as she followed the woman toward the palace.

“Alesta!”

The call made her stumble. Kappa nearly fell off her shoulders but managed to snatch a handful of her hair to keep him upright. Bracing his leg with her hand, she paused in her sprint just long enough to look over her shoulder. Silver eyes met her stare and Alesta felt her heart clench.

Her voice caught in her throat, “Ace?”

He ran toward her— hand propped on his hat to keep it from blowing away. She drank in the sight of his face, feeling like she hadn’t seen it in ages. There was a strain to his cheeks that hadn’t been there that morning, but other than that, very little seemed out of place. While his clothes were a bit scuffed up, beyond that there were no injuries.

She had no time to prepare herself before his arms wrapped around her waist.

Kappa squeaked at the force and Alesta’s eyes blew wide. Ace smelled like sweat and sand. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant scent, but the heat of his body more than made up for it. He sweltered against her. Thick arms caged around her waist in a manner she’d almost label desperate.

She wondered what’d happened in the time they’d been apart for him to react this strongly. Thatch came up behind him and Alesta’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. His dark eyes took her in from over Ace’s shoulders, mouth pinching tight at whatever he saw. The skin on the back of her neck prickled at the observation.

“Don’t do that shit again,” the warning was muffled as Ace pulled back. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, “You hear me? You can’t—”

Whatever he intended to say was left unfinished as he stepped back. His eyes took in the blood marring her coat and the thin slice Tashigi’s blade left on her throat before he swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to categorize the look in his eyes.

It wasn’t the heat she expected.

Instead, something almost cool curled in the pit of her stomach. She imagined it would feel similar to the rush of adrenaline that might occur if she’d thrown herself off a cliff.

“Bomb,” Kanetsuyo interrupted drily, “Remember the bomb, idiot.”

Thatch groaned something rude under his breath.

The sound made Ace blink. Whatever clouded his eyes was swept away by a harsh flood of realization, “Right,” he shook his head once before looking toward her, “Do you know where it is?”

She hated to break the hope in his expression, but she didn’t have the answer he sought. Instead, Alesta looked behind her to catch Olvia’s eye. The ghost hadn’t followed her to Ace, choosing to hover near the top of the street they’d been racing down. Her head tilted toward the palace beyond them, a silent encouragement to hurry.

“No, but,” Alesta grabbed Kappa’s leg as she said, “If Crocodile wanted to make an impact, he would have chosen a populated place. It would have to be near the palace.”

It felt odd to have all three men turning to her for advice. She wasn’t the one they needed to look to. Alesta was going off speculation, a hunch. It was nothing concrete. Her nails skittered over her chest as sudden doubt filled her. If she was wrong—

She opened her mouth to voice her hesitation.

“Worth a shot,” Kanetusyo interrupted her. His shoulder skimmed her own as he walked past her, “We’ve got two minutes—"

He made it two feet before he spotted Olvia. Kanetsuyo’s face fell flat with recognition. Uncaring of the time he’d just reminded them about, the ghost turned to give Alesta a very dry look.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’ll explain later,” she grimaced at his flat tone. Without waiting for him to reply to the obvious dismissal, Alesta brushed past him as she jogged toward Olvia, “We don’t have enough time.”

It was his own logic, so he had no room to fault her. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t come later. Ignoring the possibility of that for the moment, Alesta tightened her grip on Kappa’s legs as she fell into pace beside Olvia. A rueful smile hid between the woman’s cheeks and Alesta felt herself flush despite the circumstances.

“Ghost girl,” Kanetsuyo sighed behind her, “I fucking hate you.”

Thatch snickered.

There wasn’t any time to reply to his insult. As they crested the end of the street, Alesta caught sight of the time on the clock tower. Olvia told her it was set to blow at noon. They had less than a minute— Kappa sniffled on her shoulders and she let go of his leg, belatedly realizing she’d been squeezing it a touch too hard.

Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

Throwing her gaze over the surrounding area, Alesta swallowed the fear that began to creep up. There were too many places to look. Alubarna’s city center was surrounded by buildings on all sides. Most of them were squat in comparison to the clock tower. The only object that stood higher was the palace and she could only assume Crocodile wouldn’t—

“The clock tower,” Kappa jabbed a finger past her face, “It’s got to be there! That place is huge!”

Ace squinted at the giant building, “You sure?”

She could hear the doubt in his tone. If Kappa was right and it was at the clock tower, they had an ordeal ahead of them. The fighting hadn’t died down. Despite the multitude of bodies lining the square, the rebels and the royal guards were still going strong. Alesta heard a man scream before his voice cut off— fading into a gurgle.

“It has to be,” there was steel in Kappa’s tone, “It’s the only place someone wouldn’t notice it. No one ever goes into the tower anymore—”

Olvia gasped.

The noise made Alesta throw her attention back to the clock tower. It was too far to fully tell, but she swore she saw something long stretch up to the ledge. Her thoughts immediately went to Luffy. Judging from Ace’s curse, she wasn’t the only one. She barely had time to squint before she saw his body flying through the open clock face.

Two bodies fell from the tower.

“Luffy,” Ace whispered. His hand slipped into Alesta’s and squeezed, “I swear if you get blown up—”

The seconds on the clock ticked down until the hour hand hit the center.

Only the sounds of the battle echoed in the air.

It took a moment for her to remember to breathe. Ace’s hand was tight against her own, Alesta’s thin fingers wringing his hard enough it had to hurt. Nobody dared to move. It felt like a fluke. It couldn’t have been that easy. Yet, as the seconds continued to click by, Alesta realized maybe it was.

Maybe they were done after all.

Whistling between his teeth, Kanetsuyo was the first to break the silence, “Rookie pirates— what a bunch of crazy bastards.”

“He did it,” Ace’s laugh startled her in much the same manner it startled himself. It was a rough, amazed sort of sound. His eyes took in the clock tower with pride, “That idiot actually pulled it off.”

Before she could open her mouth, a shadow fell from the sky and landed on the brim of the clock tower. Breaking her hold on Ace’s hand, Alesta took a step forward to try and get a better look. She couldn’t see what was happening, but she recognized the figure from her clash with Robin that morning.

Alesta was only able to take one more step before Pell flew from the tower.

The bomb was tucked between his talons.

“No,” Olvia whispered, “No.” Her eyes flew toward Alesta’s in slow motion, “Crocodile must have set a time delay."

Pell coasted toward the sun and Alesta turned to Ace. Blood began to pound inside her head as horror held her tongue. Ace’s frantic stare met hers, his palm outstretched but too far away to reach. Beside him, Thatch cursed as he lurched forward. His arm covered her shoulders as Pell blocked out the sun's rays.

A faint surge of blue flames caught in her peripheral—

Then the world exploded into white light.

Alesta only had enough time to cradle Kappa to her chest. He screamed into her shoulder— his thin arms wrapping around her waist as an earsplitting boom rocked the earth beneath their feet. It felt like it would never end. Alesta felt herself fall forward, bracketing Kappa against the ground as a heavy weight fell on top of her back.

The ground continued to rumble as the light began to fade.

Sucking in a heaving breath, Alesta tried to open her eyes. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t think. The only thing she could do was feel. Feel Kappa moving in her arms, feel the weight of Thatch sheltering her back as his heavy pants saturated the curve of her neck. Her hands shook from where she braced them on the ground.

It took a minute for it all to sink in. They were alive. Her eyes finally opened and she shot a frantic glance toward the rest of their companions. Ace was on the ground in front of her, his hand clinging to Thatch’s wrist. Behind him, Kanetsuyo was crouched low— hands over his ears and nearly wild eyes locked on the skyline.

“Are we—” Kappa’s frail voice sounded like static, “Are we okay?”

It was hard to speak, but Alesta managed to say, “I think so.”

The air whooshed out of Thatch’s lungs and ruffled the hair on the back of her neck. He groaned under his breath as he crawled off of her, falling to his knees next to her side. His face was paler than she’d ever seen it. Ace was similarly overwhelmed. His gaze flew to the clocktower and she saw the exact moment he realized it was still standing— breath falling out of his lungs with a shuddering sigh.

“I see,” Olvia’s voice was strangely even, “The Phoenix caught him.”

Alesta had just enough energy to follow her gaze. Up in the skyline, Marco hovered several hundred feet above the palace, Pell clutched between his talons. His devil fruit flames coated the horizon with bright, sapphire light.

Her hearing came back in slow intervals as she admired the color.

She’d never seen such a beautiful shade of blue.

Massive wings pounded through the air as Marco began to descend. Amidst the still-raging battlefield, she heard a familiar wail as Marco landed at the base of the clock tower. Her heart clenched softly when she realized it was Vivi. The cry echoed over the palace courtyard.

“Please!” Vivi’s scream caught in the air, “No more fighting!”

Then the rain began to fall.

Kappa gasped from his place in her lap as he trailed his gaze to the sky. His hand latched onto the collar of Alesta’s cloak as he tilted his face toward the rain.

“It’s raining,” Kappa whispered in awe, “It’s finally raining!”

Alesta blinked, still trying to come to terms with the entirety of the situation. Her palm twisted upward, cupping the water before it could hit the ground. It’d been so long since she’d seen rain. After over a week in Arabasta, the cool touch was a balm against her broken skin— the blood that coated her arms dripping off in slow waves.

“Listen to your princess!” That was a voice Alesta didn’t recognize, “The Rebel Army is disbanded!”

The sound of the fighting stalled.

Kappa shot out of her lap like a rocket, “Koza!”

Still trying to fight off the confusion from the implosion, Alesta wasn’t fast enough to halt him.

His little feet sprinted toward the palace courtyard and the crowd began to part. Some of the rebels called his name as he darted by, their shock echoing in the air as Kappa dove toward the man in the center of the crowd. Bracing her palm on the ground, Alesta watched as Kappa launched himself into Koza’s arms. She saw the rebel leader whisper something to him just before the crowd swallowed them both whole.

She felt her lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile as she heard Kappa begin to laugh.

It was finally over.

Beyond her, Vivi’s voice rose as she spoke with the citizens of Arabasta. Several unfamiliar voices joined her. That was all she managed to pay attention to before exhaustion snatched her by the throat. Alesta had just enough time to take a deep breath before her chin dipped forward, arms barely able to catch herself before she fell into the now sodden sand.

“Holy shit,” Thatch finally muttered. He had his face barricaded by his palms, “Never again.”

That was a sentiment she wholeheartedly agreed with. Alesta ached all the way down to her bones. Twisting her head just barely to the side, she caught Olvia’s eye. The woman was smiling as she admired the skyline, a secretive furrow to her brow as she let the rain soak her hair.

Kanetsuyo groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. He glanced at Alesta before he sighed, “You owe me so much sake, ghost girl.”

She didn’t have time to reply to his demands before a weight landed in her lap.

Alesta glanced down just in time to see Ace snore.

Chapter Text

The end of the war didn’t come with chiming bells or speeches.

It came with a yawn.

With the rain still falling over the blood-strewn city, Vivi herded both groups of pirates toward the palace. It’d been done with the intent to check them for injuries, but they hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes.

The second her body touched the soft linen of the bed, Alesta was asleep. She hadn’t even noticed Nami crawling under the sheets beside her. Her entire body ached down to her bones and Alesta was sure if she’d had the ability to, she could have slept for another five hours.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Squinting against the low light of the sun creeping in through the window, Alesta winced as she stretched her legs out. Her body still throbbed despite the rest. Nami grunted something in her sleep— pulling the sheet tight around her body before nuzzling deeper into their pillow.

Alesta blinked twice as she took in the rest of the room.

Sanji was in the bed next to them, Chopper curled up in a ball near his chest. A tired little giggle echoed from their side of the room as Chopper twitched in his sleep. Usopp was in the cot closest to him, sleeping upside down as his mouth gaped open.

At the back of the room, Zoro was sprawled against the wall as he snored. It was a sound echoed by both Ace and Luffy. Something fond curled in her gut as she watched them.

Luffy was dead to the world.

His long limbs were strewn haphazardly over the tiny cot— hanging half-way to the floor. Ace was a bit more coordinated in his slumber, but not by much. He was sprawled on his stomach, the strands of his hat tangled around his neck he cuddled it to his chest.

Sitting up slightly, Alesta yawned. The noise caught the attention of the only member of their group still awake. Glancing up from where he hovered against the back wall, Marco took her in as she stretched her arms over her head.

The book he’d been reading was tucked under his arm as he turned his full attention toward her. It was a bit too much considering she just woke up, but Alesta wasn’t brave enough to question it. Instead, she scrubbed at her face— trying to get her brain to function again.

His mouth twitched at the action, “Have a nice nap, yoi?”

“It was okay,” Alesta rubbed at her cheeks, “How long have we been sleeping?”

It was strange to be alone with him.

She still wasn’t sure how to feel about the man. They hadn’t had much opportunity to talk beyond their quick introduction. Ace painted a pretty in-depth picture of the man labeled Whitebeard’s First Division Commander, but that was Ace’s opinion.

Alesta had yet to make her own.

“A couple hours,” Marco glanced out the window, “You didn’t miss anything, yoi.”

That was good.

Alesta wasn’t quite sure she could handle more adventure today. Throwing her legs over the bed, she grimaced at the faint throb of pain the action brought over her back. Her hand rubbed at her shoulder blade with a sigh.

“Don’t move so fast.” Thatch’s voice startled her and she froze, twisting her head over her shoulder to find him resting on a windowsill. He tsked, “Seriously, the floors not going anywhere. Just relax for a second.”

He’d faded back to his ghost form while she’d slept. It made sense given Marco’s explanation of the late hour. Alesta also vaguely remembered increasing Olvia’s time before they’d left for the palace, so her absence wasn’t a surprise.

That didn’t explain where Kanetsuyo had slithered off to.

Alesta hoped he hadn’t gone to snoop, but she wasn’t optimistic.

Meanwhile, Marco arched a brow when her focus drifted away from him. Blue eyes squinted in the area where Thatch stood before he shook his head with a snort. She doubted he knew exactly who stood there, but he had his assumptions.

They were unfortunately correct.

Focusing back on the present, Alesta found Thatch still staring at her. Both of his brows were hiked as he waited for a response. A soft breath escaped her lungs as she tried to console his worry, “I’m okay. I feel better now.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. Her head hurt something fierce, but if she sat still any longer, her legs would begin to cramp. Ignoring Thatch’s groan, she brought her knees up to her chest as she settled on the end of the bed.

Nami made an unhappy noise but didn’t move beyond a twitch.  

“Uh, no. You’re definitely not,” Thatch leaned forward. His hand flapped softly in her direction, “I might be dead, but I’m not brain dead.”

Despite the fact he couldn’t hear him, Marco chuckled under his breath. The sound made Alesta turn to him. His brows raised in gentle challenge and she broke the stare before he could say anything.

“See?” Thatch didn’t have such hesitations. He pointed at Marco with a victorious crow, “Even Marco knows that’s bullshit.”

It was strange the way they teamed up against her despite their lack of conversation. She wasn’t quite sure she liked it. Ace and Thatch were bad enough without the extra input. Giving both men a dry look, Alesta settled her chin on her knees with a huff.

Cupping her temple, she mumbled, “Don’t start fussing at me when I wake up. It’s rude.”

This time Marco couldn’t smother his laugh.

It hung in the air and Alesta glanced up, catching the way his mouth canted to the side with mirth. He didn’t seem to mind the fact they were engaging in a conversation without him. Which was odd. It generally drew a few raised brows, but Marco only smirked when he met her eye.

“Good luck with that, yoi,” he leaned back against the wall, “Thatch doesn’t listen well.”

The comment made Thatch scoff, “I don’t listen well? Me?” He glared at Marco for a long second before he rolled his eyes, “Just you wait, birdman. You’ll see all the shit these hellions put me through soon.”

Despite the tone, something warm curled in her stomach and tangled with the exhaustion the day left behind. Watching Thatch through dark eyes, Alesta smiled gently at him. It felt nice to be cared about, even if his methods were a bit crass.  

Thatch drank the expression in before he groaned and tilted his head to the ceiling with a grunted curse, “No, don’t start that. You’re not allowed to do that. I’m mad at you, you can’t just give me those eyes—”

“He’s being feisty,” Alesta interrupted mildly. Marco blinked when she asked, “Do you want to talk to him?”

Thatch’s mouth dropped open in offense, “I’m being what? Ghost girl, I haven’t even shown you feisty.”

The input went unacknowledged. Alesta was vaguely positive she’d pay for that. It was an assumption that was confirmed when Thatch’s eyes flashed in a manner she knew promised trouble. She decided that would be a problem to be dealt with later.

Preferably much later, but time would tell.

Meanwhile, Marco frowned at her for several long seconds before he managed to say, “Are you sure, yoi? You’re tired.”

“I’m fine,” Alesta repeated with a yawn, “I promise.”

She was certain of that. Summoning one ghost wouldn’t be an issue even if she was sore. The pressure in her chest had already awoken at the thought, tiny tendrils slinking under her skin and hovering near her heart.

“You didn’t get much of a chance to earlier,” Alesta continued when neither man spoke. Tucking her chin between her knees, she peered lazily up at Marco, “I don’t mind. It’ll last for an hour if I fall asleep again.”

There was a long period of silence before Marco tilted his head in thanks, “If you’re sure, yoi.”

“Mhm,” Alesta hummed as her eyes threatened to close, “Thatch, please help me.”

Like she’d anticipated, there was no pain. Just a gentle push of exertion behind her heart. Marco coughed in surprise when Thatch appeared— his wide blue eyes flicking toward her with an emotion she was too tired to name.

“Oh, screw you,” Thatch grumbled as he wiped down his pants. He gave her a look so dry it would wither grass, “You’re just trying to soften me up.”

“Maybe,” Alesta drawled, peeking up at him from under her lashes, “Is it working?”

There was a long groan before Thatch collapsed onto the bed next to her, “Yeah, it’s working. We’re still going to have a nice long talk though—”

“Later,” she mumbled into her knees, “I’m tired.”

Alesta barely had time to blink before he leaned against her side. A faint hint of something that smelled vaguely like leather made her nose wrinkle as Thatch placed a palm behind her back. She leaned into the warmth with a drowsy sigh, letting herself get comfortable.

She briefly caught Marco swallow, “That’s how it works, yoi?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Pretty neat, huh?” Warmth coated her side as Thatch chuckled, “Bit of a mouthful, but we’re making it work.”

She heard Marco push off the wall and take a step closer. Confusion and fascination dotted his question, “It doesn’t hurt?”

Alesta peeked an eye open at the inquiry, curious at the answer herself. It hadn’t been something she’d been willing to ask. Afraid that the answer might be something she couldn’t handle hearing.

Judging from Marco’s frown, he expected the same.

“Nope,” Thatch clicked his tongue, “Never has. Which is fucking weird because I definitely remember getting stabbed.”

Marco took that in with a puckered mouth, “And you’re just— alive, yoi? Just like that?”

“Most of the time,” she felt Thatch nod, “Sometimes I turn blue. You know, like half-ghost? Now, that feels weird. You ever try to grab your dick when your hand’s asleep? Think like that—”

“No,” Marco retorted drily, “Can’t say I have, yoi.”

That was enough of that conversation.

Alesta rolled her eyes at Thatch’s teasing tone as fatigue slowly sunk back over her skin. Having Thatch next to her again made her relax. It’d been hours since they’d been able to rest in each other's company and she was going to take advantage of it while the time was available.

Her eyes drifted shut just as she heard Marco ask, “She do that often?”

“Oh,” Thatch responded a touch too roguishly, “Feeling left out? Want to join the nest?"

There was a grunt and a muttered curse.  

“Oi, you can’t just kick people! Especially dead people!”

His grumbles faded into static between her ears as Alesta tucked her chin between her knees. A tired smile pulled at her cheeks as she listened to them bicker, the familiar drawl of Thatch’s voice lulling her to sleep. Her bones seemed to relax as she snuggled into his shoulder.

Alesta had never been one for naps, but she figured she’d earned a few.

Exhaustion took her back under before she could yawn.

There were few things better than waking up to the promise of food.

By the time Vivi stuck her head through the door, their entire group was well on the verge of consciousness. The only one still struggling to wake up was Chopper, his tired eyes slipping shut as he nuzzled in Nami’s lap.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Vivi chuckled with a grin. Her slim hip held the door propped open and the faint scent of something roasting filled the room, “Just in time too. I hope you’re hungry—”

There hadn’t been time to prepare for the outcome of that statement. Luffy threw himself off the bed, nearly taking out the doorway as he tried to sling himself down the hall. It was only Zoro’s quick reflexes that prevented Vivi was certain death.

Despite the overreaction, his excitement was contagious. Alesta had never seen any of them move so fast. She’d barely had time to straighten her shirt before Ace was tugging her out of the room and down the steps.

The sight that greeted them was more food than Alesta had ever seen in her life. She wasn’t sure what to do with it all. It was more than she’d ever be capable of eating. The smell itself had her nearly collapsing into the nearest chair, overcome with options.

It wasn’t a problem shared with the rest of their group.

A fork of sauteed vegetables hung inches away from Alesta’s lips as she blinked at the boy on the opposite side of the table. There was a full hog head stuck between Ace’s teeth— one hand shoving against Luffy’s head as he tried to wrestle the meat from Ace’s grip.

She was vaguely worried that they were about to come to blows.

“Back off, Luffy!” Ace grunted, “Get your own—"

“But I want that one!”

Alesta wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that no one seemed concerned by the current spectacle.

When Luffy managed to grab Ace’s cheek, Usopp snatched a pork sticker from under both brothers’ noses. Meeting Alesta’s increasingly bewildered stare, Nami shook her head once before wiping Chopper’s soup-stained cheeks with a napkin. Zoro was similarly of no help.

He huffed into his drink before tipping it back with a long gulp.

Blinking very slowly, Alesta took a cautious bite of her food as she eyed the rest of the room. The royal guards were frozen against the back of the room. She didn’t think they could close their mouths if they tried. Unlike her horrified guards, Vivi had her chin perched on her palm at the head of the table.

She hadn’t stopped smiling once.

In stark opposition to his daughter, King Cobra looked on the verge of a painful aneurysm.

“Luffy!” Sanji finally snapped when Luffy nearly took Ace to the floor as he stole the meat, “Use your manners, idiot! We’re in the presence of a lady!”

The table rocked as he reached across it to smack Luffy in the back of the head. Alesta barely had time to lift her plate before it hit the ground. Meanwhile, Sanji’s hit caused Luffy to choke— spit flying over the table as he grabbed at his throat, eyes blowing wide before he swallowed the boar’s head whole.

Ace growled as he went to steal a bowl of glass noodles from Luffy’s left.

He wasn’t fast enough.

Broth flew everywhere when Luffy smacked his hand away.

With wide eyes, Alesta watched it explode over the table. No one was spared. Nami screamed when the broth doused her hair, echoed shortly by Zoro’s exasperated curse as he wiped his face. Even Chopper squeaked as the table rocked again from Ace grabbing Luffy by the back of his neck.

“You brat!” Ace ground Luffy’s head into the tablecloth, “That was mine!”

Unlike his companions, Usopp tried to use the distraction to his advantage and steal another pork sticker. Only to snatch his hand back with a shriek as a fork embedded itself into the tablecloth. The utensil wobbled once in the air before it was snatched up to be used as a projectile.

Alesta gently placed her plate back on the table.  

“Great,” Thatch sighed under his breath, “There’s two of them.”  

She glanced at Thatch out of the corner of her eye at the thought, taking in the other half of the table as Luffy wound his arm around Ace’s neck. Thatch sprawled in the chair next to her. One dark eyebrow twitched in annoyance as another shriek echoed through the dining hall.

A head of broccoli flew through the air—

Thatch caught it before it hit his chest.

Alesta was quite glad she’d decided to increase his time before they ventured down here. It helped to have a barricade from the chaos. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure Thatch held the same opinion.

“Heathens,” he grumbled as he dropped the vegetable, “A family of damn heathens.”

Marco chuckled and Alesta belated realized she should have sat closer to him.

He was much more well-behaved than the rest of their company. At the farthest end of the table, Marco wiped his mouth with a napkin before he leaned back into his chair. His lazy blue eyes took in the spectacle with a smirk.  

He snorted when Ace yelped, “Somethings never change, yoi.”

Propping his elbows on the table, Thatch rolled his eyes. “They’re definitely related,” he managed to move his drink before it could fall when Luffy rocked the table again, “I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be worse than Ace, but here we are.”

“Should we stop them?” Alesta couldn’t help but question.

Luffy was sprawled across the table now, dragging a large pot of something that resembled ribs toward his gaping mouth. Ace’s hand was wrapped tight around his collar. It looked vaguely uncomfortable.

An observation that was quickly confirmed as Luffy’s throat stretched several sizes larger to accommodate his appetite.

“I wouldn’t, yoi.” Marco’s lips tilted up. His eyes drifted toward hers, amused in a manner she hadn’t seen him wear. “Ace bites.”

She didn’t have the current ability to process that spontaneous tidbit of information.  

With a wary hum, Alesta took another taste of her food before placing her fork down. There’d be no more eating for her. Not with the way Luffy was crawling over the table like a small chimpanzee— snagging leftovers from his crewmates as he avoided Ace’s cursing.

A rubbery hand outstretched toward her and Alesta gently pushed her plate toward him.

Luffy grinned a touch too ferally and then her food was gone.

She could only blink.

This was nothing like the meals in her home on Takko Island. They were so lively. Something her father never would have allowed. Alesta wasn’t quite sure how to handle it all. A part of her was embarrassed on their behalf, but another— happier part— caused her cheeks to ache with the hint of a smile.

It promptly died when Ace lit his napkin on fire.

There was a scream before Sanji cursed, throwing a cup of water over the table. It doused Zoro in the face— and Alesta didn’t have time to blink before the swordsman lurched over the table and snatched Sanji by the hair. Thankfully, Nami was there to intercept.

Both men fell when her fist connected to their heads.

“Cut it out!” Nami growled, “We’re eating!”

Alesta doubted anyone was still focusing on their food. Vivi appeared to agree. She giggled, a slim hand covering her mouth as the guards began to flounder over the now charred table. Ace began to sputter apologies, but it was ruined by the food stuck in his throat. Somehow, he still managed to keep Luffy’s face shoved against the table.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite able to stop Luffy’s rubbery limb from slinging out to snatch another plate of meat.

It zipped past the king's face and he gawked— appearing seconds away from fainting.

Someone squealed and Alesta pinched the bridge of her nose. If the king died from an incoming heart attack, they were never going to be allowed to Arabasta again. That would be difficult to accommodate.

Accidental homicide hadn’t factored into her plans.

Catching Alesta’s growing exasperation, Thatch scooted over in an aborted attempt to make more room. His eyes sparkled playfully as he gestured her closer.

“Come here, ghost girl,” his arms opened wide, “I’ll protect you.”

It would have been a tempting agreement if she was foolish enough to believe in his innocence.

She didn’t have any time to respond before Thatch let his arm curl over her shoulders. It was hot and heavy, warmer than it had any right to be. His fingers tapped on her forearm and she glanced at him, mouth tipping down when his bright, brown eyes met hers.

She didn’t like the gleam in his stare.

It was a look that spelled danger.

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” Alesta countered wryly, “Thank you, though.”

Ignoring Thatch’s pout, Alesta made the mistake of glancing at the rest of the table. Ace and Luffy were still brawling, but it was Marco’s focus that caught her attention. He looked between her and Thatch as both brows slowly hiked toward his hairline.

Blue eyes met hers before he chuckled under his breath.

The sound made her skin prickle. Marco’s head tilted down before she could get a good look, but Alesta was almost certain she glimpsed a smirk. His cheeks curled up as he took another long sip of his drink.

She wasn’t given a chance to decipher what his expression may have been before Ace grunted.

“Luffy!” Nami screeched a second too late, “No—”

The table fell over with a clatter.

Alesta sighed.

After the disaster that occurred during dinner, Alesta wasn’t surprised that Vivi offered them usage of their private bath.

It was sorely appreciated.

The warm water sank up to her knees as she sprawled in the expansive room. Golden metal lions framed the edges of the room, shining under the steam from the hot fountain in the center of the room. Something that smelled vaguely like lilac coated the room with a fine mist.

Nami sighed as she dragged a cloth over her back, “I never want to leave.”

Tilting her head slightly to the right, Alesta took in her two companions. They were all perched on the wall separating the highest level of the room from the deep fountain. Nami had lost her towel, basking in the steamy air of the room with a sigh.

Alesta tore her eyes away before she could look too long. It was still odd to bathe with an audience. It wasn’t something she’d done before, but Nami’s pestering had her shedding her clothes despite her reservations.

Her only condolence was the towel wrapped around her chest.

Dragging her hand through the water, Alesta hummed. She couldn’t emerge herself fully into the fountain without irritating her devil fruit, something she didn’t plan to do. She’d hoped Thatch was able to enjoy the bathhouse as well. He’d earned it as much as her.

She could say the same for Kanetsuyo, but she still wasn’t sure where he’d managed to venture off to.

It was probably for the best.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Vivi chuckled as she dipped her hair into the fountain water. Thin fingers combed through the wet strands, “You’ve done more than enough for my country to earn it.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Nami pretended to wave her off, but Alesta wasn’t fooled. Her eyes glittered greedily under the light of the room, “I wouldn’t want to take advantage—”

Vivi’s mouth ticked up, “Are you sure?”

“Well, if you’re insisting,” Nami slipped into the bathwater with a soft splash, “I guess I can’t turn it down.”

Alesta smiled at the tone. She was growing fond of both women in a manner she hadn’t expected. When they left, she hoped to keep in touch. Ignoring the lazy feeling the water wrought out of her, Alesta leaned her head forward into the fountain water.

It soaked into the ends of her hair and Alesta frowned as she tried to comb the tangles out with her fingers. It was more difficult than she expected. Each swipe of her hand caught on her hair, yanking at the long strands despite the oils soaking the water.

“Here,” Vivi interrupted her, “I’ll help.”

Alesta shook her head, “That’s okay—"

She didn’t have time to finish refuting the offer before Vivi snuck behind her. Alesta blinked, slightly dazed as the princess worked through the stubborn snags. Nami tilted her head back, a grin peppering her face as she watched.

“When’s the last time you brushed your hair anyway?” rolling onto her stomach, Nami raised a curious brow, “No offense.”

Alesta shrugged awkwardly, trying to ignore the gentle tug of Vivi’s fingers, “Before I left my island. I haven’t thought about it since then.”

It was a luxury she hadn’t had time for. It likely should have been. Between sleeping in the desert and riding on the back of Ace’s boat, her hair had suffered. Vivi chuckled as she wrung some of the lilac-scented oil through the dry ends.

“It’s pretty,” Vivi added, “I’m a bit jealous.”

The compliment made Nami scoff, “You’re kidding me. Like you’ve got room to complain—” her hand splashed through the water playfully, “Do mine next.”

Vivi rolled her eyes as she finished, tucking Alesta’s hair over her shoulder before moving toward Nami’s back. Alesta let her hand draw through the now silken strands of her hair. It was softer than she’d ever felt it.

It was a strange juxtaposition to the strain of the day.

Leaning back on the fountain wall, Alesta let her legs stretch out. The cuts that lined her legs stung a bit as the water dipped up her ankles, but it was worth it. She’d never felt so relaxed in her life.

Dark eyes slipped shut as Nami and Vivi’s chatter filled the air.

It felt so nice to finally relax. To not have to worry about what came next, to allow herself to breathe. The day took more out of her than she’d realized. Even after the quick nap that afternoon, exhaustion still hung over her shoulders.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall asleep right here.

“Eep!”

The noise had Alesta peeking an eye open. She blinked twice, trying to chase the slumber out of her eyes as she took in the wall that separated the bathhouse. Several pairs of eyes met hers and Alesta abruptly froze.

Blood began to drip from Sanji’s nose as he collapsed.

Before he could keel over, Zoro snatched him by the arm and tugged him down. They were the only two to fully move. The rest of their audience appeared struck dumb. Alesta hid her eyes with her hand as she clutched the towel tight around her chest.  

She’d forgotten the pains of traveling with men.

“What are you doing?” She heard Ace question before he groaned, “Don’t — That’s your crewmate!”

Alesta didn’t have time to prepare herself before he came into focus. Her eyes shot wide when she spotted him popping over the wall to grab Luffy by the back of the neck—

Dark eyes met hers and they both stilled.

Ace gawked at her from the top of the wall, stuck in place. He was too far away to get a good judge of his expression, but Alesta saw the moment his mouth dropped open before his face flushed red. He yanked his attention away as he tore Luffy away from the ledge.

She swore she heard Thatch cackle.

Behind her, Nami sighed as she crawled to her feet. “Well, if they’re going to look,” arms bracketing her hips, Nami let her towel fall, “You each owe me a hundred and fifty thousand beri.”

She’d never seen so much bare flesh in her life. Alesta covered her eyes as Nami’s breasts came into full view. Vivi didn’t fare much better— her hand snatched for Nami’s wrist as she tried to tug her back into the bath.

“Nami!” Vivi squeaked, “No!”

There was a faint scream as the group of men fell off the wall.

Nami cackled as Vivi finally managed to pull her back into the bath. Water splashed over Alesta’s legs as Vivi smacked Nami’s arm hard enough to leave a welt. It didn’t stop Nami’s wicked grin from resurfacing as she dragged Vivi into the water with her.

Alesta scrubbed at her flushed cheeks until she couldn’t feel them.

Then she begged the ground to swallow her whole.

A blonde brow hiked as Marco watched the Strawhats collapse.

They couldn’t form words if they tried. Marco snorted under his breath when the cook’s nose continued to bleed. It’d been a long time since Marco was young enough to consider peeping. Right around the time Whitey Bay was still with the crew and puberty had taken him by storm.

He’d learned his lesson well enough to never repeat it.

Taking in the last member of their group, Marco smirked from his place against the bath wall, “You okay there?”

He’d never seen Ace turn so red. The kid had plenty of flings during their time in Pop’s crew, but he hadn’t grown out of his chivalrous phase. Something that was coming back to bite him.

“No,” Ace’s face was hidden between his arms, “I—”

Thatch continued to grin, “Aw, are you flustered? I would be.”

“Just— just shupt.”

With a chuckle, Marco stretched his legs out. Ace wouldn’t meet either of their eyes. His focus was locked on the water with a severity that would kill. If his ears burned any brighter, they might catch fire.

That didn’t stop Thatch from trying to tease.

“What was that?” he needled, “I didn't hear you—”

“Oh my god,” Ace groaned as he lurched forward to punch Thatch in the arm, “Shut up, Thatch!”

A laugh snuck out of Marco’s throat before he could catch it. As much as his new reliance on Alesta’s devil fruit would take getting used to, Marco was happy to have Thatch back. It wasn’t the same as it’d been before— before Teach— but it was close.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend Thatch never died.

As he watched his brothers fight in the bath, Marco let a fond smile take over his face. He may not know the girl who’d done it like Ace and Thatch did, but he owed Alesta more than he could verbalize. He never thought he’d see this again.

For the first time in months, Marco’s heart was light.

He’d do anything to keep that feeling.

Kanetsuyo found her just before they fell asleep that night.

Sitting on the bed at Ace’s feet, Alesta blinked when he appeared just in front of her. She hadn’t expected him to pop up so suddenly and the movement of her jolt made Ace peek an eye open. On the floor, Marco tilted his head up from the dagger he’d been fiddling with.  

“Oh,” Thatch droned dully. He was sprawled out on his stomach next to her, back to his normal ghost façade. “He’s back. Great.”

The tone didn’t seem to hit its target. Kanetsuyo took in the room with an arched brow before he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “For being royalty, Arabasta sure keeps a low profile. I couldn’t find anything.”

Alesta frowned, “What were you looking for?”

She was lucky that most of the Straw Hats had already gone to sleep. The only one still awake was Zoro and he glanced at her from his bed, green brows furrowing. It was an action repeated by Ace.

Sitting up, Ace let the sheet fall off his bare chest, “Is Fox back?”

Alesta nodded at the same time Kanetsuyo grunted, “Treasure.” He drawled like she was slow, “Weapons, money, something other than old shit.”

“Treasure,” Thatch repeated. He pinched his brow, “We aren’t going to rob them—”

“We’re pirates.”

“Not a pirate,” Alesta hummed under her breath. She turned back to the book in her hands. It was the one Marco brought with him, a short novel about an old barmaid. “I don’t want treasure.”

“Sure,” dropping onto the floor, Kanetsuyo gave her a withering look, “Says the girl surrounded by pirates. Makes sense.”

On the other end of the spectrum, Thatch latched onto the last half of her sentence. He gaped at her, “You don’t want treasure? Ghost girl, you’re breaking my heart here.”

“It’s only stuff,” Alesta flipped the page of her book, “I don’t have a need for it.”

Her interests lay in much more ephemeral things. Experiences, feelings, desires. The idea of treasure had never factored. Even Ace’s brief explanation of the mysterious One Piece hadn’t caught her attention.

To her, it was just another object shrouded by secrecy and greed.

She’d had her fill of those when she’d eaten the devil fruit.

Speaking of Ace, he was leaning forward now. His eyes kept flicking toward the open space near the bed where he thought Kanetsuyo was standing. Except he was looking in the wrong direction.

Alesta didn’t try to clarify.

“You sure about that?” Ace’s lips twitched as he interjected himself into the conversation, “I bet we can change your mind.”

Marco groaned deep in his throat.

Lifting a brow, Alesta glanced up from her book, “Why?”

She wasn’t certain why they fixated on this topic so heavily. There were bound to be differences in their outlooks. They’d lived entirely different lives— held entirely different goals. Besides, Alesta wasn’t a pirate.

The title may be subject to change in the future, but for now, it was true. She assumed there was an initiation to that sort of thing. There was also the defining lack of a crew or a ship. Neither of which she anticipated being part of.

For now, Alesta was just a traveler with people she came to care about.

“Because it’s fun,” Ace reached forward to tug on a wet strand of her hair. His smile went boyish, “You can do anything you want now, why not start by having fun?”

She wasn’t expecting the reaction that question wrought. Moonlight from the window dappled his face, meddling with the even tone of his skin. It highlighted the curve of his jaw in the shadowed room and brought out his dark eyes.

Alesta felt her stomach swoop with nerves as Ace dragged his fingers through her hair before leaning back. His grin was a touch too hot, a touch too knowing. As it settled on her skin, she was reminded with abrupt clarity that he’d seen her in the bathhouse.

It left her with no idea how to respond.

Before Alesta could force her tongue to work, Marco smacked Ace in the leg, “Don’t start that, yoi. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“That was before Alesta went and woke me up,” without further ado, Ace threw his legs over the bed and stood up. His hat hung off his neck, so she was treated to the full force of his smirk, “Come on, Marco. Live a little.”

“No,” Marco deadpanned, “Last time you said that you set the ship on fire, yoi.”

“That was one time.”

At Marco’s unimpressed stare, Alesta abruptly decided she was going to enjoy having him along. It would be nice to have a voice of reason between the men. As much as she appreciated their travels, it was difficult to keep up with Ace’s intensity and Thatch’s flirtations.

Kanetsuyo was sure to become a concern too if his sudden interest in robbing Vivi was anything to go by.

“We can just look around a bit,” Ace continued to try and sway Marco. He was already putting his shoes on though, so Alesta knew his mind was set. “See what the city’s like before we leave tomorrow.”

Kanetsuyo scoffed, “The city that almost got blown up? That city?”

“Shh,” Thatch flapped his hand to silence him, “He’s almost got him.”

Feeling a sinking pool of dread nestle in her stomach, Alesta turned her attention to Marco. He’d put the dagger away. Thin lips pressed down in a frown as he listened to Ace and Alesta nearly groaned when Marco sighed before crawling to his feet.

“Pops told me to look after you,” Marco grumbled under his breath, “I didn’t expect it to start the second I got here, yoi.”

Thatch smirked even though he couldn’t see him, “Join the club. Initation’s starting, asshole.”

There wasn’t a chance to respond to his commentary before Ace stepped in front of her. She swallowed at his proximity. Propping his palms on Alesta’s knees, he leaned forward close enough that she could count every pore on his face.

“You up for it, ghost girl?” Ace’s voice was soft, “It won’t take long.”

She had no other choice but to suck in a sharp breath, “What do you want to do?”

Judging from the way his eyes sharpened, he’d caught the action. Thatch did as well. She could hear him chuckling beside her, mischievous brown eyes drinking in her face as he waited to see what she’d do.

Kanetsuyo sighed.

“Just walk around. I promise,” Ace squeezed her knee, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to stretch my legs for a second.”

Thatch simpered in the background, “Unless you wanted to—”

“Please be quiet,” Alesta covered her face with a grimace, “You’re not helping.”

In the heat of the day, it’d been easy to forget how she felt between the both of them. There were more important things to consider— battles to be had, lives to be saved. Now that she didn’t have anything hanging over her head for the first time in weeks, Alesta almost didn’t know what to do.

There were endless choices ahead of her and something sweet built on the back of her tongue at the thought.

Alesta looked at Ace’s hand on her knee. She could do anything she wanted without repercussions. Could explore to her heart's content, adventure farther than she’d ever been allowed to before. She could be free—

She just had to be brave enough to try.

“Fine,” Alesta let Ace pull her to her feet, “But Marco’s in charge.”

The grin that’d been growing between Ace’s cheeks froze. He gawked at her while Thatch cackled in the background. For his part, Marco’s brows shot to his forehead. He stared at her for several seconds before his face split into a smirk.

“Smart call, yoi,” giving her a long look over his shoulder, Marco strode toward the door, “I think we’ll get along fine.”

Alesta smiled before Ace’s head hit her shoulder. She startled as he sighed into her skin, “There goes my idea.”

He didn’t sound particularly upset, but there was a strange tone to his drawl.

“You said you just wanted to walk around,” Alesta narrowed her eyes on the back of his head, “How would Marco ruin it?”

She felt him chuckle into her shoulder seconds before he stepped back. Dark eyes took her in from head to toe before he grinned, “I never said that was the only thing I wanted to do.”

She blinked twice, “Why else would you want to stretch your legs?”

For several long seconds, Ace only stared at her. His brows furrowed softly as he opened his mouth before he shook his head. Alesta didn’t know what to make of the expression. Nor the way he dragged a hand down his face with an amused sigh.

Ace’s voice was a bit rough when he managed to say, “Nothing. Just—” he looked toward the ceiling and chuckled under his breath, “Never mind, ghost girl.”

Alesta stared at his back as he stepped past her, only sparing enough time to turn around and grab her hand. He was still laughing, but it was a touch bemused. There was also a curious red tinge to his ears that hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Oh, I’m loving this,” Thatch cowed in the background, “This is the best thing of my life. Arabasta was so worth it.”

Kanetsuyo grunted. He was much less enthusiastic, “God, do you ever shut up?”

She gave the argueing ghosts a dry look, but Alesta didn’t have a chance to reprimand them.

The bed at the end of the room creaked as Zoro sat up.

“Whatever you do,” Zoro grumbled. His green eyes flashed in the moonlight, “Don’t get caught. Last thing we need is to piss off Vivi before we leave.”

Alesta swallowed as Ace’s hand squeezed hers.

Those felt like damning words.

Alesta regretted doubting Ace’s plan.

Even though Alubarna was eerily quiet, and she couldn’t ever forget the reason why, the city was beautiful at night. The moon hung low in the sky— draping over the tall building guarding the city center. The dew from the earlier rain still hung on the ground, sparkling as the moonlight caught on the street.

The rain had also washed away the smell of death.

There were no more blood tracks on the ground and most of the bodies had been picked up. A few ghosts still loitered around, but they didn’t call to her as they’d done earlier. The soft buzz of insects hung in the air as they walked around the boundary of the palace.

“You know,” Thatch had his arms tucked behind his neck, “I was hoping for a little more adventure.”

Alesta glanced at him over her shoulder. It was a bit hard to see him from this angle with Ace still holding her hand, but she managed. She’d summoned both him and Kanetsuyo as they left the palace. While Thatch stayed close to their group, Kanetsuyo took the opportunity to explore.

Last she’d seen him, he’d found a spear.

Alesta hadn’t dared to ask where.

“There was a war here not even six hours ago,” Marco droned. He led the group, hands tucked deep in his pockets as he observed the empty buildings, “What were you expecting, yoi?”

“I don’t know,” Thatch grumbled, “Marines? Now that—” he grinned with a few too many teeth, “Would be fun.”

Alesta didn’t share his optimism. She hadn’t forgotten the strain of being under Tashigi’s sword, of having her men aim their rifles at her head. The fallout of that encounter also hadn’t been discussed.

She wasn’t sure when to bring it up, but it needed to be soon.

Before it surprised them.

Ace chuckled at her side. The noise brought her attention to him just in time for him to let go and loop an arm over her shoulders, “Speaking of that,” his fingers trailed over her arm, “I’m glad you’re okay. Had me worried there when you ran off.”

“Sorry,” Alesta hummed softly, “I didn’t mean to. Kappa saw Koza and I couldn’t let him run off by himself.”

Ace blinked at her, “Kappa? Was that the kid you found?”

“Mhm,” she let him tuck her further against his side, “Marco brought him.”

“You have a kid?” Ace gawked at Marco’s back. His steps stalled on the road, “Since when did you get a kid?”

“Not mine, yoi,” rolling his eyes, Marco gave Ace a dry look, “I found him in Nanohana. He came along for the ride.”

That was a bit concerning. Apparently, Alesta was the only one to think so. Thatch cackled in the background, “Marco stole a kid. Pops would be proud.”

“Shut up before I hit you, yoi.”

“Aw, come on. You know you love me—”

Their bickering faded into the back of her mind as their group crested the outer ring of the palace. A large, column-type structure blocked their path. The moon snuck through the gap between the two buildings. It shadowed the statue on top of the new structure ominously.

Alesta stalled. There was a strange sensation to the air, something that made the hair on her arms stand on end. It didn’t help with the pressure that suddenly surged inside her chest. Her hand came up, softly rubbing the thrum of energy that simpered beneath her breasts.

“Huh,” Ace stopped when she did. His eyes drank in the tall building with abject curiosity, “That looks interesting.”

Thatch grimaced, “Looks haunted more like it. What the hell is that thing?”

“The Tomb of the Kings,” Marco filled them all in. He’d stepped ahead of their group, drawing his gaze over the front of the building with a curious tilt of his lips, “Seems like someone made it here before us, yoi.”

His head tilted toward an open pathway near the front of the building. It was lodged between the stairs, leading downward. From this angle, Alesta couldn’t see where it led. There was no light. Not even the moon reached the tiny alcove.

“I think we found our adventure,” Ace let his arm drop off her shoulder as he stepped forward. Without a care in the world, he took the first step down, “Think anyone’s still down here?”

Propping his hands on his hips, Thatch deadpanned, “Did you not hear me say haunted? What about that don’t you understand?”

“You’re a ghost,” Ace lobbied back easily, “Everything’s haunted for you.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

Alesta blinked as Ace disappeared down the pathway. Despite his fears, Thatch wasn’t far behind. He muttered something ugly under his breath before he vanished as well. Trailing a look toward the last person there, Alesta met Marco’s eye.

She motioned awkwardly toward the hole.

Neither of them moved.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Marco’s mouth twitched, “Ace’ll be back soon, yoi.”

Her breath flooded out of her lungs. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t pressure her. Appreciated the fact he allowed her to choose.  Tucking her hands behind her back, Alesta looked at the shadowed alcove. The rational part of her mind wanted no part of it.  

The other— curious part of her vehemently disagreed.

“I’ll go if you go,” Alesta nearly swallowed her tongue as she tucked her head away, “If you want to.”

She heard a low laugh before Marco drawled, “Do you want to?”

“A little bit,” Alesta shuffled on her feet, “I’m curious.”

It was nearly unbearable. She knew she shouldn’t go down there. It was invading privacy, possibly breaking laws. But Alesta could feel her skin itch, begging her to just take a peek. To see what she normally would never have the chance to.

Marco smirked as he watched, a charming tilt of his lips that made her want to do something foolish— like running into an abandoned tomb with pirates. She took a step forward before catching herself and freezing.

His chuckle echoed in the air.

Tilting his head, Marco waved her forward, “Then come on, yoi. We should find them before they break something.”

It was the only encouragement she needed.

Letting Marco take the lead, Alesta hovered near his back as they stepped down the short staircase. Muted light came from inside, a dim glow of fire-lit torches. Blinking away the fuzz it brought into her vision, Alesta let her hand fall on the wall as they stepped into an open cavern.

The first thing she noticed was the giant slab of brown rock taking up the majority of the room. There was a strange inscription along the face of it— characters Alesta had never seen in her life. In front of her, Marco cursed in surprise.

“Marco,” Thatch was the first to break the silence. His tone was tinged with awe, “You see this? It’s a poneglyh.”

He was at the base of the rock, peering up at its giant formation as he let his hand run over the carved lettering. Beside him, Ace was kneeling. He squinted at the words before he shrugged and stood back up.

“Guess we found what Crocodile got so worked up about,” Ace grinned at her from over his shoulder, “Haven’t seen one of these in a while.”

Marco raised a brow, “You’ve seen one before, yoi?”

“Yeah, back before I joined Pops,” walking around the width of the room, Ace whistled as he took in the tombs that lined the wall, “Thought I’d find someone who could read them, but well—”

He let the sentence trail off with a rueful shrug.

Alesta didn’t know what he was referring to, but she recognized the name Thatch used for the rock. Olvia was familiar with them. For a moment, Alesta wished she was with them. She might be able to shed light on the reason why the rest of her companions were so enthralled.

As Alesta took several steps closer to the giant formation, she let her hand fall on the rock.

It was warmer than she expected.

A touch damp.

“This is a poneglyh?” Alesta dragged her finger along an inscription, “I expected something different.”

There was a brush of air on her side as Thatch stepped beside her, “It doesn’t look like much, but they’re crazy.” He watched her paint over the words with a harsh swallow, “There’s a rumor that you have to read them all to find One Piece.”

While the prospect of treasure didn’t interest her, the story did. Alesta tongue was tied as she thought over the information. There were so many possibilities.

“So, it’s like a scavenger hunt,” Alesta hummed. Her thumb got stuck on a harsh swirl, the rock digging into her flesh, “I wonder how it got here? Do you think someone brought it? What if it was one of the kings—”

She was cut off as strong arms covered her shoulders from behind.

“Now, those are some great questions,” Ace grinned against her cheek, “Wish I could answer them.”

Her mouth clicked shut as Alesta realized she’d been rambling. Thatch smirked at her from her side, eyes lighting up with amusement as he caught her flush. From the other end of the room, Marco snorted under his breath.

“No one knows, yoi. They’re from the Void Century,” Marco filled her in as best as he could, “Pops could probably tell you more than any of us, but he won’t spoil the surprise.”

That made her frown. She wasn’t sure how they handled having the knowledge at their fingertips and not knowing it. The very thought of it made her want to pick at the possibility— dig at the secrets until she had an answer.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the information, but Alesta wanted it.

She wanted to know.

“See, told you we could change your mind,” Ace laughed against her back. His breath was warm against the curve of Alesta’s neck, “Here I was, thinking I’d need to bribe you with gold and all it took was a rock.”

Twisting in his arms, Alesta went to respond when something caught her eye. It moved from the shadows and into the light. She froze in Ace’s grip.

Just beyond Marco, tucked near the tombs, a figure hovered. It was a woman— long, blue hair that cascaded down her back in a manner nearly identical to Vivi. A golden crown laid with bright jewels topped her head.

Alesta recognized the ghostly glow— knew it intimately well.

What she didn’t understand was the ghosts face.

Or lack thereof.

Where there should be a mouth and a pair of eyes, all Alesta saw was a void. Her heart shot up her throat as her hands closed over Ace’s shoulders. She could feel them shaking. The woman’s head tilted and Alesta wanted to vomit.

It was wrong.

“Thatch,” her voice wobbled, “Look behind you.”

The strain in her voice made Ace freeze. His hands locked around her waist as he threw his stare toward Thatch. Even Marco stilled. His palm dipped toward his waist where he’d stashed the dagger he’d been fiddling with earlier.

For his part, Thatch frowned, “What—”

He followed her gaze.

“Oh, fuck no,” without waiting for anyone to move, he lurched forward to grab her by the wrist, “Time to go!”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation.

Ace cursed as they were tugged toward the stairs, the poneglpyh forgotten at their backs. Thatch led the charge— his palm firm over her wrist as they sprinted back toward the surface. Marco and Ace fell into step behind them, bracketing her back as they broke the surface.

Alesta swore she heard a tinkling laugh echo from the tomb behind them.

As soon as her feet landed on the grass in front of the tomb, Alesta took a deep breath. That sense of wrongness hadn’t faded yet. She scrubbed at her chest and the wild drum of pressure. Before she could catch herself, she spat on the ground.

Her mouth tasted like wine.

“Okay,” Ace panted next to her. His eyes were slightly wild as he lobbied them between her and Thatch, “What the hell just happened?”

A dry voice cut in, “That’s what I’m wondering.”

Throwing her head up, Alesta gaped at Kanetsuyo. He was squatting on the half-wall that separated the tomb grounds from the street. The stolen spear was in his right hand, shining under the moonlight as he spun it with his index finger.

Alesta rubbed at her mouth as she tried to figure out how to answer. Her hand was still shaking— just the memory of that fathomless void nearly making her heave. A palm fell on her back and she glanced up, bleary eyes meeting Ace’s worried stare.

Marco hovered just behind them. He glanced briefly at her before steeling his focus on the stairwell, shoulders tight. She assumed he was trying to protect them from whatever threat he assumed there was.

Alesta didn’t think he could.

Catching her hands on her knees, she gasped, “We saw a ghost.”

“In the giant tomb?” Kanetsuyo asked blandly, “Color me surprised.”

She shook her head, “No, it was—”

There wasn’t a word for it. Beyond the wrongness that had been the woman’s face, there hadn’t been anything overtly threatening about her. There’d been none of the dark taint to the air the ghosts at Drum wrought out of her, none of the harsh strain like the men who’d died on the battlefield.

If Alesta looked past the horror of the void that covered the ghost’s face, she could almost assume it’d been peaceful. It hadn’t tried to get close— hadn’t tried to startle her. It’d merely observed until they’d been startled.

The energy purred beneath her collarbones.

Alesta scrubbed at the skin, trying to find words. “It was strange. She looked like Vivi,” she trailed off warily, “But she didn’t have a face.”

Kanetsuyo stared, “What.”

“Trust me,” Thatch shivered. His eyes kept flicking behind them like he expected the shadows to swallow them whole, “I wish she was joking. God, do I fucking wish—”

Ace gawked at them. His hand on her back stilled as he tried to digest the information. Alesta didn’t know how to make it any clearer than it already was. In her peripheral, she caught Marco frown— his stare trailing back to the stairway.

For the first time that evening, Ace looked cautious, “She didn’t have a face? You’re sure?”

“No face,” Alesta motioned to her own as she struggled to breathe again, “Just— blackness.”

There was no better way to describe it.

“Okay, yeah. We’re not dealing with that today,” Thatch grabbed her hand and yanked, “We’re leaving. Like right now.”

That was the best idea she’d ever heard.

Chapter Text

Nami was in heaven.

She loved Arabasta. Once her captain woke up, the mess with Crocodile could almost be considered worth it. The last she’d seen him, Luffy had been covered head to toe in bandages. She hadn’t seen him twitch since they’d fallen asleep yesterday evening and Nami was half tempted to worry.

But it was Luffy—

And Luffy always pulled through.

So, she wouldn’t worry. She’d take things as they come as she always did. The war was over and they were alive. Besides, a few days of rest would do all of their crew good— even the new additions. Speaking of her boys, Nami didn’t know where they’d all gone off to and she didn’t care.

Not right now.

Not when she was faced with this.

Hands braided behind her neck, she grinned at the tall walls of the room surrounding them. Vivi’s closet was nearly as big as Arlong’s study. It was like Vivi ripped the concept right out of her wet dreams— Nami’s mouth watered as she eyed the cotton-painted walls and marble columns bordering soft, gold carpet.

If she had to put a guess to it, the whole thing cost at least six million beri and that was just the room.

It wasn’t even the best part.

Rows and rows of clothing dotted the walls. It was endless. Tunics made of sapphire, long gowns trimmed with ribbon, and silk. There was so much silk. Nami found herself leaning against the door, hand over her pounding heart.

Everywhere she looked, there was gold, satin, jewels—

“Vivi,” Nami swooned, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

From the far corner of the closet, Vivi chuckled. Her slim hands were drifting through a row of clothing, plucking at the decadent fabric, “I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.”

She’d be fixing that little oversight.

Vivi was about to become her new best friend. If this was the kind of reward they got for stepping into a war, Nami was never going to complain again. She’d let Luffy drag them into death time and time again if this was what waited for her on the other side. Stepping into the room, Nami’s grin stretched so tight that her lips nearly cracked.

“Pick out whatever you like,” Vivi smiled over her shoulder, “Both of you. It’s been a long few days.”

Oh, she shouldn’t have said that. Vivi really should know better by now, but Nami wouldn’t be correcting that little mistake. She could already taste the sweet, sweet burn of riches beneath her tongue. Her fingers twitched against her hip as she spun on her heel to take in the full magnitude of everything being offered to them.

Her fingers trailed over a white tunic just as the last member of their group spoke.

Still hovering in the doorway, Alesta winced, “You don’t have to do that—"

Nami’s eye twitched.

Her smile went sharp as her head swiveled slowly to stare at the girl seconds away from ruining her fantasy. If she didn’t start moving those tall legs into the closet and shut up, Nami was going to smack her so hard she’d be seeing more than ghosts. Alesta flushed at her glare but didn’t say anything else.

At least she knew how to read a room.

Better than Luffy— which well, wasn’t that much of a compliment.

A bit of her ire died as Nami watched her take a cautious step into the closet. It was hard to be mad at her when Alesta looked on the verge of tucking her tail and running. Nami’s brow arched as she shuffled herself toward a corner of the room, notably not reaching out for any of the clothing Vivi had so graciously offered them.

It made her mood drop the tiniest bit.

Nami didn’t have a problem with Alesta. In some circumstances, she even liked the girl. She was quiet, well-behaved. A nice little break from the absolutely insane crew Nami managed to get herself wrapped up. Sure, the ghosts took an adjustment period. And okay— yes, Nami had freaked out for a couple of hours in the safety of her hammock when no one was looking.

It was a fair reaction.

Dead people were supposed to stay dead.

If they didn’t, then that meant— Nami swallowed as she turned back to Vivi’s clothes. The thought had haunted her since Luffy introduced them and Nami didn’t think she could handle asking. Didn’t think she could handle what would happen if she asked and the answer was no.

Or even worse—

If the answer was yes and Bellemere was there.

If she’d seen everything Nami had to do to survive. If she’d seen Arlong, seen the way she’d suffered—seen the bruises. If Bellemere was there, Nami hoped she still loved her. She hoped she understood.

She did it because she had to— Nami’s tongue got stuck between her teeth, the silk in her hands suddenly feeling like rags as her mind drifted toward memories she tried to avoid. That part of her life was over.

Nami would never have to see his smile again.

Never have to hear his laughter.

“Here,” Vivi’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and Nami could have kissed her. A long, dark cotton dress was draped over her arm as she turned to Alesta. “Try this. It’d match your eyes.”

Vivi tried to hand her the dress and Alesta waved her off, choosing instead to pick up a painfully boring white shirt. Nami had to fight the urge to smack her. She was just so stupidly selfless. It was starting to grow old and Nami wasn’t sure how Ace planned to put up with it.

She hoped he had better patience than his brother.

Alesta flushed as Vivi tried to insist and Nami fought the urge to slam her head into the wall. God, she just wished the girl would open up. Let someone in— even if it was that snarky ghost with the purple hair. They’d spent days traveling together and it still felt like Nami didn’t know her at all.

There’d be a quick burst of humor every once in a while, but she was so quiet.

Nami wasn’t used to quiet.

Not anymore.

“No way,” Nami plopped her hands on her hip with a scowl, “You’ve got to choose something better than that. You’re going to make me look bad.”

That was definitely a lie, but Nami wasn’t about to deal with Zoro’s muttering. He’d have something smart to say if they came out of here and Nami was the only one dressed to the nines. Not that she cared— okay, she kind of cared.

More than she thought she ever would.

Which meant Alesta needed to pick out something good so Nami could do the same.

She wasn’t leaving this closest with empty pockets.

“Sorry,” Alesta muttered. She eyed the dress in Vivi’s hands again before grimacing, “I just— I’m not used to this.”

Well, that was painfully obvious. Nami hiked an unamused brow as Alesta fiddled with her fingers. She went to say something smart, but the look in Alesta’s eyes stopped Nami’s tongue short.

Nami recognized that look. She saw the thoughts that flickered in the girl’s eyes like words, painted out for the world to see and Nami couldn’t find it in her to snap.

It was the same look Nami had worn for years—

Back when she wouldn’t allow herself to taste an orange because she didn’t deserve to touch Bellemere’s legacy with her dirty, blood-soaked hands.

Nami’s eyes narrowed. She knew Alesta was a civilian before this, but she really didn’t know much more about her beyond her devil fruit. There wasn’t a whole lot of time between chasing after Crocodile and nearly getting blown up to exchange stories. Drawing her hand over the dress she’d been admiring, Nami swallowed a sigh.

“Come on,” Nami tried to smile, but it felt forced. “At least try it on. You can’t keep wearing—” she dragged a slow glance over her outfit, “Are those Ace’s pants?”

They sure looked like it.

“Yeah,” Alesta chuckled weakly. She plucked at the shorts awkwardly, “I didn’t pack much before I left.”

Again, Nami was tempted to say no shit, but she held herself back. They were making progress. Alesta took the dress out of Vivi’s hands with a soft thank you. She looked around the room awkwardly before she brought it to her chest, not knowing what to do with it.

Nami nearly snorted at her flush.

This whole thing was like convincing a cat to get a bath.

“Before you left?” Vivi ended the silted silence. Nami would have pegged the question as fake courtesy, but her eyes sparkled in genuine interest. “How long ago was that?”

Nami grinned at her where Alesta couldn’t catch them. See, this is why they needed Vivi. She always knew what to say. Vivi went to chuckle before she spotted the necklace Nami slipped on during their conversation. Blue eyes rolled fondly, but she didn’t say a word.

God, Nami was going to miss her.

Meanwhile, Alesta made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, “About two weeks ago.”

The answer didn’t quite click for a second. Nami hummed as she flipped through the clothes and settled on a pretty turquoise number. She went to pull it out when her answer settled—

Then Nami choked.

“What?” She spun around with an open mouth. Alesta’s dark eyes were wide, her hands frozen on where she’d started to untie her belt, “You’ve—” Nami’s mouth opened and shut twice, “Two weeks?!”

“Mhm,” Alesta blinked. The way her head tilted to the right left Nami with a vague impression of a confused dog, “It’s been an adjustment.”

That was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.  

Nami could barely believe it.

She stared at her long enough for Alesta to get a handle on her surprise, lifting her shirt off her head and undressing in the middle of the closest. Scrubbing at her eyes, Nami took a deep breath. Alesta had only been sailing for two weeks—

No wonder the girl was so quiet.

She didn’t know anything.  

“I can imagine,” Vivi spoke when Nami found she couldn’t. “I don’t think— wow,” shaking her head with a fond chuckle, Vivi glanced at Alesta from the corner of her eye, “Your devil fruit must have come in handy.”

There was the political undertone Vivi missed before.

Nami gave her a long look at the subtext hidden in that question. She really hadn’t planned for this to turn into an interrogation session, but answers were answers. Vivi didn’t meet her eye for longer than a second, but Nami wasn’t fooled.

She’d infiltrated Baroque Works for two years.

Vivi knew what she was doing.

“I guess so,” shuffling her pants off, Alesta frowned down at her bruised knees as she answered, “I probably wouldn’t have survived this long if I didn’t eat it the day I left.”

Nami needed a moment to come to terms with that. Dress hanging forgotten in her hand, she stared at Alesta as she shuffled into the gown Vivi gave her. She moved awkwardly and not without a careful glance at the two of them, but Alesta did it.

Nami’s mouth puckered as she watched.

Her arms were lean with muscle Nami didn’t know she had, but that wasn’t the only thing she noticed. Nami had always known the girl was tall— she just hadn’t realized she was also so thin. Sharp collarbones jutted out beneath her neck and if Nami stared long enough, she was sure she’d be able to count each rib.

Nami rubbed her stomach, suddenly grateful for Sanji’s cooking.

“Oh,” Vivi blinked at the admission, “I assumed—”

“That I had it before I left?” Pulling the dress over her head, Alesta fiddled with the sleeves as she casually stated “No, which is probably a good thing. The devil fruit was the reason I left my island in the first place—” a faint trace of wit crept into her voice and Nami raised a brow. “I didn’t know they existed until a few days before I ate it.”

That was—

Absolutely insane.

Nami didn’t even want to think about what kind of luck she must have had to eat the one devil fruit that allows you to see dead people. It was a wonder she wasn’t foaming at the mouth. Nami had already seen more ghosts than she ever expected to see in her life.

Which was zero— because she’d spent the better half of her life under the belief that they didn’t exist.

Alesta glanced at them and Nami nearly went cross-eyed trying to keep up with everything she was learning. Instead, she could only gawk, “And you just ate it?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Alesta pushed her arms through the dress sleeves. It coiled at her feet and she frowned when her bare toes wiggled on the carpet, “I hadn’t expected the trouble that it’d cause.”  

Vivi dared to ask, “The trouble?”

“The marines,” Alesta hummed, “They weren’t particularly happy.”

That added a whole new layer to the story and Nami stared, “The marines?”

“They came to our island for trade,” Alesta didn’t even blink as she smoothed out the dress, “I ate it the day before they arrived and snuck onto their ship—” she trailed off with a wary look to Vivi, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to take this? It feels expensive.”

Voice a touch faint, Vivi managed to nod, “Of course.”

Alesta ducked her head with a soft smile and Nami had to scrub at her eyes. She took it all back. Alesta needed to go back to being the weird, quiet girl with a creepy devil fruit they’d somewhat reluctantly adopted. Because that smile—

It was dangerous.

Instead of focusing on the expression, Nami muttered, “Can we go back to the marines? Because that’s the first I’m hearing about any of that.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Alesta let her hand flutter over the dress fabric, “They weren’t happy with the fact that I ate their devil fruit.”

She said that as if it meant nothing, but Nami knew how much devil fruits could sell for. It was millions of beri— millions. If Nami really wanted to get into the details, she could easily place double that for this specific devil fruit. It was enough to set someone up for life and Alesta had just eaten it.

Not to mention the other complications. If the marines had the ability to bring their dead back to life—

Her mouth went dry as she gaped at Alesta.

Alesta didn’t seem to notice her increasingly horrified stare. She tilted her head over her shoulder, eyeing the way the dress dragged down her thighs with a curious crinkle to her brow. When she turned back to both of them, Alesta blinked to find Nami pinching her brow hard enough to wrinkle.

Alesta trailed off awkwardly, “Sorry, should I change?”  

Nami couldn’t understand how she was so calm about the whole thing.

It was just like—

It hit her like a cannon in the chest and Nami found herself standing on the cusp of a realization she didn’t want. She’d thought Alesta was one of the smart ones. She liked to plan, to think ahead— Nami hadn’t realized that it was all a lie.

Alesta was just as stupidly reckless as the rest of her crew.

She was half tempted to cry.

“How are you alive?” Nami sputtered. Vivi laughed in the background and Nami revisited the idea of slamming her head into a wall. She couldn’t do this, “Never mind, just— just find some shoes.”

Was this her destiny?

To be surrounded by idiots?

Sanji was going to kill something.

His brow ticked as he stirred the coriander into the stew. It was almost perfect— just the right consistency, the perfect aroma. All he needed to do was let it simmer for five more minutes and he’d be done.

In normal circumstances, Sanji would have considered the chance to cook inside of Vivi’s palace kitchen a dream. It was kept perfectly clean and impeccably organized. The team of chefs had even allowed him to have free reign—

“Are you sure you don’t want to add something a little spicier?” The current bane of his existence questioned over his shoulder, “It looks good, but trust me— it could be better.”

Except, he wasn’t alone. Sanji’s eyes drifted shut at Thatch’s now familiar drawl. He wasn’t sure when Alesta made the grievous mistake of summoning him, but he sorely wished she hadn’t.

Not that he blamed her.

It was obviously the knock-off cook's fault for pressuring such a beautiful woman into overexerting her devil fruit for his benefit.

A hand crept into his peripheral and Sanji smacked it with a spoon before it could touch the pot boiling on the stove. Thatch made a wounded noise behind him, but Sanji didn’t pay it any mind.

“Back off, bastard,” Sanji growled as he twisted the knob on the stove. The stew began to bubble and the faint hint of celery he’d slipped in finally reached his nose, “Don’t you know better than to bother a cook when he’s in the kitchen?”

Thatch only scoffed, “Of course I do, but you’re seriously—”

Turning away from the stovetop, Sanji gave the man the darkest look he could muster. Usually, his glare was enough to keep Luffy toeing the line. Thatch just let it roll off his shoulders with a smile that Sanji was growing to loathe.

Sanji warned as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket, “If you try to tell me how to cook again, I’ll kick your teeth in.”

“You’re cute,” Thatch grinned with a few too many teeth, “But you know, I wouldn’t mind a spar—”

The offer made Sanji’s eyes narrow even as his shoulders went tight. He wasn’t nearly as stupid as the mosshead. They didn’t know nearly enough about Ace’s crewmates to start instigating—

Whitebeard was a name known across the seas.

That wasn’t a crew they needed to fight yet.

“Take it outside if you’re serious,” Ace chimed in. His chin was perched on his palm as he lounged on the table across the room, “We’re still in trouble for the mess we made yesterday.”

Sanji glanced at him at the warning. Out of all of the new additions, Ace was the one he was most comfortable with. He was polite, thankful. After all the days spent traveling together, Sanji would almost call him a friend.

Something he’d never offer the bastard cook in front of him.

Unlike Sanji, Thatch rolled his eyes. It was an expression that had no right to be on his bearded face, “That’s rich coming from you. Do you know how many of your fights I had to break up in my kitchen?”

“Half of those were your fault,” Ace’s cheeks dimpled with a grin, “Don’t blame it all on me.”

Sanji glanced between the two of them before he caught his stew nearly bubbling over. That wouldn’t do. It was supposed to simmer— his mouth curled down in frustration as he took a sharp huff on his cigarette.

He blamed Thatch for distracting him.

It was obviously his fault.

As he stirred the bubbles away, Sanji kept half an ear open to the two men’s conversation. Thatch was muttering something foul under his breath and Sanji couldn’t stop his snort. As much as he disliked the man, he had an arsenal of creative insults.

The timer he’d set beeped and Sanji glanced toward it with a frown. He’d forgotten to add the onion— his eyes skimmed the counter as he tried to find the ingredient. As much as he enjoyed Vivi’s kitchen, he much preferred the one on the Going Merry.

He knew where his ingredients were at all times.

Before he could grow too frustrated, a familiar hand outstretched toward him. For a moment, Sanji could only stare at the small plate of diced onion. His eyes narrowed as he took the vegetable in. He wanted to complain, but—

The cut was perfect.

All the skin had been removed and the onion was sliced in a manner he couldn’t find a single fault in. Trailing his eyes up the hand and to the face of the man holding it out, Sanji’s mouth pinched tight at Thatch’s grin.

“Sorry,” Thatch raised his other hand in suppliance, “Not trying to step on your toes, just couldn’t help myself. It’s been—” his stare grew far away, “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen.”

For once, Sanji didn’t have a response. It was easy to forget that for all his posturing, the man in front of him was dead. His throat went tight as he accepted the onion without a word, carefully sliding it into the stew.

He didn’t breathe until he heard Thatch turn to Ace.

The man’s mortality was a sobering realization to have thrust into his face. It was easy to overlook, to forget. Sanji’s fingers tightened on the spoon as he stirred the stew. He’d never had much of an outlook on the afterlife— hadn’t spared the heartache to think about what lay beyond.

About the place his mother may have gone.

How far it was from his reach—

The stew felt thick as his hand slowed. The last time he’d seen her, she’d smiled at him. She’d eaten his food without complaint, without a frown. Sanji couldn’t remember his mother doing anything other than smiling.

No matter how much her sickness hurt her.

She never let it show.

His breath felt heavy in his lungs as he finished stirring the onions into the stew. It didn’t smell nearly as appetizing as it had when he’d begun. The thought didn’t make since. By all means, it was perfect. Except he knew—

This was the type of meal his mother had deserved.

The kind of meal he’d never be able to give her.

“So, Sanji,” Ace broke him out of his thoughts. Sanji forced himself to look over his shoulder to catch his eye, “What’s next?”

He looked genuinely interested, but Sanji had the distinct feeling he was being sized up. It wasn’t in a manner he’d label threatening— merely politely curious. The expression was so different from Luffy that Sanji struggled to compare the two.

One curly brow rose in bemusement, “That’s a question for your brother. I’m at the whims of my captain.”

The response made Ace chuckle knowingly and Sanji took another inhale of his cigarette as he took in the expression. The two brothers were so similar yet so different. He’d never imagined Luffy to be the youngest, but Sanji was aware enough to know that his assumptions were skewed by his family dynamic.

“Well,” Ace grinned at him, “Whatever it is, I hope you keep in touch. This has been nice. Seeing Luffy again—” his smile grew fond, “Almost makes me wish I could stick around.”

Sanji hummed, “I’m sure Luffy won’t mind you staying for a few more days.”

“Probably not,” Ace’s eyes gleamed knowingly, “But Luffy’s a leech. If we stick around too long, he’s not going to let us go.”

Sanji laughed before he could catch himself.

He knew that feeling well.

“Careful,” Thatch inputted. He was leaning against the counter, messing around with a knife he’d taken from the cabinet, “You’re going to jinx us and Marco will lose his shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Ace only waved him off, “We’ve got a month.”

Thatch snorted, “Famous last words—”

Speaking of their other crewmate, Sanji glanced around the kitchen. He hadn’t seen him since they’d woken up that morning. Chopper had taken to looking over Luffy’s injuries and Marco stayed behind. He’d briefly mentioned the healing effects of his devil fruit but hadn’t gone into particulars.

He hadn’t needed to.

The demonstration he’d provided the day before had been more than enough. Sanji rolled his wrist out at the thought— remembering the cool touch of burning flames as they’d coasted down his arm and healed the bruises left behind from the battle.

It was just another reason not to stray against their crew.

The conversation trailed off naturally after that. Sanji didn’t pay much mind to the bickering behind him, focus trained on plating the stew for his crewmates. His mouth curled down as he set out two extra plates.

He wasn’t sure how the dynamics of the ghosts worked and if they needed to eat, but he’d feed them regardless.

As he was setting the last bowl out, he heard the door to the kitchen open. Glancing behind him, Sanji only had a second to take in the three faces before he cupped his nose and turned his focus to the ceiling.

It wouldn’t do to get blood in the food.

“Are you cooking?” Nami grinned as she sauntered in. Sanji nearly whimpered, but he caught himself just in time, “I knew I smelled something good—”

The compliment would usually be enough to distract him, but his thoughts were trapped on the flash of skin he’d seen when they’d walked in. Before the girls had disappeared, Sanji vaguely remembered Nami mentioned something about borrowing some of Vivi’s clothes.

He hadn’t expected this though.

Draped in a stunning turquoise dress, Nami’s long legs were teasing him through a slit up to her hip. Sanji’s head met the counter with a groan— eyes locked on the way she strolled into the room.

She was so beautiful.

His heart couldn’t take it.

Behind her, Vivi and Alesta hovered in the doorway. The sight of all three of them was almost enough to take him to his knees. Vivi wore a dress that looked to be thread with gold— the hem sparkling under the low light as she chatted softly with Alesta.

As his eyes took in the last woman, he heard someone choke behind him. Alesta glanced at him at the noise and Sanji had to fall to the floor, cupping his face to hide the embarrassing flow of blood.

Alesta looked more like a woman than he’d ever seen her. There was no dirt on her face, no blood under his nails. Long legs were hidden by the sheer trail of a dark dress— very little skin showing other than the soft curve of her collarbones and chest.

“Come on, Sanji,” Nami nudged him with her foot as she walked by. Her words were a soft tease, “We didn’t mean to break you.”

His heart was beating so hard it hurt, “Nami-swan—” he swallowed, trying to express his thoughts, “You look beautiful.”

It came out more like a whine than he’d intended, but the words were true. Zeff taught him to respect women— to never lift a hand against them. It was something he’d never do. A line he’d never cross.

Of all the cruelty he’d faced in the world, Sanji knew—

There was nothing more gorgeous than a lady.

“Is he okay?” Alesta whispered to Vivi, “Maybe we should leave.”

Vivi shrugged her lovely shoulders, but Nami only chuckled, “He’s fine. Don’t worry, he can handle it.”

There was a long pause before Alesta murmured, “I’m not sure that makes me feel better.”

Beautiful and caring—

How had he ever gotten so lucky?

Burying his face in his knees, Sanji let his eyes trail over Nami’s legs as she walked past him. The sight nearly made his nose bleed anew. She was always gorgeous, but this—

Nami-swan was magnificent.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be the only one to have lost control of his tongue. There was another choking noise and a harsh slap before he heard Thatch, “Well, you three look nice.”

The compliment was strangely subdued.

“Yeah,” Ace coughed again. He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes not drifting far from the doorway where Alesta stood, “But are you sure you can travel in that?”

It wasn’t the response their beauty deserved. Sanji growled as he shot to his feet, “Of course they can! It’s the perfect outfit for goddesses of the sea—”

Ace’s ears went red, but he didn’t try to argue. Behind him, Thatch snorted before he said something low enough that Sanji didn’t catch it. Meanwhile, Ace’s words caused Alesta to glance at her dress.

Vivi made a tired noise, “They have other clothes,” her brow lifted, but there was a knowing smile, “I promise I didn’t give them only gowns.”

“That’s good,” Ace nodded twice, a little too fast, “I mean— not that you all don’t look nice, but—"

“Wow, that didn’t sound like a compliment,” Nami settled in the chair across from Ace. She pouted at Thatch and Sanji couldn’t take it. “Vivi was kind enough to let us take some of her clothes and all you can say is that we look nice?”

Ace’s mouth opened, but no sound came.

Sanji immediately tried to placate her, “Don’t listen to him, Nami-swan! Your beauty shines like a thousand stars, lighting up even the darkest corners of the world."

Nami turned to give him a blinding smile, “Thanks, Sanji.”

He could die happily.

Trying to ignore the blood still trickling out of his nose, Sanji went about finishing serving the stew into the three bowls. Vivi whispered a quiet thank you as she slipped past him and Sanji swore he could float.

Unfortunately, Alesta hadn’t moved from the doorway. There was a flush growing on her cheeks— an awkwardness that had no right to be there when she’d dressed herself so beautifully. Her hand came up to rub over her chest and Sanji moved before he could think better of it.

A woman should never feel ashamed of herself.

“Here,” it was hard to swallow the emotions that rose up when he crept so close, but he managed. Extending his arm for her, Sanji gestured her ahead, “Take a seat, my lady. Are you hungry?”

“A little bit,” her smile was small, “Thank you for cooking.”

Another compliment. If he wasn’t so focused on guiding her toward the table, Sanji might have fallen. Those dark eyes were like the night sky— stunning and mysterious. He never wanted to look away.

It was like looking into the canvas of the stars.

Leading Alesta to the seat beside Nami, Sanji took a shuddering breath as he forced himself to focus. She was hungry. He could fix that— he spun on his heel with a flourish, ready to grab another bowl of soup when he caught the expression on Ace’s face.

His stare was fixated on Alesta’s face, his eyes taking her in with subdued interest. He appeared to drink in every delicate detail, features slowly softening into an expression of fond admiration. It only lasted long enough for Ace to take a shaky inhale before he turned to his stew and shoved a spoonful into his mouth.

It splattered on his chin and Nami snickered.

Sanji’s brows lifted in surprise as Ace choked. He was familiar with that look— with that adoration. It was the stare he trailed after Nami’s back, echoed by the frantic pound of his heart as he admired something out of his reach.

Out of a twist of morbid curiosity, Sanji looked toward the last man at the table. Thatch hadn’t moved. Like Ace, his eyes hadn’t left Alesta’s face. Unlike Ace, his stare was sharp—hungry for something he knew he couldn’t have.

His dark eyes skimmed her shoulders as his throat bobbed.

“I’ve got plenty of compliments,” Thatch finally drawled. The words were edged with false bravado, “Can’t say them during daylight though.”

Before Sanji could protest at the uncouth implications, Ace hit him in the stomach hard enough that Thatch cursed. Alesta blinked slowly as Thatch keeled over the table, moaning something no one could pick up.

“Okay, yeah. I miss being dead,” Thatch groaned into the tablecloth, “Shit. That hurt—"

Nami cackled so loud it was a wonder Luffy didn’t wake. When Vivi cupped her mouth to hide her grin, Sanji lifted an unimpressed brow.

The bastard cook was a brute.

Usopp was getting antsy.

They’d been in the palace for two days now and he was beginning to grow tired of sitting still. His fingers fiddled with the spare pieces of metal he’d dug up throughout the palace. He was pretty sure Vivi wouldn’t miss any of it.

At least, he hoped so.

Frowning down at a screw that just wouldn’t go where he needed it to, Usopp braced his hands on his knees as he sat on the ground. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to make, but he needed to do something.

Maybe he could make an extension to Nami’s clima-tact.

Something that could control rain—

Usopp squinted down at the screw from behind his goggles, trying to get the screw to latch into the brackets. It was annoyingly difficult. When the screw fell to the floor for the twentieth time that afternoon, he tilted his head to the ceiling with a long groan.

He was about to give up.

God, Usopp wanted to get back to his workroom on the Going Merry. He missed their ship. He’d have all the tools he’d need there— plenty of things to get this stupid, no-good, downright awful screw to behave.

“I’m going to throw you against the wall,” he warned the contraption, “I’m going to throw you so hard— then I’m going to dance on your stupid remains. Teach you to mess with Captain Usopp—”

“Are you okay?”

The voice made him scream as he dove forward— metal flying in the air as he threw the buddle of scraps toward the person who’d snuck up behind him. It hit the wall with a clatter, pieces of metal sprinkling across the floor and toward his knees.

A spring he’d been trying to shove into a piece of pipe rolled forward to land beside the foot of the person who’d interrupted him. Alesta looked down at the metal, face twisting with latent guilt as she bent down to pick up the tiny spring.

She held it out awkwardly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You—” Usopp gaped at Alesta, “Where did you come from?!”

She only blinked at him and Usopp tried not to shiver. Nami would punch him if he was rude, but Alesta could be so creepy. With her black eyes and her ghosts and her—

Just general weirdness.

She hung out with dead people all the time and didn’t bat an eye. There wasn’t anything normal about that. Which meant she wasn’t normal. Even though she was really nice sometimes, and she didn’t ignore him when he was talking, and—

And she was smiling at him.

Usopp swallowed at the way it made her eyes crinkle. Alesta didn’t smile a lot. Sometimes she did, but it was always quick. Like she was afraid it’d get snatched away if she let it linger too long.

Which was weird.

Maybe that was okay, though. He’d seen plenty of weird people since he’d left his island. There’d been that clown guy, the hobo in the box, and the dog that pooped baseballs.  Strange was good sometimes. Besides, Luffy was weird and Usopp still called him captain—

The ghosts were still creepy though.   

As the initial shock subsided, he cleared his throat and wiped off his pants, attempting to regain his composure. It was hard to focus with the way she just stared at him.

He really needed her to stop that.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Usopp mumbled, avoiding her eyes for a moment before finally looking up at her. "You didn’t scare me, if that’s what you’re thinking! I just wasn't expecting anyone to sneak up on me! That's all!"

Alesta's features softened as she examined his makeshift workshop, scattered with bits of metal and his tinkering attempts. "What are you making?”

He stared at the pile of scrap metal helplessly.

"No idea," Usopp replied, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the situation. "I guess I’m just trying to keep my hands busy."

He cast a sheepish glance at the mess of scattered metal and broken contraptions around him. This was awkward. He usually wasn’t so messy, but he wasn’t expecting an audience. He’d chosen the farthest room from the kitchens for this exact reason.

Usopp’s eyes narrowed as he traded a glance around the room.

He swore if one of those ghosts was stalking him—

Alesta's gaze shifted to the pile of parts on the floor, including the spring that had rolled to her feet. She crouched down, gingerly picking up the spring and examining it with a faint smile. Her finger rolled over the metal with a fascinated hum.

“I wish I could make things,” she pinched the spring between her fingers with a tired chuckle, “I’m not good at it though.”

He wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. His mouth opened once before he shut it with an awkward wince. Small talk wasn’t his thing. Now stories—

 Usopp could do stories.

“Not if I taught you. I’m a master at this kind of stuff,” he grinned up at her, putting on a bravado he didn’t truly feel, “I made a thousand robots once to protect my island from a pirate invasion— they could shoot lasers and lift boulders.”

Her mouth ticked up and Usopp felt his chest puff out.

Sure, he was lying, but it felt good to have someone listening to him. Luffy and Chopper were a decent audience, but they knew all his best stories by now. Alesta was a fresh audience.

Perfect for testing out new material.

“That’d be nice, if you’re offering,” Alesta held out the spring toward him. "I can’t do much,” she admitted, her eyes filled with a mirth he didn’t usually see, “But I have a hammer.”

Usopp hesitated. He hadn’t actually thought she’d want to. He blinked at her hand for a few seconds then chuckled and reached out to take the spring from her. This was fine, it wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the time—

As long as there were no ghosts.

"A hammer, you say?" Usopp quirked an eyebrow, feigning intrigue. "Well, a hammer is a fine start, my apprentice!"

He lied about being able to teach her.

He definitely lied.

Thirty minutes later, Usopp stared at the pile of scrap metal surrounding them. Somehow it was bigger than it was when they’d started. His mouth opened twice as he took it all in, words failing him. It was everywhere—

How had this happened?!

Alesta didn’t seem to notice his distress. She was busy trying to hammer the screw he’d been fiddling with into the side of the pipe, metal perched between her fingers as she glared down at it.

It wasn’t going to work. The angle was all wrong and it wouldn’t go through—

Usopp opened his mouth to tell her just that.

Then the door opened.

At the same time, Alesta swung down with her hammer, hitting the nail head on. Usopp watched it all happen in mounting horror. She cursed as the hammer slid off the nail and into her thumb—

The pipe went flying.

Straight into Marco’s unimpressed face.

It hit his forehead with a hard thunk before it fell to the ground. Marco watched it roll toward Usopp’s feet in deathly silence— something he’d only ever seen Zoro pull off. When it finally came to a stop, Marco stared the both of them down.

“Oh,” Alesta whispered in the quiet room, “Sorry?"

Usopp tried not to cry.

Zoro just wanted to nap.

He’d gone into the courtyard hoping the rest of their crew would busy themselves elsewhere. It was an idea that had merit. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for the rest of their traveling companions.

Peering up from beneath lidded eyes, Zoro squinted against the sun as he watched the spectacle in front of him. If this was a spar, he wasn’t impressed. He’d seen kids fight better than this.

Alesta panted from her place across from Thatch, hands on her knees, “Again.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Thatch winced. He rubbed at the back of his neck, chancing a look toward Zoro before he added, “It’s hot out and you’re going to get sick—”

“Please?” She blinked up at him and Zoro snorted when the man went soft. The curse of the cook. “I need to keep up.”

She was right about that.

Zoro didn’t know how the hell she survived this long if she couldn’t throw a proper punch. Her hips swung too tightly, fists going too wide. She fought dirty— lots of ankle kicking and shirt grabbing.

It wasn’t the worst style, but it wouldn’t get her very far. Anyone with a bit of skill was going to be able to get into Alesta’s space. The girl needed to toughen up before someone did it for her.

“Let’s try using the hammer again—”

Thatch’s voice made Zoro pay a bit more attention. He hadn’t thought they’d been serious about the damn weapon, but apparently, they were. His eyes zeroed in on the tool tucked against Alesta’s waistband before he scoffed.

That piece of shit wouldn’t do anything in a real fight.

“Oi,” the other ghost, the annoying one whose name Zoro didn’t care to remember chimed in. He was leaning against the wall by the exit, arms crossed over his chest, “Don’t pussy out because you’re afraid of hurting the kid.”

Thatch threw his arms up, “I’m not—"

Zoro snorted. That was a lie if he ever heard one. He’d seen the man punch that gator back in Crocodile’s base— those puny little jabs he’d been giving her the past hour were nothing.

“You are,” Alesta gave him a long look, chest heaving as she fought for air, “Please, Thatch,” she straightened up and brought her fists back up, “I need to keep practicing.”

Zoro’s brow hiked. So, she had a bit of backbone after all. Took her long enough to show it. Maybe she wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

The other ghost drawled, “If you’re not up for it, I’ll take over.”

Now, that was something Zoro was interested in seeing. The burn of being shown up back in Rain Base hadn’t faded. To have another swordsman have to help him cut those bars down—

Zoro’s mouth curled in distaste at the memory.

While Thatch gave the other man a dark look, Alesta smiled at him, “You would?”

“No, he wouldn’t—”

“Sure,” Kanetsuyo, that was the ghost’s name, strode forward. His hands dipped into his pockets with a graceful shrug, “If you’re up for it, kid.”

She nodded before seeming to remember something, “Do you want to use your sword?”

Meanwhile, Thatch looked between the two of them. His eyes were growing wide, something like horror sneaking into the open drop of his mouth, “Hold up. I feel like this is a really bad idea—”

“No,” Kanetsuyo deadpanned, but his mouth quirked, “I won’t need it.”

Zoro's interest was piqued as the situation escalated. His half-lidded gaze sharpened, and he shifted his position slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view. This was turning out to be more entertaining than he had initially anticipated.

Alesta squared her shoulders, readying herself to face Kanetsuyo. Her hands clenched into fists as Kanetsuyo took place in front of her. He gave her points for persistence, but Zoro's skepticism still lingered.

She’d give up eventually.

Kanetsuyo grinned as he stepped forward, his casual demeanor belying the tension that had risen among the small group. Zoro had to give it to the man. The asshole had a presence that demanded attention. His eyes were sharp and focused, a contrast to the lackadaisical attitude he had displayed earlier.

“Okay, no,” Thatch tried again, “Seriously, this isn’t a good idea—"

His attempts to dissuade them fell on deaf ears and Zoro could practically see the storm brewing in his mind. He didn’t feel any sympathy. The dead cook brought it on himself.

Meanwhile, Alesta's eyes met Kanetsuyo's, a mixture of determination and something else that Zoro couldn't quite place. Zoro could respect that kind of spirit as skillless as she was.

Without further hesitation, the spar began. Zoro's eyes followed their movements closely, his own interest growing.

Alesta's first strike came with surprising speed considering her form, her swing tighter and more controlled than before. Her fist swung toward Kanetsuyo, but he sidestepped effortlessly.

He didn’t even have to move to swipe her foot out from underneath her.  

Alesta’s back met the hard earth with a thud.

“Ow,” she groaned a second later, “That hurt.”

Thatch threw his hand out dramatically, “See? Bad idea—”

Zoro paid the man’s whining no mind. He was going to have to toughen up if this was enough to get him worked up. Kanetsuyo took a similar approach. He gave Thatch a baleful look before turning toward Alesta’s downed form.

His mouth curled, “Giving up already?”

Alesta rolled over until her palms met the earth, “No—”

Her chest was heaving faster than it had been before and Zoro knew from personal experience that blow had to have knocked the air out of her lungs. Dirt and sand marred her knees as she pushed a veil of hair out of her face, twisting her neck enough to look up at Kanetsuyo.

Dark eyes gleamed under the bright sun.

Then she smiled, “Do that again, please.”

“You’re shitting me,” Thatch scrubbed at his eyes, “You’re just like Ace. Oh my god—”

Zoro raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He sounded like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

Guess it was a good thing he was already dead.

Kanetsuyo’s pleased laugh rang in the air as Alesta crawled to her feet. A hint of his sharp teeth broke out behind his lips as he crooned, “You asked for it, ghost girl.”

Zoro grunted as he settled back to watch.  

At least it was something to do.

Luffy woke up hungry.

He cuddled his growling stomach with a pout as he tried wandering down the hall. Why was Vivi’s house so big? She had too many doors. She didn’t need this many doors.

Dadan only had one and it worked fine.

The bandages wrapped around his arm tickled and Luffy scratched at his skin. Stupid Alligator and his stupid sand. It still itched. Luffy hated itching. He was rubber now—

Rubber shouldn’t itch.

Wandering through the empty hallways, Luffy tried to smell the air. Sabo always told him he could smell meat from an island away and Sabo was always right. Nostrils flaring, Luffy took a deep inhale of the stuffy air as he paused in the hallway.

He didn’t smell meat.

That was annoying. You were supposed to eat when you woke up— everyone knew that. That’s why Sanji cooked breakfast. Because he was the best cook who knew all the rules.

Dragging his feet down the hallway, Luffy squinted at all the pictures hanging on the wall. Vivi was weird. Why’d she have so many pictures of so many things? They didn’t even make sense. She should have pictures of food—

“Found him,” a familiar voice echoed behind him and Luffy spun on his heel. His eyes lit up when he caught Ace’s smirk, “Told you he would head for the kitchen.”

He was leaning against the wall, a cup of water in his hand. Ghost girl was there too. They were only missing the pineapple man and the ghosts. That was okay though because he had Ace and his nakama.

He only needed them.

“Ace!” Lunging forward, Luffy wrapped his arms around Ace’s neck. His brother made a pained noise, but that was okay. That meant the hug was full of love. “You’re still here!”

Ace chuckled even as he tried to pull Luffy off, “I’m still here. You really thought I’d leave before you wake up?”

That was a stupid question.

“Yeah,” Luffy frowned at him, “You’re dumb.”

Ace’s mouth dropped open in offense, but Luffy didn’t pay it any mind. Ace was stupid like that. Ignoring the way Ace still tried to pry Luffy’s arms off his shoulders, Luffy turned to look at the only other person in the hallway.

Ghost girl smiled at him.

His eyes lit up. It wasn’t one of those weird ones. The kind that felt like paper and nothingness. She always did that. It was stupid just like Ace. Neither of them knew how to smile like they were supposed to.

It was annoying.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” ghost girl’s voice went soft. It reminded him of Makino and Luffy blinked. “Chopper was worried when you slept so long.”

Finally letting Luffy wrap himself around him, Ace chuckled, “Three days is nothing. Back when we were kids, he could sleep a whole week—”

“You say that,” she looked at Ace and Luffy’s head tilted. That was a weird look. Makino didn’t look at him like that, “but you were worried too.”

She poked him with her elbow and Ace went red. It was kind of an ugly color. It made Ace look like Sanji and he knew Ace wasn’t Sanji. Luffy’s nose scrunched as the color crept up Ace’s neck and stayed on his ears.

Ghost girl smiled at him and Ace swallowed.

Oh.

Ace was dumb.

“I wasn’t—”

Before Ace could be stupid again, Luffy groaned into his shoulder, “Stop talking. I’m hungry—”

Glancing down at him, Ace snorted under his breath, “Figures that’s the first thing you think about.”

Because it was the most important thing. He couldn’t do anything until his stomach was full. Luffy's order brought a chuckle from both Ace and ghost girl. They exchanged amused glances and Luffy huffed.

They were both weird.

"Alright, alright, we'll get you something to eat," Ace said, ruffling Luffy's hair affectionately, “Quit whining.”

Luffy swatted at his hand, even though it felt like home. He wasn’t a baby anymore. Ace rolled his eyes and Luffy decided to stop that. Sabo always said he needed to make sure Ace behaved.

Luffy stuck his finger up Ace’s nose.

A hoarse chuckle broke the air when ghost girl laughed and Luffy grinned. Ace was trying to strangle him, but that was okay. He was glad Ace was here—

Glad that they were together again.

Even if he was dumb.

Chapter Text

Curiosity was a dangerous temptation.

Alesta learned that truth around the same time she’d learned to write. Back when she’d climb trees and reach for branches too thin to support her, throwing her stubby hands for the top, just to see what might lay beyond before she fell.

Or when she’d lift a rock near the shore—

Only to find snakes.

“Go to sleep,” Thatch groaned. He was sprawled out on the bed next to her, back in his ghost form. “Seriously, I’m like five seconds away from just knocking you out.”

Alesta wished it was that easy.

Oh, she wished. It would have been a welcome escape from the current subject her brain had latched onto. The ghost from the tomb continued to eat at her. Every time she tried to shut her eyes, she thought about the woman.

“Sorry,” Alesta whispered. She laid her cheek on her knees to glance at him, “I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about her.”

It was true. She’d tried for several hours to fall asleep like the rest of her companions. It just wouldn’t come.

Thatch tilted his head back with a sigh, “Don’t remind me. If I never have to see that shit again, I’ll die happy.” He squinted at the ceiling, “Or live happily. Whatever— you get my point.”

A rude noise echoed from the other end of the room. Kanetsuyo’s sharp eyes gleamed under the low light of the window.

“It’s a ghost,” he drawled, “She didn’t have a face. The hell are you planning to do about it?”

It was a good question. Alesta shrugged, slightly abashed. “Nothing, I guess. I just—” she frowned at the floor, “It didn’t feel natural.”

Even the memory of it had her skin standing on end. The woman’s face had been so dark— so empty. She didn’t understand it. Alesta had seen hundreds of ghosts since leaving her island and none of them were like that.

She wanted to know why.

There was a familiar itch growing beneath her fingers. A desire to pick at what she’d seen, to pull at the threads until she knew what made the ghost different.

The sentiment wasn’t shared.

“None of this is natural,” Kanetsuyo said, “You’re talking to two dead men. What part of that says natural to you, kid?”

Thatch made a noise like he was about to laugh before he caught himself, “The asshole’s right.” His legs stretched out on the bed, “Don’t worry so much. Take it from me— the world’s got some weird shit. No one knows everything.”

He said that like it was supposed to relax her. Instead, the consolation made her grimace. “I know,” Alesta muttered under her breath. “But I want to.”

Thatch’s mouth twitched, “You want to know everything? Talk about a big dream, ghost girl.”

“Mhm,” Alesta covered her mouth with a yawn, “Beyond the ghost, it’d be nice to understand everything you all talk about.”

“Good luck with that,” Kanetsuyo scoffed, “That kind of goal is a one-way ticket to Impel Down.”

She’d never heard that term before, but the way he said it sounded like she should. Alesta glanced at him, “To what?”

He stared at her for several long seconds.

“You don’t know—” Kanetsuyo dragged a hand down his face, “Oh god, we’re all fucked.”

Alesta didn’t appreciate his tone.

Ignoring Kanetsuyo’s muttering, Thatch made a tired noise under his breath as he sat up, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” Alesta admitted quietly, “I don’t know. It seems silly,” her dark eyes drifted toward him, “I just like to know things.”

She knew so little nowadays, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now. The new obscurity of her devil fruit was the catalyst for the understanding, but the sensation had been building up on her.

Thatch chuckled as her sentence trailed off, “You don’t say?”

“It helps,” rubbing at her legs, Alesta spoke quietly enough not to rouse any of their companions, “It’s always helped. When I know things, I know how to plan. I know what to expect—” her tongue caught between her teeth, “I know what I’d miss.”

Alesta blamed the late hour for her ruminations.

It was always easier to speak openly in the dark.  

Propping his chin on his arms, Kanetsuyo gave her a long look, “Hell, kid. You sure that ghost is the only thing you’re worked up about?”

“Right now, yes,” it was the simplest answer, but it wasn’t the full truth. Alesta hesitated as she tried to voice her raging thoughts, “I guess it’s everything else too. There’s so much I don’t know and I feel—”

She felt lost.

Alesta didn’t particularly care for it.

“It’s the adrenaline. Been a shit couple of days,” Kanetsuyo explained. It wasn’t much, but the effort was appreciated. “Give it a while and you’ll chill out.”

She glanced toward the Strawhats, “They’re taking it better than I am.”

“Because they know what they signed up for,” he snorted, “You’re still thinking like a civilian.”

Alesta blinked, “How so?”

“You keep saying you aren’t a pirate, but you’ve got to know that’s bullshit,” Kanetsuyo waved his hand around lazily, “Looks like you’ve got a crew now. Probably going to get a ship,” his lip curled despite the admission, “What do you want to do with all that? And don’t get me some sappy shit about helping this fucker back home.”

Thatch gawked, “Hey, asshole—"

Kanetsuyo merely flicked him off.

She was going to ignore the pirate comparison for a moment. Despite Kanetsuyo’s insinuation, the label still didn’t feel right. Maybe in time she’d come to see it, but it wasn’t there yet.

He was right about one thing though.

She had no idea what to do with freedom in her grasp.

“Well,” Alesta tilted her head slightly, considering the question, “Beyond helping Thatch, I guess I still want to travel.”

That wasn’t a proper answer, but she didn’t know how to verbalize her desires.

It all boiled down to that vague thought of living. She didn’t know how to explain it to them without sounding like a lovelorn fool. Clenching her fingers over her legs, Alesta trailed off with a sheepish shrug.

“I don’t really know,” she said, “That’s okay, though. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Then you’ve got your answer,” Thatch grinned and Alesta’s heart ached. “Just do what makes you happy—"

Kanetsuyo snorted, “That won’t be hard. Your life on your island was shit," he glanced at her a second too late, “No offense.”

Thatch sputtered, “Oi! We’re having a moment!”

“Fuck off.” Kanetsuyo waved him away, “She knows I’m right.”

“It wasn’t perfect,” Alesta chuckled as they prepared to start bickering, “but it was quiet.”