Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That morning, the newspaper had big news. Crocodile had been unseated as a Warlord of the Sea. Somehow the story had already acquired a certain mythical status. Rumors spread across the Blues as the News Coos were delivered– but there were some things everyone seemed certain of.

Super-rookie Fire Fist Ace had been offered a position as a Warlord, and he’d accepted.

Crocodile hadn’t taken news of his replacement gracefully– and the Government figured, who better to solve the problem than their newest hire?

In the aftermath, the site of the conflict had been razed. Swirling dirt and searing flame had leveled the terrain. Towering spires of glass stood as a monument to the defeat– tornados of sand that had been melted in white-hot flashes of flame.

Crocodile’s location was now unknown. Baroque Works had been torn apart from the top down. Certain notorious figures were now left without a protector, on the run again. Daz Bones, Miss Doublefinger, Bon Clay, the Devil Child.

Rumors said Fire Fist Ace could melt a person’s bones. He left scorch marks where he stepped, he could spit fire, he could dry out a river basin by standing in it.

Marco, reading the newspaper Thatch had excitedly shoved at him, was not especially interested. Every few years there came along a super-rookie, sometimes even a few at a time. This one just happened to be on a government leash. But all the same, it was good to keep abreast of current events, so he made careful note of the kid’s face.

Actually, that was one thing that did stand out to him about the whole affair— Fire Fist looked young. Maybe he actually was a kid.

Marco cursed, pushing a smug Thatch out of his way and going to talk to his father.

*

Something Ace hated to admit to himself was that Deuce sometimes reminded him of Sabo. It couldn’t be helped, really– Ace had only ever been close to precious few people in his life, and it was inevitable that he would draw some comparisons between two of the bravest, kindest, and smartest people he'd ever known. It didn’t help that they both liked to wear blue.

He sometimes wondered if the similarities had been what drew him to Deuce in the first place. After meeting a dauntless boy escaping an unwanted past who dreamed of recording his adventures in print, Ace had been helpless but to have him along.

But ultimately Deuce was not Sabo, and never could be. They were each important to Ace in their own ways, and were frankly more different than alike. For one thing, Sabo would never have let him get into this mess. Deuce, as his first mate, had just heeded his orders.

Ace had never wanted to be a Warlord. He considered it something of an insult to Sabo’s memory, as a matter of fact– to say nothing of how smug the old man probably was about it. Ace dreaded seeing him again. He dreaded seeing Luffy again, dreaded having to explain to his little brother how his lofty ideals and ambitions had come crashing down around him.

The freest people on the seas, they had promised each other. Ace had swore he was going to surpass Gold Roger himself. He was going to blaze his way to the top.

And here he was now, leashed by the World Government, only free as long as he didn’t think about it too hard, forced to do what they wanted when they asked.

It was nearly untenable. His past self couldn’t have pictured it. He hated himself.

But it was his only option, as he reminded himself frequently. His only solace was his crew around him, loyal and supportive and uncaring of his reasonings– them, and the memory of Luffy’s glowing smile, the knowledge of why he was doing this in the first place.

At almost eighteen, Ace was the youngest Warlord by a wide margin. He hadn’t even met any of the others– save Crocodile, whom he and his crew had sent running as their first Government assignment– but he knew that they were all full-grown. These days more than ever Ace felt like a fumbling child, arrogant and foolish in a bigger and stronger world.

But for all that he hated his new lot in life, it kept his little brother safe. That, more than surpassing Gold Roger or attaining his own freedom, was Ace’s most important responsibility. It was the one task Sabo had explicitly left for him, the one debt that he would never be able to repay. His brothers had saved his life. They had made his life. There was nothing Ace would not do if meant Luffy could be free.

It was a little embarrassing imagining Isuka’s reaction to him having accepted the Warlord position, considering how violently Ace had once rejected the same offer when it had been her and Vice Admiral Draw doing the offering.

But they hadn’t had the right leverage, and Ace didn’t need to explain himself to her anyway.

It had been Admiral Kizaru who had caught up to the Spade Pirates a few days after they’d entered the New World. He approached them with a condescending smile that had flames licking up Ace’s shoulders before the man even spoke, and his hasty attack had only been stalled by Deuce’s hand on his bicep and frantic whispering in his ear.

“Fire Fist Ace,” the man had mused. “The new super-rookie.”

“You’re an Admiral, huh?” said Ace, shaking off his first mate. “You should put up a good fight, then.”

“I’m not here for that,” said Kizaru, letting Ace pass harmlessly through him. Ace landed behind him, already spinning around and ready to charge again, but stopped as Kizaru spoke. “Monkey D. Luffy.”

Ace’s blood, normally super-heated, turned to ice. “What.”

“You know him, don’t you? We’ve never met… I know his grandfather, though. I never knew Garp had kids…”

“What are you talking about?” Ace growled, rising off the ground in a burst of flame. A sizzling wave of hot air buffeted everyone in range. On the other side of Kizaru, his crew exchanged glances and tightened their grips on their weapons.

“Well,” Kizaru continued, undeterred, “I didn’t know your father had a kid either. That was very surprising.”

Ace froze again, mid-lunge, his entire lower half suspended in fire. His head was quickly dissolving into static. It was impossible. Ace’s very existence had been unknown to the world as of eight months ago, nevermind his parentage. The Marines couldn’t know. The only people in the world who knew were Garp and the bandits, and despite everything Ace couldn’t believe that Gramps would tell the Navy. Ace aside, the man had to know how the knowledge would endanger Luf– Ace’s thoughts stalled. Luffy. Ace’s stupid, bad liar, big mouth little brother. Luffy, who knew who Ace’s father was. Luffy, whose name Kizaru apparently knew. Fuck.

“If you touched a hair on his head–” Ace began, feeling a rising wave of hysteria threaten him.

Kizaru pouted. “Mnn, I said I haven’t met him. But he’s fine, as far as I know… we needed him alive for this to work.”

There was a fear that Ace had never felt before sweeping over his entire body. Not even Sabo’s death had made him feel this way, not the fire in the Grey Terminal, not facing down Bluejam. This enemy was one even he knew he couldn’t fight. If the Marines decided to kill Luffy right now, Ace wouldn’t be able to stop them. If they decided to tell the world who his father was, Ace wouldn’t be able to stop them. If they asked him to kneel down and let Kizaru kill his entire crew, Ace couldn’t say no. It was a helplessness that he had never known.

Ace snarled, his fists blazing. “What do you want from me.”

Behind the Admiral, his crew looked bewildered by his uncharacteristic deference.

“Ohh,” Kizaru said, and then he smiled. “That’s a very interesting question.”

*

In the end, what Kizaru wanted was what the Government always wanted– control. Power. Insurance. The upper hand.

Apparently Ace had offended them by rejecting their first offer to become a Warlord– and in their search for leverage against him, they had struck gold.

Ace still didn’t know exactly how the Marines had found Luffy, but it was all too easy to imagine his little brother letting Ace's biggest secret slip to a kind stranger– he’d probably remembered that it was supposed to be a secret just as he’d said it, covered his mouth and giggled, asked the lucky listener not to tell.

It didn’t cross Ace’s mind to be angry at his little brother– that was just how Luffy was. He didn’t have anything to hide, didn’t have it in him to watch his every word and step. And he shouldn’t have to. If only Ace’s father hadn’t been Gold Roger– if only Ace instead of Sabo had died– if only Ace had never been born. It wasn’t Luffy’s fault that Ace’s secret had put him in danger. It wasn’t Luffy’s responsibility. Ace was supposed to protect him.

He couldn’t figure out why the Marines didn’t just kill him if they knew who his father was, but he wasn’t in a position to question it. This was for the best. He might have preferred execution to being chained like a dog, but at least like this he could protect Luffy. As long as Ace played nice, Luffy would be safe.

And there was a time limit to this hell. There was the inevitability of Luffy setting out to be a pirate. As soon as he got a bounty he’d be wanted dead by the government no matter what Ace did. Ace figured at that point he could cut his losses, tell the government to go fuck itself, and escort Luffy to Raftel personally if he had to.

Until then, his brother’s life hung over him like a guillotine.

Until then, the Marines got what they wanted.

And apparently, they wanted Gold Roger’s son to be their newest Warlord of the Sea.

They sent him after Crocodile like some attack dog, and for the first time in his life, Ace obeyed.

*

Jimbei landed on the deck of the Moby Dick with a thump, the column of water that had carried him up from the ocean violently crashing down to soak the wood beneath his feet.

“Hello, Jimbei,” said Marco, looking highly unimpressed by the aggressive entrance.

Unfortunately, Jimbei was not in the mood to make nice. He grunted, and turned towards Whitebeard’s chair.

“Whitebeard,” he acknowledged, tilting his head in deference.

The old man raised an eyebrow. “You seem upset, Jimbei.”

“I am not pleased,” Jimbei said grimly. “Last month, I was dispatched by Aokiji to the West Blue to capture a member of the Revolutionary Army. While I was gone some fool pirate came to Fish-Man Island and burned your flag.”

Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what is the reason that you haven’t already dealt with them?”

“He and I are coworkers. He’s beyond my reach.”

Near him, Marco straightened. “Coworkers– you mean Fire Fist Ace?”

Whitebeard furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” Jimbei growled.

“He can’t think that becoming a Shichibukai will protect him from a Yonko,” said Fossa incredulously, leaning on the arm of Whitebeard’s chair and chewing on a cigar.

“Too cowardly to face the consequences of his actions and stupid to boot,” said Blenheim, frowning. “A disappointment.”

“Be calm, my sons,” said Whitebeard. He met Jimbei’s eyes. “The entire world knows not to touch what I protect. If Fire Fist hasn’t learned this lesson yet, he will soon. We’ll handle this.”

Jimbei grunted. “Thank you.”

Whitebeard nodded. “I will send the 10th and 11th divisions to raise our Jolly Roger again on Fish-Man Island. Our presence will not be so easily erased.”

Marco frowned. “I’ll ask Haruta if there’s been any news of the Spade Pirates’ movements. Fire Fist may think otherwise, but the Government won’t stick its neck out to protect him, especially not from us. We’ll put an end to this quickly.”

*

Sengoku sighed as his white Den Den Mushi trilled. Lucky that the World Government only saw fit to contact him through encrypted lines, because recently Garp had taken to wire-tapping his office. Truly, Sengoku wished him the best in overhearing anything of note, since apparently Kong had now taken to cutting him out of the chain of command and giving orders directly to the Admirals.

“I’m here,” he spoke into the receiver, already tired of the conversation.

“We have another assignment for Fire Fist Ace,” said Kong.

“What now?” said Sengoku, holding back a scathing suggestion about sending the rookie after a different Warlord, or perhaps a Yonko this time. For the life of him he didn’t know why the World Government suddenly had a bug up their collective asses about Fire Fist Ace. Having an inexperienced wild card replace the manageable, predictable Crocodile defied sense.

“Long-term, his goal will be to capture or kill the former Roger Pirates.”

Sengoku stared at his wall. “Oh, great. You know, it might be faster just to execute him.”

“The boy will have better odds at success than anyone else alive.”

“For God’s sake, tell me how.”

“He’s Gol D. Roger’s son.”

Sengoku nearly broke his neck turning to stare at the Den Den. It stared stoically back at him with Kong’s eyes.

“That’s impossible. We dispatched every woman and baby and unborn child on Baterilla.”

“It should have been impossible, but Portgas D. Rouge carried him for twenty months. She died immediately after he was born.”

Sengoku continued to stare at the Den Den. “And you believe the Roger Pirates will recognize him for who he is?”

"Borsalino has reported that he bears an undeniable resemblance to his mother, and unlike you or I, he actually met the woman. They'll know.”

"And you think that will be enough for them to let the boy capture or kill them."

“Not let him. But we believe they won’t kill him, which is more than can be said for anybody else."

Sengoku sighed, sinking his head into his hands, uncaring of what the expression the Den Den Mushi on the other side of the line would be showing Kong. It was true enough that the devotion of the Roger Pirates to their captain had been legendary– but would that extend to his son? Enough so for them to forfeit their lives? Unfortunately, it was also true that no one else had a glimmer of a chance at success.

“So this is what you spoke to Kizaru about. Why tell him before me?”

“It was uncertain if we could successfully leverage Fire Fist Ace. As you know, he initially rejected our recruitment offer. If we weren’t able to make him a Shichibukai, we wanted to limit the number of people who knew about his parentage, or at least make better use of the knowledge than to let it slowly spread throughout the ranks.”

Sengoku bit back another comment, this one about Kong’s apparent lack of trust in him. It wasn’t worth the possibility that Kong would bring up Rosinante.

“What leverage do you have against Fire Fist that makes you think he’ll agree to hunt down his father’s old crew?”

“That’s also need-to-know. Trust that it is sufficient.”

Sengoku frowned. “How did you even find out about his father?”

There was a pause, and he wondered if Kong was about to deny him this information, too. But then the man spoke, sounding distinctly smug. “We managed to capture a member of the Revolutionary Army who had personal knowledge of Portgas D. Rouge and how she spent her last months alive– and we cracked him. He recognized Fire Fist as his mother’s son just by seeing the boy’s wanted poster, and also happened to know that only Roger could’ve been the father of her child.”

Sengoku’s eyes widened. “I assume his capture was the work of Cipher Pol?” Because he certainly hadn’t ordered–

“It was the work of Jimbei, on the orders of Kuzan.”

On the orders of me, went unsaid. Sengoku went back to staring at the wall. So that was two of his immediate subordinates that Kong had gone over his head to make use of.

“I assume you’re telling me now for a reason?” he asked.

“I’ve been told to maintain the structure of command,” said Kong, amusement evident in his voice. “So we’re leaving it up to you to inform Fire Fist Ace of his new commission.”

“Thank you,” said Sengoku flatly.

“Anytime,” said Kong, and then the Den Den clicked to indicate that he’d hung up.

Sengoku stared at the wall again, and then finally allowed himself a small smile. If Kong could play favorites with his subordinates, then so could he.

For his next call, he didn't reach for the encrypted Den Den Mushi.

*

Bogard leaned back against the wall in Garp’s office, staring at the black Den Den Mushi on the man’s desk which was currently grinning up at him.

The door to the office opened, and the man who it belonged to stepped in.

“What is it?” asked Garp, looking exceptionally weary. Bogard alone knew why– Fire Fist Ace, the most recent Shichibukai, had been raised away from the eyes of the World Government and the Marines, and Bogard was Garp’s sole confidant. Only he knew that Garp was going crazy trying to figure out why his rebellious grandson had suddenly allied himself with the Marines.

“The wiretapping Den Den recorded another call.”

Garp sat down with a sigh. “Let’s hope this one is at least interesting.”

The black Den Den chirped, and then started to speak.

“Fire Fist Ace,” said Sengoku’s voice, and Garp straightened like he’d been shocked with a cattle prod.

“Yeah?” said a flat voice which Bogard had never heard, but which Garp clearly recognized. “I assume I’m talking to someone upper crust?”

Sengoku cleared his throat. “This is Fleet Admiral Sengoku.”

A pause, and then the voice continued with the same bland inflection. “Oh. Well, what, then?”

“We have a task for you.”

Ace made an annoyed sound. “We just finished the last one. Didn’t you hear that Crocodile’s gone on the run?” And then, before Sengoku could say anything, Ace spoke more quickly: “But tell me what you want me to do.”

Bogard glanced at Garp. The man was frowning deeply.

Sengoku’s voice came on again, and by his tone it was clear that Ace’s juvenile nature had put him on a back foot. “We’re sending you to capture the former Roger Pirates.”

There was a choking noise from Ace on the line, while simultaneously Garp’s face turned cold and still.

“You know where they are?” was the first question Ace managed.

“Of course we do,” said Sengoku. “They’re spread out around the globe, but we haven’t let them be because we can’t find them.”

It did not seem to occur to Ace to ask why else– nor why the Government was suddenly asking him of all people to finally bring them in.

“If you can’t capture them,” said Sengoku, “then killing them is fine. But we’d prefer to be able to execute them.”

“Ending Roger’s legacy publicly,” said Ace, soundly darkly amused. “And using me to do it. Very neat.”

Sengoku didn’t respond to this.

“So, where are they?” asked Ace, impatient.

“You’ll do it, then?”

“Do I have a choice?” said Ace, and didn’t seem to expect an answer.

“We’ll send you an encrypted signal with coordinates and names. The order you pursue them in is left to your discretion.”

“Generous of you,” said Ace off-handedly. “You know, this strikes me as a big request to make of someone, even a Warlord.”

Sengoku paused for a long moment, and then said significantly: “You know what we have on you.”

There was a longer pause. “Fine,” said Ace. He no longer sounded off-hand, or reluctantly amused. He sounded pissed. “Send me the encrypted signal. I’ll get it done.” He hung up, and the black Den Den cut off.

Bogard turned to Garp to find the man looking angrier than he had ever seen before.

“What’s the plan?” he asked mildly, resting his hand on his sword.

Garp stood. “How do you feel about going AWOL?”

*

These days, it was rare that Luffy came down from the mountain to visit Foosha Village. It was no longer a real concern of Garp’s that he would be poorly influenced by pirates– the damage had long since been done. The reason Luffy rarely came down from the mountain was because there was no longer anything in Foosha Village that he needed. Everything he needed was waiting for him out at sea, and the only thing he had to do was to keep training until he could go out and take it.

And as for Edge Town, or even the Grey Terminal, Luffy and Ace had stopped visiting those places long ago– ever since the fire. Needing aside, there was nothing in either of those places that they wanted.

The whole of the forest and the mountain was their home, and for them it had everything.

But ever since Ace had left almost eight months ago, the mountain had started to feel lonely. Luffy hated lonely. Sure, there were the bandits, but Luffy had been independent from them almost since he’d arrived. In the recent months he’d started coming down more and more to eat dinner with them, which was evidence more than anything else of his depressingly isolated state.

The real joys were the afternoons when Makino would come to visit, sometimes trailed by Woop Slap and always with several pounds of homemade meals. Ever since Ace had left, she had been coming more frequently– sometimes twice a week.

Makino was nice to be around. All of them missed Ace, but Makino was the only other person who would admit it. She’d also been making attempts at teaching him manners of his own, but Luffy wasn’t taking to them as well as Ace had– and that was saying something.

Unusually, it had now been almost two weeks since Makino had come to visit. She was probably just busy, Luffy knew, but it was driving him out of his mind a little. There were only so many times he could annoy Dadan and Magra and Dogra.

It was with this in mind that Luffy descended the mountain for the first time since he’d seen Ace off at the shore.

It was fine if Makino was busy, he figured– he’d just sit at the bar and enjoy being near her for a while.

Foosha Village was quiet and sleepy like it always was. No one seemed to notice him as he made his way towards Party’s Bar. The trail beneath his feet was familiar like no other, once well-traveled by a young Luffy who would journey to Makino’s every day to see if Shanks had come. If the man was in port, he was always found at Party’s Bar. He liked to flirt with the barmaid, he’d tell Luffy with a wink.

Today, however, Party’s was practically empty. At the counter sat Woop Slap with an odd slump to his shoulders. Makino was nowhere to be seen.

“Woop Slap!” cheered Luffy, startling the man. “Where’s Makino?”

“Luffy,” said the mayor, his brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I came to see Makino!”

The man shook his head. “Luffy, have you or the bandits gotten yesterday’s newspaper? Your brother is a Shichibukai now.”

“A shish kebab? Eh?”

Woop Slap sighed. “He’s become very famous.”

“Sounds like Ace!” Luffy cheered. “He said he’d been the strongest around! Besides me, of course.”

The mayor shook his head. “He’s very famous, and he has many enemies. Last week one of them came here looking for information about him. We think they must have traced his journey back to this part of the East Blue.”

“Ossan, no one here knows about Ace.”

“Except for me and Makino,” said Woop Slap tiredly. He tugged his goggles off his face– something Luffy had never seen him do– and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

Luffy stared at him. “Where’s Makino?”

“Luffy, this man wanted to know if anyone here knew Ace– and he also wanted to know if Ace had any family or friends. And he wasn’t asking.”

“Ne, that sounds weird. But where’s Makino?”

Woop Slap sighed. “She’s in the backroom.”

Luffy launched himself over the counter. “Makino!” He ducked into the backroom where Makino slept. “Makino!” The lights were off.

“Luffy?” said Makino groggily. Her voice came from the other side of the room. “Luffy–”

“It’s dark in here!” Luffy reached over to where he knew the window was and tugged the curtains open.

Then he stared at where Makino lay prone on the bed.

Makino smiled weakly at him and did not get up. “You shouldn’t be here, Luffy,” she said. And then she burst into tears.

“Ma– Makino,” Luffy said shakily. He stumbled over to where she lay, falling to his knees beside her. “Makino.” He felt like he could only say her name.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Luffy.”

“Makino– what– your legs–”

Her legs had been cut off just below the knees. Pure white bandages had been carefully wrapped around the remaining stubby limbs. All Luffy could see was red, red, red.

“What happened?” he asked, voice wobbly.

“I’m sorry,” Makino said. “I shouldn’t have kept it to begin with– and then I couldn’t stop him–”

Luffy gently pulled her into his arms, more carefully than he’d ever done anything in his life. She shuddered against his chest, incoherent. Luffy was furious, scared, devastated– and very, very confused.

Behind him, Woop Slap stepped into the room. Luffy turned his head to look at him with wide eyes.

“The man came,” said the mayor quietly. “He was looking for information about Ace, but he wasn’t asking. He was searching people’s homes and businesses. He said he would reward people who helped him and punish people who didn’t. And Makino had–” He hesitated, and then pointed at the desk. “Makino had that picture.”

Slowly, Luffy picked up the wooden frame lying face down on the desktop. Inside it was a picture that Luffy had forgotten about entirely. In the circle of his arms, Makino cried.

The picture was of him and Ace, aged ten and thirteen. They were both smiling widely as they held up a massive watermelon for the camera to see. Luffy remembered the day with sudden clarity, one of hundreds of easy summer afternoons when they used to sneak into the watermelon fields– and on that particular day, they had found the biggest watermelon they’d ever seen. They’d had Makino take a picture before they ate it. On Luffy’s head, as always, was his straw hat. And on Ace’s head was a hat of his own– bright orange and easily recognizable, the same cowboy hat he’d left home with, the same hat that he hardly ever took off– the same hat featured in his bounty poster.

“She tried to stop him from coming in here,” said Woop Slap. Luffy barely heard him over the buzzing in his ears as he looked back down at Makino. “She knew he would recognize Ace, and anyone in this village would be able to tell him who you were by the hat alone.”

Makino shook, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Luffy, I’m sorry.”

“He told her,” said Woop Slap, his voice flat like he was reading something aloud, “that if she wanted to stand in his way, then she might as well not stand at all.” Luffy’s stomach lurched. “And then he did this.”

Selfishly, Luffy did not stop to question how Makino was going to continue to work at the bar. He did not consider whether she was in unbearable pain.

The first thing Luffy did was wonder how Makino was going to visit him on the mountain if she didn’t have any legs.

It was then that he burst into tears.

“Luffy,” said Makino, calming down now that it was Luffy crying. “You have to go back up the mountain. We didn’t tell him where you lived– he might think that we don’t know. But in case he comes back– you have to go back up the mountain and hide. Tell Dadan to get rid of any pictures, any newspapers, any baby clothes or letters, and tear down Luffy’s Kingdom. You need to go.”

Luffy wiped at his eyes, and then gently– so gently– lay Makino back down on the bed.

“No,” he said. “Woop Slap should tell Dadan to do those things. I’m not going back.” He sniffed.

“What?” said Makino. “Where will you go? You can’t–”

“I’m going to find whoever did this,” said Luffy.

Makino shook her head wildly. “No, Luffy, you can’t. You can’t. You promised Sabo, remember? You promised him. You’d set out when you were seventeen. You’re not even fifteen. You can’t go.”

Luffy shook his head, wiping his face roughly and standing. “Sabo would understand,” he said. “Ace will, too. No one gets to hurt Makino. And they really don’t get to hurt her when they’re actually trying to hurt us.”

Makino looked on the edge of panic. “Luffy, just wait. Wait, okay? Until Garp comes back, just until then. He’ll take care of this, you know he will.”

Luffy shook his head. “The man who did this wanted me and Ace. Not Ji-ji.”

“Luffy–”

Luffy turned to look at Woop Slap, who was watching him solemnly. “What did the man look like?”

Woop Slap watched him. Then he nodded. “He wore a white suit and a colorful mask on his face.”

Luffy wiped his nose. “Weird.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m going to kill him.”

Chapter Text

While speaking to Sengoku, a part of Ace had been thinking, They’ve gotta be on death’s fucking door by now, right?

He hadn’t even been born when the Roger Pirates disbanded, so it stood to reason that most of the remaining members were probably past their prime.

And furthermore, there couldn’t even have been that many left alive. Considering the lengths the World Government had gone to in order to kill Ace– who, notably, hadn’t yet been responsible for any piracy– surely by now most of the Roger Pirates had been taken out by the Government.

Something that Ace hadn’t anticipated was that fucking Shanks had been one of them.

It put him in a pretty awkward position.

Because he needed to thank Shanks for saving Luffy’s life, and he needed to turn Shanks into the Marines to save Luffy’s life. On top of that, Shanks was a Yonko, which made everything about a thousand times harder no matter what.

So, he decided to save Shanks for last.

Besides him, there still remained a dishearteningly large number of people. There was apparently the weird old man he’d met at the base of Reverse Mountain, a small-time thief pirate named Buggy who was back in the East Blue, and a few more recognizable names: Scopper Gaban, Fish-Man Sambell, Seagull “Guns” Nozudon, Two-Blade Taro, and “Dark King” Silvers Rayleigh.

It was the last one that Ace was a little worried about, for obvious reasons. Four of the latter five were scattered throughout the New World, and Silvers Rayleigh was apparently hiding out in the Sabaody Archipelago, of all places.

Well, whatever. Ace’s plan until Luffy turned seventeen– whenever he wasn’t being dragged around by the government– was to proceed as normal in his plans to surpass the legacy of the Pirate King.

He knew that burning Whitebeard’s flag back on Fish-Man Island had set his crew on an unstoppable trajectory to eventually face the man. That was why he’d done it. Nothing had changed.

So, he would continue through the New World as usual– just with a few pit stops on the way to take out a couple of geriatrics. Not a big deal.

It was at this point that Deuce walked into the room, and Ace knew his illusion of control was rapidly approaching the end of its lifespan.

“What did the Government want?” asked Deuce, leaning over Ace’s shoulder to look at the signal he’d just decrypted. It took him approximately two seconds to figure it out. “Ace, fuck no.”

“I can’t say no,” said Ace, immediately on the defensive.

“I know, but… seriously? They can’t ask us to do this! It’d be quicker to just run the Spadille into an iceberg.”

“We’ll start slow,” said Ace.

“There’s no such thing,” said Deuce. “They’re the only members of the Pirate King’s crew who are still alive. None of them are gonna be easy to take out.”

“Neither is Whitebeard.”

“Yeah, actually, about that–”

“Deuce, just trust me,” Ace pleaded, knowing he was completely undeserving of such a thing. Pressing down on him was the looming knowledge that he hadn’t told a single one of them what exactly the government was blackmailing him with, and neither had he told a single one of them just whose son their captain was. Deuce’s trust? He wasn’t worthy of it.

And Deuce might have known that too, but unfortunately, he was far too loyal of man to say it. He sighed. “Fine, Captain. So, we start slow. Where to first, then?”

Ace bit his lip, looking down at the page. Returning to the East Blue right now wasn’t feasible, as much as he’d like to. In the same way, sailing all the way back to Reverse Mountain was a pain and a half. And taking on Silvers Rayleigh wasn’t exactly the definition of starting slow. That left…

“Let’s start with Seagull Nozudon. He’s closest to where we are now.”

Deuce didn’t object. “Probably as easy as any other.”

Behind them, Kotatsu and Saber burst into the room, the cat’s chest heaving and eyes wide. Saber was laughing breathlessly. “Lock the door,” he wheezed, as though Kotatsu could do any such thing without opposable thumbs. “Hurry, hurry!” He cried, and then reached out and did it himself.

“Do I want to know?” asked Deuce.

“Er,” said Saber, turning to look at them with surprise. “Oh. Hi, Cap’n. Um, Deuce. Hey, if Mihar starts knocking at the door, don’t open it.”

“How are we supposed to know if it’s Mihar without opening it?” said Deuce.

“Maybe by the general vibe of pompousness that will start to leech through the door.”

Kotatsu sniffed indignantly at Saber, maybe for getting him involved, and then shoved himself into Ace’s lap. He was far too big, and his front paws ended up on the desk.

Ace let out a shuddering laugh, rubbing a hand down Kotatsu’s spine as Deuce and Saber argued. For now, at least, he still had this.

*

Somewhere across the sea was an island of pure white soil. It had high, treacherous cliff faces that kept ships from docking, and wouldn’t grow crops if any were planted.

It was on this barren island that the Revolutionary Army commanded its operations. Currently, the Chief of Staff sat watching three of the army’s commanders argue, one without raising his voice above a mumble, while their leader watched from the other end of the table.

“We can’t leave him behind,” said Belo Betty, her voice ringing with her influence. Sabo briefly felt the urge to stand and rally behind her before he managed to brush it aside. “He’s a member of our army. We can’t abandon our men!”

“That’s what armies do,” said Lindbergh, his nose twitching. “They leave behind fallen soldiers. Kiko knew what he was getting into. He’s not valuable enough for us to risk ourselves getting him back. It’s a matter of practicality!”

Karasu said something– Sabo thought he was agreeing with Betty– but it was indecipherable from behind his mask.

“You don’t think his insider knowledge of the Blackjack Pirates is valuable?” Betty asked, pulling her cigarette out of her mouth and exaggerating her incredulity.

“The Blackjack Pirates who, aside from him, are all dead?” Lindbergh bared his teeth. “No, quite frankly, I don’t!”

Sabo knocked his boots together beneath the table, and then groaned aloud. They all stopped and looked over at him. He thought Dragon was suppressing a smile at his dramatics, but he could never quite tell.

“This is so boring,” said Sabo, “and we’re not getting anywhere. How about, since I don’t care either way and I have nothing else to do, I just go and get him back? He might not know anything of value, but I don’t imagine its fun getting interrogated by Cipher Pol no matter what you have to say to them.”

Neither Betty nor Lindbergh appeared amused by his contribution, but before they could speak Karasu cleared his throat and the volume of his loudspeaker spiked.

“The legacy of the Blackjack Pirates does not end with him,” said Karasu. “Kiko believed that Blackjack had a son.”

Lindbergh sat back in his seat, recognizing his own defeat.

“So, he’s got some value after all,” said Sabo. “Doesn’t matter. The larger point is that I can, and I want to, and we have the time, so I’ll go and get him.”

Betty tilted her head at him, eyes unreadable behind her red goggles. “Thanks for your impassioned support,” she said dryly.

“Any time,” said Sabo, grinning cheekily.

Lindbergh snorted, and then sneezed adorably, his fingers sparking with electricity as he did. “Fine. It’s not on me, anyway.”

They all looked to Dragon to make the final call.

“Take Koala,” he finally judged. “And be careful, Sabo. Though tragic, it won’t mean the end of our operation if we lose Kiko to Cipher Pol. You are a different story.”

“Aye aye,” said Sabo, and went to find his friend.

Cipher Pol was a behemoth of an intelligence agency, almost entirely shrouded in shadow and mystery. On paper it was an auxiliary force to Marine Intelligence, but in practice served at the whim of the World Government. Supposedly it had eight branches, but as the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army Sabo knew that there were actually ten.

Notably, it had no defined base of operations. The question of where Cipher Pol would interrogate a revolutionary had no easy answer.

There was Mariejois to consider, where the headquarters of the World Government resided, but the Celestial Dragons lived there. Sabo figured they would keep something as unsightly as torture and interrogation far from the lavish "Land of the Gods".

More likely were one of the World Government’s three strongholds: Enies Lobby, Impel Down, or Marineford.

Luckily for Sabo, they had an agent on the inside. One of the Revolutionary commanders had been undercover in Impel Down for the past two years, and in that time had apparently acquired a deputy commander, started an Okama nation within the prison, and spawned a superstition on the fifth level about prisoners getting dragged away to hell. He’d also achieved a few more productive things– at least, according to his occasional reports– like the spywork and recruiting he’d gone there to do.

Emporio Ivankov was the man’s name, and as Chief of Staff, Sabo had been filing and collating his reports since the mission’s start.

It was because of this that he knew that individuals with potentially sensitive information did not go to Impel Down. If there was one thing the Government didn’t like, it was loose ends. Conducting interrogations in Impel Down was a fantastic way to let the guards, wardens, and other prisoners overhear anything you managed to dig up.

Iva-chan had also given a much-less detailed report on Enies Lobby from when he’d passed through it, and from this Sabo knew the island was effectively a figurehead, meant to reinforce status and create an aura of prestige and fear. Nobody stayed at Enies Lobby– they only passed through, as though descending into hell.

This left one possible location. A place where Sabo was Public Enemy No. 2, where between Kiko and freedom were the offices of hundreds of top officers, the three Admirals, and Sengoku the Buddha himself– not to mention the Cipher Pol unit that wouldn’t just let him walk away with their prisoner.

To get Kiko back, Sabo needed to infiltrate Marineford. To survive, he needed to do it perfectly.

He practically skipped down the hall.

Koala was going to kill him.

*

Luffy was quickly confronted with the unfortunate reality of his situation. Clearly, any enemy of Ace’s would be good enough to sail on the Grandline, so that was where Luffy needed to go. Unfortunately, Goa Kingdom was on the other side of the East Blue from the entrance to the Grandline. His arms would fall off if he rowed the whole way. And he couldn’t swim, so Luffy figured he wouldn’t be able to sail the Grandline alone anyway. He’d need someone to pull him out of the water.

Briefly, he considered forming his crew before giving chase, but he only had to remember Makino’s tear-streaked face to know that right now he didn’t have the patience to find and recruit his crewmembers the way that they deserved. One day, he would do it right. For now, he was on a mission.

So Luffy set out from Foosha Village at a run, heading back towards Mt. Corvo. His chest began to heave as he careened past the windmills and fields, barreling through the trees. He didn’t stop to say goodbye to the bandits, hoping that Woop Slap would make his excuses. He tunneled down faded foot trails, mostly grown-over and unused. He still remembered every twist in this path from the last time he’d used it almost eight years ago– still knew which roots to jump over and which stumps to kick off of to make the journey go a little faster.

Once upon a time, Luffy had chased Ace down this path again and again, for weeks on end.

It still led to the same place.

For the first time in years, Luffy cleared the boundary of the forest and looked out over the Grey Terminal.

He barely paused to take in the familiar piles of garbage and homeless people. It was as if there had never been any fire at all. He panted for air and pressed on.

As he continued to run, he caught snippets of conversation from the people he passed. They were all the same as they had once been– thugs or dumpster divers, coming out from Edge Town to scavenge or else actually living here among the trash. The occasional child and family, largely ignored by all in what was really an act of kindness. Washed up laborers or sailors who had once set out to achieve their dreams and had ended up here. Grey Terminal: where unwanted things went to die.

Luffy kept running. His legs were beginning to ache, and his arms were sore from pumping at his sides.

He made his way through the city gates into the slums of Edge Town. Here there were more families than thugs, but still a dangerous mix of both. As Luffy passed an alley, an arm shot out to stab him with a knife, and he jumped and evaded the blade more out of instinct than any real recognition of the threat.

Finally Luffy began to close in on his destination, bursting out onto the streets of Center Town. People shrieked at his sudden appearance, but he was beyond notice. Here, the buildings were nicer, the people wealthier. Luffy had nearly forgotten this, the way all familiarity and warmth seemed to fade the further into Goa he ventured, even as the number of street thugs decreased. He had never been here by himself before, and his skin prickled with chilly unease even as drops of sweat streaked down his face.

He kept running, making his way towards the docks at a breakneck pace.

At last, at last he slowed as his sandals began to slap against the wooden slats of the pier. He hunched over for a moment, gasping for breath after running here all the way from Foosha, but only let himself have a single moment.

When he straightened, he grabbed the arm of the first sailor he saw.

“Oi! Where is your ship going, oji-san?”

“What the hell!” the man said, jerking back.

“Answer me!”

“The Organ Islands,” the man said, frowning down at him. “Geez, kid, take a breath. You’re breathing like a racehorse.”

“Is that near the Grandline?” asked Luffy. “I need to get there!”

The man snorted. “Not quite, kid. And you won’t make it on the Grandline by yourself, anyway. You’ll be killed.”

Luffy released the man and grabbed another guy. “Oi, are you going to the Grandline?”

“What are you doing? Get off of me!”

“Are you going to the Grandline!”

“No, I’m going to Yotsuba! Piss off!”

The first man watched him get shaken off, scratching his chin. “Oi, kid," he called out. "You’ll be wanting to get to Loguetown to enter the Grandline, but that’s a long journey from here. I don’t know if there’s a ship leaving from here today that’s big enough to go the full stretch.”

Luffy frowned deeply. “How long of a journey?”

“Probably two weeks.”

Luffy’s mouth fell open in a gape. “What? I can’t wait that long! Woop Slap said it’s already been over a week since the mask-guy left!”

The man shrugged. “Sorry, kid. We’re all at the mercy of the seas. Even the nobility!”

At these words, Luffy narrowed his eyes and turned on his heel to stare towards High Town. At the center of the noble district, the Royal Palace towered over everything.

For the first time in years, Luffy had cause to remember the venom in Sabo’s voice as he spoke of the nobility– the way they looked down on everyone, did anything for their own pleasure, and used their status to force the world to accommodate them. Anything that could be beaten down, they beat it. What was Luffy supposed to do against a force of nature even they couldn’t bend to their will?

He hunched again to rest his hands on his knees, still breathing hard.

And then suddenly, as Luffy looked down at his feet, the world fell into darkness.

He blinked and looked up.

In the direction Luffy had been running from, coming now over the peak of Mt. Corvo, something was blocking out the sun.

The first thing he noticed about it was the massive, brightly colored balloon. It was red and yellow checkered, much bigger than Dadan’s house and maybe bigger than all of Foosha village, casting shadow over the whole of Center Town where Luffy stood.

Tied to the balloon and suspended in air beneath it was the white body of a ship, adorned by water wheels on its sides which spun in the air. It had a spout like a teapot sticking off the front end.

It was like if a pirate ship was even cooler, Luffy decided, mouth open and eyes shining.

Finally, he noticed the words in bold purple emblazoned on the side of the balloon, advertising to every person in Goa exactly whose airship was blocking out the sun. “WE NEWS,” Luffy read aloud, squinting.

“Holy shit,” said the man, who had come to stand beside him. “That must be the flying headquarters of the World Economic Journal.”

“So cool!” Luffy gasped, awed. “Who’s the captain?”

“Eh? Captain? Mm… I guess ‘Big News’ Morgans, probably.” The man glanced at him. “What are you doing?”

Luffy was squatting and stretching out his arms as he watched the airship come down the side of Mt. Corvo. Now it had to be passing over Grey Terminal, and any second it would be directly above Edge Town. It had taken Luffy so much longer to cover the exact same distance.

“Getting ready to launch,” he said in response to the man’s question.

“What?” said the man.

“Ne, oji-san,” said Luffy, ignoring the question, shaking out his arms. “You said even the nobles are at the mercy of the seas. Not this guy, though?”

“I guess not,” said the man, bemused.

Luffy grinned, ducking so that the grim of his hat covered his eyes. “Wakatta,” he said, and then stretched his arms out in front of him.

They stretched and stretched. His hands gripped the edge of the roof of the nearest townhouse, a building some four stories high that was at least thirty meters away.

Beside him, the man’s jaw was unhinged in shock, his eyes bulging out.

“Gomu-gomu…” Luffy said, leaning back on his heels. The wooden pier creaked beneath him, and Luffy let go. “Rocket!”

His body shot into the air at a hair-whipping speed, heading straight towards the ship in the sky.

*

“So, uh,” said Deuce, leaning over the Spadille’s railing to watch the anchor sink, “why do they call him 'Guns'? Should I just assume he’s excellent with a pistol?”

Skull laughed and shook his head. “It doesn’t mean firearms. It means his biceps.”

Deuce looked up with wide eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” said Saber, jumping down onto the dock. “I’ve heard about this– he’s apparently jacked. And his Armament Haki is master-class. Every strongman you’ve ever met who’s only good at Color of Arms is just copying his gimmick.”

Ace frowned. His crew didn’t have an excellent handle on Haki yet– he himself had only awoken it at Sabaody– but it figured a former Roger Pirate would be an expert. Ace had found his Observation Haki to be stronger than his Armament, which suited him just fine for this fight. If this guy was so good at Color of Arms, then there was no use trying to beat him at his own game.

“Let’s restock before we go looking for him,” Ace called, looking around at the sleepy port town. The coordinates Sengoku had given him were for a miniscule island near the Northern border of the New World, frankly too close to the Calm Belt for comfort. But apparently this was where Seagull “Guns” Nozudon had chosen to retire, and Ace would seize any opportunity to acquire more food.

“Aye-aye,” said Skull, joining Saber down on the pier.

“Maybe we should split up,” said Mihar from his perch on the rigging. “We could cover more ground. With the targets on our backs, we don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”

“Okay,” said Ace. “Then Skull and Wallace with me, and Mihar and Saber with Deuce.”

“What?” said Deuce, looking betrayed. What kind of prank Saber had pulled on Mihar yesterday, neither would say, but it was clear to all of them that nothing had been forgiven. Mihar smiled meanly and flipped his pistol in his hand, and Saber ducked pitifully behind the first mate.

Ace felt a little bad resigning Deuce to playing mediator, but at the same time… he grinned at the man bracingly. The two needed to make up sometime, and it wasn’t like Ace wanted to deal with it.

Deuce glared like he could tell what Ace was thinking, but turned to venture into the town, dragging Mihar and Saber behind him.

“Banshee,” Ace called. “I assume you’ll want to stay here?”

"You assume correctly," the mermaid called, already in the water beneath the ship. She let Ace extract a promise from her to watch over the rest of the crew who were staying behind.

Kotatsu, meanwhile, wound himself around Ace’s ankles like a massive eel and refused to be sent away, so it was as a group of three plus one giant lynx that Ace, Skull, and Wallace ventured off, heading the opposite way that Deuce had gone.

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” said Wallace as they searched for a market.

Ace glanced at him, having moved to carrying Kotatsu in his arms like a giant baby. Wallace was usually quiet, but when he did speak, it was with extreme gravity. “Like what?”

“Like someone knows we’re here for him,” said Wallace.

On Ace’s other side, Skull froze. “C’mon, man, that’s so creepy.”

Wallace shrugged. “I was thinking about what Saber said– that this guy’s Armament Haki is famously good. But, surely, if he was such a famous pirate, he was also pretty decent at the other kind? Maybe that’s the trick.”

“The trick,” muttered Ace. Frankly, he was tired of tricks. In his opinion there was nothing wrong with a good, straightforward brawl.

He closed his eyes and focused on his own Observation Haki. His brows furrowed as he focused. For some reason, he was having more trouble than usual– like he was trying to move through a wall of mud, or hear one voice through a wave of sound. But Ace had been practicing, and eventually he could hear, like the ringing of little bells–

His eyes snapped open. “Fuck.” He dropped Kotatsu to the ground.

“What?” said Skull, reaching for his sword.

“I don’t know about Guns, but someone else definitely knows we’re here,” said Ace. “There are four hostile presences, strong. On the other end of the island. Maybe looking for us?”

“Shit,” said Skull. “Deuce’s group–”

“Let’s hurry,” said Ace, and the four of them lunged forward, about to start running– and then found themselves frozen completely, mid-air and mid-step.

“Now, wait,” said an unfamiliar voice, deep and rumbling. “You came looking for me– you can’t walk off now.” For the first time, Ace noticed that the streets they had wandered into were deserted. He couldn’t move his body even an inch to look for a speaker. “I admit I'm curious. The fish-man almost sussed me out right from the start! And you– you just forced your way right through my Haki. That takes a lot of willpower. I guess that much makes sense about you, given whose son you are.”

Ace would have tensed, if he could have. Fuck! He hadn’t expected that the former Roger Pirates would recognize him as the man’s son– though, maybe he should have. Damn it all! He still hadn’t told his crew anything about his identity, or about his brother, or why he’d consigned them all to die in an attempt to destroy the legacy of the damn Pirate King. And here they all were anyway, following him to their deaths without knowing a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck!

Ace couldn’t blink, but in the time it would have taken, a looming figure appeared in front of him. And holy shit, ‘jacked’ was an understatement. Seagull “Guns” Nozudon had more muscle definition than any bodybuilder. His arms were the size of cannons, and one of his pecs was broader than two of Ace’s whole torso. The man’s skin was darkened by the sun all over, and on his head was a strip of a mohawk that had been buzzed down to a fine fluff and dyed bright pink.

Guns looked down at him with a grin.

“You look exactly like your mother, Portgas D. Ace!”

Ace's brain stalled. "My mother?"

*

By the time they found the market, Deuce was good and sick of his friends. Normally they were all pretty tolerable, except when they were trying to read his journal, but right now they were being truly insufferable. The trouble was that Mihar was only ever happy to do things in his own way, at his own pace, in his own neat, precise, clean manner. Saber, of course, was only ever happy to trample all over that, whether it was with one of his ill-timed pranks or a crude word or gesture. Individually, Deuce liked them just fine. Together? He’d rather be babysitting the ship.

But goddamn it, Ace expected him to fix this mess.

“So what happened yesterday?” Deuce asked, mercilessly interrupting a cutting retort from Saber. They each huffed and shut up, and he rolled his eyes. “So, I’ll just start guessing. Saber walked in on Mihar in the showers and saw his dick. Other way around? Something sexual and perverted happened and now it's awkward–”

“Stop,” said Mihar, eyeing him with disgust.

“Oh, good, I was running out of ideas. What, then?”

Saber stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “I was just joking around! He didn’t find it funny, so okay, fine. I won’t joke like that anymore.”

Mihar did not appear satisfied by this. “I want you to apologize to the person you were joking about.”

Deuce raised an eyebrow. So this was not actually a personal issue for Mihar– he was defending someone else.

The two of them stared at each other, Mihar narrowing his eyes with something approaching real scorn, and then Saber finally broke. Looking highly uncomfortable, he turned to Deuce and inclined his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just having a laugh about– the page we read in your journal on Sabaody. My bad. I won’t do it again.”

Deuce kept his expression blank while he absorbed this. In some ways, he’d already made his peace with the whole affair. He'd always had some difficulty with reading and writing, despite his passion for it. When the crew had found and read part of his journal on Sabaody, he'd expected the laughter. Given that he was chronicling their journey, he'd decided the best revenge was misrepresenting and give stupid pseudonyms to everyone who’d been involved. But Mihar, he now recalled, had not laughed– and clearly did not take the matter lightly. Deuce supposed that made sense, considering the man was a former teacher.

It warmed him from the inside to be defended by Mihar even when he wasn’t around. But the fact of the matter was that Deuce needed to be able to command respect on his own as the first mate, and by now, any continued tension over the incident did more harm than good.

He sighed in irritation, putting a hand on each of their arms and pulling them apart. “Okay,” he said. “Mihar, I appreciate it, but I don’t need anyone jumping in to defend my honor. Saber, if you’ve got something to say to me, say it to my face.”

There was a pause as they both seemed to take this in.

Then Saber, who had been looking down at the ground, suddenly straightened his spine and met his eyes. “I– I really am sorry, Deuce. I didn’t mean it like– I don’t have any problem with you. I didn’t mean to cause an actual issue, especially in a place like this, and– I think you’re a good first mate. I won’t say that shit again.”

Deuce considered this, internally marveling. That had been a better response than he’d expected, and he found himself replying genuinely: “Thank you, Saber. I appreciate that.”

Saber’s shoulders sagged with relief. He glanced over at Mihar, who for his part had already been looking away with a mask of disinterest, apparently over the whole affair. Scrutinizing them, Deuce tentatively declared this one problem solved.

“Right,” he said. “To work. We’re subdividing the labor. Mihar, please handle the leafy and seedy things. Please don’t forget citrus, last time Cornelia almost died of scurvy.”

Mihar grunted his assent, tromping off to one of the stalls.

“Saber,” Deuce said, “go get some meat. You know how much Ace eats. Tell the vendors we run an orphanage for starving children, I don’t give a damn. Try to get a good deal.”

“Sure,” Saber said, and went the other direction.

Deuce watched them go and then sighed, turning and heading straight for an expensive-looking stationary stall he’d noticed, feeling he deserved a reward for his excellent vice-captaining. “Geez," he muttered to himself. "Of course Ace gets ‘yes, cap’n’ and ‘aye-aye,’ while all I get are grunts and one moody little ‘sure.’ And after that impressive display!”

“I know what that’s like,” said a dry voice next to him as he leaned in to examine the wares. “Never any respect for the second-in-command.”

“Thank you!” said Deuce, distractedly rifling through a canister of delicate looking quills. “And earlier, Ace could clearly see that they were being bitchy for no goddamn reason and sent them with me anyway, because of course he thinks I’ve got infinite time and patience for petty little fights.”

A hand came into his field of view from beside him, and as Deuce continued to vent he absently watched it pick up a pen and flip open one of the expensive-looking journals. It drew a steady line down the middle of the page, and then one going across it. And then, on top of the crossing lines, a little upward facing arc...

Deuce’s mouth snapped shut. There was a sadistically amused air to the silence next to him, and the hand set down the pen and closed the book with a thump. The body it was attached to leaned in.

Without looking up, Deuce backtracked, staring intensely down at his own frozen hands and praying that he hadn’t revealed too much. “Uh, I take it back. My brave and handsome… unnamed captain… is full of righteous honor and wise decisions… uh, and fiery strength… and I greatly value the trust that my captain puts in me…”

“Best quit while you’re ahead,” the man next to him advised.

Slowly Deuce turned to face Marco the Phoenix, First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. The man’s drooping eyelids and tilted smirk, the hands stuffed casually into his pockets, all gave the impression that he was relaxed or amused by the situation.

But their eyes locked, and Deuce knew better. The man’s gaze was icy cold.

Chapter Text

Ace gaped up at the giant man before him. “What?” he said, shocked when his mouth actually moved and produced sound. He immediately tried to wiggle the rest of his body free, but no– it seemed like it was just the face. “My– You knew my mother?”

“Well, of course!” said Guns, rubbing a hand over his buzzed head. “I mean, you know what your parents had to do to have a baby, right? So, I ran into her a few times. And that face of yours— you couldn’t be anyone but her son!”

Ace could feel his cheeks burning. Of all the tragic, bloody scenarios he’d envisioned when preparing for their first real encounter with a Roger Pirate, becoming violently embarrassed by commentary about how his parents had conceived him had never been one of his concerns.

Next to him, he vaguely registered Wallace raising his eyebrows in astonishment, and he couldn’t see Skull’s face from the direction his head pointed. Kotatsu hissed from right behind him, helpfully letting him know that she was okay.

Ace breathed out harshly, centering himself. So he had been caught off guard, fine, but this didn’t actually change much. Guns hadn’t explicitly named his father yet– Ace just had to take him out before he did.

The only problem was the damnable curiosity building in his gut. Gramps barely ever talked about either of his parents. Roger was one thing– Ace hadn’t wanted to know. But Portgas D. Rouge… Ace had killed her. Didn’t he owe it to her to know more than just her name?

He shook himself off. He had a job to do here. Luffy’s life was on the line. So, fine, clearly Guns was not the geriatric Ace had secretly hoped he’d be. Whatever. None of it mattered.

“So, that muddy feeling that blocked my Observation Haki was you?” Ace said, fishing for an explanation. “You said I forced my way through it.”

“Mhm,” confirmed the giant man, seeming content to stand there and watch them. “I’m famous for my Color of Arms, as you may know, but the truth is that I’m a master of both types of Haki. I’ve always thought my real talent lay in my unique usage of those abilities. For example, people talk about the skill needed to completely hide your own aura from Observation Haki users– rarely do they talk about the benefits of amplifying your aura.”

“You were using your aura to deafen me,” Ace realized, scowling as he recalled the struggle he’d had Observing anything at all. “It was like I was trying to hear someone talking from across a room, and you were yelling in my face."

“It’s how I’ve been trailing you for several blocks without notice,” Guns agreed. “No matter where I am physically or what I’m doing, my presence is so amplified so greatly that you won’t be able to sense anything more than its sheer weight. Truly, it is impressive that you still managed to clock a threat on the other side of the island.”

“And why can’t we move?” Ace grunted. Clearly, given by the fact that he could now move his face to talk, it was a power that Guns had some level of control over.

“Ah,” said Guns, crossing his beefy arms and grinning. “Now, that’s a different trick. What you’re struggling against is a little maneuver that uses both my Color of Arms and my Color of Observation. Nobody I’ve fought against has ever figured it out. It’ll keep you right here until I decide what I want to do with you.”

Ace bared his teeth, feeling sour and condescended to, and took things into his own hands. “We’ll see about that.”

He sunk into his own Observation Haki. He’d always pictured it like a kind of sonar: a wave of energy which swept outwards from the user and highlighted the presence and movements and intentions of others. At the moment, all the feedback he was getting was overloaded by the sheer magnitude of what he now knew to be Guns’ aura.

But Ace had muddled through it once already, and set out to do it again.

Beneath the sheer intensity, he could feel hints of Guns’ emotions. He was a little amused, a little curious, a little focused. Ace followed that last thread. Guns was using both types of Haki, fine, but to do what? What was he focusing on? He tried to look deeper, but couldn’t manage it. Guns’ obstructing Color of Observation was too dense.

“Interesting,” said Guns, evidently feeling Ace push against him. “Your mother was crap at Color of Observation, I have to tell you.”

Ace faltered, distracted from his goal.

“Ace,” Skull hissed behind him. “Ignore him and focus.”

But Guns continued: “It was your father who was really the expert.”

Ace huffed and grit his teeth. The man didn’t get to say that. Ace had liked his Observation Haki, and had been proud of his skill at it. Guns didn’t get to ruin it this way.

“Are you going to kill me?” Guns asked curiously. “I can sense in your aura that you mean to try.” He tilted his head. “You know, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw your wanted poster. I didn’t think I’d ever see a Portgas sail the Grandline again. And then you became a Shichibukai! I didn’t know what to think. But seeing you up close, there’s no question who you are.” He laughed. “This big world continues to surprise me!”

I didn’t think I’d ever see a Portgas sail the Grandline again. Ace couldn’t suppress his own desperate interest. Had his mother been a pirate, too? A strong one? A good one? What kind of life had she lived?

Ace could also sense the rising interest of his crewmates behind him, which helpfully replaced his own unwanted curiosity with gut-churning nausea. He wanted them to stop staring at him. He wanted Guns to shut up. He wanted to stop wanting to know.

He tried to shut it all out. Fuck Roger, fuck Guns, fuck all the secrets. He was a captain and his crew was in danger, which meant he had a job to do. To get out of this trap, he needed to know how it worked. To see how it worked, he needed to break through Guns’ Observation Haki. He closed his eyes and heeded Skull's urging: focus.

*

Marco was not a sadistic man. He didn’t enjoy the pain and suffering of others. He had joined one of the most merciful pirate crews on all of the Blues. His whole shtick was healing.

But at the end of the day, Marco was still a pirate.

Masked Deuce’s eyes dilated in fear, and Marco couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up.

This was the crew that had burned their flag. Any pirate would understand the level of insult that had been delivered– clearly, even Masked Deuce understood the gravity of it, going by how quickly he’d recognized the jolly roger Marco had scribbled. It was an offense leveled at Marco's very sense of self, at everything and everyone he held dear. He could do anything to the Spade Pirates now, and in the eyes of the sea he would be justified.

His eyes flicked up as a wave of Seagull Guns’ distinctive Haki swept over them from the other side of the island. It was unfortunate that this was the first place they’d been able to trace the Spade Pirates to, but it couldn’t be helped. It shouldn’t be a problem, at any rate— Guns had no business with these kids. He should be content to stay out of their way. Most likely, the threatening tides of Observation Haki that Marco could still feel were just a warning in case the Whitebeards tried to attack him or lay claim to the island– a declaration of intent to defend what was his. The Whitebeards would respect that.

It had been a long time since the Whitebeard and Roger pirates had fought against each other, and longer still since they'd been true enemies. Their longstanding mutual respect wouldn't be disregarded on a whim.

Marco reached out to grab Masked Deuce by the shoulder. It would be best to gather up the Spades and deal with all of them at once, so they could be sure they hadn’t missed anyone and really drive home the message they were sending.

But before Marco’s fingers could touch the man, a bullet ripped through the air. Marco’s head erupted into blue fire as the bullet passed harmlessly through the direct center of his forehead, and the interruption gave Deuce the second he needed to duck and start running.

Marco ambled after him, not particularly alarmed, clocking the sniper who’d just tried to take a shot at him. The man was crouching on the other side of a fruit stall, hidden from view but easily sensed. Marco let it be.

He did, after all, have some friends of his own.

*

It became clear to Ace very quickly that if there was a correct way to fight Guns’ unique Color of Observation, this was not it. Earlier he had managed to push through the oppressive shroud to identify the powerful presence of four people on the other side of the island, but Ace suspected that had more to do with the intensity of their auras rather than his own power. Just now he had managed to sense the barest hint of what Guns was feeling, but as he continued to exert effort he got the feeling that trying to see anything more precise would be about as easy as walking through a brick wall.

Guns appeared disconcertingly pleased by his fruitless efforts, laughing as Ace kept pushing and pushing. Ace thought furiously as his attempts failed, anger brewing in his chest. He was on his own in fighting this guy. Neither Skull nor Wallace had yet gotten the hang of either kind of Haki, each having managed little flickers of Color of Arms, but nothing sustainable.

What Ace really needed was one chance, one slip of his opponent’s attention that would allow the obscuring aura to fade … Observation Haki only worked when the user was calm, focused, and determined. If Guns had distracted Ace by talking to him, it stood to reason that Ace could do the same.

The only problem was that there was hardly anything Ace wanted to hear the other man say.

“So,” he tried, still trying to uproot the other man’s Haki like a troublesome weed, “you seem surprisingly vital, for a man your age. What’s that about?”

The key, Ace thought, would be keeping the conversation away from anything sensitive.

Of course, Guns ruined that by saying, “I imagine it’s the same kind of power that let your mother keep you in her womb for so long. Of course, in doing so she over-extended its potential, and it killed her.”

Ace’s composure fell to pieces again. He growled, and still his fingers didn’t even twitch.

This wasn’t working. Guns knew too much about him— his crewmates were depending on him and witnessing this and watching him fail— and Ace didn’t have the strength to beat this man’s Haki, just wasn’t strong enough yet.

“Is that all you’ve got?” said the giant of a man, apparently sensing it as Ace gave up his strategy. Guns sighed in disappointment and raised his gigantic fists. As he cracked his knuckles, Armament Haki flared across his skin, dark and diamond-hard. “It’s a shame. I’d looked forward to meeting you. I’d hoped you would be something special. At least your parents, when they went out, had things they were dying for.”

Ace spat at the man. There was a rolling fire raging in his chest. What had Roger died for? His sins? To leave his lover behind with a target on her back, hated and hunted by the world? Ace’s mother died for something as regrettable as bringing him into existence. Sabo died in the pursuit of a dream he had never fulfilled.

Dying for something was useless. Death was only ever an end.

“Motherfucker,” Ace snarled, feeling the air around him supercharge. “I’m not going to die.” Ace couldn’t die here. He hadn’t made his life mean anything yet. He hadn’t become worthy of everything he’d been given. He still had debts to pay.

If Ace died, Luffy would be all alone in the world. Ace had promised him.

Guns shook his head. “I can feel your aura flickering like a candle’s flame. You burn, and soon enough you’ll either burn yourself out or get snuffed. You won’t last. But I feel responsible for you in a way, so don’t worry.” He took a step forward and pulled back his fist. At his side, Skull let out a primal noise of fear. Kotatsu howled, and what Ace could see of Wallace’s expression showed him a grim resignation he had never seen on him before. “I’ll finish you here, for your father’s sake, before you learn that there are worse ways to die.”

Ace set his jaw. He still couldn’t move, and he still didn’t know why— but it didn’t matter. Guns was right about one thing, at least. Ace did burn.

“I’ll not like him,” Ace said, determined to get the last word– determined to fight. “I’ll never be like him. He died like a dog and it meant nothing. I’ve got something to live for.”

And then with a strained yell he dredged up every scrap of his own power– this time, not his Haki, but his Devil Fruit ability. Around them all, the air turned hot enough to waver before his eyes. The weeds growing around the stones beneath their feet dried up in an instant. The mud caked on his shoes crumbled to dust.

Ace caught the barest hint of a frown on Guns’ face, and then he ignited.

*

Haruta ran along the rooftops, following Thatch as the man chased the Spades’ sniper through the streets. It might have been overkill to bring four Division Commanders for something like this— but their family did their best work together.

Ahead of them, the Spades’ sniper was fleeing like a rabbit, shooting back at Thatch as he turned corners.

The bullets were easily dodged, and the time it was taking the man to fire meant that Thatch was gaining on him. Elsewhere Jozu was chasing down the third member of the group they’d seen. Ahead of them, Marco was undoubtedly handling Masked Deuce with ease.

This mission, like most, was a matter of persistence hunting. It was rare that Whitebeard Commanders were challenged in skill. Haruta allowed himself a smug smile just as the sniper finally misstepped— in the unfamiliar streets, he’d driven himself into a dead-end.

Thatch pounced. The sniper tried to fight, at least. Haruta thought he saw a flicker of Armament Haki, but it fizzled out— bullets were flying in the close quarters, but Thatch was too quick to be hit— the sniper went for a knife at his hip, and by the time he had palmed it Thatch had one of his own knives at the man’s throat and was using the other to neatly disarm him.

“Come along,” said Thatch sunnily. “I won’t kill you at least until we’ve all made it to the rendezvous point, so let’s not spill unnecessary blood.”

Haruta darted off across the rooftops, figuring Thatch had the situation well in hand. He found Jozu just in time to watch the third target— a dual-wielding swordsman, by the looks of it— swing both of his blades directly into Jozu’s neck.

For a moment, the man appeared stunned at his own success. And then Haruta watched as he registered the lack of blood and the diamond gleam spreading over Jozu’s skin.

Jozu’s grin was mean as he slammed a fist into the side of the man’s head, knocking him out. He looked up, having sensed Haruta’s presence above him, and offered an idle salute in acknowledgment.

The four Division Commanders made the rendezvous point in less than five minutes. When Haruta and Jozu arrived, Thatch was sitting with his legs crossed on top of the hog-tied sniper, cleaning his knives. Jozu dumped the unconscious swordsman into the dirt at his feet. Marco walked up to them with one of Masked Deuce’s hands cuffed to one of his own— normal steel cuffs that he could flame out of in an instant. For the moment the Spades’ first mate seemed to have decided to take the path of least resistance, allowing himself to be led. Haruta doubted they had seen the last of his fighting spirit, though— his eyes were hard and resolved. His free arm hung awkwardly at his side, clearly having been broken.

Marco glanced around at them, and then nodded. “Haruta, where’s their ship docked?”

“South side of the island,” he reported. “Lightly guarded, thirteen people on or around it. Besides these ones, there are three more unaccounted for, including Fire Fist.”

Marco turned to Masked Deuce, shaking their attached wrists to ensure he had the man’s attention. “Where’s your captain at?”

“I don’t know,” said Deuce immediately, keeping his eyes up.

Upon hearing his voice, the sniper beneath Thatch twisted around to be able to see them.

Marco tilted his head. “Are you sure?” His hand closed around Deuce’s unbroken arm, clearly a threat.

“I’m sure,” said Deuce, without hesitation.

Marco searched his eyes and appeared to decide it wasn’t worth it, because he let go without doing any damage.

But he immediately turned and placed his sandaled foot on the leg of the unconscious swordsman, and that made Deuce freeze.

“I’d prefer not to have to go looking,” Marco explained. “This island isn’t our territory, and the person it belongs to won’t like us poking around too much.”

Deuce’s expression tightened at those words, betraying his anxiety. So they knew, then, whose island they had docked at. And that made Haruta curious.

This island was small. It was out of the way of anything, only a few kilometers from the calm belt. Sea kings were frequently seen off the northern coast, and it didn’t have much to offer in terms of natural resources, so visitors were scarce. Most of its goods were imported from sailors who had been born here and left to make a living for their families.

Haruta couldn’t picture how the Spade Pirates had ended up here unless they’d wanted to, and he could only think of one reason that would make them want to come.

He stepped forward, stealing Deuce’s attention.

“What do you want with Seagull Guns?” Haruta asked.

Marco tensed at the words.

So did Deuce, and far more obviously, clearly revealing Haruta’s conclusion to be true.

“Answer him,” Marco threatened, leaning his weight onto Deuce’s unconscious friend.

“Our captain is a Warlord of the Sea,” Deuce bit out. “What he does isn’t the business of a Yonko.”

Jozu snorted. “Whitebeard’s business is whatever he decides it is. You think the government will defend you in a fight against us? They’ll replace you as easily as they did Crocodile.”

“They had better defend us,” Deuce bit out, “seeing as we’re here in an official capacity.”

What? Haruta’s thoughts raced. He thought the Marines had given up on taking in the remaining Roger Pirates almost twenty years ago, when Scopper Gaban had sent five Vice Admirals’ ships back to Marineford with their whole crews dead— infamously the only failed Buster Call.

Surely if the Marines wanted Fire Fist Ace gone that badly, they could decapitate him and be done with it.

“He could be lying?” Thatch offered.

Jozu loomed over Deuce. “Last chance for the guy on the ground. Where’s your captain?”

Deuce’s jaw worked visibly.

“Deuce,” said the sniper urgently. His dark glasses were cracked, revealing intense eyes. “If Saber were conscious, he wouldn’t want you to—“

“He’s not conscious,” Deuce snapped. “And since Ace isn’t here, he’s my responsibility.”

The sniper opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could Thatch rolled his eyes and gagged him with a wad of cloth. The man began to thrash, nearly throwing Thatch off of him.

“Woah,” said Thatch, his voice soothing even as he moved his knife closer to the man’s neck. “Calm down, now.”

He kept thrashing. Thatch couldn’t hold him still, and at one point his knife dipped dangerously close to the man’s jugular.

“Mihar, stop moving,” Deuce said, voice harsh. “That’s an order from your vice captain.”

Mihar slumped. His chest heaved from exertion.

Deuce rose his eyes to meet Marco’s.

Haruta would admit to being a little impressed by the sheer balls. At the very least, it was clear that Fire Fist had gathered a loyal crew.

“If I tell you,” said Deuce, “will you let us all see him before you kill us?”

“Yes,” said Marco.

Deuce nodded. “We headed in opposite directions. He’ll be on the other side of the island.”

Haruta glanced at Marco. So much for not going poking around.

*

There was a bad feeling growing in Marco’s gut as they set out to find Fire Fist Ace. Jozu carried the sniper and the swordsman on his shoulders, and Deuce trailed along behind Marco, still attached to him by the wrist. Haruta and Thatch trailed behind, teasing each other childishly– a clear sign of their boredom.

When they left the market and entered the side streets, the air pressure dropped abruptly. Marco’s ears popped, and Thatch cursed colorfully. A blistering wave of hot air crashed into them.

The Whitebeard Commanders simultaneously broke into a run towards the source. Deuce stumbled along behind Marco for several paces before getting with the program.

Marco’s thoughts were racing. Clearly there was some kind of face-off happening up ahead of them– but why would Fire Fist have picked a fight with Seagull Guns? Was he seriously here on the Navy’s orders? He almost couldn’t believe that they would try to go after the Roger Pirates again, after all these years.

They reached the site of the conflict just in time. Marco burst around a corner to see Seagull Guns with his arm pulled back for a punch and coated in his infamous Armament Haki, his eyes narrowed as he examined his target. The target in question was Fire Fist Ace— shorter than Marco had expected, and exactly as baby-faced as his bounty poster portrayed him— with an absolutely furious expression. He, along with two of his crewmen and a large cat, appeared to be caught in Guns’ distinctive entrapping Haki. As far as Marco knew, it was an ability that only Seagull Guns had ever mastered. Powerful, unique, and without explanation. He'd seen it stall armies in their tracks.

For a split second, Marco experienced a profound frustration that Fire Fist had managed to piss off Guns before the Whitebeards could get to him. They were about to watch the kid die in front of them.

And then Fire Fist seemed to self-immolate, and simultaneously the air around him and all of his trapped crewmates turned to flame.

Masked Deuce screamed.

And then Guns actually stepped back, and the fire dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

The Spade pirate with the skull mask was yelling, patting himself down and dancing around frantically, though somehow he looked unharmed. The fish-man’s chest was heaving as he examined his own body, also unburned, and the large cat looked like it was trying to press itself into the pavement, yowling all the while.

“Holy fucking shit,” Deuce swore.

Fire Fist was grinning, and there was an unholy light of dawning realization in his eyes.

In the chaos, it took Marco a moment to understand what had just happened— and then he realized. The Spade pirates who had just been trapped by Guns’ unbeatable Haki were now moving. Whatever Fire Fist had just done, it had forced Guns to loosen his grip.

Guns stared at Fire Fist, and then actually laughed, running a hand over his buzzed head.

“What the hell just happened?” asked the skull guy, wide-eyed.

“I used up the air particles,” said Ace, still grinning ear-to-ear. “That’s it, isn’t it? Your trap. You use your Observation Haki to pick out tiny oxygen particles in the air, and then harden and manipulate them all at once with your Color of Arms. You have them press against your target with enough force to keep them frozen in place. Nearly unbreakable because the force pushing against you is everywhere, too small to see. Heat excites air particles, and makes them harder for you to control. And fire— fire uses oxygen as fuel.” His teeth glinted. “I ate your trap up.”

Marco wasn’t often shocked, but this had done it. If Fire Fist’s explanation was true, it would certainly explain why nobody else had ever mastered the ability— the amount of concentration and power it would take to weaponize air particles, and on a scale large enough to stop a person in their tracks, much less an army— frankly, it was the kind of insanity that he had come to expect in all his years of knowing the Roger Pirates, but Marco still would’ve called it impossible if it weren’t for the fact that Guns wasn’t denying it.

No, the man was still just laughing.

“Ace!” yelled the skull guy. “You just set us on fucking fire!”

“No, I didn’t,” Ace scoffed. “I control fire. I wouldn’t let it touch you.”

The skull guy didn’t appear very comforted by this.

“Ace!” yelled Deuce.

Fire Fist’s face snapped up, and then he registered the presence of the Whitebeard Commanders and his captured men. Marco could almost feel the way Ace’s eyes traced the jolly roger on his bare chest.

And then the man grinned. “All this for me?” It was a surprisingly vicious expression, considering that he was now cornered between some of the strongest members of the two strongest crews in the world. “Deuce, you shouldn’t have.”

“I hate you so much,” said Deuce, but he was already moving— moving away, Marco realized with a start.

Evidently, at some point during Marco’s distraction, Deuce had picked the handcuffs. Marco cursed his own lowered guard and flamed his own hand out of the shackles as Deuce sprinted towards his captain, slugging the man in the arm when he got close.

Fire Fist tolerantly let it happen, and then stepped towards the Whitebeards, flames igniting all down his arms.

“I bet nobody has ever faced down four Whitebeard Commanders and a Roger Pirate at once,” said Ace. “Or if they did, they didn’t live to tell the tale.”

Finally Guns stopped laughing. He crossed his arms forbiddingly. Marco was getting that bad feeling again. “You shouldn’t get cocky, firecracker. You got lucky with my trap– most people can’t spontaneously burst into flame– but that trick is far from my only strength. And should I dare to hope that you did your homework on the Whitebeard Pirates before pissing them off?”

Marco saw Deuce shoot his captain a dirty look.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” said Fire Fist, cracking his knuckles. “The only thing that matters is that I keep moving forward. I can’t die here, so I won’t.”

Guns laughed again. “Now, that’s an attitude that reminds me of a man I used to know. But I don’t think it’ll get you very far as you are now.”

“Shut the hell up,” Fire Fist snarled, looking abruptly furious again.

“Luckily for you,” said Guns, ignoring the kid, “you’ve put me in a sentimental mood.”

Marco’s bad feeling solidified in his gut as Guns stepped forward– not towards Ace, but towards them.

“You’ve still got some bad times coming your way,” said Guns, his Armament Haki flaring up his arms again. “You’re burning bright and fast, Ace, and soon enough you’re going to find yourself in a fight you can’t win. But it won’t be against me, and it won’t be today, and I guess that’ll have to be enough.”

“Fuck,” Haruta muttered at Marco’s side. He was vaguely conscious of his brothers bracing themselves and grabbing their weapons, but most of his mind was occupied trying to figure out how this had happened. Marco had to have missed something, a hidden layer of meaning or an implication– something that explained how Fire Fist could possibly have endeared himself to the man that was just trying to kill him.

No answer came readily to mind.

Guns met his eyes. “It’s been a while, Whitebeard Pirates. Should we fight, for old time’s sake?”

*

The grass under his feet was wet. The air was sweet like cotton candy, the sky was a stunning aquamarine, and the trees towered over him like great, green giants.

Garp hated this fucking place.

He walked up the steps to the bar, Bogard just behind him. The building’s swinging door easily admitted him entry, and the first tap of his shoes against the wooden floor carried the energy of a threat.

The woman behind the bar set down her drink and looked up from her magazine. She examined them, and then smiled. “Is this a raid?”

“No,” said Garp.

“Then, can I get you something to eat?”

“Not with what you’d charge.”

Her smile didn’t falter. They stared each other down for a single, tense moment.

“Then what do you want, Monkey?”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He comes and goes.” She picked her magazine back up.

Garp huffed and sat down at the bar. Bogard leaned back against the bartop next to him, facing the door.

“Crocodile’s been spotted in the Settan Archipelago,” she said absently.

Garp grunted. “I don’t care about that punk.”

She smiled down at her magazine. “I know.”

He sighed. “You know about the new Warlord?”

“Yes. Fire Fist.”

“That isn’t his name,” said Garp.

She stared past the magazine now, eyes unseeing. “Portgas D. Ace,” she muttered, and then shook her head. “Of course I know about him.”

Garp nodded.

Bogard watched the door.

“Where is he, Shakky?”

She drained her glass. “Try the casino in Grove 7.”

Chapter Text

Luffy smacked face-first into the balloon that carried the massive airship and immediately began to fall. Quickly, before he could land in one of the towering piles of trash far below, he stretched his arms to grab onto the railing of the top deck and swung himself aboard.

“Woo-hoo!” he yelled, leaning down to look at the Goa Kingdom below him. He was higher up than even the towering skyscrapers in High Town and the tallest point of the royal castle. He was higher than even the tallest tree in the forest and the peak of Mt. Corvo. “So cool,” he marveled, stretching out his cheeks to catch as much wind in his mouth as he could.

The moment didn’t last long. Behind him there were thundering footsteps, and as Luffy turned he was already grinning, preparing himself for the familiar thrill of a chase.

This was something he had never fallen out of practice at.

He found himself surrounded by several men with handguns, all wearing dark jackets that were emblazoned with the letters ‘WEJ’ in a bold purple.

“Where did you just come from, kid?” one of them asked cautiously. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed a ride,” said Luffy. “Where’s your captain?”

A different man snorted. “You don’t get an audience with the boss just by asking. Trespassers get forcefully removed.” He gestured meaningfully with his gun.

Years ago, when Luffy and his brothers had still frequented the Grey Terminal, they had sometimes faced people with guns. He hadn’t seen one in years, but he still remembered how his skin had caved in against the sudden intense pressure of a bullet, Sabo and Ace both screaming as it was rebounded.

Luffy grinned. These men had nothing on him.

“You wanna see a technique I’ve been practicing for eight years?” he asked, and let his arm stretch. “Gomu-gomu… pistol!” he called, and when his arm snapped forward it was with enough force to slam the man who had threatened him onto his back, leaving him lying face up on the deck. Luffy staggered back against the recoil when his arm retracted, and he frowned. He still hadn’t learned to brace himself properly.

“What the hell!” yelled one of the men.

“He’s got a Devil Fruit!” called another.

They shot the first bullets, which bounced harmlessly off of Luffy’s skin.

“Gomu-gomu whip!” he called, swinging his leg out without aiming. It bowled over a whole line of guards, sending them to the ground.

The yelling increased in pitch, and Luffy began to run, a laugh bubbling out of him.

They chased him around the upper deck. He bowled them down whenever he had the chance, leaving them winded and clutching their jaws or ribs. Whenever he changed direction he took the opportunity to launch himself forward and clothesline whoever had been trying to corner him.

“Shishishi,” he giggled. He hadn’t had fun like this since Ace had left! The animals in the forest were strong, but fights against them had been getting easier and easier. This wasn’t exactly a challenge, but it was at least something new.

Finally Luffy found a trapdoor into the main body of the airship, and slipped inside without hesitation.

He dropped down into what looked like a cafeteria, and immediately his stomach growled.

“Food!” he exclaimed, and launched himself into the nearest seat.

Around the room, conversation slowly stopped as people noticed him and turned to stare. They were all dressed nicely, with top hats and suit jackets or else dresses and heels. Some carried notepads or cameras. Luffy stared back at each of them, shoving a whole lamb leg into his mouth.

Then the hatch he had just shut opened again, and guards started streaming into the room.

“Get him!” one guy yelled. “Pin him down!”

Luffy stood and prepared to flip the table he sat at, stuffing legs of lamb into his pockets, but an imperious voice froze all movement in the room before he could.

“What is going on here?”

Luffy tracked the question to a figure standing in the doorway of the cafeteria, and his eyes doubled in size. “Ne, you’re a bird!” he said. If possible, the room got even quieter.

The guy was a bird, though. He stood like a human, wore a cape and a top hat, and even shoes– but he was very much a bird. He was covered head to toe in feathers, and the mouth from which he had just spoken was actually a beak.

“I am well aware,” said the bird guy, sounding annoyed. “I ate the Tori Tori no Mi. Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?”

The people scattered around the room swiveled their heads between him and the bird guy. Luffy blinked wide eyes. “Your ship? Are you the captain, bird-guy?”

“My name is Big News Morgans,” said the bird guy with cool, exaggerated calm. “I am the CEO of the World Economic Journal– and yes, the captain of this ship.”

“Shishishi!” Luffy giggled. “Great! I need to get a ride with you to the Grandline.”

“You haven’t told me who you are or why I shouldn’t just have you pitched off of the top deck,” the bird guy drawled. “The only people that get rides on this ship are people that work for me.”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy,” Luffy declared. “And I’m going to be the King of the Pirates. I don’t work for anyone.”

More silence. A muffled giggle from an onlooker. The bird guy somehow gave the impression of having raised an eyebrow when he had none.

“Is that so,” he said. “Monkey, you said? Are you by any chance related to Vice Admiral Garp?”

Luffy nodded. “He’s my grandpa.”

“Interesting,” said the bird guy. “And you want to be King of the Pirates.”

“Ne, I said that,” said Luffy, annoyed. “But, bird-guy, you ate a Devil Fruit? So did I! Only mine didn’t turn me into a bird.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” said the bird guy dismissively. “There are only so many different models of the Tori Tori no Mi. One of the heads of the guard in Alabasta has one, and of course the infamous Marco the Phoenix… so, what is the power that you possess?”

“He stretches,” said one of the guards with audible contempt.

Luffy grinned and stuck a finger in mouth, pulling out his cheek to demonstrate. “I’m a rubber man!”

“Fascinating,” said the bird guy. “So, I repeat, rubber-man. You want to be the King of the Pirates, but as it stands you’re nowhere close. Why should I keep you on my ship?”

“Well, you can’t kick me off,” said Luffy, with what he thought was a reasonable point. He took another bite of lamb.

The bird guy smiled coldly. “My guards might not be able to,” he allowed. “They’re hired help, after all. But you’re not the only person on this ship with a Devil-Fruit power.”

Luffy studied the other man for a moment, and then he grinned. “You would fight me, bird-guy?”

“My name is Big News Morgans,” the man said again, assured and dangerous. “You are nothing before me, Garp’s grandson or no.”

Luffy shook his head. “You won’t stop me, Miggins. I need to get to the Grandline to find the mask-guy and beat him up. He hurt Makino, and Ace doesn’t even know about it.”

The bird guy stilled, his head cocking like a real bird’s. “Ace?” he asked, voice on the edge of something dangerous as he zeroed in. “As in Portgas D. Ace? Fire Fist?”

Luffy paid no notice to the tone. “My brother.”

“Fire Fist Ace is… your brother?” said the bird guy. “And Garp is your grandfather?”

“Yeah,” said Luffy with clear disinterest, picking his nose.

“I see,” said the bird guy. “Very well, then.”

Luffy looked up.

“You can stay on my ship, Monkey D. Luffy. I’ll take you to the Grandline.”

Luffy’s whole face brightened. “Thanks, Muggy!”

“It’s Morgans. And in exchange, you have to give me something.”

“What, then?”

The bird guy smiled, open-mouthed, a long tongue peeking out past his beak. His feathers ruffled behind him, betraying his excitement.

“A scoop,” he said, “on some very big news.”

*

Deuce’s internal monologue was rapidly becoming unintelligible as he watched Seagull Guns square up against the Whitebeard Commanders. His one broken arm hung limply at his side, throbbing with pain, and he wanted nothing more than to retreat.

Ace, of course, was only firing up in front of him, somehow slighted by Guns choosing to ignore them where any normal person would have been relieved.

He was opening his mouth to yell, and Deuce could already see how poorly this was going to go, so he reached out with his good arm and elbowed his captain in the side. Before Ace had the chance to recover, Guns moved, darting forward to slam his Haki-darkened fist against Diamond Jozu.

Deuce flinched, overly aware of Mihar and an unconscious Saber on Jozu's shoulders as the man’s body bent forwards around the impact. His whole body went stiff and reflective, but it was clear that the hit had landed hard. He slid back several feet, leaving skid marks in the dirt, and hacked up blood. Slowly, he set Deuce’s crewmates on the ground and straightened.

Deuce marveled. Diamond Jozu was named literally— his whole body was made of the hardest material on the planet. But it was clear that Guns’ Color of Arms wasn’t infamous for nothing. He may not have cracked Jozu’s hard surface, but he had landed a brutal hit despite it.

“It’s been a while since our last fight, Jozu,” Guns grinned. “I have sincerely missed it. You put up a good fight.”

Jozu bore his teeth. “Normally, I would say the same. Unfortunately, today we’re a bit busy.”

“Too bad,” said Guns, without sympathy. “I’ve decided to give these fledglings a chance. Call it a rare glimpse of my humanitarian streak.” Without looking, he ducked a flying kick from Haruta, and the man flew past him, landing at Jozu’s side.

Ace stepped forward again, about to make a mistake, and again Deuce stalled him by putting a hand on his arm. “Ace,” he hissed. “We need to take the chance he’s giving us.”

“I don’t run from fights,” Ace spat, exactly as Deuce had known he would. He needed to be careful with how he framed this. Any insinuation of cowardice would have Ace planting his feet here until they all died.

“Ace, the Whitebeard Commanders took all three of us down without breaking a sweat,” he said, lifting his broken arm for emphasis. “You might be able to take these guys,” though he sincerely doubted it, “but the rest of us won’t be able to back you up. And I’m worried about Saber. I didn’t see how he got knocked unconscious, but it’s possible that he needs immediate treatment.”

Ace shook his head. “So take everyone back to the ship, and I’ll stay here and fight. We burned their flag, Deuce. That’s a declaration of war for a pirate. We can’t run now, or we’ll lose face.”

Better than losing their lives, Deuce figured, but did not say.

In front of them, Marco the Phoenix landed a solid hit against Guns with his wicked talons, sending the man lurching backwards before he regained his balance. Thatch vaulted up off of Jozu’s shoulder, flying through the air with knives flashing. This attack, Guns blocked– by catching Thatch in one giant hand and throwing him back the way he’d come.

Deuce bit his lip. “He's choosing to fight for us.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that!” Ace hissed.

“But if you ignore it now, we’ll lose face,” Deuce insisted, trying to use his logic against him. But Ace wasn’t really a creature of logic, and it wasn’t going to be enough.

“This is my job, Deuce,” Ace grimly. “We knew what it would entail going in. I’m a Warlord, and Sengoku gave me this task. I’ve got to do it.”

“Look, can we at least focus on retrieving Mihar and Saber before anything else?”

This, even Ace had to grudgingly admit, made sense. They assigned Skull and Wallace the important task of protecting Kotatsu, and then darted around the edges of the conflict.

Jozu and Guns were locked in a trial of pure strength, pushing against each other in a clash of willpower. Jozu was using Haki, too, Deuce noticed– and though it couldn’t be as strong as Guns’ Haki, his diamond skin would give him an edge.

Marco flitted around Guns’ head as the man’s arms were occupied with Jozu, and Thatch and Haruta darted forward to slash at his legs.

For a moment, Deuce thought they had him, and waited for their savior to come crashing down– but then Guns changed his grip on Jozu and took advantage of the other man’s momentum, pulling back as Jozu pushed forward and sending the man flying into the air, on a collision course with Marco.

The First Division Commander managed to catch Jozu, lowering him gently to the ground as Thatch and Haruta’s heads were knocked together by Guns' giant fists. Deuce and Ace finally reached Mihar and Saber.

Mihar, still conscious, was struggling against his bonds. Deuce tore the gag from his mouth and used his knife to cut the man free. Ace was cradling Saber in his arms, slapping gently at his face but failing to wake him up. When Deuce caught his eye, his expression was troubled.

“He’s bleeding from the head,” said Ace, and Deuce cursed. He hadn’t been overly serious about Saber needing immediate help, more hoping that the implication would motivate Ace to retreat, but it seemed that he had jinxed them.

There was a sudden itch at the back of Deuce’s mind, and he looked up. Haruta was standing in front of them, sword now an inch from Deuce’s face. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding like it. “We still have business with you. That guy’s head wound is the least of your worries.”

Ace’s arms were busy with Saber, but flames still flared across his shoulders. He snarled, and Deuce prepared to hold him back, but in the next moment it became unnecessary.

Guns appeared behind Haruta, exposing his back to the rest of the Whitebeard Commanders. Deuce saw what happened next coming from a mile a way– and surely, Guns must have seen it coming, too.

Guns extended one giant hand to grab Haruta around the middle, yanking the much smaller man away from their huddled group and slamming him into the ground. At the same moment, Thatch came flying towards his exposed back, and Deuce’s eyes were stuck on his vicious expression as he sunk his knives into Guns’ broad back and dragged them down the length of it.

Guns’ expression twisted, but he didn’t let Haruta go. Deuce scrambled to his feet and pulled Ace up by his bicep, trusting Mihar to follow. Letting Guns guard their retreat, they pulled back to where Skull and Wallace stood.

Once they had gotten out of range, Guns released Haruta and spun around, but Thatch had already moved away. In the next second, Guns had to dodge a flying kick from Marco, and the fight started up in earnest again.

“We need to leave,” said Mihar, face grave. “Guns has given us an opportunity.”

Ace said nothing, his face tightening as he looked down at Saber’s still figure.

“Ace,” Deuce said urgently. “We need to go. Guns just took that hit for us.”

“I know,” Ace snapped. “Just give me a second.”

Deuce waited for his verdict. It was true that Ace had become suddenly and weirdly serious about doing what the Government asked of him– the whole crew knew that something was up, and they had agreed to go along with whatever their captain needed for however long it took. But this was different. Deuce knew it, and Ace knew it, too. Taking the opportunity that Guns was giving them was no longer just the smart move– now, it was a matter of honor.

There weren’t any rules in the world of pirates. Pirates pillaged and killed and lied and betrayed. But all except the most heinous of pirates still had their honor. In a world without rules, you lived and died by a code of honor. And someone taking a debilitating hit for you in the heat of battle– that wasn't the kind of sacrifice that go unacknowledged.

And Guns had done it so that they could run away.

Ace was being tied down and blackmailed by the Government– Deuce had accepted this, even without knowing the details. He hadn’t argued (much) when they had first started on this hopeless quest. But no matter what the Government had on him, no matter his personal feelings on Seagull Guns, Deuce couldn’t imagine his captain abandoning who he truly was, at his core.

He waited for Ace’s verdict, but he already knew what the man was going to say.

“We’re not going after Guns,” said Ace. “There are other Roger Pirates. We’ll go after them instead.” Deuce breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Ace shook his head. “But Deuce, there’s still the Whitebeard Pirates to consider. I issued them a challenge. I can’t just back out of a fight.”

“They're not exactly trying to fight us right now, if you hadn’t noticed.”

This was true. At the moment, all four were tied up against a barrage of Guns’ Haki-coated fists, moving almost too fast to see. The Whitebeard Commanders were blocking and dodging at the same fast pace, but it was taking all their attention. Nobody was looking at the Spades.

“We need to go now,” said Deuce. “This is our best chance.”

Still, Ace hesitated.

“Ace,” said Skull urgently, gesturing to Saber.

Ace looked down at the man in his arms.

“We need to move,” said Mihar, resolute.

Ace was the captain, but the three of them were his top officers. They were his friends. And they were all telling him–

“Fine,” said Ace. “Let’s go.”

*

Before dawn, just off the dark waters of the Florian Triangle, inside Paradise, a girl floated on a tiny paddle boat. Travelling via paddle boat on the Grandline was suicide, but she wasn’t going far. Her target was already in sight.

A routine Marine patrol ship was just north of her, within range of the SOS signal that her Den Den was putting out.

Sure enough, the ship turned towards her. When it got close enough she began to wave and shout.

It was a Vice Admiral Duro who pulled her aboard, already looking down at her with a suspicious eye as she was checked over by a medic who was armed with a flashlight in the pre-dawn.

“Why the hell are you out on the Grandline in a paddle boat?”

The girl’s face scrunched up like she was about to cry, and she began to spin her story. “My crew got torn apart by a terrible pirate in the Florian Triangle. I don't even know what kind of power he had! Just before dusk, some of my crew had started to burn in the sun! What does that?”

Duro’s expression froze on neutrality. Clearly, this man knew exactly who she spoke of, and also knew just how little he could do about it. There would be no Marine ships sent to fact-check her sorry tale.

“I was the only one to escape,” she continued pitifully. “Our captain had already been torn apart by— by— some creatures that moved slowly and looked weird and smelled wrong, like humans but not— and then the rest of us were being picked apart by some kind of ghost, or— or maybe a Devil-Fruit user who could turn invisible, I guess—” It was best not to sound too hysterical— “I was the only one who managed to grab a lifeboat and escape.”

“I’m sorry,” said Duro. He was convinced. She had, after all, sprinkled in some highly specific details. “That must have been very difficult. Rest assured, we will launch a full investigation into this matter. The deaths of your crewmates will not go unavenged.”

Even as he spoke the lie, he had a sympathetic expression, fully committed to comforting her with his empty words.

She leaned past the probing hands of the medic, intentionally exposing her back as she turned a pleading expression on Duro. “Please, sir, would you be willing to ferry me to the next island?”

“Hey,” said the medic, shining the flashlight on a tear in the back of her shirt. “You’ve got a nasty gash here. This’ll need stitches.”

Duro nodded. “We’ll take you to the next island, don’t worry. In the meantime, why don’t you head down to our med-bay for some treatment?”

“Okay,” she said breathily. “Thank you.”

She let herself be escorted to the med-bay, and proceeded to wait.

It was several hours later when she finally made her move. There were several nurses and Marines on duty, and she narrowed in on a young ensign with red hair like her own and a scruffy beard. He was perfect.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you escort me to the bathroom?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide with surprise, and then caught up to her request and nodded.

They stepped into an empty hallway.

It was a matter of moments to have him unconscious on the floor with her Fish-Man Karate.

She quickly dragged the soldier into a nearby closet and began to switch their clothes, and then reached into her pocket for a syringe.

This would be uncomfortable, but nothing she hadn’t experienced before. Inside the syringe was a dose of Iva'chan's gender-changing hormones— one of several hundred doses that they kept on ice back at Headquarters— and it was strong enough to change a person’s gender permanently until a counter-agent was administered. She bit her lip and injected herself, waited out the uncomfortable change, and then raised her hand to inspect the new auburn beard that had grown on her chin.

A little longer than the scruff of the Marine she had kidnapped, but good enough. Her new body filled out the uniform perfectly. Nobody would look too close.

Satisfied, she dragged the Marine out onto the deck, pushed him overboard, and screamed. It came out deep and manly from her newly-altered vocal chords.

Vice Admiral Duro arrived in under a minute, asking for a report, and she didn’t let herself misstep.

“The girl just burst into flames,” she said, affecting a guilty and bewildered expression. “As soon as we came onto the deck, she was on fire. I panicked and pushed her into the water.”

“It’s morning,” said Duro, drawing the conclusion she had carefully led him to. “It’s a shame. I guess she didn’t escape with her shadow, after all.”

They watched the body sink.

“It’s no use trying to save her,” Duro said. “As soon as we pull her out of the water, she’ll light on fire again. She’s done for either way.”

“How awful,” she said.

“We won’t bother to report this,” said Duro. “There’s no use. And it’s for the better, at any rate. We would’ve had to make a detour to drop her off somewhere. We’re expected at Enies Lobby within the day.”

“Yes, sir,” said Koala, tamping down her smile.

*

Skull leaned against the railing of the Spadille as it cut through the water, heading away from Seagull Guns and the Whitebeard Pirates and towards the setting sun.

The fight this afternoon had been far too close of a call for his comfort, and he could’ve happily gone the rest of his life without knowing what it was like to think you were being burned alive, but there was something else keeping him from ruminating on those horrors.

He found himself occupied by the very strange dynamic between Seagull Guns and Ace. Their conversation had awkward, and revealing. Somehow, Guns had known both of Ace’s parents. Guns had sailed with Ace’s father, which meant– Ace’s dad had been a Roger Pirate.

But even considering what that conclusion could account for, the entire interaction had carried very strange undertones. Guns had acted like he owed Ace’s father an unpayable debt. The man was clearly dead now. And what had Ace said? That he had died like a dog.

Beyond the obvious revelation of Ace’s daddy issues, another realization itched at Skull’s brain. He almost didn’t want to believe it.

But what had Ace always told them? That he would surpass even the Pirate King.

Skull had never thought anything of it. Rookies probably said that kind of stuff all the time.

But in light of the fact that Ace’s dad had been a Roger Pirate… when he considered the massive shadow that so obviously hung over Ace at all times, even as he fought with every waking moment to grow beyond it…

Skull shook his head. If it was true, he knew why Ace hadn’t told them before. But things were different now. They had entered the New World. They were facing unprecedented dangers. They were actively hunting down the Roger Pirates and being hunted by the Whitebeard Pirates. The whole crew had accepted that Ace was being blackmailed by the Government into becoming a Warlord– they had accepted it, agreed to trust him, decided to support him however he asked.

What was something like this, in comparison? This was nothing at all.

It was with these thoughts circling in his mind that Skull cornered Ace in the men’s barracks and asked him point-blank.

“Is Gold Roger your father?”

Ace seized up like Skull had put a gun to his head. A gun that shot seastone bullets.

He hastily continued: “Because, if so, I’m cool with it. It’s fine. Not a problem.”

Ace just stared.

“I just figured, with what I overheard today… and also, the Government has been weirdly interested in you from the start…”

At this, Ace’s face contorted in desperate anger. “The Government wants me because of what I’ve achieved, not because of my fucking father.”

“I know,” said Skull. “Your bounty and your reputation— that’s all you. But they way they chased you down to make you a Warlord… they don’t hunt down other super-rookies like that, Ace. They’re trying to use you. I’m sure you know.”

Ace had frozen like a prey animal, or perhaps a predator about to pounce. Skull couldn’t yet tell.

“It’s fine, if he is,” said Skull. “Ace, I don’t give a damn. I just wanted to tell you… I don’t think the rest of the crew will care, either. I mean, after all we’ve been through? And frankly, they deserve to know. We’re behind you all the way, Ace, no matter what. I just want you to understand… that you can tell us the truth.”

And then he left the room, because Ace was starting to give off sparks.

Deuce found him hiding in the crow’s nest an hour later.

“What did you say to him?” he asked, heavily exasperated. “He’s in a mood.”

“I just told him about a hunch that I had,” Skull muttered. “It’s not my place to say.”

Deuce sobered and carefully examined him. “A hunch, huh. Something you thought of earlier today?”

Skull eyed him warily. “Yeah, I guess.”

The first mate looked out at the endless dark sky. “Was it about his father?”

Skull flinched and turned to stare at him, but Deuce didn’t look back. “You know?”

“I’ve known,” said Deuce. “I think I knew before we even left the East Blue. At the beginning… he was more paranoid about it. He was more obvious. He’s starting to act more like that again, now. It’s getting to him. He knows he can’t hide it forever.”

“Should I have kept my mouth shut?” asked Skull. “I just thought… how could he think we’d let it bother us?”

Deuce shrugged. “It did bother me a bit, at first.” Skull side-eyed him, and Deuce gave him a rueful smile. “I got over it. You know how Ace is. He’s just… himself. He’s an idiot. And he’s the best person I’ve ever met. How can I give a damn who his father is, after everything?”

“Yeah,” Skull sighed. And then—“So, how long do you think I should hide up here?”

Deuce laughed. “Give it at least a day.”

Chapter Text

Marco sat with his arms and legs crossed on the armchair of Pops’ giant chair. His brow was furrowed as he listened to Haruta and Thatch recount their mission to their father– explaining how, inexplicably, Seagull Guns had chosen to guard the Spade Pirates as they escaped.

“It was so weird,” said Thatch, laughing– eternally cheerful. Of course, he had earned this particular moment of levity– of all the Commanders, he’d landed the biggest hit on Guns. Marco would bet that the Roger Pirate would have scars down his back from Thatch’s knives.

“Yeah,” said Haruta, sounding far more annoyed. “It was like– one moment, Guns was going to kill them before we could, and the next, he was fighting us. I’d get it if he was pissed at us for intruding on his island, maybe– but why should he defend Fire Fist Ace? He’s never been interested in newcomers before. He didn’t even seem to care about actually defeating us, just stalling for time. He ended the fight and retreated after Fire Fist’s aura escaped the range of our Colors of Observation.”

“Seagull Guns,” Whitebeard mused. “I haven’t seen him in almost fifteen years, now. He was always a sensible lad.” His face hardened. “Still, no matter his reasons, if he can’t understand why we must make Fire Fist answer for his actions, then he’s let himself go in recent years.”

Marco privately agreed. It was one thing to take a liking to a rookie. God knew that Pops did it often enough, and usually it ended in the rookie being assimilated into the Whitebeard crew– but even Whitebeard knew not to mess with matters of honor between other pirates.

“What bothers me is what the first mate said,” said Jozu, sitting with crossed legs by Pops’ feet. “He mentioned that Fire Fist had come to see Guns in his capacity as a Warlord. And before we got there, it didn’t exactly look like a friendly conversation.”

“At first I thought it was an idiotic move on the Navy’s part,” said Haruta, clearly thinking something over. “Obviously, Fire Fist has no chance of taking down any of the Roger Pirates. It seemed like the most convoluted execution plan I’d ever heard. But now… something made Guns decide to fight for Fire Fist instead of killing him. Maybe the Marines know what it is.”

“Troubling,” said Whitebeard, but his voice made it clear that his mind was far away. Marco frowned, and his father glanced over at him, sensing his own troublesome thoughts. “Marco, what’s bothering you?”

“This is a matter of pride for us,” said Marco, unfolding his legs and jumping down from his perch. “It reflects badly on you as a Yonko if we can’t squash an arrogant upstart– even if he is a Warlord of the sea, and even if he is trying to kill the Roger Pirates.” He turned towards his father and kneeled. “Please let me take charge of chasing Fire Fist down. I’ll admit that… I’ve become interested in him. I want to see this through.”

Pops looked down at him, and then his rumbling laugh began to spill out of his chest. “Gurarara! You have my permission. But I don’t want you going after him alone. Clearly, there is a danger in underestimating him.”

Marco nodded, a faint smile spreading across his lips. “Of course. What other use is there in having so many brothers?”

Thatch made an offended noise behind him. “Uh, the joy and love we bring to your otherwise dark and lonely life?”

Marco hummed noncommittally, and Whitebeard laughed.

“Marco,” said a familiar voice as he stood, and he turned to see Rakuyo step forward from the watchful crowd on deck. “Will you take me with you this time? Chichi’s been restless recently.”

Rakuyo’s weapon, named Chichi, currently hung limply at his side. But Marco did not doubt that his brother’s words were true.

“Sure,” he said. “It’ll just be the two of us, then– the Spades have had enough of a head start that we’ll need to fly to catch up to them, and I can only carry one person on my back.”

Rakuyo spat out the toothpick he’d been chewing on and grinned. “That’s fine by me. Do we know where we’re going?”

“Yeah,” said Marco, looking out at the sea. “We know what Fire Fist is doing, so we know exactly where he’ll go. The Marines aren’t the only ones who know where to find Roger’s old crew.”

*

The Moby Three docked gently at the coral beaches of Fish-Man Island. At the helm, Jimbei watched as the Whitebeard Pirates of the 10th and 11th Divisions crowded the railings, waving down to the mermaids and fish-men who’d come out to greet them.

At the bow of the ship, Kingdew stood with his arms crossed and his cape fluttering behind him. Curiel was perched in a crouch on the railing nearby, spinning one of his pistols in his hand.

“Let’s do this,” Curiel called back to Jimbei, and jumped to land on the beach below.

Kingdew followed, holding a massive flagpole. He thrust it into the sand, and then turned to the assembled citizens and raised his voice. “Now and forever, Whitebeard’s flag flies on Fish-Man Island!”

The assembled crowd cheered. The Whitebeard Pirates were well-liked on Fish-Man Island— they had proven faithful in their promise of protection many times over.

“That’s just the start,” Jimbei warned, wading ashore. “The real trick will be getting the message to sink in. If you wait a day, you’ll see. The upstart pirates that come through here have been out of control ever since that kid burned your jolly roger. It hasn’t been like this in decades.”

Kingdew nodded. “Then we’ll stay for as long as it takes for them to get the picture. With our flag planted here, it is our duty to defend this place.”

Jimbei nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “The royal family will likely send at least one of the princes out to greet you.”

Curiel tilted his head. “You won’t be here?”

Jimbei scowled. “No. I’m going to catch up with Fire Fist.”

“I thought you couldn’t attack a fellow Warlord,” Curiel said, lowering his dark glasses to meet Jimbei's gaze. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin. "I'm sure you've chafed against that rule many times."

“I can’t,” said Jimbei, displeased, ignoring the man's teasing. “But I want to see this matter closed, in any case. I can’t touch him, but I want to be there to ensure the message sinks in.”

Curiel laughed. “Best hurry, then. Depending on who was sent after him, you might not get the chance!”

*

Ace sat hugging his knees up in the crow’s nest of the Spadille, ostensibly on look-out but really just brooding.

He hadn’t spoken to Skull since the man’s abrupt confession, and still didn’t really know what to do about it. He’d always known that Skull was a smart guy, despite his lack of prowess in battle– but he’d never anticipated this. He was now a part of the very short list of people who knew Gold Roger’s son lived– a list that was growing larger all the time. Ace, Luffy, Garp, Dadan, now Skull– and, of course, Kizaru and Sengoku and whoever they had seen fit to tell.

If Ace had gotten his way, he would’ve happily taken the secret to his grave. That was clearly not an option anymore.

What he was really having trouble wrapping his head around was Skull’s reaction to the knowledge. He hadn’t tried to kill Ace– maybe he’d known that he wouldn’t be able to. But he hadn’t even told anyone else, as far as Ace could tell. He hadn’t even tried to run. And he’d said–

I’m cool with it. It’s fine. Not a problem.

Not a problem, Ace thought, annoyed. Like it wasn’t the whole reason the Government wanted to make him a Warlord in the first place, as Skull had so helpfully pointed out. Like it wasn’t why their whole crew was suddenly on a suicide mission to take down the Roger Pirates.

Because it wasn’t enough that Ace could endanger people all by himself– making enough of a ruckus on the Grandline that the Government had gone looking for Luffy in effort to control him– no, he also had to be the son of the most heinous pirate who had ever lived.

Clearly, miraculously, Skull was one of the few people on the planet who didn’t have a personal grudge against Gold Roger. Fine. Stranger things had happened.

But even he had to acknowledge how much danger Ace had put them in just by being related to the man. Ace could now see that it had been the height of arrogance to assemble a loyal crew without telling them just who they were following, dragging them out to the New World and provoking a Yonko with the naive assumption that his parentage would always stay perfectly hidden.

Of course the knowledge had made its way into the hands of the Government. Of course it was putting the people Ace loved at risk. He never should have expected otherwise.

This was what Ace did to other people just by existing. He was too dangerous to be allowed to live. This was what it meant to be Gold Roger’s son.

If Skull couldn’t see that now, then he would soon.

Ace could feel the guillotine swinging lower and lower over his head.

He was on the clock now. Too many people knew too much. Very soon, everything he had built for himself would all come crashing violently down.

He punched his palm. Whatever. That just meant that Ace had to achieve his dreams that much faster. And he had to be ready to be all alone again when he was done. By that point, it wouldn’t matter. When he had defeated Whitebeard and taken out the Roger Pirates and told the Government to go fuck itself, then the whole world could know just who Gold Roger’s son was. He would be the strongest and most dangerous man in the world. His crew could leave him and run to the ends of the earth. People could hate him because of the things he had done, and not his father.

Maybe then he would be able to protect Luffy.

Ace stood, looking down over the railing of the crow’s nest. The snoring of his crewmates rumbled throughout the whole ship.

If he was going to end up alone when this was all done, then there was really no point in continuing to drag his crewmates along with him.

And... maybe he could keep them safe this way. Ace was the one who’d burned Whitebeard's Jolly Roger, not his crew. Ace was Gold Roger’s son, and no one else.

If he left, they would be free.

He jumped down from the crow’s nest, landing lightly and ducking into the main cabin. Spread out on the desk was the map he and Deuce had sketched back when they’d first gotten the coordinates of the Roger Pirates from Sengoku. The next closest was two days of sailing away.

But the Striker was much faster than the Spadille.

Ace grabbed the map and slipped out of the room again. He kept his log pose tied around his wrist, and didn’t feel bad about it. The crew had picked up an Eternal Pose to the Majiatsuka Kingdom back on Sabaody– they would be okay.

Without letting himself look back, Ace revved up the Striker. He pushed his hat down over his eyes and sped off over the waves, into the night.

*

Scoping out the casino was a simple matter. It involved Garp being the loudest person in the building, letting Bogard melt back into the shadows. With his commanding officer drawing all eyes, his reconnaissance was the work of minutes.

Silvers Rayleigh wasn’t in the building– but he had been recently. Clearly documented in a locked filing cabinet in a backroom was the large debt the Dark King had managed to rack up at this place, as well as the dates and amounts of all of his payments. Just two days ago he’d been here, though it appeared he’d been digging his hole of debt deeper instead of digging his way out of it.

Bogard didn’t make much of that. They all had ways to fill their time.

But it meant that something had gotten the man sidetracked, since he hadn’t made his way back to Shakky's in the intervening days.

He slipped back into the main room and found Garp just as the man finished eating the casino out of stock. Bogard caught his eye.

“Well,” Garp announced, laughing. “No use sticking around if you’re out of food.”

“We weren’t before you came in,” the bartender muttered, and then visibly regretted it.

Garp paid him no mind, standing and strutting out of the building. Bogard stepped in behind him as though he’d never left, and muttered a report on what he’d found.

“Hm,” said Garp, scratching at his beard. “Suppose he could’ve gone off with a conquest— Shakky’s not the jealous type. Did you pull the files on who else was in the casino that day?” Bogard handed them over wordlessly, and Garp scanned the list. “Ah,” he muttered. “That name– Gize. Sound familiar?”

“One of Peterman’s lackeys,” Bogard acknowledged. “Silvers would stick his nose into something like this. I assume, since we’ve already gone AWOL, that we’re not about to let Marine restrictions against interfering with the slave trade stop us?”

Garp grinned massively. “You know, I’ve been hoping for a chance like this for years.”

*

Ace made landfall in the Sakarin region by day break, but it took him until the afternoon to find his way to a town. His stomach was eating him alive, and he made his first order of business finding lunch.

He kicked his legs as he sat at a stir fry stall, waiting for the vendors to fire up their stoves and watching the townspeople go about their days. In the distance, a large mountain towered above them all.

“Say,” he asked the lady behind the counter. “Does anyone live up there?”

She looked where he was pointing. “On the mountain?” she said. “Not really. Someone goes up there every other day to pick vegetables, and the kids sometimes play there, but it's too steep for building houses. And further up it gets too dangerous.”

It was possible that Ace was overly-partial to the idea due to his wayward childhood spent training on a mountain, but he thought that sounded like a good place for a former Roger Pirate to spend his time.

He nodded distractedly, and then something bumped into his legs. He looked down in surprise.

A little girl was hiding behind his shins, peering over his knees. He followed her gaze down the road to where a boy about the same age was watching them in return, holding something behind his back and clearly hesitating to approach.

Ace hid his smile. “Are you hiding from someone?” he asked the girl.

“Uh-huh,” she said, “my brother.”

“Oh no,” he said. “He’s chasing you? What for?”

She pouted. “He’s trying to put a frog down my shirt.”

The woman behind the counter poorly hid her chuckle.

“That’s horrible!” said Ace, recalling the many times he and Luffy had stuffed frogspawn down each other’s shorts. Frankly, one grown frog sounded easier to deal with. “But you’re using me as a shield? What if he decides to put it down my shirt, instead?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. “You’re not wearing a shirt, dummy.”

“Oh,” Ace grinned. “That’s right.”

“Now, what’s going on here?” asked a much deeper voice. Ace looked up to see a man with coiffed gray-blonde hair standing in the road. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and had a pair of goggles hanging around his neck, and he hauled a big cart full of bamboo shoots. He looked down at the young boy with visible amusement. “What’s that in your hands, Paul?”

The boy– Paul, apparently– startled, and then a grin split his face. “Kotaro-san!”

“Kotaro-sama!” said the woman who was making Ace’s stir fry.

“Good afternoon,” the man called back.

“Is that your haul for the day?” the woman asked. The girl at Ace’s feet took the opportunity to climb up onto the seat next to him, and he steadied her as she swung her legs around.

“Yes,” said the man. “Would you like the first pick?”

The woman smiled and turned to Ace. “How would you like some bamboo shoots in your stir fry?”

He grinned. “I would like that very much.”

“Put that frog down,” the man was saying to Paul. “You’re bothering your sister. What would your mother say?”

The kid grumbled and followed the man closer to the food stall. The girl beside Ace stuck out her tongue, and he poked her in the side.

“Come on, quit that,” he said to her. “We’re calling a truce. No tongues, no toads. Do you want some of my stir fry?”

“Yes!” she cried, wiggling in place.

“Then be nice, or you won’t get any.” He stuck his own tongue out at her. She gasped.

The man laughed. “He knows your weakness, Lisa. Best do as he says.”

“This is Kotaro,” the woman introduced, selecting bamboo shoots from the man’s cart. “I mentioned him– he picks vegetables on the mountain and sells them in town.”

“And these troublemakers are Paul and Lisa,” said Kotaro, patting Paul on the head. “Their parents work down the road.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ace said, bowing as best he could while sitting. “My name is Ace.”

“It’s very good to meet you, too,” said Kotaro, strangely sincere.

Discomfited, Ace just nodded and turned to Paul. “My brother and I used to chase frogs together. Did you find yours all on your own?”

“Yeah, down by the creek,” said Paul, lighting up. “Lisa says it’s gross.”

“I agree with her,” said the woman behind the counter, turning around to serve Ace his food.

It was his turn to light up. “Thank you very much,” he said, clapping his hands together. He was about to dig in before he remembered Lisa, and begrudgingly turned to the girl. “You get one bite, okay?”

She giggled, took one bite, and thankfully surrendered the fork back to his open palm. Then he dug in.

The woman watched him eat with visible amusement, not seeming put off by his enthusiasm.

“Frogs aren’t so bad,” said Kotaro, also watching him. “A little slimy, but pretty cute.” As he leaned against his cart, his Hawaiian shirt fell away from his torso, and Ace caught a glimpse of a sword hanging at his waist.

Ace burped, and his fork rattled against the empty plate. “Are you a swordsman?” he asked, pointing.

“Ah,” said Kotaro, adjusting his shirt to cover the weapon again. “It’s just a pastime.”

“Hm,” said Ace, tilting his head in consideration.

“What are you in town for?” Kotaro asked. “Just passing through?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

As he spoke, Lisa got down from her stool to sit in the dirt by her brother. They began to play a game that seemed to involve flicking a stick back and forth between each other.

“Well, we hope you have a nice time here,” said the woman.

“Thanks,” said Ace, looking down at the kids with a smile.

“You seem to like kids,” Kotaro said. “You said you had a brother?” He stared at Ace, weirdly intense.

“Uh, yes,” he said, adjusting the string of his hat around his neck.

Kotaro appeared thoughtful. “Younger or older?”

“Younger,” said Ace. “By three years.”

“Ah,” said Kotaro. He tilted his head. “And has he set sail?”

Ace knit his eyebrows, examining the man. “Not yet,” he said. “He will when he’s seventeen. Why?”

“Just curious,” said the man, though his eyes were still fixed firmly to Ace’s face. And then he grinned. “Do you think he’ll be a pirate like you?"

Ace tensed. The kids looked up, interested again. The woman behind the counter turned to stare. “You’re a pirate?” she asked.

“Uh,” Ace said. If the man had already seen his bounty poster somewhere, then there was really no point in denying it. He hoped none of them suddenly turned hysterical. “Yes.”

The woman considered him, and then shook her head. “But you’re so sweet to the kids. You must be one of the good ones, like the Whitebeards.”

“The Whitebeards, huh?” Ace muttered, not entirely pleased by the comparison.

“The Whitebeards are so cool!” Paul said. “You’re a pirate like them?”

“Our parents don’t like them,” Lisa said dubiously. “They say a pirate is a pirate.”

“This island is in their territory,” said the woman, ignoring the kids. “They come through here every so often, checking on us and scaring off troublemakers.”

Ace hadn’t known that. Why would a Roger Pirate hide out in Whitebeard’s territory?

Kotaro looked amused. “But you aren’t one of those troublemakers, right? You aren’t here to pillage or loot?”

Ace scowled. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Kotaro said. “Because the Whitebeard Pirates over there would probably stop you.”

Ace looked up with wide eyes.

Sure enough, on a nearby roof Marco the Phoenix and Rakuyo stood looking down at them. Like he had with the other Division Commanders, Ace recognized Rakuyo’s face from his bounty posters. The man had the chain of a large flail draped over his shoulders, and for some reason the spiked head of the weapon was floating in the air next to him.

Ace stood. "Well, fuck."

*

Rakuyo had spent the flight with Marco thoroughly enjoying the occasion. It wasn’t often that the man let people ride on his back, in his Phoenix form or otherwise, and it left Rakuyo feeling just a little special.

But he thought Marco had picked up on some of his smugness, because in the latter half of the trip the man had taken to making sudden, abrupt dives– pulling up just before hitting the waves, scaring the living shit out of him and sending Chichi into a frenzy.

By the time they arrived at the right town, the appeal of the whole arrangement had faded considerably for him. Marco gave him a smug look when he dumped Rakuyo onto a rooftop and turned back into a person, and he got a sour one in return.

They quickly took to scouring the streets below for signs of Fire Fist Ace– but despite having been actively searching for him, Rakuyo was still caught off guard when they found him.

For one thing, Fire Fist looked much younger than he’d anticipated. The kid was… short. For another, he was talking amicably with a very eclectic group: a woman working at a food stall, two small children, and Two-Blade Taro himself.

He exchanged a glance with Marco. They would have to handle this very delicately. The Sakarin region was Whitebeard’s territory, which meant they had a duty to protect its citizens– though of course, that was their policy regardless. Further complicating the situation was Two-Blade Taro’s presence. As Rakuyo recalled, the man tended to be a wild card.

“I thought Fire Fist was trying to kill the Roger Pirates,” Rakuyo muttered. “Why’re they just chatting?”

Marco shrugged. They listened in as the street vendor informed Fire Fist that this region was Whiteboard’s territory. Rakuyo experienced about five seconds of amusement at the kid’s apparent shock– and then Taro, with an amused glance, completely blew their cover.

Right. So he was the same old bastard as ever.

Fire Fist cursed, looking up at them. “Get the kids out of here,” he said to the woman at the food stall, who was looking appropriately frightened. “Hurry.”

“Fire Fist,” Marco called down to him. “We’d prefer to take this elsewhere.”

“Fine with me!” the man yelled back. “You go first, and I’ll follow!”

Marco snorted, but complied. Blue flaming wings burst from his shoulders. He held a hand out for Rakuyo to grab onto, and with one flap of Marco’s wings they were both lifted into the air. Chichi’s chain tightened around Rakuyo’s shoulders, and its spiked head followed them up.

“Just a moment,” Taro said suddenly. They all looked at him. Rakuyo had a bad feeling. The woman had grabbed the kids and was herding them away. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do this to such a nice young man,” Taro said, looking up at them.

“What are you doing,” Fire Fist said to him. “Get out of here!”

Taro ignored him.

Marco examined the man warily. “This is none of your business. It’s a personal matter.”

The man smiled and drew his sword. “It's personal for me too, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Fire Fist hissed. “Stop talking. Run away!”

Taro glanced at him. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Ace.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The people in this village know me as Kotaro– but years ago, I had a different title. I bet you’ve heard it.” The kid stared at him, clearly braced for the worst. The former Roger Pirate smiled, nearly apologetic. “I was known as Two-Blade Taro.”

“God fucking dammit,” said Fire Fist, looking furious, and suddenly burst into flames.

The woman screamed, shoving the kids behind her, and Rakuyo considered the little Warlord with bemusement.

“That’s a handy little trick,” he called down.

“Want to see what I can do with it?” Fire Fist snarled.

“Not here,” said Marco sharply. “Outside the town.”

Flames swirled around Fire Fist’s feet, and he shot up into the air. Now, that really was handy. “Like I said,” he gritted out, “fine by me.”

Below them, Taro sighed. He took one step back for momentum, and then leaped up. He landed on the roof where Rakuyo and Marco had just been standing. “And like I said, you can’t come to my town and do this in front of me without expecting me to intervene.”

“Can you just– wait your turn?” Fire Fist asked, clearly frustrated. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet!”

“Well,” said Taro, guileless, “you did give me the kindness of answering all my nosy questions.”

Fire Fist growled like a feral animal and charged him.

Taro deftly evaded the little Warlord, and Ace overshot, managing to stop himself mid-air on the other side of the roof.

“Come now,” said Taro, his sword propped up on his shoulder. “I’m on your side, here.”

“Well, I’m not on yours!” Ace yelled. “Why do they even call you Two-Blade? You’ve only got one damn sword!”

Taro laughed. “I can show you!” he said. He turned to face Rakuyo and Marco, the two of them still floating in the air.

Marco cursed and lifted them higher, and then took off towards the edge of town.

Rakuyo resigned himself to being carried. He watched as Taro gave chase, leaping over rooftops, and Ace shot himself after all of them with a burst of flame.

They’d gotten as far as the gate that marked the entrance to the town when Taro caught up to them, vaulting off of the closest roof and soaring towards them, his sword flashing in the air.

Marco cursed and tried to dodge, but Rakuyo and Chichi weighed him down– Taro collided with him, and they all went tumbling to the ground below.

Rakuyo quickly pulled himself to his feet and readied Chichi for a fight.

Taro had Marco pinned beneath him. He braced his foot against him and pulled his blade out of Marco’s chest. The wound healed with a flare of blue light, and Marco twisted beneath Taro and jumped to his feet, looking highly disgruntled.

The three of them faced each other for a single tense moment, and then Fire Fist came crashing down to land in the middle of them all, flames licking up at his feet.

“Great timing,” Taro said cheerily. “I’ll take Marco, you take Rakuyo. And let me know when you spot my second blade!”

“Fuck off,” said Fire Fist, but Taro was already throwing himself at Rakuyo’s brother, and the two began fighting in earnest.

Rakuyo shrugged and turned towards Fire Fist. “He’s such a dick,” he said, sympathetic, and then wrapped Chichi’s chain around his fist and launched himself at the little Warlord’s face.

Chapter Text

Ace was a highly observant guy, so he noticed immediately when his opponent’s weapon tried to fucking bite him.

“What the shit!” he yelled, shooting a burst of flame at it, only to be further surprised when it dodged seemingly of its own volition, darting out of Rakuyo’s hands entirely. It just was just a massive flail floating in the air, its chain making lazy little loops. As Ace watched, the spiky head of the flail unhinged itself like a mouth, revealing a row of spikes that looked strangely like fangs.

Then it barked at him.

“What the hell,” Ace managed, too distracted to dodge the flying kick Rakuyo sent at him. He stumbled back at the impact, stunned for a moment before remembering— right. Haki. Of course.

“Oh, that’s Chichi,” said Rakuyo, darting away again. “Say hi, Chichi.”

The fucking thing chirped, and darted towards him again, fangs flashing. This one, Ace dodged.

“What is it?” he said, unwillingly fascinated, and then remembered himself and twisted around to launch towards Rakuyo again.

“A flail,” said the man, in a tone that implied that it should be deeply obvious. And then he grinned, barely ducked as Ace’s flaming fist went sailing just over his head, and admitted: “A flail that ate the capuchin model of the Saru Saru no Mi.”

“A zoan Devil Fruit,” said Ace, feeling momentarily relieved– and then his brain caught up. “Wait, how does an inanimate object eat something?”

“The same way you do,” Rakuyo said, and then both him and Chichi shot towards Ace from opposite directions, forcing him to turn into flame and jump up.

Beneath him, instead of the two colliding painfully, Chichi’s chain wrapped itself around Rakuyo fist– like a prehensile tail, Ace supposed– and the two of them jumped up after him, a seamlessly combined force once again.

“Right,” said Ace, deciding that it didn’t really matter what his opponent was so long as he defeated it.

As he and Rakyuo fought, he was vaguely aware of the fight between Marco and Taro happening nearby. He kept catching flashes of blue flame and the glint of steel as the former Roger Pirate swung his sword.

Because of course, the random man Ace had run into on the street had been the guy he’d been intending to kill.

Taro had clearly recognized his face. In retrospect, his odd probing questions were just him trying to scope Ace out. Bitterly, he wondered what the man thought about him having a little brother. Roger had died almost twenty years ago. A few weeks shy of eighteen, even Ace should have been too young to have been born to the man, never mind his younger brother.

But whatever Taro thought, he appeared to have made some strange resolution to fight alongside Ace instead of trying to kill him back– much like Guns had. It made him grit his teeth, the way both Roger Pirates treated him: like he was merely an extension of his father and therefore a burden they had to carry.

Ace had never wanted anything attached to Gold Roger’s name– not the hatred and the enemies and the infamy, and not the old allies either, though admittedly he’d never expected the latter to exist.

He wanted to scream to Taro that he didn’t owe Ace a damn thing. If Ace was only able to survive the New World by riding on his father’s coattails, then it would be better for him to die right here. He was opening his mouth to yell just that when Rakuyo succeeded in distracting him by landing a Haki-coated punch to his face.

Ace cursed and spat out blood, feeling with his tongue to see if the hit had knocked loose any teeth. It didn’t seem like it, thankfully, but he’d definitely bit his tongue.

“Getting distracted?” Rakuyo said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think you can afford that at the moment. I’m afraid the mystery of Two-Blade Taro’s second blade will just have to remain a mystery to you.”

Ace scowled, begrudgingly admitting if only to himself that he couldn’t exactly take time to gawk at another fight right now. But– “That only means that I have to take you out before they finish, so I can look all I like.” He wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his fist and grinned. “Seems easy enough.”

Rakuyo just shrugged. “Give it your best shot, then.”

So Ace licked blood off his teeth, lowered himself into a fighting stance, and lunged again.

This time, though, he began to strategize. Chichi was very clearly a problem. Even now, as his outstretched hands collided with Rakuyo’s and they began to push against each other, Chichi darted away to try to brain Ace from behind. Ace let his hands ignite, forcing Rakuyo to let go with a curse, and then shot another blast of flame at the floating flail.

If it was made of metal, he figured, then surely he could melt it. He just had to get hot enough.

Unfortunately, Chichi kept dodging, chirping at him all the while. Ace sent a hail of flame lances towards Rakuyo, hoping to distract the man, and then he rocked back on his heels and pulled his fists to his hips.

“Flame Pistol!” he yelled, extending his pointer fingers into finger guns. Tiny flame bullets shot towards Chichi as it made figure-eights in the air. Hoping to overwhelm it, he sent a follow-up blast of flame from his fist, but had to look away from the damage as Rakuyo’s Haki-infused foot collided with his ribs and sent him stumbling away.

He recovered quickly, shifting to land firmly on his back foot and then shooting another lance of flame towards Rakuyo.

“Chichi!” the man called, ducking. “Change forms!”

There was an answering screech, and then tiny, grasping feet attached themselves to Ace’s shoulders. Little fists began to beat at his head, and he felt tiny claws begin to prick through his skin. Thoroughly annoyed, he reached behind him to pull what was now an actual monkey off of his back. When he got a good look at it, he noted with some smugness that its pale fur had been singed and its tiny face was scrunched in what he could only assume was monkey rage. Chichi immediately leaped towards his face, and he turned himself into flame. The little beast went straight through him, howling. Ace grinned, noting that Chichi-the-monkey apparently didn’t stay infused with Armament Haki like Chichi-the-flail did.

Unfortunately, that trick didn’t work nearly as well against an actual Haki-user, and Ace doubled over and re-solidified as Rakuyo got him with a one-two combo across the face and then socked him in the gut.

Ace bared his teeth and escaped into the air with a swirl of flame. Once he’d gained some height, he sent himself spiraling down towards Chichi-the-monkey, who was now crouched on the ground. Another sacrifice of going full monkey, Ace thought, was that Chichi seemed to have lost much of its previous in-air mobility.

Rakuyo seemed to know that, because he called out again: “Change back!”

Chichi-the-flail just barely darted out from under Ace’s flaming boot, which instead impacted the ground and sent up a cloud of dust.

He looked up to see that Chichi-the-flail had resettled in Rakuyo’s hand. The man charged him, spinning the spiky head of the flail by his grip on its chain. Ace could see by the distinctive gleam that Chichi had been coated with Haki once again, so he went low to avoid it as it came soaring towards his face. He tackled Rakuyo’s lower body, forcing him to let go of Chichi’s chain as they fell to the ground.

They ended up in a brief wrestle, and Rakuyo placed him in a hold. The man’s much-superior Haki stifled Ace’s attempts to flame himself out of it– though, Ace noted with some satisfaction, it was clear that holding onto Ace as he lit himself on fire was causing Rakuyo some pain.

They locked eyes as Ace again failed to escape and Rakuyo again hissed at the burns he was getting, and then they seemed to come to a mutual agreement that they were getting nowhere and both let go. When they rose to their feet, Ace could feel himself grinning. Rakuyo mirrored the expression back at him.

“You’re a good match for me,” the man admitted, and Ace’s blood pumped viciously in his veins.

He laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

They charged again. Ace had half a thought to look around for Chichi, who he’d lost sight of, but this notion was quickly discarded as Rakuyo tried to break his nose with a headbutt. Ace retaliated by trying to sweep the man’s feet out from under him, but the man just jumped and took the opportunity to kick him in the ribs. Ace winced, feeling something in his chest shift a bit, and Rakuyo used his momentary distraction to lock his arms around Ace’s torso.

“Now, Chichi!” he yelled.

At the same time, Ace shouted: “Flame Commandment!”

In the next moment, a trail of embers began to glow in a circle around their feet. There was a sharp, searing pain in Ace’s shoulder as Chichi-the-flail savagely bit into him from behind, and then the embers ignited into a ball of flame that surrounded them all.

He and Rakuyo screamed at the same time.

When the flames faded after only a few seconds, it was Rakuyo who collapsed to his knees, his skin pink and steaming and his chest heaving.

Ace stumbled but remained standing, bringing a hand to his shoulder to hover over where Chichi had just mauled him. Evidently, the spikes that lined the flail’s mouth were no fucking joke. That was definitely going to scar.

He watched as Rakuyo attempted to rise to his feet, trembling with effort, but it quickly became clear that the pain was too much. The Whitebeard Commander collapsed to the ground again, falling on his face. He had probably passed out.

Ace looked around for where Chichi had darted off to, and easily located the thing by the growling noises it was making. Clearly, it was not pleased that its wielder had been defeated. Ace narrowed his eyes as he watched it loop through the air, and then called up the reserves of his energy.

There was a trick he’d been practicing lately, though he wasn’t very good at it yet…

“Firefly Light!” he yelled, and small glowing embers spawned from him. They floated through the air, as innocent as dandelion fluff on a breeze and about as deadly, too, unerringly making their way towards Chichi. Unlike Ace’s other ranged attacks, these followed their target– but they also didn’t do much. Like dying embers that drifted out of a firepit, they could be stamped out easily.

But that was the trick. With effort, Ace concentrated on them. They stuck to Chichi like little burrs. He breathed out, and then all at once they ignited.

Chichi was sent flying through the air by the blast, smoking heavily, and crashed into the dirt near where its wielder lay.

Not melted after all, which Ace thought might make Rakuyo happy. In the end, he couldn’t help but kind of like the guy. Ace always did feel more endeared to people he had managed to beat.

He smiled with grim satisfaction, and then turned to see the fight between Marco and Taro. Unsettlingly, it was still going strong.

He considered jumping in– after all, he wasn’t going to let Taro defeat Marco on his behalf, and he also wasn’t going to let Marco defeat Taro because that was his job– but his shoulder twinged as he shifted and he decided he could take just a moment to watch.

And, he thought moodily, he might as well try to figure out Taro’s second blade– or at least scope out his and Marco’s fighting styles.

Marco, Ace quickly decided, clearly preferred to be an aerial fighter, as he’d yet to get rid of his wings in this fight. Ace recalled seeing him fight against Guns in the same way. His technique seemed to consist of gaining height or distance, and then swooping close with great agility to hit Taro with a Haki-infused kick. As Ace watched, Taro stood still to tank one such attack, using the opportunity to land a hit on Marco. His Haki-coated blade cut horizontally through Marco’s chest, bisecting him neatly, but even before the blade had been pulled away blue flames were knitting the man back together.

“As troublesome as ever,” Taro declared, and then pulled away before Marco could hit him again.

Taro seemed just as agile as the other man, despite lacking any wings. It was a sharp contrast to how Guns had fought. Both Guns and Taro were large men, so a part of Ace had expected Taro to use a similar style: planting his feet and relying on his strength and power. Instead, he appeared to have no trouble at all darting around Marco’s attacks, leaping in with his sword glinting and then moving back again almost before Ace could blink.

“You’re one to talk,” said Marco, far less amused than his opponent. “This is none of your business, Taro.”

They were clearly struggling to land hits on each other– but they were each notorious pirates for a reason. Even as Ace watched, they each began to switch it up. Marco flew straight up in the air, and at the peak of his ascent, transformed fully into a beautiful blue phoenix. He dived at Taro, his speed even greater than it had been before. Seeing as he was currently made up of healing flame, he passed directly through Taro’s torso, but apparently the impact was still physical enough to send Taro stumbling back. Marco immediately turned human again, and dived low to kick Taro’s unsteady feet out from under him.

Taro rolled with the momentum, coming up on his knees a short distance away with his sword held out horizontally in front of him.

He grinned. “My turn.” He launched himself up into the air directly from his kneeling position, barely pausing to let his feet touch the ground. As he soared up above Marco, who was still human and standing on solid ground, he pulled back one leg like he was winding up to kick something.

Ace narrowed his eyes.

“Wind Blade!” Taro yelled, and swept his leg forward in a sudden sharp movement. It sent a shock wave through the air, powerful enough that it was actually visible as it moved towards Marco at a high speed.

It hit the other man dead on and cut straight through his torso, separating his head and shoulders from the rest of him like Taro’s actual blade had done just minutes ago. Its continued momentum was strong enough that it reached Ace, even after literally going through Marco and despite how far away Ace stood. The fading shock wave cut shallowly across Ace’s chest, and he raised his hand to where it had hit him, astonished.

Before the shock wave attack had finished dissipating and Marco’s wound had fully healed, just as Taro was beginning to fall, he was already moving again. He dived forward into a front flip, his sword flashing. Marco was just rising up on his wings as the second attack hit him, and this time the slash cut him vertically, leaving Marco in what would have been four pieces if his flames hadn’t already been at work. Taro landed behind him on one knee, sword arm extended and head bowed.

Marco finally got up into the air again, and the ragged gash through his chest finished sealing with a flash of blue light.

He looked down at Taro, and Taro turned to look up at him. Two greats, maybe evenly matched.

Wide-eyed, Ace moved so that he wouldn’t be in the way of future attacks. Two-Blade, he thought, was a well-deserved title. A one-two attack, where the first prong was some kind of– wind kick? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t wrong to call it a blade, as the blood beading up from the shallow cut across his chest could attest to. It felt like someone had dragged the tip of their sword across him, just barely cutting skin. Clearly, when it had hit Marco, it’d been sharp enough to bisect him.

As he moved further to the side, he finally seemed to catch their attention.

Taro caught his eye and winced. “Ooh. Sorry about that, Ace!” Ace scowled.

Marco’s eye, meanwhile, had caught on Rakuyo’s collapsed and still-steaming figure. Blue flames leapt up all across his shoulders and his eyes narrowed in rage.

“You are going to regret that,” he said, speaking directly to Ace.

Ace felt his own flames flaring up in response.

“Well, hold on,” said Taro, his sword propped up against his shoulder again. “You’ll have to finish up with me, first.”

Marco the Phoenix looked down at him coldly.

“Then I will."

*

As it turned out, getting to the Grandline from the Goa Kingdom by air ship was a three day trip. Better than the two weeks that Luffy had almost been resigned to– but still not fast enough for his liking.

Luffy spent most of the trip avoiding Morgans, who kept trying to ask him stupid questions like who his parents were, what Garp thought about Ace, and whether Ace was the one who made Luffy want to be a pirate.

(“I don’t have parents, bird-ossan.” “Ji-chan thinks Ace needs to get stronger!” “No.”)

He took to hiding out in the kitchens, steadily eating his way through the food supply and taking breaks to try to climb up the giant balloon that kept the ship afloat. One time, he almost fell off into the ocean below before managing to catch himself on the side of the ship. He dangled there for a while, laughing as the wind pulled at his face, until someone looking out of a window screamed and a bunch of guards came to pull him up.

And then finally, on the third night, Morgans seemed to catch on as to where Luffy was most likely to be found and cornered him in the dining room.

“We’ll be arriving at Putchi soon,” said Morgans. Luffy thought he had kind of a sour expression, but with the beak it was hard to tell. “Do you know where that is?”

“No,” Luffy said, looking up at him with wide eyes. In front of him were four different plates, each piled high with food. The reporters and photographers that were also traveling on the ship had yet to adjust to his style of eating. Even now, they watched him with horrified eyes. Luffy also thought some of them might have taken to eating late lunches instead of attending dinner, because there were noticeably few of them.

“It’s one of the island cities connected by the Sea Train, Puffing Tom,” said Morgans. “They’re major trade exports and urban hubs, though I suppose you don’t know what that means… I thought about dropping you on an uninhabited island, because it would truly serve you right, but in the end I couldn’t allow you to change our itinerary more than you already have.”

Luffy didn’t really get it, but he figured they’d be arriving on an island soon. He shoveled a spoonful of curry into his mouth and grinned. “Thanks, bird-ossan!”

“My name is Morgans, you recalcitrant fool,” the man snapped, and then he sighed. “I should have expected that Garp’s grandson would be as empty-headed as he is. Listen to me. Do you know why this ship was in the Goa Kingdom to begin with?”

Luffy shook his head.

“It is because the Goa Kingdom is known as the most beautiful kingdom in all of the East Blue.” The bird man said this like it was a well-known fact. Luffy, for his part, considered it dubiously. He’d never heard the Grey Terminal described as particularly beautiful. “Likewise, we are now headed to Putchi because it is known as The Gourmet City. Some of the best restaurants in the world are located there.”

“Really?!” Luffy asked, standing abruptly and making plates and silverware rattle. “Ne, bird-ossan! We should go to one of them!” He’d visited a restaurant once, with Ace and Sabo. They’d had ten big bowls of ramen each, and ran before the waitress returned. He drooled just thinking about it.

“You couldn’t afford it,” Morgans said dismissively. “And I won’t be seen in public with you. Which relates to my larger point: The World Economic Journal headquarters only visits places that are the best at whatever they do. And that is because I am the best at what I do. When you arrived on this ship back in Goa, you offered me a very big scoop. And because I am the best at what I do, I cut our scheduled time in Goa short to deliver you to the Grandline. Because we cut a deal, and because I always get my scoop. Do you understand me?”

Luffy grinned. “Shishishi. That was nice of you!”

“So, I have been taking you to the Grandline like I promised. And in that time, you have refused to deliver. I wanted something big. You have given me soundbites. You haven’t held up your end of our bargain.”

Luffy pouted as he sank back down into his seat. If this had to do with all the annoying questions the bird guy kept asking, it wasn’t really his fault– they were just so boring!

“So, this is your last chance,” said Morgans. “We arrive in Putchi tomorrow morning, by which time you will either have followed through, or chosen not to. If you choose not to, then I will not let you disembark this ship. Instead, I will throw you off the top deck and watch you drown in the waves. Nobody stiffs me on a deal.”

Luffy ate more curry as he considered this. He couldn’t swim, so that would probably be troublesome.

“What will it be?” asked Morgans.

Luffy looked up at him. He ate another bite of curry. He sighed. “Okay, Morbo. You can ask me questions.”

“Excellent,” Morgans crowed, a predatory gleam in his eye. "We'll start now, then." He swooped down into the seat across from Luffy, exactly like a bird of prey. At his sharp whistle, two of the reporters in the room came to stand on either side of him. One was a woman carrying a notepad and a sharp pencil, and the other was a man with a white top hat and a camera.

Luffy finished his curry and pulled a different plate close, this one with a full roasted chicken.

“First question,” said Morgans, leaning in. “At our first meeting, you mentioned your reason for going to the Grandline. As I recall, you said it had to do with something Ace doesn’t know.”

Luffy frowned.

“What is it that Ace doesn’t know?”

“That somebody hurt Makino,” said Luffy. Suddenly he was no longer hungry. He pushed the rest of the plates away and slouched in his seat.

Morgans watched him with sharp eyes. “Who is Makino?”

“Makino is…” Luffy breathed out harshly, frustrated and unsure how to explain. “Makino is Makino. She takes care of Ace and me.”

“Was she paid by Garp to look after you?”

“No,” Luffy frowned. “She wasn’t paid. She’s our friend.”

“Is she an adult? Does she have a job?”

“She works at Party’s Bar.”

Morgans’ feathers moved like he was raising his eyebrows. “She’s a bartender?”

Luffy nodded, and smiled briefly. “She makes good stew!”

“I see,” said Morgans. The girl at his side was scribbling furiously at her notepad. “And someone hurt her? Who?”

“A man with a white suit and a weird mask,” said Luffy, drumming his fingers on the table.

Across from him, Morgans went suddenly and completely still. Then, slowly, he tilted his head. “A white suit and a mask?” he repeated.

“Yeah, that’s what Woop Slap said. He saw it happen. This guy hurt Makino.”

“Do you know why?” Morgans asked, intent.

Luffy frowned. “Because he’s one of Ace’s enemies. He wanted Makino to tell him about us so he could hurt Ace.”

The man with the camera exchanged a glance with Morgans. The woman with the notepad was still scribbling away, her knuckles white around the pencil.

“That is very interesting,” said Morgans. His face was twitching like it didn’t know what expression to make. “So, you came to the Grandline. To tell Ace about it?”

Luffy scowled and shook his head. “Ace has other enemies to worry about. This one came to Foosha Village, and I was the one who found Makino. I came to the Grandline because I’m going to find the mask-guy and kill him.”

Morgans, if possible, went even stiller. And then slowly, like it couldn’t help itself, his face split into a massive grin. “Is that so?”

Luffy nodded. Then, unable to resist, he pulled the plate of chicken close to him again.

“Do you know where to start looking?” asked Morgans.

Luffy shrugged. “No.”

“Hmm,” said Morgans, stroking the feathers on his chin. The woman with the notepad finally stopped writing and glanced up. “I can tell you.”

Luffy’s head snapped up with a massive grin. “Ne, really, bird-ossan? Would you?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Morgans, still with that weird smile. “I think this will be very, very interesting. And I think that I would like to have a front row seat.”

“So, where?” Luffy asked, impatient.

Morgans nodded. “If you recall, I told you that Putchi is one of several island cities connected by the Sea Train. Another such island city is Water 7. It is the shipbuilding city, called the Capital of Water. It frequently hosts street festivals that its people celebrate with a variety of colorful costumes and masks. It is therefore an ideal place for a masked villain to hide in plain sight. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Luffy frowned. “The mask-guy is there?”

Morgans shrugged. “Maybe not him specifically. But certainly, if you look… I believe you will find individuals in white suits and masks who are not average festival-goers. Let me tell you something, boy. The man who hurt your friend– he does not work alone. He is a member of a very large collective.”

“Then I’ll beat them all,” said Luffy firmly. “It doesn’t matter. The mask-guy hurt Makino.”

“Hm,” said Morgans, smiling again.

“So, I can find mask-guy’s friends in this city,” said Luffy. “Will you take me there?”

“Oh, no,” said Morgans. “That wasn’t part of our deal, and besides I think I’d prefer to keep my distance. But I imagine you could take the Sea Train there from Putchi.”

Luffy nodded.

“And one more word of advice,” said Morgans, suddenly examining him with a furrowed brow. “You can’t just go around attacking the first masked man you see. It won’t be much of a story if you’re immediately arrested for assault of a civilian. You must be sure that you go after the right people. And then, just think! I’ll write all about it in my newspaper! Your brother will be able to read about your success. I’m sure he’ll be proud of your… sheer bravado.” His smile was growing wider and wider on his face. It was highly unsettling to look at, as birds didn’t usually smile. It also seemed weirdly sinister.

Luffy picked his nose and pouted. “How will I know if they’re the right people, bird-ossan? It’s confusing if they’re all wearing masks!”

Morgans sighed heavily. “I guess some discernment is too much to ask of you.” He briefly hesitated, and then nodded to himself. “Fine, then. I would suggest that you start at Dock 1 of the Galley-La Company. Speak to the shipwrights there. They’re the city’s heroes.” He grinned again, still oddly menacing. “I think they’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks, bird-ossan!” Luffy chirped.

“You are very welcome. We’ll be disembarking in Putchi tomorrow morning. I wish you luck on your mission.”

Luffy stretched his arm out to grab another plate. Before he could pull it closer to him, there was a flash of light. When Luffy glanced up, the man next to Morgans was lowering his camera. He grinned at Luffy. “To make sure your brother recognizes you on the front page,” he said.

“Ace will be surprised to see me!” Luffy laughed.

“Oh, yes,” said Morgans. “I daresay he will be.”

*

Marco had admittedly been preoccupied by his fight with Two-Blade Taro, but if he’d considered it beforehand, he wouldn’t have been worried about Rakuyo being defeated. The man was, after all, a Whitebeard Commander, and his position had been well earned.

Now, as Marco looked down at his brother’s unconscious form, his father’s warning about underestimating Fire Fist echoed in his mind. Also resounding through his head was the thumping of his heart as his rage steadily grew. The Whitebeards were a notoriously protective crew– and Marco was the first mate. His brothers could usually take care of themselves, but in the rare moments they couldn’t, they were his to protect.

Marco was going to kill Fire Fist, and Two-Blade Taro wasn’t going to stop him.

He dove again. His mind had gone eerily still and sharp, like the edge of a knife before it broke through skin. The man liked his little kicks so much, then fine. Marco would do him one better.

Marco drew back his foot as he darted in behind Taro. The man wasn’t in a good defensive position, his blade too slow in coming down from where it’d been carelessly propped up on his shoulder. Flames were gathering along Marco’s sandaled foot now, Haki was flaring over his skin, and he turned his whole body to build up his momentum. Then, with a movement that rippled through him, he struck. Taro had no time to defend. The kick hit him directly in his ribs, and its power sent him flying.

Taro crash-landed into a wall several houses down from where they’d been fighting. Distantly, Marco regretted the property damage, but he didn’t regret having done it.

It would take even a former Roger Pirate a moment to come back from that. And in the meantime… he turned on Fire Fist.

The kid looked defiantly up at him even now, with Marco literally hanging over him like a flaming omen of death. His one shoulder was bleeding heavily, Marco noted with a vicious satisfaction– clearly, that was a souvenir from Chichi.

All Marco had to do was finish him off.

Ace lit himself on fire again, but Marco was no longer impressed or even stalled by this. He dived forward. This time, he let his foot materialize into a glowing blue claw, his talons wickedly sharp.

Fire Fist made it easy and launched himself forward, his entire body alight.

Marco’s claws raked across the kid’s chest and dug in. He threw him, and Fire Fist was sent flying across the road. Marco followed unerringly, circling like a vulture about to finish off a dying animal.

He thought briefly that he should say something to the kid, tell him why he was being killed– but on second thought, he had nothing to tell him. All Fire Fist had to do by dying was send the message, not receive it.

Nobody messes with the Whitebeard Pirates.

Fire Fist looked up at him with large gray eyes. They weren’t remotely afraid, but neither were they still sparking with anger. They were resigned. It didn’t make Marco hesitate.

And then all of a sudden, piercing through the ringing in his ears, came the sounds of hurried footsteps and gasping breaths. Out of nowhere a little girl skidded to a stop directly in front of him– the same little girl who had been at the food stall with her brother, who had been hurried away from the fight by the street vendor. She stood now over Fire Fist like a sentinel, arms spread wide and staring up at Marco with a terrified face– and that was what stopped him in his tracks.

Chapter Text

Sabo sat on the edge of the platform with the toes of his boots grazing the water. Shift Station was a man-made island in the middle of the Grandline, though it might have been more accurate to describe it as a man-made hunk of concrete. Living out here alone probably required a special kind of bravery– though, apparently Kokoro had gotten her hands on a kid since he’d last seen her. So, not entirely alone.

“Train will be arriving soon,” Kokoro mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder to where she sat on the front steps of the lighthouse, nursing a bottle of wine. Briefly Sabo wondered if it was appropriate that she was looking after a child– but it was probably okay. She managed the Sea Train just fine, after all.

And true to her prediction, Sabo could just now see the puffs of its steam engine coming over the horizon. He pulled his feet up and stood.

He hoped Koala’s part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. Since she was undercover, he had to wait for her to contact him, and in the meantime he was operating on blind faith.

Luckily, blind faith was the realm in which Sabo did his best work.

“Remember,” said Kokoro, smiling. “If you screw this up, I don’t know you.”

“Of course not,” said Sabo. “We can’t have anyone finding out how much you really love me.”

Kokoro looked at him blearily, and then laughed outright, which Sabo privately thought was a little too much amusement given what he’d said.

Shift Station had been the obvious place for Sabo to board the Sea Train without scrutiny. There was nothing but a lighthouse on the small concrete platform, and for that reason even most ships sailed right past it. Nobody boarded or departed here except Kokoro, because it was the first stop on the line every day.

Thankfully, Dragon had connections all over the Grandline– apparently including the old alcoholic lady who managed the Sea Train. Personally, Sabo could never get a read on the woman. Seeing her with a random child had been enough to make him do a double take.

But she was letting him sneak onboard without a ticket and she had promised not to say a word to anyone, and that was all he really needed. Shift Station was the first stop on the line every day– but the last stop on the line was Enies Lobby, and that was where Sabo needed to be.

He had determined that Kiko was being held and interrogated at Marineford– but by far the easiest way to approach Marineford was by using the closed Tub Current, and to enter it, Sabo needed to go through Enies Lobby.

But getting there was more complicated than just boarding the train and getting off at the last stop. After all, it was the famous Judicial Island, one of the government’s three major strongholds. It wasn’t often that people wanted to go to Enies Lobby, but to prevent anyone who tried, each train station kept meticulous records of ticket purchases. Attendants at each island ensured that everyone who boarded the train got off at their intended stop.

Sabo couldn’t afford that kind of attention, and that meant he needed to sneak aboard without a ticket. Thankfully, Kokoro was willing to make it easy for him.

The train came roaring towards them, puffing out steam like a massive high-speed kettle, and then came to a slow and screeching stop.

Kokoro’s kid came running out of the lighthouse, heading straight towards it with arms outstretched. Sabo meant to grab her and hold her back, but before he even got close Kokoro had clotheslined the girl with a firm grip on the back of her shirt. “No, Chimney,” she said. “Wait for the train to come to a complete stop.”

Sabo raised his eyebrows. Maybe she was better suited for childcare than he’d thought. Wonders never ceased.

Kokoro raised her eyes to meet his. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Sabo. “I love trains.”

“You’ll hate them after being stuck on one for a whole day.”

Chimney giggled and began to squirm in her guardian’s hold. Kokoro slung the little girl over her shoulder and climbed up into the engine room.

Sabo resigned himself to a very long ride.

“All aboard,” he muttered.

*

Ace had possibly never been more stunned. For a just moment, he’d been completely sure that he was going to die, and he’d nearly surprised himself with how little he’d cared. And then Lisa had appeared from out of nowhere, and suddenly he cared quite a bit.

Marco looked down at the girl with a blank face and unreadable eyes.

“You can’t kill him,” she said in a small voice. Her whole body shook with terror. “He’s– he’s a nice pirate. He’s nicer than you!” She flinched back, seemingly appalled with herself for having spoken those words, but continued to hold her ground.

“Lisa,” Ace said, astonished. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t think the Whitebeards were the type to kill kids. He was almost entirely certain of that. But at the same time, he wasn’t pleased that Lisa had put herself between him and a vengeful Marco. Ace had never fought against a person that angry before. And even scarier was how quickly Marco seemed to have wiped any trace of his anger away.

But Lisa didn’t move.

Marco’s flaming talon turned back into a foot, and he slowly lowered it to the ground. He blinked at the girl, and then crouched to match her height. “He’s nice?” he asked her quietly.

The girl nodded sharply. “He– he shared his food with me.”

Marco sent Ace a long, indecipherable look. “That is nice,” he finally agreed.

Ace hissed through his teeth, struggling to get up off the ground. “Lisa, get out of here!” She paid him no mind.

Instead, she continued on, strangely emboldened now that he’d scolded her: “I don’t like pirates– but he’s a nice one! And you can’t just come in here and– and do this! It’s not fair!” As she spoke the last word, her voice came worryingly close to tears– a tone that Ace was intimately familiar with from his years raising Luffy.

Marco raised his hands in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he had been so kind to you.”

Lisa sniffled. “Well, he was. He is.”

Marco tilted his head, and then his lips turned up into a small smile. “Thank you for being here to tell me,” he said. “That was very brave of you.”

Her shoulders straightened, and she nodded again.

Marco’s eyes drifted away from her, settling on Ace once again. He stiffened and tried to work himself up onto his feet, or even his knees, but his entire torso hurt like a motherfucker. The place where Chichi had bit him was still steadily bleeding, sending shocks of pain down his whole arm whenever he moved, and the gouges where Marco’s talons had dug into him were actually burning. He was also pretty sure that at some point he’d cracked his ribs.

Lisa turned to watch him struggle, and her eyes started to water again.

Marco glanced between them, and then began to move closer.

Ace tensed, but there was nothing he could do about it. Marco came to kneel at his side, looking down at him steadily. Ace could only look back up at him. Even his words seemed to have failed him now. There was nothing to say.

He was distantly aware of Lisa coming to kneel at his other side, of one of her tiny hands entwining with his own, and he hoped Marco wasn’t about to kill him in front of her.

Marco didn’t.

Instead, he held out his hand, and let his blue flames envelop his fingers. Then, gently, he pressed his burning palm to Ace’s mutilated chest. Ace twitched, anticipating pain, but none came.

Instead there was the strangest sensation, like warm water against his skin or like a sunburn peeling away. His head went a little fuzzy. Slowly, the pain in his chest began to fade.

As he and Lisa watched, Marco used his healing flames to knit together the gouges he had carved into Ace’s chest. The blood seeped back into his torn skin, which folded back together, going from red to pink to tan again. There was subtle pressure in his chest like his ribs were reconnecting and moving back into place. The line that Taro’s kick attack had cut across his chest briefly scabbed over, and then disappeared completely.

And then Ace saw that the wound from Chichi’s fangs was beginning to heal too, and he finally lifted his hand to catch Marco’s wrist.

“Leave that one,” he said hoarsely, still kind of unsure what was happening but confident enough in this. “I want that scar. Rakuyo and Chichi fought for it.”

Marco stared at him. Slowly, he moved his hand away. The bite marks in his shoulder stayed.

Lisa stared down at his newly healed chest with wide eyes, and then turned towards Marco. Her fear seemed to have faded completely, leaving only awe. “You healed him,” she said. Clearly, it had never occurred to her before that a pirate could do something like this. Marco smiled gently at her. A little jealous at the loss of attention, Ace wondered bitterly what she would think about the half-empty first aid kit which functioned as the ship's doctor aboard the Spadille.

It was at this moment that Taro chose to return, falling from the sky and touching down lightly in the dirt a short distance away.

“Marco,” he said, flipping his sword in his hand. His voice had hardened from its previous amusement. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“So I’ve just been told,” Marco said, and rose to his feet. He met Taro’s eyes. Something passed between them. Two-Blade stared at him, and then glanced at Ace and Lisa, who were both still on the ground. Marco began to walk away, and despite having just been thrown into a building by him, Taro seemed content to let him go.

They all watched as Marco walked over to where Rakuyo lay in the dirt. He hauled his brother up over his shoulder and slung Chichi over his arm, and finally he turned his head to look back at Ace.

“Now’s not the time nor the place to finish this,” he said. “But I hope you knew what you were getting into when you burned our flag, Fire Fist. It’s not the kind of thing we can easily forgive.”

“I know,” was all Ace managed, his usual hostility escaping him. Marco nodded, and then blue fiery wings sprouted from his shoulders, and he took off into the sky.

“Huh,” said Taro, placing his hands on his hips as they watched him go. “Weird guy. But hey, nice job with Rakuyo, Ace!”

“Kotaro-san!” Lisa said, like she’d just fully realized he was there. She jumped up from her spot on the ground and crashed into Taro’s legs.

“Hey, Lisa,” he said, pulling her up into his arms. “That was very dangerous, coming out here. I bet your parents and your brother are worried sick.”

Lisa pouted up at him. “I didn’t want Ace-san to die.”

Taro wagged a finger in her face. “Well, Ace-san doesn’t want you to die.”

“That’s right,” said Ace, hauling himself to his feet. He looked warily at Taro, but decided to play nice for the moment. “You shouldn’t have done that, Lisa.”

She shrugged. “I think that guy was nice, too, in the end. My parents say all that pirates do is steal and kill, but he didn’t do any of that.”

Taro bopped Lisa’s nose. “Well, that’s because Marco is a special kind of guy. Not every pirate you meet will be as great as him and Ace.”

Lisa seemed to consider this, and they began to walk further into town. A man came running up to them, clearly frantic.

“Daddy!” Lisa said, and Taro handed her off to her father.

“Thank you, Kotaro-sama,” the man said with tangible relief. He bowed. “I don’t know what I would have done if she’d been hurt.”

“No trouble,” said Taro with an easy smile. He slung an arm around Ace’s shoulders. “It was our pleasure.” Ace politely waited until Lisa and her father were walking back down the road to shrug the arm off.

“Fuck off,” he muttered in response to Taro’s wounded look. Then he glanced back at him. “Hey, does everyone in this town know who you are? ‘Cause if not, you kind of exposed yourself earlier.”

“Oh, they know,” said Taro. “But I’m retired, and they also understand what that means.”

“Didn’t seem very retired a minute ago,” Ace muttered, thinking of that weird wind kick.

“Well, self defense is another thing entirely,” said Taro, eyes glinting. “Did you end up figuring out my second blade?”

Ace grunted. “Yeah, you fucking hit me with it. But I have no idea how you actually did it. Armament Haki? Are you controlling the air like Guns did?”

“Oh, you ran into Guns?” Taro said, grinning. “Naw, that’s his special thing. Mine’s a bit different. The Marines can do it too– most of their very senior officers are very good at it. But I worked it out all on my own, and I like to think I’m something of an expert. I call it my Wind Blade– they call it Rankyaku. It’s classified as one of the six techniques of Rokushiki, the superhuman martial art.”

Ace blinked in recognition. Gramps had mentioned Rokushiki when he was younger, usually threatening to teach it to him as a form of ‘advanced training.’ “Wait, so, how does it actually work?”

Taro shrugged. “It’s pretty much exactly what it looks like.”

Ace stared at him in disbelief. “A kick with enough power to produce a shock wave that cuts through people like a blade?”

“Cuts through people, and buildings too. One time I accidentally brought down a castle.”

Ace rubbed his eyes. Weighing on his mind was the knowledge that he still had to fight this guy. But right now, for once, he really didn’t want to. He was exhausted from his fight with Rakuyo– Marco’s healing flame hadn’t helped with that one bit.

“Why does a swordsman have such a powerful kick?” he mumbled.

Taro laughed. “A man must be many things, to survive in the New World.”

“Ugh.” When Ace opened his eyes, Taro was looking curiously at him.

“Remind me, what did you say you were in town for? Just passing through?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, and then thought: fuck it. “The Marines want me to kill you.”

Taro looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh. He patted Ace gently on the back. “So, are you still planning to try?”

Ace thought about it. Technically, there were still a handful of other Roger Pirates that he could chase after. He couldn’t imagine that they would be any weaker than Taro or Guns– but maybe they would be less inclined to try to save his life. As much as that kind of coddling rankled, it didn’t change the fact that Ace found it difficult to want to kill a guy who’d just fought at his side.

He sighed. “You know, you didn’t have to fight with me just because you knew my goddamn father.”

Taro did actually laugh, this time. Ace looked up at him with offense. “I didn’t do it for that reason,” Taro said, like it was obvious, and then didn’t explain why he actually had. Apropos of nothing, he said: “You know, your dad didn’t even tell any of us that he was having a son. Well, he might have told Rayleigh.”

Ace grunted, trying to decide if he had the energy to tell the other man that he didn’t give a shit.

Taro continued, unheeding. “When I saw your face on your bounty poster, I didn’t want to believe it. Not because I didn’t want you to exist, but because I wanted to believe that Roger would have told us about you. That’s what you do with your crew, with your friends. You tell them things.”

Ace grunted again.

“Say,” said Taro, in a fake-innocent way that was becoming annoyingly familiar. “Didn’t you have a crew of your own? The Spade Pirates?”

Ace glared, and Taro looked back at him innocently.

“So, where are they?” the man asked.

Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. On their way to the Majiatsuka Kingdom by now, probably.”

“Oh, are you meeting up with them there? It’s not that far from here.”

“What do you even know about it?” Ace snarled, caught off guard by the sudden interest. “Why do you care?”

Taro rolled his eyes, completely unphased by Ace’s vitriol. “Look, if you hadn’t noticed, you would have been totally outclassed fighting two Whitebeard Commanders by yourself. You can be huffy all you want about me lending you a hand, but the reality is– if you don’t like fighting alongside people you don’t trust then next time you might want to bring along some of your friends.”

Ace scowled and kicked at the ground. “I’d just be putting them in danger,” he said.

“Dear God,” said Taro, looking suddenly annoyed. He put his hands on Ace’s shoulders. “Ace, listen to me. Your crew are pirates. They chose to be pirates. And they chose to follow you as their captain. Do you get that? That’s their choice.” He looked deadly serious as he stared Ace down. “The captain doesn’t get to leave his crew members behind just because he’s scared. It tends to give them the impression that he doesn’t trust them.”

Taro let go and started walking ahead of Ace. Feeling scolded and slightly guilty but not really knowing why, Ace hurried along behind him. For a moment he considered asking if Taro was talking about Roger, but then realized he wanted to know exactly fuck-all about that guy and shut that line of thought down.

So instead Ace followed Taro in silence, frustrated at how he couldn’t help but like the man and wondering at how his determination to strike out on his own had come crumbling down so quickly. The truth of the matter was that he already missed his crew. He wanted them back.

He cleared his throat as he came shoulder to shoulder with Taro again. “I, uh. How far is the Majiatsuka Kingdom from here?”

Taro glanced at him, and then huffed, apparently recognizing his silent apology. “Two days. You’ve got a boat of your own?”

“Yeah, yeah. But I’ll have to stock up on food.”

This time, Taro’s glance was a little amused. Ace frowned at him, not willing to hear any further comparisons that the man might have to make.

“I can help you with that,” was all he said.

Ace sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. You mentioned that you have a little brother?”

Ace looked at him warily, more guarded than he’d been yet in the whole conversation. “Yeah.”

Taro smiled at him. “I’m glad.” When Ace raised an eyebrow, he went on: “You heard me say that none of us knew about you, right? If we’d known about you, things would have been different. We would have been there when you were growing up.”

Even if Ace had known what to say to that, he wouldn’t have been able to say it around the lump in his throat.

Taro just smiled at him. “I’m glad you weren’t alone, is all I mean.”

*

By the time Luffy made it to the Putchi train station from where he’d gotten off the WEJ airship, he’d dined and dashed at four different restaurants. Morgans hadn’t been lying about the food– Luffy was sure he’d never eaten better in his life. But he could also hear, a few blocks down, the grumblings of the disgruntled mob of waiters and bussers that were chasing after him. So, sadly, he resigned himself to leaving town.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that he would return one day soon, accompanied by the greatest crew ever and enough treasure to pay for every scrap of food on the whole island.

And then when he tried to board the train, he ran into an unexpected problem.

“Ticket?” the guy at the gate asked. He wore a blue uniform and stupid hat.

Luffy stared blankly at him. “Eh?”

“You need to give me a ticket,” said the guy. “Hey, do you have any family around here, kid? Maybe some parents?”

Luffy blinked. “No. But, can I board the train?”

“No,” said the guy, very slowly. “You need to give me a ticket.”

Luffy frowned. And then, as the guy turned away and began to yell about someone losing a kid, he jumped the turnstile. It took about two seconds for him to climb aboard the train, and the same amount of time for the guy to catch on.

“Hey! Kid! Get back here!”

Luffy stuck out his tongue, slammed the train car door behind him, and ran.

The car he’d boarded was nearly full, and the one attached to it was busy, too. It didn’t leave much room for running, but in this case that worked to Luffy’s advantage, slowing down his pursuers.

He ran through four different train cars before he got distracted by the view out the window, and then he collapsed all at once in a seat so he could press his face against the glass. The train was bobbing in the water exactly like a ship. There was no concrete or soil that Luffy could see– just miles and miles of sparkling blue ocean.

This, Luffy realized, was his first actual glimpse of the Grandline.

His elasticity enabled him to completely flatten his face against the window, and he took full advantage of that power. He stayed like that for a long time, enraptured by the sight, and then eventually the train shuddered all around him. The sky above began to fill with lazy puffs of steam as the train came to life, and then it began to move forwards, getting faster every second. Luffy stood all the way up in his seat, trying to get the right angle to see what the train was moving on, but with no success– and then finally, by looking forward at the untouched stretch of water past the front of the train, he spotted a thin glimmer of steel just beneath surface of the waves.

So cool.

Luffy wanted a pirate ship like this when he finally set out. Or maybe one that flew, like the bird-guy’s ship! Or, actually, his ship was going to be even cooler than either one. It was going to be the best ship that had ever sailed the sea.

He finally faced forward in his seat again, giddy at the thought– and then his stomach rumbled, so he stood to look for food.

At the door of the train car, he caught a glimpse of men in blue uniforms and funny hats, dressed like the guy back at the gate, and he finally remembered that he was being chased.

As he passed through the door, he heard the men talking to each other: “...said to keep an eye out for a kid with no ticket.”

“Maybe his parents boarded an earlier train and he lost it?”

“Then he should’ve waited for them to come back for him. The rule is no ticket, no train…”

“I know, but it’s not like the kid’ll manage to just wander off through the Gates of Justice. There’s protocol, and we always search the cars before leaving Water 7…”

Luffy huffed as the door closed behind him. Sounded boring.

In the next car, he caught the familiar scent of dashi broth and began to follow it, letting it blind him to his surroundings as he instinctively dodged other passengers. He was almost drooling by the time he made it to the end of the car, certain his destination was just beyond the door and practically tasting the noodles on his tongue–

And then a gloved hand caught his arm and roughly pulled him into a seat against the back wall.

He whipped his head around to face whoever had sidetracked him from finding and eating ramen, his pout already forming–

And then he froze in place, eyes wide, all thoughts of food leaving his head.

“Hey,” said the man who had grabbed him, scowling. “Are you the kid who boarded with no ticket? Did you know you’ve put security on high alert? There’s about three times more guards on the train than there should be.”

Luffy didn’t hear a single word the man said. Because the face that was staring at him with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow was one of the faces Luffy knew best in the entire world, and one he had been positive he would never see again.

“Hey, did you hear me? I’ve already been sitting on this train for seven hours. I’ve had to take Chimney to the bathroom eleven times. I can’t deal with this. You have to turn yourself in.”

It was a face framed by waves of blond hair and shadowed with the brim of a black top hat, each feature as familiar to Luffy as his own straw hat. It had a new burn scar on the left eye, but that didn’t matter. It had grown into a stronger jaw and a longer nose, but those things were irrelevant. Luffy knew whose face that was. It was the face of Luffy’s dead older brother Sabo, and as he looked into it his whole world fractured around him once again.

*

Garp looked up at the sign outside the auction house. ‘HUMAN,’ it read, in big bold letters, making no attempt at affecting shame or secrecy. The worst part was, they knew they didn’t need either one.

He cracked his knuckles. Beside him, Bogard stood casually with his hand draped over the hilt of his sword. “Frontal assault, sir?”

“I think so,” said Garp. “Silvers will probably figure out what’s going on and meet us somewhere in the middle.”

Bogard hummed his assent, and Garp punched down the door.

Inside, people screamed. Apparently they were mid-auction. Garp scanned the audience as he stepped over the door that he’d just pounded into the ground, and quickly determined that it was an average crowd– all noble born, but nobody too important. They were the bottom of the very top, each and every one desperately afraid of slipping up and falling down to live among the masses.

In short, they were perfectly within his reach.

“I’m breaking this auction house up on suspicion of slavery and human trafficking,” he announced, reaching into his pocket for a packet of rice cakes. Sengoku was going to be furious when he heard about this, but by then it would be far too late. Bogard, as ever, stood reliably at his back.

One man stood in the front row. “You can’t do this,” he said, every word dripping with disdain. “The Marines serve at the behest of the World Government, which serves at the behest of us. There’s nothing here to break up. Be on your way before you get into real trouble.”

Garp grinned and bit into a rice cake. “You think the World Government serves you?” he asked, his mouth full. He chuckled, sending crumbs flying. “You’re nobody. You’re not royalty, and you’re not a Celestial Dragon, and nobody has to know your name. The World Government doesn’t care about you. The world doesn’t care about you.” He bit into a second rice cake. The man’s face had turned pale with anger. “And I am Vice Admiral Garp.”

Around the room, some people were already trying to leave. Maybe they had recognized his face. Others were just now putting it together, gathering up their bags and wallets, preparing to escape.

“I bet you know who I am,” said Garp, now stuffing the package of rick cakes back in his pocket. “People call me the Hero of the Navy. Do you know what that means?”

The man’s friend was grabbing his sleeve, trying to pull him away, but he was too caught up in the horror of what Garp was telling him.

“It means that I can do whatever I want,” Garp said, deeply satisfied, “and when people hear about it they’re going to think that it was the right thing to do.”

In the back of the building, an alarm started ringing. The first people started to break into a run.

And Garp started doing his job.

He and Bogard were a perfect team, as they had always been. Garp took vicious satisfaction in punching these people in the face. Bogard whacked them with the flat of his blade, spinning around the room and knocking people into each other, sending women in sparkling heels and men with golden canes to the ground. Meanwhile, Garp bulldozed straight through, toppling anyone in his reach as he made for the stage.

The auctioneer had run off as soon as he’d broken down the door, the smart lad. It wouldn’t help him, though. Peterman was an easy catch, and notorious for selling out his own men to cut a deal.

If the rising tide of emotions in the room hadn’t alerted Silvers yet, then the alarm definitely would’ve, so Garp could count on the fact that he had already started to free the slaves in the backrooms.

Other Marines would be arriving soon to detain whoever had caused the alarm to go off. At Garp’s order, they would enter the building to arrest the slavers instead– but Silvers Rayleigh couldn’t be seen by them, or the entire bust would fall apart.

If Garp wanted his arrests and an audience with Rayleigh, he and Bogard needed to be quick.

They wouldn’t have time to detain the nobles they’d just blown through, but that was an acceptable loss– charges against them wouldn’t stick, anyway.

The slavers, on the other hand… Bogard slipped away into the back rooms to gather paper evidence, and Garp strode straight through the halls. As he found the slavers he bashed their heads together, leaving them cuffed and propped up against the walls. And then towards the back of the building he found his real quarry.

Silvers Rayleigh was dressed in a ragged cloak, and his long gray hair was unkempt. If Garp hadn’t known him in his prime it might have been impossible to identify him as the Dark King Rayleigh, but circumstances being what they were he only nodded at the man in greeting.

Rayleigh nodded in return. They had been enemies a long time ago, and they still were in many ways– but at least in a place like this they could have a common goal. And good thing, too, because there was only time to exchange the bare details.

“I sent all the slaves out the back,” said Rayleigh. “They’ll be in the clear if they can escape the Marines. Do you have an ETA?”

“Two minutes, maybe,” said Garp. “The buyers will be long gone already.”

“Bogard?”

“Pulling files. He’ll probably run into Peterman while he’s at it. I’m going to have the Marines invade the building and take the slavers into custody.”

Rayleigh frowned. “Then I also need to be gone by the time they arrive.”

“I need to have a talk with you,” said Garp.

“Does it have anything to do with why you’ve suddenly decided to raid an auction house?”

“It’s related.”

The Dark King looked at him intently, and then nodded once. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the bar once you finish up here.”

It had almost gone easier than Garp had expected, which was obviously why he should have predicted that it would all go terribly wrong.

Bogard fell into step beside him as he made his way back towards the front of the building. “Peterman’s knocked out and tied up in his office,” he said. “I have the necessary files.”

Garp nodded. “The slaves were all sent out the back, and I found Silvers. We’ve got a rendezvous planned. ”

They strode back into the main room of the auction house to find it entirely empty, like Garp had predicted it would be. They left the same way they’d come in, and the demolished door creaked underneath Garp’s dress shoes.

Outside was where everything fell apart. The Marines were just arriving, but instead of noticing Garp and turning to await his orders, they were all falling to their knees in front of Saint Marcus Cielo.

Saint Marcus Cielo was a Celestial Dragon, and his uncle was one of the Five Elders.

In an instant, Garp had lost all control over the situation. He curled his hands into fists.

“The owner of this establishment had contacted our family’s broker,” Marcus was saying to the highest ranking officer: a captain, who was kneeling before him on the ground. Marcus’ voice was an ugly drawl. “We were told there would be an adolescent female giant sold today, and I was going to purchase it.”

Goddamnit. Not only a Celestial Dragon, but one with a vested interest.

Next to Marcus, a nondescript man in a suit nodded his head. Probably the broker in question.

“I understand,” said the captain, staring down at the dirt. “This will be our top priority. We will reclaim the merchandise for you as quickly as possible.”

Marcus sighed. “We cannot be late returning to Mariejois. You must recapture the giant before we are delayed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the captain, his nose brushing the blades of grass.

Garp felt his teeth grinding together. Bogard brushed against him gently, grounding him. Rayleigh had released the slaves at least two minutes ago now, and the longer Marcus kept the Marines on their hands and knees, the more time he wasted. There was a chance that all of the slaves would be able to get away. But… giants were notoriously slow, and even an adolescent would be difficult to hide. And if she was a liability, the other escaped slaves would probably abandon her.

Curses were running through Garp’s mind, but there was little he could do. If he came across as too interested in the situation, Marcus might even order him to recapture the giant girl himself.

The only thing he could possibly do was stall for time.

Garp burst out laughing. It was his famous, raucous, belly-stretching laugh. Even before they registered his identity, the Marines closest to him were shuffling away, distancing themselves from whichever idiot had just made himself a target.

And then they did register his identity. Garp watched the realization sweep through the crowd of kneeling Marines, and the tension rose impossibly high. He could almost hear their racing thoughts. Loud, obnoxious, empty-headed Vice Admiral Garp opening his mouth in the presence of a Celestial Dragon would be as good as committing suicide.

Bogard remained standing stubbornly at this side. Garp abandoned subtlety, because Bogard was ignoring all of his subtle signals, and sent him a sharp look. Kneel, that look said. Move away. You’re going to get caught in the crossfire.

Bogard, because he was an idiot, only ignored him.

Very slowly, Saint Marcus Cielo turned his head and looked down his nose at him.

“Who are you?” he asked, each word dripping from his mouth like poison. “And what, pray tell, is so funny?”

“I’m Monkey D. Garp,” he said. He was unbearably aware of how much he sounded like his grandson. “I’m the Hero of the Navy.” He smiled, a loose and careless thing. Time to reign it in now, before he really did get himself killed. “I was just picturing how easy it’ll be to recapture a baby giant. They’re supposed to be slow.”

Marcus smiled, a thin and unamused thing. “Hero of the Navy,” he said. “A heavy title, but it means nothing. I don’t care who you are or what you have achieved. You are beneath me. Kneel, now, or forfeit your life.”

Garp considered this choice, and stood on the edge of a precipice. He always made an effort to avoid Celestial Dragons, because he hated them and he hated watching people simper before them. Garp didn't bow to anyone, not even his superior officers. But it seemed now that his luck had finally run out. He was now and forever faced with a choice, with the choice: obey or rebel. Live or die.

He was used to breaking rules. He wiretapped the Fleet Admiral’s office, and went AWOL when he felt like it, and consorted freely with pirates. He broke Marine protocol and arrested slavers and raided auction houses. He threatened nobles and lied to just about all of his superior officers. He kept the Dadan Bandits out of jail. He harbored the son of the Pirate King, and kept semi-regular contact with Dragon the Revolutionary. But all of that was whatever it was, and this was something completely different.

This was a direct order from a Celestial Dragon. This was a choice.

It was the same choice that Garp had been making all of his life: the choice to fall in or to be free. He made it every day, in the exact same way, and recently he had been coming to terms with the fact that his grandsons would never choose the same way he had.

Garp fell down to his knees, because in the end, despite all of the little rebellions, he had always chosen this. Marines, not pirates. Following, and never free. Bogard hit the ground half a second behind him. The grass was wet, and he already knew it would stain his white uniform pants, leaving this moment visible to all who saw him far after it had ended.

“Good boy,” said Marcus, his voice curling in dangerous satisfaction. Garp stayed perfectly still, and listened as the nameless captain was given the responsibility of recapturing the young giantess.

It was a heavy task, and one doomed to fail. Even as Garp kneeled, there was a drum of victory beating in his heart. He had stalled long enough. The giantess had gotten away.

A wave of Rayleigh’s Observation Haki curled over him, wrapping around him and delivering a message of vicious satisfaction. Accomplishment. Relief. It was this knowledge that allowed him to bear it, kneeling next to Bogard in the dewy grass. He could sit there like an animal called to heel, spine bent and nose to the dirt, and it didn't matter at all, because he'd done what he meant to do.

Garp clung to this knowledge until Saint Marcus Cielo moved away from the auction house, attended by his blank-faced broker. He clung to it until his body belonged to him again, until he could rise to his feet and reach out a hand to help Bogard stand, and until he could reach up to tear down the terrible sign that read ‘HUMAN’ and crush it in his fist.

He stood there next to Bogard once the Celestial Dragon had gone away, grass stains on his knees, hardly knowing whether to feel empty or achieved.

Bogard brushed his shoulder, steady at his side as always, and reminded him that they had an appointment to keep.

But Garp’s head was miles away as they headed back to Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar. For the first time in a long time, long enough that he'd nearly forgotten that any other choice existed, he began to wonder if he'd made the right one after all.

Chapter Text

Sabo stared blankly at the kid clinging to his chest. The boy was sobbing and shaking, his hands fisting into Sabo’s shirt. It was… awkward. Sabo didn’t think he’d scolded him that badly, but he was starting to feel more guilty as seconds passed and the crying didn’t let up.

“Uh, there, there,” he said, patting the kid’s head. “I didn’t mean it… um, you don’t have to turn yourself in.”

Though, really, if the kid had snuck onto the train without a ticket and been dumb enough to get caught doing it, then he deserved to face Sabo’s frustration.

“S–Sabo!” the kid sobbed, and Sabo froze.

He put his hands on the kid’s shoulders and tried to shove him away, but didn’t succeed. “Hold on, how do you know my name?”

“You’re alive!” the kid said. “Sabo!”

Sabo hissed as the arms around him tightened. “Ow! Hey, what are you– can you be quiet, please?” They were starting to attract a lot of stares, which wasn’t ideal. He grimaced at the lady across the aisle, shrugging and shaking his head. 'Kids,' he mouthed at her, all exasperated patience.

She nodded knowingly, and Sabo took the opportunity to haul the kid up and pull them out the door. Thankfully, he was strangely pliant, letting himself be dragged into the next car, which happened to be the kitchen. It was blessedly empty, though there was a pot of something delicious-smelling simmering on the stove.

Sabo slowly lowered the kid to the ground, making shushing noises. “Uh, it’s okay. Everything’s alright.”

The kid sniffled and wiped his face on Sabo’s shirt, and then finally looked up. His eyes were red and watery, and his nose was runny– but there was a massive grin splitting across his face, irrepressible and all-powerful, shining up at him.

Sabo stared back, at a loss.

“Sabo!” the kid hiccuped, devolving from crying into uncontrollable giggling, “I missed you!”

Now, it didn’t affect Sabo’s life on a day-to-day basis, but it was a true fact about him that he had no memories before the age of ten. In fact, you could say it was one of the oddest things about Sabo, because memory loss generally didn’t work that way– even blunt force trauma to the head wasn’t supposed to just wipe the slate clean. Koala had often theorized that it was a mental trauma response, and not something actually wrong with his brain. (“Not that I don’t think there’s other things wrong with your brain,” she would helpfully add.)

These days, he had generally resigned himself to never knowing about those forgotten years– though of course, earlier in his life, he’d gone through the odd periods of obsession with rediscovering his past. By now he had mostly come to terms with the mystery, and he rarely thought about it at all.

But even so, Sabo was a smart guy. No matter how often he thought about his forgotten past, when a kid he’d never met before knew his name and started saying that he missed him, he couldn’t help making a few connections.

“You, uh, know me?” he asked awkwardly.

The kid beamed up at him. “You’re Sabo!” he said.

“And, uh… how do you know me?”

The kid sniffed again, and began to sit up– but he didn’t remove his arms from around Sabo’s waist. Instead, they began to stretch out like rubber, and by the time the kid was able to comfortably look at his face they’d grown several inches longer. Sabo stared, and then put it aside. Crazy shit happened on the Grandline. It took a lot to phase him.

“You’re my brother,” said the kid, still grinning.

Of course, that might just do it. Sabo blinked, extremely caught off guard.

The kid tilted his head, brow furrowing. “Does Sabo not remember?”

“Uh, funny story.” Brothers, really? They looked nothing alike. “Are you sure I’m who you’re thinking of? Where are you from?”

“I know Sabo,” the kid said firmly.

“Okay,” said Sabo. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I actually don’t remember anything about my childhood. It’s a whole thing.”

“Whoa,” said the kid, wide-eyed. “Not anything? You don’t remember Dadan, or Gramps? You don’t remember Ace?”

Sabo raised his hands helplessly. “I guess not? Who’s Ace?”

“Our other brother,” said the kid.

“Right,” said Sabo slowly. Two brothers. Sure. Why not. “And… what's your name?”

The kid broke into a grin. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be the King of the Pirates!”

King of the Pirates. Right. Sure.

“Monkey Sabo,” he tried. The words fit weirdly in his mouth.

Luffy burst out laughing. “Silly Sabo! That’s my name, not yours!”

“What, we don’t share a last name? Do we have different dads or something?”

Luffy nodded. “Sabo didn’t like his parents, so he ran away from home. But it was okay, because then he became brothers with Ace and I!”

He’d been adopted, then. Interesting.

Just then, the door at the far end of the car opened. A guy in a chef’s coat stepped in, accompanied by one of the guards. The chef was saying something, but they both stopped and stared when they saw Sabo and Luffy sitting on the floor.

“Hey,” the guard began, and Sabo stood with a curse and grabbed his pipe.

It was a matter of moments to have the chef and the guard both knocked out on the ground, and Sabo began to drag them over to the cabinets that lined one of the walls.

Behind him, Luffy laughed. “Sabo’s as strong as ever!”

He was a little flattered by that, but refused to show it. He was on a mission, goddammit, and this kid was causing him some real problems. Two unconscious bodies weren’t exactly inconspicuous. With a grunt, he stuffed them both into a cupboard, and dusted off his hands.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” he said. “And aren’t you a little too young to be out on the Grandline by yourself? Why did you sneak onto the train without a ticket?” Okay, that last bit felt a little hypocritical, but his reason was probably better than Luffy’s.

“I’m looking for someone,” said Luffy, rising to his feet. His expression and tone hardened abruptly. “I wasn’t supposed to set sail until I was seventeen, but someone hurt Makino, so I came to make him pay.”

Sabo blinked, a little caught off guard. “Make him pay?” he echoed. “How old are you again?”

“Fourteen,” said Luffy, frowning at him. “Ne, Sabo, you don’t remember Makino, either?”

“No,” Sabo said. “I told you, I don’t remember anything.”

Luffy huffed.

“But why would someone hurt her?” Sabo relented, feeling a little bad. Maybe Makino was their sister or something.

“To hurt Ace,” said Luffy, still frowning, and then suddenly grinned. “Ace is a really strong pirate, Sabo! He left when he was seventeen, just like we said we would, and now he has enemies all over!”

Sabo stared, a weird suspicion growing in the back of his mind. A strong pirate named Ace… but it couldn’t be.

“Hey, Luffy, does Ace have a different last name, too?”

“Eh? Yeah. His is Portgas.”

Of course. Two brothers, one of which was the newest Warlord of the Sea. Sabo rubbed his forehead. Maybe this was all a big mistake. “We grew up in the Goa Kingdom?” he checked.

“Yeah,” said Luffy. “We thought Sabo was dead. Ace will be so happy that he’s alive!”

Well, now he felt a little bad. “How did you think I died?”

“You tried to set sail early,” said Luffy. “We were all gonna wait until we were seventeen to set out and be pirates, but Sabo had to leave early. You were shot down by a big, fancy ship, and your boat blew up.”

That aligned with how Dragon had found him– pulling him out the water, bloodied and charred. Sabo sighed, resigning himself to this.

“Pirates, huh?” he mused. At least it hadn’t been his fervent wish to join the Marines, or something.

Luffy nodded, grinning. “Ne, Sabo, you should come with me! I’ve got to find the guy that hurt Makino!”

Sabo shook his head, jarred back into reality. “Hold on a second. I’m sorry, but I can’t just stop my whole life and go with you. I’m kind of in the middle of something, you know? And we might have been brothers when we were kids… but I don’t remember you. We have our own lives now.”

Luffy looked up at him. “Sabo, this guy cut Makino’s legs off. She can’t walk anymore.”

Well, that was horrible and tragic. But the fact remained that there was no face he could attach to this Makino character– no memories, no feelings. Sabo saw horrible things happen to innocent people every time he left Baltigo.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a job to do.” It was even true. Koala was undercover right now, depending on him. That was how it was in the Revolutionary Army. They were always the underdogs, betting on a brighter future for everybody. Sometimes you had to make personal sacrifices for the sake of the mission– for the good of everybody, everywhere.

Luffy just shrugged. “Then I can help you do it. And then we’ll go get the guy who hurt Makino.”

Sabo scowled. “No. It’s an important job. I can’t just drag along a fourteen year old kid. You’re already messing things up for me.”

Luffy ignored him, stepping over to the stove and pulling the lid off the good-smelling pot. “Ramen!” he said, and lifted the whole thing to his mouth.

Sabo watched as the kid slurped down noodles, and then shook his head. “I’m serious, Luffy. I can’t take you with me. You’ll just have to… go it alone.”

Luffy set the now-empty pot back on the stove with clang. He looked over shoulder, frowning, and said nothing.

Sabo tapped his fingers on his pipe, feeling strangely at a loss. “But… good luck, yeah? Maybe I’ll look you up after I’ve done my job. And… and maybe Ace, too.” Although, frankly, it was probably better that he stayed as far away from the Warlord as possible.

Luffy still didn’t say anything, and Sabo was just about resigned to shuffling awkwardly out the door when it opened behind him again. This time, it was Chimney who came in. It had only been a matter of time until she’d found him again. The little girl tugged on his hand.

“Sabo,” she said. “Potty?”

“Sure,” he said, dragging his eyes away from Luffy. “Potty.” He stopped a final time at the car door, glancing back. “Uh, maybe stay in here for a bit,” he finally said. “There are guards in every car on the lookout for a suspicious kid, but I think I just knocked out the only people who are supposed to be in here. If someone comes through you can hide in a cabinet.”

Luffy just looked at him. Sabo looked back, taking in everything about him in its entirety– his sandals, the straw hat, the scar under his cheek. He wondered, just briefly, if he used to know how Luffy had gotten it.

And then he looked away and walked out the door.

*

Marco stepped out of the infirmary on the Moby Dick with a large sigh. It was tiring to use his healing flames, and he’d just done it twice within the past day. Thankfully, it seemed like Rakuyo would have been fine either way– but Marco hadn’t wanted his brother to have to wait for his skin to heal. And burns were a literal pain.

He was leaning against the railing of the ship when Izou came up behind him, apparently having sensed his brooding. His brother offered him about three seconds of gracious silence before he began to speak.

“Was Two-Blade as annoying as ever?”

Marco scoffed, and refused to say anything else on the matter.

“That’s the second Roger Pirate to defend Portgas D. Ace,” Izou mused. “It makes you wonder what they see in him.”

Marco looked out over the water. He wondered that, too. Fire Fist had potential, sure. Apparently he even had some honor, and some humanity. It didn’t change the fact that the Roger Pirates didn’t let people who tried to kill them live– and they didn’t go around randomly protecting people from the Whitebeard Pirates, either. There had to be something different about Fire Fist, something unique.

He wondered if he’d gotten a glimpse of it earlier that day– that strange hollow look in Ace’s eyes as he’d been about to die, and the way he’d gone quiet and passive as Marco had approached him. His silent, resigned acceptance of his fate. Marco wondered if he was losing his mind. It made no sense. The Roger Pirates weren’t known for their pity.

He couldn’t get the image out of his mind of the little girl. He remembered her looking up at him with tears in her eyes, standing in front of Fire Fist with her arms extended. He remembered Fire Fist, struggling to get up and failing, eyes wide and horrified and scared.

Scared for the little girl.

“He’s nicer than you!”

Marco shook his head. He didn’t know why he’d decided to heal Fire Fist. To prove something to the little girl? To put her at ease? To prove something to himself?

He put his head down on the railing. None of it changed what he had to do. None of it changed the reality of the situation, and what their code of honor demanded. But it was always harder to kill a decent person.

And he’d never encountered the problem before, but apparently it was also harder to kill a person that the Roger Pirates had taken a liking to.

Izou placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. “There, there,” he said, sounding largely unsympathetic.

“There was a kid there,” Marco muttered. “A little girl. She stopped me from killing him. She said he was nice.”

Izou considered this. “Well, then I guess he was.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Marco said, almost to himself.

Izou shrugged. “Do you know what my favorite part of being a pirate is?”

Marco sent him a wary glance. “Is it forcing your division to get their nails painted?”

Izou dug his nails in Marco’s shoulder, and he moved away with a wince. “It’s that I’m free to do whatever I want to do, so long as I’m strong enough to defend that choice.”

There was a pause while Marco considered this and rubbed at his shoulder.

“And,” Izou added, almost irreverently, “my favorite thing about being on Whitebeard’s crew is that he’s the strongest man in the world.”

Marco scowled at his brother. “And also you love him, and you believe in his dream.”

“Of course,” said Izou. “And I guess some of you guys are okay, too. But I was trying to make a point, idiot.”

Marco shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how strong we are. It’s not a code of honor if you only follow it because someone stronger than you is forcing you to. It’s a code of honor because it’s a set of standards you hold yourself to even when it’s hard.”

Izou shrugged. “I know. I’m just saying. It’s kind of our whole schtick, as pirates. We don’t have to play by the rules.”

Marco grunted.

“Have you talked to Pops yet?”

“Not yet,” said Marco. “I’ll give him a debrief before I head out again.”

“Where do you think Fire Fist is headed next?”

“Sambell’s reef. He’s the next closest Roger Pirate.”

Izou considered this. “Do you want me to come along, this time?”

Marco glanced at him, surprised. “Sure. But I want to bring a third person, in case the Roger Pirate protection squad steps in again.”

Izou shrugged. “I’m sure we can wrangle Vista. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as possible. With three people, we’ll have to take a paddle boat to catch up.”

Izou sighed. “It’s a shame. There’s a big party planned tonight. The raid we had while you were gone was a big success. We even got our hands on a Devil Fruit.”

“Really?” That was cause for celebration. Devil Fruits were rare to find, even on a crew as big as Whitebeard’s, and even in the New World.

“Who found it?”

“Teach,” Izou said. “He seemed pretty happy with it. I think he’s going to eat it.”

“Huh,” said Marco, looking back out at the water. He considered the sun, still relatively high above the horizon. “...Maybe we have time for one drink before we go.”

Izou grinned. “I knew you were my favorite brother for a reason.”

*

When they entered the bar, Rayleigh was already nursing a bottle of rum and sitting behind the bar. Shakky was leaning in close to his face, and pulled back just as Garp and Bogard came through the door.

“So, you made it,” she said, tapping the end of her cigarette into an ashtray. “Ray says that the slaves got away.”

Bogard stepped forward to meet Shakky’s gaze, inclining his head in agreement.

“They got away, but we couldn’t make any arrests,” he told her as he sat down at the bar. “We ran into a Celestial Dragon.”

“I did hear that one was in town,” Shakky said. This did not surprise Bogard— Shakky, as a powerful information broker, heard most things.

“You could have mentioned it to us,” he said idly.

“I could have,” she agreed, smiling. “If you’d had the right price.”

Garp sat down next to Bogard, rubbing one of his massive hands over his face and sighing. Rayleigh lifted his head to stare at him.

“Brandy, please, if you’ve got any,” Garp said.

“Drinking on duty?” Shakky asked, already pulling out a tumbler. “Unusual for you.”

“I’m not on duty,” he grunted. “We’re AWOL.”

“Ah,” she said, very mildly. She glanced at Bogard. “Anything for you, Bog-san?”

He shook his head absentmindedly, preoccupied with watching his commanding officer stare into the bottom of his glass.

The incident with the Celestial Dragon hadn’t affected Bogard nearly as much as it seemed to have affected Garp– though of course, that made sense. Bogard had been well-accustomed to bowing his head to any number of scumbags before meeting Garp, for whom it must have been a new experience.

It wasn’t that Bogard was worried about him. Garp was the strongest man he knew, and he would survive even a humiliation like this. It was more the vague expression of uncertainty that had settled on Garp's face that Bogard found deeply, deeply unsettling. And it wasn’t exactly the best time for Garp to have his vulnerabilities on display.

Rayleigh drained his bottle of rum and jumped up to sit on the counter of the bar. His bare, filthy feet perched on the rung of a barstool.

“So, you’ve gone AWOL,” he mused. “And you’ve suddenly decided to ignore Marine regulations about the slave trade. Dare I ask why you’ve sought me out?”

That, at last, seemed to snap Garp out of it. He threw back his tumbler of brandy like a shot and turned to face Rayleigh head on.

“How caught up have you been with the news lately?”

Rayleigh raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been busy trying to pay off a debt,” he said.

Shakky hummed. “This is the first time he’s been home in three months.”

If the files Bogard had pulled from the casino in Grove 7 were any indication, Rayleigh had spent most of that time digging his hole of debt deeper.

Garp shook his head. “Well, there’s a new Warlord of the Sea,” he said. “I figured you might recognize his face.”

“Oh?” Rayleigh said. “Might I?”

Shakky reached under the bar top to grab a sheet of paper and held it out under Rayleigh’s nose. Bogard tilted his head, and saw that it was Ace’s bounty poster.

“Ah,” said Rayleigh quietly. “Yes, I recognize that face. A Warlord, is he now?”

“Yes,” said Garp gravely, like he was agreeing that a loved one had contracted a terminal illness. “Did you know about him?”

Rayleigh sighed and removed his glasses to clean them on his shirt. “I knew that Rogue was pregnant,” he said. “But after Roger gave himself up to the Navy, she went into hiding. She wouldn’t tell me where she was going. When I heard the news about the Baterilla massacre, I figured the kid was dead. And then several months ago Crocus called me, telling me about a rookie that had just come through Reverse Mountain.” He put his glasses back on his face. “He told me that it was like seeing a ghost.”

Garp drummed his massive fingers on the counter. “Well, yeah, he’s the new Warlord. And the Navy has asked him to hunt down and kill the remaining Roger pirates.”

Rayleigh frowned. “I thought they’d given up on that.”

“I can’t explain what the hell Sengoku is thinking,” Garp scowled. “But the kid doesn’t back down from fights. He’s going to get himself killed.”

Across the bar, Shakky raised an eyebrow. “You almost seem like you care, Monkey.”

Garp huffed. “Who do you think was looking after him all these years? I raised the brat with my grandson.”

They were both visibly surprised at this, and Rayleigh leaned forward intently. “How did you know about him in the first place?”

“Roger told me,” said Garp. “From inside his cell, about an hour before his execution. He said he had a wife and a kid hiding out in Baterilla, and that his dying wish was for me to keep them safe.” He said these words like he wasn't aware of the risk Roger had been taking, asking a Marine for something so weighty and so precious. Like he wasn't aware that he was perhaps the only Marine who would've done it, who would've taken Ace and hidden him and still have been fighting to keep him safe seventeen years later.

The emotion emptied from Rayleigh's face as though he’d drawn a curtain closed on it. Bogard couldn’t guess if he was relieved or grieving or angry, but he imagined it was a combination of all three. “So, you got them out,” he said.

Garp shook his head. “Rogue died.”

“Ah,” said Rayleigh, leaning back on his hands. He looked up at the ceiling. “Of course.”

“You knew he was their son when you saw him,” Garp said. “Will the others recognize him?”

“Yes,” said Rayleigh, “but it won’t matter. Blood alone doesn’t mean much among pirates. If he tries to kill them, he’s as good as forsaking any connection to his father. It’s a declaration that he doesn’t respect Roger’s legacy. And it hasn’t been long enough yet that any of us have forgotten how to respond to an insult like that.”

Garp’s face was thunderous. “Don’t you have an obligation to your captain’s son?”

“Do you want me to order them not to kill him? It won’t work. I’m not Roger, Garp. Our crew was made up of the kind of people who each had it in themselves to be kings in their own right. Roger was the only person who could have ordered them to do anything. If Ace comes for me, I won’t kill him. But that’s all I can promise.”

Garp leaned closer to Rayleigh, face contorted in anger, but Bogard could already tell that whatever argument they had would be useless. Rayleigh was right about Roger's crew, but unsaid was the fact that he'd been one of them, second only to Roger himself. He wasn’t going to be moved, and Bogard wasn’t interested in watching Garp try.

What he was interested in was the look on Shakky’s face.

It was a subtle expression, almost completely hidden in the curve of her mouth. But she wasn’t the only one who was well-learned in the art of secrecy and lies. Where Garp went for the full-frontal attack, Bogard snuck around the back. Where Garp was all strength and steel spine, Bogard could bend to be whatever the circumstances required. He knew what it looked like when a person knew something nobody else did.

On Shakky’s face, it was the kind of expression that reminded Bogard just how powerful her information network really was. Not for nothing was her name known across the Underworld.

As Garp and Rayleigh’s argument devolved into an exchange of grievances that were over two decades old, Bogard leaned across the bar to speak to her.

“Name your price,” he said.

She looked at him, still playing dumb. “For what?”

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking we’d want to know,” said Bogard, utterly confident in his assessment of her.

She looked back at him for a long moment, scrutinizing him in turn. And then she grinned.

“I’ll need something big,” she said, all business. “Some Navy secrets, or some powerful blackmail. What I’ve got is information you’ll regret not having.”

Bogard considered this very carefully. He glanced at Garp, but that argument was still going nowhere. What they needed was to change the playing field. And for whatever else she lied about, Shakky was trustworthy when it came to secrets.

It was a good thing that Bogard had connections with Marine Intelligence.

“Kiko the Sentinel has been captured by the Navy,” he told her, and watched with deep satisfaction as her eyes widened. “He’s been thoroughly interrogated by Cipher Pol.”

She took a deep drag of her cigarette and exhaled smoke. “That is big,” she agreed. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

They both turned to look at the other two, who were still arguing about misadventures long since past. “Garp,” Bogard called, raising his voice slightly, and they both turned to look at him. “Shakky has something that she thinks should know.”

Shakky’s smirk was a dangerous thing. “Well, I just thought of it when you mentioned that Ace had grown up with your grandson. It reminded me of an interesting rumor that I’d heard. Did you know that yesterday the World Economic Journal’s airship docked at Putchi?”

They all waited, knowing more was coming.

“I heard from a friend who works onboard that Big New Morgans was having a very interesting meeting the night before they made landfall. She told me that he was interviewing a young boy who claimed to be Vice Admiral Garp’s grandson.”

Garp’s mouth fell open, and Bogard tensed.

“She said his name was Monkey D. Luffy.”

“Fuck!” said Garp. He stood and began to pace around the room. “He was supposed to wait until he was seventeen! And how on Earth did he get caught up with Morgans, of all scumbags?”

“Garp,” said Bogard, mind racing as he connected the dots. “We were wondering why Ace would have decided to become a Warlord, weren’t we?”

Garp turned to stare at him, aghast. “You think Luffy has something to do with it?”

“I think he wouldn’t have left Goa early unless he’d had outside provocation. It was a deal between the three of them, wasn’t it? That they’d set sail when they were seventeen?”

“Goddamnit,” said Garp, looking furious. He ran a hand through his hair. “Goddamnit. You think the Navy is holding him over Ace’s head? I thought maybe they had figured out that he was Roger’s son– I knew they had to be blackmailing him with something.”

Rayleigh was leaning back on the bar again, observing Garp’s anger with a blank expression that didn’t falter even when Garp turned on him.

“I need your help,” Garp said to him, vulnerable in a way that only decades of knowing a person could do. “I can’t chase after both of them at once.”

Rayleigh shook his head. “I told you– blood alone isn’t enough on the seas. Whatever Ace and I could have been to each other, in this life we’re only strangers. This is your problem.”

“You’re right,” said Garp, drawing himself up. Bogard recognized that tone, and his hand drifted to his sword. “It is my problem. So if you won’t protect Ace for Ace’s sake, then do it for mine. You say that Ace isn’t bound to Roger in a way that matters– but you are. And when your captain asked me to make sure that Ace got to grow up, I agreed. I cared for Ace like he was my own, and Roger died owing me a debt that he could never repay.”

Rayleigh's expression was inscrutable, but his fingers tapped on the bartop in a constant rhythm.

“He’s dead, but you’re still alive. With Roger gone, it falls to you to repay the debts he owed. And you’re good for it, aren’t you, Rayleigh?”

Bogard had the records to prove just how much Rayleigh liked to run out on debts. But that was just money. This was honor.

“Help me protect Ace,” said Garp. “Not because he’s Roger’s kid, but because he’s my grandson. And then your debt will be paid.”

Rayleigh looked up at him. His fingers kept tapping. The silence stretched, and almost snapped, and then–

Rayleigh sighed. Bogard allowed a grin to steal onto his face, and Shakky winked back at him, because they both knew what Rayleigh was about to say.

"You have a deal."

*

The collective mood aboard the Piece of Spadille had been dark enough for the past day that the crew had begun to approach levels of violence.

Banshee had nearly bitten Skull’s head off at dinner for failing to clear his plate, Mihar and Saber were at odds again but without a real reason this time, and Kotatsu had taken to swiping at the feet of crewmembers as they passed him.

It was obvious to everyone what the problem was– and it was also obvious that there was nothing they could do about it.

Frankly, Deuce had never been more furious in his life.

It wasn’t enough that Ace had to challenge and insult every pirate they came across– he also had to have an unmitigated martyr complex about it.

It had been Wallace who’d woken up for the pre-dawn watch shift to discover that Ace had left the ship. He’d woken Deuce, who’d woken up the entire rest of the crew as he’d furiously searched the barracks like Ace would be hiding under one of the beds.

The two day journey to the Majiatsuka Kingdom had been the tensest two days of Deuce’s life. He had never been in an enclosed space for so long with so many angry people, and he might have made some effort to improve the mood on board if only he hadn’t been so angry himself. The crew went about their tasks on board as begrudgingly as they had ever done anything, with an understanding that they were only heading to Majiatsuka because the other option was getting marooned.

As they approached the shore, it was clear that the entire crew was itching to leave the ship. They all needed space and time to regroup. But like a big cosmic joke, they were just lowering the anchor when Deuce heard the familiar sound of the Striker’s engine.

At first he couldn’t believe it. He moved to the rail of the ship and looked out at the waves, wondering if he was imagining things– but no, there was it was, Striker cutting across the water with Deuce’s stupid captain on board. Ace’s bright orange hat had been knocked off of his head by the wind and hung around his neck. There was a new scar on his shoulder in the shape of teeth, like a savage animal had bit into him. He was looking up at them.

Deuce turned his back to the water and looked at the crew. Judging by their incredulous expressions, they were seeing the same thing he was. Deuce refused to turn and look at it again. They stood there on the deck like an angry tribunal, waiting for Ace to join them so they could pass judgment. The sound of the motor cut out, and it was mere moments before they heard the thunk of Ace’s boots on the deck.

“Uh, hey, guys.”

And then Deuce couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“‘Hey?’” he repeated, spinning back around and striding towards Ace. “That’s all you have to say?”

Ace had the good sense to look scared, but Deuce was not about to stop now that he’d begun.

He poked Ace roughly in the chest. “You are the single biggest asshole in the entire fucking Grandline. You are the most inconsiderate, imbecilic, impulsive little idiot alive. What could you possibly have been thinking? It’s an honest-to-God miracle that you’re alive. I thought Two-Blade Taro would kill you. I thought the Whitebeard Pirates would kill us. And I thought that when we started this whole fucking thing back on Sixis Island that we agreed we were going to be a goddamn team no matter what. Didn’t you get the picture when we all stuck with you after you burned Whitebeard’s flag? Didn’t you understand why none of us jumped ship after Kizaru blackmailed you into working for the Government? Didn’t it mean something to you that not a single person was scared off after we faced our first Roger Pirate? What the fuck did you think would happen to us, if you just abandoned us in the New World? Were we just supposed to pick up a new captain at the next island?”

Ace tried to protest, but Deuce steamrolled over him: “We don’t want another goddamn captain, Ace. You’re the reason we’re even out here to begin with– because we want to follow you. You can’t just abandon us whenever you fucking feel like it. What is it, are we not good enough for you now that you’ve seen how strong the Roger and Whitebeard pirates are? I mean, I knew you were stupid but I didn’t think you were a coward.”

He finally paused for breath, and Ace immediately jumped in. “You’re right.”

“Yeah, I fucking am.” It was rare to hear Ace admit a thing like that, but Deuce wasn’t in the presence of mind to enjoy it.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Deuce, and you’re absolutely right, and I’m going to do better.”

“I hate you,” said Deuce, feeling his throat clog up. The relief was just now hitting him. He really had been thinking about all of those things nonstop for the past two days, imagining the Whitebeards catching up to them and slaughtering them, or imagining the crew breaking apart in the absence of their captain, or imaging that they would never reach Majiatsuka and would instead be marooned on a small, rocky island in the New World for the rest of their lives. “Not everything is your burden to bear, Ace. It doesn’t help anyone when you strike out on your own like you’re the source of all the world’s problems, and it’s– it’s selfish.”

“I’m sorry,” Ace said again.

Deuce rubbed at his face. “You really scared me, Ace. You abandoned us, do you get that?”

Ace looked stricken, which wasn’t making Deuce feel better. “I would never– I won’t– I wouldn’t–” He cut himself off, seeming to recognize that there was no reassurance he could give.

“Do you trust us?” asked Deuce.

“Of course I do,” said Ace immediately.

“Well, it doesn’t show. You don’t tell us things, you don’t trust us with what really matters to you, and you don’t give us the fucking dignity of choosing to fight at your side. It feels like you don’t even respect us.”

Ace looked at Deuce, and then out at the rest of the crew. Nobody spoke up to absolve him. And then, slowly, he lowered himself to his knees before them.

He looked up at them all. “I have a little brother,” he said. The words spilled out of him like blood from an open wound, and seemed to cost him just as much. “His name is Luffy. And– and when Kizaru found us that day– he threatened him. So I became a Warlord and I took down Crocodile and I let the Marines send us all on this suicidal quest to kill the Roger Pirates just so I could keep him safe.”

He looked up at them all, defiant.

And then Deuce let out a large sigh, the kind that relaxed his shoulders and drained all the tension from his body. “So, it’s worth it, then.”

Ace’s expression went wide-eyed and confused.

“You idiot,” said Skull, sounding half-pissed off and half-fond. “You think we wouldn’t understand wanting to protect somebody that you love?”

“We’ve all got people we want to protect,” said Mihar, approaching. He reached down and flicked Ace’s forehead. “Never do that again.”

Wallace was next, with a blank expression and a firm squeeze of the shoulder, and then came Saber with crossed arms and a scowl, and then Kotatsu scrambled up into Ace’s lap and curled up into a tight ball, and one by one the Spade Pirates came up to welcome their captain home.

“So,” Deuce said when it was over, standing above where Ace still kneeled on the deck. “Do I get a thank you for holding it all together while you were gone?”

Ace lunged up and squeezed the life out of him. He was grinning when he pulled back, holding onto Deuce’s biceps. “Does this mean you’re ready to go after our next Roger Pirate?”

Deuce sighed.

“After all that, I guess I have to be.”

Chapter Text

When they’d all been kids together, Sabo and Ace had always been telling Luffy what to do. Usually it was stuff like: ’Don’t get swallowed by that alligator, Luffy,’ or ‘Don’t eat the whole tiger, Luffy, we got it for all of us.’

It had been a long time since Sabo had tried to tell him to do anything, and Luffy spent about five seconds after he left the car considering whether he was going to listen and stay put.

On the one hand, there was probably lots of food in this car, and Luffy was still hungry. On the other hand, Luffy had never left Ace and Sabo alone even before they’d been brothers, no matter what they’d tried to tell him to do or otherwise threatened.

Sabo really had forgotten everything, if he couldn’t remember that. Really, it was no choice at all.

But Luffy was still hungry, so before anything else he went over to the fridge. He emptied it quickly, and then began to go through cabinets. When that was done, he opened the oven, just to check if there was something inside.

As he ate, he tried to imagine not remembering anything– not remembering Ace or Sabo or Dadan or Gramps, not remembering Makino or Woop Slap, not remembering Shanks or Lucky Roux or Beck– and then he stopped trying, because it was giving him a headache.

Luffy burped, and his mouth pulled down into a pout. He wondered if Sabo had become free like he’d said he wanted to be. Luffy didn’t think he could ever forget his dream of becoming the King of the Pirates.

Eventually, stomach full and brain hurting, he collapsed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He remembered Sabo’s hesitant expression as he’d stared at Luffy, like he couldn’t predict how he was going to react. Thinking about it made Luffy’s chest hurt along with his head.

Sabo had called them strangers, but that would never be true. They had taken a vow together, agreeing that the bonds between them would never be broken and sealing it with a sour sip of sake.

Even if Sabo didn’t know his own name, even if he left a million more times, even if he never remembered anything about their childhood for the rest of his life, he would always be Luffy’s brother. In light of that, nothing else mattered at all. He was alive, and so Luffy would always just find him again.

He stood and made his way to the door of the car, intent on catching up to Sabo. Before he could open it, however, a guard opened it first. He met Luffy’s eyes with a startled expression, and then his eyes tracked to the cabinets that Luffy had left open behind him. In plain view were the unconscious forms of the chef and the guard that Sabo had knocked out.

The new man looked at Luffy again. His eyes had gone wide. His hand went to his collar, where a baby Den Den Mushi was perched. “Intruder located in the kitchen car,” he said hurriedly into its receiver. “Requesting back up.”

Luffy grinned, punched the man in the face, and began to run.

As he spilled into the next car, two more men were immediately on his tail. They yelled after him, pointing and giving chase. Luffy shoved through the passengers until they began to get the message, screaming and clearing a convenient path for him to take. It led him up the length of the train, through dining cars and quiet cars, through sliding doors and past startled occupants. He leapt over the couplings that connected the cars entirely, and crashed into new compartments with bubbling laughter. All the while, more guards joined the group chasing him.

And then finally he ended up in a completely new type of car, and came to a sudden stop. Immediately in front of him, an old woman sat in front of a large array of levers and dials. Further into the compartment, Luffy could see a large steel box with a grate that revealed the glowing coals piled inside.

“Whoaaa,” Luffy said, starry-eyed, barely audible over the loud, repetitive chugging of the train. “Oba-san, you drive the train?”

The old woman turned around to look at him. She held a bottle of wine in her hand, half empty, and her eyes had a hazy sort of look to them. Still, they sharpened as she looked at Luffy, and then drifted over his shoulder to the guards closing in on him.

And then Luffy noticed the small figure at her side– the little blond girl that had been with Sabo earlier.

“You!” Luffy said, wide-eyed and pointing. She looked back up at him, bug-eyed.

The old lady took a swig of her wine and looked back at Luffy. “You can get on top of the train by going out the window,” she said. The sounds of the guards were growing closer.

“Oba-san, was Sabo here?”

She took another swig. “Who?”

The little girl grinned. “I can show you where he went,” she said.

“Chimney,” the old lady said, disapproving.

Luffy blinked. “Eh? Really?”

The little girl skipped over to the window and stuck her front half out. Unlike the ones in the passenger cars, it had no glass. As Luffy watched, she scrambled out of it and began to climb up towards the roof.

“Chimney!” the old lady called again, slightly panicked.

Luffy grinned and darted over to follow the little girl.

“Wait!” the old lady said.

He turned to look at her. The guards were almost there.

“You know Sabo?” she asked him, intent.

“He’s my brother,” Luffy said.

“Ah,” she said, and smiled toothily. “Then, look after Chimney while she’s with you.”

Luffy smiled. “Yosh.” The guards burst into the room, and he swung himself out the open window and onto the roof. Chimney was already standing there, waiting for him. They grinned at each other, and then Luffy turned to look out at the water.

They were on top of the very first car, and quickly approaching a massive island. To Luffy’s eyes, it looked like a delicately layered cake. At its edges, there were stretches of land and some houses at sea level. Closer to the center, massive sea walls lifted a whole circular section of the island up into the sky. At evenly spaced points around the raised section, large tunnels spilled water out into the ocean below. Higher up, houses were practically stacked on top of each other, layering further up and further in. And at the very top of the island there stood a massive fountain, almost the size of a mountain, which fed into waterways that trailed all the way back into the sea. Luffy marveled at it all, mouth agape.

And then Chimney tugged at his hand. At her urging, he turned to look in the other direction, and saw Sabo sitting on the roof a few compartments down. His brother’s legs were dangling over the side of the train, and his head was turned to look in the opposite direction– out at the endless sea they were leaving behind.

Luffy laughed. Below him, guards were beginning to boost each other up.

“Sabo!” he yelled out, his sandals slapping against steel as he ran. “Sabo!”

Sabo turned. Luffy watched as he realized just who was running towards him, and then as he noticed their pursuers. His curse carried over the wind.

“What did you do?” he yelled, lunging to his feet and darting forward to pull Chimney up into his arms. Together, he and Luffy booked it down the length of the train. More guards were making their way up onto the roof, and the ones who were already up were closing in. “You were supposed to stay hidden!”

“But Sabo was up here!” Luffy said. His brother made a frustrated sound.

Abruptly, from the front of the train, there was a loud whistling sound.

“We’re almost at Water 7!” Sabo yelled. “You’ve got to get off there!”

So, the big island was Water 7. That was where Luffy needed to be.

The train began to make a screeching sound as it slowed, its wheels grinding against the rails below. The lurch of the locomotive briefly pulled them all to a halt. There were yells behind them as some of the guards tumbled and fell– and then one guard came up behind Luffy, and firm, entrapping arms wrapped around his waist.

Sabo turned to look as Luffy was pulled away, Chimney still propped up on his hip. For a moment, he was visibly caught by indecision.

And then Luffy stretched his neck forward. Sabo’s eyes widened, and Chimney’s mouth fell open. “Gomu gomu bell!” Luffy called out, and his head slammed back into his captor’s, sending the man stumbling back.

Luffy grinned and stepped forward to wrap his own arms around Sabo and Chimney. They were within the shadow of Water 7 now, the train station just a short distance down the track.

“What are you doing?” said Sabo, sounding wary. “We’ve got to keep going, there are more guards!”

Luffy ignored him, and dug his heels in. “Gomu gomu…” he said, carefully aiming.

“Wait,” said Sabo, with a distant panic.

“Rocket!” Luffy launched all three of them into the sky. Behind him, the guards cried out in shock. Sabo yelled in his ear, and Chimney screamed.

They soared toward Water 7, leaving the sea train behind. Luffy was laughing, laughing, laughing, his arms wrapped tight around his brother as they flew towards the shore.

Sabo’s arms clenched around him. “Luffy,” he said urgently. “We’re about to–”

They crashed straight through the roof of a house that had been built at the water’s edge. Luffy retracted his arms, and the three of them lay there in the rubble for a long moment. Sabo groaned, and Chimney giggled.

And then a voice said: “Oy, oy, oy!”

A face appeared above them. It was a strange face, belonging to a strange man.

His nose was wedge-shaped and clearly made of metal. From below, Luffy could see that it had no nostrils. His chin might have seemed strong and manly, except it was too jagged and ended in a sharp point. His bright blue pompadour looked carefully maintained, but his sideburns gleamed in the light like metal.

A barrel-shaped hand rose to move sharp sunglasses up the man’s face, and he scowled. “You can’t just go around breaking people’s roofs!”

At Luffy’s side, Sabo sat up, holding his head. “So sorry,” he managed. “We didn’t mean to just barge in.”

Luffy giggled. The man wore nothing but a speedo and a red and yellow tropical shirt.

“Do you know whose house this is?” he asked them, tapping one bare foot on the ground.

Sabo picked up his hat from where it had fallen and put it back on. “Uh, no.”

The guy jabbed a thumb at his chest, now grinning. “It’s mine. And that means you’re in serious trouble. ‘Cause I’m this island’s most super man!” He held one arm across his chest as if to stretch it, and it made a sound like groaning metal. “I’m Water 7’s underground face. They call me…” He made a drumroll sound with his mouth. “Franky!”

*

Mihar was feeling oddly tense as they left Majiatsuka.

Most of the rest of the crew was as relaxed as they had been in weeks. After Ace had caught up with them, Deuce had strong-armed him into agreeing to give the crew a day to unwind in town. As a result, the mood on the Spadille had buoyed noticeably.

But Mihar thought that the rest period had only been a temporary fix. As he perched in the crow’s nest, looking down at the bow of the ship where Ace and Deuce were chatting, he could still see a line of tension between the two.

It was one thing to air grievances, and even another to vow to improve– but it hadn’t yet been a full week since Ace had abandoned them, and as willing as they all were to forgive, nobody was so quick to forget. It was clear to Mihar that everyone was still feeling a little rattled by the events of the past several days.

But that was alright. The problem had been identified. And they were all perfectly willing to wait, entirely sure that Ace would put in the work to show that he trusted them again.

That wasn’t really what was bothering Mihar.

What was bothering him was the strange way that Wallace had been acting.

They’d set out towards Sambell’s Reef that morning. According to the people Mihar had spoken to in Majiatsuka, it was pretty famous in this part of the New World. It had been described to him as a highly biodiverse stretch of coral forest, about three square miles in size. One woman had told him that the water there was bluer, and the wind was crisper, and the sun shone brighter. One man had said that famous chefs often came to try to forage or hunt there– though they never had much luck. Supposedly, a few culinary masters had even claimed that Sambell’s Reef was the fabled All Blue.

But even if it was, Mihar figured it wasn’t very likely that any chefs would be accessing it any time soon. There was a reason it was called Sambell’s Reef– and that was because Fish-Man Sambell, famous ex-Roger Pirate, had made the place his home. He defended it with extreme prejudice.

Apparently he didn’t even let cargo or passenger ships sail across his stretch of ocean. All ships in the area knew to go around.

Of course, the Spadille was heading directly towards it.

And ever since they’d left the Majiatsuka Kingdom, Wallace had been acting noticeably unsettled.

He’d taken to pacing the deck. Mihar was on guard duty that morning, perched in the crow’s nest, and by his count Wallace was soon coming up on his second hundred lap. Every so often he would stop at the bow of the ship and look out in the water, and then he’d shake his head and return to pacing.

At one point, Saber had tried to stop him, pulling Wallace into a conversation. Mihar had watched from above as Wallace shook his head and kept on pacing. After a moment, Saber shrugged and moved away.

Mihar thought he had a sense of what was making Wallace so antsy– but it was unsettling to watch all the same. At the turn of the hour, Cornelia climbed up to relieve Mihar from lookout duty, and he made his way into the kitchen to find Banshee and confirm his suspicions.

To his chagrin, she had already started on lunch. By her own admission, Banshee was no cook– but she was a vicious despot. The first time she’d watched Skull and Finamore take their turn on dish duty, she’d exclaimed that it couldn’t be as difficult as they were making it seem, and summarily took control. Now, nobody did anything in the kitchen that was not at her direction. Her preferred strategy of cooking involved strong-arming the rest of them into doing the work. Much to everyone’s annoyance, Ace seemed mostly amused by this and inclined to let it happen. Privately, Mihar thought this was because Banshee never tried to strong-arm him into anything.

Banshee looked up as he approached and smiled menacingly. “Oh, great,” she said, shoving a cutting board towards him. “I needed some extra hands. Scale and gut this fish for me.”

As Mihar took up the knife, he watched her lean back against the kitchen counter with a glass of sherry.

“Was something wrong with your hands?” he asked dryly, and was ignored. He began to work all the same.

“What’s going on?” Banshee asked, well-aware that they usually made a point to avoid the kitchen around meal times.

“Do you know what’s up with Wallace?” he asked. The knife made a terrible scraping sound as he dragged it up the length of the fish, peeling scales away.

She gave him a look. “Don’t you?”

“I’d guessed, but…”

Banshee shrugged. “Yeah. From what I’ve heard, Sambell has become the stuff of legend on Fish-Man Island. Roger died almost two decades ago, right? And Wallace is a little older than that, probably— about twenty years younger than me. I can almost guarantee you that he grew up hearing stories about the famous Fish-Man Sambell, crewmate of the Pirate King.”

“Right,” said Mihar, laying the fish flat and cutting down the length of it.

“It won’t be a problem, of course,” she said, side-eyeing him.

“Of course not,” he said, frowning at her. “I’m not suggesting that he’d– betray us, or something. I just thought it was better to know what was bothering him.”

Banshee shrugged. “Then, yeah, it’s probably that. I’d bet he’s just a little nervous. You know, someone like Jimbei, he’s a hero to little guppies back home. But Sambell– he’s a real pirate. He’s the one who’d come and gobble them up in the night if they were naughty.”

Mihar snorted at the thought, and angled his knife to take the meat off the fish’s bones.

Banshee took a noisy sip of her sherry. “It’s silly if you’re a little kid back on Fish-Man Island, of course, but here we are about to try to kill the guy. And he’s an orca fish-man, you know. Wallace is just a shrimpy little stingray.”

“And you’re not worried?”

She snorted. “Mermaids are the fastest beings in the sea. I won’t have to worry about becoming shark bait.”

“It’s just the rest of us who do,” Mihar said wryly.

Banshee grinned widely at him, revealing her little fangs. “Exactly. I’ve got a great plan, actually– you non-fish can just kind of flounder around in the water, and while Sambell’s busy drowning you, I take Ace around behind him. Then– fried orca in time for dinner. Easy.”

Mihar laughed. “The only problem is that we’re already having fish for lunch.”

Banshee waved her hand. “That’s a silly human hang up. You think fish-men or mermaids care if they eat the same kind of food three meals a day? All we’ve got down there is fish.”

“I guess so,” said Mihar, setting the knife down and wiping off his hands. “And I’m sure Ace wouldn’t care either way.”

Banshee rolled her eyes. “That’s because whatever he’s eating hits the back of his throat before he can taste it. I keep telling Deuce that we could save a lot of money if we stopped feeding him like a person. You know what it costs to keep a goat fed? Way less. Ace is like a goat.”

“I’ll tell him you said so,” said Mihar, grinning– and then before Banshee could reply, the entire ship tilted on its side, sending him and Banshee both into the wall. The fish he’d just fileted went flying.

He locked eyes with Banshee. “Is that him?”

“That’s him.”

They ran for the deck.

*

Sabo’s head was hurting, and he really couldn’t deal with this.

“You’re Franky?” he repeated, standing. Next to him, Luffy sprung upright like a spring. Pieces of roof were scattered around Sabo’s feet.

At Sabo’s side, Luffy laughed. “You’re weird!”

Sabo elbowed him sharply. He didn’t have the mental capacity to think too hard about what Luffy had just done. It didn’t seem possible that in the time that Sabo had left him alone he’d managed to get every guard on the train chasing after him– and then, of course, he’d decided to kidnap Sabo and Chimney as he made his escape with some crazy rocket technique.

“You broke the roof of the Franky House,” said the guy. “It’s an insult to the Franky Family, so I’ve got to make you pay!”

And of course, instead of landing them in a normal place, Luffy had managed to crash them into the headquarters of what Sabo could only assume was Water 7’s mafia.

Sabo sighed and pulled his pipe off his back. Luffy laughed and cracked his knuckles.

Franky’s mouth curled up into a mean grin. He placed one of his hands on his massive forearm, like he was stabilizing a cannon. And then abruptly, he stalled. His eyes caught on something by Sabo’s feet– and Sabo turned to see Chimney, smiling widely up at them all.

“Lil’ sis?” Franky said, staring blankly down at her.

She grinned up at him. “Franky!”

“What are you doing here?” He crouched down to her level.

Sabo stared, his pipe still extended threateningly but now completely ignored.

“I’m helping him find Sabo!” she said, pointing at Luffy. “And I did!”

Franky turned to look up at Luffy. “Why is the kid with you?”

Luffy stuck a finger in his nose. “We took her with us from the train.”

Franky glared and rose to his feet, seeming more angry now then he’d been about the roof. “You took her?”

Sabo widened his stance and firmed his grip on his pipe. He wished he could object, or explain the situation somehow, but the literal truth was that Luffy had abducted both Chimney and him from the train.

“Get out of here, girlie,” Franky said to her, raising his arm again.

Chimney grinned up at them all, and then turned on her heel and began to skip away. In a moment, she had slipped out through the door of the house and was gone.

Sabo cursed and turned to go after her, almost entirely certain that a little kid like her shouldn't be wandering the streets of Water 7.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Franky. His fist made a strange whining noise, and then a section of his hand popped up to reveal the heads of four tiny missiles, aimed right at Sabo’s face. “Weapons left!”

Sabo cursed and dragged Luffy down to the ground. The missiles exploded against the wall behind him. He stood, dragging Luffy up with him, and shoved the boy towards the door.

“Let’s go!” he said. “We’ve got to find her again!”

“Yosh!” Luffy said, and they began to run.

Sabo glanced over his shoulder as they slipped out the door. Franky was right behind them.

“Strong right!” the man yelled, and Sabo jumped just in time to avoid the man’s fist. It had detached from his body, and as Sabo watched it was retracted by a chain.

“Are you a robot?” Luffy yelled back at Franky, sounding elated.

“No!” Franky said. “I’m a cyborg!”

“So cool!” Luffy said, and jumped to dodge more missiles. It was, admittedly, a little cool.

Ahead of them, Sabo saw the ends of Chimney’s pigtails disappear between two houses. The Franky House seemed to have been built around the mostly empty edges of Water 7, but now they were charging towards the tightly-packed houses and winding streets.

As they ran, Sabo felt more and more eyes draw to them. One person yelled, “Franky’s on a rampage again!” Others began to scream and clear the path. Still others began to shout abuse. It suggested that maybe Franky had been telling the truth when he’d called himself the face of Water 7’s underworld.

But it wasn’t ideal for Sabo, who still had to sneak back onboard the sea train and get to Enies Lobby. Koala was waiting for him, dammit. He didn’t have time for any of this– cyborgs or mafias or runaway little girls, and especially not whatever Luffy wanted his help with.

“Fresh… Fire!” Franky yelled. Sabo didn’t turn to look, but the heat on the back of his neck made him pick up his pace.

Ahead of them, Chimney took a set of stairs up into a higher level of the city.

“We’ve got to catch her, Luffy!” Sabo yelled. “Why did you even take her?”

“Oba-san said to look after her!” Luffy yelled.

“You mean Kokoro?”

Luffy ignored him. “Franky!” he yelled. “Can you shoot laser beams?”

“Of course I can!” the man yelled back.

“Do it!”

“No!” Sabo snapped. “Don’t do it!”

Chimney was right in front of him. He leaped forward, about to catch her in his arms, but was suddenly clotheslined by a big hand. Franky held him up and shook him as Chimney escaped.

“She’s not a part of the Franky Family,” he said, scowling, “but she’s still off limits.” He opened his mouth. At the back of his throat, Sabo could see a spark of flame. He had a sudden bad feeling, recalling the fiery heat that he’d barely escaped only moments ago.

“Fresh…” Franky began, and then cut off as Luffy slammed into him. He dropped Sabo as he stumbled back.

Luffy rebounded like a rubber ball, and hit the ground next to Sabo, frowning. “Ne, Sabo is off limits, too. He’s my brother.”

“No, I’m not!” Sabo said, exasperated by all of this. He grabbed Luffy’s arm and turned to chase after Chimney again, then continued as they ran: “I told you, Luffy. We’re strangers now! I’m not the same person that I was when we were kids, and I can’t just– go running off just because you ask me to! I’ve got a job to do! I’ve got responsibilities!”

Luffy glanced over at him at those words, looking strangely serious. “Sabo is supposed to be free to do whatever he wants to do.”

“Oh, of all the–” Sabo cut himself off, frustrated beyond words by this misguided attempt at altruism. “It’s not like I’m being held against my will or something! It’s– I made a commitment to somebody! I need to help her!”

Then Luffy smiled, bright and unrepentant. “Oh, like me and Makino, then. Sabo, you should help me find the guy who hurt Makino! And then we can help your friend together.”

Sabo groaned. Ahead of them, Chimney was running out onto a terrace which overlooked the buildings below them. As they all watched, she glanced back at them with a grin, and then jumped the edge of the terrace and landed on a roof.

“Shit!” Sabo yelled. He ground to a halt, and looked at Luffy. “You follow her, I’ll try to cut her off from the side.”

“Wakatta!” Luffy said cheerily, and bounded after the little girl. Sabo glanced back at Franky, who was closing in, and then darted off. He ran along the street adjacent to the terrace, hoping to out-pace Chimney and jump down in front of her. He watched the chase from above. Chimney was giggling, jumping the gaps between roofs with an ease that made Sabo’s heart stall. Behind them, Franky leaped off the terrace to follow Luffy and Chimney across the rooftops.

And then, just as Sabo was about to jump down to corner Chimney, she stumbled. Her little doll shoes slipped on the slanted red roof tile, and her outstretched hands missed the edge of the next roof. From his perspective, Sabo could see the moment that her unrelenting smile slipped into an expression of terror.

“Chimney!” he cried.

“Chimney!” Franky yelled.

They were too far away.

And then Luffy’s hand stretched, and caught Chimney by the back of her little smock, and pulled her up into his arms.

Sabo jumped down and ran to them, and reached them at the same moment Franky did. He met the older man’s eyes, his heart thumping.

Below them, Luffy laughed quietly. “Shishishi,” he said to Chimney, almost gentle. “That was close!”

“Mm,” she agreed, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her little fingers were curled into Luffy’s shirt.

“Lil’ sis,” Franky said, falling to one knee. “Are you okay?”

She nodded up at him. He placed one giant hand on her tiny blonde head. And then he looked at Luffy.

“You caught her,” he said.

Luffy looked at him. “Oba-san said to take care of her.”

Franky looked back at him, intense. And then laughed. “The old bag said that?” He stood, and looked out at the water. From their position on the roof, they had an excellent view of the sea train, now docked at the station. “I see.” He looked back at them, one massive hand on the back of his head. “Sorry for chasing you, then!”

Luffy laughed. “It was fun!”

Sabo rubbed at his eyes in disbelief. “We’re cool, then?”

Franky grinned. “Super. You saved the little sis.”

“Even though we broke your roof?”

He waved the thought away with his giant hand. “It was more the principle of the thing, little bro.” Sabo wrinkled his brow, disgruntled by the nickname. “The Franky Family runs Water 7’s underworld– but what we really do is demolition. You think I can’t handle a broken roof? Who do you think built it into the first place?”

Luffy grinned. “You break things?”

“And I build them,” Franky said. “Small hobby.”

Chimney giggled.

“Ah,” said Sabo, a little lost. In just a few moments Franky and Luffy seemed to have formed an easy kind of camaraderie. The details of exactly how it had happened escaped Sabo, though he’d been a witness to it. “Right then,” he finally said. “I’ll just take Chimney back to Kokoro then, and we can all be on our separate ways.”

Luffy frowned up at him, and Franky looked between them. “You’re brothers, you said?”

“Yes,” said Luffy.

Sabo shook his head. “Look, you’re trying to find someone, right?”

“Uh-huh. In Water 7.”

“Then maybe Franky can help you.”

Luffy looked dubious, but turned to Franky anyway. “I’m looking for a masked man who wears white.” Sabo stiffened. “Bird-ossan told me to speak to shipwrights. At the Granola Company.”

“You mean Galley-La?” Franky asked, looking amused.

Sabo waved a hand. “Hold on, Luffy. You said a masked man in white? He was the one who cut off Makino’s legs?”

Luffy nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Because she wouldn’t tell him about Ace and I.”

Fuck.

“Luffy, that’s– do you know who you’re chasing?”

Luffy tilted his head. “The masked man? Bird-ossan said he had friends.”

Sabo laughed hysterically. He took his hat off to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Luffy, that masked guy was a member of Cipher Pol. The higher up agents all wear the same uniform– masks and white suits. They’re the iron fist of the government– or really, the iron knife. They– they kill and spy and lie on the government’s word. They’re dangerous.”

Luffy frowned. “Ace’s enemy is the government?”

“I– guess. He’s just recently became a Warlord, so maybe they were looking for insurance on him? Or leverage? Blackmail?” Sabo shook his head. “But the important part is that you cannot go after these guys. They’ll— Luffy, they’ll kill you.”

Sabo’s heart jolted uncomfortably at the very thought, even though it was only earlier that day that Luffy had been a stranger to him. But Luffy did not look convinced. He looked stubborn. His jaw was set.

“He hurt Makino,” he said, unrelenting. “So I’m going to make him pay.”

“Someone who works for the government cut your friend’s legs off?” Franky cut in, voice unreadable. When Sabo looked, he had a strange expression on his face.

Luffy looked up at him. “He was trying to hurt Ace.”

“Ace is his brother,” Sabo said.

“Our brother,” Luffy insisted. “Makino wouldn’t tell the mask-guy anything about him, so he cut her legs off.”

Franky looked down at them. His eyes were wet. It struck Sabo suddenly that they were real human eyes, shining with emotion and remembered pain, even though almost every other part of Franky’s body seemed artificial. “And someone told you to talk to the shipwrights?”

“At Dock 1,” said Luffy.

Franky sniffed. “Ah, they probably could help you. Better than I could, anyway.” He slid his sunglasses down over his eyes. “But, uh… just ask for Iceberg. If anyone gives you trouble, give ‘em the name Cutty Flam. He’ll speak to you.”

“Iceberg, as in the mayor?” Sabo asked.

Luffy smiled up at Franky irrepressibly, bright and blinding. Sabo was beginning to think that it was just a way he had about him. He seemed to bounce back from pain and anger and sadness, his mind elastic like his body was. Eternally sunny, even in the face of pain. Sabo wondered if that part of Luffy used to be familiar to him.

“Thank you,” Luffy said, gently patting Chimney on the head.

“Why are you helping him?” Sabo asked.

Franky’s smile was small, but it had softened as he looked down at Luffy. “Because I get it, little bro.” He huffed, and looked back out at the water. “I know what it’s like to have the government take something from you just because they can— and what are you supposed to do about it? You can't just lay down and let it happen. There's only one choice. You make yourself stronger, if you have to. You fight.”

Sabo stared at him. He worked for the Revolutionary Army– and more than that, he worked with Belo Betty. He’d heard more speeches about rising up against the government than he could count.

Still, though– Franky’s words hit him in a way that none of those speeches ever had. They weren’t a call to action, or even an impassioned defense of ideals. It was just Franky, matter-of-factly stating what he knew to be true.

Sabo glanced at Luffy. If Luffy had a lead on a Cipher Pol man in Water 7, that made his quest for revenge the Revolutionary Army’s business. It meant he and Sabo had a common enemy. It meant that Sabo could justify a small delay. Franky could take Chimney back to Kokoro, and Koala could hold out for a few extra days– the whole point was that she’d placed herself within Enies Lobby without being noticed.

It would be dangerous if Sabo stayed, going in without a plan and only Luffy for backup– but since when had he shied away from dangerous missions?

Luffy’s smile stretched. “Ne, Franky, have you ever thought about becoming a pirate?”

Franky laughed and shook his head. “Maybe a lifetime ago. Is that what you are? A pirate?”

“Not yet,” said Luffy. He fingered the brim of his hat. “But soon.”

*

Ace cursed as he was swept into the railing of the ship and absolutely drenched.

Mihar and Banshee burst out onto the deck from the kitchen, immediately stumbling in the face of the now-receding wave that had rocked the entire ship.

Deuce spat up water from across the deck, where Wallace had helpfully caught him before he could go overboard.

From the crow’s nest, Cornelia called down to them: “I think we’re at the reef!”

“Oh, really?” Deuce yelled back, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Hold on to something!” Ace yelled. “There might be another!”

But contrarily, the water calmed suddenly. Abruptly the ocean had returned to the serene stillness it had been just moments before. Ace chanced a glance down into the water, but he couldn’t see any coral beneath them.

And then there was a burst of movement several meters off the starboard railing. As they all watched, the water seemed to drain away from a section of ocean, revealing a shallow, sandy bank– seaweed that drifted upright, surrounded by bubbles of seawater– and a small castle of vibrant coral, blue and pink and yellow and any color you could imagine.

With his feet planted in the muck, a massive fish-man stood looking up at them all. He had razor-like teeth and purple fins, and his skin was a bright-teal blue. His arms were crossed, showing off his impressive biceps.

The Spadille rocked in the water.

“I take it you’re Fish-Man Sambell?” Ace said.

“Leave these waters,” Sambell said menacingly. “Or I’ll drown you all and sink your ship.”

As Ace stood at the railing, looking down at the man, Deuce stepped up to stand on his right. And then, surprisingly, Wallace stepped up to stand at his left. Ace spared him a quick glance, but saw only determination on his face.

“We won’t be leaving,” he said, turning back to Sambell. “I’ve been dispatched to kill you, as a Warlord of the Sea.”

“I know,” said Sambell. His voice was low and rumbling, like a building wave. “But it doesn’t matter. Anyone who sails on these waters, for any reason, won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Well, we’ll see,” said Ace, and leapt up into the air. Fire surrounded him from the bottom up, transforming him into a quickly-moving inferno. He dived at Sambell, who just looked up at him implacably.

And then a stream of water hit him with all the force of a Haki-imbued fist. Ace dropped like a stone, sinking quickly in the waves. As his vision began to fade, gray-blue arms grabbed him and hauled him up. He surfaced to see Wallace’s grim face, the man’s arms wrapped around him tightly.

“That’s the power of his Fish-Man Karate,” Wallace informed him. “Supposedly it’s unmatched in skill. I’ve met people who practice it before, but none who can manipulate the water to clear away a whole section of the sea.”

Ace blinked blearily, still partially submerged and slow to process information.

And then before he could blink again, Sambell had appeared in front of them in the water. Wallace jerked backwards, but Sambell was quicker.

“That’s a kind sentiment, little minnow,” he told Wallace. Up close, Ace could see a predatory intensity in his eyes, something sharp and animal. His sclera were almost non-existent. He grinned, exposing sharp teeth. “But I’ve heard it many times before. Shark Tile Punch!”

It felt like all of the liquid in Ace’s body was being moved, pulling the rest of him with it. He and Wallace shot back through the water, launched by the force of the attack. The supremely uncomfortable sensation faded as soon as the attack ended, but it left Ace’s head spinning and his skin itching to ignite. He was still wet, though, and nearly limp in Wallace’s arms.

“Get us back to the ship,” he mumbled.

“I’ll try,” said Wallace, sounding grim.

And then all of a sudden he froze in place, treading water but not moving forward.

“What is it?” Ace slurred.

“He’s here,” Wallace whispered, his head turning.

“Who?”

Sambell’s head turned in the same direction. Both of them stared at an unassuming patch of ocean– and before Ace’s eyes, the water there began to bubble and ripple. It was a familiar figure that rose up from the depths below– a face that Ace had seen in newspapers, if not on wanted posters.

Jimbei, Knight of the Sea, glared directly at Ace. The ocean eddied gently around him.

Across the water, Sambell began to laugh. “It’s been a long time, Jimbei!”

Chapter Text

Ace didn’t like being wet– hadn’t, ever since he’d eaten his Devil Fruit, for obvious reasons. But this was not the first fight he’d had surrounded by water.

At Fish-Man Island, for one– the Spades had gotten into a fight with another rookie crew there, and several times Ace had been thrown into the surrounding sea. Luckily, they’d had Wallace by then, and the other man had proved willing to retrieve Ace whenever he was drowning. It was a task that Deuce and Skull gratefully relinquished.

In general, Ace’s strategy when fighting near water was to burn brighter. He had to be faster, stronger, better– he had to dispatch the enemy before they could take advantage of Ace’s weakness.

He already knew that this wouldn’t be a valid strategy here.

For one thing, Ace was already in the water. He could feel it sapping his strength away, turning him into dead weight in Wallace’s arms.

For another, he hadn’t gotten around to actually fighting a Roger Pirate yet, but he already knew that he wouldn’t be faster or stronger than Sambell. At best, he could hope to overheat and outlast.

To do that, he needed to be dry.

“Wallace,” he said hoarsely, urgently.

“I know,” said Wallace, voice strained. They were already moving through the water back towards the Spadille– but then Jimbei raised one massive hand.

“Whirlpool Wave!” he called, moving his hand slowly through the air in a cutting motion.

Around Ace and Wallace, the ocean bent. The water scooped them up like a giant cupped palm, pulling them away from the Spadille and closer to Jimbei again. Wallace’s struggle was evident as he tried to push through it, but to no avail– they were caught in a riptide, incapable of moving away.

Distantly, Ace clocked how big and sharp Jimbei's fangs were, nothing like Wallace’s little pin-prick teeth– and then the man spoke. “Haven’t the Whitebeard Pirates caught up with you yet?” He was frowning.

Ace snarled and writhed in Wallace’s arms like a wet cat. “They can’t do a thing to me.”

“Not that it stops them from trying,” Wallace muttered, and Ace growled. Wallace was a reserved guy by nature, but he did have a habit of quiet, cutting sarcasm. Ace usually found it funnier when he wasn’t half-drowning.

Sambell rumbled from across the water, water rippling outward from him. “Jimbei, I like you,” he said, though his tone made it clear that this was not necessarily true. It dripped with scorn. “But even people I like don’t get to roam these waters freely.”

Jimbei grunted, apparently unphased. “If you think that you can stop me, Sambell-san, then I welcome you to try. But I am not here to pick a fight with you. Rather, I am here to talk to this young upstart.”

Ace snarled again. Back on the deck of the Spadille, he could hear his crew yelling and arguing with each other, and Deuce’s voice cutting through it all, strained and commanding. With a pang of regret, he realized that he’d just torn off on his own again, leaving them unable to help him.

But Wallace was still with him, and his arms tightened around Ace. “Jimbei-sama,” he called. “Please, my captain is an anchor. He cannot swim.”

Jimbei rumbled. “Hmm. Yes, I know. But you are keeping him afloat, and I am not eager to let him slip away, after the offense he has done to me.”

Ace sputtered. “What did I do to you?” What, did every big-name pirate have a problem with him now?

Jimbei might have responded to him, but it didn’t matter, because evidently Sambell was tired of being ignored. A giant wave crashed over their heads, and Ace inhaled the salty ocean before he could stop himself. It was a long, dizzying moment before he surfaced again, and he found that the only thing he was capable of was hacking up water and putting his faith in Wallace.

“It is a matter of respect,” Jimbei was saying to Sambell when the water cleared out of his ears again, and the rumble in his voice was more pronounced now. He sounded angry. “I know you don’t respect much of anything anymore, Sambell-san, but surely you still can recall what the word means.”

Wallace sucked in a sharp, fearful breath directly next to his ear, still the only thing keeping Ace from sinking to the sea floor.

Sambell snarled in response, his indifferent facade falling away with just those few words. “What use do I have for empty posturing? For all your years of bending your spine, Jimbei, has it ever gotten you anything? A pirate does not defend his treasure with placations and compromise– he fights for it without wavering, until his last breath!”

“I imagine you find that philosophy very easy to maintain, given that all you have to defend is an empty stretch of ocean,” said Jimbei. “In the real world, Sambell-san, such things are never that simple. Without compromise, I would have achieved nothing. Would the Ryugu Kingdom thank me then for my unwavering defense of it?”

Sambell snarled again. “The only things you have achieved are symbolic victories! I will not allow a government dog to condescend to me!”

“Hm,” said Jimbei, sounding disapproving.

“Shit,” Wallace said, with feeling, sounding slightly hysterical and about as emotional as Ace had ever heard him.

“What are they talking about?” Ace coughed, but the question only served to draw Jimbei’s attention back to them.

“Fire Fist Ace.” The other Warlord sounded disdainful. “I had thought you were disrespectful as well, but maybe you’re just stupid.”

“Definitely the latter,” Wallace mumbled, and Ace would have protested if he’d been at all able to.

“When you burned Whitebeard’s flag on Fish-Man Island,” Jimbei said, still watching coldly as Wallace frantically tried to paddle them back towards the Spadille. “Was it just a fit of whimsy? A moment of arrogance? What did you imagine would happen?”

Ace glared. “I knew I was putting my life on the line.”

“And the lives of the people of the Ryugu Kingdom?” Jimbei said. “Did you give any thought to them?”

“What are you talking–”

“Sea Surface Splitter!” Sambell yelled, and two vicious waves pushed Jimbei in one direction and Wallace and Ace in another. Through bleary eyes, Ace watched the man twist his hand like he was conducting something, or manipulating a puppet, and then a column of water lifted Sambell upwards so he could look down at them. “If you wanted to preach to this young guppy, Jimbei, then you should’ve gotten to him before he got to me!”

“Sambell!” Jimbei yelled. “Your obstinance helps no one!”

“Do not moralize to me!” Sambell snarled, and twisted his wrists, causing a sweeping riptide of water to swallow Jimbei up.

As the resulting current pushed them away, Wallace hissed in Ace’s ear. “Ace, you can’t fight him.”

“What?” Ace hissed back. “Who? Which of the two fish-men trying to kill me should I not fight, Wallace?”

“Jimbei isn’t trying to kill you! He wouldn’t! Just–” There was a huge crashing splash as Sambell was toppled off of his pillar of water by an attack from Jimbei, and Wallace flinched. “Look, do you trust me, Ace?”

Now it was Ace’s turn to flinch, though Wallace probably hadn’t even meant it to be as cutting as it was. “I do,” he said, and then turned his head away and spat out a mouthful of seawater.

“Then, when Jimbei is talking to you, please just listen.”

And then the two of them were caught in the tide of whirlpool, pulling them back around toward the Knight of Sea, and Ace could do nothing to resist their approach. Wallace’s words knocked around inside his brain. It went against Ace’s very instinct to try to talk instead of fight, especially when he was this physically vulnerable, especially when he and his crew were in danger.

He bit his lip, and then the current stilled, bringing the two of them face-to-face with Jimbei again.

“Little Warlord,” Jimbei said, and Ace instinctively bristled. “Do you know why that flag was planted on Fish-Man Island to begin with?”

“Because Whitebeard claimed it,” Ace said, trying not to wince at the hoarseness of his own voice.

Jimbei rumbled. “No. It is because the Ryugu Kingdom claimed Whitebeard.”

Ace narrowed his eyes, confused by this distinction.

“Jimbei!” Sambell roared from across the water where he’d been thrown, and this time Wallace’s flinch was obvious. “Who did it help when you agreed to serve the Government to have Arlong freed? What greater moral purpose has that served?”

Jimbei’s eyes narrowed into slits as he narrowed in on the ex-Roger Pirate. “The choices I made for my comrades are not yours to comment on.”

“Then silence me!” Sambell yelled. “Fight, as you should have done for the Ryugu Kingdom instead of standing aside to let Whitebeard protect it– as you should have done when the Marines yanked on your leash, sending you after innocents whose only crime was opposing them! Fight for something, Jimbei, for once in your life!”

Jimbei grunted. “Whitebeard has been a friend to Fish-Man Island! Flying his Jolly Roger is a great source of pride! And every action I have taken as a Warlord grates at my conscience and stains my soul! But nothing is as easy as you pretend it is, and my position as a Warlord has allowed the Ryugu Kingdom to maintain its independence! Do not pretend ignorance to that!” And then, as he turned to look back at Ace: “This one’s ignorance is bad enough.”

Ace grit his teeth, and it was only Wallace’s tightening grip around him that kept him from lashing out. Do you trust me? he had asked, and Ace needed to prove that he did.

“Sharkskin Palm Thrust!” Sambell called, and the resulting shockwave ripped Wallace and Ace away again. As Wallace kept them upright, Ace caught sight of the Spadille. His crew seemed to have stopped arguing, and most of them were gathered against the railing watching and waiting. Deuce, Mihar, and Saber were perched on the railing, as though they were about to jump in and swim to them. Ace sincerely hoped they didn’t.

Then there was the vicious sound of a crashing wave, and Ace wrenched his head over to see two streams of water colliding. The resulting splash obscured Ace’s vision for a moment. When it cleared, he could see Sambell rising out of the water again, much closer to them than he’d been a moment ago.

“Spear Wave!” Sambell called, and this time the attack was aimed at Ace and Wallace. Across the water, he could see Jimbei moving his hands through a kata, manipulating the water to pull the two of them out of range– but the time it took cost him. Sambell thrust his palms into the ocean in front of him. “Sea Drum!” This time the wave that sped toward Jimbei was quick and sharp. Ace winced in anticipation of its impact.

But another voice cut through.

“Rose Rupture!”

Ace swung his head around in time to catch the dual glints of steel, the arc of rose petals– and then the shock wave from a sword attack split straight through Sambell’s wave, dissipating it into a fine mist.

When the air cleared, Ace groaned aloud, his head flopping down weakly so that his chin met his chest.

Perched on the bow of a new ship were three unfortunately familiar faces– Marco the Phoenix, Izou the Geisha, and Flower Sword Vista.

“Marco,” said Jimbei, sounding surprised. “Izou, Vista.”

“Sorry we’re late,” said Izou, grinning wickedly. “One drink turned into two… you know how it is with pirates.”

Vista chuckled, twirling his mustache. “Still, better late than never, yes?”

Sambell growled. “I will send all of you to the sea floor if I must.”

Jimbei rumbled, ignoring him. “Since the three of you are here… would you mind keeping Sambell from interrupting me? I would like to have a little chat with Fire Fist.”

“Are you sure?” Marco asked. His eyes were piercing, staring directly at Ace from across the water, and Ace glared right back at him.

“Yes,” said Jimbei, implacable.

There was a tense moment of stillness, and then Marco tilted his head in acquiescence. “We’ll leave him to you, then.” His wings opened up behind him, and he lifted up into the air. “Well, Sambell?” he called across the water. “I would say it’s been a while, but I seem to have gotten back into the habit of fighting Roger Pirates recently.”

Izou chuckled, twirling his pistols in his hands. “This should be fun.”

*

Luffy was laughing when he hit the water. For about two seconds he went weak and wiggly and limp, and then Sabo yanked him upwards by the back of his shirt.

Luffy collapsed back into his seat with a giggle. Sabo glared down at him, unamused.

“That’s the sixth time you’ve fallen in,” Sabo said. “Would you just sit in your seat?”

“Ne, the yag-bulls are so cool, though! Like wimpy Sea Kings!”

They were headed for Dock 1. Franky had advised them to take the canals instead of trying to walk through the thin, winding streets of Water 7, so Luffy and Sabo had found themselves a yagara bull to ride. They were funny creatures, with big mouths and teeth and frilly fins. Luffy couldn’t help but laugh each time he looked at them, which was not helping him keep his balance as he leaned from one side to the other, craning his neck to look all around.

Sabo whacked him on the head, and then he sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Geez. Fire Fist must have had his hands full with you.”

Luffy tugged on the string of his hat, pouting, before a thought struck him and he grinned. “Sabo is as quick as ever, though! When I used to fall into the river, Ace would just laugh, but Sabo always pulled me out before the alligators ate me!”

Sabo seemed to hesitate, and then shook his head and poked Luffy’s forehead. “What about when I left, huh? He didn’t just let you drown, did he?”

Luffy stuck his tongue out. “I haven’t fallen into the river in forever,” he lied. “Ace hasn’t had to pull me out in a really long time.”

“Right,” Sabo said dryly.

“Oh, we should go find Ace after we beat up the mask-guy! And then you have to come see Makino!”

Sabo’s face smoothed out into unsettling blankness, and he looked away. Luffy frowned.

“I told you, Luffy. I’m in the middle of something right now. Following a lead on a Cipher Pol agent– that’s one thing. But I can’t just go running off to meet all these people that I don’t even know.”

“You do know them, though,” Luffy said. “You just don’t remember.”

Sabo huffed. “You aren’t listening. Whoever that boy was, your brother– that’s not me. I wasn’t the one pulling you out of rivers or saving you from crocodiles or whatever.”

“Alligators,” Luffy said. “Not crocodiles.”

“What?”

“Alligators,” Luffy repeated, stuck uselessly on the point. “And bears and tigers and mountain bandits and pirates, but we never had any crocodiles.”

Sabo looked at him, and then nodded. “Fine, alligators. But you see how that proves my point, don’t you? I can’t remember any of it. I can’t give you what you want from me. I’m not that person anymore.”

You are, though, Luffy thought. It was so obvious that it was actually frustrating how Sabo couldn’t see it. It was the way he rolled his eyes at Luffy, the way he walked heel-ball-toe. It was the way he cracked his knuckles before a fight, the way his whole face scrunched up when he laughed. Luffy had been noticing more and more of these things the longer they spent together, rediscovering them like buried treasure, old and familiar and loved.

But because it was Sabo, as familiar to Luffy as his own skin, he also knew that saying any of that wouldn’t change anything. Makino called Ace and Luffy stubborn– Sabo was the most stubborn of them all. He was the only person who could change his own mind, and always had been.

Luffy huffed and went back to leaning over the side of the yagara. It didn’t mean he had to like it, though. Stupid Sabo.

Sabo eyed him, clearly aware that his silence wasn’t any kind of agreement, and then rolled his eyes. He knocked his boots together, legs splayed out in front of him. “By the way, Luffy, how did you get here from Goa, anyway?”

“I hitched a ride with Miggins,” Luffy said, uninterested.

Sabo blinked, clearly not knowing what to make of that. “Right. And your plan was to find one specific Cipher Pol agent, beat him up, and go back to Goa?”

Luffy shrugged. “Yep.”

“And Koala thinks I’m bad,” Sabo muttered.

“Who’s that?” Luffy asked, tilting his head.

Sabo frowned. “My friend. She’s the one that’s waiting on me.”

“Ah, I can’t wait to meet Sabo’s friend!”

“Luffy,” Sabo said, sounding frustrated. “You can’t come with me. This job, it’s too important.”

Luffy shook his head. “If it’s important to Sabo, then I have to be there.”

“But I don’t want you to be there.”

They stared at each other, and Luffy felt his frown deepening. It was strange. Sabo had always been stubborn, yes, but he’d also always been open to any of Luffy’s bids for connection. It was Ace, after all, who had tried to kill Luffy for three months, always running off and pushing him away. In comparison, Sabo’s affection had been practically easy to earn. Even before the incident with Porchemy, he’d been… if not necessarily nice, then at least genuine and quick to laugh.

The yag-bull came to a jerking stop, and Sabo was the first to look away. “Looks like this is it,” he said, scanning the area, jumping off of the yagara and landing lightly on cobblestone.

Luffy followed in silence as Sabo approached the towering steel doors that served as the entrance to the shipyard. And then, just as Sabo raised his hand to knock, Luffy nodded to himself with resolve.

Clearly, whatever Sabo’s mission was, he was taking it very seriously. And he’d still put it off in order to help Luffy, despite not remembering him or Makino at all. Luffy smiled to himself. That made it all the more important that they find the mask-guy and deal with him quickly, so that Luffy could return the favor.

*

Ace had never felt more like a drowned animal. He’d also never felt less prepared to face a fellow Warlord. But the circumstances seemed to suit Jimbei just fine, because the old fish-man seemed to easily ignore the flashes of bullet and steel and flame behind them, floating calmly in the churning water and looking down at Ace.

“What did you mean, that the Ryugu Kingdom claimed Whitebeard?” Ace croaked out. “That’s not how it works.”

“With most other pirate crews,” said Jimbei, “that would be true. But the old man didn’t plant his flag on Fish-Man Island just to prove that he could.”

Flying his Jolly Roger is a great source of pride, Jimbei had said to Sambell.

From what he’d understood of the argument between the two fish-men, Ace was actually pretty sure that he agreed with Sambell. He was aware of how hypocritical that was, given that he had also agreed to work for the Marines– but without Luffy as leverage hanging over him, in literally any other circumstance, Ace would have chosen to stand and fight. It was far better to live and die by your own power, after all, rather than at the whim of another.

But Jimbei seemed to think there was a difference between submitting to Whitebeard and submitting to the government. He’d called one his greatest pride, and the other a stain on his soul. From where Ace was standing– sinking– they didn’t look so different. But he’d promised Wallace that he would listen.

“Then why did he?” Ace asked, spitting out seawater.

“Because King Neptune asked him to,” said Jimbei. He seemed to consider Ace for a long moment. He glanced at Wallace, who stared back, clearly frightened but unmoving. And then, abruptly– “When Gold Roger died, it kicked off the Great Pirate Era.”

Ace was well aware.

“Pirates began coming through Fish-Man Island at an unprecedented rate,” said Jimbei, continuing with his unprompted history lesson. “Some of them were very friendly, willing to trade and share news and sake. Many of them were not. The Ryugu Kingdom was plundered and besieged. Fish-men and mermaids were captured and sold as slaves to the World Nobles.”

The words sunk into Ace’s stomach, twisting and sour. His hatred of the Celestial Dragons burned inside of him, having been kindling and growing since the death of his brother.

After the trouble Ace’d had keeping his head down at Sabaody– the cesspool of humanity that it was– travelling to Fish-Man Island had felt like nothing less than freedom. But of course nothing was ever that simple. Of course the atrocities of the World Government could be found all over the world, if you only knew where to look.

And it was only right that this sin could be traced back to Gold Roger. Just another way that the man had hurt people. Another crime that fell at Ace’s feet with nowhere else to lay the blame.

“It was Whitebeard who put a stop to it all,” Jimbei said, “by allowing King Neptune to plant his Jolly Roger there as a deterrent.”

This gave Ace pause.

The idea of the Whitebeards as protectors was not new to him, necessarily. Back in the Sakarin region, the food vendor lady had referred to the Whitebeards as ‘the good ones.’ She’d been confident that they would scare off any troublemakers and protect their village. And when Marco and Rakuyo had appeared, they’d been insistent on taking their fight away from the people.

Ace was familiar with strength. The whole purpose of challenging Whitebeard was to prove himself the strongest, to surpass even The World’s Strongest Man. Ace was going to climb to the top of the world, become so powerful that nobody would ever think to say his name in the same breath as Gold Roger’s ever again.

But the whole point of being strong was being able to defend the things that mattered to you, and Ace was familiar with that, too. After all, hadn’t all of this been for Luffy?

Sambell clearly understood the idea– so insistent on defending his reef. And he had claimed that Jimbei fought for nothing, content to let the Marines walk over him. But wasn’t Jimbei here, now, confronting Ace? Defending his home?

It was so easy to see it, all of sudden– the Whitebeards did the exact same thing. Protecting their territory, including Fish-Man Island, from anyone who would seek to cause it harm. Using their strength to help people.

But Ace had burned the Jolly Roger.

His promise with Luffy a lifetime ago had been fully meant. His biggest regret would always be having failed to fight for Sabo, and he had sworn to his little brother that he would live his life so that he would never have to regret anything again.

He had failed.

The weight of that realization landed on Ace’s shoulders like a lash coming down, heavy enough that even with Wallace supporting him, he could have sunk to the bottom of the ocean and drowned. He took a deep breath, feeling the anger beginning to burn in his stomach. It was a sincere relief, much preferable to the guilt.

“I’m not like Gold Roger,” he said, and met Jimbei’s eyes. The other Warlord watched him, inscrutable, unwilling to absolve him.

And then, from behind them, where the Spadille rocked in the choppy waves, there was a heavy splash. Jimbei’s eyes travelled over Ace’s shoulder, and Wallace turned them so that they could see.

The Spades had just lowered the Striker into the water. Ace watched, astonished, as Deuce hopped down onto it. Mihar and Saber were right behind him. In the water by the skiff, Banshee popped her head up. She grabbed the rope that was tied to the front and began to pull the Striker unerringly towards Ace.

Wallace huffed, tightening his grip around Ace’s torso. “Took them long enough.”

Jimbei let them approach, arms crossed and unimpressed.

Beyond them all, the fight continued on. A wave the size of a tsunami rose up in an attempt to overturn the Whitebeards’ ship, and Marco ripped through it with a flash of blue light. There were the sounds of gunshots, one after the other, the whirl of a pink kimono. Izou was still perched on the bow of the boat, one foot up on the railing, looking down. Next to him Vista swung his sword, sending a shockwave and a burst of flower petals towards where Sambell bobbed in the water.

As Ace watched, the fish-man ducked beneath the waves, and the Whitebeards’ attacks missed him entirely. Sambell was no easy opponent, especially in the open ocean. But here the Whitebeards were, fighting to defend their honor even now.

Ace could do no less.

“Ace!” Deuce called as the Striker approached, and together he and Wallace rolled Ace up onto the skiff. “Are you okay?”

Ace waved him off, panting. He let himself lay there for a moment, staring at the sky, all too aware of Jimbei watching them and the weight of what he knew he had to do.

*

Luffy frowned as his Gum-Gum Pistol rebounded harmlessly from the massive steel doors. They were so tall that Luffy had to crane his head to look up at them, and he still couldn’t quite make out where the door ended and the sky began. He and Sabo were dwarfed in its shadow. They also could not open it. They had tried knocking, and then banging, and then pushing, and now punching. The doors would not open.

“Hmm,” Sabo said, his head cocked to one side. He laid his pipe across his shoulders as he considered the problem.

“I can try a Gum-Gum Stamp,” Luffy suggested, crouched low with one hand on his hat.

“No,” said Sabo. “I have a different trick that might work better.” He flexed the fingers of one hand in and out of a fist, and then curled them in the air like he was gripping something, or like his fingers were claws.

“Oy!” A voice called out, interrupting them before Sabo could do anything.

They both turned to look. Past the doors, a good forty feet down the road, all that was separating the Dock 1 shipyard from the street was a measly wooden fence. Two figures leaned against it from the other side, and one was waving them over.

Luffy and Sabo looked at each other and shrugged, and then went.

As they got closer, Luffy saw that the man waving at them had a big mustache and a large cowlick sticking straight up at the back of his head. He was shirtless, with colorful tattoos swirling across his chest and biceps. He looked at Luffy and Sabo stoically.

In contrast, the other man glared at them as they approached, chewing on his cigar. His blonde hair fell to his chin, and he wore all denim.

It was the denim man that spoke first. “You can stop hammering away on that door,” he said. “You’re not gonna be able to open it.”

“Our apologies,” said Sabo politely, flexing his fingers behind his back. “We were just trying to speak to the foremen of Dock 1. We’re hoping for their help.” At his side, Luffy grinned, struck by the familiarity of Sabo smooth-talking anyone who was too interested.

“Well, that’s us,” said the man with the cigar. “I’m Paulie and this is Lulu.”

Lulu nodded at them.

“Outsiders aren’t allowed into Galley-La shipyards,” Paulie continued. “But if you wanted to speak to us– here we are.”

“Well, it’s not the kind of thing we should talk about out in the open,” Sabo said. “And–”

“Franky told us to talk to Ice-ossan!” Luffy said.

Immediately, Lulu and Paulie straightened from their relaxed slouches.

“That pervert?” Paulie said, the tips of his ears reddening.

“You should stay away from the Franky Family,” Lulu warned, smoothing down the cowlick at the back of his head. Simultaneously, another popped up on the other side. “It’s not our business how you make a living, but if you happen to have a bounty, they’ll try to turn you in and demolish your ship.”

Luffy frowned, looking between the two men. “He did seem like a pervert,” he acknowledged, because that was undeniable, “but he’s nice. He wouldn’t do something like that for no reason.”

Paulie and Lulu still looked like they disagreed, and Luffy was just about to dig his feet in about it, but Sabo interrupted him before he could.

“We were told to tell Iceberg that Cutty Flam sent us,” he said as Luffy pouted. “And that he would know what that meant.”

Paulie huffed. “Well, you’d have to ask him about that.”

Lulu frowned. “Iceberg is a great man,” he said. “Whether he knows that name or not, he will probably be willing to help you with whatever problem you have. Assuming he has the time in his schedule.”

“But if you’re just here to pester him about a cracked mast or something that any one of us could handle–” Paulie warned, cracking his knuckles.

Sabo rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s important. And we did say we needed your help, too– if you’re that worried, you can just come with us.”

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Paulie said, leaping over the fence to join them on the street. “You couldn’t get into the shipyard without us, anyway.”

“Right,” Sabo said, watching as Lulu also jumped the fence with ease.

“Shishishi,” Luffy giggled. “Ne, you guys are nice, too!”

Paulie scoffed, but Lulu looked down at him and patted his head. They headed for the massive doors. Luffy bounded after them, Sabo trailing behind.

Together, the foremen placed their palms against the immovable steel. There was a moment of great stillness in which Luffy couldn’t tell if they were pushing against it or not. And then the doors heaved inwards with a shuddering sigh, swinging in to reveal the bustling shipyard in all its glory.

“Huh,” Sabo said. “I guess what they say about the Galley-La foremen is true.”

“Sugoi!” Luffy said, his jaw dropping.

Inside the shipyard, the shipwrights were hard at work. Many were hammering away on the giant overturned shell of an unfinished ship. Several others worked by towering stacks of lumber, cutting the wood into pieces with massive, whirring saws. Cranes carried pallets overhead, and smokestacks billowed. On one side of the yard, massive bolts of fabric were arranged in neat rows, the perfect size for sails. Farther back, a narrow canal went through the shipyard, and a water wheel was attached to a large block and tackle, lifting beams of steel.

All around them, the shipwrights moved as a well-oiled machine, laughing and talking as they worked. Many waved to Paulie and Lulu, calling out greetings as their group moved further in.

“You guys are the leaders around here?” Luffy said, grinning. “You must be strong!”

“We have our talents,” Lulu said neutrally. And then he held out a hand, pulling their group to a stop. “We’ll catch a ride here.”

Luffy blinked, confused by what he meant. They weren’t near the canal, and no yag-bulls were in sight. Just then, a stack of pallets being hoisted by a crane lowered down directly in front of them, and Paulie and Lulu very casually stepped onto it.

Luffy and Sabo were just a step behind. For a moment, they caught each other’s eyes, grinning and eager and amazed, and then Sabo blinked and looked away.

“Towards the main building, please, Bruno!” Paulie called out to the crane operator, and then they were lifted up and over the sprawling shipyard.

The wind caught Luffy’s hat as they moved through the sky, pushing it down to hang around his neck and ruffling his hair. He could feel his grin stretching at his cheeks, wider than should have been possible.

They came to a stop before they reached the other side of the shipyard, and the crane operator called out to them. “This is as far as I can go!”

“It’s more than enough,” Paulie said, grinning. He held out both his arms in front of him. “Rope Action: Shroud and Ratline Knot!” From his denim sleeves, two strands of rope shot out. Even Sabo’s jaw was hanging open as he and Luffy watched the ropes cross over each other with whip-like speed. In seconds, a rope ladder stretched between them and another stack of pallets that hung from a pulley, itself just a few feet from the main building.

“So cool,” Sabo said under his breath, and Luffy laughed.

They all scrabbled over on their hands and knees. The thrill of it all was making Luffy giddy, so eager to start his own adventure that he almost couldn’t stand the thought of waiting three more years.

“What next?” Sabo asked, pushing his hat back from where it had slipped down.

“We get up to Iceberg’s window,” said Lulu. He grabbed one of the ropes that hung from the pulley that suspended them, and without a hint of effort began to pull up the entire stack of pallets that they were standing on. When they reached the level of the window, Lulu coiled the extra rope he had gathered around his elbow. He seemed completely unbothered by the fact that it was only his grip on the rope still holding them up.

“What are you all up to?” somebody asked suddenly, and Luffy’s head swung around to see a man grinning down at them from where he was crouched on the roof of the building. The man had a funny face– his nose was long and square.

“Kaku,” said Paulie by way of greeting. “We’re here to see Iceberg.”

“So I gathered,” said Kaku, gesturing towards them with a smile.

“Did you just get back?” Lulu asked, as casual as anything.

“Yeah,” said Kaku, and then looked over at Sabo and Luffy. “Hello! I’m Kaku, one of the foremen here. Don’t mind me– I’ve just returned from an evaluation, which is why I’m up here.”

He said that like it explained everything, though of course it explained very little.

“What are you guys here for?” Kaku asked them, still smiling pleasantly. “Getting your ship fixed up?”

“We’re here to find the government people,” Luffy said, picking his nose.

“Luffy!” Sabo hissed, hooking a hand in the back of his shirt and yanking him back. He glanced up at the foremen who were staring at them and sighed. “I guess nobody can overhear us all the way up here. But you can’t be so casual with things like that, Luffy.”

Paulie cocked an eyebrow at them. “Government people? You won’t find many here. Water 7 is a self-made city-state, and the World Government leaves us alone because we’re so good at what we do.”

“And you should be very proud of that,” Sabo agreed, smiling at them. “Iceberg was elected as mayor by the people because of the good he did for the city. That’s a wonderful thing. But, ah… we’re chasing a rumor of a Cipher Pol agent that was apparently seen in this town. We just want to know if you’ve heard anything about it.”

“Cipher Pol?” Lulu said, frowning. He and Paulie looked at each other. “I haven’t heard anything. I don’t even know why they’d be here, unless they were concerned about the Franky Family, or Michael and Hoichael.”

Paulie rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Cipher Pol would be interested in Michael and Hoichael. And either way, I don’t care for them poking around in our town.” He met Sabo’s eyes. “I haven’t heard anything, either. But… Iceberg might have.” He looked up at Kaku. “What about you?”

“Nothing,” said Kaku, frowning. He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking, and then looked up. “I could ask Lucci. You know he has his ear to the ground in this city.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Paulie. “We’ll be with Iceberg in the meantime.”

Kaku saluted, and then stood. As he did, he winked at Sabo and Luffy. “Watch this.”

And then he took a running leap and jumped off the edge of the building. He fell with his arms spread, catching wind in his sleeves and pant legs. He was airborne for several long, breath-taking moments. When he hit the ground, it was as light as a feather touching down.

“Show off,” said Paulie, though it was fond. Then he reached out and knocked on the window.

There was a moment where nothing happened. On the inside, a curtain had been drawn over the window, keeping them from seeing in. And then it was moved aside, and a blonde woman appeared. She looked out them all with very little surprise and opened the window. They all climbed in.

“Thank you, Kalifa,” Lulu said. He sat on the window sill for a moment, legs hanging out, and took a moment to knock the dirt off of his work boots. Paulie did not bother.

“You could just use the door,” Kalifa said mildly, watching Lulu pull himself into the building.

“It wouldn’t be very efficient,” Lulu said, shaking his head.

They found themselves in a stately office. Luffy was no expert when it came to interior design, but even he could tell that the room was for an important person. It was big, with intricate designs etched into the walls and ceiling. Shelves of books and newspapers lined the walls, as well as framed pictures. At the center of the room, a man with purple hair and a striped suit sat at a desk. He was slumped over a stack of papers, and looked up at them curiously.

“Paulie,” he said. “Lulu. And visitors. A welcome surprise. What brings you to my office?”

“Iceberg-san,” said Sabo, bowing just slightly. “I am Sabo, and my friend here is Luffy. We need your help.”

“Your brother,” Luffy corrected.

Sabo ignored him. “We were sent by Cutty Flam.”

Iceberg looked between the two of them, face unreadable.

The woman looked at Paulie. “Iceberg is very busy today, Paulie. You should probably bring them back another time.”

Paulie flushed to his ears and jerked back, staring at the ceiling to avoid looking at her. “Kalifa! You are still dressed far too revealing! How many times do I have to tell you! Mini-skirts are not ship-yard appropriate!”

“Nobody else has a problem with it,” Lulu told her, while Luffy laughed.

“It’s fine, Kalifa,” Iceberg said, ignoring the bickering. “Clear my schedule for today. I’m sure this is more important, whatever it is.”

Kalifa nodded. “Of course.”

“And if I could ask you all to leave the room,” said Iceberg, and suddenly Kalifa, Paulie, and Lulu were all speaking over each other in protest. Iceberg held up a hand, and they fell silent. “When it comes to Cutty Flam,” he said, “I prefer to keep it private.”

“Oh,” said Kalifa, with a sudden look of understanding. “That was your… Of course, sir.”

Paulie and Lulu waited a minute longer, and then they both began to move towards the door, too.

“We’ll be out in the shipyard,” said Lulu, and then he looked at Sabo and Luffy. “Good luck.”

When the door shut behind them, Iceberg stood with a long sigh. He moved away from his desk to stand in front of them.

“So. What has my stupid brother sent my way?”

*

“I can’t be hearing this right,” Deuce said. He turned away from Ace, a curtain of blue hair covering his face.

“What is the reason for this choice?” Mihar asked him evenly. It was only because Ace knew him so well that he could tell the man was just as caught off guard as the others.

Ace, still laying on his back, tilted his head to catch Jimbei’s eye. The Warlord’s expression had cleared from open distaste to confused neutrality at some point in the last minute. “I would also like to know your reasoning,” said Jimbei. “You want to send your crew back to Fish-Man Island?”

“I can’t have any regrets,” said Ace. There was so much he regretted by this point that the words felt stupid to say. He regretted leaving Luffy before he turned seventeen, he regretted becoming a Warlord, he regretted burning Whitebeard’s flag. He regretted leaving his crew just days earlier, and he wasn’t about to regret letting them stay. “I was stupid on Fish-Man Island. Reckless. I wanted– to race to the top of the world, and Whitebeard is the Strongest Man Alive. So I burned his flag.”

Those words somehow seemed to stretch across the water to where the Whitebeards and Sambell were fighting. There was a moment of pause on Sambell’s part, or hesitation, and in the gap Marco razed his talons across Sambell’s chest. The fish-man dived into the water, Marco flew back to land on his ship where Izou and Vista still stood. For a moment, the ocean was still.

“Ace,” Deuce said desperately. “We just had this conversation. You can’t do this.”

Ace’s attention was pulled back to his first mate, helpless to the fact that the Whitebeards were now listening to every word. “This isn’t the same,” he insisted. “This is me taking responsibility. I’m no better than Gold Roger if I hurt people in the pursuit of my goal. And right now there are people suffering in the Ryugu Kingdom from the choices that I made.”

He looked down at Wallace. “You knew what would happen when we did it, didn’t you?”

Wallace nodded, hesitant. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think…”

“I get it,” said Ace, dropping his head back on the deck of the Striker. “I can be pretty single-minded sometimes.”

Saber huffed. “That’s an understatement.” He alone seemed to be taking Ace’s announcement in stride. “So, you want us to go back and fend off some pirates. And you’re not coming?”

“I can’t,” said Ace. “The government has me on assignment. I have to keep going.”

“And a fine job you’ve done so far,” Banshee muttered. Her head was on a swivel, looking down into the ocean all around them. She was clearly trying to spot Sambell, who still hadn’t reappeared.

Ace ignored that. He looked into Deuce’s eyes. “This is because I trust you, Deuce. Do you get it? If I could, I would be going myself. This is my mistake. But I can’t fix it, and I– I can’t do this by myself. I trust you to handle it.” There was a pause as he grappled with himself. “Please.”

Deuce let out a shuddering sigh, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Alright. Say it to me outright, then.”

Ace nodded and pushed himself upright. “Masked Deuce, as my first mate, I trust you to lead the Spade Pirates in my stead in defense of the Ryugu Kingdom. Until you have driven away the last of the pirates at Fish-Man Island, there will remain a stain on my honor.”

Deuce lowered his head, accepting the weight of that task. “I’ll see it done.”

Jimbei rumbled threateningly. “You will not be welcomed on Fish-Man Island, Masked Deuce. The princes will recognize your ship and drive you away. And there are still two of Whitebeard’s divisions stationed there.”

Deuce shrugged, looking wry. “Captain’s orders. What can you do?”

Ace hesitated, and then bowed his head towards Jimbei. “Please, escort my crew there.”

He had never once bowed to anyone in his life. He found that the worst part about it was the Whitebeards watching him.

Jimbei laughed. “I am the one who asked the Whitebeards to hunt you down,” he said. “I am the one who told them of your transgression, and I personally escorted the divisions that currently protect the Ryugu Kingdom. They do not need the assistance. Why should I help you serve your own conscience?”

There was a deep laugh from across the water, and they all looked to see Sambell rising up in a column of bubbles. The gouge that Marco had made across his chest had shrunk to a single thin line of blood, his natural healing supported by the water. “What is this hypocrisy, Jimbei? Was it not you who stubbornly hoped that Arlong would listen to reason? Didn’t you want to make sure that this guppy learned his lesson?”

“It’s not so easy to take back a declaration in the world of pirates!” Jimbei thundered. “He burned a Jolly Roger!”

“If our people have been so endangered, then I would think they would be glad to have someone else to cower behind,” Sambell mused, and then caught Ace’s eye. “At least he seems to understand the value of putting your own life on the line.”

There was a moment of silence as Sambell considered him. And then he turned away.

“Jimbei,” he said. “What was the purpose of you coming all the way out here? The Whitebeards can be trusted to put down one rookie, and you know it. But you wanted to make sure he knew what he’d done wrong. To what end?”

Jimbei sighed, a large rumbling thing that sent ripples out into the water around him. “If only you would heed my words as well as you use them against me,” he said.

Sambell laughed. “I’ve learned all the lessons I will ever need.”

“And still your arrogance persists,” Jimbei said, though he no longer sounded quite so mad about it. He turned back to Ace and his crew with narrowed eyes. “I will escort your crew to Fish-Man Island,” he announced, and the relief was so potent that it nearly took Ace by surprise. But Jimbei was not done: “This is the one and only chance that I will offer you,” he said. “I do believe that people can change, if given the opportunity. But prove me wrong…” He flashed his fangs. “And I will sink you.”

Ace just nodded. “Thank you, Jimbei.” He stood with an uncomfortable wheeze, still feeling the effects of the sea, and moved his feet into position to rev the Striker. “Wallace, Banshee, meet us back at the ship,” he said, and then ignited.

Jimbei shadowed them closely as Ace maneuvered the Striker back towards the Spadille. When they pulled up alongside it, Finamore threw down a rope ladder, and Mihar and Saber started climbing. Deuce paused to clasp Ace’s shoulder firmly.

“Be safe, Ace,” he said seriously. “For us.”

“I will,” said Ace, and then offered his hands for Deuce to boost himself up with.

Jimbei, meanwhile, had circled around to the back of the boat. “Everyone on?” he called out to them, placing his webbed hands against the stern. “Speed is of the essence, so I will help us along.”

“That’s everyone,” said Deuce.

“Don’t die,” Ace called.

Deuce scoffed. “I thought you trusted me.”

“Fish-Man Karate,” Jimbei cried. “Sea Current Lifter!” With a grunt he shoved the Spadille forwards into a large stream of water that was rising from the ocean, jumping up onto the deck at the last second. The Piece of Spadille shot off across the sea at remarkable speed, arrowing towards the horizon and taking Ace’s crew with it.

And then it was him and the Whitebeards and Sambell.

Ace turned the Striker around to face his fate.

Strangely, the Whitebeards had not moved to attack while Ace had been sending his crew off. Even now they just looked at him. Vista stood with one foot up on the railing of their ship, grinning smugly down at him. Izou’s painted lips were pulled up into smirk, and he idly flipped one of his pistols in his hand.

Even Marco was still, perched on the railing, alight with flaming wings and talons, his head cocked like a real bird’s. He was just opening his mouth to speak, and then–

“This has been refreshing,” said Sambell. “Sinking ships with a wave of a hand does get boring after a while. You can forget just how busy the world really is when you’re out on the open sea!”

Marco narrowed his eyes, attention focusing in on the fish-man.

“But all of you are still in my reef,” Sambell said, now grinning. “And I think you know how I feel about that.”

Marco’s eyes widened with alarm. “Sambell, don’t–”

“Harbour Wave!” Sambell shouted, thrusting his hands into the ocean.

Immediately, Ace revved the Striker, intending to move out of the way of the attack–

But then the whole stretch of ocean surrounding them began to rise like the gaping mouth of some terrible creature, and he knew there would be no avoiding it. Distantly, Ace was aware of the Whitebeards cursing, Izou and Vista running across the deck and barking orders, Marco still perched on the railing and staring right at him–

But Ace’s eyes were locked on the tsunami, and his mind called up what Wallace had told him. I’ve met people who practice it before, but none who can manipulate enough water to clear away a whole section of the sea.

What did it mean for Sambell’s skill in Fish-Man Karate to be unmatched, Ace had just enough time to wonder– and then the wave hit him, and he was washed away.

*

“Brothers?” Sabo asked, a little dumbfounded. “You and… Franky?”

Iceberg just nodded, expression solemn. His lips were lined with some kind of kohl, drawing attention to the straight line of his mouth. With the memory of Franky’s sharp laughter echoing in his head, Sabo thought there had probably never been a less likely pair of brothers in the world. And then he looked at Luffy, who was looking at him, and grimaced. Right.

“He clearly trusted you, if you told you the name Cutty Flam,” said Iceberg. “It was his name, before he died.”

“Franky’s a zombie?” Luffy yelled.

“No,” said Iceberg. “He only died in the eyes of the government.”

“So, he’s a ghost!” Luffy said.

Sabo, out of something like instinct, rubbed his knuckles against the top of Luffy’s head.

“Ah, not the hat, Sabo!” Luffy cried, tearing it off his head and clutching it protectively to his chest.

“The hat’s fine,” said Sabo, a little confused why it mattered so much. It was just an old straw hat, after all.

Iceberg was smiling at them when he looked back up. “So, you’re brothers after all.”

“Not anymore,” Sabo said quickly. “I have amnesia. I don’t remember anything from when we were kids, so– we’re practically strangers now.”

Iceberg considered him. “Franky and I pretend like we don’t know each other anymore,” he said. “He effectively faked his death and changed his name in order to stay out of prison, and we can’t be seen together in public anymore.”

“Ah–” said Sabo, feeling awkward.

“It doesn't bother me,” said Iceberg, cutting him off. “When my brother came back, I thought he had been dead for four years, and yet I was still so angry at him for what he’d done before he left. At that time, he was reckless and thoughtless, and his actions caused us to lose the man who’d raised us. He cost us… everything.”

“Franky is a good guy,” Luffy said, looking up at Iceberg with a solemn face. Sabo winced. “I could tell.”

Thankfully, Iceberg wasn’t angered by this. His face softened. “Deep down,” he agreed. “But sometimes that’s not enough. I am still very angry, and I probably always will be. So, I know what it’s like to grow apart from a brother. Still…” He sighed, looking between the two of them. “It does get lonely sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Luffy, before Sabo could think of anything to say. He put his hat back on his head and tilted it down to cover his eyes. “Sometimes.”

Sabo hesitated. “Luffy, it’s…”

“Ne, Ice-ossan,” said Luffy. “Have you seen any of the government people?”

It wasn’t that Sabo didn’t want to get to know Luffy. Despite his best efforts, he found himself endeared by the kid, wanting to know more. Every time Luffy mentioned something from their past, questions brimmed in Sabo’s mind, waiting to be asked.

It was just bad timing. He’d only been promoted to Chief of Staff recently, and he’d had to work hard to project the determination and capability that the commanders wielded so effortlessly. Sabo was young, only seventeen, and for all that he’d been personally trained by Dragon, fighting against a mechanism as insidious and all-powerful as the World Government was no easy task for anybody. There wasn’t time for Sabo to drop everything to go digging in his past– especially if Luffy insisted on connecting him with Ace, who literally worked for the government.

People depended on Sabo. Everytime he left Baltigo he saw more and more of the horrors that the World Government was responsible for, and he felt more and more of the weight of his responsibility. He didn’t regret taking on his role even slightly– he believed in the cause with all his heart– but it was a job that was constantly asking more of him. Not enough, he told himself, every time they pulled off a rebellion or raided an auction house or destroyed a government facility. It’s not enough.

“Government people?” Iceberg asked, narrowing his eyes, and Sabo snapped back into focus.

“Cipher Pol,” he said. “We’re chasing a rumor of a Cipher Pol agent that’s supposed to be in this town.”

Iceberg’s face suddenly sharpened into something very intense. “Do you know what Cipher Pol would be in Water 7 for?” he pressed.

“You’d have to ask Luffy,” Sabo said, frowning as he observed the tense line of Iceberg’s shoulders. “He was the one who heard the rumor.”

Luffy just shrugged, stretching his arms behind his head. “Muggy just said that the shipwrights would be able to help me find the guy.”

“I haven’t heard anything myself,” Iceberg said, frowning deeply. “But one of the other foremen might have. Lucci, especially, is usually in-the-know.”

Kaku had mentioned that name, too. Sabo frowned, crossing his arms. “Can I speak to him?”

“Of course,” said Iceberg. “If he’s not in the shipyard, he’s probably in his office. I can get Kalifa to take you there.”

“No need,” said Sabo, waving a hand, struck with the need to be apart from Luffy for just a little while. All of the revelations of the past several hours were chasing themselves in circles in his mind, dizzying and endless. “I’m sure I’ll find it. Luffy, why don’t you stay with Iceberg while I take a look around?”

“Okay,” Luffy said, bouncing on his heels. “Oy, Ice-ossan, is there anything to eat around here?”

Sabo sighed as he shut the door to the office behind him. The hallways were empty. As he went searching for Lucci’s office, he tried to think of it as any other mission. He’d felt knocked off of his game ever since meeting Luffy back on the Sea Train. Part of him wondered if that was just Luffy’s natural effect.

He finally found Lucci’s office at the end of the hall on the other side of the building. It was marked by a little gold plaque. Rob Lucci, it read. Galley-La Foreman, Dock 1.

Sabo knocked, and then when nothing happened, he picked the lock and entered.

It looked like a perfectly normal office, to his great disappointment. The only slightly weird thing about it was the bird square cage in the corner of the room, but it was empty. Sabo went through the usual routine of prying open desk drawers and rifling through papers. He found nothing special– only ship manifests, blueprints, itemized lists of stock. A bottle of sake in the bottom drawer.

Something about the bottle of sake caused him to pause with the bottom drawer open. He stared at it for a moment, trying to place what was special about it. It was a perfectly normal bottle of sake, but… there was something about it that tugged at him.

“Oy, Lucci– ah. Who are you?”

Sabo turned to see a man standing in the doorway. He was buff, with a large grey beard. The kanji for “shipwright” was tattooed across his left pec. His eyes were narrowing as he looked at Sabo, clearly suspicious.

“Ah, excuse me,” Sabo said. “I’m a friend of Iceberg’s. I was trying to find Lucci, to speak with him about an important matter, but he doesn’t seem to be in here.”

“Oh,” said the man, relaxing. “That’s okay, then. I’m Tilestone, one of the foremen here.”

“Good to meet you,” said Sabo, using his foot to shut the drawer with the sake.

“What’s the important matter, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tilestone said, scratching at his beard. “Lucci’s a bit of an odd duck, but he’s a good guy. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you out.”

“Well–” said Sabo, and then froze.

Tilestone collapsed to the floor, clutching at his side as blood spilled out of him. Behind him stood a tall man with long dark hair and a beard. He had a white pigeon perched on his shoulder, and his finger was dripping blood. He kicked Tilestone in the back, sending him falling forward, and stepped into the office.

“I hear that you’re looking for a Cipher Pol agent in Water 7,” said Rob Lucci. Sabo’s eyes moved over the man’s shoulder as his fingers curled around his pipe. Kaku stood out in the hall, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his face. “It’s flattering to be wanted.”

Sabo grit his teeth, judging distance, estimating his chances. Two on one were bad odds when it came to Cipher Pol. He breathed in, gathering Haki in his free hand.

“And to be wanted by Dragon’s little protege, too,” said a familiar voice from behind him, and Sabo jerked with panic– but it was too late.

“Thorny Embrace,” Kalifa said, and Sabo flinched as the tails of a spiked whip wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and cutting into his skin.

Kalifa stepped past him to join Kaku and Lucci. “I’ve seen your face on bounty posters,” Kalifa said as Sabo struggled. Every time he moved, the spikes cut deeper into his skin. “Of course, the government could never figure out your name… Sabo, wasn’t it?”

“It’s a pity to have to burn our identities here without acquiring the blueprints we were looking for,” Lucci mused. The pigeon on his shoulder flapped its wings, and flew across the room to land on Sabo’s head. “But the number two of the Revolutionary Army…” He paused, and then smiled wickedly. “That’s a wonderful consolation prize.”